(AN) Hi there everyone! I don't leave many author's notes but I just needed to bring something up. This story is completed and is on Archive of Our Own so I'm copying it over from that. What I've just realised because I'm an idiot, is that the 'section breakers' in each chapter between scenes haven't been staying when the chapter is uploaded. To make this better for everyone as I want you all to have the best reading experience possible, I'm working on going through each chapter and putting them back in. You should notice them there in this latest chapter. Enjoy! (AN)

The name certainly resonated with Davos as he tried to remember where, when or why he would have heard of Petyr Baelish. Jorah looked just as confused, with the man in question looking at them with shifty eyes. He was stood there as if he was waiting for them to recognise him. Davos wracked his brain, thinking back to past conversations with Stannis. It soon became clearer to him as he remembered the planning they did before the failed attempt at taking Kings Landing. Baelish had been a key councillor in the capital, so notorious that Stannis had pointed out his usefulness to the king. The man who practically controlled the dark underbelly of political power and usurpation. So why was he now working for a young girl on an isolated island?

"You go by another name, don't you? Littlefinger," Davos said, the first words either of them had spoken since Baelish's entrance. The man bowed his head as if he was ashamed of the nickname but they could see that smirk once again light up his face.

"A simple moniker thought up by my contemporaries."

"As in the people who you used to work with back in King's Landing?"

"You've heard of my work then?" That fact seemed to delight him. He was putting Jorah at unease since he still didn't really know who this man was. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, now more acutely aware of the fact that their men had been left outside of the chamber.

"Not by my own volition," Davos countered. There was a flicker on Littlefinger's face - a crack in his facade. "I'm curious as to why you left such a high position there. Was it your own choice?"

"I left there because the king no longer represented my needs. I had to protect my young charge in the Eyrie, small Robert Arryn, but, when his...untimely passing came, I was driven out by the very men who had sworn to protect him." He didn't show any remorse whatsoever. "You speak as if you know me, Davos Seaworth." Again that smirk as Davos's eyes widened. "Well, I know of you of course. My people do like to witter on about the goings-on in the kingdom. You're still working for Stannis Baratheon yet are now aligning yourself with more power-hungry usurpers." He made a point of looking at Jorah as he said this.

"My alliances have nothing to do with the meeting we are meant to be having. Why don't we bring our conversation back on track?"

"In actual fact, it is good for me to see how fickle your alliances are," Lyanna said. "It doesn't fill me with confidence if I am to trust you or support your campaign."

"In all honesty, your Grace, this is not my campaign. It is no one's campaign. It is war."

"A war is the result of a campaign. It is a way of one person defeating another, isn't it?"

"In most cases, yes," Jorah spoke up. "But this is not the usual situation."

"Oh he speaks!" Littlefinger exclaimed with amusement, his eyes lighting up.

"Why don't you enlighten us on this supposed situation then," Lyanna proposed, still not impressed by these two men. This was what they had not been looking forward to - trying to explain the insanity that faced them. Jorah looked pleadingly at Davos, wanting him to take over.

"Er...Lady Mormont, we plead for your allegiance in the greatest war we as a kingdom will ever face. The need to fight for our survival transcends the barriers of historical partnerships between houses. We must all band together if we are to defeat them."

"Defeat who?"

"The dead. You might know them as White Walkers. We have men who have already faced them and barely escaped with their lives. They will soon be upon us and we ask for your support so that we stand a reasonable chance of winning."

Baelish had been holding in his laughter but, as Davos finished, he finally let out a hollow chuckle. "Your claims are preposterous. I haven't been here long but already know that these creatures are simply monsters woven into Northern tales to make children scared. There is no feasible way in which my Lady would hand over her protectors down to only the unsupported stories you say."

"If we were lying, how would you explain the houses of Baratheon and Targaryen joining together in the North?" Jorah countered. It was Lyanna who responded vehemently.

"I'd go as far as saying they were forming an alliance to take on the Crown. Especially since you say the House of Baratheon is involved in this nonsense yet the King, a member of such family, remains in the South. If you were speaking the truth, wouldn't he have joined you in this fight?" She had a good point and had backed them into a corner.

"My Lady…"

"I haven't finished," she interrupted immediately. "It also highlights another pressing matter. As far as I am aware, House Mormont does not come running to the cries of Baratheons or Targaryens. We know only one King in the North and that is a Stark."

"The Starks stand with us," Davos pointed out.

"You say this as if it's a truth when you know it is not. The Stark house is currently without a head. We have no reason to drop everything for you or your pretend rulers." They were fighting a losing battle.

