Game of thrones fanfiction

Chapter 21

Eddard POV

The battle had continued the day after and the day after. By the third day all of the men were tired by fighting day and night but they all held their ground. They had killed thousands of them but they keep attacking, Eddard himself had lost hundreds of his own men, Lyarra too but Jon had lost only a hundred. His men were ordered to either pick up a bow or stay with the archers and proctect them.

Arrows had been running low since the evening of the second night so a decision had to be made to stay and fight, send men back for supplies or return to Castle Black and make a stand at the wall once the Others reach it. Eddard stands in Queen Lyarras tent, exhausted. "They keep coming. How many more can there be?" She asks him as she dons her armour. Rested as can be and ready for war it seemed. "I do not know, Your Grace." He answers in a flat voice.

She drapes her cloak over her shoulders. "I want to send Jon south for supplies. Will you give your consent?" He looks at her face. "Aye but it should be his choice." "I will tell him to gather some loyal men and march." "Very well, Your Grace." "Are you still angered by Mance?" She asks. "You had your reasons to give him lands, I am sure."

"You have seen what we are fighting, we do not need to fight ourselves. The wildlings can be of help to us. He will raise his son to be as strong in his mens eyes as he is. He may make a good lord but if he can't... The north will kill him." The both of them know what she means by that. The northern lords will not tolerate Wildlings running free and wild throughout the North. They would raise their armies and destroy them all.

Bran POV

Riverrun was bigger than Bran expected. It had a moat surrounding it with a drawbridge connecting it to the riverside. They approach on horseback as the gates open to welcome them. The Tully trout hangs proudly from the castle walls. They are greeted by the maester who tells them their uncle Edmure Tully is marching north to the Wall. Bran had thanked him, Harwin handed the maester Catelyns bones. Rickon climbs off his horse and jumps on Shaggydoy, playing with him.

The servants look at the Direwolves in terror so they are confined to the Godswood. The septa escorts Arya and Sansa to chambers given to them. Bran is taken to his mothers father Hoster Tully, he is gravely ill and it is obvious that he will not live long. "Grandfather. I am Brandon Stark." "No. You're my boy, Edmure. You need a haircut." His frail hand goes through Brans shoulder length hair. "Aye, I shall go and have it cut." The maester stands by Lord Tullys side. He smiles sadly at Bran. "I need to bathe now. If you have need of me just ask, Grandfather."

He bathes in warm water, dresses himself in dark grey breeches and white tunic. Bran walks to the hall, he sits upon the high table only to be joined by Rickon, Sansa and Arya. His sisters dress in the Stark colours just as he and Rickon had. They feast with some servants as daylight fades. Some songs are sang by a few of the maids. Rickon begins to yawn as the night goes on.

He decides that it is time for them to retire to their chambers. He and Rickon share chambers as Sansa and Arya do. They bid everyone good night and they go to their rooms. At first Bran can not sleep but after half an hour sleep does infact take him.

Jon POV

He looks at the Valaryian steel sword in Jeor Mormonts hand. "Take it. You saved me from the Others, you deserve something for your valor." He takes it in his hand as he looks at the handle, a white bear growling. "It's name is Longclaw. Seems there isn't much difference between bears and wolves." Jon looks at the Old Bear with a smile.

"I can't take this. You know that, it is your houses." "You can and you will." Jon looks at the handle of the blade again. "It once belonged to my son Jorah, he brought dishonour to himself and my house. You will honour this sword and after you, your sons." Jon thinks of having a son of his own, something a bastard like him would never have dreamed of before he had a name.

"Your father is proud of you. As he should be." With that he moves slowly away and leaves Jon in his tent alone. Jon looks down at his leathers and furs, and begins to gather his armour together. His tent opens for Lyarra to walk in wearing her own armour and cloak. She looks as mighty as she is beautiful. "Jon I need you to return to the Wall for supplies."

He rubs his hands. "I will gather some men." She smiles at him, that same smile he had seen on her face when they had shared a bed it made his blood heat up. "You have my thanks, Jon." She steps closer and kisses him on the lips. He immediately hardens. No I can't, Myrcella is my wife. He pushes her lightly away.

"Do you know you never asked me of your children?" She snarls at him. "I bore your sons and you ignored them, and me." She says with a bite in her voice. Jon reaches out to stroke her hair, she moves away from him. "For the love you once bore me please do this for me." He nods at her sadly. "I will. For our boys Steffon and Tyrion... the last of Rheagar Targaryens line." She looks at him as if he has lost his wits. "You are a Stark and I a Baratheon. How are they his line?" She seems to realise the truth immediately after.

"You and I are brother and sister, Lyanna bore you and Torrhen to Robert, then me to Rheagar." She looks at him as if he has just come back from the dead. "Ned wouldn't have lied to everyone. " She whispers, Jon doesn't know whether she's telling him or herself. "Robert would have killed me like the others. He lied to protect me." He thinks he sees tears in her eyes but she turns away from him and reminds him to gather his men. She leaves him in his tent alone once more with Longclaw laying on his little cot.