Warg Maiden
Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.
Chapter 18: The Two Kings
Jon's POV
Dawn has risen, and Jon could not sleep. The dead were being collected as the Wildlings were piled up. There was no doubt, if Lord Overton and his men did not arrive, they would all have lost. One ax to the elevator cable and his brothers would be trapped on top of the Wall, while the Wildlings cross through under their feet. In the end, it was a pointless battle on both sides.
Jon knew the wildlings came south to escape the Others.
However, their method is not suitable. Especially when there are Wildlings who would harm the realm. From what he is aware, Tormund is a general. But Imogen, she is a Chieftain's daughter. In civilize terms, she was a Lady. A Lady of Lunar Haven. Maybe he can trade the two for the Wildlings to leave at once. If that doesn't work, then Jon must consider killing Mance Rayder.
The Wildlings are down south because of Mance Rayder. He remembers his father saying to stop a snake from biting you, you better chop off its head. If Jon can kill Mance, then the Wildlings will go after each other and turn back to their territories.
He headed up to one of the storage rooms, where Imogen was kept. She was unconscious while Maester Aemon was examining the warg's neck.
"How is she?" Jon asked.
"She has a slight cut on her neck, nothing a simple salve and bandage won't cure. Any further and she could have bled out," Maester Aemon answered.
Jon sighed in relief. The last thing he needed on his conscious was killing a woman. There are two things Ned Stark told him to never kill. A woman and/or a child. There were more questions he wanted to ask her. Mainly, why does a wildling have a House Stark crest on her neck and torc?
"Maester Aemon…" Jon started, then stopped.
"Yes, Jon?" Maester Aemon replied.
"Do you know about the Sealgairean?" Jon asked.
Maester Aemon was quiet for a moment. He slowly got up with the assistance of his steward, before heading out. Jon followed him as they went outside.
"The Sealgaireans were once the First Men. Once brothers to the Night's Watch, only to be forgotten over time." Maester Aemon explained. "Now, we hunt their children, and they fight to survive."
Jon stared at Maester Aemon, surprised. Maybe Ygritte was right. The Wildlings were people born on the wrong side of the Wall, being children of Hunters who went after White Walkers after the Long Night. And this was their reward, disregarded as savages. Jon sighed, six thousand years of betrayal and now he must do it again. To send the Wildlings back to the slaughter.
"Fear does things to people. Even blinds them to who the real enemy is," Maester Aemon said.
"Thank you, Maester Aemon," Jon said before leaving.
Sam spotted Jon and came over to him along with Ghost. Jon patted his furry brother to calm his nerves. What he was considering will be the death of him. A suicide mission even. Yet, it doesn't matter now, since Ygritte was dead. Her death was on his hands. He might as well be the one to pull the arrow.
"We held them off," Sam noted.
"For one night," Jon reminded.
"This is a great victory," Sam said.
"A great victory?" Jon asked. "Mance was testing our defenses. He almost made it through, and he has more giants. He has more mammoths. He has a thousand times as many men." He looked at the courtyard seeing death. "They'll hit us again tonight." He walked through the courtyard. "Maybe we can hold them off for a day or two, but we'll never beat them."
"Where are we going?" Sam asked, following his friend.
"Going to find Mance," Jon answered.
"To fi—" Sam was dumbfounded by his friend's answer. "You can't do that. No one gave you any orders."
Jon turned around, staring at Sam. "Who's left to give orders? The Wildling's army are only an army because of Mance. He united a hundred warring tribes. Without Mance, they lose their leader. They lose their purpose. They go back to fighting each other. Scatter back to their homes."
Jon continues to walk towards the tunnel. Ghost right next to him.
"Without Mance?" Sam asked, going after him. "You're going to kill him?"
"I'm going to try," Jon answered.
"They'll never let you within a hundred yards of him," Sam tried to reason. "And even if they did, even if you managed to kill him –"
"They'll kill me?" Jon challenged. "If I don't go, they'll kill me anyway. They'll kill the rest of us too."
"They won't just kill you," Sam said, which made Jon stop. "They'll boil you. They'll flay you. They'll make it last days."
Jon turned around, facing him, "You're right. It's a bad plan."
Sam nodded, relieved.
