Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

The Wall is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the greatest single structure in all of Westeros. As a matter of fact, having traveled most of Essos before his recent return to his homelands, Jon feels like he’s in a solid position to state that it might just be the greatest feat of engineering in all of Westeros AND Essos. Truly, even the Black Walls of Volantis have nothing on this super-structure.
 
Spanning a hundred leagues in both directions, the Wall was a truly colossal fortification, and at its height, all nineteen of its castles were manned by the men of the Night’s Watch. Today, however… NONE of them were manned by men of the Night’s Watch.
 
Who was to blame for this, truly? Jon couldn’t help but feel that laying the blame entirely at the feet of the Wildlings was a mistake. After all, long before the Free Folk began to feel the icy touch of undeath and were forced to flee North, the Night’s Watch as an institution had fallen out of favor. Thousands of years before, they were a respected order numbering thousands upon thousands of men strong.
 
To fully man the Wall would take at least that many crows, probably even more. And yet, as time had passed, the Watch had fallen into disrepair, from everything Jon had heard. Growing up, he was told that to join the Night’s Watch was a great honor, but other things he’d been told… had allowed him to read between the lines.
 
By the time he’d made the decision to go to Essos instead of the Watch, only three of the Wall’s nineteen castles were still manned by crows. Castle Black, the central castle, was where the majority of the remaining Watch were stationed. Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, at the far eastern end of the Wall, served as the Night’s Watch’s main port and resupply post. And finally, the Shadow Tower at the western end of the Wall served as an early warning system, or an attempt to keep the Wildlings from just… boating around the Wall entirely.
 
Jon didn’t fully know which it was, because in the end, it hadn’t mattered. Those three castles were days travel apart from one another, even if one was journeying atop the Wall, which provided a flat surface and a straight line. DAYS of moving between castles… it was a recipe for disaster. And disaster had finally come.
 
The Night’s Watch was no more, because when the Wildlings had finally come upon the Wall, they did not try to go around it by boat, or even tunnel under it as Jon’s uncle had once told him they sometimes did in small raiding bands. No, they’d attacked directly, and the Night’s Watch had crumbled in the face of their ferocity and numbers.
 
It was a good, solid lesson. Even a fortification as amazing as the Wall… was only as good as the men manning it. Just having the Wall in place wouldn’t save any of them, if the dark forces at work in the True North were allowed to continue as they were. The Wall would keep no one back, if it was not manned with the armies of men.
 
As all of this passes through Jon’s mind, the nascent divinity swoops down from the clouds on dragon’s back and gazes upon the Wall that his ancestor, Bran the Builder, broke. It truly is a majestic thing to be sure… and to his mild surprise, looks to be in a much better state than it was previously. There are little pinpricks of light all along its length, showing that the Free Folk who now occupy it have spread out along the Wall and begun inhabiting the castles that were abandoned up until this point.
 
He'd wondered, when everyone had made such a point to call this Ygritte woman ‘Queen Upon the Wall’. After all, the original title among the Free Folk was King Beyond the Wall. The change was distinctive and telling, and it made it clear that at least for now, the Wildlings sought to fortify, rather than continue running.
 
It spoke to an intelligence among their number that Jon could work with. Whether it was Ygritte or Val who had realized they couldn’t keep running forever, that they had to eventually make a stand somewhere and that the Wall represented the best opportunity for that… it mattered not. What did matter was that he had a meeting with a Queen.
 
Glancing over his shoulder, Jon smiles at seeing the long van of his army making their way up the King’s Road towards the Wall. Reformed Dothraki, Freed Unsullied, and Blooded Northmen alike. It was a great force, perhaps not the greatest that Westeros had ever seen, but great enough. If they could find common cause with the Wildlings… if they could work with these self-styled Free Folk… then maybe, just maybe, the threat to the North could be defeated, once and for all.
 
Winter was Coming. Those were the words of House Stark, the House of his Mother. And Jon believed it. With eyes that shone with divine purpose, he looked North and saw Winter in all of its raw, terrible glory, coming to snuff them all out. But he refused to let that happen without a fight. Let Winter come. It would meet the flames of his people’s spirit and conviction and find itself turned aside once more.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“Presenting the Kneeler King.”
 
Jon isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but he probably shouldn’t have been expecting much. The Free Folk man in charge of ‘announcing’ his arrival even goes so far as to spit on the ground once he’s finished speaking, clearly uncaring of how his words are taken or whether he’s doing a good job or not. Not that anyone in the Free Folk ‘court’ reprimands him.
 
As Jon walks into what used to be the Night’s Watch’s main hall within Castle Black, the organization’s primary headquarters, he gazes around the room, meeting the eyes of plenty of hard men and hard women who shine under his gaze. They’re all putting on brave faces, but there’s no denying the truth… they’re terrified. Not of him, but of what they’ve been running from all this time.
 
Each and every Wildling in this room has dealt with the dead coming back to haunt them. Jon can see it, the things they’ve seen, the things they’ve survived… it’s writ-large across their souls, and he feels a brief moment of pity for them… before turning his gaze to the woman sat at the head of the table, in the closest thing to a throne that Castle Black has ever had.
 
