Game of Thrones: Lord of the Flames

Godswood, Winterfell.

Snow blanketed the ancient trees, dressing them in pristine white. Their gnarled, sprawling branches wove a dense canopy overhead, blocking the already dim sunlight.

In the somber gloom of the woods, the weirwood trees stared with blood-red "eyes," watchful and sorrowful, bearing silent witness to the passing of ages.

At the center of the grove lay a dark, cold pool. Despite the bitter winter, with Northern rivers and lakes frozen solid, the pool's surface remained eerily unfrozen.

Catelyn Tully knelt by the water's edge, gazing at her reflection with vacant eyes.

Her late husband, Eddard Stark, had once loved this very spot, using the pool to clean his sword and pray to the faces carved into the weirwood trees.

Though she had lived in Winterfell for many years, Catelyn, born and raised in the South, had never believed in these wooden gods.

Yet now, here she was, praying fervently to the faces on the trees, beseeching them to protect her husband and children.

Perhaps the gods heard her prayers. From the depths of the grove, a direwolf emerged, its blood-red eyes glowing like rubies.

Catelyn instinctively tensed but then remembered that the direwolf was the sigil of House Stark. Could this be an omen from the gods?

The longer she stared at the wolf, the more familiar it seemed...

"Lady Stark! Lady Stark! We've found Arya!"

A guard came running, followed closely by a bouncing, cheerful girl—Arya Stark herself.

"Arya!" Catelyn shot to her feet and rushed forward, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace.

But almost immediately, she pushed Arya back and scolded her sternly:

"Where have you been these past few days?"

Arya pointed to the direwolf by the pool. "I was looking for Nymeria!"

"Nymeria?" Catelyn blinked, finally realizing why the direwolf looked so familiar.

It was Arya's direwolf. Back when they were traveling south to King's Landing, Arya had driven Nymeria away after an incident with Prince Joffrey. Now, here it was again.

"Yes!" Arya said proudly. "The other night, I was walking along the battlements when I heard wolves howling. I didn't see Nymeria, but I recognized her voice immediately! So, I went out to look for her. It took me a few days, but I found her in the Wolfswood!

Aren't I amazing?"

Catelyn's anger flared. She grabbed Arya by the ear, scolding, "You went outside the walls alone just because you heard wolves howling? Do you know how dangerous the North is right now? The Wall has fallen, Arya! The White Walkers are coming!"

Arya's eyes widened. "The White Walkers? Where? I didn't see any. What about Father? And Jon? They're at the Wall, right?"

Catelyn sighed. "The Wall has fallen. What else could they do but retreat? They're on their way back. His Majesty has ordered a new defensive line at the Neck and instructed all Northerners to migrate south. Sansa and Rickon have already gone to King's Landing with him. I wanted you to go too, but instead, you—"

"I want to stay with you!" Arya interrupted. "And Father! Has he returned yet?"

"Not yet," Catelyn said sadly.

She composed herself and said firmly, "I'll stay in Winterfell and wait for your father. You, however, will head south to King's Landing to join your sister!"

"But—"

"No buts!" Catelyn cut her off. "This is a matter of life and death, Arya. It's not the time for your antics! Come with me. I'll arrange for an escort to take you south."

She grabbed Arya's hand and began leading her out of the godswood.

Arya, seeing her mother's anger, dared not resist. She looked back at Nymeria and waved.

Nymeria didn't follow but instead threw her head back and howled.

"Awooo—"

Catelyn turned to chastise the wolf but was interrupted by a piercing horn blast.

"Woooo—"

"What's happening, Mother? Is Father back?" Arya asked, bewildered.

Catelyn's face turned pale. "No! The White Walkers are here! We must leave, now!"

She dragged Arya toward the gates, calling for Nymeria. The direwolf howled again and followed close behind.

By the time they left the godswood, the horn had fallen silent, replaced by the clamor of orders and the clash of steel within the castle.

Most of the civilians had already been evacuated, leaving only a few loyal soldiers to hold the fort. Though the atmosphere was tense, it wasn't yet chaotic.

