Ursa Major | Tormund Giantsbane

Chapter 7

Smalljon refused to negotiate through ravens.

Thyrsa rode out for Last Hearth after his response arrived, claiming he could make it all happen if she came to speak to him in person. Maybe part of him still didn't think she was even alive. Maybe another part wanted to torment her. Or maybe her suspicions had been right and he had partnered up with the Boltons.

If there were another way to gain fighting men, she'd take it.

Jon would have ridden out with her if Ser Allister had allowed it. Instead, Pyp was her companion, the fastest horses working to get them quickly through the Gift and to Last Hearth without encountering any wildings. Now she knew what presence she'd felt in the cliffs; they must have watched her and for some reason, chose not to kill her.

"You want... our men."

Smalljon stared across the table at her, stone-faced.

"I want all these men," she said, handing a parchment to her brother with a list of houses and numbers. "This is the minimum. We need a whole lot more fighters and archers. Our house has dealt with wildings before, we're the only ones that have to put up with them when they get past the wall and it's never been pleasant, even if hunting them was always fun for all of you. This is an army of a hundred thousand. They'll tear through this castle and everything that comes afterward. They'll rape our sisters, they'll eat my nieces and nephews. They'll take our home from us. We've already lost so much, Jon."

He clenched his fists, perhaps not seeing the loss as heavily as she. Though, despite his arguments with Aspen, he'd loved her, Arnal, and Hother. Surely he missed them, even if he might be glad their father was dead.

It was always hard to tell what Smalljon was thinking. He assumed the worst of everything. He rarely smiled. Thyrsa noticed he only seemed happy when he was with Astrid or his children. Everywhere else... the world was his enemy.

"And why should I give a damn about any of the men at Castle Black?" said Smalljon. "I've got children of my own to worry about. Not my fault you've adopted another Stark. Going to fail to advise this one the way you did the last?"

"I served my King," she said quietly. "It was what was expected of me. I thought it would end sooner than it did, I thought it wouldn't... it wouldn't go the direction it did. Father, Arnal, Hother, and Aspen are gone. We can't get them back. I hate it. You may not be as hurt by it but it... it's been difficult for me to live without them. Whatever animosity exists between us, I want us to set it aside. I need us to. We need this help, Jon. If... if you help us, I will do whatever you want. If you want to marry me off to Cley Cerwyn, I'll let you. I've found something new to fight for, a battle that matters to me."

The mention of Cley Cerwin seemed to make him tense. It did nothing to assuage her fears. He replied curtly, "A fight behind another Stark, you mean."

"It's not fully about that. Yes, I am choosing to remain loyal to them because I want the North to be ours. A free North where my nieces and nephews can grow up. It's the only thing I truly want, Jon, the only thing I will ask you for, I swear."

He looked at Esther and Sigrid, both of whom nodded. "I don't want the wildings to advance any further than they already have," said Sigrid. "It's too risky."

"I agree," said Esther. "Given our guests, we have more children than before." She smiled at Thyrsa. "Gilly is a big help around the house. And, just yesterday, we had a new arrival. A wilding who served the Starks named Osha brought Rickon Stark here."

"What? The Stark boys... they lived?"

"Yes," said Sigrid. "Theon Greyjoy pretended to burn their bodies alive, but in reality they escaped. Rickon is alive and well here within the Last Hearth."