Chapter Two

Blood Must Have Blood

Leksa stared out her window at the happenings below. The leaders of the other twelve clans rode into her city on their horses, backs straight and posture proud. Her eyes were glued to one leader in particular. Mundon kom Raumshaq – the Magnar of the Ravenswood. The other two magnars looked to him as their leader. As much as she hated herself for it, Leksa felt threatened by him. He was older and stronger than her and came from a family of lords, while Leksa was the daughter of a whore.

"Ellek," Leksa greeted as he walked into the small dining hall that doubled as a conference room. "Have all the leaders arrived?"

"Most of them, heda. Ryk kom Traudon has taken ill and sends his apologies along with his son, Ragon."

"Who he hopes will be heda after him, no doubt,"

Leksa deadpanned. The hedas from Traudon were often related, a tradition which Leksa found herself hating even though many clans practised nepotism.

"Will you give him your blessing?"

That was one of the requirements of the coalition. Before the coalition, the commander decided on his or her successor and no else had a say. Leksa made it one of her terms that she would have the final say on who would succeed a dying commander.

"If he asks during these meetings, I will have to. We need every vote we can get."

"So you trust the crow,"

Ellek summarised, sounding a little disappointed.

"Trust, no. Do I agree with him? Yes," Leksa replied. "There have been too many stories of Walkers in the past few years to not believe him. They attacked Hardhome, Ellek. Whose to say that we're not next?"

Her advisor pursed his lips. "The other clans' leaders will not see it that way. Mundon will not see it that way."

"I couldn't give a damn about what Mundon thinks," Leksa said, her temper rising. "I am the Dagheda. And if he disobeys me, I will remind him of what happened last time he disrespected me."

"I don't think he needs to be reminded, heda,"

Ellek replied slowly.

She pressed her lips together, having no more to say on the subject. Just then, the Lord Commander joined them in the dining hall, accompanied by the wildling Tormund.

"Commander," Jon greeted, getting onto his knees to greet her.

Leksa inclined her head in response. "Crow." The Lord Commander stiffened at that, but Leksa paid him no mind and turned to the Giantsbane, who refused to kneel or even incline his head. A true wildling. Leksa would not begrudge him that. "You will represent the wishes of the Free Folk beyond the wall, I'm presuming."

"You presume right," the Giantsbane responded gruffly.

The commander eyed him for a moment before speaking again. "The other hedas will be willing to listen to you, but the magnars will be reluctant. Especially one Mundon kom Raumshaq. He will argue with you at every opportunity just because he knows I back your plea. Make sure to argue back. If you're unable to counter his arguments, the other leaders will think that your weak and there will be no chance of them agreeing to fight with you."

"I can argue," Jon stated, nodding.

"No insults, no questioning his strength or manliness. That will just offend him," Leksa warning.

"What's wrong with offending him? He sounds like a cunt," Tormund added.

A small smile appeared on the commander's face. "That he is, but the other two magnars look to him as their leader. If you want their vote, you'll make sure not to offend him."

"The rest of the leaders are waiting outside. Should I send them in, heda?" Ellek asked his commander.

Leksa gave a short nod along with a warning look to Jon and Tormund. She gestured to two seats beside hers. Standing by their chairs, the three watched silently as the clans' leaders pooled into the dining room. Each one of the hedas had done their best to appear as frightening as possible, with either black, red or white paint smeared across their face. Leksa couldn't judge them. After all, she did the same. Few had seen the commander without black makeup smeared across her eyes and the bridge of her nose. Hedas ruled through fear. Without fear, they were nothing.

The magnars, however, were a different story. Their faces were plain, though their furs and clothing matched that of the other magnars. The only difference was the way they held themselves; regally, proudly, as though this was all beneath them.

"You all know why you're here," Leksa began once everyone had taken a seat. "We have an important matter at hand. Jon kom Kagasi has come to warn us about an impending threat. The Cold Ones. He has come to ask us for warriors. The attack on Hardhome has proven that the sea is not a suitable barrier to protect us from them. The only way to protect ourselves is by destroying this threat. I will ask you to vote now, fellow leaders, so we can use the rest of this meeting to make arrangements rather than waste time arguing. All in favour for joining the Kagasi and our fellow Free Folk in the fight against the Walkers?"

Each one of the hedas raised their hand. A chorus of 'aye' echoed through the dining hall. The only hands that remained still belonged to the three magnars. Leksa expected as much.

