Emilee understood the need for peace between her people and the Crows.
She understood the dangers of the Night King and the White Walkers.
But she didn't understand why she was falling so hard for Jon Snow.
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ICE reminded Emilee of death. She knew death all too well, for they had been friends for many years. He'd visited her when she was only a child. Since that day, she would deliver souls for him to reap.
Despite their complex relationship, Emilee hated death. As her boots barely gripped the slick surface of the ice below her feet, she could help but see faces dancing in the smoke of the fires before her.
Some would say that she was here to repent for her sins - to make up for all of the lives lost under her command. Others would insist that their being in this place was a tactical strategy - that they would attack at nightfall. Neither of these opinions was correct. Her clan was here because their leader thought that she alone knew the difference between right from wrong.
She would be wrong if she didn't try to save the lives of those who would sacrifice themselves for her. She would be wrong if she massacred everyone from here to the Wall.
But was she right in leading her people closer to death?
Many would argue that no, she wasn't right in uprooting her clan to bring them into the arms of danger. As she stared upon the face of her greatest threat, she didn't seem to care what those people would say, anyway.
"Wolfheart," Torment greeted with a beat of his fist against his chest, "You are more honourable than I expected. I didn't think that we'd see you here."
Emilee simply stared at the man for a moment, studying how he stood taller than the men around him - both in height and pride. She hated the Ice River Clan, and by association, she hated their leader. They'd been warring with her people for years, and wars beyond the Wall rarely came to a conclusion. This one had spanned generations, and when whatever this was, was over, she had no doubt that they would be at each other's throats once more.
"Giantsbane," Emilee greeted with a smirk as Tormund's hand twitched closer to his axe, "Your first mistake was to suspect anything of me. I am not honourable. If I realised that you were here, I wouldn't have come."
The giant man grinned at her words and held out his hand to make peace with his foe, but Emilee did not return the gesture. It would have to take a lot more than a first greeting and a handshake for Tormund to prove to her that he wasn't going to use this as an opportunity to attack the Men of the Frozen Shore.
"Well, at least you two haven't killed each other!" An older man quipped as he approached the tense exchange. He walked cautiously around the clans as they eyed each other, but there was an air of confidence around him as he entered the conversation, "I was convinced that at least one of you would be face down in the snow by now!"
It wasn't hard for Emilee to work out who this man was, for men didn't tend to live long enough for men to be considered old out here. She didn't dare to bring a smile to her lips, however,
"Mance Rayder. You failed to inform me that the Ice River Clan would be here. Tell me, should I kill the messenger or the writer?"
"Neither," Mance let out a throaty laugh, "Tell me, Wolfheart, would you have come if you knew of Tormund's presence?"
"No," Emilee replied without missing a beat,
"No," He repeated, "You'd much rather be out there, dying at the hands of our greatest enemy - if the frost didn't get you first. I didn't call you here to ambush you - I called you for your aid. Your reputation precedes you as one of the fiercest warriors the North has ever seen. What use are you to me if you're dead?"
Emilee raised an eyebrow at his words, feeling warmth bloom in her chest at the mention of her reputation. It didn't take much for the fierce leader to warm to someone, as long as they knew how to share a compliment.
From behind Mance, Emilee spotted a man dressed in black. She knew what he was before anyone would take the opportunity to introduce the pair,
"Probably as much use to you as your pet Crow."
The Crow who approached wasn't an idiot. He held Emilee's eye as she stared him down, standing a step behind Mance Rayder as the older man came to his defence,
"Jon Snow is a Crow no longer,"
"Once a Crow, always a Crow. When they took their vows, they swore themselves my enemy. When they break their vows does that make them my friend? No, it makes them disloyal," Her eyes bore holes into Jon's before she turned back to Mance, "Disloyalty doesn't get you very far in the North."
Jon Snow did not know who this girl was, but it was clear that the pair were destined to hate one another. She had spoken ill of him before even knowing his name. He was here to prove himself, but not to people like her, no. He wanted to prove himself to his brothers on the Wall, for he would never break his vow to hurt them. He was doing this to save them.
Mance turned around, finally greeting Jon with a hand on the shoulder, "This is Emilee Wolfheart, the leader of the Men of the Frozen Shore, and you know Tormund,"
"Emilee," He spoke as he held out his hand for her to shake. It was a courtesy, but one she didn't pay him in return, "A little young for a leader, aren't you?"
She smirked in response, "I earned my title through blood. Can you say the same, baby Crow?"
"Now," Mance stepped between the pair, turning to face Jon, "Go and find some furs from the Free Folk. You stand out among us, and my people will never accept you unless you start acting like us."
Jon, with one last glare at the smirking girl he was leaving behind, did as he was told. Mance, sparing one warning look at the pair of Wildling leaders behind him, followed the Crow.
"I sense that you and I could be friends, Wolfheart," Tormund grinned down at the girl. She couldn't help the smile which appeared on her face as she replied, "Maybe in another life, Giantsbane."
