Jeor
"There's one," Benjen said, nodding towards a great sentinel tree that rose up high above them and whose branches seemed determine to cover the entire forest. It was a strong tree, growing stronger every day, the wood as solid as stone. The old axe marks from its youth proved that several had tried to bring it down and failed; that would never happen now as only a fool would attempt to bring such a monster crashing to the forest floor.
Jeor scanned the branches, looking for what Benjen had seen before finally giving up, accepting that the First Ranger was telling the truth and there truly was a wildling scout hiding amongst the snow covered needles. Benjen had already spotted five of them throughout the forest, keeping watch on them as Mance led them along the snowy twisting path.
"A bit loud, aren't they?" he asked Benjen as they continued towards the sounds of life. He could hear someone cutting away at something and the murmur of voices and occasionally, if things were truly quiet, the pop and hiss of fires.
Benjen chuckled darkly at that. "This close they have nothing to worry about. We'd have been killed before we got near to them if they thought us as a threat." Jeor looked at the man who shrugged. "Just because their castles are made of living pines and the fallen snow doesn't mean they guard them any less fiercely. Would you have scolded your children for being too loud and attracting attention while in their own home? Because make no mistake about it, Lord Commander, this is their home. This is their Winterfell, their Bear Island. And it is just as protected as them."
"Benjen," Mance called out, "a word?" The First Ranger nodded to Jeor before hurrying towards the front of their group, where Mance was walking about 10 paces ahead of him. "We need to discuss how you should present yourself… your name is known-"
"You're troubled," Steve said as he moved to walk with Jeor; Ygritte was behind them, so that there was one of the wildlings at both sides of the party, to make it clear to all watching just who was escorting who.
"I am," Jeor admitted, seeing no reason to deny his feelings to the man; after all, of all those that were with him Steve came to closest to understanding the burden a Lord Commander must have. Mance held the title of King Beyond the Wall but he'd been quick and firm to remind them that a King of the Wildlings was far different from a King on the south side of the Wall. Mance was more like a strategist, making sense of the chaos and noise that came from having so many voices all trying to speak at once. His suggestions carried weight… far more than others since the leaders of the many different tribes and clans had bowed their heads to him and named him king, but he couldn't command without permission. If Jeor wanted something done he could just bark the order; Mance had to convince people that his way was the best way. Because if he didn't the wildlings would simply walk away from him.
Steve though? Steve was a Lord Commander. Of a vastly different kind of force than Jeor now led, but a commander all the same.
"Have I told you why I joined the Night's Watch?"
"No, you have not," Steve stated. "Benjen did warn me that much of the Watch's recruits would not meet my… tastes." Jeor raised an eyebrow at that and Steve sighed. "There were a few criminals that joined the Knights of the Dawn. And we welcomed them among our ranks. But they did so of their own free will. They did so because they wanted to regain their honor and make amends and because sometimes we were the only place left for them. Family scorned them, society didn't want them… but we would welcome them. And they came to us with tears in their eyes because we offered them brotherhood and purpose, two things that had been taken from them when they had decided to break the laws of lord and man. But they, just like the sons of kings and the sons of farmers, came to us of their own free will."
And then Steve's eyes hardened and for a moment Jeor saw the Other that might have been had Steve not been the one to keep control of his own body.
"But not only are men forced to join your Night's Watch but the ones you take are the worst kind of criminals. The murderers. The traitors. The…" his jaw worked, "rapists. You make them your brothers, so that most of your ranks are made up of such vile wastes of life."
With anyone else Jeor would have grown annoyed with the scorn. Yelled at them and told them how he had struggled with in order to do the little he was able to do when it came to maintaining the Wall and manning the three castles that served as the last defense between the North and the Lands of Always Winter. With those of noble blood, like Tyrion Lannister, he had shown them a Lord's Reply, as Jeor's grandfather had once called it: politeness but with a firm tone that showed that while they granted them the right to say their thoughts without cost their ideas would never be considered. To stand tall and allow one to say as they wished, thank them for their time, and then continue on as if they had never spoken at all.
