CHAPTER 8
THE WALL
Jon Snow. Snow. How that name haunted him. All he ever wanted was the Stark name, and to know who his mother was. Now, he'd never get any of those things. Lord Stark was as stoic and hard as the North itself, but he had been his father. He had raised him alongside his trueborn siblings in the halls of his own castle, even though he was a bastard, and his wife didn't want him there. He loved him, just as he did his brothers and sisters and was there for him just the same.
Now he was gone, taken from him by Lannisters. his sisters, hostages to the throne, his brother, down South fighting a war and his childhood home being reaved by fucking squids. If he ever got a hold of Theon Greyjoy he'd rip his cock off and use it to strangle him. Not to mention his uncle Benjen couldn't be found and was presumed dead.
His family, the pack, was in disarray. Fighting for their lives and here he was freezing his arse off at the edge of the world. The Night's watch was nothing like he thought it would be, like he was made to believe it was. He was surrounded by criminals and stuck-up veterans.
Ghost, his loyal direwolf, the living sigil of house stark, was curled up at the base of the bed, sleeping. At least one of them was finding some comfort.
He did not belong here, he knew that now. But he wasn't sure where else he did belong. All he knew was he'd rather be at his brother's side, fighting to free his sisters. 'Arya,' his mind whispered. But again, he was stuck. Held in place by vows he took when he thought he had no future. He tried to run away but was warned against it by a friend. They'd behead him as a deserter, he had said.
He almost didn't care.
Lord commander Mormont had eventually talked him down, reprimanded him and restricted him to his rooms. As he thought about the commander his mind jumped to the sword that was leaned up against his bed frame. His chest filled with pride. This was the only good thing to happen to him here. Forever grateful he would be, for the faith his commander must have had in him. To have given him his own family's ancestral sword, a Valyrian steel blade and to have gone out of his way to change the pommel, so it would suit him. Aye, he would be forever grateful.
The sword wasn't the only thing the commander had given him though. His brows came together in concentration and displeasure. Having fought that dead black brother himself, what he heard wasn't so unbelievable. That there might be more of those things out beyond the wall? That too wasn't so unbelievable as much as it was terrifying. But how was there anyone still left living out there let alone enough to make an army capable of qualifying as a threat to The Wall?
The one he fought was hard enough to kill and he was using castle forged steel. How in the hells did the Wildlings manage to survive, with little to no access to weapons even half as good?
Now they were going to attack the wall with their entire force? A desperate act, if he's ever heard of one. He couldn't find it in himself to wrong them, honestly. He too would be trying to get as far away from such dreadfulness as he was able, but as far as he knew there wasn't a single civilised person among them.
They were savages at best, if he were to take some of the brothers at their word, not capable of coexisting with regular men. Although, who these 'regular' men were he didn't know, certainly not the brothers of the 'Criminals Watch'.
He scoffed to himself and shook his head.
He was always taught to never make judgments of someone you've never met so he'd hold off on sizing up the wildlings until he's seen them for himself.
He was asked to send a raven to his brother, pleading for aid. He didn't see how it would be much help, his brother could never fulfil that request. With him being half the continent away in the midst of his own war. 'Where I should be', but it took nothing to send it though, so he did.
Castle black was currently in a frenzy. The commander had issued orders officially a few days ago of a possible attack and the preparations were to be made, lest they be caught unawares. He too, like most in the castle, had seen the smoke rising from beyond the wall. It was days before it stopped and it was further out than he'd ever been, further than the Weirwood he went to say his vows.
A good distance away but if that fire meant there was an army of wildlings there then it suddenly didn't seem far enough, they were practically at the gates!
It was good they had the wall. It was a defensive marvel, thick impenetrable ice and large iron gates, a clear advantage. They were also better armed but that was the extent of it. For they had way less men and though properly armed, these men were cravens and cutthroats. Not one competent fighter amongst them. Ser Allister did a shit job of training them, some Master at arms he was.
