The Dragon & The Wolf - XXXI (Patreon)

Chapter XXXI: The Starks of Winterfell

Arms laden with a weirwood bow and a quiver full of arrows, Cregan Stark ran along the top of the Wall, dodging as best he could the Black Brothers and the northerners who were busy finalizing the preparations for its defense, hurling insults and threats at him while ordering him to get out of their way. With Giant on his heels, Cregan paled when he saw the forest ablaze, and even more so when the wildlings emerged from under the branches, howling like animals. Cregan had never seen wildlings in his life, and he was far too far and too high up to perceive their appearance. Nevertheless, the horde of demons that took shape in front of the blaze that the forest was becoming gave him goosebumps. He had never seen a more hideous and terrifying sight.

"I am a Stark of Winterfell!" He thought as he concentrated on looking ahead. "I must get used to battles, they were the lot of my ancestors and will be mine."

When he finally reached Arthur, the latter took his bow and dropped his cloak while hanging his sword on his belt.

"When the battle begins, find yourself a corner where you will not fall off the Wall." Arthur ordered. "You will stay there until the end, and you will not come down from the Wall until victory is won, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Arthur!"

"Good."

"I hate wildlings." Erick Bolton's sinister voice startled Cregan, in his haste, he had not noticed his presence. "Their skin is always covered in blemishes."

"The Far North does not produce pretty ladies with silky skin, Erick."

"That is too bad." He sighed.

"Bolton, you are disgusting." Rogar commented.

"It's your skin that's disgusting, Umber." Erick replied.

"Shut up, both of you." Arthur commanded, before a series of loud trumpets interrupted them.

Cregan's mouth dropped open as he saw the numerous mammoths and giants emerge from the ranks of the wildlings and advance towards the Wall. Cregan had only seen these legendary creatures in books, he had named his direwolf after one of these things, hoping that Giant would reach their size. But now he realized how wrong he had been, these things were immense!

"Erick." Arthur commanded. "You have the best eyes, what do you see?"

"The giants have shields." He commented calmly.

Too calmly apparently, because Cregan, Arthur and Rogar turned to him, astonished.

"Shields?" Arthur repeated incredulously.

"They look more like huge chunks of wooden palisade. But they should protect them from our arrows."

Arthur grimaced in displeasure. They had enough equipment to repel several of these creatures, but there were hundreds of them... Sooner or later, the gate would be torn down.

"Rogar, go tell the ballistae to target the giants that ride or guide the mammoths."

Umber left without a word.

"Erick, send a messenger down the Wall, tell the Lord Commander to station a garrison in the tunnel. Have them repel the giants with pikes and arrows if they manage to break an opening in the gate."

Bolton left after bowing, once he was alone with his cousin, Arthur Stark notched an arrow and shot down a raven that was flying towards them.

"Why did you do that?" Cregan asked, astonished.

"Unlike us, the wildlings have not forgotten the abilities of the First Men, take your bow, if you see a bird approaching, shoot it down."

Cregan, who knew what his cousin was talking about, obeyed him and armed himself.

Below, the giants and their mammoths were slow, it was only after an interminable wait that they arrived within range of the ballistae and archers.

The first bolts flew with little result, the pieces of palisade that the giants used as shields proved thicker than expected, only one giant was killed and nearly five bolts were lost.

Arthur gritted his teeth and growled.

"Aim for the mammoths!" He ordered in a loud voice.

The Wall’s gates were thick, very thick and heavy, but the mammoths and giants were creatures with colossal strength, and there were many of them. There was no telling whether the door would hold, and Arthur wouldn't bet their survival on it.

Of course, they had boiling oil to pour at them, but they had a large portion of the Wall to defend, and if they were to use all of their oil on the giants and mammoths, they would be vulnerable against the dozens of thousands of wildlings that could climb the Wall. And they would never be able to get rid of all the giants and mammoths, even if they used all of their oil against them. Should they run thin on oil, what could prevent those beasts from breaching the gate?

Pointing the ballista at the mammoths ended being a good idea, for they proved to be easier targets to take down. The five bolts took down three animals, angering the giants who roared at the men on the Wall.

"There are still too many of them." Arthur growled. "We don't have the time or even the means to take down hundreds of mammoths and giants."

His gaze then fell on the burning forest, in the distance, he saw hundreds of birds flying in all directions to escape the voracity of the flames.

An idea came to him.

