A Prince of House Targaryen

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.

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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.