Chapter 25: The True North (2)

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Huffing and puffing, Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, forced himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other as he made his way around the training yard of the Red Keep for the tenth time with a log perched across his shoulders that was easily as long as a man and nearly twice as heavy. Finally crossing the line where he'd started, Robert let the log fall off his shoulders and onto the ground before he joined it on the ground. "Wine!" He bellowed, breathing heavily, and resting his head back against the log.

"No wine for his grace. Water only."

Growling, Robert glared at his Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan, who was standing on the sidelines and currently preventing Robert's squire Lancel, another Lannister golden haired little shit, from coming to his side with his ever-present pitcher of wine. By royal decree, for that was exactly what it took to get his Commander of the Kingsguard to agree to Robert's desires, Barristan was to treat Robert as if he were just a squire being trained to fight. And now Robert was seriously regretting that decision. Barristan was a task master beyond any Robert had ever been trained by. He knew that he would never again be the 'Demon of the Trident' that'd crushed the chest of that sister-fucking piece of shit. But he could at least gain back some of what he'd lost since he'd sat his ass down on the Iron Throne.

There were many, such as his own 'loving wife' and his brothers and even Jon Arryn, who questioned as to why he was now putting himself through this. But they didn't understand. The Greyjoy Rebellion had reignited the fire within him, stoked his rage and made him want to be the warrior he once was. But that fire faded fast the moment he got back to King's Landing and had to resume ruling over the Seven Kingdoms. For years he never even stepped foot in the yard. His primary drink was wine. And the only exercise he got was from fucking whores. He hadn't even realized just how bad he'd gotten until Ned, his sons and Nox showed up after slaughtering the Maesters and revealing a conspiracy that'd been around since before the time of the dragons.

Seeing Ned again had put some life back into him. But watching Ned's boys, one of whom handily killed a member of his own Kingsguard with little effort, had reignited that spark within him. And watching Nox deal with some of the shit of this city so easily… Hells, he felt more than slightly humiliated when he compared himself to them. So, while their time in the city was brief, far too brief for his liking, their time with him had forced him to look at himself. And he did not like what he saw. While he doubted that he would ever be the King that Jon wanted him to be, that just wasn't him, he could at least return to being at least part of the warrior he once was.

"Seven hells, boy," Robert growled as he roughly yanked the waterskin away from his squire, spilling some of its contents. "Did you walk down to the bay to get the water or something?"

Lancel's eyes were wide as he nervously shook his head. "No–No, your grace. I–I was standing right he–here the whole t–time."

"It was rhetorical…dumbass," Robert sighed, shaking his head and pouring some of the water over his head before downing the rest of it. "Get my sword."

Lancel nodded and quickly ran off to the bench where Robert's sword, Dragon's Bane, was waiting. All but ripping the sword out of the little shit's hands, Robert took a moment to marvel at the rippled Valyrian steel. No matter how many times he'd seen it since that wonderful day at the Small Council, he still couldn't help but admire this one facet of the Dragon Lords of old who had created this and other such works of art. "Barristan. Get your ass out here."

Making sure he had a firm hold on his sword, Robert waited as Barristan drew his own Valyrian steel blade and moved to stand opposite of him. Their spar, if it could even be called that, was very one sided as Barristan proceeded to thoroughly trounce Robert time and time again. Not that Robert necessarily expected differently. He'd always preferred his war hammer and brute strength over the finesse of a sword. That was more Ned's thing when they were growing up together in the Vale. But given his status and age, he doubted that he would ever again step foot onto the battlefield. More's the pity for that. So training in the yard was about the closest he would ever get to feeling the thrill of battle again.

Finally, after getting disarmed and knocked on his ass for the tenth time, Robert finally called an end to the training session. "By the Seven's hairy balls, Barristan…can you at least look like it took some amount of effort on your part?" Robert gaffed, motioning towards his Commander who wasn't breathing hard and barely even sweating.

"It did take a lot of effort on my part, your grace," Barristan nodded, sheathing his sword. "After all, you're still alive."

Letting loose a loud rumbling laugh, Robert slowly got to his feet as he noticed a slight grin on Barristan's face. As there was on Lancel's. "What's so funny boy?" Robert asked, rounding on his squire with all the fury he could muster given the situation.

The smile instantly disappeared. "N–Nothing, yo–your grace."

"Oh really?" Robert asked, just barely able to keep himself from breaking as he stared hard at the boy. "Are you too good to laugh at a joke made by the Commander of the Kingsguard?"

