7

Chapter Text

"There is only place we can go," Jon announced to all gathering at the base of the foothill as the setting sun's light cast upon him, "and there we might have a chance of survival if we do things just right. But I will not lead you there until we forsake everything that would push us apart. Every crown must be thrown down, every title erased, every grudge forgiven. We are all Free Folk now."

"You speak too far, Snow!" Robett Glover shouted as he trudged forward. "You would dare suggest we throw away everything we have lived by. We don't need you to live, bastard, and neither do we need you as a King!" he came face to face with him. "And I will be damned to the deepest hell with the dragon whore before I follow you again." Lord Glover turned around to address the mass. "This man will lead you to be nothing but beggars. But I will lead you to life and victory. I have fought many times through hell and back in the days of King Robert-"

It took one swift swing of Longclaw to take off Lord Glover's head. Many gasped as the remains rolled down to the base of the hill.

Jon growled under his breath. "You know nothing of hell." He looked back to all that was before him. "You either come with me, follow my rule and live. Or go elsewhere and die. If you choose to leave, I'll save you the time here and now by blade and fire. Are there any objections?"

Jon

Jon stood upon the castle walls overlooking the hills of Winterfell. The houses and inns of Wintertown were filling up to the brim with soldiers, lords, and commoners from all over the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands. With the North retaken and House Stark back in its rightful seat, more willing allies had come at the behest of their lieges.

But Jon's mind was not thinking about the number of allies they had right now. He was more concerned with the events far off beyond the Wall.

'It will happen soon. Maybe tomorrow night,' the Raven told him.

"Are the odds better with the Night's Watch there?"

'The Night King has not allocated soldiers to the back entrance. If everyone runs, they will get far. But the dead are more in number than before… I feel that there is a change. Something's different about him. His power feels… stronger. There's no mark on my younger self anymore, but the magic guarding the cave is trembling as he draws closer.'

Jon sighed. All he could do is hope for Edd to hold the dead off long enough to escape back south with Bran. He wouldn't pray though. The gods never listened to prayers, they were just meaningless rituals to put false hope in others. The divine would do what they wished, damn all others.

'It's time for you to go.' The Raven's presence faded away.

"My lord." Jon turned his head to see Maester Wolkan. "The other lords are waiting for you."

He nodded. "Get to the rookery and send out a raven to Castle Black. Tell them that Eddison Tollet and his party will be returning from their range and they should send some relief to intercept them."

"Yes, my lord. Um, who should I address it from?"

That's right, many were starting to question how Jon was to be seen now, as himself or as Aegon Targaryen. "Jon Snow. They are unaware of my revealed identity." He walked alone to the Great Hall of Winterfell. Indeed, every lord and lady in the North was present, including the few Jon burned with anger towards. His hands curled into tight fists as he passed them by. Damn traitors, cowards, all of them.

All were present and accounted for, except for Lady Alys who was giving her brother burial rights and taking care of the prisoners of war meant for the Wall with Sigorn of the Thenns. Jon had The Raven keeping an occasional glance on that in case the Thenns were thinking of tasting manflesh again but there was nothing of the sort.

Jon took his seat at the head table with his cousins. Ghost and Shaggydog were both lying in front of their feet as watchful protectors, while Rickon looked nervous and unsure of himself. Sansa was the exact opposite, as composed and graceful as her mother. Unlike Lady Catelyn, she smiled warmly at him as he sat. Jon, guarded, merely nodded. Not reacting outwardly as she reached over to squeeze his hand. "Now it begins, Jon."

His brow rose. "Aye, it begins."

"About time the hero of Winterfell joined us!" Smalljon cheered and many raised their fists for victory.

Jon only smiled and nodded with them. Hero of Winterfell? That title felt wrong. Yes he led them to victory but… it was strange to think of himself as such, given his distinctly unheroic acts in what he still remembered. "This is just one victory, hopefully one of many to come. We have time to catch our breath but not long enough to relax too leisurely just yet. We have work to do and we need to get started."

"Then there's only one question," the Blackfish addressed, "where do we begin?"

"We start with Dragonstone." Many went confused as expected. "I've learned that there are caves beneath the island that contain mountains of dragonglass. We need to mine it and forge weapons to fight against the dead."

"So the rumors are true then," Lord Glover muttered, "you say dead men are coming from the Wall." All eyes went to his place in the Great Hall.

Jon suppressed the itch to rest a hand on Longclaw's hilt. "And the White Walkers," Jon added, "do you not believe what I have to say?"

Lord Glover huffed a laugh. "Looking around the hall, everyone's staring at me like I'm the fool instead of the man spouting such nonsense."

"Says the coward who wasn't on either side of battle." Smalljon gruffed, elbowing one of his men sitting adjacent to him to join in a small chuckle.

Lord Glover stared down Smalljon. "Aye, I chose not to fight, and I will regret that until my dying day."

'I don't believe you.' Jon remembered just how craven and cowardly Glover was. Under no circumstances would he be given any command responsibility this time around. That coward weaseled his way into power, almost to the point of conning Sansa into a marriage.

He would be diplomatic for now. "There's nothing to apologize for, my lord. We had had more than enough loyal men so your absence went unnoticed. But since you have kindly reminded us of your disloyalty, I have yet to hear of your apology and rectifying your actions."

"Jon," Sansa began, but he shot her a sharp look that surprised her into silence.

"Your apology, my Lord? Or must I charge you with crimes against House Stark for treachery."

"I am sorry," Lord Glover stood and looked at Rickon and Sansa, "I allowed my fear of the Boltons to keep me away from where I should have been the moment the raven came. I will not hide away again else I take my own head."

Jon nodded. "Apology accepted. And I'll hold you to your promise if you do not."

Lord Glover took a step forward, anger clear and present in his eyes but the low growl from Shaggydog made him step away and sit back down.

In the midst of the tension, Sansa's calm voice broke through it. "In light of things as they are, the loyalty of all should not just be pledged to the North, rather than House Stark. This is our home, our land, and we have torn into our own blood and steel long enough. We must be united." Jon watched her, slightly surprised. She looked like Catelyn, but was far more decisive. "Do you give it, or should I say renew it?"

Glover seemed to chafe, but nodded. "Aye, I pledge my loyalty. It's a dire time we had Starks back in Winterfell." His pledge turned out to be too good to be true. "But he's not a Stark, is he?" Robett pointed to Jon. Looks like word spread faster than expected. He never did announce that Aegon Targaryen took back Winterfell, only that it was taken back.

"No, I'm n-"

"Yes he is!" Rickon exclaimed and shot to his feet with fists slamming on the table. "He's just as much Stark as me and Sansa or call us Tullys!"

