Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

Chapter 39: The Wildling Council

Imogen's POV

I awoke staring at the furs. Something wet glazed over my eyes, and when I wiped them away, I realized I was crying. I sat up, taking a few deep breaths as I grasped the truth.

I had spent years hating Bloodraven for denying me my fate. How he abandoned me. Tossing me aside, the Three-Eyed Raven convinced the Children to leave me in the open. Placing me in danger. But all this time, Bloodraven was saving me. He saw possibilities and thought we had a chance while my body became a vessel. The future would be terrible. So Bloodraven let me go. He loved me enough to let me go so I could have freedom.

The Raven had a secret. A secret that cost many lives for centuries.

The Three-Eyed Raven and the Night King are the same. Since his reawakening, the Night King has been trying to find his soul for three hundred years.

Therefore, I need to save Bran. For a short period of time if Bran is still alive.

I thought about the steps Bloodraven instructed:

Trap the Raven spirit in a Heart Tree.

Put the Raven's soul back into the Night King.

And stab him with Valyrian steel.

Simple.

Fuck, I thought.

This was no easy task.

I stared at my left hand to see the scar I made with Bran. A part of me wanted to get up and tell Jon. However, as I looked down at my attire, I realized I was naked. Remember that Boudica and Eirwen placed a temporary paste over my markings until we had time to do proper tattooing.

I got up, made my way over to the basin filled with water, and grabbed a rag to wash off any of the dry paste. Once I had finished washing my body, I touched my hair, noting Eirwen's damage and oils. I doubt I need to wash up and get my hair braided. I'm sure Boudica would enjoy that.

After getting dressed, I went to see my family, needing to tell them what Bloodraven had told me. If I were to die, I would need to make sure the spells live on to be used against the Night King.

.o0o.

The Council of Chieftains gathered in the courtyard, allowing the Giants to participate. With Mag the Mighty gone, the leadership was inherited by Wun Wun. I stood by my family, staring at the surviving Chieftains and Magnars. Dim Dalba and Karsi were also in attendance. Karsi leaned against her staff for support, being too proud for a chair. Tormund, Jon, Sansa, and Ser Davos were there too. Melisandre was wise not to attend, as she left a terrible mark on the Free Folk.

Boudica was the first to speak: "Jon Snow, my daughter has told me conflicting news that has transpired from Castle Black to Winterfell. Speak the truth, for we all have gathered here as you requested."

Jon took a deep breath as he told what had transpired in Castle Black, along with the cruelty of Ramsay Bolton. Even reading aloud Ramsay Bolton's letter. Many of the Chieftains tensed as I could see Fenrir grip the handle of his sword.

Dim Dalba was the first to speak, "We said we'd fight with you, King Crow, when the time comes, and we meant it, but this isn't what we agreed to. These aren't White Walkers. This isn't an army of the dead. This isn't our fight."

Many of the Chieftains agreed.

Tormund stepped in, "If it weren't for him, none of us would be here. All of you would be meat in the Night King's army. And I'd be a pile of charred bones, just like Mance."

"Remember Mance's camp?" Dim Dalba asked. "It stretched all the way to the horizon. And look at us now. Look what's left of us."

"Last I checked, you were hiding in Hardhome," Fenrir finally spoke. "While many and I took part in the battle, Mance was no fool, as he sent the majority to the Shadow Tower. In which the Clans of the West took claim."

Dim Dalba sighed as he knew he was put on the spot. Although Mance had the Easter Clan's wait at Hardhome, volunteers were welcomed. And yet, only the Western, Northern, and Central Free Folk formed an army.

"And if we lose this, we are dead," Karsi warned. "You Southerners fight for selfish means. I got my people and daughters here. You gave me your word, to which I thank you. But you ask too soon."

"And if we lose this, we're gone. Dozens of tribes, hundreds of generations," Dim Dalba agreed. "Be like we were never there at all. We'll be the last of the Free Folk."

Jon looked at the survivors of Hardhome. "That what'll happen to you if we lose."

All eyes were on Jon.

