A/N: Chap 31 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thank you for reading.
Chapter Thirty-Two: A Wall of Ice And Magic
Jon's knees buckled as he climbed down from the dragon's neck. The massive creature turned one of its gold eyes toward him, sniffing and making a deep rumble that made Jon's bowels quake.
"I'm alright," Jon said, somehow just knowing the dragon was concerned. "Just cold, is all. I should have worn a scarf like Bran.
The dragon nudged him gently until he regained his feet and blew into his icy hands. He'd managed to wrap them in his cloak, otherwise he had no doubt he'd be losing his fingers to the frostbite. He should have greased them with goose fat as well, like the Rangers sometimes did on their travels north of the wall.
Nearby, he saw the Queen using her magic to float Bran about. The woman still confused him, and yet at the same time just having her there provided a sense of relief. From the moment Jon saw his first White Walker, he'd felt an existential dread that he was looking not just at his death, but the death of the world. And no matter how they tried, no one seemed willing to believe them as war raged to the south.
But the morning after the Parley of Riverrun, when he delivered the full report of what was happening north of the Wall, the Queen had not only listened, but believed him without hesitation. So much so, that she came herself.
Still trembling from the dragon ride, Jon joined her. "It's been a few years since I played horse with you, Bran, but my back's still strong."
Bran's cheeks burned brightly as the queen floated the boy onto Jon's back.
Already, Jon could see Lord Commander Baratheon striding toward them from the castle, flanked by his own men rather than any brothers Jon knew. Though Jon could not consider the Lord Stannis a friend, he respected the strength and even-handedness he brought with him. The man didn't play favorites-he hated all of them equally.
"Your grace. Are more men coming?" No greetings, no fawning. Just a perfunctory greeting and the question.
"I might have put a few on the road north," the queen said. Ten thousand was a few? Of course, Jon saw the way the Lord Commander stiffened and realized she japed with him. It was a futile effort, though. Some men were incapable of humor.
"Ten thousand, Lord Commander," Jon Snow said. "My brother bent the knee-the kingdoms are united."
"They will be welcomed," the Lord Commander said. He turned and strode back toward the castle. Jon followed beside the queen. Within, Jon felt a surge of alarm when he saw black-clad bodies lined up against the south walls of the castle.
"The attacks continued?" Jon asked.
"They sent climbers up to the east and charged along the top of the wall," Stannis said. "Damned near took the castle again. We're down to less than a hundred men."
Jon fought back the urge to ask about his friends, but the need resolved itself when he saw Samwell Tarley and Ed bustle from the pantry with a basket of old grain. They both stopped dead as he stared at them, ignoring the queen and Lord Commander as he ran toward his friends.
"Jon! You're...oh."
Sam finally noticed the tall woman with the black and gold eyes staring at him, and the quiet young man on his back. He stammered a bit, before bowing his head. "Pardon my intrusion, your grace," he said awkwardly before running clumsily away.
"A wastrel of a man," Baratheon said. "A shame to House Tarley. But he's Maester Aemon's favored assistant. I'm assuming you came personally for a reason, your grace. What would you have of me?"
"Access to the top of the Wall for a start, Lord Commander," the queen said.
It took half an hour for the winch and pully system to take their cart to the top. As they ascended, the queen removed a small roll of parchment. "From the Lady Baratheon."
For the first time since Jon met the man, he saw the hard granite of Stannis's expression crack. "She's well?"
"Very well. She's one of my ladies in waiting. She lives in Ser Davos's apartment in the Red Keep when she's not with me. He's a good man, Lord Commander. His care for her is a mark of his loyalty to you. And Shireen's will and mind are the best legacy you could leave her. She's going to go far."
The Lord Commander gave a curt not before slipping the missive into his heavy cloak for later reading. "My thanks." That was the end of it.
Finally, they reached the top. Jon placed Bran down on a bench to give his aching back a rest, then joined the queen and the Lord Commander as they stood looking down across the body-littered tundra between the wall and the Haunted Forest. Smoke from cooking fires rose up from the trees, as far as the eye could see.
"Jon, how much control does Mance Rayder have over his people?" the queen asked.
"Less than a king, but more than any other before him," Snow said. "He's united tribes that have been fighting against each other for ages."
"A common enemy can do that. What I mean is, if he accepts to live by the Queen's law, can he enforce it with his people?"