"Except name though, your Grace." Robett stood up again. "Robb Stark's heir lives. The North has its King again." A few others nodded, but others looked like they weren't sure whether to agree or disagree.

Rickon scoffed and rolled his eyes at the idea. "Piss off, yeh old goat," Rickon said, "do I look like a king to anyone here? I dare someone to say aye." a low growl came from Shaggydog almost like a warning if anyone did say yes.

"They come in all shapes and sizes," Lord Glover argued.

"Well I refuse! I'm not a King and I'm damn well not going to let any of yeh throw that on me. I'll take my place as Lord of Winterfell when I'm ready but nothing more. He's the only real King here." He pointed up to Jon. "He's the only true leader we have. I doubt anyone here could have won a battle like that without him, or else I would've been out of a cell months ago."

"Is this your doing, Bran?" Jon whispered under his breath.

'No, it is something we did not foresee.'

"Lord Rickon," Rodrick Forrester began, "many of us were there when we crowned your elder brother King. We swore to never bow to a southern King again."

Jon scoffed. "Is that really the best time to be thinking of such things?" He stood and Rickon slowly sat down. "I have shown just about all of you the truth of what is coming for us! The monsters beyond the Wall are real and we cannot afford to let politics and squabbles get in the way of our survival." his fists tightened, scrunching the leather of his gloves.

"Psh," Lord Glover scoffed. Some just refused to heel. "We stopped the southern cunts once before at Moat Cailin a thousand years ago and we can do it again. As for the supposed Dead, if Wildlings can barely make the climb then I don't expect to understand how a corpse can. Just seal the tunnels and let volleys of arrows take care of them."

Jon's face went red with rage with a dragon's temper, but before he could speak Sansa stood. "We are not enough," she announced simply. "I may be a frail woman to most of you but I can see reality in the face. At most, the North can raise ten thousand men, maybe a little more with the forces that stood with us. But against southern hosts that isn't enough, let alone an army numbering far over a hundred thousand coming from the north."

"Do you believe it, Lady Stark?" Cley Cerwyn asked. Though he and his men fought for Winterfell, none of them were present at the meeting when Jon unveiled almost all of his truths to them. It was not of tardiness, but strategy that the Cerwyns had to remain since they were so close to Winterfell.

Looking at Jon, Sansa's expression… he couldn't read it. To tell the truth, he never expected any of this. 'Let her talk,' The Raven's voice was insistent.

"Yes. I have seen one of the wights. I've seen how terrifying they are, but even if I didn't then I'd believe Jon for he is not a liar." Jon's eyes widened at that. "We need more soldiers. We need the other Kingdoms to stand with us. With the Hero of Winterfell." Sansa gestured to Jon.

Shocked though he was, Jon didn't let himself lose his stride. "My sister says it better than I can, which is why I will be leaving south with the Tully army to reclaim Riverrun. With the Riverlands back under House Tully's control, we can find more strength."

"Robb Stark went south and lost his Kingdom," Lord Manderly said, "Do you really plan to repeat his mistakes?"

"I'm not a Stark and this isn't my bloody kingdom. I have already done things to bring in more to our forces. I have earned favors with powerful southern nobles who can help us with many of the problems we will be facing." It wasn't just the numbers they needed, but food and coin too.

Smalljon spoke up. "So we're to march for Riverrun, and the Freys, and then what?"

"No, just me," Jon stated, "the Northern armies need to remain to ready our defenses, gather and train more fighters, and make sure that if we win, that winter will not defeat us. I want everyone ages fifteen to sixty drilling daily. Spears, pikes, bow and arrow. We need proper armor against the dead and the cold. The Knights of the Vale are some of the fiercest and trained soldiers in the world. We need their knowledge, discipline, and training ourselves to strengthen our chances." Lord Royce nodded in agreement when Jon looked to him for approval.

Smalljon stood. "You'll need able fighters when you head south. I am your man if you will accept."

Jon remembered what Tyrion advised about this. It was his choice whether or not to go alone or not. Having others come with him would be stronger but they had to be those he could find absolute loyalty in. But even if he went alone, he would find company to join him on the road south eventually. "I do, Lord Umber."

The rest of the meeting concluded with more than most in support of Jon's decisions. His leadership and powerful victories at the Dreadfort and Winterfell granted him much respect among them. Hopefully enough that the name Targaryen would be a little more welcome in the North.

The Great Hall had cleared out, except for three who still remained. Jon, Sansa, and Rickon, five if Shaggydog and Ghost were included.

"When are yeh goin' to be leavin'?" Rickon asked. "Exactly, I mean."

"Three days from today," Jon replied, earning him an angry scoff from his younger brother.

"Are you sure about this, Jon?" Sansa asked, worried greatly… at least seemingly. Jon could never tell with her. "I couldn't say this in front of the others, but I am worried if this is our best option. You don't need to go further than Riverrun. We'll have the Riverlands back and the Vale. We can sure up out own defenses-"

Her words in the meeting were those of support but masking her real feelings. His caution of her was firm, but at least she didn't challenge him in public. "Which ones?" Jon asked. "Our southern borders or the ones that matter?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Forgive me, both." He wanted to believe she trusted him on the White Walkers, but then she did things like that. "It's not a fair position we are in, but we can't worry about one enemy and not the other."

Taking a deep breath, Jon crossed his arms. "Alright Sansa, speak your piece."

She looked at him… differently before beginning. "Retaking Riverrun will guarantee House Tully's position in the Riverlands again, which will rally the neutral banners there unaffected by the Red Wedding. The Lannsiters will be too upset and demoralized to try getting it back, especially given how young and naive Tommen is. Cersei and Kevan Lannister will be too busy fighting each other, so they'll still be squabbling by the time the Vale joins us now that Robin is in control and backing our family."

"Kevan Lannister is dead, Sansa." Jon told them.

"What?" It was only Sansa who showed interest and surprise while Rickon was struck with a look of utter confusion. "How, when?"

"Wildfire. Cersei destroyed the entire Great Sept of Baelor, hundreds gone. Nearly all of the Tyrells perished. But I sent word to Lady Olenna warning her about this and I had Davos smuggle Loras out of prison before he shared that fate."

Sansa was silent for a moment, comprehending what Jon had just told her. Before she scowled and balled her fists. "Cersei…" She looked angry. "Aye, no doubt she did it. Sounds just like something that she would do." She then paused and looked at Jon.

"And now, Cersei practically controls the Iron Throne but does not yet sit on it."

"Yet?" Sansa looked amused. "Unless she decides to marry her own son or kill him, Cersei won't have full control of the Throne. Tommen might become her puppet though."

