Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones


Chapter 45: Last of the Giants

Imogen's POV

Not many tribes have a ritual when it comes to the dead. Many just burn their bodies and be off unless death happens in their campsite or village. In which they watch the fallen be burned. The Dires, we honor the dead by singing to them as they burn to be part of the earth.

I have changed into my Dire clothes and am no longer in the fancy dress. Fenrir led me to the Northern side of the field as the Dires, Familiars, and Wun Wun were placed on the pyre. The surviving Free Folk gathered around to witness the ceremony. I spotted Jon and Ghost with Ser Davos and Tormund, along with those who wished to watch. I stood before the pyre with Fenrir, our wolves, and the two giants, Bor and Thorack.

Fenrir handed me the bundle. I inhale sharply as my eyes begin to water. It was Frigg, cleaned up, and ready to be cremated. I took several deep breaths, going over to Wun Wun and caressing the owl to my chest. When I reached the Prince of the Giants, Bor offered me a hand. I accepted as I sat in his arm, in which he carried me to set Frigg on Wun Wun's heart. A gift to the giant to fly in the sky with Frigg's guidance before his eternal slumber.

Bor set me down, as we made our way back to the head. Fenrir handed me the stone knife. As the daughter of a priestess, it was my duty to sing to the dead of my people. I stared at the knife that was carved from the mountains of Lunar Haven. The handle is made of a ram's bone. Adjusting the blade as it sliced along the tips of my fingers, yet the pain did not hurt like before.

I smeared the blood from the top of my forehead down my face to the ends of my neck. Fenrir came over, being the magnar and chieftain. I placed the leader's mark on his forehead. Bor and Thorack kneeled as I placed the mark of the protector on their foreheads.

Once done, Fenrir stepped forward to speak to our people and allies.

"Victory is ours! It came at a great cost. Our Sisters, mothers, and wives, our Spearwives who stood as our right hand, will live on in our memories from now to the end of days. To our brothers, fathers, and husbands, they were warriors. They made the ultimate sacrifice, and I here repay it. To our familiars, the wolves of our pack, the bears of the lands, and the shadow cats of the mountains, we thank them as our friends and family. And to Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun, Prince of the Giants, whose kind heart has led him to his ancestors. May the Old Gods welcome them with open arms."

Fenrir was given a torch, going over to Wun Wun, "Let us send them on their way. All our beloved dead, our fallen warriors, and speed them to their end."

Each of the Dires took their torches, placing them on the many pyres. As they did this, I began to sing:

Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants,

my people are gone from the earth.

The last of the great mountain giants,

who ruled all the world at my birth.

I vocalize the chants of the Dires and continue the song.

Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants,

my people are gone from the earth.

The last of the great mountain giants,

who ruled all the world at my birth.

o

Oh the smallfolk have stolen my forests,

they've stolen my rivers and hills.

My rivers and hills another Dire joined in as an echo.

And they've built a great wall through my valleys,

'Valley,' they sang. Vocalizing in the Dire chants.

and fished all the fish from my rills.

In stone halls they burn their great fires,

in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.

o

Whilst I walk alone in the mountains,

with no true companion but tears.

They hunt me with dogs in the daylight,

they hunt me with torches by night.

For these men who are small can never stand tall,

whilst giants still walk in the light.

Oooooooh, I am the last of the giants,

o

"Last of the giants."

so learn well the words of my song.

For when I am gone the singing will fade,

and the silence shall last long and long

The chanting dimmed down as I sang the echo of the song.

I am the last of the giants,

my people are gone from the earth.

The last of the great mountain giants,

who ruled all the world at my birth.

I felt the tears fall as I stared at Wun Wun and Frigg being engulfed in flames. Skadi pressed against me to ensure I was not alone and that she was there. I petted her as I began to sing a vocalized song of the Old Tongue.

After an hour, the flames had consumed the bodies that we could barely see. The smell of burning flesh had lessened. Many of the Free Folk and those of Winterfell left. The Dires, Familiars, and Giants remained. As I took the role of Priestess for this night, I must stay until the flames diminish.

Yet my thoughts linger on Ser Davos's words about Princess Shireen, a child burned at the stake. I hardly associated with the girl, as I was mainly in recovery and couldn't move without risking more damage to my back. But Gilly talked about the girl—a smart girl who survived Greyscale, a little warrior who never got a chance to become a woman.

I began to sing a song for the girl.

Hoping her faith has brought her to paradise.

Time seemed to vanish as I watched the fire burn, falling into a trance.

Feeling the void in my chest, knowing a part of me was dead. As I thought about Frigg, I remembered the owl I had borrowed when abandoned. How she followed and became part of our band of misfits with Skadi and me. She gave me the sky, and I provided for her.

