CHAPTER 10:
ALL THE KING'S HORSES…
KRATOS' FLASHBACK
The battle was won. As far as feats went, this was one of his simpler ones. These men were not ready for him or the newly militarised people of the frozen north. So, they were unable to put up a suitable defence, although he was certain they couldn't have even if they had known what to prepare for.
No matter, the outcome was desirable and the loss of lives was kept to only what was necessary. They would prepare now, for the inevitable retaliation. Mance had warned him that whatever was left of the North and whoever was not otherwise occupied with closer threats, would respond with violence first, their hatred for those from beyond the wall would allow for nothing less.
Violence and hate were languages he was fluent in. They would be prepared for whatever resistance they may throw at them. Or perhaps, as Mance hoped, negotiations would strike true. For now, they would gather their wits and make the most of the time they had, they would prepare, as any Spartan would. A fight was the most mundane thing for a Spartan to do.
Looking out over the forest that hid the Northern people, he questioned once again, what led him to his decision to aid these people? He had no ties to them, no reason to risk himself, though, how much of a risk was it for one such as him who was cursed to live while everything else died, he did not know.
But perhaps the answers will come eventually, how long it would take was something he knew not. In his life he had lost much and more, everything, in actuality. So consumed was he in acquiring his vengeance, that when he realised the cost, it was already too late. For it mattered not what the reasons were, only consequences. Consequences he had to live with for as long as time went on.
Still, he was a Spartan by character, discipline was made as much a part of him as his own skin. He would not allow grief, pain, and anger to take control of him again, he was his own master. He must be better.
He heard the flutter of wings and the expected Raven landed on his shoulder and stretched its wings and cawed loudly while fluffing its feathers up. He had become slightly accustomed to the avian creature and the presence within it—an ironic companionship, perhaps he could get more out of the bird, a potential ally to spy on his enemies?
He hummed as he pondered the benefits of the thought. He felt the bird grow restless on his shoulder and started cawing wildly, he was about to remove it from himself when it sunk its claws into his shoulders, and he felt light headed for a second before realising he was atop the wall no longer.
Back in this realm again.
He was surrounded by those… Weirwood trees, the ones that bore his colouring. What did the old man want this time? He searched for him in the trees but found no trace of him. Actually, when he was actively trying, he could feel that this was not the place the old man had taken him before.
This place felt more pronounced, more defined. There was also a tingling feel at the back of his neck, he was not alone. He was being observed, from all sides if he was not mistaken. But it felt…the same? As if he was being observed by the same person or thing, but it was everywhere, all at once.
He readied himself. He knew what this was, he has been watched by beings like this before, by the gods. Was this one friend or foe? No matter, whatever it proved itself to be, it would be dealt with accordingly.
He gripped the Leviathan tightly, prepared himself and waited. The runes that decorated its metal surface glowed a pale blue and gave off an aura of the coldest winters. The wait continued.
"We mean you no harm, Ghost of Sparta." The entire forest reverberated with the words spoken from a thousand individual voices. Every single tree was speaking at the same time, Kratos only gripped his axe tighter.
"Why have you brought me here?" he asked simply, straight to the point.
"Why have you come here?"
"..."
"Your presence…has awakened an enemy we gave too much to contain."
"...You speak of this, Great Other." Kratos observed, slowly relaxing his stance but not discarding his readiness.
"Yes. He was… above our power to defeat. Evil has quite a way of doing that does it not?"
Those words resonated with Kratos more than he was comfortable with and he was immediately finished with this line of conversation. "What, is the point of this?" he asked in a low growl.
"The point?...The point." The being sounded as if it was lost in its thoughts for a moment, strange, as it does not have a head, at least not one Kratos could see. "The point, God killer, is WE failed. With all our power, all our effort, we… were not enough ultimately."
"Your failures are not my concern." He could see where this was going now, and he would be no one's tool again.
"You are correct, yet here you are. You have come, and you have given our people what they have lacked for so long…hope"
Kratos knew that the being spoke the truth. He replied plainly. "They deserve to live."
"So, we agree! then you will understand what it is we ask of you next, and why we must ask it."
"Do not ask. I know what you want. I will never serve another god, gods are monsters."
"Spoken from experience hmmm? Death, destroyer of worlds?"
