Chapter 87
The skies above Dragonstone were dark, yet in that darkness, two men moved quietly over the rocks as they headed for the castle, their ship far away as Euron Greyjoy and Jon Connigton moved through that familiar terrain.
"Do you know what the best time is to strike at an enemy?" Euron asked, his gaze fixed on the King and his wife standing on the balcony, bathed in the moonlight, as Jon Connington gritted his teeth.
"When they least expect it," and Euron laughed.
"That is what everyone gets wrong," he laughed as he spoke to his partner.
"It is when they think that they have won…"
DAENERYS TARGARYEN
It was their third time walking along these shores, and by now she had learned much about the man who was Robb Stark. The King and the future warden of the North may be brothers, but they were too far apart as men.
The King was all ice, his gaze and words cold and cruel. He was calculative, in his words and affections, and what little love and gentleness he held in him was reserved only for his family.
He treated her well, but she never expected that ice to ever melt. She was an enemy, one that he had to neutralize so that he could protect the reigns of his children. To Robb Stark, she was a girl.
A foreign girl, but not an enemy. And she would be lying if she was not comforted in seeing a man such as him viewing her as a girl, even though they might never come together as the King and Queen plotted away.
"Has he always been like this?" she asked, as the wind hit her in the face and the red-haired boy seemed to mull it over as he walked beside her.
"Actually, no," and that was a surprising answer.
"He was quite fun when we were young," the Red Wolf of the North answered, as he gazed at the roaring sea with those sea-blue eyes.
"He would run around Winterfell screaming that he would be a great knight, and he might have succeeded if it were not for that fall," and his mood soured a bit.
"It was my fault. We were playing, and I dared him to climb up the Heart Tree, and he did so. But he slipped, and then it all changed," and that explained the limp, and Nym had told her that it was much more subtle now, but years ago, the King could hardly walk without his cane.
"He changed then. Became more quite, and studious. Left me and Jon behind in our lessons in a month, and then he was sent away," and they were alike in that way, for both had been forced out of their homes.
"He argued against it even then. Called the capital a pit of vipers," and she laughed at that.
"As a child?" she asked as Robb Stark nodded.
"Yes, Maester Luwin said that he had the mind of a Maester. He could read books thicker than ourselves, and then remember most of them," yet the King had called and the soldier up in the North had answered.
"In the end, father had already given his word to the King that he would send a child for fostering, and he could not take it back. So he went," and the young man sighed.
"He did not write to father for years in protest. Not a single letter, ever. Even my mother was lucky to get on in the initial years. All he did was write to me, and Jon and Sansa, the two of them were always closest," and she had not yet met her, though rumors about her painted her to be her brother's equal in politics and games.
"But given that they were twins, it was to be expected. We never truly understood him, and his seriousness, but until a year ago, when he revealed his true burdens," and his mood turned somber as he mentioned that word, and this was her second time hearing it.
Burdens.
"No wonder he changed after that fall," and she had kept away from that until now, but it was time to ask.
"What burdens?" she spoke, as he turned to face her.
"The Queen mentioned them as well, and so did Prince Oberyn, I think," for ruling the realm could hardly be what they spoke of, given that his father had been his regent for so many years.
And he had his counsel and family to help him in that as well.
"He has not told you yet," Robb asked, and she shook her head.
"No," she answered, as those brows frowned.
"Strange. I expected him to do so," and then he shrugged.
"Still, what is it that burdens him such that everyone around him is willing to sacrifice so much for him?" she questioned, and he raised a brow.
"Sacrifice?" he asked, and she was done with these games.
"You are the future warden of the North. Brother, he may be, but you are willing to tie yourself with me, a spoiled woman who bears your family ill. Even Prince Oberyn sailed across the sea and put his life in danger just so he could quash Illyrio's plans. Then there was that priest, and even the Queen, and the servants, and the lords, they all spoke of him with such reverence that it does not make sense," and he did not answer at first as their feet came to a halt.
"Because he is trying to save us. All of us," and she frowned at those words.
"Save us from who? The Blackfyres," and Robb Stark shook his head.
"The Blackfyres are insignificant ants in comparison to the enemy that we face now, for this enemy wins, it will not just mean the end of his reign. It would mean the end for all human life everywhere," and that she did not understand.
"What enemy?" she gasped in worry.
"You were educated about our kingdoms and religion," and she nodded, for Varys had ensured that she would know of the cultures and tales of her kingdom.
"Then have you heard of the Long Night?" and she had heard a tale or two mention it.
