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Jaime never thought that he would be in a cell again yet here he was, stuck in one with Ser Addam Marbrand for company on Dragonstone. He still couldn't believe how easily he had been defeated by Stannis Baratheon. This was not at all the kind of situation he was expecting to be in when he had arrived on Dragonstone.
First Robb Stark and now Stannis Baratheon. Some Lord Commander he was turning out to be. He remembered the look Ser Rolland Storm gave him when he was thrown into the cell. A one-handed knight who had been captured twice. Once again Jaime cursed Brynden Stark for the hand he had taken and the aid he had provided to Stannis Baratheon, allowing the false king to break the siege of Dragonstone.
They had all believed Stannis Baratheon to be defeated after the Blackwater, but he had only come back stronger after returning south. The Baratheon-Stark alliance could be an even greater threat to their rule if the King in the North turned his attention south. All Brynden Stark had done since returning north was form an alliance with the wildlings and remain at the Wall. Jaime couldn't help but wonder why Brynden Stark had not left the north after his return from the Iron Islands.
He knew Stark's bastard brother was at the Wall as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but doubted that was the reason the King in the North remained on the Wall with his army. Stark could have used their recent defeats to his advantage and wiped out their remaining forces in the south yet had done nothing. It seemed to Jaime that the Blackwolf was more focused in the north than he was with the south.
Brynden Stark was certainly a better ruler than the Young Wolf had been, that much Jaime was certain of. His brother had won the war on the battlefield and lost it in a bedchamber whilst the Blackwolf had learned from his brother's mistakes and secured their kingdom from their enemies. Jaime didn't want to know what would happen to the westerlands if Brynden Stark decided to do the same thing he had done to the Iron Islands.
Had Tywin Lannister still been alive, Jaime wondered how his lord father would have dealt with Brynden Stark and Stannis Baratheon. The two remaining kings that had survived the war were becoming more of a threat than the others who had crowned themselves king. Even with their recent defeats, the Tyrells were their only hope if they hoped to win this war.
They still had the numbers, but Jaime knew that such trivial matters would not matter to men like Stannis Baratheon and Brynden Stark. He had learned that lesson in the Whispering Woods against the Young Wolf and now against Stannis Baratheon. Jaime doubted he would live long anyway to learn from his mistakes as he had no doubt that Stannis Baratheon planned to burn him alive.
The door to his cell swung open and Jaime looked up as a slight man entered, his low birth written plain upon a common face. He had thin shoulders and wore a leather glove on his maimed hand. Jaime knew at once that this man was Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight. "Ser Davos Seaworth or is it Lord Seaworth now? Has Stannis finally decided to have me burned alive?"
"Would you believe me if I told you that he did not?" Davos asked him.
"No, I would not," Jaime replied. Only a fool would think otherwise and Jaime was no fool.
"If the Red Woman were here, it would be true, but she is not. His Grace has decided to leave your fate in the hands of Brynden Stark for helping us take back Dragonstone."
"No doubt Stark will be pleased to see me again." Jaime could already imagine the pleased look on Stark's face when he took his head. He doubted that the Blackwolf would force him to take the black. Jaime would rather die with a sword in hand than be forced to serve the remainder of his days on the Wall and freeze to death in the north.
"What about the rest of us?" Ser Addam asked.
"The Night's Watch could always use more men like you at the Wall." Davos replied.
"What is the point in the Night's Watch anymore if all of the wildlings are behind the Wall?" Jaime asked.
Jaime could care less about what happened at the Wall, but even he knew that the Night's Watch served to defend the Wall against the wildling savages. Not to mention Grumkins and Snarks. With the new alliance between the north and the wildlings, Jaime couldn't see what purpose the Night's Watch served now.
"The wildlings are not the true threat beyond the Wall," Davos told him before taking his leave.
Your ranging to Hardhome is doomed to fail. Lady Melisandre's words echoed in Jon's mind as his men got ready to set sail from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Lord Manderly had come through with Brynden's request and had sent seven ships from White Harbor, bringing their fleet to a total of eleven ships. Hopefully they would be enough to bring all of the wildlings at Hardhome across the Wall.