"I–I–"

"Oh, enough," Robert laughed, thoroughly enjoying first victory in the yard that day, even if it was with bloody words instead of swords. "Get your ass moving and get someone to prepare my bath. I smell like the wrong end of a horse."

"Y–Yes, your grace!" Lancel bowed before all but sprinting out of the yard.

Sighing, Robert weaved Dragon's Bane through his belt and motioned for Barristan to fall in line. "Come on Barristan. Let's walk…gods only know how long it'll take that useless golden shit to actually do as his king commanded."

Barristan didn't say a word as he fell into line behind Robert, and together the two of them made the short trek from the training yard to the godswood in the Red Keep. 'If only you were here with me.' Robert thought with sorrow as he and Barristan began traversing through the rows of flowers and plants that decorated the godswood. 'All of this…It means so little without you here to share it with me. Not even all of the Seven Kingdoms can fill the hole your death left in me. Though at times…Gods, I wonder if you would even want to be here in this cesspool of a city. No weirwood tree to remind you of home. No open fields to ride through. But more than just being in the city… Would you even want to be with me?'

Hearing a quick sniffling, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone crying, Robert ceased their walk and began looking around. "Barristan," Robert called out behind him as he spotted only one other individual in the godswood. "Who was Oakheart assigned to watch today?"

"Your children, your grace," Barristan answered immediately.

Grimacing, Robert was of the mind to just leave it be, but another sharp cry froze him in place. 'Curse it all to the Seven hells.' Turning on his heel, he marched over to where Oakheart was standing, the man looking clearly uncomfortable as he finally noticed Robert and Barristan approaching him.

"Your grace!" Oakheart near shouted, standing up straight like he had a rod shoved up his back.

Robert gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement before turning his attention to the source of the noise. He wasn't sure just what he was expecting to find when he looked down but seeing Myrcella holding onto an openly weeping Tommen with a red bundle laid out before them was certainly not it. 'Two golden heads…but they shouldn't be that way. They should be dark hair…just like my love's. Black of hair with stormy eyes. Not golden haired and green eyed like my bitch of a queen.' "Myrcella, Tommen," he called out, squatting down close to them.

Robert wasn't sure just what was worse. The fact that Tommen let out a startled cry and hugged his sister tighter. Or the fact that Myrcella glared at him with a look that did not belong on a young girl her age, or her flat tone when she responded to his presence with a 'your grace' and not 'father,' not 'Robert.' Just…'your grace'. As if she were not his daughter at all. He didn't know why, but it hurt. The hole that'd been created by the loss of Lyanna, hearing that cold tone from his daughter and the reaction of her holding her brother tighter…it made the void left within him ache something fierce. 'By the gods…have I really been this shit of a father that my own children act like this just in my mere presence?'

"What's going on children?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light in the face of his daughter's glare and his son's obvious distress.

Myrcella's gaze hardened as he noticed her tightening her hold on Tommen. "Why do you care…your grace?"

Feeling frustrated, Robert snapped at her. "I care because I am your father, damn it!" Myrcella flinched and Tommen's crying started anew, making Robert feel like complete shit. "I'm sorry," he said, fighting down his irritation and trying to keep calm. "Please, Myrcella. Tommen. I – I'm your father. Not just your king. Now, talk to me. What's going on. And what is that?"

Myrcella's gaze softened only slightly and Tommen crying lightened. But still neither answered him. Reaching forward towards the red bundle, Robert lifted the corner of the cloth and peered at what was within. And was met with the sight of flesh and blood. Thankfully, an animal's flesh and blood. An animal that'd just been skinned by the looks of it.

A wave of bile rose in his throat as he was brought back to the last time he was presented a red bundle soaked in blood. 'Stop it,' he chided himself. 'They were spawns of the dragon and children of that whore. They do not deserve your pity.' "What is this?" he asked gently, making sure that neither child could see the skinned creature inside.

"It–It's S–Ser Prance."

Robert's heart froze in his chest as his lungs refused to work. 'Ser Prance? That was the name Tommen gave to the fawn that I ordered to be gifted to…him.' Moving in a way so that his children wouldn't see under the red cloth, Robert again lifted the cloth and stared at the skinned animal. It was indeed a fawn. And around its neck was a black and yellow collar. "Who did this?" he asked, turning towards his children. Neither would answer him though, or even look at him for that matter, so he instead turned towards Oakheart. "Oakheart. Answer me. Who. Did. This?"

