[Kill The Boy] Chapter 81: A King in Queenscrown (Patreon)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and all rights for character, plots and settings belong to GRRM. I have no ownership.

A/N: Hope you enjoy the chappy! :D

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Year 300 AC

The Edge of Queenscrown, The North

Through the snowfall, Aemon could see the dead climbing from the ditches on either side of the road.

The road was blocked by two emptied baggage wagons. Over their sides, black brothers thrust dragonglass spears, braced by Northmen against the press of bodies. A mile to the south lay Queenscrown, and the column was still advancing toward it. If the men at the barricade held, the rest might reach shelter before the dead caught them but even then, what would the broken village even provide in safety.

Emmett anchored the eastern end with a knot of Northmen with Halder at his shoulder, cleaving the legs of whatever hauled up the bank. The downed wights kept reaching, and Emmett met them with Dark Sister. On the western face, Leathers and his Free Folk stood ankle-deep in the ditch but he could spot Horse anywhere, rising above the rest. Aemon tracked the line back to Mully, who had his shield braced against the sideboards. At Mully's side, Left Hand Lew held a reaching corpse pinned out long enough for Emrick to run a black point through it. Not enough of those.

Further south, Arron, Emrick's twin, tended the injured as the wounded trailed the men securing the column's flanks. Some leaned on their fellows and pressed on, forcing the defenders to hold their ground against the unceasing tide of the dead. A spearman at the eastern bank leaned out to pin a climbing wight below him. It caught the shaft and dragged him to his knees, his boots slipping towards the ditch.

The fool still clung to the spear until Edd caught his collar. “Let go of the bloody thing!”

The man released it and fell backwards onto the road. Edd drove his own black point into the wight's upturned face. It went slack at once, taking the abandoned spear down with it, and Edd turned to meet the next.

Alive. Now Edd was cursing the man he had saved, and Aemon wanted to laugh with the relief of it. He had been afraid of what he might find on this road. Edd could curse him as well, once they were clear.

He folded his wings and dropped towards the fighting.

The first men to see him cried out. Heads lifted along the barricade, and Edd looked up with them. “Jon!”

Aemon spread his wings above the northern field, checking his fall. “*Back from the banks! Give me room.*”

"You lot heard the man, move your asses!" Edd seized the spearman again and shoved him backwards. Emmett drew his men in after him while Leathers hauled the last of his fighters out of the western ditch.

Aemon parted his jaws and fire raked the ranks beyond the barricade. The dead and the snow simply vanished as the violet flame spread. He drove his hindfeet down among the burning bodies, crushing them into the earth. He settled broadside across the northern approach, his head toward the eastern field and his tail stretching out to the west.

Men shouted behind him as the ground shook. The dead nearest Emmett were still climbing when Aemon laid his left hand over them and crushed them into the bank.

The moment Leathers cleared his men to the far end, Aemon whipped his tail across the corpses trailing them, flinging shattered limbs over the snow-dusted grass. He swung his head to scorch the columns advancing up the road. Edd had space now. Aemon held the fire ahead of his troops as they fell back.

“Rory, sound them back!” Edd shouted. The horn’s note cut through the sizzle of the walls of flames crackling. Spears were pulled from the sideboards, and the defenders started to pull back onto the road.

Leathers shoved a hand between a recruit’s shoulders, spinning him south. “Joth, with Horse. Stay tight.” Horse caught his eye, waiting for him before following the others. Emmett went last from the eastern bank, Dark Sister ready in his hand. They left the makeshift barricade where it stood.

Aemon turned his head to see his men dragging themselves in exhaustion. Halder’s axe sagged toward the road, while Mully lowered his shield to catch his trembling arm against his chest. The memory of them cursing and laughing in the yard surfaced. Aemon wanted to hear those complaints again, with food in their bellies and a roof over their heads. A few bodies were still dragging themselves after them along the ditch, and Aemon reached down to grind them beneath his hand.

Lifting his head, Aemon found a pale figure waiting by the trees across the eastern field. It was taller than the ragged shapes moving past it and held itself rigid. Then its face turned toward him. Through the blinding snow, the light of its blue eyes and the long blade in its hand became visible.