Jon felt bile rising to his throat at the thought of the man. It seems no matter where he went he wouldn't escape people who were all too delighted in reminding him what he was and that he belonged nowhere. In Winterfell it was Lady Stark and here at The Wall it was Ser Allister Thorne. While Lady Stark hated his existence for being a bastard her husband had begotten on another woman, Sir Alister hated him because he was a 'Stark' bastard. Apparently he was a Targaryen loyalist from the last war and that's why he was at The Wall. Jon again lamented his decision to come here. What was he thinking? He sighed.
He sat there lost in his head for the better part of an hour before he noticed Ghost's head perked up and he heard rushed knocks on his door. He got up and got to it quickly, opening it to see who it was. He smiled when he saw that it was the few friends he had made here in this place. Sam, Grenn, Pyp and Ed. He was about to make a joke about them coming to save him from his cell when he noticed the look on their faces.
They all looked alarmed, and Sam was visibly shaking now that he was paying attention.
"What is it?" he asked when no one volunteered any reasons.
"The Wildlings Jon, they've been spotted at the tree line. They're here!" It was Ed who relayed that bit of information, looking as if he was also questioning his coming here.
Jon didn't wait for any more explanations as he rushed back into his room to grab his sword and made for the door. "Ghost! To me." He hurried past his friends and took off to find the Commander, his friends right behind him.
"Jon!...Jon! Oi Snow, ye curly haired fucker!" that was Ed again, only he was so brazen and crass. He stopped and stared at him. "What ye going that direction for? The Commander is atop the wall." He said pointing up above his head. The others nodded their heads and Grenn was trying to hold in a laugh.
"you couldn't have said that earlier Ed?" Jon asked, annoyed but also amused. He turned back and walked swiftly in the direction of the lift, to make his way to the top. His heart was pounding in his chest, anxiety making itself-known. This was it, if the wildlings had reached The Wall then the battle was finally here.
If he was being honest with himself, he didn't see why they were fighting them. weren't they people as well? And if whatever it was they were running from could raise the dead and have them fight, then wouldn't killing the wildings only give it more dead to raise?
He tried to clear his head of that line of thinking. The Commander must have thought of that and if he was still planning on fighting then he wasn't worried.
He has always been good with a sword, having taken to it from a young age. He'd beaten Robb more times than not in the yard, and he was quick, a natural Ser Rodrik had called him. He's never seen live battle though, never killed a man. He was secretly dreading the idea, but he didn't let it show on his face.
The lift finally made it to the top of the wall where a whole line of brothers were waiting, staring down. He searched for the Lord Commander with his eyes and found him standing with Qhorin Halfhand and Ser Alliser. He approached them. They were all gazing below and weren't concerned by his arrival one bit.
"Lord Commander!" he shouted to get the man's attention. He got Ser Alliser's attention instead.
"Ahh, Lord Snow. Finally graced us with your presence. Brought your lovers and the little pig have you? Oi! Piggy! You started pissing yourself yet?" Gods, the man was unbearable. Jon wanted nothing more than to kick him off the side of the wall but knew he'd be beheaded for it. Or would he?
"Mind yourself Thorne and act your age!" The Commander reprimanded. He turned his solemn gaze onto Jon, and he could see the sheer weight that was pushing down on him.
"Snow, look down there, tell me what you see." He commanded and Jon obeyed. He hesitantly inched closer to where he could see over the edge and peered over. Down there he didn't notice anything at first, only some snow and trees. Then he started seeing little movements and realised that there were people down there. They were too high up to make out any features or see anything clearly but there were definitely people moving about down there. Scouts?
"I see movement Commander." He relayed.
"Aye. They've been there since last night it seems."
"What are they? Scouts?"
"No, there are too many of them. They're likely setting up a camp. Close enough to see what's going on, but far enough that we can't hurt them from here and under the cover of trees, so we can't accurately estimate their numbers. Smart, do you know why that bothers me?" It seems this was to be one of the many lessons he has been receiving. He thought about it for a beat but couldn't come up with anything, so he shook his head.
"Because wildlings aren't smart. They are brash, impulsive and savage. If they are developing tactical and strategic ways of thinking, then that means there is someone who is teaching them, and that someone is dangerous." The Commander concluded.
Jon didn't know what to say to that. A dangerous man? A dangerous man? He believed the situation was dangerous but what could a single man do? Mayhaps he'll learn more by just observing.
