Craster's 'Keep' was far from an actual stronghold. The hall was long and low, surrounded by a few smaller buildings protected by an earthen dike. The single gate was decorated with a pair of skulls, one a ram and the other a bear. A skeletal body hung impaled on a spear next to the skulls. It was covered in frozen furs and Jon could smell the decay coming from it.
Jon, using the point of his sword, exposed the face. He didn't recognize the man, but he guessed that he was looking at Craster, the former master of the hall.
"Who's he?" Smalljon asked as the others got closer.
"Craster, I believe," Jon answered, turning his gaze on the hall.
Jon, Alysane, and Smalljon were accompanied by a dozen men of the Night's Watch, a few of whom were stewards. Jon wasn't sure why Ser Alliser had given him men who weren't rangers, it was only after he set out that he realized that a couple of the men were those who had arrived with Jon more than a year ago. Even when helping Jon, Ser Alliser still wanted to point out the fact that he had left the Watch.
Jon thrust Frost into the frozen ground and looked back at the others. "When we're inside, spread out. It'll be close quarters, so you best be aware of who and what is around you."
"What about the women?" Edd asked.
Edison Tollett, also known as Dolorous Edd, was one of the men Jon had arrived at the Wall with. He was a steward for Castle Black, but he had been one of the men picked by Thorne to accompany Jon. He was a sarcastic man with dry, black humor. Despite that, he seemed well-liked by the others.
Jon searched the group. "Pyp," he said, "it's your duty to get the women out of the hall when the fighting starts."
The small watchman with large ears nodded quickly, looking a little relieved that he wouldn't be in the fight. Helping Craster's daughter-wives get away from the fighting was the best job for him.
"The rest of you, take a man and put him down," Jon said grimly. "I don't care how."
"What if they kill us?" Todder, also known as Toad, asked.
"Get your ass up and keep fighting," Jon answered, getting a chuckle from the group. "Let's go."
The group trudged silently through the gate and towards the hall, their weapons at the ready. Jon, Alysane, and Smalljon marched in front. They were by far the best fighters of the group, although Janos Slynt continued to say that he was a skilled swordsman.
The few women who were outside the hall quickly recognized them and looked ready to run, but Jon held up a hand to stop them. The women already had tears running down their faces, over black and purple bruises.
"Who did this to you?" Jon asked quietly, gently grabbing hold of one woman's face to get a better look.
"The….the masters." one answered weakly.
Jon looked around. "Get to one of the pens and stay there. Understood?"
The women nodded and ran off. Jon watched them go before shrugging his cloak off and throwing it to the side. He wore borrowed black leather and chainmail from the Night's Watch. Smalljon and Alysane were similarly armored.
Jon shoved the door open, striding inside. He was instantly hit by the heat of the burning fire and the smell of sex, unwashed bodies, and vomit. Smoke hung in thick clouds among the rafters. Bodies of both men and women laid on the edge of the hall, close enough to reach for food or drink, but far enough away so that the heat of the roaring fire wasn't overpowering.
Jon continued further into the room till he was right in front of the fire. Following his orders, the others spread out behind him as he assessed his enemy. Many of the girls sported bruises and cuts on their faces, as well as many other signs of abuse and mistreatment. They had gone from one abusive master to multiple. Jon could only imagine how they had survived so long.
Sitting on a throne-like chair directly across from Jon was a lean, hard-muscled man. He had slick-backed, greasy hair and yellow, crooked teeth. His eyes, in the firelight, looked black. He pushed the woman off his lap and stood, drawing two long dirks from his belt. He smiled cruelly at Jon.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he asked slowly as his men also got to their feet and reached for their weapons. Some looked a little unsure on their feet, which boded well for Jon and his men.
Jon glared across the fire at the man with the knives but watched in his peripheral as Pyp gestured for the women to leave, holding the door open for them. Thankfully, none of the armed mutineers noticed the girls as they were too focused on the twelve grim men holding swords. Soon, there was only one woman left, right where the leader had pushed her to the ground. She tried to scramble away, but the deserter stomped on her ankle, causing her to cry out in pain as it cracked painfully.