"Cregan, pull my arm if anyone comes to talk to me. Take down all the birds that come near us if you can. Trust Shadow and Giant."

With these words, the skin-changer's eyes rolled back, and a long trickle of blood ran down his nose.

What he was attempting to accomplish was dangerous, but he had no other means to repel the onslaught of giants and mammoths.

With awe and terror, Cregan Stark watched as the hundreds of birds that had escaped from the trees froze in mid-air as if struck by arrows and swooped towards the ground, but just as they were about to crash, they raised their wings as one and soared towards the giant creatures above the panicked heads of the wildlings.

When the birds reached the giants, they swooped down on their heads and pecked and clawed at the eyes of the furry creatures who screamed as the birds blinded them.

The mammoths fared no better, though they tried to defend themselves with their trunks, their eyes were not safe from their feathered attackers.

Soon the horde of giants scattered, howling and waving their arms to shield their eyes and chase away the birds. The mammoths, even more panicked than their masters, reared up, sending their riders eating dust and snow and fleeing in all directions with the sole aim of escaping the birds of prey.

Cregan was speechless at his cousin's feat of magic. However, he immediately became concerned when he saw all the blood running from Arthur’s nose. Once he was sure that the giants and mammoths were too disorganized to continue their assault, he tugged at his cousin's sleeve.

"What is it?" Arthur asked after his eyes had regained their color.

He answered his own question by noticing all the blood running down his chin. He wiped it with his coat and knelt down to catch his breath.

"You need to take better care of yourself." Erick Bolton declared, startling Cregan who hadn't seen him coming. The heir to the Dreadfort seemed to move as silently as a ghost.

"Doing that again would be costly." Arthur muttered, blowing his nose to expel the remains of blood stuck in his nostrils. "But the enemy doesn't know that..."

He didn't have time to finish his sentence before Shadow jumped on a crate to close his jaws around a crow that had perched on a barrel, he broke the bird like a branch. Alas, the information had surely been transmitted.

"I take back what I said." He growled.

(-)(-)(-)

Daggon Head-Snatcher was as impressed as he was annoyed. He had expected many things coming from the crows, but a single warg powerful enough to bend hundreds of birds under his will had not been one of those. His giants and mammoths had fled, it would take time to bring them back to their senses and force them to attack again. For now, he had now way of breaking their bloody gate, but his warg had told him enough before he passed out. The skin-changer responsible for this disaster had a child with him, a brother, and a direwolf by his side, he was a Stark. A King, a worthy prey to be hunted, but he needed to lure this one out, and he had the perfect bait for it.

His bear growled, just like its master, it was eager to hunt the direwolf.

"Trogg!" He boomed, and the man he was looking came forward.

"Find that child! Bring him to me, alive and unharmed."

Trogg nodded, he was a proud hunter of the Hornfoot clan, the best of them, for he had the biggest condor in the North.

Trogg’s eyes turned milky white, and the beast that had been perched on a branch took off. Daggon’s eyes returned to the Wall, he scratched his large chin.

He was eager to fight a worthy opponent, but he should not lose sight of his goal.

(-)(-)(-)

Arthur took a few minutes to get himself together, the backlash of warging inside hundreds of birds he had not been familiar with was terrible, he felt like his brain had been cooked in an oven.

The warning horn pulled him out of his misery, however, he frowned when he realized that it had not come from the top of the Wall but down below.

He grimaced, that meant that he had been right, the wildlings were trying to attack both sides, it also meant the Head-Snatcher was about to launch another attack to complete his pincer movement. There wasn’t much he could do  about the attack on Castle Black but trust Geralt Forrester to win.
Cregan was looking at him with worried grey eyes, he smiled a reassuring smile.

"I’m fine, little wolf." He said. "But it seems like you did not listen to me, I told you to find a corner to hide."

"I… I can’t just do nothing!"

"You can and you will, this has nothing to do with bravery, Cregan. You simply are not capable of helping at the moment, leave the rest to me. Once you’re old and strong enough, you won’t have to rely on anyone to fight your own battles."

Frustration and anger were the dominant expressions on the six-year-old’s face, but Arthur could clearly notice the shame and guilt that his cousin was trying to hide. He ruffled his hair with a smile.

"Don’t blame yourself for being a boy, Cregan, and don’t try to grow up too fast, if you do, you won’t realize what is truly worth defending."

The sound of the horn pulled both Starks out of the moment they were sharing, Arthur got up and looked North of the Wall with a disdainful frown.

