Ch.2, The Loss (252ac)
Aerys thought he was too young to have so many regrets.
The black leathers he was wearing was not enough to keep him warm. The pony he was riding had an incredibly uncomfortable saddle that left his legs chafing severely. His stomach began rumbling mere hours after leaving the wall, his measly breakfast hastily eaten before the journey proving insufficient. To make matters worse, the black brothers around him were laughing and joking and he suspected they were making fun of him. When he spoke up, they only laughed harder.
's-s-stop l-laughing'
'The cold getting to you arty? if only the lord commander had good reason to turn around.'
The laughter continued. Aerys remained miserable.
The group eventually stopped at noon to Aerys's relief. The spot Bloodraven had chosen was a small rise on an open field a few hundred metres in width.
There were 18 riders in total. Most of the others had settled down atop the hill. A few moved towards the tree line to accomplish some task Aerys could not discern. Aerys for his part immediately began rummaging around his baggage for food. He wanted to eat the entire content of his saddlebag, but he was stopped short by a black brother. 'I know your new here boy, but on the off chance you get lost you'll need emergency rations. Eat sparingly.'
Aerys did not want to follow his advice. He was not acting out of self-preservation at that point. 'o-ok' he said, moving hard tack bread from the bag to the pockets on his person. He'll attempt to eat it later while riding.
'Hey, what are they doing?' Aerys asked, pointing to a pair of rangers on the periphery walking down the hill.
The question was more to distract the man than it was idle curiosity, but still one was carrying a heavy axe and Aerys wanted to know why.
'This is a common spot for rangers to stop and rest. Every time we do we cut back a few trees to keep the approaches clear. Can't have any wildlings sneaking up on us.'
'Don't you worry arty,' said Aerys's least favourite watchman, 'we'll join them shortly.' The watchman they called Stew was a scrawny youth from Flea Bottom. He had little love for snotty lordlings.
Stew, like the rest of the watchmen in the group, was under the assumption that Aerys was only here to prove a point to his minders. The others went along with it because it meant they'd be turned around before they got too far. Stew just wanted to see a lordling suffer like he had as an impoverished urchin. He once tried to pick-pocket a lord at a brothel. The man had sent him straight to the wall. It was not a fair punishment. Nobody argued.
His words proved true. Not every watchman brought a wood axe with them, but those who weren't felling trees were expected to stand watch over them. Aerys had barely finished eating a piece of bread when Stew dragged him over to the treeline.
'You ever fired a bow boy?'
'n-no'
'Then take this, and start swinging'
'o-ok' Aerys said, still shivering.
The axe was heavy, but Aerys could lift it. He took a few experimental swings in the air.
'Get on with it lad.' Stew said with impatience. For all that he wanted to torture the prince, he was still a proud ranger of the night's watch. He would see the work completed if he had to do it alone. Not that the prince could know that.
Aerys chose a slim looking tree and began hacking away at it. A few of his early swings missed the tree entirely, hitting it with the haft of the axe.
'Be precise boy. If you break the axe, then princeling or not the Lord Commander will bend you over his knee.'
Aerys slowed down to better aim the axe head. Over time, he sped up unconsciously as he got a better feel for the instrument.
'Hit it harder! We won't be here for much longer and I'll be damned if you fail to cut down one tree before we move on!'
Aerys channelled his frustrations. He heard Stew's voice play out various insults in his head. Then he heard Rhaella. Then Bloodraven. And soon he was furious, lost in a haze of anger as his axe bit deeper and deeper into the wood.
Aerys was broken out of his trance when a hand clasped his shoulder and yanked him away. The tree he was cutting slammed into the earth beside him.
I did it! He thought ecstatically. He couldn't even feel the cold at that point. Just the aching of his arms.
'Be wary of where the tree is going to fall boy.'
His excitement died an ugly death as he realised who saved him.
'Ranger Stew! It is perfectly fine to let this boy play about with an axe but if he gets himself killed the fault lies with you. Pay closer attention next time.' Brynden chastised, his grip tightening around dark sister's pommel. The noise the boy was making had drawn him near.
'Yes Lord Commander. My apologies.' Stew said, rather unapologetic. The falling tree would have left a nasty bruise, maybe even broken a bone but it wouldn't have killed the prince. Either way the foolish boy was being sent back early. The watchmen had all agreed the rest stop was the perfect time to reveal the prince's identity and head back before they got too far from the wall.
