Northern Conqueror

Chapter 19: Crossroads

Chapter 19: Crossroads

The blow of a horn woke Castle Black in an instant, the men all leaping from their cots and reaching for their weapons. It was only after a moment when no second blow sounded that the tension eased and they all seemed to let out a sigh. Until they realized the only riders they'd sent out were the ones hunting wights a few weeks ago.

When Edd first joined the Night's Watch he'd never have thought he'd feel relieved a see a wildling walk through their gates, yet that was what came when he saw Tormund, even if only twenty of the thirty men he left with returned.

The yard filled with men, their hands on their swords as they stared at the writhing figures bound by thick rope being dragged by the men.

"We had three others," Tormund said with a frown, watching men toss the wights into crates. "One of the men hit a walker with a hammer, a full swing to the back of the prick's head, and the fuckin' hammer shattered. I grabbed this," he said pulling a small dagger from his furs, "and stabbed the fucker, and that made just about every other wight around us drop except for the four we got."

"That valyrian steel?" asked Edd.

"One of those lords had it, gave it to his man on Jon's command, but when he died I picked it up." Tormund turned to Edd with a smirk. "Think he'll let me keep it?"

"Not once the lord finds out it killed a white walker," Edd laughed, looking to the King's Tower. "We received other guests before you arrived."

"From the south?" Tormund asked skeptically.

"From beyond the wall," answered Edd. "Ones heading to Winterfell."

*~*~*

Though they'd recently gotten ravens telling them to expect riders from southron kingdoms, the men of Moat Cailin were shocked to find one arrive barely a day after they received word of them. The only place that might have received a raven and sent a rider by then were houses of the Neck, and they already had lords at Winterfell.

Nor would any southron houses send a lone rider.

When he approached the castle gate, a group of ten men were ready. The horse came to a stop and they saw it was an old man wearing a tattered cloak, his face locked in a grimace as he looked them over. His eyes scanned the walls of Moat Cailin, his brow furrowing when he saw Stark banners hanging beside black and red Targaryen ones.

"What the hell are those?" He demanded, turning his eyes on the soldiers. "Why are you hanging Targaryen banners with Stark banners?"

The men exchanged looks before proud smiles replaced their confusion. "We've been stationed here by King Jon on behalf of House Targaryen and his betrothed, Sansa of House Stark."

"What?" The man scoffed. "Who the fuck is King Jon?"

The men chuckled. "King Aegon Targaryen, but everyone called him King Jon because he spent his life in hiding as Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell."

The rider's eyes widened. "What?"

"Where are you coming from?" asked the captain. "What's you name?"

The man turned to them, squeezing the reins of his horse. "Brynden Tully of Riverrun. Now let me through to see my grandniece."

*~*~*

"Does that mean she'll be Queen?" Sweetrobin asked, sat on his mother's lap as she lovingly stroked his hair.

"It does, my sweet." Lysa's smile was etched with victory. "Don't you worry. She's in a love with the boy and says he treats her well, which is a blessing for one raised a bastard like him. Catelyn must have kept a firm hand if she managed to keep a bastard in line."