The throne room was filled to the brim with lords and ladies from the Vale, the Stormlands, the Crownlands, and Dorne. Robb and his councilors surrounded the throne, with the two royals sitting on their thrones. Jon, the Green Man, Jaime Lannister, and a few other notable individuals who were kept aware of the situation stood nearby. Prince Doran, with his brother stalking nearby, was surrounded by their bannermen in an almost shield-like manner, blocking the rest of the crowd from their group.
Robb sighed internally. He was hoping that keeping Oberyn in the dark hadn't severed his ties to the southern realm or their princes.
The lords of the Vale and Stormlands mingled freely with each other. Many of them had fought together during the War of Five Kings and many had become friends during the campaign. Harry and Sansa had spoken with many lords from both regions, with several lords of the Stormlands congratulating the young couple on their future marriage. Now the lord of the Eyrie and Robb's sister stood near Jon, with the two Baratheon boys not too far away from them.
Most of the crownlander lords stood together like the dornish, looking very awkward in the situation. Some had fought for the Targaryens, others for Robb, and some had simply taken their troops and went home after Tywin's defeat at High Heart. The only crownlander noble who seemed totally at ease was Lord Veleryon, who was in the middle of the valemen and stormlanders, talking to both groups like an old friend. The master of Driftmark was well-liked as he was the first of his peers to declare allegiance to Robb and had also played a minor role in harassing the ships coming to and from King's Landing when Joffrey ruled. Not only had he preserved many of his men, but had also made himself quite a rich man sailing alongside Ser Davos during that time.
Robb heard a slight cough and saw his steward gazing at him. When the man saw that he had the king's attention, he nodded once. It was a pre-arranged signal between Robb, the steward, and Benjen.
The northern king stood up, addressing the room.
"My lords and ladies," Robb said, his voice instantly causing the room to go silent. "I present my uncle, Benjen Stark, First Ranger of the Night's Watch."
The two main doors yawned open as Benjen Stark strode in, a large chest bound in iron chains held in his hands. There were a few mutters from the crowd, wondering what the ranger had to show them, but most of the room stayed silent. When Robb's uncle reached the middle of the room, he set the chest down and looked around him at the crowd that had surrounded him.
"Back, all of you," he ordered. The crowd, hearing the snap of command in his tone, instantly took three large steps backward, giving the man the room he wanted. When Benjen was satisfied with their distance, he continued.
"What I carry is not for the faint of heart," he warned. "I urge you to keep your swords sheathed. Cry out, faint if you have to, but I caution you all for what you're about to see."
There was no response to the man's warning, only an increase in curiosity from the crowd. Even Robb, who knew what was in the chest, leaned forward on his throne, eager and anxious to see what was waiting for him and his men north of the Wall.
Benjen produced a key and knelt, unlocking the thick padlock that held the chains in place. The sound of the click echoed through the room, and as soon as the lock was off, there was a savage, sudden, shake from the box, causing all in the room to stumble back in shock and cry out in panic.
"Hold!" Benjen roared, looking around the room. When there was an uneasy silence in the room, the ranger removed the chains and stood back up, drawing his sword. With a swift kick, he turned the box on its back, opening the top of the chest as he did.
A corpse tumbled out of the box. It was nothing but black, rotten bones and some tattered cloth that was once clothing. A terrible stench filled the room, causing many to cover their noses and mutter curses.
"What the hell is it?" someone shouted.
"A trick!" Oberyn Martell snarled, marching up to the corpse. "Nothing but….!"
The dornish prince never had a chance to finish his sentence. As soon as he was within reach of the corpse, it came to life, snatching at his ankle and trying to bite him with its splintered, cracked teeth. A blue light, almost like fire, burned in its eyes but made Robb feel as cold as ice.
"Fuck!" Oberyn shouted, skipping back as the creature snarled and roared weakly at the crowd.
Throughout the room, men were drawing their weapons and putting themselves between any lady close enough. Some men and women simply fainted, just as Benjen predicted. Robb was happy to see that his kingsguard hadn't drawn their weapons, but he knew just how restrained they were. Robb's own hand was gripping the hilt of his blade.
"Hold!" Benjen roared, casting his gaze around the room. "All of you, hold!"
"What in the seven hells is that?" Lord Corbray spat.