"Let her go," Jon growled.
"Come and take her." the man snarled back.
"At them!" Jon bellowed.
The hall quickly descended into chaos as the brothers of the Night's Watch fought their former comrades. Jon fought the leader in the middle of the hall. He was blindingly fast and extremely skilled with his weapons, giving Jon flashbacks of his fight with Ramsay Snow outside the Dreadfort. Jon was able to keep up with the man, though only just. He was forced to rely on his every instinct and battlefield experience when fighting the man.
"Do you know who I am?" the man asked, twisting and flexing his knives.
"I don't care," Jon grunted, his sword flashing towards the man's midsection. The mutineer parried with one knife while slashing at Jon's face with the other. Jon just managed to evade the attack, taking a few steps back and bringing Frost back up.
The two men threw themselves at each other again, going blow for blow, each using the advantage their weapons gave them. Jon had better reach and superior steel, but his opponent knew how to make Jon uncomfortable by continually moving inside the reach of Jon's sword. After a while, the two finally locked weapons, turning the battle into a test of strength. Both men were young and strong, but Jon was beginning to have the better of the exchange.
"You know what your problem is?" the man asked suddenly, smiling wildly. Jon grimaced, keeping his attention on the knives. "You fight fair!"
The man's spit hit Jon in the eyes before his foot connected with his chest, sending Jon crashing back into the fire. The former bastard of Winterfell quickly rolled out of the flames and got to his feet, batting off the coals before wiping his eyes. The man with the knives readied himself for Jon when a white blur crashed through the door and launched itself at the man, ripping off one of his hands with one vicious bite. As always, Ghost had arrived right on time.
The man looked down at his missing hand, bellowing in pain and spouting all sorts of curses. He was so lost in his pain that he failed to see Jon until the valyrian steel slid into his stomach and out his back, lifting him off his feet. His blood poured down the handle and Jon's hand, pooling on the ground.
Jon watched with gritted teeth as the light left the man's eyes before pulling the sword out and letting the body drop to the ground. Already, Ghost had rushed off and tackled the man Edd was fighting, the mutineers' terrified cry cut short as the massive wolf tore out the man's throat.
Jon looked around the hall as the fighting died down. The last man to die was beheaded by Grenn and his double-bladed axe. Both Smalljon and Alysane looked fine, as did many of the others. Besides the bodies of the mutineers, there were three bodies belonging to the watchmen who had accompanied Jon, none of which he could identify by name. However, Jon still counted four less than the number he had started with. Where was the missing man?
"Alysane, help her," Jon said, helping the woman up. The heiress to Bear Island quickly took over as Jon continued to search the hall. "Where is Slynt?"
The others looked around as well, some even rolling over the bodies of the dead, but all shook their heads. Jon scowled and gestured for Smalljon to follow him. The two northerners strode out of the hall and outside, where they found Janos Slynt hidden behind the door. His sword was shaking in his grasp and his eyes were wide and only showing one emotion: pure and utter fear.
"Ah, Lord Jon! I was just….ah….I was out here in case any of the mutineers tried to make a run for it." he babbled, the words falling from his mouth in a torrent of patheticness.
Jon grabbed him by the front of his jerkin and slammed him up against the wall of the hall, their faces mere centimeters apart. "You abandoned your brothers, you craven!"
Slynt shook his head. "No, my lord, I…."
"You fled!" Jon roared. "The Lord Commander will hear about this and I will see you punished."
Jon shoved the man against the wall again before stepping back. He saw Slynt's sword hand squeeze the hilt tightly. The man looked ready to run Jon through with it, but the northman wasn't about to let anything happen. He brought Frost up and level the bloody point at Slynt's throat.
"Try at your own peril," Jon growled.
