What if Ned Stark Demanded a Trial By Combat - Full Movie

What if Ned Stark demanded a trial by combat? Let's explore the depths of it in the video. No, I did warn you not to trust me. Ned can only stare out in shock as the last of his men are slaughtered. He doesn't trust himself to breathe as he looks back at Littlefinger and then at the queen standing before him. In minutes, the throne room is secure, and Ned is brought to his knees as he looks up at the queen and Joffrey. Kill him. I command it. In due time, my child, first the traitor must confess. Do this, and I guarantee we shall be merciful. Ned glances around the room, watching the men surround him. Most have their swords drawn and ready to hack him apart as soon as the command is given, but some don't have their weapons out, and it is them who has Ned's attention. Among them is Sir Barristan. And then he makes a desperate gamble. Is this really how you wish to start your reign, boy? To become a tyrant on your first day. Silence. You wished to usurp my son. Before that, you allowed your wife to kidnap my brother. I And he was set free after a trial. Do you speak of injustice but deny me the same right? If I'm to be punished, then I demand a trial by combat. The room goes silent as they all look at him. Joffrey is seething and his knights look ready to finish the job, but Cersei is furious. Slowly, she growls and nods her head. Fine, then. If you wish to die with steel in your hands, so be it. Unless you can find a fool willing to die for you. I'm that fool. What? No. Get back, sir. Do you not value that white cloak of yours, sir? This trial has the king as a defendant. It would be improper to have a member of the King's Guard champion against him. Begging your pardon, your grace. But it seems like Joffrey is not king yet, and the accuser is also speaking on behalf of the king. Though you ripped apart that punishment, it is still the king's words. As a king's guard, I am obligated to defend them. Very well, then. If it is truly treason, then you shall share Ned Stark's grave. The crown names Jaime Lannister as its champion. The trial shall commence once he arrives. In the meantime, you can get comfortable in the black cells. The remaining king's guard grabs Ned and leads him away. But as he leaves, he glances at Barristin, who offers him a grim nod. In truth, this is little more than a stay of execution and does little to halt the chaos beyond. Tywin and the North still war in the Riverlands, while the Baratheonss gather their strength. No one dares approach King's Landing, leaving Ned alone in his cell. Sir Barristan is also confined in his chambers in the White Tower, but both accept this with quiet dignity, holding their heads high until one day a horse comes riding into the city, bearing a golden armored figure with golden hair. Ned is roughly led to the throne room by the guards where Sir Barristan is, armored and armed. In front of him is Sir Jaime, whose usual swagger is gone, replaced with a flicker of uncertainty and grim determination. Stuck. This does not need to end in blood. Confess your crimes and we'll let you take the black. It is not I who needs to confess, sir, but you. Seeing as there will be no peaceful resolution, both fighters draw their swords and circle one another. The hall is silent, save for the distant crackle of torches and the steady breathing of the two warriors. The king slayer moves first, fainting to the left before slashing right in a blur. However, the old knight sees this movement and steps back, pushing the blade back and countering with a back swing that forces Sir Jaime to retreat. This is only for a moment, though, as he advances yet again, advancing in a rapid series of strikes. His eyes don't leave Sir Barristan as he thrusts and slashes at him. His movements are fast and his technique perfect, but Barristan the Bold checks each one with methodical grace. Beads of sweat form on his head as the old knight tries to hold him back. If this continues, he knows he will be worn out. As he turns one final slash, Barristin reverses and thrusts his sword out. It bounces against Jaime<unk>s breastplate, but the blow is enough to rattle him. His next strike comes out clumsily as he lunges. Barrist sidesteps, delivering a punishing repost that forces the young knight back. Now it is his turn to go on the offensive, advancing in a slow but methodical attack that leaves Jaime on the defensive. Unused to being the one having to protect himself, he begins to falter, and Sir Barristan thumps his breastplate more and more. each one a warning, commanding that he yield. Frustration flashes in Jaime<unk>s eyes. He steps in, launching a powerful overhand swing, but Barristan meets it head-on, their swords clashing above their heads, but Barristan pivots suddenly, knocking Jaime<unk>'s blade wide and landing a brutal pummel strike to his ribs. Jaime staggers, gasping. Barristan does not hesitate. He drives his sword right above the Gorgot into Jaime<unk>s throat. The entire room goes silent as they see the king's slayer fall. Save for Barristin's strained breaths. Cersei leaps to her feet, her face going pale as she stares at the bloodied ground. She clutches Joffrey tightly while Pycel announces that Ned Stark is deemed innocent in a trembling voice. Ned wastes no time, ordering that all of them are to be seized. The Goldcloaks hurry to obey and detain Pycel, Joffrey, Cersei, Littlefinger, and their household. Word is sent to Stannis, urging him to return and claim his throne. In the meantime, Ned continues to act as regent, ruling in hisstead. He orders Littlefinger and Pycel to be executed for their part in the coup. The king's guard bearing Sir Barristan are all dismissed, and word is sent to Tywin's bannerman. As Joffrey no longer sits on the throne, they will be considered outlaws rebelling against the crown. That is, unless they take their levies and march them home. Hearing this, the Bannermanmen are quick to retreat. their fear of losing their seats, briefly overriding their fear of Tywin Lannister. Soon, the old lion is left with only a handful of retainers and a few thousand men. These are easily defeated by Roose Bolton, while Rob Stark chases Jaime's host out of Riverrun. By the time Stannis arrives, Ned has managed to create some semblance of order within the capital, allowing Stannis to take the throne in relative peace. The Lord of Dragonstone regards Ned coolly, giving no compliments, but thanking him for his help in backing his claim. They proclaim Joffrey a bastard born of incest and use Gendry's image is proof of this, showing how a Baratheon should look. With the Lannister forces shattered, no one can challenge this notion. However, that does not mean that the realm is entirely at peace. In the south, Renley still gathered his host and managed to gain the allegiance of the Tyrells. Rather than be discouraged by their victory over the Lannisters, Renley is now fully committed to fighting. With Joffrey removed, he can now press his claim. And more importantly, after abandoning Ned Stark, Renley knows he will likely be stripped of his titles, putting him in a position where he has no choice but to fight. Stannis has no qualms about this either and begins gathering his banners to fight. With the Crownlands under his control, he begins raising new levies and is joined by the Northmen and Riverlords who pledge allegiance to him after hearing of Ned's actions. To their surprise, a few Westerner lords also pledge their allegiance. Eager to prove their loyalty by getting back into the king's good graces. Among them is Tyrion Lannister, who hopes to ensure the survival of his house. He offers what remains of Lannisport's levies and the surviving knights of the west in exchange for being named ruler of Castle Iraq. Stannis, seeing the wisdom in bolstering his numbers, grudgingly accepts. But even with this combined host, they number perhaps 55,000. Still less than Renley's estimated 80,000 soldiers. But rather than wait for Renley to advance into the Crownlands and threaten King's