Westeros had already endured over a dozen consecutive summers, and no one knew how long the approaching Long Night would last.
Varys's last letter had stated that the Red Wedding at Riverrun had failed. After the death of Little Flayed's father, Roose, the other Northern nobles had organized the remaining Northern armies to march on Winterfell to capture Little Flayed in retaliation.
Unexpectedly, Little Flayed had received word and evacuated Winterfell ahead of time.
Now, it was unclear who was in charge here, and Drogon planned to go take a look.
From a distance, seeing the X-shaped flayed man banners hanging from the walls of Winterfell, Drogon inwardly exclaimed, "How is this possible?"
Varys's information couldn't be wrong, but what was with the Dreadfort's House Bolton flayed man banners flying on the walls?
As he approached Winterfell, Drogon lowered his altitude and quietly slipped into the city to see the situation inside.
Hiding behind a ruined wall of the castle, he got a rough look at the entire city. Not only were the flayed man banners hanging from the walls, but the same flags were also fluttering from scattered flagpoles within the castle.
Drogon turned his head and carefully examined the entire Winterfell. It was very different from the last time he had arrived.
The last time Little Flayed had occupied Winterfell, he had ordered craftsmen to urgently repair the walls. But now, Winterfell was even more dilapidated than it had been during the last repair, with a large section of the main northern wall completely collapsed.
It was clear that Winterfell had undergone another siege, for reasons unknown.
Recalling Varys's intelligence, Drogon guessed that Ramsay the Bastard must have launched another surprise attack and retaken the castle. Judging by the bloodstains still staining the ground inside the walls, the casualties must have been heavy.
Confirming that Winterfell had indeed fallen to Ramsay again, Drogon decided not to linger. No matter how brutally the North fought the Bastard, it was none of his concern for now.
Just as he was about to take flight for the Wall, a wooden door nearby creaked open. A young man in thin, coarse clothes, his hair matted and beard unkempt, stepped out limping. His eyes were vacant, and he mechanically muttered, "Reek, I am Reek..."
Seeing the young man's vacant expression and hearing his mutterings, Drogon quickly realized this was likely Theon—the man who had betrayed Robb and burned Winterfell. After being castrated and tortured by Ramsay, his personality had been broken, and he had become Reek.
Clutching a chamber pot, Theon mechanically turned his head, searching for the wooden stairs to go downstairs. Just as he turned toward the wall, he saw Drogon staring right at him.
Their eyes met. Theon, whose gaze had been dull and vacant, froze for a moment. Then he frowned, as if trying to figure out what kind of creature Drogon was.
Seeing that Theon had noticed him, Drogon didn't fly away. In his current state, Theon wouldn't scream even if he saw him.
After staring at Drogon with a furrowed brow for a few seconds, a spark of light suddenly flared in Theon's dull eyes. He stumbled toward the dragon, unaware that the chamber pot in his hand was spilling its contents. He muttered under his breath, "A dragon... a dragon!"
*Holy crap! He can still recognize me in this state?* Seeing the excitement flicker in Theon's otherwise vacant eyes, Drogon quickly took flight, as if terrified Theon would try to snatch him like a bird.
From the air, Drogon glanced back. Theon was still staring up at him, his expression tinged with reluctance.
Drogon didn't feel much sympathy for Theon's plight, but he did feel a deep sense of poignancy.
Theon had been sent to Winterfell at the age of ten by his father, Balon, Lord of the Iron Islands, to be raised as a ward. Though the Wolf Father, Eddard, had fought fiercely against the Iron Islands, he had treated Balon's son quite well. While he didn't raise him as his own son, he never treated him as an outsider.
Eddard's eldest son, Robb, treated him like a brother, even releasing him to join his father's Iron Islands Alliance during the standoff with Tywin.
Unexpectedly, driven by his father's provocation and rejection, Theon not only abandoned the mission Robb had entrusted to him but also led the Ironborn to seize Winterfell, which was defended only by Bran and a few others.
Because the people of Winterfell refused to submit to their former foster son, he not only killed Ser Rodrik, the knight who had trained him since childhood, but also stabbed Maester Luwin, a man known for his kindness to all.
If Osha, the wildling woman, hadn't used her wits to rescue Bran and Rickon, Theon might have killed the two wolf boys as well.
After enduring torture at the hands of Ramsay Bolton, Theon followed his sister Yara Greyjoy, having rescued Sansa, who had been nightly brutalized by Ramsay.
It was only during the battle between the united army and the Night King that Theon voluntarily requested to protect Bran, eventually dying at the Night King's hands—a fitting end to his own tragic journey.
Sighing over Theon's fate, Drogon gradually approached the Wall. The air here was colder than ever, and snowflakes were already falling even south of the Wall.
This time, Drogon did not keep his distance from Castle Black. Instead, he used the wind and snow as cover to fly over the castle and observe the situation within.
Castle Black, both within its walls and atop the Wall, had reinforced its defenses.
Though the Night's Watchmen still huddled in the corners to escape the wind and snow, they would periodically stand to scan the landscape beyond the Wall for the Wildling army.
Acting Commander Alliser, despite his deep hatred for Jon, knew the news of the King-Beyond-the-Wall's impending assault was no lie. If those starving Wildlings were to breach the Wall, the "black crows" they despised would stand little chance of survival.
Drogon circled Castle Black, observing the black-clad sentries. He felt no confidence in the Night's Watch. With so few men, defending against a hundred thousand Wildlings was impossible. He wondered how many of these men would even survive the coming onslaught.
After his circuit, Drogon did not leave. Instead, he hovered silently above the castle, waiting.
The fierce blizzard at this altitude had no effect on him. Snowflakes melted into droplets upon his scales, only to vaporize and be swept away by the freezing wind before they could even fall.
His patience was rewarded. After nearly an hour in the biting cold, Drogon finally spotted a familiar, rotund figure.
His large, fat body was topped with a round, chubby head. He pushed open the door and stepped out, but instead of closing it immediately, he used his broad frame to block the entrance. Only after the person behind him had emerged did he slowly pull the door shut, continuing to shield them from the biting wind and snow.
As the two figures moved, Drogon saw more clearly that the woman behind the fat man was cradling a tightly wrapped child in her arms.
The sight of the woman and child confirmed the fat man's identity beyond a doubt: it was Samwell Tarly, the "savior."
The woman must be the daughter and wife of the depraved Craster, whom Sam had kindly rescued and brought to Castle Black.
Seeing Sam safe, Drogon finally relaxed. He was the future hope for healing Shireen's facial scars; he could not afford to be lost.
Sam led the woman across the castle courtyard and into another room, after which they didn't emerge again. Drogon waited another half hour but still didn't see Jon.
He suspected Jon wasn't at Castle Black; otherwise, given his close bond with Sam, they likely would have met. He decided to circle back and check the castle again later.
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