Chapter 43: The King Beyond the Wall

The first thing that Torrhen saw of the Wildling camp was from above, as the tens of thousands of tents littered the gorge that housed them. He and his men stood looking down on it in a mix of awe and horror. "That's a lot of people." Domeric Bolton commented.

"Aye, and we need to save all of them." Torrhen muttered darkly.

It took a couple of hours for them to descend to the ground, and it seemed like every Wildling they walked past stopped to stare at them, looking nervously at Balerion by Torrhen's side. Tormund of course found this hilarious. "You're prettier than most of the women here." He made mention to Torrhen. "Most want to kill you, some want to fuck you first."

"They'd be lucky." Torrhen smirked. They continued through the camp, when Torrhen heard a gasp behind him. It was Cregan, staring up at an elderly giant carrying an entire tree trunk. "Don't stare." Torrhen told them. "They don't like people staring."

"That's a fucking giant." Cregan whispered.

Tormund just looked impressed at Torrhen. "Perhaps you're not a liar." He told the Stark. Torrhen didn't answer, instead he just followed the red-headed Wildling. They made their way deeper into the camp, where they saw more giants and even mammoths. A whole host of clans were grouped together, but there was one tent in particular that caught Torrhen's eyes. Sat outside skinning a handful of rabbits sat a pregnant woman that Torrhen recognised clear as day, Sam Tarly's woman, Gilly. Tormund must have seen him staring, as he mentioned. "Bad business those ones." He said, a hint of uneasiness in his voice. "They all left their husband… or Father, I'm not sure which. Anyway he suddenly died, and they came here."

"Kinslayers." Domeric Bolton muttered with disgust.

"If you knew who their Father was, you'd do the same." Torrhen countered. "Craster was an evil man, and I shall not mourn him one bit."

"You knew him?" Tormund asked.

Torrhen shook his head. "Only stories, enough to know we are better off with him dead."

They walked on a bit longer until they reached a tent that was bigger than the others. Outside of it on a large wooden pole was the upper torso and head of a body that Torrhen noticed had only his thumb and index finger on his right hand. "Qhorin Halfhand." Tormund said proudly. "He killed many friends of mine. The Lord of Bones is a cunt also, but now he is a legend for killing him."

Torrhen knew the name from Jon, and he felt uneasy at the body staring back at him. "You should burn him." He said bluntly.

Tormund grinned. "Maybe one day." Was all he said. "Your weapons." He told the group louder. The Northmen looked at Torrhen for permission, and he just undid Winter's Bite and handed it to Tormund, while the rest of the group did the same to other Wildlings.

"Bal stays with me." He said firmly. Tormund looked to disagree, but one look at the hulking black Direwolf killed any complaint that could have possibly formed.

"Hmph." Tormund grunted, before leading them into the tent. It was spacious, with a fire burning in the middle to keep the tent warmed up. Torrhen didn't recognise anybody in the tent from before, most of the Wildlings having been killed long before the Retaking of Winterfell. There was a man with a skull mask sat by the fire talking to another man, and it was the other man that stood up when he saw Tormund.

"Tormund." The man said. "I wasn't expecting you back for a while yet."

Tormund gestured towards Torrhen. "I wasn't expecting to find this one Beyond the Wall. He wanted to talk to you, Mance."

"Talk to me?" Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall asked with a raised eyebrow as he walked towards Torrhen. "What could a brother of the Night's Watch want with me?"

"I'm no brother of the Night's Watch, Mance Rayder." Torrhen said calmly, stroking Balerion to let them all know the Direwolf was his.

Mance looked at Balerion with amusement in his eyes. "A tame Direwolf."

"Tame isn't the word I'd use." Torrhen admitted. "We are linked, he and I."

Mance Rayder grinned knowingly. "Then you are a Stark of Winterfell. You're a brave man coming this far North, the Free Folk don't like Starks, nor Southerners much."

"Nor do we like Wildlings much." Domeric Bolton said firmly, stepping beside Torrhen.

Mance looked at Domeric, weighing him up. "And you are?"

