Ned Stark

Damn it, Thorne!" Ned snapped, standing in front of the Lord Commander of Castle Black. Behind the furious lord of Winterfell, Jon and Eddard stood on either side of the door, firmly in Ned's corner. "We need the wildlings south of the Wall."

Ser Alliser crossed his arms. "You wish to let thousands of raiders onto your lands? I dislike many things about you, Lord Stark, but I never took you for a fool!"

"Watch your tongue when you speak to me," Ned growled, glaring at the knight. "You think I haven't weighed the outcome of letting the wildlings through? This is not about what's right or wrong. It's about life or death!"

"What would you know about what we're facing, my lord?" Thorne countered. "If I remember correctly, you spent your boyhood in the Vale with your friend, Robert, then after your rebellion sent me to this hellhole, I never saw you once visit Castle Black. You can keep any platitudes you have about helping the Watch!"

"Don't forget that Jeor Mormont was a lord of the North before he was Lord Commander," Jon countered. "Why would my father need to take weeks away from ruling the North when both his brother and a good friend of his were here to keep him well informed?"

"House Stark has always supported the Watch, Thorne, but do not change the subject. Benjen met me on the road. He showed me what was in the chest." Ned said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I know all too well what's north of the Wall. I know what Mance and the wildlings are fleeing from."

"Cotter Pyke has already let wildlings past Eastwatch," Jon added. "Besides, we'll need the men and resources Mance has already."

"You want to man the Wall with barbarians who have attacked it for hundreds of years?" Ser Alliser scoffed before leaning forward. "When I'm dead."

"When will that be?" Eddard Karstark scowled. "Hopefully soon."

"Peace, both of you," Ned said, glancing over his shoulder at the two young men. "Ser Alliser, I cannot order you to open the gate under the Wall. You know as well as I that the Night's Watch is separate from the rest of Westeros. It is under no command but that of the Lord Commander."

"I'm happy you realized such a thing, my lord." Ser Alliser said, leaning back. "I am in command of this castle and it is up to me if the wildlings come through the Wall."

Ned shook his head in disgust. "Gods damn you, Ser Alliser."

"They already have by sending me here." Ser Alliser grumbled. "Wait, you did that if my memory serves me right."

"Father, is there nothing we can do?" Jon asked, stepping forward and glaring at Ser Alliser.

"No," Ned said firmly.

"I believe the King-Beyond-the-Wall wants to speak with you." Ser Alliser said. "How about you two traitors go do that."

Ned held up two fingers. "That's twice you've disrespected me," he warned. "Be very careful from this point forward."

Line Break

Ned and Jon waited patiently as the massive gate slowly rose, revealing more and more of the wildling camp. Fur-clad people walking between animal-hide tents, taking care of livestock, or sharpening weapons. Every eye was on the northmen as soon as the gate was open, and those eyes were filled with distrust and curiosity. They were not dressed in the blacks of the Night's Watch, but browns and greys. They weren't enemies of the free folk, but it had yet to be proven if they were friends.

Ned ignored their stares and urged his mount forward, starting a slow walk through the camp. Men, women, and children moved out of the way as he passed, speaking in hushed tones with one another. Ghost padded softly ahead of the two riders, looking less out of place than Ned and Jon.

After a few minutes, they reached the giant tent that Jon had described the first time he met Mance. Made from the hides and furs of large white animals, it was impressive and easily the best of all the other tents. It was a tent fit for a king.

Ned and Jon stopped in front of the tent but did not dismount. By now, a large gathering had surrounded them, many of the wildlings either bearing weapons or had their hands on them. They were not well armed or armored, many bearing weapons of stone, bronze, and wood with the best armor they had available was only what they could scavenge off a dead ranger. Nevertheless, there were nearly fifty of them and Ned was sure that such a dedicated would make short work of the two Starks.

Soon, two people emerged from the tent. One was a large, white-bearded man wearing scavenged armor and the other was a fiery-haired woman with a bow made of horn and weirwood over her shoulder. Ned recognized them both as Jon's companions from when Ned and his party entered Castle Black.

"Jon." the old man grunted, nodding to Jon before looking at Ned. "You must be The Stark."

"I am." Ned responded. "You must be Tormund Giantsbane."

