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The snowfields before Karhold became a storm of fire and steel.
The living clashed with the dead in a thunderous roar, shields splintering as the first ranks collided. Torches and flasks of burning pitch were hurled, erupting into walls of fire that hissed in the frostwind, devouring the wights who staggered into them. The smell of burning flesh living and dead filled the air. Arrows tipped with dragonglass rained down, each shaft that found its mark shattering a wight or piercing a White Walker's unnatural form, leaving behind shrieks of ice.
"Hold the line!" Robb Stark's voice cut through the chaos, his sword flashing as Grey Wind leapt at his side. The direwolf ripped the throat from a wight, dark fur streaked with blood and ash. Robb himself split another from collar to hip, his breath steaming in the frozen night. "Show them the North does not break!"
The freefolk poured forward with wild abandon, screaming their battle cries. Giants swung tree-trunks and shattered dozens of corpses in a single blow, but the dead swarmed them like ants. Spears of ice were hurled from the ranks of the White Walkers, skewering men and beast alike.
Through it all, Jon Snow charged, Ghost at his flank. Longclaw gleamed pale in his hands, Valyrian steel burning with the reflected firelight. His eyes locked on one of the White Walkers striding through the ranks tall, armored in frost-forged mail, its sword of ice catching moonlight like crystal.
Jon met it head on.
The first clash rang out like glass breaking. The Walker's blade came down in a brutal arc, Jon barely catching it on Longclaw. Sparks flew, the force of it numbing his arm. The Walker pressed, silent and unyielding, strength monstrous for its lean frame. Jon snarled and shoved back, twisting his blade and striking again. The clash was swift, brutal—steel and ice ringing again and again as Jon ducked, spun, and slashed with the precision of a man who had lived too many battles to falter now.
The Walker moved with inhuman grace, its blade slicing the air in cold arcs that froze breath in Jon's lungs. He barely rolled aside as the sword slammed into the earth, frost spreading in cracks across the snow. Jon thrust forward, Longclaw scraping along the Walker's blade, forcing it back a step. The air between them steamed, each strike echoing in the blizzard.
Robb, meanwhile, carved a path through the horde, Grey Wind tearing into wights at his side. His blade cut through three in one sweep, blood and rot staining the snow. Then a new presence loomed before him. Another Walker stepped forward, pale mist curling around it, its eyes blue as death.
Robb narrowed his eyes, lifting his blade. "So you are the commanders…"
The Walker said nothing. It raised its ice blade, and in an instant they met.
The clash of steel and frost thundered across the battlefield. Robb fought with the ferocity of a direwolf, striking fast, hard, and unrelenting, Grey Wind snapping at the Walker's legs, forcing it to leap back. The Walker countered with blinding speed, its sword meeting Robb's in a shower of sparks that set both of them reeling.
Around them, men screamed and burned, wights clawed and fell, fire and dragonglass cutting them down in heaps. But for every one destroyed, more surged forward. The White Walkers moved like shadows among them, cutting swathes of death through ranks of men, only to be met by roaring Northerners and freefolk who refused to yield.
"Keep the fires burning!" Mance Rayder bellowed as he hurled a flaming sword into the horde, igniting a line of wights who shrieked and thrashed. He cut another down with dragonglass, his face wild with the feral pride of the free folk. "Make them pay for everything they took from us, everything!"
Above them, the heavens still shook, black flame clashing with frost, shadows and ice rending the clouds apart. The thunder of dragons' fury boomed.
Jon's fight raged on. The Walker swung in a vicious arc, Jon parried high, sparks dancing. The blow forced him back onto his knees. The Walker raised its blade for the killing strike but Ghost leapt, sinking his teeth into its arm. The creature hissed, icy mist spraying, and Jon surged to his feet, Longclaw cleaving downward with every ounce of his strength.
The Valyrian steel shattered the Walker's blade like brittle glass, splitting its body in two. It shrieked, a sound that pierced bone, before exploding into shards of frost that melted away.
Jon panted, chest heaving, Ghost snarling at his side. He lifted Longclaw high. All around him men saw, and roared, striking harder at the dead.
Robb was still locked with his foe, sparks flying with every strike, Grey Wind lunging again and again. "The North is strong!" he cried, his voice cutting through the din. "And we will not kneel to the dead!"
Robb Stark circled his foe, breath heavy in the cold , Grey Wind lips curled back in a snarl. The White Walker before him moved with an eerie calm, its steps silent upon the frost.
They closed the distance.
Robb's steel met frost, sparks flying as Grey Wind lunged low. The Walker twisted with inhuman speed, bringing its blade down to strike the direwolf. Robb shoved forward, catching the blow with his shoulder, pain tearing through him as the cold bit deep. He gritted his teeth, his eyes never leaving the pale, dead blue of his enemy's gaze.
The Walker slashed again, Robb ducking beneath the arc, his blade snapping up to strike the creature's side. The blow rang out but slid harmlessly along armor of ice. The thing hissed, pushing him back with a strength that nearly broke his guard.
Grey Wind leapt, massive jaws clamping onto the Walker's sword-arm, shaking with brutal force. The creature stumbled, its frost blade skewing wide. Robb seized the opening. With a roar that carried the pride of the North, he swung with all his weight. His blade slammed into the Walker's midsection.
Cracks spidered across the icy armor.
The Walker staggered, shrieking, a sound not of man or beast but of winter itself. Robb pressed the assault, striking again and again, every blow brutal and precise. At last, Grey Wind wrenched the sword-arm down, and Robb drove his sword that was reworked with valyrian steel through the creature's chest with a final, brutal thrust.
The Walker froze, pale eyes flickering. Then it shattered, bursting into shards of frost that melted into mist on the snow.
Robb leaned against his sword, chest heaving, Grey Wind standing triumphant at his side. The men around him cheered wildly, but the sound died too soon.
For across the field, more White Walkers strode forward.
Five, six, perhaps more, their ice-forged weapons glowing faint in the moonlight. Their hands rose together, mist curling around them, and with it came a cold deeper than the grave. Frost spread like veins across the ground. Torches sputtered and died. Men fell back, clutching their arms as the little warmth was stolen from their very breath.
Then the dead screamed.
Wights surged with renewed fury, their movements sharper, faster, driven by the sorcery of their masters. Spears of ice formed from the air itself, hurled with unerring aim. Men died screaming, some frozen solid before they struck the ground.
Jon Snow stood at the heart of it, Longclaw heavy in his hand, eyes fixed on the approaching nightmare. His breath steamed, his face pale. He looked to his brother, his voice hoarse but steady.
"This might be it brother… May the Gods be with us.."
The words barely left his lips before the ground itself answered.
Shadows tore across the battlefield vast, and monstrous shapes that moved faster than any beast. They swept into the ranks of the dead, tearing, ripping, crushing. Knights of black flame and beasts of living night descended with claws and fangs, cutting swathes through the horde.
Men stumbled back in awe and terror alike. Some of them had seen these creatures before, …but for others who haven't this was something out of a nightmare. A darkness alive, fighting for them.
Robb turned his head to Jon, still panting, his sword dripping with the frost-shards of the Walker he had slain. A wry, half-broken grin tugged at his face even amidst the slaughter.
"The gods answered, snow." he said.
Jon's eyes flickered as shadows surged past them, and for the first time that night, a smile appeared on his face.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
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