Edrick awoke to the sound of a horn blasting out into the night.
The first blast had him grumbling and shoving a pillow over his head, trying to get back to sleep. The second had him scrambling to get out of bed and get dressed, reaching for his sword. And the third made him stop dead in his tracks, blood running cold.
He glanced at Rickon, whom he now shared a small sleeping cell with and was also awake.
"Others are coming," The little boy said, eyes sharp and almost eager despite the set line of his mouth.
Gods, that child had something wrong with him. Edrick had always been considered reckless to the point of stupidity, but his cousin, the little Lord of Winterfell, put him to shame.
"Come on," Stomach clenching unpleasantly, he got dressed then grabbed Rickon's hand, which the boy shook off immediately, but no matter.
They joined the throng of people crowding in the courtyard, including Jon, Jaime Lannister and various important people from the Night's Watch, Wildlings and Southron armies. The Red Witch was there too, for whatever reason. People were clearly preparing for a fight - the clang of swords, axes and spears was overwhelming - though what they could do against the Others was anyone's guess. There was a strange thudding noise too, that he vaguely noticed above the din.
"Six Others come bearing a white flag from the north," Jon pushed his way towards them, sounding grim but offered a wan, slightly hopeless smile. Only six. Better than an army. "And a white dragon approaches from the south,"
What? But Edrick's heart began to race in anticipation as he realised what that thudding noise was in the distance, growing louder and louder, closer and closer. Seven hells. After weeks of nothing, everything was descending on them at once.
"Lady Stark was clearly too blunt in her negotiations," Jaime Lannister, who had stayed behind to command the southern armies, said with a dark smile. As if the man who had killed the dragon queen's father would've done any better.
"Caught between ice and fire," The steward, Dolorous Edd, said gloomily. "Just my luck. Most men only get killed by one or the other,"
The words were scarcely out his mouth when an enormous white and gold shape filled the sky above them, heading for beyond the Wall. A second or so of chaos - men yelling out or gawping at the night sky, horses screaming, great gusts of wind that threatened to extinguish the torches - there was a shriek of rage (or pain) from the beast. No one was quite sure what happened at first, but then the dragon was driven at the Wall once again, and once again seemed to be repelled by an invisible barrier preventing it from going any further north.
"Gods," Someone moaned. "Now it'll turn on us,"
It didn't. In fact, the dragon landed a short distance from Castle Black and a figure slid off its back. Not the dragon queen they were expecting, they saw as it grew closer, but a man, tall, dark and lean with a mad glint in his eye.
Euron Greyjoy, he introduced himself with a cruel smile, rider of Viserion. Crow's Eye.
As Lord Commander, Jon did most of the talking, though both the northern and southron lords were behind him, the Wildlings too. Greyjoy explained that he was allied to the Daenerys Targaryen - who had apparently just let him take one of her dragons - scouting out whether the threat to the North that Rosennis Stark spoke of is real.
Jon was clearly suspicious of the man's true intentions, given how the dragon was repelled trying to fly over the Wall without even trying to make contact with the Watch first. Everyone knew of Greyjoy's reputation, besides; Asha Greyjoy was their prisoner and had nothing good to say about her uncle, nor anyone really, but the tales of Euron were the nastiest by far. Among countless other things, he had raped his brother Victarion's wife; his ship the Silence was manned by a crew of tongueless sailors; he had burned Lannisport during the Greyjoy Rebellion; he'd done unspeakable things to his youngest brother Aeron when he was a child.
"Enough," Jon finally ground out. "I'm sure you noticed the dozen Others approaching from the north. Satin, give him something to eat. And if you or that dragon cause any damage..."
You'll do what, Euron's eyes seemed to say, though he nodded amiably enough.
"We wouldn't dream of it,"
Edrick didn't like his smile one bit.
After a rather heated discussion with many in the Watch, Jon elected to go forth to meet the Others with only one man as backup, the steward they called Dolorous Edd, along with Ghost, Shaggydog, Grey Wind, Summer and Crow. If the creatures decided to attack, no number of men would be any good at stopping them, he reasoned, and then they would only be raised against them as wights. Although the idea of five wight direwolves was rather terrifying.
Edrick wanted to protest but one look from his cousin silenced him. He watched with bated breath as Jon went through the gate; they left it open, to try and watch what they could in the darkness, but prepared to barricade it shut at any point.