"Mormont, movement." He heard Qhorin Halfhand say. The commander turned from him and looked down. He followed their sight and saw three people come out of the tree line and approached The Wall. They stopped halfway to each point and just stood there. No one could make out what they were doing, it was too far down. No one said anything, they were all just waiting for something to happen.
Suddenly a raven landed on the wall in front of the Lord Commander, crowed, flapped its wings and offered its foot. There seemed to be a piece of cloth attached to the foot and the raven seemed to be waiting for someone, mainly the commander, to take it off. He did, after all it was just a bird, what harm could it do? At least that's what Jon thought his mind was saying. The bird flew back down.
The commander took the piece of cloth, unrolled it and stared at it for a minute, without saying anything. Halfhand seemed to have lost his patience.
"Gods man, what does it say?"
Lord Commander Mormont just handed him the piece of cloth and returned his gaze to the ground. The people were moving back into the trees.
"Is he serious?" Halfhand asked after reading what was on the piece of cloth. He stared at the commander, looking for a reaction and when he got none his face scrunched up. "You can't be considering this are you?"
"Aye, I am. We need to be sure what's happening." The commander replied, not taking his eyes off of the tree line.
"What's happening? How much surer can we be? He's brought them here to kill us and take The Wall!" Halfhand argued. Jon wasn't sure who they were talking about. Mayhaps it was this Mance Rayder character?
"I'd like to hear him say those words." The commander seemed to be firm in his decision, whatever that decision was. He stepped away from the edge suddenly and made his way in a brisk strut, to the ramps leading to the lift. It seemed he was going to make plans, but plans for what? Jon did not know. Halfhand and Ser Alliser followed after him with haste and Jon and his group just had to watch them go.
When they were out of sight, Pyp cleared his throat and asked a question they all would like an answer to.
"What do you think it said?" Sam denoted that it couldn't be anything good, based on Halfhand's reaction. Jon nodded his agreement. He was about to say something when he heard Ser Alliser's grating voice.
"Lord Snow! You're the Commanders steward. Kiss your boyfriends goodbye and get to his fucking side!" Jon bit his tongue and just decided a reply wasn't worth it. He made to follow and told his friends he'd find them later. He got to the lift and saw that they were waiting. No one looked very pleased, but whether by his presence or the words on the cloth, he wasn't sure. The way down was quiet. Everyone skulked in some way and Ser Alliser was glaring at him, which was his favourite pastime.
He tried to not give him any attention. The lift got to the bottom, and they got off and started off towards the Maester's quarters. Seems a discussion was to be had.
—-
How did he end up here?
That was the question on Jon's mind. His face was pulled together in concentration and his stomach riled in terror. The light from the torches on the walls dancing over his expression.
He was in the tunnel, right in front of the gate that led to the other side of the wall. He looked behind him and could see the path he just rode and where he wished he could just turn back down. He drew a breath to steady himself and tried to think of the silver lining. His commander must have had a lot of faith in him, to have sent him in his stead, to parley with Mance Rayder, who he was told by a few of his brothers was the king beyond the wall. King. He had seen how kings were addressed, he could do this, there was nothing to worry about.
His little words of encouragement to himself did nothing to ease the tension that was building inside of him. which got worse when the large iron gate started to rise. It didn't go all the way as it was decided that would be a foolish thing to do. So, when it stopped just high enough for him to ride through he slowly inched his horse forward.
It was a calm day, he realised. There was no wind and no snow falling from the sky, you could almost see the sun. it's funny, the things you notice and the way the world slows down when you think you're walking to your death.
As he moved further away from the gate and closer to the trees, he could see that there were a lot of people there. More than he had initially thought. They were all looking in his direction, he swallowed a lump in his throat.
When he got to the tree line and he could make out the features on the people's faces, he realised they weren't overly pleased to see him. They were enemies he supposed, of course they would not like him. He noticed some of them had red markings on their faces and seemed to be more serious, but also more neutral than the rest.
His horse cantered to a stop and looked around, trying to steady himself. He drew a shuddering breath.
"I'm Jon Snow and I've come to parley with the King beyond the wall." They all just stood there, moving from one foot to the other and staring at him. no one answered. A slim, red-haired woman with a bow in her hand looked very annoyed.