A White Walker.

Aemon burned another swathe across the approach, carrying the flame well beyond the corpses within reach of his hands. The pale figure began backing towards the trees.

“*There is a Walker by the trees. Get everyone to Queenscrown, Edd. Keep them moving. I will deal with it.*”

Edd raised his spear to draw the stragglers after him, already walking south. Emmett and Leathers were bringing their men together across the rear of the column. Aemon waited until they were clear of his wings, then turned into the field and took to the air. His first downstroke sent smoke rolling across the burning ground.

The Walker halted ahead, lifting its face, but not to look at Aemon.

High in the clouds, a piercing shriek tore the air. The ice dragon plunged through the snow above him, its open jaw spilling a torrent of white vapour. Aemon banked hard towards the open field as the breath swept past his shoulder and struck the trees below. Branches burst apart in a spray of ice.

He let the dragon’s head follow his turn, then spun back the other way, tucking his wings in as the ice breath passed overhead. With its throat now within reach, he beat his wings and drove upward, escaping before it could close its jaw again.

They hit shoulder to shoulder like two ships in a gale, and the impact drove the breath from his lungs in a gust of cinder.

Locked together, they tumbled out of the clouds, rolling toward the pines below. The cold coming off the beast was an actual physical wall, so intense it sucked the heat from his nostrils and turned his saliva to needle-sharp rime. Its pale tail lashed out, whipping across Aemon’s ribs with the crack of a snapped spar.

Aemon refused to yield the throat. He seized its lower jaw with his left hand, forcing the snapping teeth toward the sky, but the frozen hide was slick as greased stone.

The ice dragon beat its great wings in reverse, fighting to drag him into an inverted spin. Glacial wind screamed through their locked feathers and scales. Below, the dark ribbon of the road pitched wildly across his vision—wagon tops, tiny black shapes scrambling into the snow, the flash of Dark Sister cutting through the gloom.

The beast threw its massive skull sideways, trying to snap his forearm.

Break, damn you.

Aemon flared his right wing hard against the gale, catching the updraft off the burning fields. The sudden drag jerked them upright, throwing the ice dragon’s center of gravity off balance. With its belly exposed to the wind, Aemon drove his skull forward, slamming the heavy horns behind his brow directly into the creature’s snout.

Ice shattered in a blinding spray across his eyes. The beast screamed—a high ear shattering shriek—and its jaw went slack for a fraction of a second.

His right hand moved lower, claws hooking beneath a plate of ice under the wing. He felt the living ice give way, cracking beneath his touch. With a hard pull toward the belly, he tore an icy mass free. The dragon bucked against his hold, sending shards against his wrist and scattering broken ice across the field below.

As the dragon jerked back in the recoil, the rider came over its neck. For a moment, he watched the pale figure fall toward him before the impact struck the ridges behind his skull. He shoved the injured dragon clear. The creature clinging to his back hauled itself toward the root of his wing, tugging at his scales as it ascended.

Aemon reached back with his right hand. The Walker’s crystal blade scraped down the thick armor of his wing-root—a shriek of frozen glass that left a smear of pale rime across the black scale, but could not bite. His fingers closed around the Walker, pinning its sword arm against its ribs.

He plucked it from his back and brought it round before his face. The Walker clawed at his thumb with its free hand, cold blue eyes glaring between his fingers as frost tried and failed to spread across the heat of his palm.

Aemon breathed fire into his hand, sending violet flame edged with silver-white to erupt around his knuckles until the crystal plating cracked and shattered, leaving only steam where pale flesh had withered.

Below, on the road, a dozen wights climbing the western bank instantly collapsed, falling limp as cut puppets.

He looked up. The ice dragon was already climbing above him, its torn flank trailing white vapor into the blizzard.The seat for the rider now sat vacant and so Aemon beat his wings to launch in pursuit. It won't take him long to catch up to the wounded dragon and that torn flank back into striking distance.

