TWL Chapter - 79

“What exactly are we dealing with?” It was Robert who asked that. I took a breath, and looked for the right words to convey the seriousness of the issue. 

“What you are dealing with… is a creature made of ice, commanding an army of the undead…

It has been waiting since the last time he was pushed back, some eight thousand years ago—waiting and growing. Every living thing that dies north of the Wall—man, woman, child, animal—rises again to fight for him. They don’t sleep. They don’t eat. They don’t understand pain.”

The shock on everyone's faces would have been funny in any other situation.

“How many?” Manderly asked, his voice low.

“Hundreds of thousands. Maybe more. They’ve been gathering for years—maybe centuries.”

Karstark leaned forward, fists clenched on the table. “How is that even possible?”

“Death doesn’t care who you are,” I said. “ While you've been fighting over your shiny thrones, he’s been raising the dead and waiting. Every battle we lose just makes him stronger.”

You could almost feel the panic setting in those who believed what I was saying.

I crossed my arms. “So… anyone still eager for glory?”

No one spoke after that.

Ned was the one to break the silence this time. “Tell them what happened when you first saw them.”

I sighed.

“Well, a horde of a few thousand wights descended on us, but I was able to help the band of misfits with me with the tools needed to fight them off, a bit slowly for my tastes, but it was a good start…”

“Just when everything seemed to be going according to plan, the temperature began to plummet. In the distance, a blizzard formed—too fast to be anything natural, as if the sky itself had taken offence to our presence."

The room stirred. A few men shifted in their seats, uneasy.

“Before I could react—before I even understood what was happening—a spear of cursed ice slammed into my chest, missing my heart by inches.”

I let the words hang for a moment before adding, flatly, “It was nothing but blind luck that I’m still alive.”

No one spoke after that. The uneasy silence lingered.

Finally, the King of the Seven Kingdoms leaned forward, frowning. “I hear what you're saying, and I know that you can understand why we are having a hard time believing what you are saying… So why are you telling me we shouldn’t check it out ourselves?”

“Oh, by all means, send someone,” I said. “Just don’t go yourself and get killed. Send a small group—men you trust not to lie, men you can afford to lose. If they don’t come back, at least you won't start another civil war by dying too soon.”

The room murmured again—low voices, uncertain but shifting.

Robert exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his beard. “That… makes sense,” he said at last. His voice was quieter now. “What else?”

“Reinforce the Wall,” I said. “Send men to aid the Night’s Watch. Fix every castle on it and have it manned and every recruit trained for the fight that’s coming. Stockpile food, weapons, whatever it is that you need to do for a war that you know is coming soon“

“Start gathering dragonglass—it's the most accessible weapon we have against them. You can’t forge it into swords, it’s too brittle, but daggers will do. Supplies, anything you can spare.” I looked around the room, voice steady. “And pray it’s enough.”

From the far side of the chamber, Jaime Lannister drawled in that infuriating, cocky tone, “And what will you be doing oh great mage, while the Seven Kingdoms prepare to fight a fictional army?”

I turned to him with a smile that did not reach my eyes. “Don’t sass me, Kingslayer.”

“I’ve already done more than most of you. If not for me, half of you idiots would still be too busy killing each other while the Night King tears through the Wall and plunges the world into an ice age.”

I let the smile fade. “I’ll be busy finding a way to kill that frozen bastard for good. But I’m not going to do all the work for a bunch of ungrateful pricks like you. So unless you have something useful to say, shut your mouth—I’m talking to your king.”

A few people struggled to hide their laughter, despite the tension. Robert didn’t bother—he let out a bark of laughter and shook his head.

“Yes, Kingslayer,” he said, still chuckling. “The adults are talking.”

Jaime looked furious, about to open his mouth—until Tyrion casually stepped on his foot, stopping whatever stupid retort was coming next.

“One more thing,” I said, turning to the northern lords. “Let the wildlings through the Wall. Keep an eye on them, sure—but don’t leave them out there to die. If they do, you’re just handing the Night King more soldiers.”

Lord Umber’s jaw tightened. “Are you daft? You want us to invite the wildlings?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not telling you to throw a feast in their honor. I’m saying move them somewhere they can help fight for the living—not join the ranks of the dead.”

Karstark spat. “They’ll turn on us the moment we blink.”

“Then don’t work with them,” I snapped. “Stick them on an island if it helps you sleep. I hear Skagos is lovely this time of year.”

That set off the shouting. Voices rose—angry, overlapping, useless.