When the flames diminished, the sky was still dark. I glance around, seeing the Dires retiring for the remainder of the night. Exhaustion weighed me down, though I was unsure where I should be. Fenrir saw this, and as he led me, Jon came over.

Jon opened his mouth to speak but stopped as if words were hard. We stared at each other, for the relief of winning the battle had left a scar on both of us. It was as if we were getting more scars together. For I lost a piece of my soul when losing Frigg and Jon…Jon experienced an actual battle. Something happened to him at the barricade.

Fenrir placed a hand on my shoulder, "Go inside and rest. I'll watch the wolves."

I nodded as I gave Skadi a hug, which she nuzzled against me before following Jon. We were both quiet. I glanced at him, noting he was no longer the boy who tried to please others. He had become his own self. With Ramsay Bolton out of the way and Winterfell reclaimed by the Starks, we can focus on the true war—the Great War.

As I recall my dream of seeing the Night King with a third eye.

We reached the Stark wing, where Jon led me to the room I had taken.

"Whose room does this one belong to?" I asked.

Jon paused as he stared at me. After a moment, he said, "Arya. My little sister."

"What happened to her?" I asked.

Jon glanced at the room, lost in a memory, and sighed, "We don't know. Sansa said Arya vanished after the Lannisters slaughtered House Stark valets in King's Landing."

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

Jon nodded, "And I'm sorry about Frigg."

"She wanted to save Rickon," I told him. "She pushed me out."

Jon blinked at that.

I took a deep breath, "We need to focus and plan for the Great War."

Jon nodded again, "Get some sleep."

"Same to you," I said.

We stared at each other briefly before Jon left for his room. I watched him for a moment before going into my room. I stripped my outer layers before laying on the bed under the furs. Before curling into a fetal position. As the phantom pain of the arrow throbbed in my back.

As I dreamt of Brann with the Three-Eyed Raven merging to become one being. The raven taking control and the boy falling into a deep slumber.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

One week later

Jon barely got any sleep. Maybe a few hours, yet sleep still seems to avoid him. By the early hours of the morning, he found Rickon still drugged by the Milk of the Poppy with Maester Walkon in his care. At first, Jon is hesitant about the Maester as he served the Boltons. Until Sansa assured him, Maester Walkon took care of her, serving only Winterfell and not a house.

Afterward, Jon did his rounds to ensure Winterfell was safe. Ravens were sent to summon the Houses to Winterfell. It was time to remind the lesser Houses who they served. Rickon was still a child, leaving Sansa as Regent of the North. What it made of Jon, he wasn't sure. He was a bastard but would do whatever it took to protect his siblings, the North and Westeros.

When he was not doing his rounds, he went over possible strategies with the Wildling Council, who came with Tormund, Ser Davos, and Imogen. When the Great War happened, there was a need to think of possible locations. Time was a mystery, as their main defense had been the Wall. Destroying Joramun's horn eliminated a potential threat, but they knew the Night King would find a way.

Jon stared at Imogen, focused on her guidance. However, when the meetings are done, he can see the emptiness in her eyes. There were times Jon tried to distract her, as the two would duel in the courtyard. Spectators were baffled to see them duel. Watching as Longclaw and Dark Sister clash that created sparks. Jon noted that Imogen had quick reflexes and agility. However, she did not have the strength and speed as Jon. They never end with a victor.

Although Jon couldn't help, the one-time Imogen had a sweet. Sansa somehow had Imogen join her for tea, which was nothing extravagant, as Jon came in to get Sansa's opinion on something. Apparently, there were some lemons found, and the cooks made lemon cake for Sansa. The moment Imogen had a piece, her eyes widened in amazement.

Jon had seen many expressions from Imogen, even the emotions she tried to hide. But seeing her eating lemon cake to taste something that was not native was quite amusing. Especially during meals, when seasonings, herbs, and salts were used. However, those rare moments were diminished when eyes were on her with disdain.

The citizens of Winterfell had been neutral towards the Free Folk, aware of how much they helped in saving their city. Along with House Mormont, Overton, Hornwood, and Mazin. Although, as more houses came, they were not kind to the Free Folk. Sansa has kept the peace, as the Free Folk made camp outside of Winterfell, with several staying inside given quarters.

Sansa has shown she can be a Lady of the Keep. Except she had a shadow—that was of Lord Petyr Baelish. Jon still doesn't trust Littlefinger, especially around his siblings. He keeps guards close and Ghost with Sansa every time she goes out. Littlefinger tried to arrange a meeting with Jon, but Jon had no time. And even if he did, he had other things to worry about.