Another horn sounded below him, prompting him to look down. Farther south, fresh dead were coming out of a stand of trees beside the road. They had reached the eastern flank of the retreating rear guard. Lew went down beneath his shield, and Aemon saw Horse stop for him while Mully held off the bodies reaching over it. Leathers was spreading his men across the bank to give them help, but there were just too many dead. The column went on, but those at the rear had turned to fight again.

Emmett ran at Lew and cut the wight that leaped onto the fallen man. Beside him, Emrick joined and drove his glass point into another dead man's shoulder and pulled it free as the body fell. Joth kept his point level beside Leathers, shifting with him as the next thing came within reach. That didn't stop more wights to take the places of it's fallen brethern and it looked as his men were going to be overwhelemed soon.

Aemon looked once more at the torn flank above him. He could still catch it. The rider was dead, the wound laid open and he wanted to get his claws into that opening again.

But he had to protect his people. Aemon folded his wings and turned back towards the road.

“*Brace yourselves, I am coming down!*”

Horse and Mully had Lew upright now, while Emmett drew back, Dark Sister placed between him and the dead. Aemon reached for the bank before his feet met the ground. His left hand swept the attackers away from the road. His claws tore into bodies and ripping the ground up along with the corpses. He cast the mass back into the field as his hindfeet struck beyond the bank. His right hand came down among the bodies emerging from the trees.

The men on the road staggered with the impact, caught one another, and kept going. Aemon lowered his head and burned all the dead nearby.

Once the immediate threat had been taken care of, he looked up to see the ice dragon dissappear into a snowstorm in the horizon. Aemon watched until he could no longer make out its wings.

From the road, Edd squinted towards the clouds. “Is that thing coming back, Jon?”

“*It will. But not anytime soon with it's injury.*” More dead were emerging from the trees. Aemon drew his wings close and lowered his head, burning them as they reached the bank.

“Good. I've enough trouble keeping these men on their feet without watching the bloody sky as well.” Edd looked up at him. “You whole?”

“*Unharmed. Move the men to cover, Edd. I’ll guard the rear, though this looks to be the final wave for now.*”

“Gladly. I've had enough near death experiences for one lifetime.” Edd turned back to his men, waving them after the column. Aemon waited until Emmett and Leathers had cleared past him, then swept his hand through the ditch behind them to crush the few moving bodies. He burned those farther out, keeping the flame low across the field until the last moving shape disappeared within it.

The smoke from the burning field obscured the tree line where the first Walker had stood. Aemon waited for it to clear, snow falling through the branches as he searched the spaces between the trunks. No pale armor or blade glinted in the gaps; nothing moved. The dead on the field continued to burn, and no more emerged from the wood. The attack had stopped, whatever had become of the Walker. He watched a little longer before turning to the retreating men.

The last of the defenders followed Edd south toward Queenscrown. Aemon cut across the field to catch up, leaving the crowded road to the marchers. He slowed to their pace and draped his right wing over the column. Men bent their heads beneath the passing shadow. Then the sleet stopped striking their faces, and several pushed back their dripping hoods to gaze upward.

Horse lifted a hand. “Thank you, m’lord. Thought we were finished back there.” His voice hitched on the final words, and he cleared his throat.

Mully nudged Horse with his elbow and leaned in to whisper, though Aemon could hear him clearly. "It's not, 'm’lord' anymore. It's 'Your Grace'."

Horse looked startled and turned back to Aemon. "I- I meant Your--"

“*You’re welcome, Horse.*” Aemon silenced the stumbling man.

Familiar faces had appeared among the defenders, though he'd been too brief to truly recognize them. Mully's blunt voice he could recognize anywhere, and he watched Rory clear snow from his eyes while Lew limped along with Horse. His gaze traveled the length of the column, hunting for more of the men he knew.

“May the old gods keep you, Your Grace!” Big Liddle called, lifting his spear. Two Northmen beside him raised theirs, and other voices answered farther along the road. Aemon inclined his head toward them.

The wreckage by the lake was close. He smelled the fear in the air as the marchers neared the broken walls. A few broke into a run, but most kept their pace beneath his wing. Life moved inside the ruins already.

