One hour remained of the five Jacob had given Stannis.
The snow had lightened to a gentle fall. The Nightmare Horses stood motionless, their breath steaming in the cold air. The samurai sat in disciplined rows, eating and sharpening their blades. The foot soldiers huddled around fires, passing chunks of roasted meat between them.
Jacob, who was sitting on a chair talking with Stiles and Chris, turned to Jon. "Bring me the wildling. Tormund."
Jon's brow furrowed. "Tormund? Why?"
Jacob said, "I want to conquer the Free Folk and bring them south of the Wall. Make them my people." He paused. "I will give them land to live in. Let them build their own city. A city in my kingdom."
Jon shook his head. "They won't follow you. The Free Folk don't like bending the knee. They'll never serve a southern king."
Jacob's voice was flat. "Just go bring him."
Jon looked at him for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Alright."
He turned and walked toward Castle Black.
Jacob watched him go, then turned to Brienne. She was sitting near Allison and the others.
Jacob said, "Brienne. I have a task for you."
Brienne straightened. "Your Grace?"
Jacob smiled. "I want you to duel Tormund. Play with him. Show him how strong you are."
Brienne nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace."
---
Soon, Jon returned.
Tormund Giantsbane walked beside him, his hands bound in thick iron cuffs. His red hair was wild, his beard matted, his blue eyes bright with defiance. Despite the chains, he walked with the swagger of a man who had never been afraid of anything in his life.
The first thing Tormund noticed wasn't Jacob. It wasn't Jacob's wives. It wasn't the massive Nightmare Horses, or the army of samurai in red armor.
His eyes locked onto Brienne.
His mouth fell open. His steps slowed. His chains clinked as he stopped walking.
Brienne shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.
Tormund's eyes traveled up and down her tall frame—her broad shoulders, her strong jaw, her blonde hair pulled back. A slow, stupid grin spread across his face.
Jon cleared his throat. "Tormund?"
Tormund didn't look away from Brienne. "What a beautiful woman." His grin widened. "A big woman."
Brienne's jaw tightened.
Jon nudged Tormund with his elbow and pointed to Jacob. "He is the one you should be looking at."
Tormund's eyes finally shifted to Jacob. He looked him up and down—the dark scaled armor, the red cape, the sword at his waist, the sigil of the black dragon.
"So," Tormund said, his voice mocking, "you're the king Jon told me about? The one who wants to conquer the Free Folk?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes."
Tormund laughed—a loud, booming sound. "You? You look soft. Prettier than all the Free Folk women I've ever seen."
Jacob smirked. "Oh, really?"
Tormund nodded, still grinning. "Yeah. I've never seen a beautiful man like you before. If not for the fact that you're taller than me and have a manly voice, I would have thought you were a woman."
Jacob wasn't offended. He smiled—a pleased smile. "Thank you. I love it when people praise my beauty."
Tormund's grin faltered. He looked at Jon. "What's wrong with this southern twat?"
Jon shrugged. "I don't know him that well."
Tormund turned back to Jacob. "I won't bend the knee to you. Neither will my people." He smirked. "Now either kill me, or send me back to my cell." His smile turned lecherous. "Unless you want to suck my co—"
Jacob didn't let him finish.
He released a fraction of his dragon aura.
The air grew heavy. Everyone felt it—a crushing weight on their chests, a primal terror squeezing their hearts. Jon went pale. Samwell and Edd stumbled back and fell into the snow. The Night's Watch brothers on the battlements above gripped the stone for support.
The horses—the normal ones, not the Nightmares—whinnied and reared. Shaggydog, who had been lounging in front of the capsule house, tucked his tail between his legs and whined.
Tormund's body trembled. His chains rattled. His breath came in short gasps.
But he did not look away.
Jacob took a step toward him. "Don't go too far," he said, his voice low and cold. "Or you might really lose your life."
Tormund's jaw clenched. Despite his trembling body, despite the sweat on his brow, he met Jacob's eyes.
"I don't know what you are," he said, "but I'm not afraid of you. Release me and fight me like a man."
Jacob stared at him for a long moment. Then he smiled and restrained his aura.
"You're brave," Jacob said. "I'll give you that."
He walked to Tormund and grabbed the thick iron cuffs around his wrists—one in each hand. Then he broke them. The iron snapped like dry twigs.
Tormund stared at the broken cuffs on the ground, then back at Jacob, his eyes wide.
Jacob smirked. "Now you're free."
Tormund rubbed his wrists, still staring at Jacob.
"Do you want a weapon too?" Jacob asked. He looked at Jon. "Bring this man his weapon."
Jon nodded to Edd, who hurried back into Castle Black.