'But not him,' Jeor thought as he looked at Steve. 'With him it is like my father returning from the grave, judging me for all my failures. How could I ever speak the lies that I tell even myself to justify my failures and the fall of the Night's Watch?' So rather than bluster and bellow Jeor sighed and cast his eyes towards his feet, watching as they crunched in the snow. "I wondered how that happened myself. I looked through the journals and records kept by previous Lord Commanders… the practice of forcing criminals to join came centuries ago, before the Dragons arrived on Dragonstone. A great sickness struck the Night's Watch, bringing it to numbers that, in those days, were quite low but today would be a gift from the Gods. Lords began to send criminals to man the Wall, seeing it as their only hope."
"And as with all things what started as a temporary fix became the norm when it was seen it was easier." Steve shook his head in annoyance and Jeor felt pity for the man.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I know how you must feel."
"How could you know?" Steve asked. Not bitterly but… with a sense of disbelief tempered with weariness. "To see something you built up be brought so low."
"I know all too well that feeling," Jeor told him, a familiar ache filling his breast. "I was telling you why I joined the Night's Watch. I volunteered, though not as you did. It wasn't some noble goal or desire that I joined… it was for more personal and, perhaps, selfish reasons." He reached up and pushed a low hanging pine branch away form his face. "My father was already an old man when I was born. He lost three heirs to all manner of causes. He'd had two wives. My sister and I grew up with a man as old as most people's great grandparents. He led well enough but by the end he could barely function, only able to lie in his bed and allow others to oversee the management of Bear Island. I still remember the shame of Lord Rickard Stark having to be taken to his bed chamber in order to meet with him, my father bare chested due to a fever and sweating so much it soaked his sheets. I swore that I would not go out as my father did. I would not cling to power until only death could force my hand to come loose. So when my son was of age and I felt ready to lead I gave up my claim to our ancestral seat and joined the Night's Watch, so that Bear Island might have a strong young lord and not a broken old man.
"I know it was different for you but with the Night's Watch we are told that we must forsake our old lives. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. There were men that would renounce their family names, to show their loyalty only to the Watch though that is long in our past, done by men who were long dead before my forefathers were born. I tried so very hard to do as they did. Even as my son married not for love or strength but out of lust for both the flesh and Southern approval. Even as he drained every copper I had saved to buy his wife lavish gifts. Even as he sold men he captured in order to try and keep everything from falling apart. And when he made his disgrace full by refusing to do the honorable thing and submit himself to his Lord for his crimes and fled to Essos I remained here. Loyal to the Watch."
Jeor shook his head in disgust. It was not the first time he had thought of his son and his failure. It wouldn't be the last.
"Now my line is dead. Or as close to it as can be. I will not recognize any bastard he breeds in some Lysini whore's belly as my kin. The Mormonts will live through my sister and her line. Though I pity them for our names are lower than mud in the eyes of our neighbors and it will take a generation to regain what Jorah cost us." He clenched his hand around the pommel of Longclaw; at least his son had been honorable enough to leave that sword. Jeor didn't know who would get the blade when he passed, for Dacey had told him it didn't feel right for her to hold it, that she had been trained how to use axe and club rather than a sword. Perhaps it would become the weapon of the next Lord Commander? That might be a worthy gift to leave to the world, considering all else he had done had fallen to ruin.
Steve reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, slowing him and forcing him to finally come to a stop. "I am sorry for what you've gone through."
Jeor nodded at that but couldn't accept. "I didn't tell you that to gain your pity or to detract from what you felt."
"I know. We have both suffered but in different ways. I do not know what is worse: to awaken in a world so radically different from what you knew or to watch the changes happen and be unable to stop it." He sighed and shook his head before finally releasing Jeor and they began walking again before Ygritte could catch up and mock them for their moment. "Your sister… is she at least a good woman? A good leader?"
"Very good," Jeor said with a smile. "A better parent than I ever was, that is clear. Maege has raised her girls well… all on her own too." Steve raised an eyebrow at that and Jeor chuckled. "She'll disappear for a month or two and return pregnant. Won't ever tell us who she was with. I only know her youngest, Lyanna, came from a man named Jayms, who most have been as much a beast as a man because Lyanna is a little wolverine rather than a child. But they're good girls, all of them, and Dacey will be a good ruler for Bear Island… though I pity any man that tries to court those lasses."
