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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,539Kudos:6,021Bookmarks:1,661Hits:467,442
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 61: EASTWATCH
Chapter Text
Eastwatch-by-the-Sea was always covered in a slick combination of sea salt and ice.
Rogar seemed to spend most of his time scraping the stairs and poking at the snow building upon the rooftops of the ragged buildings of the castle. He, like many of the more new recruits, would devote most of their daylight hours in chores and maintenance of the castle. Still, Rogar felt scraping off ice from steps was a better task than mucking out the mule stables as Petyr was on his third month of punishment duty for.
It was still better than having to act as a servant to nobles, trying to act as if he cared for the nobility in the freezing air of the Wall despite the various rumours and tales passing trader vessels would bring with them when moored in their docks. Still, he preferred those wild stories over having a king and queen hunkered within the walls of Eastwatch.
Rogar was more than happy to see that cold old hag Selyse Florent leave with her retinue, following after her husband. All that woman had done was complain and thrown fits over the lack of grandeur in the castle, with Cotter Pyke not at all impressed with the self proclaimed queen. His dismissive attitude further enraged the queen, even if secretly Rogar enjoyed hearing him berate and disrespect her despite her offended huffing and puffing. The Wall was their king and queen, those who wore the black. Not some sour faced woman who demanded Rogar try and find a musician for her court while he had been cleaning out the rat traps.
Then he heard that at Castle Black she had been burned alive by her lord husband's own zealot red witch and could only laugh.
Rogar had absolutely no love for nobles; he had lived an easy enough life at Goldgrass, until he had been accused of poisoning one of the horses of House Stout. Rogar had attempted to point out it had been the dimwitted daughter of Lord Harwood that had fed the horse nightshade, idiotic enough she mistook them for blueberries. The noble daughter took offense and cried to her father, when Rogar pointed out her fool actions had killed the prized palfrey. Unfortunately that accusation had been bolstered by one of the stable hands, who then told the lord that Rogar had been the one behind stealing horseshoes and bridles to sell to passing wagons.
Which Rogar had in fact been doing, but it was a far crime from killing an expensive prized horse like the moron daughter had done. Still, it was either lose both hands or take the black and he chose the Wall. He didn't even know why they offered the first option as it was a death either way especially for someone poor and orphaned like himself. The Starks did love their overdone punishments and then speak of honour as if that had saved any of them in the end.
He never forgot what sent him to the freezing edge of the world and had been gleeful when hearing of the Boltons and the Red Wedding. Hoping that the mad dog Ramsay Snow had flayed Lord Harwood and raped his fool of a daughter to death, something Rogar would pray for in the sept of Eastwatch. Not that he really believed in the Seven, especially at such a cold dark place like the Wall.
And considering the stories his black brothers would tell of what lurked beyond in the Lands of Always Winter.
His first months at Eastwatch he had dismissed Cotter Pyke's talks about the White Walkers as boredom. As some mad tale to frighten the new recruits despite the complete lack of humour the others at the Wall exhibited when Pyke went upon one of his rants. But as months stretched to years it began to grow from tales to fact, especially when Lord Commander Jeor Mormont was lost during the great ranging. Rogar had not been present even as Castle Black mustered a third of the entire Watch's strength.
These were experienced men, tough men. Men who had lived through the freezing snow, sleet and wind of the Wall and still carried on. As much as many were rapers, murderers, cutthroats and thieves, they still knew the Land of Always Winter in their watch. So when they received word that only thirty returned from the great ranging, the majority lost in the catastrophic battle of the Fist against the Others and their wights, there had been no laughter, no jeers, when Maester Harmune had read out the letter. The mutiny was a further loss, but that was against the surviving dregs when the White Walkers had shattered the majority.
Of course it wasn't just the Others beyond the Wall that yearned for their deaths, the great army of wildlings at the back of Mance Rayder were waiting to swarm the Wall and kill them all.