"My past is my past." He shouted with anger. "You will set me free." Kratos had enough of this conversation. Gods always knew how to get the worst out of him. He could tell that he was not talking to one entity, they may feel the same and their voices came as one, but they spoke differently, the personalities were not the same.
"Peace, Kratos, we only indicate the shortsightedness of your statement, not condemn you. On the contrary, we offer retribution, salvation."
" You could not save your people or yourselves. What salvation could you offer me?"
"The only salvation for those of our ilk. True worship, true love, to become a God, like those before you were not. WE offer you a chance to be better, to do better. We failed to protect them, but YOU may not. WE know of you God of War, know what you achieved with sheer determination alone."
He could not allow himself to believe it, could not allow hope to take him again. He had lost hope and gained it back and…lost it again. This, what these beings were offering was a trick somehow, who was he to hope for such things? A monster and destroyer, who reduced everything to ash. He held to himself. No, he could not hope, and yet, he wanted to.
"You are too harsh on yourself, Spartan. As you said, your past is your past, but it does not have to be your future."
He did not reply for a moment, and then he spoke in a calm yet demanding tone. "Send me back."
"No! You misunderstand US Kratos! WE are the only things holding the Great Other back, but OUR time is at an end. You think we are trying to manipulate you and given your experiences we understand. But WE do not manipulate, we beg. You said they deserve to live, save them! Save our children, do what we could not."
"I…" His teeth were clamped tightly. His instincts told him to deny them, to avoid this completely and leave them to fix Their mess; yet another part of him told him that he should help, told him that they were genuine in their plea, told him to hope. That other part sounded strangely like…Atreus.
"We do not have much time, he grows ever stronger but if we were to do what we plan to, he would need more time to regain his strength. He figured out a way to use our very essence that imprisons him as… sustenance. He feeds off it and that is how he gains ground. WE will never regain our selves, such was the sacrifice we made, but we could give what is left of us…to you."
Kratos realised then what this was and what they were asking of him. They were dying, and giving him their godly essence that kept them alive, if not in consciousness, then in spirit.
"WE will give ourselves to you, these people will truly be yours, you will be their Father, their Shepherd. Lead them to greener pastures, give them a future and protect them as only you can. Give them a home and they will give you one…in their hearts."
He could not speak; it was hard to put words to what they were asking. When gods died like this they just ceased to be, it is just absence, no underworld, no Elysium.
"Accept Kratos, and this will be the last time we speak. Do not hesitate out of concern. WE are already disappearing, at least now we have an opportunity to secure a future for our people, this way, it is on OUR terms."
Silence now permeated everything, his eyes were shadowed over, a deep sigh left his chest, ending the silence. "Do you realise…what will happen once I accept this…"
"We know…and we will do anything to keep our children alive, even if we have to sacrifice ourselves."A loud humorous chuckle came from the voices, all of it became sync to become one. "After all, it is a parents Duty, to keep their children safe."
The war gods' face was still, yet his eyes glistened slightly with emotion. "Then… before I accept." He said." Know this. I have met many gods, and many who wish they were gods. All were selfish, all were monsters, but…you deserve the worship and love of your people, you are what Gods should be" he stated with as much passion as he ever mustered, which was very little indeed. The only emotion he had in abundance was rage.
He took a deep breath after looking at his hands, hands which were so stained in blood, both those deserving and those not. His decision was made. A sigh escaped his chest as he looked up with grim determination.
"Come." simple and succinct. He immediately felt it, not a moment's notice or hesitation. They must have had less time than they alluded to, they sought to waste not another second.
It hit him like a blizzard. The cold. His flesh felt like it froze into a glacier, and he could feel the cold seep into his bones, turning them into shards of ice. His breath, which was coming out in mist earlier, became impossible to see, no longer was it hot. Yet he did not fight it off, it was not a terrible feeling, the cold never bothered him. Yet for once he could feel it.
It felt good.
He glanced down and noticed veins of an icy blue appearing in the red marking he had made in honour of his brother. He could feel the power in it, a snow storm just below his skin, he felt connected to it. The Leviathan shimmered and glowed a magnificent light sapphire.
The land suddenly felt familiar to him, as though he were the trees, the rivers and the lives themselves. Deep breaths felt to him as the very wind blowing in the air.
