The Lord Commander watched grimly as the bodies of Slynt and his men were brought back into the castle. After two days of hearing nothing from the man, Thorne had sent two rangers to search Mole's Town and Queenscrown. The bodies had been found at the latter, all belonging to Thorne's men. There were no signs that any of the traitors had been killed in the attack. When the scout had reported back to Thorne, he mentioned that one man looked to have been attacked by a wild animal as his throat was missing.
Thorne knew that this did not bode well for him. It was no secret that Castle Black was divided. Those who supported the Starks followed Bowen Marsh, Lord Steward, and Othell Yarwyck, the First Builder. Both were good friends of Benjen Stark and were supportive of the decision to let the wildlings through. Alliser's supporters numbered about half the current force of the castle, less now with the deaths of Janos and his men. There were a few who hadn't picked a side, and they followed Qhorin Halfhand, who has made it clear that his only priority has been to prepare for the Long Night.
Alliser was hoping to scare the rest of the traitors who followed Yarwyck and Marsh into supporting him by presenting them the bodies of those who were complicit in Jon Stark's actions. Now, he looked weaker than ever because Slynt had failed.
"Lord Commander," Chett said carefully. Like all the other brothers, he knew that Ser Alliser wasn't someone anyone wanted to be around.
"What?" Ser Alliser snapped impatiently.
"Maester Aemon is asking for you." the man said quickly.
"Tell him I'll be there shortly," Thorne replied, not watching as the steward scurried away.
Ser Alliser's lip curled as he watched the bodies be unloaded from the wagons, wrapped in their cloaks, as they were taken away to be given their final rights before being taken to the lichyard to be buried. He had sent seven men with Janos, seven of the most experienced and well-trained fighters Thorne had at his disposal. Slynt's incompetence, even in death, had fucked over Thorne as the coward had failed to kill a single traitor.
Now they were well beyond Ser Alliser's reach. No one would be willing to head south to Long Lake or Winterfell to deliver justice, not when they were already facing Lord Stark's fury. The lord of Winterfell was still close at hand, residing with the wildlings as they took over the Gift and New Gift, land that should only belong to those who support the Night's Watch, not their enemies.
Thorne held back a growl. Everything was crumbling around him, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. The Starks were against him, oathbreakers one and all. His First Ranger was somewhere in the south, trying to get support from the southern lords. Now even his own men were turning on him. Ser Alliser was no fool, he knew what was beyond the Wall, but what did the Starks know of the Wall? They had no right to simply appear and give demands as if the world should bow to their every desire. Thorne was Lord Commander. The Night's Watch was under his command.
Ser Alliser strode towards the maester's chambers and flung the door open. Maester Aemon sat behind his desk, gazing at the ceiling while his steward read him raven messages. As soon as Chett saw the Lord Commander, he said his goodbyes to the old man before muttering his apologies to Thorne on his way out the door.
"What?" Thorne grumbled when the door was closed.
"Cotter Pyke says that the king has arrived at Eastwatch," Aemon mumbled, his words barely making sense. It was a harsh reminder to Ser Alliser that he needed to write to the Citadel for a new maester soon.
"The king?" Ser Alliser said. "Is he riding here?"
Aemon shook his head. "He rides to his father."
Ser Alliser bit back a curse. The last thing he needed was the king to be his enemy. The one man who could order his father to defend the Wall. Perhaps Thorne could ride out, persuade the boy that his cause was just. It was a far-fetched idea, but it might be the only way for the Night's Watch to get fair treatment from the Starks.
"What else?" Thorne asked.
"Nothing," Aemon said simply.
Ser Alliser scowled. "You summoned me to tell me one blasted thing? Wasting my time?"
"Is the king's sudden presence in the North not a matter of importance?" Aemon countered calmly. Despite his age and physical ailments, the maester's mind was still as sharp as ever. "I may be old, Ser Alliser, but my hearing has not diminished in the slightest."
"I meant no offense." Ser Alliser gritted out. "Lord Stark will paint the Watch as his enemy. I cannot allow that if we are to beat back the undead."
"Will he?" Aemon asked curiously. "Has Lord Stark made us his enemy?"
