[Castle Black]
It was just another day at Castle Black. Snow fell heavily, covering the main yard and freezing the bones of everyone within the fortress. While the rest of Westeros still enjoyed a few more years of tolerable weather, winter had fully arrived at the Wall, and the men considered themselves lucky if they had something to keep them warm and their stomachs full the next day.
But today, most of the brothers of the Night's Watch were gathered in the yard to receive some unexpected visitors from south of the Wall.
The group of five outsiders wore mismatched armor, ranging from leather to steel plate. One of them, a woman, wore nothing but a dress and walked barefoot, hopping lightly like a child. But what truly drew attention were the four wildlings marching behind their horses in chains, subdued and offering no resistance.
Ser Alliser Thorne waited by the gate, his hood thrown back, and his hands clasped behind his back. He didn't need to turn around to know that half a dozen black-cloaked brothers flanked him, fingers close to their sword hilts.
The newcomers stopped as they crossed the threshold. None bore the colors of any known house, though Alliser hardly cared, heraldry had never been his strength. Still, they all shared one detail: red cloaks snapping in the wind, marked with a dark sigil that was hard to make out.
—We weren't expecting visitors —Ser Alliser said, raising his voice over the wind— Do you have a name?
One of the men at the front stepped forward without haste. He was tall, pale-skinned, with eyes black as night and a presence Alliser instinctively associated with nobility.
—Edward Drakul, Lord Commander —he replied in a neutral but respectful tone— I have come as an emissary of Vlad Drakul.
Leather creaked behind Alliser as someone tightened their grip on a sword hilt, and a brief murmur ran through the line of men at his back.
Ser Alliser could not hide his surprise. After all, that was a name any man in Westeros had learned to fear, whether through tales from Essos or what had happened at the Twins.
—Is this some kind of tasteless joke? —he asked sharply— You claim to be envoys of the Impaler? And why in the seven hells should I let you pass?
Edward sighed, as though dealing with someone particularly slow, but kept his calm tone.
—His Majesty Vlad values the work of the Night's Watch —he said, a hint of sarcasm slipping into his words— He sends us as scouts and envoys, and as a gesture of good faith, ships will arrive in a fortnight bearing supplies, food, and reinforcements.
Alliser blinked, stunned, his mind already racing. If this was true, he could not afford to refuse, there were barely enough provisions left for a few more months.
—And why bring chained wildlings to our gates? —he asked, trying to regain control— Some kind of offering?
The prisoners barely lifted their heads, but one of them, a red-bearded man, snorted in a mix of rage and shame.
—We found them a few leagues south, along with sixty others, raiding villages —Edward replied evenly— This is what remains of them. We decided to take them prisoner.
Alliser turned slowly toward the chained wildlings. Protecting the people south of the Wall was the Watch's duty, and knowing they had attacked those they were sworn to defend filled him with anger.
—Why not spare us the trouble and slit their throats right now? —he asked with contempt, as many behind him nodded.
—Because they are not yours —Edward answered, fixing him with a steady gaze— They are prisoners of His Majesty Vlad Drakul.
Silence spread along the battlements, and several brothers were already bracing for what they assumed would be a simple fight. But, fortunately, someone within those crumbling walls still had a sense of self-preservation.
Jon Snow stepped forward and murmured into Alliser's ear.
He had seen Ygritte among the prisoners; his heart lurched, and he knew he had to act immediately and carefully. If he showed emotion, Alliser would not hesitate to kill her simply to hurt him.
—Lord Commander, it would be unwise to make an enemy of a house so… prominent —Jon whispered cautiously— Especially when they offer support. We can't risk everything over a handful of wildlings.
Alliser listened with the expression of a man personally offended, but he wasn't stupid enough to ignore the truth. And it was undeniable that they needed all the help they could get.
—You may pass —he said at last, as though granting a favor— But the prisoners will go to the cells… though you may see to their well-being yourselves.
With a slight nod, he ordered the gates opened. The mismatched group crossed the threshold.
In the days following Edward Drakul's arrival and that of his companions, the fate of the wildling prisoners became the subject of brief but tense discussions. Ser Alliser insisted they be executed, considering them a threat, while Jon and Maester Aemon argued for keeping them alive, at least until their guests' intentions were better understood.
Edward did not ask permission to retain custody of them; he simply did so, declaring they were the property of his king and not subject to the authority of the Night's Watch. With supplies dwindling and tensions rising by the day, the matter was accepted without further protest. The Night's Watch already had enough enemies beyond the Wall to seek more within its own walls.
It didn't help that some brothers regarded Edward's companions with suspicion or even disdain, especially the two women in the group. Aelia, in particular, seemed to enjoy provoking some of them with childish jokes or speaking without any filter.
Several black brothers mistook that freedom for an invitation, and one of them, Boran, a veteran with half an ear and even fewer manners, cornered the small woman, who barely stood taller than four and a half feet, in the stables at dusk.
The matter did not go far, seconds later, Boran's screams echoed from the south tower, and when he was dragged out, he was bleeding from a broken nose, with five claw marks across his face and his forearm bent at an impossible angle.
And so, without any need for further persuasion, the men of the Night's Watch seemed to understand the importance of consent.
