Jeor
No matter how many times he saw it the Wall always left him utterly breathless.
There were so many grand structures in the world. He remembered the Maester of Bear Island, back when he'd been a wee child who spent as much time crawling as he did toddling about, had once gotten into a debate with a visiting architect Jeor's father had hired to help improve one of the storm walls that protected the western side of the island from winter waves. They had argued which of the great man-made structures in all the known world was the most impressive. The Red Keep had been the Maester's answer and the architect, who of course had studied in Oldtown, had been appalled and declared that only a fool would say anything other than the Hightower. The Maester though, while having seen the Hightower many times, still held that the Red Keep was the most impressive with all its secrets. In the end the two of them had nearly come to blows and Jeor could still remember his father laughing over two learned men bucking and snorting like a pair of elk, ready to tear into each other over such a 'silly fight'!
Jeor agreed. Because the answer was quite simple: The Wall.
The longest, tallest structure ever built by man. Most likely the oldest too. It had stood for thousands of years, protecting the North from the dangers that lay in the Lands of Always Winter. When one first spotted it a day's ride away it was awe inspiring. When they were within a few hours arrival it was jaw-dropping. To crane your neck back at its base and looking straight up its sheer frozen face was to realize how utterly small and meaningless you truly were.
He glanced at his companions and saw that they were feeling the same way. Mixed with other emotions though. For Benjen it was a longing, a chance to finally come home after being lost for so long beyond it. Jeor was sure that if the others weren't with them Benjen would have already begun spurring his borrowed horse forward, urging it onward to civilization. It was the stare of a man who had been wandering the desert and finally found the path that led him out of the sun and to the shade of home. Of course… the Haunted Forest was a desert, only of snow and cold rather than sun and heat. But both could drive a man mad. Only the strong came out of it.
Mance was also staring at the Wall but for him it was with trepidation. Jeor understood… once it had been home. He'd been a babe when the watch found him and he'd been raised amongst its members. A cruel and foolish thing and quite frankly if Jeor had ever found out one of his commanders had done such a thing he'd have gelded them purely to cause them pain. While there was honor in the Night's Watch it was for those that needed to earn it back or who wished to do right by their families… not for innocent children. A child should have a choice!
'Its why I never pressed to find him,' Jeor thought to himself. 'He was always of two worlds… I can't blame him for deciding on one that offered him freedom. Would I not have done the same if instead of being raised on Bear Island I was ripped away from my home and told I must never know a woman's touch or understand the joy that can come from holding a child in your arms?'
Ygritte looked at the Wall with a fierce determined gaze, gripping the reins of her horse as she stared straight ahead. Jeor wondered if Aegon the Dragon had looked at Westeros the same way as she did in that moment, with the desire to conquer and prove all wrong who said that it couldn't be done. Jeor knew that there were people who managed to sneak their way over the Wall, both coming from Westeros and entering it. He wondered if Ygritte had done that ever before deciding that no, she most likely had not. Someone who had defeated the Wall would look upon it with a critical eye, sizing it up and determining if there was a better way to get past its froze mass. Ygritte still gazed upon the structure with the intensity of one who wished to break the beast, rather than one who had done it once and now sought to do so again.
Crastor… honestly Crastor wasn't looking at the Wall but that might have something to do with the fact that they'd shoved his head in a sack that Jeor was pretty sure Ygritte had been using to shit in. They'd grown tired of him glaring at them so finally the Spear wife had gagged him and shoved the bag over his head before tying him to a spare horse Mane had gotten from Giantsbane. They had only uncovered him so they might feed him and that only happened thanks to Steve using his Other powers to force the man to shut up and just eat.
Steve…
He was looking at the Wall, face utterly unreadable.
"It's still here."
Jeor guided his horse so he could come to rest next to the Lord Captain of the Knights of the Dawn, reaching over and clapping him on the shoulder. "Yes, she still stands. We've maintained it all this time."
But Steve didn't smile. He just sadly shook his head. "I had hoped you were speaking of something else. Another Wall. One built only recently."
"I… I don't-" Joer stammered, startled by the comment.
"Brandon, Einridi, and I swore a pledge of brotherhood and friendship atop the Wall. We made many promises. To protect one another. To see all of us through the War. And… when the Others were finally defeated and would no longer threaten all life… the three of us would be the first ones to take hammers to the Wall and bring it crashing down."
"Take… take it down?" Benjen said, making the two realize they'd been overheard. "But why? This was Bran's greatest achievement."
"He would have hated to hear one of his house say that," Steve said with a slight smile. "For him this was simply too… plain. 'Any man can build a wall, Steve. Babies build walls of snow all the time.' The size might be greater but for him it was just something that was needed, not something he was passionate about. Or proud of. He understood it had to be made but he never loved it. Winterfell was his pride. 'Heat in the middle of the coldest winter!' he would often boast." He shook his head. "And it never sat well with him that Einridi did most of the work, using magic to craft it. Always complained that he was Bran the Builder not Bran the Designer."
Jeor and Benjen just stared at Steve in shock while Ygritte had a smug look on her face.