"The Boltons, the Karstarks, the Umbers, they know you're here," Jon explained. "They know that more than half of you are women and children. After they finish with me, they'll come for you. You're right. This isn't your fight. You shouldn't have to come to Winterfell with me. I shouldn't be asking you. It's not the deal we made. I need you with me if we're going to beat them and we need to beat them if you're going to survive."

"The crow killed him because he spoke for the Free Folk when no other Southerners would," Tormund said, pointing at Jon. "He died for us. If we are not willing to do the same for him, we're cowards."

Many of the chieftains realized that or took offense.

"And if that's what we are, we deserve to be the last of the Free Folk," Tormund finished.

Wun Wun stood up, getting everyone's attention. "Snow."

Jon was surprised since Wun Wun spoke in the Old Tongue. So, to hear him speak in Common Tongue and support Jon Snow was a statement. As the Giants support Jon. With nothing else to say, the Prince of the Giants left. The chieftains murmured to one another.

Fenrir stepped forward, "The Dires of my Clan will fight as well."

This baffled everyone.

My father continued, "My forefathers used to walk along these lands. I hope my descendants will do the same."

Boudica nodded in agreement as she stared at the others.

Karsi nodded as well, "Though there are not many fighters in my clan."

Jon's eyes widen, realizing there is hope.

Dim Dalba came over to Jon, offering a hand. Jon took it, appreciating the offer.

"But Jon Snow," Boudica called out, getting everyone's attention. "Only the volunteers may go. We still need all we can for the Long Night."

The Magnars and chieftains nodded in agreement. Sansa frowned, though she masked it quickly. Ser Davos nodded in agreement as he bobbed his head. As for Jon, he looked at Boudica. My mother feared the White Walkers more than Thenn, more than a Crow or Southerner.

"Understood," Jon accepted.

With nothing else to say, the Council dispatched.

Tormund and I made our way to the Starks.

"Are you sure they'll come?" Jon asked.

"We're not clever like you Southerners," Tormund answered. "When we say we'll do something, we do it."

Afterwards, Tormund left to get the Red Clan assembled.

Jon sighed in relief.

Sansa came over, "But only the volunteers?"

"There are seventy clans remaining," I told her. "You will get the same amount of men as your enemies."

"But it is not enough," Sansa noted. "Not with their skills."

"Then you better get your people involved," I said. You have House Overton; who else is there?"

"She has a point," Ser Davos said. "Even though we are evenly matched with wild- I mean Free Folk, the Northerners might not accept them for fighting in your war. We need to unite the other houses."

Sansa opened her mouth to speak but stopped as she stared at Jon.

Jon nodded in agreement. They need to unite the other houses.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

Jon sighed in relief, knowing the Wildlings who volunteered would roughly be the same amount as the Boltons, Karstarks, and Umbers. However, Ser Davos and Imogen are right. They will need to get more men, not only for this war against the Boltons but also with the White Walkers.

Sansa had mixed emotions; she thought all of the Wildlings' armies could wipe out the Boltons. Maybe so, but they need more men to earn respect. As Jon is aware, some xenophobes despise outsiders. Anyone who is not civil or Westerosi. As Ramsay could use it against them. Since there have been six thousand years of animosity.

Jon was in his chamber packing things up. They got their first acceptance to meet with House Mormont. Bear Island is not a close coastal region of the North. No, Bear Island was in the middle of the Bay of Ice, north of Deepwood Motte and south of the Frozen Shore. From what Jon recalled, House Mormont is led by Lady Lyanna Mormont. A girl of ten and once niece of the late Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. Based on Ser Davos's reports. Lyanna is the last of the Mormonts. Lady Maege and her older daughters Dacey, Alysane, Lyra, and Jorelle died in the war. Jeor mentioned his only son, Jorah, was in exile. Leaving Lyanna alone.

Jon sighed, then chuckled softly, remembering Stannis's frustration when he received a letter from Lady Mormont rejecting the offer to serve him.

"Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is Stark."

Hopefully, House Mormont can aid them.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Enter," Jon said.

The worn door opened as Imogen came in.

Jon hadn't genuinely spoken to her since after the meeting. He thought he would see her in the Dire beauty standard, yet she was in the most unadorned style. However, Jon noticed Imogen appeared exhausted from the bruising under her eyes. Even now, she appears tired.