"I am." Tormund said.

"I've heard much about you," Ned said. "I thought you'd be bigger with a name like Giantsbane."

The old wildlings grunted again, but there was a slight smile on his weathered face. "Come, Stark. Mance is eager to meet you again."

Ned raised an eyebrow but nodded as he and Jon dismounted before following the two raiders inside the tent.

Immediately, Ned was hit by the heat of a roaring fire. Three figures sat around it, each different from the next. The first person Ned laid eyes on was a woman, young, pretty, and heavily pregnant. Her eyes showed warmth and quiet intelligence. She nodded slightly to Ned when he entered.

The man across from her was a warrior through and through. Clean-shaven and bald, with no ears and a dangerous look in his eye. He wore bronze scale armor and had a leather and bronze helm set near his feet. A spear made with a white wood shaft and tipped with an ornate bronze spearhead was planted in the ground behind him.

The final man was Mance Rayder, looking exactly as Jon described.

"Mance," Ned said.

"Lord Stark." Mance Rayder said, rising from his seat. "When I asked your son for a meeting with you, I'll admit that I thought you wouldn't show."

"Here I am," Ned said, spreading his hands. "You summoned me and I came."

"So you did," Mance said with a slight smile. "This is my wife, Dala, and one of my captains; Styr, Magnar of the Thenns. Do you know why my people are camped outside that giant ice sculpture?"

"I do." Ned nodded. "You're running from the Others. They're real. My brother has evidence of it."

"Does he now?" Mance mused.

"Benjen Stark managed to capture a wight." Tormund rumbled. "The Lord of Bones was wrong. He's not dead."

Ygritte, the red-headed archer, muttered something under her breath, but Ned wasn't able to catch it.

"In this case, I'm glad he was," Mance said. "He's gone south with it then? Wants to show the rest of you southerners what really lies north of the Wall."

"He has," Ned said. "Everyone will see what's coming. My son Robb, the king, already knows what we face. Benjen will ensure that the southern lords are behind him."

"This is good," Mance said, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you, Lord Stark, for coming to tell me this."

"I did not come just for that," Ned said. "Ser Alliser Thorne is Lord Commander."

Mance grimaced. "I feared that was the case. Once I heard of the Old Bear's death, there weren't many people who could have taken over as Lord Commander. Your brother, Ser Denys of the Shadow Tower, or Ser Alliser were the only clear candidates."

"I was told that a wildling killed Jeor," Jon said quietly. "Murdered him in his room in the middle of the night."

Mance raised an eyebrow. "If one did, then they weren't with me. I never gave the order for such a thing, nor would I have done so in the first place. Jeor Mormont was a good man and the man the Watch needed."

"I spent a good amount of time with Tormund and Ygritte," Jon grunted, "it's very clear that they value their freedom above everything else. There's a reason you call yourselves the free folk. Could one of your people have done this alone?"

Mance shrugged. "Maybe. I have a hundred thousand men, women, and children, lad. I cannot keep track of them all. I am sorry that Mormont is gone, but I played no part in his death."

Ned frowned. He had learned how to read a man, both from Jon Arryn and during his tenure as Lord of Winterfell. It was much harder to read men in the south, with their silver tongues and slick facades, but Mance was not a man of the south. He was as much a man of the North as Ned was. He truly meant what he said about the Old Bear. Besides, he had been a member of the Watch long enough to know that Alliser was Jeor's likely replacement. If Mance wanted to get south of the Wall, Jeor would have been much easier to work with than Alliser.

"Jeor's death hurts us all, but he's gone and there's nothing we can do now," Ned said, pushing the conversation forward. "Thorne's leadership works against our cause."

"Our cause?" the earless man scoffed. "Since when have the Free Folk and kneelers been allies? All you've tried to do is kill us."

Ned turned his gaze on the deformed wildling. "Joramun and my ancestor, Brandon the Breaker, fought together against the Night King, did they not? You're right. The Free folk and those south of the Wall have been enemies for generations, but this is not a war between those on either side of the Wall. This is about life and death. Life against death." Ned gestured behind him to Jon. "Jon has made it clear that the Free Folk are on the side of life."

"We are," Mance said. "You said Ser Alliser's leadership works against us. What do you mean?"

