It was cold and dark. As cold and dark as ice in the abyss. Chains rattled and boots scuffled. The air was calm, noiseless, free of the panic that had ensued when the honourable nights watch had realised their Lord Commander was missing. It had taken hours, after enough people had been rallied up, Janos Slynt had stood before them all, and pronounced him dead, killed by a wight he had gone to check on the instant things had begun to calm down out in the courtyard. I wonder if this was how my father felt He thought when he was locked up for a crime he didn't commit. Jon Snow winced as pain lanced up his calves at the slightest movement.

His mouth tasted of unborn vengeance, and his head rang with echoes of betrayal. Every inch of his body ached, as Melisandre's gift wound its way out of his body. She had come in the night, as Jon was drawing his final breath the memory of the experience still burned within him, a mixture of gratitude…and suspicion. Jon was mistrustful by nature, suspicious, but honourable and just. Or at least as honourable and just as was possible in his situation. Another jolt of pain gripped the healing wound in his stomach, making his cry and double over. This in turn stretched the second wound between his shoulder blades, and so he was caught in an endless circle of pain. Robb? Did it hurt this much? When Roose Bolton thrust a long sword through your heart? He clamped his jaw tight shut, forcing his teeth together so as not to provoke his guards. They were not truly his guards as of such, but to get to his cell, you must pass through the outer two, which at the moment were occupied by two wights. They didn't have the strength to break down his gate, but he were to attempt an escape, they would have the upper hand at bringing him down. Jon was just so weak…

Time had lost all meaning. At first, he had tried to keep tally by when he wanted to sleep, eat. But after a while, all he wanted to do was sleep, and pain had taken away every ounce of appetite. From what he could gather staring up at the glowing ice above him, it must have been at least a week, as sun crept over the wall. A week since his brothers had turned on him; the day his punctured body had steamed in the cold air, and his blood had frozen solid on the courtyard's snow covered ground. The courtyard where he had truly learned the meaning of being a brother of the night's watch, when Samwell tarly had hunched on the floor, helpless. Bitter, that was how he felt. So with thoughts of revenge roaming his mind, Jon slipped out of consciousness once again.


A strong sense of nerves had been growing in the pit of her stomach, as Daenerys Targaryen finally approached her new home of sorts. Of course, she had a different motive than she had first anticipated, returning home. Wrapped in a crimson fur lined cloak, a hood turned up against the cold air. She was fully prepared for a harsh Westerosi winter so far north. Below her were clouds, but below them she knew, was an immense man made structure boasting a 700 foot height, and 300 mile length. Dany took her last breath of the fresh sky air, before whispering a soft Valyrian word to Drogon, and he began his descent. They hit the clouds, and as always, the wet shock hit her like a wave. She tried her hardest to keep her hood held to her head, but after a few futile moments, she let it go and her hair flew upwards, completely socked through. She felt liberated, and exulted in the complete unknown of the thick storm clouds. A few more metres, and they were out, and Daenerys Targaryen set eyes on the Wall for the first time. they do not lie she thought when they speak of its magnificence To her eyes it was spectacular, and more awesome than she could have possibly imagined. She descried the small cluster of buildings that could only be Castle Black, desolate looking below her, but Dany directed Drogon towards the built up ice atop the wall. She couldn't find a watchman in sight, her brow furrowing in confusion. With a slight jolt, her dragon touched down on the ice, giving Dany a clear view of the land she was to govern. White, as far as the eye could see. She slid off her mounts back, setting her feet carefully so as not to slip. To the south was her people, and to the north…her war. Aegon was right to send me here, i could do good. Sitting beside her nephew, as nothing more than a discarded aunt had driven her mad. Watching him rule the kingdom she had fought all her life for…it sickened her. Here though, she could make a difference. And the first thing on her list, was to discover whether the rumours were true, and the lord commander of the night's watch was dead by the hands of his own brothers. She sucked in the fresh clean air, her mind roving over what she knew of this man. If he was all people made him out to be, Jon Snow could be the best man for the job she was about to bestow on him, however if the men at Moles town were to believed…well, this could be quite a treat.


Once again Jon found himself contemplating a means to end his misery, and once again his mind came up blank. The minutes ticked by, each second dragging like a millennium. His thoughts drifted off to his first home, where he had ever been the stranger. He walked through the courtyard, catching a glimpse of Bran as he disappeared behind the other side of a tower, a hundred feet up in the air. Little rickon chased after his wolf, Sansa hot on his heels yelling that his mother wanted to see him. Robb approached, tourney swrod in hand and a complecent smile etched across his features. From the covered bridge, his father smiled down at him, Lady catelyn as ever his shadow and opposite, grimacing unpleasantly down at him. And thern Arya was running towards him, dirty as ever. He reached out a hand to muss up her hair "little siter" he muttered. She looks so young, so innocent…

A sudden sound brought him back to himself. He shuffled slightly, gaining a position from which he could defend himself if it came to it. It hurt, but pain wasn't the problem right now. There were raised voices, one gruff and one familiar.

"Khaleesi, we should not be here, it's dangerous" said one man, the gruff one.

"I have to agree with the night my lady, the wights…" said the familiar voice. Another voice cut across him, one that tinckled like flowing water.

"the wights have been chained enough, they will not be a danger to us.

With a great clang, his gate swung open, lamp light flooded the room, causing Jon to turn his face away. There was a gasp on at least two parts. The woman stayed quite. Jon turned his head as his eyes grew accustomed to the light, trying to make out the figure stood in front of him.

"Gods, the bloody bastard's still alive." The Dwarf exclaimed. Jon chuckled hoarsely, it was the first time he had used his voice in days.

"Lannister" he croaked.

"i don't like this, at all" said the gruff voice. Jon raised his head to find his face. There was something familiar about his features but he couldn't quite place it…" how could he have survived?"

"The red priestess, Mormont, she was here was she not?" Jorah mormont. So the son had returned. What odd company he was keeping. The woman knelt down before him, searching his eyes with a bright purple glare.

"you need not trust him, ser, just me" the man grunted in reply. She reached out and stroked a bruised spot beneath Jon's eyes, and he felt the warmth in her fingertips. "I am Daenerys Targaryen, and i meant that to you also, Jon Snow, you must trust me."