Flashback

The Weirwood door in the tunnel stood before him. He had told the men at castle Black that he needed to find something at the Nightfort. It seemed like a good place to disappear from the world of men.

He said the words of his oath one final time and the door opened.

The heavy pack that saddled his back was opened and he pulled out a pair of arrows. These were not ordinary arrows; rubies adorned the sides of their heads that were as sharp as raven teeth. The weirwood longbow he carried was pulled out and strung.

Heat the wall with your fire,

Your small size shall suffice

When my time at last comes

Bring down the wall

For Valyria ended in fire

But here it will be ice

In four score years by the maester tomes

When night finally falls

When the power of magic grows again in the world

And its fate rests with young boys and young girls

The watch, it shall crumble with all of its spells

And bring winter once more to the place where it fell.

He nocked both arrows at once and used his gifted fingers to aim them well apart from each other. The arrows were loosed and lodged deep in the wall. He unslung his bow and returned it to his pack. The lands beyond the wall were calling.

Asha

The river gatehouse was held by a lone sentry when they climbed the stairs and her throwing ax reached him before anyone else did. A bloodcurdling cry came from the dying man.

Ser Martyn, a big hulking brute who in some ways reminded her of her nucle Victarion, was immediately at the gatehouse windlass and with the help of Qarl raised the portcullis. Once it was raised, Qarl pulled out a crowbar and stuck it under the mechanism to insure that the Freys would have difficultly bringing it back down.

One of the prisoners, who was even bigger than Ser Martyn and was still wearing irons on his right arm that looked as if they had been pulled from the wall with a large block of bloodied stone at the end of the chains, claimed the man's sword.

Asha become aware of the growing noise within the castle. Davos pulled out his warhorn, which he had brought just in case they were forced into a tight spot and blew two quick blasts in the direction of the Water Tower.

The two blasts meant come and get us.

Asha noticed a pot of oil and moved the heavy cauldron over a brazier.

The thrum of Raymund's crossbow was followed by a grunt of pain when a man collapsed face down in the cobblestone courtyard. She could see the remaining Freys pull up their shields and move towards the gate.

The enemy began moving up the staircase. The Crannogman's bow claimed the first man to enter the spiral steps.

One of the rescued prisoners with a silver eagle on his soiled doublet produced a stone which no doubt came from the rock basket near the stairs. The rock he hurled at the advancing men hit a man with an in his helm and caused the man to fall back on his fellow soldiers who also also fell being unable to support his weight.

She followed Qarl down the stairs and dispatched several armored men before they could recover from the shock of falling. They rushed back up the stairs as a dozen men with pikes ascended the circular stairs already littered with corpses.

Asha jumped down the stairs and diverted the closest pike to her towards the ceiling with a shield. The pike was a weapon meant to fight men on horseback in the open, but here it was unwieldly and the holder was helpless as she gutted him like a fish. Another man came up with his pike aimed lower towards her thigh determined not to repeat the mistake of the man before him. It did not matter; a crossbow bolt slammed through his open faced sallet and made a bloody mark on the wall.

Martyn Snow hurled a rock of his own with such a force that she could hear the sickening sound of crushed bone when the large rock hit a man in the skull.

That was all it took for the remaining men to break and run back down the stairs.

In what seemed to be several minutes, but was probably only that many seconds a loud fusillade of crossbows echoed through the walls. The screams of those who felt them were of surprise.

One of the prisoners laughed, "Ugly weasels can barely stay alive by killing their own, for being weasels."

Soon enough, another group came at them. With the help of the big Northern bastard she moved the now very warm but not yet boiling pot of oil and dumped it on the oncoming horde of Freys. One of the prisoners was holding a torch and quickly tossed it at the oil drenched Freys. The staircase lit up instantly and the terrible screams of burning men filled the Gatehouse.

As the screaming died down, the noise of armor clanking and the beat of galloping hooves raced underneath them. They had survived. Qarl threw off his half helm and gave a cry of joy as he looked out a port in the gatehouse.

His cry of joy turned to one of terror as a bolt sprouted from the back of his neck and lodged in the other side of the wall, its place marked with a splattering of blood.

