Chapter 58: The Calm Before Winter's Storm

The single horn blow had become a regular occurrence inside Moat Cailin as men and women from the North streamed into the castle. Thousands upon thousands of warriors were now inside the two gates, all of whom were preparing countless defences of Dragonglass on the walls, outside the gates and even inside the courtyard. House Manderly and House Ryswell had arrived almost on top of each other, whilst later on that same day House Bolton's men had arrived. Torrhen had been relieved to hear from Domeric Bolton that Sansa and her daughter Bethany had made it to White Harbour and had boarded a ship to the Saltpans.

The latest horn blow however was the greatest feeling of all, as the levies of House Stark of Winterfell came streaming into Moat Cailin. Torrhen held back tears as he saw his Father, mucky looking from the journey. Tears turned to concern when he saw the state of some of Ned's companions however, as the Greatjon and Jaime Lannister especially looked worse for wear. Torrhen quickly rushed forward and slammed into Ned's embrace, before doing the exact same with Robb. "You're both alive." He whispered, before he pulled away and grew formal once more. "See to it that the injured are taken to the infirmary." Torrhen ordered some of his men.

"An infirmary?" Robb asked, an eyebrow raised.

Torrhen nodded. "It's really the library and some storage rooms nearby, but I thought with thousands of men coming into the Moat and us not knowing how long we can last here, we'd need something."

Ned looked pleased. "You did well, Torrhen." He looked around at the busy castle. "Are we the last to arrive?"

Torrhen shook his head. "House Karstark are coming by sea, Ser Wylis Manderly had ships sent up as soon as he heard the Wall had fallen." He explained. "House Mormont we haven't heard from either."

"Sansa?" Robb asked.

"Safe, she should be off the coast of the Vale by now." Torrhen explained. "Mother? Rickon? The girls?"

"Safe as well." Ned explained.

Torrhen breathed a breath of relief at that as he directed his Father and Brother into the Main Keep and up to his personal chambers. He had a servant bring them some rations as he let Ned explain everything that had happened since the Wall had fallen, not interrupting once. Once Ned was finished, Torrhen picked up his story. "The Riverlands and the Vale will be with us as soon as they can, I had a raven from Uncle Edmure saying that they were waiting on banners before marching in strength."

"What of the King?" Robb asked. "What of Jon?"

Torrhen grimaced. "Dealing with the Ironborn."

Robb slammed his fist on the table, spilling his ale. "Fuck!"

"We will do our part." Ned explained, trying to calm his eldest son down. "The South will join us, they know the dangers well enough."

"Do they?" Torrhen raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I'm not sure they do."

Ned sighed. "We have the North, we will hold." He told his boys, trying to motivate them. "We have Ice, we have Winter's Bite…"

"We have Brightroar." Torrhen interrupted. "Was that Jaime Lannister I saw with you?"

"Aye." Robb confirmed.

"He shall wield that blade then, as is his right." Torrhen said firmly. He began to walk over to a chest in the corner when the horn sounded once more. Unceremoniously Torrhen raced out of the room towards the courtyard, where this time the River Gate was open. He looked over to see Balerion and Grey Wind wrestling with another Direwolf, Nymeria. "Arya!" He called, and before he knew it a blur of fur and hair attacked him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"Torrhen!" She cried.

"What are you doing here?" Torrhen whispered, holding his sister tightly.

"Yes, I'd like to know that too." Ned had joined Torrhen in the courtyard and stood looking sternly at his daughter.

Arya didn't have the decency to look sheepish, but instead she crashed into Ned, embracing him tightly. She loosened her grip slightly and took a step away. "I'm here to fight with you." She told them firmly.

Torrhen grinned in amusement, as did Robb who had also joined them in the courtyard. Ned however just groaned. "Your Mother will kill me." He muttered.

"She is my ward, Lord Stark." A strong female voice sounded from the South, and Maege Mormont walked up towards them. "And she's the best warrior I have." The Mormont ruler was accompanied by three of her daughters, Dacey, Lyra and Jorelle, Torrhen recognised. His attention was caught briefly by Lyra Mormont's hip, where the bear head pommel of a sword was poking out towards them.

