Man Of Steel, Shield Of Ice

Clark

The night was colder than usual. The wind howled through the gaps in the stone walls of Craster's Keep, and the air felt thick with tension. Clark stood at the edge of the courtyard, his eyes scanning the perimeter. The flickering torches cast long shadows, their flames fighting against the biting wind. Everything felt poised for a confrontation. He could feel it in his bones. This would be the night that Craster's reign of terror came to an end.

The plan was simple, but dangerous. They would infiltrate Craster's inner chambers, expose him for the monster he truly was, and rally enough support to bring his rule crashing down. Clark didn't expect the men who had been complicit in Craster's atrocities to turn on him easily, but he knew that fear was a powerful force. Once they saw what had been hidden from them—once they saw the truth—they would have no choice but to act.

Tormund had gathered a small group of loyal wildlings, each one ready to fight for something greater than mere survival. But it wasn't enough. Clark knew that the real battle wouldn't come from the wildlings who followed Craster blindly—it would come from the men who had become so deeply ingrained in his system that they would fight to maintain the status quo, no matter the cost.

Clark adjusted his posture, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation. He could feel the weight of the decisions he had made in the last few hours—if things went wrong, if Craster caught wind of their plan, it would be chaos. And the consequences would be dire.

But Clark was done waiting. It was time for action.

The others would arrive soon. Tormund and Ygritte were already in position, ensuring that the other wildlings stayed where they were needed. They had all agreed: there was no going back after this.

---

Tormund

Tormund's heart pounded in his chest as he moved through the darkened halls of Craster's Keep. Every step felt like it was leading him toward something inevitable, something that could end either in victory or disaster. He had seen enough of Craster's cruelty to know that there was no mercy in this place. No forgiveness. No second chances. It was either kill or be killed.

He glanced over at Ygritte, her eyes hard and determined as always. The two of them had been through countless battles together, but this—this was something different. This wasn't just a fight for survival. This was a fight for justice, for the lives of those who had suffered under Craster's rule for too long.

Ygritte's hand rested lightly on her bow, ready for action, but her eyes darted nervously from side to side. "You sure about this?" she asked quietly.

Tormund didn't hesitate. "We don't have a choice. Craster's time is up. This place is rotten to the core. And if we don't act, nothing will ever change."

She nodded, her jaw set. "And what about the men who follow him?"

Tormund's gaze hardened. "They'll follow the truth. They just need to see it."

They reached the outer chambers of Craster's quarters, the guards stationed outside looking unaware of the brewing storm that was about to erupt. Tormund motioned for Ygritte to stay low and quiet. He could hear the sounds of muffled voices from within Craster's private chamber, and he knew it was time.

They were about to make history. They were about to make sure that no one in this forsaken keep would ever forget the name Craster—and the truth behind it.

---

Ygritte

Ygritte felt a familiar rush of adrenaline as she crept through the shadows with Tormund. This was it. There was no more room for doubt. There was only the mission and the goal ahead. Her heart raced as she thought of the women they had spoken to earlier, their eyes filled with the kind of desperation that could break a person. She thought of the children—the ones who had been taken from their mothers, the ones who had never had a chance at life.

She didn't know if the men would listen, if they would rise up against Craster's tyranny. She didn't know if any of them still had the fight left in them. But she did know one thing: Craster had to die. He had to answer for what he had done.

Ygritte's fingers brushed against her bow, the cool wood a steady reminder of the weapon at her side. She could kill when she had to. She had taken many lives, but this felt different. This wasn't about survival. This wasn't about hunting. This was about justice.

The torches in the hall flickered, and she motioned for Tormund to stay low as they approached the door to Craster's chamber. They had to be quick, decisive. One wrong move, and everything would fall apart. Ygritte's breath caught in her throat as she listened to the voices inside—Craster's voice was unmistakable, low and grating.

She couldn't wait much longer.

---

Clark

Clark was waiting just outside the door of Craster's chamber, his senses on high alert. His body was tense, his mind focused entirely on the task ahead. He could hear the faint sounds of conversation from inside, muffled but distinct. Craster was speaking, his voice thick with authority and venom.

Clark had heard enough.

Without a second thought, he pushed the door open, his muscles rippling as he moved. The room fell silent, the sudden appearance of the stranger in their midst freezing everyone in place. Craster's men, who had been lounging and laughing, immediately jumped to their feet, reaching for weapons that they'd never expected to need.

Craster himself, seated at the far end of the room, stared at Clark with narrowed eyes. His lips curled into a sneer.

"What is this?" Craster spat, his voice thick with contempt. "What do you think you're doing here, stranger?"

Clark stepped forward, his eyes blazing with a fire that matched the intensity of the situation. "I'm here to end this," he said, his voice calm but unyielding. "Your reign of terror ends tonight."

The men in the room stiffened, their eyes darting between Craster and the powerful stranger before them. Some looked confused, others nervous, but all of them were afraid. Clark knew that they didn't have the courage to stand up to Craster—at least not yet. But that was about to change.

Craster stood slowly, his hand resting on a long knife at his belt. "You think you can just walk in here and—"

"I'm not asking for your permission," Clark interrupted, his voice growing colder. "I'm telling you: this ends now."

---

Tormund and Ygritte

Tormund's heart raced as he heard the sounds of voices rising inside Craster's chamber. He motioned for Ygritte to follow him, and they pushed through the shadows, ready to act.

They had expected resistance—after all, Craster had no intention of giving up his power without a fight. But what they didn't expect was the chaos that followed once Clark made his move. The room erupted in shouts, the men scrambling for their weapons, their instincts kicking in.

Ygritte moved quickly, her bow in hand as she aimed it at the closest target—a wildling who was reaching for his sword. Before he could make a move, she let the arrow fly. It found its mark, and the man dropped to the ground, silenced forever.

Tormund roared, charging into the fray. He collided with one of Craster's men, knocking him to the ground. The sound of steel clashing against steel rang through the chamber, but Tormund didn't care. He had seen enough to know that this was the only way. There was no room for mercy now.

As the fight continued, Ygritte and Tormund held the line, ensuring that none of Craster's men would escape to warn him. The truth was out now. Craster could not hide from it anymore.

---

Clark

Clark moved like a blur, his speed and strength overwhelming the men who dared to face him. He wasn't here to kill—at least, not yet—but he wasn't going to let them stop him. Craster's grip on this place had to be shattered.

The leader of the men, the one who had been speaking with Craster, tried to make a desperate grab for a sword. But Clark was faster. He grabbed the man by the wrist, his fingers tightening until the sword slipped from his grasp. With a single, powerful motion, Clark tossed the man aside, sending him crashing into the stone wall.

"Enough!" Clark shouted, his voice booming through the chamber. The fighting slowed for just a moment as the men realized they were no match for him.

Clark turned toward Craster, his eyes cold and unblinking. "This is your last chance. Step down, or face the consequences."

Craster's face twisted with rage. "You think you can take me down? You're just a stranger in my home. You don't belong here."

"I'm not just a stranger," Clark said, his voice steady. "I'm the one who's going to end your reign. You're done."

With that, Clark moved toward Craster, his eyes locked on the man who had caused so much suffering. He wasn't going to stop until Craster had paid for every life he had destroyed.