Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.


Chapter 22: A Gathering of Crows

The Past

Imogen's POV

Bran the Builder stood there holding a scroll with his two sons. His firstborn, Brandon, and his youngest son, Kilan. Brandon watched in awe as the Giants and the Children worked together to forge the Wall. Kilan focused on the men and women gathering supplies for their expedition beyond the Wall. The first Sealgaireans were the White Walker Hunters.

The Three-Eyed Raven and I stood there watching both men and magical working together. The Raven told me this was ten years after the Long Night. The construction of the Wall separated the Living from the Dead. Magic was being performed by the Children of the Forest while Man and Giants were building the foundations.

"Why are we here?" I asked.

"I told you your ancestry has been forgotten," The Raven said. "Now, it is time for you to know your bloodline."

I looked around the scene before me. The two brothers followed the First King in the North, yet Kilan kept walking over to the Sealgaireans, trying to sneak a peek or help. Bran kept calling for his son, or Brandon rushed over to collect his younger brother, dragging him back. I chuckled at the determination the youngest Stark had.

"But I want to join!" Kilan protested.

Leaf walked over, "When you're older and strong."

Kilan pouted, "I'm old enough. I'm seven."

"Seven is nothing," Brandon said. "Nine is a man."

Bran laughed at his two sons, "You'll know when you are a man."

"How?" Kilan asked.

"When you grow a beard," Bran answered, lying to his son while combing his fingers through his beard.

Bran the Builder clearly cherished his sons, not wanting them exposed to what lies beyond the Wall. His sons were like little fauns born after winter, especially with summer snow falling down—children born without fear of the Long Night.

Leaf chuckled, "Why do you seek to go beyond the Wall?"

"Because I want to be like my father and make a difference," Kilan explained.

"You will, my son," Bran promised, messing up Kilan's mop of dark hair.

"But Brandon will be the next king!" Kilan protested.

Bran sighed, knowing about the Line of Succession. The firstborn son shall inherit the throne while the second son is the spare. Only a few get a chance to rise. I know the value of males in the Free Folk. Men praising their sons. I was fortunate that Fenrir treated me as important when Ethan and Aiden were born. Especially when my warging abilities began.

The Three-Eyed Raven placed a hand on my shoulder. "Bran the Builder cherished his two sons. His two sons continue his legacy in fighting the White Walkers. Brandon continued building the Wall, and his sons did too."

"What about Kilan?" I asked.

"The young boy would become a man. He bonded with a direwolf and joined the Sealgaireans. He and his men fought and killed many of the White Walkers and Wights in their wake. King Bran would have been proud of his sons if he had known that the Wall was to protect the Living and would separate his bloodline a few thousand years later," he explained.

I stared at Kilan, trying to sneak back to the Sealgaireans, only to be pushed into the snow by Brandon. The boys began to wrestle as Bran the Builder shook his head, returning his attention to Leaf. I watched the boys, seeing the resemblance of the youngest boy.

"Are you saying…"

"Kilan Stark is your ancestor." The Raven confirmed. "The Second Born and the first Wildling of your bloodline."

.o0o.

The Present

Imogen's POV

The Crows were gathering. When the Commander of Shadow Tower came, Commander Mallister had arrived the other day. Orell took off when he saw the Shadow Tower Crows arrive and informed the Dire clan and the others. Boudica will undoubtedly attack their castle and get the Free Folk to cross. And soon, the negotiation to free us from Castle Black.

All of us Free Folk who have been captured can do nothing but wait. Still, we continued the act to be suppressed by the Southerners. One trait we Free Folk have is holding grudges and acting on them in the future. Yet I noticed some of the Crows were watching me. I've been mainly kept in my room and escorted by Stannis's men when I am out. But I see Jon and his brothers watching me.

Jon stared at my neck. He was on guard duty when Maester Aemon examined my wounds; his eyes were on my markings. Trying to understand what he was staring at was starting to get annoying. As of right now, he is staring while Maester Aemon examines my back.

"See something you like, Crow?" I sarcastically asked.

Jon looked away as his cheeks flushed.

"Blushing now?" I taunted.

"It's not every day a man sees a woman," Maester Aemon replied.

"Then you must be the luckiest man alive to touch one," I countered.

Maester Aemon smiled slightly, "For my hands are my eyes, but I do not gain satisfaction now than when I was younger."

I snorted with a small smile.

"How did you come by these markings?" Jon asked.

"And I thought Ygritte told you?" I muttered, closing my eyes.

