Warg Maiden
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Chapter 27: Kill the Boy
Jon's POV
Jon had thought about it for days. The decision would be tough; he knew he would lose the trust of his brothers. But he knew he had to do it. There was a war coming. It would take some time to convince the Lords of the North to send men, and with the conflict between the Boltons and houses joining Stannis, he doubts he will get any recruits. The Wildlings who have crossed the Wall through the Shadow Tower are under Stannis's protection.
He would ask his brothers to open the gates to let more Wildlings through.
Am I doing the right thing? Jon thought.
Sam would be biased and say yes if Jon asked him since Tarly has a deep friendship with Gilly—if you can call it a friendship. There is no doubt that Sam was in love with Gilly, and he won't admit it. Sam found some loopholes, though the brothers would disagree. They would have given wiggle room if Gilly was born South of the Wall, except she was a wildling.
There was one person Jon needed to ask. The only Brother of the Night's Watch who has wisdom throughout the years. So, Jon went to the library to meet with Maester Aemon. He was there with Sam as Sam was reading the latest news about Daenerys Targaryen. Jon could somewhat relate to Maester Aemon to having a family so far away that you can do nothing to support them. Not aware of their status other than the snippets of news passed around by raven.
"Maester Aemon," Jon greeted.
"Lord Commander," Maester Aemon replied.
"Sam, I'd like to speak to the maester alone," Jon requested.
Sam obliged, collecting all the papers, and stood up and left. Once Sam was gone, Jon made his way over to the elder maester, taking the seat that Sam once sat in. He sat down, removing his gloves. The nerves were spiraling in his body. Maester Aemon sat there with a smile, one that was comforting. Yet this man held so much wisdom and knowledge. Even with the elderly face, he had respect and slight intimidation.
"How are you feeling?" Jon asked.
"Oh, like a hundred-year-old man, slowly freezing to death, '' Maester Aemon answered playfully, though tiredness could be heard in his voice.
Jon chuckled at that, smiling. However, it reminded him that Maester Aemon is not a simple old man in his sixties or seventies. No, the last male Targaryen who served the Night's Watch was over a hundred years old. Winter had kept this man alive longer than any person in Westeros.
Jon sighed, resting a hand on a table and looking at the Maester. "I need your advice. There's something I want to do, something I…have to do. But it'll divide the Night's Watch. Bitterly. Half the men will hate me the moment I give the order."
The humor in Maester Aemon's face vanished, and he stared blankly in front of him. "Half the men hate you already, Lord Commander. Do it."
His tone baffled Jon, "But you don't know what it is."
"That doesn't matter," Maester Aemon interrupted sharply. "You do."
He reached over, taking Jon's hand on the table before feeling his way up to cradle the Lord Commander's face. "You will find little joy in your command. But with luck, you will find the strength to do what needs to be done."
Maester Aemon let his hand down, looking in Jon's direction. Although the eyes were pale from the blindness, Jon could sense he was directly looking at him in the eyes.
"Kill the boy, Jon Snow." Maester Aemon's advised. "Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born."
Jon let those words sink in. He knew what he had to do. Now, it was time to convince two wildlings.
.o0o.
Imogen's POV
Two southerners who serve Lord Overton brought me to the Lord Commander's chambers. Jon was there as the two men sat me on a chair across the desk. Jon nodded to them in thanks, dismissing the soldiers. I looked around, wondering why I was here. Never have I been in the Lord Commander's chamber. I may have peaked when Warging, but not here in person.
"Why am I here?" I asked.
"Wait one moment," Jon replied.
"What?" I asked.
The doors opened as a few Crows came in, bringing in Tormund. They struggled, and Tormund almost put up a fight until he saw me. He calmed down as the Crows led him, taking the chair next to me. I was surprised to see Tormund out of his cell. When the Crows were gone, Tormund glared at Jon since both of us were still shackled.
Both men looked at each other, almost glaring in a battle of dominance. I remained quiet, trying to see who would draw the first strike or say the first word. Time went on as the silence engulfed the room.
"Where are the rest of the Free Folk now?" Jon asked.
Tormund snorted.
"Where have they gone?" Jon continued.
Tormund adjusted in his seat, amused by my not answering. I remained quiet since I still didn't trust Jon after everything he had done to sabotage our plans, let alone hold Tormund, the others, and me prisoners.
"Who leads them?" Jon asked.