"He won't let your people cross under the Wall," Ned said. "He knows well what is out there, but he's as stubborn as a mule and defies my attempts to reason with him out of spite."

"Mance, if they won't let us through the Wall, we can use the horn," Tormund said, looking at Mance.

Mance shook his head. "We can't, Tormund. The Wall is our best defense. You know this."

"What are you talking about?" Ned asked. "What horn?"

Mance sighed. "We did not expect those on the other side of the Wall to know what we know," he explained. "I was willing to do whatever it took to get my people south. I sought out the Horn of Joramun."

"Which we found." Tormund finished proudly.

"What makes this horn special?" Jon asked.

Mance stepped back a few feet and grabbed a section of cloth. Ned hadn't noticed it when he entered the tent as his gaze had been instantly drawn to the three people. Now that he saw the screen, he saw nothing special about it.

"Joramun was another King-Beyond-the-Wall," Mance explained. "The very first, in fact. Except, unlike all the others, he fought with the Starks of Winterfell instead of against them."

"They fought against the Night King, the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Wall who took an Other to wife and sacrificed to them as well if the rumors are true," Ned said grimly, continuing the story. "Our ancestor, Brandon the Breaker, fought with Joramun to destroy the wretched king and free the Night's Watch from his thirteen-year reign of terror."

Mance nodded and pulled down the cloth, revealing a massive horn, the largest that Ned had ever seen. Longer than any man was tall, entirely black, and decorated with gold bands, it was held up by four poles that held the horn suspended between them with leather slings. It was truly magnificent to behold.

"You spoke of Joramun, Lord Stark," Mance said, walking around the horn. "He woke the giants from their slumber with this horn."

The King-Beyond-the-Wall laid a reverent hand on the horn. He was quiet for a moment, simply gazing at the horn before looking back up at Ned. There was a look of determination on his face. It was the face of a man who had nothing but complete conviction for what he was about to do.

"If Alliser Thorne means to leave my people to the mercy of the White Walkers, then I shall blow this horn and bring down the Wall," Mance warned. "We'll see how he deals with the undead and no wall of ice to protect him."

Daenerys Targaryen

The lady of Dragonstone worked hard to keep her anxiety down. She believed that she was managing it well. Her breathing was controlled, but her hands were held behind her back to stop them from fluttering and shaking, and there was not a thing out of place on her appearance. She was doing everything she could physically to present a confident outward appearance.

The two knights at her side weren't doing so great a job. Ser Jorah's gaze continued to flicker whenever a patrol of Gold Cloaks passed by, marching in perfect order with their spears and shields and their heads held high. Ser Barristan's fingers tapped nervously on the pommel of his sword, a nervous tick on an otherwise calm-looking man.

Daenerys kept having flashbacks of her talk with the Green Man.

Flashback

Daenerys found the man in the godswood of the Red Keep, kneeling before a tree. Even though she had kept her dragons within the heavily wooded area, she never had time to look around. She certainly had never seen the giant oak tree with a face etched in horror on it.

The man was there, just as Alec Reed said he would be. Besides his strange green cloak, there was not much that stood out about the man. His clothes were simple and looked to be well-worn with dirt and grass stains. His hair looked similar to the Dothraki, except not as long. His bearded face was not handsome, but rugged and as worn as his clothes.

"Daenerys Targaryen," the man said, glancing over his shoulder at the girl. His eyes were the only thing that stood out. They were burdened with wisdom.

"How did you know it was me?" Daenerys asked. She had made virtually no sound as she approached. He only seemed to notice her presence when he looked at her.

"Master Reed told me that you were looking for me." the man said with a slight smile.

Daenerys couldn't help a smile from overcoming her own features. "So it is an act?"

The man raised an eyebrow, the smile disappearing. "Is what an act?"

"I have heard so much about you," Daenerys said, walking towards the man. "Especially about your little scene in the small council chambers, but it seems it was all an act. You're not as 'all-knowing' as you seem."

The man kept his eyebrow raised. "I know plenty, Daenerys Stormborn, I simply choose to reveal what I know when the time is right. How much do you know?"

It was Daenerys's turn to feel hurt. "I've lived a short, but full life, ser. I know just as much as you."

