Eastwatch-by-the-Sea wasn't very impressive to behold. It was a cluster of black buildings huddled around a machine that climbed to the very top of the Wall. Smoke drifted over the 'castle', mingling with the snow that fell. There were half a dozen ships docked nearby, all with black, weathered sails. What was truly impressive was the seven-hundred-foot wall that rose behind it, nearly disappearing into the clouds. Samwell was right. Robb's ancestor didn't build the Wall to keep out the wildlings. He had built it to keep out a much stronger, much more terrible enemy.
"It's not much of a sight, is it?" Ser Robar grunted, standing beside Robb.
"No, but given the decline, the Watch has been in, I didn't expect it to be," Robb replied.
"No walls?" the valemen noted. "I thought these were castles?"
"Technically they are," Robb said. "The reason for the no walls is symbolic more than anything. It's so that the Night's Watch can guard only one Wall, the Wall. It's also because the Night's Watch is sworn to stay out of the wars of the south, meaning they have no reason to expect any attacks from that direction."
"Interesting." Ser Robar mused. "This means you have no control over the Watch."
"No, I do not," Robb said. "Hopefully, however, my father and Jon have made sure that the wildlings are south of the Wall."
"What if they aren't?" Ser Robar asked. "What if they haven't repaired the relationship between them and the Watch?"
"Then our job is a lot harder." Robb sighed, leaning on the bulwark. "This entire war depends on the two factions working together, in the name of survival if nothing else."
"Do you have a plan for getting the wildlings past the Wall if they're not already?"
Robb crossed his arms and shook his head. "One thing at a time, Robar," he said. "One thing at a time."
Chet lumbered down from the tiller and made his way across the deck to the knight and king. The man was not the cleanest or nicest looking man, but his father had been a captain under Lucerys Velaryon, the Mad King's Master of Ships, and having spent most of his life on ships, he certainly knew his business. It also helped that he had been recommended by Ser Davos. There was no higher praise for a sailor to Robb.
"Sorry to interrupt you, your grace," Chet said with a small bow. "Wanted to let you know that we'll be docking in a few moments."
"Have you ever been this far north, Chet?" Robb asked.
The man nodded slowly, looking out over the grey water. "Once or twice, your grace. The commander of Eastwatch, Cotter Pyke, drives a hard bargain but is a fair man at heart. Probably the nicest ironborn you'll find in Westeros."
"Nicest?" Ser Robar said curiously.
Chet shrugged. "He won't put an axe in your head and take your stuff." the captain clarified. He bowed once again. "Forgive me, but I have to get back to the tiller. The docking here can be a little dicey."
"Of course," Robb said with a nod. "Thank you, Chet."
As the captain went back to the tiller, Robb turned to watch the dock get closer and closer. Men in black cloaks moved like ants throughout the settlement. There was a pen full of mules off to one side, which Robb found odd.
"That's how they got to the top," Robar said, pointing at the odd-looking structure that ran up the height of the wall. "It's a winch or a pulley system of some kind."
"It's a whole new world up here," Robb grunted.
"And bloody cold too." Ser Robar growled, pulling his cloak tighter to his body.
The ship had stopped by White Harbor on the way north. Robb had ensured that his three warriors, as well as Daenerys and her men, were well equipped for the cold. Brienne, Garth, and Robar were adamant about keeping their armor on at all times when guarding Robb, but their cloaks had been switched out for fur cloaks bleached white. Daenerys, Ser Jorah, and Ser Barristan all wore clothes that were more practical for the weather, although only Ser Jorah didn't look as miserable.
Robb smiled. "Welcome to the North, my friend."
As the ship pulled into the harbor, Daenerys and her men finally made their way out from under the stern. The lady of Dragonstone nodded to Robb as she approached. She was dressed in a white fur dress that wrapped around her body with heavy leggings and thick boots.
"This is the North," she said when she was close enough.
"This is a part of it, my lady," Robb said. "Trust me when I say that it is far more beautiful than this."
"I would like to see it one day," Daenerys said, "but I have a feeling that day won't be for a while."
Robb grimaced. "You'll see it one day, my lady. I promise you."