Landing, Stannis instead marches south to face him in his territory. Riders are sent ahead by Adam Marbrand in the Blackfish, raiding and pillaging the territories of the Stormlands. These riders prove their worth by defeating several picket forces. Some managed to reach deeper, striking at towns providing supplies that feed Renley's army, forcing him into action. They are reinforced by men commanded by Mage Mormont and Godfrey Fairing to fight the advanced force commands by Loris Tyrell. This battle is hard fought. The Tyrell knights crash into the Stark and Riverland line, but they are met with a wall of spears and pikes. The northern archers, seasoned from battles in the Riverlands, rain arrows upon them from behind hedges and wooden stakes. Meanwhile, Stannis's vanguard, commanded by Sir Godri, launches a brutal assault on the Stormland levies, scattering them and forcing Loris to retreat. However, that is just the beginning. Stormlander infantry begins to infiltrate the same towns they had just liberated, sneaking in and ambushing garrisons there, forcing them to battle for each one. Meanwhile, Randall Tarly leads a small force of picked cavalry to strike hard at the battered western. Already exhausted, they are scattered around Bronzegate, and many decide their oaths are fulfilled and retreat home. However, Stannis manages to win over some Reachmen, particularly those of House Florent, who raise rebellions in the Reach. But these are minor actions, and none of this compares to the final battle that takes place in Summerhal. The Stormlanders are the first to arrive there and waste no time trying to secure it. Led by Guyard Morgan and Lord Easter, they begin fortifying the ruined castle. As they work though, the raiders of Brandon Tully spot them and launch a harassing run. This was just meant to skirmish with them and disrupt their work. But this soon devolves into a full battle as the men sally out and attack the raiders. A scout manages to escape and inform Rob and Ned, who leads his troops there. Stannis orders their entire army to rush there as Renley also gets word and begins organizing his defenses. However, in his hurry, he outpaces his army and only has 15,000 men, which he forms up in the high grounds. This proves to be a brilliant move, as it leaves Stannis and his troops fighting in an uphill battle, facing the pikes of the rebels. The initial attack flounders back and the men are driven back, leaving the Northmen and Westermen to conduct a fighting retreat. However, the right flank is less secure as the ground is rockier, allowing the rivermen to make more progress. Here, Stannis commits his Crownlanders. Reinforcements from both sides begin to trickle in, strengthening their position and feeding men into the meat grinder. However, Renley's position initially appears unassalable. On the left, his men continue to drive Ned Stark's forces back, while the right, although struggling, is at least stable. Renley himself rides at the head of his army, cutting down foes with ease. His bright armor a beacon on the battlefield. However, the young knights on the left begin to get overeager and drive the Northmen back. Descending the hill and opening up a gap. One person who notices this is Sir Barristan. Rallying whatever many he can, he rushes into the gap and hurries to assist the left flank by hitting the Stormlanders and Reachmen from the rear. Chaos soon spreads and men throw their weapons down and surrender. Seeing this, Rob Stark rallies his men. By Grey Wind by his side, the Northmen summon another burst of strength and rush forward. This time with their forces being beaten from two sides. The line collapses and the Westermen rush up the hill to assist the flagging Crownlanders. Seeing the battle lost, many of the Reachmen break and flee. Those surrounding Renley find their escape cut off and throw down their weapons. Renley, realizing defeat, attempts to rally his forces, but his commanders urged him to retreat. He refuses. As he fights, his horse is struck by a northern spear, sending him crashing to the ground. His batter attempt to save him, but they are overwhelmed. Before Renley can rise, he finds himself surrounded by Crownland and Riverland soldiers. It's over, brother. I suppose it is. Renley is taken prisoner and marched back to King's Landing in chains. The Tyrells, sensing the winds have changed, quickly bend the knee to Stannis to preserve their influence. Loris, furious at the loss of his beloved Renley, nearly challenges Stannis to a duel, but is restrained. While Renley rebelled against the crown, blood ties spare him from death, and Ned Stark convinces him to be exiled to the wall. Renley, knowing he has no other choice, accepts his fate with the bitter smile. The Tyrells are not spared this and are stripped of their lordship over the reach, which is instead transferred to House Florent. When they protest this, citing how the Lannisters will rule the Westerlands, Stannis reminds them that Tyrion and his Wester fought for Joffrey, who at the time was technically the legal heir. Meanwhile, Renley was never in line for succession, and they joined him purely out of self-interest, and he cannot forgive that. With Renley defeated and the reach subdued, Stannis's claim is unchallenged. The war is over, and a fragile peace reigns over Westeros. In the quiet times, Ned broaches the topic of Daenerys. Stannis had fulfilled Robert's dying request to call off the reward on Daenerys's head, though he disagreed with it. the last their spies have heard. She managed to make her way to Karth, where she is an honored guest. There are even some claims that she is accompanied by three dragons that she has hatched. This is troubling news as dragons haven't been seen in over a century. But as they received word from the Nights Watch that there is growing trouble beyond the wall of wildlings and white walkers, Ned can't help but think this is a sign. He recalls how he saw a dead stag in direwolf before being visited by Robert. This pushes him to make a radical suggestion. Perhaps Daenerys may be pardoned and allowed to return to the seven kingdoms. You would pardon her. A Targaryen, a claimant, a threat, a child. She has done nothing wrong. Are we to punish her for her father's crimes? For the sins of a dead king. I'm not punishing anyone. I did as you asked and honored my brother's wishes and removed the bounty on her head. She is free to live a life so long as it is not here. And what life is that? A life of running from those who wish to curry favor for you by taking ahead. A life of hardship and begging. And what happens when she lands on our shores with fire and blood on her lips? Will you still defend her then? That is why we can nip this problem in the bud. I do not ask to crown her. I ask for mercy. give her an opportunity to renounce her claim. That would put the matter to rest. The realm will not accept a queen. They did not wither an era and they will not with her. And yet her claim led to the dance of dragons. A war that set the realm ablaze. And if we make her an enemy by casting her aside, there is more at stake than the throne status. The Night's Watch has sent word. The wall is threatened. A greater war is coming. If Daenerys can be an ally, we should not turn her away. This is the will of Rola. The cold rises, creeping ever closer. Ice and darkness. You will need fire to drive it back. Three dragons have returned to the world. Do you think that is mere chance? Silence follows. The candlelight waivers as if uncertain of its own strength. I do not trust her, and I will not suffer another pretender to my throne. But if she swears filty, then perhaps. But make no mistake, Stark. You will be responsible for her actions. If she betrays us, if she turns her dragons against Westeros, then you will answer for it. You will accept the consequences. I will. Stannis nods and sends word for an ambassador to be sent to Daenerys. Sir Barristan volunteers for this task, heading to Karth by ship. When he arrives, he finds Daenerys in the home of one of the city's greatest