From what Tormund had told them, he estimated their numbers to be half of what Mance's host was before they attacked the Wall. He could only hope they weren't too late and they could be saved. Yet Lady Melisandre's words continued to haunt him, wondering if her words were true. Jon only wished that his brother did not have to come with them, but Brynden insisted he had no choice, believing the wildlings would only accept their offer if they saw the King in the North, the King-beyond-the-Wall, and the Lord Commander together, presenting the wildlings with their offer.
"This is a fool's errand, Lord Commander," Cotter Pyke told him as Brynden approached them with Shadow trailing behind him.
"The Night's Watch are the shield that guards the realms of men, and whether we like it or not, the wildlings are now our responsibility as well," Jon replied.
Jon couldn't help but wonder how Cotter Pyke felt about working alongside Brynden for he was the man who had put all of his people to the sword. He only hoped the man was like Lord Commander Hoare and would maintain neutrality during their journey beyond the Wall.
"As you say," Cotter took his leave, making his way over to his ship, the Talon.
"Seems I'm not the only one dealing with opposition from my men," Brynden said as he stopped in front of Jon, clad in his Valyrian Steel armor with Ice strapped across his back.
"Is it that easy to tell?" Jon asked, looking at some of his black brothers board a ship.
Brynden nodded, frowning. "Even my own men are still not pleased working alongside wildlings. Val was right when she said that our marriage would not be enough to bridge an alliance between the north and her people."
"Once they see the true threat beyond the Wall they will have to learn to work together," Jon said.
"You truly believe that this alliance can work if they saw the Others were real?"
"I have to. I saw a wight with my own eyes and watched it die." Jon was still haunted by the blue-eyed corpse that had tried to kill him and Lord Commander Mormont. "We cannot hope to defeat this enemy on our own."
"Then let us hope that Stannis comes through on his end. As much as I hate to admit it, he is our only ally for the wars to come."
"Stannis is not the only one out there." Jon pointed out.
"Wildlings are one thing, but Lannisters, never. They are the reason why we went to war. They are responsible for the deaths of my men, of Robb, and Father." Brynden snapped, balling his hands into fists. "The knights of the Vale and Stannis are the only allies I need for the wars to come."
"I do not like the idea either, but we need more men. Who else would you have in mind if not the Lannisters?"
"We will speak no more about this matter, Lord Commander." Brynden swiftly took off, heading for his ship.
Jon wanted to call out to his brother, but knew that Brynden would not listen to him once he got angry. He would need to wait until his brother had cooled down before Jon could broach the subject to him again. Even with their growing alliance, Jon had a feeling that it would not be enough to stop the Others and their army.
His brother's army was stretched thin as it was, with the Blackfish leading a northern force in the westerlands, Ser Helman Tallhart holding Moat Cailin, the Manderly fleet attacking Dragonstone, and his brother leading a force beyond the Wall. If the Others decided to attack, Jon doubted they would be able to last very long against them.
"Looks like you and your brother didn't come to an agreement."
Jon looked behind him as Tormund approached, stopping beside him. "It wouldn't be the first time."
"What did you say to piss him off?"
"I suggested he form an alliance with his enemies," Jon replied. Even he did not like the idea of fighting alongside Lannisters, but with their alliance with the Tyrells and the Freys, the Iron Throne controlled one of the biggest forces in the south, and they needed all the men they could get for the coming threat.
"He did it with us. What is so different this time?"
"They are the reason why the north went to war and declared their independence," Jon replied.
Though there was bad blood between the north and the wildlings, Jon knew that it was worse with the Lannisters, with the scars from the war still fresh in their minds. Then there was the red wedding, where many northerners had lost their friends and family in the slaughter.
"Mayhaps Val could convince your brother, har," Tormund chuckled.
"It's not that simple. Besides, Brynden is still not pleased with Val accompanying us beyond the Wall."
Brynden had tried in vain to convince Val to stay behind at Castle Black, but the wildling queen refused to obey him. Jon knew that it was a futile attempt, but his brother did not know that.
"Val will do what she wants. She is not at all like those southron ladies your brother is used to dealing with, Jon Snow."
"I think he's starting to realize that."
Shouts could be heard from the docks as wildlings, black brothers, and northmen alike boarded the ships. A light snow had begun to fall and Jon hoped they would be able to make it in time to rescue the wildlings at Hardhome.
"Time we were on our way," Tormund muttered.
Then he would see if Lady Melisandre's words were true or not.
