The King Beyond The Wall

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The Following EIGHT Chapters are avaliable for Patrons.

Chapter 23 (Treason, and Lies), Chapter 24 (Wildling Warrior), Chapter 25 (A Lone Wolf), Chapter 26 (Passion Under The Stars), Chapter 27 (The Truth), Chapter 28 (The Winter Dragon), Chapter 29 (Return to Winterfell), and Chapter 30 (Dragon Dreams) are already available for Patrons.

Jon Snow

"Mance, we have a guest," Tormund said towards the man who was gazing at Jon's eyes; the bastard didn't break away from his gaze; he kept his feet firm on the ground, and the man eyed him up and down as if trying to see something, Jon didn't know what it was, but could see a hint of recognition behind Mance's eyes, the bastard was suddenly reminded of Lady Maege Mormont, he remembered she had the same look as the day they went out riding horses.

Sitting with his legs crossed, Mance left out a long sigh; the silence was almost drowning them; moving away the musical instrument from his lap, he stood up, only now Jon could get a good full view of the man that called himself King Beyond The Wall.

Mance has long brown hair that has mainly gone to gray, and laughter lines appear at the corners of his mouth; a sharp face with shrewd brown eyes. Wearing a wool and leather, over which drapes a slashed cloak of black wool and red silk that Jon hadn't seen before. He armors himself with black ringmail and shaggy fur breeches. His helm is bronze and iron and has raven wings at each temple.

One thing Jon noticed right away was the lack of a crown. Does the Wildling King not wear one?

"Val, go to your sister, Tormund, bring us some strong drink," Mance suddenly spoke, his voice deep and firm, with no stuttering, his eyes sharp like a Valyrian Sword, not breaking his gaze away from his guest.

Val reluctantly nodded before giving Jon an encouraging look, something he missed due to his attention being entirely directed at the King. The blonde woman moved to a different section of the tent, her sister soundly sleeping in a mush of clothes, mostly fur from the many animals Mance had killed, one being a White Bear.

Tormund left out a laugh before complying; Jon saw him leaving from the corner of his eyes before looking back at the king, his hands itching.

"I'm sure you have nothing against a good drink, much stronger than the red water you southerners drink," Mance spoke before sitting back down, his back leaning against a part of a large bone that was used to make sure the tent would stay up instead of crashing down, the bottom of the bone was half a meter deep to ensure the tent wouldn't fly away.

"Sit down, unless you like to stand up," Mance spoke quietly; the bastard reluctantly nodded before sitting down, his legs crossed, his ears picking on any strange sound; so far, he couldn't hear anything.

"What's your name, guest?" Mance questioned him.

"Jon Snow,"

Snow, Mance murmured the word through his teeth. His face neutral, Tormund chose that moment to return, holding two jugs made of bone and leather.

"Drink it fast," Tormund whispered to him as he handed him the jug; from the look of it looked like milk, steaming, leaving out an aroma of bitterness.

Jon took a sip slowly before coughing immediately; Tormund laughed loudly, finally calming down; he felt a sour taste on his mouth, similar to when he first drank wine.

Mance smiled behind the jug hiding his face with it, drinking from it, some dripping from his lips.

"Now, Tormund tell me what happened to the others?" Mance asked, looking at the big red-bearded man who paled slightly.

Mance listened to Tormund explaining how they found Jon in the forest, first thinking he was a crow, only to see he was a bit too young, getting attacked by an Ice Spider, Snow killing it along with the white walker. The last part is not surprising to Mance as much as Tormund thought it would.

Mance had seen Valyrian Steel before, only once, but he knew the blade, more beautiful than any other, he had seen Ice.

A sword made for execution, yet beautiful in a deadly way and sharp like the day it was forged, Valyrian Steel never got rusty; it would stay beautiful even thousands of years later when all left of them is dust in the wind.

Mance always believed Valyrian Steel was magical, but hearing that it could kill White Walkers, a ghost of a smile formed on his face; killing white walkers was something his people needed desperately. Valyrian Steel wasn't something they could just make.

After hearing everything from Tormund, Mance pondered a little on his words; hearing that Jon Snow was able to warg several animals was a boom; someone like him could see everything from miles away without being noticed.

Jon was on par with someone like Varamyr; the old man probably won't be pleased; he always regarded himself as one of the strongest skinchangers, and being able to control six animals justified his confidence. Mance remembered several free folks bringing up the idea of Warging a crow of the Night's Watch, forcing him to open the gates for them.