The Green Man didn't look impressed. "Have you sought me out simply to challenge my knowledge, my lady, or is there something I can do for you?"

"Robb Stark came to you for advice, did he not?" Daenerys asked.

"He did." the man answered. "At the cost of a few of my men and many fools."

"He asked about the Long Night," Daenerys said, already knowing the truth.

"He did."

"And he was right. It does come."

"It does."

"Samwell Tarly told me when I first arrived that my three….two dragons would be turning points in the battles to come," Daenerys said. "Is that true?"

The Green Man spread his hands. "Dragons are creatures of great magic, Daenerys Stormborn. Against the forces of darkness, we can have no greater weapons."

"My children are not…." Daenerys went to say, but the Green Man stopped her with a hand.

"If they are not weapons, my lady, then why did the gods gift them with teeth and claws that can rip through steel? Or fiery breath that melts bones?" the Green Man asked. "A weapon is a tool for fighting. Your man Barristan is quite a spectacular weapon if a little worn down. A weapon is not a derogatory term, my lady. Please understand that."

"I will not have my children referred to as such," Daenerys said, her voice like iron.

The man shrugged and got to his feet, brushing dirt off his pants. "Very well. I gave you my answer, my lady. I am sorry that you do not like the truth. There is nothing I can do about that."

Daenerys scowled. "This was a waste of my time," she muttered before storming off.

"You need a second rider." the man called after the angry woman.

Daenerys stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the man. "What did you say?"

"You need a second rider." the Green Man said again, taking a few steps after Daenerys. "You know I'm right. You were there, at the battle. You saw what happened."

Daenerys knew exactly what the man was talking about. She could ride Drogon, but if the Long Night was truly coming, someone needed to be Rhaegal's rider. There was only one other member of House Targaryen besides herself. The one that Eddard Stark had kept hidden from the realm for almost twenty years.

"The child," Daenerys said quietly.

"The child." the Green Man confirmed. "The child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The child born of force and prophecy."

Daenerys' mind moved to one name: Robb Stark. She knew that Ned Stark knew for certain the identity of the child. She also knew that the king had recently decided to sail north to see the Wall. A clever lie to deceive many, Daenerys knew that the king wanted to see with his own eyes what was happening in the North, and what would be needed in the war to come.

It seemed like she now had a reason to go north as well.

"Thank you," Daenerys said before striding out of the godswood, her knights flanking her as soon as she passed them.

Flashback

"Lady Daenerys," Robb said curiously, riding up to the young woman and her companions. "I did not expect for you to come and see me off."

"I did not come for that, your grace," Daenerys said. "I am here to ask if I could come with you."

"Why?" the king asked, dismounting.

He was garbed in a heavy leather tunic over a white woolen shirt and woolen pants tucked into black leather boots. His crown was nestled comfortably within his curls and his sword sat easily on the left side of his waist. His appearance reminded Daenerys of the first time she ever saw Robb. A northerner.

He was flanked by three kingsguard. The warrior woman Brienne, Ser Robar Royce, and Ser Garth 'Greysteel' Hightower. Behind them stood a dozen of Stark's household guards. They were armored in plaited leather armor with steel helms and steel shields bearing a snarling direwolf.

Robb's giant direwolf Greywind padded just nearby, nearly as big as the horse the king rode.

"The Green Man suggested I come," Daenerys said. "I need answers and I know of only one man who can give them to me."

"Oh?" Robb asked. "And who might that be?"

"Your father, the Lord of Winterfell," Daenerys answered boldly.

Robb's curious expression became guarded. "What business do you have with my father, my lady?"

"My own," Daenerys answered. "Do not worry, my lord. The answers I seek will only help our fight."

Robb looked at her for a long time, trying to reach into her mind and figure out what was on it. Daenerys never let her past her eyes. It was clear that the king was conflicted about whether to let her go or reject her. After a few moments, he made his decision.

"Very well. You may sail with us, Lady Daenerys." Robb said.

Daenerys bowed slightly. "Thank you, my lord."

"Captain Chet!" Robb said, striding past Daenerys and up onto the ship. A burly, bald, bearded man in a salt-stained vest jumped to attention, one weather-beaten hand coming up to his brow in salute.

"Your grace," he said, going into a deep, clumsy bow. "We're ready to depart."

