Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and all rights for character, plots and settings belong to GRRM and George Lucas/Disney. I have no ownership.
A/N: Sorry about the late release, was procrastinating a bit lol. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
------------------------------
Year 299 AC/8 ABY
The Shadow Tower, The Wall
Shadow Tower loomed in the viewport, its black stone rising from the snow-capped base of the Wall. The great gate still stood open, the tail of the wildling column filtering through beneath it.
Luke guided the Falcon down onto the windswept clearing south of the gate. The landing gear jolted as it touched down, shaking the entire frame. Even as the engines began to power down, the ramp was already descending.
Women began to disembark in a ragged line, some hurrying as if the deck behind them might disappear at any moment, others hesitating at the lip of the ramp until Gilly took an elbow or Threepio gently encouraged them onward with his refined, courtly manner. A baby's cry pierced the air before its mother had even set foot on the ground. Another child buried his face in a fur cloak, and had to be gently turned by the shoulders to face forward.
The rescued women drifted toward the larger wildling camp to the south, where others were already organizing by fireside, and Benjen reached Luke's side before the last two had even cleared the ramp. He cast a look at the ship's hull, the same unsettled expression he'd worn since the thing first dropped out of the sky not long ago, then pushed it aside to focus on the women.
"What do they need?"
"Shelter, food, and space away from men," Luke said. "The one by the ramp has a fever. The girl with the red blanket needs to be kept near a heat source."
Benjen nodded sharply, then turned to make it happen. "You heard him. Fires for the women first. Brothers, help lift their belognings. Gentle with the children."
Black-cloaked Brothers and a few wildling men moved to assist, whatever misgivings they had about the ship forgotten in the miserable and frightened faces of the women.
As the women walked out, one of them buckled to thier knees but he caught her, feeling the heat of fever radiating through the grime on her skin. He hauled her back up the ramp to the emergency locker, where he retrieved a medpac and slapped the diagnostic patch onto her throat. The readout spiked immediately, confirming treatable infection and dehydration. After triggering the broad-spectrum dose, he handed her off to two Brothers waiting at the bottom of the ramp.
"Keep her sitting up and get water into her," he instructed. "The patch does the rest."
The older Brother turned the spent applicator over in his glove, studying the markings. "What manner of poultice is this?"
"One that will get her back on her feet," Luke said.
As the brothers made off with the ailing woman, the King Beyond the Wall approached. Mance's cloak was open, his beard frosted over, and his eyes moved quickly—first to the ship, then to the refugees at the gate, and finally to the chaotic sorting happening in the snow. While walking up to him, Mance looked from the women to the ship's hull, and a sudden understanding dawned on his face.
"How many can it carry?" Mance asked bluntly.
Luke adjusted a drowsy child in his arms and set him gently beside his mother. "More than a wagon, fewer than a village."
Mance absorbed this information without a flicker of emotion. "How fast?"
"Fast enough to cross your whole march in minutes."
Mance considered this, his expression unchanging. "Can it fight?"
"Yes, it has combat capabilities, though that's not its original purpose."
I wonder what Han would make of that.
"With what sort of weapons?"
"Weapons your language doesn't have words for yet."
Mance pondered this for a moment before asking again, "How many of these exist?"
"For now, one." Luke answered. He paused, then corrected himself. "And a half."
Mance raised an eyebrow at that, once more scanning the ship's hull. "If you intend to fly north again, inform me before you depart. My people will fill this field within the hour to rescue thier own."
"I plan to fly south first."
This caused a brief pause, but then Mance nodded and strode off to begin moving his own people away from the landing area.
High on the parapet, Denys Mallister remained motionless, his hands locked on the stone and his cloak pulled tight against the wind. He did not come down, nor did he ask for an explanation. The younger brothers, stationed closer to the tunnel, were less disciplined about hiding their curiosity.
One brother crept towards the Falcon until a cooling panel emitted a metallic creak. He recoiled violently, nearly losing his footing in the slush. Another, young and flushed from the cold, turned to Robb and asked, "Is it alive?"
Robb held one child in his arms as the mother placed another on a folded cloak. "No," he answered calmly. "It's no differnt from a ship on the seas."
A girl perched on one shoulder and a sack gripped in his other hand, Smalljon marched past. The young brother's brow furrowed, an expression that only served to make him appear younger.
"Stop gawking and carry the children," he ordered. "Ship, beast, gods' own bucket—what does it matter if your hands are empty?"
The brother flushed and bent to lift a crate instead.
The Wall loomed at the edge of Luke's vision, vast and stretching past the horizon until it met the sky. The light behind it had already begun to fade toward dusk. The vibrations within it had deepened since Luke had touched it earlier, the warning through the ice becoming a steady thrum beneath his feet.
He stepped back from the line, putting distance between himself and the noise before the crossing quieted enough for him to think. The ice showed its history up close, all layers and old repairs, white bubbles trapped in the freeze, and seams where later hands had worked inside an older design.
He closed his eyes and reached through the Force.
The Wall's power flowed in joined bands, every one of them strained. Since his last visit, the pounding from the north had grown heavier, each strike hitting the Wall's own frequency in an attempt to shatter Brandon the Builder's work. Through the lattice, weak points flashed and were sealed, only to open further down and be sealed again. The defense held, but it was being worn away.
He drew a steady breath and reached south toward Winterfell first, where Bran, Arya, and Sansa sat inside the castle like familiar warmth.But threaded among them, clean-edged, a disciplined presence carried the old imprint of Imperial training, the same pattern Luke had brushed against in the Frostfangs days ago now standing clear within the children's own walls.
