Sam: The Thousand-Mile Journey with Books from The Citadel to Winterfell
The leaden-gray sky of The Citadel still weighed on his memory, but the soles of Samwell Tarly's boots were already caked with the frozen earth of Westeros. He rode a scrawny, piebald horse, and the book chest on his back was wrapped in three layers of waxed canvas—inside, it held the parchment original of 'Records of Ancient White Walkers,' its edges slightly curled from the candles of The Citadel, with a few dried ice core fragments folder ed between the pages, which he had casually picked up from the underground mines of The Citadel. Now, they gently rubbed against the pages with the horse's every jolt.
"Just a little further, we're almost at Winterfell," Sam patted the horse's neck, the white breath from its nostrils instantly dissipating in the cold wind. It was early autumn when he left The Citadel, but now fine snow was falling in Westeros. His wool cloak was already stiff from the wind and snow, and the Maester's badge (a bronze key and book) sewn onto his collar had lost its luster, only glinting with a faint metallic coldness under the snow.
This journey was more perilous than expected. On the third day after leaving Oldtown, he encountered a small group of wights at the edge of the Riverlands—not the elite forces under the Night King, but ordinary villagers' corpses infected by the ice mist, their fingernails black and blue, their throats emitting a 'ho-ho' gasping sound. Sam's sword was still dangling by his saddle, and almost instinctively, he pulled a jar of dragonglass fire oil (a fire-resistant oil used by The Citadel Maesters to preserve ancient books, mixed with a small amount of dragonglass powder) from the side pocket of his book chest. He splashed it onto the wights, and the moment the tinder ignited, green flames shot up half a zhang high, sizzling as they burned the wights' bones.
"So dragonglass fire oil really works," Sam collapsed in the snow, watching the ashes of the burned oil, his fingers unconsciously caressing the book chest—inside, 'Records of Ancient White Walkers' remained safe and sound. The title on the cover, written in Old Valyrian, "Ἀρχαία τῶν Πνευμάτων του Κρύου" (Ancient Scrolls of the Cold Spirits), had been translated for him by Dr. Marwyn, the oldest Maester at The Citadel. The old man had pointed to the title with his withered finger: "This is not an ordinary record of White Walkers; it was written by the Children of the Forest in the language of the first men. It holds the secrets of the cold god."
At this moment, the horse's hooves suddenly changed rhythm, and two familiar tracks appeared in the snow ahead—left by a patrol of Northern Soldiers. Fresh horse dung, still faintly steaming, clung to the edges of the tracks. Sam's spirits lifted. He pulled out the bronze token Jon had given him earlier (a Night's Watch token engraved with a Direwolf pattern) from his chest and held it above his head. Sure enough, soon after, three rangers in black leather armor emerged from the woods. The leader was Carter, an old Night's Watch veteran. When he saw Sam, his cloudy eyes lit up: "Maester Sam! Lord Jon said you would come, but I didn't expect you so soon!"
"I didn't dare to delay on the way," Sam dismounted, his legs so numb he nearly fell. Carter quickly steadied him. "The book... I brought the book," Sam said, pointing to the book chest on his back, his voice trembling slightly, "'Records of Ancient White Walkers' from The Citadel, and a map of the underground dragonglass mine. Dr. Marwyn said these can help us fight the White Walkers... no, fight the cold god."
Carter's expression grew serious. He waved the other two rangers to take Sam's horse and took the book chest himself: "Lord Jon and Lord Illyrio are both at Winterfell. Lady Sansa specifically instructed that when you arrived, you should be taken directly to the Godswood—Bran has been saying recently that 'an important book is coming,' and it seems this is it."
On the way to Winterfell, Sam couldn't help but ask about the battle situation in Winterfell. Carter sighed, kicking a frozen wight bone on the ground with his boot: "The Night King has retreated, but the city hasn't recovered yet. The Unsullied are burning bodies, Northern women are sewing body bags. Yesterday, a child picked up a piece of ice shard in the square, and after holding it for a while, his fingers turned black. The Grand Maester said it was the cold left by the Night King." He paused, looking at Sam, "Can the book you brought really solve these problems?"
