Chapter 20:
Robb:
“Bloody hell that’s tall.”
Theon’s words felt like they’d been ripped right out of Robb Stark’s mouth.
The Wall loomed across the length and breadth of the Horizon like the end of the world itself.
But it wasn’t the end of the world.
And Marianne was being taken beyond it, to the lands of snow, ice and monsters
But Grey-wind kept sniffing, telling him this way.
He trusted his wolf.
“Come on.” He urged the men forward, He knew he was practically killing their horses with the pace he set, but gods damn it they could rest when they reached the Rimegate.
He hoped and prayed that the Night’s Watchmen had caught the Wildlings, that he’d arrive at one of the nine castles still manned by the Black brothers and that they would have good tidings to welcome him.
And even as he hoped he tried to temper that hope with the cold knowledge of reality.
The Nights watch was a diminished thing.
Of the nineteen fortresses that lined the wall, only nine were fully manned, and if Wildlings could slip past to raid south of it, they had a way to get back to the other side as well.
And even if they had searched, how many men could they truly spare on such short notice? Those in the south might scoff and titter about ‘Grumpkins and Snarks’ past the wall, but the men here did fight Monsters. With Beorns, Griffons, Pegasi and other creatures of magic still living in the world, the lands of always Winter were different only in how terrible their monsters were.
Skin-Wolves, giants, great, towering Muma beasts that in enough numbers the King beyond the Wall nearly three hundred years ago had threatened to use to tear down the Wall itself.
No. The Night’s watch did not just face ‘Grumpkins and Snarks’ and so he knew their numbers for a search, however important the hostage would be few.
And if Marriane were beyond the wall…
He shook his head, it did not bear thinking about.
“Oi, Robb.” He heard Theon’s shout, bringing his attention back to look at the Greyjoy who pointed towards the east.
Robb followed the gesture, squinting as he looked off in the distance, it must’ve been at least a league and a half away, another column of riders along the distant eastern path, he could just spy the color of the banner; pink, held up on a tall pole by the lead rider.
Bolton was here?
The man must’ve rode like the seven hells themselves had been chomping at his heels. Robb could appreciate the effort, if not be worried about how thorough the search could have been at such a breakneck pace.
—
When they reached the Rimegate castle, they were greeted of course by Black brothers.
“Lord Stark?”
Robb did not recognize the one who spoke, it was an older man, not quite a grey-beard but not entirely far off, thin, wiry with muscle, the lines on his face were carved deep from years of hard living. “Aye.” Robb answered as he dismounted. “Who are you, watchman?”
“Qhorin.” The man said; then held up his hand, Robb saw several fingers were missing. “Qhorin half hand they call me. We received your ravens, all the castles did.”
Robb nodded. “And?”
“Had my men patrolling up and down that wall for the past three nights.” He answered, but by the tone and the shake of his head, the conclusion was obvious. “If these wildlings came through here with lady Manderly, we didn’t see them.”
Grey Wind whined and chuffed, almost fidgeting where he sat, as if to say he disagreed.
Theon was staring up at the wall, his face carrying a look of what Robb could only describe as terrified awe.
“Until our patrols or search parties find her south of the wall, we have to assume they did-” He said carefully.
Luckily; Qhorin nodded. ”Aye”
There was a commotion, clops and claps of horse hooves marching and right behind them, the Bolton party rode into the courtyard of Rimegate.
“My Lord Stark.” Hubert Bolton sat atop his black steed like a gargoyle, his pale eyes taking in the surrounding black brothers. “No sign?”
Robb shook his head.
“My lords, let's take this conversation inside.” Qhorin offered. “It’s warmer.”
—
Minutes later, he, lord Bolton and Theon were escorted into what he assumed was Qhorin’s solar. The inside was indeed ‘warmer’ for all that Robb still felt like he wouldn’t dare risk taking off any of his layers of furs, or even his coat.
Qhorin threw a log in the guttering, half dead fire, almost absentmindedly. There were reams of parchment on his desk with scratching lines of ink that might have been writing were it at all legible.
“First off-” The black brother held up a thin roll of said parchment, which must’ve been a recent missive, Robb could just spy the seal of castle Black. “Might please ya ta know my lords, the Royal party has sent their own men to search as well; bout, two hundred if people are counting right.”
“I’m aware.” Robb nodded. “A rider practically killed his horse to reach us from Winterfell. It’s Prince Dimitri leading them from what the messenger said.”
“Not Lord Stark?” Hubert asked.