He extended his reach south, finding Jon's presence at the far end of a vast distance, submerged in a sea of thousands. The current surrounding Jon had shifted, however, flowing with a brighter, unrestrained intensity. It was strange. Storm's End must have accelerated his growth.
Nearby, Leia's light burned with its usual constancy, the two small lives within her pulsing in time. Though surrounded by thousands and altered by what had passed, Han and Chewie were alive, and all three were safe.
He pulled back. Two distinct threats had emerged from the Force. One was a slow-burning disaster that would shatter the world if ignored and the other was an immediate breach, an enemy already inside a Stark castle.
Luke retreated to the lee of the Falcon, where the ship sat squat on her landing struts, a little apart from the fires and the crowd. Steam from the thawed ground drifted around the hull, and though the men's hands kept moving now, they still stole glances at her between loads.
Luke pulled the comlink from his belt and flipped the switch, bringing the device up to his lips. Robb reached him first, Grey Wind at his heel, having likely spotted the gesture. A few paces back, Smalljon and Karstark followed, pulled along by the noise or simply by habit.
A thin spray of static was the only answer at first. Then a click cut through the noise, and Han Solo's voice exploded from the speaker, stripped flat by the distance and his own fury.
"Luke? Kid, where in all the frozen hells have you been?"
"Fighting ice monsters and making sure a hundred thousand people survived them. What happened?"
The comlink gave back two seconds of dead air. Then Han said, "Ice monsters. Sure. So a litrealy frozen hell. Fine. I'm not even going to touch that one. You want to know what happened? That Renly fellow's dead."
Luke's hand tightened on the comlink. "How? And how is Jon?"
"Honestly, even I don't understand it but it was some sort of… shadow. Some kind of shadow that came out of nowhere after that parley with Stannis. It killed Renly and your student tried to stop it and couldn't, but he did something to it after, broke it apart." Han sounded as he was trying to convince himself that the story makes sense. "After that, one of these nobles with a loud mouth called witchcraft and demanded their gods sort it out. Seven-on-seven trial. Every lord with a banner and a grudge packed in to watch. And yeah, before you ask, I was in it. Me, Chewie, the big woman, the pretty boy knight, a Dornish prince, and your boy with one hidden surprise."
"I took a cut across the forearm inside the first two minutes, so mostly I was trying not to bleed on my horse. And then the kid lights up the green blade in front of everybody. I mean everybody. If the dead had shown up right then they could've picked their teeth with half the camp."
"Makes sense Leia gave him her saber. I'm guessing Jon won?" Luke asked.
"Your boy won, obviously. Then he stands up and tells twenty thousand armed strangers his father was a prince named Rhaegar Targaryen. He didn't stop there either—told 'em if anyone wanted to call him a liar, they could step forward and settle it right then. And wouldn't you know it, not a single soul did."
Luke didn't look up from the comlink, though Robb had gone rigid at his side. "What was the reaction to the lightsaber?"
"Pick one. Some of these 'holy men' were in tears. Others looked like they wanted to jump out of their own skin. A good part of the stormlords split off for the castle to find Stannis. The rest stayed put because the kid pivoted the whole speech to Renly's death and branded Stannis a kinslayer so effectively that people will be whispering it in their dreams for a year. With the Tyrells locked in behind Jon and the Dornish holding tight, anyone who wanted to make it out of this disaster alive suddenly had one man to follow."
Luke put the pieces of Han's report in order. The trial, the green blade and Jon's parentage now common knowledge, the lords would be picking sides by the hour. Meanwhile, the Wall was failing, and an Imperial operative was already inside Winterfell.
"And while all this is happening, Leia's trying to keep a straight face through another round of nonsense, because your student's decision has made it so every lord south of here suddenly wants to be my friend. I've had six men bow to me today that I don't know any names of. One of them asked if 'the beast' was my war hound."
"You sound like you're making a home of yourself," Luke said, a smile touching his lips. Han must have caught the tone.
"I'm gonna reach through this piece of junk and strangle you. Whatever. Leia says the kid played it right, and she's usually right about this sort of thing. Me, I'm the one stuck living through the aftermath." Han paused to catch his breath. "And Jon, he's a busy kid. Brave, calm, and downright scary when he shuts up. But, still a teenager."
"Ha," Robb's voice cut in from Luke's right. "Jon can handle a few southerners."
"And who... oh you the Robb kid?" Han said.
"Um, yes."
"All right. Fair enough. But you've got a brother dealing with men three times his age in a place that's not exactly friendly."
"He is better than most men who think themselves grown," Robb said.
"Yeah. I'm starting to get that."
Luke said, "How soon are you moving?"
"The ugly part's already started. Outriders are out, horses saddled, and every banner-commander's pretending he's the one who thought of the plan. Jon's got the cavalry heading north, with the heavy foot column trailing from the west. Your student went from hostage to war leader in a day's time. I'd ask how you train for that, but I'm scared of the answer."
Luke let out a breath through his nose, nearly laughing. "He chose his moment," he said. "But there's another problem."
Han caught the shift at once. "What kind?"
"Imperial."
For half a second, the little speaker gave nothing but static. Then Han answered, his usual loose sprawl gone, replaced by a tone drawn tight.
"You sure? Out here?"
"I'm not uncertain."
"Where?"
"Winterfell, the home of the Starks. And more, it's inside the castle."
Robb's hand went to the hilt at his belt, finding it by touch alone. He had no name for the word Imperial, but it didn't matter. Inside the castle meant inside the walls with his brothers and sister. Beside him, Smalljon and Karstark looked at one another, their faces blank with confusion.
"Inside the — Jon's siblings safe?"
"I can feel the children through the Force and they're unharmed. The operative is inside the same walls. I'm leaving now."
