Naveena LANNISTER :||: Queen Series #2

14) Kostā Māzigon Hen Sir

Naveena
I stepped forward, Tormund breaking their glaring competition by gazing at me. "Make peace to save your people if you won't save your own skin."

"You two are unbelievable," Tormund glanced between us. "Most of the Free Folk are at Hardhome, do you know where that is?"

"Up on Storrold's Point," Jon nodded, probably knowing the limited map of the North by heart. "I can give you ten horses and nine other men. You can get there in a week."

"We'll need ships," Tormund pointed out.

"I'll talk to my brother about loaning you his fleet," Tormund looked at me funny. "King Stannis, I'll talk to him."

"Alright then," Tormund nodded. "But you're coming with me." Jon straightened. "You're the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch; they need to hear it from you. They need to know the ships they're boarding, won't be torched in the middle of the sea. You come with me, or I don't go."

"I'll come too," I assured him as Jon looked sceptical.

His face instantly fell. "Oh no, you're not coming North. You've never been beyond the wall."

"And you've never offered," I pointed out, stepping close to him, and patting his leather vest. "You asked me to stay, so I am. But I just got you back, and I'm not having you wander off to the edge of the world and die somewhere. Either I go, or you don't. And then, Tormund's people won't get rescued from the White Walkers." I smirked triumphantly up at him while his frown deepened. "Plus, I'm a better fighter than you, I'm the best hope they got."

Tormund chuckled as Jon just shook his head, accepting the verbal teasing. I'm glad we were back to our usual selves, comfortable in each other's presence, and able to joke around freely. "I hope the men take it as well as you do."

...

They didn't. The place was an uproar, men shouting over the top of one another and cups banging to amplify the din. I sat calmly at the end of the table, Grey and Ghost on their feet, looking out with hackles raised at the large crowd. Jon stood, trying to calm the crowd. The First Steward glared up at him from his seat. "You bring wildlings here? Through our gates?"

"Men, women, and children will die by the thousands if we do nothing." Jon persisted.

"Let them die," The Steward spat. "We got our own to worry about, less enemies for us." The hall cheered in support.

Sam stood, the room going silent. "Look, there is good farmland in the Gift, land that no one uses now. A dozen abandoned villages."

"And why do you think the farmers abandoned those villages?" The First Builder sat beside me snapped. "Because the wildlings raided them for years. Cut them down just like they did this boy's parents." He gestured to Olly.

Jon's steward had not been happy by the Lord Commanders decision. Alliser Thorne was next. "We've been fighting them for thousands of years. They've slaughtered villages, they've slaughtered our brothers."

"And we've slaughtered theirs," Jon said simply, looking his most hateful brother in the eye.

In front of me, Edd stood. "I will follow you anywhere, you know that but they killed Grenn, and Pyp and they killed fifty of our brothers." He reminded. "I can't forget that. I can't forgive it."

"You were at the Fist of the First Men," Jon nodded, voice calm and understanding why everyone was hostile. "If we abandon them, you know what they become. We can learn to live with the wildlings, or we can add the hundred thousand of them to the army of the dead. Whatever they are now, they're better than that."