Their conversation was cut short as the ship pulled alongside the jetty. Robb made his way over to the side of the ship, his three kingsguard and guards forming up behind him as he did. Daenerys and her protectors stood off to the side, waiting for their turn to disembark.
"Your grace." a bold voice called from further down the jetty. A lean, wiry man marched forward, holding himself like a man who demanded respect and obedience.
"Commander Pyke," Robb replied, stepping off the ship and greeting the man.
Cotter Pyke bowed. "Welcome to Eastwatch, my lord." he hesitated before adding. "Cotter's fine."
"Cotter then," Robb said with a grim smile as Cotter straightened and the two men clasped arms. "I trust you have room for my men and my companions?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Daenerys and her knights.
Cotter nodded easily. "We do."
Robb clapped the man on the shoulder. "Good man," he said easily. "Now, we have a lot to talk about."
Cotter raised an eyebrow and nodded a lot faster. "Aye, that we do."
Robb turned towards Daenerys, who watched the interaction with a mixture of amusement and surprise. "Will you be joining us, Lady Targaryen?"
Daenerys nodded firmly. "I will."
Robb gestured towards Eastwatch. "Lead on, Cotter."
Line Break
"Before we get onto everything, I would like to know if there's been any word on my brother Jon or my father?" Robb asked as soon as he, Daenerys, and Cotter were seated in the mess hall. Brienne and the other four knights were standing guard around the room.
Cotter leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms. "Oh there's been word alright, my lord," he grunted. "Jon and Lord Stark have caused quite the commotion at Castle Black."
"What do you mean?" Robb asked, leaning forward expectantly.
"Word has it that Jon convinced a few brothers to mutiny against Lord Commander Alliser. Had them help him open the gates under the Wall and allow the wildlings through." Cotter explained. "When he was confronted by the lord commander, the two crossed swords before the fight was broken up by Lord Stark."
"What else?" Robb pressed.
"Thorne's always had a thing against Lord Stark and Robert Baratheon." Cotter went on. "From what I've heard, he well and truly burnt the bridge between himself and Lord Stark. Now, Lord Stark has threatened to withhold aid from the Wall so long as Ser Alliser is Lord Commander."
Robb couldn't hide his surprise. The lord commander must have really gotten under his father's skin if he was refusing to aid the Watch. Either that or Robb's father had changed much more than he thought from his time in King's Landing. What Jon did, however, needed more explaining.
"You said Jon convinced some of them to betray the lord commander," Robb said. "Why would they do that?"
"Thorne wasn't going to let the wildlings through, sire," Cotter answered. "He sent me a long-winded lecture about my 'duty' and how I failed it by sailing thousands of wildlings around the Wall and settling them on the Gift."
"You've already settled them?" Daenerys asked curiously.
Cotter shrugged. "All I did was give them land to live on, my lady. They made themselves at home. They're hardy people and have worked hard to not only prepare for what's coming, but for winter itself."
"How many?" Robb asked.
"I'm not good with numbers, my lord," Cotter admitted. "Your brother said that there were about three or four thousand."
Robb nodded. "How many warriors?"
"Maybe half their number or more," Cotter replied. "Many of their women are spearwives."
"Warrior women, I assume," Daenerys said, looking at Robb, who nodded.
"Aye. My brother Rickon has one as his sworn sword now." Robb said. "Surely my uncle Benjen went through Castle Black on his way south. I heard he has proof of the Others."
"I've heard the same." Cotter nodded. "Lots of talk about the wight he has. Some men even fainted at the sight of the bloody thing. From what I understand, my lord, Thorne is simply being stupid. He knows what's out there, but can't get himself to help those he still sees as his enemy."
Robb nodded. "So Jon did what he couldn't."
"He did," Cotter said. "Now those five men are under the protection of Lord Stark and Thorne can't touch them."
Robb grimaced. He could easily guess how his father felt about protecting men who betrayed their commander, but in this case, it seems like it was a necessary evil. All Robb wanted to know now was who came up with the idea to get some of the brothers of the Night's Watch to betray their lord commander.
"Where's my father and Jon now?" Robb asked. "Surely they're not still at Castle Black."
