SPOILERS! I was unhappy with Ygritte's fate, so I decided to make my own alternate ending as a one-shot. Of course if you like it enough, I suppose it could continue a bit. Hope you enjoy!
(Follows TV Show plot/storyline)
JON
Jon observed the battle below him, wind tousling his hair. The wildling forces had broken through the gates, now having advanced on his brothers down below. Fires blazed, scattered throughout Castle Black, accompanied by the clanging of swords, and the cries of men both brother and wildling.
He stared solemnly at the chaos amidst him, surrounded by the heavy breathing of the other men. Sam stands to his right, eyes widened in disbelief at what their home, what their brothers, had become. The sight of all this directed Jon to acknowledge one thing.
"I don't want you out there," he told Sam flatly, knowing there was no way of sugar-coating it, and completely expecting Sam to retort.
"You can't protect me forever," Sam replied, as Jon expected. "There won't be anywhere to hide if the Castle falls."
Jon sighed in slight annoyance. This wasn't the time for Sam to play heroics, because in reality, he had little faith that Sam would hold out in the battle below. Jon shook his head firmly, letting out a breath in preparation. He raised the key for Sam to take, as he looked him dead in the eyes.
"I need him more than I need you," Jon murmured, voice barely audible over the cries of battle. Sam lowered his head in defeat and reluctantly took the key. He nodded in fear as Jon turned to the gate. Without further words, he pushed the door open and took another glance at what he was about to enter. If he had to judge, he would say the corpses were more plentiful than what they were thirty seconds prior.
Jon quickly glanced at Sam's pale chubby face, lit dimly only by the fires of torches and the crescent shaped moon above, before turning back. He gritted his teeth and strengthened his grip on Longclaw, before leaping out of the lift. He landed with a shoulder roll causing him to smoothly land back on his feet. He spotted the first wildling, one that had just finished scaling the few stairs leading to the lift. Jon charged at the wilding only to slice his stomach open as the man lifted his arms to strike.
His intestines made an unpleasant squelch as they landed on the wooden planks. At the sight of this, the wildling kneeled over, giving Jon the opportunity to swing down Longclaw into the spine of the dying man. He barely had time to pull it out, deflecting a strike from a wildling to his left. He swung his sword above his head and struck at the man's stomach, which was swiftly dodged. Jon raised his sword to block a strike from above and kicked the wilding in the stomach.
He took the chance to pierce the stomach while the wildling was incapacitated. Jon glanced over the man's shoulder, and saw Longclaw come out the other side. Jon grunted as he pulled out the sword to block yet another attack from a different wilding coming from behind, this time finishing the job quicker than before. He took a few steps forward to swing at a wildling sneaking up the wooden stairs. The blow got deflected by the shield, however Jon kicked the shield causing the man to fly backwards.
A wilding behind the shielded man had been pressed against the barrier to avoid getting taken out by his fallen comrade. He didn't last much longer than that, his clavicle was now in shards and lung torn beyond healing. Jon kicked him back, causing him to land on top of the shielded man. He heard heavy footsteps on the platform behind him and frantically turned around, expecting to see an oncoming wildling attacker. Instead, he saw Sam amongst the flock of men who had departed from the lift. Jon and Sam both made eye contact, before Jon nodded at Sam, mouthing the word 'go'.
Sam waddles off in the direction of Ghost's den, allowing Jon to leap down to the midst of the battle. Before too long, many wildling corpses had piled up everywhere Jon had visited. Longclaw was slicked in the crimson blood of free folk, red enough to compete with the hottest fires on the battlefield. As Jon ran his valaryian blade through the neck of his most recent competitor, he spotted a flash of white take out two sole wildling's advancing towards an injured Alliser Thorne. A wave of relief soothed Jon's aching body at the thought that Sam was successful in his mission, meaning he was alive.
Alliser Thorne twisted his face in annoyance as he stared at Jon, before limping off towards a set of wildling's. Despite Jon feeling like he may collapse, he managed to spin out of the way of an oncoming enemy and slice his lower back, surely paralysing the man at the least. He turned to stab another through the heart, which caused him to slump to the ground lifelessly. This gave Jon a view of Ghost feasting upon one of the two wildling men he had taken down earlier.
That's m'boy, Jon thought to himself as he stabbed another wildling through the back. As soon as he freed Longclaw of the man's corpse, he turned to see Styr storming towards him. Styr slammed his axe into the back of one of his brothers as he trudged forward, snarl on his horrendous scarred head. Jon grimaced at him, before gritting his teeth and charging forward.
Their weapons met with a clang, so hard Jon could have sworn he saw sparks. The sound of metal on metal caused his blood to pump, warming up with a fiery essence. Styr took another swing that Jon ducked and avoided, rising to slam Longclaw into Styr's axe once again. Styr swung a couple more times, missing each attempt and keeping Jon on his toes. Their weapons met in the sky, however Styr's power slams Longclaw into the ground. Jon pulls it back up and attempts to stab Styr, ultimately failing.
In determination, Jon strikes multiple times in a flurry, Styr blocking each time. He was pushed back after multiple counter-strikes, barely avoiding each swing. Come on Ghost, I need you, he thought pleadingly. His concentration was momentarily distracted by stray arrows firing past him, into several of his fellow night's watchmen. Before he had the chance to see where they came from, he was forced to raise his sword to block one of the most powerful hits he had faced. Longclaw was smacked out of his hands by the axe, landing in the splattered blood next to him, still freshly spilt.
It's at that moment where Jon realised he was in definite trouble. Styr clobbered his head, flinging his body to the side. The whiplash strained his neck, and his vision was periodically blurred, regaining in time just so he can stumble back to avoid an incoming axe swing. Jon controlled his balance and swiftly dodged the other axe strikes, backing him against the weapons rack. Styr brought the axe above his head and began to slam it down, causing Jon to dive to the right before Styr released a war cry as he split the weapons rack in two.
