Jon crossed his arms as his brothers' commanders spoke about that night's battle. It had been their first taste of what the enemy was capable of, and as of now, confidence was high all along the Wall. Unsurprisingly, men were very happy that they were able to stand hundreds of feet above their enemy and rain arrows down on them from a safe distance. Messages from the other castles all reported the same thing: The first of three gates remained unbroken and the enemy took severe losses.
All that remained to be seen was how long it would take for the war to end. The reports also noted that there seemed to be a never-ending tide of wights, even as they pulled away from the Wall and disappeared within the treeline of the Haunted Forest.
"Even with dragons, it will take months for us to whittle down the enemy," Lord Royce grumbled. "We must do a better job at preserving our dragonglass."
Others around the table nodded in agreement. While Robb had assembled a strong group of fantastic warriors, his war council had been more selective. Men like their father, Yohn Royce, and Randyll Tarly had been obvious choices. Jon, Jaime, and Brienne rounded out the group.
"We could use more oil casks," Jaime offered. "Save the arrows until they breach the first gate."
"You have a point, Jaime," Lord Tarly grunted. "We can't use the casks once they're past the first gate or when they finally enter the castle."
"Even still, why would the Others show themselves when they know that we have weapons that can slay them?" Brienne asked, addressing the table. "We could be here for a year or longer. They don't have to care about time. They don't need to feed their men or let them rest. We don't have the same luxury. The Green Man said it yesterday. The cold is just as much our enemy as the Others are."
"This was only our first battle with the enemy, Brienne," Robb said. "Your point is valid, but many things can change in a few months."
"And if they don't?" Jaime asked.
Robb shrugged. "Then we find a way to draw them into the open."
"How would you propose we do that?" Lord Tarly asked.
"Well, they're targeting this castle because of me. If it's me they want, then we'll give them a way to get to me," Robb said simply. "Brienne is right. All the pressure is on us. Our men need food, rest, and at some point, we may run out of dragonglass."
"That's very admirable of you, my lord, but you're the focal point of this whole campaign," Lord Royce said. "If you were to die or be wounded…"
"My lord, we all have to make sacrifices," Robb said, cutting off the valeman. "Besides, there's only one we have to kill."
"Who?" Brienne asked.
"The Green Man referred to him as the Night King," Robb explained. "He's the last remaining White Walker from the Age of Heroes. He's the one who has been making more of his brothers. If we kill him, then we cut the head off the snake."
"You mean the rest of the Others and the wights will be destroyed?" Father asked.
"That is the idea," Robb answered.
"And if it doesn't work?" Jaime asked.
"Have a little faith, Lannister," Lord Royce grumbled.
Robb shook his head. "Jaime is right to voice his doubts. No plan ever goes perfect. If the Night King falls and the Others still remain, then we know that all Others must be destroyed."
"It makes our job harder, but if we have all the White Walkers in one place, then we could cut all the heads off the snake," Jon added, speaking for the first time.
"There's no place we could do that unless we let them into the castle," Lord Tarly countered. "Your Grace, I don't need to tell you the dangers of such a tactic."
"No, you don't," Robb said. "I'm afraid that we've gotten off-topic. Lord Royce, Jaime, you're both right. We'll do better to conserve our dragonglass arrows. Save them for giants or spiders. Lord Blackwood reported seeing one of the things trying to climb up the Wall."
"How far did it get?" Jon asked.
"About a hundred feet before a dozen Raventree archers riddled it with arrows," Father answered grimly. "But they move very quickly. Giantsbane said that it would take a wight a whole day to climb to the top of the Wall? One of their damned spiders can maybe do it in half the time."
"Has the report been passed to the others?" Lord Royce asked.
"Yes," Robb answered. "Your suggestion with the oil casks was good, Jaime. I will send word back south asking for more." Robb wrapped his knuckles on the table. "That will be all for today. Who is on watch tonight?"
"I am, Robb," Father replied. "I will send word if anything happens."
"Good," Robb said. "Jon, a word."
Jon nodded and stayed behind as the others left the room, their father closing the door behind them as he was the last to leave. When they were gone, Robb poured them both tankards of ale.
