Westeros: Shadow Beyond the Wall
The blood of kings holds a great power within. The Others know this. They did not know just what power Jon Snow's held when it was spilt by his own brothers, accomplishing through blind idiocy what they had failed to do for so long. Winter is coming, carrying death with it.
I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. Nor do I own the Middle-Earth video game series or Lord of the Rings.
Review Responses
Umodin: That's going to be an issue for Jon to really think on down the road. On the one hand he might get a super awesome Elder Dragon if it hatches which would be a big military boon…on the other he could feed the North with it and help it better prepare across the board. But stretching all that wealth across even a sparsely populated region the size of the North can dilute it easily.
ManWithaPlan113: That will be the day.
NIX1987: While I appreciate that you are entitled to your own opinion…the moment when you start swearing at me like a petulant child is the moment when I stop taking your opinion seriously. Enjoy it or don't, nobody is forcing you to follow this.
n0mster: Gotta give Jon a consolation prize of some kind at the end of the day, if only to balance out the crap he got at the end of Season 8.
Alvor the Warhawk: I suppose that we'll have to wait and see where Jon goes in terms of dragons, rings and riches. But I can say that Tar-Medine will have his part to play again.
Tom2011: Tormund is one of my favourite characters to write. Sure, his hands aren't clean but when Jon needs allies who won't stab him in the back or sputter about bastardry or nobility, the Giantsbane is hands-down the man for the job. But yes, time to get some Thrones up in this Game crossover.
Platinum-bro: If chaos is both a pit and a ladder, drama is a tar pit. But it will all depend on where Jon stands by the time the truth comes out. As it stands now he wouldn't want the throne because he's half-wraith and would understandably not be a suitable candidate to rule of anything in Westeros as it is now. Also because he's backing a horse already, or rather a stag named Stannis, and doesn't want to entirely abandon all concepts of honour to the point of betraying Stannis when as of yet their partnership is only a boon in Jon's eyes. That might change down the road, as Jon has thought of dealing with Stannis if he becomes a problem, but as he said in the last chapter: he isn't following him for his personality.
Tolkien's ring: I can safely say that he is not a character from Lord of the Rings.
velmir9: Today's a good day to have wishes granted!
narahc avis: Wow, it's been that long already?
Xxx
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Moot
20th Day of the 11th Moon of 300 AC
Skagos
"They're late." Tormund grumbled as rain continued to fall on him, soaking his mess of red hair.
"Course they're late." Baldric Magnar sat a few feet behind, under the canvas of a tent erected among the trees near the edge of a great meadow, the Heartfield as the Skagosi called it. "Nobody wants to negotiate in the fuckin' rain."
"They've already stalled for this long." Jon was reclined at the base of a particularly wide tree, Ghost at his side and watching the circle of rocks at the centre of the field. "How much backhanded dealing can a few clans possibly achieve?"
"You'd be surprised." Baldric took a swig from his wine skin. "Every Chief and Lord used the time to strike deals with one another, then gone behind the backs of their allies to arrange deals to betray them to their enemies. In turn they tell their allies of these deals but make it sound as if they will betray those enemies. Everybody trusts only in the fact that they can trust nobody. All of these mummers' alliances are so tightly wound together simply to ensure that none may act upon any of them without assuringly raining down death upon themselves while their killers may claim to be godly men."
"Remind me why we need them again." Tormund growled.
"Their ships, for one." Baldric replied. "Each of them has a small navy like Kingston. Each is nothing compared to what a mainland kingdom could make, but put together under the right leader and added to the Baratheon fleet and you'd control the Narrow Sea from Dorne to the Bite."
I also need them to ship several thousand Orcs, Skani and Skagosi to the North. Jon reminded himself, tempering his irritation.
"They'll all know that too, and they'll be ready to leverage theirs over others' or offer to destroy their neighbours' ships for favours…or pretend they would if they want to weasel a marriage out of those neighbours by betraying you later."
"I thought Skagos was supposed to be less complex than the mainland." Jon scanned the far side of the meadow and found some shapes moving among the treeline. "If anything, it sounds more convoluted than the South."
"When you have this many who hate each other packed onto an island as small as Skagos and with so little to do, plotting becomes a good pastime." Baldric grinned ruefully. "Best get used to it, Demonsbane. You'll face much worse in the wars to come."
"It isn't only the wars that worry me anymore." Jon said.
"Then you're smarter than most." The Lord of Kingston looked up as the downpour began to subside. "It's time."
"Thought you said they won't talk in the rain." Tormund said, but followed Baldric as he stepped out into the open.
"It's a drizzle for the moment." Baldric replied. "Might clear up or it might get worse again. I'd force their hand before that happens. Once the Moot starts, none can leave without forfeiting the gods' protection."
Jon rubbed Ghost's head. "Wait for Rickon." He whispered, then followed the Magnar procession as other figures trickle out to gather around the formation of carved stone.
Around each banner was a group of men in the signature stone armour of the Skagosi, which Jon had found to be more ceremonial after seeing how Baldric and his men had fought in boiled leather and chainmail. Each was painted with the colours and symbol of their Clan or House.
The balance of power on Skagos was divided between three major houses (relative to Skagos at least) and a smattering of clans that were vassals to those houses, with Clansmen under Chiefs representing the lion's share of their armies and in-land labourers while the Lords held greater wealth from controlling trading ships and fishing. When called to Moot, each Lord was permitted to select the leaders and elite guards of two Clans under their rule to bolster their own entourage.
The Crowls of Deepdown, represented by four spikes of red and three spikes of black to form what looked like a mountain range, controlled the north-eastern peninsula of Skagos and were primarily miners, extracting iron and forging rough steel at a rate that made their warriors the best equipped on average. Their strongest clan vassals: Dagrun and Ulfer were there to represent their bannermen.
The Stanes of Driftwood Hall, shown by the brown driftwood tree on a green field, were Jon's real concern, given that their Lord's brother and predecessor had been killed while hunting for Rickon. They controlled the greatest swaths of forest on Skagos, as well as its most abundant hunting grounds and unicorn territories. Huntsmen and forresters on top of partaking in fishing and trade like their neighbours, they were almost as wealthy as House Magnar yet could field a slightly larger army and fleet. That made them the strongest individual house and an obstacle in gaining the fealty of Skagos.
