Robb grunted, deflecting the strike before spinning on his heel, blocking another opponent's sword and kicking the wielder in the chest, sending them sprawling. Spinning again, he ducked under a blow and used his shoulder to shove the third attacker back before lashing out at his first opponent. This continued before one of the attackers managed to lock blades with the king, holding him still as a second person brought their practice sword gently down on his neck and gut, swinging fast before pulling the blow just short.
"Dead," Brienne said bluntly, standing chest to chest with the king.
Robb, and all three of his kingsguard, were stripped to just shirts, trousers, and boots, wielding blunted steel blades. Normally, Robb would train against just one of his sworn swords, but to truly test his skill, he had all three warriors attack him to see how long he'd last. It was an idea he had when looking out over the Wall. He knew that wights wouldn't fight in the traditional sense. They would tear into a man with the help of two or more of their undead friends.
"Wights won't lock blades with me." Robb countered, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Nor will it be wise to put your shoulder into one." Ser Robar grunted, rubbing his ribs where the king had charged him.
"You'll have to rely on your blade alone, your grace," Brienne said. "Think fast and react faster."
"Fair point." Robb conceded. "How's your chest, Ser Garth?"
"It'll heal." the reachman said, grimacing slightly. "You did well fighting against three for the first time. Your goodbrother, Garlan, does it annually to prepare for battle."
"It'll be a good training exercise when it comes time to fight," Robb noted.
Brienne looked up at the Wall. "I think training them on how to shoot a bow or use a spear might be better, my lord. If the Wall is truly our best defense, then we all must be ready to use defensive measures."
"A good thought." Ser Robar seconded. "These wights may be no better than wild animals. The best way to deal with them is to keep them at a distance."
"Bows and spears," Robb grunted. "Not many will like that idea. Especially knights. Those are weapons for men-at-arms, not highborn who have trained since they were five with swords and axes."
"True." Ser Garth said, leaning on his practice sword. "But men won't care what they have to fight with if it keeps them alive."
"What about horses? A cavalry charge?" Robb asked. He knew that a good cavalry charge could crush hundreds and route the enemy. It happened to him at Harrenhal, unfortunately, but it also happened to Tywin at High Heart.
"Can't put fear into something that doesn't feel it." Brienne countered, crossing her arms. "Besides, who knows what the demons are capable of? They could very well overwhelm the horsemen."
Robb thought about that briefly. Thousands of riders slowly engulfed thousands of wights crawled over them, ripping away their armor and tearing the flesh from their horses. In the snow among a horde of the living dead, Robb doubted that anyone would be able to keep control of their mount long enough to get to safety.
"They don't leave us much room for strategy, do they." Robb joked grimly.
"Spears and bows, your grace." Ser Robar offered. "Spears and bows."
Robb chuckled and raised his practice sword. "Who's up for another bout?"
Line Break
Robb walked out of his room and was instantly flanked by Ser Garth. As the pair left the tower where they were quartered, Robb turned and walked towards the iron cage that lifted people to the top of the Wall. The sounds of their boots on the stairs leading up to the cage woke the man controlling the contraption. He gazed at Robb through sleepy eyes. It was after midnight and he couldn't seem to understand why anyone not on duty would be out this late in the cold.
"Your grace?" he yawned.
"Can you take us to the top of the Wall?" Robb asked.
The man raised an eyebrow, but nodded and gestured towards the cage as he got into position. As soon as the door was closed, the man began to work, lifting the cage slowly but surely to the top of the Wall. Robb pulled his cloak tighter around him as the wind began to pick up the higher they went.
"Fine time for a nightly walk, your grace." Ser Garth grunted, following Robb's action.
"Felt like clearing my head," Robb responded. "You didn't have to follow me up."
"You know it's not a choice." Ser Garth said.
"I do," Robb said as the cage came to a stop, rattling slightly. The king opened the door and stepped out onto the walkway, striding past half-asleep watchmen towards an empty lookout post.
The lands beyond the Wall were spread out in front of Robb, running for miles to the north, east, and west. It was a beautifully harsh land, filled with forest, hills, mountains, and constant snowfall. In the distance. The howls and cries of animals could be heard from where Robb stood, the sounds of the wild. Just laying eyes on the land made Robb's homeland seem tame and boring. This was the true north.
