Chapter 81: Secrets
The man was like a bear, all hair and fur, his eyes were bright, his skin was pale, and Bran knew he would never want to be in a fight with the man. He could see why the man was called Giantsbane.
Tormund had come south to Winterfell with his family, he would go from here to White Harbour, and then board a ship for King's Landing where he would offer his formal submission to Robb. The only reason that the man and his family were here though, was because Bran had questions.
He wanted to know why the Wildlings kept trying to come south when they knew they could never win. Why they had tried this time, and what they had hoped to achieve. Mother thought he was being silly, but Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik thought it could be useful, and therefore Tormund was here.
"So, Lord Giantsbane," Bran began.
"Pah, I ain't no Lord. I'm just Tormund." The man said.
Bran nodded. "So, Tormund, you're going to be heading south shortly, but before you do, I wanted to ask you a few questions. About the free folk and the lands beyond the Wall."
"Ask away." Tormund replied.
"What is it like?" Bran asked.
"The land beyond the wall?" Tormund said. "A lot of the time it is cold. Snow covers the ground for most of the year, it is dark, and the sun never rises until midday. At least that was what it was like for the last half a decade or so. Before that we had normal days. The sun rose when it was meant to, the snow came sometimes, but not always. And it was warm and cold. But in the last year? Things have changed again."
Tormund's expression changed then. Something like fear passed over his face. His eyes widened; his breath came out shallow. "We'd gotten used to the snow, we'd work around it or with it in some cases, but then the snow started melting. The giants started coming south, and because they were coming south, we all had to move south, for every free folk knows that when the giants move, you move. Alongside the snow melting, the temperature got hotter. So infernally hot that one could barely afford to wear much beyond a light shirt."
Tormund shifted now; he was tugging at his shirt collar. "It started snowing again, probably three years ago now. But this was no ordinary snow, when it touched you, it burned. That's how my wife and brother died. The snow touched them and their skin sizzled. None of us knew what to do, except for Mance. He sent riders out to all of the tribes and told us to meet at the Fist of the First Men. We came, and he told us what he thought was happening."
Bran waited, he suspected he knew what the answer was, but he wanted to see if Tormund would say it.
"He told us about a story he'd heard at the Wall, a story of cycles, of ice and fire, of a battle that they waged every thousand years or so. He said that the battle was coming to its conclusion now. That the hold of ice beyond the wall had failed and fire was coming. That we needed to leave to escape it, before it consumed us."
Tormund looked down then, his hands tugging at his collar. "None of us believed him until they came."
"They?" Bran asked, he couldn't help himself.
"The creatures of fire." Tormund answered, Bran exhaled, he'd heard about this. Creatures of burning fire, lions, goats, bulls, Ser Wendel, who was in the audience had told him of this, as had Ser Rodrik. "They came to us at the Fist. Told us that we had a choice, support them or die. Some of us refused and the rest of us watched as they were burned to ash. After that, it became a simple solution. We had to side with them. They wanted to go south and attack the wall, as did we."
Tormund shifted again. "Is it hot in here?" He asked. Before Bran or anyone else could answer, the man had continued on with his story. "After we agreed to ally with the creatures of fire, Mance changed. He was no longer the driven and happy man that he had been before. He became sullen and withdrawn. Even his wife couldn't get him to talk. He'd become in hoc to them."
"It's really hot in here." Tormund said, tugging at his collar.
"Someone bring some air in." Bran commanded.
Tormund continued. "So, we attacked the wall, and a lot of us died. Those who didn't die fled north, they fled north because they wanted to get away from the creatures of fire."
"I thought those creatures were dead?" Bran asked. All the reports said as much.
Tormund snorted, but this time when he looked at Bran, steam oozed off his face. His voice was deeper. "The lions may be dead boy, but the fire is coming. She will have her due." Bran watched horrified as the man's eyes rolled back and his body was consumed in fire. He didn't even scream.
The guards shut the door behind him. Wendel moped his brow with a kerchief and then took the seat offered him. Lord Brandon was sat in the Lord's chair, his Mother was sat to his right. Maester Luwin hovered to his left and Ser Rodrik was sat next to Wendel.
"Have they cleared all the ash?" Lady Catelyn asked.
"Yes, my lady." Wendel replied. "The ash that was once Tormund Giantsbane and his sons has been cleared." That had been quite the sight. Giantsbane had given them an explanation for what had caused the Wildlings to act as they had, and then just as he had about to give them something more, he'd burned. Clearly whatever magic-for that was surely what it was-that had a hold over him and the free folk still held strong.
"Do you believe him?" Lord Brandon asked.
"Yes." Wendel answered.
"Why?"
Wendel looked at Lord Brandon, the boy-for that was what he was-was only ten summers old, and yet in that time, he'd seen his father executed, his brother become a King and he had become Lord of Winterfell-the most powerful nobleman in the realm-considering all that, he was handling this quite well. "Because I fought the Lion of Fire that he mentioned." He had the burn marks to prove it as well.
