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Pain was the first, and only, thing Jaime Lannister could feel as he regained consciousness. His face burned, and his entire body ached like he'd been used as a training dummy for the Mountain. Though despite the pain, he could tell two things. One, he was without his armor. And two, he was laying on something soft. A feather mattress. "Ah, Ser Jaime. I am heartened to see that you have regained consciousness."
Tilting his head to the side, an action that caused the pain in his face to flare once more, Jaime found the rotund figure of Grand Maester Jeorge standing next to him. Blinking his eyes, he glanced around at his surroundings, and realized that he was in one of the guest rooms within the royal wing of the Red Keep. "Wha – What happened?" he asked groggily. "I remember fighting the Starks…Then fire…"
The Grand Maester said nothing as he approached him and began his examination, starting with the cut on his face before moving down his body. "The Starks laid numerous traps within the Tower of the Hand, the last of which was a cache of what I can only assume to be a combination of wildfire and black powder. When ignited, the result was the complete destruction of the Tower of the Hand. Only yourself and seven of those you led with you survived the destruction. And I doubt two of those will survive another night."
His memory was fragmented. But he could vaguely recall the Stark Captain igniting a black powder stick before throwing it towards a cache of barrels and crates. And then…nothing. "How long have I been unconscious?" he asked, struggling to sit upright. "And where is my armor and sword?"
The Grand Maester helped him sit up before motioning towards where his sword lay near the foot of the bed. "It has only been a single day since the destruction of the Tower, Ser Jaime. Your sword was the only thing that survived. Your armor was damaged to the point where I doubt it can be salvaged. Though it is the reason you still draw breath, so it did its duty. The Queen, and I, would advise that you remain in bed for at least another sennight. However, the King has commanded your presence in the throne room this morning to be present for an announcement. As such, I have had servants bring appropriate attire for you to wear in lieu of armor."
Nodding, Jaime pulled the covers off himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Spotting the gold and red clothes next to his bed, Jaime pulled them over and began to dress himself. "And what announcement is the King to be making this morning?" he asked, pulling up his breeches and stomping his feet into his boots.
"I do not know, Ser Jaime," the Grand Maester replied as he stood off to the side as Jaime finished dressing, an act that took far longer than he would have preferred. "The King has not spoken to anyone yet of what this announcement will be."
Frowning with more than a slight sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Jaime tied his sword belt around his waist and made sure his Valyrian sword was set right before nodding to the Grand Maester that he was ready to leave.
Coming to the throne room, Jaime was not necessarily surprised to see that just about every courtier in this wretched city was present, no doubt hoping to kiss Joffrey's ass to gain favor. Just as they did for Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon. Bunch of worthless bootlickers the lot of them. But as he stepped foot into the throne room, he heard a sound that caused him to flinch. A scream of terror, pleas for mercy…and laughter from the court. A sound he had heard before. During the time of the Mad King.
Gripping his sword hilt tightly, he pushed his way through the crowd just in time to see a man being dragged away by his feet out of the throne room by two gold cloaks. No doubt to be executed for one reason or another if the man's pleas for mercy were any indication. And standing, or rather kneeling, before the Iron Throne was another gold cloak. Though given the extra bits adorning his armor, he recognized the man as a gate captain. "And now for you," Joffrey said as his eyes settled in on the kneeling gate captain. "You allowed not one. But five whorish traitors to escape my city! So, tell me, are you a traitor? Or simply incompetent?"
Jaime had to fight down a wave of unpleasantness as he witnessed the scene before him. One man being dragged away screaming for mercy, then asking a trick question to another…It was exactly what the Mad King had always done to torture the minds of those brought before him. Only now it wasn't the Mad King sitting on the throne. It was his son. A son he would never be able to claim…even if he wanted to. 'Joffrey isn't the Mad King,' he thought, forcing back such thoughts, and burying them deep in his mind. 'He's a Lannister through and through.'
The Captain didn't respond immediately. Which was good for him at least. It meant he was thinking over his answer before simply blurting it out. "Your grace… We were not aware of the situation regarding the Ladies St – the whores, your grace. We were only informed of their treason against the crown when Ser Clegane came to us just after they passed through. And they all hid their faces, so we—"
"My son, your King, asked you a question, captain," Jaime's sister, his love, his queen, stated coldly from where she stood beside their son. "He did not ask for your excuses. It is a simple question, Captain. One even you should be able to answer. Are you incompetent? Or a traitor to the crown?"
