Jon looked behind him once more. Fifteen thousand men. Gods, if Lord Stark had seen this. What would he say? If Robb had seen this… if Robb had fifteen thousand men, he'd still live, Jon was sure of it. The winter sun shone on their shields, their helmets, and Jon had to admit to himself, the sight was beautiful to behold, it filled him with pride. Pride and hope.
"You never asked me where to put your 4000 women and children," Jon said turning to Edric by his side.
"White Harbor, your grace," Edric said lowly, "Lord Manderly has put them up. Our huts line the streets."
"I hope he serves them better food than what I had," Jon said with a slight smile, his eyes once more gazing ahead in the distance, trying to calm his heart pumping in his throat, with little success. Any minute now, their allies would appear in the distance. He still could not believe it.
A roar like thunder filled the sky just when Jon felt that familiar rush of energy bursting in his mind.
"Rhaegal," he whispered. "Welcome." The energy calmed somewhat, and Jon looked up. High above them, a dragon circled, before it began to dive. Jon could hear the commotion behind him, could hear Edric's shout to hold their lines and wait, Yohn Royce blowing some kind of sign of hopefully the same message from his horn. Just a moment, and Rhaegal landed straight in front of them, its eyes on Jon.
"Its name is Rhaegal," Jon said louder, for Edric and Royce to hear, more to assure them that the dragon posed no threat. In the distance then, he could start to make out riders, just where the two towers of the Twins were barely visible on the horizon. They rode fast, closing the distance what seemed to Jon mere minutes. They stopped. Dothraki, their leader nodded to Jon, and Jon returned the greeting. He glanced aside to Edric and laughed at the complete disbelief on the man's face.
"I thought Dothraki would not cross the sea," Edric said.
"Well, they did, for her," Jon said nodding.
He tried hard to think to reach Rhaegal, tried to find the dragon in the maze of energy in his mind until suddenly the dragon took flight. It understood him.
He could feel the rhythm, then, like soft tapping. The Dothraki galloped to the side, giving way and view. Two columns were emerging, like two snakes. One was black, Jon could see the spears and helmets and black leather-clad figures of the Unsullied marching orderly. The other was gold, red and gold. Less lances, less power in their march, but orderly regardless. So, it was true.
Unsullied and Lannister marched side by side, closer and closer, until they heard a horn and the columns separated, now marching side ways left and right. What a show, Jon thought, wishing again for Robb to see it. For Bran, and Sansa, and Sam to see it.
The columns stopped less a wide path between them, and more columns marched aside behind the first, then the second. And finally, after what seemed like hours of watching men marching, and perhaps it was hours, Jon could see them.
Daenerys rode beside Jaime Lannister, and Jon chuckled at the sight. Who would believe him THIS? They rode at a distance from each other, each followed by a small party – On Daenerys' side it consisted of Ser Jorah, the girl from Naath and an unsullied, same as the one who was always around her. On the Lannister side it was just three aging men, looking the exact same in their Lannister armour with lions on their shoulders and red cloaks on their backs.
They were followed by a travel cart – of course Lord Tyrion and Varys would have need for one, Jon reasoned. And behind that, Jon could make out carts, with two rows of unsullied on each side. So that was true, as well. Daenerys mined the dragonglass and brought it to the North. Jon's heart filled with pride, then shame. Perhaps he misjudged her.
The procession rode past the columns of men, and Jon urged his horse to take a few steps forward as Daenerys and Jaime Lannister stopped in front of him, his eyes searching for the queens, both nodding in acknowledgement and greeting of each other.
"It almost looks like we are no longer needed," Jaime Lannister remarked, scanning the vale and rose collared white wolf banners before he caught himself and his gaze returned to Jon.
"We meet again," he said then. "I remember you when you were but a boy."
"Aye, I remember you as well, Ser. Had more hair, and…" Jon glanced on Jaime's golden hand, "more hands. Let us hope the one hand you have left isn't enough to throw little boys out of windows."
Jaime Lannister flinched. "No, it is not."
"Good," Jon said, turning to Daenerys. He opened his mouth to speak, but realised there was nothing to say, nothing that came to mind. So, he just nodded with a smile, surprisingly glad that it was returned.
"Good to see you again, your grace," Jon finally uttered some words he'd found suitable, and Daenerys' smile grew wider.
"And you, your grace," she said softly. "You were greatly missed in Kings Landing, I would admit though."