But that idea would always be shut down; Warging, a human, was an entirely different matter, is much harder, and a Sin to the old gods.

Now, Mance could see the value of having someone like Snow amongst them; he wasn't someone to not take an opportunity when he saw one; life itself is a game of opportunities; whenever or not you take the chance is what shapes your life, and Mance thought of himself as someone who could recognize a good opportunity when he saw one. Still, he needed Jon to be truthful to him first...

"Thank you for helping my people, Jon Snow," Mance started; the bastard had no visible reaction besides a simple 'It was Nothing' response.

Mance's eyes moved to Tormund, "How about you check on your family? They hadn't seen you for quite a while," he suggested with a clear second meaning to his words. The large man looked at both of them with uncertainty before nodding, walking away on a whim.

The moment Tormund left, silence took over the tent, as quiet as the night. Jon felt the tension rising in the air; one could cut it with a knife. Mance drank the whole mug; putting it down, he wiped his mouth with his sleeves, his face leaning closer to Jon, who didn't back away.

"Now, explain to me, what is the bastard of Eddard Stark doing in my tent?" Mance questioned the boy, who, for the first time, had a reaction, his body flinching slightly, his skin color paling but still keeping his composure.

"Unlike everyone else here, I was a Crow once. I know you're not one. The old bear would never take someone as green as you. Even the grass in the south is not as green as you. Now. Why. Are. You. Here?" Mance questioned, his voice low and threatening.

Jon felt his heart beating in his throat, his senses basically telling him to run away, yet he kept his ground, his eyes still not looking down.

"My father never told me who my mother was one night I met..." Jon explained his encounter with Bloodraven in his dreams, not revealing that he actually was Brynden Rivers, a Targaryen Bastard.

Mance listened closely to every word he said, trying to see if the boy was lying to him, but he could tell that Jon Snow was speaking no lies, or if he was, he was doing a damn fine job hiding it.

"Bloodraven," Mance repeated; the name was unknown to him; he had met many free folks, and even someone like Varamyr had never once mentioned anything about someone with that name.

"Well, what is that you want to do now, Snow? From your words, it seems this Bloodraven has abandoned you; what are you going to do now, or will you go back to your lord father?" Mance questioned him. It sounded like the boy was being truthful, but that didn't change the fact he knew the location of their camp right now.

Jon took a deep breath, the reason why he was even on this side of the Wall was to know the truth, yet fate seemed to deny him that much knowledge.

From what he saw so far, the wildlings seemed normal to him, and The White Walkers, the image of the Ice Spider, was still a little too fresh on his mind.

Jon wasn't a fool; he knew someone like Mance wouldn't allow him to simply walk away with nothing but a slap on the shoulder for good luck, No, I know the location of their camp, some inside information about them, and Mance probably knows that my sword is Valyrian Steel Sword, Jon concluded, if he returned back to his father he had no answers about his mother, if he stayed here, maybe I could find where Bloodraven was with Kessa's help; Jon thought briefly, they were many possibilities, he could leave during the night but go where. It was too dangerous out there with the white walkers around; he didn't really know if Kessa could actually carry him; he thought of all possibilities; even if he reached Winterfell, he would return to being a Bastard. Right now, only one of them was the most affectionate, extending his hand to Mance.

"I'm joining the Free Folk,"

"Good lad," Mance accepted the hand with a smile.

"Now, find Val; she will get you some clothes for you and a Tent," Mance said. Jon wanted to point out that his clothes were just fine but decided that he really didn't want to stick out amongst the crowds like a black sheep.

Standing up, he walked past Mance when he spoke again. "You're still young. I have seen you catching eyes; leave it three years, and you will need to steal a woman, or a woman might steal you."

Jon didn't understand what he meant by stealing a woman but figured he could find out later.

Later

"How do you feel that you're one of us?" Val asked him; she was walking him to his new tent where he would sleep; the wildling woman was happy when Mance told her to find clothes for Jon.

She had been relieved; a small part of her knew the possibility of Mance ordering for Jon to be executed or, the worst, the bloody Eagle to be used on him.

Now that he was wearing their clothes, no one was really paying him much attention besides a few glances here and there.

"Thank you for your help Val," Jon said, his mind finding this situation a bit ironic; when he was but a little boy, he feared the Wildlings, hearing stories of their savagery, especially hearing how they kidnapped little children during the night, back then he had been afraid of them, now he was amongst them, one of them.

"Speak nothing of it, Snow; when you hear the horn, it's time to eat," she told him before stopping him dead on track, making him turn to her fully.

