AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter was easier than the previous one but it had its perks, mostly because I wanted to create a close portrait of Ned Stark. Tell me if you liked it and what I can do to improve Ned in future chapters. And speaking of comments… thanks once again to all of you who commented and followed! It is very important for me to receive your support. I promise that things will start to accelerate in the next chapters. Soon I will publish also an Appendix with the Westeros Houses and some details about the families and characters so that you can understand better the situation of certain characters after the time jump.

Finally, I hope to publish the next chapter next Tuesday. I can tell you that I am excited to show it to you, guys. I'll join two characters you never saw together living in the same situation. And at last, sorry again for my English. I'm trying to work on it! I'm waiting for your comments and follows!

EDDARD I

It was the same dream again.

Not the one about Lyanna. No. Since he had broken his promise to her, his sister had started visiting him less during the night, as if she was thankful for what he had done. It had not been an easy decision bringing the truth to daylight, but after escaping death by a mere twist of destiny, Ned knew he had to tell Jon about the Tower of Joy. In case the next time I don't have the same luck. Now he could only hope that it had been the right decision and that the memory of his sister could be honored in more than one way.

No. His dreams were different now.

They were about Catelyn.

Cat.

He missed her so very much, especially now that the memory of her was starting to blur. After all, the last time they had met had been six years ago, outside Littlefinger's brothel. Of course he could still remember her smile and the fire burning on her auburn hair… But not the smell of her warm skin or the sound of her voice. That he missed. Oh, and how much!

In the dream they were again on the Godswood in Winterfell.

She was watching him behind a veil of fog while he sat next to the heart tree cleaning Ice. Her mouth was always closed. No sound ever came from her throat. However, this time she had leaned forward, as if to kiss him in the forehead and whisper in his ear how sorry she was for not having understood the price he had paid. She had never forgiven him for that one failure in their marriage. And, despite the fact the truth was now safe from Robert's fury, he still couldn't tell her. He had said the vows before the weirwood on the haunted forest six years or so ago.

I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. That meant he was not allowed to write to Cat, far away in King's Landing, to tell her that their marriage had been a happy one, that he had not fathered a bastard as he had told her, that he had kept his honor to her.

It was those words the ones he told tell her every time they met in dreams.

I'll see you again, my love. I swear, he usually finished, receiving her kiss in the forehead. And that's when the dream started to turn into a nightmare. Catelyn's kiss was cold. And then, when she pulled back to look at him again, her eyes were always burning with a blue fire.

The dream shattered as a horn echoed through Castle Black.

Ned opened his eyes. He was not on the Godswood. Blinking in the darkness, he felt the cold sweat running down from his forehead. Somewhere a fire burned in a fireplace casting strange shadows in the room. With the image of those blue eyes still in his mind, he sat on the bed. Yes, he now remembered. He was in the Flint Barracks. All around him men awoke to the sound of the horn, their forms moving beneath fur cloaks.

"What is it?" Mumbled Ronnel Harclay on the bed beside him, his eyes still closed.

Ned placed his feet on the cold floor.

"Brothers coming, I think." He replied, lifting his head toward the ceiling.

"The party from Long Barrow?"

Ned shook his head.

"It can't be. It's too early for them to be back."

That moment a second blast was blown.

"Wildlings." Ronnel bellowed, his teeth clenched. "Why can't they sleep?!"

Slaughter again, Ned thought while getting up. Even though there wasn't much light in the barracks, he quickly dressed his tunic and chainmail. In the meantime, his sworn brothers of the Night's Watch left their beds, getting inside their armors and leaving hastily to the armory. Someone opened a window while he was putting his boots. Outside it was still night and snow was falling heavily.

"Move on, lads!" Someone yelled from the courtyard. "Move on!"

Every time a second blast echoed through the Wall almost every man was sure that a third wouldn't come. The majority of them still laughed every time a survivor of the Battle at the Fist of the First Men told the stories about the dead. They hoped to hide their fear behind laughs and jokes. The ones who believed – or at least were trying to make an effort, like Lord Commander Marsh – kept on saying that the dead would never come near the Wall or, if they dared, that they would never breach the gates. No. The wildlings are the threat now, ser Alliser kept on saying. Don't let Lord Traitor and his puppy bastard frighten you.

Ned didn't want to frighten anybody.

I want them to believe.