"I heard it was a merry gathering even without me," Jon smiled, "my brooding presence would've only dampened the mood." He looked past her then, to see Lord Tyrion and Varys emerge from their cart, and so he dismounted. Edric, Lord Royce, Davos and Brienne behind him did the same, followed by the Queen and Jaime Lannister and their three advisors each.
"If you would," Jon gestured to the tent on the far side to the right, silently glad for Edric to have such things as large command tents in his possession. If they win this war, he's to be made a Lord for all the difference he and his men made today, and their fight hasn't even begun yet.
They all walked into the tent, past the Dothraki, past the knights of the Vale and all the columns of thousands of soldiers.
Davos had everything prepared, and Jon just realised how much he didn't know about such things as hosting queens and lords. He walked to the seat at the far end of the round table – another smart idea of Davos, that was – and the others took to theirs. He's found himself with Jaime Lannister on his left, and the Queen on his right. He felt lost, truly lost.
Jon waited. They all stood behind a seat each, to his amazement all these lords and ladies mixed, and looked to him to sit. He didn't intend to, not just yet.
A servant girl stepped to Jon then, holding out a wooden plate in front of him. "Thank you," Jon whispered as he took it. Tyrion Lannister chuckled as Jon broke a piece of the bread, tucked it into the salt and ate it. He handed the plate to Daenerys, who looked at Jon with wide eyes. Jon nodded.
So Daenerys took the plate, and repeated Jon's motions, and the plate began its journey around the table, until finally, Jaime Lannister handed it back to the girl.
"Guest right," Jon began, "is one of the most ancient customs, that still lives in the North." He glanced at Jaime Lannister then. "I would point at the abandoned twin towers over the Trident to remind you what breaking guest right means in the North, to remind all of us standing here today. The Freys broke theirs against the Starks, and winter came for them and wiped them out altogether." He took a deep breath, "I offered you guest right upon your entry to my kingdom, and you accepted it. I expect nothing less than complete honour of the peace among us that breaking bread and salt means at my table. As long as you all hold yourselves to this vow you took, you are under my protection, and under the protection of the North." Jon saw Tyrion and Varys exchange a glance and his eyes narrowed, as he pulled out his chair and sat, and all sat following him.
The servant girl returned, with more servants, and the table quickly filled with a roasted piglet and potatoes and sauces and vegetables, wine chalices and jugs.
"Your men are cared for outside, as well," Jon noted, "We've prepared for your arrival as the little time of two days allowed us to, and they shall see no want tonight, albeit it's merely camp kitchens but I assure you that Lord Edric there brought the best cooks. I know, they fed me the past two days. Albeit, your men may lament the lack of wine. I'd not have drunken soldiers marching around in my kingdom."
Jaime Lannister chuckled beside him. "I do wonder what your Lord father would say, if he saw you now, your grace," he said.
"He would say I am an honourable fool," Jon responded lowly, turning toward Jaime, "who still believes that honour and customs are enough to hold a frail alliance together."
Jaime nodded as he took to his supper. In his mind, Jon Snow just became his ally, and he was glad, very glad at that, after seeing what surely was not the whole of the Northern army.
"Those banners, they are not the Stark…" He began,
"No, they are not," Jon said firmly. "That is my army you saw outside, besides that of the Vale."
'The boy has an army he calls his own?' Jamie shook his head in disbelief, before looking up, seeing Daenerys listening intensely. "So where is the rest?"
"Where do you think, my lord?" Jon leaned back in his chair.
"At Winterfell."
Jon smirked. "No," he said bitterly, "They are at the wall. This," Jon gestured at the table, "this is but for a day. Tomorrow, we'll be war. We all know that men need to rest, and yours have marched for a fortnight to join mine. I cannot allow much, but I am willing to gamble away a day for this. I've done the same for the northerners when they left Winterfell for the wall. Tomorrow we begin to fight for our lives – each soul in this camp need to be able to remember what that means."
Jon took to his supper then, not willing to talk more. He kept glancing at the queen on his right as he ate, but she was in discussion with the girl from Naath and Davos. Jon liked how his men "infiltrated" the groups of their guests – it was something they agreed must be done, else this gathering would be almost useless. Now it seemed, northerners led conversations just about anything, and he could see how the men eased and joined in. Even Lord Varys seemed to be conversing with Edric. Soon this dinner almost became a friendly gathering. Strip away the outside world with all its conflicts, they were only a group of people, after all. Jon, albeit feeling totally out of place, delighted in their success.
