Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.

Chapter 67: The Warning and the Blessings

Jon's POV

Jon had taken Imogen back to her chambers. He had told Rickon to take Bran back to the Stark floor and to get Sansa and Arya. Rickon obliged as he pushed Bran's wheelchair inside with Summer guarding them. Jon had taken Imogen to the area her family was staying at. He did not care, though Imogen tried to walk by herself. They left Skadi out, and Ghost stayed behind to keep the she-wolf company. But the moment they enter the castle, Imogen collapses.

He grabbed her, making sure it was not another episode. Instead, she panted, clutching her head.

"You alright," he asked.

"A fucking headache," she answered through gritted teeth.

Not taking the risk, he picked up.

Imogen gasped, "Jon, this is unnecessary."

Jon looked at her and said not to argue. Imogen glared at him but held back her tongue. He nodded in approval and led the way to the room. Of course, Imogen had to point out which door. Jon adjusted his hold, opened the door, and entered the main room to find Boudica and Eirwen making a paste.

They rushed over as Boudica stared at her daughter.

"What happened?" Boudica asked.

Imogen stared at her mother, exhausted, "I did it. I trapped the Three-Eyed Raven."

"Whatever she did has exhausted her. Can you watch over her?" Jon asked.

Boudica nodded.

Jon set Imogen down. Boudica took her daughter into her arms when her feet hit the ground. Jon could see the mother's love for her daughter.

He cleared his throat, excusing himself, "I'll stop by later to check on Imogen."

Boudica nodded as she and Eirwen escorted Imogen back to her room. Jon stood and watched for a bit before making his way back to the Stark Wing. After some time, he reached the solar to see his family there.

Jon sat down as they all discussed what happened.

Bran told his story from when he told Osha to take Rickon to Last Harth. He apologized to Rickon for not knowing the Umbers would betray them. Rickon accepted the apology as Bran continued telling his tale of him, Summer, Hodor, Meera, and Jojen getting through the Wall by a secret tunnel through the abandoned castles. They were captured by the deserters at Craster's Keep.

"You were there?" Jon asked, surprised.

Bran nodded, "Imogen tried to stop me, but I chose to continue. I thought…I thought the Three-Eyed Raven would help me walk again. Jojen was convinced he would. So, we journey onward. After some time, we found the burrow where the Children of the Forest and the Three-Eyed Raven were. But we were attacked by wights. They…they killed Jojen."

"What did you and the Three-Eyed Raven do?" Arya asked, changing the subject.

"He showed me visions of the past," Bran said with a smile. "I saw the First Men arrive and the history of Westeros. All the wars and moments that have been lost throughout history. Most of all, I saw our father as a boy all the way to Roberts Rebellion." Bran turned his attention to Arya. "You would have loved Aunt Lyanna, you look just like her, and she had a free spirit."

Arya smiled at this and then stared at Sansa with a proud look, to which Sansa snorted and shook her head.

Bran continues to tell his story, how he accidentally encountered the Night King in a dream that leads him and the Army of the Dead to the burrow. The Raven tried to rush things to start the ritual while the Children of the Forest held them off. Meera, Summer, and Hodor tried to escape, and Bran warged into Hodor. There was guilt as Bran sobbed, saying he made Hodor hold the door in their escape, which resulted in the giant man's death.

They made it to the forest, yet Meera was so exhausted that she collapsed. Several wights caught up to them until Uncle Benjen came to the rescue. This surprised the others, except for Jon. For they all thought Benjen Stark was dead. Only for Bran to say he was, until the Children put a shard of Dragonglass to his heart, turning him something close to a White Walker. He made it his duty to keep wights away from the cave. Benjen helps them on the journey back, if not completing the ritual.

"Uncle Benjen, let that thing inside you," Sansa was shocked by this.

"He was under false pretenses as I was," Bran explained. "After I completed the ritual, I saw our father back at the Tower of Joy fighting Ser Arthur Dayne. I followed him…then everything went black."

"So, you don't remember returning to Winterfell?" Rickon asked, taking Bran's hand.

"It's hard to explain," Bran mumbled. "It was like a dream, as I could see and hear you all, but it was not my words. I remember speaking to you all about Lord Baelish and the trial."

Jon looked at his siblings, "What trial?"

Sansa took a deep breath, "Lord Baelish was trying to have all of us against one another. Rickon and Arya knew something was up, and I had my suspicions when he played his mind games on me. It wasn't until Bran returned that we learned the truth."

