Naveena LANNISTER :||: Queen Series #2

15) Fuck 'Em, They're Dead

Naveena
I sat aboard the first boat that left the ship, Jon standing at the front of it, Tormund and Edd seated behind us. Jon had nagged me the entire journey for me to stay on the ship; he even tried it just before we got on this boat and I turned around, in front of all his men, and threatened to push him overboard.

We rowed towards the wilding village situated in a cove, surrounded by tall cliffs covered in ice, but it stretched for miles down the coast. A massive hoard had gathered in the central part of the village, fenced off from the rest of the cove. Jon glanced over his shoulder at me one last time, and again, I gave him a firm nod, telling him I would be alright and that he was doing the right thing.

I imagine to the wildings it was a fearful sight; Stannis' ships filled the bay, and a swarm of longboats filled with Crows rowed towards them. The boat slid up onto the pebbly shore, Jon getting out first, Tormund and Edd right behind him, the Lord Commander turning back to offer me his hand. I scowled, taking it but managed to disembark the boat quite easily myself. The wildlings stared, and we stared back.

I scanned them, noticing their furs were the same colour as the landscape, allowing them to blend in if need be, the men all had beards and the women were cladded in weapons too. "Do you trust me, Jon Snow?"

Jon didn't turn to look at the redhead but muttered, "Does that make me a fool?"

Tormund smirked and led us through the wildings, all parting with curious looks on their faces. There was a whistle, the crowd parting from behind, and a group made their way towards us. "Lord of Bones," Tormund greeted as the two groups met. "It's been a long time."

This wilding was different. He had the same furs, but on top of that he wore a collar made of bones, which hung low down the front of his body and the skull of some sort of animal hid his face. "Last time I saw you, the little crow was your prisoner," He growled out. "The other way around now. What happened?"

"War."

"War?" The Lord of Bones scoffed. "You call that a war? The greatest army the north has ever seen cut to pieces by some southern king."

"We should gather the elders," Tormund stepped towards him. "Find someplace quiet to talk."

"You don't give the orders here."

"I'm not giving an order," Tormund sassed, and I hid my smile in the fur of my coat.

The Lord of Bones analysed Tormund, glancing up and down. "Why aren't you in chains?"

"He's not my prisoner," Jon finally spoke.

"No?" The bone-clad man turned to Jon, who had conveniently positioned himself in front of me, Edd by his side, shielding me also. I know my being here had Jon on edge, he was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but I could take care of myself. "What is he?"

"We're allies."

The mood of the camp shifted, the men of the Night's Watch stepping back as the wildings fanned out and Tormund stood up straighter. "You fight for the crows now?"

"We're not here to fight; we're here to talk."

The Lord of Bones glanced between them, eyes narrowed behind the empty eyeholes of the skull. "You and the pretty crow do a lot of talking, Tormund? And when you're done talking, do you get down on your knees and suck his–"

Tormund struck, seizing the staff the Lord of Bones carried and hit him over the face with it, knocking him to the ground. The staff was so long we had to step back again to give Tormund room as he raised the staff over his head and began striking him, repeatedly, until he was bludgeoned to death. All the while, the wildlings just stared, stepping back and didn't lift a finger to help. So, their society wasn't much different from ours? Everyone fends for themselves, or you die.