"How many did we lose?"
"Too many, Your Grace," Aurane Waters replied, kneeling before her in the throne room.
Cersei seethed in silence, cursing Stannis Baratheon and Brynden Stark for making a fool of her. Jaime had failed her, falling once again to another attacker during a siege. She would make Stark and Baratheon pay dearly for inflicting such a loss upon her. They were proving to be more troublesome than she had believed.
"What of Ser Jaime? Do you know what happened to the Lord Commander?"
"As we were fleeing, Ser Jaime's forces were overrun on the beachhead by Baratheon forces. We could not make it in time to save them, Your Grace."
"And our fleet?"
Jaime and Aurane Waters had set sail for Dragonstone with over two thousand men, her newly built dromonds, and the Redwyne fleet. Their numbers should have been more than enough to overwhelm what remained of Stannis's garrison at Dragonstone. Just like his liege lord, Redwyne proved to be just as incompetent as the Fat Flower was. How could her father ever have believed they needed the Tyrells to help end the war?
"We lost just as many ships as we did men," Aurane replied. "Five of our dromonds were captured while the Redwyne fleet was decimated and forced to retreat. Lord Redwyne reports only a hundred of his warships remain."
"What about this Manderly fleet?"
Wyman Manderly was not at all the kind of fool they had been led to believe if he had managed to construct a fleet on par with the Redwynes. The fat northerner would also pay for his transgressions against the Iron Throne.
"They suffered minor losses, Your Grace."
"These northmen are even more fearsome than before," Pycelle spoke up. She had almost forgotten that the old fool was at court with them. The maester rarely did anything but sleep these days. Cersei wouldn't be surprised if he died without any of them realizing it.
"No doubt they still blame us for the red wedding," Cersei muttered.
The younger Stark was proving to be an even greater threat than that of Robb Stark. She would have to find some way to deal with him and soon. Hopefully the northern lords would turn on him because of his recent alliance with the wildlings. From what Qyburn had told her, the northmen and Night's Watch were not at all pleased with the recent actions of their King and Lord Commander.
Stark was a fool to take a wildling woman as his wife instead of a daughter from one of his bannermen. Just like his brother, Stark would also lose his kingdom in a bedchamber.
Then there was Jon Snow, the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. The boy was proving to be even more traitorous like Lord Eddard.
"It is the Freys they should be blaming, not us," Orton Merryweather pointed out.
Only a fool would believe the Freys capable of taking such drastic actions on their own without any incentive. Roose Bolton would have been rewarded as well had he not decided to back out of the deal. That had cost the man his life and that of his House. Were he still alive, Lord Bolton would be the one dealing with Stark while she could focus all of her attention on Stannis.
Instead she was left alone to clean up the mess her father had failed to do before his untimely demise. Now that Jaime was captured once again, Cersei needed to deal with her enemies as quickly as possible to ensure her reign and Tommen's was secure.
"What news is there of the west?"
Ser Loras stepped forward, kneeling before he spoke. She would need to find some way to get rid of his presence before this day was done. "The Blackfish continues to plunder the westerlands unopposed, Your Grace."
One setback after another. Were all the men around her so incompetent that she would have to do everything herself? "And your brothers. I recall you telling me they would be able to muster ten thousand men within a fortnight."
"They are marching to the Golden Tooth as we speak, Your Grace."
"Good. Let us hope they can do what Ser Daven could not."
And once the Blackfish was dealt with that would be one less enemy she would have to worry about.
Thousands of tents sprawled across the shorelines could be seen in the distance along with fires burning inside cave mouths along a great grey cliff. Warhorns could be heard moaning as wildlings emerged from their tents to see what all the commotion was about. The only defense the wildlings seemed to have was a massive wooden wall, stretching from the cliff towards the other side of the peninsula. It was still hard for Brynden to believe they had all come here to the ruins of Hardhome heeding the words of some woods witch.
They were all fools to come here, but they were his people now, whether they liked it or not, and it was Brynden's duty to see them south and behind the Wall. He only hoped Mance and Tormund would be able to keep the wildlings in line once they boarded the ships.
It was still strange for Brynden to work alongside the King-beyond-the-Wall, but then again these were strange times when northmen, black brothers, and wildlings alike were working together against their common foe. Even if Brynden had his doubts still about the Others and their existence. Despite his recent fight with Jon, Brynden trusted his brother and knew he would not lie about such a thing.
