Much could happen in a fortnight.

Varys had clearly been putting in more work now than he ever had before. Whether it was because they'd proven themselves by taking Storm's End or simply because there really was that much information to extract from his surroundings, they didn't know. It no longer mattered. He told them that Sansa was quickly growing depressed and still being mocked and tormented by King Joffrey, but a key piece of it was that Littlefinger might leave on the day of Joffrey and Margaery's wedding. There could not be a more perfect day to smuggle Sansa out of a city that would be filled with strangers.

Then, Brynhildr had received a letter that made their plan much easier. Roose Bolton himself had reached out to them from the Twins, stating that Robb may not have considered the promise of an alliance well, but that he would. In reply, Brynhildr said she'd think of it, as his loyalties currently seemed to lie elsewhere. She made sure to note that he ought to think about who he stood to benefit the most from, for under her daughter, he'd be not Warden of the North, but King. At that, she left it, knowing the idea would begin to grow in his head.

Oberyn would have been expected to attend Joffrey and Margaery's wedding in place of his brother, Prince Doran, who could not walk due to a bad case of gout. Yet, because it was publicly known who he supported and where he was, Prince Doran had instead opted to send his daughter Arianne to observe formalities. After all, as far as anyone knew, Dorne wasn't involved in the war. The knights called upon to take the Stormlands were loyal to Oberyn, and not entirely representative of the feelings of an entire kingdom.

The wedding had been a disaster for the crown, but a blessing to them. Joffrey had been poisoned, and while Tyrion and Sansa were both being accused of his murder, Littlefinger had taken Sansa from the city without being caught by the Lannisters. Brynhildr's patrols were still tight around the blackwater, and she doubted Littlefinger could evade them. He didn't know they'd be aware of him transporting Sansa; he'd probably have her hidden below deck anyway. He'd maybe assume his sweet words could talk him through the blockade, perhaps he'd even promise them an alliance with the Knights of the Vale. Her Valkyries would be quick to judge him, then.

Brynhildr had quickly sent a raven to Lady Olenna Tyrell, reminding her of the possibility for an alliance. She offered for Ser Loras to marry Daenerys and for Viserys to marry Margaery, as Viserys was still currently Daenerys's heir. One way or another, a Targaryen-Tyrell child would sit the Iron Throne.

Oberyn surmised Olenna would decline. Years ago, she'd found no interest in marrying Prince Daeron, brother of the second King Jaehaerys, and given their only major feats at present were taking Dragonstone and Storm's End from Stannis without public use of the dragons, he doubted that Olenna would be impressed. Most likely, Margaery would be offered as a bride to the boy Tommen. As weak as the capital would be for a brief moment, Tywin would quickly swoop in to take control. Tommen would give him greater leave than Joffrey would have.

It was a somewhat sad thing for Brynhildr, who'd heard of the Reachman Lord Randyll Tarly having defeated Robert in battle under support of the Targaryens. Yet, she knew Oberyn was right about Olenna's feelings on the matter. Perhaps she'd think differently later on– they may not look as promising now, but the tides would turn. If need be, they'd snuff out the Tyrell line for their refusal the same way Aegon destroyed the Gardeners.

The bells were rung when one of their ships passed below Storm's End, docking with a gleaming gold flag above the Valkyrie sails. A sign of victory. Brynhildr had arranged them all in the entrance hall as her trusted guards marched up to Storm's End the gagged and bound Littlefinger behind the young and scared Sansa.

"Lady Sansa," said Daenerys kindly as the girl approached nervously. She guided the others in curtsying or bowing their heads. "We are glad for your safe arrival. I am Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. My brother, Viserys of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone. Our mother, Valkyrie Commander Brynhildr Ragnarsdottir of House Lothbrok, our Queen Mother. My uncles, Captain Daario Naharis of the Stormcrows and Prince Oberyn Nymeros of House Martell, Commander of the Valkyries." She gestured to Aegon, who so far they'd still been introducing as, "Griff Connington and his lord father Jon Connington. You may have met Ser Jorah Mormont, and certainly Ser Barristan Selmy."

Sansa seemed a little more relaxed at the sight of the old knight's warm smile. "Hello," she said, looking around at them. "Your... Valkyries... explained to me that I was being brought here for safekeeping. To... avenge my family."

"Yes," said Brynhildr. "That will come in time. Before that, we simply wanted to get you away from bad influences." She glared in Littlefinger's direction. "Take him to the dungeons to rot. We'll give him some time to think about his choices before we let him see daylight again."

She stepped towards Sansa, who tensed ever so slightly. Brynhildr had not even worn her armor today– she donned instead a warm blue dress and instead of her battle braid, she'd chosen to leave her curls flowing freely. Brynhildr offered the girl her hand. "Come, my child. Let me show you where you'll be staying. Once you're settled in, we'll have supper together."