The Others almost glowed in the darkness, and did not attack. No, it seemed like they were... talking? Could they even speak? Edrick had pressed every survivor from the Fist of the First Men for stories about the unearthly creatures, and some had reported them speaking in a harsh, scraping tongue, even laughing amongst themselves, but nothing men could understand.
Then Dolorous Eddard turned and jogged back to them.
"He wants you, m'lords," He gestured to Rickon, then Edrick, as though this was a request made every day. "Lord Snow. And the... Other,"
"They can speak?" Someone asked eagerly. "What did it say?"
"Couldn't understand a word myself," Edd said gloomily. "Just an awful noise. Jon could, though. Probably best he did all the talking, anyway. Chances are I'd bargain my soul away if I tried, and half of Westeros too,"
"Only the Starks can understand them," Someone guessed.
"Snow's a Snow,"
"That one's a Bolton," Someone nodded at Edrick. "Doubt it matters,"
"Not to overstep, Lord Stark" Jaime Lannister - left in command of the forces from the south - cut in delicately, addressing Rickon yet looking at Edrick. "But if either of you end up speared on a sword of ice, Lady Rosennis will not be best pleased,"
"Feel free to join us, Lannister," He replied. "Then you won't have to face her,"
The man smiled sharply at that, as there was a chorus of laughs and jeers.
"Very well. I'll be ready to carry you children away from any danger if the need arises," Edrick glowered at that. Lannister just glanced to one of his men. "Marbrand, you have command for now, and full permission to gut me if I'm turned into a wight,"
So Edrick set off with his young cousin, Jaime Lannister and Dolorous Edd, across the bleak and frozen ground to where Jon stood along with a pack of wolves, facing off six Others.
It was the first time he had seen the creatures at all, let alone this close. His first impression was that they reminded him of the fae in the stories old women at the Dreadfort told. Wicked, unearthly sidhe.
They were taller than most men by about half a foot at least, so slender they were almost gaunt, with pale flesh and eyes a bright, icy, burning blue. He had never seen a stranger sight in all his life, nor one more beautiful, particular with the dark backdrop of the night. It was clear now exactly how inhuman they were, certainly not alive, for nothing living could be this elegant, or seem so dangerous. Four of their number wore armour, which was delicate, reflective like a pool of water, shifting in colour with every movement they made.
What was more remarkable was that three of them were clearly female. One, though obviously not human, gave off the air of a graceful, slightly sad and distant young woman, in the most eerie and unnatural way possible. She was the only female who wore no armour. Another of the... women, for want of a better word, was stood proud and defiant, whilst the other had tilted her head as though in curiosity, eyes glinting.
Two of the men wore armour too, both clearly warriors from the way they held themselves, staring at them dead on; one was stoic and serious, the other more like a hunter, poised and watchful.
The last male, who wore no armour, had stepped forward, as though speaking on behalf of the rest.
"Here you are," Jon was saying, tone guarded and tense. "Lord Stark. As promised," He placed a hand on Rickon's shoulder. "Harm him, or any of us, and you'll know the taste of dragonsteel," He nodded to his own sword, and the daggers that he had gifted to Rickon and Edrick. They only needed to score one hit and the creatures would shatter.
"No need for threats," The Other who had stepped forward spoke aloud, and Edrick almost stepped back in shock. Its voice was inhuman, scraping, icy cold, yet he could understand it. Clearly so could Rickon, whose eyes had narrowed. Lannister, however, looked as perplexed as Edd Tollett. "We bear a white flag, after all,"
It - he? - sounded amused, perhaps at the human custom they had deigned to indulge.
"Then tell me your names and purpose here," Jon said roughly.
"You would not understand our names," The proud female said rather more harshly.
"You may refer to us by title," The first said, even accompanying that with a smirk. "I am the Liaison. Here is the General," He nodded at the stoic-looking one, then turned to the other male. "The Warrior - he landed the killing blow on your last hero, just after our defeat. The Strategist," He nodded at the proud, harsh female. "The Mage - her magic helped raise that Wall, and allows us to speak with you - well, those with strong blood of the Stark, at least," The Mage gave what could only be described as a wicked smile. "And finally," He gestured to the rather sad, distant woman, who lacked armour. "Night's Queen,"
A chill, even greater than the one that surrounded them already, overcame Edrick as the woman raised her eyes to fix on them.
"You recognise her name, I'm sure. I've heard you still tell stories of dread about her deeds with her human... consort. She once longed rather desperately for human life, but like the rest of us never quite understood it,"
Jon was silent for a moment, presumably to gather himself.