"The many…who became the few…now become the ONE." he heard the voices ….voices? Say in between pauses.
'They are losing themselves'.
This realisation is what sobered him from the drunkenness of the power now flowing through his veins, it had been so long that he had lost his connection to the 'Flames of Olympus' that he had forgotten his discipline for a moment. That will have to be corrected, a moment is all that is needed to turn the tides of battle.
He slowly got to his feet, having fallen to his knees during the transfer, and steeled himself again. The feeling lessened but did not completely go away, good.
"WINTER… is yours now Kratos…yours to protect… yours defend, and… yours to avenge. The enemy will fight you for control of it…you will not let that happen…"
"...I will not."
FLASHBACK ENDS
…
MANCE
"You saw it, same as I, felt it, same as I. There can be no more room for doubt now, you know what he is, every son of bitch here knows it now and you know why he's here." Mance spoke impassioned by the happenings that took place earlier that day. His faith had been redoubled upon witnessing the souls, or what he thought must be souls of the dead men, leave their bodies and went to Kratos.
Never was he more certain of his choices, of his allegiances and the righteousness of what he was doing.
"Aye, true enough, but honestly, I'd rather hear from anyone but you, traitor." The former lord commander spat out in spite.
"Hold your grudge till your grave Mormont, you are a Northman after all, I don't care. But don't pretend as if you do not see the reasoning behind my doings, even now? You've always been a proud and hardheaded old bear, but not stupid." Mance replied.
Mance could see the man's teeth grinding together under his beard. Reluctant he must have been, to concede this truth, stubborn, but he must see reason.
"What will happen now?" he asked suddenly. Though the question sounded heavy, he had clearly been thinking hard about it. He sat up straighter and locked eyes with Mance. "Where do we go from here? We have God in our midst, what will he do?"
"I have no knowledge of the details as yet, but I can tell you of the goal."
"I am not so daft as that you shit. I think I can tell what the goal is from observation alone. We, men, needed a saviour, a hope, for the darkness that is coming, and he has come to provide these things himself."
"Yes, he means to save us, for HE knows we cannot save ourselves, not this time, not from this. But… we both know men won't allow themselves to be saved, especially by those he calls enemies." Mance said this, then aimed a pointed look in Mormont's direction. He was sure the man took his meaning and understood the implications behind it.
"...You speak of the North." Jeor sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes. "Aye, the news has most likely reached the remaining lords, and any of them still in charge
of their lands will be calling for blood. They'll resist, you can't wrong them for it. To them, these are Wildlings that have taken The Wall, to them this is an invasion, to reave and raid."
"I don't blame them for their thinking, but that is where you come in, Jeor."
"Me?"
"Yes man. The North doesn't have to be taken with blood shed, The Great Father knows enough blood has been spilt down there. Aye, I know what's happening, I've been speaking with Snow."
The former commander was gazing at the floor, his mind must have been in a battle, Mance knew.
"The squids are occupying some of their castles, no doubt making hostages of the small folk and nobility alike. Their armies are down south fighting, any retaliation or resistance they could muster would be paltry. We have fighting men, disciplined soldiers who follow one command and a God king's orders."
"What you are suggesting would be very hard to convince any Northern lord of. They won't accept the wildings' help Mance-"
"Spartans"
"...I know, but I'm telling you what they would think. You know this as well as I, they would see it as an invasion. 'What's to stop them from raping and pillaging just as the Islanders?', 'What's to stop them from turning and just slaughtering us?', 'They are just savages' these are the things they'll say. The lords closest to the wall have been fending off wildling raids on their lands for as long as there have been people on both sides. They will not be receptive."
Mance sighed, as was his wont, and stood up to pace in the small confines of the commander's chambers. He felt he was getting nowhere, making no progress.
"Do you know Mormont, how easy it would be to just simply conquer the North? Our army lacks proper arms, yes, but that can be pilfered from the nearest castles. The North is left undefended from an attack coming from further north. The Wall was its greatest defence but we already have that. Have you forgotten who leads us? He is your God as much as he is now mine, you have no idea what he's capable of, Mormont, he could wipe the North from the maps."
"Is that a threat, Traitor? You seek to frighten me? What do you want?"
"I WANT, you stubborn old cow, your help! The North respects you, they would at least come to the negotiation table, if you swore for the character of our King." Mance shouted out in frustration.
