*
Jon stumbled off his dragon when he returned to the encampment. By all appearances he had not been gone that long. From high up he had spotted small groups of men still checking the lake and surrounding areas. They all had torches in hand and were setting fire to every single carcass they could find. He petted Rhaegal and felt the dragon's exhaustion flow through him. The dragon was lying with his head down in the exact same spot where he had touched down. Never before had Jon seen his dragons settle down in a pool of mud. They always looked for a dry spot preferably one that provided some shelter from the weather, especially so when they were this far north. Jon had never experienced Rhaegal to be this lethargic.
Viserion had landed a bit further away and was nuzzling a dead horse, probably making sure it was a fresh kill. Jon presumed the dragon was satisfied with his findings since he roasted it and started to feast on the flesh before the flames had completely died down. Rhaegal didn't even lift his head to check out where the enticing smell came from. Growing even more worried, Jon limped toward the spot where the charred meat was lying and tried to drag a half devoured part of the horse's hindquarters closer to Rhaegal. Viserion sensing Jon's worry for his sibling nudged the dragonrider aside and shoved the roasted horse in its entirety in the direction of his brother's head. Then he sauntered off and soon found another casualty of war in the form of a beautiful black stallion.
Satisfied that Rhaegal had been taken care of and Viserion had found another prey, Jon limped in the direction of the tents. Ghost came running up, his white fur covered in mud and filth. No red blood though. The enemy had none. Jon's mind was too tired to dwell much on what exactly was the stinking substance that had gotten stuck in his wolf's pelt. He fell to his knees and scratched Ghost behind his ears happy to see him unharmed.
Sandor was the first to reach Jon and helped him get to his feet again. "Your leg is bleeding like warm piss. That stupid bandage is soaked through. Let's get you to a fucking healer, boy."
Jon was grateful to accept the bigger man's help. Now that Sandor had brought it to his attention, the wound had started to bother him for real. He shivered when he remembered the exact moment the White Walker's ice sword had cut his thigh and how he had been expecting to die when the next blow from that weapon had been about to pierce his heart.
Grateful for Sandor's silent nature he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as they walked in the direction of the provisional shelter where they were treating the more severely wounded. He kept most of his weight of his right leg while he hobbled. Nevertheless, the red stain on his breeches and makeshift bandage was growing larger. He reckoned the wound had started to bleed more profusely when he jumped off Rhaegal's back. His dragon hadn't lowered his wing to assist Jon, so he had just slid down the dragon's flank and had touched the ground rather forcibly. It certainly would do no harm to have a healer look at his thigh.
"Is Ygritte all right?" Jon asked Sandor when he had gathered his wits again.
"She is. She boasts she killed more wights than I did. My woman might have the right of it. She always shot two arrows simultaneously. You should have seen the speed with which she had a new set of arrows nocked each time." Sandor beamed proudly.
"I'm glad she is all right, Sandor. How come you are here with me instead of, you know?" Jon did his best to focus on the conversation and not on the pain in his leg.
"She volunteered to burn carcasses and ordered me to hurry to your side when she saw the dragons come back. A real mind reader, my red minx. She gathered I would not be at ease until I knew you were okay."
"Thanks, Sandor. It is nice to know I can count on you." Jon increased the pressure on Sandor's arm slightly to lend extra weight to his words.
"Not only on me. Every Free Folk I encountered wanted to be reassured that you were okay. You should hear the tales they are telling. They grow bigger all the time. According to the last one I overheard, the Dragonrider practically slayed half the enemy's army on his own with his magical sword while on the ground even though he had to climb mountains of dead carcasses to do it. The other half was set afire by your dragons for which they also give you credit. Don't know what the fuck we were all doing on the battle field by that account." Sandor chuckled.
"Like you said, it is only a tale that grows wilder with the retelling. Just wait until they see me limp. They'll understand that I bleed the same as them all and am just a frail human of flesh and blood."
Sandor grunted to convey his disbelief. Stepping aside to avoid a small pool of mud, he stumbled into Ghost and almost lost his balance.
"Your wolf stinks like shit, boy." Sandor covered his misstep with this rude declaration. "I wouldn't be surprised if they could fucking smell him as far as Winterfell. Isn't it enough that the entire environment smells of stinking rotting carcasses and charred meat? Better order him away soon. Your wolf sure as hell won't be welcome in the healer's quarters. Free Folk healers are fucking keen on keeping their work area clean."
Jon stopped and studied Ghost. The white direwolf whined quietly. He came closer and rubbed his head against Jon's unharmed leg.