"Ah, so the kneelers had a kneeler who actually had some sense?" she teased. "Realized it was foolish to make this thing-"
Steve though cut off her taunts. "The Free Folk agreed that the Wall must be made too. Begged for it."
"Really now?" she said, not believing him for a second. "They asked for the True North to be cut off from the land of the kneelers? I understand, as I wouldn't want them comin' up here and trying to make us like them-"
"You're welcome to stay here then, Ygritte," Mance said gruffly. "I'm sure the Others would be happy to welcome you into the fold while the rest of us get to safety."
The wildling girl glowered at that. "I ain't stupid! If it weren't for the Others I'd never go South! What is there down there we ain't got here?"
"Heat," Mance reminded her.
"Overrated."
"Easily obtained food."
"For fat ladies that paint walls."
"And-paint walls?" Mance asked, brow furrowed at that.
Steve let out a soft chuckle before looking at the Wall again. "This was never supposed to remain. We built it out of desperation. The Free Folk and the Men of the North knew that but far too much of this land had been captured by the Others. We had to halt them before we attacked. But…" he shook his head, "…we were supposed to defeat them and then tear it down, so that these lands might be reclaimed. The cities rebuilt. The Roads reestablished. The-"
"Cities?" Jeor asked, startled. "The Free Folk… had cities?"
"Of course they did. Though I suppose they weren't cities as you know them now. Everything seems to be bigger in this world from what Benjen has told me. But yes, they once had forts with towns, where the rulers could hold court and trade flowed in and out. The Fall of Pangea was always considered the greatest tragedy ever-"
Ygritte cut him off. "Fuck off with that fucking shit! Rulers? Cities? We ain't the fuckin' kneelers!"
"You can deny it all you wish that won't make it any less true," Steve simply told her.
"You're a fuckin' liar!" Ygritte hissed. "Free Folk. It's in the fuckin' name!"
Steve though merely stared her down, not backing off his claims for even a moment. "You know nothing, Ygritte. The Free Folk were so named because they felt that rulers should be chosen not by family ties but by strength. Rulers were voted on by the cities and ruled till they died or were found weak and a better person stepped forward. They had no king but they weren't wild savages who thought they could do whatever they wanted." Ygritte opened her mouth to lash out at him but Steve merely said in a voice as cool as the waters of Long Lake, "All those that came before you would be ashamed at how far the Free Folk had fallen. You truly are wildlings now, aren't you?"
With that he snapped the reins and his horse began to trot away.
Mance shot Ygritte a dark look. "It isn't too late for me to send you back. Shut your mouth for once in your life and stop acting like you are wiser than your years. You are young, Ygritte Sunkissed, and are fair more naïve than you care to believe."
Jeor only looked at her for one more time, staring at them with her mouth open but unable to say a word, before he spurred his horse forward and the group continued on with their journey.
Hours later, when the Wall was now so close they could feel the icy winds that blow off of it, Jeor once more approached Steve. "It won't be easy to get them to accept the Free Folk," he said softly. "The Night's Watch… it isn't the Knights of the Dawn that you knew."
"Benjen told me as much. When I was Lord Captain the sons of all the great houses of Westeros came to join us, to prove the might of their house and protect all those that they loved from the threat of the Others. It isn't the same. Not anymore."
"No," Jeor said with regret. "The Houses that still honor the Old Gods will send a son to the Night's Watch but usually they are the spares that weren't needed, who would hold no lands and be forced to either move to the life of a peasant or try and find their own place in the world. Joining the Night's Watch… it is a way to keep their honor and feel like they are still doing well for their family."
"And the Southerners?" Steve asked. "Is it true that they mostly send the worst of the worst? I know you mentioned such but I was hoping it wasn't all-"
"It is," Jeor said, not having it in his heart to delude the poor man. "We are little more than a penal colony. The worst wretches found from the very bottom of society are sent here. The Southerners treat it as a joke, that they trick the North into taking their scum." He shook his head. "Do not misunderstand me… there have been many that have proven themselves on the Wall. I have seen rapists and thieves become honorable men of the Watch. Doing their duty and never falling back into their old lives." He tugged on the reins slightly. "But I know just as many have not. History is full of brigands who came to the Watch and never altered their ways and instead helped towards our slow decline."
"It isn't hopeless, Jeor," Steve said. "We have time. Far less than I would have liked but time all the same. We will make your Black Brothers understand the threat. And the Southerners. They will rally to us and they will fight once more."
"And if they don't?" Jeor asked before at once shaking his head. "We die," he said, answering his own question.
Steve though shook his head. "Death will be for the lucky ones. Thanos was embarrassed by his defeat, I can… tell."
"How?" Jeor asked.
"I am of the Court," he said. "A traitor but still of the Court. And I can feel Thanos' intent. In the first War it was a drive to conquer and control. Now however… it has changed. Been altered by the bitter taste of defeat. I do not know what they did to him." He sighed and looked away from Jeor. "I fell into my sleep before the end of that final confrontation. But he was defeated all the same, sent to lick his wounds and regain the power that he lost. And Thanos… he is not one to take failure lightly." He reached up and tapped on his temple. "I can… sense his rage. And his doubt. Though he does try to hide it. He is desperate to prove now that he was right, for if he loses again, if he is pushed back once more, all he has sacrificed was for nothing. He can not have that… can not have his life be made meaningless, spent chasing after dreams that were simply that."
