The Prince That Was Promised (Old Version)

Chapter 10 : Wedding Bliss

Tormund Giants Bane

Shieldhall

Tormund sighed happily, feeling the warmth of the sour goat's milk drink as it burned down his throat. He leaned back in his seat, his gaze sweeping over the shield hall, a hall filled with flickering torchlight and the murmur of voices. This feeling of hope for the future had long been gone, yet tonight it seemed to burn bright in most hearts. His eyes settled on the high table, where his friend sat beside his young bride, her hair as black as a raven's wings.

'Who could have thought that the little crow who had walked into Mance's tent almost two years ago would not only save the Free Folk but rise to be their King?

King Crow. King Flame Walker. Dragon King. Wolf King. The names swirled like wind-driven snow, whispered in awe and fear. Jon Snow, Orys, Jon Stark, whatever name he claimed, he was the man who would lead them through the Long Night.' He mused.

Tormund exhaled, shaking his head before taking another swig from his drinking horn. "Ah, choppy man," he murmured absently as he glanced to his side.

Davos Seaworth arched a brow, his weathered face creased in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Tormund gestured loosely toward Davos's missing fingers. "Bah, because of your fingers. Lost in fight or frostbite? We got many of those after that cunt Stannis chopped our army to bits." His voice softened slightly, and he added, with a sad smile, "Good fok died that day."

Davos studied his cup before answering. "No, Stannis hacked them off after I saved him, with my onions." He lifted his hand slightly, displaying the missing fingers as if they still pained him. "Said a good deed doesn't wash out the bad."

Tormund snorted, taking another drink. "Pff, the man was a cunt. You saved him. And what good did it do? The man burned some of my people, and I thought he burned my King." His gaze flickered toward Jon at the high table. "Hells, technically, it happened twice, now that King Crow leads us. Yet that man, your Stannis, burned his own blood." His voice darkened. "What worse crime can there be?"

Davos followed his gaze toward the high table, where Queen Shireen sat beside Jon, her cheeks flushed with laughter at something her husband had whispered to her. Davos exhaled slowly. "Fanatics are never good. The man became what he fought against. Now he has to live with it. All because of the Red Woman, Melisandre. But we make our own choices, and Stannis made his when he aligned with her. We all paid for it." His fingers tightened around his cup before he drained it dry.

Tormund leaned forward, pouring generously from his drinking skin into Davos's empty cup. "Here. Best drink you'll ever have."

Davos eyed the thick, cloudy liquid warily before he drank heavily. The moment as it seemed, the drink hit the man's throat. He coughed roughly, his eyes watering. "Gods be good, that's strong."

Tormund roared with laughter, clapping Davos on the back hard enough to nearly knock the smaller man forward. "Nothing better!"

Davos wiped his mouth and shook his head. "So," he rasped, still clearing his throat, "What do you know of this Jon Stark? I haven't learned much about him, only that he was known as Jon Snow, the bastard of Eddard Stark. That my Queen adores him. That he tamed a dragon. And that he was dead once and walked out of a flaming pyre." He shot a glance back at the high table, watching Jon and Shireen exchange quiet words.

Tormund leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. "Jon is brave, strong, determined. Smart. Loyal to his friends. He could've let us all die beyond the Wall. No one would've blamed him for it. Yet he pushed past the past and led the Free Folk through. I'd be dead if it weren't for him." He took another drink and smirked. "And don't you worry about Shireen. If anyone is protective of her, it's him. That little crow will tear apart anyone who tries to hurt her."