Han cursed. "Another mess from home. Go. Call me when you have news." Han took another breath, and the earlier anger returned, though now it carried a sharpness Luke trusted. "And Luke?"
"Yes?"
"Next time you give me another royal to babysit and vanish, you and I are going to have words. I've got enough to juggle with your sister."
"I'll try," Luke said.
"That sounded like a promise you have zero intention of keeping."
A faint warmth touched Luke's mouth. "Take care of Leia."
"Yeah. Han out."
The line went dead, Han's voice lost to static. Luke returned the comlink to his belt.
Smalljon's voice broke the heavy silence. "A queer little disk," he mused. "Handy, though. Saves a man a raven."
Robb's gaze remained fixed on Luke, his eyes searching. "Jon exposed himself to the army. To the Tyrells. With none of us there to back him. Why?"
"I wouldn't say he's alone," Luke replied. "I've seen Han pull off miracles when the chips were down. But Jon—if I had to guess—he saw an opening, and he didn't have much of a choice."
Robb turned his head, eyes distant. "Fear held him back," he said softly. "Fear of the cost, of what such a truth would mean. Now the whole world knows."
Luke thought of Tatooine, of the farm boy he'd been in that desert, but the man who returned was a stranger to that boy. Jon had crossed a similar line.
"Jon can handle himself. We need to leave for Winterfell," Luke said.
Robb gave a nod, yet his eyes stayed far away.
Luke made his way back to the fires, where Benjen was organizing the women into two makeshift shelters. Benjen met him halfway, his brow furrowed with concern. "Trouble?"
"There's more than one," Luke answered. "We're heading to Winterfell first, then south. These folk are in your care now, Benjen." He paused, then added, "There's another thing. Jon, he told them—the Stormlands and the Reach now know his real father."
Benjen remained silent for a long moment, digesting the information. "Ned knows?" he asked finally.
"Not yet. But I'm sure he will soon enough."
Benjen looked south for a moment, as though searching the horizon for answers. When his eyes returned, they held a new certainty. "I trust my nephew's judgement," he said. "Maybe this was meant to be." A short laugh escaped him. "Strange, how we came to this. But fear not—I'll keep order here."
After clasping hands with Benjen, he moved toward Robb. The young lord was already stepping forward, his lords assembling around him. Benjen would remain at Shadow Tower with Manderly, Cerwyn, Glover, Tallhart, and the Flint. A northern presence to steady things while the Free Folk passed through. Manderly's hand found Robb's arm. Glover offered a nod. The Flint remained silent, which for a mountain clansman counted as approval.
Robb sought Sigorn last, near the gate where the Thenns filed through. Forearms clasped, an understanding passed between them. "May fortune guide you," and Sigorn turned back to his people.
The ramp sealed with a hard mechanical thud. Warm air met Luke as he crossed into the cockpit. Behind him came the shift of men taking seats and Threepio continuing his grievance with frost in a steady flow that asked no answer.
Luke lifted the Falcon on her repulsors and swung the nose round, the campfires shrinking to orange specks while the men below turned to dark flecks across trampled snow. The pale height of the Wall loomed to port, its ancient power briefly pressing into his awareness before the ship cleared the ridge and the strain dropped away.
The flight itself took little time.
He set the Falcon down in the small clearing beside the cave where his wreckage waited. The last light of day slanted through the trees, coloring the snow amber where the shadows hadn't yet claimed it.
Luke rose from the pilot's seat.
"Wait here," he said.
Robb stood from the bench at once. "What are we looking for here?"
"An old friend."
Smalljon gave him a curious look but kept his seat. Amidala had already drifted toward the ramp with her ears up, reading the woods.
Snow gave beneath Luke's boots up to his ankles as he stepped down from the ramp. The bitter cold bit at his skin, a sharp contrast to the Falcon's warmth. A short distance uphill sat the cave entrance, and branches brushed his shoulders as he made his way toward it.
The boulder had frozen solid in place. Luke placed both hands against it and pushed with the Force, feeling the stone grind aside.
Luke's eyes took a moment to adjust as he stepped into the cave's gloom. Amidala squeezed through behind him, her shoulder brushing his thigh.
"I told you to wait."
A flick of his fingers toward the daylight met only stubborn stillness, the direwolf sniffing the leather of his glove before pointing her ears deeper into the gloom.
Luke let his hand fall. "All right. Stay close."
The small astromech droid he'd left behind stood there, partially obscured by frost and dust. Between the cave wall and the droid's sensor array, a spider's web caught the weak light from the entrance and held it in a delicate, silvery glow.
"R2," Luke murmured.
He knelt beside the droid, his gloved hand brushing away the frost from the blue paneling. Before he could reach the manual switch, the dome jerked left and a low power tone ran through the chassis as lights flickered beneath the dust.
A barrage of shrill beeps assaulted him, each one clipped and furious, packed with so much complaint that Luke nearly laughed. R2 had woken up angry, and who could blame him?
The droid's next stream of tones was a litany of censure, elapsed time reports, environmental hazard warnings, a demand for explanation, and a pointed reference to abandonment protocols that Luke had never actually entered, knowing full well R2's views on such things.
Luke placed his palm on the dome. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."
R2's dome ceased moving. The droid remained still for a few seconds, then began a lower series of notes, still heated but shifting in tone. Complaints gave way to urgent work reports: internal clock drift, power reserves, sensor memory, planetary conditions, and ship status. The names came last and loudest: Leia, Han, C-3PO, and a question about the X-wing that Luke chose to leave unanswered for now.
Amidala lowered her muzzle to the blue paneling. R2's dome snapped toward her. She drew back, baring her fangs and then edged her nose toward his lens.