"You should know that no one here lives free of charge; whenever you hunt, scout, fight, stitch clothes is up to you, but no one here likes someone who likes to lazy around," She told him sternly; she had to found out a long time ago that acting softly would usually get her people killed.

"Of course, my lady Val, whatever you desire," Jon japed with a slight bow; the blonde free folk pushed him slightly before walking away with a little amusement smile on her face that she was trying to hide, especially hearing his laughter, as they walked towards his tent.

Jon reached a tent; it was quite small, made of what looked like elk skin. Ghost had been following him around since he entered the Free Folk camp; Kessa was probably hunting somewhere; the bastard walked in; it was a simple tent, a fur to lay down so his body wouldn't be in direct contact with the snowy ground.

The tent was big enough for his body; Jon removed his sword from his waist, threw it down, removing his boots; Jon took a deep breath, trying to think of his situation; for a moment, he wondered if he should try to leave but immediately dropped that idea, the cold wasn't bothering much if it at all.

I wonder how Arya and Robb are doing? Jon asked himself; he knew his siblings, especially little Arya, would be devastated that he left, but the bastard didn't regret it, he made the decision, and he wouldn't regret it.

The past is an open book that can never be closed but can be read and learned from it, he thought with closed eyes, slowly falling asleep.

Later

Hearing the sound of the horn stirred Jon up, grunting; it took a moment for him to remember where he was; he wore his boots made of boiled leather, not bothering to wear gloves since he didn't feel cold; the bastard stood up, but not before taking his Sword with him, he was still amongst possible enemies.

Surprisingly, Val was making her way towards his tent just as he came out, seeing many free folks along with their children making their way towards the king's tent, some just getting food as much as they were due.

"Val?"

"Jon, I came to tell you the dinner is ready. I figured you were probably asleep," Val said warmly, a pretty smile on her face that Jon quite liked, almost making him lose focus.

"I just woke up; we can eat together if you want?" Jon suggested; the beautiful Free Folk nodded almost too quickly before grabbing his arm, leading him to the camp's main tent.

"I would love to, and you can tell everyone else about our journey to get here," Val said, knowing Jon needed to know his fellow free folk; the bastard was a bit taken aback by her enthusiastic tone but nodded nonetheless.

"If you want, I can sing too, always you used to do for my siblings," Jon said with a sudden flush on his face at the warmth he felt being close to Val.

"You sing?! Well, I wonder if you're better than Mance, he likes to sing too, but mostly with his musical tool, not with his actual voice," Val said, already excited to hear Jon's voice.

"You don't have people who sing here, except the King?" Jon questioned, a little baffled, finding the situation a bit familiar as if he had been in a similar situation before, yet he couldn't tell why.

"Well, Tormund tries to, but his voice would make even a White Walker flee on fear," Val japed, earning a chuckle from Jon.

"Well, I can't let my people not know what it is like to hear a good song," Jon said shyly, earning a sweet chuckle from the warrior woman.

Walking inside the tent, Jon was immediately the center of the attention; the bastard simply ignored the gaze of everyone there, some looking at him suspiciously, some with doubts, hatred, and some not caring.

Jon eyed some he thought were dangerous, one of them being the lord of bones, Rattleshirt, who was sitting close to Mance, a man standing to Mance's left was small, grey-faced, and bald, with round shoulders. He was wearing a shadowskin cloak. Three wolves at his side, his conversation abruptly interrupted when Jon walked in.

The tent was illuminated by several cages made of iron, with little doors in them, several logs burning inside the cage, under it was black powder; Jon didn't recognize it, not knowing what it was, his focus turned to a red-haired girl, a bow strapped to her back.

She had a round face, crooked white teeth, small hands, and a pug nose. She has pretty blue-grey eyes, which Jon thought were too far apart. Her legs looked skinny despite the pants she was wearing. Her most distinctive feature was her thick, shaggy mop of curly bright red hair.

Jon had never seen someone with that tone of red color before. His focus turned to the man of the tent; Mance Rayder was sitting crossed-legged, a simple boiled coated fur under his legs to keep his feet warm, but nothing to make him look in a higher position than everyone else in the tent, no crown on his head.

Jon didn't know how King Rhaegar sat, but he remembered his father would always sit at the highest table in the main hall to show everyone that he was in charge there. The chair itself was decorated with Stark sigil, two wolf heads carved at the top of the chair's ears.

Is this how a King should sit, showing that he's on the same level as the people he commands, Jon thought, impressed with how Mance seemed to think a King should sit.

