Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones


Chapter 26: Temptation

Jon's POV

Jon noticed a slight tension in the air. The majority of Castle Black had accepted the terms with Jon's Leadership, along with the Wildlings. With King Stannis's permission for the Wildlings to reside in the Nightfort, the Night's Watch wouldn't dare argue with a king. Despite the fact that politics is forgone in their vow, they all knew better after everything Stannis had done for them.

Jon's only option was to keep the Wildling prisoners out of sight from his brothers and limit his interaction with Imogen. Sam has been giving him reports of how Imogen is doing. Her back was healing well, thanks to Maester Aemon, but it would scar, and her tattoo would no longer be the same. A part of Jon wished he had seen the markings before Ser Alliser flogged Imogen with a nine-tails whip. Not in a perverted way, but see the message that the Children of the Forest have left.

Then again, Jon was not sure to believe what others had said, that Imogen had been touched by the Three-Eyed Raven and was raised by the Children of the Forest. The Children of the Forest were extinct and had become mere fairy tales that Old Nan would tell the children. And here he was, seeing the dead risen, spotting White Walkers from a distance, and encountering Giants. Let alone witnessing magic when destroying Joramun's horn. Then again, there were rumors that dragons had been resurrected from the far east.

Still, Jon needs to ensure his brothers that he has everything under control and prepares for what is to come. He had a large number of Wildlings on his side for the Great War…as long as they each kept to the agreement. But are they enough? Jon didn't get the numbers, but when he visited the Nightfort, it was a large army's worth of men, women, and children. The majority of those were ordered by Mance after the Battle of Castle Black.

But are the Wildlings enough? Jon thought to himself.

Jon felt the Free Folk were not strong enough against this Night King and his army. Seeing them restore the Nightfort and the limited numbers from the Night's Watch, Jon knew he needed to increase the numbers.

So, after training, with Stannis and Melisandre's careful watch, he went to work. Sam has been helpful with his knowledge of the North's noble houses. Then again, every noble should know all the nobles' houses in Westeros. Unfortunately, Jon never had the luxury of a noble education like his half-siblings. Lady Catelyn made sure of that. Maester Luwin managed to teach Jon the basics and the houses of the North. Despite all this stress, Jon can barely think of a noble house to lend aid when most have given Robb soldiers in the failed rebellion, along with Stannis asking lords to lend them men to fight for his birthright.

Sam had written up the letters for Jon to sign, asking the noble houses in the North to send aid. Jon had read the sample and approved what Sam had written to convince the noble houses to send more men. Jon learned the names of the resurrected, excluding the White Walkers and the Wights.

Sam set the letter down, "Lord Ashford."

Jon signed his name on the bottom and set it aside.

"Lady Caulfield," Sam said, setting the letter down.

Jon signed the letter, though he gave a slight look. Guess Lord Caulfield passed away, and his wife, sister, or daughter has inherited the clan.

"Oh, Lord Smallwood," Sam chirped, setting the letter down.

"I've never even heard of these people," Jon confessed.

He honestly thought he knew of the houses in the North. But now he realized there were lesser houses of lesser houses. House Stark being… well, was once the Great House. Then, the noble houses of Mormont, Bolton, Karstark, Umber, and Overton. Jon knew other lesser houses like Reed, but hearing names like Ashford, Caulfield, and Smallwood made him realize how limited he was on the North Houses alone. Then again, these Lords and Ladies don't all resign in keeps, as some resign in villages or protectors of certain territories similar to Landed Knights.

"They haven't heard of you, either," Sam countered casually. "But we need men, and they have some."

Sam set another letter down for Jon to sign.

While signing it, Jon looked at the name and asked, "How many men does this Lord Mayzen have to send us?"

"More than Lord Wibberley," Sam replied playfully as he set the letter down.

Jon signed, trying not to comment as he signed Lord Wibberley's letter.