Cotter shook his head. "No, my lord. Jon, I believe, has ridden south and Lord Stark is remaining with the former King-Beyond-the-Wall as his people settle down on the Gift."
Robb turned towards Daenerys. "It seems our path leads us a little further south than I anticipated."
Daenerys nodded. "So it does."
"Forgive me, your grace, but your raven didn't reveal much," Cotter said apologetically. "I know what's coming, but I never expected you to come so far north."
"I got tired of waiting for information," Robb said simply. "This is where the action is. This is where I need to be. I have a group of loyal and honorable lords and ladies ruling in my stead."
Cotter nodded. "Of course. I've managed to procure a few mounts from the wildlings. They may not be what you're used to, but they're sturdy beasts who aren't afraid of the cold."
"They're perfect," Robb said with a slight grin. "It's a long walk to my father and I only brought one set of boots."
Cotter grinned as well. "I'll make sure they're ready for your journey. Rooms have been made up for your men and companions."
"Thank you, Cotter," Robb said, getting up from his bench. "When's supper?"
Cotter raised an eyebrow. "Five after noon, my lord."
"Perfect, I'll see you then," Robb said, nodding to both Cotter and Daenerys before striding out of the room and onto the small balcony that looked over the courtyard. On one side, men were sparring with one another while on the other, a muscular blacksmith with a bushy beard was hammering a sword into shape.
Robb inhaled deeply and breathed out, unable to help the smile from coming over his face. The south had a certain charm to it, but Robb always knew where he belonged. It was here, with the snow and clean air. Where the breeze threatened to turn your bones to ice and made your teeth chatter. A land that made you respect the warmth of a hearth and the feeling of a full stomach.
It was home.
Sansa Stark
"Sansa!" Harry said happily, striding up to her.
Her betrothed wore a heavy, sky-blue doublet adorned with a white falcon and moon across the front. His trousers were tucked into fur-lined boots Ever since they had passed the Neck, he had begun to grow a rough, blonde beard over his square jaw. It turned his dashing looks rugged, but there was still that confident look in his eye and easy smile that made Sansa's heart do a flip.
When she had first seen Loras at the tournament, she had thought that he was like a knight out of her stories. He was like a fairy tale, but after her horrid time in King's Landing, where all her naive dreams had been torn apart by Joffrey and Cersei, she found that Harry was the kind of knight she truly wanted. He was more real. More human.
Before he had asked Sansa to marry him, he knew that there were two things he had to do first.
First, he had sent letters to both Robb and her father, asking for permission to court her. Both of them had replied with their consent, with Robb adding to his message that the decision was ultimately up to Sansa herself. It was uncommon for a lady of Sansa's birth to decide whether she wanted to marry a man or not, but both Robb and her father knew Harry relatively well because they had all fought together.
Her father had also sent her a private letter informing her that this was her choice alone. A sort of apology for what he put her through with Joffrey.
Secondly, Harry had come clean about his previous relationships, both of which resulted in the birth of bastards. Sansa had at first been angered, but she couldn't keep it very long as Harry explained how he had set the two girls up with husbands and lives. It was an honorable thing to do, and Sansa was proud of him for it. She also knew that her father would approve of the action as well.
When he had finally asked Sansa for her hand in marriage, there was no hesitation when she said yes. She knew that Harrold wanted to court her when he asked that she accompany him back to the Vale after Robb took King's Landing and was declared king of Westeros. Sansa truly enjoyed her time with Harry. He was funny, kind, and honorable as well as a valiant and brave warrior.
Even Sandor, who didn't like or trust most people, seemed to approve of the young lord.
"Harry," Sansa replied with a smile. "I see you finished your letters."
While her Uncle Benjen rode into the Riverlands to meet with the assembled riverlords and ironborn, Harry had been locked away in his room for the past two days, sending ravens to the Vale in preparation for her uncle's next stop at the Eyrie.
Harry's smile fell slightly. "They were not easy to write." he sighed, coming to stand beside her, looking out over Winterfell's courtyard. "I have a feeling I'll be getting a few ravens back, asking for more information. The men of the Vale are never happy when being given less information than what they need."
Sansa nodded slightly. "They'll learn why in time," she said, having flashbacks of the horror she felt when she saw what was in her uncle's chest. "Everyone will."