The captain lowered his head. "Incompetent, your grace." It was the only answer he could give and keep his head.
The court broke out into hush whispers at the admission, quieting only when Joffrey raised his hand. "Your honesty is appreciated, captain. From what I have been told by the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, you are decent at your duty and an able man. And I need able men. However, I cannot simply let such incompetence go without punishment." Joffrey paused, a smile on his face. "Tell me, captain. Do you have a family?"
Even from where he was, Jaime could see the captain flinch. "Yes, your grace. A wife and a son."
Joffrey's smile grew wider as he waved his hand towards a man Jaime hadn't even seen before that was standing amongst the Small Council while wearing Septon's robes. He had dark hair with pink and blotchy skin. And he was perhaps one of the most unfortunate looking young men Jaime had ever seen in his life. "Then you will choose. Either your wife, or your son will spend an evening with my Inquisitors. A lesson to ensure such…incompetence does not threaten the safety of the realm again."
The man froze, and Jaime felt fear swelling in his gut. He had no idea who these 'Inquisitors' were. But by their very name he could only assume they were some sort of torturers. Sadistic men who hid their perversions under the guise of faith and serving the crown. "Your grace!" the captain shouted, jumping to his feet and causing Jaime's brothers amongst the Kingsguard to grab their swords. Though he did see a notable absence in the form of Ser Barristan. "Please. I will take your punishment upon myse—"
"I know you would. But then the lesson would not be as impactful," Joffrey countered, his smile never leaving his face. "You have until night fall to decide who will spend the night with the Inquisitors. Your wife. Or your son. Should neither be delivered to the Inquisitors, you and your family will be deemed traitors to the Crown. Now, leave. I am done with you."
The captain could do nothing but hang his head in shame and terror as he was forced to leave the court. As the captain left, Joffrey's eyes settled on him. "Uncle, you have finally awoken. Come forward."
Smiling slightly, Jaime stepped forward before his son, his King, and went down a knee before him. "Your grace, I am yours to command."
Joffrey didn't say anything for a long moment. In fact, no one said a word. This left Jaime kneeling awkwardly before his King. "You failed to capture the Stark girls and the sorcerer's whore, uncle."
He could do little more than grimace. "I did, your grace. No one expected the Starks to put up such resistance. Nor to go to such lengths as to destroy the Tower of the Hand to avoid capture." Again, only silence met his defense. And he was left in awkward silence. "Forgive me, your grace. But may I enquire as to where Lord Commander Barristan is? He should be here always guarding your grace."
It was his sister who answered his question, an answer that honestly stunned him. "Ser Barristan, after the death of King Robert, has been relieved of his post as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. And you, Ser Jaime, as the senior most member of the Kingsguard, are to succeed him."
Jaime couldn't help his head snapping up to stare in shock at his sister and Joffrey. Being Lord Commander was his greatest desire…but not like this! And to dismiss Ser Barristan? The man's legend alone prevented more than one attempt on King Robert's life!
"That decision has yet to be made, mother," Joffrey said almost whimsically, surprising Jaime and Cersei, who looked at her son in shock. Joffrey didn't seem to care about the surprised look Cersei gave him as he kept his eyes on Jaime. "During his dismissal, Ser Barristan made several comments that have rung true. And after speaking with my High Inquisitor on the matter…I am not convinced you are truly worthy to lead my Kingsguard, uncle. You stabbed the Mad King in the back, a man you were sworn to serve. You failed to tell my father and the council about the caches of wildfire beneath the city. And, most recently, you have failed in capturing five women. Three of whom were mere girls. Tell me, uncle, does one with such failures to his name truly deserve to be the Lord Commander of my Kingsguard? And let us not even begin to discuss your entry in the White Book, uncle."
Joffrey chuckled while listing his failures, a chuckling that was echoed by the bootlicking sycophants of the court behind him. Rage and humiliation, worse than any he previously felt before, rushed through him. But before he could say anything to his defense, Joffrey raised a hand silencing the court. "Despite your failures, I am willing to give you a chance, uncle. But you will have to prove your worth."
Jaime bowed his head. "Name your desire, my King, and I will see it done."