Fortunately, their vassals were more kept in line by extortion and fear than loyalty, with hostages from each clan being the norm following a rise in taxes. Represented by the Chiefs of Clans Magni and Rune, there was perhaps a chance for dissent in the ranks if the situation required it.
Where the Crowls were the best miners, stoneworkers and metalworkers while the Stanes were the best foresters and hunters, the Magnars had only one advantage over them which had allowed them to rise to where they were now: food. Off of the east coast of Skagos, across a channel from Kingston, lay an island several times the size of Skane with little lumber or suitable veins of ore, but the best farmlands in the archipelago. It was nothing impressive compared to the Reach or even some moderately lush parts of the North, but it was enough that House Magnar rarely ever wanted for food when winter came. But it was only after a book of agricultural techniques from the Citadel had, by chance, ended up in the hands of one such Lord along with a literate sailor that these farmlands were used to their greatest potential and the tradition of sending young men off to learn applicable knowledge began.
The Chiefs of Clans Geir and Alvar stood with Baldric as he joined gathering around the stone circle.
"Good day, m'lords!" Baldric opened with a smile and jovial tone. "Thank you for takin' the time to meet with me."
"Out with it, Magnar." Lord Agros Stane, a tall man with straw-like hair, a short beard and a thin frame draped in a green cloak spat on the grass. "I don't have all day."
"As you wish, Lord Stane." Baldric waved with one hand, and some clansman brought up a wagon with a tarp draped over it. "I bring good tidings for all, m'lords. Today is a day of celebration, for the scourge from Skane has finally been slain."
A chorus of chuckles and derisive sounds went up from around the circle, but was quickly ended when Jon ripped the tarp off to reveal the horned head of Tar-Medine, only now beginning to enter the first stages of decomposition. Men cursed or cried out a quick prayer to the gods as they stepped away.
"Take a close look, m'lords." Baldric patted the black hide between the lifeless eyes. "This is the shadow that has cost all of us many lives with each season, and we are now free of it!"
"How can we know this is it?" Lord Ivar Crowl, a more heavyset man with a long dark beard decorated with charms of bone and obsidian, grunted. "None have seen it and lived to tell of it."
"This could be a trick!" Chief Dagrun shouted.
"It is a trick." Chief Magni sneered. "Does this up-jumped farmer expect us to believe he and his slew such a beast?"
Silence followed, and Jon saw Lord Stane's eyes wander to the Chiefs of Ulfer and Rune who remained silent, looking contemplatively at the severed head.
He expected them to voice their support of his claim. Jon realized.
"Speak carefully, for I am not the one who can claim this victory." Baldric shook his head. "No, that goes to this man here." He lightly delivered a back-handed slap to Jon's chest and put his other hand on his shoulder. "Jon Snow of Winterfell!"
Up to that point Jon may as well have been invisible to the moot, now their eyes were all fixed upon him. He stepped forward with a hand resting upon Blackfyre's hilt.
"I am Jon Snow, son of Ned Stark, your liege lord in life." He said. "I have slain this beast, which named itself Tar-Medine, and freed Skane from his dominion. Lord Baldric Magnar has pledged his banner to my King: Stannis Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals, Roynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Now I have come to see if the rest of the stoneborn, in their gratitude, will remember where their allegiance lies."
Ivar Crowl's face, what little could be seen under his thick beard and mess of dark hair, turned red. "I don't believe you to be a demon slayer anymore than I would believe a Magnar to have done the deed, boy! And I know nothing of this King Stannis!"
"If you do not believe me, Lord Crowl, then you name me a liar before the Heartstones of Father Skagos." Jon motioned to the stone circle. "And if you name me a liar in his sight, then there would only be one way to prove which of us is false."
Baldric had wisely informed him of traditions that might work to his advantage or detriment. The Stonelords were counting on him being ignorant of their traditions, that as an outsider he would not respond in a way their people would find fitting. Seeing how Lord Crowl's red face turned pale, Jon felt thankful to Baldric for his foresight.
"Do you recant, or shall I call for Trial of the Stone?" Jon asked.
It was Trial by Combat in all but name, but where that was meant to determine one's guilt, this was intended to resolve an insult between two persons or families. It was fought until one surrendered , recanted or apologized, or until one died and was disgraced in death for blindly following their own pride. But before death could be administered, the victor had to give a chance for their foe to satisfy their terms, otherwise they would be seen as mocking Father Skagos' will by depriving their enemy of the chance to willingly repent for whatever they had done.
"You…are an outsider, and not entitled to invoke that sacred rite." Crowl grumbled.
"Your ancestors swore vows to mine, and those vows are not easily forgotten. Skagos is of the North by right of conquest, and the North remembers." Jon replied, and unhooked Blackfyre's scabbard from his belt. "If it makes you feel safer, I will fight you unarmed. You may even use my blade and keep it if you win."
The Lord Crowl looked torn on the decision presented to him. Jon was not merely calling him out and reminding him of how his kin had been humbled in the past, but even offering to make the duel easier for him. There was little greater insult that could be extended in the eyes of the Stonelords, who would see it as Jon viewing Crowl as being of so little concern that he did not fear losing the duel.
If they knew it was Valyrian steel he offered to lend, Crowl might have keeled over dead from humiliation.
"Go on! Will you not meet me in battle to show that Father Skagos supports you?" Jon asked, holding the sheathed blade out.
Crowl's hands remained by his sides.
"No?" Jon shrugged and returned Blackfyre to his hip. "Then I will graciously accept your apology, Lord Crowl."
Ivar Crowl was no warrior, Baldric had made that clear. He was the youngest of four sons and had not been groomed to inherit, instead being taught to work the mines and the forges. He had the strength of arm to swing a weapon, but little of the martial discipline needed to do so with any great success. He'd always delegated matters of war to better suited advisors- Housecarls they were called, the Skagosi equivalent of knights from the sound of it. But they could not represent him in a Trial of the Stone, that was another distinction from Trial by Combat.
Baldric would not have called for it because he needed to maintain relatively cordial ties with the Crowls, but Jon was not of Skagos. He did not live with Crowl as his neighbour every day, nor did he worry about potentially a war with him. He was representing House Stark, the Crowls' overlords, and he was intent on reminding Ivar Crowl of that.
The Lord bowed his head. "I…recant my words, Jon Snow."
"And I forgive you for them." Jon stepped back and looked to Baldric, who stepped forward again.