Jon took a drink before grimacing and shaking his head.
"After thousands of years, you'd think the Watch would be better at making ale," he joked.
Robb chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I would say you rode south two years ago just to get away from it."
"It certainly helped," Jon said as both brothers took another drink.
"How is Daenerys and her dragons?" Robb asked.
"Fine. the dragons seem in good spirits. The housing that the Free Folk made for them helps keep them out of the snow. They also enjoy a hot spring that's about a mile away," Jon answered.
The housing had been simple, but effective. It was essentially a giant, open-faced warehouse that was the height of the tallest giant they could find and the width of twenty men standing shoulder to shoulder. Instead of hay, round river rock made up the floor of the room and a massive leather tarp hung from an iron rod that went across the entrance to the warehouse that could be pushed aside by three men. The leather and the rocks weren't to help keep out the cold, but to keep the building from burning down.
A constant guard of ten Unsullied guarded the building day and night to keep idiots from messing with the dragons.
Robb's orders.
"They did very well in the battle," Robb said. "You two destroyed hundreds of wights."
"They certainly don't help themselves," Jon agreed. "They're nothing but a disorganized mass with every wight waiting for their turn to die. It was like spearing fish in a barrel. Daenerys is in agreement."
"If we keep up with what we did last night, I don't see this war lasting more than a year," Robb said. "I know the Others have had a millennium to regather their strength after losing during the Age of Heroes, but this almost seems…"
"Too easy?" Jon asked. Robb nodded grimly.
"They've waited for centuries to get their revenge and it doesn't even look like they were trying."
"Wights aren't known for their discipline," Jon offered helpfully, but the look on his brother's face told him that his words were falling on deaf ears. "What are you worried about Robb?"
"What if we're walking into a trap?" Robb asked bluntly.
"Do you think we are?" Jon replied although he felt like he already had his answer.
"It all feels….underwhelming," Robb admitted. "We've worked so hard, Jon. Thousands of men have come together to defeat these fucking things and we might win before they even break through the Wall. I can't help but think that there's something wrong. We're missing something."
Jon sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure, Robb. Bran, myself, and Daenerys have been watching the enemy for weeks. One of us would have spotted something out of the ordinary."
Robb nodded slowly. "Maybe."
"Robb, if your gut tells you differently, then listen to it," Jon advised. "It hasn't led you wrong thus far."
"Thank you, Jon," Robb said as he finished the last of his ale. "Will the dragons be ready for tonight?"
"They're sleeping now," Jon answered. "The archers did a great job avoiding them."
Robb pursed his lips. "Let's keep things simple. We'll deal with anything close to the Wall. You and Daenerys can cover the rest of the field. That'll hopefully lower the chances of either you or the dragons being hit."
"I'll let Daenerys know," Jon promised. "Before I leave, how have the men taken to the Children of the Forest?"
Robb cracked a smile. "It's a work in progress."
"Thank the gods we have a few months then," Jon said, causing both brothers to laugh. It was a good sound despite the death that was waiting for them outside the room.
Arya Stark
Arya frowned as she watched the three men. She had never seen them before around the castle, and she knew all of her father's guardsmen. The three men in plaited leather, wearing steel helms, and carrying spears did not serve her father. The closer she looked at them, the more convinced she became. Their armor was ill-fitting, and with two of them, it seemed to hang off their hunger-pained frames. They constantly shifted their spears in their grips, showing that they were unused to the feel of a weapon in their hands.
The two hundred men that Father had left under Ser Mychel's command were all guardsmen who had years of experience under their belts. They would never look so nervous or unsure.
"Lady Arya?" Gendry asked quietly, coming up behind her. "What are you doing?"
Arya put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh!" she hissed. "Why are you following me?"
Gendry frowned and looked extremely confused. He looked around, and Arya realized how foolish she must have looked. She was hiding behind a couple of barrels, spying on a trio of guardsmen who were chatting quietly to themselves near the back entrance to the kitchens.
It didn't help that it was quite a few hours after midnight.
"Get down," Arya ordered, gesturing to the spot next to her. "I don't think those men are guards."