Maester Aemon continued to lather the salve onto my back. The wounds still mend as time passes. I must say, the blind Maester was an excellent healer. As the salve, what he made held the right herbs to treat open wounds and numb the pain. Since the herbs smelled similar to the balms Boudica would make in Lunar Haven.

"She did, yet I find it hard to believe," Jon replied.

"It's hard to believe anything below the Wall," I countered. "With your short mindlessness."

"So, are the Children of the Forest still alive?" Jon asked.

I remained silent, wanting to protect my second family. Leaf and the others trained me in fighting, using herbs and other resources when I'm in the True North or near sacred grounds. As their magic connected with the Old Gods. If I were near a weirwood tree, there is a chance I could use their magic. But I have not tested that theory.

Jon sighed, knowing I would not answer about the Children.

"And the one on your neck?" he asked. "I've noticed the artwork differs from the Children's markings."

I rested a hand on the direwolf tattoo, "Why are you interested in this one all of a sudden?"

"Every marking has a story, and someone with a steady hand put much effort into it," Maester Aemon answered.

I sighed, "It is my family's mark. Every Dire has it to signify which member they are related to. Women have two, their maiden mark and their wife mark. It is how the Dires don't crossbreed and produce sick offspring. "

"So…the wolf is your family crest," Jon concluded.

"I guess you Southerners would put it that way," I assumed.

"And how long has your family been using that crest?" Jon asked.

"Since the creation of the Wall," I answered. "We don't use the name because of the stigma it holds. Over time, many have forgotten, and we go by our names and parents' names. We practically forgot who our ancestors were until the Three-Eyed Raven took me under his wing. He showed me my ancestors since the Long Night."

"And who are your ancestors?" he asked.

I turned to look at him, wondering why he was so interested in my heritage. As if he would care who my ancestors were. After thousands of years, I doubt the Southern half would care for my family. The distance in years and new blood separating us. The only thing the Southern half and the true Northern half have in common is our first Ancestor and the mark of the Dire Wolf.

Just as I was about to speak, the door opened, and the few-finger man came in. Ser Davos, I believe his name was. He saw my condition and averted his eyes.

"Pardon me," Ser Davos said and turned to Jon. "King Stannis wants a word with you."

Jon sighed but nodded. They turned to stare at Maester Aemon.

"I can handle Miss Imogen," Maester Aemon assured. "I believe I've earned her trust."

Jon nodded as he secured his cloak before following Ser Davos.

"Stannis is going to punish him," I mumbled.

"We don't know for sure," Maester Aemon said. "But I would do the same if I was in his situation."

"The god they worship is corrupt," I whispered. "Death by fire."

Maester Aemon sighed, "My ancestors used to burn people alive with Dragon Fire." My eyes widened as I glanced over my shoulder, staring at him. "Although the dragons died out, few continue the practice of burning people alive. The Mad King did such a thing."

"You Southerners are strange," I grumbled.

"As are you true Northerners," Maester Aemon replied. "Yet, my kin, he saw something in you. Believe in a truce before he vanished."

"And who was your kin?" I asked.

He sighed as he took the linen and asked me to sit up. I did so, wincing slightly from a pull of tight skin. He handed me linen and started wrapping it around my torso.

"You were once the keeper of his sword," Maester Aemon answered. "It is a shame to not know of his fate."

My eyes widen, and I realize he is talking about Bloodraven. I close my eyes and hold my tongue, not giving him the answer to what happened to his kin—how the Lord Commander became the Vessel of the Three-Eyed Raven.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

Jon stood before King Stannis in the royal chamber. It was slightly bigger than the Lord Commander's chamber, for it was created for the King in the North to rest when he visited the Wall centuries ago. A tradition to this day that no one, other than a King or a Great House nobleman, would sleep in. The last time he was in this room, the chamber was occupied by Lord Tyrion. Now, it was King Stannis.

Stannis sat by the desk holding a raven scroll. Jon didn't know what the contents were, yet he knew he was there to address his crime of giving Mance Rayder a mercy kill. For days, Jon waited for his punishment. However, it never came until now. Those who defy a King's order would have been executed. A part of him hopes it will be some lashings, for he can't die just yet. Not because Jon feared death. No, he feared not stopping the White Walkers and failure to help the Wildlings. Ygritte showed him they were just the same; only their culture had adapted to their limited resources. In the end, the Wildlings were Northerners, as was he. Let alone his knowledge about the She-Wolf tells him of a more significant threat than White Walkers.

"I ordered Mance Rayder burnt at the stake," Stannis started. "You prevented that order from being carried out. You showed mercy to Mance Rayder. A king's word is law. Perhaps you should ask Ser Davos how much mercy I show to lawbreakers."