"He is refusing to give us aid." Ser Alliser snapped.
"Why is that?" Aemon asked although both men knew the answer.
"Because he hates me." Ser Alliser said bitterly. "All because I fought for my king. I knew he was a mad man, but I swore an oath."
Aemon nodded slowly. "So your hatred has blinded you."
Thorne's hand tightened around the hilt of his blade. "My hatred has done nothing, maester. All I've done, I've done for the Watch."
Aemon stared dumbly at the wall behind Ser Alliser. "Is that so?"
"Yes, that is so." Ser Alliser spat. "If you are only going to question my loyalties and my intentions, then I have other matters to attend to. I will not stand here and be lectured like a damn child. Give me advice or I will leave."
"Advice," Aemon muttered, just loud enough to where Ser Alliser could barely hear him. "My advice, Ser Alliser, will not be to your liking. Why should I give it to a man who will not listen?"
Ser Alliser gritted his teeth. "I have nothing but respect for you, Maester Aemon. If you have an opinion, I will hear it."
"Even if you do not like it?"
"Yes." Ser Alliser replied.
"Even if you hate it?"
"Yes." Ser Alliser answered with much less patience.
"You wish for the Watch to be supported by the king," Aemon said, stating the obvious. "To make this happen, you must go before Lord Stark and beg for his forgiveness."
Ser Alliser took a step back as if he had been struck. Anger from years of restrained bitterness engulfed him. It poured out of him now like a dam breaking.
"Do you want me to kiss his feet as well!" Ser Alliser snapped, anger dripping from his every word. "I owe nothing to Ned Stark, nor his bastard son. They're both traitors in my eyes. The apple never fell far from the tree."
Maester Aemon sighed and seemed to stare right through the knight. "I told you that you would hate my advice," he said sadly. "As I said it would, it fell on deaf ears."
"My hearing is fine." Ser Alliser barked. "It's your mind that's been muddled!"
"You wished for my advice, ser," Aemon said simply. "I gave it."
"A castle fool would have given me better advice." Ser Alliser growled. "We will fight off the undead with or without the Starks of Winterfell and all the rest. I will die before I go to Ned Stark asking for forgiveness."
Ser Alliser turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, but before he was out the door, he heard Aemon say:
"We'll all be dead."
Edric Dayne
Edric found the strange man at the very top of the Palestone Sword, a tower that not only defended the western arm of Dorne but also housed the fabled greatsword Dawn, a sword that is only bestowed upon a knight of House Dayne that has proven worthy of wielding it. The last wielder of the blade was Edric's uncle, Arthur, who was known as one of the most chivalrous knights in the realm even though he served in the kingsguard of the Mad King.
The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a strange green cloak that had antlers attached to the hood. He was gazing up at the sword where it was mounted on brackets above a fireplace. Edric's father had placed it there after Lord Eddard Stark had returned it to Starfall.
"How did you get up here?" Edric asked suspiciously, reaching for his sword.
The man turned around, not looking at all surprised to see the young lord of Starfall. He had rough features, like those a bandit or an old veteran might have, but the man, for whatever reason, didn't seem like the fighting type. He seemed….peaceful if such a word could be used to describe a man who looked like he was born to swing a battleaxe.
"I let myself in." the man said simply, holding up a black key that was identical to the one that currently hung on a cord around Edric's neck.
Edric raised an eyebrow. Only the lord of Starfall, Edric himself, should have a key that opened the door. Dawn was the pride of his house because it was bestowed on only the very best Dayne who proved to be not only a great warrior but a great man as well. They kept the sword under lock and key so that even their guards could not steal the blade.
"Where'd you get a key?" Edric asked, reaching for his sword.
"It was passed down to me." the man said before turning back to look at the sword. "In all the years I've lived, and all the ancestry my family has with this sword, I've never seen it in person. I almost had a chance when the Bard Prince visited the Isle, but he left his kingsguard at the Tower of Joy to guard the she-wolf."
Edric's emotions had gone from confusion to anger and now was back on confusion. The man was speaking to him, but it also sounded as if he was referring to the sword as an old friend.
"What's your name?" Edric asked, still on edge.