"Ghost, go bathe please. I'm safe and you can come back as soon as we are both cleaned up somewhat." Jon looked at Ghost's sad red eyes and petted the top of his head not minding the dirt. "Sandor's right. You smell something awful. You know I normally like your scent but surely your own nose must be telling you that you reek ?"
Ghost nuzzled Jon's hand and moaned quietly once more.
"Sandor will keep me safe. Besides, the sooner you bathe, the sooner I can give you a big hug." Jon encouraged his direwolf.
Ghost took one last look at Jon being supported by Clegane's strong shoulder and ran off in the direction of the beach. He ignored the melted parts of the lake where the smell of battle and smoke was still rather strong opting to rinse himself in salty sea water.
***
Sandor released Jon the moment they were safely inside the tent.
"I'll wait for you outside," he grumbled.
Jon just nodded and lowered the flap to keep the cold from entering the tent where several cots were filled with wounded men. The first one he saw moving about when he searched the large space for a sign of the healer was the familiar broad silhouette of Gendry. His friend had his back to him. Jon spotted the bandage on Gendry's left arm when his friend bent over to help one of the wounded sit upright and drink some water.
"Here you are." Gendry exclaimed visibly relieved when he spotted Jon. He immediately interrupted what he was doing and approached. "We match." He touched the bandage on Jon's left arm."
"Only if you have a cut on your thigh too." Jon embraced Gendry by hugging his right side. "I am glad you are okay."
"I had Ghost by my side. Besides, the fuckers didn't really mean to fight us. That much became clear. They had a strategy of their own. We only had a real fight on our hands when we attempted to reach you. And we did try, even though we did not succeed. You must believe me. As soon as word reached us that you were trapped, the entire front line moved forward and engaged the enemy on the lake."
He looked over Jon's shoulder toward the entrance and frowned. "Where is Ghost? The way he dashed off, I was sure he had picked up your scent."
"I ordered him to clean himself up some." Jon released Gendry.
"One day you must teach me the right way to convince him to do that. I did try that myself several times." Gendry's eyes twinkled.
"He did stink." Jon stated the corners of his mouth turning slightly upwards as he looked around for a sign of a healer.
"He did at that." Gendry grinned but moved aside when the healer of the Free Folk approached them.
"Can I help you, Dragonrider?" He gave Jon a once over. "I will need to clean those wounds. You should have come earlier." He admonished the young man.
The healer made quick work of washing out the wound on his arm and dressed it again with clean bandages. He shook his head when he tried to remove the bloody piece of cloth that had gotten stuck in the crusted over part of the large wound on Jon's right thigh. He used a moist cloth to try to separate the bandage from the cut without causing more damage.
"This wound will need stitches." He informed Jon when he had a clear view of the rather long cut. "Not the entire length, just the upper part where the wound is deepest. We do not have milk of the poppy. Better bite on something." He warned Jon.
Gendry offered him his belt with an apologetic smile. Jon took it stoically.
"It could have been worse." Was all the comment he offered before he bit down on the piece of leather."
Ten stitches later and a large bandage adorning his thigh, Jon was ready to leave.
"Don't walk too far. I recommend you use a stick and lessen the weight you put on that leg. As long as you don't tear the stitches in the first few days, you should be okay." The healer's eyes were still adjusting the bandage on Jon's thigh making sure it would keep in place.
"Thanks. Zalter is it?" Jon asked after the man's name, vaguely remembering seeing him at the Fist of the First Men.
"Zalter is my brother. My name is Zetus." The healer looked up at Jon surprised at hearing his brother's name being mentioned by the Dragonrider.
"Thank you, Zetus. We are grateful that you look after our wounded."
"The Free Folk are indebted to all those that fought to save our lives today. But we all know to whom we owe our biggest debt. You provided us with ships, magic glass and brought strong warriors not to mention real dragons here. If ever the Dragonrider needs help from the Free Folk, we will all come running." The man nodded convincingly.
Jon put his hand on the man's shoulder. "That goes both ways, Zetus. We are allies from now on. I hope you will not forget that the Night's Watch also helped the Free Folk today. The days of fighting each other are at an end. We all know who the true enemy is now. Tell all who seek to harass the Crows that the Dragonrider told them not to. This is the beginning of a new era. The living must band together."
"Only if you tell the Crows the same." Zetus countered.
"I already have, but I will make sure to repeat it to them constantly. I trust the Free Folk more than them. But don't tell them I said that." Jon winked and turned his head in Gendry's direction.
"Since I don't have a stick, perhaps I can lean on you for my walk to the war tent?"