Rickon suddenly groaned in annoyance. "Listen, I have no idea what either of yeh are talkin' about. It's clear yeh'd rather talk alone so I'm just gonna fuck off then." Jon blinked while Sansa gaped. "Have at it." Rickon hopped out of his seat and Shaggydog leapt up to follow him out of the Great Hall.

"Rickon!" Sansa called out. "Rickon, wait!"

"Leave him be, Sansa," Jon said, touching her upper arm to still her. "He's been through a lot and hasn't had time to either be a child or properly grow up."

"I know," Sansa responded, relaxing just a little. "It's not fair to him. But the days we've had are hardly fair to anyone we know."

"Aye. He'll need good help to become the man he needs to be soon. I just hope he might find himself to like it because it won't turn out well if he doesn't."

"I could do that for him while you're gone, Jon."

He opened his mouth to object so he could tell her his request but she continued on before he had the chance.

"But who would watch over you when you're plunged into the snake pit?" Her blue eyes were filled with worry for him. "I've been there, Jon, and I've risen out of it. You'll need my help more than I'm needed here."

"What about Rickon?" Jon asked, more or less to test her reasons.

Once again, she surprised him. "We'll need to appoint a few we can absolutely trust to watch over and teach him. Not just ruling, but the sword and all the rest that comes with it." Sansa thought for a moment. "Osha probably. She's been his caretaker for the longest time, but he'd need highborns with experience."

"Well he did enjoy his time with Lady Barbrey and Lyanna Mormont's a good example of what her tutelage produces."

Sansa had one of her smiles she tried to hide from others but failed. Jon never could tell if that was on purpose or not. He hoped it was real, but after her actions in his future… no, he couldn't trust her yet. "I'll tell Brienne that she's to remain here and protect Rickon. There's no one better with a sword than her besides you."

"Agreed. But what about you? Will you ask Podrick to come as your sworn sword then?"

"If I have you then I'm sure I'll be fine."

Jon didn't know why, but there was something familiar about the way she said those words that made him calm. "But what about when I'm not around? You'll need someone you can trust to…" Jon nearly forgot who it was they would be meeting along the road south after Riverrun. There was someone that might be a sworn sword for Sansa that she would accept. "Nevermind. I'll trust your choice. But are you absolutely sure about coming? It may be a long time until we return."

"I know what it will be, Jon. Even after we just took our home back, I know. And I'll do it, for you, for Rickon, the North, and for me."

Sansa walked after Rickon after giving her final words on the matter and Jon finally felt the anger he held for her to start to lighten in grasp. She wasn't the same, he always had to tell himself, only now he was starting to believe it a little.

He could only hope that time would tell more.

It would be three days until they left south, and in those three days they spent more time trying to calm Rickon down about the situation than they did planning their next moves and assembling the North for war and winter. Their little brother hadn't shown any type of reaction when the news was first dropped, in fact he acted too calm until both Jon and Sansa realized he was ignoring the situation altogether, acting like it was something as short and timeless as going off on a hunt for a day and coming back. But then the following day it had become a denial that Jon was doing this for the good of the North, but then Sansa pointed out that Rickon had meant the good of their family. It continued on like that and no matter how much Jon tried to speak otherwise, Rickon wouldn't listen. He was so damn stubborn.

Jon didn't believe his efforts were in vain, not unless the dead came and slew all of them. The morning of their departure came suddenly and all accompanying them were ready and waiting. There were only some farewells to give before they left.

Double checking the saddle of his horse, Jon was approached by Sansa since she was sure she was ready. "No second thoughts about leaving?" he asked. He noticed over the last three days that Sansa had been poking and prodding the subject of the North's independence mildly with other lords, but she was also saying things as mere possibilities. If she was going to truly strive for such, she'd be staying here where she can sway the other lords.

Sansa smiled, chuckling as though a terrible pun was just spoken. "None." She patted his shoulder. "As great a warrior as you are, Jon, you'll be eaten alive the moment you get to King's Landing." Darting in, she kissed his cheek. "I'm not losing any more of our family if I have a say in it. And unlike the field of battle, this is an arena where I can protect you."

Not the reaction he expected, but it was a welcome one. Sansa stepped over to Rickon, saying her last goodbye to him and kissing him above his brow. Jon had everything ready when she was done.

"Well," Jon said as he stood with Rickon, taking one last look at Winterfell from the courtyard of the south gate, "here we stand at our parting. But it's not the last time we'll see each other. I promise."

Rickon raised his brow up as though to roll his eyes and looked away from Jon.

"Hey," Jon placed a hand on Rickon's shoulder, forcing a glance to him, "When we return, I promise you that we'll have time together, real time. Even if the dead are hours away. All of us will be together, I swear to you, little brother. I leave Winterfell with you now, Lord Stark. The people, the castle, they are yours to lead and protect."

"But I can't do it," Rickon told him, "I'm no greater than a bloody Wildlin'."

Jon smirked, "that makes you the best one to keep them in check. Tormund will help you with them. And if you can keep a Wildling in check, commanding the Northern people will be child's play." He pulled his brother into a tight hug, closing his eyes and savoring the moment. He truly hoped he would be able to keep his promise. "Remember today, little brother."

Rickon squeezed back. "As long as you don't."

Samwell

'Fourth night of the autumn's second moon, concern grows as it has been nine days since I last evacuated my bowels and after expecting one of immense size and density it was nothing more than what could be mistaken for deer pellets, and so few too-'

Sam had to stop writing and let his head fall onto his writing arm. He saved an anointed knight from Greyscale, a feat done by none in centuries and that should have earned him renown, and his reward for it was a promotion from scrubbing shit from bedpans to writing about the shits of a High Septon.

The work had only just begun with all of these damn books and scrolls he had to transcribe and already his progress was slowed from the paper mites Archmaester Ebros warned him about. Three scrolls and halfway through a High Septon's journal later...

He had to take a break. He could feel his hand cramping from the hours upon hours of writing. Transcribing the books and scrolls was easy and his penmanship perfect, not a single error made nor page thrown away, but nearly every one of these texts had no point to them whatsoever except that someone worth mentioning wrote them. These accounts had as much knowledge as someone recording how much the grass on a hill grew in a week and the significance it has to the Dance of Dragons.

Sam leaned back in his seat and lightly pinched at the muscle between his thumb and index finger, lightly massaging the soreness out. It was only midday and he was ahead of his quota. He could spend an hour or two for lunch with Gilly and Little Sam. But should they go somewhere to eat or bring something back to Gilly's apartment? Either one, he had to decide soon since they would be having a guest tonight.