"They'd sooner behead me than listen to me if I ever swore for a Wildling king. Any respect they might have for me would disappear."
A good point, Mance had to admit, but… they still had to try, if ever there was a place that needed saving and the protection of a God, it was the North. He sighed and sat back down and put his face in his hands.
"We have to try Mormont, we have to." He knew he may sound desperate at this point, but he didn't care. They needed the North to see reason, fighting should be the final option, not the only one.
"...I-I will see what I can do. When the time comes, I will talk, I will at least try to get them to the table. You're right, he is my God, and theirs as well, they just don't know, just as I didn't know."
Mance observed him for a moment, to see his truth, then nodded. "For now, that is all we can hope for."
"Aye, now leave me to rest and think." The old bear said and Mance did not argue. He got up and walked towards the door and opened it but stopped to say one parting thing.
"Change is coming Mormont, I would like the North to be a part of it, instead of a casualty." With his piece said he walked out the door and went to find his King, he needed to know his plans.
.
.
.
JON
It's now been two moons and a half's turn since the castle was taken and he wasn't sure how to feel, or maybe he was and that was the problem itself?
The Spartans were nothing like he had heard, nothing like he had imagined them to be. These weren't savages at all, sure they were more aggressive and straight forward than even regular Northerners, but what was one to expect from people who fought their whole life to survive such hostile environs?
Ygritte and Tormund had told him of the harshness of the lands beyond the wall. How they did not name their children until their fifth namedays, if they survived for that long. Barely any food, and any they found was usually fought over by multiple clans or some clans just gave up and started eating human flesh instead, to sate their hunger.
Life in the North was hard, it was a rough land, which bred rough people. But he doubted even they knew such hardships as these. Anyone would want to escape to better prospects, now add that there was… something beyond The Wall bringing back the dead. He truly could not find it in him to blame them or begrudge them a chance at a more prosperous future.
The North, below The Wall, was the largest of the Seven Kingdoms. So large in fact, that they could never hope to populate it in its entirety. If the Spartans were to agree to adhere to the laws, and maintain peace, he did not rightly see the issue in allowing them to settle on the vast and sparsely inhabited land.
More people meant more manpower, which meant more work to be done on the North, which ultimately meant the North would finally begin to thrive. A simple thing, in his head, but… he sighed. He also knew the North was the most stubborn people. Never would they agree to share land space with ones they have been fending off for so long, he knew as much.
In fact, there has been talk of a retaliation force showing up on any day. As if they had nothing better to aim their armies at… his fist tightened. The North had been invaded and raided by the fucking squids and they currently held a few castles. Inland! They dared! Theon Greyjoy had burnt his home and killed his little brothers, and his sister and countrymen had taken Deepwood Motte and Torrhen's square.
The things he would do to Theon if he ever got his hands on him would make the most barbaric of the Spartan's look on in disgust. He told Robb countless times to never trust the creature, but he had chosen him over Jon. Tsk, how he must regret that decision now.
He took a deep breath, to calm himself. Being spiteful was not what he wanted, regardless of his decisions, Robb was his brother, and he would give anything to be by his side at this moment. To help him get back his sisters and liberate his home, has now become something he dreamt of every night. He once again cursed himself for coming to The Wall, and swearing himself into the Night's Watch, now he may never leave, vengeance would never be his.
"Snow!" he heard a shout from behind him. He turned to see who it was, and Tormund was making his way to him, briskly, with a big grin on his face. What has happened to make him this happy?
"Snow, ya pretty fucker, it's a good day, a good day indeed!" the red-haired man shouted with savage joy.
"What's happened to you Tormund? You finally found a bear around here somewhere?" Jon asked, making a show of looking around in search.
"HA! You have got some balls, lordling crow!" big peals of laughter were let forth after that statement.
"Seriously, what's got you grinning from ear to ear?"
"Our scouts, they saw men, heading towards The Wall. Seems your countrymen have finally grown a pair, Ha Har!" Jon immediately became alert. The fools, they surely didn't have enough men to do much, it'll be a slaughter.
"How close are they!" he asked, his blood rushing to his ears.
Tormund observed him for a moment before answering. "About a half day, I was told."
"Does the King know?"
"You think you would know before The Great Father, crowling?" Tormund asked in a mock.