"So this time it will not be a mere campaign."
"No," Steve said quietly. "Thanos must make his victory total and complete. Anything else is failure."
"…I should blow the horn," Jeor finally said only to remember that he no longer had his horn. In fact as he thought about it he couldn't remember even bringing a horn for the Great Ranging. He was sure that someone had brought a horn but not him even though every Ranger was required to bring a horn with them so they might blast out their arrival, be it after a long journey looking for home or fleeing from a wildling attack.
'But I'm not a Ranger, am I?' Jeor thought glumly. 'I'm not even a Lord Commander. A true Lord Commander wouldn't have led so much of his strength into the Haunted Forest in a desperate attempt to regain his feeling of self worth. I am just an old man who is humored by the rest, elected because of my age and status as a former lord. And I have brought us to even further ruin.'
"Jeor?" Steve said softly.
"Sorry." He quickly shook his head, forcing him to focus on the here and now rather than his failures. "Benjen!" he called out. "Let them know we have returned!"
"Aye, Lord Commander!" He raised his horn to his lips and gave a long single blow.
"We might be the first Free Folk to have only a single blast announce our arrival," Ygritte said with a smirk.
"They don't do two for prisoners," Mance reminded her though.
The girl scowled at him. "Ya know what I meant!" She huffed and rode forward, Jeor shaking his head. She was in a mood thanks to Steve's revelations about the heritage of the Free Folk.
"Why are you so desperate to always be right?" Steve asked Ygritte as she rode up next to them.
"Because I am!" she snapped.
"No one is right all the time. Everyone makes mistakes. Only fools don't admit it."
"Oh, I'm a fool now, am I?"
"No one is saying that," Jeor said with a sigh, trying to play peacemaker.
"I am," Steve said bluntly, causing a miracle: a man of the Night's Watch and a Free Folk woman to stare at the same thing in befuddled shock. "No one is perfect. No one is always right. If you believe that you and you alone are the only person in human history to never done anything wrong and to have all the answers then tell us now how to defeat Thanos." Ygritte glowered at him, clearly seething. "If not then I suggest you listen and learn. So that when the time comes you truly are the woman you are desperate to be."
She stopped her horse and let them all ride past her, grinding her teeth and staring daggers at them all until she led the rear of their group, Crastor her only company.
"She'll remember that scolding," Mance told Steve.
"Good," the friendly Other said with cool determination. "We don't have time to coddle people with delusions of superiority. We must unite or we die… if Ygritte is truly the leader you must think her able to be then she must learn that lesson now. Otherwise the Court will make sure she never gets a second chance."
It was on that note that they finally came to the tunnel gate, the men stationed to guard it clamoring and calling out when they saw Jeor and Benjen riding towards them. It made the Old Bear smile at how they celebrated his return; it showed that the mutineers hadn't been representative of the Night's Watch. That he still had those that wished to follow him.
'And I will need to work so that I ensure their faith isn't misplaced,' he thought to himself as he entered the tunnel and began the long final trot through the frigid passage that led back to Castle Black.
Emerging once more into daylight he looked around the main yard of Castle Black and didn't know if he should smile or slump his shoulders in defeat. On one hand he had returned and he could tell by the startled and shocked faces of the Black Brothers that spotted him that they had thought him dead and now rejoiced at his return. On the other hand though…
"So few," Steve whispered. "In my time you could hardly move around at moments without colliding with a knight." He sighed, staring at the further proof of the fall of the Watchers on the Wall. "And all the castles are like this?"
"All three, yes," Benjen said, deciding to let that blow come now.
Steve, bless him, merely clenched his jaw to force himself from gasping in shock at that. "Lead on, Jeor," he finally managed to say.
The first to greet them was the most unlikely of Black Brothers to be at the Castle Black at that moment. "Yoren!" Benjen called out with a grin and the Wandering Crow let out a gruff laugh and hurried over, giving the First Ranger a hearty slap on the back.
"Well, look at the two of us! Lucky to be alive and somehow back here!"
"What do you mean?"
Yoren shook his head. "Westeros has gone to shit. I barely managed to get my recruits up here with the War going on."
"The War?" Jeor asked and that caused the Wandering Crow to realize it wasn't just Benjen who had returned.
"By the Gods… Lord Commander!" Others were now moving, those that hadn't been watching the tunnel. Alliser Thorne had stopped barking orders at the new recruits and for once in his life cracked a smile that wasn't filled with malicious intent. Donal Noye stepped away from the anvil he'd been working at, barely managing to remember to quench the blade he'd been working on before he hurried towards them. Bowen Marsh looked like he could be knocked over by a feather, as did many of the other Black Brothers that stared at him and Benjen in shock. Murmurs of their names and that they had returned filled the air… and to Jeor's sadness so too did questions about others. Men wondered if friends who had marched with him beyond The Wall would be coming back as well. A bitter reminder of what he had lost.
And then Thorne spotted Mance and his smile fell.
