Eastwatch Castle
"Someone's coming toward the castle," a wildling said, shoving the door open.
Tormund paused mid-conversation with a group of men reviewing the supply list. He grabbed his axe, motioning for the others to follow. "Let's go."
After the Battle of the Bastards, Tormund had come to Eastwatch with free folk warriors to support the Night's Watch. With Cotter Pyke, the castle commander, away at Castle Black, Tormund had been left in charge—a role Jon Snow trusted him with.
The animosity between the free folk and the Night's Watch hadn't disappeared, but the threat of the dead had forced both sides to begrudgingly work together.
From atop the wall, Tormund spotted two figures approaching the gates. He squinted, muttering to himself, "First those three fuckers, now these two?" With a heavy sigh, he started down to meet them, grumbling the whole way.
John's POV
The gates of Eastwatch loomed before me, tall and imposing.
The one-day trek here had been grueling—freezing winds, icy terrain, and endless silence.
Beside me, Roberta walked steadily, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. She didn't talk much during the journey, only asking the occasional question about this world when curiosity struck her.
When the gates creaked open, I wasn't surprised to see free folk and Night's Watch soldiers forming a loose circle around us, their axes and swords at the ready.
"Who are you?" Tormund barked as he stepped forward, his tone sharp and direct.
"Does it matter?" I said calmly.
"It does if you've got a criminal record," he snapped back, his sharp eyes lingering on Roberta before looking at me.
Guess he's still hung up on Brienne.
"We want to go beyond the Wall," I said bluntly, the statement catching everyone off guard.
Tormund raised a bushy eyebrow. "Do you even know what's out there?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Death."
He studied me for a long moment before scoffing. "And you still want to go?"
"Yes."
Tormund frowned, his tone growing colder. "Do you think I'll just let you wander into the wild and add to the number of dead?"
"No," I replied, holding his gaze. "But I have something to trade for safe passage—for you to let us through."
"A trade?" Tormund said skeptically, crossing his arms. "What could you possibly have that's worth that risk?"
"Grenades," I said plainly.
Tormund blinked. "What the hell's a grenade?"
I reached into my pouch, pulling one out.
These weren't the ones I made myself—those were far too destructive. These were simpler, ones I'd picked up during my invasion of Hell's Kitchen.
He frowned deeper but leaned forward, curiosity written all over his face. "What does it do?"
Without answering, I pulled the pin and tossed the grenade behind me, releasing the lever as I threw it.
BOOM!
The explosion rocked the area, shaking snow and dirt loose. A few wildlings stumbled from the shockwave, their faces frozen in disbelief.
The silence that followed was golden. Their wide-eyed stares were almost worth the trouble of coming here.
Tormund recovered first. "What in the frozen hells was that?" he growled, his voice a mix of awe and irritation.
"A weapon," I said simply. "And I have more. Let us through, and they're yours."
Later
The gates creaked open, and Roberta and John stepped into the icy wilderness beyond the Wall.
Behind them, Tormund and his men stood watching, their gazes heavy with uncertainty.
"Do you think it's okay to let them go?" a Night's Watchman asked, breaking the silence.
Tormund didn't look back, just grunted. "Do you think you can stop them?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
After seeing what the grenades could do, none of them wanted to test their luck.
Tormund shrugged as he turned to walk back toward the castle. "Not like I give a shit what happens to those idiots."
The gates groaned shut leaving their doubts locked on the other side.
Roberta's voice broke the silence as we trudged through the snow. "How did you get those?" she asked, clearly skeptical that grenades could exist in this world.
"I brought them from my world," I said casually, stepping over a patch of ice.
"Your world?" she repeated, her tone sharp with curiosity. "Does that mean you're"
"From another world," I interrupted, glancing back at her. "A modern world way like yours."
She fell silent, processing that.
I could tell from her expression this wasn't what she'd expected.
"Let me tell you about my world," I said, breaking the quiet. As we continued through the snow, I started explaining: mutants, Inhumans, Skrulls, Kree, Asgard, SHIELD, Galactus, Dormammu.
At first, she listened without reacting, but I could see her mask slipping. No matter how hard she tried to stay composed, it was all too much for her.
That's what I want, I thought to myself. To see what she'll choose when the time comes.
The bond between us wasn't about control; it was about loyalty.
The stronger it became, the more it reflected her decisions, her trust in me, and her willingness to follow my lead.
It wasn't something I could force. It had to be earned. And when the moment came, I needed to know—would she stand with me? Or would she choose a different path?
"How do you know all this?" she finally asked, her voice tight with disbelief.
"I'm a mutant too," I admitted.
I didn't give her the full details of my powers just enough to satisfy her curiosity without revealing too much. She caught on and didn't push further.
She was quiet for a moment, then surprised me with, "How old are you?"
I blinked. That wasn't the question I expected.
"Seventeen," I said. Since I am now John not Donald anymore.
Her eyebrows rose slightly. "You're young."
"I am," I replied simply.