Robb knew of men in the south who considered themselves 'true' men. They could hunt, ride, and fight well. They could show off their battle scars and spin a pretty tale of how they got it fighting off a rabid dog, but the king doubted if any of them could survive beyond the Wall for any length of time like the wildlings have. It was the land of myth and legend. Wild bears and wolves, sabercats and direwolves, giants and wildings, snarks and grumpkins
"They're out there somewhere, Garth," Robb said quietly. "Thousands of them."
"Would you call me insane if I wished they would get here already?" Ser Garth asked, standing next to his king. "I can't stand waiting."
"A feeling I share as well," Robb said, "but the longer they take, the more time we have to prepare. My uncle is surely in the south, but I doubt he's even reached Highgarden by now, let alone King's Landing."
"How confident are you that everyone will heed your summons when you call the banners of the realm?" Ser Garth asked curiously.
Robb sighed. "A question I have considered many times, my friend, but ultimately it doesn't matter."
"Your grace?"
"Think about it. We have to hold the Wall. There is nowhere else we can retreat to. The battle must be fought here or all is lost. Whoever answers, however many men we have, we just have to make do." Robb explained. "Strategy, tactics, outmaneuvering the enemy, it seems useless in this situation. I spoke with a few of the brothers who saw the wight. Ser Robar was right, it's a wild beast that knows no fear. We have to hack and slash to kill it."
"Spears and bows." Ser Garth said.
"Courage and bravery." Robb corrected. "Courage and bravery in the face of a bloody nightmare."
"Your grace, you inspired men to face dragon fire and fight on." Ser Garth said encouragingly. "There are very few men who could do such a thing."
"They were young and could be driven off with enough arrows," Robb said, shaking his head. "I'd rather face them again if I'm honest. Just the thought that they're living, breathing creatures helps immensely."
"Sometimes we don't get to choose our fights." Ser Garth said.
"Aye, that's true," Robb said, "but if that wasn't the case, I wouldn't be king."
"Wouldn't you?" Ser Garth asked, clearly confused.
"I had a choice to fight Daenerys and her nephew," Robb explained. "Everyone believed that they had forced my hand by making an attempt on my life, and truthfully they had, but I could have simply withdrawn the army, settled the lands I had already."
"If you put it like that, then you didn't have to march south to rescue your father," the knight said with a grim smile. "Every one of your kingsguard followed the war closely, your grace, even when we weren't fighting for you. The Lannisters held your father and sister, or at least you believed they did, and so you had to fight them. They also attacked the lands of your mother's family, making them your enemy still. The Targaryens forced your hand by trying to kill you. You tried for peace. In every instance, you were dragged into war."
"It seems that I am once again," Robb sighed. "More death, more loss, more sadness. It all went by so fast last time. When we're back here, ready for a fight, who knows who won't be leaving."
"Your grace." a night's watchman said. "Lord Commander Thorne wishes to see you in his solar. There's been a raven from Winterfell. It's from your brother Jon."
Robb nodded and followed the man. They used the cage to descend from the top of the Wall before the man brought them outside Thorne's door. There, he left the king and the knight, probably seeking the warmth of a fire or his bed. Robb looked around the castle before entering the room. Besides the few lone figures wrapped in black standing guard, there was not a soul around.
The king opened the door and stepped in, Ser Garth right behind him. The room was completely empty, with the only light coming from where the moonlight streamed through a single window. Robb immediately sensed danger and turned back towards the door, retreating further into the room, his hand flying to his sword, but not drawing it. Ser Garth stood just before the king, ready with his hand on his sword.
The door opened and seven individuals entered, led by Ser Alliser. They all carried swords and had the looks of steely determination on their faces. Unlike Robb, they all wore dark chainmail under their furs and leathers. It was obvious that they were ready for a fight, and Robb had fallen right into their trap.
"What's the meaning of this?" Robb demanded, drawing his sword, Ser Garth following his lead.
"I will not have anyone here who undermines my authority." Ser Alliser said, his voice strangely calm. "Not you, not your damn father, not your bloody bastard brother. I am Lord Commander and I rule this castle."