“King probably bitched and forced him to keep headin south.” Theon opined. “Hmm.” Hubert nodded. “Two hundred men is a sizable force, but still we can only hope they thought to bring their own provisions.”
“Aye.” Qhorin nodded again. “We don't have much food here, two hundred extra mouths to feed wouldn’t go over well.”
“How far behind us are they?” Hubert asked.
“Hard to say.” Qhorin shrugged. “Could be a day, could be a week. It depends on how hard the Southerners are willing to push their horses.”
“If my father is with them he’ll be riding hard.” Robb assured. “He loves Marianne as we all do in our household. He’ll wish to see her safe.”
“Understood.” Hubert nodded,
Qhorin then leaned over his desk. “Still, let's re-focus. We need to act as though your Lady Manderly’s come through here aye?”
“Anywhere between Eastwatch and Woodswatch.” Robb confirmed.
Qhorin reached down into his desk, pulling open a drawer before he pulled free a large, thick map and laid it out across his desk, scattering dozens of the missives and messages across the floor as he laid it across.
“The Haunted Forest lies to the north of us.” He said, Robb and Hubert marching over to peer at the map. “From here, with the men we’ve got, supplies… hmmm” The Ranger thought. “Best pray they took her there, cause if they crossed the Antler river instead there’ll be no finding her.”
The man seemed to be talking mostly to himself, so Robb cut in, drawing his attention back. “Where!?”
Qhorin looked up, staring him dead in the eye.
“Hardhome.”
“That’s a settlement?” Robb asked. He knew little of the lands North of the wall.
He’d never had a need to learn.
Now, he was regretting that oversight.
Qhorin nodded, “One of the largest the Free-folk ever made. If they’re going anywhere on this side of the lands, it’ll be-”
An alarm began to ring, a great loud clattering of the bell as the crier shrieked, loud enough to wake the dead.
“RIDER APPROACHING! RIDER APPROACHING!”
Robb looked to Qhorin, and then to Hubert, both men shaking their heads in the negative, indicating they had no idea who this might be.
Almost at the same time, all three moved to step outside.
“Who goes there!?” He didn’t hear the answer the watchman received. But when the gates were pulled open and that monstrous, blood red horse marched into the courtyard to the gasps and shock of many of the night brothers, Robb couldn’t help but gawp.
“Lady Byleth!?”
The woman turned that calm, cool gaze up towards him, nodding. “I rode ahead.” She explained, her soft voice barely reaching him as he moved to march down the stairs.
“The King is not far behind you then?” Lord Bolton asked at Robb’s side.
She nodded. “Nightfall.” She said, “They’ll be here.”
—
Leonie:
Getting past the wall was never easy.
It was possible.
But it was never easy.
Whether you went over it, around it or through it there was always a chance you weren’t going to make it back.
The crows, the cold, or even just falling to your death if you tried to go over it were always a possibility.
Take twice as many as you need, was common advice given to all the raiders setting out.
Because getting past the wall both ways, you were bound to lose half your men anyway.
It wasn’t bad advice.
They’d set out with over fifty men, ten groups of five, each one taking their own route past the wall, agreeing to meet up south of ‘The Torches’, the abandoned part of the Crows' fortresses.
It was risky. Too close to eastwatch for her liking.
But it’d been done.
They’d set out with fifty.
Only thirty five had arrived.
And now here she was with just three, and a hostage.
And now they had to make it to the other side.
They lay flat, still in the cold as night fell in the shadow of a copse of bare trees. She could see the glimmering specks of torchfires in the night. Riders in black across the planes, and atop the wall too, crows moving this way and that way.
Dagan was holding the kneeler princess, a knife to her throat, if she screamed, or got them caught, he would kill her. She’d made that abundantly clear.
“Leonie.” Torald whispered as he crawled up next to her. “Any sign.”
“Nothin yet.” She said. “He won't let us down.” She reassured, and she wasn’t sure if it was for him or her.
He nodded, and then slid back over towards Dagan and the Princess.
The sun kept falling. And the cold bit down harder.
She was half buried in snow by the time she heard the crow caw three times just above her.
She looked, and the black bird stared down at her, she hadn’t even heard it when it landed.
But its eyes were milky white and that was enough.
“Come on!” She cried and practically dragged the others from their places.
The four of them ran as quickly and quietly as they could through the vast open space between the small copse of dry, near dead trees and the walls of the Crow's abandoned fortress.
Marching through the Wall by using the passages of the old fortresses was always a risk. Most of them had their tunnels sealed tight with ice and rock, or their gates made completely unusable.