"Are you representatives of your... people, or turncloaks?"
"We six lead those who walk in the dark," The Strategist said, her tone derisive and hostile. "And we are not people,"
The Mage laughed at that, a harsh, awful sound.
"I was, nearly," The woman - Night's Queen, gods - said, her voice lighter than the others, as though she wasn't quite there. "I had a flesh child who was almost human, but not quite," Her gaze seemed to focus on each of the Starks in turn, and somehow she was the most eerily terrifying of the lot of them, despite appearing the weakest, despite the smile twisting her lips. "No hot blood runs in my veins, yet I spilled enough that I'm in yours nonetheless,"
"You're dead," Rickon spoke, eyes narrowed, tone blunt as ever. "You can't have a child,"
Night's Queen simply stared at him.
"What is dead may never die. We were never alive to begin with,"
"That's no answer," Rickon glared.
Edrick would be sure to spread the story of how the young Lord of Winterfell had argued with the legendary, monstrous Night's Queen without a single hint of fear.
"Enough wasting time," The General ground out. They are afraid of the sunlight. Jon seemed to share the sentiment.
"Very well," The Liaison granted. "We are here on behalf of a treaty drawn up thousands of years ago after the war with men, and sealed with the creation of that Wall,"
"Creatures of ice to the north, forbidden to cross south," The Mage said, that mocking smile gone now. "Creatures of fire to the south, forbidden to cross north,"
"Creatures of fire?"
"You call them dragons," There was a collective hiss from all the Others at her words, like she had uttered an unspeakable oath.
"The First Men allied with those who sing the song of the earth to bring forth creatures of fire to destroy us," The Strategist said, loathing evident in her tone. "As they brought us forth in the first place, their slaves of ice who broke free,"
"But fire consumes and ice preserves," The Mage continued. "An endless cycle. Peace was necessary, or else we'd have spelled each other's end,"
"You have short memories," The General scoffed. "You began to live on this side of the Wall,"
"You started to play with fire magic again and drew more dragons from the flames, summoned unearthly powers and called it God," The Strategist raised her chin.
"There is a balance to unnatural magic," The Mage said. "You have tipped the balance, and the seasons are destabilising. Surely you have noticed the long seasons, the false springs? The next long summer will destroy us, whilst this long winter will destroy you,"
"It is in both our interests to maintain the balance of ice and fire," The Liaison said. "We come to you to ask that the dragons die. We offer our help, in fact,"
"You want us to let you through the Wall?" Jon replied skeptically. "I cannot bend ice to my will as you can, nor raise the dead, but I am not so inferior as to believe that your intentions are so pure,"
"We could not cross even if you allowed us," The Liaison said. "Nor could the dragons," But the wights can.
Jon was silent again, considering.
"If you only wished for this treaty to be upheld, then why were you attacking the Night's Watch?" He asked.
"Only the Stark can hear us speak, so it was the Stark we needed," The Liaison replied.
That was a fair point. If one of these creatures had approached the Wall and been unable to communicate, the Watch would hardly have been all ears. And yet...
"We killed a ranger then stole a Stark, but the Lord of Winterfell did not come," The General said.
"Uncle Benjen," The words were out of Edrick's mouth before he could stop them. "Why couldn't you use him to speak to the Watch?"
"He was stolen from us," Was the only reply. Jon and Edrick shared a glance at the odd response. "And it takes a lord's army to stop a dragon. We sent wights to the Night's Watch, and the Stark still did not come. We attacked the Night's Watch beyond the Wall, and still nothing. But a Wildling army marching on the Wall - "
"You herded them south," Jon realised, eyes narrowing.
"It got the Stark's attention," The Strategist said harshly. "And the king in the south,"
"And now the dragon queen from across the sea," He said flatly. "Who knows you're here and has pledged to fight you,"
"The dragon queen will bring you nothing but fire and blood," Night's Queen spoke for the first time in a while.
"And the longest winter for eight thousand years," The Mage reminded.
"You are creatures of winter," Edrick pointed out.
"And we would thrive," She smiled. "Until the long summer came and melted the Lands of Always Winter. We don't live, as you do - we are unchanging, everlasting. Thriving for some hundred years is meaningless if we cease to exist at the end,"
"We will give you time to think on the matter," The Liaison said. "One turn of the moon,"
They were gone before the sunrise.
