Chapter XVI: Jon II – King-Against-His-Will
“We need you in the longhouse, King Crow!” Tormund called when Jon returned with the others from the forest, dragging a large felled tree behind them.
“For the last time, Tormund!” Jon called back, tugging at the rope that was fastened around the tree trunk.
“Are you coming or not?”
Jon did. Even though he was covered in pine needles, small cuts and sweaty furs. In the longhouse – the largest and best they had so far rebuilt – a number of people were already waiting. They all looked at him expectantly as he took a seat – pointedly not at the head of the table.
“What is it?”
“Well, King Snow,” one of the women said. “Danna here has been hunting rabbits in the new forest, down by the creek. But that’s my hunting grounds, and I want her to stop.”
Jon sighed, looking at the two women. They were both stooped and aged and it was a miracle they had managed to survive so far. The new forest was close, and neither could walk much further.
“You’ll have to share. Tell Arryk to move farther out instead, so you can share his grounds as well, and he can try hunting for deer again like he wants to.”
The two women looked at each other, then nodded at Jon and left. He’d miss Arryk’s help with the trees, but they’d get by without him now that fewer and fewer of the houses were unlivable.
“There’s also Kell,” Tormund told him. “He’s from Southpoint.” Tormund indicated the tiny man with the withered face. What was he doing here, Jon wondered. Southpoint was far from here, but only a day’s walk from Eastwatch.
“King Crow,” the man began. “The village sent me to tell you that we’re having a bit of trouble with ’em crows. Nothing bad, only when we go trade fur or ivory with them, they insist on twice the amount they demanded a year ago in exchange for grain. They’re saying it’s not their fault, but I heard the folks near Castle Black don’t have that problem.”
That was worrying, Jon though, but— “Why are you coming to me with this?”
The man’s face got even more wrinkled when he frowned. “I don’t understand. You’re King Crow.”
Jon sighed and resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. He’d given up a crown and killed a queen. “I’m nobody’s king,” Jon said.
“Give up, my friend,” Tormund cut in. “You’re our leader, whether you want to be or not. You saved us, believed in us when nobody else did, and you’re helping us even now. Ain’t nobody as respected as you among the free folk, and that’s how we choose our kings. Get used to it and stop whining.”
With his eyes closed, Jon counted to ten. He didn’t want to be king. Never had, but it seemed destiny left him no choice.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised Kell, then wondered what in the seven hells he’d gotten himself into.
Fin