He relayed the terms to Mance Rayder.
Mance fell into a long silence, his gaze fixed on the forbidding walls of Moat Cailin and the terrifying dragons perched atop its towers. In the end, he gave a heavy nod.
"Mance! You can't!"
Tormund cried out anxiously. "Southerners are the most treacherous of all. They'll kill you!"
Mance Rayder let out a quiet sigh, resolve written plainly across his face.
"Tormund, you saw those things with your own eyes. If we don't get through today, every Free folk will die here, die at the hands of those monsters. That responsibility is mine."
He patted Tormund on the shoulder, decisively unfastened his sword, and tossed it onto the ground before walking alone toward Moat Cailin.
From the wall, the soldiers lowered a massive wooden basket and hauled him up.
...
Inside the hall, torches crackled and popped.
All the important nobles stationed at Moat Cailin were gathered there, their expressions complicated as they studied the legendary Night's Watch deserter, the King-Beyond-the-Wall.
Mance Rayder was of average height, but his build was lean and powerful. Beneath his gray hair, his face carried an air of calm composure.
Waymar Royce spoke loudly.
"Standing before you is the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and the Three Daughters, His Grace Lo Quen."
Mance Rayder narrowed his eyes, carefully studying the Easterner seated upon the throne. His tone was steady, neither humble nor defiant.
"I know you. A conqueror from the Far East. Even beyond the Wall, your name and deeds are sometimes spoken of. I never imagined it would be you who ultimately claimed this place."
Lo Quen smiled faintly.
"I have claimed far more than this place, Mance Rayder. All of Westeros will kneel at my feet."
Mance took a deep breath.
"So the ones who fought over the Iron Throne… you dealt with them all?"
"Not all by my own hand."
Lo Quen replied evenly.
"Most of them died to their own infighting and stupidity. They ended themselves."
Mance stopped circling the issue and spoke plainly.
"Let us pass. The Free folk need land to survive. We are fleeing the death behind us."
Lo Quen nodded.
"I can allow it. But I have conditions."
Mance frowned, his voice turning hard.
"Conditions? If you want the Free folk to kneel and swear fealty, forget it. We crossed the Wall for freedom, not to become slaves to a southern king in a different land."
Lo Quen let out a cold laugh.
"Freedom? Your freedom means demanding that I open my gates to save your lives, and then expecting courtesy in return? Mance Rayder, there is no such thing as a free lunch."
"My terms are simple. All of you must acknowledge yourselves as my subjects, obey my laws, and every man capable of fighting must help us defend Moat Cailin. After the Others are defeated, you will fully integrate into the realm and abandon your so-called independence."
Mance's face darkened instantly.
"That's impossible. This is an insult. The Free folk will never—"
"Then go back."
Lo Quen cut him off without the slightest mercy.
"Go back to the swamps and wait for the Others to turn you into part of their army of wights."
Anger surged across Mance Rayder's face as he raised his voice.
"Easterner, you have no idea what you're facing! Do you really think a few dragons make you invincible?"
His voice trembled, stirred by fury and a fear he could no longer fully conceal.
"Those things… they're not an army. They are death itself. Endless walking corpses, and horrors you can't even imagine. If you had seen them with your own eyes, you wouldn't be standing there so confident. When the Wall fell, my people and I were right beneath it. We saw it. We saw the Wall's secret!"
His voice carried lingering dread, a terror that sank deep into the bones.
Lord Wyman Manderly shifted his heavy body and spoke up.
"The Wall's secret? The Wall is a miracle built of ice and stone by Brandon the Builder. What secret could it possibly have?"
Mance let out a cold snort, his gaze sweeping across the skeptical nobles around him.
"You southern lords really believe it's just an unusually tall wall of ice? Or ice on the outside and stone within?"
Waymar Royce, who had once nearly joined the Night's Watch, frowned.
"Isn't it?"
"Of course not!"
Mance Rayder nearly growled, that same haunted look returning to his face.
His eyes drifted, as if he were seeing that horrifying scene all over again, his fingers clenching unconsciously.
"That Wall… it isn't ice or stone at all. It's giants. Countless enormous giants, frozen inside the ice. Every one of them is as tall as a mountain, nearly a hundred feet high. The Wall was built on their bodies!"
"Absurd!"