"It's a wight, my lord," Robb answered, stepping down from the throne and making his way through the crowd until he was in the middle with his uncle. "An undead soldier from an army commanded by our ancient enemy, the Others!"
"Non…." someone went to say before he found Robb's withering glare on them.
"Look into its eyes and tell me it's nonsense." Robb dared, challenging not just the man who spoke, but the crowd as a whole. When no one took up the challenge, Robb continued.
"For months, my council and I have been watching the Wall, waiting, preparing for when the Others attack, and I assure you they will," Robb said, his tone filled with passion that bordered on anger. "My uncle has been on the road for months, showing this devil to all he came across."
Ser Symond Templeton stepped forward. "Sire, if you have known about this for so long, why now are you making this known?"
"Because I wanted proof," Robb replied. "Proof for you all. This matter is too important for anyone to dismiss this threat as some northern superstition."
Many in the crowd nodded, even those who were known worshippers of the Seven. If they had heard any rumor about the Long Night returning, they would have done what Robb had said and would have dismissed it as nothing but a northern folk tale meant to terrify children. The undead corpse in front of them was no fantasy.
"How do we kill it?" Lord Royce asked, stepping forward. He, like others on Robb's council, had asked to put forward questions in case others in the crowd didn't.
"With this," Benjen answered, pulling a knife from his side. It was on the smaller side, made of glossy-black stone, but the blade itself looked sharp enough. "This is dragonglass. It is one of the only known substances that can kill an Other. Valyrian steel is another."
"What about the wight?" Lord Redfort asked.
"Total dismemberment," Benjen said, gesturing to the wight, who was still straining against its chain. Thankfully, the weight of the box and the chains kept the monster in place. "But fire can also do the trick."
Benjen sheathed his dagger and walked over to where the wight was still struggling. With a single action, he struck its head from what remained of its body. As the head rolled away, the body finally stopped moving and went limp.
Oberyn picked up the head, which had stopped by his feet. The blue fire that had been in its eyes was gone and now all that was left was a rotting skull.
"It's dead," he grunted. "Fully dead."
"There are undoubtedly thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of these buggers north of the Wall," Robb said, making a few men turn pale. "I can not force you to march your men across Westeros to fight them, but if there are any of you who will face them with me, I will take any and every sword I can get."
The room was quiet for a long time as people considered Robb's offer. The northern king continued sweeping his gaze over the crowd, waiting for someone to step forward. There weren't many who met his gaze, and he knew perfectly well why. They were scared, it was that simple. Asking them to fight men was easy. There was no mystery to fighting and killing another being of flesh and blood. But against a myth? It was enough to make a coward out of any man.
Finally, Jon forced his way through the crowd, followed by Harry, Gendry, and Edric.
"You are my brother," Jon said loudly, clasping arms with Robb. "Where you go, I go. My sword and life are yours and always will be."
"You are my king," Harry added as he grabbed Robb's other arm. "I know that you would go to the ends of the earth for me, and I shall follow you into the Seven Hells if you lead me."
Edric spoke for him and his brother.
"Our ancestors fought together during the first Long Night. Durran of Clan Durrandon and Brandon of Clan Stark," he said. "My brother and I would be proud to fight beside House Stark again."
The four men spoke bravely and with great passion, but when they were done talking, the room was silent once again. Robb expected someone from the Vale or the Stormlands to step forward next, someone who had fought for him before. The next person to speak, strangely, was Prince Oberyn.
"I will ride north with you." the dornish prince promised. "As a prince of Dorne, I must protect my people, just as you must protect all the people of Westeros. If you will not shy away from your duty, then neither shall I."
Oberyn looked around.
"King Robb is nearly half the age of most of you, and yet he is brave enough to fight this evil!" he shouted. "I will repeat his question again. Who here will stand with our king? Who will stand with House Stark!"
Lord Jasper Redfort stepped forward, looking shamefaced, but also resolute. He held one clenched fist over his heart and bowed deeply to Robb.
"House Redfort hails from the First Men," he said. "I do not know if they fought the Others when they first appeared, but it matters not. I will stand with you, King Robb, as will the men of the Redfort."
Lord Gilwood Hunter came forward next. "You will have the swords and spears of House Hunter," he promised.
"House Caron's as well." Lord Bryce added.
"House Massey will stand with House Stark."
"House Yronwood will go north!"