merchants, Zaro Zoan Daxus. There, she tries to gain support to retake the Iron Throne by raising an army and gathering warships. That is why it comes off as a surprise when Barristan visits her at Zoro's palace with these terms. At first, the young queen can barely believe it, and Sir Jorah urges her not to trust him. Though Daenerys can see the sincerity in the man's eyes, she considers the terms carefully. Stannis is willing to relinquish Dragonstone to her and give her control of the Narrow Sea and Crackclaw's point if she publicly renounces her claim to the throne and swears an oath to the Old Gods and the New as well as the Lord of Light that she will serve the Iron Throne. At first, she scoffs at these terms, finding them unacceptable. But despite her efforts to gather allies, they bear little fruit. The only ones who offer anything close to support are the House of the Undying and Zarodaxis. But both of them seem to coveret her dragons even more. A part of her is tempted, truly tempted to accept this offer. It would allow her to return home without having to fight. After the horrors and difficulties she's experienced in Essos, the chance to return home without a fight is a fine prospect. Before I give my answers, tell me, Sir Barristan, what sort of man is this Stannis? I hear he is the usurper's brother. To bend my knee to him would be to acknowledge the actions his brother did to mine. I would know first, is he worth it? Is he just and kind and honorable? Your grace, if you are looking for kindness, then you are looking at the wrong man. But as to justice, you will find a man no more fair than him. He is as different to Robert as ice is to fire. To speak the truth, he is a difficult man, but one I am proud to serve under. Then I shall swear allegiance to him. A few more terms are discussed, such as what shall be done with Daenerys's followers, a pardon to Jordan Mormont, where her dragons shall be kept, and a few other issues. All of these are handled by the end of the week. Daenerys sails home alongside Sir Barristan, returning to the Seven Kingdoms for the first time in 13 years. Stannis greets her with cool courtesy, thanking her for accepting his offer and saying how he does not wish to fight with her. Ned Stark is a bit warmer, but Daenerys feels a rush of anger as she regards him. She recalls Viseris's stories about how Ned Stark was among those who took King's Landing. Though he does not seem like the cruel, savage man that she grew up hearing, she cannot bring herself to remain close with him for long. Instead, they focus their efforts on Daenerys renouncing her queenship. As expected, Stannis wishes for this to be public and has it take place in the new temple of Rolar to leave no doubt of what will happen. The grand hall of the newly constructed temple of Rolar is bathed in the glow of fire light that casts great shadows over the assembled lords and ladies. At the center of it all stands Daenerys Targaryen, who does not let herself be intimidated. Though she holds herself with quiet dignity, there is no mistaking the tightness in her jaw as she glances over the deis where Stannis stands. Beside him are Melisandre and Ned Stark, who give quiet nods of encouragement. Daenerys is Targaryen. You stand here today not as a queen, but as a woman given mercy, but for mercy to be granted, there must be peace. And for peace, there must be no mistaking who rules the seven kingdoms. I agree. I, Daenerys Stormbborn of House Targaryen, do hereby renounce any claim to the Iron Throne of Westeros. I will not take up arms against King Stannis Baratheon, nor will I seek to press my family's claim. Murmurss ripple through the hall. Some look relieved, others skeptical, but no one speaks against her. Then it is done. In exchange, you will be taken to Dragonstone. You will have your lands, safety, and standing among the nobility, and in time, I will see to it that you are wed into a house of worth. However, little does anyone know that Stannis and Ned have already discussed this and raised the possibility of wetting Rob Stark to Daenerys. They are of the same age and will secure her future. But more importantly, it ensures security. House Stark is a major house, so no one may claim it is beneath her station. But Ned is perhaps the only great lord who will not plot against Daenerys. It plates the former queen while neutralizing her ability to offer her hand to secure alliances. It is a bold plan, but one Ned sees the lodge in, though he is still not fully sold on it. Rob's betroal to House Frey is of little importance to Stannis as he points out that this was made under duress for an act that House Frey should have given freely. Though Lord Frey protests, Stannis coldly warns him that he should consider himself fortunate he's allowed to remain lord of a castle as important as the twins at all. One lord who watches these proceedings is Varys. Disguised as a simple merchant, he slips out and begins writing to his comrade, Yo Mopantis, about these developments. Though he appears calm, in truth, he is trying to hide his frustration. These changes have put a serious wrench in their plans. None of this was supposed to happen. They had wished for Daenerys to eventually return to Westeros. However, she was supposed to return to a claim in chaos and ruins, one ripe for the Targaryenss. More importantly, she was supposed to return alongside the other great Valyrian, the Black Dragon, Aegon Blackfire. To rectify this plan will take time, and looking for the next great opportunity. But as Varys leaves the temple and walks among the small folk, he can sense the uncertainty in their eyes as they regard this structure. He smiles to himself. Perhaps the opportunity will not be far off. Daenerys stares at the young lord of Winterfell and the man who may soon be her husband. Though their marriage is still some time off, she is curious about him and tries to gauge what person he might be and more importantly what sort of man Ned Stark is. The two walk through the godswood trying to get to know each other. Would you explain to me just what happened to your father and how he became hand? Of course. After King Robert died, my father was named protector of the realm until such a time that his heir, Joffrey, came of age. However, it turns out that Joffrey wasn't Robert's blood. He was a bastard born of incest. So instead, my father tried to join with Lord Stannis, but the queen captured him, and Ned demanded a trial by combat. This is where Sir Barristin vouched for him. Indeed, they managed to defeat the queen's champion, Jaime Lannister, which allowed Stenis to claim the throne. After that, the rest of the Lannisters were defeated, and it seemed like peace would return. That is where my father requested to offer you amnesty. Your father seems like a man who often finds himself in danger. Why is that? Because it is who he is. He always does what is right and honorable, no matter the cost. I know you dislike him, but he's a good man. And yet, he made this arranged marriage for us. My father and my mother were wed through such an arrangement, and they grew to love each other. Perhaps there shall be some hope for us. Perhaps. You don't sound so certain. No more than you. Begging your pardon, but I am not thrilled about the prospect either. If it were up to me, I'd rather be focused on this new wildling threat. Daenerys says nothing but nods. That has been the talk of the north for some time now. There are rumors of a great host of free folk making its way south. Already Rob is making preparations to reinforce the Knights Watch, but to his surprise, Daenerys insists on going with him. She is accompanied by Sir Jorah Mormont, Sir Barrist, and Selme, and her tiny Kalisar. Although Rob initially suggests remaining in Winterfell, the dragon queen reminds him that she has traveled with savage folk before and wishes to meet a wildling up close. Snow falls in thick, heavy drifts as Rob Stark and his host ride through the gift with nearly 5,000 men. They have ridden hard from Winterfell, sped up only by