"Fucking hell, another traitor!" he called out and Ygritte and Mance both tensed at the men of the Night's Watch suddenly turned their attention onto them and them alone. Several went for their swords and stepped forward while others moved back and began to call for irons and nets, like the two were little more than beasts that needed to be captured.
"ENOUGH!" Steve called out. It wasn't so much a roar as a command that seemed to echo not just through all of Castle Black but along the Wall itself. "Do you not have eyes? Do you trust so little your Lord Commander? These two come with Jeor Mormont and Benjen Stark of their own free will, unchained and carrying weapons… should that be not enough for you to see that have arrived her as guests and not prisoners? And yet you still move to capture them? Have you taken leave of your senses? Lost your honor and sense of respect for the rights of guests?" He slowly slid his eyes along the gathered Black Brothers and Jeor watched in amazement as hard and gruff men suddenly became cowed children facing the rather of their maester for skipping out on a lesson.
Alliser was the first to come out of it and he narrowed his eyes before glaring at Steve, who had kept his hood up and low to hide his face. "And who are you to judge us?"
Steve stepped forward but Jeor thrust out his arm, stopping him. "He is my guest, same as Mance Rayder and Ygritte. I have brought them with me so they might stand as proof of what I have to say. The story you need to hear… you will not believe it. You will think me mad. But it is true and must be heard!" He looked around before puckering his lips as he looked at Yoren, remembering his own words. "But it seems much has changed in Westeros as well. You!" He pointed at a Black Brother then jabbed his finger at Crastor's prone form. "I want this one secured. As many irons as you can wrap around him." He nodded towards one of the towers. "Ser Alliser. Bowen. Donal. Gather the others of importance and have them meet me in the dining hall. We'll do this only once."
~MC~MC~MC~
Benjen's wooden cup creaked and groaned as he squeezed it hard, threatening to shatter despite being of higher quality than most of the mugs the Night's Watch had.
"That bastard killed Sansa?" he hissed through grit teeth. They were seated in one of the smaller meal halls, which honestly couldn't be called a 'hall' at all as it was actually more like a large room that had been forced into serving the purpose of housing the Black Brothers as they had their meals. The heads of the different divisions of the Night's Watch were gathered with a few chosen members who, while holding no official titles, still were important in terms of the sway they held with the general populous. Benjen though was the only one to sit next to Ygritte and Mance, making a clear divide as the rest of the Night's Watch leadership crowded together on one side of the room and left the other half near empty.
"That is what the raven stated," Maester Aemon said. He had been the last to arrive to the meeting, shuffling in as he was led by one of his assistants. The old man had smiled when he heard Jeor and Benjen's voice and welcomed them home and then surprised the Free Folk by asking their names. To Mance he had been pleasant and kind and he had merely laughed when Ygritte blurted out that he was the oldest man she'd ever seen.
"Oh, it is no insult," he'd said when Mance had barked at her about her manners. "The girl speaks it true. And I am old for Westeros too, not just North of the Wall. It does us no good to deny the facts." He'd smiled at her then and even though she knew he couldn't see her… she'd still been unable to meet his sightless gaze, choosing to turn her head away.
"And Arya?" Benjen pressed.
"Are we here to talk about your family, Stark, or important matters?" Thorne asked only to lean back when Benjen pulled out a dagger and slammed it into the table.
"My family and their lives ARE important matters," he hissed. "And don't for a moment think I don't remember that you fought for the madman that cost me my father and my brother."
"Now now," Aemon said in his calm, soft voice, "there is no need for that. We are all on the same side, are we not? We swore off all allegiances when we joined the Night's Watch… we must remember that."
"…aye," Benjen finally said, taking back his dagger and sheathing it.
Jeor though chose that moment to speak up. "Though we aren't a part of Westeros that doesn't mean we can ignore what happens within it. Please continue, Maester Aemon."
The old man bowed his hand in thanks before continuing. "According to the ravens we have received from Riverrun your lord brother, Benjen, is no longer a lord. He is a king."
"Fucking hells," Thorne muttered. "He couldn't have claimed the crown at the end of the war and saved us trouble?"
Jeor merely narrowed his eyes at Thorne but didn't bother to scold him… mostly because he agreed that Westeros would have been far better off had Ned taken the crown instead of Robert. Baratheon may have been Eddard's best friend growing up but the man had been a shit king. Far too in bed with the Lannisters who had scorned the North and the Night's Watch especially; it was a sad statement that the Imp with his japes and mockery was the kindest ally from the Westerlands the Watch had had before Steve had awaken. Robert had done nothing to help the Watch… nor the North. During his time as Lord of Bear Island he had hoped that Ned and Robert being so close would mean better times for the North, that the coffers would open and aid would be given for better roads, perhaps a Northern Fleet to replace the one long ago burned by Bran the Burner.
'But instead he wasted it on Southern feasts and pampering that Lannister whore of his,' Jeor thought in disgust. It didn't help that Robert had been friendly with Jorah, seen him as someone so similar to him… and both had proven to have the same tastes when it came to women and dishonor.