Once the table was cleared, Ser Davos laid out a map and handed Jon a basket. Jon stood, and all stood after him. He began to walk around, and chairs were moved back by all to give him way.
He placed a direwolf from the basket on Winterfell, for a start.
"What you see is the North, and the areas of the Real North that were once populated," he said.
"Once?" One of Jaime Lannister's commanders.
"Aye, once, but no more," Jon explained, "The last of the freefolk gathered at Hardhome, and were set upon just as we were ferrying them out. There isn't a living soul north of the wall."
Daenerys sighed at that, for a moment remembering the settlement and the signs of carnage. And them. Her eyes met Jon's.
"Your scouting flight revealed something I would've never guessed," Jon said softly, "Thank you." He placed a figuring looking like a skull at Hardhome, and another at the Gorge. Then a crow at Castle black, and for lack of a better one, and a mammoth head at Eastwatch.
"There are two armies. What you see is what has been but a moon ago. The dead don't care about land, they care about the living and there are only three castles manned on the wall. There are two armies marching south. I expected them at Eastwatch, but now I am certain they will hit Castle Black."
"Why not man all castles?" Tyrion asked genuinely curiously, "Perhaps then their armies would have to break up."
"I don't think they would," Jon reasoned, "They seek a crossing. Small numbers cannot defeat the wall, and the army we face is strong because of its numbers, the footsoldiers they have… it's not like they have fighting skills, they are easy to kill if one has the weapons to do so. But Lord Tyrion speaks my mind, to a degree. I don't intend to man all castles, merely those in their path, because we also need to be able to aid them in large numbers." He placed the northern figurines at the castles, "I've sent the houses of the north to each. I'd rather not disperse further, we need to be able to aid each other. I know they will hit Castle Black."
"Why are you so certain?" Lord Varys raised an eyebrow, raising the question Jon pondered on for the past few days."
"Because that is where I would hit if my aim is to kill as many as I can, and Eastwatch. Because if I fought them at Hardhome, and that makes it obvious that I would expect them at Eastwatch. In truth, Hardhome was long ago – I know not what kept them north of the wall for so long, but perhaps it was the separating of their armies. Their best chance to break through and win meat for their army is Castle Black. I know not what weapons they could muster, spears perhaps. They don't use arrows, not that arrows could ever reach the top of the wall. They'll have giants. They'll have wolves and bears and whatever wild animal you can imagine, they'll have it. They'll have mammoths. And they will attempt to climb the wall."
"Mammoths and giants?" Varys looked at Jon, eyebrows drawn high.
"Climb?" Jaime Lannister asked in disbelief, "That is impossible."
"It is not impossible," Jon resolved, "I've made that climb, and I am a living breathing man. It is hard, that's true, but not impossible. For them, who don't feel, don't tire, don't care of falling because they'd just stand and try again, it is much easier to attempt. And Lord Varys," Jon looked upon the man opposite him, "I trust you believe my words, I have seen mammoths and I have seen giants. They lived north of the wall. Anything that once lived there is now marching in the army of the dead, anyone we could not save." He turned back to the map and began placing the northern sigils.
"The northern houses sent 500 each to the wall, the rest are at Winterfell or, in the case of Karstark, Umber and Glover, securing their own keeps." He placed the fist of Glover at Icemark, the lizard of Reed at the Nightfort, the tree of Forrester at Deep Lake, the sun of Karstark at Queensgate, and finally, the direwolf at Castle Black and the chain cross of Umber at Greenguard.
"Before I continue," Jon sighed. "There are at least five men in this tent who have more experience at drawing battle plans then me. I would like to think that I am not a vain man – if you have something to say, say it. This is an alliance, we fight for our survival." Jamie Lannister smiled. The boy was smart, and humble, he thought.
"The wall is our best defence and we shall hold on to it with all our might. But the wall cannot be defended by armies. The path atop the wall is narrow, two men walking beside each other take up its width. Ser Jaime, Edric, you both would send 2000 men to aid the castles I manned. Tell them, aid doesn't only mean fight. They may be put to use in the kitchens for all I know, that is the way at the Nights Watch. Ser Jaime, you'll have command, save the Lord Commander, Eddison Tollett. Tell him though who you are, he will listen to advice. Tell him I shall follow soon."