The five of them didn't speak a word after that conversation until they returned to Castle Black. Jon was immediately ushered away into meetings with all of the lords and important Wildlings and Night's Watchmen, whilst Edrick and Rickon were besieged by all those not important enough to make it into the council and had to fend off questions in the yard, not knowing how much he was meant to give away.
It was only later that they realised Euron Greyjoy was gone, though his dragon was still curled up outside the castle.
*
Two weeks later, Edrick watched as his mother rode into the courtyard with a great sense of relief. She would know what to do, his mind seemed to tell him, even if he wasn't so sure himself. Loreon Storm rode with her, and Daenerys Targaryen and her foreigners, as well as Bran and Ren.
There was a lot of pomp and circumstance, mainly concerning the southerners trying to greet their Lord Regent and being introduced to the dragon queen, although the foreigners she brought with her were a matter of great curiosity to everyone, particularly the Wildlings.
There was also very tense encounter when Jaime Lannister had introduced himself. Edrick had almost forgotten that he had killed the girl's father, and though others wondered at why he stepped forward so brazenly, Edrick likely would've done the same thing himself. She would hear of the man eventually, there was no point hiding like a coward.
"Kingslayer," Daenerys looked up at him; she was a small woman, though imperious in bearing, and her stare was nowhere near welcoming.
"I'll apologise for not protecting Elia, Rhaenys, Aegon and your mother," Lannister's tone was as irreverent as ever, although he supposed she wasn't queen of anyone here yet. "But Aerys deserved what he got. If that means you try to feed me to your dragon, then so be it. Show Westeros how you are your father's daughter,"
They stared at each other for a moment, which was broken as Edrick's mother very pointedly moved to stand at Lannister's side, her expression nothing short of a warning, the same as his sharp smile was. A few of the Northern lords looked disgruntled by this, and many of the southron ones looked incredulous, but was no one's reaction was too extreme.
Amazingly, Daenerys gave a short nod at that and moved away to the next person. She wasn't really in any place to be demanding anyone's head here anyway; perhaps she had realised that, which proved she was at least slightly sane.
Edrick did notice the rather odd exchange the young woman had with Bran. In the distraction of everyone moving inside, his cousin took the opportunity to slide up beside her. She smiled at him, as she seemed to smile at most children, though her eyes widened when his hand gripped hers rather too tight.
"Daenerys Targaryen," His voice was still childlike, though the cadence was different and the words out his mouth were not his own, but those of someone - something - far more ancient. "I met Lord Bloodraven beyond the Wall. What remains of Brynden Rivers sends his regards to the last true member of his old house, and bids me tell you that often fire and blood is not the best path, despite what the desperate shadowbinders from Asshai would have you believe,"
Daenerys opened her mouth then closed it again, nodding slowly. She had no doubt heard of Bran's powers if she had been speaking with his mother, but as she had flown here rather than sailed, this was no doubt the first time meeting his cousin.
Edrick blinked at the strange interaction, then decided not to ask.
*
Once everyone had been assigned quarters and given a rather unsatisfying meal, it was already rather late, so most went to bed with the promise of plenty of talks in the morning. Not them, however. Edrick's mother shot him a meaningful look, and he joined her and the rest of his family present here in the Lord Commander's solar; Jon, Bran, Rickon, Ren and Grey Wind.
Jon sat behind his desk, his mother and Ren in front of it, leaving Rickon and Edrick to pull up the other two, less grand, chairs. Bran sat in front of the fire with Robb - Grey Wind - at his feet, framed by the flames. He looked rather uncomfortable. The boy had never shared much of a resemblance with his father before, but much like Rickon, with age and hardship he had grown out of his baby face somewhat, making it longer, sharper, and his eyes seemed more grey than blue now, though his hair was still his mother's vivid auburn unlike Rickon's reddish-brown.
"Bran says he has something important to tell you all," His mother said. "Apparently he had to wait for the right time," She didn't sound at all pleased by this.
"You all had to be here," Bran twisted his hands, though Edrick was just glad that he seemed... normal. So far, anyway. "And you did all had to know at the right time. It's about the Others. More of a story, really,"
The room was silent, so he began to speak.
"Magic has always existed in the world. There is natural magic - which has always been a part of the earth, and exists in every living thing - the kind of magic used by the Children of the Forest and worshipped by the followers of the Old Gods - but also unnatural magic. Ice and fire. The magic of the earth takes as much as it gives, drawing from all life that's ever lived through the conduit of a weirwood tree, but the balance of ice and fire is fickle, erratic and harder to keep,"
Even though he used a child's voice, he didn't sound like a boy of ten at all.