Lord Wyman shot back at once, his jowls quivering with anger.
"Mance Rayder, you traitor to the Night's Watch, you do nothing but lie. How could something like that possibly exist in this world!"
"Liar!"
"A story you made up to scare us!"
Other nobles joined in, and the hall filled with suspicion and distrust.
Davos, ever cautious and practical, spoke up.
"Mance, even if what you're saying is true, those giants… they broke free? Why didn't they attack you?"
Mance drew a deep breath, forcing himself to steady his emotions.
"They… they seemed to be awakened by a dreadful, enormous horn call. Their target wasn't us. They just marched south. They had no interest in insects like us, and they moved very slowly."
A brief silence fell over the hall as the nobles exchanged uncertain, alarmed looks.
A hundred-foot-tall ice giant?
It was beyond anything they could understand.
Lo Quen was surprised as well, but he had already witnessed the strange horrors of Blackstone, and he was more willing than most to accept that the world held things beyond reason.
If Mance was telling the truth, then Brandon the Builder's magic might not have been as simple as raising a wall. He might have sealed some ancient ice giant within it, using the giant's body as the core, then covering it in ice, snow, and rock to create the barrier that guarded the North.
And in the oldest myths, the King-Beyond-the-Wall Joramun had once blown the Horn of Winter and awakened giants beneath the earth.
That power likely lay in rousing, and perhaps controlling, the giants buried within the Wall itself.
If that was true, then the Horn of Winter in his possession might be able to command that terrifying force.
Lo Quen spoke.
"I believe you, Mance Rayder."
Everyone turned toward him in surprise.
Lo Quen continued, "Far to the east of Essos, old legends speak of a land called Jhogwin, where stone giants once lived. They were said to be twice the size of the giants Beyond the Wall. This world is far larger and stranger than we imagine. Frost giants existing is not impossible."
Then his tone shifted, and his eyes sharpened on Mance.
"But my conditions do not change. Submit, and you and your people live. Refuse, and face death. Choose."
Mance Rayder's teeth ground together as he stared at Lo Quen.
The pressure was crushing, and the burden of responsibility for his people tore at him.
"Are you really that confident… that you can defeat those giants… and the endless Others as well?"
His voice came out dry.
"Spare me the threats."
Lo Quen rose as if to leave.
"If I dare make such a guarantee, then I have my reasons. If you won't accept, negotiations end here. See him out."
"Wait!"
Mance Rayder shouted as if the word cost him everything. His shoulders slumped, humiliation and resentment written across his face, but more than anything, resignation.
"I… I agree. The Free folk… will submit. But you must swear by your honor and the gods that every Free folk who enters Moat Cailin will be kept safe."
A smile appeared on Lo Quen's face.
"Rest easy, Mance Rayder. I'm not Walder Frey. If I promise safety, I will deliver it. Besides, under the dragons' eyes, your wildling strength isn't worth me breaking an oath."
Mance Rayder's face darkened to iron. He said nothing more, turned, and strode out.
Soon, the gates of Moat Cailin slowly opened.
The wildlings, or rather the Free folk, began to enter the fortress in orderly lines.
The old, the weak, the women, and the children were quickly sent south to be settled in the Riverlands.
And every warrior who could carry a weapon, including those terrifying giants, was organized into units, assigned to defensive sectors, and made ready for the great battle that was coming.
On the morning of the second day after the Free folk entered Moat Cailin, the people woke to find the world had changed color.
Goose-feather snow fell in silence, thick and unending, and soon it dyed all of Moat Cailin into a vast, desolate white.
The surface of the marshes froze over completely beneath a heavy sheet of ice, exhaling visible, ghostly white cold, as if even the air itself were being frozen solid.
At the same time, a deeper change settled over the land.
Daylight was shortening at a frightening pace.
No sooner had the afternoon passed than the sky dimmed rapidly, as though dusk had arrived early.
And the nights grew longer and darker, the cold doubling down with each passing hour.
Deep in that gathering darkness and bitter chill, within the frozen marshes north of Moat Cailin, enormous figures—too vast to seem real—were moving south, each step making the earth tremble.
These giants stood close to a hundred feet tall, made entirely of ice crystal that shimmered with a faint, eerie blue light, like walking, miniature icebergs.
Their faces were blurred and twisted, and every step they took left behind a massive footprint.