CHP 66: The Bigger They Are... (Patreon)

I sat by the hearth in Val's 'home', munching on a rabbit leg roasted with the most basic of salts and dry herbs I'd stole-... appropriated. 

It was the spoils of her hunt, but... 

I cast a glance over my shoulder, at the blonde woman lying in furs, her breasts heaving up and down peacefully from an exhausted 'sleep'.

"I doubt she'll mind," I shrugged to myself, breaking the bone and tossing it into the fire.

From what I'd seen so far, the Wildlings were a strange sort, pillagers like the Tarnished but not slavers. But, their raids usually involved killing all those who could take up sword, and taking everything.

There were rapes, yes, but from outliers. If entire peoples were to be punished based on outliers, the whole of humanity would end up eradicated.

I really couldn't hold it against Stannis if he wanted to wipe them out. Theirs was a destructive, savage culture, and a younger, brasher me would have destroyed them whole.

It was gratifying to help, but the unfortunate truth was that age dulled consequence. Time washed over all cruelty, and swept away all atrocity, both meek and grand.

Placidusax was right in his declaration... about me, at least.

In a way, there really was no point. So, to be true to one's desires was the only real thing to do.

"Huh."

I flicked another piece of bone into the fire. The flames jolted with sudden life, then swallowed it whole and charred it an ugly black. Shrugging, I retrieved the other leg, and once again began eating.

A minute or two later, a tall, lean man hulked into the 'house', pushing past the furs hung at the entrance. Pale, and bald as a babe. He glared at me with broody grey eyes before raising a bronze-tipped spear.

"I've always wondered. How does losing your ears work?"

I had lost mine a good few times, but never long enough to understand how the world would be.

He grumbled roughly. It appeared he didn't like my comment about his ears, or rather, the lack thereof.

"Who?"

"Karl," I waved my hand in greeting, easily rising to my feet.

"Val... where?" A thick accent lacquered each word he spoke. The Wildling leaders each knew the Common Tongue to varying degrees, it seemed.

I pointed to the indisposed Val with my thumb, "She's rather occupied at the moment."

"What happen?" He grumbled again, turning to look at the Wildling princess.

Before he could look back at me, I stepped to his side and grabbed his spear by the head, narrowing my eyes to inspect the wood. "That's not normal wood. It doesn't look all that bad either... Pretty sturdy for how old it is too."

He jammed the spear's blunt end into my stomach with some strength. Sighing, I raised my hands in surrender and backed off, "Sorry. Got curious."

"Val... What happen?!"

"Well, dunno what she expected but, yeah, she just lost."

"Val... lose," he mumbled to himself incredulously then shook his head, pointing a thumb at his bared chest. "Styr. Magnar. Thenns."

"I don't know a single word," I nodded to myself. "Greetings, Magnar."

It was easy enough to parse though. The first word was a name, the second a title and the third his people. A title of some renown considering his chest swelled ever so slightly with my address... possibly something like a chieftain.

He leaned close, glaring harder. Amused, I gave him a little surprise.

For a brief moment, my eyes flickered.

That moment was more than enough.

He stumbled back, and held his little spear with both hands, pointing at my heart as he trembled. He shouted in some strange language before charging. I simply stepped aside and tripped him with my foot.

"Violence isn't the answer this time, I'm afraid," I smiled thinly, hands behind my back. 

Regaining his footing, he snarled and readied himself to attack. Before he could, a long bone knife flew through the air, past his straight nose, and buried itself in a wooden rack.

I whistled, "Nice."

"I'll not suffer you in my own home, Styr," Val covered her bosom with her furs with one hand. "Wait for Mance, you will have your answers then."

Styr glowered, stomping about like a child throwing a tantrum, before retrieving his spear and-

"Leave the spear."

The so-called Magnar of the Thenn hissed at my grin, "You could always try to attack me again."

He grit his teeth but complied all the same, roughly tossing his spear to the floor before stomping away.

"Bully," Val commented with an amused smile.

"We all enjoy some harmless mischief every now and then."

Like that one time I had managed to convince Radahn that donkeys were related to lions, and he somehow ended up gifting one to Radagon... on his birthday... in front of all his royal siblings.