Rogar didn't think much of Stannis Baratheon, when he arrived from his complete failure of a campaign against King's Landing, but he would admit the would-be-king's aid was invaluable in repelling the wildlings during the battle beneath the Wall as he answered Castle Black's call for aid swiftly even if he left his wife Selyse Florent and daughter Shireen behind with a small retinue with Cotter Pyke leading the army through hidden paths to ambush the wildlings. Rogar was one of the few left behind at Eastwatch, and had the miserable task of dealing with them. At the very least the tattooed fool could be entertaining, while the queen was as warm as the Wall.
Queen Selyse was an ugly woman, certainly not one Rogar would think of as a queen, with pinched unfriendly features that reminded him of a rat. Her daughter was just as ugly, a plain-faced thing with scarring. He had to wonder if the rest of House Florent was as ugly as those two, and that was why Aegon the Conqueror chose House Tyrell over them all those centuries ago. That he could understand. If a woman had any purpose in life it was to be beautiful, especially a queen and princess as for all of Cersei's faults none could ever speak against her beauty as fitting for a queen.
Rogar, and many other men at Eastwatch, rapidly grew tired of Queen Selyse's demands and her sour demeanor. One would think she was living decadent in the Reach instead of the frozen Wall with how she was complaining. Even the feast thrown for Salladhor Saan barely eased the complaints, not that Cotter Pyke ever once disciplined them over it. Davos Seaworth was a good sort, though. One who understood their disinterest and acted well as a bridge between the two groups.
Needless to say he was the only one missed when he left with Salladhor toward White Harbor and it was the queen left behind. None were sad to see her leave with her retinue, when she left for Castle Black with her men and ladies. Pyke was more annoyed with how much they had eaten in their stay.
"Same thing at Castle Black," the man had said in disgust, after returning from the election of the new Lord Commander. "Stannis and his army are eating into years of rations, useless mouths that sit fat and stupid. Fool should have marched to Winterfell soon after the battle beneath the Wall was done. Now the snow is starting to set in, the idiot lost his chance for an easier ride."
Rogar didn't really care. Being by the sea it was easier for them to fetch seal meat and fish. Still, he knew enough to not speak about it over supper when the discussion settled upon replenishing their depleted larders. They were close to Skagos, and if need be they could cut down trees beyond the Wall and sell the wood to Braavos. The merchant city was ever hungry for wood.
They had also been given wildlings to help man Eastwatch due to their depleted numbers at the Lord Commander's behest. Through threats and bartering, an uneasy truce had been brokered between the Watch and the wildlings.
Rogar had no idea what madness had possessed Lord Commander Jon Snow for allow those savages beyond the Wall after only months of a battle, but he had to admit they knew how to hunt in the freezing forest northward. As agitated as Cotter had been, the man's tongue-lashings to the wildlings had ebbed somewhat when they consistently returned with white-furred rabbits, foxes and shot down crows from beyond the Wall for the depleted food stores. The lack of complaining upon the wildlings own behalf also helped, even if Rogar never let his guard down around them.
Cotter Pyke only voiced one private speech to the brothers in black when the pack of wildling arrived to bolster them, and that was to simply treat the wildlings as they would one another.
"Long as they doing what needs to be done I want no whining, even if I want nothing more than to hang them from the Wall. But we got the order to put them to use," the man said, his close-set eyes roaming over them. "Fletching arrows, milking goats, gathering firewood, mucking out our stable, shoveling snow, cutting the ice, hunting for food. Long as they earn their keep they can remain as even if this lot is not enough to keep things intact. They may not have taken oaths but they agreed to the Lord Commander's offer that for their spears, arrows and swords defending the Wall they will gain shelter and food in return. And as for the spearwives- I know some of you are rapers so let me warn you, these wildling women are not helpless. They won't sob and plea if you try and force yourself upon them. They have knives they know how to use and I won't weep over any of you fools who try to take one instead of doing your chores here. Instead you'll be burnt so you don't return as a wight and that'll be the end of it."