The man sitting opposite Leksa barked a humourless laugh and sneered at the young commander. Mundon of the Ravenswood spoke lowly, each word carrying a threat. "What foolishness. We have no business fighting in a war that does not concern us. The Cold Ones live in a realm far from ours. Or can they fly?"

Leksa spotted the other two magnars smirking and shot them a venomous glare. "They made it to Hardhome, did they not?"

"Bullshit," Mundon growled. "What proof have we that the Cold Ones sacked Hardhome other than by garbled word of mouth?"

"Jon kom Kagasi was a witness-"

Mundon snarled at her. "And of course our young heda believes him. You were always weak for a pretty face."

Her hand itched for the handle of her sword."Weak? You dare to call your commander weak?"

"I dare speak the truth, heda,"

Mundon argued. "You have lost your touch."

"Have I? Perhaps I ought to kill another one of your sons to prove that I have not 'lost my touch,'"

Leksa snarled.

"You little bitch!" Mundon roared. "What right has the daughter of a whore-"

"What right?"

Leksa repeated, standing up suddenly. The Magnar stood up with her, making her aware of his significantly larger build. "I am the Dagheda! And the next time you speak against me will be the last time you speak at all! Now, sit down and listen!"

"I will not! I refuse to sit by and watch the Skagosi become the bitches of crows! All because our heda wants to suck crow cock-"

Leksa had enough. The sharp sound of steel scraping against its sheath punctured the ears of those around them as Leksa unshielded her sword. The point of the sword was pressed against Mundon's neck, deep enough to draw blood but shallow enough to not cause damage. For some reason, Leksa imagined Jon's reaction to this little escalation. He probably had no idea what they were saying, and now, suddenly, they were acting like savages. The rest of the leaders were looking at them calmly, some even bored. Violence was a normal occurrence at any meeting in Skagos.

"You will not die today, Magnar," Leksa promised, caressing Mundon's neck with the blade. The Magnar was unaffected by the sword pressed against his neck, his face a mixture of calmness and anger. "In fact, I'm going to gift you that which you've long desired."

"And what's that... heda?"

Leksa did her best to ignore how he said the final word mockingly.

"Revenge," she whispered, smirking at the way his face morphed from anger to shock. "Yes, that's right. Revenge for your sons. Choose your warrior. We'll fight at dusk. If I win, your people fight with us against the Cold Ones. If you win..."

"I get your head,"

Mundon summarised.

Leksa nodded, unfazed, and even grinned. "Yes. So it shall be."

"So it shall be."

"What the hell happened in there?"

To say that Jon was confused was an understatement. One minute Leksa was politely explaining to the other leaders that they needed warriors and the next she had her sword pointed at the neck of the man she was arguing with.

"The Magnar was being an idiot," Leksa replied, walking in front of Jon who had to jog to keep up with her. "I put him in his place."

"I thought you said that we couldn't offend the Magnar," Jon pointed out, confused.

"Oh, you can't," Leksa corrected, sending a small smirk over her shoulder. "I'm the Dagheda. I can do anything I please."

The commander rushed on. Jon sighed and continued to jog after her. "What did you say to him, while you were arguing? What did you say to him to make him grin like a madman?"

"Mundon wants my blood and I offered him a chance to take it," Leksa explained calmly. "I am to fight his son at dusk."

Jon stopped in his tracks. He had seen the Magnar's son. He was as tall and broad as his father, and doubled the commander in width. Leksa didn't stand a chance against the giants.

"Wait," Jon called after Leksa. The commander continued walking away. "Leksa, stop."

At that, Leksa's feet stopped without permission. She hadn't been called Leksa in a long time. The name seemed... foreign to her. She should scold him for being so brazen, but for some reason the young commander liked the sound of her name on his lips. She turned around and faced the crow, face betraying nothing.

"Why are you doing this?"

"He insulted me in front of the other leaders. I told you, I am putting him in his place."

Jon was silent. Lips pressed together in a thin line, Jon truly looked at Leksa for the first time. During his time in Skagos Jon had learned a lot about the commander. She was strong and fierce and brave and frightening, and proud, so proud, but her most prominent characteristic was her devotion to her people.

"I don't think that's the real reason."

Leksa raised an eyebrow, curious. "No? The Magnar is my subject, he disrespected me. Don't you think its my duty to remind him of his position?"

"Maybe," Jon replied slowly. He stepped towards the commander almost warily. "But I don't think its a matter of duty. Forgive me, commander, but you don't seem like the type of person to risk your life over pride, and most certainly not the type of person to risk the stability of your people over a slight."