"Lady Stark! The White Walkers are here! You must leave!" Ser Rodrik Cassel shouted, rushing over.

"How many of them?" Catelyn asked, maintaining her composure.

"Too many to count! Winterfell can't hold. If we don't leave now, it'll be too late!"

Catelyn's heart sank.

Though she was deeply worried for her husband, she understood that retreat was their only option.

"Very well! Gather everyone and head south!"

"Yes, my lady!"

"Mother, I need to pack my things," Arya said.

"There's no time!" Catelyn said firmly. "We've already prepared provisions. We leave now!"

At the stables, a troop of mounted soldiers was ready to depart.

Catelyn mounted a warhorse with Arya in her arms and ordered, "Open the south gate. Charge through! Don't engage with those creatures—"

Her words were cut short as Ser Rodrik ran up, shouting, "We can't use the south gate, my lady! The White Walkers are there too!"

"What?" Catelyn was horrified. "How did they get to the south?"

"They came through the Wolfswood! These creatures are intelligent—someone must be directing them. We can't use the south, west, or north gates. The east is our only option!"

"Then we go east!" Catelyn decided without hesitation.

At her command, the riders charged out of Winterfell, heading east.

The wind and snow howled, the world around them a blinding expanse of white.

Catelyn clung tightly to Arya as the soldiers surrounded them. But before they had gone far, the sound of terrified screams and the neighing of panicked horses came from the front.

"They're in front of us too! We're surrounded!"

"Charge through! Charge!" Ser Rodrik bellowed.

The cavalry surged forward, colliding with the wight horde.

"Close your eyes if you're scared," Lady Catelyn said to her daughter in her arms.

"I'm not afraid!" Arya said.

She didn't close her eyes, but looked back, and was relieved to see Nymeria following.

But she felt a little depressed when she thought about her weapon "Needle" still left in the castle.

"Give me a sword!" Arya said.

But at this time, who would care about a girl's request? Her words were blown away by the strong wind and disappeared without a trace.

She heard Ser Rodrick shouting orders and saw swarms of wights appearing like ants in the north and south, like two surging tides, about to merge in their path.

The smell of decay and death was overwhelming.

"Charge! Charge!" shouted Ser Rodrick at the top of his lungs.

Crash! Crash! Crash!

The battle was utter chaos—a savage, bloody struggle.

Arya, so eager to help moments ago, was now paralyzed with fear as riders fell, wights shattered, and blades cleaved through rotten flesh.

The blizzard swirled overhead as steel, flesh, and blood merged into a grotesque tableau.

Arya's mind went blank.

When she came to, her horse had fallen, and she and her mother lay face down in the snow. A wight lunged at them, but Nymeria leapt in, tearing its throat out.

"Lady Stark! We can't break through!" Ser Rodrik shouted, offering his horse. "Take my mount and go back to Winterfell!"

Catelyn shook her head bitterly. "Going back is suicide."

"Find shelter—there's always a chance!" Without waiting for her reply, Ser Rodrik hoisted her and Arya onto his horse, then turned to face the wights.

"Rodrik!" Catelyn called after him, but he didn't look back.

As the horse galloped away, Arya cried and struggled, but Catelyn held her tightly, tears streaming down her own face.

The horse carried them through grasping hands, through the blizzard, and back to Winterfell.

The castle was in ruins, overrun by the dead.

Catelyn, holding Arya, wandered aimlessly until the godswood came into view.

Was this the gods' guidance?

Her horse tripped on a root, sending them tumbling into the mossy grove.

The soft ground cushioned their fall, but the wights were closing in.

Catelyn carried Arya deeper into the godswood.

"Mother, are we going to die?" Arya asked, pale and trembling.

Catelyn held her tighter, unable to answer.

Surrounded on all sides, she knelt by the sacred pool.

"Don't be afraid, Arya," she said. "We're entering the gods' hall, where they'll protect us forever."

Arya's fear faded into a quiet confusion. "Will Father come too?"

"One day, he will," Catelyn said, her voice breaking.

