Chapter 6: The Aftermath

Tormund

The little priestess was a sight to see. Stood over her audience as if she were born to speak the word of her fire god. Maybe she was. The only hesitation she showed was to Tormund, silently asking permission to show off to her new people, even though she didn't see it that way yet, Tormund wasn't stupid. He passed her his trusty knife with a look Tormund hoped was encouraging. It must've been as his wife took the knife and sliced the animal's throat over the fire with the ease of someone who's had to kill for food before. It spread warmth in his belly to think that his tiny wife, who sprung into life from a barrel of wine, wasn't once to faint at blood or expect to be served food without working for it.

Tormund broke his eyes from Eira, scanning the silent audience, they looked so tense, as if expecting a battle, as if a monster was about to emerge from the fire and wreak havoc on their camp. The air was thick with tension and suspense, Tormund wasn't sure what they expected to happen, hells he didn't know himself.

He certainly wasn't expecting to hear the clatter of his knife and a thump of a body hitting snow. His little priestess had collapsed, the tension and silence collapsed with her and the captivated audience were suddenly in uproar.

"What the fuck was that Giantsbane?" "You caught yourself a loon" "You've cursed us!" "Did she go munching on star leaves or something?" "What magic did you drag back from the blasted Wall?"

Tormund ignored the crowds drunken accusations, fuck them all, superstitious twats. He gave the unconscious priestess a quick shake to no response, heaving her up quickly and tucking her lolling head into his shoulder.

"Right shows over ya bunch of wusses, scared of a wee girl playin' with fire? I thought yous were a bunch of warriors. Pah!" He gave them a winning smile as he mocked them, Tormund knew how to charm even the most hostile of Wildings, Hells he once even managed to charm a bear. The crowd lowered their hackles quickly, throwing jokes and going back to the usual night time fun that follows a hunting party's return, Tormund decided his damage control was fair enough and headed off to his tent. On the way Mance gave him a stern look, they'd meet in the morning about this.

In the tent, laid out on the plush furs of his bed mat, his wife certainly did look like a mythical priestess created from wine. He chose her well, though the dedication to fire and regular sacrifices was a bit of a setback. Everyone had their quirks. The lass was breathing, that was good, but looked ghostly pale, even more so than usual. His wife's skin practically glowed like a Wight in the Northern moonlight, framed by black curls and dotted with some starry freckles. Her lashes fanned out on her cheeks, highlighted by the small fire he had on to light the tent. His tunic had fallen down one shoulder, enough to expose her bony collarbone and almost show a tit. Tormund was tempted to pull it lower and see if sucking a nipple would wake the lass up but maybe that was a bit far. Southern girls were so prudish.

He wasted time rearranging things in the tent, putting away the goods he bought from trading, a couple new fastenings for climbing, a needle in case he sliced himself and needed sewing, or if his wife decided to try and sacrifice him, and some woolen socks and slippers for his wife. Which in hindsight was probably a waste of good animal skin. Wilding girls liked gifts though, surely Kneelers would be the same. Behind him Eira shifted, so he dropped the stupid bloody socks and knelt by her side, damn he was a good husband. Her eyes opened sluggishly and unfocused, like a baby or a man who's drunk his weight in fermented goats milk, not everyone can handle it as well as Tormund and his mighty wife. Her eyes zeroed in on him, blue like his own but much warmer, the eyes of a southerner.

"I'm sorry" She croaked out, heaving herself up on her twiggy arms, she was skinny like Ygritte, needed fattening up if she were ever to survive pumping out a few monsters. God what beautiful monsters they'd be, big ginger giants that could speak to fire and bear the tundra like it was nothing.

"Nah lass don't worry 'bout it, just spooked us a bit… what happened?" The last two words came out reluctantly, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know, lest get accidentally roped into whatever shite this fire God wanted. Eira's face went grey, Tormund shot a hand behind her back in case she decided to faint again. Southerners.

"I saw something.. in the fire." She scrunched her face up, as if thinking was too difficult, the hangover must be setting in already, "An army, lead by a person in a red gown, or cloak. I don't know. It was blurry. This has never happened before".

"A warning?"

Eira's big blue eyes looked sad, an expression Tormund had yet to see on the girl's face, even when he was dragging her out of her own village, forced her to strip for him, or dragged her up the Wall to potentially fall to an icy death. He swore then and there to never be the reason why those big blue eyes would look so forlorn, like a lame animal knowing the axe was coming. His wife of wine should never look so weak, like prey.

"I don't think so, it felt like a promise. This is going to happen and the God wants it to."

Mance was gunna kill him, he really did bring a crazy cursed priestess to their home and now some army led by probably another crazy cursed priestess was gunna come over the wall and burn them all alive. Tormund groaned, wiped his face with a hand, and wished he swiped a flagon before entering the tent.

"I'm so sorry I didn't know I can't- I can't control anything I didn't mean to-" The girl started hyperventilating, pleading like a prisoner facing a sword, Tormund gathered her in his arms and let her babble into his chest, playing with her dark curls until she finally calmed.

"I know Wife, I know." He hoped the word brought her comfort, a real man wouldn't abandon his wife, fire God and visions be damned. "Sleep now, in the morning we'll go to Mance. Tell him everything. Then… it's up to him." She stiffened in his arms, "He won't kill you lass, nor exile you. He's a smart man Mance, he didn't become King of the North for no reason, we don't base our leaders on who's ballsack they originated from." A small giggle vibrated his chest, it brought a smile to the Giants face.

He pushed Eira back so he could meet her eyes, "No matter what happens tomorrow, you're me wife and I'll stick with you. But, as your husband there's one thing I want." She nodded timidly, "No more public ceremonies like tonight. If you feel the need to sacrifice a chicken, or give some fire some blood. Get me, and do it with me, and only me, in private. Can't have you scaring the people like tonight."

"I'm sorr-"

"I know, I know." He gently pushed her to the mat, following her quickly and dragging a fur across their bodies, "sleep now lass. Forget the flames for tonight."

Note: Short chapter as I don't like writing Tormund too much as I know I'm not doing him justice. Updated Chapter 5 to edit a continuity error where I switched from Eira wearing a tunic to a dress.