"Ser Domeric, of House Bolton." Domeric explained. "And this is Torrhen, of House Stark. Lord of the Causeway and the Butcher of the Rock."

"We don't need titles here, Dom." Torrhen told his friend. "They don't respect our traditions here." He turned to Mance. "He's right though, many south of the Wall have nothing but well-earned distain for the Free Folk. My Father however, values one man's life just as much as another."

"Lord Eddard." Mance knew. "I knew his brother."

"Benjen." Torrhen nodded. "A good man."

The Lord of Bones scoffed. "All he deserves is a painful death."

"Careful, Rattleshirt." Torrhen said, knowing the mocking name would anger him. "We are here for peace talks, that is all."

Of course, the Lord of Bones stood up violently at the name and made his way towards Torrhen, only for Balerion to get in the way, snarling and yapping at the boned warrior. Mance just looked amused. "Sit down, you'll find no easy targets here." Turning to Torrhen, he continued. "There is only one outcome we would accept, Torrhen Stark."

Torrhen nodded. "We know, and that is the outcome that we will strive to work towards. We may not like one another yet, but we all agree that you all living is better than you all dying."

Mance looked at Torrhen with more curiosity. "What do you know of the dead, boy?"

Torrhen knew he had to explain exactly. "I've fought them, long ago for myself but far away for everyone else. They broke through the Wall and descended on my castle. I fought them, I fought him." He said pointedly. "I killed him, and he killed me."

Tormund laughed. "I knew I should have gutted you, your stories are ones of a bard."

"Enough, Tormund." Mance said, his eyes wide in fear. He stepped closer to Torrhen, but Balerion obviously didn't sense any malicious intent as he didn't intervene. "You fought him?"

Torrhen nodded. "I did. With the Free Folk beside me, or what was left of them."

Mance took a step back as he digested the information. "I remember meeting your brother in this very tent." He said in a quiet voice. "I remember fighting at the Wall to get through, and I remember Stannis Baratheon charging through my ranks and capturing me. I didn't bend my knee, I burned, and I woke up beside my newly dead wife."

Torrhen was equally as shocked as Mance by that point. "You remember?" He whispered.

"What is happening?" Mance asked.

"We won, but at a great cost." Torrhen explained. "The Gods sent myself and others back to their younger selves to fix the mistakes of the past. You must have been sent back because you are the only one to make the Free Folk agree to these terms." He reached into his cloak and pulled out Ned's terms. "We have a chance, Mance, to save as many of your people as we possibly can."

Mance nodded, taking the parchment and reading through the terms. "I will have to discuss this with the clan leaders." He said honestly. "But you and your friends shall have my personal hospitality." He read the terms again. "Some won't agree."

"But most will." Torrhen said firmly. "Or they won't be invited south of the Wall. That and an end to the raiding is the only part we cannot discard. House Stark promises to protect any man, woman and child that agrees to keep the King's Peace when they are below the Wall, but we will not ask you to kneel. If your people value your lives over your pride, then we can have a happy alliance."

Mance nodded. "Lord of Bones, gather the elders." The King beyond the Wall said firmly. "Tormund, show our friends here to a tent and make sure our people know they are guests."

Tormund nodded, pushing Winter's Bite back into Torrhen's hands. "Come on, wolfling." He muttered. Torrhen bowed his head at Mance politely, hoping that he had done enough to convince the man that they were genuine.

Back in Winterfell, Ned was using his rare spare time to watch his youngest son, Robin Arryn and his ward Willem Lannister all in the training yard. They were all padded up as much as they could be and looked ridiculous, but Ned knew that Ser Rodrik would be able to get the best out of all three of them. He grinned as he saw Rickon struggle to move his arm to whack Robin around the side as the two friends began to spar, although in the back of his mind he was praying to any God that would listen to keep his youngest boy from the battle that was looming.

He heard footsteps beside him and saw the curly hair of his eldest son. "Robb." He greeted.

"Father." Robb responded. "A letter has come from White Harbour."

"White Harbour?" Ned asked, taking it.

Robb smirked. "And beyond it seems judging by the parchment."

