"𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓'𝑠 𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑," their father always called it. Could make a man or woman wild in a sense, unpredictable, and powerful. And when a violet-eyed twin born to the Lord Eddard Stark, all knew that the boy would have it. And he did.
Beside his...
The tent was filled with a steady flow of music, of soft strumming and sometimes the fast striking of lute strings. It was a party of sorts. Of course, nothing like the feasts in Winterfell, not even close to half the size of one. It was mostly small conversations, the occasional jokes and laughs here and there. Ben leans back in a chair, tilting with his boot up on a bench as the other steadies him on the ground, his lute on his lap.
"A poor old man came riding by, And we say so, and we know so.. Oh, a poor old man came riding by, Oh, poor old man...
Says I, "Old man, your horse will die." And we say so, and we know so. And if he dies we'll tan his hide, Oh, poor old man.."
Mance wore a smile. One of recognition but also a smile of amusement. He had Ben test his loins, and then he had him test his whistle and tongue, see if he really could sing how he said. Ben had to admit, he was impressed by the older man's voice. It sounded like a grandfather's voice in a way, soft yet stern, relaxed yet always at work. It was nice.
"We'll use the hair of his tail to sow our sails, And we say so, and know so. And the iron of his shoes to make deck nails, Oh, poor old man..
We'll drop him down with a long, long rope, And we say so, and we know so. Where the sharks'll have his body and the demons take his soul, Oh, poor old man..."
Jon had joined partway through, him having heard the shanty all but a thousand times in his life, as well as Mance, whom joined just the same having sung it himself. It was good fun, truly. Ben looked around the tent, eyeing all of the smiles and bright eyes of the Wildlings. Mance patted his shoulder as he walked by to go get more mead. Ygritte laughs with Jon as he turned back to her to whisper something, slapping his shoulder as he grinned. He smiled proudly as he watched the two before his eyes drift over to their right just a few spots to see near silver hair.
Val had already been looking at him. He felt it. He could feel her stare the entire duration of his songs, gazing at hin with something he couldn't quite decipher, not entirely. But beside Val, was Jarl the One Eye, someone Ben had hated since meeting. He too looked at Ben, but instead of a gaze, his look was a glare, something Ben all too willingly returned to him. And just to be a little shit, he stuck his tongue out at the Wildling, just to add some childish nature to the already petty rivalry that's formed.