Gendry exchanged a glance with Zetus. "I'll send a few others to help out here," he promised the healer and took Jon's right arm to drape it over his shoulder.
"Let us get going, Dragonrider." He smiled when Jon made a face at being addressed in this way by his friend.
Sandor immediately sprang to attention when Jon and Gendry exited the tent. Jon felt like a sissy with both his arms on the shoulders of bigger men. He was half dragged to the war tent. Ghost met up with them just as they were about to enter the tent. He looked mostly clean and wormed himself inside. Jon let him for now. He did still smell but it was the normal smell of a wet animal. As long as the men offered no objections, Jon would enjoy the soothing company of his direwolf.
He lowered himself on some furs and made an inventory of all the men present. Lord Umber was slumbering in a corner as was one leader of the Free Folk. There was no sign of Edd Tollet nor of Stane. Tormund's large frame was also missing. Jon remembered the men still out on the lake burning corpses. They probably were among them. Then his eyes fell on Jaime Lannister. He looked rather tired but alert, his stare firmly fixed on Jon.
"Have you learned the number of casualties on our side?" Jon asked Lannister hoping he would have some information. He had not been able to see the fighting on the south end of the lake but he guessed it must have gotten rather violent once the gap had frozen over and the forces were able to meet in close combat over a wide front.
"Not yet but I can assure you it will be low. It quickly became clear that they were only trying to keep our forces from helping you. When I interrogated some of the commanders, I learned that the dead didn't really engage anyone south of the lake with the tenacity they showed whilst targeting you. They just blocked anyone that was trying to reach you and only countered when provoked. I asked the leaders to gather the men they had been responsible for so they could make a list of who was killed and who got hurt. First estimate is that approximately fifty were killed." He cleared his throat and picked up a cup to drink a few sips. "More than two hundred are wounded though. Thirty are hurt rather severely. The healers estimate all but one have a real chance to pull through. I told them you would like a list with the names of the dead."
He made a face and added. "After Clegane seconded my claim, they are all agreed and are busy with that right now. That is why you find me in here all alone. I asked Edd Tollet to put together the list of casualties amongst the men from Castle Black."
"Fifty were killed." Jon shook his head. "Before the battle started I had hoped for less. After the resurrection and the prolonged fighting, I didn't dare to make a new estimation."
"Only fifty casualties against an enemy force of fifty thousand strong, every general would call that an extraordinary, even a miraculous victory, my Prince." Jaime Lannister tried to get Jon to see the bigger picture.
"He's right, you know." Jon was surprised to hear Gendry agree with something Jaime Lannister said.
"Perhaps," Jon relented. "But for the friends and loved ones of each of those fifty brave men and women who lost their lives, it will be a hard blow."
"That is another discussion entirely, my Prince. A battle commander must not let such thoughts influence him. His focus must be on winning the fight with the best strategy intent on losing as little men as possible. He must see these men as assets and assess their strengths and weaknesses when he decides who gets the more dangerous tasks. To protect his own sanity, he cannot think of these men as husbands, fathers or only sons."
"But we can honour them now." Jon's tone allowed no opposition. "I want them all to have a decent burial ceremony. We will make time for that as soon as we have taken care of the ones that are fleeing."
"What are you talking about, Jon?" Gendry asked.
"I do not want them to be able to inform the Night King of what exactly we did to defeat them. I want to destroy every last one of those wights. My guess is that one or at the most two White Walkers are amongst the fleeing party. As soon as my dragons have rested, I will go after them."
Jon tried to get up but Jaime put a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising.
"As far as I have been told, they hardly move during daylight and travel at night. And when they do, they travel rather slowly. I propose we rest up and then go after them once we have formulated a solid plan. They needed more than a moon to reach us, isn't that correct? Then we have a moon to catch them before they are reunited with their leader."
"I don't have a moon." Jon groaned. "I need to head back south. The news of who I really am and the imminent threat I pose to his reign will reach King Robert any day now and he might decide to kill my uncle or launch an attack on Dragonstone."
"Your dragons are in no condition to fly off straight away, my Prince. We need to come up with a plan to hunt down those wights first anyway. You look exhausted and weak, if you do not mind my frankness. I propose you rest up a bit as well." Jaime looked at Sandor for support.
"You had the tougher part as always, Jon." Again it was Gendry who stood by Jaime Lannister. "You need to rest. It won't do to have Rhaegal recuperated and you not being able to keep your balance on his back or falling asleep high up in the air."