Sam clutched the dragonglass fragments in his hand, their coolness seeping through his fingertips, reminding him of Dr. Marwyn's words: "the cold god is not the White Walkers; the White Walkers are merely his pawns. The book says that the Night King's ice core is a 'fragment of the cold god's vessel.' As long as the fragments remain, the cold god can continue to control the Night King..." Before he finished speaking, Winterfell's walls appeared in the snow mist. The pointed tops of the weirwood trees in the Godswood were faintly visible behind the walls, and Bran's wheelchair was silhouetted beneath the thickest weirwood.
Sam: Initial Revelation of Documents in the Godswood
The snow in the Godswood was thinner than outside; the branches of the weirwood blocked most of the wind and snow. Among the fallen branches and leaves on the ground, faint tracks from Bran's wheelchair remained. Bran heard footsteps and slowly opened his eyes, his gaze accurately falling on the book chest in Sam's hand: "Did you bring 'Records of Ancient White Walkers'?"
"Yes, Young Master Bran," Sam quickly untied the canvas and opened the book chest—inside, besides 'Records of Ancient White Walkers,' there were a dozen rolls of auxiliary documents from The Citadel, a scroll-wrapped map of the dragonglass mine, and a clay pot containing dragonglass powder. He carefully took out 'Records of Ancient White Walkers'; the parchment trembled slightly in the cold wind. The first men's script on it, written with ink mixed from charcoal and dragonblood, was still clearly visible after thousands of years.
"Dr. Marwyn helped me translate most of it," Sam knelt beside Bran, pointing to the opening illustration, "Look, this is the cold god drawn by the Children of the Forest—it's not in human form, but a black shadow wrapped in ice mist, holding an ice staff. Many 'small shadows' hang from the staff; Marwyn said those are the White Walker Generals controlled by the cold god."
Bran's fingertips lightly brushed the illustration, and weirwood sap condensed into dark red specks on his fingers: "I've seen him in my Greensight, on the ice plains of the far north, even larger than in the illustration. Within the ice mist, countless pairs of eyes are visible, all souls he has devoured." He paused, "Does the book say what the Night King's ice core fragments are for?"
Sam turned to the third volume of the book, pointing to a crooked passage: "It says here, 'When the ice core shatters, the cold seed sprouts'—if the Night King's ice core comes into contact with the blood of a living person, it will plant a 'cold seed' within that person, turning them into a new White Walker General, and their power will be even greater than the original Night King." His voice was tight, "Dr. Marwyn said that when we assassinated the Night King, the ice core shattered into seven fragments. At least three are now unaccounted for. Once the cold god finds them, he can create seven new 'Night Kings.'"
"I saw one," Bran suddenly said, a faint green mist rising in his eyes, "in the ice lake beyond the Wall, surrounded by a pack of Direwolves. The wolves' eyes have already turned blue—they are guarding the fragment, waiting for the cold god to retrieve it." He looked at Sam, "Does the book say how to completely destroy the ice core fragments?"
Sam quickly turned to the last volume of the book; the text here was water-damaged and somewhat blurry. He moistened a finger with saliva and gently wiped the page: "Yes... it says here, 'dragonflame melts its surface, holy fire burns its core, dragonglass restrains its spirit'—it requires dragonflame, the holy fire of the lord of light, and dragonglass simultaneously to completely destroy the ice core fragments. One less, and it won't work." He paused, "Dr. Marwyn also said that The Citadel has an underground dragonglass mine that extends further than we thought, all the way to the port of Oldtown. The dragonglass in the mine is of very high purity, enough to forge a hundred thousand weapons."
At this moment, the footsteps of Illyrio and Jon came from outside the Godswood. Illyrio had just come from the Forge, his hands still stained with dragonglass powder. Seeing the book in Sam's hand, he immediately quickened his pace: "Sam, you're finally here! Bran said the book you brought can unlock the secret of the Night King's resurrection."
Jon walked to Bran's side, knelt down, and touched his forehead: "How are you feeling? Lyra just said you used your Greensight again." Bran shook his head, pointing to 'Records of Ancient White Walkers': "The contents of the book match my Greensight. the cold god is awakening in the far north and is absorbing the power of the ice core fragments. We don't have much time left."