"What's your plan?" Jon asked.
Sadly, Sam didn't have one.
Jon sighed as he and Ghost enter through the tunnel. Sam followed after them, grabbing a torch along the way. They walked halfway through the tunnel, seeing what has happened down below. A giant laid dead, surrounded by five brothers of the Night's Watch. Jon felt more guilt since he sent Grenn down below to fight the giant. Jon knelt over to Grenn, checking his condition, confirming his death.
"They held the gate," Jon sighed, closing Grenn's eyes. "Get some brothers down here to help you."
Realizing they died between the Wall. "We need to burn the bodies."
Sam nodded in agreement.
They continued onward, reaching the other side of the Wall where the metal door was.
"Raise the outer gate," Jon ordered. "Then lower it again as soon as I'm out."
Sam wanted to protest but didn't. He raised his torch, signaling the men on the other side to raise the gate. When he turned around, he saw Jon unfastening his belt.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked.
"I promised Mormont I'd never lose it again," Jon said, removing Longclaw and handed it over to Sam. "In case I don't come back."
Sam took hold of the sword.
"If I fail, try to negotiate with them with the prisoners. Imogen is Chief Fenrir's daughter. She holds some value." Jon said. "Make sure no animals are in her sight, including a Snowy Owl."
"Because she can control animals?" Sam asked to confirm.
Jon nodded.
Ghost whimpered, nudging Jon's hand. Jon petted the white Direwolf's head. "You got to stay here, my friend. Watch over Sam for me."
Ghost whimpered again but nodded.
The gate started to lift, allowing access to the other side of the Wall.
"Jon," Sam started.
Jon looked over his shoulder.
"Come back," Sam pleaded.
Jon gave his best friend a smile. Once the gate was fully open, he took a deep breath and walked through the brightness of the snow. He walked through the field, seeing the dead all around him. The Wildlings either shot by arrows or burned from the pitch barrels. A giant laid in the center of the rout, a ballista arrow in his back, as crows and ravens peck into the massive man's flesh. Jon took a deep breath as he continued onward towards the Haunted Forest.
However, something did not feel right. When he was managing the Wall, he heard countless Direwolves howling through the night. Now there was no direwolf in sight. The further he went, he noticed a decrease in the Wildling forces. Either many clans gave up and abandoned Mance, or they were relocated. As Jon went further, he could hear footsteps right behind him. It wasn't until he came into contact with Chief Fenrir with two Direwolves on each side of him. He glanced at the wolf's eyes, seeing Skadi with both multicolor eyes and Valko with amber eyes. None being Warged.
"I came to speak with Mance Rayder," Jon said.
Chief Fenrir continued to look at him.
"Your daughter is still alive," Jon tried to reason with him.
Fenrir only nodded as he said something in the old religion to the wolves that had them step aside. Jon was impressed by the relationship the Dires have with their wolves. He had hoped to have the same relationship with Ghost. Especially when he was their size, that one day he could ride him. He shook his head, knowing that won't be possible. Fenrir gestured for Jon to follow as they went further into the camp.
Standing in the center of the camp stood Mance Rayder with a disapproving expression, "You're wearing a black cloak again."
"I've been sent to negotiate with you," Jon lied.
Mance held a neutral look, reading the young man's face. Not saying a word, he gestured Jon inside his tent. They went inside along with the chieftains, where a giant rabbit was being cooked. Mance motioned Jon to sit down at the low table. Jon took a seat while Mance sat across from him.
"It appears my trusting nature got the better of me," Mance noted. "It's happened before. I was hoping your loyalty was real when you pledged yourself to us, Jon Snow. Truly I was."
"The Halfhand ordered me to join your army and bring back whatever information I could to Castle Black. He made me kill him, so you'd trust me. I was loyal . . . to him and to my Night's Watch vows," Jon said.
"All your vows?" Mance asked sarcastically.
Jon knew he was referring to Ygritte.
"She wasn't enough to turn you, eh?" Mance asked again. "Were you enough to turn her?"
Jon gave a slight smile, "She put three arrows in me when I escaped."
"Did you see her again at Castle Black?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"She's dead."
"Your doing?"
"No."
Mance sighed, "We'll drink to her."