After that they grew quiet, continuing on their way, though Jeor had to mentally admit that he felt just a bit lighter than he had in a while. Perhaps it was because he'd spoken the fears and regrets that he hadn't told anyone else. Perhaps it was because he had someone he could trust. He didn't know but he found himself far more ready to face what they were about to encounter than he had a few hours ago.
Benjen came up to him as they neared the camp and told him what Mance had asked, that they unbuckle their swords and hold them out, sheathe and all, with outstretched arms so that the wildlings would know that they weren't prepared to draw their steel. It went against everything he had ever been trained to do but he did so all the same, walking forward with Longclaw in his open palms into the wilding camp.
It reminded him very much of the tent towns he'd seen during the many battles and wars he'd been a part of while Lord of Bear Island, when Rickard Stark had called upon him and his men to deal with the rabble and outlaws and traitors that sought to make a mockery of the King's Peace. The only real difference was that there were women mixed with the men; not many of them, maybe one for every four, but still far more than one would have seen in a Northern camp. Several camp fires littered the outside of the site, with a guard stations by each, and within the center of the camp was a large bonfire that burned away, crackling and popping as a new log was tossed upon it. People paused what they were doing to watch as the group entered the camp, Mance greeting several by name and exchanging handshakes and even hearty hugs with a few while others received strong nods and intense stares. Jeor took note of both groups, seeing who held the King Beyond The Wall in good regards and who followed him but in a begrudging fashion.
"Are all here?" Mance asked one man, a tall broad figure with a full brown beard with just a hint of red to it and a face that revealed his emotions all at once.
"Aye, all save the Thenn but you know how they are," the man said.
"That I do, Tormund, that I do," Mance said. "Dalla?"
"At the other camp, with Val." Tormund looked over at the group and snorted. "When you said you were traveling with Crows I didn't believe it. Figured they meant that you were coming with corp…ses…" he trailed off as he finally spotted Steve. "Fuck me sideways and call me a dick biter."
"I'd rather not, no offense," Steve said with a slight smile. "You aren't my type."
"A fucking Other," Tormund whispered and the other wildlings finally realized that Steve wasn't merely a pale man but something else entirely. They tensed and shifted and began to reach for their weapons and it was only Mance raising his hands and barking for calm that kept them from attacking Steve… and most likely ending up flat on their asses for their troubles.
"Must everyone curse?" Steve muttered under his breath.
"Yes, he is an Other!" Mance called out. "But he's on our side! Didn't my riders tell you?" He'd sent out several of Crastor's wives to the gathered camps, to call for this meeting, while the rest had been left behind about an hour's walk from where they were so they might not startle the wildling leaders into thinking Mance had decided to ambush them. They'd also been given the task of guarding Crastor, who'd been kept alive and brought with them bound and gagged, just in case he proved valuable. Worst case Jeor was ready to offer the man up to Mance's folks to do with as they wished, for punishment for capturing their sisters and mothers and daughters and using them for his own vile desires.
"Aye, they told us," a wildling chieftain grumbled, stepping forward. "Just thought they were fucked up in the head." The leathers he wore were white and decorated with the bones of many different animals, so that every movement created a great clinking and clanking. Jeor found himself trying to place each bone, to determine what animal they belonged to once. The ribs of an Aurochs made ran across his own chest and bear claws had been sewn into his sleeves. The breastbones of wolves had been used to make up his greaves. And upon his head was a helm made from a giant's skull.
"Lord of Bones, they were my messengers," Mance said sternly. "Do you mean to say you think I have lost my mind?"
"You travel with Crows… how could I not question that?" He scoffed, looking Mance over carefully. "Of course… once a Crow always a Crow-"
"Oh fuck off, Rumlow!" Ygritte snapped, stepping forward. "Ya gonna claim I'm a Crow lover too? Ya know how I feel about them, all of ya do!" She held her arms out wide, challenging them to claim that she was in league with the wildlings' ancient enemy.
Rumlow glared at her and took a step forward, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "That is the Lord of Bones. You will show me respect and you will NEVER call me that name again."