"Will he fight them?"
"If he has to." A simple answer but it told Jon all he needed to know. The northerners will be aggressive, they will push for a fight with what they believe to be poorly armed wildling savages. What was left of his father's and now his brother's remaining bannermen would be wiped out and there would be no one to retake or defend the North from the Ironborn.
He cursed under his breath and took off towards the gate. He was beyond the wall, in the Spartan camp, watching them train. It was Ygritte who had brought him there and then abandoned him to go hunting or something. He didn't quite mind, he found the people to be good and honest people.
But now he needed to get into Castle black, he needed to talk to the King. he knew he was just a bastard and his word meant nothing, but he had to try, he had to stop HIM from killing them. There had to be another way, some agreement could be made or something, but he didn't want the North to go extinct.
He rushed through the gates and up the tunnel that led to the courtyard. At the entrance of the tunnel, two giants had taken up posts, standing guard to make sure no one who meant to harm the rest of the Spartan population would make it through. They did not even spare him a look when he ran past them. If he was coming from out the tunnel, he had to have been let through, which meant he was safe.
Coming to the courtyard proper, he stopped. What direction was he to go in, he did not know. In his haste to get to Kratos he forgot to ask Tormund where he was, an impulsive mistake on his part. He made a lot of those; the commander was always telling him off about it.
"Jon!" He heard someone bellowing his name. He searched for the voice and found Edd atop the stairs calling for him. He made his way to him, hoping he would know the way to whom he sought.
"Edd! Where is the King, I need to speak to him." he asked, a hurry in his voice.
"That's what I was calling you for, Sam said the Commander was asking for ya, looks like the King is there too."
"WHERE?"
"Alright, calm your arse. Follow me." he said then led him into the hall. Inside he saw the Spartan captains, as they called themselves and the commander, who was looking a lot better and was standing on his own feet, the Maester, Mance Rayder and…Atrea? Of course, she was there.
It seemed the commander's solar wasn't large enough for this gathering, so they had to use the hall.
He was a bit out of breath from running from beyond the wall, so he took a moment to collect himself before walking steadily to the table. They all took notice of him when he approached, though Kratos' back was turned, his back was turned to everyone, actually.
"Jon." He heard the commander call to him, so he walked to him.
"Commander, the North, I don't want there to be a fight." he got out in a rush, before he lost his nerves to say it.
"Scared for your landsmen Snow?" Val teased after him. A sharp look in her eyes, she was only half teasing.
"Aye, I don't want them to die unnecessarily"
"Unnecessarily? They mean to bar us from saving our people. If we kill them, then they won't be standing in our way, what part of that would be unnecessary?" Asked Karsi in a…calmer voice than Jon thought those words should be spoken with.
Everyone was staring at him, waiting to hear his answer. "They are ignorant. When i was a boy-"
"Yer still a boy" that was Sigurn with his usual sharp retorts.
"- me and my brother would dream about travelling the North and defeating savage Wildlings like proper heroes."
"Don't call us Wildlings Snow."
"I was just using it to make a point. In the North, we didn't have to worry much in the way of attack from any other Kingdom. When we did get trouble, it was from one of two places, the Ironborn or the Wildlings. We grew up learning that you were the enemy, barbarians with no order or conscience."
"Hnnmm." Jon heard the King grunt and finally turned to them. Everyone now looked to him, waiting to hear the conclusion he seemed to have arrived at.
"That is understandable, they have long been enemies. They need to know we mean them no harm." As he said this, he gave the commander a pointed look, the commander took a breath of what looked like relief and nodded.
"Tormund, prepare the men." He heard the king say and just realised that Tormund had made it to the hall behind him. What was said finally caught up with him and his heart dropped.
"But you said you would not harm them! Your grace I beg of you!" he exclaimed before he had a chance to control himself.
"Calm yourself boy, we will not."
"But-"
"To maintain peace, the prospect of war must seem hopeless" at that he was left without words. He just stood there, his mouth agape. He heard boisterous laughter and turned to see Tormund, of course it was him. He shook his head and turned back to the King. he saw his stern face and swallowed before nodding and whispered, 'your grace'.
"You will go with your commander and Mance boy." He said, and that was not up for discussion, he said it and it was so.
