The wind howled over the Wall, carrying the screams of all that was unholy from the lands of eternal winter.
From atop the icy ramparts of Greyguard, Qhorin Halfhand narrowed his grey eyes towards the dark mass assembling behind the treeline below. Fires danced as if they were puppets in a mummer's show in the forest shadows, and the warhorns of the free folk sang their grim song, leaving a foreboding feeling in the brothers of the Night's Watch.
"Three thousand, maybe more," muttered Ragmar, a grizzled ranger beside him.
His hand trembled slightly as he lifted a spyglass. The device was gifted to all rangers by the Lord of Avalon, and they had used them with great effect.
"Giants among them, too. Mammoths. And those damned warhorns… They're coming."
Qhorin said nothing. He could see it clearly in his mind without the glass—the banners of the Thenns, the painted faces of the Hornfoot clans, the great white bear pelt of Tormund Giantsbane. Somewhere beyond that throng, cloaked in shadow, he imagined Mance Rayder watched from far back. He had once called that man a friend, but now Mance was his enemy, the King-beyond-the-Wall.
"This is a probing force. The Wildlings want to test the defences and our resolve." Qhorin said through clenched teeth as the wind howled fiercely, carrying the bitter cold from the lands beyond the Wall.
But the Wildlings hadn't counted on wildfire and several other weapons House Stark had generously provided to the Watch. Therefore, they were prepared for the Wildlings.
"Light it," he ordered.
Behind a hastily erected stockade of black pine and stone at the tower, a team of sworn brothers laboured over a monstrous siege engine. It was no mere ballista—it had been modified by the Starks, reinforced with iron arms and bound by steel chains. Its bolt was a thick shaft of blackened ash colour, capped with an iron head packed with pots of thick green gel—fire, courtesy of Avalon and the mad wisdom of Pyromancers who had turned the liquid into a semi-solid form easy to handle in battle.
The eerie, sickly green glow of the wildfire gel cast its light on the faces of men working the ballista.
With a creaking groan, the ballista took aim.
"Release."
The bolt whistled through the cold sky, punching through the icy gales lashing against the Wall. The forest exploded, and the white snow glowed green as the dark lands beyond the Wall lit up like one of the firework festivals of Winterfell.
A blast of green fire roared out from the treetops, sending limbs, snow, and screaming men flying in every direction. It lit the sky like a second sun with its unholy flames hungry to devour everything in its path. Men were burning alive—wildlings rolling in snow, their cries of war replaced with shrieks of agony. Their horns were now silent, and in their stead, screams of men being cooked alive filled the battlefield.
Qhorin watched the carnage brought by a single bolt carrying a wildfire pot. The sheer ferocity of the pyromancer's concoction made him flinch and feel almost dishonourable to depend on such fell tricks to win.
But he had no leisure to fight honourably when the consequence of defeat would mean the deaths of countless innocents living in the Gift. So, Qhorin hardened his heart and ordered more of the bolts to be released towards the enemy.
"Archers, ready your bows." Qhorin bellowed when he saw the Giants charging out of the forest line with huge bows in their hands.
A line of archers started raining arrows on the enemy.
The Giants positioned themselves on the snowy floor and started launching massive arrows at the Wall. The defensive structures of Greyguard were new and made of strong Ironwood. It cost a lot of gold for the Starks to rebuild the towers and barracks on the Wall, and thankfully, it held firm under the assault.
But Qhorin knew he couldn't let the Giants run amok.
Then the wildlings roared.
Thousands surged forward in a frenzied tide, their rage ignited by the fiery deaths of their kin. Warhorns blew again. Mammoths crashed through the trees, their tusks strong enough to plough through a thick forest, giants striding behind them with massive clubs. Arrows rained from longbows of the Night's Watch, and the ground shook with the fury of a true siege.
"Archers, loose!" Qhorin bellowed.
Crossbowmen and archers lined the Wall, turning the ground below into a sea of arrows and bolts. The Watch had been few in the past, but with men drawn from the Gift and rotating volunteers from several houses of the North, the garrison had swelled in these past few years.