Slynt's brief look of defiance quickly fell away as he looked down the blade at Jon's face. Whatever he saw there made him stop and drop his head, accepting his shame. Jon sneered and turned towards the other watchmen, all of whom were standing in the doorway and had watched the entire exchange. They showed no sign of sympathy for their disgraced brother.
"Burn the bodies," Jon ordered. "All of them. Alysane, bring her to the others and tell them to pack up anything they need. We're leaving."
Line Break
The bodies of the mutineers had been buried in a hastily dug pit before being doused in oil and set aflame. For the three rangers, actual pyres were erected with vials of oil placed among the branches. As much as Jon despised doing so, their bodies had been stripped of armor and weapons before being wrapped in their cloaks.
Jon walked down the line with a burning brand, setting the funeral pyres on fire. The group of women, watchmen, and northerners watched in respectful silence as the three bodies burned. Behind them, sleds and carts were loaded with supplies, food, and a few animals, those that were small enough to be placed in carts. The only animals that weren't small enough to ride were a pair of hairy cows.
"What are we going to do now?" Pyp asked quietly, breaking the silence.
"Edd and you will lead the others and the women back to the Wall," Jon answered, gazing at the pyres. "Edd, you're in charge."
"What about you?" Edd asked.
"Grenn, Smalljon, Alysane, and I will ride northwest and find the wildlings," Jon answered grimly. "It's time I met Mance Rayder."
Eddard Stark
Ned resisted the urge to stare at his son. He knew that he had to keep his composure, especially since he was seated in the center of the main table at the front of the hall, the usual place for the lord to sit during a feast, but he couldn't help but think about how much Bran had changed, a thought that overwhelmed his happiness to have his son back.
The young man that Bran had turned into was serious, very soft-spoken, and extremely mysterious. Ned had met many men over his lifetime, with Howland Reed counting among some of the most mysterious, but none came close to the aura that his son now possessed. After Bran had reached Winterfell, escorted by men of Last Hearth, and was met with a tearful Cat and Rickon, he, Ned, and Meera had a long conversation where Howland's daughter had explained all that they had been through.
Jojen, Meera's brother who had died beyond Wall, had dreams that involved Bran, and that's why the siblings had come to Winterfell years ago. It was Jojen's duty to help Bran find who, and more importantly what, he was meant to be, and that meant going beyond the Wall and finding the Three-Eyed Crow. Their story included wights, Children of the Forest, a former brother of the Night's Watch turned half-wight named Coldhands, and Ned's brother Benjen. It was a tale that seemed impossible to believe.
In the end, Ned had asked for some sort of evidence that Bran had truly become what he claimed to be.
Flashback
"Meera, please leave," Bran said quietly. Howland's daughter glanced between the two Starks before bowing to Ned and leaving. When they were alone, Bran looked Ned right in the eye and began to speak.
"I know Jon is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark," he said simply. "And now it begins."
Ned recoiled in his seat, unable to hide his shock. After a moment, he composed himself and leaned forward, clasping both hands in front of him. He did this not to look formal, but to keep them from shaking.
"No," he murmured, "now it ends."
The lord of Winterfell took a long moment, fighting back flashbacks before continuing the conversation. Those had been the exact dialogue that he had shared with Ser Arthur Dayne before Ned and his companions had battled Ser Arthur and the other two kingsguard in the shadow of the Tower of Joy.
"How do you know this?"
"I saw it," Bran said in an eerily calm tone. "I saw the fight, I smelled the roses and the blood. I saw the child and heard Lyanna's request. 'Give him an honorable name'."
"Jon," Ned whispered. "I named him after Jon Arryn."
"Father, I am not the boy you left behind, nor am I the boy who ran from Osha," Bran said, changing the subject. "Bloodraven showed me who I am, who I was meant to be. I am the Last Greenseer. I know more than any mortal has any right to, but that is my blessing and curse."
Ned ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair and staring at his son. "What does that even mean, Bran?"