"Edric, you also send a thousand more to Eastwatch, disperse to aid Greenguard if needs be. Then you take the remaining two thousand to the Dreadfort."
"I'd rename it, your grace, if it please" Edric grinned.
"Aye, rename it if you will, Sansa will like that," Jon laughed, "The Lady Sansa. Forgive me."
"I shall rename it Snowfort. See it is manned by Snow and not Dread," Edric stood proudly and laughed heartily, his eyes on Jon, regardless of how no one but Jon else got the jist of his joke.
"You could rename it Rosefort just as well," Jon said laughing, "Or the fort of Winter Roses, now that would really please the Lady Sansa."
"Nay, your grace, Snowfort it is," Edric grinned, "But I shall gift a whole garden of winter roses one day to the Lady Sansa."
"Your grace," Daenerys soft voice beside him dragged Jon back from the chatter, and he tilted his head toward her to listen. "I shall ride north once more to see for certain."
"No," Tyrion and Jon said at once, Tyrion loudly protesting while Jon considerably softer, his eyes settling on her. "I don't want them to know that we know," Jon explained. "If they see dragons flying overhead, they will know that we know. They may change course. Not to mention the danger."
"We'll all be in danger soon enough," Daenerys countered.
"We will," Jon agreed, "and you'll have plenty of opportunity to fly as well as to burn wights, I fear." He turned back to the map, placing the rose and lion banners where he sent them, and placing the northern banners at their keeps. The lizard he placed at Winterfell, without a word, looking at Howland Reed who nodded.
"I would disperse the unsullied, if you agree," he turned to Daenerys once more. "I would keep five thousand here," he placed a spear at Mole's Town, "and the rest of them here," he placed another spear at Oakenshield and Woodswatch, "I've not had the numbers for this, but with the Unsullied, we could cover the other side of Castle Black."
He looked up. "Do advise your men on the wall, that fleeing downwards is not always the safest way. Flee to the side, reach the next castle and descend. It was something I kept thinking of when Mance attacked the wall. I thought if they broke through, the tunnel would prevent them from crossing in large numbers at once, they'd still be crossing when one descends at a neighboring castle, and can come up right behind those who crossed, or attack from the side. Something like it. But fleeing downwards always looked like fleeing to death," Jon looked at Jaime.
Jaime Lannister nodded in silence. "It is a two fronted battle then, as soon as they cross."
"Three," Jon corrected. He took a horse and placed it just where the edge of the woods he believed to be, to the right of Mole's Town. "The Dothraki, here. It's woodland, it can also hide dragons. And they can aid in Queenstown's defence, albeit it's being evacuated." Jon looked up at Daenerys, who nodded in agreement, then Edric, "I want our cavalry to camp in between, perhaps under Rimegate. I want us to be able to move to whichever direction."
"Perhaps it would be more considerate to change places with the Dothraki, your grace," Ser Jorah spoke up. "Northerners have never seen Dothraki before, Queenstown may feel threatened."
Jon allowed a quick smile, "I've thought of that, but I've heard Dothraki speak. I could not send a message to them, if the Queen isn't with them. Queenstown just have to accept it, after all this is for their defence."
"I can stay with them," Jorah said resolutely. Daenerys' eyes settled on him. "I could translate when the messenger arrives."
"Will they listen to you?"
"They will," Daenerys assured. "They will because I will ask them to."
"This leaves," Jon stood straight. He used up all the Lannister men, all the unsullied, the Dothraki, and Edric's force. "This means there is no force left but the one at Winterfell. And the force of prayers."
"And dragons," Daenerys noted with a smile, "you forgot about the dragons."
"I am not used to planning a battle with dragons," Jon said smiling, "But yes, we should put them to use. If the dead break through, they are the first force offence, I thought. Them burning the dead allows us to group and attack those that slip through the dragon attack."
"You would place the queen in the front of the battle," Tyrion said bitterly.
"Lord Tyrion, how do you think I fought my battles?" Daenerys was annoyed, her eyes raging. "You've seen it in Meereen, you've seen it at Blackwater Rush. This is how it should be." She turned to Jon and nodded.
Ser Davos began to place banners from the basket Jon laid on the table, and Edric moved to help, placing little figurines to represent accurate numbers on the field.
