Mance

He never thought he'd be on this side of the Wall again. Yet, here he was. He was standing in the place that had been his home for many years. Not much had changed at Castle Black since his departure. Well, maybe it was a bit more run down than the last time he'd seen it. But it still looked like home.

He was standing by the tunnel going through the Wall and watching his people stream through the tunnel and into safety. He was struggling to contain his emotions watching history unfold before his very eyes. The black brothers were watching too. Though their emotions were very different from his. Most wore scowls as the Free Folk moved through the castle. Not that Mance blamed them. The Free Folk and the Watch had fought each other for centuries. And if he was being honest, the Free Folk were scowling at the Watch just as heavily.

Outside the castle, men from the North were directing the Free Folk where to go. One great old cunt of a man in particular stood outside the gate with his hands on his hips glowering at the people passing through. He was giving them curt, gruff orders and directions. Hother "Whoresbane" Umber was a man that commanded respect. No man with his reputation grew old unless he was very good at killing. So the Free Folk listened to him. They hated him, but they listened. Some people were heading east, some were heading west. But all were heading to safety. The land they were being allowed to settle on was largely overgrown, but at one one time it had been some of the most fertile land in the North. There would be mountains of work ahead of them to prepare to survive the winter. But everyone was in agreement, the work was far preferable than being turned into slaves of the Others.

One part of him was still rankled about the conditions he'd had to agree to to get that land. A full ten percent of their harvest had to be surrendered as a tax on the land. All ten percent of it was to be sent to Castle Black or to the other castles of the Night's Watch as they were rebuilt to fill their larders and provide wood and stone to repair the ruined castles. And he'd had to fight hard to get it that low. Jon Stark had originally demanded twenty percent of their harvest. In the end, it had been agreed to settle on the lower number. Jon had made the not unreasonable argument that, since his own people would be fighting from the castles along the Wall, they really weren't losing much, if anything. It still rankled though.

As each clan passed through the tunnel under the wall, they were met by a different Umber. Mors Umber, the man called Crowfood. He was a man that the Free Folk knew well. Mors was a bitter old man with an undying hatred for Wildlings. Jon placing him where he had was no mistake. Thirty years ago, his daughter had been taken in a raid. The man wanted her back if she was still alive. Or the head of the man who took her if she wasn't. That condition had been non negotiable. Mance had reluctantly agreed. Mors was in for a shock when he found out the truth about his daughter. He wasn't sure how the man would take it when he found out that they were kin by marriage now.

While Mors was waiting to learn the truth about his daughter, he had another job. As each clan came through the tunnel, he took a hostage from each chieftain to ensure that clan's good conduct. Normally he chose one of the sons of the chieftain, but occasionally he would take a daughter if the chief had no sons or if their only son was still a babe nursing from his mother's teat. For a man who hated Wildlings, he was surprisingly gentle and kind to the children. To their parents however, he was the same gruff old bastard that the Free Folk had heard tales of.

He was also ensuring that the clans turned over half their wealth to the Night's Watch. Well, half of what they had brought with them. The Free Folk weren't fools. About a third of their gold, silver and gems had been buried and hidden north of the Wall. It was a risk, but it was a small risk. How much gold would the kneelers south of the Wall really think the Free Folk would have, anyway?

Other men from the North and the Watch were at Queensgate, Deep Lake, Oakenshield and Woodswatch-by-the-Pool to open the gates there and speed the passage of the Free Folk through the Wall. Everyone knew time was of the essence. The Others would not want to lose their future army. Mance just prayed that everyone would be through the Wall before they came. Not least because his family had yet to come through the tunnel. He wouldn't be able to relax until they did.

Finally, they came through the tunnel. Dalla was on his horse to ease her journey as she was heavy with his child. Val stood protectively in front of her, daring anyone to so much as think of touching her sister. Behind them, came their mother, Rowan. Mance smiled warmly at his family. Thank the Gods that they had made it safely. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mors Umber stiffen. Crowfood was staring at his family. Fuck. He should have known that the old bastard would recognize his kin.

Striding over to Mors, Mance told him, "You demanded the return of your daughter. Well, your daughter is my mother-by-law. Those two young women there, those are your granddaughters, Crowfood. The one walking is Val. The one on the horse, is Dalla. Dalla is my wife. And she is soon to give birth. We've lived up to our agreement. Your daughter is home."

In truth, Mors hadn't recognized his daughter. She had lived a hard life in the lands of always winter, and it had worn her features away. He had recognized Dalla. Dalla, to hear Rowan tell it, looked just like her when she was younger, other than her hair that is. Mors was almost overcome with emotion. His daughter, after thirty years, was home.

Mance was starting to get slightly worried. Mors hadn't said a word yet. He just kept staring at his daughter. Just as Mance started to say, "Lord Umber," Mors' fist connected with Mance's jaw in a vicious uppercut. Instead of staying to fight him though, Mors took off running towards his daughter. Skidding to a stop, Mors reached out with a trembling hand and brushed his daughter's cheek gently.

"Rowan," he croaked in a voice choked with emotion. "Is that really you, daughter?"

With her eyes full of tears and her lips trembling, she said, "Yes, Father. It's me. I'm home."

Mors then broke into tears and pulled his daughter to him and wrapped her up in an embrace. The two of them were openly sobbing at being reunited. This was a first for Mance. He'd never seen Rowan cry before, not even when her husband was killed by that snow bear. The woman was as tough as they come. But now, in the arms of her father, she could finally let go of everything she had been feeling since the day she was taken from her family home. Mance had a decent idea of what she might be feeling.

Striding up to his family, Mance reached up and helped Dalla down off her the horse. He smiled lovingly at his bride. She was safe now. They'd both live to see the birth of their child. They were safe from the threat of the Others. For as long as the Wall stood, the Others could not pass.

"You, Rayder," he heard Mors practically shout at him.

Taking a deep breath, Mance turned to face the weathered face of the man called Crowfood.

"Half of me wants to beat you half to death for not returning my daughter to me sooner. The other half of me wants to embrace you and tell you that I owe you a debt I can never repay for keeping my family safe. I don't know which part should win out. So for now, you'll all come with me to the Last Hearth. We'll feast your arrival and then discuss whats to be done with our family."