A ghost of a smile shadowed the commander's face. Jon admired the rare sight. She scarcely smiled, but when she did, it truly was something.

"I'm honoured that you think so highly of me, but that's what it is-"

"Don't lie to me," Jon interrupted. "You don't have to lie to me."

The commander observed him with narrow eyes, as though trying to figure him out. She then let out a small sigh. "It was the only way to ensure the magnars support us. He only responds well to force, it was how I got him to join the coalition. His son died because of his stubbornness before, and another son will die tonight because of his pride. Fitting, don't you think?"

"How are you so sure that you're going to win?" Jon asked once they had entered Leksa's chambers. If they were on the mainland, Jon wouldn't think of walking into a lady's room. But for some reason, Jon didn't think the Skagosi cared. "I've seen his son. He's a giants! He has muscles the size of a child."

"And they fight like children too, impatient children," Leksa countered. She stripped out of her cloak and day wear, leaving herself in a black vest and breaches.

"Sometimes sheer strength can trump skill," Jon argued, averting his eyes away from Leksa as she dressed.

"Now is not one of those times, trust me."

"If the Magnar's not fighting for himself, then why do you have to? You could choose anyone to fight on your behalf! Jamaun, Edd, any of them!"

"I am the Dagheda. No one fights for me," Leksa declared as she tightened the clasp of her armour, which only really protected her chest, stomach and shoulders.

Jon scoffed. "That kind of thinking will send you to an early grave."

"You haven't even seen me fight!" the commander stated. "You can make your judgement then, crow, and not a minute before."

"And what happens, huh? If you do die?"

"If that is to be my fate then you must accept it," Leksa said, her voice a tad softer than it had been.

"I can't accept that," Jon admitted. Leksa looked at him in shock. Stuttering, the crow continued on in explanation. "We've come too far with our negotiations."

"My successor will be chosen wisely, I assure you," Leksa promised. "And I have made all of my possible successors promise to uphold the terms of our treaty. Even if I die tonight, your cause will not be abandoned by my people."

"Thank you, Leks– commander," he corrected quickly. "For everything you've done."

Leksa smiled at him. "I did it for my people too, you know."

"Still. You've made an impossible task that much less impossible," Jon said, smiling. "So I thank you, commander."

She bit her lower lip and said in a softer tone so unlike her usual voice, "Leksa. My name is Leksa."

As Leksa walked into the fighting pit, sword by her side, her mind brought her back to a time where she was in a similar situation. Six years ago, at the young age of sixteen, when she had to kill five others of the same age and capabilities. She murdered every one of them in cold blood, including Mundon's eldest son, the ideal choice for a Dagheda, even though their people despised the thought of a magnar's son leading them. He had been strong and violent, but lacked skill. Just like the Magnar's second son who she also killed, and his third son who Leksa would kill today.

The crowd roared for their commander. She didn't look at him, didn't show fear or a desire to be cheered. The desire to be liked was a weakness, just as fear or love were weaknesses. She couldn't afford to be seen as weak.

The Magnar's son – Ragvar – stood at the opposite end of the fighting pit. He glared at her with such anger in his eyes that she half-expected to be burnt to ash. He too was relishing this chance for revenge. Leksa refused to be intimidated or allow guilt to distract her from the task at hand.

She spotted Jon in the crowd, standing at the very front. Leksa almost smiled at the worry in his eyes. So the crow cares about the commander of savages. What a turn of events. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by the blow of a horn.

Before she could gather her bearings, Ragvar was rushing towards her with a loud battle cry. Leksa had time to recover and rushed towards him too. She saw no need for battle cries, not when her reputation was frightening enough.

Ragvar swung the sword towards her, aiming for her neck. Had Leksa not moved in time, she would have been headless. She threw back her head and torso, barely missing the blade of the sword. She swung her sword towards his back, but Ragvar recovered quickly and spun around on his heel, matching Leksa's sword with his own.

Their swords became locked in a parry Leksa pushed with all her might, trying to free herself from this entanglement, but it was no use. It had become a battle of strength, to see who could overpower the other. Leksa wasn't much in the area of strength. And she was losing, badly. Her own blade was only mere inches from her neck. Seeing no other option, she gripped Ragvar's sword with her bare hand.

The pain was excruciating. The blade had ripped open her skin, causing blood to mar his sword and drip onto hers. Leksa bared her teeth and growled before she could successfully move away from his sword and take her own sword away from her neck.

