A Song of Grace & Fury

Kneeler-... what?

I cocked my head, and unceremoniously gestured to the havoc around us, then at the hole in the mountain beside her and finally, I pointed a finger at the bits of crushed stone buried into the snow and at the moaning giant stumbling about behind me.

"I don't think that's fair."

"You dress like one," Her gaze moved to my silk tunic, "And you talk like one as well."

"And Greatjon talks like his first word to his own mother was 'bitch'. Or are you guys really as dumb as they say?" 

She shrugged, "I can see why you would think that… But, you might be right. You seem the furthest thing from one and I've seen quite a few by now."

"Then, to Mance Rayder. I think I've earned the right going by your might makes right society."

The strange woman mulled in silence, and a few men took that time to nock their bony arrows at my back. But... I was nothing if not patient.

Finally, after a few moments of trepid sweating... from her own people, she shrugged again, "Mance is out with Tormund, scouting the Wall or some such." She pulled her spear from the snow and walked past me. "Come along. Mag will want your hide for harming one of his, kne-"

"Like you care," I chuckled, following her with my hands behind my back.

"I do not," She said. "I'll admit I am curious about what you have to say though. Not many around here are capable of making one of them giants back off."

As we entered the camp, many of the Wildlings steered clear, more of the strange lady leading me than myself. I could see respect in their weathered faces, and then fear where there was none of the former.

It was a primitive society, more so than the Seven Kingdoms.

They were dirty, many were missing teeth, had ugly scars or massive wounds and dressed in furs and skins and leathers. I even spotted several men around a campfire eating raw meat, and even a man forcing himself on a woman as the others watched... the opposite as well, oddly enough.

"What? You scared... my lord?" My guide seemed enthused, and I didn't mind her sarcasm much. "It's how it is here. You fight for what you want. And you get a wife by making her submit." She pointed the blunt of her spear at the woman. "Look, she's fighting with all she's got."

It was true, she'd even torn off tissue from his neck with her teeth.

"He's so getting rabies from that." I chuckled to myself... then recalled the plague-ridden dogs of Caelid and silenced myself.

Hmm.

A strange culture. A barbaric one.

One that needed to go if they forced it on those that didn't conform to it.

But, if it was isolated to their own peoples then there was no point in being their judge and jury. Wiping them out for a few outliers didn't make sense. 

Perhaps this world had made me softer than I cared to admit.

I looked at my guide, then at her 'assets'. The months-long voyage from Storm's End in the company of men had left me feeling quite unwise.

"So what happens if I overpower you?" I asked jokingly.

She stopped walking, then cast a curious glance over her shoulder, "Oh? A daring one, aren't you? You're welcome to try. But I suspect the prospect of being gelded in the attempt might make you reconsider that."

...These were quite the strange people.

I could tell from her eyes she had no respect for me whatsoever, but instead, for the strength I'd openly displayed.

She had most definitely seen me headbutt a giant's club so hard it ended up bending his hand the wrong way... Or was it one of those strong seed type deals that was dominant in societies relying on might and nothing else?

If so, she would be disappointed.

"Strangest thing though. You're usually meant to get them from afar."

"From past the Wall?" I asked.

"If need be. But the kneelers are weak, you won't find many interested." She shrugged, resuming her stride. "I meant the Frostfangs. Or even further. We do not go that far anymore."

"On account of the White Walkers." I had to stifle a laugh again over this world's idea of an apocalypse.

She nodded and walked in silence after, stopping once she reached a rather large teepee and tossing two of her three hares in a sitting woman's lap. She held up a hand to stop the woman from talking.

"Take them. For your children. I know Tor got hurt."

I realised I never did get her name. A consequence of my unceremonious relaxed pace, surely, but I didn't find myself caring much.

"Thank you. Thank you, Val."

Val. A weird na-

"Why are you smiling?"

"I've come to enjoy watching you humans be kind to one another. I didn't think you all would be capable of that."

