Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

As he and Val gaze upon each other, Jon considers his options. It just feels so very limiting, keeping himself hidden from the Free Folk Ambassador, if he’s being honest. If he doesn’t reveal his true nature, she will always think of him as little more than a kneeler king. For most people, being known as King of the Seven Kingdoms and Khal of Khals might be enough. But in this case, staring into Val’s doubtful eyes, he knows that it will never be enough. Not for her and her people. If he hides his true nature, he will always be just another monarch to them.
 
Letting out a low breath, Jon offers Val a small smile.
 
“Would it help if I told you that I’ve seen it? Even now, I can sense the Darkness to the North. It is all encompassing, and continuously encroaching further and further South. It tastes of hunger and ice and nothing nice. We all, Northmen and Free Folk alike, WILL have to come together to fight this threat. This acknowledge with my every breath.”
 
Val’s eyes narrow at that, before a moment later seemingly going wide in understanding. She cocks her head to the side, assessing him now.
 
“… You’re either a Warg or you’ve got the Sight then. Which is it, to give you such insight into our enemy?”
 
Jon blinks, the words familiar yet not to him. He remembered hearing tales about the two as a child, right alongside fanciful fairy tales about the White Walkers as well. With his newfound divinity, understanding the true nature of both warging and greensight is the work of a moment… and to his great amusement, he realizes he is indeed a Warg, though not a Greenseer. Of course, his divinity does effectively give him the same vision if not more than a Greenseer with the Sight would have.
 
“As it turns out, I am a Warg, though I’ve never warged before. No, my understanding of the threat we face comes from somewhere else.”

And because just talking about it clearly isn’t working and Val is just looking more and more skeptically at him, Jon lets out a sigh… and shows her instead. Unveiling his divinity to a mortal woman like Val probably isn’t something he should be doing all willy nilly, or over and over again. Hell, he hadn’t even shown Sansa this.
 
But at the same time, if Val needs more to trust, then who is he to hold back? He’s not lying when he says they’ll need all hands on deck for the upcoming conflict. He can’t afford to have the North and the Free Folk at odds because of hundreds of years of grievances when that bad blood could result in the deaths of them all… or worse.
 
And so, Jon shows himself to Val, exposing his nascent divinity. He watches as her eyes widen, the room lighting up with his power. He may or may not be glowing slightly, but not in a truly physical way. Rather, Val is seeing him for his true nature, seeing him laid bare before her. She’s seeing into the depths of his soul in a way Jon suspects many mortals wish they could do with one another.
 
It would be so much easier, if they didn’t have to use words to communicate. So much easier if everyone always knew exactly where they stood with one another. Not easier for those with a duplicitous or destructive nature, but then, Jon would love a world where those sorts of people could no longer hide anyways, so he didn’t see how that was a bad thing.
 
Alas, they lived in this world, where only someone like Jon, with one foot in divinity and the other in his born mortal form, could do this with someone. And so, he lets Val see him for his true self and waits and watches her reaction.
 
Tears well up in her eyes, tears of awe and stupefaction. It reminds him somewhat of Kinvara… but only at first. Quite quickly, her nose wrinkles and her face scrunches up in confusion as Val shakes her head, taking a step back.
 
“I don’t… I don’t understand.”
 
Jon’s own brow furrows at this. He’s pretty sure he’s showing her every part of himself. It should be completely impossible to miss, right? Thankfully, Val elaborates a moment later, showing that she does indeed register what he is. In fact, it’s what she’s registering that’s conflicting so heavily for her.
 
“How can… how can you be a God of Freedom and a King of Kneelers in the same breath?”
 
Ah, of course. Val’s hands curl into fists at her sides, and she actually looks a bit angry with him. Or perhaps just frustrated.
 
“Freedom… Freedom is highly prized among my people. We would worship you, if you were part of our culture. But at the same time, you force people to kneel! You seek to become the Kneeler King of the South! This is a contradiction! YOU are a contradiction!”
 
Jon sighs, and slowly pulls his divinity back into himself. Too long looking into the heart of a god would be unhealthy for any mortal, and Val in particular seems like she’s rapidly becoming distraught.
 