Joffrey rose to his feet and made his way to the edge of the stairs that would lead down from the Iron Throne. "The Starks, and the so-called 'Lord' Nox have revealed themselves to be traitors to the crown. For too long, we have allowed these barbarians from the North to pretend that they are not part of the Seven Kingdoms. No more. Under my reign, I will have a unified Seven Kingdoms in people and faith. As such, I am hereby rescinding the decree set forth by Jaehaerys Targaryen, First of His Name. The Warrior's Sons will be allowed to fly their banners once more, and I am hereby declaring an Exalted March against the North and their heretical faith in the Old Gods. Any man who bears the name Stark will hereby have a bounty of ten-thousand gold dragons on his head, dead or alive. Any woman who bares the Stark name will have a bounty of ten-thousand gold dragons alive, five-thousand gold dragons dead. The Noble House of Nox is hereby stripped of its titles and privileges. The Sorcerer himself will hereby have a bounty of fifty-thousand gold dragons on his head. And his whore will have a bounty of ten-thousand gold dragons on her head. Any who hold to the Old Gods and any who side with House Stark will be deemed traitors against the faith and the crown and will receive a traitor's fate."
Jaime was stunned, and so was most of the court. In one fell swoop, Joffrey had not just declared war against a single noble house, but he had declared war against everyone who followed the faith of the Old Gods! And more than that! He had declared war against perhaps the most feared and powerful man in all of Westeros!
Despite the shock at his decree, Joffrey pressed on. "I am under no delusions that this will be an easy victory. The barbarians and heathens of the North are nothing if not tenacious. Therefore, I am naming my grandfather, my Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister as Supreme Commander of the Exalted March. Ser Jaime, you will head out with High Inquisitor Ramsay Rivers to the Riverlands with the armies of the Crownlands and those who have been recruited into the Exalted March. Once there, you will secure the loyalty of the Riverlands to both the Crown and the Faith through any means necessary until Lord Tywin Lannister arrives with the men of the Westerlands. Every House present here today is expected to send men to join the Exalted March, and each House in the Seven Kingdoms is expected to aid with men and supplies. Any who do not will hereby be declared traitors and heretics. So say I, Joffrey Baratheon, First of My Name! Court is now adjourned."
Unable to rise from his position on the floor, Jaime could do little more than watch his King, and hidden son, march out of the throne room with his head held high while hushed whispers and plans broke out amongst the courtiers.
Tapping his foot in the hall outside his father's solar, Tyrion Lannister fought against the urge to simply leave the hall and make his way down to his favorite brothel for a bit of distraction. In truth, he was finding it difficult to even stay in Casterly Rock. Doubly so with his father, the great Tywin Lannister, holding dominion over all who walked these halls. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He had always found it difficult to be in these halls with his esteemed father close by. But ever since he had returned from the North and learned the truth about his former wife and still alive daughter, a truth which had been confirmed by his brother, he found it even harder to be even in the same city as his father.
He always knew that his father was a bastard of the worse sort. One who would stoop to any low to see to the advancement of House Lannister. But he never truly appreciated just how far his father would go. But now he knew. Tyrion's wife, a smallfolk woman to be sure but still one who held the Lannister name, gang-raped and brutalized simply because the great Tywin Lannister believed she was too low born. Never mind how she made Tyrion feel or the fact that he loved her. That day, after talking with his brother, Tyrion had made a vow to himself that he would see his father destroyed. Not dead, though that would more than likely be the outcome. But destroyed.
But then the problem became just how to go about destroying his father, while keeping House Lannister still relatively in one piece. He hated his father more than anyone. And he had a strong suspicion that his Uncle Kevan knew the truth as well. But what about Gerion? Tyrion's cousins? Myrcella and Tommen? There were so many innocents that could be caught in the fallout of the destruction of his father. So he had to wait. He had to take his time and be meticulous.
Hearing a sigh, Tyrion looked over to see his Uncle Gerion shaking his head and pacing the hall near to Tyrion while Kevan sat perfectly at ease. "For fuck's sake," Gerion growled. "First that raven from King's Landing that no one read beside Tywin. Then he locks himself in his solar for two days without uttering a single word. Now he summons the three of us, yet makes us wait. Typical Tywin."
"Do not belittle our brother, Gerion," Kevan, ever the great Tywin Lannister ass-kisser, scolded. "Tywin never does anything without purpose. Whatever was sent from King's Landing demanded our brother's complete attention. And only now is he ready to share what has happened."
