Unpleasent Reuinion #60

As Ryk gradually regained consciousness, his vision blurred, and his senses disoriented. He tried to blink the dizziness away, though the sight of the ground moving beneath him only furthered his confusion.

He turned his head and encountered a mass of red hair beside him, triggering an instant flinch that shook him from his daze as he realized he was being carried on someone's shoulder.

He began to squirm in a panic, prompting Tormund to toss him onto the ground unceremoniously. Ryk winced in pain as the impact aggravated the bruises generously gifted by Tormund.

Gradually lifting his head, Ryk realized he was surrounded by four figures. Three were familiar: Val, Threya, and his father. The fourth was the crow, the individual he'd heard whispered about during the past couple of weeks. The same one that nearly ended his life in the ruins. The jolt of recollection made Ryk leap to his feet.

"Took you quite a while to wake up, boy," Tormund remarked with a grin, gazing down at his bewildered son.

"O-old man? Where are we? What happened in the battle?" Ryk stammered a mix of confusion and alarm seizing him.

"What do you think happened, you fool?" Tormund's grin persisted. "Rattleshirt met his end, and the only reason you're still breathing is because the crow deemed to show you mercy," he said with a chuckle, gesturing toward Gale, who nonchalantly shrugged.

"I only spared him because I didn't fancy listening to your insistent whining about his death," Gale explained matter-of-factly. "But my words still stand... if he gets in my way again, I won't think twice before cutting him down..." He added with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Tormund, grumbling in frustration, shot a disapproving look at his son-in-law. "This brat, with more cock than sense... Who in the hell would whine about his death?" He scolded Ryk, visibly displeased with his son's actions.

"Where do you get off, following that spinless coward with the rattling shirt and defying Rayder's orders when even I wouldn't consider it?" Tormund's tone was filled with reproach, aiming his dissatisfaction directly at Ryk.

Ryk's expression contorted into resignation as he tried to defend himself. "Hey! You were the one who ordered me to learn from Rattleshirt and heed his command!" he retorted, pointing an accusatory finger at his father-in-law.

"I said the same to Ygritte, yet she had the sense not to act so foolishly, you stupid cunt!" Tormund snapped back, frustration seeping through his words, leaving Ryk speechless and deflated.

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Tormund shifted his tone. "In any case, you heard the man. Behave yourself and keep your wits about you," he instructed, regaining his grin. "We're almost at the crow's nest," he added, gesturing behind Ryk.

Bewildered by Tormund's words, Ryk turned around slowly. His eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the Wall, stretching endlessly as far as the eye could see.

...

As Gale's group trudged through the snowy expanse, nearing the towering Wall, they were met by a group of rangers. Gale was almost ready to heave a sigh of relief until he spotted the familiar, ever-scowling face leading the rangers. "Ser Thorne," Gale greeted, his tone heavy with grumbling, as the rangers halted before them and Ser Thorne stepped forward.

"And here I was wondering what happened to Ser Stark's stray... it seems you did manage to survive, after all," Ser Thorne remarked, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the wildlings accompanying Gale.

His gaze lingered on Val a few beats longer than courtesy warranted. "And what do we have here... prisoners for interrogation, perhaps??" he added, his tone carrying a hint of disdain.

Gale's countenance darkened instantly at Ser Thorne's disrespectful actions. "No. They are guests, and you will treat them as such—with respect," Gale declared firmly, positioning himself before Ser Thorne to obstruct his line of sight.

Ser Thorne couldn't help but release a laugh at Gale's words. "Hah! Wildling guests to be treated with respect! Quite the jest" he exclaimed, clearly finding the very notion to be ridiculous. "Perhaps I've misjudged you, stray... you're entertaining if nothing else."

"But enough playacting. Step aside, boy," Ser Throne said, attempting to walk past Gale and inspect the prisoners.

However, he only managed to take a few steps before Gale raised his arm and gripped Ser Thorne's shoulder, applying more strength than the ranger was comfortable with.