"We are not just here to boast, however. We are here because the heart of the North is controlled by those who should not rule, those who spit in the faces of our gods and violate the sacred Guest Rite." Baldric said. "Roose Bolton betrayed and murdered his King, at a wedding no less. Aided in the slaughter of his countrymen and now proclaims himself to be our Lord."
He spat. "Fuck him, I say. The Starks may not be loved here, but we could never deny their strength. We cannot deny that even when they conquered us they left us to our own affairs, to rule ourselves as we saw fit so long as we kept their peace. This Bolton, however? He knows nothing of strength, he is a weak man who rose to the top by the blessings of southerners just as treacherous as him."
"And you would prop the wolves back up by the blessings of another southerner?" Chief Rune asked. "What is it that makes Stannis Baratheon's claim to kingship right, and yet Roose Bolton's claim to lordship wrong?"
"Because unlike Roose Bolton, Stannis fights for the North." Jon answered. "The Boltons fight only for themselves. Northern houses flocked to Stannis after he made came to the aid of the Night's Watch. They flock to him still, but the battle that would be needed to oust the Boltons would see the might of the North shattered for generations right when it is needed most."
Jon stepped into the circle and looked at the surrounding men. "You have heard of what is beyond the Wall. The dark things that walk under the sun there, the slaughter at Hardhome, the reason for which Mance Rayder united over a hundred thousand Free Folk and Giants in a desperate bid to reach safety."
"We've heard, yes." Agros Stane nodded. "The day that I believe the word of Wildlings or Wildling-lovers is far off."
"Good thing he isn't askin' you to take our word for it." Tormund smirked. "We've got somethin' you'll want to see."
Jon nodded and closed his eyes, reaching out to where Ghost had remained behind. This was only possible thanks to his experience with the Sheepstealer and some guidance from Nettles.
You have no skin to slip out of anymore, Snow. She'd told him. You are neither living nor dead. But you can still reach beyond your shell. Do as I do.
When he opened his eyes, he was staring at himself from a distance, in greater clarity than was humanly possible. He and Ghost lifted their head together and turned to face Rhae, kneeling in the bushes with several of her rangers.
"Now?" She asked.
Jon and Ghost nodded.
She looked to her side. "Get the wagon moving."
Jon returned to his body while a second wagon was guided out into view, but this time it was led by men in black cloaks, brothers of the Watch.
"Before I sailed for Skane, I had sent a message to Denys Mallister, the new Lord-Commander of the Watch." Jon informed the moot. "I asked him for one of the Watch's vessels to deliver something of great importance for you all to see, on the off chance that I didn't return from Skane. Fortunately, it arrived just after I'd landed in Kingston."
The men of the Watch unloaded a large wooden crate and carried it to the middle of the circle, setting it down and carefully removing thick metal bars used to lock the lid in place. Then they pulled the lid off and quickly put several feet between themselves and the now open crate. The gathered Lords and Chiefs of Skagos looked on in puzzlement with some amusement at how afraid the men of the Watch appeared to be of getting near the crate now.
"It's okay." Jon said, approaching the crate without fear, holding an axe given to him by Baldric. "You've done your part. I'll handle the rest from here."
"Thank you, Lord Snow." One of the brothers said as they hurried to the edge of the circle.
Once he was sure that nobody else was straying too close, Jon kicked the crate over…and out tumbled what used to be First Ranger Alliser Thorne, who scrambled back up as a soulless shriek erupted from his pale lips, blue eyes boring into the Chief of Magni as the wight raced forward. Men shrieked and cursed as they scrambled back from the wight's intended path, drawing weapons or simply trying to get as far away from it as possible.
Jon pressed one foot down on the length of chain anchoring it to the heavy crate, causing Thorne's feet to fly out from under him as the metal loop around his neck tugged him back. Chief Magni gasped and laid a hand on his chest, having come within inches of being within the wight's grasp.
The wight turned and saw the source of its confinement. It snarled and raced towards Jon next, moving faster than a man of Thorne's age would usually be capable.
Jon sidestepped the wight's reach and sank the axe into its exposed back. It toppled over, arms still reaching out and its upper body twisting as Jon chopped down several more times before finally severing its upper body from its legs.
He would be lying if he said he didn't feel some small satisfaction from it.
The wight did not relent, dragging its torso around and reaching up towards him. Jon took off its arm at the elbow and pinned the weight down with one foot against what remained of its spine.
"Look at it!" He shouted to the moot. "This is what walks beyond the Wall! Wights! Every man, woman, child and animal slain north of the Wall is raised as one of these things: unfeeling, unliving, unrelenting servants of the true enemy!"
Jon chopped down several more times, but the wight barely reacted to each impact, still struggling to get out from under Jon's boot. "Look how regular steel will not slay it! The weapons of mortal men will damage them, but they cannot undo the magic which animates them."
He tossed the axe down and held a hand out towards Baldric and Tormund, the latter bringing him a torch and flint, then the severed arm.
"But we are not defenceless against them!" Jon continued as Tormund lit the torch, then held the writhing hand over the fire until it began to burn. "We can kill them with fire."
Looking towards the twitching lower half of Thorne's body, Jon handed the torch off and dropped the burning hand. He took Blackfyre and jabbed it into the bisected lower half by one of its thighs, causing it to cease.
"And we can kill them," Jon exchanged the Valyrian steel for a crude obsidian dagger from his belt, "with dragon glass or Valyrian steel."
He held Thorne up by his remaining arm, looked him in his blue eyes and sank the dagger into his chest.
For the Watch.
Alliser Thorne fell limp like a puppet with its strings cut, a shriek dying on his dead lips. Jon dropped the carcass and held up the dagger for the moot to see. "This is one reason why I have come to Skagos." Jon offered the knife hilt-first to Chief Ulfer, who examined it before handing it to Chief Dagrun. "Your island has veins of dragon glass and is closest to the Wall. King Stannis has promised support for the Watch, but can only do so much while the Seven Kingdoms are divided under the rule of Lannisters. This is a threat to all of us: from Skagos to Oldtown, from Bear Island to Sunspear. The Long Night is returning, and it is brought by an enemy that cannot be bought or treated with, an enemy that will not distinguish between mainlander or Skagosi. All must stand together against it, or fall on their own."
He pointed at the lifeless, dismembered body. "And that will be our fate if we fail."