troubling reports from some of the small folk claiming that there are wildlings south of the wall. They follow these reports to a ruined village called Queen's Crown. There they see the fire burning in the night. As they approach, they find the cause. Wildlings. About a hundred of them, are huddled around the ruined homes. They are arguing. Something about a captive. Something about what to do with him. Before the wildlings can react, Rob and his men charge with Grey Wind leaping out and rips through the nearest men. Behind him are the northern horses and Dothraki riders. The wildlings quickly form a circle, thrusting their spears out as they search for cover. The battle is quick but fierce. Soon their bodies lay broken on the ground. When the last wildling falls, Rob steps forward, gripping the young man by the shoulder who had taken an arrow while shielding a wildling woman. Rob spins him around. John. Rob. The moment hangs between them as the two stare. Though it has only been a year, it feels like a lifetime. Both find themselves thinking back to the times when they had wished to see the other. Then Jon exhales sharply, gripping Rob's arm in return. By the gods, I didn't think I'd ever see you again or someone like her. This is Daenerys, my betrothed. And your friend, a traveling companion. And if we don't act soon, thousands more like her will be at our gates. So they are fleeing south. Why? White walkers. Cold things are stirring behind the wall. Dead things that don't stay dead. And they've attacked anything that isn't them and spooked the freefork south. A couple of those whites have already attacked Castle Black. The dead? You expect us to believe the dead are rising? Little queen, you think we'd want anything to do with you Southerners if it wasn't serious? We've got villages and homes up there. We wouldn't be leaving him if we weren't serious. Jon glances over at her retinue and frowns, seeing a set of reptilian shapes slithering and fluttering in the air. Are those dragons? The first in over a century. We'll need them then if we're going to head to the wall. Their arrival is a relief to the belleaguered Nights Watch forces who are spread thin trying to man the remaining castles. They arrive just in time, too. As soon as these centuries on the wall blow their horns once, then twice. This is the signal for wildlings. Mance Raiders army seems to melt out of the haunted forests. It is a great mass of warriors. Their numbers are like the ocean and fill up the space between them in the wall. There is a huge number of foot soldiers, but they are also joined by towering giants at top mammoths, riders on shaggy horses, and whale bone chariots. They find themselves confronted not with the undermanned wall, but with a powerful army waiting for them. Row after row of Northmen stand on the battlements. Even though they are outnumbered 8 to1, the odds have shifted decisively to the Night Watch. And yet Jon's words stir something within Robin Daenerys. They are not here just to raid and pillage the North, but to escape something truly monstrous. In some ways, Daenerys can empathize. Thinking of how she had escaped her cruel brother. Rather than riding out and crushing them, Rob, Jon, and Daenerys instead offer Mance's terms. They will not ask him to bend the knee, but they will ask him to submit. He will be allowed south if they swear before the old gods to cease raiding and promise to make permanent peace with the north. To prove their sincerity, the wildlings must hand over their weapons and wealth, while Rob will help them get settled. Many of Mance's warriors find these terms tantamount to surrender and urge him to fight on. But as he glances up at the wall, he sees that there is no way they can conquer it by force. But some of his men threatened to mutiny, saying they do not trust the North and will betray them once they are across. Daenerys looks at the mass of warriors. She sees not just the grizzled and bearded warriors, but desperate women, gauntlooking children, cripples, gray beards, and families whose entire livelihoods are packed into chariots or strapped onto orics. To prove their good intentions, Daenerys makes a bold offer. She will provide herself as hostage until the free folk are across. Her only condition is that her queen's guard be allowed to accompany her. The wildlings move through the gates of Castle Black in a steady stream. Families huddle together, warriors keeping a weary eye on the crows. Some glance nervously at the Northmen standing beside them while others walk with defiance, daring the kneelers to challenge their right to pass. They are ragged and starved, but still proud. Mance sits by his tent, observing them pass alongside his queen and Daenerys. As they walk, the young lady watches these groups pass. At first, they seem nearly indistinguishable from one another. But over time, she sees differences in those groups. The king beyond the wall takes the time to explain these different groups, and even within them, there are many more factions. Despite that, Mance seems to know them by heart and memory. Strange sight, isn't it? All these people, all these clans, all these grudges set aside for one cause die beyond the wall that take the chance down here. You see them as one people, but they're not. They are clans, tribes, and families who've wared for generations. Some worship the old gods, some the cold gods. Some follow no gods at all. They have their kings, their chiefs. It took everything I had to bring them together. They stand in silence for a moment, watching the last wildlings pass through. The wind howls over the wall, carrying with it the whispers of the dead lands beyond. She watches a group of wildling children, barely clothed, staring in awe at the tower keep of Castle Black. She watches a woman clutching an infant tightly to her chest, her hands raw from the cold. She watches men and women who have survived horrors she cannot even begin to fathom. I was once a beggar in the street of Pentos. I know what it means to be powerless, to have no place in the world. The wildlings, too, begin to take notice. Some take the time to visit the young queen and speak to her themselves. Daenerys, who spent months with the Dothraki, is no stranger to a harsh lifestyle and can communicate with them well. They trade stories, telling her about their tribes, stories and customs, and others ask about her time in Essos. One common question is whether she truly has dragons, to which Daenerys smiles and tells them to see them for themselves when they cross. Once it is Mance's turn to cross, Daenerys is closer to a ruler to them than Rob Stark. They see her as one of their own and helps smooth the tensions with the free folk. True to his word, Rob and Jon begins settling them in the gift with Daenerys offering her help as well. Dothraki teach the wildlings to tame and ride horses while Rob sends maesters to begin treating the injured. Using the wealth the free folk provided, they hire builders and begin repairing the villages and towers that dot the gift. Daenerys and Jon identify several chieftains they consider trustworthy as Tommen offers them towers to use as their new keeps. Those less trustworthy are taken as hostages like Rattleshirt and the Weeper, either by the Night's Watch or by Winterfell. Even Mance isn't spared this fate as he is required to serve in the Night's Watch to help protect the wall. But while this happens, Daenerys continues to visit the wildlings, both to provide food and to see how they are doing. Her presence has a relaxing effect on them as even the most vicious raiders seem more inclined to listen to reason when she talks with them rather than any of the Northwind. Over time, the villages begin to grow, attracting merchants and traders. Laughter echoes from the children playing in the frostcovered streets. It is a sight Daenerys has come to cherish. She walks among the people, speaking with the wildlings as they work, watching as a new trade caravan arrives to do business with them. It is progress, slow but real. She is about