But there was always a gap, something the crows had missed.After all, a thousand years and three hundred leagues- with Crows becoming less and less according to her Da, well. There were bound to be fuckups.
The Torches had one such ‘fuckup’
The wood was practically rotted through from the cold, they reached the wall and hugged it tight, the raven with its milky white eyes flying overhead, keeping watch.
Again, it cawed three times.
Clear.
She reached up, a plank of wood letting her pull it free, creating a gap just large enough for a man to fit through.
She slipped in first. No torches were lit in the interior, the crows hadn’t been through here in at least an hour then- they needed to hurry, before the next patrol passed through.
“Come on.” She hiss- whispered, and the two men forced the princess through, Leonie grabbed hold of the rope binding the woman’s hands, pulling her more forcefully, half to help her rise up through the obstacles, half to get her to hurry the fuck up
She got through, the other two right behind her.
“Seal it up!” She spat. “We might have to use it again-” And the longer the crows didn’t find it the better.
Torald nodded, and turned around to do as she bid, before she pulled the Princess along as she rushed for the tunnel.
It, like most of the tunnels along the “abandoned” fortresses, had been sealed, but the Crows here got lazy, they didn’t seal it with ice, no, they just broke the chains that worked the gate.
The Gate was a slab of raw iron and steel, too heavy for any man to lift.
Luckily, they weren’t waiting for ‘any man.’
They huddled by the gate, in the cold and the dark, the Raven she knew was gone, and soon enough-
There.
With a groaning of steel and cracking shifts of frost and ice, the impossibly heavy door was slowly ever so slowly heaved upwards.
Claws, long as a man’s whole finger peeked out from under the slab of steel, and she could almost hear the strain even as it kept slowly, painfully grinding upwards.
Finally, there was enough room. She handed the rope to Dagan. “Go.” She urged. “Pull her when you’re on the other side.
Dagan dove under the slab, crawling on his belly, the end of the princess’ rope in his hand, and when he got to the other side he began to pull.
She saw the rope go taut, and the Princess pulled back and away, until Torald pressed a knife to her back. “Ey.” He warned. “Go.” His voice echoed and bounced through the icy tunnel, she saw him press the knife harder. “Now.”
The girl then went to her knees, laying down flat on her back and letting the Rope pull her smoothly through the gap.
Then, Leonie heard her scream in fright.
The wildling kissed by fire smiled. She should have gone to the other side, seeing her face would have been funny.
Laying flat the floor was so cold it cut straight through her furs, but she ignored it crawling forward, she was the second one to go through.
And on the other side-
A bear.
A bear that was also a man.
A man that could take the shape of beasts.
One of the last now.
It towered over them. Twice as tall as the tallest man, and almost wide enough to take up the entire tunnel. It grunted, the distorted vocal chords making it sound too much like a bear. The Princess was staring at him, wide eyed and frightened. That unflappable visage vanished completely.
Torald followed right behind her, and as soon as the man was through, The Beast shaper changed back into a man, his strength abandoning the slab of steel and letting it fall with a tremendous bang that could have been heard across the whole world for how loud it was.
The shaper panted and it was a woman.
“Osha?” Leonie gasped. “Where’s-”
The woman that could have been old enough to be her mother shook her head. “Trouble.” She explained. “The others aren’t far but we need to move.”
Leonie nodded, explanations could wait.
Osha looked at the still wide eyed Princess. “This her? The Starkling?”
“Aye.” She nodded.
Osha seemed to look the girl up and down. The Princess for her part, recovered her cold and distant attitude quickly, staring back. Osha didn’t seem to pay it any mind.
“Good, Mance will be pleased.”
—
Dimitri:
They rode into the courtyard of Castle Rime. It was more steel, horse flesh and cracking banners than the castle had seen in centuries at the very least. And already Robb Stark and the Black brother captain were waiting for him.
All the men bowed, falling onto one knee as he dismounted. “Prince Dimitri.” Robb Stark acknowledged.
“At ease.” He practically shouted so as to be heard, breath fogging in the air.
It was so cold.
“Brothers.” Robb said as soon as he stood, offering a quick hug to his baseborn brother Jon and a nod towards Felix. “Didn’t think I’d see either of you again so soon.”
“Not the way I wanted to see you again, that's for sure.” Jon answered sombrely.
“We’ll get her back.” Robb promised.
The Black brother, who by where he stood Dimitri assumed was the captain here, spoke up next. “My Prince. Name’s Qhorin. Come, we’ve discussed the start of a plan for a search.”
“Then let's not waste any more time ser.” He answered.