"What? Rumlow? It's your fucking name, ya daft bastard."
"I'll make you squeal if you don't shut your mouth and add your skull to my collection!" the Lord of Bones declared, drawing his sword.
Steven instantly was in front of the man, grabbing the Lord of Bones by the throne and lifted him into the air.
"Don't… threaten her. Ever." He tossed the man down even as the other widlings began to unsheathe their swords and ready their bows. Steve looked around and held out his hands, making no move to grab his shield.
"ENOUGH!" Mance roared, startling all of them. "We aren't here to fight! We're here to discuss how we are going to get out of this madness alive." He began to turn to all of them, jabbing his finger at one person than another as he spoke, making it clear that no one, be they wildlings or even Steve, were immune from his annoyance. "We do no good fighting each other while the Enemy grows stronger. For fuck's sake how is it the Black Brothers are acting with better manners than us? You want them to believe all their whispers and tales about us being savages are true?"
That irked the wildlings greatly, much to Jeor's amusement. He knew from their travels here, and Ygritte's grumbling, that the wildlings hated how the Night's Watch and all the 'kneelers' looked down on the 'Free Folk' and saw them as little more than lawless savages that ate babies and drank the blood of their foes. Ygritte would never claim to be a southern lady… it would be like poison on her tongue… but she did enjoy startling them by showing that she was smart and she could actually be polite and civilized. She just didn't do it often because, in the utter dichotomy of her beliefs, doing so was somehow giving the Black Brothers a 'victory'. She wasn't a savage… but would act like it because behaving as she actually was somehow made her lesser than them.
The only one that had really gotten that was Steve for some reason, as even Mance had gotten frustrated with her contradictory ways.
"And why do we need these two?" another wildling said, stepping forward. He was a small, thin man, to the point that Jeor idly wondered if it wouldn't be better to call him the Lord of Bones considering he could see all of his through his almost parchment-thin skin. He was swallowed up by the great shadowskin cloak on his shoulders so that he looked like a child wearing his father's cloak. "We have a plan, Mance. There ain't no need for these Crows. Or a fucking Other."
"This is the Lord Commander and the First Ranger, Varamyr" Mance stated.
"And?" the man said.
"Ya really that stupid?" Ygritte asked.
"He is," Tormund said with a smirk.
"Fuck you, Giantsbane!" Varamyr snapped before turning back to Mance. "You are supposed to be with us, care about us… instead you are traveling with Crows and an Other and send out Crastor's whores as your messengers-"
"Oh Varamyr," a deep voice rumbled and Jeor stumbled back as a massive, 12 foot tall, bipedal wolf stomped through the treeline and entered the camp, eyes narrowed and teeth bared as he looked at the other wildling. It was huge and powerful and oh so wrong. One of the maids that had cared for Jeor as a child had told him of werewolves, of men that could become like beasts, but she had described them as wild things with fat faces and oversized hands and feet and torn garments clinging to their altered forms. But this creature? He was broad shouldered and thick of arm and leg with a wolf's snout and blazing eyes and a thick pelt. Something that was a true apex predator, something that could wipe out an entire population of… well, that was up to him. "Shut that mouth of yars already. Ya're embarrassin' yarself."
Varamyr snarled and twisted around, jabbing his finger at the wolf beast that was approaching them. "You don't command me! I command you! All of you!" He focused on her for a moment, eyes going white… before he was thrown back as if struck.
"Ya barely command yar six beasts, Sixskin," the wolf creature said, his voice taunting. "Ya don't command me. And ya certainly won't be able to warg into me. Now, if'n ya can't be anything but a prick then get the fuck out of 'ere." Varamyr glared at the monster who merely raised his clawed hand, flexing it slowly. In the distance Jeor heard the snarls and rumbles of beasts and he began to draw his blade, Steve having to reach out and stop him before he completely unsheathed his sword. The warg's eyes began to flicker and the snarls grew louder but the wildlings around them appeared almost… bored. As if they were all silently saying, "Just get one with it". Including the wolf beast that looked down at Varamyr with a gaze of utter boredom. "Oh? Ya finally wanna to try and face me again? Please do… yar bear would make a lovely blanket… and then I'll take yar shadowskin, seeing at it should belong to me… Sevenskin." That made Varamyr choke with rage but Jeor saw something else in the man's stance: fear.