Ser Alliser wore a strange look of calmness mixed with determination on his face, but his eyes told the true story. They were wide open and filled with hate and anger as well as madness. They were the eyes of a man who had been pushed too far and had now snapped, leaving all resemblance of logic behind.
"You're delusional, Thorne!" Robb shouted. "Think about what you're doing, all of you! You really think you'll get away with killing a king?"
"You're no king, not here." Ser Alliser snarled. "This. Is. My. Castle."
"You're a fucking madman, just like Aerys." Robb snapped.
"For the Watch." Ser Alliser said as the first two men rushed forward.
Robb grabbed the chair behind him and used it as a shield, halting the man's charge and trapping him between the four legs as Robb shoved Claw through his opponent's throat. The valyrian blade slipped in and out as easily as a hot knife through butter, but the king's victory lasted only moments before he was set upon by another. He tossed the chair at his new attacker, striking as the man was briefly distracted by the flying piece of furniture. It took only a moment for Robb to open his stomach, swiping again at the man's face as he fell to his knees.
Ser Garth roared as he kicked his latest opponent back, causing the man to stumble over the bodies of his fallen allies. His cries of confusion were cut off as the knight shoved his blade through the man's chest, matching Robb's two kills.
Ser Alliser and his last two remaining allies hesitated, not wanting to follow their friends into death. Robb and Ser Garth stayed where they were, waiting for their moment to strike, but before they could, the door to the room was thrown open as two more armed figures entered, cutting down one of Thorne's allies as they did.
Robar and Brienne shouted battle cries as they entered. The Vale knight engaged with the final assassin, forcing him back with a flurry of blows that were barely kept at bay. Brienne turned her bloody sword on Ser Alliser, who raised his own blade in defense as they launched themselves at each other.
Ser Robar carved his sword through his opponent's shoulder, his sword slicing all the way to the man's midsection before he pulled his blade free, letting the body join the others on the floor slick with blood and gore.
Ser Alliser put up a much better fight than his friends did, standing his ground against the massive warrior woman. He was fast and strong, using his years of experience to equal Brienne's brute strength. But unbeknownst to the Lord Commander, Brienne had trained with both Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy when all three were in King's Landing. She had picked up more than a few things from the two men, and she put them to use now as she fought, showing skill with a blade that surprised even Robb.
With a roar, Brienne sliced the man's wrist, valyrian steel sword cutting through the man's chainmail and taking his hand completely off. Thorne's sword fell with his hand as he instinctively drew his arm in, holding the bloody stump close to his chest. He stood utterly defenseless before the warrior woman, who had her blade at his throat.
"Any last words, Ser Alliser?" Robb asked.
"Now my watch has ended." Thorne spat before closing his eyes.
Robb nodded to Brienne, who took the head of the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Seven bodies now littered the ground, their blood soaking into the wood floor. The air was thick with the stench of death. Neither the king nor any of his warriors had any wounds on their bodies, but their blades were just as red as the ground.
"Now his watch has ended." Robb echoed gravely. "And good riddance."
Line Break
Robb's father arrived just as the sun reached its peak, accompanied by Mance Rayder, his burly, white-bearded captain, and the black brother that had been sent out to fetch him. The lord of Winterfell's face was dark with anger and he had a tight hold on his sword.
"Father," Robb said, walking over to him. As soon as his father dismounted, the two Starks quickly embraced before the older pulled back, looking his son up and down.
"Chett told me what happened." he breathed. "You're alright?"
"Fine, father," Robb replied. "You arrived quickly."
"We were staying at Mole's Town when the black brother found us. A few of the free folk snuck off to have their fun and caused a ruckus." Father explained. "Tell me what happened. The truth, Robb."
"I left my room to clear my head." Robb started. "Ser Garth accompanied me. We then were asked to see Ser Alliser. A lie, but one we did not know at the time. The man intended to trap us in the room, outnumbered more than three to one, but Garth and I swiftly evened the odds. That's when Brienne and Ser Robar arrived and cut down the rest. Brienne took Alliser's head herself."
"Chett told me he overheard the man's plan and woke your kingsguard," Father said.