"House Tarth will fight beside the Young Wolf!"
One by one, starting with lords whose houses originated from First Men, every lord and knight within the hall came forward and pledged their support to Robb. The young king waited patiently as each of them spoke, nodding to them when they finished. After almost half an hour, everyone in the hall had given their support to him.
"Thank you, all of you," Robb said, sincerity dripping from his lips. "I know that what I ask of you isn't an easy task, but I believe that, together, we will prevail!"
Alec Reed
The storage rooms below the Red Keep housed a great many things. The Targaryen kings filled them with three centuries of gold and jewels. Robert Baratheon had all the dragon skulls removed from his throne room and moved into the lower sections of the castle, away from his sight. More often than not, people forgot that they even existed, but there were a few who still found a purpose for these rooms for things other than skulls and gold.
"We must act now," one of the four men whispered harshly. He was a stout, red-headed man with droopy eyes and a permanent scowl. His tunic was slightly hidden in shadow, but to the silent observer who was watching the meeting, the hung man was as clear as day.
"You're mad, Trant," another man snarled. There was nothing notable about the man other than the silver snake bracelet that curled around his left hand. "The king will slaughter us."
"What's your plan then, Lynderly?" a third man challenged. With broad shoulders and a thick neck, the man looked to be a decent warrior, but given the fact that his belly very nearly hung over his belt buckle, it was clear that he had given into the pleasure of good food and wine one too many times. The image that had been sewn into his strained tabard was two porcupines kept apart by a red slash.
"We wait for him and his allies to leave before making our move," the fourth and final man said. He was younger than all the rest but looked more dangerous. He was tall and clean-shaven with a hooked nose and dark hair that reached his shoulders. The sigil on his red shirt was a black kettle.
Alec knew each man and certainly didn't need the emblems of their houses sewn into their clothes to be able to call each by their name. When the High Sparrow had attempted to kill the king in the Riverlands, he had been tasked with searching for any allies the man had. The results now stood before him, having what they all thought was a secret meeting between the four of them.
None seemed to notice the cluster of empty barrels that housed the slight man as he eavesdropped on their meeting.
The four men were of no dire importance to the realm nor did they have much power. The only man among them who was worth knowing was Lord Jon Lynderly from the Vale. The rest came from minor houses or knightly houses. The first man who spoke was Marit Trant, the younger brother of the Ser Meryn Trant. The portly man, Hugh Blount, was the cousin of another kingsguard who had served under Joffrey, Ser Boros Blount.
The final man was the youngest brother of the Kettleblack brothers, Ser Osney Kettleblack. His older brother, Osmund and Osfryd, had died when the Targaryens had taken the city. All three had been hired as sellswords by Cersei Lannister, but they were all secretly under the employ of Petyr Baelish at the same time. Osney had been away from the city at his family's manor when the Targaryens attacked, and when both Baelish and Cersei were dead, the king has disregarded the man as a non-threat since both his masters were dead.
"Can we even make our move?" Hugh Blount asked. Like his cousin Boros, he wasn't the sharpest sword in the armory.
"Of course we can, you dolt!" Trant hissed. "With the king and most of the kingsguard away, the queen will be utterly defenseless."
"Blount has a point," Lynderly said. "Our allies in the Riverlands have gone strangely quiet and our allies in the Reach have been figured out by the queen's brother."
"Horan, Wylan, and Borum were fools to go after the Green Man," Ser Osney said dismissively. "They were impatient and did not strike at the true threat. We must go after the head that wears the crown, not the little green bird that whispers in its ear."
"We have only a little over a thousand men, ser," Lynderly said hotly, clearly annoyed that a knight had dismissed his words. "The city watch is ten thousand strong. Hawker has another five hundred knights and soldiers in the Red Keep alone! What about those damn patrols that ride up and down the Kingsroad?"
Alec smiled grimly as the men argued. If they wanted to get into the Red Keep, they would need a force of at least twenty thousand strong or more to take the city. The city watch, although not as fearsome as a good company of sellswords, was well trained and equipped with spears, bows, and armor. Then there was the group of warriors that served under Lord Royce and Commander Hawker who guarded the Red Keep and kept watch over the surrounding lands around the city. If all that wasn't enough, Ser Davos also had five longships docked in the harbor that belonged to the city watch. They wouldn't stop an attacking fleet, but they could certainly hold up a small attacking force long enough for their brothers-in-arms to prepare the defenses.