"He won't bend the knee to you, if that's your question."
She waved his concern away. "Bending the knee only means something if it's part of your culture. A wildling kneeling at the end of a sword to me wouldn't mean any more than a Qartheen crying. But if they give their word, I need to know they'll keep it. Robb's going to have a hard enough time selling the idea to his people. I don't want our cause damaged beyond repair because the wildlings I let in can't be controlled."
"Free folk, your grace. They call themselves Free Folk."
Rather than take offense, the queen nodded. "That's good to know. And it speaks well of them, that they value their freedom."
She continued to stand, staring down at them. Without looking back, she said, "Bran, what do you feel in the Force?"
The Lord Commander stared from queen to apprentice in confusion. Bran's eyes took on a distant look. "I...feel fear, your grace. From the trees. They're afraid. And angry."
The queen seemed to agree. "Think about it, Lord Commander. Mance Rayder brought together all those people with a promise. To get them on the other side of the Wall before the White Walkers come. How many weeks has he been trying to defeat the Wall?"
"Two months now, your grace," the Lord Commander said.
The queen nodded. The bitter cold wind blew her hair from her face, bringing a high blush to other otherwise pale cheeks. Her black and gold eyes stared down intently. "This was his gamble. His hope. And as far as he knows, it failed. His coalition can't last forever if he doesn't give them a victory. You're on your last legs, Lord Stannis. But if what Bran and I sense is correct, so is he."
She turned and grinned at Jon. "Are you ready for another quick flight?"
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
Flying the second time felt easier to Jon. Leaving Bran behind with the Lord Commander, the two mounted their respective dragons and in moments were circling to gain sufficient altitude to top the walls. Temeraire let out a great, screeching roar that Saphira and Elliot both echoed as they cleared the walls.
Announcing the queen, Jon had no doubt. As quickly as they cleared the walls, the dragons banked their wings and began circling back down until they came to a landing near the trees.
The answering roar from the trees startled all three dagons and their queen as well. From Temeraire's back, the queen removed her helmet and looked wide-eyed at Jon. "What the hell was that?"
"Mammoths, your grace," he called back.
She stared for a moment, before grinning with a strangely child-like glee. "Really? Mammoths?"
"Your grace, you're on the back of a dragon," Jon felt obliged to point out.
The woman considered his words for a moment before laughing. "You're right. Screw the mammoths. I have dragons. Unless the mammoths breathe fire or shoot ice lasers from their ass?"
"I...don't think so, your grace."
"Good. Ass ice beams would make for a very irritating fight."
She has the oddest turn of wit I have ever seen. Elliot kindly lowered his neck to let Jon dismount. In a show of Force, three giants emerged from the tree line leading their mammoth mounts. The Queen's dragons were larger, but their size was mainly wings and tails. The mammoths were compact lumps of wool, tusks and muscle. Twenty feet tall at the haunch, he'd seen the creatures uproot fifty-foot ironwoods with ease.
The giants were equally impressive. Jon recognized Mag the Mighty in the middle at almost seventeen feet. The queen walked casually over to Jon. "You know, it would be the most incredible thing to see Temeraire fight a mammoth. He'd eat it down to the bone. But they don't look like they're going to attack."
Jon could only agree. Giant faces didn't convey emotion; he wasn't actually sure how much emotion giants actually felt. But he knew that the creatures were normally peaceful unless attacked. Against an unknown threat like the dragons, they would wait until they had no choice.
From their midst, moving between Mag and the next Mammoth over, came Mance Rayder himself. His former Night's Watch cloak flashed with red patches as he moved over the snow that lined the trees. Behind him came a handful of chieftains from the various tribes.
Jon recognized Rattleshirt easily enough. The so-called Lord of Bones built a reputation as the worst of the Wildling raiders, and was known and wanted from Bear Island to Last Hearth.
Karsi was a chieftainess of the Ice River clans and one of the first to ally herself to Mance's cause. Another walked with them, but one Jon did not recognize. They came cautiously, though Mance made no effort to hide a wondrous smile as he studied the three dragons.
"The Crow returns," Mance called. "Do you think your beasts will save you?"
At some unspoken signal, Temeraire rose up on his wings as if they were arms and unleashed a huge billow of black-yellow fire. The three mammoths bellowed and backed up in alarm, even with the giants trying to control them.
