The motley crew of Freefolk, a Night's Watch ranger and Jon's friends, crossed the icy Milkwater, toward the warming glow of campfires, scattered across the fields of tents and people. They encountered four men and two women clad in fur and boiled leather, who Jon knew to be outriders. Armed with spears and fire-hardened lances, except their leader, a blond man who bore a curved scythe. Jon recognised him at once, they'd met the man known as The Weeper before.
"The Lord o' Bones," the Weeper said, eyeing Jon Ghost, before turning his attention to Jon's men. "Who we got here?"
"A southron Bastard Lord wanting to talk to Mance about the whitewalkers, these are his men." Rattleshirt pushed Benjen forward. "The crow, Benjen Stark led him here." Rattleshirt had taken to calling Jon the Bastard Lord.
"Why is he not dead?"
"The lad warg, and a seer. He's got information for Mance. About the walkers." said Ygritte.
"Why aren't the others dead?" the Weeper asked.
"They're his friends. The crow is his uncle. The lad is the Bastard o' Winterfell." Rattleshirt replied.
The Weeper gave Jon another look. "Aye? Mance, might want to talk with him."
The Weeper turned his horse and took off to warn Mance of their arrival. Jon knew the hard part was over. Jon being accepted by Mance was straightforward, he only needed convincing of Jon's intention to allow the Freefolk through the wall. Rattleshirt was Jon's biggest concern, once he and the Weeper let them live, their problems eased somewhat.
They crossed the valley of the Milkwater, riding single-file through the river camp. People watched as Jon and Ghost walked past, the dogs barking and growling at the direwolf. The white beast ignored them, keeping himself close to Jon, protecting his master.
The camp was rudimentary. Tents of animal hide and, rose out of the ground, like mounds. The unlucky ones sheltered under rocks. Despite the different location from his previous meeting with Mance, the setup was the same. Cookfires lit the night sky along the river bank, fish caught from ice-fishing, it being the primary source of food. As they deepened their way into camp, the smells of mutton and boar cooking, tested his nostrils and hungry belly.
Rattleshirt brought the group to a halt and dismounted. "We'll make camp. Ygritte, Longspear, take the Bastard Lord to Mance. We'll keep the rest here til we find out what Mance wants to do with 'em."
They made their way into the dense camp on foot, tents and cookfires too packed for horses. Jon took in the sheer numbers of people around him. When once he was overwhelmed by so many people, his surprise turned to fear and sadness. Should Mance not agree to Jon's terms, once winter came, most of these men, women and children would become part of the Night King's army. Jon couldn't let that happen. He tightened his grip on the cloth surrounding the dragonglass, should the walkers come, it was the only defence they had.
Mance's tent was the largest and most obvious. Outside, stood two guards at the flap of the tent, with long spears with round leather shields, protecting their King. Before they could warn Ghost, Jon intervened. "Ghost, stay,"
"Longspear, watch the beast." said Rattleshirt, opening the tent, Jon and Ygritte entered the smoke-filled tent.
Jon tried not to smile, most things were as they were the last time Jon first encountered Mance. Jon's eyes watered as the smoke nearly choked him. He screwed them up to allow for him to acclimatise to his surroundings. In the corner, a grey-haired Mance, sat cross-legged on the floor, playing his lute, and singing Jenny of Oldstones. Tormund was sitting on a stool in front of him, eating what looked like a chicken leg, grease running down his long ginger beard. The only other person in the room was Val, the beautiful, blond, wildling Princess. All but Mance eyed him with curiosity.
Out of courtesy, Jon waited for the music to stop before he introduced himself. As the final notes of Jenny of Oldstones died out, Mance put down his lute and stared at Jon. Before Rattleshirt could speak, Jon turned to Mance and nodded. "Mance." he turned to Val. "Val." then he faced Tormund. "Tormund Giantsbane. Fucked any bears lately?"
Rattleshirt stood forward. "This boy is..."
Mance stood up. "I know who he is. The Bastard of Winterfell. Jon Snow."
Jon took a deep breath, this would make or break their negotiations. He held out his hand. "My name is Aegon Targaryen."
"He said his name was Jon Snow." Ygritte said.
Mance narrowed his eyes. "You don't look like a Targaryen. You've got the Stark look."