"What the fuck does that mean, pretty crow?" She questioned, most politely. Jon was momentarily thrown. He had never met a woman who behaved like her and he didn't know how to handle it. He tried his best to keep the lapse out of his expression.
"I'm here to talk to your king." He rephrased hoping to not offend.
"Then why didn't you just say that the first time?" she asked with a genuinely confused look on her face. Honestly, Jon was at a loss. Was she being serious?
"I did." He said seriously. She stared at him for a minute then scoffed and turned around.
"Come on then!" she beckoned over her shoulders, while slowly making her way deeper into the camp. He got off his horse after a man told him to, and followed after her. Walking through the camp was…an experience. He saw both men and women who looked like warriors. Most of them wore red markings of various styles over their faces and few had some blue ones.
They were approaching a tent and he could see some people outside it. The people were sitting with their legs crossed, heads bowed, and their hands raised in prayer, towards the tent. Maybe he was misreading the situation. He brought his gaze closer to the tent and saw that on either side there were… Giants? Giants! Gods, giants were real!
They were at least the height of two fully grown men standing atop each other. 'amazing' he said to himself. But then he started to remember, they were going to have to fight these things and groundbreaking dread started to pool in the bottom of his stomach. How were they supposed to put up a fight with this? Could their swords even hurt them?
He must have stood there for minutes just staring at them. One of them let out a displeased growl and he took a step back. He heard chuckles and turned his head to see the red-haired woman staring at him amusedly.
"Careful you don't get eaten pretty crow, be a shame." She snickered. He didn't see how any of this was funny. He cleared his throat, schooled his features and straightened towards the tent. The woman just chuckled some more and pushed her way into the tent, he followed her.
"They sent a pretty little crow." She relayed to the occupants of the tent. Jon counted five of them. The inside of the tent was very dark but there was a fire in the centre so he could make out the features of the figures quite well. There were two women and three men. The women were like night and day, one blonde with obvious blue eyes and one who was dark of hair and eyes. They both held spears and seemed to stand straight and stiff, like the guards he would see at Winterfell. They were clearly warriors, Like all the women he's seen so far.
They stood to his left. To his right there was a big man with red hair and a big red beard, mayhaps he was related to the woman who brought him here? Not important. This man was staring at him with wide eyes, no true malice was in them, but he too shared the gait of a soldier. The man beside him was bald and had piercing eyes, he also sported some blue markings like what he'd seen on a few of the men and women outside. Same clan then? His mind kept straying to miscellaneous details.
The last man he could see looked… Westerosi. So, this was Mance Rayder then. His suspicions were proved correct when the same man ordered the red-haired woman to wait outside the tent and she just nodded and left after sparing him a quick glance. His eyes followed her for a bit then he turned around and saw everyone staring at him. Suddenly, remembering that he was now in the presence of a king, he quickly knelt and bowed his head.
"King Mance, I've been sent by the Lord commander to hear your words." he said, as he was supposed to as far as he knew, So why did he hear them laughing at him? Was this not their custom?
He kept his head down and waited for a reply. When the laughing eventually came to a halt he heard the man clear his throat.
"What is your name, boy?" he asked., with amusement clear in his tone.
Jon's brows creased and his mood dipped. "…Jon Snow." he bit his jaw and waited for the jeers and insults.
"Raise your head boy." That was not the reaction he was expecting, but he complied, nonetheless. He raised his head and saw the king? Studying his face. He seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion.
"You're Ned Stark's boy aren't you?" Jon's eyes widened in surprise and that seemed to be confirmation enough for the man.
"Aye, no doubt about that. You have the stark colouring about you." he nodded, more to himself than anything. "How old are you lad?"
Jon swallowed. "Ten and seven name days, your grace." he answered and the people in the tents snickered to themselves again.
"I'm no king lad. You can stop kneeling." Mance said and Though confused, he made to get up.
"No. He's in the right position. He just doesn't know yet who he is kneeling to." that came from the blue-eyed woman and Jon winced at the chill in her voice. No one disagreed with her, not even Mance, so Jon just kept kneeling.