Into this scene, the queen spoke. But by some potent sorcery, her voice carried in every ear despite being spoken in a normal tone.
"Before you stands Rhaenys Targaryen, Queen of Westeros, Master of Dragons and Sorceress of Asshai. Azor Ahai reborn. And if I wanted you dead, Mance Rayder, I would have burned the forest from the air."
Alarmed cries rang through the trees. The magic she used was as frightening as the fire her dragons shed. In her great black cloak and form-fitting clothes, she struck a terrifying image in the minds of the wildlings.
It most certainly caught Mance's attention. Jon had to admire the speed with which the King Beyond the Wall recovered himself. "Then you must want us alive. Say your piece, kneeler Queen."
"Kneeler queen?" Rhaenys whispered. She chuckled. "Oh, wouldn't that have the nobles down south in a fit if I adopted that as a title?"
Jon simply had no idea how to respond to that. Again, the woman's odd wit left him floundering. She moved on quickly enough, though. Despite the danger facing her, she walked forward as if facing dear friends. Jon had no choice but to scramble after. She stopped almost within reach of the giants, pausing for a moment to admire the mammoths.
"Fantastic animals," she said aloud. "Long extinct in the lands I grew up in."
Mance stared at her before following her gaze up to Mag's mount. The giant himself stared down at her in confusion, unsure what to do with a diminutive human who controlled dragons. "Their dung makes for a good, if smelly, fire."
The queen chortled. "I can imagine. So, Mance Rayder. I come to you in good faith to parley for the survival of your people. Can I count on you to speak in similar faith?"
"Kill the cunt," Rattleshirt said. He spoke in the First Man's tongue. "She comes with lies and threats. Kill her and let the giant's take her beasts!"
Somehow, the queen understood. "Is this the coward Rattleshirt? I've heard this man is such a coward he dares only fight children and women, lest a real man send him fleeing with his tail between his legs like a dog."
Rattleshirt did not hesitate to react. With a roar of rage, he brandished his stone flail and rushed the queen. The fight was over before it began. Jon saw a strange flash of blue fire, tight and straight like a blade, and then to his horror the Wildling clan leader fell apart, cut in twain from his crotch to his skull.
Even the giants looked alarmed.
Casually, as if she hadn't just bisected a man, the Queen turned to Jon. "Rattleshirt was the only one Robb wouldn't be able to tolerate, correct?"
It took Jon a few moments to collect his wits, but when he did he realized the question was as much for Mance as it was for him. "Aye. If Rattleshirt came south, the Stark bannerman would have forced my brother to act."
The queen nodded before turning back to Mance. "Let me be clear, King Beyond the Wall. I have ten thousand seasoned troops marching north as we speak, and another fifty on stand-by. The civil war south of the wall is over and the people stand united behind me. The only reason we're speaking is because I know exactly what you flee from. I have the most powerful Greenseer in the world back in Castle Black, and he's seen the White Walkers and the Night King."
The various Free Folk chiefs shared wide-frightened stares at each other, and then at Mance. The queen continued apace.
"This is what's going to happen. You and two of your people will present yourself under truce of parley at the gate. You'll be given food and drink and accorded guest rites, and we will reach an agreement that we can all live with. If your people agree to what we discuss, and abide by that agreement, you will be allowed to pass through the Wall. If you don't agree, then I will have no choice but to burn all of you to ash. I have no intention of my men having to fight you all both before and after you die."
She turned her back on the stunned Mance and began walking back to her dragons. "Be at the gate within the hour," she added over her shoulder.
In minutes Jon and his queen were in the air. The queen leaned over Temeraire's neck as they flew, her hands rubbing the thick black scales. They landed shortly after just south of the castle walls.
Jon was on the ground and approaching her before she even dismounted. It looked almost as if she were sleeping. "Your grace, are you well?"
The queen removed her alien helmet and smiled at him. "Just tired, Jon. There are many things I'd rather be doing that making stupid men see reason."
"It does seem a thankless, never-ending task."
She grinned at him, though the smile faltered. "Jon, I need you to do me a personal favor. Talk to Bran about his...infatuation. I'm his master for the purpose of his studies, but...it's difficult to train him when his every thought is about seeing me naked."