"Aye, my mother was Lyanna Stark." Jon said.
Mance smiled. "The honourable Ned Stark hid his sister's lad from his best friend and passed him off Rhaegar's son as his own bastard." Jon nodded. "You have the Targaryen name. I assume you're trueborn."
"I am." Jon replied.
"What does a Targaryen King want with the King beyond the wall? Come to behead me as a deserter?"
Jon shook his head. "You've done more for the Watch than those hiding behind the wall in Castle Black. A crow without being a crow."
Mance raised an eyebrow. "You talkin' about the walkers."
Jon nodded. "I am here to help. I know you want the Freefolk south of the wall, and I can help you... With conditions."
"What do I want?"
"To take your people south of the wall. The long night is coming, and the dead come with it. If your people stay north of the wall, they'll just become meat for his army and make them even harder to beat. Both you and I need you south of the wall before winter."
"You've seen this in a vision?" Mance asked.
Although he would be vulnerable, Jon knew he had to show Mance he was serious. He wanted to talk with him alone, and the only way was to prove he was no threat. Jon removed his sword belt and handed Longclaw, his dirk and dagger over to Ygritte, before taking the cloth of dragonglass hidden inside his cloak.
"I'm unarmed. Can we speak alone?" asked Jon.
"Leave."
"What, me as well?" said Tormund.
"You especially," Mance replied.
They filed out of the tent, leaving Jon and Mance alone. "Aren't you going to offer me some goats milk?" Jon asked. "It's been three moons since I left Castle Black."
Mance eyed Jon wearily, poured them both a horn of goats milk and sat on the stool Tormund had occupied. "Alright, Aegon. Why are you here?"
"You can call me Jon. I'm not a seer, I've already lived through the coming storm. The Three-Eyed-Raven sent me back to rectify the problems which led to the destruction of the north and the whole of Westeros. Do you know who the Three-Eyed-Raven is?"
"Aye, the rumours say old Bloodraven lives beneath the enormous weirwood. He's the world's memories, and he makes magic with the children of the forest. Let's say I believe you. What do you know?"
Jon took a sip of the goats milk and coughed at the hideous taste. But it warmed his insides and loosened his tongue. "Across the narrow sea, Daenerys Targaryen has birthed three dragons. We gained her help to kill the army of the dead and the Night King. A terrible decision. The Night King took one of her dragons and destroyed some of the wall at Eastwatch. The army of the dead, including most people in this camp, attacked the north. We lost the fight. I'm here because the Three-Eyed-Raven worked magic, and sent me back in time, for us to destroy the army of the dead."
"What's your plan?" Mance asked.
"I let your people south of the wall. I'm already preparing lands for them to settle."
"And your price? We don't kneel. Or do you want my head?"
"I don't expect you to kneel." Jon replied. "You've been pardoned by the Watch, Lord Stark and me."
"I heard nothing about you taking that damned chair."
"I don't want the Iron Throne, but I've been left little choice. It will take all the men, women and children of Westeros and the North to beat the army of the dead. We've got six years or more to prepare. That's if he can't recruit the Freefolk and doesn't claim a dragon." Jon's next words pained him. "Allowing Daenerys Targaryen to cross the narrow sea will be a huge mistake. It will make matters worse." He nodded his head toward the cloth. "Open it."
The King beyond the wall unfastened the ties, moved the black cloth aside and revealed the dragonglass. "Where did you get this?"
"It doesn't matter. Right now, there are crows on Dragonstone mining this stuff. I've got smiths coming north to work it, to make more daggers and arrowheads. It's how we destroy the walkers. That and Valyrian steel. We can do this if we fight together."
Mance picked up a dagger and examined it. He put it down and sighed. "What's your price?" he asked.
"I've put aside suitable land for your people. Fertile for farming. As long as the Freefolk live in harmony and by Westerosi laws, while they stay south, they will be welcomed."
"Who has given their word?"
"Lord Commander Mormont is prepared to let you through. The warden of the north has agreed to allocate the lands. My wife is currently making preparations for your arrival. Your people will pay taxes to the watch. All of fighting age will train. Some will help man the wall and rebuild the rest of the forts. I want every fort manned." Mance looked to be about to say something, but Jon quickly continued. "The will not be required to take the oath. No reeving, raiding, raping or stealing women. While you are south, you will rescind the title of King and will take on the lordship of Queenscrown. I would expect to have some of the Freefolk train to forge weapons of dragonglass."