Lord Umber had sent two hundred fighters, their axes ready to spill wildling blood. Qhorin, knowing the grudge the lord of Last Hearth held for the wildlings, placed those men at the gatehouse on the bottom of the Wall.
And now they stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Night's Watch.
Two more wildfire ballistas turned, cranking into place atop the newly built towers guarding Greyguard.
"Wait… hold…"
Qhorin felt the moment heavy in the air, the way the giants and mammoths pounded the earth. Then, he felt the moment had come.
"Now!" Qhorin shouted.
The next volley struck the charging ranks. Another fireball screamed through the air and detonated near the giants. Two of the massive creatures fell, limbs torn apart, their mounts shrieking. One mammoth, set ablaze, ran wild into its own ranks, trampling screaming wildlings before collapsing and bursting into a storm of fire.
But the free folk would not break. The probing force sent by Mance Rayder continued to charge blindly towards the Wall. They threw up grappling hooks, hacked at the newly built gate of Greyguard and even sent madmen to scale the Wall.
Qhorin ordered the crossbowmen and archers to renew their efforts and harass the wildlings gathered at the bottom of the Wall. He watched as the arrows and bolts culled the number of wildlings, but he held back from using any more wildfire scorpions. The wildlings were now too close to the Wall for him to risk it.
After all, the last thing he wanted was to be known as the man who broke the Wall using wildfire.
"Get those Umber spears to the inner yard!" Qhorin snapped. "Assemble the horses. These wildlings need to learn the power of Northern horses."
While the archers and crossbowmen kept raining Death on any wildlings trying their luck at scaling the Wall, Qhorin gathered the Umber troops on the ground and gave them the finest steeds from the Rills.
"The North remembers!"
"Last Hearth!"
"Umber!"
"Death before chains!"
The Umber men shouted their war cries as they prepared themselves to charge into the other side of the Wall.
Qhorin's men started chipping away at the ice covering the locks on the steel doors. When they were finally undone, his men swung open the doors just as Qhorin blew the horn and led the charge through the narrow passage, which led to the other side of the Wall.
The wildlings were utterly taken aback when columns of horses rode through the narrow tunnel, trampling over their bodies with ease.
A Thenn warrior, hair braided with bones, was the first to fall to Qhorin's sword. He cleaved the wildling's head in two by cracking the skull open with a single swing of his sword. The Umber men rammed their spears into the unlucky wildlings, trying desperately to enter the tunnel.
The riders smashed through the gathered wildlings, and their charge broke the wildlings into scattered small groups. This made Qhorin's work easy as they managed to trample the wildlings and destroy any sort of cohesion. It was almost too easy in Qhorin's mind as they cut through the wildling raiding party with ease. His intuition that the wildlings would fall before a coordinated horse charge was proven true. They managed to kill every last one of the wildling party with ease, and only a handful escaped as they ran for their lives towards the forest.
"Should we give chase, Halfhand?" one of the Umber men asked.
"No, let the savages be. The forest is treacherous, and I'm not in the mood to send our men to their deaths." Qhorin said before he ordered the men to ride back through the tunnel.
The steel doors were shut once more, and they rolled a boulder through the tunnel to block the passage as an added layer of protection. He was back on the Wall and observing the treeline for any wildling movement. His spotters saw nothing, even when they used the best spyglasses Avalon graciously provided last year.
So, after making sure the wildling incursion was successfully repelled, Qhorin ordered a message to be sent to Castle Black about the wildling attack.
Far away, in Castle Black, Maester Aemon felt the cold through his bones as the cold winds howled harshly. His fingers traced the small bumps of the carved table as the Lord Commander dictated the message. He arranged for the raven with the help of Samwell Tarly, and it would carry all that happened — the attack, the losses, the enemy's numbers they gleaned from spies—and a plea for more aid.
"Maester, it's ready." Samwell said gently after he finished writing.
"Good." Aemon held out his hand, and Samwell placed the piece of parchment in Aemon's old hands.
Aemon rolled up the parchment and applied the seal of the Lord Commander.
Winterfell would have to answer. Or the Wall might not stand for long.