The wildlings were emerging from the treeline, rushing like a screaming wave at the Wall, from the top of the rampart, they looked like a moving black stain.

"Boys!" Arthur screamed. "Prepare the oil! Those disgusting fuckers are in dire need of a bloody bath! Let’s clean them up and knock some sense into them with a few rocks!"

The Northerners and the men of the Night’s Watch cheered and got themselves ready. From where he stood, Cregan saw them pick up the pots full of oil that had been boiling on the fires that the Night’s Watch had lit. 

"Archers! Knock your arrows!" He commanded as he did so himself with his own bow.

"Draw! Loose!"

The arrows barely killed two or three dozens of wildlings, but the less, the better.

Down the Wall, the Wildlings had reached its base, equipped with climbing peaks, they started scaling the Wall using the ice that covered it. Arthur almost laughed.

"Wait until they’re high enough! The more on the Wall, the more we will kill!"

If they were too far for Arthur to count, a simple glance was enough to determine that they were thousands of enemies down the Wall. Perhaps even ten thousand. This pointless strategy was about to cost the Head-Snatcher an eighth of his forces. Either the King-beyond-the-Wall did not care or he was not experienced enough to know how men defended a fortress. After all, Daggon only raided villages and camps, he knew nothing of sieges. 

An unknown projectile suddenly stroke a ballista, destroying it in the process, others flew past the Wall and missed both men and material, one stroke the Wall itself and caused a crack that spread across the ice.
"Giants!" Theomore Karstark yelled, pointing at the archers down the Wall. "Those fuckers’ arrows are as massive as our bolts!"

"Then return fire!" Arthur commanded! "Ballistae! Aim at the giants! The others, hold and get down until they’re done covering us!"

If some like Rogar Umber were content to bend one knee to hide from the giants’ arrows, others like Cregan took Arthur’s words literally and threw themselves on the ground.

Aiming with a ballista was complicated and took time, but Theomore Karstark had the idea to put out their torches to make themselves harder to hit. The giants’ arrows were devastating and managed to destroy another ballista, but once the bolts were shot, the giant archers went down.

It took half an hour to force the giants to retreat, but in the end, it was inevitable. The giants could not aim properly without the light of the Watch’s torches, and they could not hide in the dark because the wildlings’ bonfire illuminated the land within a mile around.

After half an hour of exchanging bolts and arrows, the giants finally retreated into the forest without bothering themselves with picking up their dead.
This allowed Arthur to focus once again on the wildlings that were climbing the Wall, those savages had not wasted any time, for they had reached what Arthur considered to be a lethal height, and they had spread almost all along the Wall within Castle Black’s territory. Allowing each Northman and black brother to participate in what was about to follow. It was time to send those savages back to their King.

Once they were high enough, Arthur gave the order and the oil and the rocks rained on the wildlings.

Just like the regent of Winterfell had anticipated, the wildlings that had climbed first, fell screaming once the oil splashed them, dragging dozens if not hundreds of their own in their fall. Those whose heads were squashed by the rocks were less noisy, the ones they caught in their fall were not.

In less than a minute, the Northmen had gotten rid of thousands of enemies, this put a smile on the face of their commander.
Perhaps that had been the reason why neither he, nor his direwolf or Cregan’s, had noticed the furious wingbeat that had cut down the winds of the Far North.

Emerging from the night like a ghost, the largest condor the North had ever seen swooped down on the heir to Winterfell, closed its claws around the boy’s shoulders, and took off with its screaming prey. Giant reacted first, he tried to bite the condor’s wing but the bird was too quick! In a wingbeat, it was out of its reach. It happened so fast Arthur had not even had time to turn around, with horrified eyes, he saw his cousin being taken away and disappear into the night, screaming for help.

Giant and Shadow howled furiously while Arthur roared in anger and fear. He turned to his men who had witnessed the kidnapping, none had moved, some barely even realized what had happened.

"Karstark!" He boomed. "You have the Wall! Umber, with me! We need to get our lord back, now!"

Half the men on the Wall wanted to rush inside the iron cage with their regent to help rescue the heir to Winterfell. But the cage could only fit two dozens at best, and the dirwolves quickly claimed their own place. Once it was full, Arthur kicked the ones who were slowing him down and commanded for the winch to be sent down.

Once the descent had started, Rogar Umber caught Arthur by the shoulder. His gaze was alarming and angry.