The first thing he notices is what everyone else no doubt notices. The fiery color of her hair is so striking, so shocking in this dreary, dark-colored place, that it’s impossible not to notice. However, the second thing Jon notices, is the fire of her soul. The Queen Upon the Wall is a woman who has survived many challenges, but not come out the other side without her fair share of scars, both physical and otherwise.
 
A long scar runs down one side of her face, along an eye, though the eye itself is not cloudy or covered by an eyepatch at least, meaning she managed to pull away from the strike enough not to lose it, but not enough to avoid being marked by the scar for the rest of her life. Still, it gives character if nothing else, to an already striking, stunningly beautiful woman.
 
Beside Queen Ygritte stands her advisor in all things, the closest to a princess the wildlings have, Val. After his and Val’s conversation, the Free Folk woman had headed North ahead of him and his forces, to announce their coming and keep fighting from breaking out. For the moment, at least, things were peaceful… but tensions were already running high, and Jon knew it was up to him to make sure the Living didn’t start slaughtering each other before the Dead could even arrive.
 
The corner of Ygritte’s mouth quirks up as she gazes down at him from atop her platform.
 
“When I heard some powerful Warlord had come from across the sea and conquered the North before Val here could make common cause with their kneeler lady, down in Winterfell, I had to admit I was surprised. But also… I thought you’d be taller.”
 
There’s an uproar of laughter from the assembled wildlings at that, while Jon just smiles, patiently waiting it out, letting them get it out of their system before responding.
 
“While it is true that I come from Essos, I was born in these lands. I am of the North, the same as you and everyone in this room.”
 
Another woman, from off to the side, scoffs at that and pipes up.
 
“We call anything below the Wall South. You are not of the True North.”
 
Jon just shakes his head.
 
“Such division is inadvisable, given our current circumstances. Once upon a time, our peoples were one. The Wall may have separated us into two factions, but that was not it’s intended purpose, as my recent forefathers may have thought. You all should know better than most, what the Wall was originally made for. After all, you now man it in preparation for the battle to come.”
 
For a moment, all is silent, before a quiet murmur starts up among the crowd of wildlings. Eventually, one of them, bald and with ropy scars across his skull, steps forward with a sneer and a glare.
 
“What would a kneeler King know about what we’ve been fighting? About what we’ve been preparing for?”
 
He’s not all that inclined to reveal his divinity to everyone in this chamber. He showed himself to Val, but that was different. This… still, there’s no reason not to reveal a fraction of his power. Looking to the Wildling Man, Jon lets a bit of glow creep into his eyes, his voice sonorous as he speaks with conviction.
 
“I’ve seen it. The threat coming from beyond the Wall. You need not convince me… I know what we’re up against.”
 
The Wildling man’s own eyes widen, and he takes an abortive step backwards before scowling and spitting on the ground.
 
“Greenseer and Kneeler King then. Doesn’t make much difference…”
 
“The Magnar Styr of Thenn is right. What you know matters little, depending on what you intend to ask of us. The Free Folk have taken the Wall. Have you come to take it back?”
 
“No.”
 
It’s clear to Jon that his answer surprises everyone, a ripple going through the crowd as they all look at each other, confused. Only Val and Ygritte appear unsurprised. Val, because she’s seen to the depths of him, and Ygritte because Val has likely prepared her for this encounter. Smiling now, though it’s a sharp, predatory smile, the Wildling Queen leans forward.
 
“Then why have you come?”
 
“To help. To make common cause against our mutual enemy. Our battle is with what’s chased you down here from the North. If we work together, we can-!”
 
While he’d been speaking, Ygritte’s smile had been growing wider and wider. It seems clear to him that he’s playing right into her hands on this, saying what she wants him to say, what she NEEDS him to say to give her more legitimacy in the eyes of her people. Which is why Jon sees the moment that her smile vanishes, as he’s abruptly cut off by the man from before, this… Magnar Styr.
 
“Liar! It’s a fucking trap! It always is, with the kneelers!”
 
Jon falls silent, as the Magnar looks around the chamber. Not just because he was interrupted… but because he could always see this in the Wildling Man’s soul. There was no other way this could go. Ygritte may have wanted one thing, but Styr wants another entirely.
 
“The Wall is ours! If we let these kneelers in, if we give it back to them, we’ll find ourselves crushed between them and the dead!”
 
Clearing his throat, Jon shakes his head.
 
“I have no intention of fighting any of the Free Folk while the true threat remains.”
 
Styr stabs a finger in his direction.
 
“Precisely! They will use us… and then they will turn on us! We took the Wall on our own. We don’t need their help to defend it! And if we accept their help, we will only be going to our doom!”
 
“Magnar of Thenn! You speak out of turn!”
 
Ygritte is clearly furious at being gainsaid in her own court. Jon has to resist the urge to quip something like ‘First Time?’ up at her. Meanwhile, Styr whips around and snarls.
 
