The Provenance || Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

3.03

As Jon and Mance press through the well-worn snow and fresh winds of the north, the King-beyond-the-Wall eyes Jon Snow for the strength of his Stark blood, blood of the First Men and distantly related to many wildling figures.  But all the same, Mance has a hard time finding it, beside the stubborn seriousness in Jon's eyes and strength of the boy's shoulders.  Though he figures it might be due to his bastard status, Mance wonders why Jon does not have the air of leadership about him that Stark's carry throughout their history--though then again, this boy can be playing a game with him, spying on the Free Folk.

    He questions Jon's loyalty once more, "Was it hard for you to kill the Halfhand?"

"Yes," the boy is not stupid enough to lie about as much, a sign of intelligence.

"You liked him?" Jon nods in agreement to the question posed, and Mance looks more sharply at him, "I like you, but if you're playing us false, it won't be hard for me to kill you.  I've got wildling blood in my veins.  These are my people."

Jon's deep brown eyes turn to Mance's then with the sincerity of his words, "I understand."

"Well, how could you understand?" Mance questions harshly, blinded by this boy's predictable privilege down south.

Jon just shrugs, "You want to protect your people.  I've wanted to protect mine in the past."

Mance cannot deny that the boy has a point, instead focusing on the intent of the conversation, "Do you know what it takes to unite ninety clans, half of whom want to massacre the other half for one insult or another?  They speak seven different languages in my army.  The Thenns hate the Hornfoots.  The Hornfoots hate the ice-river clans.  Everyone hates the cave people.  So you know how I got moon worshippers and cannibals and giants to march together in the same army?"

Jon shakes his head with a short, "No," and it leaves Mance wondering just how antisocial the bastard truly is when under conditions not like these.

"I told them we were all going to die if we don't get south," Mance tells him, eyes boring deep into the brown pools of Jon's irises, a stark reminder of the enemy they now face.  "Because that's the truth."

They travel for a few more minutes in silence, only the wind stirring their senses and raising the color in their cheeks.  Jon wants to ask where they are going, having received little direction but to follow Mance, and yet his tongue is silent as this plan of his seems to be working to some measure of success.  But again, it is too soon for Jon to tell, and he is happy to stop thinking about its conflicting factors as the two come upon three others: Ygritte, Tormund, and a man without color in his eye.

Jon watches the man with confusion, nothing seeming to disturb this trance-like state as Tormund and Ygritte watch.  Meanwhile, Mance comes to stand near the Giantsbane's side, Tormund telling him, "Shouldn't be long now."

Jon looks at the man with confusion, unable to hold his tongue as he asks, "What's wrong with him?"

"He's a warg.  He can enter the mind of animals, see through their eyes," Mance explains as Jon stares in confusion, "He's scouting for us."

Alright, so giants, wights, White Walkers, mammoths, and apparently shapeshifters.  Jon cannot help his awe as he witnesses all these tales become reality--and indeed, Gabrielle Baelish was right: all stories have some basis in truth.

"What, you've never met a warg?" Ygritte asks Jon from nearby and he shakes his head in a silent 'no,' wondering if this is a common trait among wildlings.

Apparently, Mance is not one for patience, shouting not a moment after, "Orell!"  The warg wakes from his trance before Jon's eyes, pupils rolling back into their proper position as the man stands to his feet and returns to the human presence about him.  But Mance still presses, "Where were you this time?"