She escorted Sansa down the hall where the rest of them had settled in, a floor secured for the main family. "I know you," said Sansa quietly. "Or... about you. I've heard your name before."

"You have?" asked Brynhildr. "How? I met your father years ago at White Harbor but I hardly imagine he'd have mentioned our brief interaction to you or anyone. I was sorry to hear of his death."

"You gifted him a sword," recalled Sansa. "A beautiful one that almost looked like Valyrian steel. He gifted it to Robb when he finally became old enough to set down his sparring sword. He purchased from your company the warhammer King Robert wielded."

It surprised her to know Lord Eddard had ever mentioned her name in his household. Oberyn told her of a rumor that his bastard, Jon Snow, didn't even know the name of his mother, and that Lord Stark supposedly forbade the mention of Ashara Dayne's name after some talk that she was Jon's mother. Brynhildr couldn't imagine how her name graced the halls in such an environment– surely Lady Catelyn must have thought even once that perhaps Brynhildr was Jon's mother.

"He was a good man, your father," said Brynhildr solemnly. "Kind and humble, still brave and honest. He might've stood a chance of saving Robert from himself, had he not already dug his grave so deep upsetting the Lannisters and otherwise being... rash."

"Is it true you wished to ally with Robb?" asked Sansa, lip trembling as though she might cry. "I heard talk in the castle that the Dragon Queen sought an alliance with him."

"We did try, sweet child. It did not work in our favor. But I promise you..." She stopped walking and turned to kneel in front of Sansa. "I promise, truly, that we are going to set things right. I have a plan for the Boltons. You are going to remain safe here while I take my Valkyries to the Wall to aid your brother, Jon, against the wildlings. Soon enough after that, House Bolton will fall and we will bring you back to Winterfell. Daenerys will keep you company– I think the two of you will like each other."

Sansa stared down at her for a moment. "Why? Why all of this?"

"I would have rescued you even if there was no plan," assured Brynhildr. "From the moment I learned you were a hostage, I wanted to do something about that, for no one should suffer as you did. With Robb gone, you are your father's heir. We need an alliance with the North as much as the North will need an alliance with us. I knew Roose Bolton and I am sure if he would betray his liege lord, he is not an honorable man to be taking the seat of Winterfell. I will do right by your father and I will make you Queen in the North."

She began to tear up. The poor thing was fourteen years old, lost and afraid in a world that'd tortured her time and again. Brynhildr reached out to pull her into a hug. She knew it would take time for Sansa to feel alright again, but she trusted that the girl was Lord Stark's daughter through and through– she'd become confident in her role once she knew how much support she had.

Daenerys took charge of comforting Sansa the rest of the day. She introduced her to Fafnir, who was bonded well enough to let Sansa pet him. She linked her arm with Sansa's and toured her around Storm's End. They ate together and Daenerys showed Sansa the dresses she'd picked to be hers now, older garments that Daenerys had outgrown. Sansa was tall for her age, but it would be enough until they were able to retrieve other garments for her.

Brynhildr had her women, ships, and weapons ready to leave for Eastwatch within a few days. The last they heard from Varys was that Tyrion was now on trial for murder, but he hoped to smuggle him out (and himself, it seemed) to serve as Master of Coin for Daenerys and otherwise aid them in making further alliances. A letter had come via a little bird as well– Varys feigning support for the Lannisters– to reveal a royal pardon that'd been signed for Ser Jorah being a spy.

Viserys and Daenerys had been upset for many reasons. Mainly, because Jorah was a spy. Secondly, because their mother and uncles had not been the least bit surprised, admitting to them that they'd known it from the first. Brynhildr hadn't even wanted Jorah to come to them in the first place, until Varys pressed the issue and Oberyn had talked her into allowing it.

At any rate, there was nothing to be done about it. They confronted Ser Jorah– who'd never known of their awareness– and he'd apologized profusely, he swore he was loyal, and they knew it to be true, as Varys had stopped receiving letters from him long ago. For his penance, he'd be helping with repairs around the castle.

"Think of why it was done," said Brynhildr, standing with Daenerys at the entrance of Storm's End as she prepared to leave. "Lord Tywin wanted us to be fractured, but we were prepared. Don't worry, my tiniest love, we are not going to let anything or anyone ruin what we've been building."

"I wish you'd told me, Mother," said Daenerys honestly. "If I am Queen now, why could I not know?"

"Unfortunately, we needed to keep it between ourselves to ensure Jorah never found out. We didn't even tell Viserys, as you saw. There are certain things your Council may need to do to protect the peace that you may not be privy to right away. But I promise you from now on, we will tell you everything you must know. You are getting older, my girl. Every bit more a woman with each day you grow. I am proud of you. You've been a great comfort to Sansa and you've been leading well in fortifying Storm's End."

