Like the Dragonhorn and Lightbringer, Dany had seen Game of Thrones, yet had no impression of them at all.
The Horn of Winter, also known as "Joramun's Horn," is said in legend to have been blown by the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Joramun, to awaken the giants beneath the earth and, together with Brandon Stark, King in the North, put an end to the Second Long Night.
Yes, the Long Night has already happened twice.
The first occurred eight thousand years ago, when Azor Ahai sacrificed his wife to temper his blade, ending the Long Night with his flaming red sword.
The second also occurred eight thousand years ago—or maybe seven thousand nine hundred?
Well, it was said that a hundred years after Azor Ahai's death, the Others returned, and the Long Night descended upon the world once more.
Even if Maester Aemon had found records of the Second Long Night in the Night's Watch archives, Dany remained skeptical. The interval between the two Long Nights was simply too short—it felt like a joke.
More absurd was the Night's Watch's ancient records, which claimed that the second Night King was a Stark—the 13th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.
He married a woman with skin as pale as moonlight, eyes like blue stars, and a touch as cold as ice.
Uh, he married an Other. Most likely a female Other.
That Stark might be the most badass man in all of A Song of Ice and Fire—even legendary lovers like Xu Xian and Ning Caichen pale in comparison. Marrying snakes or ghosts? Please. He married an Other!
The Others' icy cold touch can shatter Valyrian steel, yet his sword remained intact.
In short, the second Night King was powerful. It took both Joramun and the King in the North to subdue the chaos he caused.
Hmm, compared to the first Long Night that swept across the entire world, the second Night King seems much weaker. But compared to a typical rebellion by a Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, he was terrifyingly strong.
Alright, getting off track.
It's said that Joramun's Horn could summon giants—and even bring down the Wall.
Dany didn't believe it, nor did the Night's Watch or Stannis.
But Mance Rayder did. The wildlings did.
They went on a tomb-raiding frenzy at Frostfangs, hoping to find Joramun's grave and the buried horn.
And Mance really did find a horn—bigger than the Dragonhorn, with curved lines nearly two and a half meters long. It seemed to be made from an aurochs' horn—what kind of monstrous aurochs must that have been?
You could fit an elbow into the bell of the horn. Its surface was inlaid with rusted golden runes—magical runes of the First Men.
The horn became Stannis's war trophy. Dany had seen it with her own eyes when it was carried through the gate that day.
Before she even thought of borrowing it for study, the Red Woman set it ablaze, burning it into a twisted lump of gold and black ash.
Melisandre claimed it wasn't the true Horn of Winter, but it bore the taint of the false god and had to be purified.
Back then, Dany hadn't yet learned the incomplete greenseer meditation and didn't think much of it.
But now, she wanted to curse out loud: Damn it, what a waste!
"That was a fake. I never found Joramun's tomb. The horn was buried with a giant king," said Mance.
"What did it do?" Dany asked curiously.
"No idea. Even giants couldn't blow it—it's too big."
"It's not just big. Blowing that horn must require certain conditions… The seven hells!" Dany suddenly shouted, glaring at Mance. "You found a lot of tombs? Even giant corpses?"
"What's wrong?" Mance asked, confused.
"You're asking me what's wrong? Damn it! The Free Folk practice burial customs. After thousands of years, how many graves and corpses must have piled up?" Dany said, her face darkening.
"Uh, the Others wouldn't dig up all the graves for corpses, right?" Mance asked nervously.
"You think the Others are idiots?" Dany shot him a sideways glance and countered.
"Your Grace, Westeros also practices burial," Ser Barristan added anxiously. "And noble coffins are rarely buried underground—they're usually stored in family crypts. Under the Great Sept of Baelor alone are hundreds, maybe thousands of remains—kings, High Septons, and great lords."
Dany let out a long breath and sighed. "Thankfully, the Targaryens always practiced cremation. If the Others ever sneaked past the Wall, we wouldn't have to worry about fighting our ancestors."
Barristan turned green.
His cousins, uncles, father, and grandfather were all neatly laid out together in the Harvest Hall crypt!
"Huh? Where's my raven?" Dany asked, lifting her bag and turning to the White Knight.
"What raven?" Barristan looked blank.
"The one I brought back from the apple grove near Crown Town that evening. The one with red eyes, big as a duck," Dany said, gesturing.
"Oh, that raven." The old knight recalled. He shook his head. "I don't know. What use is a dead raven?"
"That wasn't an ordinary raven—it had strong magic inside it. Trading it with someone supernatural would've fetched a better price than a dwarf's manhood."
"Uh…" Barristan's mouth twitched.
Nearby, Grenn, who was assigned to watch over Mance, mumbled, "The raven… I think Sam ate it."
"What?" Dany was shocked.
Grenn looked embarrassed. "You said you hunted a raven near Crown Town… We thought it was game you caught, so we sent it to the kitchen. 'Three-Finger' Hob cooked it—raven stew with mushrooms.
But you didn't eat dinner that night. After the wildling cremation, you immediately led the suicide squad into the Haunted Forest.
Then we stayed up all night watching you fight the Others under the Wall.
Sam got hungry and went to the kitchen. He… ate your raven."
