Chapter 522: Ice and Fire
Samwell soared high on the white dragon, gazing down at the Neck, which had transformed beyond recognition.
The Neck he remembered was an endless black swamp, where vibrant flowers bloomed in the muck, trees draped in curtain-like fungi floated on stagnant pools, and shadows teemed with poisonous snakes, lizard-lions, and toads. But now, all of that was gone.
In its place lay a lifeless expanse of monotonous white.
For the Northmen migrating south, however, this transformation was a blessing.
They no longer had to navigate the narrow, winding causeways or fear the swamp's venomous creatures as they did before.
The extreme winter frost had solidified the swamp into a flat plain, where countless groups of migrants trudged southward in a sprawling procession across the frozen marshes.
Yet amid the southbound crowds, one group was traveling northward.
It was the elite army of the Seven Kingdoms.
With the Wall breached and the northern menace descending, they would form a new defensive line in the Neck, offering their blood and bodies to halt the invaders.
To support this massive army, numbering over 300,000, more than 1.5 million laborers had been mobilized to transport supplies and construct fortifications.
This scale of military mobilization was unprecedented in Westeros, a land still rooted in an agricultural civilization.
Victory in this battle would secure humanity's survival. Defeat, however, would leave the Seven Kingdoms unable to muster another force capable of resisting the Others' advance.
The Battle of the Neck was, without exaggeration, a fight for the survival of humankind.
Samwell would tolerate no mistakes, no surprises.
For those harboring ulterior motives in this critical hour, Samwell had reserved thunderous measures.
Three nights ago, as the white dragon soared above the Twins, Walder Frey, the lord of the castle, quietly passed away.
The death of the ninety-something Lord of the Crossing caused little stir within House Frey. At his advanced age, many simply saw it as natural.
But for a select few, the news struck like a bolt of lightning.
Though no evidence existed, the clever understood that the King's hand was unmistakably behind this.
They also understood the King's resolve and ruthlessness.
Soon after, Roose Bolton's wife, Lady Walda Frey, choked on a fishbone during a dinner at the Dreadfort and died.
Lady Anya Waynwood of Ironoaks promptly sent her ward, Ser Harrold Hardyng, the heir to Robert Arryn, to King's Landing.
Meanwhile, Tyrion Lannister, the Warden of the West, announced that he would wed Shae—a woman of humble origins.
The decision turned Tyrion into a laughingstock among the Seven Kingdoms' nobility, but he seemed indifferent.
Thus, before the final battle, dissent among the Seven Kingdoms' nobility was quelled by Samwell's firm hand and overwhelming authority.
---
A dragon's roar snapped Samwell out of his thoughts. He turned to see the black dragon Drogon carrying Daenerys toward him.
"Samwell… down there…"
Her voice was muffled by the rushing wind, but Samwell understood her meaning.
He looked down and spotted a solitary fortress amidst the vast white expanse of the frozen swamp.
Realizing its significance, he urged the white dragon into a steep descent.
---
With a resounding crash, the dragon landed heavily outside the castle, sending waves of commotion through the area.
The small, green-eyed crannogmen gazed in awe and fear at the three descending dragons.
Samwell leapt from the white dragon's back and caught Daenerys as she dismounted from Drogon.
"I am King Caesar. Is this Greywater Watch?" he asked.
A thin boy, draped in crocodile-hide, stepped forward and replied politely, "Yes, Your Majesty. Welcome to the stronghold of the crannogmen."
Daenerys curiously examined the fortress, its exterior cloaked in moss and vines.
"So, this is the seat of House Reed? The castle that's said to have never been found by outsiders?"
"Yes," the boy replied. "Greywater Watch is a floating castle on the swamp. It moves, eluding any army seeking to conquer the Neck… until the northern winds froze the marshes. Now, our castle is stuck in place."
The boy's green eyes shimmered with unease and frustration.
Without the marsh's natural defenses, the crannogmen—smaller and less equipped with steel—were vulnerable to southern knights in their steel-clad armor.
"It won't be winter forever," Samwell reassured him. "Is Lord Howland Reed here?"
The boy nodded, glancing nervously at the enormous white dragon spreading its wings. "Yes, Your Majesty. Please follow me."