Oakheart looked more than slightly uncomfortable as the young man shifted his feet back and forth. "T–The queen ordered not tell any—"

"I don't give a damn what that bitch ordered!" Robert all but yelled and shot to his feet, an action he immediately regretted as it caused Myrcella and Tommen to both whimper and cling to each other together. "I want to know who did this. Now."

Oakheart hesitated only a moment longer before telling him. "It was the crown Prince, your grace. He said that no self-respecting lion would want a fawn, lions eat fawns. And the crown prince told Prince Tommen that Pride was hungry."

Robert felt his fury spike. Pride was the name of the pet lion that Tywin had had sent to King's Landing for Joffrey's last name day. Though Robert was not happy about keeping the beast in the Red Keep. Unlike the wolves that followed the Starks around, no doubt where Tywin and his wife even got the idea in the first place, that beast was not tamed in the slightest. It wasn't even a cub, but nearly a full-grown lion. And the beast had a habit of trying to claw or bite anyone who even got close to it. In fact, it pretty much spent all its time in Joffrey's rooms locked in a cage with a chain around its neck just to make sure it didn't do any harm to the servants. Hells, even despite the beast being locked away and chained, it'd still already managed to maim three servants, though how it managed to do that he had no idea. But now, hearing what Tommen said about his pet fawn and Joffrey wanting to feed it to the beast... He'd heard a passing whisper that Joffrey was tormenting his servants by forcing them to put their arms through the bars of Pride's cage. But he'd chalked it up to be just that: whispers. Especially seeing as how he could never actually find the servants who were injured or even the ones who were whispering about it. But now…could there be some truth to it?

Turning his back on his Kingsguard, Robert knelt back down beside his children. Using his hands, Robert began digging a shallow grave for his son's pet fawn. Once the hole was as deep as his elbow, he stopped digging and put the fawn into the hole and slowly covered the poor creature with dirt. After burying the fawn, he sat down fully and motioned towards his children. "Come here, Myrcella, Tommen."

Moving slowly, another action which brought another slight pain to Robert's chest, both Myrcella and Tommen slowly came over to him and sat down in his lap with each claiming one of his legs as a seat. Wrapping his arms around the two of them, he held them close, mentally cursing all the while at the stiffness he felt from each of them. He remembered his mother and father doing exactly this to him when he was still but a boy before he was sent away to foster, and it always made him feel better. So, maybe it would work for his children as well as it did for him?

"I'm sorry, Tommen, Myrcella," he said, surprising himself slightly as he realized he really did mean it. "I–I've been a shit father to both of you. And I'm sorry. Though I know just saying it won't mean much…but I am sorry. And I promise, from here on out, I will be a much better father to both of you. I'll protect you both, just as a father should."

While holding them, Tommen had eventually relaxed enough so that the young lad was resting his head on Robert's chest. But Myrcella, his beautiful daughter, was still resisting him. "A–And what if we need protecting from Joffrey a–and mo–mother?"

Frowning, Robert looked closely at Myrcella. Had things really gotten so bad? Was…Was his eldest tormenting his brother and sister? Right under Robert's very nose? And why would they need protecting from Cersei? Robert would be the first to admit that his queen was a coldhearted bitch. But she did care for their children…didn't she? "Even from your mother and your brother, children. I swear it to you," he said with conviction as he started rocking slightly. "But even if I stay with you both all the time, I can't protect you both forever. You have to grow strong. What are our words, children?"

"Hear me roar?" Tommen answered almost immediately, drawing a harsh look from Myrcella.

Robert seriously wanted to curse that bitch. And himself for being so lax. "Those are the words of that bi– of your mother's House. Of House Lannister. You two are Baratheons. Ours is the Fury. Those are our words children. When the dragons tried to put us down, we put them down. We do not back down from a challenge or a fight. We meet it head on and show the world that we are not afraid of any challenge that might be put in front of us. We do not fear the storm that comes. We are the storm. That is why ours is the fury."

Tommen had ceased his tears and even Myrcella was looking at him with, well, not the look of contempt that she wore earlier, but a more neutral look that he couldn't really read despite her age. 'Some progress, at least,' Robert thought, holding onto his two children as he turned his head around towards the two Kingsguard behind him. "Oakheart. Where is Joffrey and the queen?"

He felt both Myrcella and Tommen tense, and in response he tightened his hold on each, trying to give them some support. Or at least he hoped that was how they would view it. "They are in the prince's chambers, your grace," Oakheart answered, "Ser Jamie is watching over them."

Nodding, Robert helped his children off his legs before standing and placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Have a servant bring my children's playmates to them. And then have another go to the kitchen and prepare whatever they want."