"Is that all?" Mance raised an eyebrow.
Jon fidgeted for a moment, this was the part he was sure Mance would refuse. "The only way I can gather an army large enough to beat the army of the dead, is to take the Iron Throne. I will need volunteers to help me. This isn't about my needs or desires. Once the long night is over, I intend to abdicate, let someone else rule. You can return north and I will re-take the lordship of Queenscrown. I'm sure my wife would prefer that. She isn't a fan of Kings Landing."
Mance took a large gulp of the goats milk, he rested his elbows on his thighs and sighed. "Is that all?" his voice held a hint of sarcasm.
Jon chose Mance's own words against him. "There's no reason for anymore bloodshed. Your people have suffered enough. I'm not asking you to kneel when I become King. I'm asking you to help fight the army of the dead. You'll have to do it one way or the other. At least this gives us a chance. Together, we can give the fuckers a fight. Say no, and every man, woman and child will soon die. If Stannis Baratheon makes it north, he'll burn you at the stake."
Mance looked disgusted. "Stannis is burning people? Has he gone as mad as your grandfather?"
"He follows the red god now."
"Why would Stannis come north?" asked Mance.
"King Robert is probably dead, or will die soon. Killed by a boar. Joffrey is a bastard, fathered by Jaime Lannister." Mance looked disgusted, Jon nodded in agreement. "All three of Cersei Lannister's children are bastards. Wars in the south will ensue, Stannis against Renly and Joffrey. I'm going to wait until they weaken each other before I attack. That gives our army time to build up its strength."
"And if we fail?" Mance asked.
"At least we die trying. Working together is the only way."
"Will there be enough dragonglass to arm a hundred thousand soldiers?"
"There's dragonglass on Skagos and Dragonstone, which kills the whitewalkers. Fire kills the wights, but I won't take a dragon north of the wall. I have a better idea. Instead, we can use wildfire." Jon said. "There are caches of the stuff under Kings Landing. I don't expect to transport that north, instead the pyromancers will make it at Castle Black and the other forts. I'd hope some of your people might be interested in mining the dragonglass."
Mance observed Jon carefully. "How old are you, boy?"
Jon smiled. "Older than I look. This body is ten and eight, but I'm five and twenty."
"How do you know so much about the Freefolk?" said Mance. "What happened in the last life?"
"I was a man of the Night's Watch. I was tasked with infiltrating your camp. Ygritte was my lover, but I was still a man of the Watch. After that I became Lord Commander. When I saved five thousand Freefolk from Hardhome, my brothers didn't like it, so they murdered me. A red priestess resurrected me, and I became King in the North. Tormund was one of my best friends. I broke bread with wildlings, lived with wildlings and lay with a wildling. I even climbed the wall with the wildlings. Is that enough?"
"You want me to pack up my people and head south on your word?" asked Mance.
Jon shook his head. "I didn't think you would. That's why I brought friends. I'll keep your people safe if you promise to do the same."
"Go on, tell me more."
"I'll take Tormund and Ygritte south. I want them to help with setting up Queenscrown for your people. In the meantime, you make your way south, down the Milkwater, through The Haunted Forest to Castle Black. You keep my four men, including my uncle. You can keep them until we get to Queenscrown."
Mance stood and paced around the tent. "You know I can't decide without consulting my people. There's ninety clans out there. Do you know how long it's taken me to gather those clans together? Hornfoots, Nightrunners, giants..."
"Twenty years, or so I'm told."
Mance nodded. "Aye, twenty years."
"I know you can't decide on your own." Jon said. "I know you'll need to talk to every clan. They're going to need to get along for the next six or seven years while south of the wall. This benefits both of us."
Mance nodded. "I can't promise what my people will say. But you have the right of it, Jon Snow. You've got an old head on young shoulders." he took Jon's empty horn from him. "Another one?" he asked, and Jon nodded. "Do you still want to lie with Ygritte?"
Jon shook his head. "I'm not a crow anymore, but I am a married man."
"And who is the lucky Lady?" Mance asked.