"You know that we will have to return soon," Harry said softly. "We need to be there when your uncle presents the wight to the assembled lord. We need to prepare for war again."
Sansa frowned thoughtfully. She knew that her betrothed was right, but she felt like it was wrong to leave Winterfell, especially now. This is where she felt needed, but then her brain took over, reminding her that her strength was not in her sword arm, but in her mind. She had many lessons on the game of politics, many hard-earned, and she would need them to help Harry convince the lords of the Vale to march north.
"When do you wish to leave?" Sansa asked finally, a plan already coming to her.
"Day after tomorrow," Harry answered. "Give you a bit more time with your mother and siblings."
Sansa turned towards Harry and smiled slightly. She leaned forward and pecked him softly on the cheek as he took her hands in his.
"Thank you," she said kindly before leaving.
She needed to see the library and hopefully find a book that would help her, but her train of thought was cut off by the repeated thud of arrows slamming into the straw-filled target.
"Keep your elbow up." a female voice ordered.
Sansa went down a flight of stairs and found herself watching Arya, armed with a bow, send another arrow into the target, nearly hitting the target. The rest of the arrows already shot were near the center, but none had hit the red circle. Osha, the wildling-turned-sworn sword leaned on the wall nearby, barking instructions.
Osha turned her gaze from Arya to Sansa and nodded towards her. Arya noticed this and turned, her expression already turning sour.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Sansa looked at Osha, who had noticed the anger in the younger girl's tone. "Osha, would you please give my sister and me a moment?"
The warrior woman nodded and quickly left, leaving the two Stark girls alone. There were some guards nearby, but none were close enough to intrude on the conversation. Sansa folded her arms and pulled her cloak a little closer.
"I need you not to pick fights with my guard," she said simply.
"He's a murderer." Arya snapped.
Sansa nodded. "He has a troubled past, Arya, but he is faithful to me and has kept me safe from harm."
"He should be punished for killing Mycah." Arya countered.
Sansa sighed. "Arya, it was Joffrey who ordered his death. Sandor had no choice in the matter. It was not his fault that he was sworn to serve a sadistic madman."
"He had a choice. He's always had a choice." Arya said. "Why is there justice for some men and not for others?"
"Because Sandor is a good man who was put in a bad position serving bad people," Sansa explained. "I know you hate him, Arya, and if I were in your place, I would too, but this is the world we live in. Sometimes our enemies become our friends."
Arya glared at Sansa for a long while before snarling and throwing her bow to the ground.
"Fine," she grumbled, "but I will never forgive him for what he did. He's a murderer."
"He's a killer." Sansa corrected. "One that is loyal to me and I won't have him going after boys."
"He better be." Arya sniffed, stomping past Sansa and back into the castle.
Tyrion Lannister
Tyrion was working late when he came across a report that needed the queen's signature. It was normal, routine paperwork from Lord Hightower asking for approval to place watchtowers along the Rose Road as well as along the western coast from Oldtown to Old Oak. The old lord had taken the chance to improve the defense of his city after it had been ravaged by Victarion Greyjoy almost a year ago.
Tyrion hopped out of his seat and made his way out of his office, running into Jaime as he did. His older brother had his sword out and had a weary look on his face.
"Jaime?" Tyrion asked, surprised. "What's going on?"
"Something's wrong, Tyrion," Jaime said. "I know it. Come on!"
Tyrion dropped his message and followed his brother, struggling to keep up with him. His mind was racing with the possibilities of what was happening, yet all seemed impossible. The Red Keep was one of the most well-defended places in Westeros. An assassin would have a very hard time getting in. The queen's steward had a very good memory and hired everyone who worked in the castle. Eyan Hawker was the same and knew every man under his command.
The two Lannisters reached the bottom of the Hand's Tower when they finally found out what was happening.
"Jaime!" Tyrion shouted as the man attacked.
Jaime's reflexes were lightning quick as he turned to face his opponent, deflecting the axe strike and countering with a swipe that opened the man's throat. The attacker opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
Tyrion stepped cautiously towards the man as blood pooled on the floor. He wore boiled leather and wielded a hand axe, both trademarks of an ironborn raider. What was truly strange about the man was that there was no tongue in his mouth.
