Silence, heavy and terrifying, hung over the Wall.
Every Night's Watchman stared fixedly at the uninvited guests below. Even in the biting wind, their palms, gripping their weapons, were slick with sweat.
What in the seven hells was this?
The monsters of legend, harbingers of the Long Night and death itself, were now aping men and playing messenger?
This was more terrifying than if they had stormed the walls.
The unknown was always the most fearsome enemy.
"My Lord..."
A ranger's voice trembled as he spoke.
"What... what do they want?"
Jeor Mormont didn't answer. His old eyes were filled with gravity and confusion.
He had been a man of the Night's Watch his whole life. He had seen wildlings, giants, even wights.
But this scene before him completely shattered his understanding of the world.
"Open the gate."
A young, firm voice broke the frozen air.
Everyone whipped their heads around to look at the speaker.
Jon Snow.
He had somehow walked to the winch, his hand gripping the cold iron chain.
"Jon! Are you mad?"
A brother in black cried out.
"You want to let them in?"
"No," Jon shook his head, his gaze bypassing the others to lock directly onto Jeor Mormont.
"I'm going to get the letter."
"You can't!"
"It's a trap!"
"Snow, you're walking to your death!"
Voices rose in opposition. To them, this was undoubtedly a scheme of the White Walkers. Using a letter as bait to lure them into opening the gate, or to trick some poor fool into coming out to be slaughtered.
Jon ignored the noise.
He only looked at Jeor Mormont.
He knew the only person here who could truly make the decision was the Old Bear.
Jeor's gaze lingered on Jon's young, stubborn face for a long time.
He saw the eyes of House Stark. There was no fear in them, only an almost obstinate sense of duty.
"They have shown no hostility."
Jeor spoke slowly, suppressing the commotion.
He pointed to the White Walkers below.
"The magic is failing. If they wanted to storm in and kill us, we aren't Lynn. Few here could survive them."
"That letter is for Lynn."
"Lynn is our only hope now. His business is our business."
Jeor gave Jon a deep look.
"Take Ghost. Be careful."
That was permission.
"Lord Commander!"
"This is too risky!"
"Let him go."
A deep voice cut through, stopping those who wanted to argue further.
First Ranger Benjen Stark.
He walked to Jon's side and clapped a heavy hand on his nephew's shoulder.
"Starks don't fear danger."
Benjen's eyes were full of approval and worry.
"Go. We'll cover you from the Wall."
Jon nodded firmly.
Ghost, the massive direwolf, emerged from the shadows and silently took his place by Jon's side.
Creak—
The heavy gate was pulled open just enough for one man and one wolf to pass.
The biting wind instantly rushed in.
Jon didn't hesitate. Gripping his dragonglass sword, he stepped into the blizzard.
The gate slowly closed behind him.
The whole world seemed to shrink to just him, Ghost, and the figures radiating the aura of death ahead.
One hundred meters.
Jon could feel the countless nervous gazes from the Wall focused on his back, and the cold, emotionless stares from the monsters ahead.
Those eyes, burning with blue flame, watched him quietly, devoid of any feeling.
Ghost let out a low growl, his hackles raised, pressing close to Jon's side to protect him.
Jon wasn't stranger to dealing with the dead. But in this staged atmosphere, even he felt the tension tightening his chest.
Finally, Jon reached the lead White Walker.
He stopped, locking eyes with those blue orbs.
The White Walker didn't move aggressively. It simply, slowly, extended the branch and the ice scroll.
Its movements were natural, lacking any threat.
Jon's heart hammered against his ribs.
He reached out, tentatively touching the two items with his scabbard first.
Confirming there was no trap, he quickly took them.
The moment the items left their hands, the White Walkers and wights seemed to complete their mission. They turned and silently walked back into the depths of the snowstorm, step by step.
Until they vanished completely.
They came strangely, and left abruptly.
Jon stood there, staring at the things in his hand, feeling like he had just lived through an absurd dream.
It wasn't until the gate opened again and Benjen rushed out with several rangers to pull him back that he snapped out of it.
---
Lord Commander's Tower.
The fire in the hearth burned brightly, yet it couldn't chase away the chill in the room.
The Weirwood branch and the ice scroll lay in the center of the table.
The branch still wept red sap, emitting a strange, sweet fragrance. It was clearly a blessing from the Old Gods. Though Maester Aemon was gone and they didn't know its specific name, it looked far more potent than anything they had found before.
It likely came from the furthest north of the world, a realm no living man had ever trod.
