Lord Eddard Stark

Snow fell around him, it was freezing here, the armour he wore did little to keep the heat inside. Ned knew that perhaps he should have worn his helm, but that would've restricted his vision. He had volunteered to ride north of the wall, with some five hundred men, a mixture of northmen and black brothers, to assess the situation beyond the wall and to gather as much Dragonglass as they possibly could. Samwell Tarly who had killed a white walker was with them, he would lead the digging out of the Dragonglass. They were riding toward the Fist of the First Men. They could see it in their sights, but there were tents, empty tents all around them. Evidently, the wildlings had fled, but to where they had gone they did not know. They got the fist and stopped. Ned dismounted and barked orders, he took a shovel and started digging, as snow fell around him. Snow and mud was moved as he dug, ensuring that he kept a close eye on anything that glinted. So far there was nothing more than dirt and bone and snow.

He moved with as quick a pace as he could, the cold made it damnably hard to actually do anything properly. He had to stop occasionally to ensure his muscles did not chafe and stop. He dug and moved and kept an eye, as did the others. Occasionally he'd stick his head up above the snow and look at the empty tents, wondering where the wildlings had gone and if they were going to find them at some point as they dug. Tarly had said that the wildlings would likely have moved for the Fist, but if they were not here, then perhaps they had gone elsewhere? Those thoughts troubled him slightly, but eventually, they disappeared as they found Dragonglass, shaped into spears and arrows. They put them into pouches and quickened their digging, they found more patches of Dragonglass and put them away inside pouches and sent off riders to head back to Castle Black with them. if they were attacked now, they would be finished, but if they could get these things back to Castle Black without being mauled then all would be well.

They continued digging and placing the Dragonglass, a mixture of arrows, spears, even the odd sword, into pouches, specially made for them, and shipping them off. Once they had gotten as much as they could, Ned gave the order and they mounted their horses and rode off back to the Castle. As they rode, the temperature dropped severely. Ned wanted to write it off as nothing more than an oddity, but then, he saw something through the snow. A body, twisted, its head snaking toward him. "Fire." He roared through the snow, something was thrown at the thing and it burned screeching into the night. Ned blinked, took a breath and then pushed his horse on. "Protect the glass." He roared, the order was passed on through the chain of command. They kept going and there was little sign of the thing that had come staggering toward him before. But then, something else happened. The ground shook, and a crack appeared before them. Ned looked up and saw death staring him in the face.

He barked his orders, and the men got into formation, they stood their ground and fought, as wights and death came toward them. They burned the wights, and tried to fend of the white walkers without using up their Dragonglass. He found that Ice could shatter the white walkers if they came too close to him. Distantly through the blizzard he could see something, a shape, or multiple shapes, they looked big but they also looked small. They were watching this fight, scoping out the enemy trying to decide what would happen, which way to move no doubt. Ned barked his orders and some of the arrows got used, scattering the enemy and killing them. The wights died when their masters were killed. That was useful information to have. The chaos stopped slowly, and then built up again as more beasts came charging toward them, screaming for their rights and for justice. Though how he understood what was being said, Ned did not know.

Ned kept pushing his men, it was critical that they made it back home. He needed to make it home, he threw all he had at the enemy and took some pleasure when white walkers shattered and the wights broke down and turned to ash. They used as much fire as they could, and one moment the enemy was there then it was gone, then it was back. They were trying to cause some form of distraction, but then they would reappear. And at one point Ned clashed swords with someone, a big brute of a man who whispered in his head. "We shall fight again you and I." before disappearing. Eventually, the enemy was beaten back and they made to Castle Black intact. They'd only had to burn twenty bodies.

Lord Euron Greyjoy

Euron was happy to be off that fucking island. He despised islands, he'd lived his entire life on one until he'd been old enough to and sail the seas and explore the world for himself. Then he'd felt happier and relieved. He'd been stuck on Dragonstone on the King's order. To keep an eye on the King's sister, who had been pregnant, the woman had since given birth to a little boy, who had something Euron thought was a dragon's tail. Though since nobody else said they could see it, he kept quiet. He knew what he would do if the King failed. Then word had come that the usurper's fleet was heading to Dragonstone. The King had sent word for him to engage and so here he was.

The Silence moved quickly and quietly, as befit its name. It moved and snaked around those who would do it harm, and as it did so, the soldiers of the enemy fell down before it and died. Euron had ensured his men were prepared, there would be no surrender now. There would be only death and laughter. He would ensure his name lived on. Even if that mean doing things nobody else could think of. He had something in his pocket, the horn, or a horn, not the horn, but a horn. He used the sword and axe he had used since his father had given them to him. The Islands were lost to him now but that did not matter, he would sort out his own affairs. He kept going. The ship turning and twisting causing chaos wherever it went. Euron laughed, seeing ships burn and people die had always been something he'd enjoyed. He saw no reason not to. After all they were all going to die at some point. Might as well have some fun with it.

A man came hovering toward him, Euron dispatched him from the world into something else. He moved on and on and on. It was quite amusing truth be told, seeing these people try and figure out what he was doing. Just as his brothers had never quite understood him. Balon had been half mad when they were younger, in his desperation to outshine their half-brothers, Victarion had always been a fool, a better soldier than anything else. Urrigon was an idiot, Aeron was a drunkard and Robin had been nothing more than some half-wit. His brother had never understood that for life to be perfect, life needed to be taken. He had taken his fair share of life. He'd killed one brother and ensured the other would rebel. He'd never really cared for power, just the thrill of absolute chaos, that was what he enjoyed, what he wanted. And now he had it in abundance. He moved and moved and people died, ships sank and the world was at peace within him, though outside the world went to shit.

He laughed and laughed. It was amusing to him, seeing the world burn, watching as people fought and tried to make sense of everything. The fools didn't even understand why they did the things that they did. They did not understand that the world was going to end them one way or another, and they would never be able to stop it. Euron had realised long ago what his nature was, and he had embraced it. He relished the chance of taking it all, of making everything pay, and enjoying the screed toward dominance. Hell, if Balon had realised this perhaps he would still be alive. So many had passed and died, so many had never realised what they could achieve. That made him saddened for a moment and then he laughed, and decided what point was there in being sad, he needed to act and ensure he himself was remembered.

Euron moved and moved and moved and moved and moved. The whole world was moving, but nobody could find him, nobody could stop him. He just kept going. He could respect those who fought and died with their boots on, he could not respect those who simply stood there and did nothing. Those were the worst sorts of people. He did nothing of the sort, he would not tolerate it. He kept pushing and laughing, enjoying the sense of pleasure he got from this. Wanting it to keep going and never stop. Everything had to be just so, nothing could be changed, or removed. He laughed there was something funny about the world and the way it operated. What it was he did not know, nor did he much care.

Only when he was knocked to the ground, and staring up at some shitty land dweller did he realise the fleet was burning, his men were dead and he was half naked. He laughed. The man demanded something from him and Euron simply smiled and said. "Do as you will, they will come for you all in the end." He had made his deal, let them all suffer, he would live in greatness.