Game of Thrones: Fanfic: The greater good

[m_findlow]

Title: The greater good
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters: Jon Snow, Tormund Giantsbane
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 936 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for anonymous prompt "Any, any, "I hate you"/"No, you don't"/"No, I don't"" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jon and Tormund come to terms

Tormund reached over the table for the jug of mead. It was the third that had been brought in since their negotiations had begun. Twice the table itself had been toppled in Tormund's fury, but never when there was any mead left in the jug. Jon had nursed one horn during their entire discussion, finding it so strong that it made his eyes water. Any more and he'd have been too drunk to get a word out. Tormund however drunk it as if it were watered down ale, affecting him not at all.

'The clans will curse me for this,' he said.

'The clans will thank you for their lives and the lives of their children,' Jon replied.

He'd made it this far without a Wilding arrow thrust into his chest. If anyone was going to accept peace terms from him, it was Tormund. Despite the number of brothers he'd lost to Tormund and his men, he was glad that he'd survived. He was one of the few that could unite the remaining clans and make them see sense.

'What about this King of yours?' Tormund asked.

'The Night's Watch takes no part in the quarrels of the Seven Kingdoms.'

'Aye, Crows sit behind their wall and pick their nails with their daggers for something to pass the time. I bring my people south of the Wall and then what happens when your King decides he doesn't want Free Folk in his realm? You Crows sit there and let him slaughter us on the lands you gave us?'

'The Gift belongs to the Watch. Stannis cannot lawfully bring forces in.'

'Free Folk don't believe in your stupid laws.'

'You have my word, Tormund.'

'Pig shit!' he yelled, slamming a fist onto the table. 'What is your word worth, Jon Snow?'

'I want what's best for your people, same as Mance did.'

Tormund sat back, tipping his horn and gulping down its contents. 'You let that King of yours burn him. That's how much power your lord Commander has on his own patch.'

'If I could've saved Mance, I would have.' It had been the red woman, Melissandre who had insisted upon the burning. He couldn't now tell Tormund that it hadn't been Mance burned at all. Just another trick from red woman, her purpose unclear to Jon. Why did she lay a false trail for her King? Something just didn't sit right with him about it. Rattleshirt on the other hand, well, Jon wasn't overly upset about.

'We're both just trying to do what's best,' Jon said.

'I hate you,' Tormund growled.

Jon shook his head. 'No, you don't.' He'd called Jon a great many things since arriving, but Jon let the all wash over him. Keep your ears open and your mouth shut. Commander Mormont had taught him that.

'No, I don't.' Tormund filled his horn again, topping up Jon's at the same time.

'Tell me, Jon Snow. You have Mance locked up and burned. Did you lock Ygritte up as well?'

He hid the look of hurt behind his horn, taking a long gulp and letting it burn all the way down his throat, wishing it could burn away the memories.

'Ygritte is dead.'

Tormund looked hard at him and he shook his head. No, he hadn't killed her. He didn't know which of his brothers had done it, nor did he want to.

'I took her body North of the Wall and burned it,' he said, taking another swig, letting the alcohol cloud his mind, dulling some of the ache he felt in his stomach when he thought about her.

'She loved you, boy,' Tormund said, taking a long draught himself.

'I still love her,' he said in reply. 'But she'd have put an arrow through me all the same for betraying her.'

'A fucking spearwife to be proud of,' Tormund boomed.

Jon had to smile at that. He couldn't imagine anyone bringing Ygritte to heel. Why she'd loved him was still a mystery. He couldn't even explain to himself what it was that had made him fall in love with her in the first place.

'You'll speak to your people come the morning?' he asked. 'We can't wait any longer to make our leave.'

He might have made peace with Tormund, but he still had to convince the rest of them. Some might remember him as the Crow who'd loved a Wildling girl. Others though would only remember his sword as he'd cut down their own. Jon was still a man of the Night's Watch, and had his oaths to hold to, but if he had to cut down a few to save the thousands, then he would. Tormund would either agree to terms and lead his people to safety, or Jon would take them by force. What he wouldn't do is leave them beyond the Wall to become fodder for an already unstoppable army.

'Aye, Jon Snow, I'll speak to them. Some may still resist. The Thenns will like it least of all.'

'They can't stay. You and I both know that.'

'Neither of us are King Beyond the Wall though, are we? Mance spent a generation gathering the clans together. You undid all of that in a few days.'

'They come or they die,' Jon said firmly. 'If they choose to stay then the killing will never end.'

'They'll come. I gave you my word, didn't I?'

'You did.'

Tormund leaned back his large frame and laughed. 'I tell you what, though.'

'What's that?'

'I fucking hate Thenns. But I'd hate them even more as White Walkers.'

Jon smiled. 'Me too.'