Jon stared at them to explain.

"It was Lord Baelish, with the help of Aunt Lysa, that they murdered Lord Jon Arryn with Tears of Lys to poison him," Sansa explained. "He told Aunt Lysa to write a desperate letter to our mother, knowing father would be obligated to take the role as Hand of the King. The conflict with the Starks and Lannisters. He started it all. He conspired with Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon to betray our father. He even provided the poison that killed Joffrey."

Arya pulled out her dagger. "He even told our mother that this knife belonged to Tyrion Lannister. He hired an assassin to kill Bran."

Jon felt rage burn into him, "I should have killed him when I had a chance."

"You should," Arya agreed.

Jon gave her a look.

"No fighting," Rickon pleaded. "Not again. Littlefinger is dead. That's all that matters."

"Agreed," Sansa said, then looked at Bran, taking his hand. "I'm glad you're back."

Bran gave a smile, "I am too."

Jon stared at them, knowing he needed to protect his family.

After a while, Arya and Rickon took Bran to his room to rest. Sansa stared at Jon, gesturing for him to follow her. He did so as they went to her room. She went over to her desk, pulling out a raven scroll. Jon took it, reading its content.

"Lord Glover wishes us good fortune, but he's staying in Deepwood Motte with his men," Sansa announced.

Jon crumbled up the scroll, "'House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years.' Isn't that what he said?"

Jon has now declared Lord Glover to be a coward, oathless hypocrite.

Sansa crossed her arms, "'I will stand behind Jon Snow,' he said. 'The King in the North.'"

"Where is this rumor coming from?" Jon asked.

"The last meddling of Littlefinger," Sansa guessed as she walked around her room.

Jon could sense Sansa was upset. No doubt the fact he brought Daenerys into the fold.

"I told you we needed allies," Jon reminded her, coming over. "All I wanted was to protect the North. I brought two armies home with me, two dragons."

"And a Targaryen queen," Sansa sneered.

Jon tried to hold his anger, "Do you think we can beat the Army of the Dead without her?"

Sansa took a deep breath.

"I fought them, Sansa. Twice," he reminded her again. "You wanna worry about who holds what title? I'm telling you, it doesn't matter. Without her, we don't stand a chance."

Sansa stared at him with wide eyes.

Jon took a deep breath, "Do you have any faith in me at all?"

Sansa stared into his eyes, "You know I do."

"She would be a good queen," Jon said. "For the southern kingdoms. She's not her father."

Sansa stared at him, then sighed, "No, she's much prettier."

Jon mentally groaned. It was time to tell Sansa to end these possible rumors that Littlefinger had left behind.

"I'm courting Imogen," Jon announced.

Sansa's mouth dropped slightly as her eyes fluttered in shock. To see Sansa dumbfounded is a blessing as he waited for her to comprehend this. She closed her mouth and took a deep breath.

"Courting?" Sansa repeated.

Although there were courtships in Westeros, this was different.

"I'm courting her in the traditions of the Dires," Jon added. "No formality or hasty marriages. I promised myself to her and she to me. If this succeeds, and we survive the Great War…. I want to make her my wife."

Sansa took this in as she sat down on the bed.

"I know the Northern Lords will not approve of this match," Jon said.

"No, they won't," Sansa confirmed.

Jon sighed, "But it would help me if you and our siblings supported me on this."

Sansa was still comprehending.

Jon kneels before her, taking her hand, "You like Imogen."

She looked at him, "I do. It's just…she's not like us. She's… a Wi- "

"Free Folk," he corrected her before she finished, then sighed. "I know. But I…"

That was when Jon realized his feelings. He loved Imogen, but he was fearful of losing her. He did not know when, but he loved her. He loved her when she sang, when she fought, when he helped the vulnerable, and for her selflessness and leadership—for every walk, every time they were together, and when they were apart.

"You love her," Sansa said with a smile.

And there it was, the truth.

He loves Imogen Stark.

Sansa squeezed his hand, "You have my support."

Jon sighed in relief, returning the gesture, and kissed his sister's hand, "Thank you."

Sansa nodded, pleased.

"If it comes to it, would you be the Lady of the Court?" he offered.

Sansa nodded.

Jon sighed, relieved, knowing he would not thrust Imogen into courtier life. Although the North had not established a court since King Torrhen Stark over three hundred years ago, slowly, the court was making itself known. The question being, would be as toxic as the Court in King's Landing.