Ned agreed, noticing that it was a different thickness to most Westerosi paper. "Jon." He surmised. He opened the letter and began scanning the lengthy report. "He writes from Astapor."

Robb widened his eyes in shock. "That's a long journey."

Ned nodded. "It seems your brother has been on a wild adventure in his time away." He felt proud of the boy. "The Dragons are growing, and Daenerys is going to retake Slavers Bay. Astapor has fallen and they move on Yunkai."

Robb grimaced. "King Robert will hear about them."

"Perhaps." Ned nodded. "Though I trust Lord Wyman and Lady Olenna will keep him at bay. Jon insists that they don't plan on making any moves beyond Meereen until it is safe for them to do so, or they are needed."

"What if they don't?" Robb asked. "What if she does end up coming for the Iron Throne?"

Ned grimaced. "I swore a vow to Robert." Was all he said for a moment before he added. "But you haven't."

"Father…" Robb began to protest.

"Robb, listen to me." Ned said calmly. "Look around you, what do you see."

Robb did as he was asked to. "People."

"Our people." Ned explained. "People that rely on me, and will one day rely on you, to keep them safe. If by some stroke of misfortune Daenerys Targaryen comes looking for vengeance for her family then I will stand by my oaths, but you will be fresh to decide for yourself."

"But Father…" Robb began.

"Remember our history." Ned smiled at his son. "Our ancestor, Torrhen, bent the knee and because of that we are here to talk today, the entire North was saved from a terrible fate. Now I have faith that Jon is correct here, but should the worst happen you must think of the North, not just me."

Robb nodded, though he clearly wasn't happy about it. "I can't wait until all talk of war is over." Robb admitted. "Years ago I would have laughed at myself for saying such a thing, but now… now I know the truth."

Ned sighed. "There will always be conflict, the coming war will likely be the worst I have ever faced. All we can do is our duty to our people. If that means I die, then so be it. I would like to survive, but the future is never certain."

Robb nodded, before he burst into laughter at the sight of Willem Lannister having knocked Rickon to the floor. "He's a decent lad." Robb admitted about the Lannister.

"Aye, just as Theon was when he arrived." Ned noted. "I am grateful for you all for remembering that he is not his family."

Robb nodded but stayed silent for moments longer. "Will you write back?" He asked finally.

Ned thought for a moment. "I wouldn't know where to send it." He admitted. "Jon knows we are thinking of him. When he is settled in one place, then I will write to him. As should the rest of you, he will be glad of that, I think."

Yunkai was an impressive city, and one that clearly wouldn't be taken easily. Jon stood with Ghost atop one of the hills in their camp outside the Yellow City and stared down towards the gates, waiting for any sign of movement that meant the Wise Masters as they called themselves had agreed to meet.

He heard a screech and turned to see Rhaegal flying towards him. The little dragon was soon perched on Jon's shoulder.

"An impressive sight." Dany's voice called, again from behind Jon. He grinned, and stroked Rhaegal's chin with his finger.

"He seems to like me." Jon explained.

Dany grinned. "He is yours, in the last life and this one. He shall be your mount when we face the Night King, I am certain of it." She looked down at the city below. "200,000 slaves." She sighed.

"Not for long." Jon insisted. "We will take Yunkai, as Astapor fell before it."

"I admire your confidence." Dany noted with an eyebrow raised. "Yunkai will not fall so easily. They know what happened in Astapor, so they won't invite us inside. They will have hired sellswords to ensure we face no easy task as well."

"Sellswords fall." Jon told her. "As do walls when enough pressure is placed on them."

Dany placed a hand on Jon's arm. "Some battles are won in a field, and some with a knife in the dark." She said calmly. "This fight will likely be the latter."

Jon grimaced. "I'm no good with that." He admitted.

Dany laughed lightly, a sound that seemed like music to Jon's ears. "I know you don't, you face your enemies head on, with sword in hand." She kissed him on the cheek. "It's part of what I love about you, Jon Snow. Your direct nature is refreshing. Yunkai however, there will be plots within plots here."