"I know you don’t wanna hear this, but there is a chance he might be dead…"

Arthur backhanded his friend’s arm with fury, his eyes shone a dangerous yellow.

"If the Head-Snatcher wanted him dead, then that fucking bird would have dropped him!" Arthur spat. "He is not a target, he is bait for us. The Head-Snatcher wants to lure us out since he can’t force himself in!"

Umber quickly realized that his friend was right.

"You’re sending us straight into a trap."

"It’s more than a trap, it’s a challenge. That cunt killed all the leaders he could get his hands on to secure his hold on all clans. It’s me he wants so you listen to me. We’re going to charge through their ranks, grab Cregan and run back to the Wall. If I don’t make it, watch over my cousin, you hear me?!"

"You… You want me to abandon you?!"

"That fucker doesn’t give a damn about Cregan!" Arthur yelled at Rogar’s face. "It’s me he wants! Grab Cregan and run back to the Wall, that’s a command, Umber!"

Rogar did not answer, perhaps he was out of words, Arthur knew he would obey, though. He was nothing but a loyal friend.

The descent was sheer torture for the regent, he had failed to protect his cousin, if Cregan was dead, Arthur would never, ever forgive himself. He needed to get him back at all costs. Even if it meant dying instead of Cregan. It was his duty. 

(-)(-)(-)

Cregan Stark had yelled throughout his entire flight towards the forest, he struggled even more when he realized where that bird was taking him. Straight into the middle of the wildling army.

The moment the condor started to go down, the pup swallowed his fear and his screams back, as well as his tears of terror. He was a Stark of Winterfell, he would not show fear to the wildlings! He would not!

His inner promises were broken the moment the condor dropped him. 

For an awful second, Cregan thought he was about to crash into the ground, but a powerful hand caught him by the leg and stoped his fall only a few inches before his forehead hit the dirt.

Without enough time to understand what was happening to him, Cregan’s upside down face was brought in front of the ugliest mug the pup had ever seen.
Daggon Head-Snatcher’s teeth were all crooked and rotten, his nose looked squashed, his eyes were blacker than coal, his face was so dirty that it looked grey and older than he was. But the worse was his size, Cregan had met Umbers who were seven feet tall, yet, he knew, even from the awkward position he had found himself in, that this wildling dwarfed every men in the North.
"Hello, little shit." Daggon’s voice was sinister and deeper than everything Cregan had ever heard. "I’m surprised you did not piss himself on the way down. Looks like you come from an interesting brood."

He dropped Cregan on the ground, face first, the boy felt his lip tear and his nose break, but he did not scream. 

He got back up, and suddenly paled and took a step back when he realized that he barely reached the man’s knee. Never in his worst nightmares, had Cregan imagined a man as tall as that thing.

But he was a Stark of Winterfell, so he pulled himself together and unsheathed his dagger under the laughs of all the wildlings that surrounded him. Even Daggon laughed as he grabbed the boy’s arm and twisted it until he dropped his weapon.

Then he ruffled his hair with pride. Cregan never felt more ashamed.

"Now that is a wolf." He laughed. "More like a pup who doesn’t know better. Now pup, you’re going to stop struggling, or I will feed you to some of my friends right there."

With his massive finger, he pointed at two men who were licking their lips at Cregan’s sight.

"I call for his legs, I bet the best meat is there."

"Moron, look at his cheeks, I bet his ass is even juicier, even if he’s just a little shit."

"Then you can wait until he’s grown!" Daggon barked back. "I wanna see what kind of warrior that little shit will become."

"You… won’t!" Cregan yelled, struggling to prevent his voice from shaking.

Silence fell upon the ranks of the wildlings, they all looked at the boy with flabbergasted looks, except Daggon, who was curious.

"You won’t!" Cregan yelled once again. "Because Arthur is going to kill you!"

A moment passed, then another, before Daggon laughed the loudest laugh the boy had ever heard, and all the wildlings followed their King.

He grabbed the injured boy by the collar and brought him back to his face.

"He better hurry up." The savage said with a mad glint in the eye. "It has been ages since I have faced a worthy opponent. Once he is here, I’m going to break him, humiliate him and rip his fucking head off. Then I’ll give it to you, so you can bring it home and watch it every morning until you’re tall enough to face me."

He laughed once again and tossed Cregan on the ground, making him roll in the dirt.