Lord Crowl, hidden behind his bannermen, peeked out from between them. "These things…can they swim?"
"They don't need to." Jon replied. "Their masters are not mindless like them and possess great power, great enough that Skagos will not be beyond their reach. Their armies do not need rest nor food nor air. The White Walkers who command them wield magic and can raise anything that is dead. Man, beast, bird…fish. All rise as their puppets with only one purpose: to kill more and add to their ranks. One becomes two, becomes four, becomes eight until their numbers can cover the land, blot out the sky or fill the sea."
That last one struck a chord in all of them. Skagos relied on the bounty of the sea during winter. Jon had never actually seen firsthand any instances of the Others raising aquatic life to do their bidding, but seeing how all forms of wildlife from beyond the Wall were not beyond their abilities it hardly seemed reasonable to just assume they could not do the same with fish, lobsters, whales or anything else that dwelled under the ocean.
"Make no mistakes, my lords, this is not a war that can be ignored." Jon implored. "So in the name of the King, I call upon you: pledge your fealty, rally your armies, muster your fleets and begin mining as much dragon glass as possible. The front line of this war shall be at the Wall first, and it is there that we can hope to stem this tide long enough to bring it to an end."
"How would that happen?" Agros Stane asked. "You just told us what they are capable of."
"And I've told you of their weaknesses as well. A White Walker may be slain with dragon glass or Valyrian steel just as easily as their wights." Jon reminded him. "And when a White Walker is slain, every wight that they have personally raised dies with them. Where their armies go, they will go. If they will go to the Wall, then the Night's Watch must be ready to repel them from an advantageous position with weapons that can kill their generals. If you can give them these weapons, the Wall may yet hold and Skagos may emerge from the coming war unscathed."
"And what of this King's war?" Chief Ulfer asked. "If we pledge ourselves to him, will our warriors be taken south to fight for his throne on a mere promise that doing so will protect our home in the long term?"
"Stannis will not empty the North of its armies right when they are most needed in the North." Jon denied. "To speak for him, I have brought with me Ser Davos Seaworth, Hand of the King. And with him, representing the people of Skane and Captain of the Ashcrown Rangers: Rhae."
Davos and Rhae, given another signal by Ghost, stepped out of the trees with a handful of guards each. The rest still remained hidden in case anyone was foolish enough to act upon old grudges and shed blood at the moot.
Agros Stane still remained the most likely to do just that in Jon's mind.
"Greetings, my lords." Davos bowed his head.
"You're the southron King's hand?" Stane snorted, eying Davos' mutilated hand. "A cripple?"
"Better a one handed man with an ounce of sense than a two handed man with none." Rhae drew her hood back and weathered the collective stares of the moot (outside of Baldric's party) at her Valyrian colouring. "Yes, I'm from Skane. Yes, that head is real. And no: you won't be sending your armies south to fight for some throne you don't care about."
"What my lady means," Davos hurriedly interjected, "is that Stannis Baratheon realizes that the North has been sorely bled by the recent wars, and that ousting the Boltons will surely reap a great toll as well. He asks only that you aid him in removing the Boltons from power and restoring House Stark to its seat at Winterfell. After that he shall procure armies from elsewhere and march south while the North focuses on holding the Wall. You will be fighting only to protect your own lands and people."
"And if we decline to join any of your wars?" Chief Geir asked. "What then?"
"If you aren't helping us to fight the Long Night, you're as good as siding with it." Rhae answered, patting the weirwood longbow hung on her back. "Jon Snow saved my people, and for that we shall be indebted to him for as long as he lives. That's why we've bent the knee to him, to his kin in House Stark and to his southron King. If you force him to do as his ancestors have done in the past to bring you to heel, you will find Skani arrows darkening the skies."
Grumbles of indignation rose from the moot.
Baldric cleared his throat and joined them in the circle. "Now that we know where everybody stands, perhaps we should take a few minutes to speak amongst ourselves?" He suggested, and then leaned in and whispered to Jon. "He's here. North of us."
Jon looked through Ghost's eyes and moved with the Direwolf as he skirted along the edges of the meadow. He saw some men from each party hidden among the trees, looking on guard for signs of treachery but not yet making any aggressive moves. Towards the northern end of the meadow he came upon the familiar dark coat of Shaggydog, who was peering at the moot. Several dozen meters behind him were two figures crouched low, one of them a woman and the other a boy with a head of red hair…
Rickon!
Jon found himself outside of the stone circle, guided there by Baldric and Rhae as the Lords and Chiefs spoke amongst themselves. "He's really here." Jon whispered.
"Knew he'd be here." Baldric grinned. "The woman is probably making him wait to see if they should join in. Always does this, even when I go through the trouble of leaving all those messages at their regular hunting grounds."
His little brother was close now, but the wrong move could chase him away. He had to get close enough to talk to him without being spotted…and had planned for such an occasion.
"I'll go talk to them." Jon stepped between the two wagons. "Stall until I get back. If they see that I'm gone, just tell them I'm going to talk with their King."
He warped to where he'd left the Fist of the First Men in the high branches of a tree, using the wagons to obscure his departure. From there he leapt down and dashed through the forest, skirting the edges of the meadow and keeping out of sight of the Crowl and Stane men. Twice he stopped and checked through Ghost's eyes if Rickon or Shaggy had noticed his absence, but there was no reaction on their part to indicate they'd noticed anything.
When he was able to move around behind the pair, he sprang his trap.
Go, Ghost.
Shaggydog's ears twitched before he turned and bared his fangs at the white blur that shot past him. No sooner than he gave chase did Rickon gasp and recoil backwards.
"Run, Osha!" He cried. "He's here!"
"Wait!" Osha tried to restrain Rickon by the wrist. "He's your brother-"
"NO!" Rickon shrieked and wrenched away from her. "NOT MY PAPA!"
He scrambled for a spear at his feet and turned to face where Ghost emerged into sight, immediately turning to face the pursuing Shaggydog. With a yell more like the roar of a beast Rickon drew his arm back, demonstrating the form of one who'd had too much practice for his age.
Before the spear could fly, Jon grasped the shaft and ripped it from Rickon's grasp. The boy stumbled and spun around, face pale and eyes bulging with fright. Shaggydog leapt into view only for Ghost to easily move aside and slam into his flank, pinning him with as much ease as their last encounter.