Oakheart nodded and stood aside for his children. Myrcella gave him a hopeful look before parting and Tommen, his son didn't seem to want to let go of him. In the end, it was Myrcella who managed to coax the young boy away with the promise of sweets from the kitchen and that the first game would be one of his choice. Once they were out of sight, Robert let out a breath and all but collapsed onto a nearby stone bench, his hand coming up and rubbing at his chest. It'd only been for a moment. But as he held his children, gave them comfort, and interacted with them, he felt the void that'd been left in his heart from the death of his Lyanna disappear. A void that not even the Seven Kingdom's could fill. 'Is that…? Is that how to make the pain go away?' He thought, frowning in thought as he sat there in the godswood, staring off in the direction his children had disappeared too.

"Your grace," Ser Barristan called out tentatively, breaking Robert out of his stupor. "Are you alright?"

"No, Barristan," Robert replied, shaking his head as he felt the anger that'd been suppressed by the light his two children had brought to him return full force. "I'm pretty fucking far from 'alright'."

Bending over, Robert roughly grabbed hold of Dragon's Bane and marched off towards the royal chambers, leaving Barristan rushing to keep up. It was far past time that he did something he should've done some time ago.

With each step he took, his rage over what he'd learned in the godswood intensified. 'Ours is the fury,' Robert seethed to himself as he marched into the royal wing of the Red Keep. 'It's time that bitch and my pathetic excuse for a son learn what that fucking means.'

Even if he didn't know which room was his son's, and granted it took him a moment to remember, it was painfully obvious where his wife and son were as he saw no less than six Lannister guards standing watch outside one of the rooms. One of the guards spotted him, and immediately snapped to attention, catching the attention of the others.

"Your grace!" the man called out in surprise. "Th–The queen asks not to be dis—"

"I am your fucking King!" Robert bellowed back as he let the Bane's sheath clatter to the floor, revealing the rippled Valyrian steel. "If you lot stand in my way, your heads will be decorating the walls of the Red Keep. Move!"

The fools wisely scattered, leaving him a clear path to the door. Reaching the door, Robert didn't bother to knock, or even use his hand to open the latch. He simply leaned back, picked up his leg, and kicked at the wooden door with all the force he could muster. The doors opened with a bang, startling the three inside. Despite his rage near clouding his vision, Robert was clear minded enough to see his wife and son sitting having a cup of fucking tea and treats with the Kingslayer standing behind the bitch.

Cersei called out to him, or at least he thought she did. But he paid her no mind as his eyes settled on the cage in the corner of the room where the beast Joffrey called 'Pride' was kept. If he'd been in the right mind, he might've felt pity for the beast as it was locked in a cage barely large enough to fit it with a golden chain collar around its neck and attached to the bars. But Robert was far past the point of caring. Ignoring everyone, Robert marched over to the lion and, with one thrust, buried Dragon's Bane into the beast's heart, ending its life instantly.

"Nooo!"

Turning his head, Robert saw Joffrey charging at him with a fucking whipping stick in hand. His rage still peaked, Robert didn't hesitate as he pulled Dragon's Bane out of the beast and held onto it with one hand. Waiting until the little shit was closer, Robert caught Joffrey on the jaw with the back of his free hand, knocking the little shit off his feet and onto the floor.

"Robert!" Cersei screamed, running at him as well her hands raised ready to slap him back.

He didn't hit her, though gods knew he wanted to. Instead, he simply caught her arm mid-slap and roughly threw her down onto the ground next to their son. Raising Dragon's Bane, Robert didn't point the blade at either his wife or son, but instead at the last occupant of the room. The Kingslayer. Cersei's brother, who just so happened to have his hand on his sword.

"Give me a fucking reason, Kingslayer." Robert growled, glaring at the yellow-haired shit. "I can guarantee you: it won't be as easy as stabbing an old cripple in the back this time."

He could tell that the Kingslayer wanted to pull his sword, he could see it in his eyes. But instead, the fool showed restraint and moved his hand away from his sword. No doubt because Robert knew that Barristan was standing right behind him and was eyeing the Kingslayer with his own hand on his sword.

Lowering the tip of his sword, Robert turned his attention from the Kingslayer and to the little shit he called a son, who was currently being coddled by his equally bitch of a mother. "Why?!" Cersei yelled, holding onto their crying son.

"You know why." Robert growled, his eyes shifting from Cersei to Joffrey. "Tommen's fawn, you little shit."