Benjen shook his head. "My brother, a king?" He scoffed. "Who forced that on him?" When he noticed the stares the First Ranger rolled his eyes. "Ned would never want a crown. He grew up assuming he'd receive at most a holdfast of his own, perhaps be allowed to create his own cadet branch of House Stark. The North was to be Brandon's. He was not raised to believe he would be anything grand."
"I do not know how it came about, as the messages do not say. Ravens only tell so much." Aemon smiled at the jest before continuing. "The North now controls much of the Riverlands and of course the North itself. The Crown holds the rest of Westeros save the Stormlands, which per our last messages were controlled by Robert's brother Stannis."
"Pity those buggers!" someone called out, earning a laugh from even Jeor. The strident love of law and unbending nature of Stannis Baratheon was known even to the men of the Night's Watch.
"Oh who fuckin' cares!" Ygritte exclaimed. "Why does it matter which one of the King Kneelers the kneelers bow and scrape to?"
"Leave it to a wildling to have no understanding of the world," Bowen grumbled. "These matters are important."
"I thought you Crows swore off loyalty to kings when they hacked off your cocks," Ygritte snarked and Jeor saw that Mance looked ready to hold his head in his hands, clearly questioning why he'd thought it had been a good idea to bring the girl with them rather than someone else.
'She'd have just followed us anyway and then we'd have two of them.'
"We might not fight for a King but we still accept his mercies and his gifts," Donal informed her.
Ygritte scoffed at that though. "In the True North one takes what they want."
"And they die when they are 30 because they got a cut," someone snapped.
"Because living to 60 with no balls is so much better?"
"At least we don't stick our dicks in bears because their cunts are tighter than yours!"
Steve slammed his hand on the table and the room fell silent. Such was his power that he didn't even need to speak to get them to grow quiet.
Jeor, seeing his opening, didn't waste his time in grasping hold of it. "The war amongst the Seven Kingdoms is important but not for reasons any of you understand." He stood up and leaned on the table, staring at the Black Brothers under his command. "Every battle is a waste of men that we will need here."
"What do you mean?" Aemon asked.
"The only war that matters is here. The True Enemy has returned."
"The… true enemy?" Bowen said, his gaze shifting towards Mance. "The only enemy I know is the King Beyond the Wall and his horde that move towards us every day."
"Like Lord Stark I did not desire a crown," Mance rumbled. "I took it because it was the only way to save my people."
"What do we care if the wildlings feud?" Alliser grumbled. "They prune themselves down and make less trouble for us. Maybe they all die off and then-"
"There is no need for you and the King can take your head?" Benjen demanded. "Same as with many of us?"
Mance spoke up before Ygritte could make matters worse, as it was clear she was itching to butt in and make her opinions known on the matter. "It wasn't other Free Folk that drove us towards the Wall. And our feud has never been with you. Not truly. You are not our enemy you are merely an obstacle that has stood in our way. Keeping us from-"
"Invading the North?" Bowen demanded.
"-surviving."
"And we will no longer be that obstacle!" Jeor declared.
The Black Brothers stared at him in shock before the dining hall descended into a chaotic madness. People leapt from their seats and screamed first at him and then at each other. Men who agreed that the wildlings should never be allowed past The Wall suddenly turned on one another when they felt that one was showing disrespect towards Jeor… or too much respect. And the Benjen rose and began to yell right back and to his surprise Ygritte and Mance joined in; yes, the girl was being far more colorful than he'd have liked when it came to describing just how the men's fathers had bedded their mothers by mistaking them for certain animals but she was still defending him. And Mance was actually trying to play peacekeeper, at one point grabbing Benjen's arm as he moved to beat Bowen who had made some comment about the Starks that Jeor had only caught the tail end of.
"Quiet," Maester Aemon said. "Quiet." The old man took a deep breath. "QUIET!"
Everyone went silent.
Even though he was stooped by age, rendered sightless, and hadn't lifted a sword in ages… in that moment Jeor was reminded that in the old man's veins ran the Blood of the Dragon. And he show all the men of the Night's Watch that even an old dragon had fire in his belly.
"Is this how we behave?" Aemon demanded, head tilted slightly up as was his want. "We hear something we disagree with and do not bother to seek answers… we merely scream and holler like children throwing a tantrum? I thought you were Men of the Watch, not unruly babes who need a maester to give you a smack on your bottom!" He hit the table with his open palm. "I am concerned by what the Lord Commander has said but I will hear his reasons before I react. And all of you will do the same! You will show our guests that we were raised properly."
"Guests?" someone said. "You call these savages guests-"
"They have shown more respect for me than you have, Rigs," Aemon said firmly before sitting down. "Lord Commander."
Jeor nodded in thanks though he couldn't help but cringe, ever so slightly, at the way Steve watched them all. Though he couldn't see the man's eyes thanks to his hood he just knew that he was judging the Night's Watch, comparing it to the Knights of the Dawn… and finding it rather lacking.
"To understand you must know my story," Jeor finally said, once all had taken their seats and settled down again. "I led the Great Ranging, to learn just how I had come to be attacked by the corpses of our fallen brothers-" There was a murmur at that and he knew that there were many in Castle Black who still thought that it hadn't been the dead at all but rather wildlings who had dressed as dead Black Brothers in order to stage the attack. It didn't matter that they had recognized the two that had been brought back or that Maester Aemon had opened them up to try and determine their death… the theories had swirled before the Great Ranging and he could only imagine that they had continued after he had left.
