Game of Thrones Iron Stark

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CaveLeather

News of the white stag traveled fast. It reached the Wall within days.

Benjen Stark's ranging party had already gone beyond it. Their last raven, sent three days ago, said they had reached the Fist of the First Men and found fresh wildling tracks. They were pushing farther north.

Inside Castle Black, old brothers who had once served the Targaryens muttered over their ale.

"Robert Baratheon, chosen by the gods?" Alliser Thorne spat. "He's a warrior, not a king. Never was."

Maester Aemon listened without comment, then gave a soft, dry laugh when Samwell Tarly told him the white stag had followed Eddard Stark's direwolves willingly.

"A wolf leading a deer," Aemon said. "Robert and Eddard have always been closer than brothers. Even the gods seem to agree."

Sam shifted his weight. "Jon heard the news last night. He walked the Wall for miles, just staring out at the snow. Couldn't sleep."

Aemon nodded but said nothing more.

Beyond the Wall, two corpses that had fallen during the last fight began to stir.

Cold blue light crept across the snow and wrapped around them. One body was missing its head. The other was whole. Both opened eyes the color of frozen milk.

They rose.

One tried to climb the Wall again. The ancient magic burned through it before it reached ten feet. It collapsed in a smoking heap.

The second turned away from the ice and disappeared into the trees, moving with unnatural speed.

In Dorne the air was hot and dry. Prince Doran Martell sat in his wheeled chair in the Water Gardens, reading the same raven that had reached the Wall. His daughter Arianne stood beside him, dark curls loose in the breeze.

"Robert caught a white stag," Doran said quietly. "The realm will talk of nothing else for months."

Arianne's voice was careful. "Should we go to King's Landing? He is still the king. If we refuse it could be seen as rebellion."

"We will go," Doran answered. "But first I need your uncle. Where is Oberyn?"

"Training the Sand Snakes on the beach."

Oberyn Martell stood on the sand with his spear planted in the ground, watching his daughters spar with whips, knives, and short spears. The banner of House Martell snapped above them.

One of the girls threw a knife at his back without warning. Oberyn caught it on the shaft of his spear without turning around.

"Better," he said. "But still slow."

He turned to face them, red and gold robes open at the chest.

"Viserys is dead," he told them. "The fool finally got his golden crown. Our old plans are finished. We'll need new ones."

He looked out at the sea. "If Daenerys's child lives, a marriage between that child and one of ours could still give us leverage. But that is for later."

Another daughter spoke without thinking. "Willas Tyrell is nothing. If I had faced him he would already be dead. And Uncle Doran—"

Oberyn crossed the sand in two steps and struck her across the face hard enough to knock her down.

"Doran's my brother," he said coldly. "Willas Tyrell is a man I respect. Speak of either of them like that again and I will kill you, daughter or not."

The other Sand Snakes lowered their eyes.

A rider approached from the direction of the Water Gardens.

"Prince Oberyn. Prince Doran asks for you."