“Out of turn? What, is this some kneeler court where we cannot speak our minds?!”
 
The murmurs from the other Free Folk in the Queen’s Court begin to grow in intensity, and Jon… Jon sighs, recognizing that there’s only one way this will end. This time, when he speaks, he injects a hint of divinity into his words, silencing the room and making sure no one will interrupt him.
 
“Neither I nor my armies will leave this threat to the Free Folk to face alone. I have come to help and help I shall. If you have a problem with that… then we can settle this like men.”
 
A savage grin spreads across the Magnar’s face at that.
 
“Oh? You wanna fight?”
 
No, Jon actually didn’t want to fight. But it was quite obvious that Styr did. The bald wildling man was spoiling for a fight, and if it wasn’t Jon, he’d soon be fighting Ygritte for her nonexistent crown. At a time like this, Jon couldn’t let that happen… and admittedly, some men needed killing. The Magnar of Thenn’s soul was not pitch black, no mortal man’s was… but it was certainly black enough, stained by the actions of his past.
 
“A duel, you and me, here and now. Kill me, and my armies will depart from the Wall and leave you and your people to your fate.”
 
“Deal.”
 
Styr doesn’t hesitate. One of his tribesmen throws him a weapon and he’s swinging at Jon faster than the blink of an eye, even as Ygritte rises from her throne, roaring in anger at the complete disruption of her court.
 
But if Jon was capable of handling challenge after challenge when he was still unaware of his own divinity… he’s far beyond any mortal man now. His own sword is out of its sheathe and deflecting the Magnar’s weapon to the side between one moment and the next. To make sure everyone catches up to what’s going on, he lets the wildling man live for a few exchanges, their weapons clashing until, with one flick of his wrist, he relieves Magnar Styr of his head, decapitating him in a single, clean strike.
 
There’s an uproar from who Jon can only assume as the Thenns that this Magnar led, but they’re far outnumbered by the rest of the court, and though they shout and scream, none of them attacks. Instead, they’re pushed out of the hall entirely, and soon Jon is left with only wildlings who gaze at him with respect… or in Queen Ygritte’s case, something a little… different.
 
“A duel before the Old Gods. We will accept the Kneeler King’s help. Our armies combined will defend the Wall from the Oncoming Dead.”
 
Ygritte’s words are met with silent nods of agreement, no one left to gainsay them at this point. Jon, for his part, just smiles and gives the Queen Upon the Wall a polite bow of thanks. That said, he does not fail to notice the way her eyes follow him out just a bit more intensely then the rest of her people.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“You should Steal her.”
 
Jon lets out a sigh, as later that night Daenerys makes her opinion known from upon his chest. His beautiful wife runs a hand down his abdomen and wraps her fingers around his currently soft cock, even as she rests her ear against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.
 
“Daenerys…”
 
“They’ll respect it. They’ll have to. Apparently, she’s been fending off attempts for as long as she’s been Queen. The number of men she’s gelded… and yet, the wildlings I’ve spoken to today all act as if it’s a foregone conclusion that eventually one will succeed, and they’ll have a new King.”
 
Staring up at the ceiling, running his fingers through Daenerys’ hair, Jon grimaces. Because it’s not just that the Free Folk will likely accept such behavior… its that Ygritte likely would as well. That’s what he’d seen in her gaze, after he’d slain the Magnar of Thenn. Not just respect… but a burgeoning desire. It was almost like the two of them had been meant to have a destiny together. His divine eyes allowed him to see the could-have-been connection between them.
 
If he’d gone North and become a Brother of the Night’s Watch… but then, Jon wasn’t entirely sure how a relationship between a Crow and a Wildling could have ever ended in anything but a tragedy.
 
Regardless, Daenerys was right. The Free Folk were half-tolerating Ygritte as their Queen because she had Val’s backing and she’d taken on all challengers. But they were also half-tolerating her as Queen because they imagined one among them would eventually manage to steal her from her bed, claim her as his woman, and be named King.
 
It was sick and twisted, and Jon was actually happy that Ygritte had managed to fight off all of her would-be attackers up to this point. How she got any sleep though, he did not know.
 
And yet… and yet, he was nevertheless considering becoming one of those men. If it wasn’t for the interest he’d seen in Ygritte’s soul, behind her beautiful blue eyes, he wouldn’t be. But there it was. Some part of Ygritte wanted to be Stolen. Not by just anyone… but by him.
 
That said, was now really the time for such a thing? Just as Jon had stepped in to challenge Styr before the Thenn could get around to challenging Ygritte, going after the red head now would almost certainly cause some instability, even if some of the Wildlings would be happy with it.
 
Perhaps it would be better to wait until the battle was won… but at the same time, it might help their forces unify quicker, if he laid claim to the Wildling Queen?
 
Tch, to Steal her now or later? Or… not at all?

-x-X-x-

If you'd like to read more of my work not seen on this website, check out Hentai-Foundry.com and QuestionableQuesting.com where I have over a thousand stories!

If you'd like to contribute to funding my writing at all, check me out on Patreon.com/Cambrian

Thanks for reading!