"Fucking listen to them, boy." Sandor broke his silence for the first time since entering the tent. "I'll find Orell and let him search for the fucking enemy. We will have a damned fine plan in place to catch every last of those dead cunts after your beauty sleep."
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to close my eyes for a little bit." Jon relented. "But first, can anyone send a raven or a messenger to Eastwatch? I want them to send word to Dragonstone that we survived the main battle and are just tying up loose ends. Perhaps forward a message to Winterfell as well?"
"I'll see to it if you promise to rest." Sandor was already on his feet. "Ghost, look after him until I find Rykker or Stokeworth to take over guard duty." Clegane clearly dismissed Jaime as someone he trusted to keep Jon safe.
Jon stretched himself out on the furs and carefully arranged his right thigh in a comfortable position. He tucked his coat under his chin and was asleep in no time.
***
A while later Jon awoke to hushed voices and the smell of warm food. His stomach grumbled. Assessing his environment he noticed that most of the leaders were assembled in the tent but were installed on the other side a safe distance from where Jon and his direwolf were resting.
Sandor and Tormund immediately switched to his part of the tent bringing food and ale. They witnessed how a silent dialogue between Jon and his white wolf resulted in Ghost bowing his head and reluctantly leaving the tent.
"I told him to go hunting." Jon explained when he noticed the question written on Sandor's face.
"Makes sense," Sandor grumbled. "Better eat this quickly. We want to exchange our experiences from last night and then we will finalise our plan to hunt down the last of the dead motherfuckers."
Jon greedily drank from the offered cup and attacked his bowl of lukewarm porridge.
"Seems royals get as hungry as the common man." Sandor teased him.
"Dragonrider or King, they all eat, drink, bleed and shit the same as the Free Folk." Tormund grinned slapping Sandor's shoulder.
Jon studied Sandor's reaction. The man didn't look bothered one bit by Tormund's tactile gesture. If anything, the two men had even become closer friends. He quickly emptied his bowl and gratefully accepted a refill of his cup when Tormund offered.
"How long did I sleep?" Jon asked both men.
"Noon was a while ago." Tormund answered.
Jon just nodded and wasted no more time. Soon after, all the leaders were gathered and formed a large circle. Tormund Giantsbane coughed loudly and the debriefing started.
"What went wrong exactly? How did you get isolated and overrun by the enemy?" Jaime Lannister asked Jon a bit later after they had all been briefed on the outcome of the weak attempt of an attack on the fleet with the refugees from Hardhome.
"It all began with the ice that wasn't as easy to melt. Nor did the layer of ice give in under the weight of their numbers." Jon started his explanation, eying his empty cup.
"Didn't you weaken the borders before the battle started?" Apparently Jaime had already gotten some details out of the others commanders about the initial plan.
"I did on several occasions before the battle. The ice still was markedly thinner at the edges before they arrived. Somehow the dead bring the cold with them. You can feel them approaching even if you don't see them. The temperature drops significantly. Even after dragonfire broke the ice and we had a safe margin of melted water to separate the two armies, those White Walkers only needed to approach and the gaps slowly but surely froze over once more."
"That still doesn't explain how you got isolated on the ground so far from our main host. How did that come about?" Jaime's tone was accusing.
"We were winning. The dead were trapped. I managed to capsize large chunks of ice on several occasions. Thousands drowned, more were burned by the dragons or killed by dragonglass arrows. We managed to destroy several White Walkers which resulted in incapacitating a rather large number of wights. After that the enemy stopped attacking and seemed to accept their defeat as they were slowly retreating. This recounting might seem short and simple but all of that took a lot of time and a great deal of effort. I do not know how long we had been at by the time the enemy appeared defeated.
The dragons had been spewing fire almost incessantly for a very long time and were drained of most of their energy. I lost count of the number of times we needed to stop burning wights and fly alongside the borders of the lake to melt the ice that threatened to freeze over again and again. All the while the dragons needed to be alert and often had to make evasive manoeuvres to duck ice spears. Rhaegal also had to focus on keeping me on his back. It was no wonder he was the first one to tire. He began to have trouble maintaining his balance. No longer sure I was safe on his back high up in the air I decided to land as soon as the fighting had stopped. The enemy was at a safe distance and retreating." Jon defended his decision.
"You could have chosen a better spot." Jaime remarked drily.
"I know but our army was spread out over a large area and I didn't see a clear landing spot close enough to be absolutely sure that Rhaegal would make it. We would have needed to fly a long way to land behind our own lines. I made a judgement call."