"T–The fawn?" Joffrey cried, his voice sounding strangled and pathetic. "It was just a pat–"

"Shut up, you little shit!" Robert yelled, bringing his hand up to slap down at the boy, only for him to curl into his mother like a coward. "You skinned Tommen's pet and presented it to him like it was something to be proud of before feeding part of it to that fucking beast there!"

Joffrey whimpered in fear while Cersei glared up at him. "It was only a fawn."

Gods, he wanted to smack that conceded look off her face permanently! But he knew that that would cause more than a few problems. Problems he was not of the right mind to deal with. "This sort of thing…will never happen again." Robert growled as he tried to keep his fury from killing both right there. "I've heard rumors of what you've been doing, you little shit. The pregnant cat. The servants that end up maimed only to disappear. Never. Again. If I hear even a whisper of you even looking at someone the wrong way, I will have you disinherited and on the next ship destined for the Wall. Your grandfather be damned."

Cersei's eyes went wide, as did Joffrey's. "You–You can't do that!" Cersei screamed, cradling their son tighter. "Joffrey is the Crown Prince! You canno—!"

"He is a Prince! I am the fucking King, woman!" Robert yelled, causing Cersei to flinch. "And we have Tommen as well to replace him should he fuck up again." Pausing Robert leaned over and glared at his son, who couldn't meet his gaze. "One—Fucking—Toe out of line, boy. And you will spend the rest of your life freezing your ass off at the Wall."

Righting himself, Robert gave one last glare towards the Kingslayer before turning and marching out of the room. Leaving his wife to cradle their now whimpering son. 'Gods…how could such a pathetic little shit come from me?'

Sitting in a large lifeboat that'd been attached to the Sea Wolf, Nox was pulling deeply on the Force to try and cover up just how badly the cold air of the north was starting to affect him as the boat was slowly rowed towards the shoreline. He'd learned very quickly after arriving on this world just how strange its weather patterns were, most of which seemed to defy the very laws of nature. But he'd never thought that he would ever step foot on a part of this world that could make even Hoth seem hospitable. After passing by the Wall by sea, the air temperature had plummeted. Many joked that north of the Wall a man could take a piss and watch it freeze before it hit the ground. Which honestly was ridiculous considering just how cold the air would have to be to make such a feat possible. But now that he was north of the Wall, he was highly inclined to believe that there was some truth to the tale.

'The weather has to be being influenced by the Force presence north of the Wall.' Nox thought as the boat he was in drifted closer and closer to shore. 'Ever since passing the Wall, I've noticed a strange Force presence…Dark in nature, to be sure. But it's elusive. Similar to Valyria…but not quite. Valyria was brought about by a sharp influx of pure dark side chaos that corrupted the land quickly. Whatever this strange presence is… It's been slowly changing the land to how it wishes it to be. And the only reason why it hasn't spread further south is because of the Wall. Interesting. I'm going to need to speak with a number of people once we get back to the Wall and Winterfell.'

"Nox. You with us?"

"Aye," Nox responded to Ned's question while giving himself a mental shake. There would be time to ponder the strange Force signature after they were done with what they'd set out to do.

"What can you tell me of the wildlings' numbers?" Ned asked.

Tilting his head back, Nox focused his senses in on the plot of land before them. It was…difficult due to the strange Force presence north of the Wall. But wasn't impossible for one of his skills to discern an approximation in a specific location. "Mance kept his word," Nox responded. "I would say that there's somewhere between one to two thousand wildlings in the ruined settlement and none outside for quite a distance."

Nodding, he could feel Ned reach out with his fledgling abilities to try and verify the numbers. As he did, Nox took a moment to get a read on those who were coming with them to shore. There were nearly a dozen rowboats rowing towards the shore from the Sea Wolf ferrying the Lords and Ladies and their men at arms from south of the Wall. At best, they numbered perhaps two hundred. The rest of their men, another two hundred strong, were waiting back on the Sea Wolf for the rowboats to return to the ship. And while all of them were armed in one way or another, they had all taken the time to use leather to tie the hilts of the blades into their sheaths. A gesture that meant while they were coming armed, they had no intention of using their weapons.

'Not that we will need them anyway,' Nox thought, sending a passing glance over his apprentice and acolyte and fingering the mask, Raven's mask, that was tucked away within his cloak. 'I could take on these wildlings myself and hardly break a sweat. Robb and Jon, they are young but well on their way to one day becoming my equal or better. And that doesn't even include the fact that we have the Quiet Wolf of the North, the Red Viper of Dorne, the Gallant Knight of the Reach, and the Lion Survivor. If anything, these two hundred men that insisted on joining us will probably just be a nuisance rather than an aid should things go to hell.'