Brynhildr kissed Daenerys's forehead. "We'll see each other again soon. Let me handle these threats and, well, see what Melisandre has to say about them. As soon as we're done at the Wall, I'll send a raven."

With a small smile, Daenerys hugged her. Brynhildr drew away as Viserys arrived, and hugged her son as well. To her great surprise, Aegon came to say goodbye as well. Brynhildr traced her thumb over each of their foreheads in a protective rune, which Viserys returned to her. To Oberyn and Daario, she gave a firm kiss, tasking them with keeping the children safe.

Word was sent ahead to the Wall to inform of their arrival. Brynhildr stood on the deck, staring at the open ocean ahead, ships filled with more scorpion bolts, their horses, and even more of their hay-and-herb matted balls to be lobbed at the wildlings from atop the Wall.

Melisandre came to stand beside her, no longer chained. "I am glad you agreed to let me come along."

"If my daughter believes you were meant to join us, then I agree to that," said Brynhildr simply.

Melisandre's lips curled. "Tell me, Commander, have you heard the story of the Long Night?"

"Funnily enough, Roose Bolton told it to me," said Brynhildr. "During one of the many nights we lay tangled together. Oberyn and Daario each knew versions of the story as well. Demons called 'Others' or 'White Walkers' come from the Lands of Always Winter, dead men walking who raised other dead men– wights– to kill the living. The Night's Watch and the Wall were created to prevent them from entering the Seven Kingdoms. They say the Long Night lasted a generation and laid waste with famine and terror."

She nodded. "Yes. And I think there will soon come another. Azor Ahai will rise with his flaming sword Lightbringer to save our race from these demons. He is reborn again in your daughter, R'hllor's champion to bring the dawn and end the evil darkness that would descend upon our world. I sense there is something of importance on the Wall, something that will make this prophecy clearer."

Brynhildr pursed her lips, not at all liking how this sounded. It reminded her somewhat of Ragnarok, which didn't bring her any comfort. "You think this battle will be more important than any others we will fight?"

"It will be the Last War," confirmed Melisandre. "Your daughter is the Princess Who Was Promised, hers will the Song of Ice and Fire. Aegon Targaryen dreamt of this, from his blood would be born Azor Ahai to unite the realm against this great threat. Defeat death at its root."

It left a sour taste in Brynhildr's mouth. Melisandre glanced her way, as if to ask for input– ideas, thoughts, opinions. Nothing really came to Brynhildr's head– she didn't know enough and she almost wished not to learn more. Perhaps her gods had thought her fit for this battle as well. Even these few words left her chilled to the bone, for she had a bad feeling it was one of the truest things Melisandre had said.

"Then we will beat them back," said Brynhildr simply. "My father once said, 'I don't know how I am going to win. I just know I'm not going to lose.' We'll need to cling to that for this."

By week's end, they arrived at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, the Night's Watch men grateful for their coming. Commander Cotter Pyke was quick to give them passage through the castle, to ride along the end of the wall westbound to Castle Black.

The boys at Castle Black stared up at them as they rode in, already donning their war paint, black and red smears running around and down their eyes like bloody tears and ash caked from a fire. Brynhildr looked down at them, seeing no more than one hundred gathered in the yard. One of her captains snorted, "Á þessum hraða ætlum við að gera alla sína baráttu fyrir þá." (T: At this rate, we are going to do all their fighting for them.)

Brynhildr did not grin, faced against a slim and sharp-featured man with dark black eyes and a thin smile that bore them no true welcome. With a cold voice, he said, "Commander Lothbrok of the Valkyries."

"Ser Alliser Thorne," she said, slowing her horse to a stop and dismounting. She'd heard of him, a man who fought for House Targaryen during the Rebellion and was given the choice to die at Tywin Lannister's hands or take the black. He chose to live and serve. "I take it I am the only one who answered your summons."

"And we are the better for it," said a man who toddled up behind him, old, bald, wrinkled, shrunken, with a too-heavy Maester's chain dangling over his flimsy cloak.

To him, she bent the knee and stood again. "Maester Aemon, I am pleased to meet you."

"Not as pleased as I, my dear," said the maester kindly as he took her hands and caressed them. She imagined he must know about Daenerys and Viserys, perhaps even about young Aegon. "Your letter told us you will save the horses for an attack, yes?"

"Yes," she said. "My girls will handle filling your stables with what can fit. The rest, we'll make a place for outside the walls. I have brought with me archers to join your men on the Wall. Some of my girls will man scorpion bolts we've altered with an arrow tip covered in herbs and pitch, so we might set them aflame like the arrows. These are strong enough to rip through the ground and any men– we intend to aim them at the giants we see. We'll be pushing catapults to the base of the wall aimed for the forest, and we intend to set them aflame with the help of Melisandre of Asshai."

