Chapter 42: The Death of Craster
"What's your name?" Saelen asked, looking at the young woman before him.
She was cradling the infant in her arms, rocking him gently from side to side, trying to soothe his cries.
"Maeve, my lord. My name is Maeve," she replied softly, tears glistening in her eyes as she continued to hush the baby. Then her voice trembled. "Please, my lord… I beg you."
It had taken immense courage for her to do this. Not only had she secretly spoken to other men behind Craster's back, she was now plotting to flee. If Craster discovered her betrayal, she would not survive the night. There was no turning back now—her only hope was to plead with these southern lords to take her away.
"Saelen… he's just a baby," Robb said anxiously.
After learning Craster's secret, Robb had immediately summoned Saelen and Uncle Benjen in private.
"We are guests beneath Craster's roof," Benjen warned sternly. "The Night's Watch has long received aid from him. To violate guest right invites divine punishment. The gods would not forgive us."
Saelen gave a faint, almost amused smile.
"We may be under his roof, but he has offered us neither bread nor salt. We have not eaten so much as a crumb of his food. We rest here only because we paid him with two skins of wine."
"Uncle Benjen," Robb pressed on, "Craster doesn't worship the old gods or the new. He serves some dark power. He sacrifices his sons to the White Walkers. And the White Walkers are the mortal enemies of the living."
At the mention of the White Walkers, the air seemed to grow colder.
Craster's faith was no faith at all—it was a pact with death itself.
Saelen's expression gradually hardened.
"Guest right binds honorable men," he said quietly. "But what binds a man who offers his own sons to monsters?"
The crying infant squirmed weakly in Maeve's arms, unaware that his fate was being decided in whispers.
If the truth was as she claimed, then this was no mere moral failing.
It was treason against the living.
Saelen looked at the still-hesitating Benjen and pressed on:
"Have you ever thought about where the White Walkers come from? Why would they demand Craster offer them infants—specifically male infants?"
"Why?" Benjen asked in surprise. "Is there more to this?"
Some of the Night's Watch leadership had long known that Craster offered sacrifices to some so-called dark god. They had chosen to turn a blind eye—his keep was a rare stable outpost beyond the Wall, vital for ranging parties. What they hadn't known was that this 'god' was the White Walkers themselves.
"In an ancient chronicle," Saelen continued, "I once read a theory about their origin. It claimed the White Walkers demand human male infants from those who worship them, then use dark magic to transform those boys into new White Walker leaders."
He paused, his eyes cold.
"It was only a theory. But seeing what Craster is doing now… I have every reason to believe it's true. Craster must die. If he continues sacrificing children, the White Walkers will only grow in number."
Benjen fell silent, thinking. He had seen the White Walkers' power with his own eyes. If they were truly replenishing themselves this way, then allowing it to continue would doom the living.
After a moment, he nodded.
Saelen then revealed the plan he had already formed.
It was simple.
They would wait until night, when Craster took the infant out as usual. They would follow him quietly. Once he placed the child down and turned back, they would strike—kill Craster in the open wilderness, not beneath his roof. His wives and children would be brought back to Castle Black afterward.
That way, they would not violate guest right. The killing would take place outside, under the cold sky—not in the host's hall.
Benjen and Robb agreed without objection.
Saelen warned Maeve to say nothing and behave as usual. This concerned her life and her child's—she swore secrecy at once. The three men then returned to the hall.
---
Deep in the night, after everyone appeared asleep, Craster rose quietly. Cradling the baby boy, he slipped out of the hall.
Saelen opened his eyes.
He woke Benjen and Robb, and the three followed in silence through the snow.
When Craster reached a clearing and set the infant down before turning to leave, Saelen and Benjen stepped from the shadows, blocking his path. Meanwhile, Robb circled quietly toward the child.
The sudden figures startled Craster. When he recognized them, rage twisted his face.
"Benjen," he growled darkly, "what is the meaning of this? You've been following me?"
"You know exactly what it means," Saelen replied, drawing the greatsword Ice. "A man who slays his own blood will never meet a good end."
Craster's eyes narrowed. His right hand slid subtly toward the axe at his belt. He spat.
"You damned bastard. I should never have taken you crows in. No matter—you'll be dead crows soon enough."
He hurled his axe at Saelen and drew a sword, charging Benjen.
Benjen met him head-on, blades clashing in the snow.
Saelen deflected the spinning axe with Ice and abandoned any pretense of knightly honor. He plunged into the fight.
Craster had been evenly matched with Benjen. Now it was two against one.
Within moments, he faltered.
Saelen's strength shocked him—his sword arms began to tremble.
Desperate, Craster snatched a second axe and flung it at Benjen, forcing him to retreat and defend. Craster pressed the advantage, driving Benjen back.
Saelen seized the opening.
He surged forward, greatsword sweeping in a diagonal arc toward Craster's neck.
Craster spun to block.
Clang.
His blade shattered in two.
His head followed.
It flew from his shoulders, eyes frozen in disbelief. His body convulsed and collapsed into the snow. Blood fountained from the severed neck, spraying crimson across white drifts. The metallic scent filled the air.
Saelen turned to Benjen.
"You all right?"
Benjen nodded calmly. He pulled the embedded axe from his shoulder and tossed it aside. No blood flowed.
"I'm already dead," he said evenly. "That won't kill me."
Robb approached, cradling the infant. The baby, awakened by the clash of steel, wailed loudly in the stillness of the haunted forest.
Robb fumbled awkwardly, trying to soothe him. The crying only grew louder.
He looked helplessly toward Saelen and Benjen—neither was any better with children.
"We should return quickly," Saelen said. "Give him back to his mother."
But before they could move—
Crows burst from the trees overhead.
They flapped wildly, shrieking, their cries drowning out the baby's wails.
The wind began to howl.
The temperature plummeted.
Frost crystallized across the ground in spreading patterns of ice.
Then—
From the darkness came a guttural roar.