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***
Meera Reed sat at the communal table in the Great Hall, eating a hot meal, she didn't care what she looked like or what anyone thought of her. In clean, dry clothes and after a hot bath, Howland Reed's daughter wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep.
The long trek and life beyond the Wall had done its work, exhausting the girl to the limit. Looking at herself in the mirror, Mira could see her ribs showing through, her bones bulging and her pallor deepening. You'd think she'd lost a couple of hundred pounds of body weight. But would the loss of the body outweigh the loss of the soul? No, of course not. There, in the realm of cold and death, remained Jojen, that part of her soul. Hodor, who had died a horrible death but had saved her and Bran at the cost of his life, was gone forever. Leto remained there, defending his master to the last.
And now, finally tearing herself away from the food, Mira thought of Bran, absent now, who was as much affected by these losses as she was. He had become indifferent, even indifferent to others, and his coldness had driven people away from him. It was not until he arrived at Winterfell, surrounded by his sister and brother, that he slowly transformed into the Bran Mira had once known.
- What will you do next, Meera? - Jon asked her.
- Back home,' Reed replied. - My father must be going mad with worry. I have to go back and tell him everything.
- All right,' Bran's cousin, who was Bran's half-brother in the North, nodded. - But I have a small favour to ask of you. I have drawn up a letter to Lord Reed, and so I would ask you to give it to your father.
- Yes, of course,' Mira nodded.
- Thank you,' John replied. - Tell me when you're ready, and I'll get you some men. The roads are a little rough right now, and you'll need guards.
- I trust you're satisfied? - Sansa asked, sitting at the King of the North's right hand.
- More than fine,' Mira replied. - Clean clothes, a warm bed, and proper food. You can't imagine how much of that is missing there. So I'm happy with everything.
- It's the least I could give you for saving my brother,' Sansa said gratefully. - Bran told us that if it hadn't been for you, he would have been dead long ago.
- We'd both be dead if we hadn't helped each other,' Meera countered. - Still, it wasn't without loss.
There was an awkward silence, for everyone knew who they were talking about. Bran, now resting in his chambers, had told Jon and Sansa about Meera's dead brother and the terrible sacrifice Hodor had made. About how it was Bran's fault that a boy named Willis had turned into the Hodor they all knew.
- There's one thing about this story that really bothers me,' John admitted. - How did the Walkers get past the magical defences?
Meera was silent for a while, staring at herself, then finally answered:
- Bran made a mistake. I don't really know what he does, but he somehow manages to transport his consciousness to another time and place. On one such journey, he encountered the Night King.
- And then what happened? - Jon pitched forward and Sansa turned to listen.
- The Night King gave Bran a mark that allowed him to overcome the cave's defences,' Reed replied. - They broke in and killed everyone. The Children of the Forest, the Tree Wizard, Summer and Hodor. We survived only by a miracle that came to us in the form of your Uncle Benjen. But you know that yourself.
Yes, John knew. He had learnt of his uncle's fate the same day he had rushed to Castle Black to fetch Bran. It had been an ordeal for Stark to learn that the man closest to him had become undead, but he had coped, for the hope that Benjen Stark was alive had long since faded. She wasn't destined to survive after what Jon saw at the Harsh House.
- So the Night King's mark was able to overcome the magic of the Children of the Forest,' the King of the North summarised, grimacing, 'and we let it get to this side of the Wall. And by doing so, we effectively opened the door for the Walkers. Damn it.
- What makes you think that? - Mira asked in bewilderment.
- Because I've had the same dream several times,' John explained. - In it, the dead are storming the Wall in the part where Castle Black is, because there's a breach in the defences. I couldn't figure out where it came from, but now it all makes sense.
- What are we going to do? - Sansa asked worriedly.
- We have to move fast,' Stark replied. - We must send letters to all the houses of the North, tell them the enemy is almost at our doorstep. It's the Seventh Hell, but without dragonglass we're defenseless! Ordinary steel will be no worse to the dead than a wooden sword! And Gods only know when Tormund will return.
- If he comes back at all,' Sansa reminded him, which made Jon groan.
