Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 67: Tragedy Befalls the World

―Beyond the Wall―

Samwell Tarly and Gilly had already begun preparing a makeshift campfire near an abandoned heart tree. Bundled in a makeshift quilt was Joffrey Baratheon; the exiled Prince had an arrow lodged into his back removed and his injuries tended to, though he still refused any help as his body fought off a chill. Patched up as he was, if they didn't make it back to Castle Black then the mutineers, the cold, starvation... or worse, White Walkers would claim their lives. And they had little supplies remaining, especially with a baby and crows keeping them company.

"Here, Joffrey, drink this," Samwell offered his last cup of water to Joffrey.

"P-piss off!" he rebuffed; his voice chilled. "As if a-an arrow in th-the back w-wasn't all I n-need."

Samwell frowned; Gilly, the wildling girl accompanying them, looked rather cross with the exiled Prince's rudeness, yet placed her palm on his forehead. Joffrey felt warm, if not a bit hot. She was certain he had a fever. Once she examined the makeshift bandages with dried blood, Gilly determined that his wound was slowly getting infected.

"If we can't get to the Wall, your friend will die," Gilly pointed out. "We die. The baby..."

Samwell shook his head. "We're going to make it. We all are. I promise."

Gilly felt a sense of relief as Joffrey buried his head under the sheet, his body shook and shivered as the freezing temperature outside dropped. Only the makeshift fire they made could only last so long – considering the supernatural events that have been taking place in the lands beyond the Wall. A wildling army, the return of the White Walkers... all Joffrey could think of was home. King's Landing. He wanted to go home, yet should he ever desert the Night's Watch they would hunt him down and behead him as a traitor. All he cared about was survival—and deeply resented the fact that his own brother banished him to live the rest of his days in a living hell made real.

"Th-this is all D-Daveth's fault," Joffrey cursed. "H-he did this t-to me—!"

"Hush!" Gilly quietly reprimands. "You'll wake the baby!"

"To hell with y-your bastard!" he shouted, causing a bit of a stir.

"*WAAAH!*"

Samwell and Gilly turned to see Gilly's son crying rather loudly, upset at the noise. They had already tried to get the baby settled it—much to their dismay and ire it was woken up again. This was the last thing both Samwell and Gilly wanted as dozens more crows began gathering outside perched on the branches above them, each of them loudly cawing and squawking one by one as the wildling baby continued its wailing. As Gilly rocked her baby, Samwell looked outside and picked up a lit torch. "Wait here," he signaled.

Gilly shook her head as she held her baby close. "Don't," she pleaded. "Don't go out there."

Joffrey turned to see Samwell leaving. "Are y-you crazy, Tarly?" he coughed. "You know th-those th-things are out t-there!"

Samwell had already made up his mind. "I'll be back. Just want to look." Despite their protests, the Tarly steps outside and examines the crows. Their flock appears to be growing by the tens in this godforsaken, frozen landscape. Gripping his sword close just in case, Samwell waved his torch around as the crows squawking grew increasingly loud as Gilly stepped outside too. "Go back inside," he tells her.

Joffrey, still on his side, gripped Gilly's ankle. "Didn't y-you hear?" he hissed, half-disoriented from the fever. "G-get back i-in here!"

Gilly kicked Joff's hand away, looking back at Samwell. The Tarly Night's Watchman continued observing the now-hundreds of crows gathering before realizing something was wrong as they started screeching more violently.