"Think you should listen," Tormund stated finally, moving to stand next to the wolf creature like it was the most normal thing in the world. Glancing at Steve Jeor realized he really didn't have a leg to stand on when it came to odd companions. "Because even if you do win this fight… you'll have the rest of us to deal with." The other wildlings, even the Lord of Bones, rumbled in agreement at that. After a moment Varamyr snarled and stomped off. The giant man-like wolf watched him go before giving a full body shudder, shrinking down as his features shifted from that of a wolf to…
"You're a girl," Benjen said in shock.
"Last I checked," the wolf creature said, now looking like a short yet muscular woman in her 20s, probably around Ygritte's age. She had very short brown hair with a few strands of red threaded through it, nearly a boy's cut, and a round face that wasn't so much beautiful but cute. She stood there, nude, bare toes wiggling in the snow though she showed no signs of being cold. Tormund let out a laugh and grabbed a cloak that was lying on a pile of firewood, tossing it to her.
"Put that on before you confuse the Crows' balls," Tormund said with a laugh.
"That be the only reason?" the woman asked teasingly.
"That and I don't want to see your tits bouncing around, little sister."
"I take it you and Varamyr have a history…?" Steve finally asked, clearly wanting to know her name.
"Rahne," the wolf girl said, looking Steve up and down. "I'd say I'm surprised ya ain't all shocked by all this but…" she gestured at him and Steve shrugged, which earned a laugh from the girl. "I like ya, Other. Mostly because ya ain't be tryin' ta kill us none."
"And I won't ever. And its Steve. Steve Rogers."
"Rahne Wolfsbane. And this be me brother, Tormund Giantsbane." The big man gave them all a nod. "Half the stories he'll tell ya are shit but the other half are true. That's the fun of him, tryin' ta figure out what ta believe."
"Aye," Tormund stated. "Remind me ta tell ya sometime how I got my name… it's a good one."
"Involving giants I can only assume," Steve said and that earned him another grin from the Giantsbane.
"Oh, I like him to Rahne."
"Should we be concerned about him?" Benjen asked, nodding towards the direction Varamyr had gone.
Mance though shook his head. "He won't bother us. Go hunt with his animals for a few hours and then come back here and act like nothing happened." He paused, considering what he'd just said. "Doesn't mean he'll forget though. That man doesn't just have one set of memories but seven of them and he'll make sure each one of his skins remembers what happened here. So I'd suggest not letting your guard down. Any of you." He swept his eyes not only over Jeor and Benjen but Tormund and his sister too.
"I never do," Rahne answered. "And he's already pissed at me anyway, Crows, so he'll be comin' for me first."
"Unless he decides to go after the weakest first," Tormund pointed out.
"That's true," Rahne said. "Or if he feels embarrassed and all because I pecker smacked 'im so he decides he has'ta make a big show out of takin' out someone to make a name for 'imself." She looked at Steve who merely stared her down, clearly not impressed with the attempt to worry him. "Hmm, guess he wouldn't be matterin' ta ya much anyway."
"Why does he hate you?" Steve asked, curious. Jeor had been wondering the same thing but figured that he'd ask Mance later, as he wasn't for sure if he'd get an answer from the wildling or spit in his face.
"Many reasons, ta be honest," Rahne told him. "I killed his shadowcat when he tried to force me to reveal how I…" she waved her hand over her form, "ya know. Didn't feel like tellin' him, he got mad, and in the end I got the kill but he took the pelt. Still want that damn thing. Mine by right and all." She huffed and pulled the fur her brother had given her tighter around her body. "Mostly though it be because of his sister, Meha. Me and her… we're close. He's never liked her, not since she named 'im Lump and it stuck. Then when he got sent off to learn from the other wargs any family ties or the like just dried right up. He tried ta lure her towards that bastard Crastor's one time, I caught on and was able ta stop 'im. We tangled again and now he has a scar on his chest where his nipple should be." Rahne smirked at that. "So aye, he's always lookin' ta get a pinch of revenge."