"Ironborn," Jaime said grimly.
Tyrion shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. "I don't understand."
"There's nothing to understand." Jaime snapped, not something he did often when speaking to Tyrion. "Let's go, I think I know why they're here."
The two ran through the castle. That is to say that Tyrion ran as fast as his stunted legs could carry him while Jaime was forced into a fast jog so that his brother could keep up. Tyrion had armed himself with the axe of the man Jaime had killed, feeling much better with it in hand.
Jaime led the way and soon Tyrion began to realize where they were heading. The rooms for those on the Small Council were on the other side of the castle than the Hand's Tower. If they were heading there, then Tyrion knew that his brother believed that they were going after Randyll Tarly, the man who had destroyed Pyke.
When they finally reached the Master of War's room, they found the door hanging drunkenly on one hinge. Jaime held a hand up, stalling Tyrion as he crept forward. There were sounds of fighting coming from the room.
One ironborn came reeling out of the door, a massive red line across his chest as he fell dead. His partner followed soon after as he was thrown out of the room, landing hard on the ground before rolling back on his feet. He raised his axe and charged back in, a silent cry coming from his mouth, but his rush was met at the door as Lord Tarly emerged from the door, his valyrian greatsword carving through the air.
The raider's attack was swept aside with one strike as Lord Tarly continued forward, putting his shoulder into the man's chest and moving him back. When the man charged again, Lord Tarly lowered his sword and sent it straight through the man's chest, lifting him off the ground slightly. The raider went limp almost immediately, his axe falling from his hand as his head hit his chest.
Randyll Tarly grunted and kicked the raider off his sword before turning his gaze on Jaime and Tyrion. The man wore no armor, but the only marks on him came from the blood of the two men he had just slain. His greatsword was stained scarlet.
"Jaime, Lord Hand," Tarly grunted, his breathing heavy from the fight.
"Lord Tarly," Tyrion said. "Are there more?"
The man shook his head. "Only these two came after me."
Jaime and Tyrion exchanged looks.
"The queen." both said at once.
Jaime and Lord Tarly raced down the hall towards the queen's chambers while Tyrion followed. He couldn't keep up with the two men, but he didn't need to. He knew that he would be no help if there was a fight.
It didn't take long for the three men to reach the room, which was now the sight of a battle. A group of Eyan Hawker's warriors clashed with more ironborn raiders. The fighting looked to be evenly matched, but then Tyrion spotted who was leading the fight. It was Ser Brynden, the old knight's sword slowly carving a way through the raiders.
Jaime and Tarly didn't hesitate before throwing themselves into the fight, their swords acting like scythes against the attackers. Within moments, they had joined the Blackfish in pushing back the enemy. The other men, seeing two more elite warriors join them, fought with renewed fury and soon caught the raiders against the wall where they were slaughtered.
"About fucking time." Eyan Hawker snapped, jumping down from where he had perched himself on the railing. The quiver on his back was empty as he threw his longbow to the side and drew a long knife and a throwing axe.
"I had no idea anything was happening." Tyrion countered, defending himself. "Where's the queen?"
"Inside," Eyan responded gravely, marching towards the door. "The enemy leader trapped her in there with three of his men."
"Who's defending her?" Jaime asked, Tarly and the Blackfish at his side.
"There isn't any kingsguard out here," Eyan grumbled as he approached the door. He pushed on the handle, but the door had been locked.
"Move," Jaime ordered. "Tarly, help me get it open."
The two warriors placed themselves against the door. Jaime counted silently and they threw themselves against the door. It bowed inward but held. Jaime and Tarly threw themselves against it once again, but to no avail. When they were about to do it a third time, an arrow sliced through the air and slammed into the door. On the other side, Tyrion heard the chink of something metal hitting the stone floor.
Tyrion turned and saw Eyan Hawker lower his bow and pass it to one of his men as he moved forward.
"Better than you lot destroying your shoulders," he said before kicking the door open.
Inside, a fight was raging in the middle of the room as one man took on two kingsguard. Greywind prowled nearby, protecting the queen who huddled in the corner, cradling the prince in her arms. By her side was her handmaiden, Mira, who had managed to arm herself with a dagger.