"Bryn," the man said, turning around. "Bryn Highsmith. I am the Green Man of the Green Men."
"Green Men? From the Isle of Faces?"
"Yes." the man said before shaking his head, a tired smile coming to his face. "I am sorry for the intrusion, but I had to see the sword. It's been hundreds of years since someone from my family has seen it."
Edric was becoming increasingly frustrated with the man's vague answers. He unsheathed his sword slightly before slamming it back into his scabbard. He grabbed a nearby chair and sat down, slouching in un-lordly fashion in it.
"Explain," he ordered.
The Green Man nodded and grabbed a seat for himself, pulling it closer to Edric before sitting down. The young lordling expected the man to launch into a long, drawn-out story that semi-explained why he had sought out Dawn and why he had a key to the top room. Instead, the man asked a simple question that, like all things he did, confused Edric.
"Do you know why Dawn is only passed to the most worthy?"
Edric shook his head.
"The founder of your house, a man by the name of Adrian, fought with the rest of mankind during the Long Night." the Green Man explained. "Dawn had been forged by my ancestor Brynden, earning our family the name 'Highsmith'. Adrian thought it was only right he used the weapon forged for him to help Brynden and others defeat the Others."
"Alright," Edric said slowly, gesturing for the man to continue.
"During the war, Adrian was injured and was unable to continue fighting. He gave Dawn to Brynden, the man who forged it, and charged him with the task of slaying the leader of the Others with it. A task my ancestor completed at the cost of his own life." the Green Man said. "I should explain that, although it had been proven that dragonglass could destroy Others, Dawn was the only blade that allowed the wielder to fight the demons. The bronze blades used by the First Men were shattered if they came in contact with the ice swords and dragonglass was too brittle to be used in anything other than knives, arrows, and spearheads. There were a few special cases, but they are irrelevant in the story."
"So far, you've spun quite the tale," Edric said. "Now, onto Dawn."
"Yes, Dawn." the Green Man nodded. "When Adrian Dayne gave the sword to my ancestor, his 'order' to defeat the leader of the Others was no more than that; words. He didn't truly expect the man to seek out the beast in the heat of battle and fight it alone. Yet, because my ancestor had shown such bravery and courage, Adrian declared when he returned to Starfall that Dawn shall only be wielded by one who is worthy to wield the blade like Brynden Highsmith was."
Edric leaned back in his seat, nodding slowly. Like all Daynes, he knew that only a special few had been allowed to handle Dawn, but unlike his late cousin Gerold, Edric never desired the blade for personal reasons. He wished, of course, that someday he would be worthy enough to carry the sword like his Uncle Arthur, but he would rather be a good man and carry steel than a bad man and wield Dawn.
"Again, that's a fanciful tale, lord High…."
"I'm not lord." the man said, cutting off Edric. "Bryn is just fine."
"Bryn," Edric corrected, "but I fail to see why that's brought you here."
The Green Man nodded. "Very true, my lord. As blunt as you have been with me, I will do the same."
"That would be helpful," Edric said, dreading the thought of hearing more of the man's vague answers.
"The Long Night comes again," Bryn said seriously. "There are many moving pieces that have been put in motion so that we can prepare for an enemy that has not been seen in thousands of years."
Edric raised an eyebrow, wondering if the man was mad or truly believed that demons of ice and evil were returning. Then again, if he truly was the Isle of Faces, then something had to be happening. The Green Men don't leave their isle. Edric remembered that fact when he had been learning about the age of the First Men and the guardians of the isle.
"When the king summons me, I will answer," Edric said finally, but the Green Man shook his head as if the answer was not the one he was seeking.
"I am not here from the king," he said. "I am here to tell you that you, Edric Dayne, must carry Dawn like your ancestor did when fighting the Others."
Edric recoiled in his seat. "Carry it!" he hissed. "I am not….I mean….Dawn can only be…."
"I am well aware of Adrian's Law," the Green Man said, "but believe me when I say that I wouldn't be asking you to break it if the situation wasn't dire."