Soon after reaching the Wall, Ned had realized how much he was unaccustomed to obey orders. Obeying orders that didn't play with what he believed made things even more difficult. Still, Ned saw himself as an honorable man, no matter what the entire kingdom thought of him. In fact, he now believed that this was his fate: protect the North from the true threat. King's Landing had only been a test. Here, at the Wall, the true battle for the realm would be fought.

And today he had to do his best again.

Leaving the barracks with Ronnel and Edd, the three of them advanced quickly through the courtyard to grab weapons from the armory. Ned received the sword Mikken – the blacksmith of Winterfell – had made for him three years ago. It was very different from Ice. His family's sword, as Robb had told him during one of his visits at Castle Black, was now kept in the great hall at Winterfell. Even so, Quiet Wolf was a good sword. It was not made with valyrian steel, but it was longer than his leg and lighter than any sword he had ever wielded. The handle was carved in the form of a black wolf head, inspired by Jon's Longclaw. It seemed appropriate.

Hoping not to use it, he sheathed the sword and joined the other men waiting in the courtyard under the snow.

"How can this be an attack?" Edd asked, his breath freezing in the air. "If the wildlings are storming the gates at Long Barrow, how can they be here?"

Long Barrow, Eddard thought bitterly.

Jon and Benjen had left five days ago to the castle on the east with reinforcements to fight a new band of wildlings. The idea had come from ser Alliser himself. He knew Ned and Jon's positions about the wildlings' situations and was doing his best to undermine their plans. Besides, Alliser knew how hard it was for Jon to wield his sword to fight against wildlings. When he had made Jon a ranger, promoting him from a steward position, it had been with the hope that the boy would betray himself and leave the Wall to fight alongside the wildlings. This time for good.

For a time Ned thought it would break the boy. Jon was changed since the girl's death. The pain consumed him from the inside and took care of his instincts in times of pressure. But he was strong. He has Lyanna strength in him, Eddard had said many times to himself. So the boy had learned to shut up his mouth and, like Ned, had found out other ways to fight for what he believed.

"It can't be an attack." Eddard replied, with his cold voice. "Most likely starving people asking for help again."

"Well, someone is optimistic today." Mocked Ronnel with a snort.

Six years after taking the black, Ned was not known among the Night's Watch for being friendly. As far as he knew, his sworn brothers saw him as an arrogant and unpleasant man.

"Well, whatever it is…" Edd said, rubbing his hands. The three of them had their eyes on the winch elevator that was coming down from the top of the Wall. "I hope we don't have to fight today. My balls are freezing out here."

The weather was becoming colder by the day and they still had not finished the first year of winter. Every day the snow fell unceasingly while the cold winds rose to extinguish fires more quickly. To further aggravate the situation, the provisions they had for the coming years were scarce.

Soon there will be worse problems than frozen balls.

"Don't lie to us, Edd." Grenn, who was listening beside them, got into the conversation. "Everyone knows you have no balls."

Not much later, the elevator stopped and Lord Commander Marsh stepped into the courtyard followed closely by Alliser Thorne, Janos Slynt and Thoren Smallwood. Power was currently a strange thing on the Night's Watch and everyone knew it. Bowen Marsh, at the time of the election, had more votes to win than ser Alliser but when the wildlings' attacks had begun, the Lord Commander wasn't able to be up for the challenge. That's why he had turned for ser Alliser looking for advice, quickly becoming his puppet.

"A group of wildlings is approaching the gate." The Lord Commander warned with a high voice. He seemed lost, as usual. "No more than ten. Ser Alliser and a party of fifteen rangers will meet them while the others stay here getting ready to fight if that proves to be needed."

So I was right, Eddard thought grimly. More slaughter coming.

Ser Alliser stepped in front of Bowen Marsh and took control of the situation.

"The men I call will accompany me today." He said, imperiously. Eddard had to recognize that the man was a natural leader. All the same, it was not the leader the Wall needed. "We'll ride out there, surround those bastards and kill them. It's easy and simple."

Without further delay, he started picking up rangers to accompany him. Grenn was picked up, as was Ronnel and even Janos Slynt and Thoren Smallwood. Ned lifted his chin, hoping to hear his name. His hand caressed the handle of the sword, his fingers touching gently the wolf's head.

Slowly, names were called and every place was filled.