And the sheet of ice showed no sign of melting even in the warm room; instead, it radiated cold.
Jeor Mormont, Benjen Stark, and several high-ranking officers gathered around the table, their expressions grim.
"What in the seven hells is this?"
A steward looked at the scroll with open fear.
"A letter from the Night King," Jeor said with absolute certainty.
"We are to deliver this to Lynn?"
Benjen frowned.
"Jon, you have to go."
All eyes turned to Jon.
Jon nodded. It was his duty.
"But..."
A new maester from the Citadel spoke hesitantly.
"Jon is a man of the Night's Watch. His vows..."
"I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory... for this night and all the nights to come."
Every man present had spoken those words.
They meant a complete severance from the past.
Going south to deliver a letter, intervening in the wars of the realm—this was undoubtedly breaking the vows.
"Bugger the vows!"
Jeor Mormont slammed his hand on the table.
His pet raven squawked in alarm.
"What time do you think this is?!"
Anger rarely seen appeared on the old man's wrinkled face. Even though Jeor was technically no longer the Lord Commander in power compared to Lynn's influence, everyone else bowed their heads obediently to listen.
"The Wall is cracking!"
"How do we defend the realm?"
"With our thousand men?!"
He pointed to the vast snowy plains outside the window.
"Where does our food come from? Our winter clothes? Our steel?"
"Before, we relied on Winterfell, on the charity of southern lords!"
"Now? Now we rely entirely on Lynn!"
"On his Dragon's Landing!"
"On the merchant ships he brings from Essos!"
Jeor's gaze swept over every man.
"If Lynn loses, if Lysa Arryn and the Freys control the Riverlands and cut off the North's supply lines, we will all starve and freeze to death right here!"
"When that happens, will you recite your bloody vows to the White Walkers?!"
"Will the White Walkers serve you delicious roast venison then?!"
His words left everyone speechless.
It was the most realistic and cruel problem.
Night's Watch honor couldn't fill an empty belly.
"Helping Lynn is helping ourselves!"
Jeor's tone softened slightly, but remained firm.
"Vows are dead words; men are living."
He looked at Jon, his eyes sharp.
"Jon, your journey south is not for House Stark, nor for glory."
"You go for the Wall, for the survival of the Night's Watch!"
"This is not breaking your vow. This is fulfilling your highest duty as the 'shield that guards the realms of men'!"
The old man's sophistry, delivered with such conviction, dispelled the last shred of doubt in Jon's heart.
Yes, guarding the realm.
If everyone at Castle Black died, who would guard anything? What would be the point?
"I understand, Lord Mormont."
Jon nodded solemnly.
"Good."
Jeor looked relieved.
"However, there is a way to do things."
He lowered his voice, like a wily old fox.
"On your journey, do not reveal your identity as a man of the Night's Watch."
"Say you are a messenger from Winterfell. Or simply say you are an envoy sent by this old man to congratulate Lord Lynn on his wedding."
"As long as no one knows you are Night's Watch, you haven't broken your vows. Understand?"
Jon was stunned.
Looking at the Lord Commander earnestly teaching him how to exploit a loophole, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
So... it could work like that?
"I'll go with you."
Benjen Stark, who had been silent, suddenly spoke.
"Benjen?"
Jeor was surprised.
"Ned is my only brother. Robb and Jon are my nephews."
Benjen's voice was low and powerful.
"My family is going to war. How can I sit here peacefully?"
He looked at Jeor, a plea in his eyes.
"Let me... escort Jon on this trip."
Jeor Mormont looked at him.
After a long time, he sighed deeply.
He knew Stark blood ran hot. Even in this ice and snow, it hadn't cooled.
"Very well."
Jeor nodded.
"One more man, one more sword to watch each other's backs."
"Leave immediately."
"Deliver the blessing and the letter safely into Lynn's hands."
---
Soon, two fast horses quietly left Castle Black.
The riders didn't wear the black of the Watch but ordinary leather armor and cloaks.
Just like two common Northern travelers.
Jon felt the ice scroll in his tunic radiating cold against his chest; it felt as heavy as a mountain.
He looked back at the cracked, magnificent Wall one last time, his heart a mix of emotions.
He was embarking on a journey into the unknown.
He was going to find the man who was now his brother-in-law, the focal point of the entire North.
He was going to deliver a letter from the master of the Long Night.
No one knew what was written in that letter.
And no one knew where the fate of this world would head once Lynn opened it.
The wind and snow seemed to be picking up.