Jon smirked. "Don't worry, I won't mess anything up for you. I'll be a good soldier and keep my mouth shut while you speak with them."

Dany nodded. "The time will come for battles, don't you worry about that." They both turned back to the city and watched as the gates opened and a small procession left the sanctuary of Yunkai. "And so the taking of Yunkai begins." Dany whispered. Jon nodded, keeping a grim expression on his face as he held out his free arm for the Targaryen woman, helping her back to her tent ready to receive the envoy being sent towards them.

Sansa just wanted the day to be over. Her back was aching for the third day in a row and she really didn't want to be bothering with sewing yet another Direwolf with Septa Mordane staring down at her. Thankfully, Mira and Jeyne Poole were either side of her to help pass the time, while Beth Cassel and Arya were further away. Arya was of course miserable being sat there, but she was quiet in her displeasure, sticking to her agreement with their Father.

"Jeyne, that is beautiful!" Septa Mordane gushed as she looked at Jeyne's stitching.

Jeyne smiled, showing Sansa her efforts. It was a grey kraken, one that Sansa knew was going to be for Theon. "It's lovely, Jeyne." Sansa agreed, causing her friend to beam.

"Lady Sansa… this isn't your usual standards." The Septa had moved to hers now and was looking at a slightly crooked stitching of Lady.

"Sorry, Septa. I'm not feeling too well." Sansa said quietly.

Septa Mordane leant over to feel Sansa's forehead. "You feel fine." She commented. "Never mind, I'm sure next time will be better."

Sansa nodded with a forced smile as the Septa moved on to Mira's stitching. "Are you ok?" Arya mouthed over to her.

Sansa just nodded, continuing with her stitching. She had just managed to begin the eyes when all of a sudden she felt a sharp cramping in her lower abdomen. "Ouch!" She exclaimed, feeling tears well in the corner of her eyes as she brought her hands to the pain, dropping the stitching.

"Sansa, are you alright?" Mordane asked again, rushing to her side. Jeyne and Mira were there too, her brother's wife soothing her by rubbing her back.

"I…" Sansa wasn't sure. "I don't know."

"I'm going to take her to her chambers, Septa." Mira said quickly. She didn't give Mordane a chance to complain, instead Mira lifted Sansa up and escorted her out of the room. "Come, Lady."

The Direwolf in the corner perked up at hearing her name and trotted along after the two women, with Sansa holding the painful area, while Mira was holding something dangerously low on her backside. "Mira…"

"Don't say anything." Mira said quietly. "There are blood stains on your dress, Sansa. We don't want the whole castle to know."

"Oh…" Sansa realised everything at that moment. She nodded and let Mira escort her quickly to her chambers, where the Forrester girl quickly took control, helping Sansa out of her dress before calling for a warm bath to be drawn and for Sansa's Mother to be called. As Sansa stood there in her shift she noticed the small patterns of blood on the outside of her dress and gasped, before feeling down behind her and noticing the sticky wet patch on her shift. She gasped, and Mira turned to face her again.

"Don't worry." She said kindly, putting her hand on Sansa's chin. "It feels like the end of the world right now, but it isn't."

"When was yours?" Sansa asked.

"I was 12." Mira admitted. "I didn't know what was happening either, but my Mother got me in a tub and helped me learn what I needed to do next." Mira smiled as she turned away to grab a new shift for Sansa. "Take that one off and throw it on the dress."

"Ruin two?" Sansa asked.

Mira chuckled. "The blood will come out, and you won't be in this one for long, but you want to be comfortable when the maids come." Sansa nodded and did as she was asked to, taking the shift off. She tried covering herself up, but Mira wasn't looking anyway as Sansa was handed a new shift to put on. Doing so, Mira smiled again. "There, much cleaner."

The door opened at that point and Catelyn came barrelling in, three maids carrying a tub full of warm water followed. "Sansa, are you ok?"

Sansa nodded. "I'm fine Mother." She said, though her voice was weaker than usual.

"Her dresses are on the floor." Mira explained to the maids. "Have them washed as you would mine, discreetly."