"I spoke with Lady Mormont before your arrival," Littlefinger commented. "And explained to her the lies you would sprout once you got here. It is clear to me that you have been given your answer." He turned to Lyanna, who nodded her head.

"I appreciate you travelling such a long way but surely you should have known what the outcome of your visit would be. My duty is to protect my people, not sacrifice them for a cause we have no part in." They didn't even try to argue, just bowing their heads and turning to walk out of the room. Littlefinger caught up to them as they reached the door and he leant close to both their heads.

"Send my regards to sweet Sansa."

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The snow crunched under their tough boots as they walked the final leg to their destination. The general consensus had been to leave their horses at the edge of the settlement, not wanting them to get involved if an ambush did occur. A common feeling of dreaded anticipation had settled amongst them as they tentatively progressed further. East Watch was just up ahead, icy waves crashing against its jagged shores, and right behind it was the Wall. A menacing image that dwarfed the castle and them considerably. It wasn't easy to get to on foot, something that was said to have been done on purpose. This was the edge of the kingdom's only protection against the horrors that lay waiting in the wilderness. What concerned the group was that no lights were on, no fires lit. It felt cold, colder than it should have. The little hope they had felt of finding anyone was quickly being diminished.

They carried on regardless, Bruda leading the way, focusing now more on the Wall. Something was drawing him to it and he didn't know what that feeling was down to. He was the first to reach the building that had stood there undefeated for so long. Yet now it seemed that it had inevitably lost against an unknown force. Bruda lay a hand on the stone foundations, getting no sense of warmth from it at all. Even in its precarious location, with the winds which were bringing a horrendous cold on them attacking it constantly, it shouldn't have felt so...icy.

"It's like what we told you, Snow," Mance Rayder murmured in his deep, unforgiving voice. "No one can hold out against them forever. We're too late, by a long time as well, I suspect."

"Did anyone here really have any fucking hope we'd find anyone?" Clegane argued with his usual temper. "We'll be lucky to even find any bodies according to what I've been told about...them."

"Maybe they're inside," suggested Jon, still holding on to the last remaining bit of hope he had. Bruda gave him a solemn look and shook his head in the negative.

"There haven't been any people alive here for a long time. We knew this would be the case and it's not the reason we travelled this far." He started walking again, setting off around the castle as it looked like the fastest route to get up close and personal with the Wall. Mance fell into step with the warlock, the latter giving the former a cursory look as they stepped through the ever deepening snow.

"You said that you knew this place," Bruda said, starting a conversation that had been nagging at him for a while. "Yet I know full well you were based primarily on the other side of this wall. So how come you have such a good knowledge about it?"

Mance chuckled. "You can see that the Wall ends just up over there. It's a perilous journey to traverse the side of it, especially with the waves constantly trying to get you, but that meant it wasn't heavily guarded. If we needed food or any random resources, we'd send a few men over to...discreetly take what we needed."

"A defence always has a weakness," Bruda spoke quietly.

"Yes but we were the only ones who knew about it really. I doubt the men stationed here realised that anyone could pass by the side of it. They didn't know how desperate we were at times."

"How many of your men knew about this?"

"I mean...it was common knowledge across our whole community. It gave ma people hope, you know what I mean? Proving to them that the people we fought against had weaknesses. That we could defeat them...eventually." The Wall was getting closer with each step but they could still see the very top of the giant construction. It was unnerving for all of them to feel so tiny and insignificant.

"What are you planning on doing when we get right up to it?" It was Beric Dondarrion who asked the question, catching up to them as they traversed the rocky and slippery landscape. The two of them had barely spoke and the warlock was keen to get to know him. He seemed like an interesting and mysterious man, something they obviously shared in common.

"I don't really know. Maybe something will jump out at us. Hopefully nothing life threatening or intent on attacking us. There is something about this Wall that is screaming at me. There must be something about it that made you come with us too."

"The Lord of Light works in strange ways," he answered obscurely. "He more takes an interest in you than in anything that could be here. So it seemed only logical for us to follow you here." Personally, Bruda did not believe in the nonsense that was the Lord of Light but he was polite enough to not voice his views out loud. At least right in front of Beric and the creepy Thoros.

"You're putting your life at risk just because I might have some almighty purpose. And that's logical?" He tried his best to keep the scepticism out of his voice, failing miserably but the other man didn't seem to mind too much.

"I have been brought back from death several times now. Therefore, I am able to freely do what the Lord needs me to do without the fear of the ultimate sacrifice. If I am to die, then there will be good reasoning behind that outcome."

"I wish we were all that lucky. There's a lot of good men here. Most won't survive what's to come."