"The boats are ready, Your Grace," Smalljon Umber announced.
"Then let's get this over with," Brynden muttered, turning around and headed across the deck to where the boats were being lowered into the water. He frowned when he saw Val waiting for him, wearing a large bearskin cloak, and a long bone knife strapped to her hip. "You don't need to come with us."
Val rolled her eyes. "I can take care of my self, Your Grace."
"Aye you can, but you are a queen now, not a woman of the free folk anymore," Brynden pointed out.
They have had this argument many times during their journey north of the Wall that Brynden had grown tired of it, but he did not wish to see Val put herself in danger, no matter how much she believed in her own capabilities. Sooner or later, Val needed to understand the role she was given as the Queen of the North, just as Brynden had when he had succeeded Robb as King in the North.
"You still have much to learn, Brynden Stark," Val smirked before getting onboard one of the boats.
Shadow started to pad forward but Brynden stopped the wolf from jumping in. "Not this time boy." He got into the boat along with some of his guards while Greatjon came over to see him off. "Lord Umber, I leave you in command of the fleet while we are away."
"I hope you know what you are getting yourself into, Your Grace," Greatjon grumbled.
"So do I." Brynden nodded and they were slowly lowered into the water before making their way to the shorelines.
There were thousands of wildlings gathered about along the shore, watching them make it across the harbor. Brynden was grateful that none of them had loosed any arrows at them as they made it ashore.
Jon, Mance, and Tormund joined Brynden and Val as they disembarked and made their way over to where the wildlings were gathered. A scrawny old woman came forward followed by a dour looking warrior, clad in bronze with a bronze longsword strapped to his belt. Brynden recognized the dour warrior as a Thenn, remembering the young Magnar of Thenn, Sigorn.
"Let me handle this," Mance told Brynden, stepping forward to greet the wildlings with Tormund by his side.
"Mance, and here I thought you were dead," the dour Thenn greeted.
"Not yet," Mance replied.
"What are you doing here with crows and kneelers?"
"They are our salvation," the old woman interrupted.
This time it was Jon who stepped forward. "Your people have been granted safe passage through the Wall."
"And why is that?" The Thenn asked.
"Because we are no longer enemies," Brynden replied, standing beside Mance and Jon. "My name is Brynden Stark, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell. It is by my decree and the terms of our alliance that we are here."
"Why should we trust the words of a Stark?" A beautiful spearwife, with long dark hair and grey eyes, asked.
"Because he understands that he needs us, just as much as we need him," Mance replied. "You don't need to bend your knee for him or call him your king, only that you answer his summons when our true enemy comes."
"Why should we? He was one of the southron kings that cut our army into pieces," another wildling chieftain pointed out and his fellow brethren nodded their heads in agreement.
"I was only defending my kingdom," Brynden snapped. Any other king would have done the same, even if it meant slaughtering thousands to drive their enemies away.
"So why the sudden change of heart? First you defend your Wall against us and now you're letting us through it? Smells more like a trap and that this lot with you are nothing more than traitors." The dour Thenn growled.
"You all know what's out there, what's coming for us," Mance said. "We can't hope to stand against them alone."
"None of us here likes each other and that's understandable," Brynden added. "For centuries our people have been fighting each other with no end in sight, but that ends today. Desperate times call for desperate measures and we all need to learn to band together if we hope to beat the white walkers."
The wildling spearwife scoffed. "Beat the white walkers? Run from them maybe."
"The white walkers can be defeated." Jon stepped forward, taking a dagger from his belt and handing it over to the wildlings. "A man of the Night's Watch slew a white walker with that dagger. It is dragonglass, what the maesters call obsidian."
"You saw this?" The Thenn asked.
"No, but I trust the man," Jon replied.
"As we speak, Stannis Baratheon is in the south, mining the obsidian and shipping them north." Brynden informed them. "Your best chance for survival is to come with us south of the Wall."
The wildlings looked at each other, murmuring to one another while the dragonglass dagger was passed around. Brynden wished they could have this meeting inside, but none of the wildlings seemed interested in letting them into the camp. At least with Tormund, the wildlings had a leader Brynden could deal with, but these wildlings didn't seem to have a leader of their own. They also didn't seem to trust the words of their king, even with Mance trying to convince them of their alliance.
