DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 1 - GAME OF THRONES

Jon XI

The motley crew of Freefolk, a Night's Watch ranger and Jon's friends, crossed the icy Milkwater, toward the warming glow of campfires, scattered across the fields of tents and people. They encountered four men and two women clad in fur and boiled leather, who Jon knew to be outriders. Armed with spears and fire-hardened lances, except their leader, a blond man who bore a great curved scythe. Jon recognised him at once, they'd met the man known as The Weeper before.

"The Lord o' Bones," the Weeper said, eyeing Jon Ghost, before turning his attention to Jon's men. "Who we got here?"

"A southron Bastard Lord wanting to talk to Mance about the whitewalkers, these are his men." Rattleshirt pushed Benjen forward. "The crow, Benjen Stark led him here." Rattleshirt had taken to calling Jon the Bastard Lord.

"Why is he not dead?"

"The lad warg, and a seer. He's got information for Mance. About the walkers." said Ygritte.

"Why aren't the others dead?" the Weeper asked.

"They're his friends. The crow is his uncle. The lad is the Bastard o' Winterfell." Rattleshirt replied.

The Weeper gave Jon another look. "Aye? Mance, might want to talk with him."

The Weeper turned his horse and took off to warn Mance of their arrival. Jon knew the hard part was over. Jon being accepted by Mance was straightforward, he only needed convincing of Jon's intention to allow the Freefolk through the wall. Rattleshirt was Jon's biggest concern, once he and the Weeper let them live, their problems eased somewhat.

They crossed the valley of the Milkwater, riding single-file through the river camp. People watched warily as Jon and Ghost walked past, the dogs barking and growling at the direwolf. The white beast ignored them, keeping himself close to Jon, protecting his master.

The camp was rudimentary. Tents of animal hide and, rose out of the ground, like mounds. The unlucky ones sheltered under rocks. Despite the different location from his previous meeting with Mance, the setup was the same. Cookfires lit the night sky along the river bank, fish caught from ice-fishing, likely being the primary source of food. As they deepened their way into camp, the smells of mutton and boar cooking, tested his nostrils and hungry belly.

Eventually, Rattleshirt brought the group to a halt and dismounted. "We'll make camp. Ygritte, Longspear, take the Bastard Lord to Mance. We'll keep the rest here til we find out what Mance wants to do with 'em."

They made their way into the dense camp on foot, tents and cookfires too tightly packed for horses. Jon took in the sheer numbers of people around him. When once he was overwhelmed by so many people, his surprise turned to fear and sadness. Should Mance not agree to Jon's terms, once winter came, most of these men, women and children would become part of the Night King's army. Jon couldn't let that happen. He tightened his grip on the cloth surrounding the dragonglass, should the walkers come, it was the only defence they had.

Mance's tent was the largest and most obvious. Outside, stood two guards at the flap of the tent, with long spears with round leather shields, protecting their King. Before they could warn Ghost, Jon intervened. "Ghost, stay,"

"Longspear, watch the beast." said Rattleshirt, opening the tent, Jon and Ygritte entered the smoke-filled tent.

Jon tried not to smile, most things were as they were the last time Jon first encountered Mance. Jon's eyes watered as the smoke nearly choked him. He screwed them up to allow for him to acclimatise to his surroundings. In the corner, a grey-haired Mance, sat cross-legged on the floor, playing his lute, and singing Jenny of Oldstones. Tormund was sitting on a stool in front of him, eating what looked like a chicken leg, grease running down his long ginger beard. The only other person in the room was Val, the beautiful, blond, wildling Princess. All but Mance eyed him with curiosity.