Edric stared at the man, his mind leaping between asking more questions, calling for the guards to have the man arrested, or simply leaving the room and forgetting all about this. But there was a seriousness to the man, a presence that made everything the man said seem like life or death.
Which, of course, was what the Green Man was talking about.
Before Edric could respond, Bryn got up from his seat and began walking towards the door.
"Think over it," he called over his shoulder. "The Black Wolf rides south with evidence of the Long Night. When you see what he carries, think about what has been said here."
Before Edric had a chance to respond, the strange man slipped out of the room, leaving the young lordling confused and wondering.
Eddard Stark
Ned watched as the giant pounded the log, driving the sharpened point into the frozen ground with a few thumps of his fist. It was an impressive, and terrifying, display of strength. The beast didn't even seem to be trying, yet the pole went into the ground a couple of feet at a time.
That pole would be the start of another longhouse. The long, low-ceiling buildings have proven to be the best solution to the housing problem the wildlings had encountered. With one house, three or four families could live in relative warmth, protected from the elements much better than if they were living in tents. With many of the houses, chimneys had been erected in the center of the house so that they could keep a fire burning day and night.
"It takes time, doesn't it." Mance Rayder joked, coming up from behind the lord of Winterfell.
"After my son found a direwolf and her cubs, I never thought it would get weirder," Ned admitted. "How many do you have again?"
"Over a hundred," Mance said, his voice proud, but laced with sadness. "According to Styr, this is the last of them north of the Wall. There used to be many more."
"What happened?"
"The Night's Watch," Mance replied. "I doubt there is anyone alive who knows how the animosity started between the free folk and the Watch, but the giants were caught in the crossfire. They were forced to flee further north where the resources were not as plentiful. Thankfully, the Thenns had a good relationship with them and allowed them to live off their land. They're the only reasons the giants have survived as long as they have."
"I never thought about that," Ned said, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "I never wondered why the Watch and the free folk were enemies. All I ever knew was that they were."
"Aye, it's a puzzle." Mance agreed. "I wished that the Others would have helped mend relationships between the two sides, but Thorne has well and truly fucked that up."
"At least you're all south of the Wall," Ned said.
"How have your lords taken that?" Mance asked curiously.
Ned nodded. "Well enough after they saw what my brother was carrying." he glanced at the King-Beyond-the-Wall. "I don't need to tell you that their continued tolerance is dependent solely on your hold over your people and their habit to raid and pillage."
"Of course," Mance said easily. "My lieutenants should be able to keep their people in line. Free folk diplomacy is less about words and more about how fast you can swat the other person."
"I hope you're right about that." Ned sighed. "My men tend to swat using the edge of a sword."
"So does Tormund." Mance deadpanned.
"My lord." Eddard Karstark said, cutting into the conversation. "The king is here."
"Robb?" Ned asked, surprised. "Here?"
"Aye, my lord. He and Lady Targaryen are waiting for you both in your tent." Karstark said, nodding to Mance as well.
Ned raised an eyebrow. "Very well. Thank you, Eddard."
As Ned's captain bowed and strode off, the northern lord turned to the wildling king. Mance looked even more surprised than Ned, and also a touch apprehensive.
"Well, are you ready to meet my son?" Ned asked jokingly.
Line Break
Ned sent a silent prayer to the Old Gods when he caught sight of his son. Robb hadn't seemed to change at all since the two men had been together in King's Landing at the end of the war. Though now he looked like a true northman in plaited leathers and a thick fur cloak. His crown of black iron and bronze matched well with his black and brown attire.
When Ned had last seen his son, Robb had been in the process of growing a beard. It had been long and curling slightly and was still years away from growing into something the Greatjon would respect. But Robb had since copied Ned's style and had trimmed his beard close to his face, giving him a more regal look.
As soon as Robb saw his father, he strode forward and threw his arms around him, a smile lighting up his face. Ned could only return the hug with as much enthusiasm as his son before pulling back, taking in the sight of his boy.
"Gods, Robb," Ned said quietly. "You've grown up."
"Aye, Father," Robb said with a grin. "And you've grown more grey hair, I see."