Bran: the cold god's Awakening in Greensight
Sam's voice was still in his ears, but Bran's consciousness had drifted to the ice plains of the far north. In the world of Greensight, there was no wind or snow, only boundless white—the ice plain was like a giant frozen iron, with pale blue cold seeping from its cracks. Each crack was connected to an "eye," which were souls frozen by the cold god, gently trembling beneath the ice.
the cold god's figure was in the center of the ice plain, even larger than Sam described. Within its body of ice mist, countless tiny ice shards rotated, each shard a swallowed memory—there were hunting scenes of the first men, sacrificial rituals of the Children of the Forest, and images of Targaryen ancestors fighting on dragons. Its "hand" held an ice staff, at the top of which was embedded a pale blue crystal larger than the Night King's ice core. Seven faint lights flickered within the crystal—those were the locations of the seven ice core fragments.
"Found them..." Bran's consciousness moved with one of the lights, seeing the first fragment in the ice lake beyond the Wall, guarded by three blue-eyed Direwolves. Thick ice crust covered the wolves' fur, and the cold air they exhaled could freeze the air. The second fragment was beneath the cliffs of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, surrounded by a group of ice sea monsters. The monsters' tentacles swayed in the icy water, and the suckers on their tentacles still clung to pieces of Night's Watch broken swords. The third fragment was the most dangerous, beneath The Cold God's Altar on the Arctic ice plain, slowly being enveloped by the cold god's ice mist. The ice layer around the fragment had already begun to melt, revealing the black soil beneath—that was an ancient burial ground of the Children of the Forest, with dragonglass spears still buried in the soil.
the cold god suddenly "looked" in Bran's direction, and a crack opened in its face of ice mist. The cold air that spewed out instantly froze Bran's consciousness. Bran felt a violent pain, as if countless ice needles were piercing his brain. He wanted to withdraw but was entangled by the cold god's power—the cold god's consciousness was trying to penetrate his body through the Greensight connection, attempting to seize his "Greenseer" ability.
"Bran!" Jon's voice was like a light, pulling Bran's consciousness back. Bran suddenly opened his eyes, blood foam with ice crystals spilling from the corner of his mouth. Lyra quickly wiped it away with a wool cloth, but found pale blue cold still lingering in his pupils. "the cold god... is looking for me," Bran's voice was very soft, like a dry leaf in the wind, "He wants to see the location of all living people through me... The dragonglass mine in the book must be exploited as quickly as possible. We need enough weapons to stop his new White Walkers."
Illyrio knelt beside Bran, pulling a dragonglass fragment (picked up when the Night King was assassinated) from his chest and placing it in Bran's palm: "Dr. Marwyn said dragonglass can suppress the cold god's power. Hold this and don't use your Greensight again. We'll deal with him together when we're ready." He turned to Sam, "How many people are needed to mine the dragonglass at The Citadel? We now have Northern blacksmiths and Unsullied miners. Can we send people to The Citadel to help establish a weapon Forge?"
Sam nodded, taking out the dragonglass mine map from the book chest and spreading it on the snow: "Dr. Marwyn has already marked the mine entrance for us, it's under The Citadel's 'Old Library.' There are existing tunnels there; we just need to clear some rubble. For the Forge, there are many empty warehouses at the port of Oldtown that can be used to forge weapons. The Citadel's Maesters can also help improve dragonglass weapons—for example, by wrapping the spear tips with a layer of r'hllor powder, which would be more effective in killing White Walkers."
Illyrio: Emergency Adjustment of Alliance Strategy
The snow in the Godswood grew heavier. Illyrio, Jon, Sam, and Bran gathered around the map. Snowflakes fell on the parchment, quickly melting from their body heat, leaving faint watermarks on the surface. Illyrio traced the dragonglass mine on the map with his finger: "The Citadel's mine must be activated as soon as possible. I suggest a two-step approach: First, send a small team with Sam back to The Citadel to assist Dr. Marwyn in clearing the tunnels and establishing a temporary Forge, to first forge a batch of dragonglass weapons and send them to the North and the southern forces. Second, have the commander of Dragonstone transport dragonglass from Dragonstone's mine to support The Citadel, ensuring both mines operate simultaneously."