He heard a building cacophony of murmurs and what sounded like cries of worship outside the tent. The flaps were pushed aside, and a little girl came in. She had a bow around her torso and wore white and grey furs. Her burnt brown hair fell in braids down to the middle of her back and she had steel grey eyes.
'like mine,' he observed. When she entered, the occupants of the tent immediately put their right hand across their chests and stood rigidly. For the… however many times today Jon was confused. How could this child command such respect from such hardened looking warriors? Was she a lady or some other highborn? She looked no more than one and ten name days. Not even a woman grown. He was about to inquire when he heard the flaps move again and saw the occupants tense further.
He craned his neck to see who it was and saw only a silhouette, but what a silhouette it was. Tall, imposing and somewhat terrifying. The man just stood there for a beat then stepped fully into the tent and Jon got a good look at him.
His skin was pale, and his figure screamed of power. His eyes were dark and harsh, and his body bore the same red markings as most in the camp, but his seemed to be more a part of him, as if that was how his skin grew.
Jon did not know what just walked through the threshold and he dreaded to find out.
Line break-
"He looked like a man, but he didn't feel like a man. His presence was overwhelming, as if he were too large to fit in the tent. It became harder to breathe for a minute after he came inside." Jon finished his description of the man, Kratos, who he found out was the actual king beyond the wall.
The Lord commander looked disturbed by the mention of this man. Jon didn't blame him. He had actually met him, and it felt like standing at the base of a mountain, trying to look up at the peak.
Halfhand stood off to the side not saying a word but not looking very surprised. Maester Aemon just stared blankly off into the distance as was his wont, before humming to himself then shaking his head.
"… and repeat to us again what he said?" The maester requested.
"He said, he didn't want to fight us, but he would do what he must to give his people a chance at a future." Jon paraphrased. "Said he knew from Mance Rayder that the lands directly south of the wall were underpopulated and that an agreement could be made for settlement, or he would take it by force. He gave us a week to decide." He finished reiterating. There was silence for a while before the maester asked him if there was anything else.
He shook his head but then he scrunched up his face. "There was something else, but I wasn't sure it would be important." He said slowly, unsure.
"All information is important in a battle boy, spit it out." That was Halfhand.
"Well, when I was leaving the camp an old woman stopped me to say something. Something like, all people of The North were his people." Jon hoped he remembered correctly.
"Was that exactly what she said?"
"Y-yes maester." He stuttered a bit because of how ominous maester Aemon sounded just then.
"Alright my boy. Commander, I think we have a few ravens to send." The commander looked sombre but nodded his head and sat down.
Line break-
His nerves were getting the better of him, it's been a week and no reply was sent to the Wildlings, at least not to his knowledge. So, a battle was inevitable, and he was not liking their odds. He was walking to the hall when he saw Sam, looking frightened out of his mind. His hurried steps were quite unlike him, Jon thought. He kept looking behind him as if he was being chased.
'What's wrong with him?' He asked himself. He stood and waited for him to reach him. When he did, he was out of breath and sweating profusely.
"Sam, what are you running from?" he asked. His friend looked at him in urgency.
"Jon! We need to stop them, we need to warn the Lord Commander!" Sam shout-whispered.
"Stop, Stop. Sam, slow down. Warn the Lord Commander about what? Stop who? Are the Wildlings attacking?"
"No Jon! I heard some of the black brothers talking. They were planning treachery Jon. They are going to wait until the confusion of the battle to kill the lord commander then surrender and either join the wildlings or escape!"
"Gods…Which of these criminals was it? Tell me!"
"Was Tanner and Rast… and a few others." He said between deep breaths.
"I'll kill them first." His mind made up, he marched in the direction of where Sam was coming from. Anger boiled in his blood and blinded him. He could hardly hear Sam shouting for him to stop but he couldn't. He couldn't allow the Commander to be betrayed, he had so much faith in him. He was about ten steps away from where Sam was when he heard the alarm horns go off. The compound erupted in chaos and his stomach dropped.
"Sam! We need to find the Commander."
"I see him coming out of the Maesters quarters!"
He nodded and headed in that direction. On the way he passed many brothers standing around looking confused. He saw the commander standing with Halfhand and Ser Alliser.
"Commander! What's happening?"