"And when I killed the Lion, his companions of fire disintegrated, and as Ser Denys Mallister, the commander of Eastwatch will tell you, the Wildlings who were assaulting the castle died as well." Wendel continued.
"Therefore, there clearly was some connection between the Lion and the Wildlings."
"So, you're saying magic has returned?" Lady Catelyn asked, her eyes wide, a protecting hand resting on her son's shoulder.
"Yes, my lady." Wendel replied.
"I agree, my lady." Ser Rodrik said then. All attention turned to him. "When we were fighting the Wildlings at Castle Black, they threw everything at us. Everything. Including women and children, and no matter how many of them we killed, more appeared. It was only when the horn sounded and a part of the wall crumbled that the beasts of fire appeared."
Ser Rodrik's eyes were wide as he recalled what he'd seen. "At their front was a Lion, bathed in flames. It had eyes of the iciest blue. It burned half the army before Lord Commander Benjen killed it with a dragonglass arrow."
Wendel sat up then, dragonglass?
"When the creature was dead, the Wildling army died with it, as did its fellow beasts. Only Mance Rayder was left." Ser Rodrik finished.
"So, what do we do?" Lady Catelyn asked. "Will the Wildlings come again?"
"It cannot be discounted, my lady." Wendel replied. "I would have the men of the north remain in arms. Patrolling the land between the wall and the settlements of the north. I'd also strengthen the patrols near the east coast, as I shall do in the west."
"It will be done." Lady Catelyn replied.
"What did he mean when he said that she will have her due?" Lord Brandon asked. "Who is she?"
Wendel sighed, there was much that he did not know, and that which he did know was not fitting for a little boy to know, no matter how powerful. So, instead all he said was. "The Great Other, my Lord. She is coming."
Jaime rubbed at his eyes, fighting back the urge to close them. The day had been long. It had started as all days did with him stretching and cleaning his armour. He'd then taken his post at the King's side. He'd listened as the King had heard petitions in the morning-before he'd broken his fast-he'd then listened as the King had discussed business with Lord Tyrell. Finally, the King had left the Keep for the great yard, where the melee had been held.
The King had explained it to him as a way of allowing the people to watch the finest fighters in the realm have at it. Of course, the fact that Jaime, Ser Jon and Ser Loras weren't allowed to fight in it, meant that was not quite true. Still, it had been an interesting day. Jaime had had the chance to assess the competition and see who might be useful, and who might be a threat.
That was the reason why the King had asked him to attend him today, he supposed. The King trusted his judgement when it came to assessing fighters. And it was one of the few things that Jaime felt confident in being able to do properly. Politics, social drama, those things were not things he excelled in. But war and fighting, those were things he knew.
The gold cloaks nodded as he passed them, the doors opening. He stepped inside and exhaled. The King had finally let him go off duty about twenty minutes ago, and his first stop had been to come here. He hadn't come at all since it had been set up, and he felt guilty.
Luckily, the place he wanted to visit was not too far, it was the second one on the left, near a stained-glass window of Baelor the Blessed. Jaime snorted. He knelt down and touched the tomb. "How do you feel being buried near an image of Baelor the Befuddled, sister?" he asked the tomb.
Cersei had often mocked Baelor, calling him an addled fool, who should have fucked his sister and spared the realm all the bloodshed that had come after him.
"I am sorry that I could not come sooner." He said to the tomb. "Things have been busy. Renly bent the knee and Stannis died. The Tyrells haven't dominated court, despite their best attempts to." There was a Tyrell serving as Keeper of the Purse, some cousin of Lord Tyrell's, but he was countered by a Frey serving as Under-Secretary.
"Myrcella has had two beautiful babies." Jaime continued. "A girl named Cerenna, and a boy named Edwyn."
"Good names." He had wondered if Myrcella would name her daughter Cersei, for her mother, but he was glad she had not. Let the girl develop without the burden of expectation.
"She's happy." He added. "Myrcella and Robb get on very well. The King and Queen work well together." He felt a tinge of sadness that Cersei had never had that opportunity.
He took a breath; his eyes were heavy. "Something else interesting happened today, at the grand melee the King organised."
He supposed that he should have seen it coming. After all, the King had talked about baiting the Martells with this. "Prince Oberyn fought the Mountain. It was the fight everyone had come to see. I think he might have added poison to the tip of his spear, because every time he struck Clegane, the Mountain slowed down. Either way, the Mountain is dead, and Prince Oberyn is badly wounded."
"I don't know if that will be enough for the Martells, but it has removed one headache for the King and Queen."
There had been a feast where the Dornish had toasted to the King and Queen. Prince Oberyn bandaged and with a black eye had led the toast. Father had not smiled, but he hadn't glowered either. Which was something else.
Jaime closed his eyes then, letting sleep wash over him, a hand resting on the tomb. He just needed a few moments of shut eye.