******
Harry was in the yard watching Bran try his best to score a perfect shot using a bow.
"Again." Harry said after Bran's arrow struck farther away from the centre. "This time, breathe out before you release the arrow."
Bran tried again with another arrow, and this time the arrow found purchase closer to the target.
"Good. Relax your shoulders and don't be so stiff while you stand." Harry said while adjusting his brother's stance.
Bran let loose another arrow and found purchase closer to the target again.
"Continue." Harry said, seemingly satisfied with his little brother's performance.
Snow was falling again, soft white flakes settling on the shoulders of men at drill. His breath fogged in the air as he crossed from the archery range toward the keep, Fenris trotting silently at his side. The direwolf's fur bristled in the cold wind from the north, and the flecks of snow on his dark fur looked like stars in the night sky.
Winterfell's climate control wards kept the worst of the summer snows from affecting the people. The snow fell in a controlled manner without piling up on the land and clogging all roads. Winter was finally upon Westeros, and the North was already seeing heavy scattered snowfall across the land.
It was on his mother's insistence that he and Arianne stayed in Winterfell. The arrangement was supposed to be only for a few days, but it extended to a whole week. Supposedly, it was for the entire family to get 'familiar' with Arianne. How much of that was happening, he had no idea. Seeing as his mother was one of the vocal opponents to the match with Arianne, he was sceptical. He knew for a fact his mother was less than pleased with their age gap and the supposed promiscuity of Dornish women.
At least, he knew for certain that Sansa was quite taken with Arianne, and Arya was over the moon with having a friend like Nymeria. The last he saw of Arya and Nymeria was when they were sneaking off to Wintertown to commission a knife from a local smith.
He was amused by their bumbling ways to keep it discreet. No doubt, his father was already aware of their escapades but was turning a blind eye for the time being.
"Harrion!"
He looked up, seeing Jon rushing towards him. From Jon's expression, he deduced it was something important, so he discreetly put up a privacy ward around him.
"A raven came from Castle Black. Greyguard was attacked by wildlings." Jon said in a rush while holding a parchment with a broken seal.
Harry took the roll of parchment. The wax was black, stamped with the clenched fist of the Night's Watch. His eyes left the broken seal and scanned the cramped, blotted script inside.
The words made his stomach knot. He felt immense disappointment that Mance Rayder was callous enough to throw away his most generous offer.
Greyguard… attacked. Brothers slain. Wildling host repelled but more on the move. Numbers uncertain, but large — perhaps a hundred thousand, with giants and mammoths. Castle Black preparing to hold. Request aid. Immediate.
He looked up to find Jon watching him anxiously.
"Where is father?" Harry asked.
"In his solar with Robb. They already know." said Jon with a sense of urgency.
"Let's go."
Harry didn't run, but his strides lengthened as he made for the keep. Fenris kept pace, silent save for a low, rolling growl that made passing servants press themselves to the wall.
Eddard Stark looked up from the table when Harry entered. Maps were spread before him — the Wolfswood, the two coasts and the Gift lay before them on the table with marked positions and new roads drawn through the mountain passes.
"It seems your attempt to avoid war has failed." Eddard said with a sigh.
"They've made their choice." Harry said simply. "What're we going to do?"
"The Night's Watch is asking for help," Robb said. "Not just men to hold the Wall — they want to strike beyond it and destroy the threat of the wildling army for good."
Ned's gaze sharpened.
"A ranging."
"A great one," Robb said. "If what they say is true, Mance Rayder has more men than the Watch can face alone."
"The bannermen won't be happy to send their men beyond the Wall just when winter is settling in." Jon spoke softly.
There was some truth to that, as most of them were still riding to their homes after a feast in Winterfell to celebrate Harry's wedding to the Dornish princess.
"They won't have much of a choice. It's either that or we wait for the wildlings to attack the Wall in greater numbers." Harry said, looking at his father and elder twin.
Robb nodded and seemed to be less inclined to wait it out.
"We have to remember that the wildlings are all gathered together. This is a good chance for us to strike a massive blow and kill most of them in one single strike." Robb said with a glint of steel in his eyes.