Sam hesitated and wrote another letter without announcing to whom it was addressed. Jon noticed right away that the mirth they had a moment ago vanished. His dark eyes looked at the top of the letter, seeing to whom it was addressed.

To the Warden of the North, Lord Bolton-

"Not him," Jon muttered, holding back his anger.

"I know, I'm sorry," Sam said. "But we need men and supplies, and Roose Bolton's the Warden of the North."

"He murdered my brother," Jon growled, clenching the quill tightly.

"We swore to be watchers on the Wall," Sam tried to reason. "We can't watch the Wall with less than three hundred men at the remaining three castles. And we can't get more men without help from the Warden of the North."

Jon twirled his quill around, comprehending Sam's words. He knew Sam was right. The war of the Five Kings has caused so much strife. Dorne is basically isolated, and it would take a year before the Dornish send anyone up North. Then again, a Dornish criminal would rather die than be celibate. The Stormlands fought in King Stannis's war against the Lannisters and their false Baratheon King. Despite this fact, word came that Joffrey Baratheon was dead.

The Reach sided with the Crownlands and Westerlands under the Lannister rule. The Riverlands are under the Frey rules, and Walder Frey made it clear he doesn't want any more part with the North after the Red Wedding. And the Vale has returned to isolation again, not wanting to be part of the war anymore. All the kingdoms and territories have either taken sides or have shut down. Only in the North can Jon ask for favors.

And asking the Warden of the North to send more men, which gets more favors from the other houses. Jon inhaled sharply as he signed his name at the bottom of the letter. He felt he betrayed Robb, and all the men he knew were backstabbed by the Boltons. Once he had signed it, he tossed the quill as if it were on fire and scooted away from the desk.

Sam knew it was wise to end the letters there and quickly grabbed them before Jon changed his mind and ripped Lord Bolton's letter. He placed it in a leather folder to give to one of the recruiters on their journey. Knowing Jon wanted to be alone, he made his way out, except the door opened, revealing Melisandre.

Once a gentleman, Sam stepped to the side and bowed to the woman, a trait he had learned under his mother's care. "Apologies, my lady."

Melisandre gave a small smile and turned her glance to the Lord Commander. Sam turned his gaze to Jon, wondering if he wanted him to stay or ask the Red Woman to leave. Jon gave a silent nod for her to stay and Sam to leave. Sam hesitated to nod and left, shutting the door on his way out.

Jon felt the atmosphere change once he was alone with the Red Woman. He could sense something was off with her but couldn't put his finger on it.

"Lord Commander," Melisandre greeted once they no longer heard Sam's heavy footsteps.

"How can I help ya?" Jon asked, being courteous.

"Come with us when we ride south," Melisandre answered proudly, making her way over to him. "None of us know the castle as well as you do. Its hidden tunnels, its weaknesses, its people. Winterfell was your home once. Don't you want to chase the rats out of it?"

Her surreal blue eyes stared into his dark orbs. Jon felt tense since her words struck a core. As much as he wanted to kill all the male Boltons and have Roose Bolton's head, he knew there was a far greater danger than this.

So kindly, he said, "Castle Black is my home now. The Night's Watch takes no part in the war of the Seven Kingdoms."

"There's only one war. Life against death," Melisandre said. "Come, let me show you what you're fighting for."

She made her way over to him.

"You're gonna show me some vision in the fire?" Jon challenged. "Forgive me, my lady, I don't trust in visions."

He had heard of the R'hllor religion and their God, the Lord of Light. Jon had grown up on the Old Religion and the Seven. The Old Gods were part of nature and held the highest regard for truth amongst nature. Meanwhile, the Seven show stability in each of the Seven Gods to show guidance in representing who needs them. Jon once praised the Father, the Warrior, the Smith, and the Crone. And on rare occasions, he prayed to the Stranger to spare Bran's life or when his half-siblings were in dire sickness. As a child, he prayed to the Mother to make Lady Catelyn love him as her own, but those prayers fell on deaf ears. And since he was no woman, he had no need to pray to the Maiden.