Moving his senses back to the beach, Nox noted that the wildlings had started assembling themselves on the shoreline. There was no shortage of anger and trepidation coming from both the wildlings and those who came from south of the Wall. As far as Nox could tell, while the wildlings did make the odd trade or two with the North or even the men of the Wall on occasion, this was the first time in a long time that leaders from either side of the Wall met with the purpose of talking with one another instead of trying to kill each other.

Once they were close enough to beach the boats, several men jumped over the sides into the ankle to knee deep water and pulled them up onto the shore. Ned was the first one off the boats, followed almost immediately by Winter and her cubs Ghost and Grey Wind while Nox, Jon, and Robb followed immediately afterwards. He could hear murmurs of surprise at the sight of the near horse sized direwolf in their midst, even more so when Winter obeyed the simple hand commands that were being given to her by Ned. In relatively quick order, the rest of the dozen boats were docked, and those that'd come as representatives of the lands of the south lined up beside Ned, with Oberyn, Willas, and Gerion standing closest to the Warden of the North.

It was an impressive group to be sure, but the wildlings were certainly not a people to be outdone. Standing nearest to the shore were dozen or so wildlings, a mix of men and women, all of whom Nox assumed to be chieftains amongst the wildlings. But there was one amongst the assembled wildlings that gave those from south of the Wall pause. And that was the giant that was standing amongst the wildlings. 'Well, he's certainly an impressive one,' Nox thought scanning over the giant that could potentially rival a rancor in height.

Ned made to move forward but stopped as he no doubt finally saw the familiar face that was standing in the middle of the wildlings that'd been assembled. Ned turned towards Nox, but he simply just shrugged. "You never asked."

"Lord Stark," Mance Rayder called out in greeting as Ned and the rest of them approached the wilding leaders.

"Rayder," Ned nodded in reply. "Why am I not surprised to find you here of all places?"

"You know this man, Stark?" Oberyn asked, drawing a few looks from wildlings.

"Aye," Ned nodded. "This man was masquerading as a bard during Nox's wedding…The same wedding that saw the end of my son and wife. This man, though, he saved the life of Robb here and had a hand in capturing several of the conspirators alive."

Rayder just shrugged. "I just did as any man should've, Stark. Now, it has been some years since my tutelage under Maester Aemon…but if I am not mistaken it seems that you've brought more than just the Lords and Ladies sworn directly to you in the North."

"Aye," Ned nodded, motioning towards each of those of note that came with him. "These are my sons, Robb and Jon Stark, and beside them is my ward, Theon Greyjoy. This is Lord Alim Nox, the Northern Sorcerer. Outside of my own lords I have brought Lord Willas Tyrell of Highgarden, Lord Gerion Lannister of Casterly Rock, and Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne."

With each name said, Rayder's surprise and slight apprehension grew. Taking on the North was one thing. If anything went wrong now though, his people could potentially be facing retribution from three other kingdoms from south of the Wall. "An impressive group, Stark," Rayder nodded before turning and motioning towards first the two beauties standing beside him then to the rest of those assembled. "This is my wife Dalla and her sister Val. The old crone here is Mother Mole. The man standing next to me is Magnar Thenn, leader of the Thenns. And these two here are Tormund Giantsbane and Karsi. And the giant here is Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg, or Mag the Mighty if the name is too long for ya."

Nox gave each leader a pass over, but he paid especially close attention to the old woman next to Rayder. Attention that she was returning in equal measure given the featherlight touches of the Force he felt against his mind. The old woman was strong in the Force. Very strong. But highly untrained. Had she received proper instruction, there was a possibility that this old woman could've been his rival in terms of power.

Before anyone could say another word, the old woman started crackling with a large grin plastered across her face. "The time of breaking has come. Here and now, we decide our fates. Death. Salvation. One and the same? Perhaps. Hatred rules the hearts of many. Put aside such hatreds we must, least we all meet our end at the foe long thought dead." Crackling again, the old woman turned and began walking towards the center of the ruins. "Come, come! Warm our bodies and bellies we should be taking begins."

Most of those who'd followed the Starks north turned their attention away from the retreating old woman and back to Rayder. "She's…a bit different," Rayder said, answering the unasked question. "But she knows far more than most. And often knows what could happen before it even comes to pass. Something I feel like you Nox might have intimate knowledge of."

"Aye, I do," Nox nodded as he took the first step towards the line of wildlings. "But discussing the Force is not the purpose of our journey here. We've come to talk about our common enemy. The enemy of all of us. So, let's talk."