"Imogen," he greeted, standing up.

Her gray eyes noticed the packed bag, "I see you are packing. When do we leave?"

Jon took a deep breath, "Sansa and I will be heading to Bear Island."

Imogen looked at him, noticing he had excluded her.

"I need you and Tormund to stay here to get the Volunteers ready," He explained.

More importantly, Imogen spent time with her family. His original plan was to send her to the Nightfort for her safety from the Night's Watch. Now, it was to let her be reunited with her family. As he was with Sansa, if not seeing how Boudica, Fenrir, and the Twins held Imogen close. How much could he ask from her after all she has done, either it be cooperative or coerced.

She narrowed her eyes, "Not because a wildling is in your company."

Jon sighed, as he hates to admit that the Wildlings would be a complication for recruiting allies despite the Wildlings making the bulk.

"It's not that," Jon assured, tiredly not wanting this debate.

Imogen looked at him, and Jon felt like prey until she nodded.

"What is it?" He asked, still aware of her presence.

She sighed, "I…I had a vision."

Jon's eyes widened, "Are you alright?"

He was aware that when Imogen has a vision, she gets a seizure. However, she seemed fine standing there with ease, yet she seemed exhausted. What did she see? Was it another vision of Bran?

"What did you see?" He asked.

Imogen leaned against the door, crossing her arms, "More like a message…. from Bloodraven."

Jon's eyes widened since Bloodraven was once Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

"He was the Three-Eyed Raven's vessel," she added. "And before death truly claimed him, he left a message."

"What did he say?" he asked.

She took a deep breath, "Do you trust me?"

This caught Jon off guard. Trust was something they struggled with. Jon broke any trust in the Wildlings after his betrayal. And that betrayal resulted in the deaths of Ygritte, Mance, and Orell. Followed by being stabbed by Imogen in the Battle of Castle Black. But Mance made it clear that Jon would need Imogen. And all they went through at Hardhome and the mutiny. Edd mentioned there was a chance for Imogen to leave. To escape when Jon was dead, except Imogen got Skadi out and stayed behind to help. How Imogen tried to make things comfortable for Sansa.

"I trust you," Jon said.

Those gray eyes like silver stared at him sharply. Analyzing him to be sure he was telling the truth. After a moment, she nodded.

"The Night King and the Three-Eyed Raven are one and the same," Imogen announced.

"What?" he was baffled by this.

"During the Days of Dawn, the First Men and the Children conflicted with one another, which led to war. Our ancestors tore down the weirwood trees and burned the Heart Trees. The Children fought fiercely, yet they were outnumbered even with the giant's assistance. So, they took matters into their own hands."

Jon listened closely as he sat down.

"They took a man and…used him to create a beast to serve them."

"The Night King," Jon concluded.

Imogen nodded, "However, they didn't realize the First Man they turned would be the Last Greenseer. Separating his soul from his body, the body with instincts became the Night King, while the spirit became the Three-Eyed Raven. But the Children's creations became their monsters, hence the Long Night."

Jon nodded in agreement.

"The Raven has been hiding from the Night King for over ten thousand years," she said. "The alliance between the Children and the First Men managed to kill many White Walkers and wights. However, they could not defeat the Night King, so they overpower him and his children, banishing them into a deep slumber in the Lands of Always Winters. Thousands of years they lie dormant, while the Sealgairean hunted any White Walkers."

Jon nodded.

"During that time, the Raven possessed many people…Wargs mainly to survive," she said,

"What changed?" He asked.

"Three hundred years ago, the Night King and his children were awoken by a different magic," she answered.

"What magic could wake them?" he asked.

"Dragons," she answered.

Jon frowned at this, as Maester Aemon said dragons never made it North Beyond the Wall.

"I don't know why, and I don't know how, but the Dragons of Old Valyria awakened them," she said. "And two centuries it took the Night King times to regain his power. And in the last century, he has been looking for the Raven. To regain his soul and the knowledge that the Raven has collected. He did not finish the mission the Children placed on him."

Jon took this information in, learning about the origins of the Night King.

"So how do we defeat him," he asked.

Imogen took a deep breath, "This is where I need you to trust me."