—
Minutes later, it found the lot of them stuffed into Qhorin’s office in the Castle keep. Himself, Uncle Jamie, Robb Stark, Felix Stark, their two Wolves, Alois, the Greyjoy, the Lady Byleth, Ashe, cousin Lorenz, Lord Connington, Lord Bolton, and lastly Captain Bryce, Captain Martin and Captain Bol; the captains of the Stormland, Lannister and Stark guards that His father, Lady Mother and Lord Stark had sent with them. Qhorin himself had another brother with him, his lead ranger.
Twenty stuffed in a room that could have barely fit ten.
It was practically bursting at the seams.
“I want to make it clear that so far, none of my brothers have reported any signs or sightings of lady Manderly, so it might be that a ranging party beyond the wall can’t find a trail either.
“We have to try.” Robb Stark was the one who spoke and Dimitri agreed.
Qhorin for his part, shrugged. “Just making it clear sirs. Now-” The man leaned forward over a map of what Dimitri assumed were the lands north of the wall. “Safest bet would be to search to the North east, the Wildlings have a settlement by the coast. Hardhome. It’s the only settlement they have this close to the wall. Three days travel through the haunted forest.”
“Unless they guess you’ll go there first and travel in the complete opposite direction.” Felix pointed out.
“Aye, but I can't imagine it’ll be an option they take lightly.” Qhorin said. “They’re dragging a prisoner with them. Someone they want to keep alive. She’s not equipped for the cold here. Nor the beasts and monsters either. If they’re at all smart and really want to bargain with her as a hostage, Hardhome-” He tapped two fingers over the map. “That’s our best shot.”
“We can send various search parties.” Dimitri answered, nodding towards the Direwolves. “We have at least Three Direwolves. If each one travels in a different direction, they can possibly pick up the scent.” They're all familiar with Lady Manderly, yes?”
“Of course.” Robb nodded.
“Then we can split.” Dimitri affirmed. “Three wolves, three directions. One to Hardhome and the others to the North and North west.”
“Might work.” Qhorin acknowledged with a nod. “Cover more ground. How many men? At a glance a hundred or so?”
“Two-” Dimitri said, “-and Lord Stark brought-”
“Fifty.” Robb immediately replied.
“With two hundred and fifty men we can divide them.” Uncle Jamie suddenly cut in. “Two groups of five and seventy, and the last of one hundred. The larger one goes to Hardhome.”
“I have many rangers still out beyond the wall, we’re somewhat undermanned but I can provide three groups with roughly six men to act as guides along with myself.” He passed his eyes over the group. “Will all of the noble-born here be passing through?”
“Of cour-”
Someone cleared their throat.
All eyes rounded on Hubert Bolton.
“Please-” The now Lord of the Dreadfort spoke calmly, cooly, grey eyes passing over the assembled party. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I would indeed suggest that you, Lord Stark, do not venture out with the others.”
Robb Stark’s features darkened. “Lord Bolto-”
The Lord of the dreadfort held up his hands. “I understand your desire my ord but the ultimate goal here is to increase the chances of finding lady Manderly by all possible means. Is it not?”
Robb’s look was still sour but at his silence the Bolton continued.
“Then you would serve better in winterfell.” He said. “Entrust Grey Wind to lord Greyjoy, or even myself if you wish. But word of what’s happened has spread to the other northern houses and no doubt the King will be sending Ravens to Winterfell from every castle he stops through hoping for word to reach them.
“You would have me sit at Winterfell and play messenger!?” Robb spat. “Luwin or even Bran would-”
“They are not the acting Lord Paramount of the north. You are.” He said. “Only you have the authority to call in more levies from Winterfell, only you could, if needed, summon the Banners. Only your word would be trusted south of the neck if news needs to be delivered. Brandon would be seen as too much of a boy, prone to flights of fancy. The Other Lords might not take the threat seriously even in the North unless you or your Father give the command. As such; yes, as distasteful as it might be I do believe where you are most useful is in Winterfell itself. Here, you are just one more sword, from Winterfell, you could bring us a thousand swords in less than a moon’s turn, even more than that if needed.”
He wasn’t wrong, and Dimitri could see the war in Robb’s expression. The logic was sound, but Robb wanted to find Marianne too; he did not want to be called a coward who sat in his castle sending other men to die.
So Dimitri made it simple for him.
“I concur with lord Bolton.” He said, and all eyes rounded on him. “Consider it an order from your crown Prince Lord Stark.” He continued. “Return to Winterfell, summon the levies, facilitate all word from Castle Black and the Wall to the Northern Lords and to my Lord Father in King’s landing.
