MASKS [Jon Snow]

THIRTEEN • ENEMIES

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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when i am with you
love needs no explanation
it just is
and we just are

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JON definitely didn't get the reaction he expected when he told the men of his plan to bring the Wildlings south of the wall. Well it had gone exactly as he expected but not as he wished.

He watched as Liliana frowned at the horde of sweaty grimy men as they erupted with noises of disapproval.

"You'd bring Wildlings here through our gates?" One of the men, Denys Mallister, at the head table asked his Lord Commander. Jon was currently stood from his seat, hands rested against the desk as he tried to decide what to say to convince the people, his people, that it was the best decision. As the man spoke the room settled down slightly, the men wanting to know what he would say in return.

"Men, women and children will die by the thousands, if we do nothing." He firmly stated.

"Let then die, we've got our own to worry about." Denys retorted. "Less enemies for us!" The group broke out in cheers, agreeing with Denys.

   Sam stood up, his arm out trying to settle the mob. "Look, well, there is good farm land in the Gift." The men laughed at him. "Land that no one uses now." He continued. Jon silently commended his bravery. "A dozen abandoned villages."

   "And why do you think those farmers abandoned those villages?" Bowen Marsh, the First Steward, spoke angrily. "Because the Wildlings raised them for years. Cut them down!" He answered his own question. "Just like they did this boys people." He gestured to Olly who was sitting quietly in the front row. Sounds of respect and agreement echoed through the hall. Sam sat down, defeated.

   "We've been fighting them for thousands of years," Alliser Thorne added. "They've slaughtered villages, they've slaughtered our brothers."

   Jon nodded. "And we've slaughtered theirs."

   Ed stood from his seat, the chair grinding against the floor as he pushed it back. "I will follow you anywhere, you know that." He rested a hand of the table before him. "But they killed Grenn, and they killed Pyp." His eyes were sad. "They killed fifty of our brothers. I can't forget that. I can't forgive it."

   Jon sighed, he really didn't want to argue with Ed. "You were at the Fist of the First Men. If we abandon them, you know what they become. We can learn to live with the Wildlings or we can add them to the army of the dead." He leaned forward on the table. "Whatever they are now, they're better than that."

   His eyes flicked to Liliana who was hidden at the back amongst the shadows. She rolled her eyes, standing off of the table she was perched on, and sauntering towards the crowd.

   "Gods you argue like a pack of wild animals." She roared above the noise. All the men turned to her, quietening down. Jon smiled, knowing she was good at speaking her mind he could tell they were in for being put in their place.

   "Are you idiots?" She growled. "If you don't let the Wildlings through the gates then they will be the first to die. Yes, good for you, have a bloody party. But you only spared yourself a day or two. So as you drink your sorry asses away, the dead Wildlings shall rise, joining the army of the dead. Which means more unkillable men for you to fight!" They were silent as they stared at her in horror, realising how right she was. Jon felt incredibly proud of her. "Each man that dies out there on the other side of the wall," she pointed wildly at the window facing the wall. "Will be another man you have to fight. Which could be the difference between life and death. If you let just one person join the dead army, that one might be the one who kills you, or your brother." She was snarling fiercely by then. Her eyes lit up with this indescribable passion that Jon found himself greatly admiring. "You haven't eliminated an adversary, you knuckle heads, you just gave them a common enemy. You."