"You boy, need to learn what warriors are." His enormous hand closed itself around Cregan’s neck. "A warrior is a man who builds his life with his weapon, who lives to add the names of the ones he has killed to his very own legend! Your brother is next, boy! And one day, I will give you permission to join him, once you are worthy, but for now…"

He dropped Cregan who fell to his knees, coughing and struggling to fill up his lugs with the cold air of the Far North.

"… You’re going to be a good little pup, and wait for your turn."

(-)(-)(-)

"This is madness!" Lord Commander Forrester warned Arthur who did not even turned to look at him as he mounted his horse.

Once he had gotten out of the iron cage, he had assessed the situation regarding the attack South of the Wall. Geralt Forrester had left to deal with the invaders, the black brothers had not seen a single wildling find its way to Castle Black, which was a good sign. The moon was full, Geralt would have enough light to hunt down enough wildlings to put an end to their attack.

"Open the bloody gate!" Was his response, he was not in a mood for a debate. 

He had assembled five hundred riders, leaving Castle Black with two hundred defenders at best, if he survived this, he would build walls for every castle alongside the Wall. He would never understand how Brandon the builder could have overlooked such an important detail.

Once the harrow was raised, he turned to his men.

"Northerners! Those fuckers kidnapped our Lord! Let’s get him back!"

A round of angry cheers answered him.

"Do not try to cut them all down!" He warned. "We must hit them hard and fast! Get our lord back and bring him to safety! Nothing else matters! Do you hear me?!"

"Aye!"

Arthur unsheathed Ice and rose it.

"Then for the North, charge!"

And charge they did, all five hundred Northern riders and two direwolves crossed the tunnel and entered the Far North, trampling the broken corpses of the fallen climbers and going around the dead bodies of mammoths and giants alike. 

"Giant! Find Cregan!"

The brown direwolf did not need to be told twice, once it was back in the land that saw it born, it quickly found its marks and caught the scent of its friend. It quickened its pace and disappeared into the darkness.

Soon, the Northerners divided themselves into two forces, going around the forest to strike the wildlings from both east and west.

The fire was preoccupying though, more than half the forest was ablaze and the wildlings did not seem to care. If they charged in this hell, more than half of them would not come back.

But Arthur did not care, nothing mattered but Cregan. 

With Shadow by his side, the Lord Regent warged back into the birds that he had used against the giants. Many of them had flown away, afraid of both the fire and the battle. But hundreds still remained, and Arthur caught them all like a fisherman with a net. 

The ravens, eagles, and condors rose to the sky like a single bird and dived into the forest, hunting down the archers the Head-Snatcher had posted to welcome them. Gouging out their eyes and making them fall of their branches like overripe fruits. Those who had been hiding behind the trees and rocks ran away from their hideout, chased by birds of all kinds that only had one thing in mind; Arthur’s command to eat their eyes.

The wildlings tried to form a line with spear wives and pikemen, but their spears were too small to unhorse a man mounting a garron. Shadow opened their line himself by emerging out of the dark to jump at a man’s throat, Arthur and his men rushed into the breached and killed whoever stood in their way. The Stark had to release his control over the birds to regain his ability to fight, the backlash was twice as worse as the first but he did not care, he could not care about his pain nor could he care about the blood that was flowing down his nostrils. All that mattered was to get his cousin back.

His goal obsessed him so much that he lost track of time, he cut down so many wildlings that he did not count them. In a blink, his sword, face and clothes were covered with blood.

The deeper he went into the forest, the hotter the air became. The fire had spread so far that Arthur  had to ride under flaming branches, keeping his horse under control was a difficult endeavor, but a dire wolf knew how to be both feared and respected.

What the direwolf never saw coming, was the appearance of a more massive predator.
The polar bear seemed to emerge from the fire itself, its sudden appearance scared Arthur’s horse so bad it reared up, unseating his rider who fell backwards. Driven by his survival instinct, the Stark rolled to the side before his horse fell on him.

The bear lost all interest in the mount and charged at the rider, but Shadow locked its jaws around its lower paw and pulled to make it fall. Arthur rolled backwards to prevent the beast from reaching him and got back on his legs, just in time to cut down a wildling that had been rushing him with a bronze sword.

"Keep charging!" Arthur commanded his men. "Find Cregan!"

A man that had stopped to help him was shot down by an arrow through the skull, Arthur picked up his shield and rose it to protect himself while his men kept on charging as he had commanded.
The polar bear on the other hand, forced Shadow to back down as it freed itself from its hold and threatened to crush its skull with its massive paws.

