Queen in the North

Jon

When they had arrived at Eastwatch, Tormund had looked at Jon as if he were insane. He had turned to Davos and asked "Isn't it your job not to have stupid fucking ideas, that could get you killed?"

"The stupid ones that could get me killed are the best type of ideas," Jon replied, drawing his cloak closer. It was cold in Eastwatch. It would be colder where they were going. Ghost curled up at his masters feel, as if making an effort to keep him warm to some capacity. 

Tormund sighed. "How many queens are there now?"

"Two," Jon answered.

"And you need to convince the one with the dragons or the one who fucks her brother?"

Gendry let out a soft chuckle. "Both..." Jon answered, feeling like even if he had proof it would be an impossible task. 

"How many men did you bring?"

Jon looked around at his merger party that contained Gendry and Jorah. "Not enough."

"The big woman?" Tormund asked, eyeing the room with an almost hopeful look. 

A smile crept across Jon's lips. That woman would be the bane of Tormund. 

"We were hoping that some of your men could help," Jorah spoke up.

Tormund turned to Jon, with a look that reminded him of Mance. "You really want to go out there? Again?"

'No.' Jon thought but forced his head to move up and down in a nod. 

"You're not the only ones." That had surprised Jon, who else would have a reason to head north?

Tormund led them down to the dungeon of Eastwatch. Jon could remember the ice cells of Castle Black, these were a considerable upgrade. 

The man laying in the cell had a burn across his face. He was a man that Jon knew, from Winterfell, from a time before his family went half extinct and the rest of it had to face terrors that most would never be able to imagine. "You're the Hound. I saw you once at Winterfell." He called into the cell.

The hound grimaced as he sat up, holding a threat bare blanket around him.

"They want to go beyond the wall too," Tormund informed. 

"We don't want to go beyond the wall, we have to." A man moved out of the shadows, an eye patch over one eye. "Our Lord told us that the Great War is coming-".

"Don't trust him." Gendry seethed, "Don't trust any of them. They're the brotherhood, and the last thing their Lord told them to do was sell me to a red witch to be murdered."

Jon's stomach turned, a soft stinging occurred where the fatal blow had hit him. 

"Thoros?" Jorah asked, peering at one of the men, "I hardly recognized you."

"Ser Jorah Mormont," The man grinned. "They won't give me anything to drink down here. I haven't been feeling myself lately."

Jon's head snapped to Tormund, whose teeth were already bared. "You're a fucking Mormont? Like the last Lord Commander?" He growled.

"He was my father." Jorah held his head up, proud of his heritage. 

"He hunted us, like animals."

"You returned the favor, as I recall."

Jon's heart raced as he prepared to pull Tormund off of Jorah when the impending attack occurred. 

"Here we all are." The man with the eye patch spoke up, "At the edge of the world at the same moment, heading in the same direction for the same reason. We may take the steps but the Lord of---"