Jon tossed the spear aside. "I'm not papa, Rickon." He said. "I'm your brother, and I'm here to bring you home."
Rickon pulled from his belt a dagger made from a curved bone, but Osha stopped him from attacking. "Enough, Little Lord!" She wrestled with him for the weapon.
"Let go, Osha!" Rickon thrashed like he was possessed and had the strength to match, shoving Osha back and turning the dagger on Jon with an overhead stab. "GO AWAY!"
Jon caught the blade…clean through his hand. He sucked in a breath and swore but closed his fingers around Rickon's small hand, holding him in place as the boy shrieked and howled, kicking and clawing at any part of Jon that he could reach.
To see him as he was now, to remember him as the little boy he'd been when he first left Winterfell…it was hard to come to terms with how the two were one and the same.
"Harden your heart." The Stranger advised, appearing behind Rickon. "This is the least of what is to come."
Having had enough, Jon grasped Rickon's other wrist and held the boy out at arm's length. "Enough, Rickon." He spoke calmly yet firmly and went unheeded.
"Rickon, please!" Osha tried to soothe the boy's thrashing.
"No! Let go!" Rickon kicked Jon's shins. "Dead! Gone! You! LEFT!"
"RICKON STARK! STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!" Jon barked, and felt his brother go still, save for the quivering which racked his body.
Rickon's face was red and stained with tears and snot, torn between rage and fear.
"This one has immersed himself in his Direwolf's skin for too long." The Stranger sighed. "He is as much beast as he is boy, but this may work in our favour. Direwolves know to respect their Alpha, and he thinks you are your father."
Jon slowly released Rickon's hands and pulled the bone dagger from his hand, watching the wound seal shut. He set the weapon aside and watched as Rickon sheltered himself in Osha's arms. Nearby, Shaggydog's growling devolved into whimpers and his struggles to get away from Ghost ceased.
"I'm not papa." Jon repeated. "Look at me, Rickon. I'm Jon, your brother. Look at Ghost, he and Shaggydog are brothers as well." He motioned to the Direwolves as Ghost slowly moved off of Shaggydog, who appeared suitably cowed like Rickon. "I was there the day that you first met him. I convinced papa to bring him and his pack into Winterfell. I'm the one who gave him to you, but you were scared of him at first."
Rickon whined into Osha's tunic, trying to deny what he heard.
"I was there when you were born." Jon pressed on, speaking softly. "Your mama didn't want me to be there, but papa wanted me and Robb to meet you after you came into this world, howling and kicking."
"No…" Rickon sobbed, clinging to Osha. "Not mama…Osha…"
"You'd always come to me, begging for sweets, because you knew I'd never say no to you." Jon smiled at the memory of the last time this ever happened, in the final good months before Robert Baratheon rode north. "Well, me or Arya…or Bran. You were the only one who loved lemon cakes more than Sansa."
"No!" Rickon gripped handfuls of Osha's tunic. "Stop!"
"Rickon-"
"SHUT UP!" Rickon howled. "You lie! You all lie! You said you'd come back, but you never did! None of you! And- and the- " He snorted loudly. "-the monsters came…and you left me in the dark."
Jon felt guilt well up in his chest. He had known what befell Winterfell, but until now he'd never imagined what it must have been like for Rickon. Maybe, without realizing it, he'd convinced himself that Rickon would be too young to understand most of what was happening, that blissful ignorance had defended him.
But no, Rickon had seen everything. Every horror, every death. If he'd been in the dark, it took little guesswork to determine that he'd hidden in the crypts with Bran. They were so deep and expansive that they were a labyrinth to anyone unfamiliar with them. The perfect place to hide from Ironborn, even from Theon who'd never been allowed down there.
But also a nightmarish place to stay night after night, where shadows could manifest into monsters and every sound was that of a prowling creature born from the depths of imagination. Jon would know, he'd made the foolish mistake of trying to stay there in some attempt to prove his bravery as a child. Only having Robb with him had kept him from breaking down into hysterics.
"I did leave you." Jon admitted. "I was the first to leave. I left because I'd always thought I was meant to. Because I thought my home was elsewhere. We all left, but we never meant to leave you alone."
Ghost padded to his side.
"But all of that is over; because I'm back now, little brother." Jon rubbed behind the Direwolf's ears. "The moment that I found out where you were, I came to find you. I had to do a lot to get here, so it took a while. But it was all worth it and I'd do it a thousand times just to see you alive and well."
Shaggydog moved with his head bowed, joining Rickon and comforting him by licking his face.
"I sailed to a cursed island." Jon smiled. "I made friends with wizards and dragons. I fought a demon in his own dark castle and slew him. I conquered his castle and made it my own. All of this and more, just so I could come back to you."
He held a hand out to Shaggydog, who began to growl before a look from Ghost silenced him. The black Direwolf slowly stretched his neck out and pressed his muzzle into Jon's hand, giving his palm a lick through the tear left in his glove by Rickon's blade.
"Because I love you, little brother." Jon whispered, rubbing Shaggydog's head. "And I'm so sorry that I ever left you."
Rickon hiccuped, leaning heavily into Shaggydog's side. "…Jon?" His voice cracked. "I want to go home. I want mama. I want papa. I want them all back."
Jon moved forward and gathered Rickon into his arms. "I know, Rickon. I know." He lifted his brother up. "I can't give them all back, some of them are…gone. But I'll bring the rest back home too. And you'll never be left alone again."
But first he had to rid their home of the rats that nested there and get their sister back.
"But I need your help." Jon said. "I need you to get those men to help me."
Xxx
When Jon returned to the Heartstones, it was with Rickon by his side and Osha on the younger boy's opposite side. The gathered leaders of Skagos fell silent at Rickon's presence, and that of two horse sized Direwolves at his flanks.
"Hail, the Wolf King of Skagos." Baldric uttered.
"Hail." The chorus was murmured around the circle, accompanied by bowed heads.
Rickon looked up to Jon before addressing the moot. "I would speak before you vote."
"As is your right, as King." Baldric said before any could dispute.
"I'm no king." Rickon shook his head. "I'm Rickon Stark. I'm of Winterfell, and Jon is my brother. He says that men took my home, my real home, and my sister. I'm going back with Jon. I'm going home to fight for my Pack. And you should all come with us."