Jon glanced at Ser Davos, who stood by the window. The older knight removed his gloves, revealing his fingers were shortened. Jon took a deep breath, for he preferably had his fingers to hold Longclaw. Otherwise, he is useless for the bastard sword.

"Show too much kindness. People won't fear you." Stannis continued. "If they don't fear you, they don't follow you."

"With respect, Your Grace, the Free Folk will never follow you no matter what you do," Jon said. "You're the man who burned their king alive."

"Who, then?" Stannis asked. " You?"

"No," Jon shook his head. "Only one of their own."

Stannis lifted the raven scroll, "Do you know this wretched girl, Lyanna Mormont?"

"The Lord Commander's niece," Jon answered.

He recalled Lord Commander Mormont talking about his family. How House Mormont is a small house that is near extinction. Lord Mormont's wife died many decades ago, siring one son named Jorah. He never remarried, so Jorah held the responsibility of restoring their family. Jorah's first wife died from childbirth, and the baby was stillborn. On the Second Wife, a rich tart ruined Jorah to commit the crime of selling poachers into slavery. Ned Stark would have executed him, yet Jorah and his second wife escaped.

And Jeor Mormont, at the Wall, left his sister Maege Mormont to be Lady of Bear Island. Having five daughters, the "She-Bear" kept her maiden name as her husband respected that to preserve the Mormont legacy. Unfortunately, Maege's husband passed away, with the youngest being born from an unknown cause before Jorah left. Not many dare ask about their paternity with respect to Maege. Regrettably, from what he hears, Maege and her four oldest daughters have died in the War of the Five Kings. Leaving Lyanna the sole survivor of her house at a young age.

"Lady of Bear Island and a child of ten," Stannis added, handing him the scroll. "I asked her to commit her house to my cause. That's her response."

Jon accepted as he read the scroll, seeing the writing was no neat handwriting of a Maester but an actual child. It reminded him of Arya's handwriting. Still eligible to read, but not fancy in cursive text. Mostly, what had been written reminded him of his youngest sister.

"Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is Stark," Jon read aloud, trying to hold back a chuckle.

"That amuses you?" Stannis asked.

Jon mentally sighed, for the two girls had the same attitude he missed.

He glanced at the King, "I apologize, Your Grace. Northerners can be a bit like the Free Folk. Loyal to their own."

He then set the scroll down.

"I know," Stannis agreed. "My brother Robert went on often and loudly about how difficult it was to control them. Even with your father's help."

"Tonight, the Night's Watch elects a new Lord Commander," Ser Davos announced. "Ser Alliser Thorne is going to win."

"Most likely," Jon replied.

"Unpleasant man," Ser Davos added. "He thinks you're a traitor. What's your life going to be like here at the Wall with Thorne in command?"

"Unpleasant, I expect," Jon said. As he thought, 'either elect me to do the next latrine, send me to an abandoned castle to restore, or have me killed and look accidental.'

"Your bravery made him look weak. He'll punish you for it," Stannis assumed. "I don't punish men for bravery. I reward them."

"I don't doubt it, Your Grace," Jon said. "But I'm a brother of the Night's Watch. I pledge them my life, my honor, my sword. I don't know what I have left to give you."

"You can give me the North," Stannis said.

Jon was getting where this was going. To forsake his vows and serve Stannis Baratheon.

"I can't. Even if I wanted to, I'm a bastard, a Snow." Jon reminded.

Stannis' expression changed to that of an honorable man, "Kneel before me. Lay your sword at my feet. Pledge me your service, and you'll rise again as Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell."

Jon's eyes widened when hearing that. His deepest desire since he was a little boy was to be legitimized. To be recognized as a Stark and not Ned Stark's Bastard. All the years of Lady Catelyn Stark's verbal and emotional abuse are rectified. All he wanted was to be accepted. Everyone in Winterfell accepted him except for Lady Stark, Sansa, and those outside the Castle fortress. Years of other lords called him a bastard instead of a proud son. Even accepting to be the second-born son since many don't know his actual date of birth. So, honoring the date Ned found him was his name day, silently spent with Ned and Robb while hunting.

"I will give you a few days to think about it," Stannis said. "And if Alliser Thorne does become Lord Commander, I believe he will accept you leaving the Night's Watch."

Jon nodded, appreciating the time. He gave a bow and left to comprehend what had just happened. A Stark. If he accepts King Stannis's offer, he can finally be a Stark and restore his family's house. Robb is dead with his family, Lady Catelyn, Ned, Benjen, and possibly Arya and Rickon. Sam saw Bran, who sought to find something, and Sansa was held captive by the Lannisters. If he accepts the offer and is free of his vows, he can save his sister, although Sansa loathes him. Still, the Stark name will be continued.