"Maege." Ned greeted his bannerwoman. "Girls."

"Lord Stark." The trio of younger Mormont's greeted.

"Aly is going South with her cubs and Lyanna." Maege explained. "But the rest of us will do our part here."

"We are glad of it." Robb said quickly before Ned could complain about Arya being there.

Torrhen agreed. "Aye, we are. Your tower is there, with House Glover and his vassals." Torrhen pointed over to the tower. "Settle in, get some food in you, and then we will need your aid with the defences." Maege and her daughters bowed their heads and departed, leaving the four Stark's stood together in the courtyard. Torrhen took another look at Arya and noted the changes. Her hair was done in more of a braid that looped towards her shoulder, and she was padded in well-fitting leather armour and furs, a bow and quiver were hung over her shoulders, and a pair of Dragonglass hand axes were strapped to her side, as well as a short dagger. "You look well-armed."

Arya grinned. "I got to pick them myself." She boasted, bringing out one of the axes. "They're light."

She handed one to Torrhen who inspected it for a moment before handing it back. "So long as you can use it." He teased.

Arya grinned again and got ready to bring the other one out when Ned interjected. "There is time to spar later, but you need some food and rest Arya." She looked to complain, but Ned looked at her sternly. "Now, no arguments."

"Yes Father." Arya mumbled, letting the elder Stark drag her inside the Main Keep, with a laughing Torrhen and Robb trailing behind them.

The snows had reached as far as Riverrun. It had taken a lot longer than usual to get there, but Mira Stark was extremely relieved to see the strong river castle from the back of her wagon. Beside her, Asher was riding on a tiny pony, being escorted by her brother Ethan. Mira knew that Ethan had wanted to be alongside their families fighting, but she would forever be grateful that he was here with her. She winced slightly as her bulging pregnant stomach began to ache slightly. "Now now." She whispered to her unborn babe. "We are almost there."

"Lower the bridge!" She heard a cry from the distance. Mira looked up and saw a number of soldiers posted on the walls before she turned to watch the drawbridge lower. As it slotted into its groove loudly, Mira could only watch on as Ethan walked forwards.

"Ethan Forrester, escorting Lady Mira Stark and her son, Asher." Her brother explained. "As Lord Edmure is expecting."

"He is." A gravelly old voice sounded, and Mira saw the black scaled armour of Ser Brynden Tully. "Let them in." He instructed the guards. Mira jolted as the cart wheeled forward once more, before it came to a halt in the middle of Riverrun's courtyard. Ser Brynden moved to help her out of the cart, an action that Mira was more than grateful for. Her hands came immediately to her stomach as her legs grew used to bearing her weight. "Lady Mira." The Blackfish bowed. "My nephew will see you in the dining halls, they are halfway through dinner and you and your companions must be hungry."

She knew that she was. "Thank you, Ser Brynden." She said, grabbing hold of Asher's hand as she followed the elderly knight into the castle.

They soon arrived in the Tully's private halls, and for the first time Mira lay her eyes on Torrhen's maternal family. Lord Edmure was dressed in his armour sat in his chair with his wife Melody Piper and daughter Kathryn beside him as they ate, whilst the two young Tully boys Axel and Oscar were running around the table. Before anybody got a chance to say anything, the heir of Riverrun Axel Tully ran up to Asher.

"You're Beron's cousin!" The 8-year-old Tully exclaimed.

"Aye." Asher said cautiously.

Mira ruffled her son's hair. "It's ok, Ash." She said calmly. "This is Axel, Father's cousin. They are family."

"Can we play?" Axel asked.

Asher looked up at Mira hopefully, and the Lady of the Causeway just nodded her agreement, and Asher ran quickly after his Tully counterparts. Mira herself winced at another pain in her belly before she walked over to the table, sitting herself down.

"You are very brave to travel such a way in your condition." Lady Melody Piper said to her. "I couldn't move more than a few feet with my three."

"We didn't have much choice." Mira told her. "Lord Edmure, it is time."