Aemon remained in the open field beside the houses, shielding the last stretch of road with his wing. Halder approached him, axe hanging at his side, and stopped beneath his lowered head. “You’re not flying off again straightaway, are you?”

“*I am staying tonight.*” Aemon looked to the ruined houses, where men called for rope and someone shouted Halder’s name. His friend glanced over his shoulder but stayed where he was.

“Then come and find us when you’re... umm... back to yourself. We’ve hardly had a word with you.” Halder shifted the axe to his other hand. “You can tell me what you’ve been doing while I’ve been freezing my arse off.”

“*There’s rather a lot to tell.*” Aemon thought of Val, wondering how Halder would take the news.

“Oh, I'm sure there is, Your Grace.” Halder raised his free hand towards the men calling him. “Coming!” He turned back to Aemon before leaving. “Gods, I’m glad you came.”

Three-Finger Hobb was alive too. Aemon found him beneath the inn’s surviving chimney, crouched over a small fire. Kegs brought him kindling from the fallen planks a Northman was chopping nearby, with Spare Boot gathering the pieces.

Hobb looked up and rose, still holding the wood. “You’ll be eating with us, m’lord? I don’t think we have enough food...”

“*Don’t worry, Hobb, I’ll be smaller by supper. You needn’t put Edd in the pot.*” The cook snorted and bent to feed the fire.

Mully took over helping the man Edd had supported along the road and led him beneath the canvas stretched between the inn’s surviving walls, where Clydas was gathering the wounded near Hobb’s fire. He directed Arron and another bearer to set their litter down by the hearth, calling for blankets as Emrick propped his spear against the wall and joined them to settle the man.

Edd came out from beneath the canvas and crossed the open ground to Aemon. “We didn't think we would even reach the village, Jon.” He rubbed his hands together trying to bring warmth back. “Thank you.”

“*I had help in finding you lot.*” Aemon inclined his head to Edd, his gaze drifting past the houses to the lake shore where the last of the dead were being laid. A man straightened a fallen comrade’s leg, then pulled cloth across the face. Beside the bodies, Emmett kept watch with Dark Sister in hand.

With the last men finally off the road, Aemon folded his sheltering wing and circled the village toward the shore, staying to the open ground. A corner of cloth lifted in the wind, revealing the narrow features beneath. He recognized them even now, though the mouth hung slack and snow had settled in the folds of the neck. Emmon Frey. The memory of the sobbing man clutching his wife's skirts came to him, but Aemon found he couldn't even feign sorrow for the man's death.

“The dead got him before we formed the line,” Edd said, coming to stand beside the body.

“*I’ll burn them myself.*”

“Aye. Let me say a word first.” Edd bent to cover Emmon’s face, then turned to the men still standing over their dead. Halder had come down from the houses to join them. Others watched from the ruined walls, wrapped in whatever they'd scavenged to keep out the cold.

“We’ve brought them as far as we can,” Edd said. “Some of these men hated the Wall. I can’t blame them. I’d spent years finding fault with the place, and I wasn’t finished when we left.”

He looked along the covered bodies. “They fought beside us today. There are men sitting by those fires who’d be lying here if they hadn’t. I won’t pretend they were all good men. Some would have called me a liar for it. But they’ve earned our thanks for what they did, and a proper farewell. Black cloak or no, goodbye, for now,” Edd said. “We’ll probably join them soon enough.”

Aemon closed his eyes for a moment. Gods, Edd. You could have stopped at goodbye.

He bowed his head as Edd's words ended and called down the fire. It took the coverings first, cloth curling into nothing, then he brought the flame to the bodies beneath. The scent of burning wool and flesh rose to meet him. He stood his ground until the ashes drifted and settle along the shore. These dead would find their rest.

Aemon moved away from the scorched ground and called to Edd. “*I’ll change here. Keep them clear.*”

Edd cleared the men away and went for clothes. When the violet fire subsided, Aemon stood in the mud his heat had made of the frozen ground.

“Shirt and breeches,” Edd said when he returned, handing over a bundle wrapped in a cloak. “I guessed at the boots.”

