A fresh blanket of snow continued to fall north of the wall. Jon’s boots sank ever so slightly amongst the powdered earth. His horses reigns, loosely held at his side. Tormund walked ahead as Jon slowed his pace, observing the wildlings as they passed by him. Children laughing, mothers and fathers with smiles on their faces, no doubt excited to return home.
The aftermath of his actions weren’t unexpected, but he would miss the warm embrace of the more southern regions of the continent. He knew however, if the occasion arose, he would do it all again. If he was completely honest, he was glad it was him that did what needed to be done. A lesser man wouldn’t have admitted his crime, choosing to remain anonymous rather than face justice. Surrendering to the Unsullied was the right thing to do. It gave them a focus for their anger rather than letting what remained of the seven kingdoms descend into chaos.
A ball of snow pelted Jon in the face so hard he thought the core was made of stone. A voracious laugh erupted from amongst the trees. “You better move your ass, before it freezes to the ground.” Tormund bellowed from up ahead. Jon shook his head and dusted the remains of the snowball off of his face, smiling. A part of him was joyous over his sentencing. He missed the true North. It called to him in a way only Winterfell ever had. Swinging himself upon his saddle, he continued on his way, reflecting a moment more on his arrival at Castle Black.
The previous day
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Jon sat in the hall awaiting the Lord Commander. Seeing all the Freefolk running about, he assumed that would be Tormund. The Wildlings would never bend the knee to any king, but they followed Tormund into a frozen army of the damned without question. The large oak doors swung open as Tormund Giantsbane walked in, glad to see his friend. “What took you so long, man? I thought you’d come runnin after you...you know….” a brief silence fell. “I would have, had I known there would have been such a welcome. Where are the Nightswatch?” Tormund thrust a horn of his special blend into Jons chest, slapping his back. “Yeah, about that…” He guided Jon outside to the podium where the Lord Commander would address his Crows. Hundreds of Wildlings, with a handful of Nightswatchmen scattered amongst them gathered around. Jon danced his eyes across their faces, trying to gauge what was happening.
Tormund stepped up to address his people. It was clear to Jon that everyone in attendance revered the ginger as a leader. And why shouldn’t they? He had fought as hard as any Northman had. He had earned the respect of the men and women of Winterfell as well as the other houses. “Alright now, quite!” People continued talking. “I said SHUT YA FUCKING GOBS!” The crowd grew silent. Tormund grunted and moved Jon to stand beside him. “This man, Jon Snow, has been sent here to take the black as punishment for killing the Mad Queen.” The crowd shuffled in mixed response. “I said SHUT IT!” The kids in the gathering chuckled, finding it hard to stifle their laughter. “He’s coming with us. He’s died here once, no man should do it twice.” Jon looked quizzical. “I can’t leave, I’ve been sentenced by the King to take the black.” Tormund laughed. “I know. He sent a raven. He has no hold on the Free Folk. Those little men in their fancy clothes sitting on their fancy chairs have no say in what happens beyond the wall. You are no Crow Jon Snow. You don’t have to keep muddling about in their rules and wants. You don’t need to miss your pretty hair about anyone coming to check on you. We will just tell them you pissed off the wall and fell should anyone come inquiring.” Jon started catching a glimpse of his friends plan. “It’s time to go home, Jon. Your watch has ended.”