"Did you eat any of it?" Dany looked at him suspiciously.
"I…" Grenn's face turned red and he nodded lightly. "Just one leg."
"Tastes good?"
"Very good. Nice and chewy," Grenn nodded repeatedly.
"Do you believe in the Old Gods?" Dany asked curiously.
"I believe in the Seven, but Sam switched to the Old Gods after coming to the Wall. Why do you ask?" Grenn asked, puzzled.
"No reason, no reason," Dany shook her head, holding back a laugh. "Grenn, go get Sam. I have something to ask him."
Before long, chubby sausage-like Sam arrived.
He had been on the fifth floor, chatting with Gilly—the wildling girl and Craster's daughter.
Yes, Gilly was staying with Dalla, Mance's wife.
"Your Grace, the crow stew with mushrooms has gone cold, and the grease has congealed. It won't taste good after sitting overnight. I thought you wouldn't want it anymore." Sam had already heard about the crow stew from Grenn on the way over. Now, his round, pale face looked like a squished white bread roll, full of anxiety, almost on the verge of tears.
"It's not about the stew," Dany looked around, said a brief goodbye to Mance and Val, and took Sam alone to the wooden zigzag stairway between the Wall and the King's Tower. She asked in a low voice, "How did you get through the Wall?"
"What?" The sudden change of topic left Sam bewildered.
"You and Gilly passed through a secret passage to enter Nightfort, right? What's the secret of that tunnel?"
Dany stared intently into his small gray eyes, which flickered with panic and fear, silently pressuring him.
"Gulp." Sam swallowed hard and said with a distressed look, "Your Grace, I really can't say. That's a Night's Watch secret. No one else can know."
"Hmph, if even a wildling girl knows the secret, why can't a queen of the First Men, the Rhoynar, and the Andals know it too?"
Without waiting for Sam's consent, she ordered Ser Barristan to push him up the zigzagging wooden steps. At the top of the Wall, a few black brothers were huddled behind the windbreak, warming themselves by the fire.
Jon, Maester Aemon, Bowen Marsh, Ser Alliser, and Maester Pylos.
"You've all come to see Maester Aemon off?" Dany asked, eyeing them.
"Can't it wait until morning? It's pitch black and freezing out," Jon frowned.
Dany waved at the sky, and with a screeching cry, two dragons appeared in silhouette under the silver crescent moon, soaring toward them from afar.
"To dragons, there's no difference between day and night."
Then, she turned her serious gaze to the brothers again and said, "You should elect a new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch soon. Only the Lord Commander has the authority to deal with Stannis and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms."
"Yes. In a few days, once Ser Melisandre deals with the wildlings near the Milkwater, we'll hold the election immediately," Bowen Marsh replied.
"Screech—" The two dragons flapped their wings and gracefully landed on the gravel path.
Dany walked up to the white dragon and, to everyone's bewilderment, tied a rope around Sam's waist.
"Sam is coming west with me for a task. Don't worry, he'll be back before morning," she said with an odd smile.
On the other side, Ser Barristan helped the elderly Maester Aemon onto the back of the big black dragon, padding the saddle with thick sheepskin and securing him with leather straps.
"Maester Pylos, the Wall is in your hands now," Aemon entrusted him.
"Understood," the red-nosed maester nodded.
Maester Aemon looked around the Wall with a nostalgic gaze and sighed, "I wonder if I'll ever return. I've spent sixty or seventy years here—most of my life."
"Farewell, everyone. If anything happens, send a raven to Dragonstone." Waving goodbye to the others, Dany slowly took off riding the white dragon.
"Aaaaah!" Poor Sam dangled beneath the dragon, swinging wildly with no foothold, flailing his limbs and howling miserably.
Nightfort was located forty kilometers west of Castle Black, and from the name alone, one could tell its importance among the Wall's castles.
In fact, Nightfort was the very first castle built on the Wall—and also the largest. At first, it served as the headquarters of the Night's Watch.
But after the incident with the Rat Cook, even the Lord Commanders began to avoid the place, moving their headquarters to Castle Black.
From west to east: Nightfort → Deep Lake → Queensgate → Castle Black.
The dragons flew west along the Wall. About half an hour later, a sprawling dark structure emerged under the moonlight.
The white dragon circled above a ruined tower as Sam cried hoarsely below.
The quiet night, the eerie and crumbling black towers, jagged stones, overgrown weeds, and tangled shrubs in the courtyard—all came together to form a surreal, haunting "Castle in the Moonlight" scene.
Finally, they found a relatively flat spot where the white dragon gently landed with flapping wings. With a thud and a groan, Sam hit the ground.
Old Maester Aemon trembled as he climbed off the black dragon's back, leaning against its warm wing bone. He sighed in amazement, "I never thought I'd ride a dragon. It's overwhelming. And just like the legends say, no matter how cold the weather is, you never feel it while riding a dragon."
"Heh, we still have thousands of miles to go. You'll be riding until you're sick of it," Dany laughed.
"No. I could never get sick of riding a dragon," Maester Aemon said earnestly, then looked around in confusion, "Is this the Nightfort? Dany, what are we doing here?"
"You'll have to ask the fat one."
(End of Chapter)
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09