Author's Note: English is not my natural language, so I'm sorry for any grammatical mistake you may find.
CHAPTER ONE
New layers of ice were forming in stalagmites, crowning the length of the white fortress, as they always came in this time of the year. Noticing the pattern of the steady northern wind, which was ice-modeling all the walls upon him and whichever thing came in its path, his eyes fell back into the crooking flames and his hands seek its warmth, sometimes such small kind of comfort often was denied to those who keep the Night's Watch for this fire was too breakable by this extremes drops of temperature. Yet, there were some kind of whispering words that came when the blasts of icy air stroke, and it wasn't the first time Jon Snow heard them.
No kidding spending this amount of time alone was playing tricks on him now, but he found himself chuckling at that thought. Lately, there was so little he could do to keep all past memories from awakening and greeting him in this present time. One in particular, which involved two six-year-old boys in the pit of the night, with their voices penetrating the dullness of the courtyard in Winterfell's castle.
"Robb, what did you do now?" He could see himself scowling at Robb, while rubbing the little hands with his own. "You touched Father's sword again, didn't you? You have ice burns in your hands…"
"I saw it. Again…" grinned his brother, he didn't wince once though he had reasons to do it. "I'm not lying to you."
"Father forbade you to take Ice again, you forgot? He will be angry when he finds out."
"I don't care. I just want him to believe me. I can see something in the sword… something he can't see."
"Stop talking about that. There is nothing in the sword."
"When I took it, I saw something. Eyes in the blade… starring back at me…"
"Your eyes in your reflection, idiot. Honestly, I think Sansa is more mature than you and she's a baby."
Jon hadn't thought about that for ages since it happened. Both were six years old but he already considered himself as an adult when young, Robb though lived inside this fantasy cloud where anything could be possible and insisted on being invincible in it. It was a long time ago, but now he couldn't help but thinking about his brother's odd behavior that night and his words were still ringing in his ears when his sweet boy expression hardener.
"I don't have yellow eyes." he had told him. None of them had discussed that again after Jon's laugh.
"Jon!" a hooded figure called at his back, emerging clumsily from the darkness. Sam still hadn't developed fondness to high places, he was no ranger on that field, but he had certainly learned to eradicate what was keeping him from embracing his new life as a man of the Night's Watch. He had only quivered once when they found frozen bodies in the snow, adjacent to their expedition's dwellings beyond the Wall.
"Come sit by the fire…" motioned Jon, and his friend squatted down next to him. "Has anyone said anything else about…?"
"Yes, Lord Commander received a word. Outside the East Watch, Cotter Pyke's men reported four blue eyed corpses, just like the ones we found." he shrugged, with a high-pitched voice. "I didn't dare to ask him more. He seemed… well… you wouldn't want to know…"
"Did they loose somebody?"
"No, they were smart enough to burn them giving the chance. We were lucky to have you and Ghost, too…" explained Sam but Jon wasn't content at the thought. This shouldn't have happened to begin with.
"The only thing I worry about now is to be prepared next time… since we can't rely on luck again."
"Were you afraid?" Sam asked nervously, everything evolve into a gloomy and menacing atmosphere now much to his dismay. "When you confronted the… dead man?"
"I don't know. I guess I didn't give it much thought at the time… Somehow, I just knew what it had to be done to stop it."
"Well, I hope it goes the same way for me. Though, I'm still working on my fencing skills targeting living people, I guess it's still too early to tell how I will deal with… corpses."
"You did well outside the Wall, Sam…" Jon commented, eagerly. "You didn't pass out when I found the frozen hand. That's a start…"
"When you found it? Don't you mean Ghost…?"
Jon's eyes widened at this sudden realization, his smile slowly fading as seconds begun to run no taking into consideration what was going on his mind right now. He did mean Ghost… but somehow, blurriness took hold of that moment in his head and for the very first time in his life there wasn't any certainty regarding this unfamiliarity, and the strangest of all of it was that something was telling him not to antagonize it. Even if he closed his eyes, all he could still see was a part of him and a part of Ghost tracking the hand as one. But it couldn't be…
He looked inside of him, every visual piece of that particular day came to life once again but not in the form it did in the past. There was some dualism, both belonging to him and amazingly to Ghost too. He knew he had been there… but not with the rest. He was alone. He remembered his gaze glued to the floor, the silent animalistic pace as he approached and the smell merging from the bodies, which happened to be the end of his hunting. His hunting. It did make sense, horses and hounds had been too frightened to stand close the missing rangers but Ghost wasn't affected… and the only explanation he could think of was giving the moment his mind had been an extension of Jon's. A command belonging to him which the wolf seconded, because he knew if he didn't do it nobody else will.
How was that possible?
"You spend too much time with Ghost…" Sam joked.
"Yeah, I guess so..." Came his fragile answer.
His eyes met Ghost's as if they haven't once connected looks in their lives together. He leaned on scratching the wolf's ears with a thoughtful glance, trying to figuring out what in the world was wrong with him. Did he really have the ability to get inside the animal's mind? He wondered if this chain of events wasn't something deliberate. Facing this particular side of him he never knew he had in the first place happened just about the same time their first encounter with this blue eyed corpse.