Fenrir grabbed two cups and a pitcher, placing it on the table. Mance poured the two drinks, handing Jon a cup, and took his own. Jon was hesitant as he held the cup. Not sure if it was poisoned or not. The liquid was white with a sharp smell to it. The Brother of the Night's Watch glanced at the cup and back to Mance. The King-beyond-the-Wall took offense.
"Of all the ways I'd kill you, poison would be the last," Mance bitterly said.
Jon nodded, accepting the cup, raising it as both said, "Ygritte."
They took a gulp of their drink. Mance took it like it was a glass of milk. However, Jon nearly gagged. It was sour and bitter, with a hint of sickening sweetness. As if maple was used, if not more potent than wine, or even whiskey. The chiefs nearly snicker from the young Crow's reaction.
"That's not wine," Jon wheezed, coughing a bit.
"No, it's a proper northern drink, Jon Snow," Mance proudly said. "You did well. Fought hard. Killed some of our strongest men. One of our giants went into your tunnel and never came out again. Mag the Mighty."
"He's dead," Jon confirmed. "He killed my friend Grenn."
"He was their King. The last of a bloodline that stretches back before the First Men." Mance told him.
"Grenn came from a farm," Jon countered back.
Mance bit his bottom lip and raised his cup, "Mag and Grenn."
"Grenn and Mag," Jon repeated as they both took a sip.
"Kullback, could I trouble you something to eat? I don't imagine our guest has eaten anything for quite some time," Mance offered.
Jon watched Kullback grabbing a knife and headed to the firepit.
"So, you're here to strike a bargain?" Mance continued.
"Turn your army around and go home. We will give you the hostages of Tormund and Imogen in return," Jon offered.
"You know I know you're low on arrows, you're low on oil, you're low on men. How many are left, fifty?" Mance countered.
"I told Tormund and Orell." Jon calmly said. "We have more than a thousand men."
"And Imogen caught your bluff," Mance said with authority. "She infiltrated your base and reported to me. I showed you everything I had. My army is 100,000 strong and what did you do? You fired on us with everything you had. It wasn't much. As soon as I saw that, I sent 400 men to climb the Wall, an unmanned stretch five miles west of here."
Kullback slammed his knife down and set a plate of rabbit in front of Jon. Jon glanced the knife then back at Mance. Four hundred men were climbing the Wall as he speaks.
"A lot of them will die climbing, but most of them will be over by the end of the day," Mance finished.
"House Overton has arrived," Jon warned.
"Good, we love a challenge," Mance countered. "It's me being honest with you, Jon Snow, which is more than you've done for me. My people have bled enough. We're not here to conquer. We're here to hide behind your Wall. Just like you. We need your tunnel. Now we both know that winter is coming. And if my people aren't south of the Wall when it comes in earnest, we'll all end up worse than dead. You want to strike a bargain with me? Here's the bargain. You go back, you open the gates to us, and I swear to you that no one else will die. Refuse, and we'll kill every last man at Castle Black."
Jon glanced at the knife. However, it was very noticeable that the chiefs drew their weapons.
"Ah!" Mance ordered, raising his hands to stop them. He then stared at Jon, amused, "Oh, that's why you're here. I reckon you could do it before any of them could stop you. They'd kill you, of course. They'd kill you slow. But you knew that when you came in here. Are you capable of that, Jon Snow? Killing a man in his own tent when he's just offered you peace? Is that what the Night's Watch is? Is that what you are?"
A horn blow indicating an attack.
"Riders coming!" Someone yelled outside.
Mance grabbed the knife and forced it along Jon's neck, "Are you attacking us? House Overton?"
"No," Jon managed to answer. "It's like you said, we don't have the men."
The horn kept blowing, dogs and wolves howl and bark. Mance shoved Jon aside and went outside to see what the commotion was about. Jon rubbed his neck before Fenrir grabbed him by the arm and forced him outside. Everyone was getting into position. Jon could hear the sound of horses. The sound of a cavalry charge.
"Hold! To me," Mance ordered. "To me!"
The chiefs and others circled around Mance. Fenrir got Valko and Skadi to circle around them, adding more protection. The sound of the calvary charged came from both sides of the small portion of the Haunted Forest. Not even a minute, horses came from both ends charging away. Men swinging swords and spears cross through, trampling over the Wildlings, killing all in sight.
