Chapter 2: The Grimes of Harrenhal
"Not in America? What do you mean?" Rick asked. The day had already started out quite stressfully, with Alexandria's community hall being a Who's Who list of what's left of civilization as Rick and his fellow leaders argued over every minute detail of how to link up their communities. Rick the war hero was clearly top of the pecking order, yet while few even thought of openly defying the man, there were so many ways to misinterpret, delay, or even outright ignore… Rick knew the drill all too well.
Then there's what to do with Carl. The boy's disillusionment with school, which was always present since the world all but ended, had never really recovered in the few months following the war as it 'isn't useful enough'. Worse still, Carl's starting to entertain the notion of doing an apprenticeship and learning a trade. No, that won't do, Rick thought. He's still a few years too young.
The new arrival hadn't been easy to deal with either. Sure, she was clearly a tired woman trying to keep her son safe, yet Rick couldn't help but feel that she had something to hide. From the way she glared at him, to how certain words froze at the tip of her tongue. Maybe having somebody else interview her would let him get to the bottom of this.
And now, things turned from stressful to truly bizarre.
Eugene mopped his greasy forehead with an even greasier handkerchief. "What I mean, Rick, is that we've just experienced an ISOT event. This happens when the space-time continuum is disrupted by -"
"In plain English, please," Rick interrupted. "We ain't got time to decipher your speech."
Taking the two books back from Rick, Eugene strode over to a table and laid them side by side. He placed his folded handkerchief on one of the covers. "Treat these two books as different worlds. An ISOT event is when land in this world, and everything on it, are somehow moved -" the handkerchief was now moved to the other book cover "- to this one. Obviously due to conservation of mass and momentum an equivalent amount of stuff would be moved back to the original world."
"Doesn't sound too obvious to me," Carl muttered under his breath.
"It would be obvious if you paid attention at school instead of whining about it," Rick whispered back before raising his voice at the congregating crowd. "This smells like bullshit, but so do the Walkers. Everyone go home except Maggie, Ezekiel, Dwight, Michonne, Andrea, Jesus, Eugene - and you'd better convince us within the next five minutes. And Carl, you stay behind too."
A smile slowly crept across the boy's face.
"I briefly put you in charge of Alexandria during The War when the militia was fighting elsewhere. One day I might need to do it again," Rick explained, his voice utterly devoid of tone. "Now, Eugene, how do we know that you're not bullshitting us?"
Eugene pointed at a seemingly random patch in the sky. "Easy, almost trivial. Look at the Pole Star over here, following the Little Dipper - no, you don't need your binoculars. See how bright and blue it is? But it's yellow in our world. And if the ancient Greeks were here, Orion would now have a red flaming sword. And speaking of red things, how has everyone not noticed the red comet yet? This is Earth, at least astronomically - some stars are brighter, others less so, but they're still where they should be. But not our Earth."
The meeting was slowly descending into chaos even before Eugene finished. Andrea, Rick's new wife in all but name, was whispering in Maggie's ear. Dwight and Ezekiel were peering over a map they unrolled over one of the outdoor tables. Carl 'discreetly' passed a note to Jesus.
"Silence!" Rick roared, his voice drowning out the various murmurs, before settling back to its usual volume. "I don't know about the rest, but last I checked there wasn't a red comet this big last night, so we'll take Eugene's word for now. We first need to figure out how much of our lands got so-called ISOTed, particularly whether we still have all our communities, and what the world beyond is roughly like. We'll plan from there. Try to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow will be a very busy day."
Despite his orders, Rick himself did not sleep for long. Dim starlight still twinkled through the windows when he rose. Minutes later Andrea stirred and yawned. "What now, Rick?"
"Gotta wake Carl up now," Rick whispered. "We'll be leaving the Alexandria Safe-Zone soon after first light. It'll take a while to get to Oceanside, especially with roads like this. A few more hours to gather the militia, and make sure we have enough people to deal with… whatever's out there."
He tiptoed into the next room. Carl was lightly snoring, arms wrapped around his toddler sister, her saliva drooling down his face. Wasn't this all Rick wanted after all these years of suffering, of fighting?
For a brief moment, all was well.
"Carl, Carl." The leader of the Free World, or what remained of it anyway, gently shook his son awake. "Make sure the other leaders are awake and send them here. Then go ready the horses. We'll be leaving just after first light."
"Huh - oh!" The boy's arm stretched outwards in a huge yawn, though taking care not to hit Judith by accident. "Why me? Bye, Judy. Be back soon." Grumbling, Carl planted a light kiss on Judith's forehead, hastily plopped his hat onto his head, then dashed downstairs. Rick followed him before entering the kitchen, smelling the tell-tale aroma of frying eggs.