"They followed Mance," Tormund answered. "They won't follow anyone else."
Tormund speaks the truth. The ones who crossed the Wall were connected to the Dire Tribe and those of the western side. The tribes who live on the eastern side have pure loyalty to Mance Rayder. Especially Rattleshirt from the Bone tribe and Loboda, the Thenns elder. The one who held the most loyalty was Wun Wun, the prince of the giants.
"What about you?" Jon asked Tormund.
"Hard to lead when you're in chains," Tormund countered, raising his shackled hands.
"What if I unchained the both of you?" Jon asked.
"Why would you do that?" Tormund countered.
I raised a brow in doubt while Tormund snorted.
"Because you are not my enemy," Jon replied. "And I'm not yours."
I gave him a doubtful look, as did Tormund.
"You sure seemed like my enemy when you were killing my friends." Tormund sneered. "Let alone whipping one when she was chained up."
I felt my muscles tense, for he referred to when I was flogged.
"For eight thousand years, the Night's Watch have sworn an oath to be the shield that guards the realms of men. And for eight thousand years, we've fallen short of that oath," Jon explained. "You belong to the realms of men—all of you." Jon looked at me. "Your ancestors were one of us, and we have forgotten it over time."
I stared into his dark eyes to see the truth.
"And now everything is going to change?" Tormund challenged.
"It is," Jon promised.
"Why now?" I asked. "What changed your mind."
"Because now I am Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," Jon explained, leaning over and resting his hand on the desk.
"What would you have us do, Lord Commander?" Tormund sarcastically asked, leaning in to meet Jon in the eyes.
Jon stood up and walked around the desk towards us. "I'd have you go north of the Wall. Gather the remaining Free Folk wherever they are and bring them back here. I'll open the gates for them and let them through."
"They won't follow anyone else," Tormund said.
"They only follow their elders and chieftains. With Mance gone, they are divided." I spoke. "They may respect us, but they will not listen."
"Tell them I'll find them lands to settle south of the Wall," Jon offered.
"They won't kneel for you, and neither will I," Tormund warned.
"I don't want them to kneel for me," Jon said. "I want them to fight with me when the time comes."
"The day I ask my people to fight with the crows is the day my people cut my guts from my belly and make me eat them," Tormund said.
"Seen that happen before," I muttered.
Tormund snorted.
Jon was a bit baffled by this event and the possible fate of Tormund.
He tried to change the subject, glaring at Tormund. Jon knew I had only control or say with the tribes who came south of the Wall, who were from the western parts, and Tormund was from the eastern regions and had more say. "And how many of your people can't fight? The women, the children, the old, the sick—what happens to them? You are condemning them to death. Worse than death because you're too proud to make peace."
Tormund looked at him, a bit surprised. Jon gave the same reaction, knowing he had crossed the line.
"Or maybe you're not proud. Maybe you're just a coward." Jon challenged.
Immediately, Tormund stood up, being a head taller than Jon. He leaned down, whispering sharply, "Easy thing to say to a man in chains."
I couldn't see, but there was a slight rattle. A sound of a key hitting metal. Was Jon actually freeing Tormund from his shackles? The chains came off as Jon tossed them aside, looking at Tormund. I was utterly dumbfounded.
"Your people need a leader," Jon murmured. "And they need to get south of the Wall before it's too late."
Jon made his way around Tormund, kneeling before me, as he removed the shackles on my wrist. "We don't have much time, and they have less. The walkers are coming, and they'll hit your people first."
Once they were off, I rubbed my wrist, looking at Tormund, who held the same expression. Jon stood up, staring at Tormund.
"I'm not asking you to make peace to save your skin," Jon said. "Make peace to save your people."
Tormund stared at me to get my opinion, and I only nodded. Tormund thought about it, giving a slightly blank expression deep in thought. Until he had an idea.
"Most of them are at Hardhome," Tormund said. "You know where that is?"
"Up on Storrold's Point," Jon confirmed, walking to his desk and pulling out a map. "I can give you ten horses and nine other men. You can get there in two weeks."
"We'll need ships," Tormund said.
Jon paused, thinking about it, "I'll talk to Stannis about lending you his fleet."
Tormund gave a stern look, "All right, then."
Jon stared at him in return.
"You're coming with me. Imogen's coming with me," Tormund demanded. "You're the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. They need to hear it from you." He pointed his finger at Jon and then at the map. They need to know the ships they are boarding won't be torched in the middle of the sea. You come with me. Imogen, come with me, or I don't go."