Jon noticed a banner wondering which House the calvary came from. This was not from a Northern House. Since it was a white banner that had a crowned black stag enclosed within a fiery red heard. The stag looked almost like House Baratheon. Only Jon recalled House Baratheon was a crowned black stag on a golden field. Yet the current House Baratheon has the crown Stag with the Lannister lion. So, this one was from a cadet branch.
It was like a stampede, horses galloping away with armed men slaying everyone in their wake. Nothing Jon has never seen. It wasn't long when their tactics change of killing those who dare charged at them. The calvary were merely wrangling the wildlings around. Except Jon noticed there aren't a hundred thousand men here. He knew four-hundred men are climbing the Wall as they speak. But where are the other's?
Mance threw his sword and dagger down, "Stand down! I said my people have bled enough and I meant it."
Two riders approach them. One wore a Stormlander armor, with the sigil on his chest plate. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and sinewy. Along with dark blue eyes and a heavy brow. His head has only a fringe of grey hair "Like the shadow of a crown", and he has a close-cropped beard across his large jaw. His face has a tightness to it like cured leather, and he has hollow cheeks, and thin, pale lips. Jon realized this man was Stannis Baratheon.
Meanwhile, the second man wore leather armor with a gorget. The second man was a slight man with brown eyes and an ordinary face weathered by the elements. His beard and thinning brown hair are peppered with gray.
They dismounted from their horses and approach the group with their guards. One Wildling was foolish enough to charge right at them with an ax. Not even ten feet away, a soldier on a horse trampled though, decapitating the dumb man. The two men walked around the body, coming forward.
Mance knowing defeat was near, took out his hidden daggers. The chieftains followed his example. Skadi growled at them, which made the soldiers draw their weapon. Yet, Fenrir managed to calm the black direwolf down.
"You're the King-beyond-the-Wall?" Stannis asked.
Mance only nodded.
"Do you know who I am?" Stannis asked.
"Never had the pleasure," Mance replied.
"This is Stannis Baratheon, the one true king of the Seven Kingdoms," the second man said.
"We're not in the Seven Kingdoms, and you're not dressed for this weather," Mance challenged.
"It is customary to kneel when surrendering to a King," Stannis informed.
Silence engrossed the group as Mance stared at Stannis. Jon wasn't sure what the Wildling would say. Since he recalled, when he first met Mance, the Wildlings do not kneel to anyone. Not even to a King.
"We do not kneel," Mance said.
"I'll have thousands of your men in chains by nightfall, have nowhere to put them, have nothing to feed them," Stannis warned. "I'm not here to slaughter beat dogs. Their fate depends on their King."
"All the same, we do not kneel," Mance murmured.
Stannis remained poised, turning to one of his officers, "Take these men away."
The second man noticed Jon, "What's is a man of the Night's Watch doing in a wildling camp?"
Jon watched as the officers took custody of Mance. Some tried to approach Fenrir, yet the wolves growl, causing the soldiers to step back.
"I was sent to discuss terms with the King-beyond-the-Wall," Jon answered.
"You're speaking to the one true King, boy," the Second man scolded. "You will address him as Your Grace."
"I know he's the King. My father died for him," Jon assured, staring directly at the man. "My name is Jon Snow, Your Grace. I'm Ned Stark's son."
Stannis stared at Jon, "Your father was an honorable man."
"He was, Your Grace," Jon said.
"What do you think he'd have done with him?" Stannis asked.
Jon stepped forward, glancing at Mance, then return to Stannis, "I was this man's prisoner once. He could have tortured me. He could have killed me. But he spared my life. I think my father would have taken him prisoner, listen to what he had to say."
Stannis stared at Jon then looked at Mance, "Very well then. Take him."
The second man took hold of Mance.
"Your Grace," Jon said, gaining the king's attention. "If my father had seen the things that I've seen, he'd also tell you to burn the dead before nightfall. All of them."
In Jon's dark eyes, Stannis could see the horrors. The King nodded to the man knowing to burn the bodies is the only option.
