This Night and All Nights to Come

Chapter 1

Jon Snow embarks on a forbidden romance with a wildling woman of the North. ::: Jon Snow/OFC

TV-verse

(I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire nor Game of Thrones)

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.

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"Ah, you are awake."

The man did not hear the voice as he stirred back into consciousness. Slowly, he regarded the alien world that he was trapped in. Everything was covered in a thick layer of pure white; this he was used to. But of his location, he knew not, only that the snow turned the wood around him into a ghostly place.

Despite the weather, he was warm, or at least warmer than he should have been. It was only then that he noticed a bulky white fur wrapped around his shoulders and chest. He burrowed himself deeper into the fur, gladly accepting the protection it gave him from the elements. He tried moving his legs, but could not. He felt as though a massive weight had been put on them and wondered if they have been rendered useless from frostbite. He tried moving them again, only this time the weight was lifted and his direwolf stood from them and sat close to his master's shoulder.

"He has not left your side."

The man looked into the face of a woman he did not notice before. She was level with him, crouched down in the cold snow. She seemed not to mind. In fact, she seemed to be part of it herself, drifting in and out of the man's vision as the fast falling snow concealed her pale form. Her skin was pure white, broken only by the soft pink of her lips and cheeks. Her silver hair blended almost fluidly with her flesh, and was thick, long, and locked in dozens of small strands. The only thing not obscured by the snow were her blue eyes - deep and heavy lidded, as if she was in a constant state of daydreaming - and too bright, they seemed, for the gloomy landscape around them.

The man's head was throbbing as he struggled to make out the words that the girl's lips were forming. She sighed in aggravation. "Do you not understand me, Keeper?"

He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. "Keeper?" he croaked.

"Then you do understand?"

The man shut his eyes tight before opening again. "Where am I?"

"You are in Sullenfaire, just north of the Great Barrier. You took quite a fall." She reached out to smooth away the hair from the cut on his forehead, but the man flinched away. She quickly retracted her hand, a flash of anger almost seen in her icy gaze.

"My name is Sairette. Who are you?"

"Jon Snow."

She laughed at the half frozen man. "Snow? The name is hardly fitting."

He scowled at the wildling, not in the mood for jests or games. The direwolf sensed his master's discomfort and began to growl low in its chest. The woman glared sharply at it and the wolf quickly backed down.

"You're a Keeper of the Barrier, are you not?" She gave him a thorough once over, and he felt exposed even though he was heavily covered by clothes and fur. She looked up at him through thick, dark lashes that seemed too severe for her face, but pleasing all the same. "You have the look."

He thought better than to explain that he was a Night's Watchman and not a "Keeper of the Barrier." He knew that to her, they were both one and the same. "Do you come across us often?"

She sat down on her knees, trying to get more comfortable. Her cerulean eyes widened. "I have never been this close," she admitted. Sairette went to reach out and touch him again, but caught herself and brought her hand back to her side.

"Where is everyone else?" The man asked her.

The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Gone. Or dead."

Jon didn't know how to respond so he pulled the fur tighter around himself. "Is this yours?"

She slowly nodded her head and he felt like she was expecting something in return. He cleared his throat and looked at Ghost as if he would ease the tension.

"I set up a tent for you not too far away."

He looked at her curiously. "I would rather be on my way back."

"Oh no, you can't leave now. Not while it is still light. They may be still roaming the woods."

Sairette stood up at her full height, and Jon took in her form. She was curvy, much more than the woman back home. Her white dress clung to her wide hips and held on tightly enough for the man to appreciate her long, flat torso. A fur was wrapped around her shoulders and breasts, to Jon's disappointment. She was noticeably built to withstand the cold and to surely warm any man who was lucky enough to be embracing her.

"Well, are you coming?"

He hadn't noticed a gloved hand being held out to him, pale fingers and long nails, sharp and akin to claws, exposed at the top of the woven adornment. Jon reached a hand up from under his fur and clasped on to hers. She helped him get on his feet, but he was unsteady at first, and fell into her as his vision blurred and spiraled. When he finally got his footing, he looked down at the girl. He was a head taller than her, and comparably wider, but for some reason he felt like he shrunk in her shadow.

Sairette pulled up her hood, the head of some large snow beast, and retrieved her spear that was leaning against a nearby tree. Without another word, she began walking away from the man. He was still where he stood and only stared after her retreating form, which was almost camouflaged by the white storm. When she realized that the man wasn't following her, she turned with a huff and drove the base of her spear through the permafrost.

"Jon Snow, are you coming or not?"

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