"Relax R2," Luke said. "She's with me."
Her breath clouded the cold lens. R2 gave a sharp beep, and she pulled her nose away. His dome turned back toward Luke. The whistle that followed was long and accusing.
"You'll have plenty to say about all of it," Luke said. "Come on."
Luke rose to steady the chassis as the droids wheels skidded across packed frost, easing R2 over the cave lip while the droid squawked in fresh indignation at the drop. The journey down to the ship took longer than it should have. At the ramp, Robb had moved close enough to see.
Robb's eyebrows rose as the droid rolled aboard. Smalljon straightened from the bench, and Karstark stood with wide eyes as he followed the dome across the hold.
"This is R2-D2," Luke said.
R2 gave a brisk series of tones that, in Luke's reading, amounted to a formal correction on introductions and rank. Luke let it pass.
Robb dipped his head once to the droid. "It's a pleasure, R2-D2."
R2 answered with a short chirp that filed Robb under "acceptable for later review."
From the back of the hold, C-3PO's voice rose two octaves. "R2-D2? R2-D2! Oh, my dear friend, I cannot begin to describe the indignities I have suffered on this wretched planet without your companionship. The cold alone has done unspeakable things to my motivator, and the humans here have no concept whatsoever of proper droid maintenance, and I was nearly dismantled by a man with an axe who thought I was cursed by his tree gods, and—"
R2 cut him off with a single flat tone that needed no translation.
"Well," C-3PO said, drawing himself up. "I see captivity has done nothing for your manners."
Harrion looked at Robb. "Do they always talk like that?"
"This is my first time seeing the small one," Robb said. "I still barely understand any of this."
Luke brought R2 into the cockpit and locked him into the astromech socket behind the pilot's chair. The droid went to work at once.
Dropping into the pilot's chair, Luke watched the main display flare to life, its cascading columns of symbols knitting raw sensor data into coastlines, hills, and forests beneath ghostly energy readings.
The Wall emerged first, its presence unmistakable.
R2 emitted a low warning tone, attempting to steer the scan north of the barrier. The image shattered into static. Whatever the Wall contained, it thwarted R2's instruments as effectively as it repelled the dead. The droid marked the interference and moved on.
Luke leaned back, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Then, reaching for his belt, he placed the shard on the reader tray.
R2 ran three passes, each time verifying his findings. The shard's internal lattice absorbed energy, releasing almost none back through the plate.
Luke's brow furrowed. R2's processed through databases, searching for a match among crystal records and industrial glass, volcanic products and kyber matrices, even obscure entries from worlds Luke had only heard of in passing. But nothing came close enough to suggest even a tenuous connection. The shard stood alone.
Another pass measured field response under load, the reading spiking so high that R2 paused to recalibrate and ran the test again with reduced input to protect the tray, only to find the glass consumed energy with an almost insatiable hunger.
Luke retrieved the shard and handled it carefully. The glass was more than a weapon, but its other properties remained unknown and he had no time to test them.
He tucked the shard back into his belt.
Then, he pulled out the fractured holocron. The casing showed the wear of age and rough handling. Its facets were clouded, and a crack split the core chamber where the recording matrix had failed. Brandon Stark's message had brought them to the edge of understanding, then stopped abruptly. Luke placed the holocron on the console and opened a maintenance panel.
R2 extended a tool arm at once.
Working through the damage together, Luke eased the housing open for R2's microprobe, casting the crystal lattice onto the side screen where hairline fractures webbed far beyond the visible cracks. With a scorched channel burned through one memory path, he turned the core slowly, coaxing intact sections into alignment.
R2 fed a faint pulse of power into the casing. The inner facet flared once, then went dark. Luke adjusted his grip, more cautious this time, and tried to route through the auxiliary node.
For the briefest instant, an image tried to form above the unit. Red leaves and a face in pale bark flickered, then vanished as the matrix collapsed into noise.
R2 gave a flat descending whistle. R2's mapping had already ruled out shipboard tools, the crystal's damage too extensive to bridge. Luke sighed and sealed the holocron's casing, setting it aside. Another tool that couldn't give him what he needed.
"Winterfell it is then," he said.
A matter of minutes carried them from the cave to the high walls of Winterfell. In the dying dusk, the castle emerged from the drifts, its chimneys trailing smoke beneath the newly lit torchlight of the parapets. At first the people below seemed no larger than playthings, but their confused scurrying sharpened into focus as the Falcon descended past the perimeter. Bringing the ship down into the outer yard, Luke gave the rows of stables a wide berth as men cried in alarm.
As the ramp descended, a rush of freezing air swept inside but the courtyard had not yet settled.
Two horses had snapped their ties near the stable, and guards lined the inner wall with drawn swords and nowhere to point them. A serving woman pressed flat against the well, and three men-at-arms had formed a loose half-circle near the smithy with spears leveled at the hull. Bran stood near the inner gate with his hands at his sides, calm enough to tell Luke that the boy had sensed the Falcon and warned most of the household. Without that warning, the spears would have been worse.
Amidala was down the ramp before it finished lowering, a white streak across trampled snow, and the spears tracked her for a heartbeat before the men recognized a wolf and found something stranger to stare at. Grey Wind followed Robb down, and the yard's attention shifted. They knew this one.
"Sheath your swords," Robb called, loud enough to carry. "NOW!"
The swords came down, though the hands upon them did not loosen. Theon Greyjoy propped himself against the armory door with folded arms and an expression held deliberately slack. The strain of it showed. His eyes darted from the Falcon to Robb and back, and whatever remark he intended died when the cooling hull snapped with a loud crack that made him jump.