The Northmen, despite being far inferior in numbers, cut down the wildlings like butter. Forcing the savages deeper into the forest, throwing some into the fire.

The bear roared to force Shadow to back down more, the dire wolf showed his teeth and growled in response. Arthur kicked a pebble at the bear’s snout, getting its attention.

"Come out, Head-Snatcher!" He spat, the flames, embers and smoke that surrounded him made his yellow eyes shone like a demon’s that had escaped the Seven Hells. "Show yourself and put an end to this farce! I’m right here!"

The Bear did not react at first, then its face changed, despite its lack of clear expression, Arthur knew what it meant, Daggon was smiling. Perhaps even laughing.

The Northmen who had been cutting down wildlings had kept on riding through the woods, Arthur could not see them anymore, but he heard their screams.

Out of the two hundreds that had kept on charging, less than fifty were now turning tail and riding away, abandoning their regent and their lord. Arthur spat in anger as they ran.

"You fucking kneelers are a bunch of spineless cowards!" A voice stronger than Boremund’s Baratheon, boomed and laughed through the branches.

Arthur barely rose an eyebrow when Daggon Head-Snatcher finally emerged from his hideout. The man was as tall as the reports had said, his bronze armor looked as ancient as it looked strong. His horned helmet covered his entire face, except for the visor that allowed his black eyes to shine in satisfaction. He held his axe in his right hand and kept a bruised Cregan under his left arm.

As the Northerners rode away without sending a look back, the wildlings emerged from the forest, surrounding the regent of Winterfell, he had nowhere to run except through the fire. The Polar bear went back to its master, while Shadow came to stand at his friend’s side.

"Hello Stark." Daggon greeted with a laugh. "It took you long enough to find the courage to leave your Wall."

Arthur ignored his taunt to look at his cousin, Cregan looked on the verge of tears, his face shown indescribable guilt.

"So you’re the cunt who’s been causing all this shit up there in the far north." He said, his tone was unimpressed. "Are you so desperate to die, that you would resort to kidnap a child just for me to grant you a memorable end?"

Daggon laughed again, and all his wildlings laughed with him.

"Lower your bows!" He commanded his archers. "This one deserves to die by my hand!"

"This one will shove your hands up your arse, just to make sure there are a few guts inside all this shit you seem full of. But first, this one will do his duty."

The moment Arthur spoke his last word, Giant jumped out of the dark and ram into the Head-Snatcher’s back who dropped to his knees and released Cregan. The polar bear tried to repel the stealthy beast, but Shadow prevented him to do so by jumping at his throat, sending them both roll into the dirt and crushing a few wildlings along the way.

A second later, a warrior’s roar resonated throughout the forest. From the East, Rogar Umber led the other half of Northern riders through the woods, and ram through the wildlings, breaking their ranks and their bodies.

Arthur rushed towards Cregan as the Head-Snatcher had turned to decapitate a horse, sending its rider to crash against a tree, bending its body backwards at an unnatural angle.

Without listening to his cousin’s cries, he grabbed him by the coat, and threw him at Umber who caught him.

"I can’t run!" Arthur screamed at him. "Take him to safety now!"

Despite the conflict in his brown eyes, Rogar Umber obeyed his lord and rode away back to the Wall. Never looking back. Cregan Stark struggled, he fought, he screamed, but Umber was almost seven feet tall, the boy’s tiny hands and feet hurt him as much as flee bites. All Cregan could do, was cry as he watched his cousin grow smaller in the distance.

The polar bear got rid of Shadow by hitting him with his paw, sending him flying back to his friend. Despite its obvious pain, the dire wolf got back on its feet as the Head-Snatcher turned back to the Stark.

"You’re still here." He sounded confused.

"You issued a challenge." Arthur reminded him, sounding calm. "I will not shame my ancestors by running away. If I must die here, I will take you with me."

Under his helmet, Daggon looked at his opponent in awe. He felt ants in his fingers and realized that his blood was boiling. 

"Your name!" He roared. "I want to know your name!"

"My name is Arthur Stark, Lord Regent of Winterfell."

"Arthur Stark… I’ve changed my mind. I intended to send your head back to your brother, just to make sure he would grow to be another worthy opponent for me to kill. No more, I’ll send him your headless corpse, your head is mine to keep."