An uneasy peace was settled between the two factions, beyond some nasty words brandied about on occasion. Eastwatch was, after all, known to barter with wildlings beyond the Wall from time to time so they had somewhat an easier time with it. Least the handful of women, spearwives as they were called, did not whine and pout like Queen Selyse and her court of twittering ladies had done so as they lounged about doing nothing. The wildling women simply behaved like men in serving the keep and hunting for food, which Rogar did approve of even if he kept his distance from them. Women were like bad-tempered mares, always willing to lash out without warning if the mood struck them. But the Lord Commander's words that 'food was for fighters' had spread, and so as long as the wildlings continued to serve even without taking the black they would be fed. They knew starvation, knew the cold shadows and their blue eyes and corpse army, so the wildlings grumbled but did what they had to in order to survive like they'd always done. They may not like one another, but the Others were looming over them all just as the Wall did so.
Then Cotter Pyke was to head to Hardhome, as ordered by the Lord Commander himself as Maester Aemon told when he arrived with his small group. Words and plans made, and when the maester left for Oldtown Cotter Pyke left northward. Ser Glendon Hewett was left in charge, and received word that mammoths and giants were heading for Eastwatch. Too large for the tunnels at Castle Black and would need to be ferried around the edge of the Wall.
"Mammoth milk and cheese can last months, even years and one can live off it alone for just as long," one of the wildlings said during supper, even if the dinning room was largely divided between the two groups. "And when they get a good brush you gain bushels of the stuff, the wool is the warmest thing north."
"I was moreso thinking the meat," one of the black brother's had said.
"Would be wise not to say that near the giants. They see the mammoths as family and woe to those who try to hunt one. Only if one falls from age or injury should you risk it."
Then they got word of the Lord Commander Jon Snow being killed and then returning and killing those who killed him before taking his wildling army south, chasing after Stannis. Disjointed and scattered, it left everyone confused at Eastwatch. Even the wildlings stationed with them did not seem to know what to do with the news either.
"If the Lord Commander is dead, does there need to be another vote?" someone asked.
"He ain't dead, isn't he? So perhaps he keeps that," another said.
"He left the Wall, forsook his vows. Would wager the Northerners will chop off his head."
"I didn't vote for no magick'd corpse."
"Could be the Walkers," another man suggested. "Trying to attack the Watch from the inside, that frozen spells of theirs."
"Different from the Other's icy touch," a wildling said then. "The wights don't speak, much less lead. Dead slaves, they be. What happened to your commander ain't what happened beyond the Wall. That red woman."
"That forsaken witch? Who burned her own queen without a falter."
The rumours were confusing and even with Glendon Hewett sending back ravens to Castle Black it was difficult to gain more clarity about what had occurred. A lot of dying apparently, especially since Tormund Giantsbane and the wildling princess Val still firmly supporting Jon Snow despite his apparent death. Both voices had immense weight with the wildlings, and the fighting and mutinies had been swiftly dealt with.
"I don't even know what to believe at this point, it would seem everyone is returning from the grave," Rogar complained, when not even seven days later they got word House Bolton had been destroyed, Winterfell retaken and somehow Rickon Stark was alive same as Sansa Stark. Or Sansa Lannister. Or Sansa Bolton. The letter didn't seem to know which since apparently the Sansa at Winterfell wasn't the correct one or something. He didn't understand, even with him loudly complaining about it as the cook gossiped.
It also came with the news that King's Landing had fallen to Aegon Targaryen, the once thought long dead son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia, with his three dragons and the Golden Company. The Mad Queen Cersei dead to much acclaim, after her actions with the Sept of Baelor.
"It seems many people who are dead are now not," Petyr agreed with him. The once cut-purse was passing along a card deck in nimble hands, thin features pinched, as they sat at the tables.
"But I thought it was the Targaryen girl in the east who had the dragons. Isn't that what Mulder said?"
"Seems there's more of them then. Perhaps the gods did hear our prayers. Wonder how the wights and Others would fare against dragonfire. Would be such a sight."
"If the new king would believe us about the White Walkers, much less some dragon woman within Essos. Most would just think us mad," Rogar argued to which Petyr just shrugged.