He spoke of the march to the Fist and how they had set up camp. Of how they had all begun to sense they were being watched… and then the attack that had come. Of the dead swarming them and slaughtering them. How a Black Brother would be killed even as they hacked off limbs and delivered blows that should have ended a living man. Through it all there were grumbles that Jeor was mistaken, that it was just a trick… and Steve remained silent. Watching.
The story shifted to Crastor's Keep and Jeor talked of the mutiny that had been planned by the likes of Orphan Oss and Clubfoot Karl. That caused Alliser to rise but rather than in anger or denouncement it was with a smirk.
"You'll have your revenge, Lord Commander. We have several of the Betrayers locked in the Ice Cells."
"Who?" The Old Bear demanded, worried. After the battle at Crastor's Keep Jeor had taken the time to go over the bodies and identified every one of them and gotten some small measure of relief that their numbers didn't include a few of the more loyal Black Brothers. That didn't mean though that he hadn't feared their death; unless they managed to escape like he had they would have become pigs for the slaughter amongst the traitors.
"Grenn and Dolorous Edd," Alliser said with a smirk. "They spoke of madness but it was clear they deserted-"
"They would never desert!" Pyp declared from the back. He hadn't been invited to the meeting and must have snuck in. "And they would never betray the Lord Commander-"
"Silence you little Monkey!" Alliser snarled, turning on the former mummur. "I'll have you in a Cell as well for your lip!"
"Pyp will go to the Ice Cells but only to see Edd and Grenn freed," Jeor declared. "He is right… they were loyal to me. If anyone is guilty of deserting it is me for not getting them out of Crastor's Keep when I fled. They were loyal though and would never have joined those traitors."
"Lord Commander-" Bowen said but Jeor cut him off.
"Pyp was it?" The boy nodded. "Free your friends on my orders." Maester Aemon already was sliding parchment to him and Jeor scribbled his decree. "See them warmed and given food. I will talk with them later to apologize for my failure."
"Lord Commander-" Thorne began but the old man held up his hand, asking for silence.
"You didn't know… all you knew was those two came back claiming mad things. I will forgive that and I think they will too. But press the issue and it will be clear that you imprisoned them not to gain vengeance for me but because of bitterness and a need to hurt others for your own amusement. Do not disappoint me Alliser… do not be the latter."
The master-at-arms for Castle Black snapped his jaw shut, accepting the rebuke and understanding the kindness Jeor was offering him. He didn't like it, of course, and Jeor wasn't blind to the fact that the only reason Green and Edd were in the Ice Cells was because of the fact that those two had joined in with the laughter when Tyrion Lannister had mocked Thorne and made a fool out of him. The man wore his grudges like an old woman did a shawl, keeping them tightly clutched to his form. And the grudges never were focused solely on those that had caused the wounds, be they mental, social, or physical. Instead he seemed to see guilt like ink and to even touch one that had harmed him was to stain yourself. Jeor wouldn't have been surprised if, decades from now, a man from the Westerlands was tortured by Thorne's hard lessons purely because the new recruit had come from the mountains of Tyrion Lannister's birth.
'Had he been allowed to have a family I wager he'd be like Old Walder Frey,' Jeor thought to himself.
Setting the matter of his master-at-arms aside Jeor launched into his escape from Crastor's Keep and what had come after that. He spoke of fleeing, of trying to find his way back to the Wall, and how he'd been found by Mance and his party. He was careful with his words there, to paint the Free Folk in the best possible light while not appearing to fawn over them. To say they had captured them could very well lead to a brawl but if he appeared to be too close to them he'd be seen as a traitor to the Watch, yet another Lord Commander who had lost sight of the mission.
Which led directly into his discussing their True Enemy. The ones the Watch had been formed to defend against. The Others had returned.
"…have you gone mad?" someone asked.
Jeor glowered at that. "No."
"The Others are a myth," Alliser grumbled. "A legend made by the wildlings to try and frighten us. They aren't real. Never have been!"
"Then why was the Wall built?" Mance asked. "Why has the Night's Watch stood guard for thousands of years?"
"To protect us from you heathens!" Bowen snapped and suddenly the fighting was starting all over again with Black Brothers leaping to their feet while Benjen, Mance, and Ygritte tried to get them to shut up and listen.
This time though… Steve acted.
He rose up and threw back his hood and all went silent and still as they stared at his pale skin and nearly metallic looking white-gold hair. Jeor only realized now that Steve had purposely kept himself hunched over, making himself look smaller as he sat in the room, but now stood at his full height, strong and powerful. His eyes BLAZED with blue light as he looked at them before he raised his shield high then brought it down hard. Two things happened at that moment. First, and most expected, was the table he had been sitting at shattered into shards of wood. The other was a blast of cold air swept through the room, making them all shiver. The fire went out in the hearth and Jeor looked down at his mug of ale to see it had frozen solid. With that single strike Steve had brought the coldest, darkest winter to them all and kept it firmly within the room like a man commanding a faithful hunting hound.