Time went on, as the chiefs were taken into custody except for Fenrir. The wolves were making it difficult for the soldiers to grab him. The soldiers were terrified by the direwolves side to approach. When all of a sudden, Skadi was thrashing and wailing. Like she was in pain. Fenrir tried to calm the black she-wolf. Jon approached, wondering what was wrong. Fenrir glared at Jon.
"What are you doing to my daughter?" the Dire demanded.
Jon realizing the black direwolf was connected to Imogen, and she was in pain. He thought back, thinking Imogen was in good hands of Maester Aemon. Then he realized Imogen was known as the Wilding Huntress. She had killed many of the Night's Watch to protect herself. There would be a strong vendetta.
"What's going on?" Stannis ordered.
"One of our prisoners is in trouble," Jon explained. "She is the chief's daughter."
Stannis's eyes widened and looked at Fenrir, seeing a father in distress.
"If you and your wolves cooperate, I will help your daughter," Stannis promised.
Fenrir growled before submitting.
Jon knew a father would do anything for their daughter. He has seen it with Ned for Sansa and Arya. Quickly, Stannis offered horses to Jon and Fenrir, yet the chief got on the back of Valko. With a company, the road back to Castle Back to stop whatever was happening.
Jon had a sick feeling in his stomach.
.o0o.
Imogen's POV
I woke up in some sort of storage room. There was barely any light coming from the window that was high up on the wall, almost touching the ceiling. My body was sore, while my neck had the worse. Then I remembered why my throat hurt.
At first, I lost the fight with Jon, as he held the dirk against my neck, except my torc stopped it. He stared at my neck, gazing at the tattoo that made his eyes widen. Like he saw a ghost. Instead of killing me on the spot…Jon put me in a headlock, suffocating me into unconsciousness.
Now here I am, trapped in a room. My hands tied up along with my ankles. I touched my neck, feeling a bandage there. This caught me by surprise. Someone treated my wound. I could smell the scent of herbs. Why would the Night's Watch treat my injury?
This doesn't make sense.
Then another memory hit me, I covered my mouth to suppress a sob. Ygritte was dead. My eyes sting, becoming watery while my body quaked. My best friend. My sister was dead. Shot in the back by an arrow. Deep down, I wanted to cry, mourn for Ygritte. She was not supposed to die. She was supposed to live and conquer the world. Yet she was killed by her own favorite weapon.
We grew up together since we were little girls. Every time my tribe visited her for trade, we were there for each other. Even after five years apart, she helped me back into society. Although my social interaction is not the same as it used to, she helped me reconnect with others.
And now she's dead.
How can this have gone wrong? We had the upper hand. More men to defeat the crows on the ground level. Someone should have been close enough to confiscate the elevator to prevent the Crows on top from coming down and open the gate. I grabbed my hair, giving a frustrated cry. I've failed. I have failed my people. Hopefully, Mance is sending more men on over the Wall. The next attack would probably be three days from now. The only question is, will I be alive until then?
I need to figure out a way to escape.
My hands were bound in front of me. I tried to feel my body searching for any weapons the Crows might have missed. Sadly, they took the hidden knife that I kept in my boot. My dirk, and worse…Dark Sister. I promised Bloodraven I wouldn't lose it. It was sacred. I ground my teeth furiously.
Suddenly the doors burst open as four Crows stepped in. Two young men, one man older balding, with white hair, and lastly, Alliser Thorn. He held a scowl as he limped his way over, grabbing the collar of my coat.
"So, you're the Wildling Huntress," Alliser sneered.
I glared at him.
Alliser looked over his shoulder, "You boys got beaten by a woman."
"She's a witch," one of the baby crows head.
I scoffed, a witch?
"Well, we better give this wildling bitch a lesson," Alliser said. "Take her outside."
He dropped me hard on the ground. The young Crows each grabbed my arms and force me out. I tried fighting them off, yet they had a strong hold on me. They tossed and dragged me through the courtyard, where the remaining Crows were. They took me to a post. My furs were ripped off, followed by the ripping of the back of my tunic. I growled since my hands were free for a moment to punch one in the face. Yet more men came in grabbing me.