- What about the Dreadfort? - Meera's question caught Jon off guard.
- What about the Dreadfort? - Sansa asked.
- What about it? It's on an extinct volcano,' Reed explained. - Shouldn't there be plenty of that glass there?
Jon looked at Mira as if a goddess had come down to them, offering them a hand of salvation. For a moment he wanted to jump up and kiss Howland Reed's daughter, but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he said:
- Mira, from now on, the whole of the North owes you a debt of gratitude! Maester Walker?!
- I'm here, Your Grace,' the Maester appeared out of nowhere.
- Send ravens to Hornwood and Carhold at once. Have them send men to the Dreadfort immediately and search it from top to bottom. If there is indeed dragon glass there, have them immediately proceed to extract it, after which have them send it to Castle Black at once. Another letter should be sent urgently to the Night's Watch, to Addison Tollett. Let him know that the attack of the dead is expected on his section of the Wall.
Gathering his thoughts, John continued:
- 'Orders to all houses and lords of the North. I command you to send troops to the Wall immediately to repel the attack. Hand weapons to all who can hold them in their hands. This will be a battle to the death, and if we do not survive, Westeros will endure eternal winter. Those who cannot fight, take all their supplies and move immediately to Winterfell, White Harbour, and Barrowton.
- I'm going home immediately,' Meera stood up from the table.
- Yes, I agree,' Jon seconded her. - Delay is fatal. We need your father's help immediately. Sansa, see that she gets some men to escort her.
Mira hurried to her chambers to pack her things, and Sansa began to give orders. Jon himself stared thoughtfully before him until he finally made a decision:
- Bring Jon Amber.
The soldiers, though surprised at the order, did not show it, and soon enough the Lord of the Last Hearth was placed before the King of the North. Amber didn't look so good. His already thick beard had grown even longer, his hair tangled, his clothes threadbare. Yet the fire in his eyes was still there, and he looked at Jon with the same determination he had the day he was defeated.
- Tell me, do you want to live? - Stark asked bluntly.
- Only a fool dreams of death, Amber replied. - Unless, of course, death would be a release from his torment.
- Good,' Jon nodded. - Do you want your kind to continue to exist?
Amber tensed as the King of the North stepped closer to him, making the guards tense. Looking at Little John, he honestly confessed:
- By all laws I should have turned you inside out a long time ago, and that's exactly what I was going to do to you.
- And what's changed? - Amber asked.
- What has changed is that every fighter in the North is worth his weight in gold now,' Jon Stark replied. - The dead are coming for us, and they don't care about our squabbles and grudges. They'll kill everyone, and the Last Hearth will be right in their way if they get beyond the Wall. I'll give you and your kind a chance to survive, but only if you swear loyalty to me and House Stark here and now, in front of witnesses.
- And if I refuse? - The Lord of the Last Hearth asked with interest.
- You will die here and now, and it will not be an easy death, Jon promised him. - If we win, then I will raze your house to the ground and destroy the very memory of you. If we die... Well, then everyone will share our fate.
- And if I accept?
- In that case, your house will be forgiven, you have my word.
- But not me,' Amber said.
- You'll have to answer for what you've done,' John replied, 'but if you prove yourself and survive the battle with the dead, I might let you live. It will depend only on you.
Amber didn't hesitate long:
- Call your witnesses, King of the North.
***
If anyone could now get a bird's-eye view of the lands of the North, or even higher, they could see the crowds of people, some heading south and others towards the Wall. Loaded wagons creaked, horses snorted unhappily, cows mooed and sheep bleated. Women, old men and children had all been forced to leave their homes, but none of them grumbled or resented. Every inhabitant of the North, from small to great, knew of the great calamity that was coming upon them. A calamity they had only heard of in the oldest and most terrible tales.
You could see the ranks of soldiers who, saving their strength, were moving towards the Wall, joining up with other troops on the way and growing in numbers. They were discussing the latest rumours that had reached them, checking their weapons, even though they knew that they would be of little use in this battle.