Jon frowned but nodded.

"Dragonglass won't work on him since his heart is made of dragonglass," she started. "Bloodraven says that to kill the Night King, we need to put the Raven's soul back into his original vessel and kill him with a blade of fire."

Jon took this in, "Valyrian Steel you mean."

Imogen nodded, though her expression said there was more to it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"This will include Bran," she answered.

Jon frowned, for he did not want to get his brother involved.

"The Three-Eyed Raven will go after Bran to be his host. Once Bran completes the rituals, he will not be the same. He will be different." She explained. "Bloodraven has given me some spells to free your brother from the Raven's clutches. But Bran will become the keeper of history."

Jon sat there, taking this all in. His brother, who has been crippled being manipulated by an entity that was the soul of the Night King. But hearing what Imogen is saying, he has no choice but to trust her. Imogen has been in this war longer than he is while dealing with the Night's Watch.

All he can do is nod.

Imogen was doing her part, and now he must do his. Jon needs to remove the Boltons from Winterfell and prepare for the Army of the Dead. Jon asked her who knew about this. Imogen said her parents, she wanted to ensure the spells were passed down if anything happened to her. Jon frowns at that, knowing Imogen needs to stay alive to do the spells. A spell to save Bran and a spell to place the Three-Eyed Raven back into the Night King.

In other words, Imogen can not be part of this battle with the Boltons.

He will have to protect Imogen until the battle.

Imogen looked at him, "Good."

"Good," Jon confirmed.

Imogen left, leaving Jon to finish packing with nothing else to say.

Jon took a deep breath as he watched her leave.

A part of him appreciated that Imogen told him, but at the same time, he wished she didn't. He still doesn't understand magic. Wights, White Walkers, Wargs, Fanatic Priestesses, Three-Eyed Ravens, the Night King, and now Greenseers. Let alone that Bloodraven contacted them.

Dragonglass doesn't work on the Night King.

Only Valyrian steel, which they only have one in Longclaw.

And the Night King and the Three-Eyed Raven are one and the same.

What more does he need to know?

No, he doesn't need to know more right now. He has enough on his mind to find allies, Rickon is a prisoner, and other things, especially with Sansa breathing down his throat.

The following day, Jon went to the courtyard with his party, which was getting shorter. The Wildings were staying behind. Jon took a deep breath. Although he called them Free Folk verbally, he called them Wildlings mentally. He needed to stop thinking like that.

He made his way over to Sansa, who was talking to Ser Davos. However, he was stopped by Tormund.

"Going to the Island of Bears?" Tormund asked.

"Bear Island first," Jon confirmed.

Tormund grunted, "You might find my Sheliah."

Jon tried not to snort, as Tormund mentioned he fucked a bear. Unless Tormund had intercourse with someone from Bear Island. Jon recalled Jeor mentioning that Bear Island doesn't have the same customs as a Northerner or the majority of Westeros. The women of Bear Island know how to defend themselves the same as the men. That would make sense on Tormund calling a woman from Bear Island a bear. Then again, female bears are more protective.

"I'll keep an eye out," Jon said.

Tormund laughed, smacking Jon on the back, though it was more of a pound. Almost knocking Jon down.

"Tormund, don't break him," Imogen said as she made her way over.

"I wouldn't say I was breaking him," Tormund defended.

Imogen shook her head and turned her attention to Jon, "Safe travels."

Jon nodded, "I trust you will get everyone ready."

Imogen nodded, "It might be difficult to drag Tormund when he's drunk."

Tormund barks up a laugh.

Jon gave a small smile as he replied, "I'm sure Skadi will help."

Imogen nodded with a small smile.

Ser Davos made his way over, "We better get going."

Jon nodded as he said goodbye to Tormund and Imogen. He went over to Sansa and helped her get onto her horse. Sansa thanked him as she adjusted the reins.

"Can we trust them?" Sansa asked.

Jon glanced over his shoulder, seeing Tormund and Imogen standing there talking. Despite their differences, Jon knew he could trust those two.

"Aye, I trust them," Jon confirmed.

With nothing else to say, Jon got on his horse, leading his company out of the Nightfort.

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