Jon frowned, looking at Bran: "The North needs dragonglass weapons now. The Night's Watch at the Wall only has half their dragonglass arrows left. If the cold god sends new White Walkers, we might not be able to hold them off." He paused, "I can send three hundred Night's Watchmen with Sam to The Citadel. They are familiar with underground tunnels and can clear rubble quickly. In addition, I'll send fifty blacksmiths to assist in forging weapons."
"The southern forces also need dragonglass," Illyrio added. "Euron's fleet includes Golden Company soldiers. They might not know how to deal with White Walkers, but Cersei and Qyburn are definitely researching it—Qyburn tried to steal dragonglass from Dragonstone before, to make weapons against us. We must be faster than them, and equip the southern forces with dragonglass weapons to prevent encountering soldiers infected by the cold god."
Sam then remembered something and pulled out an auxiliary document from his book satchel: "There's also important information here. 'The Records of the Ancient White Walkers' says that the cold god fears 'the lord of light's holy fire.' Red Priests/Priestesses can summon 'Children of Light' through holy fire to temporarily block the cold god's chill. Dr. Marwyn said that the Red Priestess Melisandre might be in the Free Cities in the east. We can send someone to find her and ask her to assist us—she helped Stannis before, and Jon too, so she should be willing to help."
"I'll go find her." A voice suddenly came from outside the Godswood, it was Jorah Mormont. He had just come from the stables, still carrying the scent of saddle leather. "I'm familiar with the eastern Free Cities, and Melisandre knows me, so she won't be wary of me. Daenerys and Illyrio will command the southern forces. I'll go invite Melisandre, which will allow me to assist both sides."
Illyrio nodded. Jorah's experience was indeed suitable for this task: "How many people do you need? You might encounter Euron's patrols and wights infected by the cold god on the way." Jorah smiled and patted the sword at his waist: "I'll take ten Dothraki Riders, and some dragonglass fire oil. That should be enough. Also, I'll stop by Riverrun along the way to tell Arya our plan and have her watch out for Qyburn's people—Sam said Qyburn is looking for dragonglass, so there might be their scouts near Riverrun."
Bran spoke then: "Jorah, you must be careful on the way. the cold god's chill has already spread to the Riverlands. My Greensight shows that half of the rivers there are frozen, and there's 'something' moving under the ice." He paused, "Also, Melisandre might be in Braavos. She had a past conflict with the Faceless Men, so when you find her, tell her not to act alone."
Jorah nodded and turned to prepare his gear. Illyrio continued to look at the map, drawing a line between The Citadel and Winterfell with a charcoal pencil: "Sam, you'll go with Jorah for a while, then separate in the Riverlands—Jorah to Braavos, and you to The Citadel. Let Jorah's Riders protect you along the way; The Citadel's mines cannot be without you." He paused, took out a dragonblood jade pendant from his Pregnant (Daenerys gave it to him, saying it could ward off the chill) and handed it to Sam. "Take this with you. Dr. Marwyn said dragonblood can suppress the cold god's power, and this pendant has been soaked in dragonblood, it can help you ward off the chill on the way."
Sam took the pendant. Its warmth radiated through his fingertips, reminding him of his days at The Citadel—back then, he was always mocked by the other maesters as "fat as a pig," and only Dr. Marwyn was willing to teach him ancient languages. Now, he could finally do something useful for the Night's Watch and for Winterfell. "I will get The Citadel's Forges/Blacksmith's Shops running as soon as possible," Sam's voice became much firmer. "In less than half a month, the first batch of dragonglass weapons will be delivered to the North."
Jon patted Sam's shoulder: "Thank you for your hard work, Sam. When this is over, I'll treat you to the best ale in Winterfell." He turned to Illyrio, "I've already arranged for the Night's Watch in the North. They'll depart with Sam and Jorah tomorrow morning. Also, the reinforcement of the Wall is still ongoing. I've asked Lord Mormont to take two thousand Northern Soldiers to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to see if they can find the second ice core fragment—Bran said the fragment is below the cliff, and we must destroy it as soon as possible, we cannot let the cold god get it."