"You can't feasibly try and save us all. It just isn't possible."

"I can damn well try," came the blunt response as they trudged away.

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Daenerys had grown bored rather quickly after her two favourite people had left the castle grounds. There simply wasn't any entertainment with them gone. She hated herself for that mindset, knowing how everyone must be feeling, waiting for the inevitable onslaught to happen. Yet she felt useless, simply sitting in her room doing nothing productive. After one day of doing just that, she had realised she needed to do something with her time and so had walked down to the underbelly of Winterfell where the metalworkers were busy forging weapons and shields that would hopefully help protect them when war ensued. She had obviously been down here before when she had asked for Bruda's gift to be made for a reasonable sum of money. She had thought it best not to tell the warlock she had paid for it to be crafted, otherwise, he would have tried giving it back to her or gone on a rant about how it was a waste of her precious resources. She both loved and despised his stubbornness, so similar to Jorah. More than they cared to admit.

She had felt that it was her duty to just show the workers that their efforts were appreciated. She highly doubted that Stannis had been doing the same. He was a different kind of ruler to her, which was the reason why tensions had begun to grow between them, even before they had had a proper, meaningful discussion alone together. She hoped that day would never come. She went around the steaming hot room, dressed in fewer clothes than she normally did in the castle due to the extreme temperatures, talking to the odd person she stumbled across. They'd discuss what work they were doing and sometimes she'd be allowed to hold a newly formed sword or dagger. That was the case for the men who acknowledged her. Many of Stannis' men focused entirely on their work instead of the conversations she was trying to start. She understood why they did it - she was a foreign entity to them. Someone who didn't belong. No one was brave enough to say it though. Probably because she had a trio of dragons at her beck and call.

She was wandering around the large room when a voice broke her out of her concentration. She looked around for a moment before spotting the small man approaching her.

"Lord Tyrion," she said with a warm smile, surprised at his appearance down there. By the look on his face, he was equally as shocked.

"May I ask what you're doing down here? I should have been the first to know if you had taken up metal forging."

"You'd go to such lengths if you were as bored as I," she responded. "Since the departures the other day, I have had no one to hold a conversation with." Tyrion looked down at the floor guiltily at her comment, knowing he was in part to blame for that. He should have made more of an effort even if he had been incredibly busy lately.

"You must learn how to be able to talk to oneself, my Queen," he quipped. "It has helped me past many an hour. Mainly those spent in a cell."

"Hopefully I am not put in such a predicament. I must ask, what are you doing down here as well?"

"Do you not see me as a man who has the strength to create metal swords and other weapons?" He pouted slightly, which amused her greatly. "I saw you venture down here, as a matter of fact. You didn't exactly make your journey discreet, walking straight through the courtyard."

"I wasn't under the impression that I had to hide where I went whilst we were here." Her voice darkened at the hidden implications.

"You must always be careful. With so many people crammed into one place, there are numerous eyes watching all the time. Not just you. Varys has told me that we all are under secret surveillance. He believes it's Stannis' way of monitoring what we are doing within his stronghold."

"He wouldn't dare. Not your own ally. Surely custom dictates you shouldn't do that."

"Even if it did, it wouldn't stop him. The kingdom, even without the major threat we face, is in imbalance. He can't risk you destroying him from the inside. He's paranoid, which makes him even more dangerous than he usually is. Be careful."

"I'm surprised to find you down here...your Grace." They looked up as the man they were discussing interrupted their conversation. He was wearing a cocky smirk on his face as he walked up to them, completely ignoring Tyrion as he grasped Daenerys's hand tightly before bending down and planting a dry kiss on it. As he was hunched over, the imp gave Daenerys a knowing glance, with this interaction seemingly proving the point he had been trying to make. Surely it was too much of a coincidence for Stannis to turn up down here.

"I was just curious as to what the progress was with the work down here. It's quite fascinating, don't you think?" Although her comments were conversational, her tone had a scathing bite to it. She did not enjoy his presence one bit.

"Quite," he answered hesitantly, not expecting the strange question. "But I would have expected that a woman like yourself would not care about the nitty gritty when it comes to war." She also didn't enjoy what hidden message lay beneath his remark.

"One can find interest in a lot of things when they have nothing better to do. But don't underestimate my hunger for and willingness to partake in war." It was a warning to him but he ignored it.

