Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Beyond the Wall the fight was over almost before it began.

Jon's ranging party moved through the trees on maneuvering rigs, blades flashing in the cold light. The wildlings never had a chance. One by one they fell or were cut down where they stood.

A new recruit who had taken to the rig faster than anyone laughed as he landed. "Seven hells, this is fun! I never thought killing wildlings could feel this good."

"Targets down, Captain," another brother called. "Ready to move to the next position."

Jon looked at the bodies already half-buried in fresh snow. They would freeze solid soon. Maybe animals would find them. Maybe worse. But this close to the Wall the old magic still held. He doubted they would rise.

"Move out," he ordered. "Next site."

The black brothers spread across the ice like a flock of ravens.

Outside Winterfell, Robb, Bran, and Theon rode with Summer and Grey Wind running ahead. The direwolves flushed game and howled when they found something worth chasing. Bran had pushed his pony far ahead, excited and fearless. Robb stayed close behind him.

Theon hung back with the slower men, laughing and boasting. He figured Robb and Bran had no bows and no real chance of catching anything on their own. When the time came they would need him.

Bran rode deeper into the woods until the trees grew thick and the only birds he could see were black crows. Something pulled him forward. He didn't notice how far he had gone until he realized he couldn't hear Robb anymore.

"Robb? Theon? Where are you?"

The moment he called out, shapes moved in the brush. Wildlings in ragged furs stepped out and surrounded him.

"Well now," one of them said with a grin. "Look what we caught. A little lordling."

"Fine clothes. Good horse. And that sigil on his cloak—"

"Direwolf. Stark."

The wildlings looked at each other and started laughing.

"We just caught ourselves a prize. Benjen Stark's own blood. This one's worth more than gold."

They dragged Bran off his pony and tied his hands. One of them nicked his arm with a dirty blade just for the fun of it. Blood ran down Bran's sleeve. His head spun. He pitched forward into the dirt.

Robb came crashing through the trees with his sword already drawn.

"Let my brother go," he said, voice steady even though his hands were shaking. "Walk away now and I'll let you live. Otherwise there won't be a safe place for you in the entire North."

The wildlings only laughed harder.

"Your North isn't our home, boy. Our home is beyond the Wall. You southerners don't even know what real cold is."

One of them pressed the blade harder against Bran's arm. Bran's eyes rolled back and he went limp.

Tony stepped off the ship onto the black sand of Dragonstone. A lean man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard walked forward to meet him. Four fingers were missing from his left hand, hidden inside a special glove.

"Ser Tony," the man said with an easy smile. "Davos Seaworth. The Onion Knight. This is my son, Stannis."

Tony shook his hand. "Lord of the Rainwood. And young Stannis. An honor."

Davos studied him for a long moment. "You're younger than I expected. Maester and knight both. That's no small thing."

Tony gave a small, crooked smile. "I get that a lot."

In Vaes Dothrak, Daenerys stood before the dosh khaleen and the gathered khalasar. She had practiced. She forced the entire raw horse heart down her throat and kept it there. When it was done she raised her voice so every Dothraki could hear.

"My son will ride across the world on the back of the greatest stallion. All the world will tremble beneath his hooves."

The Dothraki roared. Even the crones chanted in their tongue.

Drogo lifted her onto his shoulders like she weighed nothing. For a moment she felt like she was flying.

Then Viserys pushed through the crowd in filthy, torn clothes, shouting her name.

"Daenerys! Where are you? Your brother is here!"

Jorah tried to stop him. "Your Grace, this is not the place—"

Viserys shoved past him and pointed at Drogo. "You promised me a golden crown, horselord. When do I get it?"

Drogo set Daenerys down. He walked to Viserys without hurry.

"Today," he said.

Bloodriders seized Viserys and wrenched his shoulder until something cracked. Viserys screamed like a pig at slaughter.

Robert stood over the dead boar in the Kingswood, warhammer still dripping. The beast had come out of nowhere and nearly gored him before he crushed its skull.

Ned stared at the body, face tight.

"That was too close, Your Grace. If you hadn't had the hammer ready it would have opened your belly."

Robert laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Your direwolves are better than any hound I've ever seen. We're eating boar tonight, Ned. Good hunting."