We left the wildling camp just as the sun began to rise. The cold air hit my face like a slap, but I welcomed it. As my sensitivity increased the more I leveled up, I realized that my perception of what was "normal" had started to expand. Perhaps even lava might one day feel like "Yeah, it's hot" instead of "I'll die if I touch it."
Updating any attribute brings changes—some subtle, others significant. Mjolnir, for example, may or may not be stronger now. Hard to say until I start swinging it. But every time I upgrade my body, it feels like I injected super soldier serum into my veins.
I liked the cold wind. While it was unbearably chilly for the true North-born like the free folk, to me, it felt like the first breeze of autumn—soothing and refreshing. It kept me alert. With me were Benjen Stark, Jaime Lannister, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Osha, Ygritte, and a small group of wildlings brave enough to journey north. The Real North.
Benjen and Jaime had finally rested well over the past few days, regaining some strength after their captivity. Benjen remained mostly silent, always scanning the trees. He looked motivated—driven to find the real enemy. Once a black brother, always a black brother. His loyalty to the North and the Night's Watch was, for lack of a better word, commendable.
But that was also the problem. His loyalty wouldn't allow him to accept the wildlings. He wasn't on board with taking them south of the Wall. That was exactly what the Watch had been preventing for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years. While he kept quiet, surely waiting for the right moment to act or escape, I kept a close eye on him.
I've spent enough time around Starks to know they're a stubborn bunch. Worse yet, when the situation demands caution, they choose to make it harder. Sigh...
The last thing I wanted was for Benjen to die after doing something foolish—like killing the King-Beyond-the-Wall and ruining everything I'd built. Just to be safe, I made sure both Tormund and Mance were keeping tabs on him.
Jaime, on the other hand, was loud and always complaining. Reminded me of his sister. Being an arse must be a Lannister trait. Genetic, perhaps. At least she had a better arse, which made her bearable.
"Tell me again why we're walking into frozen death?" Jaime grumbled, wrapping his cloak tighter. "Wasn't freezing our balls off enough? Now you want to deliver them straight to the Whites."
"Of course. I assure you, Lannister, your frozen balls will stay with your frozen corpse—even if they turn you into one of their own. We're going there to see how much better they've got it over us," I replied simply.
"Why bother? They'll still be frozen. Nothing comes out of them but bell rings when they walk."
I'll give him credit—Jaime Lannister knew how to talk. And the man could be infuriatingly funny.
Osha wasn't quiet either. She mumbled under her breath, clearly convinced we were all mad. "Fuck you and your frozen balls. If I survive this, I know whose balls I'm eating first," she snapped, glaring at me.
I was the one who insisted she come along. No real reason—just preferred some familiar faces over stone-faced wildlings.
"You don't have to wait, you know. Say the word and I'll give you something better to put in your mouth. Though, fair warning—it might not fit," I teased, further irritating her.
The sub-zero temperatures were meaningless to me. Many cast envious glances as I strolled like I was on a spring walk, while they—per Jaime's eloquence—were freezing their balls off.
Maybe it was also because I made them fix the mess I caused when I accidentally summoned Mjolnir inside Mance's tent, which left a trail of destruction. I'd bet my still-perfect, warm, large, godly balls that if the hammer hadn't shocked them, half the camp would've chased me down.
Okay... no more balls jokes. Promise.
"Good, we're running out of meat anyway. Let's see how big you got," Osha said menacingly, pulling out a dagger.
"For once, I agree with this bitch. That thing of yours would feed us all," Ygritte added, also drawing a blade.
Why were they suddenly united against me? They'd been at each other's throats since I made Osha join us.
"I'll take that as a compliment. But I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. You'll find my meat unnecessarily... hard to chew," I said with a wink, earning a dramatic full eye-roll from Osha.
"I know," Ygritte muttered cryptically.
"Must be quite a thing if even she can't argue," Jaime said, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Gods, shut up about cocks and balls! If you two want him so bad, get it over with—there are bushes over there," Mance finally snapped.
He was taking a risk, not just with his own life, but with every wildling's. He wasn't in the mood for jokes.
The wildlings weren't exactly friendly. Even after I defeated the giant, many still looked at me with suspicion. Some called me a warrior, others whispered I was a trick sent by the crows. Trust was hard-earned here.
Truth be told, this small group only came together because of Mance Rayder.
No one expected Mance to join us. He was the King-Beyond-the-Wall, leader of the largest wildling army ever assembled. But Mance wasn't a true king—free folk don't kneel. He had influence, not control. Many wildlings disagreed with his choices—especially trusting me.
Still, his presence gave others courage. A few, led by Tormund, joined us. Tormund didn't seem to mind the danger. He laughed as we marched, sharing loud tales about giants, mammoths, women—and especially the bear he allegedly fucked.
I take that last one with a grain of salt. Wildling he may be, but that wild?
"Thor the Giant-Slayer," he grinned. "Maybe you're hiding more than I thought." He looked at the girls with a knowing smirk.
Or perhaps he was that wild.
Ygritte grew quiet. She walked beside me but said little. We had temporarily set aside our argument about Ronald the Wildling. She still couldn't explain how the flirtatious man she'd met became a giant-killing machine overnight.
We had two goals on this journey:
First, we were heading farther north into the true land of ice and snow to learn the truth about the White Walkers—where they came from, what they wanted, and how to stop them. My greatest enemy right now, besides my lack of power, was ignorance.
I never finished Game of Thrones. I didn't even know how strong the Night King was supposed to be. Estimating his power based on the world setting wasn't enough. I needed specifics.
The second goal was to visit other wildling tribes along the way. I hoped we could convince them to come south of the Wall. If we were going to survive the army of the dead, we needed unity.
But that wouldn't be easy. Many wildling tribes were proud, stubborn, and didn't answer to Mance. And the farther we traveled, the more likely we'd encounter dangerous things—White Walkers, wights, and worse.
xxx
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