"Stark," Theon said. "Flouting the Faith by dragging yet more sorcery into the castle. I expect your lady mother will be overjoyed."
"She will just have to come to terms with the new normal," Robb said.
Arya was already halfway across the yard, Nymeria loping beside her, her gaze taking in the ship's proportions, the ramp's gear, and the heat wafting from the hull. She reached the foot of the ramp and looked up at Luke with questions crowding behind her eyes.
"How fast does it go, Master?" she asked,
"Faster than all the horses in the stable, combined," Luke said.
"Can I see inside?"
"Yes, yes, but later."
Artoo's trilling whistle cut in from behind Luke, drawing Arya's focus past his shoulder as the droid trundled down the gangway with his dome swiveling to catch the shouting in the yard. Stepping aside to yield him room, she trailed his tracks onto the cobbles and crouched low to inspect the pulse of light beneath his lens.
Nymeria approached more cautiously. She sniffed along his casing until Artoo turned his dome toward her and chirped. The wolf backed away, and Arya caught her by the scruff before she could try again.
"Is someone making it move?" Arya asked. She looked up the ramp, searching for whoever might be responsible. "Is a person hiding inside?"
"He moves himself," Luke said. "His name is R2-D2. You can speak to him, he understands you. Though, I'm not sure you will understand him."
Arya looked back at the droid. Artoo tilted forward and gave a questioning beep, which brought her a step closer despite the hand she still had buried in Nymeria's fur.
"I'm Arya. This is Nymeria. She only wanted to smell you."
Bran had left the inner gate to join them. He walked around Artoo slowly, watching the wheels carry him over the uneven stones, then stopped beside Luke as Threepio appeared at the top of the ramp.
The golden droid paused to examine the descent. Behind him, light from the ship showed through the exposed wiring at his waist. A guardsman near the smithy brought his spear upright again, and the serving woman by the well pressed a hand over her mouth.
"Easy," Robb called. "He's with us."
Luke moved down beside Artoo, leaving Threepio room to descend. After Smalljon's attempt to stab him aboard the Falcon, the droid had reason to take his time. He kept his head turned toward the spearmen until his feet were safely on the cobbles.
"Master Luke, I do hope someone has explained that we are expected. These gentlemen seem rather uncertain."
Bran edged nearer to Luke, his attention fixed on the golden mouth that had remained still through every word.
"They're friends," Luke told the gathering. "Both of them. You can put the spears down."
Sansa had stayed beside the keep door. Her gaze followed Threepio as he approached, dropping briefly to the wires at his middle before she looked back at his face.
"Master Luke. Robb." She paused, then recovered the greeting. "I am glad you have returned safely. With new company..?"
Threepio turned toward her and bowed.
"C-3PO, at your service, my lady. It is a pleasure to be received so graciously."
Sansa began a curtsy before she seemed to think about it. She rose with a puzzled look toward Luke, but kept her voice steady.
"Master's friends are always welcome at Winterfell."
Threepio straightened with evident satisfaction. Luke smiled at her; she had managed the introduction better than he had.
Lady Catelyn reached Robb while Threepio was still looking about the yard. She took her son's arms and searched his face, turning him slightly toward the light from the keep door. Only then did she look at Luke, and past him to the two droids.
Her hands tightened on Robb's sleeves when Artoo whistled again. She watched Threepio turn toward the sound, then returned her attention to her son. The flying vessel and its strange passengers could wait.
"Robb, what happened at the Wall?" Still holding her son by the arms, she directed her next questions at Luke. "Why are you with him? Where's Jon? And what happened in the south?"
"Jon lives," Luke said. "He's still in the south with the Tyrells. Renly is dead, and… Jon exposed his secret."
Lady Catelyn's face went rigid. "He told them? Just like that?"
"He did," Luke said. "And they follow him now. That's not how I expected it to turn out when I left him there."
After studying Robb as though measuring how much he had changed since she'd sent him north, Lady Catelyn turned to Luke. "And why was it necessary to leave him there, behind enemy lines?"
"The siutation dictated that he stay. Though, he has my family with him so he's not entirely alone. But as to why I left--"
Robb spoke up right then. "I'd sent word to Master Luke when I learned the Free Folk were being hunted by the dead. I sought his counsel, and he decided to come and rescue them."
The truth pressed at Luke's lips, but he held it back—he knew the corner Robb had been backed into. To confess to his mother that he'd fought wights and White Walkers would ensure he never set foot outside Winterfell again, regardless of his status as heir.
Theon pushed off the armory door. "What do you mean twenty thousand men are following a bastard?" The disbelief was genuine. "Why?"
"Because he's not a bastard," Robb declared, his tone leaving no room for further discussion.
Before Theon could press what Robb meant, Bran asked in a low voice, "You came back for her, didn't you?"
The castle's weight bore down on him then. Somewhere below the stone and timber, that disciplined presence waited, banked like a fire. "Tell me about her."
Arya spoke up, her voice bright with pride. "She slipped into the castle from the woods. I spotted her near the kennels and followed. She overpowered a strange guard who was mistreating a maid. I like her."
Luke's brow furrowed. "Did she catch your presence?"
Arya shook her head firmly. "No." Again, Arya had vanished from people's perception, and Luke still couldn't fathom how.
Bran spoke softly. "She tried to attack us, so I pushed her."
That didn't seem to satisfy Sansa, who pressed on. "He threw her against the wall of the passage and knocked her senseless. I had her bound and placed in the lower cellar before dawn. She remains there under guard."
He could see the distress on Bran's face, so he rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You did what was necessary to keep your family safe from a stranger. I do not think any less of you for it, Bran." The words took hold immediately, and Bran's expression lifted into a smile.
