Falling Like ✸ Jon Snow ✔

28| 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

hardhome, north of the wall

— IF THE NIGHT'S WATCHMEN WERE TENSE ALREADY, IT ONLY DOUBLED AS THE CANOES APPROACHED SHORE. People all over the wildling village were gathering to watch their approach, no doubt as confused as they were wary.

Nymeria held herself strong and tall, looking every bit the Huntress they knew her to be.

The splash of oars in water was replaced with the crunch of rocks beneath the boats as they reached shore.

Jon and Tormund got out first, leading the group as a show of peace and unity. Nymeria, tense and more than half-ready for the situation to escalate, was only a step behind them.

"You trust me, Jon Snow?" Tormund asked lowly.

"Does that make me a fool?"

The responding uncertain tilt of his head wasn't exactly the reassurance anyone had been hoping for. "We're fools together now."

A sharp whistle rolled through the air as they continued, and the large crowd of curious onlookers parted for who they were really here for. The real fighters amongst the wildlings, led, apparently, by the Lord of Bones.

Yeah, Nymeria wasn't feeling all warm and fuzzy about seeing him again.

"Lord of Bones," Tormund greeted. "Been a long time."

The Lord of Bones turned his gaze first to Nymeria.

"You're meant to be dead," he observed bluntly. "I killed you. Why don't you die?"

"Nasty habit I haven't kicked yet," she retorted, none too kindly.

He snorted, then looked back at Tormund. "Last time I saw you, the little Crow here was your prisoner." He nodded in Jon's direction. "The other way around now. What happened?"

"War."

"War?" He 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 said. "Find somewhere quiet to talk."

"You don't give the orders here."

"I'm not giving an order."

The Lord of Bones looked him up and down. "Why aren't you in chains?"

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

"No? What is he?"

"We're allies."

The words lit a blaze in the man's eyes. "You fucking traitor." he spat.

Free Folk and Night's Watchmen alike tensed around them, reaching for weapons. Only Tormund, Jon and Nymeria kept the appearance of calm.

"You fight for the Crows now?!"

Tormund took a step forward, the gesture not threatening, but not exactly kind either. More like a warning. "I don't fight for the Crows."

"We're not here to fight," Jon said firmly. "We're here to talk."

"Is that right?" The Lord of Bones taunted, nudging Tormund in the chest with his staff.

Nymeria made note of the way Tormund tensed, like he already knew what was coming.

"You and the pretty crow do a lot of talking, Tormund?" Another nudge. "And when you're done talking," Another. "Do you get down on your knees and suck his cock?!"

This time the Lord of Bones pushed harder with his staff, and Tormund finally snapped, snatching it from him, kicking out his knee and striking him over the head. Everyone jumped back a little, but he didn't stop, beating him again and again and again with the sharp beak of the bird skull on the staff. By the time he was done, Nymeria was certain the Lord of Bones was dead.