Updated Jon Snow

Chapter 28: Part 22



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***

The northern army was retreating, and ahead of it, women, old men, and children that couldn't hold weapons were fleeing. If at first they left leisurely, loading their goods on carts and sledges, now they fled, abandoning everything that had been gained by the hard work of generations. The children had long since lost the strength to cry, the old men had mentally resigned themselves to their fate, and the women no longer hoped to see their men alive.

Castle after castle, town after town, village after village - all were devoured by winter, on whose wings the North was swarmed by hordes of the dead, from whom there was no escape and whose ranks grew every day. Whole villages were buried under huge snowdrifts, and many castles had only their roofs visible. The icy winds penetrated every crevice, and there was no escape from them even behind strong walls. The frost grew worse by the day, and even the wildlings who had seen so much had to admit that such cold had never been seen before.

Winter stretched her hand across the North, and Night and Death were walking with her.

Sansa Stark shrank into a ball, staring into the fire in the fireplace. In her assigned room in the Old Castle, she could only think of the day they had to leave Winterfell. Gathering what they could, they had hurried south, desperately hoping that the dead would not catch up with them. The girl had no doubt that the castle was still standing, except buried under a mountain of snow. The Wiht and their masters were not interested in lifeless stones, nor did they have a taste for senseless destruction. They were only interested in the living.

No one knew what was going on in the north of the kingdom, but there were many rumours from the south, but how much of them was true and how much was false was unknown.

It was said that Gendry Baratheon had disappeared without a trace on Dragonstone, and no matter how many people searched for him, they were unsuccessful. They scoured the island, looked under every rock, but all was in vain. Rumour had it that a certain girl had disappeared with the boy, who had come to the island with the Tyroshian ambassador, but Sansa admitted that the fate of King Robert's bastard and the girl was of little concern to her.

Rumour had it that King's Landing had fallen. When the armies of Daenerys Targaryen and her allies approached the walls of the capital, the city's defenders opened the gates on Randyll Tarly's orders. The capital was taken without a fight, and only the approaches to the Red Keep were troubled, and that only until the Unsullied troops who had infiltrated the city through secret passages attacked the Lannister soldiers from behind. It was said that the Mother of Dragons had personally arrived in the capital with her fire-breathing children, and when she and her entourage entered the throne room, they saw Jaime Lannister sitting on the Iron Throne, with Cersei lying dead at the foot of it.

Whether there was any truth to the story, Sansa didn't know, and she didn't really care. In another time she would have rejoiced at Cersei's downfall, but now it was clear that she had been an unfortunate misunderstanding, and had been considered a dangerous foe only out of ignorance. Only someone who had never faced the Wych army or the White Walkers could think that. Compared to the Night King, Cersei seemed like a spoilt little girl who just wanted to draw attention to herself with her crazy actions.

There were other rumours, too. Euryon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Islands, had become so loose that he was already plundering the Tyrell lands. That the people of the Riverlands had risen up against the Freys, and they had locked themselves away in the Twins, realising they were alone without the Lannisters. It was said that the Vale had bowed to the Mother of Dragons and was now supplying provisions for the Queen's army. And recently Sansa had heard a rumour that Tyrion Lannister had resigned as Hand after falling out with Daenerys. What the Imp had disagreed with the Queen, no one knew.

And none of them seemed to notice the coming of winter, which was rapidly moving southwards. None of them cared that death was coming from the north and would devour them all. The Night King did not care who sat on the Iron Throne, who was on whose side, or who had sworn an oath to whom. He would not rest until the whole world was one snowy, lifeless wasteland.

- What do you hope to see in the fire, Lady Sansa? - The girl jumped in surprise and turned round to see the Red Priestess. - Are you trying to see past, present, or future in the flames?

- I don't want to see anything,' Sansa replied, turning away. - I'm just looking into the fire.

- Hope has left you,' Melisandre didn't ask.

- The walkers are getting closer and there is nowhere else to retreat,' Stark replied. - The Southerners have ignored all our calls for help, and even our agreement to bow to the Mother of Dragons in exchange for aid has not been answered. There has been no word from Jon, and Bran no longer sees him. So yes, hope has left me.

- As long as Azor Ahai lives, so does hope,' the priestess replied. - I believe Jon Stark will fulfil his mission and bring eternal summer to Westeros. I know it's hard to believe in the current climate, but sometimes faith is the only thing that keeps us going. The King of the North has proven to everyone that he is capable of unimaginable deeds, so why shouldn't you believe he's capable of more?