"If you are so bored…" Had he been listening to their conversation? "Then why not come and spend time with me? We could have a much-needed conversation. It's about time we got to know each other better." He said this before placing a hand on the small of her back, guiding her away from her interests and a helpless Tyrion.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Wall was even more foreboding up close. They'd all stopped a few steps away from it, looking up at the towering construction. None of them had said a word since they had reached their destination. Many of them wanted to grumble about the anti-climatic nature of their arrival but kept quiet, sharing hushed glances at the warlock who had brought them this far. He was examining the Wall closely with his old eyes, trying to see if anything noticeable was wrong with it. He could still feel that inner sense which was speaking to him, reaching out to him. All he had to do was reach out. It wasn't his own voice, that was for sure. Someone he didn't know. But they seemed to know him.

"What now then?" Sandor Clegane was his usual impatient self but he got no answer. Instead, Bruda took the final steps towards the Wall in silence. Right next to it, he continued to observe it, all the crevices and cracks that had undoubtedly formed throughout the centuries of its existence. There was something there. Not physical. Yet it wanted to be observed. He looked down at his right hand, turning it around and moving his fingers as he felt the build-up of magical potential. He slowly placed his hand on the surface of the ice. He naturally expected it to be cold to the touch, like everything else in the North, yet it was almost...warm. The explanation for that was soon realised as he noticed the usual golden glow of his magic begin to swirl around his hand, becoming brighter and brighter.

"What's happening?" Jon asked worriedly, his facial expression matching that of everyone else's. "What are you doing?" Bruda looked back at him but kept his hand firmly attached to the Wall.

"I don't know," came his honest response. Within seconds of his answer, the golden energy shot away from his hand and moved up the wall. Pieces of ice began to crumble and fall as it filled the very cracks and crevices he had been observing moments before. The others jumped back in surprise and watched as a pattern began to form on the face of the Wall, the energy coalescing and forming strands that spiralled off in varying directions. Bruda didn't have any control over what was happening but it wasn't a painful experience. He watched as the movement began to slow down and he was soon able to remove his hand, shaking it as the feeling returned to it. He stepped back so he could get a better view of what had been formed. It looked like a spiral, tendrils of golden grooves in the ice forming a crude circle and all of them connected to one central spot. He didn't have any clue what it meant or why it had formed.

"I've seen this before," Jon remarked. Mance and Tormund agreed with him. Bruda snapped his head around to look at them, quickly walking to them, asking them the question he wanted to say without having to actually speak. "When we were beyond the Wall...the wights left dead carcasses of animals in this same formation."

"We don't know why they did that," Mance continued. "We just thought that it was their way of boasting. Showing us that they were near. But I doubt that now we've seen this." Bruda stroked his beard in frustration, hating not knowing things at the best of times.

"Men...I think you should see this." The worry and fear in Beric's voice as he got their attention immediately made them look at him. He was pointing to the very top of the Wall, which was only just visible to them. They followed the line he was directing and spotted what had made him so anxious. A wight. Looking down at them from the very top. Not moving. Only watching. They stood still, staring at it in the same way it was staring at them. Bruda cautiously moved his arm, swinging his staff in a slow arc to see if it would cause the creature to move. Nothing. No reaction.

"Is it a threat to us?" the Hound wondered aloud.

"It's just a sentinel," the warlock reasoned. "Won't do anything unless it's ordered to. I doubt it could get to us from there anyway."

"How did it get up there?" Jon asked the group. Bruda startled at the question. Of all the things to ask in this situation, that had not been at the top of his priority list. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more he realised it was a crucial query.

"I have no clue." He then thought back to the short yet enlightening conversation he had had with Mance before. "Oh...oh no" They all looked at him curiously. "I have been a massive idiot!" he shouted. "We just thought that when the dead were...converted to what they are, it was just a control over a dead body. But a person is so much more than that! And they know that. A person is made up of thoughts and memories. And those remain when they become a wight." He looked at them, noticing the lack of comprehension on their faces. "Think of the people they've killed. Mance, you said that only your people knew how to get around the Wall. So how would the Walkers do that?"

Mance's face turned ashen in colour. "They used what they learnt when they were alive?"

"Exactly. Now think back to the Night's Watch, members of which have been turned to Wights. Jon, you've told me before about standing on the top of the Wall. I'm presuming you managed to do that through a lift system of some kind." The young man nodded in response. Then comprehension dawned on his face.

"So you mean...all the things we've built, the lifts, the stairs…"

"They've built them on the other side."

"They could march down to us at Winterfell at any time," Mance said, alarmed. "Why haven't they?"

"They can afford to be patient. They've got no clock against them. But that's the least of our problems right now." Mance was about to dispute that point when he noticed Bruda looking back up at the Wall. The sentinel had been joined by another figure. It looked more humanoid, with a distinguishable face, yet the figure was blue. "Gentlemen," the warlock said with a wary tone. "You're looking at the Night King."