Game of Thrones Iron Stark

The Small Council chamber was packed.

King Robert sat at the head of the long table with Eddard Stark on his right and Tyrion Lannister on his left. Petyr Baelish, Varys, Renly, Stannis, Grand Maester Pycelle, and the High Septon filled the rest of the seats. Behind them stood every lord with a title higher than earl. The seven Kingsguard lined the walls in white armor and white cloaks.

Myrcella, Margaery Tyrell, Shireen Baratheon, Sansa Stark, and Arianne Martell moved quietly among them, pouring wine. There were too many men for one girl to handle, so Myrcella had called her friends.

Robert leaned back in his chair and looked around the room.

"Enough talk about the red comet. Tell me straight. Is this thing going to bring us war, or is it just some maester's star?"

Before anyone could answer, Janos Slynt cleared his throat.

"Your Grace. My lords. The Night's Watch has come to King's Landing. They brought news. And something else. Should I bring their representatives in?"

Varys tilted his head. "No raven reached us from the Wall. Either the birds were taken or eaten. Eddard, you know more about the Watch than any of us. What do you say?"

Ned met Robert's eyes. "The Wall is the realm's shield. If the Watch has come this far south, we hear them out."

Robert grunted. "Fine. Bring them in."

Three men in black walked through the doors.

Alliser Thorne led them, tall and sharp-faced. Jon Snow followed, calm and quiet. Samwell Tarly came last, trying to make himself smaller. When he saw his father, Randyll Tarly, sitting at the table, he ducked behind Jon's shoulder.

Alliser stopped in front of the king and gave a short bow that somehow managed to look like an insult.

"Your Grace. You remember me? I remember you."

Robert barked a laugh. "Putting you on the Wall was the smartest thing I ever did, Thorne. I still can't stand the sight of you."

Alliser didn't smile. "While you sit here drinking wine and watching pretty girls, the dead are walking north of the Wall."

A sudden cold wind swept through the chamber. It came from nowhere, sharp and wrong, raising gooseflesh on every arm. Papers rustled. Men pulled their collars tighter. Someone shouted for the guards.

The High Septon began muttering prayers.

Then a voice rose above the wind, chanting in a low, steady rhythm.

The Blind Monk stood with his hands raised, red robes stirring though there was no breeze on him. Sunlight suddenly poured through the high windows, bright and warm. The unnatural cold vanished like smoke.

Robert stared at him. "What the hell was that?"

"The Cold God," the Blind Monk said calmly. "An enemy of the Lord of Light. His power should not reach this far south. Something brought it here."

He looked at the three black brothers.

"You brought the dead with you."

Alliser nodded once. "Open the boxes."

Jon and Sam set two heavy wooden crates on the council table. The moment they stepped back, one of the boxes twitched.

Men drew steel. The Kingsguard moved closer.

Robert's voice was low. "Open them."

The lids came off.

Inside the first box, a severed hand flexed its fingers, nails black with dirt and old blood. In the second, a man's head lay on its side, mouth opening and closing, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets. Both were moving.

The High Septon made a strangled sound and squeezed his eyes shut.

Randyll Tarly was the first to speak into the silence.

"Is there any way to kill them for good?"

Sam answered before anyone else could. His voice was steadier than anyone expected.

"Yes, Father. Dragonglass. Valyrian steel. And fire."

Randyll studied his son for a long moment, then reached to his side and drew the long, dark Valyrian steel sword at his hip. The blade caught the light like oil on water.

"Heartsbane," he said, and held it out to Sam. "Use it. Cut the head."

Every eye in the room turned to Samwell Tarly.

Sam took the sword with both hands. It was lighter than it looked. He stepped up to the box, raised Heartsbane, and brought it down in one clean stroke.

The wight's head split. Black dust poured out instead of blood. What remained crumbled into ash that scattered across the table.

For a few heartbeats no one spoke.

Then Randyll Tarly laughed. It was a short, rough sound, but it was real.

"Look at that," he said. "My son finally grew a spine."

Sam stood there holding Heartsbane, breathing hard, staring at the ashes. For the first time in his life, his father was looking at him with something that might have been pride.