Jon was baffled at this ultimatum. He stared at me, and I did not give him an answer.
"Imogen is recovering," Jon tried to reason.
"I will not leave her in this nest of crows," Tormund growled. "Not after what your men did to her."
Jon winced slightly, no doubt remembering the flogging by Ser Alliser. But Jon has no choice; Tormund's tribe is stubborn as a bear, and there is no way to convince them unless you have a good bargain.
"Very well," Jon said.
"Good," Tormund replied as he stood up straight. "Now, how do you want your mark?"
"My what?" Jon asked.
I lowered the collar of the tunic I wore to show the ink of a rune. A spiral with many lines around it. "It is a rune for protection. Once you die in the True North, you stay dead."
"Carved or ink," Tormund asked. "It's quicker to carve it in."
Jon paled slightly.
.o0o.
Jon's POV
Jon called for an immediate meeting with his brothers. Even Lord Overton, King Stannis, and Ser Davos attended the meeting. At first, it started with ease until Jon announced that he would be gone for a while to collect the rest of the stranded Wildlings. It was one thing for the Wildlings who invaded the Shadow Tower and were under King Stannis's protection. But going out there was another thing and finding more to bring down south.
The men were screaming and shouting at Jon about how ridiculous this was. Breaking all the laws, they have done for five thousand years. Yet Jon knew the truth. The one that has been hidden since the Andals took over. The Wildlings were not the enemy. They were of the First Men, the Sealgaireans who hunted the White Walkers.
"You bring wildlings here through our gates?" Yarwyck asked.
"Men, women, and children will die by the thousands if we do nothing," Jon spoke loudly, trying to be reasonable.
"Let them die. We got our own to worry about," Yarwyck sneered with bitterness. "Less enemies for us."
Many of the brothers cheered in agreement.
Sam stood up, "Look, well, there is good farmland and in the Gift."
The men laughed at Sam.
"Land that no one uses now," Sam reasoned. "A dozen abandoned villages."
"And why do you think the farmers abandoned those villages?" Bowen Marsh asked sarcastically. As the First Steward added. "Because the wildlings raided them for years and cut them down just like they did this boy's people."
As Bowen pointed his finger at Olly. The boy stared down, not to show his hurt expression.
"Aye," the men agreed.
"We've been fighting them for thousands of years. They've slaughtered villages." Ser Alliser added. "They slaughtered our brothers."
"And we've slaughtered theirs." Jon countered to Ser Alliser.
Edd stood up, looking at Jon, "I will follow you anywhere, you know that. But they killed Grenn."
"Yes." The men agreed.
"And they killed Pyp," Edd added.
"Aye." The men agreed.
"They killed fifty of our brothers." Edd continued. "I can't forget that. I can't forgive it."
Jon kept his composure, staring at his friend, "You were at the Fist of the First Men. If we abandon them, you know what they become. We can learn to live with the wildlings or add them to the army of the dead. Whatever they are now, they're better than that."
Edd sighed, knowing that was true.
The men began arguing.
Jon sighed, it was his decision, and he made it so.
.o0o.
After dealing with so much arguing, Jon headed to his chambers. He had to write clear instructions to ensure the council followed his orders. He took off his cloak, hanging it on the rack, and sighed.
I have to do this, Jon thought. It's the only way...
Jon could only imagine his father, Ned Stark, would have done the same thing. Once the cloak was taken care of, he went to his desk and sighed, rubbing his hand against his face. Right now, he was on thin ice and could hear the early cracks.
There was pounding on the door; not a second longer, Olly entered with a bowl of stew and bread. He set the bowl on the table and walked away.
"Thank you," Jon said.
Olly was about to leave, though he stopped having something to say.
"Olly," Jon murmured. "If you have something you want to say to me, say it."
The boy turned around to look at him; he took some steps, though there was distance.
"It's all right," Jon assured.
Olly took a hesitant breath as he said, "You don't mean it, do you? Telling the wildlings you want to make peace. You're just doing it to trick them."
"It's not a trick," Jon said.
"They burned my village," Olly nearly cried but held it in. "They put an arrow through my father's head right in front of me. They butchered my mother, everyone I ever knew."
Jon came over to Olly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know what it's like to lose the people you love. I know this is hard for you. But winter is coming. We know what comes with it. We can't face it alone.