They could also see the first laden carts leaving the Dreadfort, over which the rumble of hammers and picks echoed throughout the neighbourhood. The King of the North had wanted to raze the ancient castle to the ground, but, purely by the irony of Fate, it was here that the one thing that offered hope of survival had been found - dragon glass. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of it in stock, so John waited impatiently for word from Tormund.
But there was no sign of him.
Melisandre travelled through the villages that had not yet been abandoned, bringing words of comfort and hope to the common people. For the first time her words did not praise the Lord of Light, whose flames would dispel the Darkness. No, now she spoke only of John Stark, the reborn Azor Ahaiya, who was destined to fight the Great Other in the final battle. She spoke of the great miracle of resurrection, of the man who had united the whole North under his hand.
When news of the Red Woman's actions reached Jon, he only waved his hand. As long as the priestess doesn't call on the North to burn the charwoods and start worshipping Rglor, he's turned a blind eye. Not that Stark wanted to suddenly become an object of worship, but in his heart he realised that what his people needed now was a symbol. A banner around which they could rally. And even though there would be a lot of problems with religion later, they paled in comparison to what was happening now.
In addition to preparing for battle, the King of the North was concerned about supplies, for the War of the Five Kings had depleted the North's supplies, even though Robb Stark had once sent some of the supplies he had captured from the South to the North until Walder Frey blocked his way. By the way, the same Ruse Bolton, who, unlike his mad son, really cared about the fate of the North, did not leave everything to chance, and closely monitored the resupply.
But still the results of the calculations were not pleasing. It appeared that the most austerity would be enough for a couple of years, or even less. Yes, something could be grown in the greenhouses of some castles, but it would not be enough. If the winter drags on, it is guaranteed to wipe out part of the population - people will simply have nothing to eat.
There was no news from the south, as if Cersei Lannister had forgotten about the rebellious kingdom, which Sansa thought was basically impossible. The Mad Queen, as she was known in the North, was the kind of woman who forgets and forgives nothing. So something far more serious was diverting her attention now, and that reason could only be Daenerys Targaryen and her armada. What Cersei could counter her armies and dragons, neither Jon nor his allies realised.
- She's distraught, though she doesn't show it,' Bran said, sitting beneath the boughs of a holly tree. - The queen has lost almost all her allies, she is despised and hated. Her rule is based on fear and ambition. Cersei dreams of becoming a great queen, but struggles to hold power even in the capital.
- What can she hope for? - Jon asked.
- She has but one chance, Bran replied. - If the crown can repay its debt to the Iron Bank of Braavos, whose representative has come to the capital. If the debt is paid, the Bank can help her hire mercenaries, Golden Swords.
- Even the Golden Swords cannot stand against the Unsullied and the Dothraki horde,' Ser Davos argued. - Cersei's illusions are fuelled by the Iron Bank. If the queen even repays the bank, and it's a huge sum, they'll go straight back to Braavos. There's no point in helping someone who's doomed to defeat. They're not idiots at the bank.
- The most important thing is that she's not interested in us right now,' Sansa said. - Cersei is capable of any meanness. If the Night King promised her power, she'd ally herself with him, only to betray him later.
- Your Grace,' Maester Walkan walked round the pond, 'the ravens have arrived.
- From where? - John asked.
- One from King's Harbour,' the Maester replied. - The other from Dragonstone.
John took the letters and looked at the seals that held them together. One had a lion on its hind legs. The other was a three-headed dragon.
- The queens remembered us,' Ser Davos said as Jon opened the letters and read their contents.
- Well, Cersei hasn't forgotten about us,' Stark put the letter from the capital aside. - The Mothers of Dragons reminded him of us.
- The Tyrells? - Sansa asked.
- Perhaps,' Jon replied. - But the letter was signed by Tyrion Lannister, Hand of Queen Daenerys Stormborn. The first queen is demanding we bow to her right now. The second desires a meeting. I wonder why? I thought I told Margaery Tyrell everything.
- What are we going to do? - Davos asked.
- Nothing,'' came the reply. - We have enough of our own worries to run off at the beck and call of who knows where.
- What if they come to us?
- Cersei won't come to us if she wants to. As for Targaryen... In case of anything, we have something to meet her with.