"The Others are real," Steve said simply.
"…that's the biggest understatement of the century," Benjen muttered, earning a snort from Ygritte and a smirk from Jeor.
"It… you…' Alliser murmured, trying to gain control of his senses and understand just WHAT he was seeing. The others were doing little better, openly gaping at Steve.
"Am an Other," Steve said. "But I fight on the side of humanity. The Night's King and his Court tried to turn me into one of his puppets but instead he gave me the strength to fight back. To fight for all that live!" Steve stepped forward and the Black Brothers cringed.
"Might I… trouble someone to tell me what I am not seeing?" Aemon asked. "It has suddenly gotten cold and I hear a new voice… an Other?"
"You hear correctly," Steve said in a softer voice, approaching Maester Aemon and Jeor at once understood what he was doing. This was a way to prove that he was their ally and not a threat. Approaching the old man Steve pulled a chair over and sat down beside him, taking his hands in his own with utter gentleness. "I am Steve Rogers, Lord Captain of the Knights of the Dawn, second son of Lann the Clever, King of the Westerlands." Murmurs of 'Lannister' filled the hall and Jeor grimaced; he really needed to sit Steve down and let him know about his family's history.
'That won't be a pleasant conversation,' Jeor thought to himself.
"There is quite a story concerning your life, I assume," the old maester said.
"There is and I would be happy to tell it to you."
"Oh… my manners! My mother would be so ashamed of me for not introducing myself. Aemon, maester of Castle Black, third son of King Maekar, First of his name, King of the Seven Kings and…" he rolled his hand about. "Well, I won't bore you with such titles. Now… tell me why so many are clearly shocked by your appearance."
Steve did more than that. He carefully lifted Aemon's hands to his face, explaining in detail his features as the old man ran his calloused fingers along Steve's skin. He fingered his hair and felt the coolness of his skin and only expressed disappointment he couldn't see Steve's eyes.
"An age of marvels," was Aemon's only response at the end before he thanked Steve. "Now… continue on young man."
"I have lived for thousands of years," Steve reminded him. "You are a child to me."
Aemon chuckled at that. "Oh… that is rather nice. To not be the oldest man in the room."
Steve smiled at that before rising and Jeor was struck by just how RIGHT it looked for the Lord Captain to be standing there, taking the lead, demanding without saying a word everyone's attention and respect. He couldn't help but wonder if ever, in his long life, he had managed to hold sway over those he commanded in such a way as Steve Rogers.
He doubted it.
"The Others are real," Steve repeated. "I fought them thousands of years ago. What you faced here at Castle Black, the attack on the Lord Commander… that was merely the first taste of what they can do." He swept his eyes over the crowd. "What attacked the Night's Watch here and at the Fist were wights, their foot soldiers. The corpses of the dead forced to rise again and slay the living. Any who die by their hands can rise up and swell the ranks of the Others."
"Which is why we are fleeing," Mance said, now standing up himself. "We are not rushing to the Wall to attack you… we are trying to save our lives!"
"By attacking and killing us?" someone asked.
Ygritte growled. "What? We were supposed to come up to the gate and ask nicely for ya to let us through?"
Benjen spoke up. "Every member of the Free Folk that dies is another soldier for the Others. There are one hundred thousand of Mance's people on the other side of the Wall. Each and every one of them will become a soldier doomed to slaughter us all if we don't act now!"
Alliser sneered at that. "By just letting them march through and pillage and burn Westeros?"
"We are not savages, despite what you think," Mance said calmly, showing just why he had become King-Beyond-The-Wall. "We would settle. We would create new lives here. The raids… done by desperate and angry men and women. But all who call me king see that the true threat is the dead… not the living. We would stand with you. Fight with you. And when the Others are defeated we would return home."
"Lord Commander," Bowen said, "you can't believe him on this. Once you let a dog into the house it will never want to live outside again."
"You just compare me to a dog?" Ygritte snapped.
"That isn't fair… dogs have less fleas," Alliser japed and that earned laughter from many of the Black Brothers.
Jeor groaned, rubbing his hand over his chin. "This is not helping! We have no choice in the matter."
"There is a choice," Alliser stated. "We seal off the tunnels now. Make it so they can't be opened. Then we man the Wall and enjoy as the dead bash themselves against it."
"Wights aren't men," Aemon said, speaking up and drawing attention to him. "That much is clear from what Captain Rogers has told us. They do not need rest. Food. Sleep. They do not feel fatigue or become disheartened. And they have no sense of self-perseveration. They would not see the Wall and simply stop. They would throw themselves at it, climb it, and even if half their number are destroyed attempting to do so that is still far more that would make it over than we have in all the Night's Watch."
"And it wouldn't just be wights," Steve told them. "The Others are not wights… those are their minions. The Others are corrupt Children of the Forest-" Alliser moaned at the mention of 'Northern fairytales' but Steve continued on, "-who claim and alter the dead to create new bodies for themselves. There will be field commanders, the traditional Others, who will lead the assault. Stronger than a normal man, faster too. Able to summon winds and the cold to stuff out flames. Their swords can shatter all but skymetal." He lifted his arm. "My shield was forged from a fallen star."