"Sometimes I wonder in which side of the Wall are we safer." confessed Sam after a silence. "I mean, the Wall has never fallen before but now I'm not so…"
"It won't fall, Sam. I promise."
"It's not supposed to fall… but it will eventually. We were not supposed to confront our dead brothers either, yet they came back and attacked us. Wildings will rise too on the north side, that's what all kept saying… and if that's not enough, the south side is being assaulted by a cold blooded mercenary who likes to spend his great deal of time knocking cold our guards. Jeren and Albett were the ones, this time."
"What?" Jon looked at him, curiously. "I never heard of him. Who is he anyway?"
"Nobody knows. They all call him Sundance. He's… very fast. He approaches the south gate of the Castle during the night patrols, and engaged himself in fights. I mean, sometimes it's three to one, depending on who's on duty but they always get beaten up and that's why nobody ever catch him."
"You're telling me he doesn't ask for anything else? And leaves our men alive after?"
"Yes. You should hear the way they talked about him. The strangest thing is that he doesn't really hurt them, just some harmless bruises. Jeren and Albett are only with a contusion each, and they'll probably make a full recovery in a few days."
"Jeren and Albett are good. It will take a lot for a single person to just disarm two brothers of the Night's Watch that easily." said Jon, thoughtfully.
"Yeah. Though, he is a real danger to all of us. We don't know what he wants, or who he really is. Some say he's an old recruit expelled from the Order, others says he's a wilding."
"Well, we'll deal with him eventually. Doesn't make much of a threat if he acts alone, does he?"
"Jon, no one wants to patrol that gate anymore." Sam revealed, shivering. "They're too afraid. We could end up like Lord Commander Mormont if you hadn't arrived to kill Othor two nights ago."
"That's stupid. You can't be afraid of just one man." stated Jon, astonished. They were men of the Night's Watch, being thrown to the floor a thousand times was just part of what they were and the very least of it. He was now starting to think Lord Commander was right when he admitted it to be an army of sullen boys and tired old men.
"He isn't just one man. He's… really good."
"As good as any can be."
The next day, Lord Commander had summoned him to his quarters. Jon had no idea why the Old Bear hadn't told him anything about Sundance, yet he suspected it had something to do with the part he played in preventing his assassination. All he could tell at the time was that Lord Commander didn't look happy, the face of man who can only watch as his own creation turns against him. He presented Jon with a sword, Valyrian steel all in Jon's hands. His eyes drank the length cautiously knowing that from now on they'll be partners for a while, still that thought brought awkwardness in his head. He had made his vows and this sword was supposed to protect a man of the Night's Watch but oddly as it sounded that didn't seem right to him.
"It was meant to my son but he brought dishonor to our house."
And Jon was supposed to have the honor Mormont's son lacked? He above all people? His revelation with Allister Thorne was at that point self explanatory of his own insecurities concerning the Night's Watch. His eyes darkened, understanding that he couldn't keep it yet when he introduced it to his friends they were all over him, by the looks none of them had ever seen anything like it.
"How are Jeren and Albett?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"They are better." responded Grenn, who was near him. "Let me look at it again, please…"
Jon sighed again and handed Longclaw to him. He and Pyp disappeared sharing their excitement over it in a way nothing close to the grown men they were. As he stayed behind, he noticed Sam's sulkiness and recent aversion of talking.
"What is it?" He sat next to him.
"I… I can't."
"You can't what?" Sam was down-faced and sounded like a wounded sheep.
"Well… The truth is… I shouldn't tell you… I mustn't tell you." He kept chanting. "I'm really not supposed to say…"
"And yet you really want to say..." tried Jon. "You want to say that…"
"There was a raven. I read the message to Maester Aemon." His eyes searched for Jon's despairingly. "It's your brother Robb…"
"What?" Color was drained from him as the world suddenly stopped, leaving a comatose absence in his face. Even, Ghost freaked out and tilted anxiously his head at his master.
"He's… He's heading south…" Sam muttered, pleading for anyone to suddenly turn him mute. "…to war."
Robb is going to war.It was impossible. His brother was too young. Even if he had always believed in him, willing to let death alone strike him first if he ever doubt Robb, this was something surpassing every inch of everything they'd ever known and he couldn't let his brother faces this alone. Whenever he used to think of their lives ten years from now, Robb was always ruling the north in the welfare of Winterfell as it was stated in the history of their ancestors but if he did leave now ten years were an idealization for war was never that merciful, pawns were crushed to the bones by the end of the day and he knew even worst things awaited those who masterminds and machinations of war craved the most for, his brother.
Sam mumbled something about Robb being well-guarded by his banner men but he just couldn't pay attention anymore. Even if Grey Wind and all his siblings' direwolves were to protect him in the battlefield along with a thousand more, Jon would never stop worrying about him especially if he stayed behind in the Night's Watch while the fight was already beginning.
"I should be with him…" His heart thumped erratically. Suddenly he felt like a stranger in this place, ten times worse than his first day.
"Jon, you can't…"
"I should be with him…" he repeated louder.