He compared him to his father, the way Mance was acting, his clothes, he looked nothing like Jon imaged a King should be, yet, his hard face and eyes, his tone made him sound like a King, the bastard had imagined Kings to be great warriors, he wondered if Mance was one, but he wasn't going to clash blades just to test that out.

"Snow, Come Here," Tormund's booming voice suddenly made him escape his thoughts, his eyes finding the red-bearded man again, gesturing for him to come closer. A groan escaped Val's lips as Jon walked up to the man.

"Jon, sit down, tell everyone here the army of Giant Spiders you slayed," Tormund's voice boomed like a horn; everyone's attention turned to the bastard who really didn't like the newly gained attention.

"Spiders?" Jon repeated with a surprised tone; from what he remembered, there was only one.

"Yes, a whole army of Ice Spiders and White Walkers all slayed by his mighty sword," Tormund cheered before drinking whatever was in his jug; the bastard didn't really want to know what it was, somehow knowing it wasn't for him.

Val leaned close to him and spoke in a hushed tone. "Tormund likes to exaggerate a bit,"

"A bit," Jon repeated as if that was an understatement, but seeing that everyone was patiently waiting for him to say anything, he decided to join in.

"An Army of Ice Spiders?! I saw only one unless the others ran away from your ugly face," Jon said jokingly, earning a burst of laughter from everyone nearby, including Tormund.

"I heard your blade killed the filthy beast. Can I see it?" The red-haired woman requested, sending him a pointed look.

"Ygritte, he's new-" "Is nothing," Jon interrupted, before standing up, his hand going to the hilt of his sword; everyone suddenly became alert, except the one who knew Jon wasn't trying to do anything.

Pulling out his sword, the blade shone like a star from the fire inside the iron cages, holding on his one hand, the hilt close to his chest, facing the blade down, the tip touching the fur below his feet. Everyone was taken aback by the steel; none of them except three people in the tent knew it was Valyrian steel, but still, seeing something as special as that sword was something they couldn't miss.

Several free folks tried to touch the blade, wanting to see how sharp it was, wanting to feel the blade, but Jon told them they could easily cut off their fingers like that.

"Quite the blade, but a blade no matter how sharp it is, worths nothing in the hand of a boy," Rattleshirt spoke, looking at Jon from where he was sitting.

Jon kept his calm as he turned his head towards the big man. "Because of your size, you think you're a man, man or boy, one simple stab in the heart and you will fall just like the rest of us," Jon countered, his fingers gripping the handle of his sword; Rattleshirt sneered before standing abruptly, several free folks around him stumble back, Jon felt like he was looking at a giant, yet he didn't show fear, no one tried to interfere or say anything as the giant man slowly made his way over to the bastard.

Gripping the little dagger on his waist, Jon knew a dagger in close combat was more effective. The giant man clenched the bone dagger strapped to his waist, his knuckles turning white; just as Mance was about to tell him to stand down, a booming voice was heard outside, making everyone except Jon look around; the sound of howling was heard outside, but not just one.

Suddenly a man ran inside, his face pale or maybe it was just the dim light around them. "Mance, a pack of Direwolves, are around the camp. They're all howling," the man shouted in fear; only now could people see actual sweat rolling down his face, despite the freezing temperatures around them.

Varamyr's cold eyes turned to Jon. His wolves, instead of standing up and acting as guards, they held their heads down, whimpering loudly in fear.

"Jon," Mance suddenly shouted; his voice made everyone stop panicking, turning to Jon, whose right eye was rolled upside down, his other eye still normal.

"My direwolves are not here to harm anyone. They're just here to ensure my safety," Jon spoke, his voice sounding different as if several voices were speaking at the same time. Everyone was taken aback except Varamyr, who frowned in displeasure. You're messing with things you don't understand, boy, he thought grimly, knowing such an act could slowly but surely destroy his mind.

"They're not needed. You're Safe here," Mance said before turning his attention to Rattleshirt, who was holding a bone dagger in each hand.

"Rattleshirt, Stand Down," Mance ordered firmly, his tone deep; surprisingly, the lord of Bones put down his bone daggers without saying against it.

Sending him a glare, the big man walked away; disgusting Skinchangers, he murmured under his breath, sitting back at his place.

Jon's right eye turned back to normal; stumbling back, his breath suddenly heavy, his vision a bit dizzy, he held his head with his hand, trying to calm himself down; what happened to me?