Jon choked on his own spit and had to look away before he regained his breath. "I'll be sure to talk to him, your grace."
The woman snorted in a most unladylike fashion. "You and Robb are both the worst liars in the world. Come on, let's go make sure Stannis doesn't kill the King Beyond the Wall before we have a chance of ending the fight."
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
The three remaining leaders of the Free Folk arrived within the appointed time. Mance Rayder stood between the unnamed Thenn and Karsi. At the queen's orders, the last leader of the Free Folk joined them inside.
Mance laughed as he took a worn-down Tormund Giantebane's shoulders in joy. "You're not nearly as dead as I feared, my friend!"
"Aye, takes more than these Crows to kill me," the giant red-head said. The newly freed prisoner looked about with bleary eyes. "The fuck's going on?"
"Parley," Mance explained. He looked to Jon, who as the Queen's representative for the Night's Watch, had met them at the gate. "Lead on, Jon Snow."
Jon led the group of now four wildlings into the great hall of the castle. Despite the name, it was decidedly not great, and barely a hall. The tables had been moved until just one sat in the middle of the floor. The queen stood beside it, still her in strange form-fitting black clothes and great cloak.
Lord Commander Baratheon stood to her right, while Bran Stark already sat at the table to her left. He was watching the Free Folk intently, his face unreadable. On the table, four loaves of bread, a big bowl of brown, and a haunch of roast goat awaited them. The queen took one of the loaves and tore it in half. She offered half to Mance before removing a piece for herself and passing it to the Lord Commander.
Mance did the same, and they all ate the bread in ritualistic agreement. Only then did the queen sit. Jon came around to sit at the Lord Commander's side as a brother of the Night's Watch.
"Mance Rayder," the queen began. She motioned to Bran. "This is Bran Stark, the youngest living son of Lord Eddard Stark. He travelled far beyond the wall and was apprenticed to the Three Eyed Raven. He is a Greenseer, like the Children of the Forest of old."
The Thenn, whose name was Laboda, blinked in surprise. "The Thenns know of the Three-Eyed Raven. He warned our witch to join Mance's cause or perish. Where is he now?"
Bran met the Thenn's eyes squarely. "Dead at the hands of the Night King. I am now apprenticed to her Grace, but I have my vision still. The Night King marches south. He has an army of every Free Folk who has died in the north over the last century. His army comes with dead giants, snow bears and shadowcats. He marches with the corpses of mammoths and ice spiders. Hundreds of thousands of the dead come even as we speak."
His brother's words made Jon's heart ache. Even Lord Stannis looked disturbed by the news. The queen sat and stared at Mance as her apprentice spoke.
To his credit, Mance looked right back. "You mean for us to live."
"This wall was built to protect the realms of men," the queen said. "All men. But I can't just let you walk through and pretend that your people haven't been raiding, murdering and raping the people of the South for generations. Tormund there personally killed twenty villagers before the first battle to take this castle. If you mean to live among us, you must live like us. Or die."
Mance stiffened. "We will not kneel."
"You're the chosen leader of all the people north of the wall," the queen said. "I'm not meeting you as a vassal. You don't have to kneel, you just have to agree. And then abide by that agreement."
Just then the door to the hall opened and Samwell Tarley barged in with bottles of ink, several quills, and rolls of parchment. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had to make more ink!"
Lord Stannis sighed. The queen just smiled. "We're going to draw up a treaty, Mance Rayder. A treaty between the Free Peoples of the North and the Kingdom of Westeros. As queen, I offer you land for your people to settle, and a certain autonomy to select your own leaders to speak for them. I will also grant you a ten year abatement for any taxes that might otherwise be payable, to possibly be extended indefinitely as determined at a later date."
"And in return?"
"In return, your people agree to defend the Wall with us. Each wildling under age twenty-five will owe five years duty to the Wall. Not as brothers of the Night Watch, but as Wardens of the Wall. Any Free Folk under age forty will be obligated to fight on the wall in the event of an attack."
"You want us to fight beside fucking Crows?" Tormund demanded.
"I actually agree with the bloody savage, gods save me," Lord Stannis muttered.
The queen ignored the outburst. "Your children will be behind the Wall. That's what you promised them, isn't it, Mance? Protection from the White Walkers? The problem is that the White Walkers aren't going to stop at the Wall. The Night King wants the whole world to freeze. He wants all humans to die. If you don't fight at the Wall, then you'll die just like everyone else. This way, you will have others fighting at your side."
