Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

War Pigs

Cregan POV

Cregan stood before the gathered Northern lords in the Great Hall, his expression was grave and foreboding. More than usual.

Helaena had ridden Dreamfyre to the Nightfort and transported him and his small party - minus a greenseer with an atitude, replaced with a wilding magnara with even more behavioral issues - back to Winterfell. The dragon's refusal to fly over the Wall, just like Daeron's mount before her, was troubling. The silver lining is that it stopped his wife from suggesting to travel with them in the frozen wilderness. He wonders just how intricate the Builder designed the magical runes over the structure. And the possibility of recreating them in every holdfast, or at the very least, Winterfell itself. Any advantage they can get is crucial.

Aegon has finally decided to reveal the existence of the Others to the Realm. Cregan's mission to court the Wildings' aid served the dual purpose of acquiring tangible proof of the ice demons' existence. The latter part was tricky to find at first. Running into a lone wight is incredibly far-fetched. And a Walker can't be trapped with any of their current artifacts.

Then Jon had a proposition. Apparently after his resurrection, he had a similar thought pattern on how to convince the Houses he wasn't a raving madman and oathbreaker (too soon), which involved dumping the hung bodies of the mutiners that killed him over the Wall.

They rose as thralls of the Great Other, but that was his intention. Much easier to chain and monitor. He and the Red Witch tried to understand them. To learn their power source. They didn't have a breakthrough unfortunately. Yet the sealed coffins served to verify his bold claims after he took Winterfell from the Bolton bastard.

The Warden didn't equate every traitor with a specific lineage. Historically speaking, the Boltons have betrayed and battled the Starks more than any other House. But he can't imagine Ned's line could wipe out his own. The future changed. It must have.

The urgent matters he means to discuss today takes precedence. His voice carried a sense of dread, "My fellow lords of the North," Cregan began, his voice commanding attention. "I stand before you today to share news of dire importance. The Others, the ancient enemy of our people, have returned."

A murmur of disbelief and concern rippled through the assembly, but the wolf raised a hand to silence them. He continued, "This information has come to us through the greenseers, those gifted with the ability to see through the eyes of the weirwood trees. Blessed by our Gods. My wife, princess Helaena has witnessed their presence and their movements. As has my cousin Bran Umber."

The aforementioned relative's absence in the assembly brought suspicions aplenty. "Where is Bran, Lord Stark? Let us question this news."

Helaena stepped forward, her gaze steady and determined. "Brandon isn't here my lords. He remains beyond the Wall. But, I have seen them in my visions. The Others march, their cold presence spreading southward. Their army grows, and they are a threat to us all."

The room fell into a heavy silence as the gravity of the situation sank in. Once an interloper in the North, a southern royal who desires to poison her husband's faith by having a sept built for her in the spiritual heart of their domain, his wife has long been accepted by his bannermen. How could she not be? She's touched by the Faceless Ones. Bound with a direwolf, just as strongly as their children; the continuation of the proud and noble Stark line.

She's a northern dragoness. Fair. Kind. And absolutely brutal, shedding blood by the Heartree.

Cregan spoke again, his voice firm. "We cannot afford to ignore this warning. We must unite our forces and prepare for the coming battle. The King is informing the South imminently, if he hasn't already. But the North is the first line of defense. We must make sure it's the only one necessary. The fate of all of Westeros rests in our hands."