---
Samwell took Daenerys's hand and stepped through the castle gates.
Inside, the environment was stranger than expected.
Vines and branches twisted and intertwined overhead, blocking out sunlight. Without the boy's torch to light the way, the path ahead would've been invisible.
The corridors were narrow, winding, and low, forcing Samwell to stoop as he walked.
The castle had no walls. Around them, pale weirwood trees snaked through the structure like serpents, their roots and branches creating an oppressive, eerie atmosphere.
Daenerys clung tightly to her husband's hand.
After navigating a maze of passages, they emerged into a larger cavern. Jagged stones jutted from the ground, their bases entwined with weirwood roots. The roots coiled and arched upward, forming a throne-like structure.
Seated upon this pale wooden throne was a frail old man.
Draped in green leather, his skin emitted a faint green glow, and mushrooms sprouted from his forehead.
"Your Grace, Your Majesty," the old man said weakly, "welcome to Greywater Watch. Forgive me, for my frailty prevents me from rising to greet you."
"Lord Howland Reed," Samwell remarked with a wry smile. "You look more like a 'green' seer than a lord."
Hearing the other party emphasize the word "green", the old man chuckled, revealing a toothless grin. "Oh, how I wish I were a greenseer. Alas, I lack the gift. My son, Jojen, however, possesses such talents."
He recounted how Jojen had nearly died of Greywater Fever as a child, only to be saved by a true greenseer who taught him to use the greensight.
"He's since had green dreams and even traveled north…"
"I know of your son—and your daughter," Samwell interrupted. "They're with Bran Stark, the new greenseer."
"Indeed," Howland replied with a nod. "May the gods protect them."
Samwell pressed on, changing the subject. "Lord Reed, I'm building a new defense in the Neck against the Others. I need your help and the crannogmen's support."
The crannogman are theoretically considered citizens of the Seven Kingdoms, but due to their isolated living environment and vastly different customs, they have always existed outside the Seven Kingdoms' system.
Moreover, others rarely have the opportunity to interact with the crannogman, as they spend their entire lives hiding in the swamps, making them nearly impossible to find.
This time, if it weren't for the harsh cold freezing the swamps, Samwell wouldn't have been able to locate a highly concealed and constantly moving castle like Graywater Watch.
"This is what we should do," Lord Howland generously stated. "The crannog warriors will accompany you to the front lines. If you need anything else, please feel free to command us."
Samwell hesitated before asking, "You and Eddard Stark were the only survivors of the Tower of Joy. How did you win that battle?"
Howland's gaze turned distant. "It was a fight I'll never forget…"
"At that time, the Rebellion was nearing its end, and the Targaryens' defeat was inevitable. Lord Eddard Stark led his army south to lift the siege of Storm's End, while the forces of the Reach surrendered without resistance. The only remaining stronghold of resistance was Dorne.
Because Elia Martell had perished in King's Landing, Sunspear refused to yield. The Red Viper, Oberyn Martell, gathered an army of 30,000 at the Prince's Pass, ready to march north at any moment.
Lord Eddard, unwilling to provoke the Dornish further, left his main army at the borders and took only six knights into the Red Mountains to search for his sister, Lyanna Stark.
There was William Dustin, Lord of Barrowton; Ser Ethan Glover; Ser Martyn Cassel; Ser Theo Wull; and Ser Mark Ryswell… They were among the finest knights of the North.
And, of course, I was able to join them due to my close relationship with Lord Eddard.
When we arrived at the Tower of Joy, we found three white knights guarding it.
They were Ser Gerold Hightower, the 'White Bull' and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; Ser Arthur Dayne, the 'Sword of the Morning'; and Ser Oswell Whent, the 'Black Bat.'
Though we outnumbered them seven to three, we were no match for their skill. They were, without a doubt, the finest knights the Seven Kingdoms had to offer, and they dominated the battle.
Gerold Hightower killed two of our companions single-handedly. Oswell Whent died alongside Lord William Dustin, but the Sword of the Morning… Arthur Dayne killed Martyn and Theo in quick succession, left me gravely wounded, and pushed Lord Eddard to the brink of defeat."
"And how did you manage to kill Ser Arthur Dayne?" Daenerys couldn't help but ask. "Some say you resorted to dishonorable methods."