As he walked, he looked up, seeing Imogen walking along with the inner curtain, being escorted to see her father. Imogen was a mystery that troubled him from what the other Free Folk talked about her, along with Ygritte. A girl who was raised by the Children and came back with markings. He was unsure what to believe, yet the Dire Wolf on her neck… was the same crest as his family. A Stark Crest. And what Imogen said about her mark, being her family's mark for thousands of years…could it mean…

Jon thought about his last conversation with Mance:

"If you want to fight in the real war, you will need Imogen by your side. She has seen the past and is touched by the Three-Eyed Raven. She holds the key to everyone's survival."

"What is she?" Jon asked.

"The question is, who is she," Mance corrected.

The sound of a horn disrupted his train of thought.

"Everyone, gather for the election!" Othell Yarwyck called out.

All the Night's Watch's remaining made their way to the Shieldhall, where the election will be held. Up on the platform, Maester Aemon, First Builder Othell Yarwyck, and First Steward Bowen Marsh sat at the large table. These three men have earned their titles and positions and cannot be replaced unless death or treason. Jon could see Commander Denys Mallister holding his cane at one of the closer tables. A man who has served from a noble house for a long time. Many are unsure since the story changes from ten years, two decades, or over thirty years and has been selected twice. Commander Cotter Pyke, who watches Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, declined to participate in the election since the Ironborn prefers serving by water rather than dry land. Leaving Ser Denys Mallister and Ser Alliser Thorne as the candidates for the new Lord Commander. Out of the two, Jon will select Mallister.

They gathered around, many taking seats at the tables while others stood. Jon saw Sam and walked over to his best friend. Sam noticed Jon was troubled and asked what was wrong. Jon told him what happened with King Stannis. As he explained it, it made him think about what the right thing to do was.

"He'll make you a Stark with a stroke of a pen?" Sam asked quietly.

"It's the first thing I ever remember wanting," Jon murmured. "I'd daydream that my father would ask the king, and just like that, I would never be the Bastard of Winterfell again."

Sam smiled, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder, "You deserve this. You do. I couldn't be happier for you."

"I'm going to refuse him," Jon murmured.

Sam looked like he was smacked in the face, "But you'd be Lord of Winterfell."

"I swore a vow to the Night's Watch. If I don't take my own word seriously, what sort of Lord of Winterfell would I be?" Jon said, knowing his father would disapprove.

Finishing the conversation, Jon went to take his seat. He glanced around, seeing every one of Castle Black getting settled. Although he had a feeling of being watched. Glancing at the rafters, he saw small birds, mice, and rats observing everyone. They were so quiet none of the Night's Watch noticed them. No doubt, the captive wargs are observing this election, for they fear their fate. Commander Mallister would work with King Stannis in the Wildling Prisoners and what to do with them. However, Ser Alliser…the moment King Stannis leaves, there will be no Wildlings left alive in Castle Black.

Jon wondered which one was Imogen since he didn't see Frigg around the critter crowd.

Ser Alliser and Lord Janos entered the Shieldhall as they took their seats.

"Crowded. You think we were serving venison stew," Ser Alliser jokes, earning many laughs.

Maester Aemon stood up, as did Yarwyck and Marsh.

"Does anyone wish to speak for candidates before we cast our tokens for the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?" Maester Aemon asked.

Lord Janos stood immediately and addressed the men: "Ser Alliser Thorne is not just a knight; he's a man of true nobility. He was acting commander when the Wall came under attack and led us to victory against the Wildlings."

"Hear, hear," the men agreed.

"He's a veteran of the 100 battles and has been a defender of the Watch and the Wall almost all his life. He's the only true choice." Lord Janos said.

Many men cheered and pounded the tables.

Brother Blane stood up, "Ser Denys Mallister joined the Watch as a boy and has served loyally longer than any other ranger. Through ten winters, he served. As commander of the Shadow Tower, he kept the wildlings away. We could do no better."

Jon pounded his drink on the table, and many cheered and supported Commander Mallister. Because Mallister had more years than Thorne, he had to be a better pick. Yet Jon noticed Ser Alliser staring at him.

Marsh called everyone to silence as Maester Aemon spoke, "If there is no one else, we will begin the voting. The triangular tokens count for Ser Alliser Thorne. The square tokens for Ser Denys Mallister. Each brother will—"

"Maester Aemon," Sam interrupted.