Ned laughed and gripped his son's shoulder before moving more into the tent so that Mance could enter as well. Inside, six others stood behind Robb. Three wore white armor and fur cloaks that had been bleached white, marking them as kingsguard. The other three also wore furs and heavy leathers.
Ned nodded to Ser Barristan, the old knight still looking strong and fit. The lady of Dragonstone, Daenerys Targaryen, stood just in front of him, a proud, but unsure, look in her eye. She, like Robb, hadn't seemed to change at all since their last encounter in her room in King's Landing. The last man tried to hide in the corner, but his face was not one that Ned would forget easily. Jorah Mormont had finally returned to the North.
"Robb, this is Mance Rayder…." Ned said, gesturing behind him.
"The King-Beyond-the-Wall," Robb said, gazing at Mance. "I am aware. Though you're not north of the Wall now, so what does that make you?"
Mance shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"Some might say it does," Robb said, his expression like a stone mask before it broke into a slight grin, "but I do not count among them."
Robb reached his hand forward in greeting. The two men shook hands, though it was obvious that they were sizing each other up. After a moment, they broke off the handshake, some sort of bond having been made then and there.
"I heard from Cotter Pyke that Jon and others opened the tunnel under the Wall for you and your people," Robb said. "I am also happy to see that they have settled well on the Gift."
"You don't mind?" Mance asked, surprised.
Robb shook his head. "Not at all. It's exactly where I would have put your people if I had been in my father's position. I'm just glad you're south of the Wall." the young king rubbed his hands together. "Now what's this business with the Lord Commander?"
"Ser Alliser can't seem to get over his hatred for Lord Stark and myself," Mance explained grimly. "He can't seem to…."
"Separate his enemies," Daenerys suggested.
"Exactly," Mance said, nodding to the young woman. "He sees us all as his enemies. Now even with death marching south, I doubt we can present a strong and united front."
"Is there any way we can fix this?" Robb questioned. "Surely there's some way to make the man see sense."
Ned shook his head. "He's beyond reason now," he said grimly. "He sent men after those who helped Jon."
"Cotter Pyke told us that you placed them under your protection." Lady Daenerys said. "This Ser Alliser, he sent assassins?"
"In this case, yes," Ned confirmed, "but Jon told me that every man Thorne sent was killed and none of his companions were injured."
"That is good to hear," Robb said. "Where is Jon now?"
"I've sent him back to Winterfell," Ned answered. "I figured he would be more helpful there preparing the North for the war while I'm here. Now, why are you here, Robb?"
Ned's son crossed his arms. "I grew tired of waiting for information. I needed to scope out the land."
"What have you told your council?" Ned asked.
"The truth," Robb answered. "They know what we're up against."
"Have you seen your uncle yet?" Ned asked.
"Uncle Benjen?" Robb asked. "I know he has proof of the Long Night, but I have yet to see it. All I have is what I've learned from the Green Man."
"Green Man?" Ned said. "You visited them?"
Robb grinned like a boy who had just been caught stealing a sweet roll. He quickly explained what he had been doing in the south while Ned and Jon were dealing with the free folk. With Samwell Tarly poured through the books sent to him by Jon, Robb went to the only place where he felt he might get answers: the Isle of Faces. He then touched on the rise and fall of the Faith Militant under the High Sparrow before finishing up with the Green's Man's little show he put on for the Small Council.
All in all, Robb had been just as active in the south as Ned and Jon had been at the Wall.
"Robb, your uncle has the body of a wight," Ned said. "It's physical proof that the legend of the Long Night is no legend at all and that it is returning. He's gone south with it and intends on showing it to crowds of assembled lords."
"So I've heard," Robb grunted. He went to say something else, but Lady Danerys coughed slightly, glaring at Robb. The king returned the look before turning back to his father.
"We will speak further, father, but right now I would like privacy with you and Lady Targaryen."
The king glanced at his companions, each of whom nodded and left. Ned raised an eyebrow but gave Mance Rayder a look. The wildling king simply nodded and was the last to leave.
"Here's your chance, my lady," Robb said,
Daenerys glanced at Robb before soothing her dress and folding her hands in front of her, regarding Ned with a firm look.
"My lord, I am searching for the child of Rhaegar and Lyanna."