Catelyn had listened intently to the whole exchange. "Whatever creature lurks in my cellar, put an end to it or take it with you. I will not abide any more hidden threats under my roof."
"I'll see to it," Luke said, his voice firm. "Take me to her."
Sansa led them down, Arya at her side, Robb and Bran following with Grey Wind at Robb's heel. The presence below grew clearer as they went, and Luke felt it—contained, alert, with that Imperial discipline he'd hoped to never encounter on this world. At the bottom, two spearmen guarded an iron-banded door, their weight shifted toward the stairs.
Sansa drew out the key and handed it to Luke. "She hasn't spoken since we put her in."
"Wait here. All of you," Luke commanded.
Arya opened her mouth to protest.
"All of you," Luke repeated, his tone brooking no argument.
Robb placed a hand on Arya's shoulder, and that settled the matter. "Yes, Master."
Sansa stepped back to the foot of the stairs with the others.
Luke rested one hand on the latch, unlocked the cell with the key, and stepped inside.
She sat against the far wall with her hands bound before her and one ankle fixed by a chain to an iron ring sunk into the stone. Someone had wrapped the cuffs in cloth before fastening them, practical enough to keep a prisoner usable. A bruise darkened one side of her temple but she held herself upright anyway.
Her red-gold hair had come half loose from its tie, and her narrow face bore the leanness of hard travel. Green eyes. She was the exact match to the Force signature he'd felt in the Frostfangs, and the Emperor's imprint ran through her like dye through cloth.
"Skywalker," she said, lifting her head, and even Luke couldn't deny she was beautiful, though disheveled and bruised as she was.
Luke pulled a small cask from the wall and turned it over to use as a seat. It creaked under his weight as he settled near the middle of the room, forearms resting on his knees.
"You have me at a disadvantage," he said.
She raised her bound wrists. "That must be uncomfortable for you."
He smiled at her deflection. "I meant your name."
"... Mara Jade."
Luke sensed the Emperor's influence beneath her anger. She had known him on sight, and he wondered what Palpatine had been to her.
"One of the Emperor's agents?"
"You killed him already," she said, the hosility spilling through her words. "What more do you want?"
His right hand had curled tight, phantom pains dragging him back to that throne room. The memory of the Emperor's smile, while lightning tore the breath from his lungs, still haunted him. He forced the vision away, making his fingers go slack.
"He tried to kill me."
"I wish he'd succeeded."
She caught her breath as she shifted against the wall, waiting until the ache subsided. Luke had been studying her face, but the careful way she moved made him think the bruise at her temple was only the beginning of her injuries. He rose from the cask to get a better look. Mara tracked his hands, and as he approached, she pulled herself upright against the stone.
"Stay right there, Skywalker."
"Has anyone examined you?" Luke asked, checking himself from moving closer but trying to get a better look at her, though something about her expression made him realize she wouldn't appreciate that.
"..."
Taking her silence as an asnwer, he pressed on. "They said you attacked them."
"Attacked? Hah! My blaster was set to stun. It's those damn kids that attacked me!"
"They couldn't have known that," Luke said. "I'll have someone look at your injuries."
"Is that supposed to make me grateful?"
"No. But I would like to know why you came here."
"And what will that achieve? Are you going to set me free?" Mara said venomously. "Do you take me for a fool, Skywalker?"
"I can speak to the Starks. First I need to know why you're here."
"Ask your brother-in-law. He might want to know how easy his ship is to follow. Matter of fact, why are you here in this backwards corner of the galaxy?"
Luke hesitated over how much to tell her. If she was working for the Empire, anything he said about the artifact might reach someone with the means to come after it. He remembered warning Han and Leia about Thrawn before leaving home, when finding the artifact first had seemed the best way to keep it out of Imperial hands.
He could easily believe she'd followed Han just to find him, given the hatred she'd shown. What he needed to know was whether anyone else had been involved.
"Are you working for Thrawn?"
She straightened the moment he asked the question. "Stay out of my head, Skywalker!"
"I'm not in your head. You are too accustomed to the Emperor's methods, Mara. I won't go into your mind to get an answer."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"You said you'd followed Han. I was already concerned about Thrawn discovering this place, so I wondered if you were his agent. So if you want to leave this cell, I expect at least some honesty." He paused. "Or are the Emperor's servants so steeped in lies that they've forgotten what truth even means?"
She glared him while Luke considered how little that explanation could prove. He wanted to ask whether Thrawn knew where she was. Han and Leia needed that warning, and he would have preferred to give them something firmer than a suspicion about who had followed them. He looked at her bound hands and let the question go.
"Fine. Yes, I have been working with Thrawn. Happy?"
"Have you reached him since you landed?"
"Nothing since I entered this system. Something, I thought you, blocked me off."
"I saw you in the mountains," Mara added. "That was quite a performance. Did throwing them into the trees keep them down?"
"Long enough to get people away. They can be killed, but their master is still in the far north."
"Their master?"
"We found a record from the man who built the Wall. There's a convergence point in the north, and the being who holds it commands the dead. The record calls him the Night King."
Mara studied him. "And that gigantic Wall has kept him there all that time?"
"It's weakening. I felt it being attacked today, at its own frequency. He's trying to bring it down."
Luke thought of the families making their way through the gates. Once across, they would still need food and shelter while they put some distance between themselves and the dead. Every hour the Wall held would make a difference to people already exhausted by the journey
"How long does it have?" she asked.
"I can't be sure. Did your scanners pick up anything that far north?"
"A concentration that went off every scale I carry. There was another pattern underneath it, but I couldn't identify the source. The interference was bad enough that I came down for closer readings but still got nothing."
