Chapter 39 – "King-Beyond-the-Wall" Mance Rayder
Jon stared as a towering giant lumbered past him. With massive hands, the creature drove thick wooden stakes into the frozen ground as if they were nothing more than twigs.
Giants truly existed in this world.
Jon imagined hundreds of them in full war gear charging across a battlefield. Who could possibly stand against such a force?
"Stop staring," Ygritte muttered, noticing the awe on his face. "Keep gawking like that and they'll take offense. I've seen a man pounded straight into the earth. Not a pretty sight."
She gave him a sideways grin. "Don't look so grim, Jon Snow. If Mance likes you and agrees to talk, you might live a few more days. If he doesn't… well, pray your brothers arrive in time to save you."
With that, she pushed him into a large tent.
Inside, the light was dim. A fire crackled at the center. Beside it sat a broad-shouldered wildling, his back turned as he gnawed on a meat bone.
"I smell crow," the man said without looking up.
"I'm not a crow," Jon replied evenly. "At least, not yet. I haven't joined the Night's Watch."
"Oh? Not a crow?" The man rose and turned to face him. "Then who are you?"
He had a massive chest, a round belly, snow-white beard, and a weathered red face lined with wrinkles. His dark eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"Jon Snow."
Jon dropped to one knee. "Your Grace."
Laughter erupted around the tent.
"Your Grace?" the man blinked, then burst into exaggerated laughter. "Well then! From now on I'll be 'His Grace, Tormund Giantsbane'! Remember that, boy. Kneel every time you see me!"
"Up, lad," another voice called from the shadows. A lean, compact man stepped forward. "Beyond the Wall, no one kneels."
He was of average height, strong and wiry, with brown hair and brown eyes and an unremarkable face that nonetheless carried quiet authority.
"You are the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."
Jon stiffened in surprise that the man knew his identity.
Ygritte spoke up. "Mance, he says he's come to negotiate. And they're holding three free folk captive."
"Negotiate?"
A tall warrior draped in bones—Rattleshirt, the so-called Lord of Bones—snorted. "The free folk do not accept charity. We take what we want with our own hands."
"Thank you for the 'gift,' Lord of Bones," the brown-haired man said calmly. "Leave us."
The others withdrew, though their eyes lingered.
The man stepped closer, studying Jon.
"So," he said. "Why have you come to treat with me? Did Lord Eddard Stark send you?"
Jon lifted his chin.
"No."
Jon nodded and repeated Saelen's proposal to Mance Rayder in full.
Mance considered it for a moment, then asked calmly, "So this so-called negotiation was your own idea? Lord Eddard and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch know nothing about it?"
Jon nodded again.
"And why," Mance continued, "do you believe the crows on the Wall will listen to you and open their gates for us?"
"We both know what's stirring beyond the Wall," Jon replied steadily. "We've fought them. You've fought them. The White Walkers don't care whether we're free folk or kneelers. They come for the living. So we must set aside hatred and fight for the living together."
He drew a breath and added, "My uncle Benjen and Qhorin Halfhand are willing to speak for us. You know their standing among the Night's Watch. As for my father—once he sees the wight army with his own eyes, he'll make the right choice."
Mance lowered his gaze, deep in thought.
At that moment, the tent flap lifted and Val stepped inside.
"Val?" Mance looked genuinely surprised. "I heard you were taken by crows. I was preparing to send men after you. How did you escape?"
"They released me," Val replied, stepping toward the fire. "They asked me to serve as their messenger."
She then repeated Saelen's proposal word for word.
"Bloody crows!" Tormund Giantsbane growled. "How do they know what we're planning?"
Mance frowned but said nothing. Something unsettled him. Every move he had made seemed to have been anticipated.
"Accept their offer," Val urged quietly. "The free folk have bled enough."
After a long silence, Mance exhaled.
"Very well. We'll speak with them properly."
---
"What? You want us to negotiate in your camp?" Saelen looked at Val in surprise. After Mance agreed to talks, she had volunteered to ride through the night as messenger once more.
"If we're to negotiate," Val said, slightly breathless from her journey, "you must show the free folk your sincerity. Only then will they lower their guard. Mance has given his word—whatever the outcome, you will leave safely."
Saelen considered, then nodded. "Very well. Lead the way, my lady."
Val's lips curved faintly, as if she had expected his answer, and she turned to guide them.
---
After crossing several ridges, Saelen's party came upon a vast valley nestled between jagged mountains. Tents filled the basin as far as the eye could see—at least ten thousand souls, perhaps more.
As they entered the camp, the thunderous footsteps of giants shook the ground.
"First time seeing giants?" Val asked calmly.
The Northerners nodded, unable to hide their awe.
"Keep staring and they'll take offense," she warned lightly.
They forced themselves to look away and followed her into a large central tent.
Inside, Mance Rayder sat by the central fire. Jon stood nearby. Tormund Giantsbane loomed behind him.
"Here are Saelen Stark and Robb Stark," Val announced.
"Where are Qhorin Halfhand and Benjen Stark?" Tormund asked abruptly. "Too frightened to come in?"
"They have other matters to attend to," Saelen replied evenly. "You won't be seeing them."
Mance studied the two young men. "So. What kind of alliance are you proposing?"
Saelen gathered his thoughts and laid out the plan in greater detail:
The free folk would be allowed south of the Wall and settled in the Gift. At the outset, they would receive grain and provisions—enough to sustain them until they could farm and provide for themselves. They would also be supplied with dragonglass weapons.
In return, Mance must restrain his people from raiding and killing, and send warriors to help defend the Wall against the dead.
The discussion stretched on for hours. At last, they reached a tentative agreement.
Then Mance spoke again.
"I want him to remain," he said, pointing at Jon. "He'll explain the terms to the clans still arriving. And he'll serve as… insurance that you honor your word."
Saelen looked at Jon. Jon gave a small nod—clearly Mance had spoken to him beforehand. Since Jon did not object, Saelen did not press the matter.
After a moment's thought, Saelen pointed toward Val.
"Then I'll require her to accompany us south."
Having the so-called "wildling princess" as leverage would ensure balance.
Mance hesitated.
"Let me go with them," Val said before he could refuse.
The firelight flickered across their faces as the fragile alliance took shape—born not of trust, but of necessity.