.o0o.

It was late afternoon when Jon went to check on Imogen. He knocked on the solar door. After a few moments, the door opened revealing Boudica answered. The Priestess stared at him, not surprised to see him.

"How's Imogen?" Jon asked.

"She is resting," Boudica answered. "From what she told me, the Three-Eyed Raven swarmed with crows as she tried to save your brother."

Jon inhaled sharply.

"I gave her a draft to help her sleep," Boudica announced. "She won't wake until the morrow."

Jon sighed, for he wanted to see her.

"I would like a word with you," she added.

This will probably be the conversation Imogen had warned him about. He knows fathers would ruffle up feathers on their daughters' suitors. However, this was Boudica. This woman took down the Shadow Tower to get her husband and daughter back. A woman who commanded respect, she became the de facto Queen-Beyond-The-Wall.

Jon nodded, and Boudica let him inside the solar and led him to the chairs by the fireplace. He took a seat as Boudica claimed the chair across from it. They stared at each other for some time, both evaluating one another.

"Are you aware of Imogen's past?" she asked.

Jon nodded, "When she was ten, she was taken by the Three-Eyed Raven. Never to be seen for five years. As she was chosen to be the next host."

Boudica turned her attention to the flames, "I remember that night. My sons were tied to me as Imogen clung to her father. A blizzard came out of nowhere, as we thought we were on a safe route to Lunar Haven. Only for several wights to attack us. In the chaos, my daughter was lost. All the Wargs tried to find her, even Fenrir with Valko. But her and Skadi's scent vanished, and none of the wargs could connect with Skadi. I thought I lost my daughter. That she had died and cursed to be a wight."

Jon listened to her.

"The only peace I had when Imogen returned was that the Children took care of her. Though alive, the little girl I raised was no more. Her heart and soul were broken. Her knowledge is beyond our means. She became wise and distant. Five years it was to us…. yet with the Raven, it could have been longer. All she could think about was fighting in the Great War. To unite the tribes and get all of us south of the Wall. Out of the True North. We may have a lifetime experience in death…but Imogen saw the beginning of Westeros, endless deaths from wars, illness, the birthing bed, and all."

Jon was not sure where this was going.

"Slowly, my daughter was coming back, with the help of Ygritte and Tormund, yet she was still secluded." She added.

Jon nodded, remembering how Imogen was in the beginning.

"But the last two years…I saw a change," she continued. "Especially now."

Jon hesitated, "Is that a good thing?"

Boudica turned her head to face him, and nodded, "It is…for you have thawed her heart."

Jon gave a small smile.

"However, five years have been taken, and many more after the Great War," she said sorrowfully.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

The Priestess stared deep in his eyes, "You have seen the prophecy on her back?"

Jon nodded.

"The Old Gods cry out as they watch us die, but you cannot hear them," Boudica said. "I lie here. I listen to the pain of the Free Folk, fill the ache of ice in my chest, and dream of the day when I feel spring, without hate."

"Boudica, why can't the Free Folk and the Southerners live together?" he asked. "Why can't we stop this fighting?"

"You kneelers, in your Andal ways, have severed the tie," she said sternly. "As we fight in the final battle. Your bigotry has burned us all?"

"And what happens to Imogen?" he asked. "What's your plan, to let her die with you? If she survives, do you intend for her to take your place as Priestess?"

Boudica's eyes narrowed at him, "Typical. Selfish. You think like an Andal. Imogen is my daughter. She is of the Dire Tribe. When the Long Night comes, she too will die."

This infuriated Jon, and his anger stirred. "You must believe in her. She is more than a Dire. More than your legacy."

"Silence, boy," she snapped at him with authority. "How dare you speak to a priestess like that. I gave birth to her and spent two years ensuring her survival. I named her. Instead of raising her as a Priestess as my foremothers, Fenrir and I raised her as our heir for the Dires. Even with my twins being male, Imogen would have a part in our tribe. Now, my poor, wild, beautiful daughter is neither a Dire nor Free Folk. As she has been blessed by the Old Gods from the Children and the Three-Eyed Raven. How could you help her?"

Jon took her words in, "I don't know, but at least we might find a way to live."

Boudica scoffed and laughed, "How? Will you fight beside her when the Night King comes?"

Jon tried to find his words.