to move on when she notices a new arrival, a man bundled in thick wool and fur, his face hidden beneath a hood. He stands near the edge of the village and beckons her forward. With a glance at Jorah and Barristan, she strides towards him. As she draws near, the man lifts his head. Jorah and Barristan immediately reach for their swords. Yograce, get back, Yograce. This is Varys, the former master of whispers of King Robert. Peace. I bring news and an offer. Speak then. The seven kingdoms are restless. The North isn't the only place torn between war, famine, and poverty. Religious unrest is rife within the rest of the seven kingdoms. Stannis's rule is far from certain, but in this chaos, there is opportunity as one gains strength. Aegon Targaryen, the son of your brother, Rhaegar. Impossible. Aegon is dead. Not so. He was saved as an infant, taken far across the sea, and raised in secret to reclaim his birthright. Now he gathers strength. Allies flock to him. Golden company is with him. And my allies can provide weapons and supplies. All he needs is you. You mean he needs my dragons. Do not sell yourself short, young one. You also have this great host. The wildlings trust you and feel more loyal to you than they ever will to the North or the Starks. They say they keep some of their chieftains as hostages while you are forced to wed one of Ned Stark's sons. But why not claim it for yourself? It is tempting more than she cares to admit. The North has given her shelter, yes, but she does not sit on the Iron Throne. And why should I trust you? Because I have never stopped working for the good of House Targaryen. He turns and walks away, leaving her to ponder this. The banners of the Golden Company flutter in the cold wind as Aegon V 6th stands at top the ruined walls of Maidenpool. Smoke drifts from the smoldering villages in the distance, not from them, but from the scars of the War of the Five Kings, as it has not yet fully recovered. His forces move swiftly, capturing key positions, but resistance remains stiff. Many Riverlords, wary of endless war, will not bend to a new conqueror. Many, but not all. House Frey, still bitter over their fall from favor, rallies behind Aegon's banner. With the support of the Golden Company blocking off the crossing to any armies in the war, other discontented riverlords, particularly those who see something to gain, begin to waver. Bit by bit, the Riverlands fracture once more. All across the seven kingdoms, Varys takes advantage of their religious unrest with Stannis's conversion to the Lord of Light, and fanatics eagerly flock to Aegon's banner. These come from primarily small folk, but a few pious knights and lordlings rally to him as well, forcing Stannis to quell these uprisings one by one. Further south, House Tyrell, stripped of its Lord Paramount status, but still wielding considerable influence, quietly throws its weight behind Aegon. Mace contacts his friends and former bannermanmen, rallying an army and marching to join the Golden Company. House Florent finds themselves trapped in their keep as many of their vassals refuse to join them. Rather than launching a direct assault on the north, Aegon waits for Daenerys to act as Rob is forced to ride south to try and break the blockade of House Frey and joins Stannis south. Until then, this leaves Stannis to fight the Golden Company alone. However, Dany refuses to act. She sees the free folk, a group she increasingly sees as her people. As they slowly begin to recover, risking their safety by dragging them into the war is too much, and she rebuffs any attempt to recruit her. The cold air hangs thick with tension as John Conington and a group of trusted men approach Castle Black. Without walls, it is easy enough to sneak inside. Though the castle is busier than it has been in years, it is easy for men like John Conington to sneak inside the castle and free a few hostages. Rattleshirt and the Weeper are a few of the chieftains he's freed and who hurriedly pledged themselves to Aegon V 6th for the prospect of raiding the rich southern lands. Gathering their war bands, Aegon's the sixth army swells by hundreds more. But that isn't what they want. Soon enough, the rest of the North hears about this and is furious, blaming the free folk for allowing these hostages to escape just as they intended. Thanks to Varys, they know Daenerys feels a strong kinship with them, making it difficult for her to remain neutral. To them, this is the final betrayal. The wildlings, whom they tolerated at Daenerys's insistence, have turned on them. In the halls of Winterfell, lords argue, their voices rising. The situation gets so serious even Ned Stark must return to help manage the affairs. Though Jon Snow tries to diffuse the situation, many lords wish to retaliate somehow. A few suggest marching to the gift and driving them back beyond the wall, but others suggest something more moderate. Instead, they should replace the hostages lost by seizing the lords of the gift like Tormund Giants Bane. Ned refuses to even consider this, insisting he will not allow men to be unjustly seized. However, Wyman Manderly instead offers that the wildlings can elect to send men so none may say they were taken against their will. It is an idea that Ned considers, but Daenerys is horrified. This is madness. The wildlings did not betray you. Rattleshirt and the Weeper act on their own, driven by their hunger for war. And now you punish those who stayed loyal. My lady, you do not see what these people have done to my lands over the years. I've had cousins carried off by men like Rattleshirt and the Weeper. Such behavior must be stomped out immediately. It is not Rattleshirt you are looking to arrest. It is the likes of Tormund Giants Bane who have been nothing but loyal. My lady, perhaps it's best if we speak in private. The rest of you, leave us. Once they are alone, Ned levels her with a sad look. I understand how you feel. I like this little more than you, but my Benamin are in a frenzy. They wish for some action to be taken. Once these shrengades are dealt with, I will have the hostages released and the lands returned immediately. And you think this is how it should be dealt with, punishing an innocent man and then apologizing after. Is that the famed justice of Ned Stark? Your son said you were nothing like the stories I was told. Yet here you are punishing the innocent just as what happened in King's Landing. You insult me, young one. I had no part in that barbarity. that falls on Tarwin Lannister's lap. And yet you took no action. You allowed him to walk away unpunished and allowed him to gain power in court. You allowed that fat old king to drink and [ __ ] himself to death. And enough. I admit I have had my shortcomings, but I will not hear Robert spoken to in such a way, especially from one who never knew him. I knew enough. He was a brute, a drunk, and a terrible king who killed my brother and tried to kill me. He was far from a perfect king. I But you would do well to guard your thinking because I see a lot of him in you right now. How dare you? I dare because it's true. I've known Robert since I was a boy, and you have been my ward since you arrived here. And let me tell you, both of you fight with your hearts and rule with your passion. Do you think Robert is some unthinking brute who simply woke up one day and decided to murder your family? No. It was because he sought justice. He took justice into his own hands because he was wronged. Not just him. He did it for me as well. Because my father was burned alive by the mad king. Because my brother was wrongly imprisoned and strangulated trying to save him. Because Lyanna, Robert's betrothed and my sister was taken by your brother. But did your brother forget to mention that? Robert did so because he thought it was the right thing to do. But let me tell you one thing. When he saw those bodies, when he saw Aegon and Rainees, he did not seek justice. You were right. He did not punish them. And he bore that shame for the rest of his days. It is why he chose to spare you on