Andrea deftly flipped the egg over. "I'm cooking breakfast now so that we can leave on full stomachs."
Rick swooped by Andrea's side, his lips gently pressing against hers. "Fine by me, but we'll need more food for the other guys. And 'we' aren't going, because you'll be staying home. I need a good sniper and soldier to hold down the fort in case trouble comes this way. Help the new woman settle in, and Eugene with whatever new project he has on his hands." A quick peck on Andrea's lips, another on her cheek, before he stood up.
"Why not have Carl stay instead? He held things together quite well when you guys were all off fighting Negan." Andrea asked. "Besides, it'll be safer here."
"I don't know what's out there, but this is a strange situation. Might be good. Might be worse than anything seen before. Wherever we're going, our people will be scared. They see me as better than them, Andrea, and I'm not about to correct this notion just yet. But that also means they could make all sorts of excuses not to go, they're not as good or brave as I am, or Maggie, or Jesus and so on," Rick replied in a gruff voice. "But if my own twelve year old isn't seeking safety, what excuses do they still have?"
"Carl would sneak off anyway. Dangerous, sure, but also too exciting for a young boy to miss out on," Andrea mused.
Carl dashed back into the house as Rick and the gathered group were munching down on their egg sandwiches. "Here!" Rick tossed the remaining sandwich to his son. Andrea lightly shook her head as she took in the boy's appearance. "This won't do. You'll freeze out there if you only wear a tank top. It's December now, not summer, and you'll be outdoors a lot."
"But Mo-Andrea," Carl whined as she wrapped his red scarf around his neck, before grabbing his arms and shoving them into his leather jacket.
"Stay warm out there. And stay safe. Both of you." Andrea had barely finished speaking by the time Carl was already out of the door, sprinting after Rick and the departing group, half a sandwich still in his mouth.
The horse cart kept jolting on the road to Oceanside. Road being a very loose definition. The walkers were finally all but cleared in at least a twenty mile radius in a recent sweep. And just as they were about to start properly connecting the communities, they got ISOTed to… somewhere. Rick stroked his beard. Bad timing, or a golden opportunity?
A lone figure ran up to the cart before it had even come to a proper halt. Even from afar, Rick could smell the fish reeking off Pete's unkempt clothes. "You must have seen it too. I was pretty shocked by how fast you guys have reacted. Didn't expect to see the whole militia here when I sailed into the harbor at dawn."
"The big bang?" Rick asked. "It's kinda hard to miss unless you were under a rock."
"Yeah," Pete replied, panting. "But there's more. We were out at sea, well it isn't a sea anymore but please bear with me, last night and it seems the landscape out there has completely changed. We're on an island now, probably in some sort of lake. We definitely aren't right by the ocean because we still have fresh water. Funny how 'Oceanside' has always been anything but. There are steep cliffs on the new western shoreline, just a bit west of Dulles. We could still see Mount Vernon in the south, but the island doesn't extend much further in that direction. Oh, and there's also a massive castle on the northern shore. Of the other side of this lake or bay, I mean. We saw some dim light coming from it. We didn't get any closer - the lake's already ridiculously misty as it is, and I thought you'd probably prefer to be the one doing first contact."
Rick stroked his beard. "A castle? Like something from the Middle Ages?"
"Yeah, but with giant walls. You should see it for yourself."
*********
Rick stood at The Companion's prow as it gracefully glided across the lake, followed by the Providence - a copy of the colonial era sloop, and Claudia's boat which she hadn't even bothered naming yet. Thick clouds of mist rose from the lake's otherwise crystal clear surface as if it were a steaming cauldron.
Next to Alexandria's leader, the night winds caressed Carl's flowing black hair, gently pressing it against the boy's alabaster skin, or against the brim of his weathered hat - a present from Rick himself that the boy proudly wore every day. Carl had seen far too much of the world's evils and fought in far too many battles for a child his age. And paid a heavy price for it too, as his one eye attested. Gray, almost blue, almost like his father's.
Rick's first wife Lori may have given the world little Judith before the former died, and Rick may well have even more children with Andrea, but it was his firstborn who fought and bled beside him during those dark days. And now things were different yet again, after only a few precious months of peace. Rick hoped his son would not suffer so much this time round…
"What's that?" Carl suddenly asked, pointing towards the horizon.
Dark silhouettes were slowly emerging from the mist. Rick blinked. Was it a storm, or an incoming fleet? He swore he spotted a banner for the briefest of moments, black and red. Then the silhouettes were gone.
"That, little Grimes, means we're in Middle-earth and about to fight Mordor. Y'know, the one with loads of volcanos and smoke and a giant eyeball on a tower, nasty orcsies who will eat you alive-"
"The orcsies should be scared of him rather than the other way round." Ezekiel chuckled. "Don't give him any ideas, Eugene. Boy will probably walk into Mordor and end up singing front of Sauron."