Jaime Lannister gave him the exact same look Ser Gerold would have given him, or Ser Oswell, or Ser Arthur for that matter. That thought made Jon lower his head. For a moment he felt like a kid again that had made a stupid mistake during a training session. "I know," he acceded. "I won't make that mistake a second time."
"That fucking green dragon was no longer flying steadily." Tormund defended his friend. "We all prayed that the Dragonrider would get off that fire beast before he fell to his death. Nobody could have foreseen the hell that broke lose next."
"I reckon they were not defeated." Jaime stated the obvious. "Did they have reinforcements tucked away somewhere?"
"They were fucking resurrected." Jon vented his frustration by raising his voice and swearing.
Jaime Lannister as much as the others present startled at his unusual outburst.
"It was indeed a horrifying sight. Nobody expected such a thing to be fucking possible." Sandor defended his former charge.
Jon sighed and his voice sounded subdued when he explained. "The White Walker standing in the middle of the lake looked straight at me. Every single wight still undefeated stopped walking and turned its head and its icy blue eyes toward me. Can you imagine hundreds of them, every cursed single pair of these otherworldly eyes looked straight at you?" Jon shivered and swallowed thickly.
"But that was not the creepiest thing," he continued when everyone kept silent, mesmerized by his ominous tone. "The White Walker stood still for a while and then he started smirking. He simply raised his arms and all the wights that had dropped down when we destroyed some of the White Walkers earlier, just stood up and also turned their heads towards me. And then the ice cracked and countless wights started to crawl out of the water. Those were in large part the ones that I had drowned earlier."
Jon shook his head, a frustrated, dejected look on his face. "One small gesture of a fucking ice creature and the enemy's forces were replenished with at least ten thousand wights that we already took down once."
"All coming for you," Jaime stated, better understanding the predicament Jon had been in.
"Yes." Jon took a deep breath to calm down. The retelling had summoned vivid pictures of this traumatic experience to the front of his mind. He was sure he would have nightmares of gruesome blue eyes for years to come. He took another deep breath and forced the vision from his mind. One more deep breath and he felt calm enough to continue.
"Fortunately Viserion had stayed up in the air and did his best to deter most of them. Rhaegal was swamped in a matter of moments and wasn't as lucky. They only annoyed him. Their swords did nothing more than give him annoying little pricks but they were keeping him busy and more importantly also grounded. Later I noticed that his wing got a small tear."
When the others looked shocked to hear that, Jon quickly put them at ease. "Don't worry. My dragon reassured me already that this won't hinder him one bit during flight and that it will heal soon enough. He just needs rest. Anyway, being distracted by those wights, Rhaegal could only help me with an occasional small burst of fire." Jon paused. He vividly remembered feeling his dragon's initial panic and subsequent frustration.
"Mag the Mighty saved me when my foot got stuck between the bones of corpses at my feet. Ser Arthur would not have been proud."
Jon looked straight into Jaime Lannister's eyes when he pronounced his next sentence. "Mind where you step. Be aware of your environment and use it to your advantage."
"I remember." Jamie answered hardly making a sound but Jon read the words from his lips easily.
"I wonder if he would have been able to find a safe spot to place his foot amidst all that chaos." Jon muttered to himself. Then he looked straight at Jaime Lannister and spoke up again. "I kept fighting wights off for what felt like ages. That was about the time you came onto the scene. You know what happened next. I am fairly sure I owe you my life. You have my heartfelt thanks. I gather it must not have been easy getting to me, bypassing all those wights."
Jaime acknowledged Jon's words with a modest nod. "And circumventing all the corpses of the ones you had already slayed. I took a shortcut through the woods and was determined to stop for nothing until I reached you. Any idea why they were all focussed on you?"
"Because he is the fucking Dragonrider, you dumb cunt." Tormund exclaimed. Sandor nodded his assent.
Jon sighed. Sandor Clegane had been very vocal when he had learned Jaime Lannister was travelling with the party from Castle Black to join the fight. "I don't trust the sisterfucker." He had protested loudly. "Besides he is a Lannister cunt. They eat Targaryens for breakfast."
Jon had needed to tell Sandor fragments of his conversation with Jaime Lannister at Castle Black to appease Clegane but there still seemed to be a residual of bad blood between the two of them.
"Not just because of that." Jon admitted and addressed Jaime. "Prince Rhaegar found this prophecy. Apparently I am at the center of it. Everything points to me being the one foretold to kill their Night King."
"Night King?"
"Their supreme commander who only sent us half of his forces tonight." Jon straightened his posture. "We need to prevent the remnants of their army from reaching him. We need to go after them and destroy every last one of them." He said his tone urgent now.