It confounded him how the invitation just blurted out of his mouth before he tried to say farewell to Ser Jorah Mormont. And to his surprise, Ser Jorah agreed to share a meal before he left to return to his Queen. Either way, if he meant to or not, Sam was glad he asked and felt a bit excited to share an evening with the Lord Commander's son. Perhaps he could help clear some troubles about the Lord Commander's death and set Ser Jorah's mind at ease.

He watched Gilly holding one of the old books up to Little Sam trying to teach him some letters.

"This one's an 'A', and then the next one is an 'E'. They go 'ay' and 'ee'."

"Aheeh." Little Sam replied, tracing his fingers over the worn text.

Sam felt himself grow warm with joy watching them. It almost made him forget about all the horrors he saw in lands beyond the Wall.

"I think it's about time we had something to eat," Sam announced, "what do you feel like? Soup or maybe some of the turkey we saw at the butchershop?"

"Turkey sounds good." Gilly agreed. "But I'll need some vegetables from... the marker if we want more than just meat. I'll make stew for us tonight." Turkey stew, the sound of it made Sam's eyes roll into the back of his head for it was his favorite that Gilly made.

"Market," Sam corrected, "It's called a market." Gilly nodded to his correction, one of the rare times she wasn't bothered by it. He stood from his seat and brushed the wrinkles from his robes. "Maybe some peas and carrots?"

"That's perfect." Gilly retrieved the basket for shopping. Sam was almost out of ink too, he would need to get more. He could get some from the Citadel without cost but he'd rather not waste an hour's worth of time just to get it. It was no trouble to his pockets anyways.

Sam picked up Little Sam and they left for the markets. He always liked it when they went. It made him feel like they were a truly married couple with a family. It made him forget the things about his family that had caused him so much grief. He would never be like Lord Tarly.

It took less than an hour to gather the ingredients and supplies they needed. The moment they returned to the apartment, Gilly had gotten to cooking and did a far better job than even Hobb could do at Castle Black.

Sam decided to finish what he could for the day with Septon Maynard's diary. He was almost at the end of the recountings of the Septon's bowel movements anyways and afterwards was a section that would still be a headsoring bore but at least it was marriage dealings and not something like how many ounces of piss it takes to fill the Water Gardens.

After some time, Gilly's turkey stew was nearly done and Ser Jorah would be arriving any minute now.

On this day of spring, I, the High Septon Maynard, have issued an-

A knock on the door took Sam's eyes from the sentence he was just starting to read and copy. He walked briskly to the door and was happy to welcome Ser Jorah into the apartment.

"I'm so glad you found the place."

"My apologies for being a little late." Ser Jorah said with a kind smile. "I recognized a few faces and had to hide. I'm not that much welcome here, especially with the Hightowers." Sam recalled from his years growing up at Hornhill hearing that a Hightower married a Northman and it didn't take long for it to end horribly. He nearly forgot it was Ser Jorah who was the Northman.

"Nothing to fret about. Please, let me introduce you to Gilly."

Gilly stood and did something of a curtsy to Ser Jorah with a cute smile about her that passed onto Sam.

"And who's the lad?" Ser Jorah asked, pointing over to Little Sam.

"He is our son," Sam told Ser Jorah, "Little Sam."

The Bear Knight showed true astonishment upon hearing that. "You're a bold man of the Watch, but lucky to have what they all forfeit. I hope you can enjoy it to the fullest as long as you can."

The stew had finished, Gilly served it to all and Ser Jorah was kind enough to regale a few stories about his travels in Essos, how he made friends with the Targaryens and Dothraki, his time as a pit fighter up to the revolt in the arena of Meereen.

It was a bit strange, having the son of the Lord Commander who in many ways was a spitting image of his father just without such a stern and bitter mood. Jeor Mormont was mighty, respectable, and a good leader, but he didn't smile like his son was doing right now. It wasn't hard to imagine what that the Lord Commander would look like with a smile though. Unfortunately it wasn't the face that the position could allow.

In the middle of Sam's telling of how he met Jon, Grenn, and Pyp, there was a knock on the door interrupting him again.

"Expecting more company?" Ser Jorah asked with a face of ease but a hand twitching closer to the hilt of his sword.

"Not that I know of. It might just be a messenger from the Citadel." Sam got up and made for the door, surprised to find one of his sworn brothers in black when he opened it. Unfortunately he didn't recognize this one well enough to know his name, only the young face.

"Sam? Samwell Tarly?"

"Er, yes? Remind me your name."

"Casper. We only met a few times before you left." Casper approached with a sealed letter in his hands. "From the Lord Com- former Lord Commander Snow."

Sam froze and he heard Gilly gasp. "Former… what do you mean 'former'?" His fears gripped him tightly and it was getting hard to breath when the worst idea came to mind. "Is he dead?"

Casper looked lost trying to give the answer. "Um… see, the answer used to be yes but now it's no."

"What in Seven bloody Hells is that supposed to mean?" Sam shouted and Casper actually flinched back. He furiously walked up to Casper. "What do you mean?" What nonsense was this greenboy spouting?

"Ugh, it's complicated and if I say it then I'm making a fool of myself. Next time you see him, he can tell you. Thorne led a mutiny with the officers, they stabbed him with daggers, Lord Snow hung Thorne and the other officers, and then his watch was over." Casper handed the letter out to Sam. "Just take the damn letter and pray it clears things because I don't want to. I'm gathering recruits for Castle Black." Casper forced Sam to take the letter and walked away.

"Get back here and explain this!" Sam waved the letter over his head at Casper but he was ignored. Thorne, that pig-faced bastard! They tried to kill Jon? If they had succeeded then Sam would have done everything in his power to make sure Thorne and the others got theirs but Jon was strong enough that he didn't need to. He let out a disgruntled sigh and broke the seal.

Sam

Firstly, I want to congratulate you on your successful treatment of Ser Jorah Mormont's greyscale. I know that Valyria will start to become empty of diseased exiles with your abilities now.

Sam pulled the letter away, rereading it thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. How did Jon know about this? It had only been a single day since Ser Jorah was treated. Word could not have spread that fast, or at all given how private the Archmaester was keeping the news. Only a few other archmaesters knew and they were just as ignorant and dismissive as the rest.

At first he thought that maybe it was a prank, but with one of his sworn brothers he recognized delivering the letter… He continued to read.

You're going to be hearing a lot of things about me soon. One of them might be that I've left the Night's Watch. This is true. A few nights after you left, there was a mutiny. Thorne, Othell, Marsh, and Olly betrayed me. They plunged their knives into my heart and murdered me. I died, Sam.