However, he has no interest in hearing about the Lord of Light. Mainly when news spread that the Lord of Light considers those who don't worship him unclean and that all those who are unclean should burn to be purified. As Jon heard, this woman burned many citizens of Dragonstone and saw her practices performed on Mance Rayder.

Melisandre stood before him, giving a gentle smile while leaning against the desk, "No visions. No magic. Just life."

Jon didn't understand what she meant. Melisandre smiled, keeping her eyes on him, as she untied the string that connected her dress robe together. She grabbed both ends and revealed herself to him. Her skin was alabaster paled with not a single flaw. Her breasts were equally rounded with soft peach color nipples and curves on her hips while her belly remained flat. Her hand went down, showing her private softly colored by a trimmed bush of red hair.

Jon is utterly baffled as he tries to control his urges to see a naked woman. Besides Imogen being half naked due to her injuries and Maester Aemon treating her, the last woman he saw naked was Ygritte. Ygritte was lean and thin as she fought to survive. But Melisandre was rounded and lushed as the woman took his hand and guided it to her breast. It was like he was in a trance, all logic leaving him as he felt her warmth.

"Do you feel my heart beating?" She asked in a seductive voice.

Jon slowly nodded.

"There's power in you," she murmured. "You resist it, and that's your mistake. Embrace it."

Jon stared at her smile. She smiled, looking into his eyes. She glanced at her breasts and then back to him, giving an encouraging smile to continue.

A shriek of a bird caught his ear.

That snapped him back into reality, and he realized what he was doing. He pulled his hand away in utter disbelief. Melisandre smiled, though with slight disappointment. She caressed his chin, tilting it to look at him while straddling his lap.

"The Lord of Light made us male and female," she said in a dominant tone, leaning in for a kiss while her hands caressed his chest. "Two parts of a greater whole."

Jon was falling back into a trance.

"In our joining, there's power," she murmured. "Power to make life, power to make light, power to cast shadows."

A sound of flapping could be heard as something landed at the window.

Jon came to his senses, "I don't think Stannis would like that very much."

Melisandre's eyes widened as she said playfully, "Then we shouldn't tell him."

Just as she managed to untie the string to his jerkin, he grabbed her hand and said, "I can't."

"Why?" she whispered, nearing his lips.

Jon knew it was his oath, but his heart still belonged to Ygritte. Before his oath, he would love her if he were to be intimate with a woman. He would not have sex with a woman out of lust and not wanting to sire a bastard and ruin the mother's life with his seed, not unless he planned on marrying her. Ygritte broke his vows, and had he chosen the Free Folk, he would have married her.

But Melisandre was not Ygritte. Her red hair reminded him of blood, not fire. Her blue eyes were alluring and mystical, but not the blue sky with a fiery spirit. Melisandre was a lady, not a spearwife. After Ygritte's death, Jon promised not to fall in love again.

"I swore a vow," Jon said, taking more control.

Melisandre pulled back slightly, giving him a look.

"I loved another," he whispered.

"The dead don't need lovers," she murmured, working on the string once more. "Only the living."

This brought Jon fully to his senses. How did Melisandre know about Ygritte being dead? Not having it, he roughly grabbed her hands, shoved them to her sides, and pulled her away to make some distance.

"I know," he warned in a whisper to control his anger. "But I still love her."

Melisandre's posture and expression changed as she stood up, freeing her hands to correct her attire. Not saying a word, she made her way to the door. Jon took several breaths to get his body under control.

As the Red Woman made her way to the door and opened it, she paused and turned to look at him. "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

Jon felt ice in his blood when she said that, for those were Ygritte's last words.

Melisandre smirked and left.

Jon clenched his fists and held his anger in. He looked at the window, for he swore he had heard a bird. On the windowsill was a snowy owl…Frigg. He stared at the owls' eyes, seeing they were vibrant yellow and not sharp silver. Imogen was not warging her familiar.

Frigg looked at him.

