Bab 490: Chapter 491: The Legend of the Night King
Traveling north from King's Landing, past the Neck, the world turned into a vast expanse of white.
In the depths of winter, the North seemed stripped of all color, leaving only shades of gray and white.
Even the White Knife, the great river traversing the North, was now frozen solid, making it completely impassable.
Riding on the back of the white dragon, the Stark sisters, Sansa and Arya, were initially enchanted by the experience. However, the biting wind soon had them shivering uncontrollably.
Thankfully, the white dragon and Samwell emanated intense heat, shielding the sisters from most of the cold and keeping the journey bearable.
Midway, they stopped at the ruins of Moat Cailin. Among the remaining three towers, a small contingent of Reed soldiers was stationed. They hastily prepared warm food and clean rooms for the unexpected visit from the King.
After a night's rest, the trio and the dragon resumed their journey.
By nightfall of the second day, Winterfell finally appeared on the horizon.
The sisters, overcome with joy, embraced each other, shouting with excitement.
It was their first time seeing Winterfell from the skies, and they marveled at how their once-familiar home looked so strikingly beautiful from above.
The snow had stopped falling, but the ancient fortress was draped in a thick white coat.
Its tall walls, towers, countless courtyards, and winding paths formed an expansive maze of gray stone.
From above, the bustling activity within the castle—the soldiers on the walls, servants clearing snow from the courtyards, cooks gathering vegetables in the glass garden, anxious hunting dogs pacing in the kennels, and the tranquil Godswood—was both familiar and otherworldly.
This was home, the place they once wished to escape but now longed to return to.
The dragon's descent caused a brief uproar.
However, the tale of King Samwell and his dragon had spread far across Westeros. Even in the far North, the people of Winterfell recognized the royal steed after their initial panic subsided.
More importantly, they recognized the two sisters dismounting from the dragon's back.
Soon, Winterfell's current lord, Rickon Stark, arrived in a hurry, accompanied by Maester Luwin.
Though the boy was eager to embrace his sisters, he restrained himself and first greeted the King with the decorum befitting a noble lord.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Samwell, flanked by the Stark siblings and a crowd of onlookers, entered the Great Hall of Winterfell.
Samwell seated himself in the grand chair at the center of the hall, the seat that had been occupied by countless Stark lords since they first declared themselves Kings in the North.
The cold stone seat, polished smooth over centuries, featured armrests carved into the shape of snarling direwolves.
"Is Lady Catelyn not here?" Samwell asked.
"My mother is at the Wall," Rickon replied.
"Lady Catelyn took supplies to the Night's Watch," Maester Luwin added.
Samwell nodded before continuing:
"In that case, I'll be direct. Winter is here, and with it comes far greater threats. I've assembled an army of 200,000 in King's Landing, ready to march north and reinforce the Wall.
However, this has strained southern resources, and there is little surplus to send to the North. Thus, I suggest the northern people consider migrating south. Of course, this is only a recommendation. It is entirely voluntary."
Rickon instinctively glanced at Maester Luwin, who spoke cautiously:
"Your Majesty, we will announce your proposal across the North. However, I fear many northerners may be reluctant to leave their homeland."
"That's fine," Samwell replied. "Announce it regardless. Hunger and cold will compel them to make their decision."
"As you command, Your Majesty."
Maester Luwin then arranged accommodations for Samwell within the castle, even offering the lord's chambers for the King's stay.
Winterfell, though situated in the harsh North, was built atop natural hot springs. The warm waters coursed through the walls like the veins of a living creature, driving out the cold and keeping the rooms warm.
After soaking in a hot bath and changing into clean clothes, Samwell had some time to himself before the evening feast.
He drew back the heavy curtains, pushed open the window, and let the cold wind howl into the room.
From the highest room in the Great Keep, he could see much of Winterfell below.
Though the castle had recently been sacked by the ironborn and the Boltons, it had quickly regained its vitality under Stark rule.
Despite the arrival of winter, the people were busily working, undeterred by the freezing temperatures.
Among them, one elderly woman caught Samwell's attention.
She was seated atop a nearby tower, hunched over, weaving cloth.
When Samwell turned his gaze toward her, she looked up almost immediately, her cloudy eyes glinting faintly.
With a wave of his hand, a path of fiery orange light materialized, forming a bridge in mid-air.
Samwell walked across the flame bridge, descending from the Great Keep to the tower.
As his boots touched the stone floor of the tower, the flames behind him dissipated into nothingness.
"Are you the old nurse of House Stark?"
"Perhaps," the woman replied, revealing a toothless grin. "That's what everyone calls me. I was first brought here to nurse Brandon Stark—not Eddard's son, but his uncle, Lord Rickard's brother.
That Brandon died when he was just three. But my children and I stayed in Winterfell.
I delivered Lord Rickard's children, nursed Lord Eddard, and told stories to young Rickon as he grew up.
Your Majesty, do you enjoy stories?"
"That depends on the story," Samwell replied.
"Who's story would you like to hear?"
Samwell thought for a moment before answering:
"The Night King."
"Ah, the Night King," the old nurse murmured, her lips twitching. "They say he was the 13th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, a man who fell from grace because of a woman.
She had skin as pale as the moon and eyes as blue as the stars.
The Night King loved her madly, pursued her, possessed her, despite her being cold as ice.
He took her beyond the Wall and made her his queen. Proclaiming himself King, he ruled the Wall for thirteen years.
It was only when the Stark of Winterfell joined forces with Joramun, King-Beyond-the-Wall, that the Night King was defeated.
After his death, all records of him were destroyed. His name became a forbidden word..."
At this point, Samwell interrupted:
"Do you know the Night King's true identity?"
"Some say he was a Bolton," the old woman replied. "Others claim he hailed from the Umbers, the Flints, or even the Royces of the Vale. But none of them are correct."
Her cloudy eyes seemed to glimmer with a ghostly light as she added:
"He was a Stark."
"Really?" Samwell raised an eyebrow. "I've heard that all Starks are buried in the crypts beneath Winterfell. Is the Night King also down there?"
The old nurse grinned her toothless smile once more:
"Why don't you go see for yourself, Your Majesty?"
(End of Chapter)
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