Hearing the rattling of chains, Tyrion looked down the hall and found the new Maester of Casterly Rock making his way down the hall. He wasn't a young man, but Tyrion wouldn't call him old either. If anything, the man was forgettable. No notable features of any sort. Hells, Tyrion couldn't even remember the man's name. But the man's face was pale and he looked fearful. A common look for the man whenever he was near any that bore the Lannister name.
Before the Maester could say any words of greeting, the door to his father solar opened. And standing in it's frame was the imposing form of Tywin Lannister. In his hands were no less than a dozen, perhaps two dozen, raven scrolls. His father's hard green eyes scanned over each of them before landing on the Maester. "You will send these missives out immediately. Then find a way to make yourself useful. You three, come in."
The Maester had to scramble to collect all the missives before making a hasty retreat to send the messages out. Before the Maester could disappear, Tywin was already retreating back into his solar, leaving the three that'd been waiting for him to hurry after him. Once all four were within, Tywin closed the door and made his way to his lord seat behind his solar. Shrugging, Tyrion made his way over to one of the more comfortable chairs in the room and sat down. "So, father. Are you going to tell us what message from King's Landing rattled the great Tywin Lannister so much that he had to shut himself in his solar for two days?"
His father's face remained completely impassive at the jab. "King Robert is dead," Tywin stated plainly. "An attempted assassination during the King's hunting trip. He managed to make it back to the Red Keep and lasted only a day before dying."
Tyrion was surprised to hear that. But still, the passing of King Robert would not be cause for his father to lock himself in his solar for two days. "Well, long live King Joffrey I guess," Tyrion shrugged. Though the words tasted like shit in his mouth. In his own opinion, Joffrey was perhaps the worst choice for King that Tyrion could think of. Honestly, he would trust the Seven Kingdoms to a whipping boy before his pathetic nephew. "So, what happened?"
Tywin's face didn't change. "Lord Stark attempted to usurp the throne using a forged will. He has been thrown into the black cells as a result and the Tower of the Hand has been destroyed in the fallout of trying to subdue the retainers of House Stark. Joffrey has declared the faith of the Old Gods heretical and has called for an Exalted March against the North to destroy the faith of the Old Gods and bring down House Stark. All men and women who carry the Stark name now have a bounty on their heads. And House Nox has been dissolved and Alim Nox and Nyra Nox both have bounties on their heads. Joffrey has named me Hand of the King. And he has also proclaimed that I am to be Supreme Commander of the Exalted March. An army that was recently created after Joffrey disbanded the decrees of Jaehaerys the First."
At first, Tyrion was sure that he heard wrong. Then he thought his father was making a joke of sorts. "If you want to make a joke, father, you best take some lessons from the fools we employ."
His father's hard eyes turned on him. "There is no joke in my words."
A pit formed in Tyrion's gut. Without saying a word, he got down from his seat and made his way over to a collection of glass decanters that kept his father's person supply of liquor and wine. Pulling the top from a dark amber liquid, Northern liquor if he was right, Tyrion poured himself a full glass. But when he turned around, his father's hand took the glass from him. At first, he was sure he was about to be admonished, but to his surprise his father began drinking from the glass. Taking nearly half in one go.
"Well," Tyrion sighed, pouring himself a new glass and settling back into his seat. "We're fucked."
"Not yet."
Tyrion wasn't the only one who was unsure as Gerion snorted. "Really, brother? Need we remind you that the Sorcerer managed to storm the Pyke and make the Greyjoys submit by himself? That this is the same man who raided Valyria? Who managed to aid in forming peace between the Free Folk and the North and decimated a whole army during the Battle of Hardhome?"
Tywin nodded, "Nox is all of that and more. However, he is currently in the Far North. And one of the missives I have just sent out is to Castle Black, ordering them to close all access points on the Wall. We will keep Nox north of the Wall to give us time."
"Time to do what?" Tyrion asked, trying to puzzle out just how his father could think they were not completely fucked over for going to war against the Northern Sorcerer and his Apprentices.
Tywin took another controlled sip of his drink, "Nox's prowess on the field of battle is without question. However, he relies heavily on others outside of battle. He is a proven warrior but an unproven battle commander. We will use this against him. We will close off his access back to Westeros. It will not stop him, but it will slow him down. On top of that, it will take him time to learn of what happened. In this time, we will march north as the King has commanded and take the Starks. While doing so, we will capture the Stark girls and Nox's wife. By the time he joins the battle, we will hold the North, have the Stark girls and his wife in our custody. Facing such adversity, we will force him to submit. We will not target Nox, but rather his support."