The shirt was tight across Aemon’s shoulders and the boots loose at his heels. He dressed, fastened the cloak, then caught Edd by the arm before his friend could turn away.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Edd.” He drew him into an embrace.

"You and me both." Edd returned the hug with a firm clap on his back. When they parted, he could see how tired he was. His bloodshot eyes and the dark hollows beneath them showed how little sleep his friend had gotten. Aemon had kept him in sight through much of the fighting, but he had heard enough men cry out behind him to know how easily he might have lost him.

Together they made their way back to the torndown inn. Emmett emerged from under the canvas, stripping off his gloves. “Clydas is finished with the worst of them,” he said to Edd. “But he needs more of everything to keep treating them.”

Instead of answering, Edd turned to him. Aemon answered in kind. “I’ll fly them south in the morning.” Edd nodded and walked over to speak to Mully. Emmett offered his hand to Aemon, who clasped it firmly.

“If that is a glimpse of the battles to come, I am grateful you entrusted me with your sword, Your Grace.”

“You kept your brothers alive, that is all the thanks I need.” Aemon replied. “I saw you getting Lew clear.”

“Horse did the heavy work. Lew’s got more weight than he shows.” Emmett’s grin was familiar, and Jon returned it. He’d seen that same expression in the practice yard, always the prelude to Emmett daring someone to go another round. It was good to see the mans spirit still there.

Leathers approached along the wall with a folded blanket under one arm, catching Aemon by the shoulder as he stopped. “You made a good roof, Lord Commander. Better than these bloody ruins.”

Aemon returned the grip with a grin. Leathers gave his shoulder a squeeze, then carried the blanket into the inn for the wounded. Edd called from the doorway of the neighbouring cottage. “In here, Jon.”

He crossed the threshold of the ruined cottage. They'd stretched canvas across what walls still stood to hold back the snow, leaving only a gap above the fire for smoke. Beside the flames, Edd sat perched on a fallen roof beam; he moved along at Aemon's approach to make space. Aemon took his place beside him, angling his borrowed boots toward the warmth.

As the light failed, Halder emerged with cups of broth with Emmett following inside to sit across from him and Leathers settling by the stacked firewood, Aemon took his cup and waited. Someone would come looking for one of them soon enough, but for now he would keep this small company together.

The broth was watery, more salt than anything else. Aemon swallowed before looking at Edd. “Was that their first attack?”

“No,” Edd replied. “A smaller lot first. We were able to handle them with little loss. Then the rest came after the column, and we had to stand while the others got clear.” He drank from his own cup before glancing at Aemon’s. “Thin fare for a king. It’s all we’ve got, I’m afraid. I’d complain to the Lord Commander, only that’s me now.”

Aemon smiled. “It’ll do, Edd.”

“How is Val?” Edd asked.

“Well.” Aemon rubbed his thumb along the cup’s rim. He’d been looking forward to and dreaded this. Edd would have something to say about a wife, and not being at his wedding. “We were married.”

Halder’s cup stopped halfway to his mouth. “You’ve taken a wife?!”

Aemon had been looking forward to their astonishment. “Aye.” He said as he looked from Halder to Edd, who had lowered his cup.

“When were you going to tell us?” Edd asked.

“I just did.”

“Before the wedding, Jon.” Edd glanced across the fire at Emmett, who shook his head. “You might have given us a little warning.”

It shamed Aemon that he had sent no raven. None of them could have ridden south to stand in the godswood, but they had deserved word of it, and he was drawing breath to tell them as much when Leathers set down his cup and held up two fingers.

“Two coppers. Each.”

“He said married,” Edd scoffed. “That wasn’t the wager.”

Any thought of an apology vanished as Halder broke into sudden laughter, leaving Aemon to glance between their faces in bewilderment. “What wager?”

“After your last visit,” Halder said. “Which one you’d bed first. Val or the dragon queen. Those two put their money on the queen.”

Aemon turned to Edd. “You backed Daenerys? Why?”

“Two Targaryens left, a king and a queen. It seemed likely.” Edd regarded him mournfully. “Especially after you told me she was beautiful.”

