Lynn had arrived.
Just one man and one horse.
No dragon blotting out the sky, no vast army surrounding him.
Yet when his face, bearing a faintly languid smile, came into view of every defender on Bear Island,
the reassurance they felt surpassed even that of a hundred thousand soldiers arriving at their gates.
Lyanna Mormont finally failed to hold back her tears.
She did not know whether it was excitement, hurt, or simply the lingering terror.
All she knew was that the moment this man appeared, the mountain weighing on her young shoulders, heavy enough to crush her, vanished.
Lynn swung down from his horse and casually tossed the reins to a guard who was already staring dumbstruck.
He walked up to Lyanna and looked at the little lady, who was struggling not to sob aloud, her face smeared with tears and snot.
He reached out and tousled her hair somewhat roughly.
"You did well."
That simple praise shattered Lyanna's last defenses.
"Waaah!"
She could hold herself together no longer. She collapsed to the ground, clutched Lynn's leg, and burst into sobs.
Lynn felt rather helpless, but he did not push her away.
His gaze passed over the weeping little lady and settled on the approaching black fleet.
More than a hundred longships crowded the entire sea.
Their prows were carved into fearsome krakens, and their black sails bore the golden kraken sigil of House Greyjoy.
The Ironborn's roars and horn blasts mingled with the crashing waves, becoming a bloody tide bearing down on the little island.
Victarion Greyjoy stood at the prow of the fleet's flagship, the Iron Victory.
He wore heavy black plate armor, a huge battleaxe resting on his shoulder, his face filled with bloodthirsty fervor.
He looked at the seemingly defenseless wooden fortress in the