Time passed, and Cotter Pyke had not returned. Even with how treacherous the sea was in the brewing seas they should have gotten at least one vessel in return. Instead dead great squids washed against the shores of Eastwatch, their bodies rotted just like the seals and fish. Ser Glendon ordered the fishing vessels to go further, out near Skagos even as the mammoths and giants finally arrived. Two hundred giants, a handful of wildlings, and eighty great hairy mammoths.
Ser Glendon had been organizing the tedious process of bringing the giants and mammoths around the end of the Wall when the ships bearing the Empress of the East's flag appeared. Only one went to the harbour of Eastwatch with the other vessels continuing northward, further into the Shivering Sea.
Rogar was taken to the docks along with the other able hands of the castle, while the majority of the wildlings had been aiding the giants. Most still knew the Old Tongue so it was far easier to have them speak to the giants. Ser Glendon meanwhile greeted the new vessel; it was immense, towering over even the galleys that would usually be docked. The flag at the mast resembled that of House Targaryens herald, but the dragon was spitting forks of golden lightning instead of fire with gold edgings between the black and red. At each corner were flickering gold flames. A man greeted Ser Glendon, one with a kraken upon his armour. Most of the other sailors looked to be a variety of Essosi; some Summer Islanders, other with pale hair of Lys, one with brindled skin.
As they heard, the ship's cargo was an act of goodwill and friendship from the Empress of Essos to the Night's Watch. How and why she knew of the Others Rogar had no idea but like all the other brothers in black it was welcomed eagerly into the castle.
A large portion of the food was intended for long storage; an immense variety of salted and dried meats of beef, sheep, cheval and venison, hard bread and marching biscuits, wheels of cheese as large as wagon wheels, pickled vegetables and candied fruits, barrels of wine, ale, juices and flavoured water. Huge crates of fruit such as lemons, to help fend off sickness, along with a small herd of speckled goats with thick shaggy coats accompanied by barrels of grain and hay. But there was also wool and pelts, blankets of horsehide and great cat furs along with enough jackets, robes, hoods, cloaks and thick leather shoes to clothe the men of Eastwatch several times over. The weapons and armour were in plain steel, but without rust or dents. A variable luxury for the much exhausted Watch.
There had also been a red priestess accompanying the ship, a woman with pale skin and hair a dark red like rich wine with shrewd green eyes who began to speak with Ser Glendon at the captain's side even as the Watch began the slow task of unloading the vessel. Even with so many additional hands, including the crew helping them, it took them an entire day.
"I know what they say about the empress and how she eats newborn babes whilst feeds children to her dragon, but if she keeps giving us such gifts I will welcome her with open arms," Rogar japed to Petyr as they rolled the barrels down into the frozen cellar beneath the keep.
"Will you not stay for the night, my lady?" Ser Glendon was asking, as Rogar went to help with the remainder of the load.
"No, I have business at Castle Black," Rogar heard the priestess say as he helped push another barrel onto the mule-pulled wagon. "I need to meet with my sister, Melisandre, post haste. I am sure she has much to tell me. The captain is more than capable of speaking to you further, but Her Imperial Highness knows the dangers the men of the Wall face and hopes these gifts will aid you for the night is dark and full of terrors."
Rogar wasn't the only one blatantly eavesdropping, with many others working as quietly as they could.
"I am sure Cotter Pyke will be pleased with aid, most of his ships have been destroyed in the storms and the Others have been picking away at them from their bracing at Hardhome. I know Tormund Giantsbane was sent across land to support them. I am unsure if they have succeeded as they have no more ravens and we have not seen a glimpse of any vessel for many days."
"Some live. Not all, but enough. The white shadows enjoy playing with their food, they are timeless creatures and are patient. They feed off the terror. But the fires have shown me your companions yet live, hacking down the trees to use flame to keep those cold blooded at bay. The ships will return them to you, those that remain. But as for me, I must speak to Melisandre of Asshai and be gone of this place."
"Of course, my lady. You are free to take one of the mules, the boy can take you to the stable. They are slow but surefooted, even in the ice and snow."