Sam blinked. This was Jon's handwriting, or close to it, it looked a lot better than usual but it was his.

I died, Sam.

No… no this had to be some sort of joke. Or maybe it was metaphorical. Yes, yes that's it. His worries were for nothing, they had to be. But for some reason his body was still cold and trembling. Or maybe he really was attacked and staged his death so he could leave and help with things south. But… would Jon truly go through with such a lie?

I would have stayed that way were it not for the Red Priestess Melisandre using her Lord's favor to bring me back from death. When I woke up, I made a choice. With my death, my watch is over.

Sam almost felt himself on the verge of tears. This couldn't be true, it had to be some mean prank done by the others who hated him. They wanted him to rush back so they could call him a stupid piggy again. The next line made him think otherwise.

You need to believe this letter Sam. And I need your help. In the Citadel is a dairy belonging to the High Septon Maynard. It's worn out and needs to be transcribed, but inside it contains vital information, proof of the greatest secret kept in all of Westeros. Sam, inside is the record of a marriage between Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.

Sam felt the strength in his legs fail and he fell back. He didn't faint, the information merely overwhelmed him.

"Sam!" Gilly rushed to his aide and helped him sit up. "What is it?"

His head was swirling and his words were scrambled in his mouth as he tried to speak. "I do… it need the…'' A diary of the High Septon Maynard, that name rang true for it was the very book he was transcribing before Ser Jorah arrived. He slowly turned his head and saw it where he left it on the shelf after he cleared the table for the food. "Books. I need the book." He got to his feet and rushed over to the shelf, grabbing the original copy and looking at where he just left off.

There it was.

-On this day of spring, I, the High Septon Maynard, have issued an annulment of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen's marriage and in the eyes of man and the gods have married him to his bride by means of a secret ceremony in Dorne. With Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Gerold Hightower as witnesses, the marriage is complete and true. May the prince find love in his new wife, Lyanna of the House Stark-

Sam slumped back into his chair. "By the Gods…"

Gilly was becoming angry and worried. Little Sam was starting to fuss. "Sam! Tell me what's going on right now!"

Sam looked at her, he could feel the color in his face gone and his hands trembled. "I'm sorry, Gilly, but I don't think you'd understand the importance of this…" The letter, there was more to it but he didn't read it yet.

Sam's eyes widened at the next line.

Rhaegar and Lyanna are my parents. Lyanna was never kidnapped, she ran away with Rhaegar. She loved him and he loved her. My real name is Aegon Targaryen and this is the only proof I have of my legitimate birth. If this book is lost or destroyed then the only proof is gone. I need this immediately, I need your help.

The rest of the letter was the details of when and where to meet. The Crossroads Inn. Jon would meet them there and not soon.

"What's the book you have?" Ser Jorah asked, now standing from his seat with the same stern face as his father.

"This is the diary of High Septon Maynard and…" he had to catch his breath a few times before continuing, "and it has the only written proof that Robert's Rebellion was built on a lie. Rhaegar had his marriage annulled to Elia Martel so he could wed Lyanna Stark."

"What?" Ser Jorah stepped forward and looked at the page Sam had just read. "This is… what does it mean?"

Sam looked at Jorah, swallowing the lump in his throat. He had to take this to the Archmaester immediately. This knowledge could impact the whole of Westeros.

But then a sudden thought pushed itself into his mind. Archmaester Ebros might do nothing with it, or he may. He did nothing to assist Sam in his reading for ways to understand and defeat the Dead.

"I may need your help." He said to Ser Jorah before he turned to Gilly. "Gilly… we're leaving soon."

"We are? What is it?"

"Jon needs us. He needs this." He held up the diary. The damn book felt a hundred pounds now. "While we're gone, I need you to pack our things and get the cart ready." He had a stockpile of books from the restricted section already in his possession and most of them he hadn't yet had the chance to look through. If things didn't go as he hoped they would, then his last chance to find something to help how he could would have to be in one of them.

First, Sam decided to do things carefully. He transcribed the rest of the information from the diary where he left off, getting every detail that mattered, including the signatures of the Septon, the two Kingsguard, prince Rhaegar, and Lyanna Stark.

Sam rushed to the Citadel as fast as he could with Ser Jorah in tow. The Archmaesters would be having their supper soon. He could show this to all of them at once. If he couldn't get Archmeaster Ebros' support then surely one of them would voice theirs. They were all men of equal rank, hopefully they were not all of equal ignorance.

The longest part was not the run from the apartment to the citadel, but the climbing up the steps to the higher levels. Even Ser Jorah was getting winded. But at least they had the book to tell them they've achieved climbing half of the fifteen thousand seven hundred eighty two steps.

By the time both men reached the dining hall on the upper levels, They had to pause to catch their breath which felt far longer than it actually took.

"Tarly," Ebros greeted with some agitation in his voice, "I assume you have a good reason for arriving unannounced, and with one who is not of our order." Indeed, it wasn't within Sam's power to allow Ser Jorah on this level but he honestly did not care right now.

"I found something," He took a deep breath, still winded from the climb, "in the High Septon's diary about Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark." The announcement gained the attention of everyone as Sam presented the copy to Ebros. He had given the original to Ser Jorah to hold onto. "They married in Dorne after Rhaegar annulled his marriage, you see?" the knowledge caused a light chatter to rise up Ebros looked unphased.

"This is the copy, Tarly. Where is the original?"

"I have it," Jorah told them with a firm hand over the pommel of his sword, a warning for someone to try and do something Sam didn't want them to. "I've seen the passage myself and it's true, word for word." He revealed the original and showed it to several of the closest maesters.

One of the other maester's got a peak at the page and looked surprised. "The signatures of the Kingsguard are the very same in our records. As is Prince Rhaegar's."

"This is quite the big news!" Another maester said with a hint of glee. "Think of what this means about the history of the war! This opens up not just a new chapter, but an entire book of research to be done and inspecting what on earth truly happened."

"Indeed," Ebrose agreed but nonchalantly, "if Rhaegar didn't kidnap the Stark girl but instead wed her, for what reason was it in secret? Annulments of Royal Blood were not rare and neither did they need secrecy. What exactly was he hiding?"

Sam gulped. Should he mention Jon's letter? No, that was most certainly not his to tell. Only what he found in the diary. "Could've been anything when the Mad King is your father."

Some of the maester's laughed. "Very true, Tarly."

Ebrose closed the transcribed copy and set it aside. "Hand this off to the acolytes and have them make several more copies for the records. I'm going to use this for research on the plots of House Targaryen. If Rhaegar was not mad, then what was he trying to gain? Oh, this opens up so many possibilities."