And Ned wasn't among them.

"What are you doing?" Edd asked, seeing that Ned was prepared to take a step forward.

"I've to go."

He wanted to see with his own eyes what Benjen had reported.

Since Mance Rayder's death at the Battle of Castle Black, a dozen men had claimed the title of King Beyond-the-Wall but none of them had succeeded in commanding the free folk to march south. So they had turned to each other and started striking different points of the Wall, being constantly defeated by the northern armies garrisoning the old castles. Now, however, the situation was more desperate. The majority of the surviving wildlings was now mere bodies, starving to death and freezing in the snow. Soon they would be nothing more than meat to the dead army. Even if the dead were not seen for more than four years, that didn't mean they weren't coming one day.

Every life lost is a loss for the Wall.

"Lord Commander!" Ned yelled, making way between the men standing next to the gate. Heads turned immediately to him and whispers, soft like snow, erupted among some of the brothers of the Night's Watch.

Bowen Marsh, who was whispering something to Donnel Hill, looked behind and seemed not surprised to see Eddard looking defiantly at him. Unlike ser Alliser, who had despised Ned since the moment he had arrived at Castle Black, the Lord Commander still treated Ned with some respect, remembering the days he had been Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King. In fact, during a few months after the Stark's army had come to assist the Night's Watch, Bowen Marsh had relied on Ned's guidance to prepare for the war. They had only parted ways when Ned had suggested opening the gates to give the wildlings the Gift lands.

"Yes?" He asked, growing red.

Lord Commander Marsh, also known as the Old Pomegranate, was a round man with a red face. Even though he had won the election after Mormont's murder, he would have done better as Lord Steward, with his counts and measures.

Ned gulped before continuing.

"May I ask to accompany ser Alliser?"

Alliser, who until that moment had stood watching Ned in silence, took a step further to shake his head. A smile crossed his lips.

"Have I called your name, Lord Traitor?"

Ned's hand clenched the handle of his sword.

"Have I talked to you, ser Alliser?"

He also took a step further, leaving behind the black mass of men gathering in the Castle Black's courtyard. Alliser Thorne was a slim and sinewy fifty-year-old, with black eyes and black hair streaked with gray. He had a thin smile, and a sharp, cold voice. For moments, they stared at each other and all the other brothers waited. The tension was more than palpable.

"Now, now…" Bowen Marsh intervened, taking a step further. His eyes were on Ned's hand, still clasped around the wolf's head. "No need for that, ser."

Ned turned his eyes from ser Alliser to the Lord Commander.

"You are a ranger, ser Eddard." The Lord Commander replied, after casting a quick glance to ser Alliser. "You can go with ser Alliser if you want, but you'll have to obey. Am I clear? Don't waste our time defending those savages."

Ned nodded, but from his lips didn't pass a word to secure that promise.

Ser Alliser was clearly not satisfied with that outcome but didn't protest again.

"Let's move then, you lazy asses!" Alliser yelled, climbing to his horse. "We've wildlings to kill."

While waiting for a stable boy to bring his horse, Ned exchanged a last word with Edd. He was the only one at Castle Black at the moment in whom he could trust.

"Ser Alliser will make you kill wildlings, Ned." Edd muttered softly. "I thought you didn't want to kill another one…"

Ned placed a hand on Edd's shoulder and brought him closer to him.

"Don't worry. I'll not kill any wildling today."

As soon as all horses were brought up to the gate, the small party of sixteen men started to ride through the tunnel. For what seemed to be ten minutes they advanced throughout the long, twisting and narrow tunnel that led to the other side. They stopped for a while when two rangers had to climb down their horses to open up the gate that stood in the middle of the tunnel. After resuming their march, they continued in silence. The fire burning on the torches kept them warm.

At last, they reached the outer gate of the tunnel – a solid oak door nine inches thick – and Ser Alliser stopped and, for the first time since they had left the courtyard, addressed the group.

"Let's see what these fuckers want this time."

The gates opened and they rode beyond the Wall at full speed. The limits of the haunted forest in the distance were nothing more than a black line fading against the dark sky. Snow kept on falling, covering them and getting inside their furs. The torches were extinguished in less than a minute.