his dying breath. But if this kingdom is to heal, we cannot let the innocent suffer once again. So I ask you this. Before you condemn my actions, what do you propose I do instead? Daenerys stares up at the Lord of Winterfell. Since meeting him, she had never been afraid of him until now. Though he did not raise his voice or threaten her, it was as if a fire had ignited in his eyes that burned hotter than dragonfire. Despite that, she forces her to brave that look and spare her idea. The free folk could redeem their name by hunting down their treacherous kin and to ensure their loyalty. Daenerys will lead them herself. It is a bold claim, but it is true. The Northmen will not lead them, and the wildlings won't allow themselves to be led by them. But Daenerys is still a high lady and respected by them. Ned sees the logic here and agrees. He sends a small detachment of Starkmen who accompany her. Wildlings like Egret and Tormund rally to her side, eager to clear their names. After their escape, John Conington and these wildlings have sailed south to join their army in the Riverlands. Now they focus on harassing Stannises and the Royalist Army or the Blackfish and rob sieges at the Twins. They act as bandits, making it difficult for their forces to join together. Meanwhile, John Conington continues to rally allies in the Reach and begins invading the Stormlands. The siege of the Twins drags on, a brutal grinding affair. Rob Stark and the Blackfish keep up the pressure. But with the phrase wells supplied and dug in behind their castle walls, with the river between them allowing them to fish and the wildlings raiding their supply lines, some fear that the siege can last for years. The arrival of Daenerys doesn't seem like it changes anything and even causes grumbling amongst the northmen who don't like the idea of fighting alongside the free folk. But the Lady of Dragonstone brings giants, wargs, and seasoned riders. As dawn breaks, the battle begins. Giants take the lead. Massive and furious, wielding tree trunks as weapons. They smash through the outer barricades, sending frey defenders scattering in terror. Behind them, wildling archers commanded by Egret let loose volleys of arrows, thinning the ranks on the walls. Wargs direct beasts into the fry. Wolves, bears, boores, even eagles to harass the defenders and keep them distracted. When the Northmen assault, they are greeted with far more success. Wildling raiders scale the battlements, having scaled the wall so many times before, the defenses of the twins seem like child's play. The first to the top is Egret, who lowers a rope, allowing the Northmen to join after her. In a matter of days, the tide completely shifts and the Freys find themselves on the backfoot. From that half of the river, the Freys soon give up their ground and hurry back to the central keep. Daenerys watches from Arise, mounted on a pale steed, her silver hair whipping in the wind. And then, with a single command, she unleashes her dragons. Drogon, Viserion, Rhaegal take to the sky, shadows against the pale morning light. The defenders of the twins barely have time to react before fire rains down upon them. As they retreat, the dragons swoop down and the stones of the bridge briefly burn red hot. Men leap into the river and are swept away or are picked up by the Stark and Tullymen. And with them gone, no one is left to hold the walls. Wildlings and Northmen pour forth while the Blackfish reorganizes and orders a fresh attack. They slam into the remaining defenders, cutting them down in a bloody mess. The gates are torn aunderder and the northern army pours through. Within hours, the Freys are broken. Some surrender, throwing down their weapons and begging for mercy. Some are cut down where they stand, including old Walder Frey himself. By nightfall, the siege is over. The twins belong to the Starks. With the war's tide shifting, Rob and Daenerys waste no time. Their combined armies push south into the Riverlands. As they march forth, the wildlings break off, scattering into the forests and rivers to hunt down their treacherous kin. Over the next few days, these raiders are systematically taken out, while the Tullies and Northmen reduce the castles that have sided with Aegon. Seeing these reinforcements, the remaining Royalist forces in the Reach redouble their efforts, rallying their forces and launching a counterattack as the first rivermen begin to trickle through. Seeing this, Stannis now shifts on the offensive in the Stormlands, beating back John Conington's forces. He begins marching south, aiming to cut off their access to the sea and leave them isolated. John Conington tries to make his final stand in Griffin's roost, but their forces dwindle every day, and desperation sets in. Knowing his army cannot survive much longer, Aegon V 6th makes a reckless gamble. Under the cover of darkness, he slips away from his collapsing forces and infiltrates Daenerys's encampment. His goal is clear. If he can claim one of her dragons, he might yet turn the war in his favor. He has been raised to believe himself the true heir of House Targaryen. The blood of the dragon reborn. If Daenerys can command these beasts, then so can he. He approaches Rhaegal first, his hands trembling as he reaches for the great beast. I am a dragon. You will obey me. Rhaegal's eyes snap open. There is no bond, no recognition, only hunger. In an instant, fire engulfs Aegon the 6th. His screams echo through the camp as the flames consume him. His flesh melting away in moments. When the fire fades, nothing remains but blackened bone and the half-melted crown he wore. By the time the camp rouses itself, the truth becomes clear. He was not a true Targaryen. The war is all but over. With Aegon dead, his army crumbles. The last remnants of the Golden Company scatter, hunted down by Stannis's men and the Northmen alike. The Riverlands are reclaimed. The Stormlands fall back under royal control. Victory belongs to Daenerys and her allies. Jon Snow regards his half-brother, still hardly believing the things he's hearing as Rob delivers fresh supplies to the Nights Watch. You know, your queen has gotten quite friendly with the Free Folk here. She visits them regularly, and they seem to enjoy your company. I wouldn't be surprised if their raiding seized because of her presence. That and her dragons. It seems like it, though. I suppose getting rid of the Weeper and Rattleshirt also helped. I most of the free folk are happy to be rid of them. And that false king who tried to stir them up, was he a Targaryen? He claimed he was, but Lady Melisandre is claiming he was a false dragon from House Blackfire. I didn't realize there were any left. Still, he raised maybe 600 wildlings. Your queen raised 6,000. Given enough time, she would become a powerful queen. Assuming that we survive the winter, the trouble here is not ceased. There are greater and greater reports of white walker activity. But the rangers I've sent out can't figure out what they're up to. We are ready, John. Or as ready as we'll ever be. Thank you for your help. As the last of the weapons are handed over to the Night's Watch, Rob and Jon clasp hands and go their separate ways. As they ride out of Castle Black, Rob finds Daenerys in the gift where she is visiting some of the wildling villages. The area had begun to thrive since the end of the war, and she wishes to see how well they are doing. When she sees Rob approaching, the two share a nod, and Daenerys bids them farewell. The two of them have spent their time getting to know each other and preparing themselves for marriage. While the two of them have grown rather fond of each other, they don't feel that spark. The two don't ever become more than friends. It doesn't help that Daenerys prefers to spend her time in the Gift than in Winterfell or even Dragonstone. After spending a better part of a year in the Dothraki Sea, the Dragon Queen was left with a love of the outdoors. This has naturally left her gravitating towards the wildlings who share her disposition. In reality, both of them