"Archmaester," Sam started, "Don't you think we ought to send word of this to someone?"

"And let a dangerous secret spread out and let people grow discontent and upset? Such is a recipe for unwell times and considering how they are right now, the people do not need more of such in their lives. Over time, this knowledge will appear in the history books. But not today." He sat back down at his table. "I'll want a new copy from you by tomorrow night and the journal returned for archiving, do you understand?"

Sam went stern like the Lord Commander. "Yes, I do." He understood that what he hoped to achieve by telling the maesters was futile. He left swiftly and rummaged out the stolen keys from his robe.

"What was it you thought would happen?" Ser Jorah asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a bit of peace could be brought to some minds. But one thing is for sure, my place here isn't doing any good for Jon. I need your help to borrow a few books before we leave."

"Listen, Tarly," Ser Jorah said in a calm voice, "I owe you my life for risking yours to save it. But my loyalties are with Queen Daenerys. I'll help you set off but then I must go my own way. But I will not let this life debt slip from me."

Sam stopped and looked at Jorah. "Jon knew you were here, Ser. And he knew I cured you last night. He knew about the book, he knew what was in it. If he says to bring you along, don't you think that's enough for you so you can at least ask him yourself how or why? Because I think it is."

Ser Jorah paused, contemplating their situation and shrugged. "I hope he doesn't hold onto his father's grudges."

Bran

The others prepared to make their exit from the cave as fast as they could. Edd and his men had helped everything get ready sooner and they had a route to escape by. Jon had given them instructions about what to do and how to get out when the time came.

Bran had to reenter the sight with the Three Eyed Raven. They both had to learn what this presence was and what it meant for them.

They found themselves in the throne room of the Red Keep, but Bran wasn't sure it was either of them that conjured this place. He only knew where it was because of the Iron Throne, or did someplace else have a throne made of hundreds of swords forged together? Outside, there was a faint noise echoing. It was a high ringing of bells. Bells from the entire city.

From behind the Iron Throne walked the one Bran met in the last vision, his older self. But now that he had a chance to take a good look at… himself, this older version was sickly and thin, pale skinned, and even though they were not crippled in the sight, this form walked with a limp in his step. He could use a good walking stick.

It was the Three Eyed Raven who stepped forward and addressed this person. "I'm certain the answer is known, yet I must ask. Who are you?"

"I am you," the older Bran said, but it was to both of them, "just as you are both me, or will be. I was Brandon Stark once. Then I made a terrible mistake and had to become the Three Eyed Raven before I was ready." There was a smile that grew on his face but it looked so empty. "A mistake I'm glad I saved you from."

A sudden rumble shook the entire castle but none of the people present felt its vibrations nor were they shaken into a near fall.

"I was your future, Bran." Bran's older self said, "and I still could be, one that could mean the end of everything if we do not work to fix the mistakes I helped make in my time."

"What do you mean?" Bran asked. "What mistakes…?" A sudden burst of flame and smoke destroyed the roof of the throne room and the ringing of bells transformed into the screams of people and roars of a beast that could not be challenged. So much anger weighed in the voice. The Red Keep was crumbling and burning fast as though that one blast did it all but it didn't feel right. "What's happening?"

"My past… and the consequences of our mistakes." The Older Bran walked over to the collapsed rubble with a look of empty shame befell on him. "One year from your day, the Night King came to us at Winterfell. We lost so many, but in the darkest hour of the night, a girl and her blade faced death itself and ended it. Yet that only made us complacent and our natures took over. Promises were broken and the deepest of loyalties were betrayed. I thought I was meant to fix it all, but I was more wrong than I had ever been in my life."

Bran furrowed his brows. "What? I don't understand these riddles you speak in." Another roar broke through all around and from the opening in the roof, an enormous and powerful dragon flew overhead. Astride the dragon was a person of silver hair, a woman by the looks of it but barely visible at this distance. "Is that the Dragon Queen?"

Tensing, Bran's older self shut his eyes tight. His head fell and he turned away. "A Queen, willing to throw away all she yearned for to fight alongside our King against the dead, to love our King despite his name... only for us to stab her in the back when it was our turn to help her... to drive her into this madness."

Another blast of dragonfire hit one of the castle tower's destroying the walls until the structure was too weak to hold everything up. It collapsed with a terrible crash into the gardens.

"When all was done, only ash and pain remained in the city, one greedily picked at by our narrow ambitions. We thought victory had come our way, our enemies dealt with. None of us knew that the battle was won but not the war, not when there was one last trace of the Night King we didn't erase." He pulled the sleeve of his right arm down and revealed markings of a handprint. "This is the Night King's mark, one that brought the ruin of everything we fought against. His mark did more than just grant him a way past the magics fighting against him, it helped him escape death. A small part of his essense lived in this mark, in me. And ten years after his defeat his strength returned, the strength to take over and corrupt my body into a vessel. My Kingsguard were the first to fall save for one who was not there, then the castle, and then the city. Only a handful of my guards and council were not there that night."

"But how are you here if your body's gone?" The smoke outside clouded the skies until they transformed into natural clouds that were cold and the falling ash was becoming snow.

"We are the Three Eyed Raven. Our being transcends the physical world. In my last moments before the Night King was reborn, I used every ounce of my power to separate my consciousness into the greensight. It was the only way I could live and help overcome the mistakes we made. But I will not last forever. While my power is vast, it is limited. Soon, I will fade away once I have depleted all I have. Warging, seeing into the past, communicating my present with my past, it all accelerates my end."

"Do you know how long you have?"

"Were I to sit and do nothing then perhaps a couple of years. But with how much I am needed, my end is closing in. That is why no time can be wasted. I will teach you what the Raven before us could not so the worst does not come to pass. So you won't become like me."

Meera

"Bran… Bran!" Meera shook him, but he remained in his state with his eyes glazed over with a white shroud. "He's normally never under this long. Something's wrong."

"You cannot disturb him," Leaf told her. "Terrible things will happen to him and the great one both."

"What if he's already stuck…"

Her words cut short at the feeling of a great chill in the caves. She noticed the fogging breath ascending in front of her face. It was cold. She rushed from her spot with Leaf and the other Children, picking up a sword and running for the cave entrance. Eddison and two other men of the Watch ran after them, all coming outside in the dead of night to see the horde amassed before them. And leading them all was him, the Night King.

Of all the things Meera saw, the rotting corpses with no purpose but to kill, the blades of ice sharp as Valyrian Steel, the White Walkers themselves, none of them brought fear upon her like the horrible smirk the Night King had. Why did the King of the Dead have to smile?