"We have three new members of my party," Robb said, gesturing to Daenerys and her men.

The captain stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I was hoping to give yourself a room of your own and a room for your kingsguard to share. If two of your kingsguard don't mind bunking with the rest of your guards and the crew, I can have your lady knight and the lady share the second room."

"I will share my room with Ser Robar and Ser Garth," Robb said, surprising Daenerys. "Brienne, do you mind sharing a room with Lady Daenerys?"

"No, sire," Brienne said, glancing at Daenerys.

"Lady Targaryen?" Robb asked, turning to look at Daenerys. "Are you alright with the arrangements?"

Daenerys glanced at Barristan and Jorah, both nodding firmly. She looked back at Robb.

"That is perfect, your grace."

Arya Stark

"Damn it," Arya muttered.

The youngest daughter of Lord Stark opened her eyes and unclenched her fists. For the past four hours, she had been trying without success to warg back into Nymeria. It had been a week since Bran had taken Arya under his wing, and for several days she had failed to connect with her direwolf.

The first day, Arya had met Bran in the godswood, where he had given her a long lecture about all the dangers there were to skinchanging. There had to be a dozen rules that Arya needed to remember, and Bran wouldn't teach her how to warg unless she memorized them and repeated them back to him. There were consequences if she or the animal she was inhabiting died. There were certain animals that she had to be careful with, such as birds, because she could feel tempted to fly away and never return to the ground. Elk, deer, and cats also were animals to be wary of for a variety of reasons. The final law that wargs must understand, according to Bran, is to never take over the mind of another human.

Arya felt like she was back in her lessons with a maester, and that dull, boring day was just the start of a long stretch of bad days.

"You're doing it wrong," Bran said in his annoyingly calm voice.

The two siblings were sitting by the pool in the godswood, Bran in his wheelchair and Arya on a log. As always, Hodor sat nearby, whispering his name quietly to himself. The massive simpleton followed Bran around everywhere he went, just like Summer did.

"I'm doing what you told me to do." Arya snapped back.

Bran had been gazing at the massive weirwood for the entire time Arya's been training, but now he looked at her. There was no emotion in his eyes. Only a far-seeing gaze that intrigued and confused Arya.

"You are trying to force your way into her mind," Bran said, finally offering useful advice. "You're not breaking in a door, Arya, but slipping through it."

Arya wanted to shout in frustration. "I'm trying!"

"Then why are you clenching your fists?" Bran asked, stopping Arya's fury cold. "To punch me?"

"I want to," Arya muttered angrily. "I'm doing as you said. I'm concentrating."

Bran shook his head. "You already know Nymeria. You have a bond with her. There is no need to try so hard. Relax. Calm your mind and body. Slip into her mind as if it were your own."

Arya glared at her brother one more time before closing her eyes and doing exactly as he said. She set her hands flat on her knees and breathed in and out slowly. She allowed her shoulders to slump and her arms to go limp. It reminded her of her lessons with Syrio. She had to be like water; smooth and fluid. Focused, but also at ease.

It happened in an instant. For a moment, she was looking at the blackness of her closed eyes and when she opened them again, she was no longer in the godswood, but she found herself on a hillside, overlooking a large swathe of forest. Several wolves surrounded her, keeping a respectful distance.

She saw a castle in the distance. Huge, blackened ruins reached into the sky like skeletal fingers. No flags flew over the castle, but Arya needed no sigils to know what castle it was. It was the most recognizable castle in all of Westeros, with the exception of Casterly Rock, the Eyrie, or the Red Keep. Even from afar, Harrenhal was gigantic. The sun reflected off a mirror-like surface of the God's Eye beside it.

Arya was elated. She had done it. She warged into Nymeria's mind. It was the first time she had managed it besides being asleep. As Nymeria, Arya howled at the sky, her cry echoed by her pack. It was not a howl that heralded a hunt or called lost members back to her, but one of happiness and joy.

As quickly as the change had happened, Arya returned to her own body.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes fluttering as everything returned to normal. "I did it! I was Nymeria! Why didn't I stay longer?"

"You were too weak," Bran said, "but you will get stronger."

"How?" Arya asked, fending off the mental strain of their long hours of practice.

"Practice," Bran said simply. "Practice."