"Forty thousand men," Jon said. "Forty thousand men will be on the field against a hundred thousand. But the wall can aid us even if they break through, it will slow them enough, what ever way they find through it."
"What if they don't break through?" Jon looked at the Lannister man whose name he didn't know.
"My Lord, they will break through," he said lowly, "Let us not convince ourselves otherwise. They will not rest until they break through."
He sighed. "As soon as you can, burn your dead. Always burn your dead, even if you flee, make sure you do so after you burned your dead. If you don't, you will likely see them again, and fight them. In the keeps, in the crypts, in cemeteries you may come across – burn the dead, no matter how old, burn them all."
"How does he do it?" Jaime asked somewhat shaken.
"Some kind of magic," Jon said, "I don't know. But it's effective. I've seen him raising his arms and thousands of my fallen rose with him at Hardhome."
Jaime shivered at the thought. He stepped back from the table, taking in their solemn faces. They must've been imagining what he was imagining, the thought of standing on the battlefield only to see those who fought by your side and fell rise to fight against you. His eyes settled on Jon.
How different he looked, Jaime only registered it just now. He was merely a boy when Jaime last saw him. Arrogant, proud, stupid boy. Yet it was his words that sounded stupid now, the words he spoke to Jon that day of the feast at Winterfell. He watched Jon resting on his arms against the table, studying it as if he could do more. He was no boy. He was a man grown, battle hardened. The scar around his eye, a somewhat thick line from his forehead, through his eyebrow down to his chin spoke volumes of what he could have been through. His face was thoughtful, focused.
"Did you consider…" Jaime began, but swallowed the rest. Yet Jon turned toward him and straightened.
"Speak up, Ser Jaime."
Jaime stepped close to him. "Did you consider what happens if we don't defeat them?"
Jon turned back towards the map. Those who heard the question did the same, awaiting his answer, and those who didn't hear it followed suit to hear what they missed.
"As soon as the wall falls, I will send Ghost to Sansa. It is a sign, for we'll have no time for ravens and scrolls." He looked up at Edric, "I'd have your wolves in the Wolfswood, they may like it." Edric nodded and Jon turned to the map. "All those who can't fight are being evacuated. Karhold and Deepwood Motte has only fighting force, the Umbers are staggering still. All the refugees are now grouping at Winterfell."
He looked around the table. "When Ghost arrives, Sansa will know to begin evacuation. She'll lead them to White Harbor, and we'll have to make sure to defend them. We'll have to hold back the dead for as long as we can, so they can escape."
"Is that why you kept the ships," Edric asked bemused.
"Aye," Jon nodded, "If the north falls, we'll fall back to Winterfell and they fall back to White Harbor. Should Winterfell fall…" Jon sighed. "Should Winterfell fall, they'll board the ships and sail south. Or Essos. I hear the climate of the hills of Norvos is rather forgiving," He smiled at Edric who nodded. "Either that, or Dorne, but I would not trust our refugees on a Southern kingdom I know nothing about."
"Dorne is allied to me," Daenerys spoke, resolutely.
"WAS allied to you," Jaime Lannister corrected. "Ellaria Sand is rotting in the black cells under the Red Keep, and knowing the Dornish, they've already replaced her. I would agree with the king on this, across the shivering sea is the way. Especially if we cannot hold back the dead, Dorne would only be something of a delay in terms of… you know."
Jon nodded. "This is where the problem lies," he said. "If Winterfell falls, the North falls. None of the keeps south of Winterfell will hold for long, merely delay the inevitable. Which we ought to, therefore we'll fall back to protect White Harbor and the evacuation, and man Castle Cerwyn with whatever we have left. Then Moat Cailin, Greywater Watch" He glanced at Howland Reed who nodded, "the castles in our path should evacuate the save their fighting force, and below the Neck I have no right to order them to do so. But even if I did, where to go?"
"South, obviously," a Lannister spoke.
"Aye, but while we lose our numbers, which will be for the gain of our enemy if we're not quick enough to burn our fallen, in the end our numbers will diminish. I would presume by the time this chain of events would reach the Trident, we all would be blue eyed corpses marching among the dead, if not a pile of ash. Then who is left to protect the South?"
The sigh that could be heard in the tent was a collective one.
"We must beat them back," Daenerys whispered.
"No," Jon said softly, "we must finish them off, all hundred thousand of them."