"How the fuck he'd get here fast?" Eddison asked openly.

The Night King raised his hands up and a faint glow of blue light emanated from his palms.

"They can't get in," Eddison recalled, "right?"

The glowinging grew brighter than the light of a full moon and without warning or indication a spike of ice pierced up through the snow in a fast trail towards the entrance. The moment the ice broke past the line of weirwood roots, everyone dodged aside from the ice when it struck the outside of the cave.

A shrill shriek came from one of the White Walkers and the dead marched forward.

The Children of the Forest took forth the fire bombs from the stacks of them and lobbed as many as they could at the front lines of the Night King's army. The orbs exploded brightly with intense fire, incinerating several wights at a time but hardly doing a thing to the White Walkers, they didn't even singe the hair from their icy scalps.

Leaf grabbed one last firebomb and threw it precisely at the line of roots, incinerating two wights and igniting the roots into a wall of flame the dead could not pass. That didn't stop Leaf and everyone else from retreating back into the cave as the dead swarmed all around.

They entered the undergrowth of the weirwood. Hugh, Matthar, and Balian had swords and dragonglass daggers drawn and stood at the ready. The children of the forest spread out with spears raised at the canopy of soil. Summer stood by Eddison, facing the entrance and waiting for the dead to come.

"Hodor!" Hodor cried out, panicking in the corner. "Hodor!"

A hand of bones and rotted flesh broke through the roof and many others did after it. The dead squealed as they dug down into the cave. The Children stabbed their spears up, killing as many as they could with the dragonglass in hopes of slowing the dead and buying time for the escape.

"Bran!" Meera knelt to Bran's side. "Bran, you need to wake up!"

Bran

"Bran!" He heard Meera's voice echo throughout the crumbling ruins of the Red Keep. A hand rested on his shoulder and both him and his older self looked over to the Three Eyed Raven.

"They need you," said the Three Eyed Raven. "He is here."

Hearing that, Bran panicked. "What… where… Can they fight him off? Just for a bit?" His future apparition shook his head.

Even the Three Eyed Raven looked grim. "I fought many battles when I was Brynden Rivers, and this one is hopeless. All they can do is buy you enough time but seconds matter. You need to leave."

"I… I…" his head throbbed, filled with panic and worry as a section of the castle's roof above them collapsed and fell. As it would have crushed them, the falling rubble instead turned into dust all around and when it cleared, the three men were in the courtyard of Winterfell, but years ago. Bran tried to calm down now that he was in a place he loved, but he couldn't. His thoughts were out of focus and unable to gather his thoughts… and not seeing his future self close his eyes...

Meera

Knocking an arrow tipped with dragonglass, Meera let it fly right into the skull of a wight, felling it. "Damn it, Bran, wake up!"

"We're not going to hold!" yelled Hugh, hacking away at another one that dropped from the ceiling.

"Hodor!" Hodor cried again and again. "Hod-" His eyes flashed snow white and silenced him. He stood from his place and shoved aside one of the wights to the ground with his mighty strength, breaking many of the monster's bones. Hodor picked up Bran and gathered the sled, pulling it down through the tunnels to escape with Leaf and Acorn escorting it.

Wrangled sounds echoed from the entrance. The fire was gone or extinguished and they were coming. Several soldiers popped down from the ceiling and some were slain by the Night's Watch fast but the others got to their feet and fought. Matthas cut down three and was saved by Summer from a wight wielding a broken sword.

Meera cut her sword through a wight coming straight for her, slicing it in half.

"Let's go!" Hugh called now that Hodor and Bran had made enough space from the grove that everyone else could flee. But three wights burst from the ceiling, two landing on Hugh and viciously began gutting him.

"Hugh!" Balian cut through the wights on his sworn brother but could not save him. More wights made to cut them off from escaping but Summer charged and tackled them, pushing them aside and ripping those he could to shreds so that the others could fight for the opening to run.

The wights were getting through faster now and they were coming through the tunnel.

One of the Children impaled two on her spear but a wight behind jumped at her, ripping through her body with a chipped knife and its teeth. Her screams filled the cave over the squeals of wights.

Arrows of dragonglass were shot by Pinenut and Matthas after taking up bows.

One of the White Walkers made it through and his reflexes were so great that he cut and parried the arrows with his blade of ice.

Meera grabbed one of the last spears laying in the dirt and launched it at the White Walker. But the spear was caught and the shaft snapped just below the head. The White Walker smirked before throwing it wickedly fast. Meera turned over to dodge but the blade hit her in the back of her waist on the right side and she screamed from the tearing pain.

Bran

The whole of Winterfell was filled with the echoes of Meera's screaming yet no one but the Three Eyed Ravens could hear it.

"Meera!" Bran cried out, looking all around as if she were here with them, trying to find the source. Brynden just stood there, grim, while the other Bran's face was glossed over, warging into someone or something unseen. Still unsure of what to do, at that moment he felt the pull to his wolf and warged into Summer.

The sensation jarred him but soon Bran regained his senses. Through his wolf's eyes he saw Meera with a blade of dragonglass in her. Edd was pulling her away from the White Walker but they wouldn't make it. In the distance, a possessed Hodor swung a massive club of wood at the wights, crushing a dozen. That bought him time.

He returned to himself and couldn't stop thinking about what he saw. He had to get out. He had to help them.

"You can't do any more than you have." His older self told him. "Their survival is in their own hands now." His older self looked back to their Grandfather seeing off their father for Vale.

"Don't fight if you don't have to," Rickard counseled Ned, "but if you have to, win."

Eyes narrowed, Bran closed his eyes and found his wolf again.

Meera

Back spasming in pain, Meera could barely swing her dagger. The efforts were batted aside by the walker, eyes gleaming as if in amusement. Almost slowly, he raised his blade...

In a blur Summer lurched forward and tackled the White Walker down, giving Eddison the opening to rush forth with his dragonglass dagger and stab it into the White Walker's neck, obliterating the frozen beast into shards of ice.

Summer went to her side and lowered down. Meera took this as a sign and with Edd's help, pulled herself onto Summer's back and held on tightly, gritting through the pain of the dagger still lodged in her side.

Summer and the others finally had the chance to retreat, running after Hodor and Bran.

Bran

Meera was safe now, away from the fight and on their way to the escape. But dozens, no, hundreds of wights were breaking through into the cave and chasing after them. They had to hurry. The door was loosened and they made sure to prepare bars.

"The time has come." The Three Eyed Raven said with sorrow weighing heavy in his voice alongside the slightest of promise. He appeared as if he were holding something in his hands. "Farewell, Brandon Stark."