Rayder nodded and motioned for them to follow as he led all of them towards the only building that was still in passable shape, and by the standards of this place all that meant was that it had four mostly-intact walls and a roof. The space inside wasn't necessarily the largest, but it was enough to fit the wildling chieftains and those of rank from the south. Although he would admit that it was rather amusing to watch the giant Mag the Mighty squeeze his way into the building. Mother Mole had already taken a seat closest to the fire that was burning in the center of the building as they all made their way in, separating out into two groups, one on each side of the room. During his tenure amongst the Sith Empire, Nox had been to several negotiations, or rather surrenders considering who he served. And the atmosphere was the same here as it'd been back in the Empire. Fear, trepidation and more than a touch of hostility as the two groups eyed each other. But there was also something else that Nox was not expecting. There was the unmistakable aura of a Force imbued object. He couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but it was here. And in the wildlings, or rather the free folks, possession.

"Well," Nox sighed, shaking his head. These things were never easy. "Perhaps starting on common ground will help. I believe you all can agree that this meeting with each other is not the easiest of prospects."

"Fucking right you are, sorcerer," GreatJon growled, earning a few murmurs of agreement from those of the North. "These fuckers have been raiding and killing like animals for thousands of years."

"And the crows have been doing the same to our people for the same amount of time," Mance Rayder countered. "And if we are to base such hatred on this, then may I ask why it is that you have a Greyjoy in your midst? My lessons from the old man might be far behind me, but I remember well the tales of the krakens raiding the North worse than any free folk raid. You paint all free folk with the same brush, do you not do so with him as well?"

Nox just barely kept himself from smiling as he saw the GreatJon go red and start sputtering. The man had a point. The Ironborn had been raiding the North for perhaps just as long as the wildlings, or rather free folk, had. And the raids from the Ironborn, while perhaps less numerous, were far more damaging when they did occur. "Alright, then let us agree that there is no shortage of enmity between the people south and north of the Wall."

"You are mistaken, sorcerer," the beautiful blond woman standing beside Mance spoke up, Val he believed her name was. "We Free Folk do not outright hate our Northmen brethren. At least that is the truth for most of us. We are all the same blood, the blood of the First Men. It is your crows that come hunting us in the night, killing our children, our loved ones, and taking that which we need to survive whom we truly hate."

Nox could tell that more than one of those from the south were surprised by the eloquent speech. And to be completely honest, Nox was a bit surprised as well. 'A silver tongue. And by the way she holds herself she more than knows how to defend herself. It's no wonder this Val is a chieftain amongst the Free Folk.'

"There will be a time to point out each other's faults later," Ned cut in, shooting a hard look towards the GreatJon that told the larger man to back down. "We did not come to trade insults or histories. We came because your people have amassed in a number far larger than any seen before in hundreds of years. Yet despite your numbers being what they are, you have not marched on the Wall or the North. Which tells me that you are not gathering simply for a raid."

"Well observed, Stark," Mance nodded. "Yet you know exactly what our motives are."

Ned's hard look didn't change as he stared at the King-Beyond-the-Wall. "I would have you say it, Rayder."

Nox sat back and watched as the battle of wills took place between the King-Beyond-the-Wall and the Lord of Winterfell. "Very well," Mance nodded. "The White Walkers have arisen along with their army of dead and are marching on my people. I, and those that follow me, have not attacked the Wall because we have no intention of invading the North. We come to hide behind the Wall and weather the storm that comes."

More than a few uneasy glances past between the men and women that occupied the building. Only Ned, Nox and Mance kept their composure. "Do you have proof of this?" Ned asked.

Mance, sadly, shook his head. "You know I don't. If I did, then there wouldn't be need for this talk to take place as we would already be south of the Wall."

Nox could feel Ned glance towards him. He knew what his friend was going to say, and it was unfortunate and could more than likely end the talks here and now. "No Stark in all of written history has ever willingly allowed the Free Folk south of the Wall in mass," Ned stated firmly in a tone that would not allow for argument. "And without proof…I will not be the first to do so."

"Fuckin kneeler," one of the Free Folk, Magnar Thenn, spat on the ground. "Tis be a waste of breath, Rayder. They just gonna sit back and watch us fuckin die."

Ned turned his attention to the man as Winter stood up and growled lowly in her throat. "I do not bar your entry out of spite, Magnar Thenn," Ned responded, holding his hand out to keep Winter at bay. "If and when the White Walkers come, I will man the Wall with every strong arm the Seven Kingdom's has to offer. But until then, I cannot simply allow you and yours south of the Wall so easily. There is too much animosity between the people of the North and the wi – Free Folk. However, having said that…I can and will open the Wall to all that are sworn to the North."