"What's that got to do with - " Rickon started, but was cut off by a kick from Ren to shut up. The boy looked like he wanted to kick back, but a sharp glance from Edrick's mother soon stopped that.
Bran continued as though there was no interruption.
"Long ago, the Children of the Forest fought the First Men who crossed the arm of Dorne to Westeros. Magic and earth were powerful, but fire and steel were winning. The Children knew they would be defeated unless they took drastic action, and though many of them disagreed with the decision, they created their own warriors using unearthly magics," Bran grimaced as though personally offended by this. "Creatures of ice, born from magic not flesh - neither alive nor dead, just Other - to fight the fire of men,"
The six Others they had met had told them that, at least.
"Though they knew the balance of magic would be somewhat disturbed, the Children did not realise the disaster that would happen at this sudden imbalance in the world. There and then, it caused the Long Night, the first true winter, so long and dark it seemed to last forever. Before, every summer lasted six moons, and so did every winter, but after the Children changed the balance of things so drastically, the seasons have been years long, and different every time,"
"Six moons?" Ren's eyebrows rose. "Surely that's only time for one harvest? Two at most,"
"It could get you through a six moon winter, though," His mother reasoned.
"They mentioned the balance of magic," Jon said slowly. "The Others,"
"They didn't tell you everything," Bran said. "They were made to be slaves, to fight. They are not alive, but exist forever. They are unchanging, disconnected from every form of life - they can't eat, drink, can't even survive sunlight, and stand apart from the flow of time itself. They resent this - resent the living, resent being in a the world that is distinctly not for them,"
"So they wanted a world of their own, the first time?"
"A world of winter," Bran nodded. "With no life to taunt them, no sunlight to burn them, and no masters to control them. The Others broke away from the control of the Children, strengthened far beyond what their creators had anticipated by the long winter and the night that accompanied it,"
"They become strong with the winter," Ren frowned. "Strong enough to break the magic on the Wall?"
"Maybe," Bran said. Jon swore, but the boy continued. "Back then, they turned on Children and man alike. The war was no longer between different races, but between those who were alive and those who were not. The men fought and were slaughtered in their droves, whilst the Children retreated and hid under the earth from which they came.
"The human race was on its knees before long, fleeing from the onslaught of winter as it marched further south. But one man had a desperate plan. He and twelve companions searched for their old enemy, the Children of the Forest, as their last hope. The man had been named Mallegan by his mother, but was called 'Stark' by most others due to his grim visage and sharp tone,"
"Stark as in - "
"Obviously," Ren raised an eyebrow at Edrick's question.
"Mallegan's numbers dwindled from attack after attack, from giants, wights and Others, so much so that he was the only survivor. The Last Hero," Bran paused as the weight of his words sank in. "He finally reached the Children, who gifted him some portion of their magic - the first human to possess greensight - so he could see the truth of the Others.
"He could not linger with the Children long, as the hot blood of men is harder to hide and the Others soon came for him - they share a special hate for greenseers and the weirwoods they use to connect to all life. So the Children assisted Mallegan's return, but not before ensuring he gave them something in return - they used him as a conduit to form creatures of fire, to counter the Others' ice. But this time they were more careful, learning from their mistakes; instead of creating an otherworldly, unliving creature of pure fire magic like the Others were for ice, they made fire into flesh, a living beast embodying the other side of the balance of magic. The first dragons to enter the world,"
This time, the silence could have been cut with a knife.
"These dragons were kept secret but the Others could sense them nonetheless. The Last Hero returned to his people and gathered the ragged remains of mankind into an army. All had lost most of their family, had only survived by chance, were alone in the world but were the last defence of the living. They called themselves the Night's Watch.
Knowing what he did from the Children, the Stark instructed them to temper their blades in the dragon's fire in such a way that they too embodied the flame and could destroy the Others. These blades were called dragonsteel, the first crude version of the steel the High Valyrians would later perfect. The Night's Watch also mined obsidian to forge into weapons - the Children of course created a creature vulnerable to something they had always used for tools.
"By now the Others had pushed to the God's Eye, where Harrenhal now stands. The Isle of Faces in the middle of the lake was a sacred place to the Children, then the centre of earthly magic, and here the Night's Watch chose to make their stand.
