"Explain this to me."
The Queen was not looking at you - obviously - but she cocked her head. "I felt I had been quite clear. Your hand, please?"
If she was asking for permission or just being funny you could not be sure. Morna took hold of your arm and twisted it, presenting your palm to the knife-wielding ginger. Feeling needlessly defiant, you clenched it into a fist. Then you remembered that any part of your hand could bleed and opened it again, wincing as the blade drew a thin line across it.
You winced at the pressure on your leg as you were shoved to the door, your oozing hand pressed against it. From behind (or perhaps within) the door came the low groaning of an old man rising to his feet. The weirwood face opened its eyes, staring blankly outward.
Time to think fast. Or ramble. "You were clear. I need to recite my vows to open the way. Without that you can't get your people through. And you can't just kill me and find some other Watchman because the door is made to only listen to someone of Stark blood, right?"
Silence. Maybe punting her between her legs would be more effective. You continued. "But then what?"
"Then we survive the winter."
"Only you won't. Your people have bested the Wall before. It wasn't made to keep you out. The armies of the North - our north - are waiting for you. The rest of the Seven Kingdoms as well. If I know my brother he's made short work of his enemies and will be marching to our aid."
She snarled. "Lord Stark's army will not be expecting us to attack from the south. We will take them by surprise. By numbers. After that we can hold your lands. There's a floating castle - Mighty Catelyn - which can hold off any attack!"
You blinked away the brief image of your uncle's wife in a revealing cuirass and pushed further. "Maybe. Maybe you'll win. Maybe you'll lose. You know your lands and we know ours. But even if you crush us here you won't win. The Valemen and Ironborn will come by sea. They'll close in on you and starve you out just as well. That's not the way you win."
"And how do we win, Jon Snow? By letting you go?"
"By making peace."
A beat. Laughter, first in a loud burst then a quieter, nervous giggle as the chamber buzzed hungrily yet again. The Queen was facing you directly, her blank eyes fixed wide. "We've never seen that one before."
You shrugged. Then remembered that was a meaningless gesture. "Sensible solutions are rarely original. Lord Stark is a good man. He will fight you to his dying breath so long as you are a threat. If you are are not a threat, then there is no reason to keep you trapped behind this hunk of ice above us."
Toren snorted. "You would make us like you? Kneelers." He spat and took hold of you by your hair. "Let me take his nose, Ygritte. He will say the words we need then."
Alright. This guy was too much. You allowed your head to loll forward and then with all your might slammed it back into his nose. The Wildling man let out a roar of anger and pain, moving for the bone knife at his belt. Pain was already tearing through your bad leg, already sending you to the ground, but you had the strength left to follow father's earliest instructions.
You drove your elbow as hard as you could between Toren's legs.
His eyes bugged out, a high-pitched squeak bursting from between his teeth as tears pooled. Then he fell, and you fell with him to form a discomforting pile of limbs. The Wildling women regarded you both from above with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
"I wish I could let you through." You spoke, despite the pain, despite the pain in your chest. "I don't think we are meant for more than we make of life. You and I could make good for both our peoples. You have to trust me."
Silence. Then the Queen Beyond the Wall - Ygritte, that was her name - knelt to your level. Her expression was distant. "You will open the way, Jon Snow."
Groan. You let your head roll back into the dirt. Or perhaps that was Toren's thigh. The man was so covered in dirt it was hard to tell. "This has not been my best day." Your fingers scratched at the dirt pointlessly. You couldn't reach his knife, not as you were. "Guess you'll have to torture me then."
Ghost was not far away. Perhaps it was craven, to let your fear flow into him. Cruel, to let him feel what you could not stand to feel. "Might as well feel I've earned it. Does the carpeting match the-"
Her finger pressed down against your lips. Were you petty enough to bite it off? Absolutely. You opened your mouth and she spoke. "You will open the way, Jon Snow. My people will pass to safety. And I will give you one day to negotiate a peace."
Morna hissed. "He will use that time to betray us-"
"He knows nothing. Nothing of the tools we can employ. Of the tunnels we will use to surface. This crow extends his hand."
"All crows are liars. You know the stories."
"I do. And I plan to write a better one." She took your hand, squeezing it without gentleness. "I have faith. You will take me to the Stark of Winterfell, Jon Snow. We will see my people brought south to safety. If you betray me, I will feed you your cock before I die. The Free Folk will make your people weep that they showed such cruelty. If you are true..."
She paused, biting her lip. "Then perhaps I will answer your question. Do we have a deal?"
[] Open the way for them
-[] Keep your word
-[] You're totally betraying her
[] "Just kill me, you ginger"
