Snow fell steadily over the broken yard of Castle Black, cloaking bloodstains in pale white sheets piling up on the ground. Smoke still rose from the ruins of the barracks, drifting along the southern face of the Wall. Beyond it all stood the ancient ice wall, watching it all as a silent witness since the Age of Heroes.
Robb Stark saw this on his way back, but rode through the camp, where northern banners snapped in the wind—direwolf, bear, the flayed man, a roaring giant and many more. Inside his tent, heat from braziers fought the cold, and the smell of smoke clung everywhere. The airship Harry gifted him stood towering over the camp to the side of the Kingsroad. The newly named White Stallion remained at the ready to bring the wildlings to heel. But he had so far not used it against the wildlings simply because Mance Rayder's army had not gathered in strength at any singular point.
So far, there have been some probing attacks along the towers lining the Wall. Those attacks were easily repelled by the Night's Watch all the same. The only incursion serious enough to demand external help was at Westwatch. There, Jon had arrived atop his dragon and laid waste to the wildlings trying to cross the Gorge.
He had returned from a meeting with Lord Commander Mormont, who apprised him of the Night's Watch's current disposition. Mance Rayder had set the forest ablaze with a nominal force attacking the Wall. The attack had failed to achieve any tangible results so far except for the burning of Castle Black.
Robb sat on a simple chair with Grey Wind curled at his feet.
Before him stood Eddard and Torrhen Karstark. The younger Karstark brothers served as his personal guard, styling themselves as a Princeguard of sorts with Smalljon Umber, Daryn Hornwood, Owen Norrey, Ser Wendel Manderly, Donnel Locke, Robin Flint and Theon Greyjoy. The rest of the unofficial Princeguard were away on patrols to search for any wildling raiding parties that may have crossed the Wall. They were due to return soon.
"We've brought the prisoners, my prince. Shall we…" Eddard Karstark trailed off as the sound of the flaps of the tent being suddenly pulled back earned their attention.
Bran entered the tent, suddenly stopping whatever the Karstark brothers were about to say.
"Come, Bran." Robb waved him inside.
Bran skipped to his side, picked up a jug of hot coffee, and poured it into a cup. The thick aroma of Avalonian coffee filled the tent. It was a delicacy he took a liking to, thanks to his twin. It was not easy to let Bran accompany him, as his mother had protested vehemently. His promise of keeping Bran as a cupbearer confined to the safety of the airship mellowed his mother's protests. Even then, it was Bran's pitiful begging that finally did the trick.
"Go on." Robb nodded towards the Karstark brothers while taking a sip.
"My prince, we came upon the wildlings on their rear last night as they burned the barracks. Another quarter hour and Castle Black might've been lost. They were Thenns. We cut them down from horseback and took near forty alive, including their Magnar." Torrhen Karstark said.
"The Thenns tend to be more sophisticated among the wildlings. Isn't that so?" Robb asked, remembering some of the lessons he had as a child with Maester Luwin about the clans of Wildlings.
"They carry bronze weapons, and they respect the word of their Magnar." Torrhen said with a frown.
"Then, there is a chance the Thenns might surrender and leave Mance Rayder if their Magnar surrenders." Robb said thoughtfully.
"That may be the case, my prince. However, the Magnar of the Thenns, Styr, is a stubborn man. The man's son Sigorn is more stubborn and has yet to utter a single word." said Eddard, scowling with displeasure.
Robb drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. The conflict he had prepared for was now finally at his doorstep. He adjusted in his seat and squared his shoulders.
"Bring me their leaders," he said at last. "Styr, Magnar of Thenn. And the other—Sigorn, was it?"
"Aye," Harrion said. "They're chained in the western section of the camp."
"Bring them."
The Karstark brothers left the tent, leaving Robb to enjoy his coffee.
"Are you going to harm them?" Bran asked, suddenly gaining Robb's attention.
"Who?" Robb asked, looking at his brother.
"The wildlings." Bran said with a worried look.
"If my duty demands it, then yes." Robb nodded.
"But I hear Harrion offered to give the wildlings a home somewhere far away where they can live in peace."
"That's true. The wildlings rejected that offer, so I'm left with no choice but to harm them." Robb patiently explained to his brother.
"Maybe not all wildlings will reject that offer." Bran said innocently, his deep blue eyes shining with hope.
Robb smiled at his brother's innocence in seeing goodness even in the vilest savages.
"Maybe." Robb nodded, though he seriously doubted something like that would happen.
He didn't have to wait for long as the Karstark brothers escorted the two Thenns into his tent, bound in chains.