- We don't even know if Jon is alive. We don't know where he's going or why. We don't know anything!

- Sometimes the truth brings us no comfort, but only more worry and pain,' Melisandre smiled sadly. - I, too, no longer see the King of the North in flames, for he has gone to lands where Rglór has no power. I do not know what horrors he has endured, or will endure, or what hardships await him there. And I fear to know the answers to these questions, for they terrify me, but there is no doubt that for our victory, Jon Stark will pay the ultimate price, for there is no victory without sacrifice.

What Sansa wanted to say, no one knew, for at that moment the bells rang, and in their ringing only a deaf man could fail to hear the horror and doom. Under the cover of the blizzard, the Wych army approached the walls of the Old Castle. There was nowhere to retreat.

Sansa could see that the Locke family castle was surrounded on almost all sides, but it was impossible to see the size of the enemy army in the blizzard. How much of the dead army had approached the castle walls? Did Barrowton with its surrounding castles still stand in its place? Or perhaps the White Walkers had already captured the Cailin Moat and invaded the Riverlands? What did it matter, really?

Sansa realised that today would be her last.

***

- How dare he! - No one could count the number of days Daenerys raged, but if anyone mentioned Tyrion Lannister in her presence, the queen would lose her temper. - I did him a great honour, and he didn't just throw that damned brooch at my feet!

- Lord Tyrion took your refusal to help the Northmen too badly,' Varys explained once more. There was no one else in the Small Hall but the two of them. - He had always felt... sympathy for them, if I may say so. Besides, he had taken their troubles too personally.

- So much so that he believed the nonsense they told him,' Targaryen snorted contemptuously. - The dead, indeed.

- But you believed what he said about your nephew,' Varys observed, noting the queen's flinch. Yes, the story of Eddard Stark's bastard's true origins had made an impression on her. To everyone's amazement, Daenerys believed its veracity at once and demanded no proof. Perhaps it was because she had believed it when the eunuch had told her his assumptions. - Maybe that's why you don't want to help the Northmen. Are you afraid that Jon Stark, or rather Targaryen, might be alive to challenge your claim to the throne?

- No more nonsense, Lord Varys,' the queen said, but the Spider was staring into her face.

- Then, Your Grace, I do not understand why you ignored the pleas for help that Sansa Stark sent you. She was ready to bow before you, to swear fealty, but you remained silent. Why didn't you?

- Because I intend to teach the Northmen a lesson,' came the reply. - I don't know who they really fight or what they believe, but I do know that if you leave a child's transgression unpunished, one day he will want to do it again. The Northmen have abandoned their oaths to House Targaryen, and so before they can say their oaths again, they will have to pay for it. Only then will the lesson be learnt.

- Your Grace, have you ever considered the possibility that Lord Tyrion might be right? And in the end, there would be no one left to learn your lesson?

Did Varys' words achieve their purpose? Of course they did. Daenerys had thought more than once that the disgraced Lannister might be right, which meant a threat of unimaginable proportions was looming. Except no one believed it. Olenna Tyrell snorted scornfully, the Greyjoys smirked, the Dothraki simply laughed. Only Lord Jon Royce, who came from the Vale on behalf of Robert Arryn, kept a stony expression on his face.

Yes, Daenerys herself had seen many things. Things that were simply impossible to explain, most notably her children, who were now in the Dragon's Den. She remembered the magic of the blue-haired sorcerers from the House of the Immortals. But she couldn't bring herself to believe in the hordes of dead men and monsters that parents used to scare naughty children. It was hard to understand what the Northerners were trying to achieve by telling their fictions about the White Walkers, but the queen was not foolish enough to believe the tales.

No one asked for the Lannisters' opinion on Casterly Rock. The Kingslayer was lucky enough to still be alive, and Tyrion had infuriated the queen too much to pay attention to his thoughts. Daenerys was used to ruling on her own when the Imp, the Spider, the Tyrells and the Greyjoys weren't around. Jorah Mormont had been at her side before, but her loyal knight had disappeared, and the queen didn't even know if he was still alive. Well, she had made her decision, and no one would change her mind.

The Queen will teach the Northmen a lesson, and it had better be good for them, because next time it will be much harsher.

***

Hordes of wychs were climbing the walls, and Sansa could only stare at them. She knew that her death was at hand, and then she would be a soldier in an army of the dead that would carry death further until it filled the world. The girl no longer believed in miraculous salvation, and only one thought gave her a hint of joy - her torment would soon be over, while for others it was just beginning.

