Author's Note: This idea started out as pure smut, but then themes, arcs, and plots found their way into some of the chapters. Now it's porn with plot (or is it the other way around?) Some chapters will stand as one shots, and other will have connections with other chapters, but all will be in the same universe. The first half of this chapter sets up the history of this universe, but then there's smut to the end.

Fifty years after Jeor Mormont became Lord Commander of The Wall, one could safely say that the honor that once stood there was back. There had been a few centuries where The Wall was shunned as just another type of prison, a place pretending that sins could ever be forgiven and deigning to "man the wall" with only three forts open, run down ones at that.

Before those bleak centuries, sins had been forgiven, names were remembered, knights led, and men wanted to go, for glory and honor, in any of the twenty well kept forts. After Jeor Mormont became Commander, the same was true again. What was different between the before and the after, was that forgiveness was earned, women could share the honor, and any knights who came shed their titles as well.

There was now a system in place to gauge a person's worthiness. It works, even though it was scorned at first. The Wall was no longer a degrading thought, no longer ill conceived as a den of thieves, murderers, and rapists: now it held the distinction as the finest company of soldiers west of the Narrow Sea. Anyone wearing black was revered as better then even a knight. The only vow they took was to the Watch, shedding ties to family or home, and forsaking any spouse (yes, women wear the black as well).

Anyone on The Wall not wearing black was in any of the stations below. A person with the next highest honor, just shy of wearing the black except for the vow, were held in esteem, but could not command a castle. These men and women are held back by familial duty, or are married. They are free to come and go from The Wall, to divide their loyalty, or get married (or stay married, if that were the case).

The system goes down from there. Anyone with certain marks upon them is in a type of imprisonment, confined to one fort, confined to certain duties, and must prove themselves to no less then three people (fort commander, fort measter, and fort cook) before they gain some trust among their brothers and sisters.

Besides the forts, the gift has been open to the families of those on the wall. Houses and villages spread out between The Wall and the lands of the lords. These lands fly banners with Crows displayed, but each village or home is allowed a banner of Southron lord to fly underneath the Crow. Their loyalty may be to a House, but their goods and services belong to The Wall.

Traffic to and from the Wall is also different then it has ever been. The Wall now has an open door policy with wildlings, they who can pass to the wild north, or south to the "gift" (with an inspection, of course). The only thing The Wall keeps out is actual condemned people, White Walkers, and the Others.

The Last Home and Hearth (or First, depending which way you were traveling) was an establishment more recently erected in Mole Town, just south of the Wall. It was a new era: of wildlings traveling to and from north of the Wall, honor coming back to the name "Night's Watch", and a new commander, Lord Commander Jon Snow.

Wives were still vowed against, but no longer was whoring a hush-hush and secret deal. It was out in the open. Snow decided that to mark his assumption of command, he would enact the opening of a legal brothel for the crows. As such, he granted a wildling woman, Val, the rights to open one in Mole Town, entitled the "Last Hearth and Home", "Hearth" for short. There were even plans to open more such places nearer to other forts.

Lord Commander Snow, to show that he was serious and wasn't tricking his men into doing something he would later chop their heads off for, was the first crow to enter the Hearth. An honorable man, not really brainless with lust like most others, did a quick glance among the ladies, and selected a young woman near his age, with hair red as fire, and wearing only a white cotton shift. Her name was Ygritte, had been born a wildling, and was one of the less fancy ladies present. She had almost took the black herself, before deciding she'd rather fight on furs instead of with steel.

Ygritte was rough as soon as they entered the room, shoving Jon onto the furs that covered a straw bed, pouncing on him shortly thereafter. She didn't bother with his sword or gloves or boots, but just started kissing him, her hands stroking his manhood beneath his breeches. He groans into her, thrusting into her hands.

She stops what she was doing to take off her thin shift, and then goes back to his pants. She smiles at his dazed look, untying his breeches slowly. When his manhood is released, it springs out hard and straight. She laughs, raising herself to her knees. Jon grabs Ygritte's hips with his gloved hands, and they bring their sexes together.

It's a fast pace, but a satisfying one for the both of them. To shake things up, Jon manages to turn them over, weapons clanking, his cloak spilling over them, creating a tent to hide their activities from observers.

There were no observers, obviously, and neither did they really care, except that the new position was a welcome one. Ygritte arches into him, her head falling back to the bedding, opening her throat for Jon's kisses and bites.

She scratches his scalp, keeping his head from moving away, and wraps her legs harder around him as she climaxes.

Jon was still hard, though, but willing to stop for a moment. They share a smirk as he rests back on his knees. He goes to take off his gloves, sword, cloak and doublet, revealing a sweaty tunic underneath. Though it's nippy in the room their actions have been literally and figuratively heated.

Ygritte sits up to help Jon take off his tunic, and she starts kissing his chest. He doesn't need any more foreplay, but is pleased she wants to touch him anyway. He goes to touch her, finally, with gloveless hands, relishing in her warm and leather skin (for she is no silken lady).

For each kiss she places on his chest, a new caress works over her skin. It starts at her sides, and moves to her shoulders and upper arms. Innocent touches, but it's nice. Then he's stroking her ribs, and the swell of her breasts, and Ygritte has to acknowledge her pleasure with a moan.

Jon turns them, yet again, so that he is sitting, with her on his lap. As her arms snake around his neck, he continues his caresses upon her breasts, making his way to her nipples and tweaking them. She makes her pleasure known by grinding against him.

In retaliation, he grabs her hips, and raises her off him, like he was displeased with her, but then he roughly brings her down on him, causing her to yelp, and he to groan. He goes to do it again, and Ygritte moves to help him.

She's moving herself now, and Jon starts meeting her midway. He hugs her to him while they frantically hump, and he outrageously thinks he wishes his boots were off, so his toes could grip the furs. But who thinks of such things at these moments? He laughs, and so does she, though she doesn't get the joke, she just likes to laugh.

Moans replace laughter, almost covering the sounds of slapping skin. A few more rough meetings of the sexes, and they're both climaxing together, groaning together, falling down to the furs together.

Coming down from their high, they stare at each other for a beat before they are laughing again. Comfortable with each other, though they only met a short while ago.

Smirking to himself as he finally removes his boots, he thinks the Hearth was the best thing he could have approved of, before turning towards Ygritte again.

Post Script: Hope you like! Reviews?