Styrwalked in first—towering over almost everyone in the tent, his bronze armour dented and dark with dried blood. Bound as he was, he still carried himself like a Magnar, chin high, eyes defiant. Beside him came Sigorn, younger, hard-faced, with braided dark hair. He bore bruises and a split lip but stood straight with defiant eyes.
They were pushed into Robb's tent by Karstark men. The Umbers had gathered as well, all too happy to manhandle the two prisoners.
"So," Robb said quietly, his blue eyes piercing through the gazes of the two wildlings. "The Magnar of Thenn stands before me."
Styr's gaze swept the tent, lingering on Grey Wind a moment longer before settling on Robb.
"I thought the Stark of Winterfell would be older. You're a boy." Styr said gruffly.
"You'll speak with respect, savage." Eddard snarled, pulling the chains harshly.
"Tis not disrespect to speak the truth." Styr thundered.
"You're right, Styr of the Thenns. I'm Robb Stark, son of King Eddard Stark." Robb introduced himself softly, but towards the end, his eyes hardened. "Now, tell me why Mance Rayder sent you to die on this side of the Wall?"
"To win. To open the way for our people to cross the Wall." Styr said, his lips twitching upward, showing he was hardly intimidated.
"And his plans?" Robb pressed. "How many are in his host? Where will he strike next?"
Styr's eyes hardened.
"You ask much for nothing in return."
Robb studied him for a moment.
"You can keep your pride. But know this—every man who attacked here will hang, unless I see reason otherwise. So, speak."
Robb's threat hung as a sword above the wildlings' necks. Grey Wind growled menacingly from Robb's feet, reflecting the mood of its master. Silence came between them, heavy as a pile of snow following his threat.
"You think we haven't come here ready to face death, Stark." Styr said with a scoff. "If we stay out there, our people will be mercilessly hunted by the Walkers. Out here, you'll kill us. Either way, death is before us all. So, tell me why I should waste words on ye, Stark?"
Robb considered the Magnar of the Thenns for a moment and realised the man was right. It was not lost on him that the wildlings were fleeing the Others, with the various wildling clans standing behind Mance Rayder.
So, he realised there was no point in threatening the wildlings with death on this side of the Wall. After all, anyone brave enough to climb the Wall was not afraid to die.
In that moment, he realised he had only two options. Either he could execute the Thenns he captured or make use of them by offering hope.
The latter was Robb's preferred option because it was the one his twin had suggested in the first place. So, he switched tact and decided to see whether a different approach yield better results.
"You are a leader of your clan, the Thenns. If you cooperate, I can ensure your clan's safe passage to this side of the Wall." Robb offered.
"You'd allow us to settle in these lands?" Styr asked with wide eyes.
"Not in these lands. No." Robb shook his head. "But there are distant islands where your people could settle and build a new life far away. This was the offer we first sent to Mance Rayder because we do not want to see thousands of wildlings as wights under the White Walkers."
As Robb said this, he cast a sharp look at the disgruntled-looking Umber men inside his tent. At his pointed look, those men stopped scowling and muttering under their breath. Nodding in satisfaction, he set his eyes back on Styr.
"So, what do you say, Styr Magnar of Thenn?"
"You will give my people safe passage behind the Wall," Styr said slowly, as if this offer was some trickery. "The Thenn clan only? We are few, less than some three thousand, but still a large number."
"We have more than enough ships capable of ferrying your people to distant safe lands. The Thenns can start anew without worrying about the Others. Your children will grow without ever knowing the horrors that lurk beyond the Wall." Robb offered.
"My prince, they butchered the brothers of the Night's Watch! Surely, they deserve to be punished." Eddard Karstark said earnestly, butting in seeing where this was going and not liking it the least bit.
"Their punishment will be exile from the North." Robb said, without looking at the Karstark.
"But…" the Karstark brothers started to protest, but Robb forestalled their protests by raising his hand.
"I know there are irreconcilable differences between us and the wildlings. But you know as well as I do we have a common enemy, the White Walkers. It is in our interest to remove the wildlings from beyond the Wall; otherwise, the Walkers will hunt them down and add their numbers to their army." Robb explained patiently.
The Karstark brothers fell silent at that and opted to glare murderously at Styr and Sigorn.
"I know this is not an ideal solution, but we have to think of what lies ahead in the days to come. The White Walkers are our common enemy. They won't care if you're a wildling or a Northman." Robb said in a tone that brokered no further opposition to his offer.
Having successfully pacified his own supporters, Robb set his eyes on the two wildlings in his tent.
"Now, what say you, Styr, Magnar of the Thenns?"
"This is acceptable, though it will be difficult to transport my people from Mance's camp." Styr grunted.