Edmure nodded. "We have had word, I am simply waiting for the last of my banners before we march with the Vale. They are due any moment, so with any luck, we will arrive at the Moat in time."

Mira smiled at that as a plate of food was brought to her. The smell made her almost gag, but she wolfed down the meal anyway engaging in light conversation with the Tully's. Her attention was completely taken however when a gush of fluids ran down her legs, and at that moment she knew that the White Walkers would be the least of her worries.

As night fell on Moat Cailin, Torrhen could only stare out of the windows in his chambers hoping that the Karstarks made it in time. Behind him was the soft tunes of a lute as Cregan Glenmore and Domeric Bolton had decided to pass the time by writing a song. Unfortunately for Torrhen, it was a song about the Battle of Casterly Rock.

"He slashed and he slashed, and he slashed them some more, the blood of his blade leaving stains on the floor." Cregan's songful voice sounded throughout the chamber. "Yes, I like that."

"I don't." Torrhen stated plainly. "Do you have to write about that day?" He turned to look at his friends, who both had faces of pure innocence.

"The Battle of Casterly Rock was a turning point, Tor." Domeric said quietly. "For you especially, people fear you now."

Torrhen groaned as he threw himself down into a comfy sofa. "Great." He mumbled. "I have no interest in being feared."

"Fear often comes hand in hand with respect and loyalty." Domeric explained. "Look at us now, a Stark and a Bolton relaxing together willingly."

"I never would have believed that possible a few years back." Cregan told them. He began strumming the lute once more. "The butcher, he roared as the wolfsblood took hold, and none of the lions ever grew quite so bold."

"The last line could use some more work." Domeric interrupted.

Torrhen meanwhile was grimacing at being known as the Butcher of the Rock once again. A knock at the door thankfully took his attention away. "Enter." He called, and in stepped Jaime Lannister. Cregan immediately bolted upright, fidgeting as he hoped the Kingslayer wouldn't take offence to the lyrics.

"Lord Torrhen." Jaime greeted. "Ser Domeric, Cregan." He listed, having met everyone at Castle Black before.

"Ah good, you're here." Torrhen clapped his hands together. He took a moment to note now that Jaime had had a chance to wash off the dried blood that his face had more scars than Torrhen remembered. He internally grimaced as the once handsome face now just looked old and battered. Ignoring his thoughts on the Lannister's looks, he stood up. "This will only take a moment, but I have something for you."

Jaime looked intrigued. "Your last gift was my life, nothing will top that."

Torrhen smirked. "It might." He walked over towards the large chest that had travelled to Meereen and back with him and unlocked it. "I apologise that I couldn't bring any bodies home to bury, but it was all I could do to bring this back from Valyria." He grabbed the crimson and golden scabbard and brought it out in view of everyone. Domeric also sat upright at this point, his jaw dropping.

"Is that…" Dom whispered.

"Brightroar." Torrhen answered the unfinished question. He placed the greatsword down on the table in front of Jaime and looked at his reaction. The Lord Commander was stood there, shocked. "I found it, and it belongs to an ancestor of King Tommen Lannister. Seeing as you're the only one here…"

"This is…" Jaime trailed off, not knowing what to say. He ran his hands over the golden lion head pommel. "My Father would have paid a king's ransom for this."

Torrhen nodded. "Consider it a gesture of good will, I need no payment." He sighed, sitting back in his chair. "We only have four Valyrian Steel swords in Moat Cailin at the moment, including this one. We need it on the front lines."

"Four?" Jaime asked.

"Ice and Winter's Bite." Torrhen explained. "And Lyra Mormont wields Longclaw."

"There are more coming from the South, but for now this is all we have." Cregan finished off.

"And we will need every one of them aimed at the White Walker's." Torrhen added.

Jaime looked down nervously at the sword. "I'm not known for my skill with a blade this large." He admitted.

Torrhen shrugged. "Then give it to somebody who is, I care not. What's important is that the sword is yours to do with as you will."

Jaime nodded, reaching down and grabbing the scabbard. He held the blade in his hands tentatively, before gripping it firmly. "Aye." He said, more Northern than Torrhen had ever heard the man. "I know just the person."