Jacob crossed his arms. "I heard that unlike the people of the Seven Kingdoms, the Free Folk don't care about royal bloodlines, family names, or inheritance." He tilted his head. "You follow strength."
Tormund's eyes narrowed. "Aye. We do."
Jacob nodded toward Brienne. "Then fight my guard first. If you can beat her, I will grant you freedom."
Tormund looked at Brienne. His smile returned. "I like this deal."
Then he looked back at Jacob. "But if you want to prove something to me, draw your sword and fight me yourself."
Jacob shook his head. "I don't know how to spar with a sword."
Tormund's eyebrows rose. "Then what are you doing with that pretty one on your waist?"
Jacob shrugged. "Killing my enemies with it." He smiled. "Anyway. Beat my guard first. If you win, I will fight you. I won't even use a weapon."
Tormund studied him for a moment. Then he nodded. "Alright. Don't go back on your word."
His gaze landed on Brienne again. He stared at her—intensely, openly, hungrily.
"If I win," he said slowly, "I don't want to fight you. I want to take her as my woman."
Jacob smirked. "I can't decide that. Even if you win, you'll have to convince her to marry you yourself." He paused. "But let's wait until you win first."
Tormund grinned. "Oh, I'll win."
Edd returned with a massive two-handed axe, its blade nicked and worn. He handed it to Tormund.
Tormund swung it once, testing the weight. He nodded.
Jacob backed away. "Brienne. Teach him a lesson for me, will you? But don't kill him."
Brienne stepped forward, drawing her sword. "As you wish, Your Grace."
Tormund watched her approach, his grin so wide it looked painful.
"Are you ready?" Brienne asked, her voice flat.
Tormund hefted his axe. "I'm ready, big beauty."
Brienne attacked.
The duel lasted longer than it should have—because Brienne was toying with him.
She could have ended it in seconds. The Mirakuru coursing through her veins made her stronger, faster. She could have disarmed him, or simply knocked him unconscious before he could blink.
But Jacob had told her to teach him a lesson. And she herself was enjoying beating him.
She parried his axe swings like they were nothing. She sidestepped his charges and tripped him into the snow. She smacked his backside with the flat of her blade when he overcommitted. She blocked his axe with her sword—one-handed—and held it there while he strained and grunted and pushed with all his strength.
Tormund went flying backward.
He landed in a heap, snow exploding around him.
He laughed.
He scrambled to his feet, wiped the blood from his split lip, and charged again.
Brienne dodged. Smacked his axe aside. Kicked his legs out from under him.
Tormund hit the ground. He laughed again.
"Again!" he shouted.
Brienne's eye twitched.
The Night's Watch brothers on the battlements watched in stunned silence. They had never seen anyone as strong as Brienne.
Jon stared, his mouth slightly open. He had fought wildlings. He had seen Tormund fight. The man was a terror on the battlefield.
And Brienne was treating him like a child.
Samwell tugged on Jon's sleeve. "Is she... is she using magic?"
Jon shook his head slowly. "I don't think so."
He glanced at Jacob, who was watching the fight with an amused smile. 'What kind of people are these?' Jon wondered.
Tormund charged again.
Brienne sidestepped, swept his legs, and sent him crashing into the snow for the tenth time.
"Yield," she said.
Tormund pushed himself up, his nose bleeding, his lip split, his grin somehow still intact. "No."
Brienne's jaw tightened. "Yield."
"No." He charged again.
She caught his axe with her blade, twisted, and sent it spinning out of his hands. It landed in the snow ten feet away.
Tormund stood there, unarmed, breathing hard.
Brienne swept his legs from under him, and he fell to the ground. She put her sword to his throat. "Yield."
Tormund looked at the blade, then at her face. His grin softened into something almost tender.
"No," he said. "I want you to beat me some more. It makes me feel like the happiest man alive."
Brienne's eye twitched again. She looked at Jacob. "Your Grace. Should I just kill him?"
Jacob shook his head, laughing. "No. You can stop."
Brienne sheathed her sword and walked back to Allison and the others, trying to hide her tall body behind them from Tormund's creepy gaze.
Tormund didn't bother to stand up. He just lay on the snow and kept staring at her, still grinning, still happy.
Lydia said to Brienne, "I think that idiot is in love with you, Brienne."
Brienne's frown deepened. "I don't think so, Your Grace. I think he's sick."
Lydia smiled. "You're right. His sickness is called lovesickness."
Brienne looked at Tormund and snorted. "I'm not interested in him."
Jacob walked over and kicked Tormund in the leg. "Get up, you masochist."
Tormund blinked. "Maso-what?"