"Come Snow." Jon heard his commander beckon, and he wasted no time in getting to his side. "Don't worry about the army they're gathering." The bear said to him while they were walking, Mance, close beside them.
"Indeed, a show of force Snow, nothing more. Like he said, they must see that they could have no hope of overcoming them. That'll get them to the negotiation table at least." Rayder chimed in.
"...So, it's to dissuade them then?"
"Aye lad, now you're getting it."
That gave Jon some room to finally breathe. He knew the north in its current state couldn't put up much of a fight, so to hear that fighting wasn't the aim, made him relax a little.
They had taken some horses and were now making their way out the back gate. There were lines, and lines of men heading in that same direction, as orderly as they could be. Once outside he noticed them standing in legions, just as he had seen them train to do on the occasions he was beyond the wall. There must have been twenty thousand of them and more was still pouring through the gates.
"Remarkably disciplined, aren't they?"
"Aye, remarkable."
"They were nothing like this when first I encountered them, you know? Not even when I united them. It is only now that I realise that I did nothing but get them in the same place, it was HE, the Great Father, who truly united them." Mance reflected in a mixture of lamentation and admiration.
Lord commander Mormont scoffed. "Don't sound so glum Rayder, you did more than any man could have, it could not have been easy. This many people? from such different ways of thinking? Give yourself some credit."
The bastard of Winterfell never thought he'd see the day when those two were getting along, but it seemed having common goals were enough to find common ground.
.
.
.
"They are here!" The shout came from one of the returning scouts who were sent to track the Northmens' movements.
"How close?" asked Val.
"Within the hour, mi lady." the scout relayed. She nodded at him and turned to the rest of them.
"Prepare for a fight, even if it is not the desired outcome. Lord crow, Snow, for your sake I hope you can convince them otherwise." and she was deadly serious about that. She was the scariest woman he had ever met; in the back of his mind he wondered how Lady Stark would have handled her. Not very well was his guess, still, an amusing image.
It was noon almost, when they finally crested the horizon, a sizable force, at least by the looks of it. They approached in a march but stopped some ways away, keeping their distance, as armies did on the field. A few of them broke away from the main group and were coming further, on horseback.
"We meet them halfway." stated Mance then kicked his horse into a trot. The commander followed, so Jon did as well, with Tormund, Val and Sigurn right beside them. They all came to a stop in front of a group of stern looking men, and one young lady, all with gazes pulled together in upset and confusion. They had banners flying behind them, one of a white sun on black; house Karstark, one of a giant breaking chains; house Umber, one of a silver gauntlet on orange; house Glover and finally a standing bear on a field of green; house Mormont.
These were all the closest Houses to The Wall and prospectively the first ones who would have been attacked and most greatly affected by the Wildlings. 'If this was an attack.' it made sense that they were the ones to have come here, now how to make them listen.
"Uncle? How come you to be here? We had heard that you were killed by the savage Wildlings who took The Wall." the young lady with the group said after some time staring at the lord commander.
"Dacey? Is that you lass? Great Father, you look more like your mother with the years!" Lord Mormont exclaimed in genuine surprise.
"A complement, I hope uncle, but… the Wildlings?" she reiterated. Tormund growled under his breath but didn't say anything. Val, though, he should have known, would not have let that go.
"There are no Wildlings here, Northwoman." she said, her blue eyes becoming as hard and as sharp as shards of ice.
"Then why am I looking at an army of them in the distance, wench?" one of the men from the group asked. Jon was sure he recognised him, but he couldn't remember his name. From his position under the Karstark banner, he must be a second or third son.
Tormund chuckled at his question and answered before Val had a chance to. "Those are Spartans, the only thing wild about them is their thirst for blood." he said with his usual grin on his face, which didn't help the situation at all.
"Doesn't matter what you call yourselves, you are Wildlings, here to rape and reave and plunder, just the same." another man added his piece.
"I'm afraid it is not as simple as that Lord Glover, you are Robett Glover Aye?" the lord commander asked.
"Aye, lord commander." the man who was apparently Lord Robett Glover answered.
"I'm familiar with your family. As I said, it's a bit more complicated than you would like it to be."
"Then uncomplicate it and speak plainly."
"H-Have you betrayed the North Uncle?" Dacey asked, fear and worry in her wavering voice. The lord commander sighed and shook his head as the men around her faces took on a contorted look of anger at her words.