Arthur snorted while around them, the wildlings were recovering from Rogar’s charge. Some were screaming in pain, others were cursing at Arthur, but he ignored them as the bear came back to stand next to its master.

"What would my head even bring you?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Pride and satisfaction." Daggon answered without hesitating.

Arthur rolled his eyes, amused.

"Poor man…" He almost laughed. "Your words, your accomplishments, your heads, they are all as pointless as your existence. After you’ve breathed your last, your name will be added to the list of the Kings-beyond-the-Wall who have lived to fail and fall against Northern steel. Such is the reward for those who have been foolish enough to wage war against us for millennia; being turned into a stain of ink, forever drowned in the legends of the Starks of Winterfell. Such is your fate. "

Arthur warmed up his arm by swinging Ice and dropped his shield. Beside him, Shadow growled loudly. The bear answered by roaring.

Daggon pointed his axe at the Lord Regent.

"Don’t disappoint me, not now." He warned. "Stories of kneelers mean nothing to me."

"They should." Was Arthur’s answer. "They’ll be the only thing left mentioning you once you’ve tasted my steel."

(-)(-)(-)

"How the fuck did so many wildlings cross the Wall?!"

Geralt Forrester did not voice it, but he too wanted to know the answer to that question. 

Since Arthur had commanded him to protect Castle Black from any potential attack from the South, he had repelled two waves of wildlings, massacring hundreds of them, yet, they kept coming out of the dark.

Geralt had lost more than half his men, and the fight was getting more difficult with each wildling killed. The lands surrounding Castle Black were now littered with corpses, they could not fully benefit from the advantages their horses granted them anymore. If they were to charge again, there would be more men falling from their horses than there would be men killing wildlings. Geralt had no choice but to concede ground to the savages until there would be enough space to charge again.

So he commanded his men to retreat to Castle Black, ignoring their curses and cries of rage. Once they had reached the gate, he lined them all up to prepare for one last charge, but loudly sighed in exasperation once he saw that, under the moonlight, more than five hundred wildings were rushing through the plains and towards them, screaming war cries.

"Those sons of whores and dogs want more!" He called raising his lance. "Let’s give it to them!"

« Aye!" Some men screamed.

« Winterfell!" Said the men of Wintertown.

"Iron from Ice! » Said the men of Ironrath.

"Let’s bring them Winter! » Said all the others

However, it was not winter that froze both wildlings and northerners alike, it was single roar, so powerful that it shut everyone up. Northmen atop their horses felt all their courage leave and being replaced by a dull terror. All of their eyes widened and they exchanged confused glances with each other.

Geralt Forrester tried to remain emotionless for the sake of his men, but he too, could not help but wonder what in the name of the Old Gods had been that?

The wildlings did not fare any better, the savages who had been so eager to fight mere seconds ago had all stopped running to look around, none of them had ever heard something similar, no giants nor mammoths roared that way. This was… something else.

The stories the survivors would tell of this night would be the birth of many legends among the Free Folk. Some would pretend that the earth had opened itself under their feet, and that demons of fire had emerged from it to feed themselves on their people’s flesh. Some wood witches would even claim that the kneelers had bent their knees to those demons and had offered the Free Folk in sacrifice to quench their hunger.

Others would pretend that thunder had come down the sky to strike their people, burning them to a crisp. They would call it a warning from the Old Gods themselves, a punishment for the cowards who had followed the Head-Snatcher, who’s thirst for blood had brought their people nothing but ruin.
But the tale the Northerners would share among each other and write down to send to the Citadel to be immortalized in ink, was far closer to what actually happened.
Under the flabbergasted looks of Geralt Forrester and his one hundred and fifty men, Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne and rider of Syrax, split the night itself to bring Fire and Blood to the wildlings, for the first time in the History of the Seven Kingdoms.

The first time Syrax fell upon her enemies, she traced a furrow of flames through the plain that turned dozens of wildlings into running and screaming torches.

The descendant of the First Men, who had spent all of their lives separated from the rest of the World, had never heard of the tales of Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel, Jaehaerys the Wise and their dragons. When one of Valyria’s last descendants fell upon them, it left them with nothing but burnt bodies, confusion and sheer terror.