"Sansa Stark." Jon said. "It was the only way of securing the north."
Mance turned to Jon in shock. "You were raised as brother and sister."
"Aye, I know. It hasn't been consummated yet. Her body is too young. I wasn't the only one given a second chance by the Three-Eyed-Raven. My wife and little sister Arya were given the gift."
"I'm sure Ygritte is open to offering." Mance handed him another horn of goats milk.
"I'm sure she is." Jon laughed. "But Sansa and I were never close as children. As adults, our relationship was like any normal married couple, just without... you know."
"Aye, I know what you mean."
"I have the privilege of knowing what a beautiful woman she will become. In time, I'm sure we'll get past what we once believed ourselves to be, and we can do our duty. At least we love each other, which is a healthy start to any highborn marriage."
"How long have you been apart?" Mance asked.
"Over eleven moons." Jon said. "We'd been married two moons when I left."
"Are you sure you don't need someone to warm your furs tonight?" Mance had a twinkle in his eye.
Jon was suddenly exhausted. "Somewhere warm to sleep is all I want. I can wait a few more moons for my wife."
Mance paced over to the entrance of the tent and spoke with one of his guards. Moments later Tormund returned, carrying Longclaw, Jon's dirk and dagger, with Ghost hot on his heels. "Found this enormous beast outside. Greeted me like he'd known me all my life." he handed Jon his steel.
"Ghost, to me." Jon commanded, wrapping his swordbelt around his waist while his direwolf padded over to Jon and sat dutifully at his side.
"If anyone wanted proof of your Stark heritage, then you've got it there, lad. Have you ridden a dragon?" A smile crept up on Jon's lips. "That was supposed to be a jape." Mance turned to Tormund. "Do you fancy a trip south of the wall?"
"What for?" Tormund asked.
"To help oversee the preparations to Queenscrown and help persuade the northern lords to accept you." Mance said.
Tormund eyes moved from Mance to Jon and back to Mance. "You trust this little fucker?"
Mance nodded. "Aye I do."
"Why?" asked Tormund.
"Because he trusts you."
Tormund's gaze turned to Jon. "Why do you trust me, boy?"
"In a previous life, we were best friends."
Tormund looked confused, he turned to Mance, who smiled and nodded. "You been eating them fucking mushrooms again?"
Mance laughed, and Tormund joined in with his huge belly laugh, which Jon had missed. Jon couldn't help himself but join in. When they finally calmed down, Tormund turned to Jon. "Your tent should be ready now, boy. Ygritte calls you Jon Snow. Is that your name or do you like Lord Egg?"
Jon had been called many things in his eyes, but Lord Egg was a new one. "Jon Snow is fine."
Tormund led him from Mance's large tent, with Ghost following closely behind. The tent was only large enough for two men, but it would suffice. In all honesty, he'd expected to spend another night under the stars. But tonight welcomed privacy, warmth, and a break from the icy-cold wind. Outside the tent, a fire burned, warming the other tents like his, although his was the smallest.
"Goodnight, Jon Snow. I like you, boy." Tormund grabbed his hand.
"You too, Tormund. Looking forward to taking you to Queenscrown."
Jon lowered his head and crawled into the tent. The outside fire lit up the tiny area, which housed a small cot, covered in furs. Outside, the shadow of Ghost sat in front of the entrance, keeping guard, and basking in the warm glow. Jon removed his cloak and swordbelt and climbed under the furs. His mind wandered to the conversation he'd had with Mance, how he'd gone so long without sex. He'd not been able to take himself to hand since he left Castle Black. Jon was thankful he'd experienced life with the Freefolk before. None cared when couples fucked, or a man took himself to hand.
He closed his eyes and imagined kissing Daenerys, but his mind kept wandering to the kiss he shared with Sansa in bed, except she was the older woman he remembered. Jon pumped his hardened length, imagining Sansa was the one with her hands wrapped around him. In his minds eye, one of her breasts slipped from her shift. Jon cupped her breast in his hand and latched his mouth onto her pert, pink nipple. Sansa picked up the pace with her hand and Jon felt his balls tighten. The name "Sansa," left his lips as he came. Breathless, with his heart racing, Jon closed his eyes, wishing he was home with his wife.