"But…"
"Look at them and ask yourself if they would look out of place in Storm's End," Arya said before the large boy could argue.
Gendry looked again at the three men and bit his lip thoughtfully, which Arya found strangely and annoyingly cute, before shaking her head and scowling at herself. Thankfully, Gendry didn't notice the brief, internal struggle she had. Instead, he looked back at her and shook his head.
"They would," he conceded. "What are you worried about?"
"There is a large storage room under the kitchens," Arya explained. "Winter is here and people are desperate…"
"Desperate enough to disguise themselves as guards so that they could steal food," Gendry said gravely. "What do you plan to…"
Gendry's voice trailed off when he looked down and caught sight of Arya's sword. She quickly moved her cloak to hide the hilt, but it was too late.
"I have a plan," Arya said angrily.
"Fighting them?" Gendry grumbled. "Lady Arya…"
"Just Arya," Arya snapped quietly, glancing over at the three men to make sure they hadn't heard her. "I'm not a lady."
Gendry sighed and shook his head stubbornly. "Fine, Arya, you're not going to be able to take on three full-grown men by yourself."
"How do you know?" Arya challenged. "You've never seen me fight."
"Arya, if there was one or two of them, then you can take them. But three is too much and desperate people do stupid things," Gendry continued. He looked over his shoulder at the dark smithy before holding up his hand. "Stay right here."
"What are you going to do?" Arya asked, her curiosity overcoming her anger.
"I'm going to help you, but I need to get something," Gendry said. "Now stay put. I'll be right back."
As Gendry slipped off across the courtyard, Arya turned her attention back towards the three men, but they were nowhere to be seen. What she could see was the back door to the kitchens had been cracked open. The young lady bit back a very unladylike curse before drawing Needle and moving towards the building.
Arya gently eased open the door and slipped inside, carefully placing every step as she looked around the room, searching for the thieves. When she saw nothing but shadows and shards of moonlight, she turned her gaze on the trap door that led down to the storage room.
The door was wide open and she could see the faint glow of a torch moving around the room.
Arya moved down the steps with her sword held just before her. When she reached the bottom of the steps, she hid behind a massive barrel of wheat grain. After a second, she poked her head out and watched in the dim light of their only torch as they whispered excitedly to each other and stuffed food into sacks.
"I doubted you, Edgar," a man with a long, wispy beard hissed as his grubby hands grabbed half a dozen apples. "Your plan went perfectly."
"Idiots never suspected a thing," Edgar, a clean-shaven man with beady, close-set eyes laughed.
The third man, the largest of the group with a round, chubby face, said nothing as he continued to stuff dozens of rolls into his bag. Their spears were leaning against the stairwell, and although all three had daggers by their sides, Arya felt like it was her chance to make her move.
"Stop right there!" Arya snapped, emerging from her hiding place as she dropped into her stance.
"Who's that?" Edgar asked, squinting his eyes as he moved the torch in Arya's direction. When he saw who had spoken, a disgusting smile spread across his face. "Look who it is, lads. Little Arya Stark."
"She's a cute one, ain't she," the bearded man said, a similar smile coming across his face. "How do you feel about food and a show boys?"
Arya didn't respond to her threats as the three men put down their bags. The two smaller men drew their daggers while the third man lunged for his spear. Despite his size, he was deceptively fast.
Arya was faster.
Needle tore a red ribbon across the man's palm before Arya whipped it up, cutting the man's fat cheek. The large man grunted in pain as he took two steps back, glaring hatefully at Arya and her bloody sword.
Edgar chuckled. "She's got some fight, don't she. Let's show her how real men fight."
"Too bad there aren't any real men here," Arya replied sarcastically.
Edgar's smile turned into a snarl as he lunged at the young woman, stamping his foot as he thrust towards her midsection. He had been expecting to overpower her in seconds, but he had no idea what his opponent was capable of, and like with so many other men, it proved to be his undoing.