Aemon recalled the sly grin Edd had given him over their ale at Castle Black. How much had Edd embroidered in the telling? Halder was still chuckling into his cup.

“You’d lost before you made the wager,” Aemon said.

“Of course I had.” Edd reached beneath his cloak for his purse. “I generally do.”

“Shouldn't have been that certain in the first place,” Emmett told him. He counted two coppers onto his palm and held them out as Leathers came round the fire.

“It made sense, damn it,” Edd muttered.

Leathers collected from Emmett, then waited over Edd while his friend searched through the little purse twice before surrendering the coins. Aemon had wanted them to jest with him, though he ought to have remembered what they were like when given the chance.

Once the money was put away, Leathers caught his forearm. “I’m glad for you, Jon.”

“You look it.”

Leathers laughed and tightened his grip. “Does she know what she’s married?”

“She had a fair look first.” Aemon returned the grip before Leathers let go. Halder had lowered his cup, still grinning, and even Emmett’s mouth had begun to twitch. “When this is won, we’ll have a feast. All of us together. You can tell Val about your wager.”

“I rather keep my life,” Edd said. "For however longer."

“I’ll be sure to mention it.” Aemon could almost see her beside him at the table, listening to Edd explain his reasoning. She would make him tell it twice. He wanted to hear her laughing with these men, with food enough for everyone and an evening to spend over it.

“Will there be proper ale?” Edd asked. “I’ve heard men call all sorts of things ale. Some of it was quite useful for cleaning.”

You’d complain if the gods themselves brewed it. “You can taste it first.”

Edd sighed. “I’d rather be there for your sake, but I suppose someone must do the work.”

“Are you happy?” Halder asked.

He had readied himself for another wedding question or a jest about Val, but Halder simply waited, drawing an easy smile from him. “Aye. I am. More than I expected.”

“Then here’s to Val.” Halder lifted his cup towards Aemon. “And you, you lucky bastard.”

They lifted their cups. Aemon held his own towards them, watching the firelight on their faces.

He could hear men talking outside the cottage, arguing over a blanket. For the moment he had a place beside Edd and four familiar voices close to him. When Emmett rose to go back to the inn for more broth, Aemon gave him his cup.

Edd nudged Aemon’s boot with his own. “Married, then. You’ll be telling us about children next.”

The warmth that came into Aemon’s face had little to do with the fire. He looked at Edd, wondering how much he had given away already. He wanted to hear a child call for him from the next room and be near enough to answer.

“I’d like children with her, Edd. And a chance to see them grow.”

Edd looked at him over the rim of his cup. “I’d like to meet them,” he said, setting it down between his boots. “Only to meet them, we need a victory. So how do we come by it, Jon? Where are we meant to hold them?”

“At the Neck. We’ll draw the dead down there, and the living will hold them while Bran and I end the war.”

“And if you can’t end it?”

“Then we raise another Wall. If we cannot end this war—” He felt as though someone were watching him through the fire. Aemon leaned closer, the hair along his arms rising. He could see only the wood burning down, but he kept searching the flames.

“Jon?” Edd leaned forward. “What is it?”

Aemon watched the fire a moment longer. “Nothing.” Aemon sat back, making himself look at Edd. His friend was waiting for him to finish, but Aemon could still see the flames at the edge of his sight. He wanted to look again.

“The Wall would be our last resort,” he continued. “We cannot keep driving people from their homes and hoping there’s somewhere safe farther south.”

“And you need us to hold the neck while the wall is build?” Edd said.

“Aye.” Aemon looked at his friend across the fire. He knew what Aemon was asking. “We’ll need the time you can give us.”

“Another Wall to guard,” Leathers mulled. “A crow till they burn me, then.”

Leathers's disappointment was understandable, and Aemon didn't fault him for it. Looking at Edd, he could picture him older, still setting watches, still hauling men out of trouble beneath another Wall. The feast he had promised them seemed a long way off.

Aemon stared into the fire. "There's no other way. We have to win this."

Emmett put more wood on the fire, and Aemon followed the sparks with his eyes. Nothing stirred that he could not account for. He reached for his broth while Halder rummaged behind the beam where he sat.