"And we will. How are your dragons doing?" Jaime asked him.
Jon closed his eyes for a moment. "They have found a dry spot and are resting. They have eaten their fill. They will both be ready when we are."
"That's good to hear." Tormund slapped Jon's shoulder. "Wouldn't like to take on those dead fucks without your fire beasts, Dragonrider."
"Before we continue, has the list been completed yet? How many fatalities?" Jon tone indicated he really wanted to know.
"Fifty three on our last count," Edd Tollet spoke up. "Many of the Free Folk. The Night's Watch lost seven men, the Lords of the North," he looked at Lord Umber.
"Five from the Dreadfort, only one from the rest of my group."
"I am sorry to hear so many Free Folk lost their lives." Jon looked at their leaders.
"It was to be expected." Tormund spoke up. "If you look at it, we lost less than your southerners. I don't know the fancy term for such calculations but if you consider the damned size of our host, we fucking hardly lost anybody. They will be remembered as heroes and their families will be taken care of. Don't fret, Dragonrider. I have never witnessed a battle of such a scale with so few casualties on our side. We killed almost fifty thousand dead cunts. Mance Rayder will declare you a fucking God when he hears we only lost forty of the Free Folk while defeating the scariest enemy ever."
Jon nodded in acknowledgement and then moved on with the meeting. "Sandor, can you coordinate funeral arrangements? If everyone agrees we will build several pyres, one for each division of our army."
"I fucking want to join you on your mission." Clegane protested.
"I'd be willing to arrange it." Edd Tollet offered. The man had a bandage around his head and his swordhand was covered in bandages.
"Thanks, Edd. Get Rykker and Stokeworth to assist you." Jon responded.
Edd Tollet's face fell. "My Prince, I was going to tell you later since we agreed not to mention names during this meeting, but …."
Jon paled. "But?"
"Rykker is on the list. He died trying to reach you. Here." Edd handed him the scroll with names.
Jon swallowed as his hand automatically reached for the list. Pictures of the first time he had seen Rykker at Castle Black popped up in his mind. He struggled to find the right approach. It wouldn't do to read the list of names with everyone scrutinising his tiniest reaction. He would save that for after the meeting. Jaime's words of a battle commander's way of thinking still rang fresh in his mind.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I am sure your fellow brothers will help make the arrangements. Thanks for letting me know, Edd." Jon nodded at the ranger and tried to keep his composure.
Gendry entered the tent his face red and sweat dripping from his temple. "Someone accidentally set fire to the tent with the wounded."
"Please don't stay here on my account. We'll reconvene when the crisis has passed." Jon gave everyone permission to leave.
He used the unexpected moment of respite to shift his wounded leg in a more comfortable position. When almost everybody had left, he opened the scroll. He read through the list of names with mixed feelings. He was relieved not to recognise any of the other names but felt guilty at the same time. Just because he didn't know these men, their loved ones would miss them all the same. He put his head down and closed his eyes for a short time.
He opened his eyes again when a strange scratching noise reached his ears. Apparently he was no longer alone in the tent.
Jaime Lannister sat a few feet from him, scribbling some things on a scroll. A cool breeze entered the tent and Jon's eyes drifted to the entrance in time to see Ghost's muzzle appear. His loyal direwolf had probably sensed his distress when he learned of Rykker's demise and had come to keep him company. Jon tapped his left thigh and Ghost sprinted inside, quickly positioning himself cosily next to Jon resting his head endearingly on his human's thigh.
Jaime Lannister's raised his eyebrow at the blatant display of camaraderie between human and beast but Jon merely shrugged. He had already reigned in his behaviour and postponed Ghost's promised hug because of the man's presence. He exploited the fact that Lannister's gaze was focussed on him to motion the man to approach.
After Lannister had eagerly complied Jon opened the conversation. "I want to thank you properly for saving my life out there. Somehow you were able to reach me when all others failed."
"You looked in a spot of bother and I promised your father." Lannister answered humbly.
When Jon just kept staring at him, Jaime Lannister added. "You're welcome, my Prince. After I reached you, it was a joint effort. You handled yourself well."
Jon raised his eyebrow expressing his doubt. He remembered each word of Lannister's rather judging interrogation earlier.
Jaime Lannister gave him a wan smile and explained his change of opinion. "Before I came back in here, the leader of the Free Folk, the big red uh"
"Tormund Giantsbane." Jon helped him out.