"As much as I love my daughter expressing her true self, she, along with the raven and dragon, shall succumb to death in order for the return of spring," she said. "There is nothing you can do, boy. Soon, the Night King will spread his curse and kill you."

"You have no faith in your daughter," he accused.

"I have faith in my daughter," she snarled. "Yet the Old Gods have whispered to me that I will be losing her once more. For I have been plagued by dreams, in which a dark wolf mask burns within the pyre."

"I do not believe in prophecies," he replied. "And if your daughter still lives, then what?"

Boudica stared at him with those green eyes, "Her body may live, but her soul will be tattered. Are you willing to stand by her side and give up the crown in order for her to be safe? Or cage her in these stone walls, just like the Three-Eyed Raven?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"When Imogen told me the spell, she did not translate it or accept her fate," she answered. "For when she cast the spell, one's self must be sacrificed. Had I cast the spell, I know Fenrir would be by my side, as would Ethan and Aiden. We will all do the same for her if she survives."

Jon tried to form words, not understanding until now that magic holds a consequence.

"And if my daughter returns whole, you better treat her as the goddess she truly is, either as your queen consort in this fancy castle or a longhouse in Lunar Haven," Boudica warned. "For you will be stealing her away from me."

"I love her," Jon whispered.

The sharp composure Boudica had softened, "Do you love her enough to abandon your crown if the choice was given?"

Jon lowered his head, "I never wanted to be king. I only want the North and my family to be safe."

"Yet you have become king," she reminded. "A crown thrust on your head."

Jon took a deep breath.

"If this courtship succeeds, and you both survive…" she gave a heavy sigh. "You have my blessings."

Jon sighed in relief, "Thank you."

.o0o.

Boudica let Jon see Imogen. Even though she was asleep, he still wanted to see for himself. Imogen lay on the bed, curled to her side. She had her evening clothes on, her hair free from its confinement. He sat on the edge, staring at her.

All this time, Imogen knew she was going to die. His thoughts linger, why she didn't tell him. Why does she keep many secrets? Does she do it to protect those she loves? Holding this burden until now? Even her family knew and had accepted it. Accepting that she is most likely to die. If she survives…

"Now I understand why you focus on the now," Jon murmured. "For you never saw your future."

He, too, had an inkling of his own demise. In the last few years, he placed himself in harm's way. It started lackluster when he joined the Night's Watch. He was a steward until he crossed the Wall with Commander Mormont on the expedition. That is when everything changed.

Jon thought of his life had he stayed in Winterfell and accepted the emotional abuse from Lady Catelyn. There was a high chance he would have died in battle against the Lannisters or at the Red Wedding. Or had he stayed in Winterfell to watch over his younger brothers…would he have survived against the Ironborn or protected Winterfell from them.

Any possibility of making a different decision in the past, he would still find himself dead. And here he was, still alive, in his second life. In love with a woman with many secrets. A part of him wanted to wake her, shake some sense, demanding why she kept these secrets.

Yet he knew the truth.

Imogen was selfless.

She would rather die than her people.

"You made me believe everyone I loved died!"

Jon tried to understand her feelings when he heard those words. The Raven took advantage of the girl, telling her that her family was dead, only to discover that they were alive.

Jon removed his gloves, combing his fingers through her hair. He can feel the conflict that she has had for most of her life. Death is most likely for them both. He plans to fight in the vanguard while she is in the Godswood with Bran and Daenerys—the Wolf, the Raven, and the Dragon. The only hint they are allowed to have of their future is to defeat the Night King. Boudica believes none shall survive; they will not be the same if they do.

And knowing Imogen, she would take the burden to save the two.

But if they do survive…. then what?

Another war, with both of them broken.

An alliance he agreed to for Daenerys's claim for the Iron Throne.

And if they survive that war…what would become of them?

A king and queen?

Thrust into a political game of the North's court?

The thought of a simple life sounds tempting, to abdicate and live in the hidden lands of Lunar Haven, where Imogen felt safe.

Jon sighed as he leaned over and kissed her forehead. He would not confront her about this. There was a lot going on, and neither of them wanted to verbally fight when the Stranger was nearby. He did not want their last words together to be out of anger.

With nothing else to say, he adjusted the blanket and furs on her before standing up and leaving the bedroom. Boudica escorted him out. When they reached the door, he stopped to face the Priestess.

"You understand now," Boudica murmured.

Jon nodded.

Boudica and Jon's conversation was inspired by Princess Mononoke, between Moro and Ashitaka.

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