Steve nodded at that. "But we can trust him to be around us?"
"He has no love for the Others, if that's what you mean," Mance told him. "Wights killed a golden eagle he was trying to warg into. He felt that… and he won't ever forget. He's on our side."
"Until there isn't an enemy left but us," Benjen muttered.
"Like you, crow?" Tormund pressed, his smile gone and his face serious again.
Jeor though was having none of that kind of talk. "Steve showed us what you fight. What is driving you from your settlements. Mance has told us what he wants to do… I agree with him." He stepped forward and while the wildlings tensed they let him come closer all the same. A good sign. "There are no more sides anymore save the ones that matter: the living and the dead. Each and every one of you want the same thing I want, and every other person south of the Wall want: to protect those we love."
"They don't even know about the Others," the Lord of Bones said in disgust. "Don't go speaking for them, Crow."
"There will be some that disagree," Benjen stated. "There will be fools that think we should leave you all to your fate. They'll say we should let the Others slaughter you all, do our work for us, and then we can drive them back."
"Of course they will!" someone else called out and a rumble of anger filled the air. "You want us dead!"
"Did you not hear me call them fools?" Benjen snapped. He looked around, challenging someone to come forth and be the spokesman. Tormund nearly marched towards him but his sister held out her arm and shook her head and the Giantsbane finally nodded and backed down. The Lord of Bones just glowered at him from under his skull helm but he held his tongue.
Jeor spoke up. "The Night's Watch has killed wildlings-"
"Free Folk," Steve said, cutting him off. "That is what they want to be called and we won't insult them anymore."
"That's a fucking first," Ygritte muttered, Steve sighing at her coarse language but not saying anything else.
"The Night's Watch has killed the Free Folk," Jeor told them. "I won't deny that. I have sent Rangers out to look for those plotting attacks on the Wall, who have wanted to scale it or find ways around it. I won't deny that either." He looked at Tormund and shot him a challenging glare. "But will you deny that there are those among you, even here right now, who have killed Black Brothers in ambushes? Who didn't merely defend themselves but hunted them down?"
"HA! That's a fucking good one!" Tormund said with a mocking laugh. "You cunts put up that Wall and tell us to stay on our side, but then you come trotting out here and begin killing us! You invade our homes… how'd ya like it if we did that?"
"You already do that," Ygritte groused. "Unless you mean all them tales of you raiding South of the Wall are more lies, Giantsbane."
"You a Crow Cuddler now, Ygritte? Which one of them are ya fuckin'-"
Steve stepped forward, glaring at Tormund. "Apologize. Now."
"Oh, so it's the Other!"
"I ain't no Crow Cuddler and I ain't suckin' frozen cock either," Ygritte charged. "Unlike you I don't fuck everything that gives me a sideways glance… or doesn't." She smirked. "Should I tell them about the tree I caught ya stickin' your pecker in?"
"Fuck you Ygritte, that ain't what happened!"
"ENOUGH!" Mance roared, forcing everyone to quiet down. He looked to Jeor and rolled his eyes. "This is what I was talking about." Jeor knew at once what he was getting at. Mance was respected but he wasn't a Lord or a King as any Southerner (and how it burned him to lump him and the North in with that title) would recognize. He could ask for silence and they'd give it to him but it didn't mean they wouldn't begin speaking up again, picking the conversation right back up. He dimly realized that it was a form of challenge; if Mance couldn't keep a conversation on track then how could he hope to lead them in battle?
The Lord of Bones moved to say something but Mance was at once in his face, grabbing him by the front of his leathers and giving him a shake before hissing something at him. The man finally backed down but there was no dipping of his head or lowering his eyes. He still stared Mance down, still dared him to make the wrong move.
'Gods, how tiring it must be to be their King,' Jeor thought to himself, having a new appreciation for his own position. Even with the likes of Thorne constantly bitching about this recruit or that, the new arrivals glaring at him and seeing him as their jailer rather than their commander, and the puffed up lordlings who came to prove themselves and thought they knew better than him because of who their fathers were… he never had to spend every waking moment clawing his way forever up to remain in command. Suddenly he knew why Mance seemed so tired at times. The King Beyond the Wall was years younger than Jeor but his eyes were far older.