Illyrio nodded, his gaze sweeping over the weirwood in the Godswood: "Now we have three tasks: first, to mine dragonglass and establish weapon forges; second, to find and destroy the ice core fragment; and third, to invite Melisandre to assist in fighting the cold god. None of these tasks can be delayed; the cold god has given us little time." He paused and looked at Bran, "Bran, try to use your Greensight as little as possible to conserve your strength. We need your Greensight to locate the remaining ice core fragments, we cannot afford for anything to happen to you."
Bran nodded, tightening his grip on the dragonglass fragment in his palm. The coolness of the fragment cleared his mind somewhat. Snow was still falling, a thin layer of snow accumulated on the branches and leaves of the weirwood, as if wrapping the ancient tree in a white cloak. Illyrio stood up and brushed the snow from his clothes: "I'll go tell Daenerys to adjust her southern plan—we need to ensure the safety of the North before heading south, otherwise, being attacked from both front and back would be even more dangerous."
Jon and Sam also stood up. Sam carefully put 'The Records of the Ancient White Walkers' and the map back into his book satchel, re-wrapping them in canvas. "I'll go pack up; we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning," Sam said, his voice no longer timid, but with a newfound determination. Jon remained in the Godswood, accompanying Bran, watching the snowflakes fall on Bran's wheelchair, silently praying in his heart—praying that they could find the ice core fragment soon, praying that The Citadel's dragonglass mine could be successfully exploited, praying that Melisandre could arrive in time, praying that this time, they could truly stop the cold god's advance.
Daenerys: Weighing and Compromising on the Southern Plan
In the Winterfell council hall, the fireplace fire burned brighter than yesterday, and the scent of burning pine wood filled the air. Daenerys sat in the main seat, holding the excerpt from 'The Records of the Ancient White Walkers' that Illyrio had just brought, her brows slightly furrowed—the excerpt stated, "the cold god awakens in three months; after three months, the ice will advance south." Dr. Marwyn's annotation was written in red ink beside it: "This is a conservative estimate. If the ice core fragments are all gathered, the cold god may awaken earlier."
"You mean we have to postpone going south?" Daenerys looked up at Illyrio, who stood opposite her. "Cersei's wildfire is still in King's Landing, Euron's fleet has blockaded Blackwater Bay. The longer we delay, the more prepared Cersei will be."
"I'm not suggesting a postponement, but an adjustment." Illyrio walked to the map and drew a circle between the North and the Riverlands with charcoal. "We can go south in two batches: The first batch, led by Jaime and Tyrion, will take the Lannister remnants and two thousand Unsullied to rendezvous with Arya in Riverrun, clear out Qyburn's people, and protect Riverrun's food supplies—that's our essential route south, and it cannot be destroyed by Qyburn. The second batch, led by you and me, will take the remaining Unsullied and Dothraki Riders to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to assist Jon in finding the ice core fragment. Once the fragment is destroyed, we will then head south to meet Jaime."
He paused, pointing to The Citadel on the map: "Additionally, Sam and Jorah will depart tomorrow to The Citadel to mine dragonglass and invite Melisandre. We need to wait until the first batch of dragonglass weapons is delivered before we can fully commit to going south—without enough dragonglass weapons, we would have to fight both Cersei's army and guard against the cold god's White Walkers, and our chances of victory would be too small."
Daenerys was silent for a moment, her finger tracing lightly over the excerpt—the "three-month deadline" was like a thorn in her heart. She remembered Viserys's madness before his death on Dragonstone, Drogon's wounds from being scratched by the Ice Dragon, and the child in Winterfell's square last night whose fingers turned black from holding an ice shard. "You're right," Daenerys finally spoke, her voice laced with a hint of compromise. "The safety of the North is more important than going south. If the cold god awakens early, even if we take King's Landing, we will be devoured by the White Walkers."
She looked up at Illyrio, a flicker of determination in her eyes: "We'll proceed with your plan. Jaime and Tyrion will depart tomorrow. Have them take dragonglass fire oil and the existing dragonglass weapons. Tell Arya to wait in Riverrun; we'll come for her after we've dealt with matters in the North." She paused. "Also, have Grey Worm leave a thousand Unsullied to assist Jon in reinforcing the Wall and guarding the North—the Unsullied are highly disciplined and can be very helpful."