Torrhen grinned. "Good." He clapped his hands together happily.

Still looking only at the sword of his ancestors, Jaime nodded once more. "Unless there is anything else you need me for?" The unasked question of dismissal loomed.

"Go and enjoy yourself however you can, Lord Commander." Torrhen smirked. "Who knows when we'll get the chance to do so again."

Bran Stark stood on the deck of the Fury looking out to land and a sense of déjà vu hit him fiercely. He was once again on this ship sailing towards war in the Iron Islands. This time however, he was older, stronger and he didn't need to hide behind his Direwolf to kill a man. As he scratched Summer's ears, he thought on his family up in the North, and while he hoped they were alright, his last visit to Moat Cailin had shown him that his place was no longer at Winterfell. Then his thoughts turned to Shireen back in King's Landing. They had married quickly before the armada left King's Landing and they had had but one night together. Bran smiled at the memory of their first time, both of them awkward until they had both laughed and reminded themselves that they were friends, and they didn't need to be awkward with one another.

As he thought on Shireen, the Stark took a look at the armada of ships that was sailing with the Fury, even looking away in the distance at the trio of dragons flying along with the Targaryen ships. He smirked at the sight of them, imagining what he would have said years earlier at the thought of Baratheon's and Targaryen's sailing into war together. As if by magic at the thought of the Baratheon's, King Stannis appeared beside him.

"Euron Greyjoy has fled the Shield Islands." Stannis explained. "He means for us to chase him."

Bran nodded. "Perhaps he isn't as much of a mad dog as we thought. He has a plan."

"It won't matter." Stannis said calmly. "We will defeat him, I shall have his head and the Ironborn shall be no more."

"As you say, Your Grace." Bran agreed. "They've been a menace for far too long."

"You grew up with one, did you not?" Stannis asked.

Bran paused. "I did." He began. "Although Theon is no more a true Ironborn sailor than you or I, Your Grace. He proved that by his uncle maiming him." Stannis didn't make a sound. "I have no doubts about this, Your Grace. I am fully behind you, the Ironborn have reaved for too long, they should have been wiped out years ago." He said grimly.

"You have been a dutiful squire, Brandon." Stannis said calmly again. "For many years you have been at my side, and I have taught you all I know about the ways of war and the ways of ruling. And Shireen is often left speaking on how you are with her."

"I have been thankful for your teachings, Your Grace." Bran told the King. "As well as the Princess, she has been a good friend to me."

Stannis nodded, looking back out to the horizon. "This will be your last campaign as a squire." The Baratheon explained. "As soon as I have Euron Greyjoy's head and the Iron Islands have been razed to the ground, I shall knight you."

Bran was shocked, and he immediately thought back to his childhood where all he had wanted to be was a knight. "Your Grace… I don't know what to say." He managed to say. "For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be a knight."

Stannis then did the one thing that Bran had rarely seen, he smiled. The King placed an arm on Bran's shoulder and squeezed. "The title of knight is more deserved in you than it is in half of those running around the continent calling themselves Ser." He said proudly. "But first, we must defeat Euron Greyjoy."

Bran nodded his agreement. "And we will, Your Grace." The Stark said firmly. "We will."

A couple of days after the Stark and Mormont forces arrived at Moat Cailin, the soldiers of House Karstark trickled through the gates. Torrhen had been sparring with both Robb and Arya when the horn had blasted to announce their arrival, so he was tired and sweating when Lord Karstark and his son Torrhen staggered through the gates. Ned, thankfully, was there to take the lead and greet Rickard Karstark.

"You made it." Ned said, relieved.

Rickard nodded. "Barely, Ned." He breathed. "Harrion…" He grimaced. "They fell upon us as we reached the boats."

Ned shook his head sadly. "Come, let us get you a drink." He put his arm around Rickard Karstark and pulled him into the Main Keep, with both Torrhen's following behind them.