"Don't tell Imogen about this," Jon muttered.

Frigg tilted her head.

Jon realized he was going insane.

.o0o.

Imogen's POV

I warged into the tiny critters that resigned in Castle Black. I was spying on the Crows, the soldiers, and King Stannis with his company, trying to get as much information as possible to ensure these Southerners kept to their word. The rows hide their distaste for the Wildlings crossing and being protected by King Stannis. But that is not surprising.

I also learned there is conflict in King Stannis's court, and Lord Stannis's daughter Shireen is the center of worry. Ser Davos and Queen Selyse prefer that Princess Shireen does not attend on their journey to claim Winterfell against the enemy known as the Boltons. I observe Shireen as a cat, seeing her as pre-adolescent, with brown hair and gray eyes. The left side of her cheek was covered in scars and patches of gray-like scabs. There was no name for the condition in the True North, though the Dire Clan called it Gray Sickness. Bloodraven told me its proper name was Greyscale and how it is a terrible fate to have such a contagious disease that leads to insanity and a disfiguring death.

However, Shireen doesn't seem contagious when she hugs her father or Ser Davos. Yet her mother shows distaste for the girl, and I feel sorry for her. For a mother, love is vital to every girl. In the end, the Red Woman convinces her parents to go on the journey with them. Despite Ser Davos' protest.

As I watched, I found that King Stannis still held Dark Sister. The Valyrian blade has been in his possession since the moment he took it. I tried to find a way to get it back, but Stannis had it on his person or secured that it was impossible. That sword was mine. It is the only thing I have of Bloodraven, and it can kill White Walkers.

When we joined our minds, Orell offered, "I could just take it when he least expects it."

We were in the valley instead of the hut.

"You think you can carry a longsword?" I asked.

"I can pick up heavy things," Orell answered confidently.

I tried not to chuckle at his mirth but knew not to do so after everything Orell had done. He has been by my side since his mortal death. After everything, I am thankful to have him. With my father at the Nightfort with the rest of my family, Skadi and Valko were kept in the stables, and Tormund was locked up…I felt isolated and alone. The only Crow I can trust to have my guard down is Maester Aemon.

Otherwise, I have no one but Orell to talk to.

"I'd rather not risk it," I told him, sitting on a boulder.

Orell climbed about and sat down next to me.

"You know there are more of our people in Hardhome," Orell reminded.

I sighed, "I know."

The Free Folk who live in the eastern portion of the True North, especially those incapable of fighting, and those who volunteer to protect them. Thousands of them stay there waiting on Mance's orders or something. Hardhome is one of the few Free Folk villages close to being a city, and it held an extensive defense of a massive gate made of wood and stone. Although the gate stood for years, the question is how long it will last.

However, I don't know what to do, nor do the chieftains. With Mance gone and the thin line of a truce with the Southerners, no one dares mention the others for either's safety.

"Once you gain your strength, the Crows have to fear your wrath," Orell said, trying to lighten the mood.

I snorted, doubting that. I've been careful not to show my warging abilities. I can join minds with people, but one has to be in animal form. I can warg into many animals and have animals obey my command for a short period of time. There was more as the Children taught me, but I do not use it for how much energy it takes from me.

I rested my head on Orell's shoulder. A part of me was tired of all this fighting and conflict. All I want is peace, and I have not had peace since I was a child, not since my first encounter with a wight. I try to imagine what my life would have been like had the Three-Eyed Raven never taken me under his wings. I would have been a Shield Maiden, a Spearwife, or perhaps taken in my mother's footsteps as a Priestess for the Dire Tribe. Probably married.

But that is not what fate or the Old Gods have chosen.

Ygritte and I would still be friends. And if Orell was alive and he saw me better with sharp eyes no longer on Ygritte, then maybe.

Except the Night King is on the move.

Along with the Long Night fast approaching. It can take days to years before Winter officially arrives, along with a dark shadow that can block the skies in a near-eternal winter.


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