"Valyrian Steel works well," Jeor said gruffly. "Kills wights with a single slice."
"Then there is the White Order, their enforcers. They are to Others what Others are to us. Above them… is the Court."
"The Court?" Aemon asked.
"The Commander-"
"The Red Skull," Ygritte told him, still smug that even that Other had preferred her name for him.
Steve merely shot her a look. "The Night's Queen-" Another murmur about myth coming true, "and the Night's King… Thanos."
The murmuring stopped.
Even though those gathered had never heard the name before, never even thought of the name 'Thanos' before… the mere mention of it caused them all to go stiff and still. There was a power there… a warning of death and danger. Even Alliser and Bowen were silent.
"They are gathering their strength even as we sit here," Steve said. "History is repeating itself. Soon they will come like a hammer upon an anvil and if we are not prepared they will crush as all. And do not be fools… the Wall will not hold them. It barely managed the last time and he has had thousands of years to think on his failure. He won't make the same mistake again."
"We have to unite," Mance said. "Old scores must be forgotten. Grudges set aside. Only the living matter. That is who we are now. The living."
"That is easy for you to say," a Black Brother called out.
"No… no it is not," Mance said with a shake of his head. "It is the hardest thing for me to say." He looked at them, eyes flinty. "You think you are the only ones to feel hatred in your hearts at the thought of us working together? Nearly every member of the Free Folk can point to the Night's Watch and list off how they harmed us." He held his arms out wide. "You say we invade your homes? What do you call your ranging? How many times have your men come to our villages and slaughtered fathers and sons for the sin of hunting for food? How many of them broke their vows by raping our women?" That got a growl of protest from many.
Benjen slammed his fist on the table. "Don't fucking deny it! You know there are men who have had their way with the Free Folk… and we've turned a blind eye to it just as we do those that sneak down the Mole's Town. We are not pious and we are not clean of sin!"
"Same with the wildlings!" Alliser charged.
Mance nodded at that. "Aye. Same as us."
And to the shock of all Ygritte spoke in a quiet yet firm voice. "We have hurt you Crows. You have hurt us. We think you started it, you think it us. Steve's made me see… it don't fucking matter anymore."
Jeor nodded at that. "We can't bicker and fight anymore. We must unite. Or die."
"The Lords of the North won't like this," Donal said.
"I don't like it," Bowen growled. "Wildlings allowed to do as they please…"
Jeor banged his mug on the table. "They won't be allowed to do as they pleased. And we aren't opening the tunnels and just letting them march in!" That got the Black Brothers' attention. "Maester Aemon, we will be sending ravens to Eastwatch and Shadow Tower. Senior Command will come to Castle Black within 2 weeks time. We will be holding a great Council, like the Kings of Old. Mance Rayder has already arranged for the leaders of the Free Folk to come so they might have their voices heard."
"I thought you were their king," Donal said, though not cruelly. Merely curious. "Can't you speak for them?"
"The King-Beyond-The-Wall isn't like your king," he told the blacksmith with the same level of respect. "I am selected to guide them but I can not overrule them… if I tried they would abandon me. They hold me in high regard and listen to my plans above others… but that merely allows me to speak first. Nothing more."
Jeor couldn't help but wonder if Westeros would be all the better if more kings ruled as Mance did. "We will gather just outside the wall, on the border of the Haunted Forest. There we will discuss terms for the Free Folk crossing over into the Gift and the New Gift and assisting us against the Others."
"And how do we know they won't slaughter us all?" Alliser asked.
"I will see to that," Steve said.
No one dared question him on that.
~MC~MC~MC~
OMAKE
Cersei sat in her room, looking at the assassin she had hired to rid her at long last of her little brother. So far he had failed but she was giving the killer a final go at it.
"There is one more way to kill a man… but is as intricate and precise as a well played game of Cyvasse."
(The Next day…)
The Assassin kicked in the door of the brothel Tyrion was in and began firing his crossbow at random.
An arrow lodged right above Bronn's head as a whore sucked him off. "Was…was that me or was that you?" he asked as Tyrion cowered, the assassin still firing on them. When there was a break Tyrion ran out of the room, heading to where the owner of the brothel was waiting at a desk.
"Help! Someone is trying to kill me!"
"We'll take care of that," Chataya said. "Let's start by doubling the strength of your wine-"
The assassin burst in and fired a bolt, destroying the bottle Chataya was reaching for. The dark skinned woman frowned… before pulling out orbs of wildfire.
"Our customers!" She threw an orb at the assassin, causing an explosion of flames. "Are Trying!" She threw another one. "To FUCK!" she threw a final one and the assassin scurried away.
OMAKE 2 (For Halloween!)
The maester frowned, watching as Joffrey sat on Ned Stark, pulling on his tug. He quietly walked over and unzipped the back of Joffrey's doublet. "Here's your problem." He pointed to a switch on the back of the Prince. "Someone set this thing to evil." He flipped the switch and Joffrey instantly stopped.
"I love you Ned."
"Aw, come here, you," Ned said, giving Joffrey a hug.