"Cut his legs out from underneath him then?" Kevan surmised simply.
"In essence, yes." Tywin nodded.
"You are forgetting a few key points Tywin," Gerion growled, truly growled at his brother. "My daughter, your niece. Still resides in Winterfell and will no doubt be held hostage. And what you've said only Lord Stark is in the Black cells correct? Which means that the Stark girls and Nyra Nox are either dead, which means we're well and truly fucked. Or they've escaped, which puts a huge strain on your plan to make Nox submit."
"The Starks will not harm Joy," Tywin replied confidently. "Not only do we hold Lord Stark, but she holds value to the Sorcerer due to the power she has. As for Nyra Nox and the Stark girls, you are correct that they are either dead or they have escaped. And knowing what we do about the Stark girls and Nyra Nox, the odds are on the latter. And that is where Tyrion comes in."
"Me?" Tyrion questioned, giving his father a strange look. "Where in the Seven Hells do I fit in to this grand plan of yours?"
"You will be going to King's Landing," his father answered succinctly.
Tyrion's face scrunched up. He didn't want to step foot in that wretched city any time soon if he could help it. "To do what?"
"Rule," his father answered him again simply. "You will serve as Hand of the King in my stead. You will bring that boy and his mother to heel. You will organize a search for Lady Nyra Nox as well as the Stark girls and see them returned safely to King's Landing where they are to be kept safe. Not a single hair is to be harmed on their heads. Then you will find out who has been whispering these poisonous words into Joffrey's ear. And when you find them—"
"Spikes. Heads. Walls," Tyrion nodded.
"No," his father countered. "You will be creative in their demise. Make their ends a reminder to all the consequences of crossing House Lannister. Just as Nox did to Lyn Corbray."
Breathing deep, Tyrion took a drink, savoring the taste. "You don't ask much of me. Do you, father?"
"I ask no more of you than I know you can accomplish," Tywin answered, surprising Tyrion.
"Careful, father… That almost sounded like a compliment."
His father took another sip and set his glass down, "I always assumed that you were a stunted fool. But you have proven your mind, when not swimming in wine and liquor, is far better than your sister's and your brother's. You will put it to use and repair what damage that boy has done while I use the army assembled to bring the Starks and the North to heel."
Staring at his now empty cup, Tyrion's mind raced with just how he was supposed to go about such an impossible task. "And what about when Joffrey takes offense to my meddling? I don't fancy my head decorating the walls of the Red Keep."
Tywin's face remained impassive. "In such case, you will remind your sister and your nephew that this 'Exalted March' of his is a Baratheon call to arms. Not a Lannister call. And should a true born son of House Lannister, even if he is the lowest of trueborn sons, should meet his end while performing his duty to a Baratheon King. Then House Lannister will find little reason to continue supporting his call to arms."
Tyrion did not like that. Basically, his father was putting him directly in harm's way, even when away from the field of battle. Without protection, save for the idea that should something untoward happen to him, then House Lannister will no longer support Joffrey's Exalted March on the North. He would have to investigate hiring some…personal security. He honestly wouldn't put it past his father to ensure something would happen to him just to give him the excuse to pull out of the war effort. "What if I discover that this whole debacle was truly Joffrey's idea? And that there is no swaying him from this course of action?"
Tywin didn't hesitate. "Then you will ensure that Tommen is ready to fulfill his duties to the realm. And in such a case, you will prepare Myrcella by educating her in all manners of the North."
"You seem to have thought of just about everything brother…but you are also missing some major issues," Gerion put in stepping forward and placing his hands on the surface of the desk. "I will not be participating in any military actions against the North. Not only is my daughter in Winterfell, but I owe the Starks and the Sorcerer far too great of a debt to ever consider taking up arms against them."
Surprisingly, Tywin merely nodded in acceptance. "I surmised this would be the case. You will not be marching with the army Gerion. You will remain here in Casterly Rock and ensure that fresh levies are raised and ready to march as soon as possible while Kevn and I march with our vanguard forces to meet up with Jaime and this Exalted Army of Joffrey's."
Rocking back on his heels, Gerion still didn't look pleased. "And what of Dorne? And the Reach? Sansa Stark is betrothed to Willas Tyrell and set to become the future Lady of the Reach. And Arianne Martell is betrothed to Jon Stark. While we might be able to stall the Reach, the Dornish hate us enough that they will not hesitate in joining the fight against us."