Anyway, Jon went to check on Rickon.

He was awake and seemed not to be under the influence of Milk of the Poppy. As he sat on the bed with Maester Walkon applying salve to the wound, Rickon looked up, giving a tired smile. Jon smiled back as he came over, taking a seat on a stool across from him.

"How're you feeling?" Jon asked.

"It's hurt," Rickon confessed with a small voice.

Remembering the three arrows in his back, Jon can relate, "It does."

Rickon gave him a look, and Jon tried to redirect, "But you'll get stronger."

Rickon nodded again. "What happened?"

Jon inhaled sharply as he tried to explain what had happened. He had tried before when Rickon was semi-conscious after telling his story, except he felt unconscious when Jon and Sansa tried to explain. They could sense a shift in their brother. He was no longer a little boy who followed his brothers around or clung to his mother.

Jon explained his side of what happened after he left Winterfell. He omitted a few things, yet he was detailed about what had happened beyond the wall.

"Osha told me what was happening," Rickon mumbled. "Why she left."

Jon sighed; Osha was a sensitive topic. As they were informed, Ramsay tossed Osha's flay body into his cell until the battle to be burned on an X-crossed. By the time they got the bodies off there, her body was nothing but charred bone, trampled over during the battle.

The Dires salvaged what they could and finished the cremation, giving the woman a proper farewell. Jon told Rickon this, and he cried with delirium. It seems Rickon is aware. Jon worried about what another trauma Ramsay had inflicted on Rickon: not only being put in a cell, trapped with Osha's butchered remains, and chased by arrows. As much as Jon would have asked, he knew Rickon would tell him when he was ready.

"The owl?" Rickon asked.

"That was Frigg," Jon answered. "She was familiar to Imogen."

Hearing the past tense, Rickon frowned, "I want to thank her."

Jon nodded, "I think that can be done."

There was a knock on the door as Sansa came in. The neutral expression she had as a mask faltered by a small smile. Sansa made her way over as she sat next to Rickon. Maester Walkon stepped aside to get fresh bandages.

"Sansa," Rickon smiled as he tried to hug her, only to cry.

"Easy," Sansa murmured as she gently hugged him.

Rickon leaned into her touch. Though tall, he was still a little boy at heart. Jon sadly smiles at this. The She-wolf and the wild cub. Both are under his protection. They were the Last of the Starks. Even though they have very distant kin. They were the last of the direct bloodline.

After giving a hug, Sansa turned to Jon, "The lords are here. "

"Why?" Rickon asked.

"We have to convince them to fight in the Great War," Jon said, remembering the thousands of wights at Hardhome.

Rickon nodded, "I want to come."

"No," Jon and Sansa yelled in unison.

Rickon flinched from their tone. Both regretted that, as this boy has been abused these past few months. Rickon took a deep breath.

"You need me," the boy said.

Sansa sighed and looked at Jon. They would indeed need Rickon, but he was only a boy—only ten. However, this brought up the conversation that the Lords would not truly listen to a woman or a bastard. Maybe if Rickon was there to give his support, the others would listen.

Jon took a deep breath, "If you feel tired, you will tell us, and Maester Walkon will bring you back. Understood."

Rickon grinned, nodding his head, then winced.

Jon sighed, trying to hide his concern.

Maester Walkon helped the boy get dressed before all of them made their way to the great hall. Hopefully, things will work out in their favor.

.o0o.

Things were not working out in their favor.

He sat at the center of the head table with Sansa on his left and Rickon on his right. The Free Folk were by the windows, as the majority of the Lords were glaring at them. Out of respect to House Stark, they remained in their area. Imogen, Fenrir, and Tormund were there keeping the peace. Jon looked around and saw many Lords who had refused the call while those who had come were in the center. He could see Lady Lyanna sitting next to Halbort Overton and…Lord Overton.

After hearing what happened, Jon did not expect to see the man, but seeing Lord Overton may give them an advantage.

They began by thanking House Overton, House Mormont, House Hornwood, and House Mazin for their support of taking back Winterfell. They then thanked the Knights of the Vale for coming to their rescue. Followed by thanking the Free Folk for providing the bulk.

After thanking the Free Folk, the tension began with the murmurs, as the Lords called them Wildlings. Fortunately, the Free Folk remained silent. Jon gave his speech about the actual threat that he had seen beyond the Wall, the threat of the Night King and his army, and how they needed to put aside their differences and unite.

"Does that include the Wildlings?" Lord Royce asked.