Her account was close enough to what he had felt at the Wall to warrant a closer look. R2 might be able to compare the ship's readings with his analysis of the obsidian, assuming she had kept them.
"Thank you for your honesty," Luke said sincerely, and he could see the words took her aback. "I could use your help, Mara. You've seen what's happening beyond the Wall. I'd like to compare what we've learned."
"And what do I get out of helping you?"
Luke looked at the chain running from her ankles to the stone ring. She had spent much of their conversation trying to find a way out of the cellar, and he could hardly expect her to welcome more questions while he left her there.
"I'll speak to the Starks about getting you out of this cell. Your ship stays grounded until we've agreed what we're doing."
"You need their permission?"
The surprise in her question made him wonder what she expected him to do. Ned had trusted him with his children.
Whatever help Mara might offer against the dead, she had already threatened those children, and their father deserved a say in what happened next.
"It's their home," Luke said. "Until we've discussed it, you stay here."
Mara settled back against the wall. "I thought so."
Luke rose from the cask. A promise to speak to someone upstairs would mean very little to her until he returned, particularly coming from him. He would have to talk to Ned before he could offer her anything more.
He stepped into the doorway and addressed the guards. "Bring her more food and fresh water, and send someone to look at her injuries."
"Yes, m'lord."
Luke left them with that and started up the cellar steps.
The great hall had thinned by the time Luke came up from the cellar. Servants carried bowls from the kitchens while men-at-arms traded places near the doors, and smoke from the hearths lay under the rafters before finding its way out.
Bran sat near the lower end of a trestle table with a wooden cup between both hands, drawn away from the noise without making a show of it. Robb stood beside him, said something too low to catch, then read Luke's purpose across the hall.
"Come find me after," Robb told Bran.
Bran nodded. Robb crossed toward the far hearth with Grey Wind at his heel, where Smalljon had found a trencher large enough to please him. Arya had vanished a heartbeat after Luke entered, and Sansa was at the dais tallying stores.
Luke crossed to Bran and sat opposite him. The bench was hard, and his knees had begun to remind him of every hour since dawn.
Bran looked down into the broth. "You seem upset, Master."
"Tired," Luke said. "And worried about you. There's a good deal more power in you than there was when I left. I'd like to know how it happened."
Bran's grip tightened on the cup. Luke watched him stare into the cup and wondered if this conversation should wait. Near the far hearth, Robb and Smalljon talked low, their presence having cleared the nearby benches.
"It was the man in the tree," Bran said at last. "Bloodraven. He brought me to a place with paths and doors, only I couldn't see where they went. Princess Daenerys was there too. She was far away when he took her, but we could touch each other there."
Luke knew those paths. He had stood among them himself, trying to understand how his father could be there with him. He drew his cup aside and leaned closer so Bran could keep his lowered voice.
"He said he needed our strength to fight the Night King. Daenerys took my hand and told me to run, but the ground was holding our feet." Bran glanced up at him. "I made a shield, like you taught me. It worked for a moment. She got one foot free, and I thought we could get away. Then he broke it."
The shield had held long enough to give them a chance, a fact Luke wanted Bran to understand even if the boy couldn't find much comfort in it yet.
"There was red mist coming out of us. It went into him, and I could hardly stand. I tried to make another shield, but I couldn't get hold of the Force anymore. Daenerys fell down too." Bran swallowed. "He could see what he was doing to us. We were right there."
Bran had used the protection Luke taught him, but Bloodraven simply tore through it. Anger made him want every detail of the encounter at once, though he could see how closely the boy was watching his face.
"You tried to get both of you out," he said. "I'm glad you remembered the shield."
"I thought I could hold it longer..." Bran looked at him again. Luke let him see that he meant it, then waited while the boy gathered the rest.
"Another man came. He pulled Bloodraven out of the tree, roots and all. Bloodraven tried to fight him, but he broke apart." Bran's voice strengthened as he remembered it. "The man had your eyes. I saw that before he told us. He said his name was Anakin Skywalker, and he was your father."
In that place, Luke had embraced his father and heard the words he'd craved—that his father was proud of him. The memory of wanting to stay there still pulled at him. But Anakin had found Bran as well, and Luke had been too distant to intervene. Now the boy watched him, waiting perhaps for a correction of the name.
"That was my father," Luke said. "Go on."
"There was an older man with him. He had a beard, and he knelt down to talk to us. Daenerys asked his name. Obi-Wan Kenobi." Bran took care over the unfamiliar syllables. "He said we should trust you. Your father did too. He said the thing in the north was a wound, and it could spread beyond our world if we let it."
Obi-Wan. For the moment, he wanted to hear what Ben had said to this boy. He wanted to hear how he had sounded.
"Your father showed us what was left of Bloodraven," Bran continued. "He said the dark side would take everything from us in the end. I asked if they could teach us, but we couldn't stay. They said we had to wake up."
"The other man—Obi-Wan was my teacher." Luke could almost hear the familiar patience in that instruction to return home. Ben would have known how much two frightened children had already endured, however many questions they still had. "I wish I could thank them for protecting you."
Bran's grip on the cup loosened. "Mother was beside my bed when I woke. She said I'd been asleep for days. I thought it must have been a dream at first. Then I could hear things through the walls."
Luke sat up. Bran had stopped pausing for questions, words tumbling out now, eager to get this part right.
"The wolves outside. Men in the stables, and the crows on the east tower. The godswood was there even when I shut my eyes. Sometimes I could hear you talking to someone else before I remembered you were gone."
He stopped, troubled by his own explanation.
"I know that sounds foolish."