Arya parried the attack before slashing a line across his exposed forehead. When his hand instinctively flew to his head, Arya whipped Needle across his thigh before rolling out of the way of the second man's attack. When she back on her feet, she slipped out of the way of his next attack, an overhead strike that hit the edge of a barrel and stuck there. While he struggled to free his weapon, Arya nicked the side of his neck. It was a painful wound, but ultimately not fatal.
Arya's water dancing had wreaked havoc on her opponents, leaving them confused and in immense pain, but as she readied herself to face them again, she momentarily forgot about the third thief.
Needle fell from her hand as her arms were pinned to her sides by his massive hug. She struggled and kicked out her feet, but his hold was like iron.
Edgar scooped up Needle, holding it under her chin as his ugly smile reappeared.
"As I said, she got some fight," he growled, running a grimy hand down her cheek. "It'll be my pleasure to break you in."
Arya squirmed at his touch, causing the second man behind Edgar to chuckle before he went very still. The sudden stop was so unexpected that even Edgar was forced to turn around and see what had stopped his companion from laughing.
Gendry rose from behind the thief as the tip of the dagger broke through the front of the second man's armor. When he fell, the large youth stepped over the body, grabbing Edgar's wrist as he raised Needle to strike him. With one savage blow from his hammer-like fist, Gendry knocked the man unconscious.
Arya's eyes widened as she watched Gendry dispatch two of the thieves with complete ease. Gendry had been slightly awkward during the few conversations she had shared with him, but as he fought, he was composed and dangerously calm. His blue eyes crackled like lightning. It was almost as if he had become a different person.
Soon, all that was left was him and the third thief who had yet to speak at all. Finally, with one companion dead and the other unconscious, he was forced to speak.
"I'll strangle the life from her!" the third man warned, his comically high voice causing Arya to involuntarily giggle. The giggle turned into a strained cough when the thief increased the pressure on her ribs.
"Don't laugh!"
Gendry grinned. "Not very intimidating with a voice like that."
"Shut up!" the man screamed. "I'll kill 'er! I'll do it!"
"Sounding like that, it seems like fighting little girls is all you're good for," Gendry replied sarcastically, one hand reaching behind his back.
The remaining thief, driven into a blind rage, threw Arya to the ground before charging Gendry. The wind was driven from her body when she hit the stone floor, but when she looked up, she saw the third thief holding the shaft of the blood spear where it entered his body.
Gendry scowled and dug the spear deeper before the man fell over dead, his face a mixture of surprise, pain, and anger.
The young Baratheon helped Arya to her feet, grabbing Needle from Edgar's limp grip as he did.
"Nice job keeping them occupied until I got here," Gendry grumbled. "But I told you to wait until I got back."
"They would have stolen the food if I hadn't confronted them," Arya countered.
"And you could have been raped or worse," Gendry snapped.
"You both did good," Syrio said suddenly, emerging from the top of the staircase.
"Syrio?" Arya asked. "What are you doing here?"
"Watching, little one," her master replied, folding his hands behind his back. "You showed bravery, but you grew blind. Fighting hard is noble, so what do we say to the God of Death?"
"Not today," Arya said respectfully with a little bow.
"Why did you not kill them?" Syrio asked.
Arya hesitated before shaking her head. "I don't know." Syrio looked at her for a moment before finally responding.
"There is a time for mercy and a time for death. They did not deserve mercy," he said firmly. "You hesitated, but you were lucky."
Syrio nodded to Gendry, and Arya got the message loud and clear.
"Thank you for your help," Arya said dejectedly.
Gendry nodded slightly, suddenly looking very awkward. "Of course…" he said, stumbling over his words. "You were right, by the way. You can definitely fight."
Arya lowered her head as a fought back a blush. Gendry, not knowing what else to say, grabbed Edgar's unconscious body and heaved him over one shoulder as if he was a sack of potatoes.
"I'm going to bring this bugger to the prison before I wake Lady Stark," he said to Syrio. "Can you wake Ser Mychel and have his men get the other two?"
Syrio made a slight bow. "I will see it done."
Arya was still looking at her feet when Gendry left, but she knew that he looked back at her once more before leaving up the stairs. She knew because she felt the butterflies in her stomach flutter ever so slightly.