"You've just forsworn any claim to rule us, little wolf king." Agros Stane huffed, his eyes narrowing dangerously as they came to lay upon Osha. "I'm not convinced that these dead soldiers can reach us. If they could have, they would have come after us long ago. Why should I send men to fight and die for some King I don't follow?"
"Because if you don't, then you will leave me no choice." Jon answered. "I learned the hard way the mistake of leaving a dagger poised at my back. I used to think it wise to keep my enemies close…but I suppose that until recently I didn't have nearly as many of them. Mark me now, for I won't repeat that mistake again. Kneel and pledge fealty to the Warden of the North, and to your King, or we shall meet again three days from now on the field of battle."
Three days. That was all that was afforded to those who waged war on Skagos, and it wasn't always heeded. Those three days were to allow for smallfolk to flee to safety, for crops to be gathered or burnt, for holdfasts and towns to be fortified and for the feuding highborn to hopefully see reason.
But a war on Skagos wasn't in his interests, he'd wasted enough time with the brief war on Skane as it was. If the Lords of Driftwood and Deepdown would not see reason, they would not live to even clear the forest.
"Piss on you and your King!" Agros snarled, reaching for his belt. "If you're wanting my knee to bend, then send that murderous whore to me so that I might exact justice for my brother!"
"Your brother was the murderous one." Osha replied sharply. "He'd have raped me to death and killed Rickon for the sheer pleasure of it, and I'll not regret his end. Fucker deserved it."
Agros pulled a hatchet before she finished speaking and reared his arm back, twisting his body in a manner most familiar. Jon launched himself towards Osha and reaches out with one hand, grabbing the axe by its handle and stopping it short of burying itself between her eyes. She gasped and stumbled back, spear at the ready with the song of unsheathed steel ringing around the Heartstones.
"STAY YOUR BLADES!" Baldric roared, though he had an axe in hand again. "Agros, you fucking idiot!"
"This Wildling whore needs to pay! And if you intend to stand between me and my brother's murderer, then you can join her too!" Agros shouted and began to point his men forward. "Kill her! Kill them all! Kill in the name of-"
Jon, in a near-perfect repeat of Agros' throw, flung the Fist of the First Men and warped to the Lord of Driftwood Hall to deliver a light knock to the head (relatively speaking). "SILENCE!" He and the Stranger bellowed, their combined voices carrying across the meadow and far through the forest, bringing about an unnatural quiet broken only by the rain returning- thankfully at little more than a sprinkle.
Rickon clung to Osha's side, aware of just how close he had come to losing her if not for Jon. Shaggydog and Ghost got between them and the straw haired man, glaring silently at him as Jon hauled him up by the scalp. If any of his bannermen felt loyal enough or even simply obligated out of tradition to assist their liege lord, neither of them said a word and set their weapons back in place while watching silently.
"Agros Stane, you have attempted to commit murder within the gaze of Father Skagos." Jon held one hand up and slowly clenched it into a fist. "To do so is as insulting to the gods as breaking the sacred guest rite."
Agros gave a strangled cry as one side of his face glowed pale white in the shape of a hand print. The Skagosi remained on his knees, held up by an invisible force even as he became a prisoner in his own head.
"But I will not kill you." Jon slowly shook his head. "No…you shall be an example to remind the world that the laws of gods and men are not to be laughed at. That there will come a price to be paid as surely as winter itself shall reap from the unprepared and the foolish."
Reaching down, he took Agros' head in both hands and the man's groans turned into shrieks of pain. Jon's grip remained like solid steel and his gaze as cold as the lands beyond the Wall.
"Suffer in their name, oath breaker!"
Agros' cried reached a new pitch before Jon threw him to the ground where he writhed, clutching at his now fully burnt face, his cries drowning out the soft patter of rain.
"He deserved it…" Agros groaned, curled on his side. "He…he deserved it! He shouldn't have tried…I shouldn't have…he deserved it!"
"Gods old and new." Davos whispered, shivering as Agros Stane continued to bawl and wail like a child. "What was that?"
"A trick from Rhae's mother." Jon turned his back on Agros and returned to his company's space along the outside of the Heartstones. "Remind me to thank her. He will live, but for the rest of his days he shall carry this moment with him, burnt into his mind. However, he shall not spend that time as the Lord of Driftwood Hall. That honour shall go to someone within his lands who proves worthy of the role."
This got the attention of Chiefs Magni and Rune. A faint glimmer of hope and ambition, just as he'd expected from those whose loyalty
"But before we can discuss that further- and this time I truly won't repeat myself after this: you all will kneel and renew your pledge of fealty to House Stark, here and now, to my brother and your rightful liegelord." Jon rested a hand on the Fist's handle. "Else I shall seek new blood that will see reason."
With his closest ally a quivering mess atop all else he'd seen and heard, Ivar Crowl needed no further encouragement to bend the knee. No other offered protest, falling down to one knee with sword or axe set before them.
"In the eyes of Father Skagos, he who shelters from the coming frost, we kneel and pledge the loyalty within our hearts, the blades within our hands and the food within our homes." They uttered. "To Rickon of House Stark, to Stannis of House Baratheon and all who come after them. Oh Father Skagos, bind us and our blood to these words and lay them in your flesh that they may endure from this day to the Last Winter. And if ever we stray and break our oaths-"
More than one man glanced towards Agros, who was rocking back and forth on the grass and whimpering.
"-may winter claim us before our time, that all found wanting in your eyes take heed."
Ivar Crowl raised his head. "Skagos is yours…Lord Stark."
Rickon found the courage to step away from Osha again. He stopped by Jon's side and swallowed before responding. "Prepare your armies. Skagos goes to war." He looked up to Jon. "My brother will lead you. I am too young."
"And I promise that I will not ask anything of you or your people that shall bring you dishonour or needless death." Jon uttered, seeing the less than pleased response to Rickon's words. "I will not ask you to send every fighting man that you have. I know that your homes must be defended and that dragon glass for the Watch must be mined and shipped. Send only as many men as you can spare, and enough ships to transport them and several thousand more."
"Why do you need so many ships for so few men," Ivar Crowl asked before averting his gaze. "- er, Lord Snow?"
"Yours is not the only force on the Narrow Sea." Jon answered. "Gather your ships near Kingston in two days with what men you can gather by then. We set sail to pick up the rest of our allies by the third day." He drew Blackfyre and held it high. "On the fourth, we sail to the North and to war!"