"No, my dear, I am trying to save the North." he said then gestured behind him to the standing army. "Look there, that is not even all their men or the worst of them. You couldn't win this fight, see sense and let us negotiate."
"Ha! They haven't even seen the giants yet." Tormund laughed.
A scoff came from the Umber man. "I am the only giant here." he stated brazenly, a smirk on his face.
"Don't try to cow us with this mummer's farce. Giants aren't real." the Karstark man said after observing his companion for a while.
"That is where you're wrong." said Mance, finally lending his voice to the conversation. He looked to Sigurn and nodded, and he blew a horn he had strapped to his waist. Nothing happened for about a minute and the Northern Lords looked confused and irritated.
"You trying to intimidate us with a horn?" Lord Glover inquired.
"Just give it a moment." and a moment it took. Mag the mighty and two more of his clansmen came stomping through the gates, came to a stop in front of the Spartan army and let out a bone chilling roar.
"By the Gods." He heard someone say under their breath, they all looked uncomfortable.
"They're real? Giants are real! Wait till I tell Lyanna this." Dacey started in excitement and anticipation, her face slowly fell though, when she must have come to the realisation the others already have. She turned to them. "How are we supposed to fight this?"
"Be quiet girl!"
"You should listen to her, Glover! You think we don't know that your castle is being occupied by Ironborn? That your wife and household is being held hostage to prevent retaliation! The North is in no position to wage a war here." The commander lost his calm demeanour.
"So, you are a Traitor Mormont. You of all here should know that we would fight to the last man to protect our lands." Glover retorted. Everyone seemed to be on edge, Jon couldn't stay silent anymore, he had to say something.
"My lords, you would throw away your lives needlessly and leave the North without protectors? Cause more death to ravage my father's lands? He might be dead but if he were here, he would choose to listen to talks rather than rush a battle."
"We don't care about the words of traitors, whoever your father was, if he was of the North, he would die from the shame alone." The man dismissed Jon. The Karstark man, however, was now looking closer at him, as if to map his face. He seemed to have come to some sort of realisation, a look of clarity washed over his face.
"Jon Snow? Cousin is that you?" he asked tentatively.
"Jon snow? Ned Stark's bastard?" Lord Glover asked lord Karstark.
"Aye, look at him, he is a Stark-."
"Aye, I see it now, He has the colouring about him. But be that as it may, boy, Ned Stark would have wanted to defend the North."
"That's true enough my lord, but this is not an invading force, you'd have to defend nothing, just hear them out. Trust me, I may be a bastard, but my father taught me honour and honesty. You would want to hear what they have to say." He tried his best to sound confident, but in truth he didn't expect them to give rat's arse, he was, after all, just a bastard.
It was silent for a brief period, as the Northerners exchanged glances between themselves, each testing the agreeability of the other. The Karstark lord spoke up after it seemed they had come to a decision. "A man's word is his life, here in the North Snow, bastard or not, Ned Stark's blood runs through your veins and that makes us family. So, Aye, we'll come to the table, but know that this is not compliance, you and the lord commander have vouched for these people, we will see if the words prove true."
Jon let out a sigh of relief, it was something at least. He didn't expect them to acquiesce, but his father's reputation was a good and honourable one, which, it seemed extended to even a blight on his honour like him. "My Thanks my lords, my lady." He expressed his gratitude.
"We will return here on the hour, be prepared to receive us." he said, and they turned and rode back to their army.
"It seems it was the right call to bring you here Jon, you did good lad." the lord commander said and patted him on his shoulder.
"Aye, you may have just saved your countrymen Snow, let us see if they have the balls capable of handling what they are about to find out." Val said and kicked her horse into a gallop back towards the gates, no doubt to inform the King of what had happened.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
He is Alive! But just barely, don't kill me? Please? I apologise for the tremendous wait, but I have been very… otherwise occupied. I had this story idea that couldn't get out of my mind, so I've been writing it. Haven't posted any of it yet, honestly am not sure of how receptive you readers would be of that story idea, i like it but you might not. But I digress, I know it's been a while but I did promise not to abandon this story and I meant it.
So, consider this my triumphant return and enjoy. As usual, CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is encouraged, feel free to say what you think. Next chapter will follow closely behind this one.
-The Basilisk