Ned's son thought for a moment before answering. "There is a war coming. The Others are marching south. They did not want me to get south of the Wall because I hold the knowledge of their past war with mankind."
"So it's true then, what Osha said. The Others truly march south." Ned said.
Bran nodded. "They do. We must prepare."
"How?" Ned asked.
"Because we have something that our ancestors didn't have when they fought the Others during the first war," Bran said. "The Wall."
Flashback
"Ned?" Cat asked, shaking his hand a little. Ned shook himself from his thoughts, finding him staring at his son down at the table. He looked over at his wife, a confused look on his face.
"Yes?"
"Are you alright?" Cat asked. "You're pale and you were shaking."
Ned put his hand over Cat's. "I'm fine, Cat, thank you."
His wife didn't look convinced but dropped the subject. Ned ate the rest of his food, spoke briefly with those who approached him before retiring early from the feast. Rickon was trying his best to pry anything out of Bran, while Meera and Osha were deep in conversation. Ned made eye contact with both women before walking out, hoping that they got the message.
They met him on the battlements a few moments later, both wrapped in cloaks. Word had already been sent to Howland Reed that his daughter had returned to Winterfell safely. The letter did not, however, contain news of his son's death. Ned didn't think it was something the man should be told in a letter, but face to face. He owed his old friend that much at least.
"What's the matter?" Osha asked.
"You were right." Ned sighed. "The Others do come."
"You didn't think I was right before?" Osha asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I had my reservations," Ned replied. "After speaking with Bran….I now know the truth."
"So what do we do now?" Meera asked. "We have to prepare."
"Bran said the same," Ned said. "This is an enemy that we haven't fought or even thought existed, in thousands of years. I will speak with Bran over the coming days to learn all I can."
Osha grunted, crossing her arms. "So what's your plan, Lord Stark?"
"Prepare as best we can," Ned said. "I'll have to send word to Robb, let him know that Bran has returned. But in the meantime, we'll have to prepare to fight an enemy that hasn't been seen and many don't believe exists."
"They've been seen." Osha chuckled darkly. "Just not by any southerner. Welcome to the nightmare that every man, woman, and child experienced north of the Wall, Lord Stark."
Robb Stark
Robb and Robar sat close together at the back of the rowboat while Brienne and Ullen steadily rowed towards the island. Brienne, having grown up on Tarth, had some experience with boats and offered to help the old man row. The day was calm and clear with the sun shining brightly overhead and a pleasant breeze carrying over the lake. In the distance, the blackened ruins of Harrenhal rose above the treetops of the Isle of Faces.
"Do many people visit the isle?" Robar asked curiously.
Ullen shook his head. "Only those who are called to it. The last one that came through was almost twenty years ago, I'd wager." the old sailor shrugged. "But that one took a boat. I've heard stories of people swimming."
"Swimming?" Robar asked, surprised.
The old man cackled. "That's faith for ya."
"The one that was rowed to the isle, did they come back," Robb asked.
Ullen nodded. "He did, though for good reason. He wasn't going to become a Green Man. The last one who did that came through thirty or forty years ago."
"So he came to the isle for advice." Robb guessed. "Do you remember the man's name?"
Ullen nodded. "I do, but if you want to talk to him, I'm afraid he's dead. Had his chest caved in on the Trident during the Rebellion. They even renamed the ford because of his death."
"Rhaegar?" Robb said. "Rhaegar Targaryen came to the isle?"
Ullen nodded again. "Aye, that's the one. Looked like you did now, except he looked real shaky. Had some real demons on his shoulders."
"Not surprising," Robb muttered under his breath. After what the Bard Prince did to his aunt, he felt little sympathy for Rhaegar's soul.
The boat ground against the firm sand of the isle. Ullen jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Just follow the stone path. It should take you to the Green man. It's a little mossy, but ya can't miss it."
"It should?" Brienne asked with a raised eyebrow.