Jon spotted a chain on the ground, which he grabbed and swung frantically. It latched onto Styr's wrist, entitling Jon to pull Styr forward into the path of his oncoming fist. The satisfying feeling of hammering Styr's face was only momentary as he was back in only a couple of seconds. Jon swung the chain again, this time wrapping it around the axe. He pulled the axe out of Styr's grasp, causing it to fly into the path of a random wildling.
This split second caused Styr to grab him by the back of the neck. He had no time to brace for the three punches he received in the stomach, nor the uppercut that shortly followed. Jon is stunned as Styr smashes his face onto a nearby anvil, causing Jon to feel a sharp pain in his nose, which he suspected was broken. He felt his body yanked backwards, and flying through the air. Jon cried out as he rolled over scorching hot embers of a fire, only to come out the other side and roll onto the frosty ice ground.
He had almost no desire to get up, no need, he almost wanted to stay on that patch of snow until winter came. Unfortunately, he had no choice. He felt the front of his furs being ripped as he was dragged off the ground. He struggled feebly, but to no avail, instead being slammed against the wall with Styr's fingers wrapped around his neck. As the grip tightened, his eyes widened, the air becoming practically cut off from his lungs. He stared into the triumphant glare of Styr, who watched with a crazed excitement as the life slowly drained out of Jon.
He would not let him have complete satisfaction, he wouldn't go like that. With all the energy he could muster, Jon collected a pool of blood and spit in his mouth. It left his mouth like an arrow, finding a home in the wild eyes of Styr. He cried out in pain and released Jon's throat to wipe his eyes. Jon took his last chance. He grabbed a hammer from a nearby bench and throttled Styr in the mouth with it.
Styr's head was thrown to the side, blood and teeth both flew out of his mouth. The force caused his head to swing back, showing his broken jaw teetered to the right of his body. With that, Jon brought the hammer down onto his skull. It busted through, becoming stuck inside the dumbfounded head of Styr. His dead body slumped to the floor, evidently without any ounce of life remaining.
Jon breathed raggedly, heaving out of his parched throat and staring at his kill. He wiped the blood and spit that drools from his mouth and stumbled away, trying to regain his energy. However, he paused at the sound of a bow string being drawn. Jon looked up, which caused his heart to pump rapidly. Everything in Jon's head was blocked out at the sudden glimpse of Ygritte. It had been the first time he had seen her since she stuck three arrows inside of him.
Her fiery red hair that Jon always had admired was pulled away from her face, blowing ever so softly in the slight breeze that accompanied the battle, revealing a sharp jawline and her flawless cheekbones. Her eyes, chocolate brown as they had always been, but not the same. Not the soft look of love she had come to develop especially for him, not the deadly look that could pierce a man's soul that she would first use for him when they originally met, not even the flirtatiously seductive glint she had which she used on those nights they huddled for warmth, and when they had first entered that cave. It was none of those at all, but rather a look Jon had never come to know of Ygritte.
Fear. Vulnerability. Caution.
Her peachy pink lips trembled with fear as much as her arms did that held the bow and arrow she held trained on him. Jon was purely speechless. From a combination of bewilderment and energy-loss, all he could manage, was the smile that she and only she, could bring upon him. If it was even possible, it appeared she was shaking even more than she was before. A tear slowly erupts from her eye, trailing down the outline of her cheekbone. He began to become worried, as she hadn't lowered her aim yet. It crossed Jon's mind that she potentially might be considering letting the arrow fly.
"Ygritte," he managed, barely above a whisper. She doesn't respond, instead she went on to release more tears down her face. Just like when they first met, it was the very same. Jon refused to bring himself to kill her. Even if he may die, he would not hurt Ygritte. He dropped to his knees and lowered his head.
"Make it quick," he said hoarsely. A moment had passed before the sound of something falling occurred. Jon looked up to see Ygritte, bow on the floor and kneeled down in front of him. Before too long, Jon noticed something wrong. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an archer drawing his bow back, aiming at Ygritte. Jon dived forward and collided into Ygritte, forcing her body back. He let out a cry as the arrow punctured his right thigh.
Jon landed in the snow, cringing from the pain. He grabbed the arrow with both hands, and yanked it out of his leg. He could tell by the type of arrow, that it was no wildling bow, but a longbow. Without thinking, Jon grabbed Ygritte's bow and drew back the arrow. Without looking, he shot it in the general area where the arrow came from. A cry of agony sounded over the screams of the battle, confirming that Jon had hit his target. He looked at the archer, to see a small figure clutching at the arrow embedded into his chest.
Olly.
Olly looked at the arrow in his chest, and then glanced up at Jon. Jon knew that that was the look of someone that had just been betrayed. Without further words, Olly dropped the long bow that had another arrow loaded into it, staggered back a few steps, and fell onto his back, completely lifeless. Olly was dead.
Jon stumbled back, both because of shock, guilt, and weakness from battle and blood loss. He landed in the snow, thicker than earlier, close to passing out. His head throbbed with pain and his leg throbbed even harder. He felt his upper body being carefully lifted up onto someone's lap. Sam's? Grenn's? Surely he was delusional. As he looked up, he gazed lustfully into Ygritte's soft eyes, the ones only he could bring upon her. In retrospect, he smiled the only way she could make him smile.
"I love you Ygritte," he murmured trying to stay conscious. He felt her tying something around his arrow wound, though he was too weak to acknowledge it.
"How come you didn't kill me?" Jon asked, now having wondered why that had been the case. Ygritte got close to his ear.
"You know nothing, Jon Snow."