"Everyone is at fault," Steve finally said as Mance was trying, for the third time, to get Tormund to calm down. "Those North and South of the Wall." He gestured at all of them. "This isn't one side deciding to forget what once brought us together."
"Fight with Crows?" The Lord of Bones said with a scoff. "No self-respectin' person would work with them. Even the Southerners don't want to work with them. They just send you the rapists and the murderers so they can be sicced on us."
"Have I raped any one?" Benjen challenged. "Have I ever rode into a W… a Free Folk settlement and slaughtered everyone I found?" He looked around, almost hoping that someone would challenge him on that but everyone held their tongues. "You all know who I am. First Ranger. I have done my duty, I won't deny that. I have killed your people. But I have never hunted you down unless you were trying to break through to the South. You lived your lives here and I never bothered you."
"But Crows have done that," Rahne told him with a touch of bitterness. "I won't claim ya have done wrong by me and mine, Ranger. But there have been plenty that have. More than one who decided that since ya don't let yar men sick their dicks in a willing woman an unwilling woman North of the Wall be just as good."
"And they were wrong!" Jeor declared. "And they will face punishment!"
That earned him laughter and derision from the wildlings. He wasn't surprised… in their place he would have done the same thing.
"You really gonna claim we can work with them, Other?" Tormund pressed.
Steve stared him right down. "Not claim. Know. I've seen it." He began to walk about the camp, making sure he moved amongst the wildlings, so that not a single would could claim, by the time he was done speaking that he had ignored them while focusing on someone else. "The War for the Dawn."
"That's just a tale old women tell," another wildling said with a scoff. He was wearing heavy brown furs but also had a cap made from rabbit pelt with two rabbit ears sticking out of it. "Free Folk and Kneelers banding together to fight together? You expect us to believe that? What next, ya gonna claim Doreen, the Queen of Squirrels, if fuckin' real?"
Everyone, be they Black Brother or Wildling, swallowed nervously at that. One didn't talk so casually and so mockingly about the Queen of Squirrels. All of the North, both sides of the Wall, knew that.
Ygritte let out a groan of frustration. "Any more mad than the dead rising? For fuck's sake, Byrmull, you have a fucking Other standing NEXT TO YOUR ASS!" The wildling, Byrmull, turned to looked at Steve who merely smiled and quirked an eyebrow in a 'well, what do you know?' gesture that had Byrmull shrinking down and mumbling that that was different. "What is it you fools don't get? He was fuckin' there!"
"I was," Steve confirmed. "I stood about a mile or so South of here when Bran the Builder shook hands with King Einridi. The three of us swore a bond of brotherhood together that day, to fight and protect each other against the Court and Thanos." The winds suddenly whipped up at that, like the Haunted Forest itself was trying to shush them and not speak so loud about the Great Enemy. "And I was also there when the two of them fought-"
"Ha!" Tormund exclaimed, Steve having proven his point.
"-over the last piece of chicken and they ended up rolling on the floor like children. Saying rather… pathetic insults." Steve chuckled at that and Jeor actually began to laugh long and hard because if STEVE thought an insult was tame then it must have been the most miserable thing in the world.
"…oh," the Giantsbane said, deflating.
"You're ruining the image of them, you know?" Benjen pointed out, a bit put out that Steve was talking so casually about the founder of House Stark.
"And?" the Other asked. "They weren't some grand and magical beings. They weren't gods… despite what Einridi would claim when he was drunk during a feast. 'God of Thunder'." Steve shook his head at a memory that was now held only in his mind for all the rest that had seen it were so long gone even their bones had become dust. "They were men. Just like all of us."
"All of us?" Rahne asked, looking Steve over.
"I wasn't born an Other," Steve stated. "I was a man one, same as the rest of you. Same as Bran and Einridi. We argued and we laughed and we worked together. We always came back together to drive back the Court. Even when Bran mocked Einridi for caring so much about his hair. Or when Einridi placed his curse of Bran so that his entire line would never be able to get drunk again-" Benjen started at that, eyes wide at that little piece of news and Jeor couldn't blame him; the Starks' ability to drain an entire barrel of ale and not feel a thing was legendary in the North. Rickard Stark, when he'd been a young and brash man, had once actually done that, taking 3 hours to drink down enough northern beer to kill a man and only suffered the world's longest piss break for his trouble. "And the same is true with all the other Free Folk! And the Knights of the Dawn! They were allies, working together!"
