Stormbringer | Jon Snow

Chapter 10

Once more, Jon sought her advice.

It had been a few days since the near-execution of Lord Janos Slynt. Things had calmed, if only to a slight degree. Ser Alliser Thorne and his posse of supporters remained as tight-lipped and judgy as ever, glaring at Jon each time he passed and extending the same courtesies to Samwell, Edd, Melyse, and two other friends of Jon, a short shiny-eyed boy named Todder (nicknamed 'Toad' by Ser Alliser) and a tall and muscular stonemason's son named Halder ('Stone Head' to Thorne).

Still, Jon was having no easy time of it. It seemed the only leader that had it substantially worse at the moment was Tommen, with rumors of a Faith Militant and threats from Dorne circling after Tywin Lannister's death and Oberyn Martell dying in Tyrion's trial-by-combat. Left and right, enemies were cropping up for the lot of them, and it took Melyse to tell Jon not to send Todder and Halder to Shadow Tower.

"You said yourself that quote about keeping your enemies close," said Melyse, sharpening her blade while wiggling her feet for Arusha's entertainment. Jon was brooding as usual, leaning over in his seat while Ghost napped at his feet. "But the beginning of that line says to keep your friends close as well. Now's not the time to be sending your most trusted lads away."

"I suppose not." He'd come asking for advice about a plan he had. He wished to speak with Tormund about a mission to Hardhome. It was his idea to gather the Free Folk in the Gift even without Sansa's retaking anywhere near being done. The wildlings could at the very least be safe from what was to come. If they wanted to survive the winter to come, there had to be peace amongst them, for even the wildlings were part of the realms of men– a part that'd been neglected for too long.

She eyed him close, never sure what he was thinking. He was a hard person to read, and it posed a challenge. "Kill the boy, Maester Aemon said." He muttered it to himself, staring at nothing. "Let the man be born. I don't know if I'm ready to do that."

Melyse had learned a few things about Jon in the week she'd been here so far. He could be a bit of a pessimist sometimes, which made him colder than usual. He was clever and thoughtful, a good leader so far. He knew his men and he kept his honor, much like his father. He was good with animals and sympathetic to the wildlings, which meant he hadn't turned into a cunt solely because power had been given to him. Still, he doubted himself more than he probably should.

There was no reason to doubt, in her eyes. He was a magnificent fighter, perhaps one of the best she'd ever seen, right up with Brienne and the Hound. He was as quick on his feet as he was with his mind, a good thing to have in perilous times.

She worried that he didn't trust his gut enough. Then again, she was the sort that didn't think things through and simply acted. Sometimes, it returned to bite her in the arse. But other times, it freed her to follow an instinct that was usually right. Jon considered his own too much, and she wondered whether anything he did was what he truly wanted to do.

"It wouldn't be an easy choice for anyone," she offered. Perhaps he liked to bounce ideas off of her because she couldn't hold her tongue, which meant she'd be brutally honest and realistic enough to let him see truth where he might wish to be blind. "But in the long-term, it will be necessary. If those wildlings are killed, they'll join the White Walker army, you said? Sam explained that if you don't burn a man when he dies, he can come back to life as a corpse with those blue eyes, and so far, only dragonglass kills them."

He tilted his head. "Yes. That's a good argument, we'd be ensuring the wildlings fight on our side when the time comes, instead of joining the Others. If Sansa should need fighters, I may be able to persuade them, as she'd be able to give them lands in a better place, far enough from the Wall that the Night's Watch would be less anxious about their presence."