Stiles stepped forward, smiling. "A masochist is someone who enjoys pain. You know, who actually gets a kick out of it."
Tormund's brow furrowed. "Gets a kick?"
Stiles sighed. "Never mind."
Tormund got up, dusting the powdery snow from his furs. He looked at Brienne and gave her a massive grin, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Brienne's jaw tightened, her hand resting heavily on the pommel of her sword as she glared back with pure disdain.
Finally, Tormund tore his eyes away and turned to Jacob.
Jacob's expression turned serious. "Tormund. I'm going to conquer the Free Folk."
Tormund's grin vanished, replaced by a low, rumbling laugh. "Conquer us? We don't bend the knee. Not to a southern king, not to a northern king, not to anybody. Kneeling is for weak twats who don't have bones in their legs."
"First of all, I'm not a southerner," Jacob replied calmly. "I'm not from Westeros at all. Second, I don't care about kneeling. In fact, I've explicitly forbidden my own people from kneeling to me."
Tormund's eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. He tilted his head. "Then what do you want? Kings always want something."
Jacob met his gaze. "I want the Free Folk's allegiance. In return, I will bring them south of the Wall. All of them. The fighters, the women, the children, and the old. I will give them land. Good, rich land. Land with trees and rivers and more game than you can hunt. Land that isn't frozen half the year. You can build your own city. Your own homes. You will become my people. The only condition is that you follow my laws, and you never harm the innocent."
Tormund studied him for a long moment, then snorted. "And what's the catch? A man doesn't offer paradise like that out of the goodness of his heart. You're a trader. What are we trading?"
"Like I said, I want your allegiance," Jacob said. "You will call me your king. You will fight my wars, help me conquer Westeros, and stand by my side when we fight the Night King and his army of the dead."
Tormund opened his mouth to refuse, but Jacob cut him off with a raised hand.
"Don't be in a hurry to say no. Think about the children. Think about the women and the old folk who can't swing an axe. The Night King is marching. If you stay north of that Wall, you won't be free—you'll just be blue-eyed corpses marching in his army." Jacob stepped closer. "I know you people love your freedom. I won't restrict it. Anyone who wants to wander back into the far north to freeze there is welcome to do so. But in my kingdom, you will have a real city. A warm home to return to. Your children will go to schools to learn things you've never even heard of, and they will have access to healers and hospitals that can cure wounds and disease that would normally kill them."
Tormund scratched at his beard. The typical wildness in his eyes softened just a fraction as he thought of his people's survival. "I can't make a choice like that for everyone. The Free Folk don't work that way. I'm not their leader. They only followed Mance, and he is dead. They won't follow anyone else."
Jacob shrugged indifferently. "I know. We'll go visit them together after I finish dealing with Stannis. I'll prove my strength to them, and then I'll give them a choice. I won't force anyone. If they want to stay north of the Wall and die, I'll leave them be. It's not like I actually need them."
Tormund raised his bushy red eyebrows. "Hold on. Didn't you just say you needed our warriors to join your army and help you fight your wars?"
Jacob smiled, a confident, relaxed grin. "I don't need you. My family and I can conquer Westeros entirely on our own. It's just... I think it's fun to have a massive army. A king looks ridiculous riding into battle completely alone, don't you think? I want people to rule. I want an army to march with me. That's why I want the Free Folk."
Tormund stared at him as if Jacob had just grown a second head. "You... you can conquer the Seven Kingdoms without an army? With just your family?" Tormund looked around, dumbfounded. "How many people are in this family of yours? A million?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. We're just fifteen. And honestly, a few of them don't even like fighting, so they probably won't participate in the wars."
Tormund burst into a booming, roaring laugh. He clutched his stomach, tears nearly coming to his eyes. "A dozen people! You expect me to believe a dozen people are going to take the Iron Throne and slaughter the army of the dead?!"
"That's exactly why I told Jon to bring you here," Jacob said, his smile turning sharp. "I want you to watch with your own eyes. You're going to see our strength when we completely crush Stannis and his entire army."
Tormund stopped laughing, wiping his eyes, though a smirk remained. "You're mad. Completely mad." He glanced back at Brienne, then looked back at Jacob, his eyes glinting with a sudden, clever idea.
"Tell you what," Tormund said slowly, taking a step closer to Jacob. "If you really wipe out Stannis and his whole army, I'll think about following you. I'll even speak up for you when we meet the rest of the clans. They respect me. They'll listen." He leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But... in exchange, you have to help me make her my woman." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward Brienne.
Jacob glanced over at Brienne. She was currently glaring at the back of Tormund's head with an expression that suggested she wanted to feed him his own beard.
