Chapter 123. We don’t kneel.

Chapter 123: Chapter 123. We don’t kneel.

"A piece of land to farm and live in peace? But you don’t want to be part of The Seven Kingdoms," Jaehaerys asked Mance. "Is that all you want?" The idea struck him as absurd.

"It’s what my people will accept," Mance insisted.

"A patch of land, in the heart of the kingdom—only a madman would accept that." His violet eyes turned to his father. "It would be like creating a new kingdom within Westeros," the prince shook his head. "You have no law. You won’t obey the laws—what will happen then when your people kill those who pass by? Or steal women from neighboring lands?" he asked. The-King-Beyond-The-Wall’s eyes hardened.

"I will control the Freefolk," he said, as if making a promise.

But promises were like snow in spring.

"Are you capable? They follow you now out of fear—what will they say when they reach the south? When they see the green fields and the forests teeming with animals?" A man, when he has no need, becomes difficult to manage.

"I will deal with it in due time," said Mance.

"Do you think it’s that easy? You seem to understand a little about politics, Mance," Jaehaerys said, not as a compliment but as a simple fact. "Wildlings in the middle of Westeros... the lords will be frightened; your people do not have a good reputation. The slightest whisper that they’re practicing their customs will alert them; it won’t be long before they gather their vassals to eradicate your people," said the prince.

Mance looked at the snow beneath his boots, mixed with the mud and blood dripping from the prince’s hand. He looked defeated, his gaze shifting between the dragon and the prince.

"Won’t you help us?" It was a desperate question, humiliating for a king, but the minimum a leader seeking freedom for his people could ask.

"Why would I?" The prince had no reason to do so. "They are not my vassals, they are not my people; I have no obligation to you. On the other hand, you’d be in my debt, for the lands," Mance seemed angry.

"Is that what this is about, then? Wanting more people under your thumb?" he almost spat in his face. He was a man from whom every shred of hope was being stripped away.

I may loathe the system that rules Westeros. But that’s the way it is. "I am a lord; I have lands and a castle, I have people at my command—people who would die for me, people who would kill for me. I cannot afford to wear down my people to save yours. Mance... have you considered what would happen if a Freefolk laid a hand on a resident of my lands?" Jaehaerys asked him.

Mance looked up at the sky, as if expecting a miracle to fall from it.

"And so... given my people’s bad reputation, you say you’ll protect them and give them a place to live," he said as if it were a bad joke.

"And laws to obey. Because, Mance... you may not have the power to control them, but I do," he nodded toward the Wall. The White Dragon watched them like an eagle stalking its prey. Jaehaerys wondered if the dragon would be able to cross the Wall for him.

"We will not kneel," he repeated wearily, seeming to say it more for all the free folk than for himself.

"And will they obey the laws?" Jaehaerys asked. "Can your people accept me as your leader?"

From the start, he knew the wildlings wouldn’t kneel; it wasn’t in their nature. That wasn’t what he wanted from them. He wanted to take them to his lands to repopulate them. They’d be a pain in the ass, but he could handle it; he had enough soldiers to patrol, and the dragons flying overhead would be persuasion enough.

"I... can’t just take people and hand them over to you... they won’t accept it; they aren’t toys to be traded. You’ll have to earn them by your own strength," Mance seemed to concede. "You can use your dragon to intimidate them; some will accept—the most worn-out and frightened ones—while the rest will resist and keep attacking the Wall." Jaehaerys nodded at his words; they made perfect sense.

"How long will it take you to gather them at Hardhome?" the prince asked.

"A few moons, four, maybe less," Mance said. "Will you transport them by ship? Do you have enough?" the man asked. "There are more than a hundred thousand," he told him.

"I’ll transport them by ship; I can get enough," Jaehaerys nodded. "That will depend on your people. I won’t ask them to kneel—I’ve already said so—they can keep that custom, but they’ll have to adapt to the laws of Westeros. As long as they accept that, I’ll make sure they live in safety...," he seemed to think for a second. "And... when the time comes, I hope they’ll be willing to return here, to the cold north, to fight against those who made them run," he turned to leave.

"May I ask for one last favor?" Mance asked him, his voice pained.

"Go ahead," the prince agreed, and listened.

"I want an envoy to travel with you," Mance said. "I want the perspective of someone I trust, of someone my people trust." Jaehaerys nodded; it was fair. "She’s in the forest; I’ll send her later. Will the Watch let her through?" he asked. It was a test; the prince knew it.

If he couldn’t get one person past the Wall, how could he get thousands to do so?

Jaehaerys gave him his word, saying that Brandon would be waiting for her at the gates.

"Ah... Mance, do you burn the bodies of your fallen?" Mance shuddered.

"We learned to do it," his voice was bitter.

"Perhaps... not doing it once or twice might help the Night’s Watch better understand your reason for crossing the Wall. It won’t make you beloved by any means, but it would speed things up for me," Jaehaerys hadn’t seen it—how the wights rose, blue-eyed corpses. It would help convince Ned, though he didn’t really need his opinion; it would be good for the future.

"Are you asking me to sacrifice my people?"

"Not everyone north of the Wall is your people, Mance. Some are enemies. Be that as it may, it’s a request from me; do as you please," his eyes glanced sideways at him. If Mance was testing him, why shouldn’t he do the same? Would he follow the prince’s orders? Depending on the answer, Jaehaerys would treat the Freefolk one way or another.

—------------------

"I want to slap you," Dany said inside the chambers the Night’s Watch had given them. Despite her words, she gave him a deep kiss that sent him tumbling backward onto the bed, then hugged him tightly.

"I got them to come to ArgentStone," the prince said. He watched the princess frown. "I know, it’ll be complicated, but I’ll make it work."

"They’re wildlings, they steal their women and force them to marry them, they kill for a piece of meat, they eat their own people," Dany said with revulsion.

"Are you talking about the people north or south of the Wall? Your words apply to both," the prince said gently.

Daenerys fell silent, thinking. Perhaps the nobles of Westeros were more refined and better dressed, but in the end, they were similar... She was lucky to have been born a princess. Other ladies weren’t so fortunate.

"They’re uncivilized. You’ll put our own people at risk," Daenerys continued, still not entirely convinced. Just because evil was present from north to south didn’t mean everything was fine. Just because something is normal doesn’t mean it should be overlooked.

"We have Unsullied, thousands of them. They will be responsible for maintaining peace. These will be hard times, yes, but in the end, the population of our lands will grow. Not with the adults—they probably won’t be able to give up their ways—but their descendants, who are still children now. They can change, be educated to become good men and women," Jaehaerys said as he stood up; Dany was still on top of him, so he lifted her in his arms. She held back the urge to scream at the movement.

"I’ll take care of the children," Dany said when Jaehaerys let her feet touch the ground again.

"You’ll do fantastic," the prince said with a smile. "Now, let’s go see Maester Aemon." He didn’t refer to him as his uncle, since he wasn’t going in to speak with a relative, but with the leader of the Night’s Watch. "We need to notify the guard."

The task wasn’t just convincing the wildlings; it was convincing Westeros.