Not missing an opportunity, Ragvar didn't allow her time to recover. Straight away he had swung his sword, aiming this time for her stomach. Leksa matched his with her own sword. The sound of steel on steel pierced her ear. It became like a dance, the two of them trying to land a blow and the other trying to dodge, until Ragvar managed to slice Leksa on the face.

Her cheek stung and she could feel blood wetting her cheek and chin, but she ploughed on. Ragvar had the upper hand now and Leksa was the one backing away from him, uselessly trying to dodge his blows with her own sword. She hoped that eventually he would tire himself out. That's how she defeated his elder brothers. They were slow and lacked stamina. Ragvar, however, was as quick as her in his movements. An attribute Leksa hadn't anticipated.

She kept dodging blow after blow, only managing to land one blow on Ragvar's shoulder. It was a shallow cut, and it barely even caused him any pain. He lunged at her with his sword, this blow more powerful than the ones before. Leksa barely managed to parry it and forced Ragvar to stumble backwards, but Ragvar recovered quickly and aimed for her thigh. This time, she wasn't able to parry and Ragvar managed to slash her leg. Leksa let out a low scream as the blade pierced her skin. Ragvar swung his sword again at her, this time aiming for her stomach again. Leksa parried, but the blow was so powerful that she stumbled backwards and, having lost her footing, landed on the ground.

Leksa could feel her breaches becoming damp with blood. The pain in her leg was beyond simply agonising. She didn't think she'd be able to walk for a while after this fight, if she survived. If she was survived. Staring up at Ragvar's angry face, Leksa became painfully aware of the fact that she might not make it out of this alive.

Ragvar stood on the blade of her sword and pushed it away so Leksa had nothing to defend herself with.

"For my brothers," he growled. "Jak drein, jak daun."

"Indeed," Leksa gritted out as the point of the sword sped towards her.

Leksa rolled out of the way, kicking her legs and tripping up Ragvar. He lost his footing and fell onto the ground, loosing his sword in the process. That gave Leksa enough time to pick up his sword which she used as an aid to stand up. She placed most of her body weight on her left leg and pointed her sword at his neck. Ragvar raised his hands, conceding defeat. It was a custom of the magnars, a way of living even if they lost the fight. Leksa never even thought of disgracing herself in that way. She refused to ever surrender. She'd rather die than live as a coward.

But, nonetheless, Leksa respected his surrender. Somewhat.

"Now your fight has ended," Leksa declared, loud enough for everyone in the crowd to hear her.

They expected her to kill Ragvar. But in one swift motion, the Dagheda surprised everyone by tossing her sword at Mundon kom Raumshaq.

The Magnar let out a yell as her sword landed in his gut. Blood spluttered from his mouth. In mere seconds, Mundon was dead. Leksa smirked and gestured for Jamaun and Edd to take Ragvar away. He went kicking and screaming.

Leksa wiped the blood from her nose and faced the crowd, ignoring the sharp pain in her leg and hand.

"Jak drein, jak daun! For years, the Magnar has disrespected our customs, has disrespected his commander and has disrespected this coalition! No more! Let the Magnar's death symbolise an end of an old age, where those of old families reigned over Skagos! Undeserving, unelected and unchosen by the Gods and by our people! On this day and forever more, our leaders will not be those of noble blood, but those who are deserving! And to those who cling to the old world, who expect us to bow to them because of who their father was, to those who have gotten away with terrible sins because of the nobility of their ancestors, I say... Jak drein, jak daun!"

"Jak drein, jak daun!"

Like a chant, the crowd repeated her words as Leksa watched, a small smile on her face as she observed what she hoped would be the start of a new age. She met the two remaining magnars' hateful glares with a challenging smirk. She had her people by her side, and their people would flock to her as well once word had reached them of her new agenda. They had no choice but to obey her in all things from now on, including the fight against the Walkers.

Leksa then looked at Jon Snow. He gave her a short nod, a small smile on his face that looked a lot like... relief, perhaps? Leksa nodded back at him, the corners of her mouth curling upwards in the smallest smile.

Author's Note: I am so sorry about the yearlong wait! There's been a lot happening and I kind of lost interest in all my hobbies, unfortunately. But I'm back at it again! I've also started a new story that you guys might enjoy. It's called Destruction and it's Jon/OC/Daenerys, featuring a bisexual female OC.

Tell me what ya'll think about this chapter! How you feeling about Lekon... Jonksa... Lekson? Lekson!