I sighed, disappointed. “Do whatever you want. I’m not your king or your lord—nor do I have any desire to be. I’ve given you more warning than most would. If you insist on making stupid decisions after this, that’s on you.”

And with that said, I walked out, leaving their noise behind me.

I had more important things to deal with.

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The doors slammed shut behind the mage.

The room erupted—voices clashing, chairs scraping, outrage building like a storm.

Robert slammed both hands on the table, hard enough to rattle goblets and silence everyone.

“ENOUGH!”

He glared around the chamber, daring anyone to keep speaking. No one did.

He looked across the table at Ned. “You were right,” he growled. “He’s not messing around.”

“I’ve seen him—whistling while walking through the Red Keep. Alone. Not a guard in sight. Not a care in the world”

He jerked a thumb toward where Barristan stood along the wall.

“I asked Barristan if he’d noticed. You know what he said? He said the bastard walks like he’s above everyone else’s problems. Like he’s just waiting to see how things fall apart and laugh.”

Robert’s voice dropped, but the edge in it didn’t dull.

“And now? Now he’s not whistling. Whatever the hell happened beyond that Wall—it rattled him.”

He leaned both fists on the table, looking at each lord in turn. “I don’t know what I believe about walking corpses and frozen kings, but I’ll tell you this—men like that don’t scare easily. And I saw it in his eyes: he’s scared.”

Silence.

Then, softly, Robert added, “And if he’s scared… that should make the rest of us shit ourselves.”

He turned his gaze back to Ned.

“Start the damn preparations. All of them. The Wall, the dragonglass, the wildlings—I don’t care what it takes, we begin now. Pick some trustworthy men to go check things for themselves, but I’m not waiting on their report to start moving.”

Ned gave a grim nod. “What should we tell the people?”

Robert snorted, shaking his head.

“Nothing. Not yet. They’ll figure it out soon enough—if they haven’t already.”

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Cersei slipped out of the castle with surprising ease. The northern chill bit at her skin as she pulled her cloak tight, leaving only her eyes visible beneath the hood.

She hated what she’d been reduced to—slinking through the shadows like some mistress. But she had no choice. She couldn’t afford to be recognized. Not now.

Every step on the cobblestones felt like a hammer blow against her ribs, each one threatening to draw eyes, questions, whispers. The streets were unfamiliar, and every turn felt like it might reveal danger.

After what felt like an eternity, she reached her destination.

The clinic was unmistakable. And there, lying in front of it like some ancient guardian, was the direwolf. She remembered him from King’s Landing—but he’d grown. Somehow, impossibly, he was even larger now.

She took one cautious step closer.

Her heart stopped.

One of the beast’s eyes slid open and stared directly at her.

She froze, breath caught.

A flicker of recognition passed across its features—then disinterest. The wolf gave a lazy grunt, shut its eyes again, and resumed its sleep.

Only then did she remember to breathe.

She took a moment, forcing her racing heart to settle, then stepped forward toward the clinic door.

A small bell rang as she gently pushed the door open. Thankfully, the room seemed quiet—save for a young woman seated at a desk, scribbling something down. She looked up at the sound of the bell.

“Oh! Hello,” the girl said, pleasantly. “Is this an emergency? Can I help you?”

“I need to see the mage,” she replied, firm, keeping her hood low and voice steady.

The girl blinked. “Oh—El’s at the castle right now. If you're hurt, I might be able to help. I’m his apprentice—”

That’s when recognition struck.

This was her.

The lowborn girl. The one the rumors whispered about. Not just the mage’s apprentice—something more.

An ugly feeling bloomed in her chest. She couldn’t name it. Jealousy? Rage? Disgust? Something sharp and sour that twisted in her gut.

She tucked a loose strand of hair beneath her hood and forced her voice into something colder. “No, thank you. I’ll wait.”

“Oh… okay.” The girl smiled, still trying. “If it’s something medical, could you tell me your symptoms? That way El can help you faster when he gets here—”

Before she could snap back at the ignorant girl and put her in her place—

The door behind her swung open.

She didn’t need to turn. She felt it. The shift in the air. The sudden weight of his presence.

Her throat tightened.

There he was. Just as he appeared in her nightmares—tall, dark-haired, smiling that maddening, too-familiar smile that made her blood run both cold and hot at once.

“Hi, honey,” he called in that annoyingly cheerful voice. “I’m home."

Her knees nearly buckled.

She might’ve taken some satisfaction in the way his smile faltered—surprise flickering across his face as he recognized her. But the fear inside her was louder.

“Oh, bugger,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I knew I was forgetting something important.”