Instinctively, she caught Qarl as he fell to the floor. It only took a quick look to know that he would not survive as blood pulsed out of the entrance made by the bolt below his smooth cheeks.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, as the Earth below her seemed to shake.

Jon

It was time. He spurred his horse past the open gate, his Ghost trailing close behind him. Jon unshealthed Longclaw and held it high.

A volley of half a dozen quarrels hit his horse, and he was thrown from the saddle. Somehow, none of the quarrels hit him, so aside from some bruises earned from having a horse killed under him, Jon was unscathed. By the time he recovered from the shock, His men were all around him.

Two knights helped him up, and he led the charge on foot chasing the defenders to the West Keep, which was also known as the Bastard Keep.

Much to his surprise, the doors was wide open. He ordered his men to put up their shields and close ranks which they did.

As he figured, storm of quarrels came from every possible direction, but the shields stayed in place despite the beating they took.

He stayed behind and let the vanguard advance to the end of the hall while and took to the staircase to his left. He was going to find Black Walder, and if possible Lame Lothar. Of those who arranged Robb's murder, only two still were unpunished.

Ghost raced up the stairs ahead of him and surprised the men above with the quiet stealth that had resulted in his name. Jon reached the second level where a dozen crossbowmen fired from the relative safety of the second level gallery. By that time however, Ghost had already taken out three men. The others turned their attention to the albino direwolf and were either reloading their crossbows or holding out their short swords in hope of keeping him away.

Jon ran towards one of the enemy and kicked a chamber pot that had been left around for the sake of smearing quarrels. Jon inwardly raged at the sight of it. Stannis may have recovered already if his wound had not festered, the infection did not seem fatal, but it would take longer for him to recover. The chamber pot took a man in the midsection and stunned him just long enough for Longclaw to enter him.

He quickly withdrew the blade and parried a desperate thrust from another man who did not even have time to scream when Ghost lunged at him and ripped out his throat with one sickening tear of flesh. Duncan Liddle passed him and brought his longaxe on someone who was just about to bring up his crossbow to fire.

Anyone that remained on the wraparound gallery broke and fled. Up the stairs Jon went along with his personal guard.

A knight of White Harbor was felled when he turned a corner and met the quarrel of a waiting crossbow, after reaching the next floor of the Bastard Keep.

The man behind the knight gutted the soldier behind the crossbow. Jon passed by the fallen knight and came face to face with six grizzled Frey men at arms; their coats of light mail were battered their faces haggard with desperation to survive, and a man who was clearly the Lord of the Crossing. His hair was as black as Jon's own, and his features marked him for a Frey. The tabard over his hauberk had a black field to show his personal arms as opposed to the grey of his house. He could be none other than Black Walder Frey.

"Bastard," the man snarled, but flinched when Ghost took his place beside Jon and gave that growl he usually gave when whenever someone wanted Jon dead. "Warg," he yelled almost shrieking.

For a moment they just looked at each other, Jon saw two of his champions flanking him, Ser Godry Faring and Duncan Liddle; the rest of his vanguard was either catching up or cleaning up another part of this ugly castle.

Not including Ghost, they where three facing seven on the top floor of the castle.

Then it began, they came in a rush of steel.

Ser Godry stepped up to catch the blade of one man with his shield which he used to fling the longsword towards the wall before skewering the swordless man with his own.

To his left, Duncan lifted his axe and brought it down on an incoming Frey knight, whose Kettle helm parted at the top like soft cheese.

A man came at him with a glaive. Jon released his left hand from longclaw and seized the shaft. He forced the shaft above his head, brought him closer before putting all his might into Longclaw and cutting through an already damaged shirt of mail, drawing blood.

A blur of white passed him by followed by gurgling scream, when ghost took down another.

Four of them were already down. Black Walder had flanked Godry Farring and managed to hamstring him. A man with a mace had managed to knock Duncan Liddle out of action.

While Ghost lept towards the Frey with the mace, Jon crossed swords with the man at arms closest to himself. He finished the gizzled soldier just in time to parry a quick thrust from Black Walder. He tried to bring the sword which had been knocked upwards by Jon down in a chopping move which took a surprising amount of strengh to block.

Black Walder sprung away with his blade and brought his longsword around for swing aimed at Jon's midsection which he blocked with a downward parry.

Jon swung Longclaw upwards in a deadly arc of smoking steel, and barely missed the Frey whose cat-like movement had him one step backward and leaning heavily away. He threw his strength into a wicked chop that grazed his thigh, but only managed to sever a few links of his mail. The longsword flashed in a downward motion and he brought Longclaw up to block it.

Black Walder pressed his strengh on Jon, but in fury he lept with his sword and the Lord of the Crossing stumbled. The Frey recovered quickly however and bashed Jon in the face with his shield, before tackling him and rendering Longclaw useless in such tight quarters.

Walder pulled out his dagger in a flash of movement and laughed, "Have some widow's blood boy". Before Black Walder could strike with the dagger, a set of jaws wrapped around his wrist and tore.

The Frey screamed and dropped the dagger, and when Ghost let go of his bloody wrist, man and beast looked one another in the eyes for a second that seemed to last eternity. Then Ghost overtook him tearing out his throat.

Moments later, the corpse was pulled off of him by a large man in furs and mail. A closer, more focused look showed that it was Tormund Giantsbane.

"We have the castle, har," Tormund bellowed a few who stood behind him.

The Greenseer Prince

It was Leaf who woke him up.

"The three-eyed crow wants to see you." Her voice seemed urgent.

Bran pulled himself up by the strong weirwood branches that hung over the bed that the children had made him. He called for Hodor.

Soon Hodor came, lifted him up into his arms and carried him. The basket that came north with them was too big for Bran now. Hodor was still scared of him Bran realized. Unless you had a strong bond with someone like Summer, It was kind scary when you had someone else in your skin. Even sweet Meera was terrified of him. When Jojen died he had told her that his work was done. Meera was so sad that she had tried to kill herself and would have done so if Bran had not entered Hodor's skin and stopped her from using a dagger.

Meera never told him that she knew about what Bran had done, but the way that she looked at him lately, told him that somehow she knew. If only Meera also knew that he loved her, Bran could not bring himself tell her though.

I'm a much bigger kid now, Bran reflected.

Bran knew the path to Lord Brynden's throne by heart, and soon he saw the greenseer, whose body looked as if it had lost any remaining color, save for a birthmark that somehow looked even more like a crimson raven now.

"Come, my boy … and come … quick." He was dying.

Hodor let Bran down on the ground before the greenseer throne of the three eyed crow.

"My time … is at an end. I have taught you … all I know. Today, you will become the greenseer … the first Stark on the greenseer throne in thousands of years.

As his voice weakened, his body stiffened, and his true eye which tried hard to stay open, fell shut.

Does this make me the new three-eyed crow, Bran wondered?

Bran tried not to squirm but couldn't help but shiver as the ravens entered the cavern and began feasting on the new corpse of Lord Brynden.

Melisandre

Night was falling, and this one would be longer than yesterday's. The days were getting shorter, and barely six hours of light graced the World up here.

The Long Night was coming again, Melisandre knew. Eastwatch by the Sea had fallen to an undead army resurrected by the Great Other. Word of its fall had come on a bloodied White Raven.

It would come at the worst possible time for the Watch too. In the fires she had seen a great weeping man looking out a small tower that cast a large shadow to the west. To the East she had already seen the dead coming from the sea and attacking Eastwatch. In the fires lately, she saw the wall melting by a castle ruined and dark as the surrounding night.

Melisandre was not certain of how to interpret that last vision.

Then another vision came of a thousand eyes and one disappearing from the demon trees and every manner of animal that roamed the land. But then, the fires showed her a large raven that was perched on a weirwood tree, but cast no shadow against the setting sun. He turned his head, and his eyes turned from black and mean to a blue as calm as the sea. King, the raven seemed to call.

Note: Sorry for the prolonged wait, it's pretty hard to write Melisandre, Bran, and Jon into a single chapter, thankfully this next one will be easier to write. Also, after chewing on tWoIaF, I have dozens of new story ideas that are just begging to be typed out, but I promise that this still be will be my priorty (or least until the next chapter comes out).

Up next: Tyrion, Jaime, and Sansa.