are secretly grateful as it keeps the free folk in line while Rob rules the Northmen, preparing for the long night. The air inside Craraers's keep is thick with a stench of sweat, ale, and roasting meat. The mutineers feast like kings. Carl Tanner sits at the head of the table, watching his men indulge in their spoils. Caster's food, Caster's meat, and Caster's wives. One of the women inches closer to the fire, whispering to another, "The cold is coming." Caster kept them away. He gave them gifts. Enough for that [ __ ] old [ __ ] I ain't no ghosts coming for us. No more needling to dead men and ice demons. No more taking orders from Joe or a [ __ ] warm hunt. Cast is dead and you belong to us now. If you forget that, I'll throw you lot out of the cold as an offering. The women exchange uneasy glances but say nothing more. Then the wind shifts. A chill slithers through the hall, so sharp and sudden that the fires dim. The laughter fades as even the men begin to shiver, pulling their cloaks tighter. Outside, the trees creek, carrying voices that do not belong to the living. A shadow moves beyond the splintered doorway, too fast, too smooth, a scream. The desertters scramble to their feet, knocking over chairs and drawing stolen blades. From the icy must, the figures step forward, pale as death and eyes that burn with frozen fire. The white walkers as they march, icy blades form in their hands. The first mutineer to move is thrown back against the wall, his blades spinning from his hand. Another swings wildly at the closest White Walker, only to watch his steel blade shatter like glass. Carl Tanner picks up Crara's crossbow and fires at the nearest white walker. The quarrel punches right through his chest and for a moment it seems like the creature will fall. Instead, it simply rips out the bolt and drops it to the ground. He pulls out his derks and readies himself, but the cold becomes unbearable as frost creeps up the walls. They surround him, their blades shining in the moonlight. But then they stop. A new shape emerges from the darkness, taller than the rest, clad in jagged armor of black ice. The Night King steps forward. His gaze sweeps the room. The burning blue of his eyes fixing on Carl. The creature opens his mouth and a sound like cracking ice emerges. The deserter drops his knives to cover his ears. To his surprise, the Night King does not run him through. Instead, it [ __ ] his head and looks at him. Confusion, perhaps a hint of annoyance. He raises one hand. The ice at his feet twists and cracks, raising like veins across the ground. The frost spreads in deliberate patterns, forming symbols and curling shapes. Then, with a flick of his finger, he drags his hand across the ice, etching an image into the frozen floor. The cave. Slowly, he raises his gaze back to them and points a finger toward them. And then at the cave, he taps the pummel of his sword. The message is clear. Find this cave or die. The wind howls through the keep once more just as the white walkers disappear the way they came. Bran sits cross-legged beneath the ancient roots of the weirwood. Eyes closed, lost in the endless sea of memories pouring into him. The three-eyed raven's voice echoes in his mind, guiding him through the visions. Ages passed. Kings at war. The first men and the children of the forest. He sees his family in the past and in the times that could have been. Visions of stories, ones told at other times, fill his mind. He sees Arya seated in the dread fort with the flade man banner flapping behind her. Rob in the red keep accompanied by a brrawy woman in the colors of the Baratheonss. Sansa pushing King Joffrey off the walls of Magar's holdfast and Jon seated at top the iron throne. Yet he is hailed by the name Jiharis. These stories and more fill his mind. It is nearly done. Soon he will know everything. The cave is quiet, but for the whispers of the trees and the fluttering of ravens above. The children of the forest move about, watching over the ritual, their sharp eyes scanning the tunnels. Others patrol outside the cave in search of any threat. Meera and Jojan stand close by. Jojan's face pale with exhaustion. Summer rests near the entrance, ears twitching. Then the birds grow restless. The ravens, brought in by cold hands, begin to take flight. Their crawls echoing the sky, turning into a storm of black. But soon they begin to descend into the forest, pecking at unseen foes. The children whisper to one another, their hands tightening on their obsidian blades. A few raise bows or heft spears, but Leaf tells them not to worry. The land is protected by the three-eyed raven. The wards will hold. A sharp, unnatural crack splits the air. A crossbow bolt shoots out and hits one of the archers, sending them tumbling down. And then the figures begin to emerge. Heavy cloaks pulled over their faces and holding black steel in their hands. Then more appear. 10, maybe 12. But something is wrong. They move with surprising discipline and liveless. Leaf's eyes widen as she watches them while Summer jumps to his feet and growls. They are not dead. Summer snars and leaps. The battle erupts in an instant. The children hurl stones and arrows, blunting the attack, but only for a moment. The knights watch deserters rush forward, firing crossbows while those with shields raise them above their heads. One slams a child against the cave wall, breaking her fragile form like a doll. Another cuts through their defenders, laughing as he twirls a pair of knives. Summer drags one down, ripping at his throat. The others press forward. The defenders fight valiantly. Three, four, then five of the invaders fall, but it is not enough. Four make it through. Leaf curses and rushes through another entrance, rushing to the chamber of the three-eyed raven. We're under attack. Run. Run. She hears footsteps behind her and those four attackers come rushing in. The lead warrior shoves her aside as they run past her. However, she picks up her dragon glass knife and stabs the nearest deserter in the leg. The man screams and doubles over, letting her finish him off. Meera takes Bran's hand and shoves him to Hodor as she picks up her spears and keeps them back. Jojan tries to follow, stumbling across the roots as the remaining children of the forest rush at them. The three-eyed raven watches, unmoving. He has seen this moment before. I have taught you all I can. What happens next is up to you. Bran feels the last of the old man's knowledge pouring into him. As the final attacker's blade pierces the raven's chest, the old seer exhales long and slow, his body crumbling into dust. But his mind, his essence, it is in Bran now. Bran stumbles, his head pounding as Hodor grabs him and runs. Summer follows, growling, his fur stre with blood. The remaining children fall behind, lost to the darkness. As they escape, something shifts. The cave trembles. The glow fades. The ancient power that has shielded this place for thousands of years dies with the last of the children. The first of the attackers falls upon Jojan. The Cranigman reaches for a knife, but he is too slow, too weak. The deserter drives his shortsord through his ribs before he can react, and he crumples without a sound. No. Meera launches herself at the nearest attacker. She fights fiercely, her spear flashing, cutting deep and taking a man down. But they are stronger, faster. A blade catches her side than another. She falters and collapses beside her brother. Bran tries to move, tries to reach out, but Carl Tener is already there. He is the only one of the group to have made it. But as he approaches, he twirls his blades in his hands. The man who was once a brother of the Night's Watch sneers down at him, blood spattered across his armor. Fancy little lord sitting in his cave, thinking he's safe. Bran does not think. He reaches out, wargs into Hordor. The great beast of a man lurches forward, his eyes rolling white. Hodor slams into Carl, grabbing him by the throat, and he hurls the man against the cave wall. Carl's skull cracks and he goes still. Far away at the wall, the great spells woven into the ice flicker like candlelight, and then they begin to fade. The Night King watches all of this from a top a nearby ridge. The faintest flicker of amusement crosses his lips as he sends in the whites. This time, there is no magic stopping them as they come stumbling out of the trees. As Hodor stumbles out carrying Bran in his basket, he sees the nearest whites just a few feet away. But before it can reach him, the ravens come falling upon them. Their beaks peck at the rotting flesh, biting into eyes and legs, tearing the whites as they stand. Another figure bursts out of top a horse. He carries a torch in one hand and a sword in the other as the ravens search for other foes. Get on. We must return to the wall right away. Odor takes his hand and hurly scrambles at top the steed as cold hands turns southward and rides off his ravens buying them time. But it is not enough. The dead's numbers are endless and the ravens begin to fall. Bran glances back and sees them starting to close in. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Suddenly, a direwolf leaps out from the darkness and tears at the nearest white. Summer rips its throat out, but he barely has time to savor the kill before bounding off. Behind him, more direwolves appear along with bears, shadow cats, squirrels, elks, and even a mammoth. All the nearest creatures that Bran can call upon. He summons. They rush at the dead, throwing them off their feet. But this is only a temporary success. The dead are not at all intimidated and instead begin to wipe them out. Bran wars out as the creatures begin to fall and collapses on Hodor's back. A deep tremor runs through the ancient ice of the wall, sending men staggering. The frozen ramparts crack. Great shards of ice tumbling to the ground. Wooden barricades splinter. Watchtowers groan under the strain. A few men cry out, clutching their weapons as the ground beneath them shuddters. What was that? The tremors come again, stronger this time. A great earsplitting crack echoes through the air as one of the smaller towers collapses, sending a cascade of ice and rubble tumbling into the courtyard below. Men scatter, cursing and shouting as they rush to stabilize the defenses. Then the wind shifts. A low growl rumbles through the air. Drogon lifts his head from where he rests near the gate, his nostrils flaring, his great wings unfurl, eyes burning like molten gold as he sniffs the air. Before Daenerys can call back to him, the black dragon launches skyward. Wings snapping open. He soarses high above the wall, a shadow against the pale sky, higher than he ever has before. Jon, Daenerys, and Mance rushed to the edge of the wall, their eyes following the dragon's flight, flying over the wall. In her years there, Drogon had always stubbornly refused to approach the wall. But now he has. Something has changed. A sentry calls out, seeing figures approaching the wall. Three figures, one cloaked in black, another slumped over a horse, and a third on his back. Bran Stark has returned. Mance is the first to react. He orders the gate open as him and a dozen guards rush out to face them. Among them is Jon. His eyes widen as he takes in the tall figure beside Bran, the strange half-dead man who guides the boy forward. His breath catches. Benjen Stark. What? Mance nods towards Cold Hands, a grim certainty settling over his face. Jon takes a closer look and his eyes widen. Uncle Benjen, sorry it took so long for me to get back, boy. We'll explain later. In the meantime, we need to get your brother to shelter. The gates are thrown open and they rush back inside. Jon cradling Bran as they lay him down. They give them some food and drink. And eventually, the boy begins to stir. We have to prepare. The dead are coming. Daenerys does not hesitate. She turns to Drogon, who lands heavily beside her and climbs onto his back, riding south to summon the free folk. Mance goes with her, telling everyone who can fight to go with them and those who don't to fall back to the north. Meanwhile, Jon begins sending ravens to rob and net while he hastily repairs whatever defenses he can. The wall's ancient magic is gone, and the dead know it. A cold wind howls through the darkness. The first whites appear, climbing the ice like monstrous spiders, their frozen fingers digging into the cracks. Their eyes burn blue, hollow, and unnatural. The archers hurry to take aim at them, trying to shoot them down. However, as they unleash their first volley, the skies darken. Undead birds swoop from above. Crows, ravens, eagles, and buzzards. They swoop down, dragging men off the parapit or raking their claws against them. Some dropping stones or undead animals like snakes or dogs. The gates thunder as whites tear and claw at it. The gates buckle under their weight as men try to reinforce it. With all of this going on, the night's watch can barely focus on the whites climbing the wall. These are soon joined by ice spiders, scuttling up the wall with their long legs clawing into the frozen surface. White walkers ride at top them, their weapons gleaming with frost. Bran closes his eyes and reaches out. From the forests, the living answer his call. Great packs of wolves charge from the treeine. Snowy owls and hawks dive at the undead birds. Goats and bears and elks and rocks come charging out from the rear. Reinforcements from the free folk help stabilize the situation. On the wall, Jon and Benjen fight side by side, cutting down whites as they scale the defenses. The former White moves like a shadow, his blade slicing through the dead with eerie precision. Above, Daenerys circles, her dragons raining fire down upon the enemy. She directs their fury, keeping them away from the wall itself. If the ice weakens too much, it could collapse entirely. As the first spiders reach the top, Mance comes rushing in alongside Tormund and Egret, hurling javelins at its exposed stomach and sends it screaming off the ledge. His warriors come armed with bundles of wax that they tie together and set a light before hurling them down towards the whites. The extra weight helps knock the whites off the wall, and the fire ensures they fall. They even manage to kill some of the spiders that way. The assault on the wall fails, and even their birds are driven off. Slowly, reinforcements arrive. At first, it's a trickle. Small bands of men at arms, banners whipping in the wind as they crest the hills beyond the wall. Then their numbers swell. Thousands pour in. Swords and axes glinting in the dying light. The banners of the north. House Stark, umber, Kstark, Mormont snap in the cold wind as they charge into the battle. Hope flickers in the heart of the defenders. The gates open and they charge out. Steel clashes against rotting flesh as the Northmen wade into the fray, hacking down whites with brutal efficiency before retreating back inside. They reinforce men in the walls, providing their long bows and putting them to good use. The whites falter, momentarily pushed back. The line holds for now, but then the giants come. Massive rotting forms lumber out of the darkness, their once mighty bodies reduced to frozen horrors. Undead mammoths follow, their tusks stained with ice and blood. They slam into the gates like living battering rams as the last of the Northmen retreat inside. The archers rain arrows down on them. But anything less than a killing blow is simply wasting arrows as they feel no pain and the fire barely licks at them. Wood splinters, metal bends, and with a final earthshaking crash. The gates collapse. The dead pour into Castle Black. The battle spills into the courtyard. A desperate, brutal melee. Defenders hack and stab, but the whites feel no pain. Like the giants, only fire or a killing blow stops them. The giants are even more terrifying. They can absorb entire charges while mammoths break their lines. Men fall, screaming as the dead drag them down. Mance Raider and Cold Hands hold the inner defenses, rallying the last of the Night's Watch and Wildlings, but it's clear they are [transcript truncated]