"You are talking about the Battle for Dawn," and the Stark lord nodded.
"Yes, the enemy we face is that very enemy. A winter so thick that it could wallow mountains and with its winds rise the dead as well. We call them whites and white walkers, and they are as real as you and me," and she couldn't help but chuckle at those words.
"You are trying to scare me," she laughed, thinking it all a joke, but the red-haired boy did not join in.
"It's not a joke, I promise you that," and she stopped.
"I have seen them myself," and he had to be lying.
"Show me then," she argued, and he nodded.
"I wi…."
But suddenly they were interrupted, as a guard came running for them.
"My lord! My lord!" and they turned to face the man.
"What happened?"
"You need to come to the castle at once!"
"Why?"
"It's them! It's Greyjoy and Connington!"
.
.
.
And as he rushed to the castle, he saw his brother standing there with his sword drawn, as his Kingsguard all stood around him, while two men stood opposite to him, one holding a blade to the Queen's throat.
"No…." Daenerys gasped as Robb's heart sank as he saw Galen's face filled with grief and indecision as the one-eyed Euron cackled upon their return.
"So, everyone's finally here…"
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BENJEN STARK
"Keep firing! Keep firing," Benjen ordered, as his brothers continued to rain down arrows on the swarm of undead attacking the wall, and they had been taken by surprise by the suddenness of the attack.
The Night's Watch had long known of the undead coming for them, and for half a decade now, Benjen had been preparing his men for this ultimate test. The King himself had been rather clear in his instructions and generosity, ordering Benjen to fortify the Wall to the best of his abilities, with no care for costs.
He was a Stark and knew well that Winter was coming for them all.
Gold had poured in from the capital. Gold and men, and everything else that they asked for. Furs. Meat. Food. Ale. Weapons. Swords and shields and arrows.
The wall had so many dragonglass weapons by now that it could arm the Free Folk thrice over and still have weapons to spare. Still, none of them had expected the dead to come marching towards the wall so quickly, and now their years of preparation came to a head with the swarm of undead threatening to swallow up the entire realm.
"Hold your fire!" he ordered, and the men stopped firing, as Benjen looked down at the swarm of undead trying to climb up the wall, with little success. But their screams and screeches tore at his ears.
They tried to climb up the wall, yet failed and fell, only to get up and try again. They stepped on their own comrades and their dead, using their pile of bodies as stepping stones to jump and climb, yet to no avail, as Benjen looked back and gave his order.
"Pour down the wildfire," and over the years, they had devised a dozen plans to combat the dead. While dragonglass remained their weapon of choice, the King had also provided them with other weapons.
It was a damn headache to transport, but the King had sent them specially built jars in carriages filled with sand, for just this day. Now it was time to test them, so he ordered his men to dig up a dozen jars of the green substance from the sand.
Twelve of his most trusted men carried them forward and dropped them onto the swarm down below, and the jars fell and broke before Benjen reached for a torch beside him and threw it down.
BOOOOM!
And the fire rose in a storm, as the screeches tore through the very clouds, as a massive storm of fire swallowed the dead who began to shriek and shiver as the fire engulfed them whole. They ran around, yet to no avail, and for the first time ever, Benjen felt that they just might have a chance against this army of the dead.
"Three archers to a station," he ordered, as the men took their positions once more.
"Keep on raining down arrows upon them until everything down there stops moving," he ordered as he stepped back.
"Then keep firing for another hour, and only then do you stop!" and he raised his blade in the air, as the men roared with him.
"FOR THE LIVING!"
"FOR THE LIVING!" the brothers of the Night Watch roared back, clad in cloaks and furs better than half the peasants of the land, as they began to rain down arrows on the swarm of undead.
Minutes turned into hours, and it was around the first sign of dawn that the screeches came to a halt, as the men continued to rain down arrows on those monsters, until the land around the wall turned into a pit of unmoving bones and filth.
"Was this all of them?" questioned Donal, the one-armed smith who was amongst his most trusted men.
And as Benjen gazed down at the pile of unmoving bones, he shook his head.
"No," Mance Rayder and his women had told him about the undead, describing it as a sea of undead monsters. But this swarm had been no sea.
This had been but a small test.
"I think this was but a drop," and with that, another brother walked up behind him.
"Lord Commander," and despite it being years since the Old Bear's passing, Benjen had not yet gotten used to that title.
"The retinue from Winterfell has arrived. Jon Stark seeks an audience with you," and Benjen felt his mood improve as he heard the name of his sister's son.
"Bring him here…"
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