章 642: Chapter 642: The Crypts of Winterfell
Viserys roamed tirelessly in King's Landing, forging ahead to awaken the pale raven skull with the flame of faith as soon as he was prepared.
Upon inquiry, Miraxis claimed ignorance of the raven, shaking her head to dismiss any divine recognition.
The raven was likely one of the ancient alien gods, attaining divinity through its power. Miraxis could sense the formidable divine essence embedded within the raven's cranium.
Meanwhile, the Night's Watch progressed steadily, reclaiming large swathes of land and castles.
Braving the cold and snow, the soldiers measured the lands of the North step by step.
Given the vast but sparsely populated North, with its scarce castles, reclaiming them would take the Night's Watch mere months.
In less than a month, they could seize most castles, as the scattered wights posed no real threat to fortifications, attacking like beasts at the sight of human soldiers.
The Night's Watch could easily dispatch them from a distance with their oil-tipped arrows, keeping the undead at bay.
Without White Walkers, brainless wights were no match for humans.
The real challenge lay in the vast expanse of the North. The soldiers had to clear the land inch by inch of wights, to prevent later peril upon the return of the Northern folk.
...
"Ho—"
"Ho—"
Astride a brown and a black warhorse, two knights clad in black approached the towering walls of Winterfell, standing tall amidst the boundless plains.
Draped in black cloaks, with hefty wolf pelt over their shoulders, the Stark siblings, Eddard and Benjen, looked weary from their journey.
Arriving at the foot of the wall, they reined in their horses, gazing at the close yet distant Winterfell, a wave of nostalgia washing over them.
"Nothing changed since I left," Eddard Stark sighed, his breath a white mist in the air.
Benjen, with his black leather gloves, pointed at a charred mark on the wall, "I left later, Ned. That's my mark."
During the battle of Winterfell, Benjen and some soldiers got separated from the main force, finding refuge in the crypts as the dead besieged them.
Months of bitter endurance on scant provisions led to a daring breakout, leaping off the walls into thick snow below, a trail of fire obstructing the wight's pursuit.
That charred mark was left by Benjen, who pushed down a barrel of oil and ignited it.
Saved by the Three-Eyed Raven afterward, their journey revolved around finding Viserys, till they were captured at Dragonstone, and released when King's Landing fell.
"Winterfell… slipped through my fingers," Eddard murmured, his gaze entangled with emotions as he looked at his homeland, eventually letting out a sigh.
"But it was reclaimed through you, Ned. No need for self-reproach," Benjen, turning towards his elder brother, tried to console him with a smile. Eddard shook his head, but a smile finally broke through.
"Let's go, into the city!"
The brothers galloped into Winterfell, which had recently been reclaimed by the Night's Watch, purging the wights in just two days, including the ones in the crypts.
However, the crypts had suffered; partially collapsed, entombing most of the Kings of the North forever, while the few unburied tombs were left as deep pits, their occupants nowhere to be found.
Upon their arrival at the crypts, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont, was already present, inspecting the Stark family's tombs. He rose up, patting Eddard's shoulder, sighing without uttering a word.
The violation of ancestral tombs was a grave misfortune, yet there was no one to be blamed since White Walkers had orchestrated this sacrilege.
"Lord Commander Mormont."
"Lord Commander."
"Benjen."
"Lord Eddard Stark."
Exchanging brief greetings, the grizzled Lord Commander left the crypts to the Stark siblings, leaving once all others had departed.
The crypt grew silent, save for the crackling of Benjen's torch.
"I remember you telling me about a dream," Eddard broke the silence.
"Benjen."
The brothers gazed at the partially collapsed crypt of Winterfell, falling into a long silence until Eddard turned his weather-beaten face towards Benjen, breaking the silence.
"Yes, indeed."
Benjen's smile faded, replaced by a heavy heart.
He had shared a dream with his brother after their reunion in King's Landing. During his desperate entrapment in the crypt, he dreamt of his sister Lyanna Stark, who, with tears of blood, urged Benjen to flee.
Awakening with newfound courage, they carved a bloody path out, only to encounter the Night King returning to Winterfell. Fortunately, the Night King deemed them too insignificant to pursue, allowing their narrow escape.
"Benjen, do you think… Lyanna still has her consciousness?" Eddard queried, startling Benjen.
"What?"
His disbelief mirrored in his face, Benjen found Eddard's conjecture astonishing.
The consensus was that their ancestors, including Lyanna, were reanimated by the White Walkers. However, Benjen was startled by Eddard's words.
"It can't be, right?"
After a moment of contemplation, Benjen shook his head, "If Lyanna had her consciousness, why would she shoot Robert with an arrow?"
"Yo—"
Benjen was interrupted by a sudden realization.
He had attended the public trial in King's Landing, hearing the tragic love tale of Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen.
Could Lyanna's arrow at Robert be an act of vengeance for Rhaegar?
A look of astonishment flashed across Benjen's face, while Eddard remained silent throughout, his expression complicated, as he knew this historical facet too well.
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