Olly looked down with disappointment. "Will there be anything else you need, Lord Commander?"
"No," Jon murmured, removing his hand.
Knowing he had failed Olly.
Olly stepped back before turning around and leaving the room, slamming the door shut.
Jon sighed.
.o0o.
Imogen's POV
It was the day of King Stannis's departure. Everyone was required to stand out to give a proper farewell. Tormund and those captives felt out of place as the Crows glared at us with every chance they could get. It was no mistake; you could hear their anger throughout the entire keep.
"How long do we have to stand here?" Tormund muttered.
"Long enough," I replied.
I looked around, sensing there was tension in the air. Tension all around whether you are a Southerner, a crow, or a Free Folk. One can almost drown in the thickness. I spotted Princess Shireen talking to Ser Davos until Queen Selyse stepped in, making the man leave. The queen got on her horse and waited next to her daughter. Shireen looked over her shoulder, staring at Gilly, who held her son and stood next to Sam. Gilly gave a timid wave, which Shireen smiled, except Selyse glared at this interaction.
I spotted Jon making his way up to the stares as he encountered King Stannis. They walked, having a conversation. The conversation seemed to go well as Jon bowed his head and King Stannis walked down the steps towards his horse.
I was curious, spotting Frigg near Jon.
"Hold me," I whispered.
Tormund secured an arm as I bowed my head and warged.
I took hold of Frigg; seeing Jon standing, he watched Stannis leave. Lord Overton made his way over to Jon.
"You better be careful up there, Jon," Lord Overton warned. "As well as in here."
"I don't know how I can ever repay you," Jon said.
Lord Overton placed a hand on Jon's shoulder, "Stay alive."
Jon nodded, "You remember what we said on the Wall?"
Lord Overton nodded, his voice quietening. "When I get a chance, I will look for him and bring him back to my Keep."
"Thank you," Jon whispered. "Tell him I love him, and I miss him."
"I'll bring him over for you to tell him," Lord Overton promised.
Jon nodded.
Lord Overton patted Jon on the back and headed towards his horse. Jon looked ahead and rested his hand on the rail, seeing the King mounted his horse next to the Red Woman. The woman turned her head, giving Jon a disappointed glance that turned into a mischievous smirk. I was about to watch more when Tormund yanked my arm, breaking my concentration.
I gasped, stumbling some, yet Tormund kept a stronghold.
"They were watching," Tormund whispered in my ear.
I nodded, straightening my back to observe the courtyard. I noticed a few Crows glaring at me. I sighed, looked around, and spotted Orell atop a building, observing everything. No doubt, keeping watch to ensure nothing happens to me. I smiled softly, for Orell kept me sane these last few months since the capture. Orell took flight to get a better view.
"Mount up!" A soldier yelled.
All the soldiers got on their horses.
"Colors!" another soldier yelled as the flab barriers got the flags of King Stannis banners up.
King Stannis stared at the Red Woman before marching out. The horses neighed, obeying their master's command. The Red Woman paused as she and Stannis stopped before us. I glared at them, seeing Dark Sister secured to his belt.
"You better watch yourself," The Red Woman said. "Your gods won't protect you. For the night is dark and full of terrors."
I glared at her.
She smirked, and with a wave of her hand, an orb of fire appeared blasting in the sky. Many of my comrades stumbled, except my eyes followed as the fire struck Orell.
"No!" I yelled.
The fire consumed the eagle, causing Orell to shriek in agony, falling. I watched in horror as Orell fell, crashing to the ground. Not thinking, Tormund and I rushed over to Orell, no longer caring what the Crows thought.
"Orell," I sobbed as I knelt on the ground, trying to extinguish the flames.
Tormund did as well. By the time we extinguished the flames, it was too late. The eagle lay there dead. Half the feathers were gone, and the wings were broken from the fall. I placed my hand on the chest to find any indication of movement, thinking I could transfer Orell's soul to another animal.
No movement.
I felt my chest tighten.
"Orell," I whispered, hovering my hand over his beak to see if he was breathing. I couldn't tell from his chest. "Orell."
No breath.
Tormund took my hand, squeezing it. "He's gone."
My eyes watered as I looked up, seeing the Red Woman smirk as she and her company left Castle Black. Jon rushed over and looked at us. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came out. I bowed my head, biting my lip, unable to show any more weakness. My chest tightened, and tears fell.
Orell!
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