"Giantsbane told me how long you were being besieged before I showed up. Sandor Clegane might have helped him with a few chosen words. Besides, I would have come too late if not for the giant. It seems Mag the Mighty earned your thanks as well. I heard they are still plucking arrows out of him. I am glad he is on our side. How will anybody in King's Landing ever believe giants fought dead people?" He shook his head.
"Imagine if Mag the Mighty or Wun Wun had gotten killed and had been resurrected. We could easily have faced undead giants on the battlefield. It is really imperative to burn anyone that dies, be it ally or enemy."
Jaime nodded and looked Jon over. "You sure do look better." He remarked.
"Well, I refreshed myself a bit, had some rest and got my wounds taken care of. Ghost looks cleaner too. You should have encountered him earlier." Jon's lips curled slightly. "I do not think you are used to such a smell."
"I wouldn't know. But don't bother trying to prove your point." His face grew more serious. "We need to talk."
Jon noticed him fiddling with a scroll and studied the item more carefully. It looked more like a rough drawing than a letter. "You are devising a plan?" He asked.
This time it was Jaime's turn to raise his eyebrow.
"The prophecy?"Jon guessed. "You want to talk about the prophecy?"
"Amongst other things."
"You sound like Ser Gerold." Jon tried to mimic his Lord Commander's voice and manner of speaking. "My Prince, we need to go over it again. I need a step by step account of the fight. I am sure you have not told me all the details."
Jaime chuckled but sobered when he saw that the Prince kept his face blank. It was clear that despite his successful rescue effort he had not entirely redeemed himself. He swallowed cursing for the umpteenth time his impulsive act of pushing that Stark boy out of the window.
"That is exactly how I remember Ser Gerold. I don't need anything that thorough. I just want to walk you through all that I have learned from what you said and from interrogating the others." Jaime Lannister explained.
"Have you come up with a plan to eradicate the ones who fled?" Jon opted to change the subject knowing he would be considered a weak commander if they dwelled too long on the tactical mistake he had made and the 'small' losses they suffered.
"Yes. We all agreed on it. Knowing our diverse group, that says a lot about the quality of the plan."
"Tell me." Careful not to hurt his thigh, Jon pulled his knees up so he could rest his chin on them, his eyes fixed on Lannister.
"Well, first of all we use all we have learned. Rule one: no more disabling wights in a way we cannot burn them immediately."
Jon was glad Lannister spoke matter of fact without a hint of accusation in his voice and nodded. "No more drowning. I had come to the same conclusion. I can't fault myself not to know that in advance though. I had never seen anything like that."
"Nobody is accusing you of incompetence, my Prince, far from it." Jaime Lannister's tone was sincere.
"I burned every last wight on those rafts. Perhaps one or two fell in the water but that couldn't be helped." Jon underlined the fact that he had already learned from the events of the battle on the lake before having it pointed out to him by the man.
"And the White Walker?" Jaime had been able to see the creature disintegrate from where he stood on the shore. They had been too far out though for him to be entirely sure every last wight had been destroyed.
"That was strange." Jon answered his question. "He just stood upright on the raft, barely able to keep his balance. He had no weapons left and raised his arms, leaving himself wide open. He was shot point blank with a single arrow coming from one of the ships. One tiny arrowhead of dragonglass aimed for the spot where his heart would have been if he had possessed one. It was almost too easy."
"Perhaps having lost all his weapons and being out on water he was out of options? Perhaps he hoped he could get some of the dead come crawling out of the depths of the sea? That's how the other one on the lake resurrected the drowned ones, wasn't it? Just by raising his arms?" Jaime Lannister ventured.
"Perhaps. Then he must not have realised how deep the sea was. They can't swim so they are not familiar with water." Jon reasoned.
"Why then go out on the rafts?" Jaime wondered.
"It could have been a command from their commander, the Night King. Or it could have been the irresistible lure of all those beating hearts on the boats? Who knows?" Jon released a deep breath. "We keep getting off track. Is there a rule number two?"
"Lure the White Fuckers to a vulnerable position. Destroy the cunts and be fucking done with it. No use going after dumb carcasses of wights if we don't fucking have to." Jaime Lannister used a rougher voice when he spoke these words.
"Let me guess," Jon gave him a small smile. "Sandor Clegane came up with that one."
"What gave it away?" Jaime gave Jon a wan smile. "You sure have a strange way of picking your guards. Clegane, the Mountain's brother and I just heard you appointed a Lady to your Kingsguard?" Jaime Lannister shook his head. The man looked sad now and Jon could easily imagine him to be a bit jealous as well.