'Are you hurt boy?' Brynden said, turning to look at the boy.
'n-no sir.' Aerys said, for once not stuttering due to the cold. This was the moment he'd be discovered; he was sure. Soon he'd be sent back to face his family, and the whole realm will learn of the incident.
Yet when he looked over, not an ounce of recognition shone in Bloodraven's eyes.
'You are here to learn boy. No to die a wasteful death. Be inattentive again and we may well be forced to burn your corps.' He said before turning away. It was then he noticed everyone was staring.
Brynden noted the slacked jawed stares and concluded they were shocked he bothered to save the boy. He was of course planning the boy's death alongside the others. He had only brought the ten-year-old along to ward off suspicion. The realm would find his own loss easier to believe if a child was among the rangers to go missing with him. An unfortunate sacrifice but Bloodraven was not swayed by such things.
'Have we finished felling trees so soon? Pile the wood atop the hill. Now!' The watchmen jumped to obey. Even Stew, in a state of disbelief, moved to comply.
Aerys by this point had dropped his axe and Stew picked it up off the ground. He began cutting the tree trunk into more manageable pieces. 'Take these bits to the others. Some other expedition will collect them later.' Aerys gathered up some wood and ran them up the hill.
After a while, another watchman approached Stew while Aerys was gone. This man was not a ranger. He was one of the men who had watched the royal children play around in the snow the night before, a builder by the name of Todd.
The builders and the stewards of the night's watch were separate sub-categories of watchmen from the rangers. They were responsible for the upkeep and daily operation of the wall.
'I think I know what happened.' He said.
'We all know what happened Todd. That old fool couldn't recognize the damn prince in front of him.' Stew hissed. 'Fucker thought he was Arty! He doesn't even look like Arty.'
'Right but I think I know why. Us builders you see, we noticed Bloodraven was avoiding the royals the whole time they were 'ere. I reckon he never even talked to the prince before today.'
'That would make sense' Stew admitted. Bloodraven probably never talked to Arty either. The boy had murdered someone on Driftmark and was sent to the wall because the local lord couldn't stomach executing a child. Such a person was not someone Bloodraven cared to know.
'Justin reckons we should tell Bloodraven about the boy.' By "we" he really meant Stew. The youth was known for being short sighted and Todd thought him the most likely person in the group to go through with it.
Just then, Aerys returned. Todd made himself look busy, holding his sword with purpose and staring into the treeline as if he spotted something. Stew waited for Aerys to make another trip before responding.
'You really are a dullard, Todd. If we tell him the truth, he'll realise we knew all along and we'll all hang. Tell the others to wait. The royals would have noticed the boy is missing by now. We just need to wait for riders from Castle Black to catch up to us and we'll be heading back in no time.'
'If you say so.'
Todd moved on to help someone else.
Soon the work was finished, and the group moved on with their journey.
Many were starting to get nervous.
Everyone was previously under the assumption this trip would be cut short. But now, as they got further and further away from the wall the prospect of an actual ranging began to weigh on some of them.
Brynden had taken as few rangers as he could in truth. Ten men total counting the Lord Commander himself. Little more than half the group. Any less would have been suspicious for the number of non-rangers he was forced to take.
After an hour's ride away from the rest stop, the rangers among the group conferred with each other in secret while Bloodraven was in the lead.
Todd tried not to show it, but he felt incredibly jealous. He had always wanted to be a ranger, and now they were deciding what to do without him or the other non-rangers.
Stew had spent as much of the journey as he could trying to provoke Aerys. His latest barbs were born out of practicality rather than malice. He wanted Aerys to reveal himself to the Lord Commander without getting the rest of them in trouble.
No one wanted to be the one to tell Bloodraven the truth. Instead, they would pin their hopes on riders finding them. The consensus was that they should leave a more obvious trail so they could be found more easily.
It was this last decision that the rangers made amongst themselves. The signs needed to be obvious enough for other watchmen to follow without inviting wildling raiders. It was the role of the Rangers to venture beyond the wall. The others couldn't be trusted with such a task.
They had not realised Bloodraven had brought along the worst rangers available to him.
The attack came as a pleasant surprise to Brynden.
His initial plan had been to wait until they were further away to betray his brothers. Bloodraven did not see it as an accident of fate. As far as he was concerned, the Old Gods themselves contrived this incursion.