"Remember last time at the Sanctuary?" Rick suggested.
Laughter rippled across the boat. The youngster's face turned beet red.
"It could be nasty orcsies about to eat you alive. Or maybe it's a mirage of a fleet, or a wooden town hundreds or even thousands of miles away. Wait, Rick, I actually see something this time." Eugene raised his binoculars. "And this definitely isn't a mirage."
It soon became apparent that the Alexandrians weren't going to fight Mordor. Just beyond the banks of a new shore lay a titanic castle, five giant towers soaring towards the sky from behind the castle walls. Soon Rick could see the ruined tops of all five towers, spikes of masonry jagging upwards from piles of rubble, as if someone had decided to demolish them but gave up half way through. Then there was the stone seemingly dripping from the tower walls, like wax from a melting candle. Through Eugene's binoculars, Rick could clearly make out the black goat on a white banner flying upon the castle's parapets.
"Gimme the flag," Rick ordered. The docks were closer now, so close that Rick could make out the wooden pier posts' tree rings, even the streaks of mud on the dock's planks. He drew himself up into a statuesque pose. "And here we go. Into a new world, bringing forth a new civilization. One small step for Alexandria," Rick announced, then extended his foot outwards…
The boat swayed ever so slightly, as if it were entranced by the tide's lullabies.
Rick's foot crashed onto the docks with a dull thud. For a moment, it seemed he would be able to regain his footing. Then the boat swayed the other way, and Rick lost his footing. The flag toppled onto the ground. Rick gingerly rubbed his hip."Oh, great."
"Psst. Pick up some of the dirt along with the flag, and say that you've taken the new land already," Michonne faux-whispered at the stern, throwing a rope-hoop over one of the posts and pulled on the rope's other end. The Alexandrians laughed.
"Or maybe pride cometh before the fucking fall," Carl quipped, getting his own back at his father. From the bow, he threw a rope at another post. "Here, Ezekiel. I'm too small to haul the boat in." Carrying Rick's cane, the boy carefully clambered onto the pier and helped Rick up. "Here's your cane, Dad."
The rest of the landing occurred without much incident. Well-drilled in their struggle against Negan, the small militia formed two lines under Rick's curt orders. "Pete, you stay here with a dozen of our guys. Rest of you follow me off the docks, and to that pile over there. Can't see it clearly from here, but we should check it out."
Only ruins stood where there was obviously once a town, ashes dancing amongst blackened walls. Rick frowned. What did this say about the world they're in, if the telltale signs of war were already so clear in the first settlement they visited?
The clop-clop of hoofbeats interrupted Rick's thoughts. Several zebras were riding straight towards them, their riders brandishing spears and swords.
"Come no closer!" Rick cried. He raised his revolver and fired it into the air. But the cavalry kept coming. So close, that he could see they were unmistakably human.
Another shot rang out. One of the riders toppled off his steed, blood spraying from his shoulder. The rest of the zebras fled, throwing their riders to the ground as they bolted in all directions.
"CORAL! For fuck's sake!" Rick yelled.
"Was only a warning shot," Carl protested. "It's hard enough to aim a pistol even with binocular vision, and I only have one eye."
Two Alexandrian medics started towards the injured man. Rick drew his hatchet and rested it on the lead horseman's neck. Even without words exchanged, the threat was clear.
To Rick's surprise, the man started speaking in a tongue he could understand. "You win, my lordth. But the bannerth you fly are trange. Did the Young Wolf thend you? Or Lannither?"
"I don't know either of them. All I know is that you will let us in, and let us know everything there is to know about these lands, before I lop off your other ear as well."
*********
The Brave Companions, as the castle's garrison called themselves, wasted little time letting the Alexandrians into the gatehouse of the huge castle which they called Harrenhal. Any potential resistance was nipped in the bud when Jesus casually shot down several birds resting atop one of the wall's crenellations.
Rick sat across Vargo at a long table, flanked by their respective followers.
"Zollo, gith me the map. Ah, here. Ath you can thee, my lordth, we are on this lake in the middle of the Riverlandth, surrounded by the Crownlanth, Vale, North, Iron Ithanth, Wefferlanth, Reach, Thormlandth. Dorne lieth here to the thoth. And up in the North there ith a great, great Wall to keep the Wildlingth and whatnot out."
"And who rules over you?" Rick asked.
"Good quethion my lord, but I'm afraid we're thill finding the anther. The Lionth and the Thagth thay -"
"Not to be rude, Vargo, but it's late and we're all tired. Can someone who can speak soundly substitute as explainer?" Michonne interjected.