Syrax and her rider showed no mercy. The sudden clarity granted by the yellow dragon’s flames made it even easier for the Princess to spot her targets. In a matter of minutes, Syrax fell upon them four times, turning most of the invaders into ashes, and those who had survived into cowards. More than two hundred wildlings died when Syrax appeared in the Northern sky. Those who lived, hurried to hide in the dark and ran as far away from the flying fire monster as they could, more than half of them would die on their way back North of the Wall, those who would not, never came back South.

Once Castle Black was secure, Syrax turned around it for a few seconds before its rider decided to land in its courtyard.

The Dragon’s appearance however, was so sudden, that men and horses quickly ran away to allow the beast enough space to land. Syrax roared as it did, scarring black brothers and northmen alike.

Sitting atop her dragon, Rhaenyra waited until the ruckus had quieted down before speaking as loudly as she could:

"I am the Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen! I have come to your aid! Take me to your leader!"

For a long, agonizing and frustrating moment, northmen and black brothers exchanged surprised looks and confused gazes. 

Until, finally, the lord Commander Forrester moved forward. But before he could open his mouth, a little boy with a bruised face rushed towards the dragon under the cries of alarm of the northmen.

Rhaenyra acted swiftly enough to prevent Syrax from reacting violently, yet, the dragon still growled a warning at the boy who stopped dead in his tracks. 

However, despite his apparent fear, he surprised Rhaenyra by managing to take his gaze off the beast to throw a pleading look at the Princess.

"What is a child doing here?" She thought as she saw his bruised face under the light of the torches.

"P-please…" He sobbed. "You… you…"

As the boy struggled to swallowed his tears back, the Princess’s eyes widened when she saw a brown wolf as large as Shadow, stand next to the child.

Then, it hit her.

"Are you Cregan?"

The boy nodded, wiping his tears away with his sleeve.

"Please." He managed to articulate. "You have to help Arthur."

A clap of thunder resonated inside the Princess’ skull, she held her reins so tight her hands turned white, her knees were shacking against her saddle.

"Where is he?" She demanded.

A man taller than Harwin Strong stepped forward, despite Syrax’s suspicious look, he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

"He stayed behind to face the King-beyond-the-Wall." Rogar Umber said. "He commanded us to leave him and bring his cousin back to safety. According to him, nothing else mattered."

During the next ten seconds, the silence was so heavy that no one seemed to dare even to breathe, except Syrax.

Rhaenyra looked at the heir to Last Hearth as if he was the dumbest man in the World, who had just told her the dumbest thing in the World.

"He what?!" She screeched in fury as Syrax roared to share its rider’s anger. 

Without wasting a second, the yellow dragon took off, covering the northerners and night’s watch with dirt and snow.
Rhaenyra was so furious and so anxious not to waste any time, she did not bother having Syrax take its time to fly high enough, she directly sent her dragon against the Wall to climb her way up like a lizard.

The yellow dragon ended up reaching the top of the seven hundred feet structure in no time, scarring away the defenders who had heard the beast arrive.

But as she was about to have her dragon jump into the Far North, Syrax suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and whined in fear as it backed away.

"What’s the matter?!" Rhaenyra asked in alarm. "What is it?"

Once again, Syrax whined in fear and took another step back, almost falling back south of the Wall.

Rhaenyra could not believe what was happening. Never before had her dragon failed to obey her. Yet for some reason, she feared going beyond the Wall.

Beyond the Wall… where everything was on fire.
Rhaenyra’s eyes widened in horror as she saw the inferno, what looked like a forest had been turned into the biggest bonfire she had ever seen. Down the Wall she saw hundreds… No… Thousands of corpses! And what even were those massive dead animals?!

The first giant she ever saw was a sorry sight, the mighty beast had lost its eyes, it wandered aimlessly and sightlessly in the open, its cries of pain and despair were the saddest and the loudest Rhaenyra had ever heard.

In front of her was one of the seven hells. The frozen one, where Arthur had thrown himself to die, where her mount refused to go.

"Why?" Rhaenyra asked her dragon as desperation took over her being. 

Syrax refused to grant her an answer, her golden eyes did not leave the horizon, as if the wind itself carried a promise of pain, and death.

AN: the Scythe on the Wall does not exist in the books, and even though its badass in the show, it makes no sense. Mance was a former Black Brother, he even called Castle Black his former home, he must have known about that thing, why bother sending men to their obvious death? So I skipped it.

Same went for whatever winch the Night’s Watch used to have archers shoot vertically, that looked incredibly dangerous and stupid.

Anyway, I hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter ;).
I’ll see you soon for the next one.
Take care!