"The Free Folk have been fighting this war far longer than any of us," Jon answered. "They were once our brothers, as their ancestors chose to live on the other side of the Wall to hunt the White Walkers. Until the Andals came and destroyed our relations, we all forgot them. I have fought alongside them, and I ask that you do the same."

This caused an uproar, and many Lords protested, bringing back the adverse history the Wildlings had done in raids and stealing women.

"You can't expect Knights of the Vale to side with wildling invaders," Lord Royce protested.

"We didn't invade," Tormund spoke out calmly. "We were invited."

"Not by me," Lord Royce countered, sitting down.

"This coming from a Valeman," Imogen said. "You are holding prejudice against us because of your son's death."

Lord Royce glared at her.

"Your son's death was not caused by my people." She said. "He was slain by a White Walker who was scouting the Haunted Forest to collect more victims."

Many shouted liar at Imogen, that the Wildlings council stood up, yet Imogen raised her hand to stop them.

Jon stood up not having this, "The Free Folk, the Northerners, and the Knights of the Vale fought bravely, fought together, and we won. My father used to say we find our true friends on the battlefield."

One Lord, Lord Crey Cerwyn, stood saying, "The Boltons are defeated. The war is over. Winter has come. If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms."

"A summer hare you are," Lord Overton said, which surprised many.

Lord Cerwyn was born during the summer years, but Lord Overton, who lived near the Wall, knew true winter.

"The war is not over," Lord Overton said. "The battle's been won, but not the war."

Silence engulfed the room, and Lyanna gave the older man a slight smirk. Lord Overton turned his attention to Jon, "Continue."

Jon nodded, facing everyone, "I promise you, friend, the true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm."

Lord Cerwyn paled at that while murmurs went around.

Jon glanced around until spotting Lord Baelish against the wall with a calculating expression. One that Jon did not trust. As Littlefinger had something up his sleeve. However, Jon is aware that Littlefinger is Regent for the Vale until Robyn Arryn comes of age.

Suddenly, Lady Lyanna stood up, speaking loudly as she stared at one of the Lords. "Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly, but you refused the call." She then turned her attention to another Lord. "You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call."

The Great Hall became silent for the she-bear. Jon watched her amazed.

"And you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton," Lady Lyanna reminded. "Still, you refused the call."

Lord Cerwyn bowed his head, ashamed.

Lady Lyanna faced everyone, "But House Mormont remembers. The North remembers. We know no king but the King in the North, whose name is Stark."

Rickon tensed as many eyes focused on him. Jon frowned, for that was not the burden he wanted on his little brother, especially after what happened to Robb.

Lyanna continued staring at Jon, "I don't care if he's a bastard. Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king from this day until his last day."

Jon tried to keep his composure, for that was not what he wanted. He didn't want to be king. Rickon stared at him, giving a supportive yet tired smile. He glanced at Sansa, who had her mask on. The men were murmuring about this. Jon tried to think of a way to reject the offer, except Lyanna smiled, pleased with herself as she sat down.

Although the girl means good, declaring someone as king is treason.

Before Jon could speak, Lord Manderly stood, "Lady Mormont speaks harshly and truly."

The men murmured as Lady Lyanna gave a tight lip smile.

"My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf," Lord Manderly continued. "I don't think we'd find another king in my lifetime. I didn't commit my men to your cause, 'cause I didn't want more Manderlys dying for nothing." He stared at Jon for a moment. "But I was wrong."

Everyone was silent.

Lord Manderly pointed at Jon, "Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding. He is the White Wolf." He drew his sword and raised it in the air. "The King in the North."

Afterward he kneels before Jon.

Everyone agreed.

Lord Glover stood, "I did not fight beside you on the field, and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness."

"There's nothing to forgive, my lord," Jon assured, overwhelmed by what was happening.

"There will be more fights to come," Lord Glover promised. "House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years. And I will stand behind Jon Snow…"

Lord Glover drew his sword and raised it as he exclaimed. "The King in the North!"

He then bends the knee.

"The King in the North!" the others cheered. Raising their swords, swearing allegiance.

Jon was not sure how he felt about this. This was not what he intended. He didn't want to be king; he wanted to unite the North for the Great War. How could this happen?

Ser Davos soon joined, raising his sword. Jon glanced over to the windows, seeing the Free Folk not responding. Jon stood, seeing Imogen holding an expression he had never seen before. It was neutral, yet her eyes shimmer as if she was documenting this moment in her mind. Seeing a person that could have been.

"The King in the North!"

How did a bastard become king?


Last of the Giants by GRR Martin. Cover by Karliene.

Highly recommend listening to her cover.

Dire Funeral speech inspired by Assassin's Creed Valhalla.

Thus ends Season 6 for Game of the Thrones.

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