Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Bear Island sat alone in the Bay of Ice. North of it lay the frozen coast and the lands beyond the Wall — wildling territory. The entire region held maybe a hundred thousand free folk at most. King's Landing alone had half a million people crammed inside one city.

No one knew how far the true north stretched. Beyond the Haunted Forest lay the Lands of Always Winter, and no one who went there ever came back.

Bear Island itself was small and poor compared to the rest of the North. Cold, wet, endless blizzards, no flowers, no balls, no fine chefs. Food and entertainment were the scarcest in the entire region. Other northern houses could at least hunt. The Boltons could flay people for fun.

House Mormont only had bears for company.

"My lady," the guard captain reported, "we found more bodies. Killed in the most horrific way. They looked terrified before they died."

Maege Mormont slid down from the back of her massive white armored bear. Gordon — the king of the armored bears — could actually speak.

"The corpses are killing now," Gordon rumbled. "I feel a cold wind coming from the north, crossing the sea straight to Bear Island."

"It's time we called the banners, Maege. We have to protect this island."

"Whatever you say, love," Maege said, patting his huge head.

"Martial law across the whole island. Set watch posts along the northern coast. Bring Lyanna and the others back to the castle."

---

Lyanna and her sisters were still out on their armored bears, scouring the island for the corpse that had walked out of the sea. They had searched for hours and found nothing.

"Where the hell did it go?" Lyanna muttered.

They stopped in front of an old cave — their childhood hideout, now abandoned and overgrown.

"Lyanna, Lyra, are you sure there was even a body?" their oldest sister asked.

"Absolutely. Bear One and Bear Two saw it too."

The two armored bears nodded. They couldn't speak like Gordon, but they understood human speech perfectly — much better than direwolves.

"It must have gone somewhere normal people can't reach," the oldest sister said.

A squad of guards arrived. Their captain dismounted and bowed.

"My ladies, Lady Maege wants you back at the castle. We'll find the corpse and burn it to ash."

"No," Lyanna said. "I'm catching it myself."

She jumped onto her bear and charged straight into the cave, leaving the guards shouting behind her. The twisting tunnels would shake them off. Then she could hunt the dead man alone.

---

In the filthy sewers beneath Bear Island — a place no sane person ever went — the corpse was crawling on all fours. It still clutched a knife. Its eyes glowed blue. Something far to the north was controlling it like a puppet.

Hundreds of miles away, in the Lands of Always Winter, a hooded figure sat cross-legged on a block of black ice. Eyes closed. Communicating with something. Dozens of tall, pale White Walkers with white hair stood guard around the altar. Beneath them, thousands of wights formed a living wall of protection.

---

Outside Winterfell, a small band of wildlings moved through the snow in silence. Mance Rayder had sent them to bring back Brandon Stark — not to kill him, but to take him north so he could blow the Horn of Winter.

They had circled the castle twice. No way in. They couldn't even blend with the smallfolk — one look at them and anyone would know they were wildlings.

"We wait," one whispered. "Bran Stark's just a boy. Sooner or later he'll get bored and go outside. When he does, we grab him in the woods and run."

"Our time is short. Southern armies are already gathering. They'll either come for us or the Others — maybe both. We have to take the boy before the Wall Guard arrives."

Inside Winterfell, Bran was losing his mind with boredom. While Catelyn was busy elsewhere, he ordered Hodor to push his multi-function wheelchair outside. Osha went with them. No one else.

They entered the wolfswood. Winter had turned the forest into a silent white cathedral. Snow weighed down the branches like heavy silver cloaks. Icicles hung like daggers. Sunlight filtered through in soft golden patches, making the snow sparkle.

Bran grinned and pulled out the slingshot Tony had given him. He took aim at a murder of crows in a tree.

Thwack!

The crows exploded into the air — all except one. That single crow flew straight at him and landed on his head, claws tangled in his hair.

Bran couldn't see it. He reached up, swatting, but couldn't grab it.

Suddenly the world shifted.

He saw wildlings charging out of the trees. They surrounded Hodor. One of them pointed at Osha and snarled, "Traitor!"

Bran snapped back to reality. The crow lifted off his head and flew away. As it left, it turned and looked straight at him.

Three eyes stared back.

The Three-Eyed Raven had found him.