It had been roughly three months since the Green Man's death, and just as they've done for the past nine months, the Others have continued to send their undead servants at the Wall every night as they slowly chipped away at the second gate. Oil and rocks were quickly proven to be extremely useful when defending the second gate. The large projectiles combined with the tight confines of the tunnel had led to the deaths of thousands of wights.
The section of the tunnel between the second and third gate had been filled with traps, courtesy of Mance Rayder's best hunters. Robb had inspected the new defensive measures himself and, if he had been forced to send his own men through the tunnel, he knew that at least seventy men would have been lost or severely wounded before anyone reached the gate. Tripwires, spikes, ditches, the wildlings hunters had used every trick they had ever learned.
As for those who remained outside the tunnel, there was still plenty of arrows and dragon fire for them.
After the attack from the south, Robb had sent word to Cotter Pyke and Denys Mallister to establish how the enemy had managed to get around the Wall. It had been Pyke who had found evidence of a trail of ice that would have been wide enough for six men to walk abreast and thick enough so that not even a giant could fall through. Pyke never found where it started north of the Wall, but it looked to have stopped at a section of coastline set between Eastwatch and where the wildlings had settled. That's how the Others and their minions had been able to sneak by both groups undetected. With the wildlings and the defenders forced to find shelter from the weather, the enemy was able to reach the Nightfort without ever being discovered.
As for the destruction of the ice bridge, Robb could only assume that it was the Drowned God's doing. The Others would never have purposefully destroyed such an asset and Robb's men sure as hell knew nothing about it.
Those who had been wounded during the battle had recovered and were ready to fight once more. They were battle-hardened and were less scared of the enemy after defeating them once. The dark cloud that had hung over them was gone, and new, invigorated soldiers had stepped up because of it. With the additions of the forty knights that Garlan had brought with him from the south, the men felt confident that they could hold off another attack from the Others.
There were a few who were still working on preparing for battle, one of Robb's protectors being one of them. Ser Robar had lost his left hand after attempting to fight the second Other, and the frost from the creature's blade had spread up his forearm before a maester had even seen him. The valemen had been forced to lose more of his arm so that the frost didn't spread any further. The maester had made his cut just below the elbow, cauterized the wound, and had watched Ser Robar intently for the past two months while he recovered.
While most men, especially a skilled warrior like Ser Robar, would have fallen into a great depression after such a loss, the valemen did not. Instead, he took the challenge head-on and had been training constantly so that he was better adapted to his new limitation. A spike of dragonglass had been fitted onto his shortened arm, and he trained daily with Brienne as he attempted to change his fighting style to work with his longsword and spike. Garlan had also been helping Ser Robar as he was known to fight with two blades instead of a sword and shield.
Line Break
Currently, Robb watched from the top of the Wall as his archers fired on the enemy. Jon and Daenerys flew around on their dragons, burning dozens of wights with every pass. Bears, wolves, spiders, giants, men, women, all were torched by the dragon's flames.
Not for the first time, Robb thanked the gods that he had spared Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons. A few of his councilors had believed that it was a foolish idea leaving such a powerful enemy alive, and even Margaery had spoken to him privately about his decision. She was worried that his decision would make him look weak in front of his commanders, but Robb had stood firm in his decision. Now it looked to be the best decision he ever made, besides marrying Margaery and naming Tyrion as his Hand.
Daenerys and her dragons had proven not to be just an advantage over the enemy, but irreplaceable pieces of the defense. Two hundred more archers wouldn't have been as deadly as even one of Daenerys's dragons. Night after night, the fire-breathing beasts destroyed hundreds, if not over a thousand, of wights. That kind of destruction could not have been replicated with anything man-made. Not a scorpion, not a catapult, not five hundred of the finest archers in all of Westeros could have done what the dragons have done to the enemy.
"My lord, more wights have emerged from the treeline," Garrett Longley, the captain of Thoros's archers, said as he came up next to Robb.
"Has word been sent to Mance?" Robb asked. The wildling leader was in charge of the defenses of the second gate for the night.
"It has, but I've also checked the timer. It's nearly morning," Longley said. "Why would they put more pressure on the defenses if they're going to pull back soon?"
"How does the second gate look?" Robb asked.
"It's still holding, sire," Longley replied. "It'll hold for another week, if not longer. I think they're planning something."
"They want to distract us," Robb said, catching onto what the archer was referring to. "Keep an eye on the entrance to the tunnel and make sure that nothing is scrambling up the Wall."
"Yes, your grace," Longley promised before leaving.
Robb moved to the nearest viewing platform and knelt, narrowing his eyes as he watched the sea of wights. Just as Longley had said, a new wave of the creatures had emerged from the forest, but they didn't move more than a hundred yards from the edge of the treeline. They just stood there, waiting.