Jon turned around, wondering what Sam was doing. As did everyone.

"Samwell Tarly. Go on," Maester Aemon allowed.

Sam stared at Jon. Jon realized what Sam was going to do and shook his head.

"Sam the Slayer," Lord Janos taunted, earning laughs. "Another wildling lover, just like his friend Jon Snow. How's your lady love, Slayer?"

More men laughed.

"Her name is Gilly," Sam corrected. "Brother Slynt knows her quite well. They cowered together in the larder during the Battle of the Wall."

The brothers laughed.

"Lies!" Lord Janos snapped.

"A wildling girl, a baby, and Lord Janos," Sam taunted. "I found him there after the battle was over in a puddle of his own making."

Laughter consumed the Shieldhall, and even Commander Mallister held a smile of amusement along with Maester Aemon. However, Jon kept his head down, caressing his drink, knowing there was no way to stop Sam without humiliating them.

"Whilst Lord Janos was hiding with the women and children, Jon Snow was leading. Ser Alliser fought bravely, it is true. And when he was wounded, it was Jon who saved us. He took charge of the Wall's defense. He killed the Magnar of the Thenns. He subdued the Wildling Huntress. He went North to deal with Mance Rayder, knowing it almost certainly meant his own death." Sam explained and took a deep breath, glancing at Jon. "Before that, he led the mission to avenge Lord Commander Mormont. Mormont himself chose Jon to be his steward. He saw something in Jon, and now we've all seen it, too. He may be young, but he's the command we turned to when the night was darkest."

Men cheered and pounded the tables along with those clapping their hands. Jon was surprised by this, not expecting the praise. Jon turned to Sam, seeing the proud look on the Tarly.

Ser Alliser stood up, "I… can't argue with any of that. But who does Jon Snow want to command? Night's Watch…or the wildlings? Everyone knows he loved a wildling girl and spoke with Mance Rayder many times. What would have happened in that tent between those two old friends if Stannis's army hadn't come along? We all saw him put the King-beyond-the-Wall out of his misery. And attends to the Wildling Huntress, who has killed many of our own. Do you want to choose a man who has fought the wildlings all his life or a man who makes love to them?"

Jon remained silent as he stared at the glare from Ser Alliser.

Maester Aemon stood up again, "It is time. The triangular tokens count for Ser Alliser Thorne. The square tokens for Ser Denys Mallister. And the circular tokens for Jon Snow."

All the men were given the three tokens. Quietly and secretly, they put two tokens in their pockets and one in their hands. The Shieldhall was silent, barely having any conversation, as they lined up at the table where a clay pitcher was set to collect the tokens. Marsh stood there, ensuring no double token was dropped, while Yarwyck stood by Maester Aemon's side.

Jon, Alliser, and Mallister were not allowed to vote. They sat in their spot, watching as each brother dropped their token. Jon glanced at the rafters and saw the wargs' intense stares, observing the news. Jon doubted he would be Lord Commander after everything Ser Alliser said. However, a small part of him hopes so he can mend his mistakes and start preparing for the actual battle.

When the time came, Marsh brought the pitcher up to the stand. Yarwyck pulled out a wooden mallet and smashed the pitcher. Marsh and Yarwyck cleaned up and organized the tokens. Marsh was the first to arrange the tokens while counting softly that only Yarwyck could hear. Then Yarwyck would count it for a second time to confirm the numbers. As the two finished, they presented the tokens to Maester Aemon, who was standing behind him. At first glance, the triangular and circular tokens were even, while the squares barely made half.

Marsh leaned into Maester Aemon's ear, "It appears to be a tie, Maester."

Maester Aemon stood up, both men helping him. The blind man reached out, touching the tokens as he silently counted both triangular and circular tokens. Never had the Shieldhall been so quiet—until Maester Aemon pulled out a token and placed it on the circular pillar.

Immediately, cheering broke the silence, and all eyes turned to Jon. Jon was shocked for a second, but then a smile grew on his face.

"Jon Snow! Jon Snow! Jon Snow! Jon Snow!" his brothers chanted.

Brother Blane and those supporting Ser Mallister patted the old man's shoulder. The Commander of the Shower Tower merely smiled and bobbed his head to Jon as a sign of respect. Meanwhile, the area where Ser Alliser and his supporters were silent, glaring at him.

Jon knew he had his hands full in what was to come. All he knew, he was now the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. A part of him felt proud, especially his father, Ned Stark, and Uncle Benjen. He may not be Lord of Winterfell, but Jon can keep the Stark Legacy for one more lifespan.


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