Hear me Roar - English version

CHAPTER 59 - They will be here tomorrow at dawn

"Are you afraid?" I ask Rickon, sitting beside him in the Great Hall.

"Never," he replies, as fierce as ever. "It's ridiculous that you won't let me fight."

"You will protect the crypt."

"That's ridiculous too!"

               A bit surprised that he speaks to me in this tone, I take a few seconds before answering anything. The few weeks spent apart haven't done us any good. Rickon seems to have lost some of his trust in me. It's as if he resents me for abandoning him. Again.

"You are too young to fight," I conclude, categorical.

"Lyanna Mormont is the same age as me. And you aren't locking her in a cellar full of monsters."

"Monsters? What are you talking about? Those people are... dead..."

               He looks exasperated, as if he had to explain a lesson for the thousandth time to a distracted child. I never thought I would one day feel looked down upon by Rickon. However, he is right; I should have figured this out on my own.

"You want to protect us, but you're going to lock us in a place full of corpses. If the Night King can raise bodies out in the open, why wouldn't he be able to do it inside?"

"I... I don't know..."

               How is it that, while we gathered the greatest minds of the country in that council room, no one pointed out the fact that we risk turning the women and children into a new army of the dead?

"None of you listen to me anyway."

"Oh... Rickon... I am sorry."

"You're always sorry. Jon and Sansa too. Robb apologized when he left. And he never came back. None of you keep your promises."

"Rickon..."

               I stand up to take him in my arms. However, he pushes me away and leaves the room. The slam of the door echoes through the empty hall. Rickon leaves me there with my shame. It is now my duty to make his voice heard.

♐︎

               Without stopping our sprint through the corridors, I repeat for the umpteenth time to Jon that Rickon is right, that we must look for a new plan to protect the weakest, at the risk of them getting killed. Or worse, joining the army of the Wights.

"This plan has been ready for weeks," he snaps, turning abruptly toward me. "We have nowhere to hide the women and children if not in the crypt."

"Then we must send them away from Winterfell!"

               This is the first time I find myself confronting my brother since the discussion I overheard in the crypt, during which his friend Sam revealed his true identity to him. That of the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne.

"If we aren't capable of protecting them," I continue, "let us send them further south."

"And what happens if the White Walkers get past Winterfell?"

"We won't be around to find out."

               Jon realizes full well that I speak the truth. The Night King will find a way to wake all the dead in the region, including those buried beneath our feet. Not thinking of this sooner makes idiots of us all.

"It's too late," Jon sighs. "We would have to organize an entire exodus..."

"Those who can fight and the strategists will remain behind... Varys, Tyrion, Sansa... They will wait in the highest tower of the castle."