Between the savvy veteran in Yohn Royce, the cautious Davos Seaworth, and the cunning Commander Hawker, King's Landing was like an impenetrable fortress.
"What if they thought that we were here to reinforce the city?" Ser Osney asked.
"Why would they think that?" Blount asked. "Any large force approaching the city would be seen as enemies."
"Not if they flew the banners of the King's Company," Ser Osney countered, savage excitement in his tone. "Think about it. Everyone the king has planned this false war with―Tarly, Mallister, the Blackfish―they'll all be going with him. The queen won't have a clue that the entire company has already ridden north."
"It could work," Lynderly mused. "We would have to move quickly. The city watch will turn on us the moment they realize that something has happened."
"They won't dare harm us if we have a knife to the queen's pretty throat," Osney said, sounding more convinced about his plan the more he spoke about it. "We'll have to do away with her main protectors before anything else. Hawker, Seaworth, her kingsguard, they all have to be killed before we take the castle."
"Easier said than done," Blount grunted.
"It's our only choice," Ser Osney said forcefully. "We will make Robb Stark feel as much pain as he has made us all feel. We were influential men with powerful friends, and he took it away and sent us all falling from the ladder we had worked so hard to climb. Now is the time that we reclaim our power and show the Young Wolf that he has much more dangerous enemies who are much closer to his home."
Alec stayed where he was as the four men finished their meeting, promising to meet at Kettleblack's manor when the king and his moved north. When they left, the spymaster emerged from his hiding place. The king wouldn't be leaving for a few more months as the lords of Dorne, the Stormlands, and the Vale returned to rally their men. That meant that he had a few months to prepare for the treasonous plot.
"I need the Hound," Alec muttered to himself as he left the room.
Bran Stark
Bran felt the snow land on his shoulders and hair, but he did not feel the cold that came with it. The land around him blanketed in the white substance, coming up almost to his mid-calf. Any sort of life, whether it be a plant or livestock, would not last long in the environment. It was almost as if the snow was suffocating any sort of life that was crazy enough to be out in the open.
The day was grim. Thick, dark grey clouds suffocated all light trying to reach the ground, making it seem like the world was encompassed with permanent night. Harsh icy wind whipped through the air, tearing at bare trees, snapping off branches too weak to hang on any longer. Snow fell constantly, making it impossible to see anything further than a few feet away in the blizzard.
Yet, right in front of Bran, was a large black castle that was active with life. Soldiers, bundled in several furs, covered the walls and the courtyard, training, talking, working. Above the gate hung two banners, one on either side of the entrance. On the right was a plain black flag. On the left was a snarling grey direwolf on a field of white. Around the wolf's throat was a crown of bronze and iron.
It was the personal sigil of Bran's brother, Robb.
"He's done it." a man said from behind Bran.
The newcomer was taller than Bran, with broad shoulders, curly brown hair, and eyes like dying coals. A deep, forest-green cloak draped him and he carried a spear tipped with dragonglass in one hand.
"I knew he would," Bran said. "All seven kingdoms are united for the first time since the first Long Night."
"And none too soon." the Green Man agreed. "They move closer with each passing day. Soldiers must be sent north."
"I have told Lord Stark," Bran replied. "Messages must be sent to the others. Harlaw, Tully, Tyrell, and the maester at the Rock."
"I will tell Robb." the Green Man promised. "Have you spoken to the child?"
Bran nodded. "We've spoken," he said, glancing at the other man. "It's true?"
"It is." the Green Man said. "It's destiny. Nothing will change it." he met Bran's gaze. "I'm sure you know the feeling. Your destiny has yet to be fulfilled."
Bran nodded again, saying nothing. For a long time, neither man spoke. They simply stood in the snow, watching as the activity increased and horns sounded from the top of the Wall. Men rushed around, arming themselves with spears and bows. A man's voice could be heard above the sound of the horns. Bran knew it well. It was his brother's.
"The enemy comes again!" Robb bellowed. "To the gate! Protect the gate!"
"How long has it been?" the Green Man asked.
"Three months since the first attack," Bran answered. "They've only made it through the first gate."
"That leaves another nine months then." the Green Man grunted.
"Or less," Bran replied gravely.
"Or less." the Green Man agreed.