"To war!" The Chiefs lifted their weapons into the air. "To war! To war!"
Jon ushered Rickon away from the Heartstones and let him hurry to Osha's side. The brothers of the Watch thanked him for his efforts and promised to carry good tidings to Lord-Commander Mallister and First Ranger Tollett (as well as Jon's congratulations on the promotion, though he knew that Edd hated it). Baldric bid him farewell and made to return to Kingston to gather his army and prepare for the voyage. Rune and Magni remained long enough for Jon to decide which one appeared less incompetent and name him the new Lord of Driftwood Hall in Rickon's name, then left with the former bearing a very pleased expression.
As the camp was packed away, he ran into the last person he had hoped to speak with.
"Priestess." He greeted her neutrally.
"Lord Snow." She replied in kind. "I sense you have been avoiding me."
"You wouldn't be wrong." He made no effort to hide how the events of Ser Narbert's ritual suicide and their broken accord had left him unenthused to meet with her. "But we're here now and I can't think of an excuse that wouldn't be spotted by a blind man, so if you have something you wish to say then by all means: share."
"I have been wrong about many things, Lord Snow. I only began to admit to it recently." Melisandre sat across from him beyond a still burning camp fire. "But I can say with complete certainty that you and I are not enemies."
"Nor are we friends." Jon retorted. "You may be behaving yourself, but that does not change what you did so many times in the south. Burning men alive for refusing to kneel to your Lord of Light, forcing others to abandon their own gods or face that same fate."
"Where were the Seven when you and the Sheepstealer were at Tar-Medine's mercy?" Melisandre asked. "The false gods of the forest may have come to your aid, but where they simply mended what was broken the Lord of Light gifted you with your enemy's own power."
"A boon that I did not request." Jon said. "Nor did I offer payment for it."
"He asks none."
"Good."
"Do you truly despise Him so? When he has only worked to aid you?"
"It's not him I take issue with."
"And I doubt that it is really you who takes issue with me." Melisandre looked past him. "Is that not right, Glâneidiron?"
The Stranger hissed and leaned into Jon's view. "Do not call me that, witch!"
"Do you know what that word means, Jon Snow?" Melisandre ignored the emerald spectre. "It is in a tongue so old that I could not begin to name its origin, but I do know that the word means 'usurper'. You are quick to cast blame upon me for doing what I felt was right in ignorance, yet you have not wondered what he could have done to have earned that moniker…or the extent of his influence over you."
"If you seek to drive a wedge between us, you will need to be more persuasive than that." Jon told her. "My mind is my own."
"And yet you are changing, Jon Snow. Perhaps for the better in some ways." Melisandre conceded. "But a month ago, would you have gladly arranged that performance with Lord Stane and walked away without even a hint of remorse?"
Jon winced as her words struck true. "How did you know?"
"Her false god's boon." The Stranger said bluntly.
"I saw the traces of your power left upon him when he first arrived. Same with Lord Crowl." The Priestess answered, disregarding the Stranger's interruption. "As they wasted time, you snuck into their abodes and marked them. You did not Dominate them, but you did influence them, mainly Lord Stane."
"I hardly needed to." Jon did not try to deny it. "He was set on avenging his brother, I just…nudged hm in the right direction. Weakened his sense of self restraint so that he would lash out more easily instead of taking his time and striking when unexpected."
"And it almost cost an innocent woman her life."
"It did." Jon agreed. "Yet it cost those who would have opposed me today any chance they would have had at defying me. With him made an example of, Skagos is united and Stannis will have three new armies and a fleet to add to his ranks."
"Then you are at peace with manipulating him and deceiving your companions as long as it means returning your kin to their seat of rule."
"I'll find a way to live with myself." Jon met her serene eyes. "When the Lannisters plotted to murder my brother at his own uncle's wedding, do you think they did it for the sake of ending the suffering that accompanies war? Or did they do it so that Joffrey Waters could keep calling himself King and his grandfather could rule through him as Hand?"
Jon kicked some dirt onto the fire to extinguish it. "At least when I plot, my end goal isn't to sit in a fucking chair. If the gods take umbrage with that, then they may judge me as they see fit. Until that day comes- and by the sound of it, that won't be for a long time, I will do whatever I must. Honour is nice to wear as a cloak in times of peace, but it will make poor armour in times of war."
Melisandre nodded. "What if Agros had not attacked? What if he had left peacefully and prepared for war with you?"
"Then he never would have reached Driftwood Hall and his men would struggle to explain how his head exploded like an overly ripe tomato." Jon held up his hand and clenched it into a fist. "Nettles showed me that I have alternatives beyond simply controlling someone's actions."
"Would you use this on your friends if they turned against you?"
"I almost did once and I have no wish to do so…but if they ever truly turn against the cause which I fight for, that being preventing a second Long Night from wiping out all life in Westeros, are they really my friend after that?"
"Would even Stannis be safe?"
"As long as he and I keep fighting for the same reasons, he would be."
"Good." Melisandre stood up and smoothed out the skirt of her robes. "I was worried that you would not commit yourself to this course, even after denying me the ring. But I can see now that you are suited to your role in the wars to come. Death and treachery have tempered you like steel, Jon Snow."
"They make excellent teachers." Jon looked to the others to see that they had finished packing and were making their way back east. "Do you intend to share what I've said with Stannis? Some of it could be construed as treasonous."
"I would tell him in only one circumstance." Melisandre gathered her cloak around her and walked away from Jon. "If you and he stopped fighting for the same reasons."
There formed an unspoken accord between them, more binding than the promise he'd given back on Skane. As he watched her go Jon removed his hand from Longclaw, which was more easily concealed beneath his cloak at its reduced size.
"You should have killed her." The Stranger grumbled.
"Maybe I will one day." Jon got up and followed after the others, Ghost falling in next to him. "But for now, something tells me that she won't get in our way and I wouldn't needlessly make an enemy of Stannis by killing one of his advisors without good reason."
"I can imagine plenty of good reasons."
"Most of which will involve the phrase 'cinder worshipping whore', I imagine."
The Stranger actually gave a small chuckle at that. "Perhaps you really are learning, boy."
Xxx
23rd Day of the 11th Moon of 300 AC
"There are those who believe that the world was birthed in fire, and so too shall it end that way."
