A/N- This imagine was thought up whilst I was listening to "Heathens" by Twenty One Pilots. I hope you all like it.
"Move crow." You could hear the men practically growling as they got closer to your tent, bringing with them what smelled to be someone you had never met before. You had always had a heightened sense of smell, when you were a child your father had told you it was evolution that had caused it, you could smell a threat from a mile away, but you had grown to consider it a talent rather than a god-given gift.
You got to your feet, crossing the hay strewn floor and pushing open the front of the tent to stare out at the men in front of you. A smile danced on your lips as you glanced at the man they had brought with them. He was young, the youngest crow you had seen for a long time, and he was pretty. It caught you by surprise, why would such an attractive man swear off of women? You released a sigh before moving your eyes back to Tormund. "Who is he and what is he doing in my camp?" you hummed, giving him a soft smile.
"The crow was found in the hills, he wants to be one of us," he told you, shifting slightly to push the man forward. He stumbled, kicking up snow as he took a few steps in your direction. You held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
"So you brought him to our camp and gave away our position?" you asked, your face falling as you rolled your eyes at him, "Are you a half-wit?" you hissed, grabbing the man by his arm and pushing him into your tent. "You know better than to bring them here," you hissed again, turning on your heel and marching yourself inside.
"Who are you?" the man asked, still standing awkwardly in the centre of the tent.
You let out a deep sigh, "Y/N," you answered quietly, moving past him and slumping onto one of the make-shift benches that circled a fire-pit not far from the entrance to the tent. You gestured for him to copy you, watching as he shuffled uncomfortably over to a seat, his wrists still bound together. "And who are you, Crow?" you asked him, pulling a dagger from a sheath at your ankle and leaning forward to cut the rope from his wrists.
"Jon Snow," he told you, his eyebrows knitted together as he watched you placed the dagger on the seat between you.
"Don't worry, Jon Snow, my people will not harm you," you muttered to him, giving him a soft smile as he looked back to you. "There is no need to arm yourself," you added and he nodded slightly, his hands rubbing at the raw skin on his wrists.
"So you are their leader?" You tilted your head to the side, watching as he spoke to you.
You hummed in agreement, "yes, and my father was their leader before me," you told him. "You are not the leader of the Night's Watch," you paused, biting on your lips for a second, "you are far too young. So why did they send you here?"
"No one sent me, I chose to come here myself." His words were met with laughter as it bubbled up out of your chest.
"I don't believe you, Snow," you told him, pursing your lips slightly as you watched him, leaning forward to lean your elbow on your thighs, "I think you are here to harm us." He shook his head, moving to speak until you tutted at him. "Are your brothers going to be joining us in our little camp?"
He moved to speak for a moment, only stopping when his eyes met yours. "Yes, they will be following the trails," he answered, letting his eyes drop to the floor as you got to your feet. He hadn't expected you to hit him in that moment, but as your fist made contact with his face you understood why you had done it.
"Why are you coming after us?" you spat at him, looking down as he splayed out across the floor.
"They want to round you all up, stop you from joining with Mance Rayder," he panted, pushing himself up into a sitting position and staring up at you.
"We would never join him, you can send them away," you told him, your glare setting itself on your face.
"They won't listen," he started and you simply kicked some of the hay that littered the floor at him.
"Then you will make them listen," you growled, "these people will see your men marching into our camp as an act of war, it is hard to see it any other way," you added, you slumped back into your seat. "Fuck," you muttered, running your hand over your face.
"I'm sorry," he uttered and you shot him a look that would have frozen even the strongest warrior on the spot.
"It is not me you should be apologising to, it is the men, women, and children that will die at the hands of your brothers, innocent people." Your voice was so even that it startled Jon, and he looked at you in awe.
"I will try to stop them," he told you and you shook your head.
"No, you will stay here with an armed guard," you hissed, "and if even one of my people dies today, I will make you wish you were never born." You got to your feet again, grabbing a length of rope and gesturing for him to hold out his hands. Jon did as he was told, putting his wrists together behind his back and allowing you to bind them together. You shoved him to his knees, glaring at him for a moment before turning on your heel and marching from the tent.
"Y/N, where is the Crow?" Tormund asked as you reached him, his face concerned when you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.
"He led them to us," you answered quietly, barely above a whisper, "he says they are going to relocate us, but I don't trust them as far as I can throw them," you added. You let out a quick shaky sigh, "if it is war they want, it is war they will get," you told him, watching a smile come to his lips. "Send someone in to guard the boy, he is our prisoner until we have confirmation that no one will be harmed." Tormund nodded, dropping in to a quick jog towards a campfire with a few men swarming around it. You glanced around the camp for a moment, blinking away any tears that threatened to fall. Before morning this could all be gone, but you weren't willing to let it go quietly.
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