Perhaps the Starks should have made an alliance with the Tyrells when Margaery had come to Winterfell and urged Sansa to heed her words. Perhaps they should have accepted Tyrion Lannister's offer instead of yelling at him like a madwoman. But what good would it do them? In Sansa's opinion, nothing. On the contrary, the White Walkers' armies would have grown even faster, and they would have overrun the North by now. The Northerners would have just managed to delay the inevitable end, but the result would have been the same.

- This is the end,' came a calm voice, and the carriage in which Bran was sitting stopped beside Sansa. - No matter how many times we ran and hid, we always knew we could not escape our fate. Do you think, sister, that our ancestors have already come out of the crypt to do away with us?

- Maybe,' Sansa shrugged. The White Walkers were picking up all the dead they could find. It's unlikely they missed the Winterfell crypt. Lyanna Stark and Eddard Stark might well have been among the troops storming the Old Castle. The walkers didn't care much about who to raise or who to throw into battle.

The Wychs had already climbed the walls and slaughtered anyone who resisted or simply tried to escape. The supplies of dragon glass had long since run out, and people had to fight off the dead with ordinary weapons, which they ignored completely. Fire did not take them either, for the strong wind instantly extinguished it, preventing it from burning properly and gnawing into dead flesh.

Despair hung over the castle, even the bravest and most reckless of the soldiers realised that their fate was sealed and there was no hope for salvation. It was possible to lock themselves in the inner fortress, but then they would be trapped forever, and the Vihtas would sooner or later break through, killing the unfortunates.

A mighty, angry roar sounded in the sky, and then something happened that no one could believe at first. From the heavens came the Shout:

- Yol! Toor! Shul!

A pillar of fire rained down on the ranks of the dead, leaving only ashes behind. The cry was repeated over and over again, and the unbearably hot flames cut through the blizzard, instilling both terror and unimaginable delight in the hearts of the defenders of the Old Castle. Those of them who had participated in the Battle of the Bastards remembered for the rest of their lives exactly how Jon Snow turned his enemies into charred heads.

- Lok! Vah! Koor!

The wind died instantly, the snow stopped falling, and the heavy clouds began to part, driven by an alien will that left them no chance. For the first time in a long time, the heavens cleared, revealing to the amazed people a night sky studded with stars. The vault shimmered with a glow that took Sansa's breath away. But then something flashed in the sky, a black shadow that for a moment obscured the stars with its huge body. There was a flap of powerful wings, a strong gust of wind almost blew people off the walls, and one of the castle towers shook to its very foundations as a dragon landed on it.

Its head was adorned with four forward-curving horns, two on each side of its skull. Its huge maw was studded with sharp teeth, and spikes were visible along its spine. The dragon's body was a strange dark green colour, its hide was rotten in many places, and its wings had gaps in their membranes, which obviously did not prevent it from flying. The giant monster itself looked like a dead man, except that its eyes glowed not with blue fire, but with intelligence and ancient wisdom incomprehensible to mere mortals.

The dragon spread his huge wings, emitting a loud roar, and at the same moment the air around him flashed with a bright light, in which the blue flame was clearly visible, and the whirlwinds caught in it immediately flared up and decayed before his eyes, turning into ashes. But that was not enough for the dragon, and he let out a loud roar. In flashes of unearthly flame, black skeletons appeared before the stunned men, clutching swords, shields, and bows. Obeying the one who had summoned them, the skeletons moved towards the Viht, slashing one by one.

Very soon the Wychs were pushed back from the walls, and for every skeleton that disappeared in purple flashes, five new ones appeared, and soon it became clear that this was not the limit. The bony army was advancing rapidly, and before the astonished people appeared the battle of two armies of the dead.

As the dragon looked around, it suddenly soared into the sky and then swooped down, grabbing someone with its sharp claws. To the most observant of the men, it seemed that the captured victim had long snow-white hair, but whether this was true remained unknown. Perhaps the soldiers were just wishful thinking. Meanwhile, the dragon, having regained altitude, suddenly disappeared in the purple flames along with its prey, followed by the black skeletons, leaving only strange puddles of black viscous slime. Weapons were lying around. The people watched in amazement as the remaining wychs crumbled to dust, as if the power that had kept them alive had suddenly disappeared.

Silence hung over the castle, the frost crackled, and a few brave men climbed the tower where the dragon who had commanded the astonishing battle sat. Even from a distance, Sansa could hear the shouts of amazement that escaped the throats of the soldiers, which quickly spread everywhere. A few minutes later, two soldiers held up the long black cloak of a brother of the Night's Watch to the astonished Starks.

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