The meaning of Ned's words took a minute to sink in, and once they did there was no shortage of anger coming from the Free Folk. "You would have us become kneelers?" The large man named Tormund growled.

"I would have you all live in peace within the North," Ned countered, not backing down from the wildling. "Swearing allegiance to House Stark and the North is not something I would ask just to inflate my own ego. By swearing an oath upon the old gods, which I know the Free Folk hold sacred, I can ensure that the laws of the North will be abided. And the oaths would also serve to protect you as well. Those of the North still live in fear of raids coming from beyond the Wall and all of you who live north of the Wall. By swearing the oaths, you would be gaining the protection of House Stark against any who might seek to bring you harm."

His friend's speech might not have fully convinced the free folk, but it appeared to at least get them thinking of the offer. "Salvation through death." Mother Mole muttered. "Death comes in many forms. But it is one thing above all else. An end."

"Death is not the end. It is merely a transition from one state to another. As is this." Nox countered.

Many amongst the free folk were casting wary looks towards their chosen King. "And where would my people be housed?" Mance asked, neither confirming the decision to join them, but certainly not dismissing it. "I doubt you would place us in the Gift. Too much bad blood between the crows and the free folk to trust that the oaths would keep the bad blood at bay."

Ned paused before answering. "There is much land in the North that is currently uninhabited. Much of it is arable that you could make your home. And due to recent events…there are a number of keeps and holdfasts that are in need of new Lords and Ladies to make their home."

"You…would make one of us one of your kneeler lords?" another of the chieftains, Karsi he believed, spoke up for the first time.

"Can you think of a better option to lead your people than one of your own?" Ned asked, which drew several surprised looks from the free folk. No doubt they were expecting to have to submit to one of them, not one of their own as they already did after a fashion.

"Fuckin gods hairy balls," Magnar Thenn spat. "My ancestors would be rolling over in their graves knowin I was even thinkin about dis."

"As would mine…Thenn." GreatJon muttered, his eyes hard, a feeling that was mirrored in many of the Northern lords and lady.

"As would all of ours," Karsi stated, stepping forward. "But fuck em, they're dead and we're alive. We got our clans, our families, our people, to think about. And what comes doesn't care about makin us kneel. They only want us dead."

Her words struck a chord deep in the assembled free folk and there was a clear shift in the air. Where there was once hostility, there was now an air of resignation. "And what of the time until the Other's make their presence truly known?" Rayder questioned. "Will you order the crows to stop their ranging?"

Ned grimaced. "No Lord has the authority to order anything of the Night's Watch. They are separate from the rest of the realm on purpose. However, I will speak with Lord Commander Mormont and petition King Robert for a temporary cessation of ranging north of the Wall unless it is to seek out the Others. However, in return the North would require an end to raiding south of the Wall by your people Rayder. And any free folk or wildling that is caught south of the Wall, if outside of the group sworn to the North, will be met with hostility."

"And what of these other fancy kneelers?" Mance's wife, Dalla, asked, motioning towards Willas, Gerion, and Oberyn. "Are they just here to look pretty? Or do they have anything to say?"

Oberyn spoke up first. "There isn't much for us to say, my lady. Dorne is as far south from the Wall as you can go and still be in Westeros. What happens between your people and those of the North are not of our concern. However, these Others, if they truly do exist, are. If actual physical proof of their existence is brought to Sunspear, I, as a Prince of Dorne, can guarantee you that the spears of Dorne will be at the Wall to defend the realms of men."

"The same is true for us in the Reach," Willas stated. "We are here merely as observers. Nothing more. But I will add that Lord Stark's demands of oaths are not unreasonable, and in fact I would actually say the terms he set are most favorable towards your people compared to what you can expect to receive from any other Lord or Lady south of the Wall."

"Same as these two," Gerion nodded. "And while I cannot speak for my brother, and fucking gods know I would never want to, I vow that should proof be provided, I will and whoever I can muster will be here to fight against the Others when they come."

Rayder appeared to have been expecting the answer. "You have given us much to think about, Stark. I think now would be a—"

"Rayder! We got trouble!"

More than a few within the building started as a young woman with flaming red hair charged into the hut with two others close on her heels. The two behind the young woman both collapsed from exhaustion the moment they entered the hut, but the young woman, despite her breath being labored, only showed mild signs of exhaustion.

"Ygritte," Mance said, his fear and concern spiking. "What's going on?"