On the slopes overlooking the shores of Skane, Nettles gazed at the silhouettes of dozens of Skagosi vessels flying the grey and white direwolf banner with their own House or Clan insignias. By her side, Dûsh the Obsessed and Grublik Four-Fingers led columns of Orcs down to the shore to greet Jon as he climbed out of a longboat.
"There are others that believe that its end will not be a glorious blaze, but a cold and silent death like some ailing pet."
Jon motioned for the two Captains to rise before they even fully knelt, and began to direct them in loading their troops into a fleet of longboats that came ashore behind him.
"It is after no small amount of careful consideration that I side with the first theory. It was in fire that the Smith crafted our world, in which the Seven-who-are-One set the first seeds for our creation. It is in fire that Man learned to survive against the cold and the dark, to fend off the beasts that lurk within."
Rhae raced up to her grandmother and threw her arms around the shorter woman, who cringed and rubbed her back but then returned the gesture. Skani Rangers in their green cloaks joined the sea of black, gold and grey armoured Orcs that masked by the shore. Ivar Crowl gaped at the sight of the army from the safety of his own flagship.
"And it is in fire that the Seven destroyed the altars of the false gods. Fire burns away that which is tainted and rotten, leaving room for new growth. It is from the ashes of the old gods that the Sunset Kingdoms were almost freed of the rot of the First Men."
As Jon watched the Orcs clamber aboard to row back out, his gaze turned south to the horizon.
"But fire cannot endure in winter, and winter came to our lands with all the fury of a pack of wolves. They fell upon us and brought death as far as the Velvet Hills. Thus, what little remained of the ancient kingdom of Hugor splintered and died. To this day there is little to prove that anyone ever dwelt there."
Far south of Skagos, another armada sailed west out of Braavos. Most of these were hired Sellsale ships, but a number of them held a uniform design and the symbol of a seven pointed star overlaid by a sword. Compared to the sloops, longships and cogs around them these dromonds were almost floating castles: multiple levels suited for rows of oars, deck bristling with scorpions and the captain's cabin more akin to a fully furnished apartment.
There, a gloved hand brushed over a map of the western coast of Essos, detailing the former borders of Andalos before it had ceased to exist.
"And since then we have watched as our brethren across the sea spread the light of the Seven to six kingdoms." The owner swept their hand across the southern kingdoms of Westeros before slowly dragging a finger northward. "With one stubborn holdout, a bastion of pagans held hostage in ignorance by heathen lords and tolerated by the Targaryen and Baratheon kings. Not one hundred thousand men could hope to finish the good work of our forebears. By sea the way is treacherous, by land suicidal and even if one were to gain entry they would find a land filled with enemies where winter comes and goes with treachery worthy of the sea."
He stabbed a dagger down into Winterfell on the map. "But this shall be different. The North is weakened and now is further divided, with the reigning Warden backing our cause against the Red Heathen Stannis and his dogs. Our time has come to complete the good work left by those who came before: to bring the light of the Seven to all of Westeros and honour the fallen with the blood of wolves as penance for Theon Stark's atrocities. The name of Stark shall be swept from the world until not but echoes remain of their past tyranny."
Lord-Commander Isaac, a man weathered from a lifetime of toil and conflict but hale for his age, looked up to the six gathered around the table with him. They were clad resplendently, white and golden armour and white cloth emblazoned with the seven pointed star in red. Each was a Commander under him, honed across a lifetime of devotion, training and battle against the men of Ib and their own sellsword armies.
"We are ready, Lord-Commander." Commander Alfred said. "The Seven stand behind us, we cannot fail."
"Yet the heathens are cunning." Commander Carlisle cautioned. "Even divided, a pack of wolves remains dangerous."
"Such is true, and the Warden has seen fit to warn us that our plans have been discovered." Isaac held an unrolled strip of parchment bearing the flayed man. "We shall land at Widow's Watch."
"But what of the pagan city, Lord-Commander?" Commander Argil asked. "Are we to spare it?"
"Peace, Brother Argil, you will not be denied your glory." Isaac smiled. "The Warden and I have plans concealed within plans, and it is as the Yitish savage Sun Lián once said: deception is the greatest weapon to be wielded by any General. Savage he was, but even the words of savages can ring with truth. Therefore we must resolve to keep them guessing at our intent until it is too late for them to react meaningfully. But by the end the result shall not change: the North shall be cleansed and the Starks ended."
He clasped a hand to his breastplate. "May the Father, in all his wisdom, guide us." His words were echoed around the table.
"Return to your ships, brothers." Isaac bade them. "The final crusade begins as we make landfall."
Xxx
End of Chapter!
So…to start.
Yay, Rickon is back! I struggled to think of a good way to have Jon get through to him until I remembered how much it is said that Rickon warged into Shaggydog: to the point of beginning to act more feral. If he was taking on aspects of a wolf, then that gave me the idea of having Ghost and Jon assert some dominance as the 'Alphas' of the Pack, which are typically the oldest wolves and consequently the largest. Was it perfectly executed? Definitely not, but oh well.
Yes, Jon is starting to get a little Machiavellian in his tactics. By making it seem like Agros intended to attack during a meeting upon holy ground, Jon's response was deemed acceptable and Agros' cause would become tainted. But most of all, seeing Jon's powers in action (with the Humiliate ability making its first appearance) cowed any remaining opposition when added on top of the demonstration with the wight. Think of it a bit like Khal Drogo getting around the rule of not spilling blood in Vaes-Dothrak by pouring gold over Viserys' head, dealing with an enemy in a way that bends the rules but doesn't break them.
And Jon had back up plans in place in case he needed to kill Crowl and Stane too. Our boy is not taking any chances this time around.
And now the Company of the Axe makes its appearance. I based them off of what I felt the Faith Militant should have been more like in the show: militant, with trained and armored knights leading the less trained and unarmored Sparrows. I haven't read much of the modern iteration in the books, admittedly.
And the opening Lord-Commander Isaac's speech was inspired a bit by Quinn's from Into the Badlands, season two. It's a great show and I fully recommend it to anyone who likes a mix of western and martial arts themes.
As for Lord-Commander Isaac's quote from Sun Lián, it was obviously a spoof of a quote from Sun Tzu: "All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near."
"May the Father, in his wisdom, guide us." Is obviously a spin on 'May the Father of Understanding guide us' from Assassin's Creed.