"The Battle for the Dawn, it became known as. The last humans rode with the dragons against the Others, who were driven back. Remember that the creation of the Others violently tipped the balance of magic, destroying the pattern of the seasons and causing the Long Night. The creation of dragons - creatures of fire - tipped the balance partway back again and finally, as the Night's Watch pushed further and further north, dawn began to break. When it did, winter finally fell. The army of Others shattered, their wights were destroyed and their numbers were greatly reduced.
"Most of them fled north and created the Wall behind them, which no creature of fire magic could cross, trapping the dragons to the south. They retreated to the Lands of Always Winter, crippled for now.
"The Last Hero was gravely wounded during the battle. His last words to his son before the Children carried him off to their halls for a different kind of life were a warning - that the Others would be back one day to continue what they had started. Winter is coming, he said, whether that be in a one year, ten years or a thousand years and one.
"The Children took him to the Isle of Faces. Many men knew what he had done and came to pay tribute, worshipping the weirwoods that grew on the island in thanks, knowing he could hear them. The faith of the Old Gods faith was born from that, the First Men gradually adopted the religion the Children had long practiced.
"Mallegan's son Brandon signed a pact in blood on behalf of humanity on the Isle of Faces after the Battle for the Dawn. Peace between men and the Children was made and the Age of Heroes began.
"Any men who still wished to serve in the Night's Watch travelled north, to the Wall, to ensure the Others never crossed it again. As part of the pact, the Children sent them a hundred obsidian daggers every year, just in case.
"Brandon, though he did not know it, had also been touched by the Children of the Forest as a gift the one bestowed his father spans generations. He carried his father's dragonsteel sword - the original Ice, which is now buried deep in the crypts of Winterfell - and claimed the land where dawn broke and the battle was won as his own, near where he had lived as a young boy before having to flee. He built a fort there and named it Winterfell.
"He also managed the building of forts all along the Wall, and worked with the Children to enchant it so that not only can creatures of fire not cross north, creatures of ice can't cross south. For this he earned the name Brandon the Builder, though many other structures. His descendants - the gift of the Children in them too - learned to skinchange with wolves, earning the Starks their sigil. The gift seemed to die out, until now,"
No one spoke for a very long moment.
"What happened to the dragons?" Rickon's eyes darted at Ren as he spoke, as if anticipating another kick.
"Most flew east to Valyria, hunting for volcanos," Bran replied, sounding more like himself as he screwed up his face to think on that. "But a few stayed on Dragonstone. They died out eventually but left plenty of eggs there, which the Targaryens found thousands of years later. One even stayed in Winterfell, making its lair under the castle near the source of the hot springs, though it's thousands of years dead,"
The look on Rickon's face made it certain that he was going to go searching for it.
"So we defeat the Others with dragons and Valyrian steel?" Edrick's mother asked. "But what if their story has some truth to it? That if we kill them, and let the dragons live, the seasons will be in disarray?"
"They lied about the treaty," Jon said. "They could have lied about that,"
"The story isn't over yet," Bran said. "This time it's different. After the Long Night, the Others turned all the humans still hiding on that side of the Wall into more Others, to recover their lost numbers, and have taken sacrifices from certain tribes of Wildlings ever since. They existed in the Lands of Always Winter, rarely going south at all, and they were physically unable to cross the Wall. The rise of Valyria scared them, and started to destabilise the seasons further, which was worsened by the Others continuing to rebuild their numbers with human children.
"Valyria had fallen, the dragons were all dead and fire magic was at the weakest it has ever been, at least until Daenerys hatched Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion. The Others waited too long to strike, and won't wait any longer. They still want their land of winter and darkness. The seasons are still destabilising and one push will break the balance once more and another Long Night will fall.
"They are cautious of the dragons, and need to get past the Wall, so instead of open invasion they wanted to speak with the Stark in Winterfell. To persuade him to aid them in defeating the dragons and fire magic as a whole, hoping you know too little of history to realise that destroying fire magic will plunge the world into a dreadful winter, where they can gain enough strength to overcome the Wall and sweep down south to destroy any remaining warmth,"
"They were telling the truth when they said they wanted to get the Stark's attention. They first engaged Ser Waymar Royce, who has the Stark look. They were careful at first, testing him to see if his blade was dragon steel, if he was their equal. When his sword shattered they knew he was not, so killed him.