Before the wights could reach them, she grabbed Arya's hand and jumped into the pool.

Splash!

The water was warm, unnaturally so.

Elders often said that Winterfell was built atop a natural hot spring. This pool must be connected to it.

At least, Catelyn thought, drowning in warm water was better than being torn apart by wights.

The warmth seeped into her body, easing the biting chill of winter. For a moment, it felt as though she had returned to the distant summers of the South.

But just as her consciousness began to fade, she noticed something extraordinary.

Around Arya, a brilliant red light began to glow.

At first, she thought it was an illusion. But then, the earth itself began to tremble.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The water in the godswood burst open, and Lady Catelyn was thrown back to the surface.

"Ahem...ah..." Lady Catelyn realized that it was not an illusion. "Arya? Arya, where are you?"

Before she could find her daughter, she saw a shocking and horrifying scene.

Cracks spread across the ground like jagged lightning, splitting the earth open and swallowing countless wights.

Winterfell shook violently as though caught in a terrible earthquake. Its towering walls collapsed like toys, and its once-mighty halls crumbled into a cloud of dust.

From the depths of the earth, a colossal figure began to rise.

It was enormous, its sheer size rivaling the height of Winterfell's towers. The ground quaked beneath its massive weight as it clawed its way out of the fissures.

When its full form emerged, the giant threw back its head and let out a thunderous roar, the sound like rolling thunder that echoed across the heavens and earth.

Catelyn lay stunned on the ground, her mind unable to process what she was seeing. The monstrous figure stood amidst the ruins of Winterfell, its massive frame towering over the shattered landscape.

It was a giant—an ancient and titanic being from the old legends, seemingly awakened from an eternal slumber.

When she finally regained her senses, Catelyn scrambled to find Arya.

"Arya? Arya, where are you?" she cried, her voice trembling.

Before she could search further, her eyes widened in shock.

Standing atop the giant's enormous head was her daughter, Arya Stark.

"Arya?! What are you doing up there?" Catelyn shouted, her voice a mixture of disbelief and panic. "Did you… did you summon this giant?"

"Uh… maybe?" Arya scratched her head sheepishly, looking just as confused as her mother.

She waved her arms excitedly. "No time to explain! Come on, Mother, get up here! The wights are coming!"

Catelyn was overwhelmed by the surreal turn of events but had no time to question it. She hesitated only for a moment before climbing onto the giant's massive hand, which had reached down to pick her up.

The giant gently lifted her and placed her beside Arya on its broad head.

Arya threw her arms around her mother and shouted, "Alright, big guy! Smash those wights!"

The giant let out a low, rumbling growl, as though understanding the command. With a sweep of its massive hand, it obliterated hundreds of wights, crushing them into mangled pieces.

But the wights were endless. For every one the giant destroyed, a dozen more swarmed forward. They climbed up its legs like ants, clawing at its flesh in an attempt to overwhelm it.

The giant stomped its massive feet, shaking off the wights that clung to its legs.

On the giant's head, Catelyn clutched Arya tightly, her heart racing.

"Arya, we can't keep fighting them! There are too many of them!" she shouted. "We have to get out of here!"

Arya frowned, but after a moment, she nodded. "Alright. Let's go, big guy! Get us out of here!"

The giant let out another rumbling growl and began striding away from Winterfell's ruins, its massive steps shaking the earth.

"Where are we going, Mother? South?" Arya asked, looking up at her mother with wide eyes.

But Catelyn shook her head slowly. Her voice was firm despite the fear in her heart.

"No. We're going north—to find your father."

Arya's face lit up with determination. "North it is! Let's go find Father!"

From the base of the giant, a loud howl echoed through the air.

"Awooo—"

Arya looked down and cheered. "Nymeria! You're still here! Come on, follow us!"

The giant strode forward, each step leaving massive footprints in the snow. With Arya, Catelyn atop it, and Nymeria following behind, they moved steadily toward the North.

Before long, the swirling snow enveloped their figures, leaving behind only a trail of enormous footprints in the white expanse.

(End of Chapter)