"Take a second look at my face and tell me I'm jesting," Gale said, increasing the pressure on Ser Thorne's shoulder, causing the ranger to frown and meet Gale's gaze. The intensity in Gale's eyes made Ser Thorne recoil, stepping back abruptly.

Normally, Gale would have chosen a more diplomatic approach, avoiding direct confrontation with Ser Thorne to prevent any unnecessary trouble. Throughout his stay at the Black Castle, this had been his modus operandi when dealing with the overly antagonistic and paranoid ranger.

However, the strain of the long journey had eroded Gale's patience, leaving him disinclined to entertain Ser Thorne's antics.

"My patience wears thin, Ser Thorne. I suggest you step aside and allow us passage before things take a regrettable turn," Gale said firmly, his eyes narrowing as he retrieved the ice blade, covered in cloth, on his back. Ser Thorne's eyes widened in shock at Gale's swift reaction.

"Have you lost Lost your mind, boy? Threatening a brother of the Night's Watch?" Ser Thorne spat, his outrage apparent. "And for what?! A handful of wildling savages?!" He reached for his weapon, signaling his fellow rangers to follow suit.

"I won't repeat myself, Ser Thorne. Step aside. Now." Gale stated resolutely, unwavering in the face of Ser Thorne's hostility.

Silence lingered briefly, tension crackling between them as both men prepared for an imminent clash. Gale gestured for the wildlings behind him to stand down as he noticed them reaching for their weapons and steeled himself for what seemed an unavoidable confrontation.

Gale decided that if conflict proved unavoidable, it would be for the best to take Throne and his men himself. It wouldn bode well for the alliance between the Night Watch and wildlings if said wildlings immediatly were involved in a conflict with rangers as soon as they reached Castle Black before even starting the talks.

But before the situation could spiral into violence, the distinct sound of hooves trudging through the snowy terrain resonated behind them. "Stop at once, all of you!" Ser Jeremy Rykker's authoritative voice boomed, commanding attention as he urged his horse to hasten its pace.

The abrupt interruption startled both parties. Ser Thorne and his men immediately ceased their aggressive posturing, and Gale sighed as he lowered his weapons.

"It's a good thing you came when you did, Jeremy," Ser Thorne grumbled, shooting a venomous glare at Gale before shifting his attention to Ser Rykker, who dismounted his horse upon reaching them.

"The boy's gone mad. Not only has he brought these wildling scum back, but he expects entry to Castle Black for them..." His expression twisted into one of ludicrous disbelief. "Come and help us knock some sense into this lad's thick skull," he spat, directing his disgusted gaze at Gale and the wildlings grouped behind him.

"You will do no such thing, Ser Thorne," Ser Rykker replied, his tone unusually formal, perplexing Ser Thorne. "The young man's companions are personal guests of the Lord Commander. I've been sent here to escort them into the Castle..." He clarified, his voice carrying a weight of authority.

"Furthermore, I'm here to ensure they face no hindrance or disrespect," he added, shooting a pointed look at Ser Thorne and the rangers standing alongside him.

"Lord Mormont did what?!" Ser Thorne's voice erupted, his eyes widening in shock. "Have you all gone mad?!" He demanded, his incredulity palpable.

"Watch your tone, Ser Thorne. I will not allow you to dishonor the Lord Commander's name or defy his orders..." Ser Rykker intervened, his voice carrying a warning and a plea simultaneously. "Step aside at once..." He insisted, maintaining a steely gaze fixed upon Ser Thorne's eyes.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Ser Thorne realized his hands were tied. To defy the Lord Commander's order would brand him a traitor, a risk he couldn't afford. Reluctantly, he stepped aside, seething with anger and resentment as he watched Gale and the wildlings pass by.

Gale, in response, merely cast a blank look at Ser Thorne before striding past him, the wildlings trailing behind him.

...

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