"Huh… We need to take care of our own," 'Val' started walking again, briskly this time.

I felt the temperature shift. It was by a negligible amount for humans but, it wasn't natural at all. Oddly enough, there was nothing to indicate just what had done it.

"So... cannibalism?"

"Who starts a conversation like that?" She laughed. "That's the Thenns. Styr has them under control, they would not dare partake in it."

So there were some bad eggs among them.

"Not after the last attack."

I raised a brow, following her past rows of teepees and fires and afeared men and women and children.

"A week back. The Others came to our last camp," She said plainly. "Near half dead. What you saw from up there is all that's left. You can ask Mance for the whole of it."

I went silent.

There weren't nearly a hundred thousand of them.

Not even a quarter of that, maybe less.

But, considering a White Walker's ability to raise the dead as wights, I remembered something.

"Damn..."

The fewer Wildlings there were here, the more zombies there were to invade the Seven Kingdoms. Every single dead past that was an addition to their numbers.

A grim situation indeed.

But, the White Walkers had forgotten to account for one critical thing if they sought to end the world of man.

"You can wait with me." She stopped in front of a tepee that stood larger than most others around, a stone hearth burnt in the centre and the rest of the ground was covered by... I leaned down and touched the fabric.

"Bear fur."

I couldn't help but recall the Runebears that wandered the Lands Between and shiver. They were some of the most brutal creatures alive since they tended to tear their prey apart alive more often than not.

"Hunted them myself." Val said, chest swelling with pride once she noticed my twitching lips. I heard the thud of a spear against wood, and turned around to see her unwrapping herself.

"I can't help but think you're misunderstanding something."

"Sure I am." She laughed at me.

I looked around the room and was reminded of the homes the Tarnished had made in the Badlands after their banishment from the Lands Between. Theirs was a culture of war, and plunder. The majority of them used furs and the barest armour to show their bravery, or donned the weapons and garbs of fallen foes as trophies and declarations.

Lord Godfrey... nay, Horah Loux, the Chieftain, didn't even wear proper clothes past breeches, a torn kilt and gauntlets. Most of the Tarnished, his kinsfolk, followed in his example.

A strange sense of nostalgia washed over me as I sat down near the fire.

Many among them had been my friends. The one I chose to back as Elden Lord had been a Tarnished. A happy-go-lucky wanderer who dealt with all without prejudice, helping those who asked and attacking those that attacked him.

At times, he would go through hell all because someone had asked for help. Like that girl, Millicent or something, her name escaped me. He owed her nothing, yet fought the likes of that bastard Commander O'Neil in Caelid, of all places, to help her.

"I wonder how that brat's doing?"

"What brat?"

"The one deserving Elden Lord." I said with a small smile, turning to look at her.

"Elden-... what?"

Met with a pleasant surprise, I whistled.

"Damn. Where'd Val go?"

I had somewhat expected my guide to be just as ugly and ragged as the rest of her people... but, I couldn't have been more wrong. She was undeniably the most beautiful woman I had seen in this world to date... not that it was much of a competition to be fair.

Her form was slender, but quite 'full' in places that mattered. Long, dark blonde hair fell down to her hips, some of it tied in a braid that hung over her full bosom. High cheekbones, puffy lips the colour of blood, and thin blonde brows over misty blue eyes.

She had changed her leathers and furs for a simple white bearskin tunic and woollen breeches.

"Surprised?"

"Meh. Seen better," I answered bluntly. "Credit where credit's due though. By Marika, it's tempting to think all I need to do is beat you in a fight."

She smiled in challenge and drew a long bone knife from her belt, "Like before, you are welcome to try. My last plaything died to the Walkers so you won't even have to worry about going through him first. Come now, Lord Kneeler." 

My nose caught the scent of something strange. Stranger still, it came from her.

Well...

I shrugged and rose to my feet.

"You know what? Fine. It's been a while."

-

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