"Their actions escalated when no one came. They captured Uncle Benjen, hoping to draw the Stark north or else use him to communicate, but he was taken,"
"Where?" Edrick's mother asked sharply.
"I can't see that," He said apologetically. "Sorry. The Children know how these powers work better than me, and it's them who have Benjen,"
"He's alive, though?" Jon pushed.
"If he was dead, I would know,"
She sat back, almost satisfied at news of the only sibling left to her. Bran continued.
"Then the Others sent two of Uncle Benjen's men back as wights and tried to assassinate Lord Mormont. They harried the wildlings enough for them to elect another king and try to cross the Wall in force - they even cleared a path for the wildling army by smashing the Night's Watch at the Fist of the First Men. They were trying to persuade the Stark to come to the Wall, so they could ask for the alliance they proposed to Jon,"
"Why is it that the Starks understand them when no one else can?" Jon asked.
"We have ice in our veins,"
"Oh, that explains it," Edrick muttered.
"Night's King," His mother's eyes widened slightly; apparently she knew what that meant. "And Queen," That didn't help either, but Bran wasn't done.
"Aunt Ross, when the red priest raised you from the dead you would ordinarily be a fire wight, but the ice already in your blood reacted explosively with the fire magic. Ice preserves but fire consumes, leading to an endless cycle in you that has found a balance. You're of ice and fire now, but alive at the same time. The life from your unborn child pushed you from the dead - that's blood magic," He turned his head sharply. "Jon is ice and fire too. The Targaryens are of Old Valyria - the dragonlords bound themselves to dragons using blood rituals and arcane magics, less potent than the blood of the Others in the Stark line as it is essentially artificial, hence the Valyrian practice of keeping the blood pure by incest,"
"But I'm not a Targaryen," Jon frowned. "How do I have both ice and fire?"
"Oh," Bran suddenly looked like a little boy again, eyes widening. "I forgot to tell you that, didn't I," He hesitated, as everyone around the table stared at him incredulously. "Sorry. I should've waited til no one was here,"
"Too late now," Edrick's mother ground out.
Bran turned to Jon almost guiltily, cracking under the pressure of everyone's gaze.
"Your mother was Lyanna Stark,"
Edrick's mother looked like she was about to protest angrily at the mere suggestion of something so perverse - quite rightly, they were Starks, not Lannisters, even if she liked to lay with one - but then she froze. Edrick didn't know why, looking around. Ren had got it too, though Rickon and Jon looked similarly perplexed.
Bran continued, looking like he wished he'd never spoken.
"Your father was Rhaegar Targaryen," What? "But you can't blame Father from keeping it from you," He added hastily as Jon's face darkened. "King Robert truly would've had you killed if he'd found out! He didn't want to put the family in danger by telling anyone else - only he and Howland Reed ever knew. He trusted you all, but if Robert ever found out you could truthfully say you had no idea,"
Seeming very uncomfortable with the emotional reaction this had produced from everyone, Bran pushed forward.
"That's not the point. The point is that the balance of ice and fire magic must be kept. The Others must die, but so must the dragons. And Jon, it's down to you,"
*
Once again it's been ages, I know! Apologies for that. As a result of that, if I have left out any important details or you notice any mistakes as a result of being a little less in touch with the story, please let me know.
This chapter took me a ridiculous amount of research - (ie. ASOIAF wiki, random reddit threads etc) - to try and work out a version of the Others that I was satisfied by. I have no idea if GRRM intends to go down this route or something similar, this was just the version of events that I found most engaging. I hope it's a satisfactory explanation for a lot of things because it took me ages and I'm still not happy with it. I know there will be mixed feelings on giving the Others personalities and making them speak, but I'd rather they had a complex society of their own than just being mindless murderous ice zombies.
I know there's a few characters in this story who haven't really had time to shine like they will in canon (Davos, Melisandre, Euron etc) but I am not GRRM and don't have the time or skill to work with such an enormous cast along with a dozen OCs. Maybe when I go back to edit this eventually I can work more in.
Just to quickly clarify (I know this note is massive), only those with strong Stark blood (as in, have a recent Stark ancestor) can hear the Others. I'm sure there's those with Stark blood all over the north after 8000 years of bastards and marriages.
As always please let me know what you think! Thanks for everyone who has stuck with this fic - almost the end, I promise. I never intended to go over 300,000 words (I was tempted to keep Ross dead at Harrenhal, and ignore the situation with the Others and Daenerys altogether) but the story got away with me.