"What in the blazes are they doing?" Robb muttered to himself.
Longley hadn't been the only one to see the wave of enemies either. With so many just standing and doing nothing, it was too tempting a target for the Lady of Dragonstone. She and Drogon dived towards them, the black dragon moving like a shadow in the night. Just as he was approaching, he opened his mouth and light emerged from his throat. Robb had seen the action a hundred times before. The dozens of wights below were about to be consumed in a column of fire and destroyed like snow in sunlight.
Then everything went to shit.
Drogon roared in pain as his right wing went limp. The black dragon tried to move it, to stop himself from spiraling towards the earth, but every time he tried, he only managed to awkwardly, almost stumble, through the sky before giving a tortured cry and continuing his descent. Naturally, the beast tried to make his way back towards the Wall.
What worried Robb was that the blonde-haired figure on his back showed no signs of moving or trying to coax the dragon back to flight. If Daenerys had not been tied to her saddle, and effectively the dragon itself, she would have been flung off Drogon's back the minute he lost the ability to use his right wing.
Daenerys's mount somehow managed to make it half the distance to the Wall before he gave one final weak howl and hit the ground, sending a cloud of snow into the air from where he had collapsed, crushing dozens of wights when he landed.
The sudden turn of events was so dramatic that many of the archers had stopped firing to look in the dragon's direction. Robb couldn't believe what he saw either. His best weapon against the enemy, the irreplaceable part of his defense, was now laying on the ground with wights closing in around it.
It took an immense amount of willpower for Robb to draw his gaze from the downed dragon and back to his archers.m
"Fire! Fire you fools!" he roared, rising to his feet. "Give those bastards everything you have! Keep them away from that dragon!"
The archers, galvanized by Robb's words, resumed their task, focusing their arrows on the enemies around Drogon's body, but they couldn't keep the enemy totally away. Wights were beginning to crawl onto the black dragon, and although Drogon tried to tear them off with his hind legs and burn any that got close to his head, Robb knew it wouldn't be long before the dragon was overwhelmed.
"Dracarys!" Robb heard Jon bellow faintly as he and Rhaegal came to Drogon's aid. The green and bronze dragon created a ring of flames around his clutch mate as Jon slid down from his saddle, drawing his sword as he did.
"Jon!" Robb shouted, but he knew that his brother couldn't hear him, and all he could do was watch as Jon charged into the enemy as they closed around Daenerys.
Robb could barely breathe. His brother was down there, surrounded by the enemy, and there was nothing he could do to help. All he could do was watch as Jon cut his way through the wights around Daenerys. He fought like a man possessed, cleaving the undead minions in two as he continued forward, not seeming to care as arrows flew all around him.
When he finally reached the girl, he cut the ties keeping her on the saddle, and threw her over his shoulder. As he was running back towards Rhaegal, a wight broke through the flames and charged him from behind.
"Jon!" Robb shouted worriedly, but he had not been the only one to see the wight. Just before it reached Jon, an arrow slammed into its skull and brought it down. The northman looked over at where the arrow had been fired from and saw Ygritte, the fiery-haired wildling archer, grab another arrow and fire it, her eyes set firmly on Jon as she picked out another target.
Robb's brother reached Rhaegal and laid Daenerys over his neck before hauling himself back onto the saddle. With a few strong strokes of his wings, the green and bronze dragon lifted himself back into the air before reaching out and grabbing hold of Drogon by his hindlegs and neck, lifting him as well. The few wights who had been clinging to the black dragon fell off as Rhaegal brought his brother back to safety.
The king watched as Rhaegal brought Drogon up and over the Wall, clearly straining to do so, before slowly coming down outside the walls of the Nightfort where their pen was.
"Longley, you have the command!" Robb called to the bowman as he moved quickly towards the winch. "Send word to my father if anything happens."
"Aye, your grace!" the stormlander called back, grabbing another arrow from his rapidly depleting quiver.
As soon as Robb shut the door to the lift, it began to move. It didn't take very long for him to reach the courtyard, but every second felt like an eternity. His eyes never left the warehouse where the dragons slept. He struggled to keep his breathing under control and to slow down his beating heart. He had been through adversity before, but there was a reason this was hitting the young monarch so much. The dragons had been his biggest advantage, and he might have just lost one as well as the rider.
As soon as Robb hit the ground, he slammed open the door and was striding, nearly running, towards the main gate.
"I need two maesters, now!" he bellowed to no one in particular.
"Your grace?" one of the soldiers asked, clearly confused. "What's happened?"
"Two maesters," Robb snapped. "Now!"