"No it's not," Luke said. "When I first began learning, there were times I wished I could go back to knowing less. I had to learn how to rest, too."
Bran looked toward the windows. "I felt the woman's ship arrive. I knew where she would come out of the trees." His eyes returned to Luke. "Was I wrong to push her?"
It seemed Bloodraven had been siphoning power from both children when his father destroyed him. Some of what he'd amassed might have flowed back to them; it would account for the change Luke could sense in Bran. Daenerys might offer more insight. For now, Bran possessed enough strength to stop Mara Jade, and little understanding of what such power could do to another person.
"I've felt that when someone threatened my sister," he said. "I wanted to be certain they could never hurt her. It frightened me afterward, how far I was willing to go. You were right to protect Arya."
Bran's careful glance upward told Luke he'd been expecting a harsher response, and Luke wished the boy had felt able to speak sooner. Too much of this visit had been spent uncovering what his students had endured in his absence.
"Tomorrow we'll work on letting go," Luke said. "The same exercises you've been doing, with more care over where you stop. Until we've practiced together, leave the heart tree alone. And if the castle grows too loud tonight, tell Robb or Sansa. Have someone stay with you."
"I can still help." Bran glanced toward his brother at the hearth. "Robb has all these men to command, and Father's away, and Jon—" He broke off. "I don't want everyone to think they have to look after me."
A patient answer was harder to give with the boy's eagerness echoing his own at nineteen, when Luke had believed himself ready for whatever the galaxy offered, older than Bran yet holding far less power and scarcely more understanding of what it might cost.
"They have help," he said. "So do I. You're allowed to be a child, Bran."
"At first light?"
"At first light," Luke promised. "Get something hot to eat before Robb finds another job for you."
He left Bran looking toward the hearth, where his brother had been waiting. There would be time for a lesson in the morning. Luke wished he could be as certain that one would be enough.
--------------------------------------------------------
Bran found him at the hall door as dawn broke.
"The godswood?" Bran asked.
Luke nodded. They crossed the yard and passed through the inner gate into colder air. Luke's breath misted where it had not before, and the Force pressed close, pulsing through root and soil. At the grove's center, the heart tree rose under the pale sky in white bark and crimson leaves, its carved face weeping dark sap from hollow sockets to the mouth above a pool locked in ice.
Before they approached the heart tree, Luke had Bran choose a stone from the edge of the pool. The first attempt sent it higher than Bran intended. He brought it down again with an anxious glance at Luke, then tried a second time.
They worked until Bran could lower the stone steadily into Luke's palm, every inch demanding fierce concentration because any haste made it jump, though Luke kept the lesson slow despite the preparations waiting in the courtyard.
"That's enough," he said when Bran had set it down once more. "Remember how that felt. We'll have a brief look north together, and when I tell you to come back, come straight back."
Bran knelt where roots thrust up from the earth and laid a hand upon the bark. On the third breath, his eyes rolled back, becoming pale and sightless.
Luke stood beside him, feeling the Force surge as Bran reached north. The strain he had sensed through the ice at Shadow Tower now echoed through a thousand roots at once, louder and rawer than anything he had felt from the Wall's surface.
"The Wall," Bran said. "There are cracks. More in some places. I can feel something pushing—"
His fingers dug into the bark. Luke felt the pull deepen and caught his arm as the boy began to tip sideways.
"Back now, Bran. Let go!"
Bran took a hard breath. His eyes cleared, but he kept looking past Luke toward the trees.
"They're screaming," he said. "I thought I could hear where it was coming from. I only wanted to look."
"I know. Stay here with me."
Luke kept a hand on his arm until the trembling eased. Through the roots he could still feel the pressure against the Wall, spread across far more of it than he had been able to examine at Shadow Tower. Bran had tried to follow that distress to its source. Given another moment, Luke might have followed it himself.
"Will it fall?" Bran asked. "The Wall's been there for thousands of years."
"It's being attacked now. If that continues, it could." Luke helped him to his feet. "I can't tell you when. We need to make certain your father knows what's happening."
The walk back brought them across the courtyard, with R2 meeting them at the godswood gate to trail along behind. By the Falcon, an upturned barrel held a map board that Robb and Smalljon bent over together. Karstark had gone over to the ramp instead.
Robb looked up from the map. "How did it go?"
"As well as I could expect. The damage reaches farther than the Shadow Tower. Something beyond the Wall is pressing against it, and we need to tell your father and Jon."
Robb looked down at the map again. Bran came to stand beside him, close enough to see the keeps marked across the North.
Luke turned to Bran. "I'd like you to keep watch, Bran, but briefly, and with Sansa beside you. Look for changes at the Wall. Leave whatever lies beyond it alone. If you feel that pull again, come away and call me before you try another time."
Bran looked up. "Even if I think I can see what's doing it?"
"Especially then."
Karstark finally spoke up, his gruff voice cutting through the tense air. "What of the red-haired woman?"
"She stays for now, until I've sorted out Jon and Lord Eddard," Luke said decisively. "Winterfell can keep her secure."
With that, Luke strode towards the Falcon. They boarded swiftly, R2 clicking into place behind the pilot's chair, and Threepio fumbling with the crash seat straps, grumbling about the discomfort before the ramp sealed shut.
Luke engaged the thrusters and the Falcon ascended, Winterfell receding beneath them as he banked south. The North unfolded beneath them in long bands of white and black, with farm smoke rising here and there in the dawn light. Beyond lay the Neck, then the southern kingdoms, and somewhere ahead, Jon marched with an army.
------------------------------
If you want to read up to 10 chapters ahead and support me, here is my patreon: https://www.patreon.com/FullHorizon