Ullen smiled apologetically. "I drop the food off at a stone bench just inside the treeline. That's what I was taught to do and that's what my father before me was taught to do," he explained. "But if you're looking for the Green Man, that path is a good place to start."
"How will we signal you to come back for us?" Robar asked as he got off the boat.
"There's a flint and steel on the bench and plenty of wood," Ullen answered. "Not many come to the isle, so there's not much of a reason to have a signal or nothing set up."
"It's fine," Robb said. "Thank you, Ullen."
The old sailor nodded. "I hope you find what you're looking for, your grace."
"So do I," Robb said, turning his gaze towards the forest as Robar and Brienne helped push the boat back into the water. As Ullen rowed away, Robb was rejoined by his guard.
"Let's get to it then," Robb said quietly, pushing away whatever uncertainty he had about what he was about to do.
The walk through the forest was gorgeous. Sun filtered through the trees, allowing natural shards of light to pierce the tree cover. The smell of nature, all the different species of trees, flowers, and earth flooded Robb's senses and made everything feel peaceful and alive. The forest had a calming effect on Robb that the king could only relate to being with his wife and child. The weight of ruling, the burden that he had held for the past two years became lighter the further Robb walked.
The trio came across a clearing with a cottage in the center of it. Heart trees formed a ring around the clearing, all with red faces drawn in terrified expressions facing towards the building. The moss-covered path stopped just as it reached the edge of the clearing. A wisp of smoke rose above the cottage. A sign of someone inside.
"They're unsettling," Robar grunted, staring at the faces carved into the trees.
"We're in the presence of the gods," Robb said quietly. "Whatever happens here, remember that."
Robb didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that his words had confused the Valeman, but the northern King had other things on his mind. There had been a strange feeling that had overtaken him when he had spoken to his dead relatives, both at High Heart and again at Harrenhal. He felt that now. The Old Gods were here. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did.
"Stand guard out here," Robb ordered, pulling Claw from his side and handing it to Brienne.
"Sire…." Brienne went to say, but Robb held up a hand.
"It's alright, Brienne," he said. "I doubt anyone here wishes us ill."
"How do you know?" Brienne asked.
"Call it faith," Robb replied, ignoring the irony in his words.
Robb strode through the clearing, his steps measured and confident. He wasn't sure why he was saying what he was saying, but it was as if a small voice was in his mind, telling him what to say. Giving him the confidence to walk freely into an unknown building and speak with a strange person without the protection of his kingsguard or his sword. He wasn't even wearing his crown; the symbol of his power and authority.
Robb paused at the door before pushing it open and walking in, closing it softly behind him.
The inside of the cottage was small, square, and completely bare. The floor was made from hard-packed earth. In the center of the room, a warm, cheerful fire crackled and snapped, sending a steady stream of smoke up through the small hole in the roof. Shadows covered the rafters and the sides of the room, but Robb didn't care.
A hooded figure sat hunched over on a stool on the other side of the fire. His cloak was forest green and the hood was adorned with elk antlers. Robb couldn't make out his face, but there were dirt stains on his knees and his hands, which warmed themselves by the fire, were dirty and calloused.
"Robb Stark." the person said, his voice neutral and unmistakably masculine. "It has been a long time since I have been in the presence of a Stark."
Robb frowned. The man's voice gave no indication of how old he was, but there were only a few Starks that Robb could think of that the man would have been old enough to meet, and Robb was almost sure that none of them had visited the Isle of Faces.
"You're the Green Man?" Robb asked although the question was unnecessary. Only Green Men lived on the isle.
"Am I supposed to be someone else?" the man asked, a note of challenge in his voice.
Robb gave a small shrug. "I would hope not."
The man nodded towards the seat opposite of him. "Sit, Wolf King, and say what you have come to say."