"I have the workings of a plan that will yield better results on that matter." Robb said without divulging any details about the plans he had in mind.
"So, I have your word you'll allow the Thenns to cross the Wall?" Styr asked one last time.
"Yes. But remember, the island you'll be taken to is under my father's kingdom. His law will govern those lands, and you'll be oathbound to follow those laws." Robb warned.
"This is acceptable." Styr said after a moment of thought.
In Styr's eyes, it was far better than certain death.
"But know this—if I grant passage and your people betray my trust – the North's trust, I will not hesitate to hunt every Thenn to the last child."
Robb's threat was genuine, and that showed in his eyes.
"You've defeated us in battle. You've earned the right to dictate terms." Styr said with a sigh. "What do you want to know?"
Robb leaned forward in his seat.
"Tell me everything there is to know about Mance Rayder's army."
From there, he began asking questions to learn the strengths and weaknesses of the enemy assembled beyond the Wall. The crucial information that another wildling raiding party had climbed the Wall to the west of Castle Black led Robb to direct more search parties to the west. Once he received more information about Mance Rayder and his army, he let the Thenns go from his tent and called for a meeting with the Northern lords in his host.
*******
The sea stretched endlessly beneath the sky. The somewhat familiar shores of Dragonstone now looked alien to Barristan's eyes. Fishing villages lay abandoned along the coast, their boats pulled inland and left to rot. War had emptied these lands of smallfolk as surely as fire, which burnt some of the boats to cinders.
His journey to the North had somehow been swept away by the half-drunken mumblings of Thoros of Myr. The Red Priest had visions that they needed to be at Dragonstone whilst they evaded Dornish patrols in the Stormlands. It was all he could do to keep his mind from snapping in the whirlwind of chaos that followed the defeat at Bronzegate.
The only reason he followed Thoros was that the man brought him back from the dead. Then there were those incessant whisperings he heard in the flames. Still, he had concerns: no matter his trust in Thoros, he trusted the danger hiding on Dragonstone far more.
A pouch of gold had brought them the services of a smuggler. Somehow, they evaded capture by Queen Daenerys' loyalists or any pirates to reach the shores of Dragonstone. From there, they had to row themselves in a small raft. The vacant fishing village already gave him a foreboding feeling, but Barristan still rowed the boat toward the shore.
He looked at Thoros, who tended to a small flame inside the oil lamp, muttering prayers in a tongue foreign to his ears. The fire somehow brightened, giving Barristan pause.
Barristan watched despite the eerie feeling. The fire twisted, flared, and for a heartbeat, he thought he glimpsed shapes within it: a wall of ice towering far into the sky, shadows moving upon snow, a blade burning bright against endless dark.
He turned away, unsettled.
"The North," Thoros murmured, staring into the flickering flame. "The cold stirs in the far North against the warmth of the world. The war is coming."
Barristan folded his cloak tighter around himself.
"If such a war comes, why are we here at Dragonstone? Why not the Wall itself?" Barristan asked the Red Priest.
"Because the Red God has plans that go beyond what we can see, Ser. If the Great Other plans to unleash cold and darkness upon the world, we might need the fire of a dragon on our side." Thoros said.
Barristan closed his eyes. He had served kings all his life, failed them all in one way or another. Now, he was asked to serve something far greater. If he hadn't owed his life to Thoros, then he wouldn't have embarked on this journey.
He looked at his squire's peacefully sleeping form and worried for the boy's safety in the den of dragons.
"The boy will be fine." Thoros said with a simple smile.
"Did the flames tell you that?" Barristan asked, but Thoros only smiled enigmatically before turning back to gaze into the flame.
"I was content to die on that field," Barristan said quietly. "If the gods—or your god—have dragged me back, then perhaps it is to answer for all the oaths I kept, and all the ones I failed."
He turned his sight on the island ahead with a forlorn look.
"No doubt, I failed that girl's family, and she might hold a grudge."
"Who are we to guess the future, Ser? Our fates are in the hands of the gods. So why worry at all?" said Thoros while gazing steadily into the flames.
Barristan couldn't find peace that easily, and he couldn't help but worry about what lay ahead. Still, he took up the oars and began to row. The boat cut through the dark waters of the sea towards Dragonstone and whatever judgement awaited them there.
Though his mind was tormented with many worries, he was still curious to meet the sister of Prince Rhaegar. He was suddenly reminded of the words of King Jaehaerys II.
'Every time a Targaryen is born in the world, the gods toss the coin in the air, and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.'
His only prayer was that Daenerys Targaryen was not cursed by fate to follow the worst of her family.
AN:
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