"Hm," she nodded at the small table lying to my side. "The white one. Give me."

As a gentleman, I shrugged and did as she asked.

-

"Certainly is pretty... Might be our last." Val asked, using Styr's spear as a crutch as she stared off into the sunrise. For certain... reasons, she was having difficulties walking.

In my defense, it had been months with nothing but Stannis' stiff mug to keep me company.

I looked about, noting relief on the faces of the Wildlings that passed us by.

...What did they think I was doing?

"That better not be a grin I see," Val sighed.

"It is," I said, exhaling into my palms.

"Next time will not be the same. I was caught off-guard."

"There's gonna be a next time? My... how daring."

I was answered by silence. 

Shrugging, I plopped down the snow-covered ground, feeling the calm breeze against my skin as I stared off into a frozen sea. Small islands of frost and snow floated about in the cold waters. The Sun peeked shyly from behind the shadows of distant icy mountains, and made the Bay of Ice shimmer as though it were laden with jewels.

"Ice Dragons. Those would be cool."

Truth be told, I wanted to try riding one.

As mortal enemies, there weren't many dragons or drakes willing to giving me a ride back home. The few that did, did it so they could plummet from the skies and leave me a bloody splatter on the ground.

"You could try to find one up North." Val said casually, her eyes distant.

What?

"What?"

"Where the wind is so chill, it breaks bone and ice covers a Frozen Sea. Up North, in the Shivering Sea. They say they're bigger than any dragons any kneeler kings ever rode, with pale wings and an icy gaze that can freeze a man with a look." She said wistfully, gripping the wood of the spear so hard her hands turned white. "They breathe frost, not flame. If the Others are real, why would the dragons be legend?"

I nodded along attentively. Val noticed that, and her gaze hardened, "Do not. Nothing can survive the frozen waste. That is if the Others don't find you first. It would be a shame to die so wastefully."

"It'd be nice though."

"Living would be nicer," she seemed to recall something, cocking her head. "How did you find us?"

"Nice little kid led me here. Jon Snow. He was sleeping so I left my partner with him."

I spotted recognition on her face, "Jon Snow, eh... Ygritte'll be glad of that, I'm sure. The girl is taken."

"He's part of the Night's Watch," I chuckled.

Last I checked, their oaths forbid them from the pleasures of the flesh... but, humans lacked the necessary resilience for such a thing more often than not.

Val snorted, slapping my shoulder, "Sure, sure. Next you'll tell me that men shit jewels and piss gold."

I shrugged, "Eye of the beholde-"

"No. That is disgusting," she shook her head. "Where is the crow? With how things are, I'll not hold it against him. Let them enjoy each other's warmth one last time."

I supposed inhibitions were hard to maintain when you could die any moment. For me, those undead were barely an afterthought. For these people, they were a crisis.

Rising to my feet, I patted Val's shoulder, noting a slight tremble to my touch, "You should rest. I'll take a walk around camp."

As I walked around the shoddy camp, I caught a pair of eyes, separate from the curious and terrified looks of the Wildling, following me from the shadows of teepees and carts.

However, out of amusement, I didn't call my stalker out.

A short walk about the flaky, footstep-ridden main 'road', led me to a hairy giant sitting by a large fire, nursing a hand. I recognised his dark hair, and his eyes at the same time he did me.

He groaned, then whimpered and held up his bent hand.

"Sorry about that," I said idly.

Letting out a guttural hum that resembled the call of a bull, he patted the snowy ground next to him, kicking up smoky snow with each pat. 

"You want me to sit?"

He nodded.

Damn... I felt bad for the guy.

Once I sat, he flashed his crooked teeth and pulled a long rod from the fire. He had been spit-roasting something, an aurochs from the smell, and broke part of the rod. He then held the cooked meat out to me.

"...I'm sorry, man."

He nodded with a hum before moving his hand to lightly nudge my shoulder with his finger. He bumped his other fist against his chest.

How was it that the big things often ended up being a lot nicer than they looked?

Though, judging from the shock etched across the faces of the other Wildlings sitting by the fire, it was something rare.

-

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