Ser Alliser seemed even less pleased as one of Brynhildr's captains offered Melisandre her hand to bring her down from her horse. The boys looked at her eagerly, the only one of them not donning face paint, ever so delicate-looking beneath her red robes. "Never thought I'd see a mercenary group aiding us here at the Wall," muttered Ser Alliser. "I trust you've brought tents to pitch?"

"Yes," said Brynhildr. "Don't worry, Ser Alliser, I wouldn't dream of sleeping within the walls of Castle Black. How ever will be guard you from there?"

Some of the boys glanced at each other and made faces as if they wished to laugh. Ser Alliser did not like this, but she glared at him beadily and warned him not to reply. He should be grateful for her help; could he really not muster up the slightest bit of genuine gratitude?

"I'd like to speak with Jon Snow," said Brynhildr as the Valkyries began to organize themselves, moving their supplies off their carts. "Privately."

One of the boys stepped up. He looked so much like his father, she didn't question it at all. He had the long face of the Starks, hair dark and eyes grey. "Commander," he said cordially, a white direwolf standing beside him.

Brynhildr smirked down at the direwolf, one of her captains giggling, "Það er hvítur Fenrir, sonur Loka og Angrboda."(T: It is a white Fenrir, son of Loki and Angrboda.) Brynhildr knelt down, offering her hand to the wolf with her palm turned towards herself. Jon gave a small nod, and the wolf approached, pressing his forehead into her knuckles.

She was allowed to stand in Ser Alliser's study, the boy and his wolf within. She told him quietly that Sansa was safe with her. She gave him the knowledge of a small piece of her plan. He began to try and ask more questions, but she put a finger over her lips and said, "I only wanted you to know. But for now, it is not what we are focusing on. You can think about that as we have our battle here."

It probably didn't please him to be treated like a boy, yet she did so not because of his age, but because of his inability to help them. He was sworn to the Night's Watch and would need to desert them to be of any use; she had heard Jon Snow was not the sort to do such things. If he was anything like his lord father, he'd appreciate knowing and accept that he could do no more than that for their cause.

She went to see Maester Aemon next, the man seated in his library. She sat with him and held his hands, she told him about her children and their dragons. It must have brought him some peace to know his brother's line had survived to some extent. He'd smiled, so genuinely, when she said that she believed Daenerys was the Princess Who Was Promised. Aemon did not doubt it, and she knew for all her worth, Melisandre was right about some things.

They had only a few days to prepare against the wildlings. Brynhildr and her captains moved up and down the Wall (magnificent it was, the greatest structure she'd ever seen to date, though the coldness did little to keep her beaming at it) assessing where they'd be positioned and determining how they ought to spread the scorpion bolts and barrels of pitch. They'd done the work of carting them all up there and then, while the men trained in the yard, the Valkyries pushed the catapults out the tunnel to the other side of the Wall.

The battle itself was not as exciting as Brynhildr would have hoped. She stood on the Wall with Melisandre, shouting commands to the archers and the Valkyries using the scorpion bolts, watching as Melisandre chanted to her Lord to keep their torches and arrows lit, and even to help light the balls for the catapults seven-hundred feet below.

They'd successfully used the bolts to pierce three giants and two wooly mammoths, something Brynhildr never thought she'd see. The remaining bolts and the projectiles helped incinerate the forest and bring down trees upon the wildlings, who retreated anyway as the sun rose again. One of her captains was proud to announce she'd killed a Thenn, a sort of wildling that practiced cannibalism.

Brynhildr didn't feel at ease; she stared as far beyond-the-Wall as her eyes could see, and she wondered about Melisandre's worries for the Long Night. What really lay out there? What battle would she need to bring here again, most likely with Daenerys, Viserys, and Aegon risking their lives on dragonback? How many Valkyries would she lose to the Others?

The next morning, knowing Mance intended for another attack, Jon pointed the way towards his camp. The horses were funneled through the tunnel and Brynhildr herself led them with their swords waving wild, stampeding through Mance's camp until Jon pointed Mance out to them. Him, they took captive, and almost immediately the other wildlings began to disperse– they had nothing left to unite them.

It dawned on Brynhildr that Mance Rayder had some things right in his beliefs. He did have things to worry about, what with all the wildling communities stuck beyond-the-Wall without protection from the Others. It made sense why he wanted to cross the Wall, though she knew the realm would never allow it in such great numbers, nor with Thenns and giants involved.

In the end, Melisandre put Mance Rayder at ease with a whisper in his ear before Ser Alliser beheaded him. She told Brynhildr that she'd sworn to him that she saw, in the flames, wildlings fighting alongside knights of the Seven Kingdoms to beat the Others.

Over their heads, Daenerys would fly on a dragon and deliver them all to safety.