It was Ser Alliser who answered him. "Times up Snow. You're about to be in a real fight, careful not to shit yourself." Jon mostly ignored him.
"Commander, I have to tell you something." He tried to make the warning.
"Not now lad, Ser Alliser's right, prepare yourself for battle." He replied and walked off towards the lift.
"But it's important!" Jon shouted after him.
"Does it have something to do with the wildling attack?"
"No, Bu- "
"Then it can wait." That was final, Jon could tell. So, he went about to find Sam and the rest of his friends and do as he was told. For now.
—-
Jeor was atop the wall looking down. He saw two scores of Wildlings down there, in symmetric groups. They were ordered and looked to have discipline.
'this could be deadly'
"Archers? Get me archers along the edge here, and there. We still have a wall and heavy iron gates between us and them, we'll pick 'em off from above." He made his orders and waited for them to be carried out.
He was approached by Ser Alliser. "They may have learned how to stand in line and look like soldiers, but they aren't very bright. They're just sheep for the slaughter down there." He pointed out crudely.
"Aye, that's true enough. If they ever make it pass the gates it'll be a bloodbath, but I don't see how they can." He tried to convince himself. He didn't take his eyes off them though, one thing was bothering him. He knew Mance Rayder to be smarter than this. What was he thinking having them attack the gates bare like that? What was his game? And why weren't they approaching? Were they waiting on something?
His answer came when he saw huge figures coming out of the tree line. He was at first confused, then realisation struck. Those were giants! Actual giants, it was beginning to look more and more hopeless. He noticed they were carrying something, he had no clue what. That became clear when the giants took up key positions in the legions and raised what they were holding above their heads.
'...This must be a fucking jape' he thought to himself, sinking into despair.
"Shields? Are those fucking shields? Where would they even get shields so big?" Ser Alliser asked the question that was on his mind. They looked to be holding makeshift shields above the two groups of fighters. They were completely covered from view, now archers had no targets to hit. Damn that Mance, this must be his idea, clever bastard.
They started moving now, towards the gates. He didn't know how they were planning to get through, but he wasn't going to just wait and see.
"Archers! Light your arrows, burn those shields, come on!" he shouted his orders.
"Ser Alliser! I don't see them getting through the gates but in case they do, get the men ready for a fight."
"Aye commander, I'll see it done." He rushed off to go carry out his orders. He saw Qhorin walking to him from that direction. He glanced at the Knight when he passed and looked back towards him.
"They are approaching the gate?"
"Aye."
"They'll hold. I doubt very much they have anything that can destroy such heavy iron gates." He said with confidence that Jeor wished he shared. He didn't answer, he didn't trust himself to not say something negative and that would do nothing for morale.
"Commander!" he heard a brother shout, and he whipped around to see what the problem was. "They've reached the gates!" the same man said, and it was true, he looked down and realised that they had indeed reached the gates. And the shields seemed to be catching on fire very slowly.
"Keep firing! Do not leave your post!" he rushed to the lifts to get to the tunnel. When the lift was almost on the ground he saw Ser Alliser running to him.
"Commander! We can hear them beating the gates through the tunnels. Real heavy hits, those giants must be as strong as fifty men." He said in hurried breaths.
Before he could formulate a reply he heard shouts and a commotion coming from the south gates. He saw black brothers running for their lives and…Wildlings? Chasing them. that can't be right.
"when the fuck did this happen?" he heard Ser Alliser ask in shock.
"Bastards must have climbed the wall! That week wasn't to give us time, it was to give them time to fuck us in the arse." A fucking ploy he should have seen coming.
"Gather your wits, this is the fight!" he shouted, and they rushed to intercept the invading group. One man attacked him who had red markings on his face, but he ducked, opened his gut with his sword and moved on to the next one. He felled three and it seemed, Ser Alliser and Qhorin were holding their own, but his men were dying twice as fast. There was a big red-haired man and a bald one with blue markings that were making training dummies of his charges. Who were they? They fought like demons, no wasted movements, no flash. Every swing was a critical strike, brutally efficient. Where had Wildlings learned to fight like that? Were they smiling? It seemed this was sport to them, his men offered no challenge.