“Life is never so black and white, Val. I don’t force anyone to serve me. They follow me willingly. I will admit, I have come to Westeros to… impose upon its people. But there’s far too much suffering here for me to just let things be. Having Freedom as one of my domains doesn’t mean I let others enact injustice on those around them. Not when I can do something about it.”
 
And then his own eyes flash, as he narrows them at her.
 
“Your people. You call yourselves the Free Folks. And you do not have slaves. But you do enforce your will on each other, don’t you? You have tribes, with leaders. Tell me, how did you come to be Ambassador? How did Ygritte become Queen Upon the Wall, hm?”

Val stiffens at that… and then deflates just a fraction. She looks suddenly somewhat forlorn, as she makes her way over to the nearest chair and sits in it, heavily.
 
“From the way you talk, I suppose you already know the truth then. About mine and Ygritte’s arrangement.”
 
Jon presses his lips together into a thin line, having not intended to give that away. But at this point, it was impossible not to address the elephant in the room. There was no duplicity around him. No one could hide their true selves from him. He didn’t perceive people in the same way anymore. Like he’d shown Val his true essence, he’d perceived her by her soul from the moment he’d entered the room. He knew exactly who and what she was.
 
“… I know that you are the true voice of the Free Folk, yes. That Ygritte took command on your instigation, because you feared the others would not listen to you or follow you for whatever reason. She might hold the title of Queen, but it is you who organizes and leads your people from the shadows.”
 
Looking away, Val bites her lower lip.
 
“I do not LEAD. I merely… suggest the most prudent courses of action. I… one of your kneeler would-be kings came to the Wall, you know. He arrived right after we took it from the Night’s Watch. If we’d been delayed any further, if we’d been held off any longer, he would have shown up just in time to rout us, and then everything would have been ruined. We got lucky he arrived too late.”
 
At that last line, she lets out a bark of bitter laughter.
 
“Lucky. Hmph. Stannis Baratheon, the prisoners said his name was. Stannis Baratheon died North of the Wall, along with much of his army… but not before killing Mance Rayder, the actual King Beyond the Wall. The man who brought us all together to go South in the first place. The one who united our people for the common goal of survival.”
 
Val clenches her hand together.
 
“He was father to my sister’s child. Now he is gone, and in his wake, I was best suited to pick up the pieces. But of course, no one else would be willing to acknowledge that. They called me Princess, when Mance was still King. But after he died, everything was close to fucking falling apart. We had the Wall, but no one knew what the fuck to do with it, and no one was listening to me.”
 
Lifting her head and thrusting out her chin, Val looks upon Jon with narrowed eyes.
 
“So yes, Ygritte and I hatched a plan. She’d played a pivotal role in taking the Wall, so she had enough respect to start taking on the challenge. In the end, she got where she is on her own merits… barely needed help from me at all, really.”
 
Jon raises an eyebrow at that, and Val flushes and looks away, likely suspecting he knows exactly how she ‘helped’ Ygritte become Queen On the Wall. Certainly, her methods weren’t very honorable… but he doesn’t really blame her. She was in a bad situation, almost as bad as Sansa’s in fact. It seemed that hard women having to make hard decisions was something of a theme of late, up here in the North. Might be the same down South too, Jon didn’t rightly know yet.
 
“Ygritte IS Queen. She just… listens to me because I’m smart. That’s our relationship, godling. That’s all there is to it.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. They both knew that wasn’t their entire relationship. Still, Jon isn’t about to push. He already feels a little guilty as is. Not for knowing what he already knew, because he can’t help but know the things, he knows the moment he knows them. However, he does feel bad that Val realized it, and was forced to explain herself to him. Still, there is one other thing Jon feels he has to note.
 
“You are who you are, Val. Princess of the Wildlings… Advisor to the Queen. You are the power behind the Free Folk, whether you like it or not. You may not be their Queen, but you are their Heart.”

Val stiffens at that, eyes flashing as her lips thin out. But Jon isn’t done yet.
 
“Which raises the question; what are you doing down here? If you are the voice in Ygritte’s ear, why did she send you to Winterfell as her Emissary instead?”
 
When Val goes to respond angrily to that, Jon cuts her off with a grin and a wave of his hand.
 