"Bran built the Wall to keep us out of Westeros!"
"He built the wall to keep the Others out. He offered to let all the Free Folk through and many accepted… I saw noble houses made that day. Bran's son married a Free Folk woman who could dive into frozen lakes to retrieve fish and come up with a smirk on her face. And there were men of the North who decided to join the Free Folk because they grew to love their way of life, the freedom that living up here offered!" That got some shocked looks, some disgusted glances at the idea that they might have 'Southern' blood in them, and nods of approval when it came to the praise. "The Wall was never meant to keep you out of Westeros. Why do you think we built the tunnels and gateways? Once trade and people passed continuously through the Wall, just as it had when it was the Ice Way."
"The Ice Way?" Ygritte asked in confusion.
"The river… the great Northern river that Bran frozen and rose up to create the wall with the help of the Children of the Forest, the Giants, the Free Folk, and his vassals." Steve looked at them all, his befuddlement at them not knowing this matching their befuddlement at all he was revealing to them. "It matters not," he finally said. "What matters is that we are one people. All of us. I do not know what happened in the thousand years that I slept but we are brothers of the same house… and we can't forget that."
Someone shouted something about murdering crows and some of the wildlings began to bristle and bark about how they couldn't trust the Men of the Night's Watch. But others though… Jeor could see that had been moved by what Steve had said. Rahne and her brother, though the woman more so than the man. A spearwife. The man with the rabbit cap. They were beginning to nod their heads and hold their tongues as they considered what Steve had said.
"It takes more than one person to create a blood feud!" Mance called out, getting silence once more. "The Crows did their part, I imagine. They began to seal up the tunnels, wouldn't let us through, and forced us to resort to other means to get what we needed. But!" He held out a finger at them. "Don't dare claim you can't seen one of our ancestors killing the wrong person or deciding to rape someone down South and making them leery of us. We'll never know who started it… but right here we can be the ones to end it!"
Jeor nodded. "I am willing to work with you. I want to work with you. Every Free Folk who dies becomes a new member of the Army of the Dead. That is something that can not come to pass. Do you want to see your children torn apart by their parents, then risen up as corpses? Would you have every living creature that exists be turned into their slaves, forever marching on to snuff out all life all in the name of some mad Child of the Forest and his Court?"
The Free Folk fell silent at that.
"…but will your Southern Lords listen?" Rahne finally said. "Will they let us cross?"
"I will MAKE them listen," Jeor declared.
But it was Benjen, of all people, who disagreed. "Like they have when we've begged they for help?"
"The crow has the right of it!" someone called out.
Benjen though wasn't done. "We can't just go to them and say the Free Folk will settle the Gift and the New Gift and that's that. The Umbers will march on us thinking us all traitors."
"They'll need proof," Mance admitted.
"I'm the proof," Steve reminded them, eyes flashing blue.
Jeor had to admit that was a decent point.
"But can we risk it?" Rahne pressed.
"We have to try," Mance reminded her. "What other choice do we have?"
Steve nodded. "We will call a great council of all the Night's Watch. We will get them on our side first. Then we'll march South and get the Starks and the rest of the North to rally to our cause. It is the only way."
And so it was that a day later the most unlikely of caravans started for the Wall, led by a King, a Lord Commander, and an Other.
What awaited them none of them could say.
~MC~MC~MC~
OMAKE:
Natasha looked at Jon who was lying on a padded bench. "We need to talk."
'This is it, Jon. Time to tell her the terrible secret from your past.' Out loud he said, "Nat, I ate the decorative soaps you got for the bathroom."
"Oh my god!" Natasha said in shock.
'No, the other secret!' Jon's brain said. "Natasha, I never finished my lessons with Maester Luwin."
"Well that still doesn't explain why you ate my soap." She paused. "Oh wait. Maybe it does."
