It was over the wall where Benjen met his fate. The young wolf pup was no longer young nor was he still the same pup as before. He had taken the black and became a crow. However he was never able to shed his wolf's skin. Not fully. Perhaps that was what made him so good at what he did. Maybe the wolf's blood that brought destruction to his family was why he had become first ranger of the night's watch. A crow can fly, but a wolf is skilled in many other ways.
None of the skills had saved him. None of them could. He always knew his fate would be decided beyond the wall. Perhaps by Mance and his men, or by one of the many legends that were truly living beyond this wall. Never had he suspected the cold. A cold that was fiercer than his home's had ever been, but a cold he was far too familiar with to ever expect his own death would come from it.
His thoughts drift to Lyanna. His sister, barely older, that had always been the wolf he was closest with. She was beautiful in his memories. Her hair falling and rising behind her, against her blue clothes as they rode their horses. Her eyes bright within his mind. The touch of her fists. They were soft even when they brought him pain in their more playful moments. She was gone, and now it would only be Eddard and his children who would carry the Stark name.
Benjen's mind spins an imagery from his adolescence. When Ned had returned home, carrying a babe, and his sister's body. The reed boy was with him. The two being the only ones to return from the dangerous mission that had been to rescue Lyanna. Benjen recalls the fear that spark as he saw the makeshift coffin. He knew whom's body it held within its wooden walls. He remembers two cries that were released then. Poor Lady Catelyn's who held her son close to her chest, and his own as he realizes his sister had not been brought back to him after all. Eddard's face was filled with two different types of griefs that day, and Benjen had no idea which one haunted the man worse. His betrayal to his wife or the failure of saving their sister. A single thought flew through his mind, Brandon never would have let this happen.
Yet Brandon was dead. Choked himself to death in an attempt to save their father. He remembers Brandon's rugged face, and smug smile. No one had ever been able to beat Brandon at anything back then. He was the best at everything. Except for riding, that was Lyanna's time to shine. The only man to ever beat Brandon had been the king. It had been unfair from what Benjen heard. His brother strangled himself in the king's trap. A scene that Benjen use to imagine whenever he would train. Yet all those thoughts had left him when he joined the Night's watch.
Jon was now a crow too as the wildlings call them. He was on the wall and Benjen was here. His nephew was now alone as he faces his own slow death. His horse had left him, and he could barely move. There was no cave in sight, and the trees offered little protection. He can safely say he is happy it was not to the white walkers. If indeed they were coming he would not want to join their ranks. Legends spoke of the white walkers bringing back the men they slay. Well they had not slayed him. No. Perhaps this death is not as grand or horrific as his ancestors' but it was his.
Slowly Benjen's eyes close. When the cold freezes them shut he knows he has no other hope. Focusing on his body's fading heat, Benjen slows his breathing. Every breath becomes a struggle. Every second lasting far too long. A memory flashes through his mind. A picture of his family before they were all gone, but his last thoughts were of his sister's laugh, and Eddard's children. She would have loved them. She would have taught Arya, much. Lyanna, Brandon, mother, father. He was returning to the old gods now, hope fills him at the thought that they would all be there.