The soldier simply nodded and ran off. Robb made it through the main gate before catching sight of Jon and running towards him. His brother was patting the shoulder of another man in the snow, but Robb wasn't focused on him, only Jon.
"Jon!" Robb called as he approached. The two brothers embraced fiercely, hugging as if they were seeing each other for the first time in years.
"I'm fine," Jon said, finally pulling back before moving aside.
Ser Jorah was kneeling in the snow, holding the lifeless body of Daenerys Targaryen in his arms as he wept. The dark red mark stain on the side of her torso and the cut in her furs were obvious to see. Her silver-blonde hair was wet with snow and her flawless skin was paler than normal. Her violet eyes were wide open and pointed towards the sky, thankfully devoid of the pain she felt in her last moments.
"What happened?" Robb asked, turning back towards Jon. "I saw Drogon's wing, but…"
"Your grace!" a man said as two maesters approached. "We got here as soon as we could."
"I need one of you to look after Lady Daenerys." Robb ordered, gesturing to Ser Jorah, "The other with me and Jon."
As one of the maesters knelt next to the northern knight, Robb and the other followed Jon to where Drogon was resting in the snow, his head curled under his good wing, whimpering in pain. Ser Barristan stood on the other side, simply staring at the wound that had brought the beast down.
"Drogon was hit by a spear," Jon explained, and now Robb saw what had happened. "Crippled him in moments."
A spear, with a head made from the same ice-like material as a White Walker's sword, had cut through part of the joint that holds the dragon's wing to the rest of his body before hitting Daenerys. The blade was stained with both black and red blood. Some from Drogon and some from Daenerys.
"She was dead before Drogon ever hit the ground," Ser Barristan said, quiet tears sliding down his cheeks and into his white beard.
Robb wasn't surprised that Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah had been the first to arrive when Rhaegal brought Drogon and Daenerys back over the Wall. He knew that one of the two always stayed up, watching as Daenerys flew over the Wall into battle and when she returned. Both men were extremely loyal to the girl, and the tears on their faces were proof of that.
"Neither saw it coming, Robb," Jon continued. "It flew from the trees."
"It was thrown by a White Walker," Robb sighed, running a hand through his curls. "They created a target for her and lured her in. It was a trap from the beginning and she fell for it. Damn bastards knew that the dragons were our greatest weapon and now they've managed to injure one and kill Daenerys in the process."
"Your Grace, I will return, but I will need much more help to get the spear out, as well as a heavy sedative," the maester explained apologetically, not wanting to interrupt Robb. "I believe that the dragon may be fine, but he will be grounded for a while."
"Go, do what you must," Robb said with a slight wave of his hand. Ser Barristan wasn't far behind him as he gave Robb a nod before returning to Ser Jorah and Daenerys.
"This is a setback, but one we can work with," Jon said quietly. "We still have Rhaegal and me."
"Yes, but what if you were to go down too?" Robb countered. "Besides, if Daenerys didn't feel confident controlling both dragons, what do you think you'd be able to do, Jon? You've been flying Rhaegal for less than a year. Daenerys had raised them since they were eggs."
"There might be a way, but I need to talk to Bran first," Jon said thoughtfully. "But for right now, Rhaegal and I will continue to do what we've done and won't stray far from the Wall."
Robb crossed his arms and looked north. A million thoughts ran through his head, but he ignored them all. When the Long Night began, he believed that he and his men could weather it like a storm, reducing the enemy until only the White Walkers remained. Now, Robb knew that he would be putting more people at risk if he did that. He needed to figure out a way to end the war, and soon.
There had always been a thought lingering in the back of his mind. It's been there since the Others first attacked the Wall. It was a risk and one that would put a lot of people in danger, himself included, but if it worked, then it would not only end the war, but the threat of the White Walkers altogether.
"My lords," a soldier said, rushing up to Robb and Jon.
"Yes?" Jon asked after Robb didn't answer immediately.
"Lord Stark has assembled the king's war council and is waiting for both of you to attend," the soldier replied with a slight bow. "He also says to take your time."
"Tell him that we will be there soon," Jon said. "Also, ask Ser Barristan if he and Ser Jorah would like any help building a pyre."
The soldier bowed again and left.
"What are you thinking about?" Jon asked as the two brothers made their way back towards the castle.
"It's nothing," Robb said, shaking his head. "Just a thought, nothing more."
"Most of your thoughts turn into actions," Jon countered. "Tell me what's on your mind."
"It's a way to end the war, but it's risky," Robb said finally, relenting. "It can only be used as our last option."
Jon nodded slowly. "If you're thinking about what I think, then you're right. If that plan fails, then humanity is doomed."
Robb could only nod. It didn't take a genius for someone to look at his plan and know what will happen if it fails. There was no backup plan. If it worked, then the war was over. If it didn't, then Robb will be dead and he won't have to think about all who he let down.