The woman thanked him and then followed after the boy in a swirl of thick crimson robes. She was frightful and beautiful, another witch. Rogar had to wonder if she was going to burn the other one that had remained at Castle Black, since even at Eastwatch they knew Melisandre had been Stannis's queen, not Selyse. Then he nearly got a hand crushed beneath a barrel of pickles and quickly focused back upon the task at hand.
By the time the ship was unloaded, the giants and mammoths were as well, with the priestess already being swallowed by the snow as she headed eastward towards Castle Black. Rogar looked at the flag upon the moored ship as he stretched his back, thinking again of the strange Empress of the East. Rumours to be entertained by, but hardly ones that appeared from the sea to abruptly give a holds worth of food and supplies for as a show of faith in tales of the Others. He could only hope the king would be as wise, would know that the Wall wasn't just built to ward against men. Still, those were thoughts and worries for the like of Ser Glendon Hewett and so Rogar only gave it some thought before it was time for his watch upon the Wall.
High above the air was cold enough to stab at his lungs if he inhaled too deep. Rogar tucked his furred cloak in close, wishing he had been allowed to take the great bear skin cloak he had seen in the hold. Now high above on the wall, in the rickety watch post where five others were already in place amongst the ancient catapults, cranes, trebuchets, and scorpions, Rogar felt the chill deep in his bones. The sky was clear even as night fell, the torches glowing gold and orange and sending rippling shapes across the blue of the Wall. High above the stars were bare and the moon a sharp sickle even if Rogar kept thinking he saw shimmers of green high above. The cold was getting to him, like it got to everyone.
At one point the other five were swapped over for the next shift and Rogar accepted the cup of nettle tea that was brought up with one of the new watch, nodding in thanks to his brother. Four in black, two in furs of polar bears of wildlings. None of them spoke to one another, instead doing the usual patrol upon the Wall. Boring work but needing to be done even if the far-eye had to be treated warily as it was routinely passed about. He had heard horror stories of the lens sticking to an eye and having to be peeled off due to the cold.
Down below the once great tracks of the giants and mammoths were being filled in with fresh snow, even if the current fall was gentle and sporadic as clouds briefly slid over head. Rogar shuffled closer to the nearest torch, letting the feeble warmth wash over him as he held his cup close. He hoped Cotter and the others could be returned. He heard reinforcements from Braavos had been sent before the mutiny upon the Lord Commander's behalf, but they never returned either. Hopefully the vessels of the empress would finally bring them back. The ones that remained at least.
Dragons, dragons. He really hoped he could see one someday. As much as he loathed nobles, at the least the Targaryens had dragons which is why they ruled over them all. Some exotic wild beast more fit for a tale, which could burn down entire castles in a single day. They could do with a Black Dread at the Wall, if only to warm the frigid air.
"There," the voice was quiet, but held a sharpness to it that made Rogar jolt, instinctively reaching for the bow leading against the barricade before him.
"What is it?" another asked. Both wildlings as they leaned close to one another, the man trying to see what had agitated the other.
"A white shadow. Down, down by that cluster of trees. Just before that jut of rock. See? It is looking at us."
The first speaker, a spearwife with tense features and partially cut nose from frostbite, pointed with a gloved hand down below. Years of chopping had cut back the forest which had once grew flush against the Wall, now it stretched back half a mile. A lonely field of white.
"They didn't attack the giants so why would it be here?" one of his brothers said, like the rest trying to find whatever the woman had spotted.
Rogar shuddered, taking another gulp of his lukewarm tea until there was not a drop left in his cup.
"Tracked them," the second wildling replied, voice grim. "No doubt tracking the castles along the Wall as well, those with people, fresh bodies and hot blood. It followed them here. Followed them to us."
"I don't see-" Rogar began before a flicker of blue made him fall silent. Like gemstones, stark against the gleaming white of the snow and the bare black bark of the trees. Barest pinpricks. Farther back so all he could see was the flicker, like a distant torch. First so unnoticeable but now he could witness nothing else but that cold stare as if bewitched.
A ghost down below, eyes as bright as sapphires. A white shadow. Watching them just as they watched it.
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