I fought, biting, punching, and kicking until one punched me in the stomach, knocking the air out of me. I choked, trying to breathe, falling onto my knees. The two forced me up, taking the rest of my tunic and shackle me to the post. My back exposed to the world. There were several gasps, as the Crows could the markings of the Children of the Forest. The runes that held magical quality. Along with the prophecy on my back.
"Demon child," Alliser sneered.
"Ser Alliser, you can't," the voice of Samwell could be heard as he rushed over. "She is a prisoner."
"And all prisoners must be punished," Alliser said.
"But she's a woman, you can't be serious," Samwell pleaded. "This goes against our vows. Maester Aemon- "
"Oh fuck off, Sam," another crow shouted, shoving Samwell away.
Alliser came over as he stood next to me, grabbing my face to look into his eyes.
"I prefer to work on a blank canvas," Alliser murmured. "It makes one more able to mark the progress of damaged inflicted. "
My body shook.
"You're shaking," Alliser noted. "Are you scared?"
"I've seen worse things," I seethed.
"I will break you," Alliser promised, followed by a punch in the gut. "If you weren't a wildling bitch, I would've let my men have you."
"Fuck you," I growled, trying to catch my bearings.
Alliser raised an instrument up. It was some sort of whip with nine strands. On each strand was a metal bead. A cat o' nine tail whips. Fuck, I'm screwed.
"I'll flog you until you bleed," Alliser promised. "For each brother, you killed."
I panted heavily. The chill from the cold weather raised my skin to goose flesh. Was this how I'm supposed to die? Flog to death and hypothermia? This proves the Southerners were the savages.
Another man came forward.
"What's the meaning of this?"
"Lord Overton, this is Night's Watch punishment," Alliser explained.
"You are going to flog a woman?" Lord Overton exclaimed.
"I bet you flog your servants," Alliser countered. "You have no control over here. Now stand aside."
I took a deep breath, quietly praying to the old gods and closed my eyes. The jingle of the metal tips colliding into one another. The adjustment of leather in Alliser's hand. Then the sound of cutting air, as nine strands from the whip smacked hard along my back. I gasped, clenching the chains as my back arch. A searing pain went through my spine. Not even a second after, Alliser snapped his wrist, flogging me again, only this time it was worse.
I cried out, then bit my tongue suppressing any noise to give this sadist his satisfaction. I did what I had to do in the True North to survive. Every time I cross paths with a Crow, they try to rape and or kill me. I even spared many Crows with a warning.
Another snap, like pain, punctures me. I bit my lip to a point I was tasting blood. My hands grasping the shackles for support and elevate the pain. I refused to cry out. The whip cracking over and over again. My legs would give way now and then, yet I force myself up.
Four more snaps, as the tangs cut into my skin. The gashes oozed warm blood ran down my side. The tears fell as I sobbed. My legs giving up from me. The pain was unbearable. I closed my eyes, trying to vanish. Allow my mind to go numb. There was no animal in sight to warg into.
There was a caw. An eagle shrieks. I glance over my shoulder, seeing Orell, swooping down scratching at Alliser's head, before going back to the sky. The Master of Arms raised the flog, about to strike, when Orell swooped down again. He took possession of the whip, making it far away. I panted, my legs giving up. My weight forcing my body down, causing pain in my wrists from the shackles.
Everything seemed to fall silent. Or maybe I fell into shock. All I know the flogging has stopped.
"Riders!"
The sound of horses.
"What's the meaning of this!"
My conscious going in and out.
An arm was wrapped around my hips, supporting my weight. I glanced to my left, seeing Fenrir. Fury was written on his face as he elevated my body weight to save my shoulder joint. Another set of hands helped, looking to my right, seeing Jon's face. His face expressed utter guilt.
"And who are you?" demanded Alliser.
"I am Stannis Baratheon, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms," Stannis said. "And I order you to release this prisoner."
"She has killed our men," Alliser sneered.
"And I'm sure you've killed many of hers," Stannis countered. "By the acts of war, women are never to be flogged or tortured. Release her now, or I shall have your head."
"Papa," I mumbled to my father.
"I'm here, Imogen," Fenrir whispered. "I'm here."
"I'm sorry," I sobbed before falling unconscious.
There was only comfort in the darkness.
I'm going to end it there.
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