"Of course, milady." One of them said, gathering the pile and leaving the room, the other two maids helped Sansa out of her newer shift and helped her into the tub, the warm water soothing her.

Mira then got a new dress out for Sansa, a darker blue that was a gift from Lord Bolton in the Bolton house colours. "You'll want to dress in darker colours for the next few days, I can lend you some of mine if you like." She offered.

"Thank you Mira." Cat said kindly before turning to Sansa. "There is nothing to fear." She took a cloth and began to slowly wipe down Sansa. Mira bowed and quickly excused herself, leaving Cat alone with her daughter.

"I know." Sansa nodded. "I was scared at first, but Mira being decisive helped, and then I figured… this means I'm a woman now, I can be a wife."

Cat nodded. "You can, although I am glad that this is happening while Domeric is away and it can give you time to wrap your head around the idea of laying with him first."

Sansa blushed. "Mother…"

Cat laughed. "It will happen Sansa, as much as I wish you could wait for years. I know you care for him, and he cares for you. It is only a matter of time."

Sansa nodded, her cheeks reddening. Thankfully, Mira walked back into the room then, holding a queer garment in her hands. "What is that?" Sansa asked.

"It's for you." Mira told her. "You wear it as a man would wear trousers, although the legs are a lot shorter. She showed Sansa and Cat the insides. "It is lined with Blood Moss, my Mother swore by it and taught me where it can be found and how it is used. It absorbs the blood."

"That… that is very useful." Cat managed to say finally, not having heard of this.

"The moss is common in the crownlands, but Mother ensured that the Godswood of Ironrath grew some too." Mira explained, before turning to Sansa. "You can have these ones, I made them up for you."

Sansa smiled at the kindness. "Thank you."

Mira shrugged. "We are sisters now, you and I. I would help you where I can. It differs for each woman of course, but it isn't as scary as it first seems."

Cat nodded at that. "Mira is correct." She dabbed Sansa's head with the cloth. "And we will be there for you, no matter what you need."

Sansa smiled again, before her face fell into horror. "Can we not tell Arya about this…" She trailed off, not looking forward to the amount of teasing she was going to get.

Torrhen and his men had been waiting long into the night. Cregan had succumbed to sleep, as had most of the other Northmen. Only Torrhen and Domeric remained awake inside the tent that had been provided for them. Torrhen was skilfully throwing a knife around, catching it safely, while Domeric was humming a tune.

"You should speak to Cregan." Torrhen said quietly so as to not wake the others. "He's a musician too."

Domeric smirked. "I remember him playing at your brother's wedding." He noted. "He was good."

Torrhen nodded. "Aye, he is."

Domeric's face then fell into one of contemplation. "What you said to Mance, about fighting the White Walkers before."

Torrhen grimaced, knowing the conversation that he was about to have. "It's all true." He admitted. "That's why Tormund trusted us to take us here, I told him of his life."

"It seems impossible." Domeric admitted. "But there's something about you, Torrhen Stark. You are a man greater than your years."

Torrhen smiled sadly. "The deception was necessary, and continues to be necessary." He added pointedly. "I trust each and every man here enough to tell them of the truth, but there are some that will use this information for their own gains, rather than for the good of the living."

Domeric nodded. "Tell me about it, this other life. Were we friends then too?"

Torrhen's face fell. "You weren't called back for another year, because we didn't know about the threats we faced." Torrhen admitted. "While back at the Dreadfort you again defied your Father and went searching for the bastard. You didn't have the mistrust we had and welcomed him with open arms. He poisoned you, though nobody could ever prove anything." Torrhen explained solemnly. "Ramsay was brought to the Dreadfort and groomed as the heir after your death."

Domeric's teeth were clenched in anger. "So the reason you were so adamant in facing him after I expressed an interest in meeting him…"

"He committed unspeakable crimes." Torrhen said bitterly, all the emotions flooding back into his mind. "As did your Father when he sensed House Stark was weak. They both ensured the downfall of my house. That's why I was cold when you both arrived at Winterfell initially, I didn't know you, and all I knew of Roose Bolton was his treachery." Torrhen sighed dramatically. "And then I met you, and my sister fell for you. I got to know your character and I liked it, I still do." He said with a grin. "I will always miss small parts of before, the son I never knew and the relationships I had with others, but I wouldn't change my actions here for anything. We are creating a better world, a world more united behind the true enemy, and I hope our friendship can be proof that it will work."