Tyrion recognized the two knights as Ser Rolland and Ser Loras. The raider they fought was dressed in chainmail and leather, wielding a pair of axes like a man possessed. He was handsome to behold, not even his eyepatch spoiling his looks. The one eye Tyrion could see was a wonderful shade of blue and looked to be glowing.
"Surrender!" Tarly roared as he, Jaime, and Blackfish positioned themselves in front of the door.
The stranger kicked Ser Loras away and sent Ser Rolland stumbling back before turning towards Tyrion and the others. There was a mad smile plastered to his face as he held his axes high. He looked to be soaked in water and Tyrion was now sure that his eye was glowing.
"Death!" he screamed happily. "Death!"
"Who is that?" Jaime asked, readying himself.
"Euron Greyjoy." Ser Brynden snarled. "A bloody madman."
"He looks possessed." Eyan Hawker muttered next to Tyrion.
The young warrior took a step forward and threw his axe at the man. As always, his aim was true as the axe took Euron in his chest, causing him to take a step back as blood, black as night, spilled out of the man.
Euron pulled the axe from his chest, still smiling. He tossed the weapon to the side and raised his axe, charging the three warriors blocking the door. The action was so sudden that it even caused Jaime to curse as he rolled out of the way of Euron's attack. Tarly and the Blackfish spread out, trapping the madman between them as Ser Loras and Ser Rolland rejoined the fight.
"Who will be my first sacrifice to the Drowned God?" Euron asked, looking around wildly.
"What the fuck?" Tyrion muttered, working his way around the edge of the room towards the queen.
The fight started when Ser Loras charged in, his sword ready to decapitate Euron. With what looked like inhuman speed, Euron countered the attack and responded with a strike of his own. The young knight was barely able to defend himself before Euron threw him back. The ironborn turned just in time to face Ser Rolland.
Tyrion had seen many fights in his lifetime, from drunkards brawling in a tavern to organized tournaments where some of the best fighters in Westeros went against each other. The five warriors; Jaime, Randyll Tarly, Ser Brynden, Ser Loras, and Ser Rolland were no doubt some of the best on the continent, but Euron Greyjoy fought them all without seeming to tire. Any time he was hit, black blood would ooze out of the wound, but it never seemed to affect the man.
After a while, Tyrion managed to make his way over to the queen, who was watching the fight with utter fear in her eyes.
"Your grace," Tyrion said, crouching next to her. "What in the blazes happened?"
Margaery shook her head. "He just attacked," she whispered. "I have no idea how he and his men got into the castle."
"Ser Rolland and Ser Loras took care of some of his men," Mira added, nodding towards three dead bodies in the corner, "but their leader had been fighting both men for a long time. He hasn't slowed down and won't shut up about death and the Drowned God."
Tyrion nodded, watching the fight with the same worry as the queen. He knew that she cared greatly for her brother and the man he currently fought seemed unbeatable. The only man who had yet to attack was Lord Tarly, who strode around the fight, waiting for his moment to strike.
He found it when Jaime managed to send a flat-footed kick into the side of Euron's knee. The raider dropped to one knee, but before he got back on his feet, Tarly shot forward, his greatsword flashing down. The man raised both his axes in defense, forming an X. Tarly's sword got stuck in the haft of one of the axes, but the Master of War would not be deterred. He continued forward, forcing the tip of the greatsword into Euron's shoulder. He pushed the sword in until the tip finally emerged from Euron's back.
The raider finally stopped moving. He looked down at the sword in his shoulder before looking around. His eye blazed blue and the smile threatened to tear his face apart. Blood seeped through his teeth, black as all the rest. It was unsettling.
"Fuck." he said simply before the man finally fell over dead.
Lord Tarly pulled the sword from the shoulder and brought it down again, beheading the dead body.
The room was completely silent as everyone grouped around the body. The five warriors were breathing heavily. They weren't badly wounded, but they hadn't made it through the fight without their own scratches.
"I would say that's an overkill, Lord Tarly," Tyrion said quietly, breaking the silence. "But in this case….I'm glad you did it."