After that, the Watch began treating them with considerably more respect.
A few days later, Jon took over training the new recruits, this time accompanied by Grenn. While the training was far from standardized, Jon at least taught them the basics of fighting wildlings, or so it went until Alliser, who still held a considerable amount of contempt for him, approached to remind him that he was not an instructor, merely a steward.
Obviously, he was trying to provoke him, but Jon was smart enough not to fall into such an obvious trap.
Not long after, a shout from the tower interrupted them.
—The rangers are back!
The gates of Castle Black burst open. Two staggering men, covered in mud and dried blood, crossed the threshold. One of them nearly collapsed, and Jon rushed forward to catch him.
—Help him —he ordered, and Pyp hurried to assist.
—I thought you'd have blue eyes by now —the first man muttered with a half-laugh; he had assumed Jon dead the last time he'd seen him.
—Why did it take you so long? —Jon asked.
—We were delayed.
—By what? By who? —he asked, worried.
—Chains —the man spat, holding up bruised wrists— We were guests of the mutineers at Craster's Keep.
Jon frowned.
—Are the mutineers still there?
—They're not going anywhere. They've got Craster's food. And his wives.
—Poor girls —the other added— Never thought they'd miss their father.
—Karl's in charge now —the first ranger said— He's the one who put a knife through Craster's mouth.
Jon straightened, pale, his jaw clenched.
—We have to ride north and kill them all.
—We discussed this yesterday, boy —Ser Alliser growled— Justice can wait.
—This isn't about justice —Jon replied, turning to the others— I told the wildlings we had a thousand men at Castle Black.
Those present stared at him, tense and wide-eyed.
—Karl and the others know the truth just as well as we do —he continued— How long do you think they'll keep that secret once the wildlings start pulling out their fingernails?
Silence fell.
—Mance has everything he needs to crush us. He just doesn't know it yet. The moment he does, he'll throw his full strength at us. And even if every one of us killed a hundred wildlings… it wouldn't be enough to stop them.
That was when Edward's voice carried across the yard, calm and almost amused.
—I believe we can be of assistance, then —Edward said in his usual composed tone, as his group approached at an unhurried pace, clearly listening in.
All heads turned toward him.
—You lack men, and my group has a mission beyond the Wall. I see no reason why we couldn't solve two problems at once.
Ser Alliser frowned and answered with disdain.
—This is a matter for the Night's Watch. It does not concern you.
Behind Edward, Anna stopped sharpening her rapier. She wasn't mischievous like Aelia, nor sociable like Vayrek or Brask. She had always kept to herself, distant, almost cold, treating the men of the Wall with indifference. But she had grown tired of playing along days ago.
She rose without haste, walked toward Alliser, and stopped directly in front of him, at eye level, without a trace of hesitation on her face.
—I don't think my companion was clear enough —she said in a neutral tone— We have urgent matters beyond the Wall. We leave tomorrow. If you wish to join us to deal with your deserters, you're welcome to do so.
The yard fell silent, unsettled by her sudden intervention. And though Anna stood close to six feet tall, her presence didn't seem to intimidate the black-clad veterans who still saw her as "a woman in armor."
Alliser smirked, making no effort to hide his contempt.
—Know your place, woman. This isn't a brothel or a kitchen. We don't take orders from...
He didn't finish the sentence. Anna grabbed him by the throat with one hand and lifted him off the ground as if he weighed nothing, leaving everyone frozen in shock.
—Anna… —Edward warned.
—Don't start with that, Edward —she replied without turning— I'm sick of your games. This den is full of murderers, rapists, and traitors, you can't deal with them through diplomacy. Give them an inch and they'll take a mile.
Several black brothers had already gone for their swords. Ser Vayrek calmly rested his halberd on his shoulder, Brask pushed himself away from the beam he'd been leaning against, Aelia, meanwhile, bounced excitedly in place, as if waiting for an entertaining show.
Jon stepped in, raising his hands urgently.
—I understand you have your own mission —he said, futilely trying to pry Anna's grip from Alliser's throat— I think the acting Lord Commander could authorize a joint expedition, if you're willing to act as reinforcements.
Anna looked at him with mild amusement, impressed by the boy's ability to find a political way out.
—Is that true, Ser Alliser? —she asked coldly, tightening her grip just a little more.
Alliser's eyes bulged, his face red and swollen. Unable to speak, he nodded weakly as he struggled to breathe.
Anna released him, he dropped to the ground like a sack, gasping, stripped of all dignity.
—We leave at dawn tomorrow —she said flatly.
And, curiously enough, no one in the yard felt the need to argue.
---
Well, guys, first of all I want to apologize for the delay. While for many people the Christmas holidays are a time to relax and rest, for those of us who work with the public they're usually quite the opposite: days with even more work and far less free time. Because of that, I haven't been able to dedicate as much time to writing as I would have liked.
This chapter is simply a preamble to Vlad's arrival in Westeros and will consist of this chapter only. In the next one, the battle will finally begin. Even so, it's necessary to give some time to Jon's arc in the North, especially because Vlad doesn't truly understand the full extent of the White Walkers' power or any hidden traps they might have… but I'll get to that much later.
Even so, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As always, thank you for your patience and support.