The scouts outside announced that the direwolves had run away, but the bastard knew Ghost and a female Direwolf were still nearby; he wondered if his Direwolf was thinking of doing something... ahhh productive.

Eventually, the atmosphere returned back to normal, many still eyeing Jon suspiciously but didn't voice it out; the bastard didn't care about them. His head was hurting a bit, but he ignored it, but he noticed the look he was getting from Varamyr.

Jon couldn't quite tell what he was feeling, but the bastard turned his attention back to Val when she nudged his shoulder slightly.

"What?"

"You said you were in Castle Black before flying over the wall; how was it to be amongst crows?" Val asked him with a hint of a sneer in her tone.

"Didn't spend much time there, calling that place a castle is being generous, the wood that made the castle had cracks everywhere, the wind could enter from every little crack, thinking back I wonder how that castle is still standing," Jon replied, finally allowing himself to drink a little of what everyone else was drinking.

The moment the liquid touched his tongue, he felt like vomiting, yet he mustered all the strength he had left to drink whatever it was in one go.

Pulling the jug down, he felt his mouth tasting like piss, forcing himself not to vomit whatever it was.

A burst of loud laughter was heard from Tormund, seeing Jon struggling to drink some milk. "This is a drink for man, Snow; you will get used to it in no time,"

"That's what I fear," Jon replied, earning a chuckle from everyone else around him.

"I'm surprised you're not shivering, Snow, a southern boy like you should be freezing dressed up like this," Ygritte suddenly pointed out, pointing at his clothes; his face wasn't covered, and neither were his hands.

"I like the cold ahhh-" "Ygritte," She said quickly with a small smile, happy not to be called any of his southern names.

"The cold never bothered me for as long as I can remember. I always felt comfortable with the cold," Jon explained, turning his eyes to Val.

The woman's pretty face was more visible, her eyes shining from the dim light around them, her hair shining like gold.

"You have killed an ice spider. Have you ever hunted deer?" Ygritte questioned him, taking a sip from her jug, her eyes a bit more cloudy.

Jon nodded. "I have, Ghost, Kessa, and I hunt together," he replied; thankfully, one of them was generous enough to fill his jug with boiled water this time instead of that milk he drank that tasted like piss.

"Kessa?" One asked, confused, and so were many.

"His Blue Eagle," Tormund answered to gasps. "You should see the fucker, bigger than Rattleshirt; his beak alone could pierce a tree," He added, with his hands showing how thick and long the beak was, much to the amusement of the free folk around them.

"I heard the King of Kneelers is a Dragon in human form," Ygritte said with skepticism seeping into her voice.

"No, Rhaegar Targaryen is a simple man who's loved by the people; some say he's a great warrior, but he can't turn into a Dragon. The dragons died over a century ago." Jon replied; Ygritte frowned slightly in disappointment. The thought of people doing magical things sounded exciting; sure, she doubted they were true, to begin with, but thinking that they were true sounded more exciting than a boring life.

Jon spent several more hours getting to know the free folk, but despite the little glares he was getting from Varamyr, he didn't talk with him.

"Everyone, I would like some silence for Jon Snow; he's going to sing a song for us," Val suddenly announced loudly, much to the cheers of everyone there.

Tormund looked surprised to hear that, "You can sing?! We can sing togeth-" "NO," Val, along with everyone nearby, interrupted him, making Tormund roll his eyes.

Jon smiled a little before standing up, clearing his throat; he thought of a Northern song, quickly knowing which one 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.

Oh the smallfolk have stolen my forests,

they've stolen my rivers and hills.

And the've built a great wall through my valleys, and fished all the fish from my rills.

In stone halls they burn their great fires,

in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.

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,

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.

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.

Oh the smallfolk have stolen my forests,

they've stolen my rivers and hills.

And the've built a great wall through my valleys, and fished all the fish from my rills.

In stone halls they burn their great fires,

in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.

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,

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.

Ending his song, everyone looked at him mesmerized; Jon wondered if he offended them when clapping was heard from Val, a second clapping from Tormund, soon followed by everyone else.

"That was amazing, a Wolf that sing, The Singing Wolf," some shouted his nickname, much to Jon's embarrassment, who had a broad smile on his face.

Later

Jon reached his tent; the wind had gotten a bit harsher, making it hard to see. Shielding his face with his arms, Jon walked inside his tent. Feeling tired, he felt his body fall down, falling asleep right away.

His dreams showed him a woman grown now with purple eyes and dark hair, beautiful olive skin, a woman without a name to call her by...