"Destroying their army has its advantages. If we take action now, we will deny the Others a substantial addition to their wights." Jon said with some reluctance.
"You seem hesitant to attack the wildlings beyond the Wall. Why?" Robb asked, noticing Jon was not completely sold on the plan they were making.
"Because no army has ventured beyond the Wall in centuries and fought the combined wildling clans in a pitched battle." said Jon.
Harry nodded somewhat in agreement with Jon, but he knew it mattered little with the airships under their command. In the worst-case scenario, they could just dump barrels of wildfire and burn the entire Haunted Forest to kill the wildling army.
But Harry chose to hold back his thoughts on the matter. It was one thing to burn an Essosi city to the ground, and it was another to use the same tactic to kill the wildlings so close to their seat of power. The Northern lords were a proud and stubborn lot. If he were to kill the entire wildlings single-handedly, he might just get the ire of a bunch of disgruntled men who lost their chance at a glorious battle.
The one thing all Northerners hate more than the prissy southerners is the wildlings. When it came to those barbarians beyond the Wall, the Northerners were unreasonable and unpredictable. This was why he offered Mance a way out by offering to take his people to a distant island.
It would not have been popular with the Northerners, but he could've pulled it off without suffering too many setbacks. He could've spun it as the wildlings surrendering to House Stark and begging the North for help on their knees. He could've said the North didn't make war on beaten dogs and got away with it.
However, Mance chose to gather all the wildling clans and attack the Wall. There was not a thing he could do to convince the Northerners to spare the wildlings. Not that he wanted to at this point. It was better to kill them off rather than use his energy to convince a bunch of barbarians to change their ways and live on some remote island.
So, Harry decided to go with whatever Robb decides and wait for how things played out in the field. If the opportunity comes, he could help out the wildlings and save them from what most assuredly would be complete destruction.
"By Uncle Benjen's report, Mance Rayder has camped his army in the Haunted Forest. If we were to attack, we'll need to know exactly where he is camped, kill their scouts and somehow lead an army without getting noticed through a massive forest." Jon continued to lay out the difficulties that lay ahead.
"I can take a couple of wargs on my airship and have them scout the Haunted Forest discreetly from the sky." Harry spoke up, providing a solution to the first hurdle.
"Good." Robb's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "The magical talking mirrors can relay the information faster to us."
"Two-way mirrors." Harry corrected.
"Yes, that." Robb threw a dirty look at him for the interruption while unravelling his master plan.
Harry grinned in response.
"Once we know the wildling army's location, we can bait them into a trap." Robb took a deep breath. "I'd send riders tonight if I could. Call the bannermen to Winterfell. March for Castle Black within the fortnight, with enough men to smash this wildling host before it reaches the Wall."
Eddard nodded thoughtfully.
"Who will be leading this host?" Harry asked.
"I will." Robb answered immediately.
Eddard looked undecided for a moment, and this did not escape Harry's eyes.
"I have matters left unattended in the Iron Islands, and there is the matter of Fair Isle. My focus will be on the south." Harry added helpfully.
He wanted his brother to have a moment to shine. Defending the Wall has been the duty of the Starks of Winterfell from the time of its construction. Who better to defend the Wall than the heir to the throne of Winter?
"Robb will lead the Northern army and defend the Wall." Eddard declared, turning to address his eldest son. "But upon your return, you will marry Wynafryd Manderly."
The last bit caught everyone by surprise.
"I suppose we can have a victory celebration and a wedding at the same time." Harry joked, earning a chuckle from Jon while Robb remained in stunned silence at the prospect of marriage.
But Eddard had more surprises to follow.
"Jon, the same will be true for you as well. It's time that you also marry your betrothed. After Robb's nuptials, your wedding with Lady Dacey must happen." said Eddard with a look that brokered no argument.
Now, it was time for Jon to freeze like an ice block in Northern winter.
"Ah, my brothers are becoming married men!" Harry said, happily throwing his arms around Robb's and Jon's shoulders. "This will be the year of three married wolves."
AN:
To read ahead of the update schedule; pat(r) eon. C (O) M/Dragonspectre.
For artwork related to the fic:
https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf