Briar Birdsong huddled in the safety of the shelter, having claimed her place close to one of the strange warmth makers that lined the walls. She had lived in the shelter for nearly five moons now, having come in with her small hunting party fleeing the cold winds that had descended from the north. This strange shelter had been but a rumour out of one of the nomadic hunting bands coming from the Skriling Pass. According to them, it had been a good place to stop and rest, filled with warmth and a stable shelter not seen outside of the valley of the Thenns, Hardhome, and Craster's Keep. Briar's clan leader had been suspicious, after all, the lands of the true north were harsh, and few places were secure enough to stay for any length of time.
Still, the entire clan had been hungry and cold, and with more and more of the free folk moving south to avoid the Others and their wights, there was less and less to go around. They had packed up their meagre belongings, while Briar had secured her young daughter to her chest and slung her bow over her shoulder. The little one had fussed and squirmed through much of the journey, but her movement only made her mother smile. An active child, especially in this cold weather, was a strong child, and Briar had high hopes for her daughter, who had survived through the end of winter and had earned her true name.
Their group was small, about twenty people in all, and only three of them children, but they had made it to the pass along the milkwater. Once they had entered into the Skriling Pass, they had found themselves absorbed into a larger group that was heading in the same direction.
With their joining, the group had grown to number over a hundred people. They marched through the snow, which began to fall harder as they made their way further and further into the Frostfangs. Briar had grown concerned for a brief time as the snowfall increased. The Frostfangs were well known to be harsh terrain even by the standards of the true north, with the Thenns having one of the only good places with their hidden valley deep in the mountains. Wherever this strange shelter was, it would have to be similar, or they would freeze when the mountain's cold gales made the already frigid winds even worse.
Their food had begun to run low when a cry had rung from the front of the group. A great whoop of joy resounded as the great shelter came into view.
It was placed towards one side of a mid-sized valley filled with trees. Briar thought she had seen a flash of metal higher up on the hill that the shelter was built at the base of, but dismissed the idea. Upon arriving at the other end of the valley, she had wondered at the warmth that was cast forth from the mid-sized wooden structure. No fires burned within as far as she could see, and no smoke came from a roof or hearth the likes of which were said to billow from Craster's Keep. When the party had gotten there, they had been greeted hesitantly, for theirs was the largest group of wanderers that had chosen to stop at the hold. Some of the people already settled had pulled out spears and daggers, prepared to defend this strange sanctuary against raiders, but no violence had erupted as the strange builders had arrived soon after.
It was the arrival of the builders that had shocked Briar and many others of their group. The two men, covered head to toe in metal armour and black cloth, emerged once a day, coming from somewhere up the hill and setting about expanding the shelter. They rarely spoke, and even less did they remove their strange helmets that covered their faces in strange orange material that reflected the faces of those who looked upon them. In fact, for the first half-moon that Briar and her party had stayed at the shelter, there had been talk that the Builders were not men at all, but strange creatures of metal who had come from beneath the Frostfangs to give warmth against the Others. Briar had been half way to believing them before one day, one of the builders had taken off his helm to take a drink of water from a small flask at his side. The man had been strange, pale of skin and with short cropped black hair. He had a face that seemed cut from stone, so hard were his features, and a body likely made from the same with the way he and his companion occasionally brought trees from the small woods out in the valley and used them to build their shelter larger.
The other man's face had eventually been revealed as well, and had prompted more than a few of the young girls to whisper of slipping into their beds. One rather brave girl had gone so far as to follow the builders back up the hill to wherever they rested, but had returned disappointed.
Briar and her group had settled down quickly, making little trouble and doing what they could to survive. The woods here were thick and plentiful, and apparently getting warmer where the rest of the true North was getting colder. Some pointed to the builders and their work, others to the coming of spring and summer, but few cared, not when the now warmer valley was drawing in many creatures to make their homes amongst the pines and leaves of the trees.
Just that very morning, Briar had brought her daughter with her out hunting, having another of her tribe keep eyes on her and aid them in carrying back her catch. They had returned just in time for the doors to close, a strange, sudden storm falling around them.
Briar felt the cold seep through the wood, chilling the shelter even through the thick walls and warmth maker that kept the place comfortable. She shivered, and clutched her child closer to her chest to stifle her whimpers.
"They are here." One of the men near the closed door said.
"The Builders?" Asked another, coming forwards to peer through the gap in the wood.
"The Others." The deathly whisper of the first man sent the entire shelter into a panic.
Briar herself felt the cold reach deep into her heart. The Others were more dangerous than any shadowcat or direwolf, and worse, they did not simply kill, but raised the dead against their still living kin.
"What is he doing?" Asked another of the group, readying their weapons.
"He's killin' 'em."
A flurry of activity began, some even venturing to the large doors of the shelter to witness. Briar felt her curiosity bubble up, but refused to bring her daughter any closer to the large door that separated them from the freezing death that lurked on the other side.
Soft whispers and words of awe passed for a while afterwards. Men, women, and children making the tentative journey from their safe corners and groups to peer through the cracks in the doors and windows. After a while, the Builder came to them, asking questions about the risen dead and then leaving. Briar wondered how men such as the builders could need their knowledge when they clearly had such power over warmth and heat.
"Another is here." The warriors and spearwives gathered with their weapons at the front of the shelter, but made no move to leave. "They're carrying something."
More murmurs spread around the shelter, rising in volume as those at the door gasped in some combination of fear and awe. The light streaming from between the doors brightened, illuminating the faces of those standing at the forefront.
"They're spewing fire." One of the old warriors breathed. "Like the tales of dragons from the south."
A great clamour erupted. Where before most had refused to go near the doors or the locked windows for fear of drawing the attention of the Other and their servants, now her fellow free folk pushed and shoved to get closer to the small cracks and gaps in the wooden shutters, hoping to glimpse what magic the Builders had brought to bear against the dead.
Briar herself shoved an old greybeard out of the way, peering through the nearby window, her fears still clutched at her heart, harder than even her daughter's iron grip, but curiosity had pulled her from her place, and now she watched in a strange mixture of awe and apprehension.
She did not need to wait long. One of the risen dead that served the Others raced through the flurry of snow, snarling and flailing. It never made it close to the Builder. A stream of fire engulfed the creature, sending it shrieking into the snow, but the cold, melting snow did little to extinguish the flame before it had burned the dead man near to ash.
The spectacle of the battle kept Briar enraptured, even when the motion of charging dead men being burned to nothing by the Builders should have gotten repetitive. The actions themselves were, but what they represented were not. For the first time since the Long Night many thousands of years ago, the Others and their minions were held back. Briar felt a spark of hope kindling in her chest, watching the armoured Builders faced down the enemy that emerged seemingly endlessly from the blizzard's blinding flurry.
Time seemed to both stand still and race by, heralding time and again the defeat of more and more of the white walkers who charged heedlessly to their second deaths, filled with a stiffness and an energy that only the risen dead could possess, but eventually, even they began to trickle away, emerging from the snow less and less as the blizzard's fury finally abated.
Briar let loose a sigh of relief, clutching her daughter closer to her chest, feeling her warmth mix with the new feeling that had replaced the certain dread that had filled her with the mere mention of the Others.
That dread returned however, when she saw another creature launch itself at the Builder.
"An Other." The whisper was all but silent, yet somehow heard by all.
Though few had ever seen one of the Others and lived to tell the tale, what stories did survive were spread across the tribes of the Free folk, used to scare grown men and naughty children alike. Briar's eyes locked onto the creature as it lunged at the builder. Its weapon was of ice, but different from the likes that the woman had seen before. Unnaturally clear and blue, the sword it wielded seemed to glow softly amidst the flurry of snowflakes and blows. The Builder held his own however, dodging and parrying the weapon against his strange mass of steel. The sound of screeching sounded as the two weapons clashed, before the Builder maneuvered the end of his own arms directly at the creature's face.
A torrent of fire erupted into the Other's face, sending it screeching back into the snow, sizzling and crackling like cracking river ice split by rushing waters.
A cheer went up from all around the shelter, seeing one of the creatures that had brought so much suffering to the people of the true north die. Briar felt a surge of emotion in her breast, clutching her daughter closer still to her.
"Do you see tha' little one?" She asked her squirming child. "That's justice, that is. That thing's dead, and we're safer for it."
The builder turned his gaze from the still burning Other on the ground, seeming to look off in the distance.
A warning shout came too late, and Briar felt again the dread of death squash the hope in her chest as the Other rose, steaming and hissing but alive, and thrust its sword sharply towards the Builder's guts. A flash of strange yellow light erupted, sending strange arcs across the Builder, but the Other's blade had struck true, and Briar wondered in despair whether or not the Builders could be raised as other men were.
But the Builder did not fall as other men did, instead, he leapt back from the Other, looking none the worse for wear. That was when Briar got a good look at his stomach, and saw that the blade of ice that had pierced all others before this one, had not penetrated the Builder's strange armour. The Other shrieked again, charging the armoured man and locking them in intense combat. Blows were exchanged between the two, and Briar watched amazed as the sword of ice that had likely killed thousands was stopped by the Builder's weapon.
The fight was short as it was vicious. A kick from the Builder sent the Other stumbling back slightly, only for another Builder, one that Briar did not recognise, to appear from the blizzard. This other Builder, clad in similar armour to those Briar had seen before, raced across the snow, leaving a trail as they kicked up a flurry behind them, even in the blizzard's waning gales. They slammed into the Other, carrying the creature as they wrapped their arms around it in a hold. Leaping forwards, the Builder smashed the Other into the frozen ground, crushing the creature between the earth and their own armour. The first Builder ran to them, and the shelter got their first look at the third of the Builders. This one was smaller, short even compared to the normal men where the other Builders had towered over her and her fellows. She pondered over the idea that this one might be a child. Coming out to protect their father perhaps.
The two stood together over the Other, laid out in the snow. Briar wondered why they had not yet killed the creature, waiting as the first Builder nudged the body with its foot. Did they not know that Others were creatures of ice and snow? Did they not know that they shattered upon death, unlike men who simply laid cold in the snow. It seemed they did not, for in an instant a flash of blue arced from a place Briar could not see, and another blade of ice, clearer yet somehow a more vibrant shade of blue, pierced what the first Other's blade could not. The Builder fell to his knees as the other was soon struck as well, though not as terribly as the first. The demon that the two had defeated rose from the cracked, frozen ground where it had been felled, latching onto the injured Builder who it had first fought. The two went down in the snow, grappling with each other. The Builder used his strength and size, pinning down the Other, and unlike before where he had hesitated, this time he did not. Blow after blow rained down on the demon, drawing cheers from the assembled people of the shelter. Briar found herself cheering alongside them, shouting for the Builder to save them, to fight, to win. For the sake of her daughter, and for the sake of herself, she prayed to the old gods for the Builders' victory.
Whatever prayers were being sent, it seemed that the gods had heard them, for even as another spear of ice pierced the Builder's armoured back, his fists finally struck true, and the cursed form of the Other shattered into a thousand pieces. The shelter cheered like they had never before, but Briar could not, seeing from the front as the Builder who had killed an Other collapsed. The other, smaller Builder with one of the Others' weapons sticking out of their shoulder leaned over their fallen kin, and from the snow, another two raced onto the scene. Quickly they stood guard over their injured fellows, waiting for something that Briar could not name.,
All around them, the blizzard that had signalled the coming of death abated, for death had come. Not to them though. For the first time, it was the Others and their servants who retreated in the aftermath of their coming, claiming no new corpses to add to their army. They had lost.
Emotion roiled and rolled within Briar's heart, telling her to feel joy and relief as she watched the snows abate, leaving them safe for now, possibly forever if the Others learned to fear the Builder's valley enough to never return. However, that joy was tempered by fear; fear of the dying Builder, fear of what might happen should more of the enemy come. What if the Others did not learn to fear the Builders, but grew wrathful and attacked again in numbers greater still. Only two Builders had ever emerged to make their shelter. Now, with two of their numbers injured, and one it seemed close to death, only two more had come. Could there be only four such Builders in all the world? If so, how were they to hope to defeat the demons who could summon the endless dead to drown these champions of flame and life.
A screeching noise, like nothing she had ever heard, sounded from somewhere above them, and the Free Folk who had made their homes in the shelter retreated from the windows, huddling together at the sound. Briar clutched her daughter closer to her, hoping and praying to the gods that whatever new thing the screeching noise heralded, it was not there to finish what the Others and their minions had started.
"More of them." One of the greybeards said, hobbling back towards the cracked windows. "More of the Builders have come."
Briar could almost feel the relief surge through the shelter. Taking her chance, she joined the greybeard and peered through the shutters. In the snow, she counted twelve builders in their great armour milled about, pulling the two that had injured the Others up from the snowy ground. They placed them on a strange slab, before dragging them away. Briar watched those that remained move, toiling in the snow for something. As they worked, she saw the Builders who had defended the shelter disappear into the snow that still fell in the wake of the Others' defeat. The freefolk hidden within the shelter chattered and cheered, howling joyous celebrations and praises of all sorts. Prayers to the old gods, to the Builders and everything in between echoed around their new home, their fortress against death itself, and Briar could find no reason not to join.
Cersei Lannister walked down the aisle of the Great Sept of Baelor, clad in a dress of exquisite fabrics. Silks from far off Yi Ti and jewels from every corner of the world adorned her, accentuating her already great beauty. Already her ladies and the courtiers of the Red Keep were calling her the most beautiful woman in the world, a figure to be called the Maiden incarnate amongst mortal men.
Her arm was wrapped around her father's as he led her to the dais, where her soon to be husband waited. Robert Baratheon looked every bit the king that Cersei knew she deserved to be wed to. Tall and strong, with sharp features and thick dark hair. Perhaps she would have preferred Rhaegar's silvery golden locks, closer in colour to her own, and to her family's, but Rhaegar was dead, and Robert was the king she was marrying. At the man's sides were Eddard Stark, the king's closest friend and foster brother, and his blood brother Stannis Baratheon. Both men wore looks more dower than appreciative. Cersei felt a twinge in her chest as neither man seemed as taken with her beauty as she knew they should be. She was the queen, or would be in but a few moments, and these men should understand that she was the most beautiful of all women, that she should be admired by all.
Stepping up, she felt the gazes of a thousand noble lords and ladies, and outside, she knew that the common folk had gathered in their thousands, in their tens and even hundreds of thousands, to celebrate her, cheer and admire her as she ascended to her rightful place, the place her father had promised her so long ago. Each step brought her higher, above the lords and knights that had gathered in attendance. Cersei's spirits rose, higher and higher as she approached her place beside Robert. The High septon stood before them, grabbed splendidly, as Cersei knew he should. Those involved in her wedding should look the best in all the realm, for they were there to proclaim her as the new queen.
Finally, she reached the top of the dais, her father releasing her arm and stepping aside, leaving her to her rightful place, standing above all the people of Westeros. Lords and ladies across the room looked on as the ceremony began, and Cersei felt just as much the envy of their gazes as the adulation that they were duty bound to give. Jealous ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms burned in envy over her crowning. If any of them might have fancied themselves a worthy bride for the new king, Cersei knew that they were fools. Fools for thinking that they deserved her rightful place.
She and Robert spoke their vows, promising to the seven their loyalties to their new union. Turning with her new husband after exchanging a short kiss, Cersei scanned the crowd directly. Reachmen and Dornish lords glared subtly from the back of the sept, a snub meant for the houses that had supported the Targaryens during the war. The only exceptions to this were the lord of Highgarden, and the princes of Dorne. Seated beside her brothers, was the woman who Cersei felt the greatest pride in dethroning. Elia Martell clapped politely from her place, standing alongside the rest of the guests and applauding her rise to queenship. Cersei felt a flood of satisfaction. Aerys' madness had stolen her rightful place from her once, and thrust it upon the frail woman. Now, that time was done, Aerys and Rhaegar had paid the price for rejecting her and insulting her family.
Meanwhile, the lord of Highgarden was separated from his allies, surrounded by Stormlander lords who no doubt felt a great deal of pride and satisfaction seeing one of their own risen up to rule over the Seven Kingdoms. The Stormlands, the Reach, and Dorne had a great deal of enmity amongst themselves, sharing a border and suffering at each other's hands when raids had ravaged lands, smallfolk, and lords alike.
The wedding celebrations were elaborate and lavish, as Cersei knew they had to be to impress upon everyone the majesty of her ascension. The high septon announced her and Robert's marriage, proclaiming them queen and king for all the realms to see and adore. Applause and cheers erupted from those gathered in the great sept, even if loyalist lords kept theirs more polite and muted. Stepping down from the dais, the new queen and king left the sept through the massive doors, greeted outside by the cheering of the city's smallfolk. Robert held her arm before bringing her to a wheelhouse. Large and ornate with gold trimmings and all the colours of her house, Cersei sat and looked out the windows. Waving to the adoring masses, she waited for the wedding train to start their progress back towards the Red Keep.
As the group marched through the streets, men in armour moving in lock step with the horses ridden by the lords, the smallfolk were barely held back by the gold cloaks and Stormlanders who served to protect the king and his retinue. From the near rabid beggars clad in the tatters of Flea Bottom to the merchant men who peddled their wares on the streets of steel, silver, and silk the people cheered for their new queen and king. Many screamed for the new king, few people missed mad King Aerys, but some seemed to regard their new sovereign with apprehension. Cersei dismissed whatever worries those smallfolk might have had. In time, they would come to adore her and Robert both, her beauty would win over all of the doubters if her wealth and wit did not.
Back at the Red Keep, the celebrations and feasts began in earnest. Seven and seventy courses had been prepared and brought out, meant to show the wealth of House Lannister and the divine favour granted upon the new dynasty. Jugglers and jesters and fools roamed across the great hall and out into the pavilions set up to seat all the lords of Westeros who had attended the event.
Still, Cersei basked in the feeling of siting at the high table. She had always held high seats no matter where she went, being the daughter of a lord paramount and the greatest family in Westeros. Now though, she was seated at the very centre of the highest table. Even her father did not have such a central position, being seated lower at the high table, next to Jon Arryn. A small part of her felt that the old falcon should not have merited a higher position than her lord father, but with such a jubilant atmosphere, she could forgive the small slight against her family.
At least none of her direct family had been relegated to the lower tables. While still seats of privilege to be seated close to the king, there was a distinct hierarchy to how the rest of the lords were organised. While Ned Stark and his new Tully wife were seated between Robert's brother Stannis and Lord Hoster Tully, Lord Mace Tyrell had been the only lord paramount not seated at the highest table. Instead, he and the Princes of Dorne were seated just below them, amongst the greater bannermen of the rebel lords. Princes Doran and Oberyn were seated beside the Estermonts, Roberts maternal uncles and cousins. Meanwhile, princess Elia had been seated next to the former Queen Rhaella, who was herself sat with House Terra, one of her father's newest and most principal bannermen. Cersei had heard of how Lord Terra had captured the Targaryen family from the centre of the Red Keep during the war, and had seen just a few weeks ago how the man had utterly defeated the knights of the kingsguard.
Cersei smiled as she thought of the former queen's fate. She would be married to the man who had killed her husband and her son. Her other son held as a hostage amongst men loyal to her father. Perhaps she could have Princess Elia's children fostered there as well. What better way to keep the Dornish snakes loyal than having their precious prince and princess held by loyal Westermen.
The feast was grand, and by the third and twentieth course, Cersei found she could not eat another bite, so full was her stomach. She had especially enjoyed the strange brown squares that had been handed to the high table, courtesy of House Terra. Chocolate, the servants had informed them all of the name, most everyone at every table found themselves happily chomping down on the pieces after the first few lords had tried it. At some point, she was sure she heard a lord of the Vale demand the recipe from Lord Terra, who had only smiled and assured the man that he would happily send it by raven. Cersei herself gently dabbed at her mouth, warmed and humming as she savoured the taste of the strange food. She would need to send a servant to Lord Terra, after tasting such a thing, she would need more, and soon. Leaning back into her chair while still keeping a regal posture, Cersei Lannister watched the servants of the Red Keep and the lords of Westeros feast and boast, knowing in her heart, that she had achieved her rightful place above them all.
She was queen. She was finally the Queen.
Updates are slow, but I'm getting there. I was actually stuck on this for the longest time, and this chapter was one of the big reasons for my year long hiatus as I just couldn't get it to work. I completely scrapped it and reworked it multiple times, and now it's done and I feel that I might have made a mistake making it in the first place. Hope you guys enjoy as I find this might be both one of my least favourite and favourite chapters in a while.