"Keep it to yourself, Jon," Robb grunted, wanting to change the subject. "After the meeting, you might want to thank the red-haired wildling girl. She saved your life."
Jon glanced at his brother. "Ygritte?"
"She put an arrow between a wight's eyes when it was about to get you from behind," Robb said as they climbed the steps to the room. "She deserves some sort of recognition for saving your lordly face."
Jon chuckled as the brothers entered the room. As the soldier said, their father had assembled Robb's commanders. Some of the men looked as if they had just woken up, but they all looked alert and ready for anything Robb had to say.
"I've filled them in on what happened during the battle," Father said as Robb and Jon took their places around the table.
"How is Lady Daenerys?" Prince Oberyn asked.
"Dead," Robb answered grimly, giving an apologetic look to the dornishman. "Her dragon took a spear to his wing and it hit Daenerys as well. She died not long after it hit her."
"She will be missed," Garlan said. "I know that I have not been here as long as the others, but it was evident that she and her dragon were vital to our defenses."
A few others around the table echoed Garlan's sentiments. Daenerys had become well-liked by both soldier and commander during her time at the Wall. She was kind, respectful, and attentive when they spoke to her. She never tried to place herself above them. Robb's commanders enjoyed that she didn't try to pry her way into the war meetings. She merely did her duty night after night and never asked for any social praise or recognition.
To put it shortly, her image in the eyes of those who had fought against her at Harrenhal had improved significantly.
"And the dragon?" Lord Tarly asked.
"Grounded for now," Jon replied. "The maester who saw his wing believes that he can be healed, but it will take time."
"Fortunately we have another dragon rider," Prince Oberyn commented, looking at Jon. "I've always wondered why you've been able to ride Rhaegal?"
"A conversation for another time, Prince Oberyn," Robb said, immediately stepping in before the dornishman could change the subject. "Right now we must focus on the loss of Lady Daenerys and what we need to be doing now that we are down to one dragon."
Oberyn sniffed and sent a look at Robb before crossing his arms and nodding. Robb took it as the prince backing down.
"Mance, how did the second gate look?" Robb asked.
"It'll hold for a few more days, hopefully, more," Mance said with a shrug. "My trappers are going through the last portion of the tunnel now, making sure that everything is in order."
"Father, how are the defenses coming for when the last gate falls?" Robb said, turning to the older man.
"Nearly complete," Father promised. "Currently, the lead builder and I are trying to work out a way to dig a ditch without compromising the integrity of the castle or the Wall."
"You'll fill the ditch with oil?" Lord Tarly asked.
"Of course," Father said easily.
"Good," Lord Tarly grunted, content that Robb's father hadn't missed anything.
"Your grace, were you or Lord Jon able to get a look at who threw the spear?" Lord Royce asked curiously. "Surely this is a desperate move by our enemy if they mean to cripple our greatest weapons. They must be running out of their minions."
"Or they're preparing for the end of the war, same as us," Prince Oberyn countered. "If I was told correctly, the enemy pulled Jon away from where the White Walkers entered the castle. They could be taking out the dragons before the final gate breaks and they finally enter the tunnel."
"Did the spear come from the trees or open land?" Jaime asked, addressing the question to Jon.
"It came from inside the treeline," Jon answered. "If the Others had shown themselves, they must've known that Daenerys would have gone for them instead of the wights. She would have been able to avoid the spear if she had seen it coming towards her."
"They hit her like the king's archers hit the white dragon during the Battle of King's Landing," Lord Tarly noted. "When the beast wasn't looking."
"You make a good point, Jon," Robb said, "Daenerys and Drogon would have been harder to bring down if they had seen the spear coming." the king turned towards Prince Oberyn. "Your point is valid as well, Prince Oberyn. The enemy has to be preparing for the end, and they know that they have a better chance of winning if the dragons are grounded. All that we can do now is prepare as best we can for the end and come up with a way we can win this war once and for all."
"Do you happen to have an idea about how to do that, your grace?" Garlan asked.
Robb looked at Jon, their father, and Lord Tarly, meeting their eyes for just a second before finally shaking his head.
"As of now, I do not," Robb answered finally. "All I know for sure is that the end of this war will be bloody and dangerous for us all. They have taken several months to break down our gates, and with each passing night, we continue to whittle down their forces with arrows, oil, and stone. However, it'll all be just a preamble for when they finally break through the tunnel and we have to fight them in the courtyard, on the steps and walkways, and in every room. That will be the war. That battle will determine everything we have worked to accomplish. Everything worked to prepare for. Every sacrifice we have made."
"It will determine the fate of Westeros," Robb said finally.