"That he did, though he took no part in the fighting. Didn't want to kill his brothers." Robb said. "I sent him to fetch you while I retrieved Bowen Marsh and Othell Yarwyck. The Watch cannot afford to be leaderless."
"Who's taken over?" Father asked.
"Normally, it would be the master-at-arms, but he was one of Thorne's accomplices," Robb said grimly. "As of right now, Othell and Bowen are sharing the duty."
"Is there a favorite?"
"Uncle Benjen, but he's not here," Robb said. "A rider has been sent to the Shadow Tower for Qhorin Halfhand, Benjen's replacement as First Ranger. From what I've heard, he's as good a man as there is at the Wall and he's very respected."
"Then who will be First Ranger?"
"A man by the name of Jarmen Buckwell," Robb answered. "He's the one we sent to get Qhorin. He's a senior ranger."
Robb felt slightly proud of himself. One of Margaery's lessons to him, especially after he took King's Landing, was to establish stability. Chaos created an uneven platform for anyone to make any decisions. By filling the void of leadership at Castle Black, Robb had made it so that none of Alliser's supporters could make a bid at Lord Commander and start a new problem for Robb to deal with.
"Things are in order then." Father nodded. "What's happened to Thorne's body?"
"Lichyard, as per custom," Robb said. "Yarwyck and Marsh said he deserved that much for the man he was, not the man he became."
"His companions?"
"Burned," Robb answered. "From now on, all dead will be burned to keep them from becoming wights."
"Yarwyck and…."
"Marsh." Robb helped.
"And Marsh," Father continued. "They're fine with all of this?"
"After their former commander tried to kill a king, you'd be surprised with what they allow," Robb said with a grim smile. "We should have no more issue with the leadership of the Watch, father. Yarwyck, Marsh, Buckwell, even Halfhand, they all understand what's at stake and they're ready to fight."
"Does that mean that your stay in the North is finished?" Father asked.
"I must return to King's Landing to see this wight myself," Robb said. "I assume you'll be staying with the free folk?"
"For now," Father said. "I sent a message to Winterfell asking for Howland. I'm not sure if he's gone back to Greywater or not. I'm hoping he can lend Cat a hand."
Robb raised an eyebrow. "Has Jon accepted Daenerys' offer?"
Father shook his head. "I haven't heard anything from Winterfell, but there's no harm in making sure that the war efforts are still overseen by a proven commander."
Robb nodded. "I leave for Eastwatch in the morning. You'll stay the night?"
"If it's alright with you, my lord, your grace, I would like to stay under the Halfhand arrives," Mance said, walking up the father and son. "There's much I would like to discuss with him."
Robb nodded. "Do as you see fit. I trust you and my father to ensure that the Wall is ready."
"It will be Robb," Father promised. "It will be."
Daenerys Targaryen
Lady Stark had thrown a modest feast to welcome the lady of Dragonstone. Tables held an assortment of roasted venison and boar, both of which had been hunted the day before. Ale and wine both flowed from casks and bread, vegetables, and fruit accompanied the roasted meats. The food was not lavish, like what Daenerys had tried during her time in Qarth or Pentos, but it was good nonetheless.
The silver-haired beauty sat at the high table with Lady Stark and her three children; Bran, Rickon, and Arya. The two boys sat on the older woman's right while Arya and Jon sat on her left. Daenerys and her protectors had been seated next to Jon. Whether that was by coincidence or not, she didn't know.
What Daenerys did know was that there was one at the table who did not welcome her as easily as Lady Stark did. Arya, Lord Stark's youngest daughter, had sent glares at Daenerys throughout the entire dinner, not saying a word, not even to Jon whenever he tried to speak to her.
After a few hours, the feast began to wind down as guests staggered off to find their beds, their bellies full of ale and food. Lady Stark had said her goodbyes to her guest before ushering her youngest to bed as well. Bran, the cripple, had gazed at Jon and Daenerys for a long while before nodding to her and having himself wheeled from the room by a small giant. Soon, just Jon, Daenerys, Arya, Ser Jorah, and Ser Barristan remained.
"You should go," Jon said quietly to his sister.
Arya stared at him before directing a glare at Daenerys. "He's my brother," she said firmly. "Understood?"