They spoke through the day. Jon had always harbored a respect for Mance. On that day, though, his respect grew to awe. Even Lord Stannis looked impressed at how well the man haggled for his people.
The queen did not speak to him like he was an uneducated savage. Rather, she treated him with the same respect she might have given to a lord. Karsi recognized it immediately, as did Laboda the Thenn. Then again, Jon knew, the Thenns were far more disciplined and hierarchical than most of the Free Folk.
After the first hour, even Tormund realized something special was happening.
Despite his physical clumsiness, Samwell proved himself useful. He fetched maps and historical accounts as they negotiated what lands the Free Folk might have. They did more than that, though.
She described the lands as the Free State of Northern Westeros and together the two of them poured over one of Sam's maps. The lands were to be held within the original "gift" of lands dedicated to the support of the wall. "You'll be assuming that role," she said to Mance. "In a few generations, you'll be the one's running it."
She proposed how the people there might choose their own lords, and then discussed for almost an hour the means by which they were to hold elections. Minimum ages, means to verify who voted.
"Education will be required," the Queen said. "But that can wait for now."
"Edufucking what?" Tormund said.
"Letters and numbers, my friend," Mance said. "She would have us all reading and writing like southern lords!"
"I want every child in Westeros reading and writing like Southern Lords," the queen said. "There will always be a need for farmers and herders. But the future will be built with those who hold quills, not swords." She nodded to Samwell. "That man will be remembered far longer than the Lord Commander. Because it is men like him who write the histories your children will read. And I want to make sure that your children have the same opportunity to write their histories."
Samwell blushed awkwardly, at a loss to be singled out by the most powerful person in the kingdom. Stannis bit back a snort of dismissal, but Jon understood. Leaders made the decision, yes, but men like Samwell helped make those decisions actually work.
So it went, hour after hour. Laws and opportunities. Warnings and enticements. And when it was done, Samwell had several parchment's worth of notes.
Tormund was sound asleep, snoring and drooling into his thick red beard. Karsi looked oddly awake and excited, while Laboda said nothing as he studied the queen. And Mance?
Mance looked relieved, as if a terrible burden had been lifted from his shoulders. "When?" he asked.
The queen made a motion with her hand, and once again objects obeyed her as if she were a god. Ink, quills and parchment came to her. "Samwell, come sit beside me. Let's get this charter finalized."
To Jon's eternal shock and even Stannis' open surprise, the queen herself helped draft the Charter of the Free State of Westeros in her own hand. It should not have surprised Jon that her handwriting was as beautiful as Sam's was, with strong, strident loops and curls. She glanced up at Jon with a grin. "We'll need more quills and ink."
It took two more hours with the Queen and Sam writing. She wrote first, and he quickly copied what she wrote from his notes. When they were done, Sam started copying a third while the queen read the first aloud. Karsi kicked Tormund under the table to ensure he woke up.
The queen signed first and affixed her signet seal beside her name and titles. She turned her personal draft to Mance, where he signed on a line she drew beside her name. When he signed, the queen looked to the other Free Folk. "Do you write, or have a mark?"
The others were not literate, but Karsi had a mark, as did Laboda. Both made those marks under Mance's name, and then had their names written beside attesting to their marks. She then had the Lord Commander sign as a witness, and finally Bran Stark as a Lord's son on behalf of his brother.
They did it two more times. "For now, one copy will be held here at Castle Black," the queen said. "One of these copies is yours. My copy will be flying back to King's Landing with me. Do you want your copy held here for now as well?"
"For now, yes," Mance said. "Until we're settled."
"Then welcome to Westeros, ladies and gentlemen," the queen said. "There's not much timber south of the wall, not in the gift, anyway. I'd recommend you harvest as much timber as you can carry, gather every animal you think you can breed and eat, and bring seedlings for new trees. My dragons and I will stay until my soldiers arrive to start reinforcing the wall or until all your people are in."
Mance stood, and then very brazenly offered his hand in a way no southern would ever dare to their king or queen.
Rhaenys Targaryen didn't even blink as she took it. "Not a knee was bent," she quipped. "And yet history will remember this day, Mance."
"Aye, Your Grace. It will."