Tywin nodded. "Both issues have been addressed. Which is one of the reasons why the safety of Sansa Stark is of paramount concern. She is a bargaining piece to use not only with the North, but the Reach as well. And as for the Dornish. Their bloodlust often overrides their sense of duty. We will use that to force their neutrality."
"And pray tell, how do you see that coming about?" Tyrion asked, genuinely curious.
Tywin's jaw twitched. The first sign of true displeasure he has given. "I made it clear to them that should they stay neutral in this conflict, then Ser Gregor will be tasked with dealing with pirates in the Stepstones after the war is concluded. And he will be sent with only a small contingent of men to back him on a route that takes him close to Dornish shores."
Rising to his feet, Tywin turned his back on the three of them and looked out over the Sunset Sea. "We depart at first light. I suggest you three ready yourselves for the road ahead. And make no mistake about it. These next few months will determine the future of House Lannister. And I will not abide any of you not doing your utmost to ensure not only the survival of our House, but its continued advancement as well. Leave."
Hopping down off his seat, Tyrion didn't bother to even send a parting barb towards his father before turning and leaving his solar. He had a lot on his mind. This, this was the opportunity he was waiting for. And while he never wanted war and realized the horror that would no doubt be coming from the impending conflict; he was sure that he would be able to use this war as a means for his revenge. 'Soon, Tysha…Soon you will be avenged.'
Pushing his hand up through the soft soil surrounded by hard roots, Alim Nox pulled himself up from the ground into the newest section of tunnels of weirwood roots. Pulling himself up fully, he rolled onto his back, taking in deep gasping breaths as he pushed his body further than humanly possible. Tilting his face in the direction of a slight breeze, Nox relished the feel of the cold, fresh air against his face. Finally. They were at, or near, the surface.
Forcing himself up, he went over to the freshly made hole he'd made and stretched his arm back down into its depths. One at a time, he helped first Leaf, then Ygritte, then Benjen, then Ghost and last Jon out of the depths. Each of whom had the same reaction as he did. To lay on their backs and breathe deep on the fresh air. "This - dis place looks like a carved tunnel," Ygritte gasped, her breath coming in and out in slight pants as Archon poked his head up from his carrier that was on her back. "It don look…natural like down there. Like someone done carved this."
"Aye," Nox nodded, forcing himself to stand up. He could not remember the last time he felt so drained. They had little food and barely slept while they traversed the labyrinth of the weirwood root tunnels. Which meant that he and Jon had been using the Force to aid in sustaining all of them.
Stumbling towards where the air smelled the cleanest, Nox let a smile grace his face as he emerged from the tunnel and felt the shine of the sun on his face for the first time in what felt like forever. "Any idea where we are?" he asked, taking a moment to collect himself.
The rest followed him out into the open and started looking around. "We're in the Haunted Forest," Benjen answered, pointing towards the south. "Near the Milkwater…and that there looks like the Fist of the First Men."
"How the fuck is that possible?" Ygritte gasped as she looked to the south. "We was in the Lands of Always Winter…or damn near. How can we be so far away from there now?"
"The weirwoods act as a bridge to the World Between Worlds," Nox answered before waving off the confused looks that were being sent his way. "Don't ask. It's a complex answer that even I don't fully comprehend. But traveling a vast distance in a short time would not be outside the realm of possibilities."
Ghost began running through the trees, the pony-sized wolf clearly glad for the chance to be out in the open again. A feeling that was mimicked by Archon, who immediately stretched its wings and took off after its furred brother. "Last I heard, Mance had taken control of Craster's Keep and turned it into a settlement to better trade with the Night's Watch," Benjen stated, scratching at his beard. "It's a few days walk, but we will undoubtedly find some help once there."
Letting his senses flow outwards, for the first time in a long time, Nox watched through the Force as Ghost and Archon bounded their way back through the trees. A pair of dead rabbits clutched tightly in Ghost's jaw. "We rest here for a day to recover, then we will head down to—"
As he stretched out his senses further, he was hit with what felt like a starship. His legs gave out underneath him and he collapsed, clutching at his head as a sense of danger threatened to overwhelm him. Not danger for himself. But danger for those he loved. Danger for the very future he was trying to build. "What the fuck is going on?!"