The war still raged, Robb Stark bowed his head clenched fists trembling at his side. Whatever words he had were stuck in his throat, held back by deference or some other emotion Dimitri couldn’t identify.
“Now.” He looked back to Qhorin and passed his eyes over the room. “How are we dividing ourselves; one Wolf and… their handler-” He said diplomatically, clumsily passing over the rather large “Robb Stark” sized hole now present in this plan. “-is a given.”
“West should be a fast force.” Qhorin declared. “Likely you’ll run into rangers from castle black and others so the faster you move the faster you can gather information from them and what they might’ve seen. Those headin North. “Tracking experts would be best. People who know how to forage and hunt. The Haunted Forest is no place for those who don't know how to live in the woods. To the east… be ready for fighting.”
That made things simpler then.
“Lannisters will go West-” “Heh, ironic in a way.” He said, passing his eyes over the group with him. “Cousin Lorenz, you’re one of the fastest riders here, I trust you to lead them.”
“Theon.” Robb finally spoke, his voice a strangled hiss, sneering at the map. “You go with them, with Grey Wind.”
Either by the seriousness of the moment or the danger in Robb Stark's tone, the Greyjoy remained quiet.
“I trust Stark men in the cold any day.” Dimitri nodded towards Captain Bol, who grinned. “North, into the haunted forest.”
“I’ll go with them.” Felix declared with firm finality. “I know Captain Bol”
“I will lead my men there as well.” Bolton said. “Our hounds are well bred for hunting. They’ll scour the forest for any trace of Lady Marianne’s scent. If it's there, they’ll find it.
“I-I.” Ashe, his squire cleared his throat. “I learned to hunt and live off the land when I lived in the Eyrie, my skills might be useful there.” Dimitri nodded before turning to his uncle Jamie.
“You said the largest force would travel to Hardhome yes?”
His uncle nodded.
“Then I will go with them.” He said. “I’ll march on Hardhome.”
—
Leonie:
The Princess was shivering.
Her lips were blue.
A part of Leonie wished to mock her, to jeer and sneer at the delicate southern flower finally knowing real cold.
But she couldn’t- not really.
Because it was cold.
As if the Wall itself trapped the freezing northern winds in the north, Leonie felt as though she were freezing straight through her furs, Osha had shifted into a bear once more, its t thick fur coat doing better for the cold, even as she handed the Princess a layer of her own human furs to help keep her alive as they moved through the forest.
The winds howled through groaning trees, the sky was black- not a star or speck of light from the world above. They didn’t dare light a torch for fear the crows, so close to the wall might find them and instead relied on Osha’s shifted nose and eyes to navigate.
Leonie clung to the back of the shifted bear that walked on two legs, feeling the heat of the body through her hand and fantasizing about a warm fire and stew that would hopefully be in her future soon.
She’s not sure for how long they walked. How many leagues they crossed through the haunted forest, with its towering trees and dark, long shadows.
She only knows that when the crow cawed three times she could have cried.
There was a sound, the hiss of a snow leopard and just like that, shapes began to move through the shadows.
“Pull them hoods down, let's see yer eyes.”
She reached up, pulling down her hood, revealing that the inhuman blue of them was missing, and came face to face with-
“Da!” She nearly screamed.
Tormund Giantsbane marched forward, red hair almost standing out in the blackness of the night before he swept her up in a great big hug, pulling her up til her feet dangled off the ground. “That’s my girl. Knew you’d make it back.”
“We don’t have time fer this.” Osha, having shifted back, spoke. “The Crows are moving, hounds are catching the scent, and headin this way.”
Tormund looked at the shifter. “Shit, how long before they-”
There was another sound then, accompanied by the rumbling of the earth.
The sound was a low, groaning moan. It echoed through the trees like the wail of a dying man and it made all of them practically shit themselves, even her father as he stared with eyes so wide it was as though he were trying to see the whole world at once.
“Is that-” Someone whispered in fear.
“Muma.” Her father answered. Whispered really, as if afraid his voice alone would call the monster that legend said had once threatened to topple the Wall closer.
“Alive or-”
“This far south… must be dead.”
“Or it ran like we did!”
Before the argument could escalate much farther, her father grabbed hold of his axe, tossed her another set of Furs and took the Princess’ rope in hand.
“I’m not waiting ta find out.”
It was the smartest blasted thing he’d said in years.
They all turned and began running.
—
The lands south of the wall have magical beasts and monsters...
What made you all think the lands North of the Wall wouldn't have their share? ;p