Jacob chuckled, and patted Tormund's heavy, fur-clad shoulder. "I can't help you with that, my friend. A woman like that? You have to earn her love entirely on your own."
Tormund let out a heavy, dramatic sigh, looking deeply disappointed but accepting the answer. "Fine. Win your war against Stannis first, and I'll help you talk to the Free Folk. I can't promise they'll agree. But I'll try."
Jacob nodded and looked at Stannis's camp. He could see movement—soldiers forming ranks, banners being raised.
"Ōishi," Jacob called out, "get your men ready. Stannis seems to have gotten his reinforcements."
Ōishi bowed. "Yes, Your Grace."
He began giving orders, getting the three hundred samurai and six hundred foot soldiers into formation.
Jacob looked at Chris. "You should watch how Stannis and his army fight. Because you will be the general of our army and responsible for all military matters." He paused. "What do you think? Do you want that position or not?"
Chris grinned. "That sounds like a hassle." His grin widened. "But it also sounds fun. I'll take it."
Jacob looked at Victoria. "How about you become the Head of Law Enforcement in our kingdom? We need to make new laws, and we need a department to enforce them." He smiled. "Why don't you become the head of that department?"
Victoria smiled. "That sounds like fun. I do like enforcing the law."
Jacob smiled and looked at his wives, Kitty, Stiles, and Arya. "I know we can't protect every soldier in our army. And some of them will die. But today, I want you to keep an eye on Ōishi and our army during the fight. I don't want any of them to die if we can prevent it." He paused. "I'll help them too, since I'm not allowed to fight."
Allison, Malia, Lydia, Arya, Kitty, and Stiles all nodded.
Jacob turned to Cogman. "You can do whatever you want, but don't kill Stannis. Leave him for Brienne."
Cogman smiled. "Thank you, sir."
Jacob looked at Sansa. "You don't have to participate in the war if you don't want to."
Sansa said, "I want to participate. I don't want to be just a pretty bird locked in a cage to be looked at. I want to fight like Allison and the others. I want to be helpful."
Jacob walked to her and kissed her on the lips, making her blush. "You can fight if you want. But you need to understand something. I didn't marry you or my other wives because you are useful." His voice softened. "No. I married you because you girls are beautiful. Because I was attracted to you. Because I love you."
He smiled and looked at Allison and the others. "And just so you know, Malia, Allison, and Lydia aren't fighting because they want to be useful. Malia is fighting simply because she loves to fight and kill. Allison is fighting because she likes to fight too. And Lydia is fighting because Stannis tried to burn his daughter and his loyal men stood by and watched—so she thinks they all deserve to die."
He turned back to Sansa. "I gave you girls powers so you can protect yourselves if I'm not around. Not to be useful to me. Not so I can hide behind you and have you fight my battles."
Sansa didn't know what to say.
Jacob kissed her again and spoke against her lips. "Agreeing to marry me and loving me is all I need from you girls. I don't need anything else."
Sansa smiled, then kissed Jacob deeply.
When she broke the kiss, she saw everyone looking at her. Her face turned crimson. She hid her face in Jacob's chest, refusing to face anyone who was looking at her.
Jacob smiled and hugged her. He looked at Allison. "Alright. You girls go lead the army. I'll watch from behind."
Allison nodded. She came to Jacob, kissed him on the lips, then mounted her horse. Malia and Lydia kissed him too and mounted their horses.
Victoria, Arya, Cogman, Stiles, Brienne, and Podrick mounted their horses as well.
Allison called out, "Sansa, are you coming or not?"
Sansa broke the hug with Jacob. "Coming."
She mounted her horse.
With that, they rode toward Stannis and his approaching army—Ōishi, Kai, and the samurai behind them, then the foot soldiers.
Jacob and Chris mounted their horses.
Jacob looked at Chris. "Aren't you going to participate?"
Chris shook his head. "No. You said I should watch and learn how people fight wars in this world. So I'm going to stay behind and watch. I want to see how the samurai fight too, so I can better use them in future wars."
Jacob nodded. He looked at Jon and Tormund. "Jon, Tormund, find two horses and follow us. You'll want to watch this up close."
He urged Shadow forward and followed the army.
Jon turned to Edd. "Edd, go bring some horses."
Edd hurried off.
Tormund watched the army march toward Stannis's camp. His grin had faded. His eyes were thoughtful.
"Your king," Tormund said slowly, "is he really as strong as he says?"
Jon watched Jacob's retreating figure—the red cape flapping in the wind, the massive black stallion, the army moving with perfect discipline behind him.
Jon said, "He is not my king—not yet, at least. I know he has supernatural powers, but I don't know how strong he truly is. We are about to find out, though—about his strength, and that of his people."
To be continued... 😊
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