The Winter kingdom

Version 2.0

Brandon walked toward the Umbar King, his arm hanging limply where a cut across his shoulder burned, seeping through his cloak. Around them, the men gathered, weary and bloodied, tending to one another's wounds, the battlefield around them strewn with the bodies of friends and beasts. The Harmond's face was streaked with blood from a gash above his brow, a thick bandage tied hastily over his upper arm.

Brandon caught his breath and met Harmond's eye. "I thought we'd lost you in that mess," Brandon managed, forcing a weary smile.

Harmond let out a short, chuckle, wincing as he flexed his arm. "It takes more than some jumped up Giants to take us out." His face grew solemn, glancing out at the scattered remains of his men, slumped on the ground or nursing wounds. "Cutting it close."

Brandon followed his gaze, sweeping over the monstrous remains littering the battlefield, their blood pooling darkly against the trampled snow. "They've moved from lone numbers to large parties." He frowned, the bitter cold pricking his skin through the ache in his ribs. "But why all at once, and why the Slate Lands?"

The Umbar King rocked his head from side to side. "Well, it could be one thing that we know of." He turned, meeting Brandon's stare. "A certain crazy asshole who likes to touch monsters improperly."

A shout broke through the camp. One of the Harmond wargs pointed toward the edge of the battlefield. "Up there! I saw him! Aloe! He's hiding in the tree branches, just past that tree line."

Brandon's gaze snapped his body instantly tensing, ignoring the bite of his wounds. High in the branches of a tree, the faintest glimmer of movement caught his eye. A sliver of the Child's small, shadowy form slipped along the branches, his dark eyes observing them with an unsettling calm.

"Speak the devil's name and it shall come before you," Harmond whispered.

Brandon turned to the Harmond. "We can't let him get away. He's behind everything here."

The Umbar King nodded, struggling to lift his sword as he took a shaky step forward. "Aye. We'll chase him down ourselves if we have to—"

But the pain finally caught up to them both. Brandon felt a sudden wave of dizziness, the world tilting sharply as he stumbled, his vision blurred. The Umbar King, equally drained, clutched his side, letting out a heavy groan as he, too, sank to his knees.

"Brandon!" Edric rushed over, his eyes wide with concern, catching Brandon's arm before he fell to the ground entirely. "You can't push yourself like this."

Brandon's vision cleared enough to see Aloe's silhouette disappear among the trees. He gritted his teeth, frustration mounting even as his body gave out. "He… he was right there. We can get him, Edric."

The Umbar King slumped beside him, letting his sword drop to the ground as he struggled to catch his breath. "Let him run like the coward he is," he rasped. "A few more hours rest and then we can finally make him pay."

Brandon's eyelids grew heavy, he gave a reluctant nod. "A few hours, then."

/

The days blurred together in exhaustion and pain. Brandon's sleep was heavy, nearly dreamless, and he only awoke for brief, hazy moments where he caught fragments of the world around him—the crackling fires, the muted voices, the shadowed figures passing by his tent flap before he drifted back into a dark, feverish sleep.

After several days, he finally opened his eyes to daylight, the ache in his body dulled but remained persistent. He pushed himself up, groaning as his ribs protested, and looked around the tent. Edric was asleep in a chair nearby, and Lyanna was resting on a cot across from him, her arm bound with a fresh wrap of linen. Outside, the faint murmur of voices carried in, followed by faint whimpers and cries.

As he struggled to his feet and stepped outside, the camp's atmosphere struck him. Men carried their wives and children, their few belongings dragged behind them. Lonely children ran around crying for Mommy, tears clearing their mud-plastered faces. An elderly couple sat on the frozen ground, heads bowed and shoulders trembling, clutching each other for comfort and warmth. In every direction, more arrived: men, women, and children, some bandaged and bruised, others simply hobbling along as others guided them, eyes blank and lacklustre.

Near the edge of camp, a woman clutched her young son, wept softly as they approached, their clothes torn and bloodstained. She stumbled forward, asking anyone who would listen if they could shelter her, her voice choked. "Please, I have nowhere else to go. The monsters took everything from me."

Brandon watched, feeling a sharp pang of guilt and sadness as one of his guards helped her find a place near the fires, murmuring reassurances to the mother and child as they sobbed into each other's arms. Other survivors, too, poured into the camp, their expressions haunted, their eyes filled with the kind of loss that no words could console. Some had come alone, the only members of their lineage left; often those had watched their entire villages fall, and had walked through the carnage and destruction to reach this fragile haven.

Edric approached. "Brandon," He hugged him softly. "It's good to see you up and about." He followed Brandon's gaze, glancing around at the crowd. "It's gotten bad as you can see, the attacks have worsened. Villages" He stopped for a moment. "They're gone, destroyed to the ground, Even here at the Castle we have been attacked. Light ones, but enough to worry him everyone around. Some think it's only a matter of time before the monsters close in for good."

The news hit Brandon hard, a heavy stone settling in his chest. He looked at the gathering survivors, some clutching small bags with all their worldly belongings, others lying on the ground, eyes wide as they watched the world walk by them. A group of men, bloodstained, were tending to a fallen comrade who lay on a makeshift stretcher, his face pale as his friends held his hand and tried to keep him warm.

Edwyn approached, his armour dulled and dented. "Brandon," he said, voice rough with fatigue. "These people… they're all that remains of the villages east of here. And each day, more arrive here, begging for safety that I can barely provide."

Brandon took in the sight of the families, the young and the old alike, huddled together crying softly as they awaited whatever aid they could find.

Lyanna joined them, her gaze on Brandon and Edwyn. "We're running out of space," she murmured, sadness in her eyes. "And food."

He had always fought to protect the North; He wanted to see the North united and one. Brandon clenched his fist, it seemed the North needed Brandon to help again.