The sun was low in the sky when the wildlings caught them.
The rear most ranger noticed them first. He heard horses approaching at a faster pace than the group and making far more noise. He turned his horse around, others around him mirroring his action.
Brynden rode over.
'Ranger Wheaton! What is it?'
'Horses milord, I… I think it might be riders from castle black.'
Brynden raised an eyebrow at the ranger. Why would he assume that? He wondered.
'Those are clearly wildlings Wheaton.'
Sure enough, men clad in boiled leather and sewn sheepskin atop rugged looking horses became visible through the trees.
'Wildlings to the rear!' Wheaton shouted.
Unfortunately for him, the wildlings heard that. They kicked their horses into a full gallop, war cries flying in the wind.
'Stand ready! Wildlings ahorse are rare. We will overwhelm them.' Brynden said.
Wildling cavalry was rare, but they would not have attacked a group of rangers if they thought they had fewer warriors.
'Draw steel!'
Dark sister came free with its customary quiet hiss, mirrored by a dozen blades drawn in sync.
'Men of the watch! CHARGE!'
Brynden surged forwards, black brothers falling in behind.
Aerys didn't want to join, but he had little choice. Stew, as always, was near him.
The ranger snatched the reigns out of Aerys's hands. 'Come here boy. If I die here, I'll at least bring you with me.'
And then they were away.
Aerys started panicking.
He had only a knife on him, a survival tool not an instrument of war.
Time slowed down as the two sides drew nearer.
The Wildlings went from grey blurs he couldn't make out to savage warriors he wished he couldn't make out. They wielded long wooden spears like lances and shields made of animal hides.
For a short moment, Aerys couldn't breathe.
He didn't register when his pony tripped on a root.
One moment he was seizing in terror. The next he was face down in the dirt.
When he looked up, the two sides had already collided.
There was no great cacophony of sound when the two sides meet. If anything, the noise grew quieter as men died, their voices forever silenced.
The Wildlings drew first blood. Their spears had greater reach, the momentum of their charge driving sharpened stone and wood through black leather with ease. Several black brothers were thrown from their saddles.
Once the watchmen drew near however, the extra reach mattered little.
The arms available to Wildlings could not hold up to castle forged steel.
The initial charge saw the death of dozens of wildlings. Steel cut through flesh, bone, then air before biting into another wildling. If asked, none of the wildlings could distinguish the rangers of the group. All of them were comparatively lethal.
Todd was a poor swordsman but had no trouble killing the first wildling before him. His blade severed the woman's head clean off. Todd had not the time to process the kill.
He spent the next few seconds hacking a shield to pieces before cutting into the arm beneath it. The opposing fighter tried to swing a crude mace at his head only to lose the hand as Todd clumsily parried. A swift stab ended the bout.
We're all rangers now he thought, eying up a new opponent.
In the end he did not see the arrow that killed him until it was through his eye. He fell from his saddle like a puppet with its strings cut, his blade still buried in another man's stomach. The arrow was part of a vicious volley that heralded reinforcing wildlings approaching on foot.
Brynden was satisfied with the carnage. He could count the surviving black brothers on one hand. He was the only one among them with a mount. They would not be able to flee. He used the confusion to escape east, leaving the last of his men to their fate.
He managed to miss Aerys. The boy had spent much of the battle searching for a place to hide. He dared not flee. He couldn't survive on his own, that much he knew. He settled on a sturdy looking tree and scrambled up the side of it to hide in its branches.
He had focused his attention during the fight on Dark Sister. He watched as the sword he was so enamoured with slew warrior after warrior. Fear gave way to awe as the enemy he was so terrified of mere minutes earlier were cut down like wheat before a scythe. And then in the face of a desperate struggle, the sword was sheathed.
He alone witnessed the Lord Commander abandon his post.
Aerys followed Bloodraven with his eyes until the old man was out of sight. By the time he looked down, the battle was already over.
The others had tried to surrender once their situation became clear. The only mercy they received was a quick death. The Wildlings had lost too many to even consider taking prisoners. Already some were grieving.
The loss was infectious.
Aerys did not grieve the loss of the watchman. He did not know them well enough for that.
Aerys did not grieve the loss of his own innocence. He was not self-aware enough for that.
Aerys was eight.
He grieved the loss of Dark Sister.