His frown dove into Ghost's eyes, like asking what to do but discovered he didn't need his reassurance. If a part of him was locked inside his friend then the same was applied to this existence granted to him and both came in unison with a bolt of truth. He couldn't look away from this and Ghost knew that too.
The sword lying in his bed was the only goodbye he could articulate to the days spent in the Wall. Outside, black feathers had been plaguing windows as more ravens continued to arrive nonstop, and even for someone poorly instructed in old sayings like him, it was mutual for him and all the lingering shadows residing among the night to coincide in one true prophecy, coming alive in his eyes. Dark wings, dark words. Jon tried very hard no to think of it and the recent news concerning his brother but he was failing miserably, and it ignited his motion further into leaving everything behind.
The reflection of candlelight was languishing in the steel of Longclaw, enduring as far as it could but close enough to its quitting time just like his father's life in King's Landing. They could've done anything with him. Locked him up in a dungeon with several days of hunger and thirst to put only minutes between him and his demise from this world. Maybe he was already dead. But his life could not be terminated that way, not if he had something to say about it. He was still Eddard Stark's child and his vows were first made to his family, to his father, brothers and sisters. He wondered if this sword had been used to protect its previous owner's loved ones, and it could somehow relate to the pain he was feeling now. What kind of blood would it tend to protect the most? The blood of a man who stood behind while his family was being slaughtered or the blood of a man who fought for them no matter what?
That question remained unanswered.
Ghost was already racing toward the door when the screams broke in the night. Jon got up as fast as he could, taking the sword from the bed and blowing the candles out as he exited.
"It's him!"
"Sundance!"
Yells rose up among the icy battlements as he did his way down and Ghost viciously running ahead of him. He wasn't a stranger to his direwolf's behavior, right now it was slipping into his skin just like when Othor had stabbed icy blue radiance into his eyes and he claimed a force he didn't know he had to make it through the vacant yards in record time. Both he and Ghost stood outside the front gate together and suddenly the woods unleashed this cold air which felt like strings in his throat.
His eyes were blinded by a midst of darkness among the trees but he could effortlessly spot his brothers down on the cold floor. Rast was on his feet, a sword pointing in the direction of a cloaked shaped figure. His black hood was cascading with little puffs of white emerging underneath into the freezing night, though his sword catch the moonlight and shone with silver all the way into Jon's eyes.
He froze for a second, as everything collided with his senses.
"Snow, don't move." said Rast with a smirk. "This cunt is mine."
"Stop, Rast! He doesn't wanna fight." yelled one of the men of the Night's Watch, laying on the ground but apparently unharmed. "Just give him what he wants and he'll leave us alone."
"He attacked us and he's gonna pay for it."
The strike was delivered with dust and dirt flying everywhere but Rast found his sword distortedly nailed in a low tree, just where his opponent had been standing not too long ago. He growled menacing as his right arm made a circling move and his sword traced an arc but the cloaked man had ten times the reflexes and he swept aside and mingled the man of the Night's Watch easily.
Jon had his eyes wide open. He had once or twice in his life seen someone fighting this good and he knew all along it wasn't apprentice's swordplay. He watched in silence, even the snow seemed fairly untouched as the cloaked stranger didn't even step on it. But something was familiar about him and he felt it in his bones, the wind was respecting him in a way Jon had seen when he was younger with someone else, the same way it respected him too. He was so lost into the fighting he didn't even noticed Sam, Grenn and Pyp rushing to his side.
"It's Sundance!" Sam's girly scream startled him. Grenn and Pyp were about to interfere when Jon's arm stopped them in their tracks.
"What are you doing?" said Grenn, harshly. "He's going to kill him."
"Look again." answered Jon. Everyone did so. "He's not going to kill Rast. He's playing with him."
The fight was already over and it hadn't even started. Rast was already worn out as he charged for the last time, but the enemy broke his hammering posture fixing his two wrists like a cross and caging the blade, the pommel of his own sword connected with the jaw of the other man and a sideswing sent him over to his own defeat.
"Guys, look!" Sam pointed to a hollow corner a few feet away from the two men. A body laid facedown in the snow frozen and undisturbed, for what it seemed like several days after his death.
"He killed him?" asked Pyp.
"No, we did!" Rast yelled, trying to get on his feet. "This asshole thinks he just can steel him from us."
"Why did you kill him?" Jon was eying the corpse warily.
"Because he attacked us first, bastard. That's why."
"This man doesn't want to hurt us." Halder told the others as he raised and came closer, holding his arm. "He just wants the dead man. But Rast…"
"Well, the dead man is dead because of us. So he can get the hell out of here, did you hear me?" Rast wielded his sword again but the hooded man knocked it from him with a slash to his wrist. "Ah! You broke my wrist!"
That movement. Jon had seen it before. Now he was sure, he even did that to Grenn the first day of training.
"You're gonna die for this."
"Rast! Look!"
Halder's scream made everyone turned their heads abruptly to the side but no one ever expected to be alive to contemplate anything like that. Jon himself felt a cold hand climbing up his spine when he stared at the dead white face on the ground, only his eyes sprung wide open and suddenly a jet of blue was cast on them.