Domeric nodded. "I value my relationship with your family equally." He admitted. "My Father might think to use it to House Bolton's advantage, but I have no such ambition." He looked down at his feet. "When I was at the Redfort and saw the interactions between all of Lord Horton's sons I felt jealous. I never had that, and I felt jealous. That's why when I heard about Ramsay I was blinded into seeing the brother I wanted, rather than the monster he was."

"Well you have brothers now." Torrhen nodded. "Robb, myself, Bran and Rickon, we will always be your brothers." He gave a look that went unspoken, but Torrhen could tell Domeric knew it was saying so long as you treat Sansa well.

"I care for her." Domeric nodded. "She is sweet, nothing like I've ever known before."

Torrhen nodded. "She is kind, but she is fierce too, deep down. She just needs to unlock that fierceness." The tent flap then opened, and Torrhen and Domeric both stood up quickly, with Balerion perking up as well with a growl that awoke the other Northmen.

"Easy." Mance Rayder's voice came before the candlelight illuminated his features. "We aren't here to kill you."

"The elders agreed?" Torrhen asked, hoping.

Tormund grunted. "Some, though others think you are liars."

"With good reason." A woman's voice was heard, and another person that Torrhen didn't recognise entered the tent. She had brown hair, and a stare that chilled the Stark. "I have two daughters, young daughters. I will not risk their safety."

"Nor would we expect you to." Domeric told the Wildling woman. "Lord Stark has sworn that any who travel South will be safe."

The woman snorted. "My ancestor fought a Lord Stark once. He died at Stark hands."

"And my ancestors have been killed by Free Folk before." Torrhen said, remembering to use the correct terminology. "We are a group of people that have been forced to hate each other because of a big wall of ice. Neither me nor my Father believe that it was built to keep you out."

"Nor do I, although the Lord of Bones disagrees and refuses your offer." Mance explained. "As do the Thenns. They would rather see us butcher you and send you back to the crows."

"Rattleshirt is a cunt. And I fucking hate Thenns." The woman spat. She looked at Torrhen. "You are only a babe, how can we be sure you speak for all southerners."

"I am a Stark." Torrhen shrugged. "I can only give you the word of myself and of my Father."

Mance nodded. "Ned Stark is an honourable man, that much is known to us."

"Once you let us go, we will send word to him." Torrhen explained. "Ships will be sent to Hardhome to ferry you South and we will aid you in settling into the Gift. You can farm, you can hunt game, you can trade with us as you see fit. But I will make it clear again, any raiding, any breaking of the King's Peace and the might of Winterfell shall fall upon you."

The woman looked at Mance outraged, but Mance just nodded. "They do not want us to kneel, Karsi, only to keep the peace. That is something I can agree with."

Karsi then relented. "Very well." She looked at Torrhen curiously. "I will never trust a Southerner, but you swear my daughters will be safe?"

Torrhen nodded. "You have my word."

Karsi looked back at Mance. "Then we will do as you ask, Mance."

Mance grinned. "Thank you." He said honestly.

Torrhen breathed a sigh of relief. "We have gifts for you too, back at our camp. You can send a group back with us if you like and collect it."

"What gift?" Mance asked. Torrhen reached into his cloak and pulled out the Dragonglass dagger he was carrying and handed it to Mance. "We have steel, what do we need of this?"

"This is Obsidian." Domeric explained. "Also known as Dragonglass."

Karsi's eyes widened. "There are stories about Dragonglass, ancient stories."

Torrhen nodded. "And we have been mining it for almost two years now. We have bags of the stuff with us that we would offer to all the clans, even those that will not come South."

"What is so special about it?" Mance asked, running his fingertip along the edge."

Torrhen grinned, knowing that what he was about to say would change everything for the King Beyond the Wall. "It kills White Walkers."