“I know. She didn’t send you. You sent yourself. And you did it because you realized you had to. You realized, for all your unofficial power and influence, that THIS was where you were most needed. Deep down inside, you knew that your people needed mine and my sister’s. This threat we face is greater than all of us. Only together can we face it and hope to prevail.”
 
Val is silent, contemplative at that, and after a moment Jon steps over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
 
“I aim to make for the Wall soon enough. Not to dislodge your Queen who sits upon it, nor to subjugate your people. After all, I am the God of Freedom first, and a kneeler king second. I hope to join our peoples together and fight this threat off once and for all. I hope you’ll help me with that.”
 
And then he steps away, leaving her alone. She has quite a lot to think about.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Jon routinely visited his dragons. It was a part of his daily duties, though he wouldn’t even really call it that. Duty implied it wasn’t something he wanted to do, but in truth, he loved his dragons like they were his own children. For all that it was Daenerys who had garnered the title of their Mother from the people, Jon would always be their Father.
 
Even more so now, that he was literally a God of Freedom AND Dragons. As he approaches them, Balerion, Rhaegal, and Viserion all whip their heads around, looking to him excitedly and effectively prancing over. Jon just laughs, welcoming the great beasts to his sides as the Unsullied who were watching over them all watch with relaxed if wary eyes.
 
They know that the dragons won’t hurt him, but there’s a difference between knowing and feeling, and there always will be. The three dragons have grown and grown and are truly massive creatures at this point. Easily the size of a house, and not a small one either. They are… perfect for riding.
 
Unfortunately, Daenerys hadn’t been free to join him on this day, but that’s alright. They can’t always be attached at the hip, and if nothing else, a solo ride will help Jon clear his head. Because… he does need to work through some things.
 
Val was right, after all. As he climbs onto Balerion’s back and the hulking black scaled dragon preens at being chosen this time around to be ridden while Rhaegal and Viserion both temporarily sulk, Jon is forced to acknowledge and contextualize the wildling woman’s words.
 
He is the God of Freedom… but he is also the King of Westeros and the Khal of Khals. By blood, the Iron Throne belongs to him. By conquest, he can take it. Should he, though? He’s always believed unifying Westeros under his banner was his destiny. From the moment he found out the truth about his nature… well, first thing he’d done was run off to secure his family of course, but after that, he’d stopped at nothing to accomplish his goals while righting wrongs wherever he found them.
 
That said, he had changed quite a lot from the young man who had been initially sponsored by the Iron Bank in a Hail Mary attempt at getting their money back from a heavily indebted Westeros. He wasn’t a man at all anymore, truly. He was a god now.
 
Could he continue to call himself the God of Freedom, if he was intending to crush all resistance under his will and make Westeros his Kingdom once all was said and done? Or was it that he was trying to bring freedom to the downtrodden?
 
The world was not so black and white, just as he’d told Val. But as a nascent god, Jon could shape it all the same in whichever way he wanted, couldn’t he?
 
As he rides Balerion, flying high in the sky with Rhaegal and Viserion on either side of him and the black scaled Dragon, Jon can’t help but look both North and South. There is that same Darkness to the North, currently encroaching upon the blazing light that is the Free Folk upon the Wall. Their souls are like individual pinpricks coming together to form a whole.
 
To the South however… there is no such darkness. But there is a miasma, a sort of… melancholy in the lands controlled by the Seven. That Pantheon of Gods, those who had worked together to destroy his own ancestors, and who he was made to take revenge for them all, was clearly struggling. Their lands, the Six Kingdoms who were not the North with its worship of Old Gods, were struggling.
 
Once he was done handling the problems to the North, Jon would have to handle the problems to the South. There was no denying it, those Southern Kingdoms did not deserve the suffering heaped upon them by their rulers.
 
Still, there was the question of just HOW he should go about doing things. Val’s words had left him somewhat uncertain of what the best path forward was. By revealing himself to the wildling’s TRUE leader as a nascent divinity, he had effectively decided how he was going to treat the Free Folk going forward.
 
But how would he approach the South? As the God of Freedom, or the King of Westeros? Would he come to them with kindness, or approach them with wrath? Tch, it wasn’t an easy decision. Maybe it wasn’t even one he should be making right now. Nothing was as black and white as anyone might hope it to be…

-x-X-x-

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