Bran felt a hand on his shoulder and through the sight of his future self, saw inside the grove under the weirwood. The Three Eyed Raven face to face with the Night King and three White Walkers. His teacher was holding one of the orbs the Children of the Forest used. The orb illuminated suddenly before bursting into flame, engulfing the Three Eyed Raven and the roots around him in flames but not affecting the Night King and the White Walkers.

"This time," Bran's older self said, "he could leave the world as he entered it, as a dragon."

Meera

The ride on Summer wasn't smooth and every leap the wolf took sent further pain surging throughout her body. But she didn't care one bit because it wouldn't matter if the horde behind them caught up. The dead were fast and Balian had taken a knife thrown to the back of his knee before the swarm mutilated him where he fell.

But the door was open and waiting for them. Summer leapt out of the cavern followed by Eddison, Matthas, and the last of the Children.

Hodor slammed the door shut and held it while Eddison and Matthas bared it with the beams they prepared as per the guidance in Eddison's letter from Jon Snow.

A sudden thump came from the door and the wretched squeals followed after. The wights banged and scratched at the door, trying their best to break it down but failing… until the frost around the iron hinges suddenly grew faster, impossibly fast. The frost turned into ice and it froze the metal, causing it to crack with each bang at the door. The next thump on the door broke the hinges and cracked the wood bars.

Everyone burst into a run. The door wouldn't hold for long enough. But Hodor immediately charged at the door and pushed back with his giant's strength, holding back the dead as long as he could.

"Hold the door!" Meera cried to him.

Bran

"Hold the door!" Meera's voice echoed all around again.

"I didn't think this would happen," his older self said, "The Night King… He's stronger somehow, immensely." He looked to Bran with nothing but shame. "I'm sorry. We can't save everyone after all."

"Hold the door!" Meera cried out again, only now the words struck something in Bran. Why did he feel like he heard them before… "Hold the door!"

Bran looked over to the stables, where the eyes of an innocent stableboy looked back at him. No, it couldn't be… Those eyes turned white before Willas collapsed in the mud and jerked about where he lay.

"Willas!" Nan cried as she rushed over to his side. "What's the matter?"

"Hold the door!"

"Hold the door!" Willas cried out with Old Nan at his side, weeping as her boy thrashed in the mud. "Hold the door!"

Bran could only watch with the sting of tears biting his cheeks. He could hear faint echoes of Hodor's cries. For one brief moment, he was able to peer into his present, looking at the scene of Hodor holding back the door of the tunnel as the limbs of wights burst through and clawed. "I'm so sorry…" Bran muttered as he watched.

"Hold the door!" Meera's voice was weighed with sadness and pain now. "Hold the door!"

Willas kept repeating the words over and over. His voice was filled with panic and fear. "Hold the door! Hold the door! Hol the door! Hol the dor! Hol eh dor! Hol dor! Hol dor! Ho dor! Hodor! Hodor. Hodor. Hodor…"

Edd

The snowstorm had quickly turned into the worst blizzard in the history of the Wall as soon as they got out of that fucking cave and had to leave the big man behind. For the simpleton he was, he was a hero too for that sacrifice. But unfortunately this cold weather wouldn't get them far. The sled was heavy and the wind was against them like a charging cavalry.

'If I ever see Jon again, I'm going to dangle him by his cock from the tops of the Wall with cold chains!' Edd thought furiously as he pulled the sled as fast he could. It helped that Matthas was still with them, but thinking honestly it was Balian and Hugh were the stronger ones than the two of them.

They crossed over the frozen river and entered a dark forest, the trees helped break the wind and snow beating against them but it was still so damn cold and they could only pull so fast. The echoes of the screaming dead never died out completely. In fact it was only when they got to the edge of entering the forest did they become the quietest but only for a few short minutes before they grew again.

"They're coming!" Matthar so graciously reminded everyone.

"So pull faster!" Edd growled. They could have left the horses outside the door but no, they just had to listen to Hugh and hide them in the woods. But they were almost there. Once they had the horses, they would get away from all of this…

Except when they all arrived, the horses were slaughtered and mutilated into one of those disgusting symbols the dead liked to make with their victims. This symbol was not like the one from the Fist, that strange spiral. Edd didn't know how to describe it except a symbol that meant they were fucked.

"What do we do?" One of the Forest Children said but not in panic as one would usually in such a situation.

"Keep going!" Edd ordered and pressed on with the sled in tow. They couldn't stop for anything now. They had to get to the ravine that was a few miles south. They could block the path behind them with ice and stone. But would they get there in time? Could they outrun the horde of the dead that knew no weakness or fatigue?

No.

The screams suddenly erupted much closer but from all directions.

"It's a trap!" Edd realized. He dropped the sled with Matthas and drew his sword and the dragonglass dagger he had. The last Forest Child that had a bow shot two of her remaining five dragonglass arrows beyond the trees and it sounded like they found their targets. "Form up! Around Bran!" The big direwolf had made his way over to them, Meera slipped off so he could join the defense. Edd remembered how viscous Ghost could be in battle and he was damn glad he had a wolf with him.

There was movement among the trees and faint blue glowing eyes darting back and forth. Jangles of rusty chainmail and the sounds of tromping in the snow became clearer.

The Dead had found them, but so did something, or rather, someone else did too.

A mighty horse rode into view followed by a herd of elk larger than Edd had ever seen before. They were bigger than the horse. The horse though was ridden by a figure in all black with his hood up and face covered. Her brandished a chain with a spiked ball on the end that suddenly lit aflame. The stranger swung the chain and slammed the head into the dead that charged forth, igniting them in fire and killing them instantly. The elk used their sharp antlers to spear other soldiers of the Night King and cripple them enough to give way a clear path of escape.

The Stranger finished off the last of the nearby wights by throwing a hook attached to the other end of the chain, impaling the moving corpse and dragging it hard into a tree, smashing it into bits and pieces. He rode up next to them all and the elk were right behind him as though they were loyal followers of his. "Give them here!" He pointed at Bran and Meera. "Then mount the elks! More of them are coming fast!"

Edd didn't need to ask or object. He and Matthas hauled Bran's body up to the Stranger's horse and then Meera as best they could but still causing some discomfort and pain. Edd sheathed his weapons then and took the closest elk after Leaf had mounted it. The sled was dead weight, and rather than flee on horses, the Night's Watch and the Children of the forest fled into a blizzard following a masked Stranger that saved them from becoming meat for the Night King's Army.

Edd silently prayed thanks to whichever god or magic fucker aided them tonight because no amount of luck would have brought so much as a mule or even a goat to them.