Illyrio nodded, a sigh of relief escaping him—he knew how much Daenerys cared about going south to confront Cersei, and getting her to adjust the plan was a significant compromise. "I will notify Jaime and Tyrion immediately," Illyrio said. "Also, Bran said the ice core fragment at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea is beneath the cliff, guarded by ice sea monsters. We need to bring some soldiers skilled in naval combat, and a dragon—Drogon's dragonflame can burn the ice sea monsters and help us retrieve the fragment."
"I will have Drogon accompany us to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea," Daenerys said. "Rhaegal can go with Jaime to Riverrun first. There are rivers near Riverrun, and Rhaegal's dragonflame can help them clear out Qyburn's people and deter Euron's patrols." She paused, looking out the window. Snow was still falling. In Winterfell's square, soldiers had already begun packing their bags, preparing for tomorrow's departure—some to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, some to Riverrun, some to The Citadel. Everyone had their own mission, and everyone was striving to protect this land.
Illyrio walked over to Daenerys and gently took her hand—her hand was a bit cold, but firm. "We will win," Illyrio's voice was soft, yet powerful. "With dragonglass weapons, with Melisandre's holy fire, with Bran's Greensight, and with so many people willing to fight, we can stop the cold god and take King's Landing."
Daenerys looked up at Illyrio, a smile flashing in her eyes—it was the first time she had truly smiled since the Night King's retreat. "I know," Daenerys said, "because we are not fighting for power, not for the throne, but for those who do not want to be devoured by White Walkers, who do not want to be burned by wildfire, and to ensure that Westeros no longer has war, no longer has fear."
The fire in the fireplace crackled, casting their shadows on the stone wall, pressed closely together. The snow outside gradually lessened, and moonlight pierced through the clouds, spilling onto Winterfell's walls, coating the cold stones with a faint silver glow. Tomorrow would be a new day, a new battle was about to begin, but this time, they were not fighting alone, because they had each other, they had alliances, and they had the courage and hope to fight against the darkness.
Sam: Citadel Memories Before Departure
Before bed, Sam opened his book satchel in his Winterfell guest room and reread 'The Records of the Ancient White Walkers'. By the light of the candle, he saw Dr. Marwyn's small pencil-written note on the last page: "Sam, remember, knowledge is not for collecting, it is for saving. The old fogeys at The Citadel don't understand, but you do, because you've seen White Walkers, seen the Night King, seen those who died protecting."
Sam's eyes welled up, remembering how, at The Citadel, Dr. Marwyn had argued with The Citadel's "Conclave" for three days to help him obtain 'The Records of the Ancient White Walkers'—the old maesters of the Conclave believed "White Walkers are just legends" and were unwilling to let precious ancient texts leave The Citadel. It was Dr. Marwyn who gambled his "historical research rights" to get permission to take the book.
"I won't let you down, Doctor," Sam whispered, putting the book back in his satchel and carefully folding the dragonglass mine map, placing it in his inner pocket. He touched the dragonblood jade pendant Illyrio had given him; its warmth radiated through his clothes, reminding him of tomorrow's journey—departing with Jorah, going to the Riverlands, to The Citadel, to open the dragonglass mine, to prepare to fight the cold god.
Outside the window, soldiers' singing drifted in, an ancient Northern song, the lyrics roughly meaning "snow will melt, fire will burn, heroes will return." Sam walked to the window, looking at the bonfire in the square. By the bonfire, Jon was giving instructions to the old Night's Watch veterans. Illyrio and Daenerys stood side by side beneath the castle wall. Drogon's shadow appeared exceptionally large in the moonlight, while Rhaegal circled in the distant sky, occasionally letting out a low dragon roar.
Sam clenched his fists, silently repeating Dr. Marwyn's words: "Knowledge is for saving." He knew that he was carrying not just a book, a map, but the hope of fighting the cold god, the future of Westeros. Tomorrow, he would set out with this hope, to The Citadel, to mine dragonglass, to help forge weapons, to buy more time for those who were still waiting.
The snow had completely stopped, and the moonlight illuminated every corner of Winterfell, as well as the path in Sam's heart. He closed the window, returned to his bed, placed his book satchel by the bedside, and closed his eyes—tomorrow would be a new beginning, a battle of knowledge, courage, and hope, about to officially unfold in The Citadel's underground mines, beneath the cliffs of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and by the rivers of Riverrun.