Lord Howland gave a bitter smile. "Of course, they think so. After all, we crannogmen are known for lurking in the shadows and shooting poisoned arrows. But I do have my honor. In that sacred duel, I refrained from using any underhanded tricks."
"So you and Lord Eddard defeated Ser Arthur Dayne fair and square?"
Lord Howland shook his head.
"The Sword of the Morning was too formidable, perhaps the most fearsome knight in the Seven Kingdoms at the time. With his greatsword, Dawn, in hand, he was an almost invincible opponent. Much like you are now, Your Majesty."
Samwell smirked faintly but said nothing. He simply pressed further:
"If you couldn't match Ser Arthur's skill, how did you manage to kill him?"
"Neither Lord Eddard nor I had the strength to defeat him. But the crannogmen have an ancient secret, a ritual that allows us to draw upon the power of the gods."
Samwell's brow lifted, intrigued. "How does it work?"
"It requires certain gifts, as well as the blood of the First Men," Howland explained. "We First Men worship the Ancient Gods, whom you southerners call the 'Old Gods of the Forest.' But the truth is, the Old Gods are within the weirwoods, the rocks, and the earth. To draw upon their power, one must first become one with the trees, the stones, and the land itself."
Noticing Samwell's puzzled expression, Howland added:
"Your Majesty, I doubt you could use this power. After all, you are a knight of the Seven, not a devotee of the Old Gods."
Samwell stepped forward, his grey eyes slowly turning a vivid green. "Lord Reed, my bond with the Old Gods runs deeper than you might think."
"Greensight?" Howland's jaw dropped in astonishment. He stared in silence for a long moment before regaining his composure. "It seems, Your Majesty, you are indeed chosen by the Old Gods. In that case, the secret ritual of House Reed is yours to inherit."
From his sleeve, Howland pulled a small, weathered notebook, his hands trembling as he passed it to the king. "But, Your Majesty, I must urge caution. This ritual, though powerful, comes at a steep cost to the body. Look at me. I'm barely past forty, yet I'm near the end of my life. This is the price I paid for using the ritual—twice."
"Twice?" Samwell asked, his curiosity piqued. "Apart from the Tower of Joy, when else did you use it?"
"Have you heard of the Knight of the Laughing Tree?" Howland asked in return.
Samwell's eyes widened. "You were the Knight of the Laughing Tree?"
"Yes," Howland admitted.
The Knight of the Laughing Tree was a mysterious figure who appeared twenty years ago at the great tourney at Harrenhal. Clad in mismatched armor and bearing a shield painted with a smiling weirwood face, the knight defeated several southerners who had mocked his honor.
That tournament marked a turning point for the Targaryen dynasty and was the true spark of Robert's Rebellion.
At its conclusion, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen crowned Lyanna Stark, Robert Baratheon's betrothed, as the Queen of Love and Beauty, setting the stage for their fateful entanglement.
"I always thought it was Lady Lyanna who taught those knights a lesson," Samwell said.
"Lady Lyanna had indeed planned to," Howland replied with a chuckle. "She was a spirited girl. But in the end, I took her place. It was with the Old Gods' power that I defeated those knights who had mocked me."
"And what happened when Prince Rhaegar found you?"
Howland nodded thoughtfully. "He did find me, and he also encountered Lady Lyanna. The three of us spent the night by the shores of the God's Eye, drinking and talking. Prince Rhaegar even played his harp for us…
"His music was haunting, filled with sorrow and longing. It brought tears to our eyes. He said it was a song he had learned in a dream, a song he called The Song of Ice and Fire."
"The Song of Ice and Fire?" Samwell's expression shifted to one of astonishment. "Do you remember the song?"
Howland shook his head. "It was long ago, and my memory has faded. But there is one line I can never forget."
"What line?"
"'If ice can burn,'" Howland's green eyes glistened with tears, "'then fire can freeze.'"
"If ice can burn, then fire can freeze…" Samwell murmured the words, his own eyes gleaming with insight.
(End of Chapter)
[TL; Some of you might have notice the sparse update, that's because I'm withholding the chapters from you guys on purpose ;-)
We're almost at the end, and I'm preparing to mass release chapters to the last chapter, which is the ending in one go.]