"Sandor is loyal to a fault and a fearsome fighter. He hides a heart of gold under his rude speech and rough behaviour. He hated his brother and was almost the only one who dared to speak up and condemn the murder of my half-siblings and their mother. I lost a great Kingsguard when he decided to live amongst the Free Folk. And the Lady Brienne, well she almost beat him in a fight. She fights well and is certainly strong enough. I have yet to meet a man who is more honourable than her." Jon defended his appointments with fervour."
When Jaime winced slightly Jon recollected himself. "Never mind all that. I need neither your consent nor approval. Just tell me what plan you have all come up with to eradicate the ones that fled."
"Simply put, you are the bait." Jaime looked at Jon clearly expecting a strong reaction.
"Rhaegal and Viserion won't like that. They are rather protective of me." Jon answered calmly, refusing to get riled up. He had faith they would not just throw him to the wolves.
"Then you will have to persuade your dragons. We know there can only be one or two White Walkers left. So it won't be that difficult."
"I think only one considering I killed another one the rafts."
"To think that is all that is left from such an impressive host. Those Free Folk should worship the ground that you walk on. You almost singlehandedly saved all of their asses."
"Trust me. They do. They did long before any of you dumb cunts of southern fuckers did." Now Jon imitated Sandor Clegane's voice.
"I know all too well. Tormund almost jumped me and only agreed to our plan when I told him all the contingencies in place to keep you safe. They would rather throw themselves in front of you in a suicidal way instead of having a single curly hair on your charming head harmed." Jaime revealed a fragment of the discussion that had taken place while Jon had rested.
"If we have some time to kill when things settle down, I will tell you all you about the time I fled Castle Black and found a warm welcome amongst the Free Folk."
"I might have heard a version of the tale. Stokeworth and Tormund each told their half of it. And I heard from Giantsbane how some of their fiercest leaders kneeled to you after you saved them when you heeded the cry for help from your uncle, Benjen Stark."
Jaime paused and tilted his head slightly. "Now, enough stalling. Tell me about the prophecy that Prince Rhaegar found." Lannister's tone persuaded Jon that he would not be dissuaded from trying to get to the bottom of this.
Jon acquiesced. "There are two. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that one is a tale and the other is a prophecy. On the one hand there is the northern tale of the Long Night and the Others that rise during a long cold Winter striving to bring eternal darkness and destroying every last living being. They speak of a last hero who together with the children of the forest defeated them eight thousand years ago after which the Wall was built and the Night's Watch was established.
On the other hand there is the eastern prophesy of Azor Ahai, a hero that will defeat the Darkness with a flaming sword. This hero is also called the Prince That Was Promised. This Prince is also said to have 'a song of Ice and Fire'. My father, Prince Rhaegar, was obsessed with this prophecy.
First he suspected he himself might be this Prince Who Was Promised. Later he became convinced that the Prince must be one of his sons. He wanted to sire a third child because the dragon needs three heads, he wrote to Maester Aemon at the Wall. Since his wife couldn't give him a third child, he sought to wed a new wife. He had a purpose in choosing Lyanna Stark.
Now everything points to me. I am the Son of Ice and Fire. I have both ice from the Kings of Winter and fire from the Targaryen dragonlords running through my veins. Greenseers have affirmed this. I have been born to keep the balance. When evil rises, good must rise to. Also, a red priest has seen in the flames that I am The Prince That was Promised and..." Jon's voice faltered. He bit his lower lip.
"And?" Jaime encouraged him.
"And I had a vision myself." Jon admitted.
"So you are convinced you are the only one who can defeat this great general up in the North?"
"Their King." Jon whispered now. "Only a King can defeat a King. I need to become King of the Seven Kingdoms first. Only then do I stand a chance against their leader."
"Nobody here told me anything about that." Jaime studied Jon's face.
"Nobody knows yet except for my small council. Hells, I didn't believe it myself until I found their magic hideout nobody can enter." He kept his voice down so even if someone walked by the tent, they would not be able to overhear them.
"Not even the Prince Who Was Promised." Jaime kept his tone low now too.
"Not even me seated on a powerful fire breathing dragon could break the barrier. That are problems for later, Lannister." Jon tried to give his voice some authority when he spoke up again. "Please keep this information to yourself for now. Let us concentrate on preventing any of his foot soldiers or White Walkers from returning to him. They must not be allowed to inform him of what happened here."
"Assuming they share no magic link and that it isn't too late already." Jaime ventured shrugging his shoulders. "I hate magic."
"Let us hope that even if they do have such magic, they can't communicate over such a vast distance. That is another reason to make haste. We need to go after them as soon as possible. Now about your plan, I believe you still need to tell me the particulars?"