So much for this being a simple rescue. Of course, things were never simple when dealing with wildlings, Brynden mused, glancing at Val.
"Thousands of our people are already settled behind the Wall," Val stepped in. "Stark will remain true to his word, you have my word."
"And why is that?" The spearwife asked.
"Because I am his Queen," Val replied, causing the wildlings to whisper amongst themselves once more.
"It's true," Brynden added. "To cement our alliance I have taken one of your own as my wife and queen, as well as sparing the life of your own king, Mance Rayder."
"The Long Night is coming and the dead come with it," Jon said. "Only together do we have a chance to stop them."
"What say you, Mance? Do you believe this is the way?" One of the chieftains asked.
"I do," Mance nodded.
"I'm with Mance. We came here anyways looking for salvation and it seems that they are it." Another chieftain stepped in. Several others agreed with him, nodding their heads.
"We are with you, Stark," the old woman added.
Brynden nodded, grateful that it didn't take long for them to accept. He didn't want to be out here any longer than he had to. He made his way over to Val and pulled her aside as the chieftains headed off to inform their people of the news. "I want you on one of the first boats back to the fleet," Brynden told her.
Val gave him a playful smile as if to mock him. "If my king insists."
A while later, wildlings were boarding the boats, making their way across the harbor to the fleet while Brynden, Jon, Mance, and their men kept order amongst their ranks. It was a strange sight to behold as black brothers and northmen helped wildlings onto the boat. Not for the first time, Brynden couldn't help but wonder if eleven ships were enough for fifty thousand wildlings, including their own men.
Three hundred men they had brought with them, with Brynden, Jon, and Mance bringing a hundred men each. They should have brought more ships, but the bulk of the Manderly fleet had already set sail for Dragonstone, leaving only a few ships for Lord Manderly to spare, with the Night's Watch only able to deploy a small number of ships to the fleet. He wondered if they would have enough time to make several trips.
For now though, Brynden had given orders to let only the young ones, women, and fighting men onboard first. The old ones would only slow them down and they would need all the able bodies they could get, even if it meant leaving people behind. There were always sacrifices in war as Brynden had learned on the Green Fork.
He had sacrificed a few to save the many while Brynden had accomplished his goal of distracting Lord Tywin while Robb had lifted the siege of Riverrun. The battle felt like ages ago for Brynden back when he was just the second son, not a prince or a king. Now look at him, the King in the North and the first Stark of Winterfell to allow wildlings through the Wall. It should have been Father or Robb dealing with this matter, not him, but they were gone now, leaving him alone to defend their House against their enemies.
"You have a good heart, Brynden Stark," Mance told him, approaching him from the side. "You have my thanks for what you have done for my people."
"It is not needed. They became my people and responsibility the moment I agreed to the alliance and took Val as my queen."
Suddenly a heavy snow had begun to fall and the horns blew; ahooo ahooo ahooooooooooooooooooo, from the wooden wall. They had set up sentries along the wall, consisting of black brothers and wildlings from Tormund's group to keep the flow of wildlings in line while they passed through the gates.
A second blast came and Brynden looked at Mance. "More wildlings?" He asked, hoping that were true.
Mance's face hardened when he heard the screams in the distance coming from the wall. "No."
A third blast and Brynden watched as a cloud of snow fell down from the grey cliff onto the wildling camp below it. That was no natural storm, Brynden realized, as black brothers and wildlings drew their swords and spears and running toward the wall.
"Tormund, with me!" Mance shouted, drawing his sword and rushing off with Tormund roaring.
"Never thought I'd get another order from you," Tormund shouted, following the wildling king into battle.
"Your Grace!" Harrion shouted, making his way toward him through the panicking crowd rushing for the boats.
"Gather our men and join me at the wall!" Brynden ordered, drawing Ice and making his way to where the fighting was. He may be a king, but it was not in Brynden's nature to run away from a battle.
"Here they come," he heard a wildling say as Brynden spotted Jon amongst his black brothers.
"Use fire arrows," another wildling shouted.
"Jon," Brynden called out, making his way over to his brother. Arrows whispered over head, hitting their marks while the wind continued to howl about them.
"You shouldn't be here," Jon told him.