Halder brought out a wineskin. “Here. There’s a little wine left.” He pulled the stopper and held it out to Aemon.

Aemon gave him a questioning look but accepted the skin and drank. It was sour, a poor taste of wine, but he welcomed the heat in his belly. He took another swallow before handing it to Iron Emmett, wondering if Halder had bartered away anything of value for it.

“Wait! You’ve had that all this time?” Edd asked.

“Kept a little back,” Halder said. “One last drink before the dead take me.”

“Pass it over, then,” Leathers said. “I’ve swallowed enough snow today.”

After a swallow, Emmett handed the skin to Edd. Once Edd had his share, he told the men, “All right. We’d best let our King get some sleep if we expect him to save our hides. Come on, Jon, I’ll show you to your room.”

He gave the skin back to Halder and stood. Aemon rose at his side, pulling the cloak tight around his shoulders. They moved out of the way for Arron, who was carrying a heavy load of blankets, and then walked past the men still gathered by the fire. Edd told him that some of the men had cleared out a room in a cottage further down the lane, where the roof at the rear was still intact.

Aemon listened with half his attention though his thoughts kept circling to Daenerys and her smaller, slower dragons. They could lure the ice dragons toward him, but he would have to reach them before their pursuers did, and he pictured those giants ripping Rhaegal apart.

“What are you brooding about now,” Edd asked, turning to glance at him. They had been walking single file where fallen timber narrowed the lane, but there was room here for him to come alongside.

“How to win. And the price is putting Daenerys and her dragons in harm's way.”

“Have you asked her?”

Aemon shook his head. He'd been searching for a way to keep her safe, as though a clever strategy might make the request easier to bear. But whatever plan he chose, she would still be flying into the eye of the storm.

Edd snorted. "Asking your aunt to drop into danger... I don't envy your position, Jon."

There was something else he had meant to tell him. “Edd, this is for your ears only. The Night King was the thirteenth Lord Commander.”

Edd slowed. For several paces he watched Aemon, waiting for more.

“And he’s only a servant. He serves a queen.”

“I’d hoped dying might get a man out of taking orders.”

Aemon gave a short laugh before he could help it, hearing the same seriousness in Edd's voice. “No, for some reason death isn't the end of duty. I know that better than most.”

At last they reached a house whose roof had partially fallen in. Edd guided him past the wreckage of timber to a side door, where the debris cleared from inside had been heaped in a pile. Bedding was visible through the open doorway, tucked beneath a shuttered window.

“You should have some quiet here,” Edd said. “Get what sleep you can. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Aemon caught his arm as he turned to leave. “You need sleep too.”

“Once I’ve made sure the men changing watch know their places.”

Edd would see it done himself, no matter how late. He squeezed Aemon’s hand briefly before heading back down the lane.

Inside, someone had swept the floor and laid out blankets beneath the window. A raven stood among them. It turned towards Aemon as he entered, and he closed the door.

“Bran?”

“I wish you’d followed the dragon, Jon. You’d wounded it, and with its rider dead—”

“They’re my brothers, Bran,” Aemon cut in. “I wasn’t going to abandon them.”

He had wanted to follow it, even now. But he would be heading to enemy terrority and the creature might find another rider before he caught up to it. Bran grew quiet after the rebuff, so Aemon bent over his boots, working a finger beneath the tight leather at his ankle. There were other matters he needed Bran’s eyes for.

“Are the lords sending their ravens and making the preparations? If one of them is refusing, I need thier name. I’ll put someone in his place who will do what’s needed.”

“Most are following your orders now,” Bran said. “The ravens are going out with calls for men and provisions. I haven’t seen a refusal that needs you there, yet. Though, there has been some grumling.”

Aemon freed the boot and set it aside, wondering how many lords would find new excuses for delay once he was gone, given all the objections they'd raised while he stood before them. For now, at least, he didn't need to show the price of disobedience.

He settled into the bedding when Bran asked him a pointed question.

“Did you feel him at the fire?”

Aemon lay still for a moment, then closed his eyes. “Yes.”