"The Lions and the Stags claim the Iron Throne and all the Seven Kingdoms. Neither of them would even think of parting with an acre of land, I'd tell you that. Lannister, our Young Wolf's mortal foe, won the Battle of the Blackwater after making common cause with the Roses, and they continue to hold King's Landing. Lord Stannis has been sulking in Dragonstone ever since his ships were turned to driftwood in that battle. The Young Wolf has smashed host after Lannister host, but the Ironborn have invaded the North, and now he's heading back North to drive them out. Leaving us here to the lions, no doubt," One of Vargo's lieutenants spat on the floor as he said those words, spittle barely missing his tattered cloak.
"I'm afraid I haven't caught your name yet," Rick replied.
"Urswyck, Lord Rickard."
Rick pointed at each of the places in turn. "I'm not a lord, and I count nine kingdoms, not seven. How much land do the Young Wolf and the Ironborn claim?"
"Nine kingdoms, aye, but the Ironborn ruled the Riverlands when Aegon came with his dragons, conquered all Westeros bar Dorne, and carved out the Crownlands for his own. Our Robb is King in the North and of the Trident, yet the Starks' days in the Riverlands are numbered. Balon Greyjoy also claims to be king of the North. The Wolf and the Kraken will be fighting for many moons yet."
Carl set down his pen, cradling his hand after furious minute-taking. "Where's Aegon and his dragons? What's the Vale doing?"
"This is the two hundred and ninety-ninth year since Aegon's Conquest, child, and the last dragon died more than one hundred years ago. The Targaryens were overthrown by the Baratheons some twenty years ago, and have been gone from Westeros ever since. The Valemen have barred the Gates of the Moon, and no Dornish host has emerged from the Red Mountains."
"Bright boy, that one. If he's still lively enough after we're done talking, mayhaps he can spend the night here?" A bald man in the robes-and-chainmail offered. "You and your men must be tired, and I can teach your page everything there is to know about us Westerosi."
"Thanks for the offer, but we Alexandrians are staying together for tonight. We need to decide our next moves, and as friendly as you may seem, I'm not about to leave my son with strangers we just met. We've seen more than enough murderers and rapists in the past few years -" Rick rose from his chair. "Good night Lord Vargo, Brave Companions. Do you mind if I take this map?"
Vargo Hoat rose and shook Rick's hand. "I do not mind, Lord Grimth. I'll lead you to your roomth mythelth th'that you can thettle in for the night."
Urswyck took the map. "I'll mark the map with everything you need to know, Lord Grimes, and deliver it to you in the hour of the wolf."
"Thanks. Urswyck, I'll see you in a bit," Rick replied. The rest of the Alexandrians stood up, carefully adjusting their assortment of rifles before following Vargo Hoat and their leader, ready to use them in a moment's notice if the Brave Companions tried anything funny. One could never be too careful in unfamiliar lands.
Harrenhal was even larger than it appeared from the outside. So large, that 'walled city' would have been a better description had it been not for the five huge towers looming over the rest of the castle - that, and having hardly anyone inhabiting it. Rick did not know how large the castle's garrison was, and he had the good sense not to ask their hosts just yet, but the small procession winding through Harrenhal's dusty roads did not run into a single soul after departing the gatehouse. Only dim specks of lights from the wall, and a few other buildings, reminded the Alexandrians that the castle was not deserted.
Walking turned into climbing, or something close to it, as they entered the Kingspyre Tower and ascended its stairs in the darkness, guided by the dull flames of Vargo's torch. Harren the Black and all his sons perished in this tower, Vargo warned, when Rick requested to use the tower's collapsed top and the several floors underneath as their lodgings for the night. Having beggared the Riverlands for generations in its construction, the cruel tyrant's castle just had the misfortune to be finished on the very same day Aegon the Dragon landed at where King's Landing now stood.
The air got chillier the higher up they went, their footsteps echoing among the endless spiral as they wearily lifted one foot onto the next step. Thud. Then another. Thud. And another. Thud. Just like a metronome, except that the Alexandrians were too tired to sing. Not that Rick and his people did much singing in the first place. Music and the arts were among the first things to go when the dead started devouring the living in their world, and such frivolous pursuits had not returned ever since.
Rick suddenly felt a dull thump at his side. A sharp tug on his one good hand, dragging him backwards. His other arm shot out as he swayed, eager to latch at anything that could steady him, but the staircase had no railings. His prosthetic claw crashed into the stone wall, chipping off small bits of masonry. He was barely able to spin around before he would topple down the stairs altogether.
And now Rick found himself in pitch black darkness. Vargo was nowhere to be seen, nor were the other Alexandrians. Only a sapphire blue eye stared back at him, cold and terrible, on milky skin as pale as Lori's the day she died. "Slower, slower!" the whisper came. Then the eye shifted, and Rick stared into the face of Death itself.