Daenerys nodded. "I do."
"If he dies, it's on your head." Arya continued. "Understood?"
Daenerys nodded again. "I do. I will keep your brother safe."
Arya stared at Daenerys for a long moment before storming out of the room. Jon watched her go, a grim look on his face. When the young girl was gone, he sighed and shook his head, looking back at Daenerys.
"I'm sorry about that." he apologized. "She's very protective of family."
"As all should be." Ser Barristan said. "These last few years must have been hard on her."
"They have been," Jon agreed, "but she's strong for her age. She'll understand eventually, she just needs time."
"She reminds me of Lyanna." Ser Jorah grunted, taking a drink from his tankard. He looked at Jon. "I didn't know your aunt, lad, but she was said to be as wild and as free as the giant wolves that follow you and your brothers."
"Robert Baratheon once said the same to me in confidence." Ser Barristan added. "Though he didn't want it to be made public. Cersei was a jealous woman who hated Lyanna Stark."
Daenerys shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She didn't care what Robert Baratheon said, nor did she care that Jon's sister was like a reincarnation of his birth mother. She wanted Jon's answer, and she was tired of waiting for it. She needed to return to Dragonstone and urge her children to fly again. She needed them as much as they needed her. Soon, the whole world would need them both.
"What's your answer?" Daenerys asked, cutting off any other conversation.
Jon set down his cup and set both hands on the table in front of him. He was silent for a long time before he looked up and locked eyes with Daenerys. He nodded once.
"I will help you."
Jon didn't look happy about agreeing to her plan. He looked more like he had just accepted to fight a dragon rather than ride one. He looked like a man who had just signed his death warrant.
Daenerys smiled despite Jon's apprehensive mood. "We leave in the morning. We have a long ride to White Harbor."
Jon didn't respond instantly. He got up from his seat, draining the rest of his drink as he did. He set down his cup and nodded to the three southerners as he set his sword belt and grabbed his cloak.
"Tomorrow, at sunrise, we'll leave," he said. "Right now, I have to go see my sister."
Without another word, Jon strode off, swirling his cloak around his shoulders as he did. Daenerys tapped her goblet, watching him as he left. Jon was in some ways a polar opposite of Robb, and in other ways, the two were practically the same. Jon was reserved and observant, thinking carefully before he spoke and choosing to stand in the shadows instead of the light. Not because he hated the light, but because he did not need to be recognized for his good deeds. Robb, charming and charismatic, thrived under the pressure of the light, leading the charge from the front.
But both were strong, fearless, and totally devoted to their families. They were good, honorable men who took after the man that raised them. While Robb could inspire the weakest heart, Jon had the same aura around him that made him the same natural leader as his brother.
"I'm surprised it took him so long to answer." Ser Jorah said, taking another drink. "I would have thought the son of Eddard Stark would jump at the chance to help the realm."
"He's not his son," Daenerys said quietly.
Ser Jorah frowned. "I'm sorry, Khaleesi, what was that?"
Daenerys looked at Ser Barristan. "Rhaegar's child."
The old knight looked confused for a moment before the realization hit him. He looked back at where Jon left the room. Ser Jorah still looked utterly confused with what was going on between Barristan and Daenerys.
"What about Rhaegar?" he asked.
"Jon is the son of my brother and Lord Stark's sister," Daenerys explained. "Lord Stark raised him as his bastard to keep him safe."
The look on Ser Jorah's face was one of shock. He shook his head. "That's…."
"Hard to believe?" Ser Barristan helped. "I feel the same as you. I knew that Rhaegar had absconded with the girl, but I had only been aware that he had a child with her this past year."
"Lord Stark said that his sister had been raped and the result was a child," Daenerys said sadly.
Ser Jorah held his tankard with both hands. "That's why you need him? To ride Rhaegal?"
"Yes," Daenerys said. "That's why we're here."
Ser Jorah took a long drink, practically finishing his ale before setting his tankard down with a thud. The northern knight had a thoughtful look on his face and a faraway gaze, but he shook his head and cleared it away.
"I hope he helps," he said finally.
"As do I, Ser Jorah." Daenerys agreed.