"And neither should you," Brynden shot back. "Mance can hold the wall, we need to bring order back at the shorelines."
Brynden and Jon turned around, and to his disbelief found himself staring at an Other, pale as ice, gaunt and hard as old bones. Its armor rippled and shifted as it moved, and its feet did not break the crust of the snow. In its hand was a longsword like none that Brynden had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing as two black brothers charged at the thing, only to have their swords shatter upon contact with its blade before being cut down with ease. To his horror, Brynden watched as Jon charged at the Other, swinging his sword at the monster. To his surprise, the sword did not shatter when it struck against the pale sword.
"Jon!" Brynden cried out, ignoring the battle behind him as he joined his brother against the Other, swinging Ice at his foe. His instincts took over, with Brynden parrying while Jon struck out only for the Other to parry their attacks with ease.
The Other moved like it was the wind, gracefully dodging while striking precise hits against their blades, searching for an opening. Stark and Snow struck as one, only to be pushed back and forced onto the defensive. No amount of training had prepared them for this.
Brynden struggled to keep his foe at bay while Jon tried running his blade through the Other. Snow fell heavily around them, hindering their movement. Suddenly Ice was knocked from his grasp and Brynden raised his arm to shield himself, unsheathing the dagger from his belt and shoving it into its leg. He heard a crack, like the sound ice makes when it breaks beneath a man's foot, and then a screech so shrill and sharp that caused Brynden to muffle his ears.
All about its body, the Other's armor cracked until finally it shattered into pieces, leaving Brynden and Jon stunned from what had just happened.
Dragonsteel, Brynden remembered, looking down at the dagger, recalling the conversation he and Jon had with Samwell Tarly about the weakness of the Others. "The armor of the Others is proof against most ordinary blades, if the tales can be believed," Sam had told them. , "and their own swords are so cold they shatter steel. Fire will dismay them, though, and they are vulnerable to obsidian. I found one account of the Long Night that spoke of the last hero slaying Others with a blade of dragonsteel. Supposedly they could not stand against it."
It made sense, Brynden thought, reaching down and picking up the dagger along with Ice. Valyrian steel was Dragonsteel.
Jon made his way over to Brynden, breathing heavily. "Are you alright?"
"I'm hoping that this is all just a dream," Brynden replied. The Others were unlike any other foe he had faced before and did not want to go through that again.
The wall began to creak and groan, causing Brynden and Jon to stare in dismay as a pile of bodies with blue eyes tore through the wall, overwhelming their position.
"To the boats!" Jon ordered and without seeing if they heard the order, began making a mad dash back to the shorelines.
It was a massacre on the way to the boats. Piles of bodies decorated the ground while the few that lived struggled against their attackers. "Cast now," Brynden ordered, crossing the beach and hopping into the boat with Jon following in right after him.
Turning around, Brynden could only watch in horror and dismay as those that were left behind were slaughtered by dead men. The screams of the living were silenced after a while. Then just as quickly as they had fallen, the fallen rose, joining the ranks of the dead, with thousands of blue eyes staring back at him.
Breathing heavily, it was then that Brynden realized that they could not possibly hope to defeat this foe alone.
Hey guys, sorry for not updating in a while, this story just hasn't been a priority for me and I lost interest in it for a while, being distracted and all that. If any of the characters seem OOC in this chapter, just blame it on me not having worked on it for over three months. These chapters kill me sometimes when I just work on it for one story and I need a break from it to clear my head.
Next chapter will probably be the last one for book four and then it will be on to book five. As for how long the next chapter will take, no idea, I'm pretty burnt out of ASOIAF at the moment, you guys are lucky I managed to finish this chapter before the end of this year.
No promises, but I'll try to finish and upload the next chapter for Christmas.
Until then, not sure if I should work on my other projects or not. Most likely I'll be distraced by playing video games and all that, lol.
FractiousDay: Yeah, one of the reasons why I didn't like the chapter, because of how cannon it was, but it will probably be the last of cannon material I will be using as we are nearing the end of the fourth book.
Freakdogsflare: You'll just have to wait and see.
C.E.W: Mance Rayder is also alive, as part of Val's agreement to become Brynden's wife.
Blaze1992: Not everyone.
Stark (guest): Yes, Brynden will legitimize Lyanna.