Once they were all sat down and some soup and ale had been brought to the new arrivals, Rickard Karstark began his tale. "We got your letters and the ships from White Harbour came quickly after that. We got the women and children on board first, and then night fell…"

"It was barely noon." Torrhen Karstark added. "I know that because I checked before."

"Aye." Rickard confirmed. "We all went to the boats and we held the Walkers off for as long as we could… But Harrion…" He choked back an angry sob. "The damned fool took a party and charged them so we could escape."

Torrhen ran his hand through his hair as the news of Karhold's heir being dead sunk in. "They won't be far away." He told the room.

"No." Ned agreed, standing up. "Rickard, I know you need your rest, but I want to gather the Lords and Ladies, the Wildling chiefs too…"

"I'll be there." Rickard nodded, his voice bitter with anger. "I will make every one of those dead fuckers pay."

Ned patted his friend on the back. "We all will." He said. "Tor, gather everyone in your war room."

"Aye Father." Torrhen said, and he made his way around the castle gathering everyone he could. Around an hour later Torrhen found himself surrounded by all the Lords and Ladies of the North all staring at a map of Moat Cailin.

Ned let out a loud sigh, before he addressed everyone. "Firstly, I am sorry for the losses we have already felt. For those that have kin at the Wall, or kin that died on the road to Moat Cailin. I truly am sorry and I wish I could take it all away, but the reality is that you may see your friends and family once more, across the field of battle." He pointed to the ice blue shards that had been placed on the map. "The White Walker's will have animated any body on their path towards us, so you must all be prepared to face those that you know as well as those you do not."

"As if things aren't bad enough, I have to see Whoresbane's ugly face again." The Greatjon muttered, but his joke didn't match the scowl of pain on his face.

"For some of us, this will be the fourth time we have gathered for a war that could change the face of the North." Ned began, looking at the elder Lords and Ladies in the chamber. "For some, this is the first time I have called upon you." This time he looked directly at Edrick Dustin. "But one thing hasn't changed since the very first time I called upon you all those years ago to march down to fight the Mad King. I trust each and every one of you unequivocally. We are Northmen, and we have had to abandon our homes in order to fight the end of the world. We have sent our families away not knowing if we will see them again so that we can fight for their futures. I could not be prouder to be standing alongside my countrymen, no, my friends."

"Aye." Torrhen joined in with the agreements as the Northerners started banging on the table.

"We will see our families again." Ned exclaimed passionately. "And we will see the White Walker's defeated because we are Northmen. We have won every war we have been a part of since the Conquest, and I don't plan on that changing now!" The passionate agreements were getting louder now as more were banging their drinks on the table. "We have made our preparations, we have tens of thousands of men within these walls. We have all the tools we will need to win this war, and I have every confidence in every one of us that we will do just that!" Ned waited for the cheers to die down for a moment. "My Lords, My Ladies, chiefs of the Free Folk. See to it that all your men and women are prepared, because we may be called to action at any moment."

It took a while for the room to filter out as every single person wanted to shake Ned's hand or say some words, but eventually the room only held Torrhen, Ned, Robb and Howland Reed. Ned let out a shaky breath and fell heavily into a chair before he downed a full mug of ale. "You spoke well, Ned." Howland told him.

"I lied to them." He sighed. "I have no idea how we are going to hold off the dead, let alone beat them."

Torrhen looked to the map, shifting the stag figure onto the parchment. "We fight until we cannot fight any more. I have faith that aid will come in time, and with you in command Father we will fight until our dying breath, every single person inside this castle."

Ned smiled sadly at his sons. "I wish I could save you boys from this."

"We are more than willing to be here, Father." Robb explained. "You raised us to be strong, to be leaders. Our place is here at your side facing the enemies of House Stark."

"Aye." Torrhen said firmly, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded. "We know their weaknesses, we will win this."

Ned smiled again. "I sure hope so." He told them quietly. He stood up slowly, looking intensely at the map. "I want scouting parties set up. I want to know the moment that they are coming."

"I'll see to it." Torrhen bowed his head, leaving the war room quickly, his hand gripping Winter's Bite tightly as if he'd need the Valyrian Steel blade at any moment.