The big man was making his way to him, cutting a bloody swath through his men. When he was close, he raised his two-handed axe to attack him, but it was blocked by a Valyrian steel blade. Jon Snow.
"Go commander, I'll deal with him!" he shouted over his shoulders as he and the man locked weapons in combat. He was bigger than Snow, but Snow was quick and was trained by a real Master at arms. Their attributes seemed to cancel each other out so they looked to be evenly matched. He turned about to see what was happening and it was complete chaos. His men were dying in droves.
It burned his chest to see this. He was meant to keep these men alive. Not send them to their deaths, but here they were, dying. Why was this happening?
"The tunnel!" his heart dropped. 'Gods, don't tell me they have gotten through.' Something like that would spell a total loss on their part. They would have to surrender and pray for mercy to save what was left, No help was coming their way.
He heard a roar come out of the tunnel and the black brothers who weren't in active combat turned to see the cause of such a sound. A giant ran out of there and swatted away the closest person in black he could see. Everyone froze and some men even dropped to their knees in prayer. Who exactly were they praying to? A few arrows hit it in its shoulder, and it just got even angrier and threw the stump in its hand at the archers and they turned to mush. It roared again and the fighting in the compound stopped, momentary shock ran through everyone.
Two more came out of the tunnel and just stood there staring menacingly at everyone, daring them to try something. The wildlings in the compound shuffled and stood rigid at attention, with their right arms over their chests. A salute? But who were they saluting? Could it be these giants? It would make sense, they were imposing. He saw movements in his peripheral vision and turned his head to see the big red-haired man and the bald one with the blue markings walk towards the tunnel. When they reached about fifteen steps from the mouth, they knelt, with their hands over one knee and their heads held high.
"Their castle has fallen, the wall is yours Oh Lord!" The red-haired one shouted with a happy grin on his face. Which of the giants was he talking to and why were they kneeling? He had thought FreeFolk did not kneel, ever.
This confusion continued until he saw a few regular sized people exit the tunnel. A blonde woman, a dark haired one and… Mance fucking Rayder. So, this was who he was talking to. His blood boiled. He was getting lost in his anger until something strange happened. Someone was coming out of the tunnel, he felt it before he saw him. it was invigorating, what person could possess such an aura?
He saw Mance and the two women stand to either side of the tunnel and a little girl came out after them. Was this who he felt? No, he could tell it wasn't. but who was this girl that walked with such authority. Was she the one Jon had told them about? Must be. Interesting. She too came and stood a little to the side but not completely out of the way of the entrance and a…Man? came out behind her.
Aye, he was definitely the one. The man looked like The North personified. Jon was right, he did bare the colouring of the Weirwood, down to his furs. He was what Jeor saw in his mind when he imagined what an Old God would look like.
He could feel the power in the man, who he wasn't even sure was a man, from where he was. 'We never stood a chance.' "Gods.." as he said that he noticed that the man's head turned to him with a quickness. Odd. He said something he couldn't hear, and he saw the little girl take the bow she was wearing from around herself, nocked an arrow and aimed it at him. Was she going to shoot him? But the fighting was over. He was about to vocalise this when he heard Jon Snow shout for him, and he looked to see him about to run towards him and felt a piercing pain in his ribs.
His mind ground to a halt and he put his arm to his side to find a knife sticking out of it. He looked down to the knife then heard something whiz past his face and a grunt and a falling sound. He looked to see one of his charges, Tanner was his name? lying on the ground behind him with an arrow through his eye.
What had happened? Did he stab him? why? Why betray him? Why now? His mind was in a frenzy, desperately trying to find reason or rhyme. He turned to see that the girl had her bow down by her side and everyone was staring at him. the world started moving in slow motion and he could vaguely hear Snow calling his name. the scenery started to change, and everything was passing by too swiftly, next he knew he was staring up at the clouds and the edges of his vision were getting dark. The world was a blur now, even the person he could belatedly tell that came over him, he could not make out their features. Who was that?
The last thing he saw was blue skies then…nothing.
AUTHORS NOTE:
Hope you all enjoy it. Don't hold back on your thoughts. I've decided to start leaving some personal quotes of mine as sign outs.
We are often capable of much more than we estimated of ourselves.
The Basilisk