Robb did as he was told. Any other king would have been annoyed or angered by the man's tone and lack of respect, but Robb wasn't like most kings. He tried not to stand on his titles, at least not unless he needed to, and he was also well aware that he had no power over the isle. True, it was within his realm, but it was almost like the Green Men were a separate entity from his rule.
"Does the Long Night come?" Robb asked, getting right to the point.
The man lifted his head slightly, like Robb's question had caught him by surprise. "Do you think it does?" he responded.
Robb hesitated. "I do," he admitted. "Wildings are coming south, I feel the chill in the northern wind as far south as King's Landing. Hells, I've fought dragons."
"Then why did you come?" the man asked curiously. "You seem to have your mind made up."
Robb shook his head. "I need definitive proof to convince the southern lords," he said. "I thought…." he said, his voice trailing off and leaving the sentence unfinished.
"You thought what?" the Green Man asked.
"I thought that you could help me get that," Robb said.
The Green Man seemed to study Robb from under his hood. Most of his face was still hidden, but Robb could at least see his eyes. They were dark brown almost to the point of being red, like burning coals. They gazed at the northman with an intensity that made Robb shift in his seat.
"The White Wolf prowls the Wall," the Green Man finally said, "and the Black Wolf has gone back north to get you the proof that you need."
Robb frowned, not understanding fully what was being said. "The White Wolf? You mean Jon?"
The Green Man nodded. "Aye, the half-breed. He is your eyes and your ears in the north."
Robb shook his head. "I know that, I sent him there for that reason. What do you mean about the Black Wolf? Do you mean my Uncle Benjen?"
"Do you know of any other black wolf?" the Green Man asked, still keeping his voice neutral. The northern king sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit he was beginning to develop whenever he got annoyed or tired.
"Am I just supposed to sit on my ass in King's Landing and do nothing?"
The Green Man shook his head, standing up. "No, you will be busy as well, Robb Stark. Although the enemy in the north is great, you have one much closer to home. Come." he ordered, walking towards the door.
Robb got to his feet and followed the man outside, where Robar and Brienne had been waiting, glaring at the forest. Their hands instantly dropped to their swords when they saw the Green Man emerge, but they relaxed when they saw Robb behind him.
The Green Man nodded to the kingsguard. "Rune carver. Giantess," he said mysteriously before walking towards the treeline. "Come, all of you."
Brienne gave Robb a questioning look. Robb simply shrugged, taking his sword back from his commander and sliding it back into his belt.
"We'll follow."
As the trio followed the Green Man, there was a new noise in the forest that hadn't been there before. It was the creaking of branches and hushed, whispered voices that floated on the wind. Robb wasn't sure if he was actually hearing voices or if it was just a figment of his imagination, created by the stories of the Isle of Faces.
Eventually, they emerged into another clearing that was dominated by a massive heart tree. A hundred other green-cloaked men strode around the area, and they were preparing for battle. They all wore mail and leather armor, wielding weirwood bows and spears and axes with weirwood shafts. On their shields, a heart tree on a field of green acted as their sigil. The strangest thing was that their weapons were not tipped with metal, but black, glossy rock.
The Green Man flipped back his hood and turned back towards Robb. He was in his mid-forties, with long brown hair and a stubble beard of the same color covering his lantern jaw.
"The Green Men go forth once again to reclaim the lands of the Old Gods," he said. "The deep forests once belonged to the Old Gods, and they will be so again. But before that can happen, there is one battle that we must fight first."
"And what battle is that?" Robb asked.
"Three hundred Faith Militant march on the isle." the Green Man said grimly. "Led by the High Sparrow. The people of the village have long protected the isle and have helped those who seek to join our ranks as well as those who seek our advice. We will protect them."
"We will join you," Robb said immediately, not even thinking about the impossible odds they'd face. He had been unable to touch the High Sparrow but now was his chance to put the old man in his place once and for all.
The Green Man smiled slightly. "Very well, Robb Stark. Come, you and your companions will need armor. If you are to fight alongside the Green Men, you might as well look the part."