The Fields of the Dead, Eddard remembered while galloping behind the others. He could hear, once in a while, bones crushing beneath the hoofs of his mount. Bones. Wildlings and brothers of the Night's Watch alike. Thousands of them buried in a grave of snow. That was a worrying thought. And again the cold eyes, burning blue, made him shiver.

The horses didn't need to gallop much further.

Soon they found the wildlings that had been seen from the Wall.

The group had only five people. A family. A woman in her twenties clutching to her side two girls under ten years. There was also a man, not much older than the woman, holding a boy in his arms. The child, that must had only five years, reminded Eddard of little Rickon back at Winterfell. The group, shivering beneath their furs, was in such a bad state that they took their time to realize sixteen horses had appeared out of the snow to surround them.

How can they possibly think this is a threat?, Ned asked to himself while taking out his sword to point it to the wildlings, as all the other men had done.

He looked above to see ser Alliser expression through the snow. The man stood at the top of his horse, his lips contorted on the strangest smile Ned had ever seen. Janos Slynt, on the other hand, seemed more uncomfortable. Could Alliser's strongest ally, the very same man who had betrayed Ned, have a heart in his chest after all? Ulmer too seemed a little uncertain, his sword descending slowly as he caressed his beard.

Ignoring the swords pointed at him, the man holding the child stood in silence, blinking the snow out of his eyes. Meanwhile, the men of the Night's Watch waited.

"Shall we really kill them?" Janos Slynt voiced the thought on everyone's mind. "They will die either way."

The wildling man placed the boy on the freezing ground to catch a girl who was wandering towards a horse.

"Yes, you're right, ser Janos." Alliser replied, finishing his sentence with another laugh. "It seems Lord Traitor might have its way today."

If we had my way we would take these people back to Castle Black.

"You should go back to the Haunted Forest", Alliser told the wildlings with disdain, his eyes darting toward the forest at the distance. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the whistling wind. "We will not strike you down if you don't want to attack us, but there is no place for you here."

"Please, ser, please…" The woman cried, falling to her knees. The little girl fell beside, her face frozen on the same expression, her skin white and her eyes blue. Not the blue of the dead. Yet."Please."

Promise me, Ned. The words echoed in his mind, so similar to Lyanna's, the same despair of a person who knows death is coming. He looked to the woman more carefully now. Her nose was black, taken by frostbite and soon the skin on her neck would be dead too, since it was growing darker. The woman knew her chances to live were scarce.

"What do you want, woman?" Ser Alliser asked again, scornfully.

It was the man who took a step further this time. He had his mouth and the head above the eyes covered with a scarf.

"We came from an encampment near Whitetree… Because we heard a rumor…"

Lord Commander's brows furrowed.

"What kind of rumor?"

"Please, ser, please…" The woman was now weeping, her voice suffocated by sobs.

"We heard that you crows were taking the children…" The man continued, raising his voice.

Ned's eyes darted toward Alliser Thorne again. He was shaking his head, the eyes focused on one of the little girls who had tears frozen on her cheeks like crystal.

Yes, look at them. See what you have done.

"You heard a lie!" Alliser Thorne replied a few seconds later. "Now get back to your forest if you don't want to die today."

"No!" Screamed the woman, trying to get hold of ser Alliser's boots. "Please, good ser! Protect my children… They don't have to die… They are only children, good children...! They will obey you, I swear…"

Ser Alliser kicked the woman with his boot, making her fall behind with a whimper. She hit her head in the snow and the cry stopped.

"Ser Alliser, they are only children." Pointed Eddard, unable to stop the words coming from his throat. "We can take them to Castle Black. I'm sure my son Robb is willing to take the children as wards in Winterfell if you send them to him…"

Ser Alliser spat to the ground.

"You are not the Lord of Winterfell, Stark." He said, his breath frosting in the air. "Besides, I'm letting them live. Isn't what you wanted?"

"They'll not live here! Take at least the boy and the girls…"

Alliser Thorne snorted, enjoying himself.

"No. We can't have precedents."

Eddard looked again to the children. The boy was white, his eyes almost closed. He wouldn't live much longer. Ned couldn't even know if the boy could actually recover in the warmest room of Castle Black.

"And what do you think would happen if you were to let the wildlings sleep beside your own children?" Asked ser Alliser, amused. "How much long would it take for them to kill your spawn?"

From the corner of his eyes, Ned saw something gleaming in the snow, something cold.

A blade.

Without announcing himself, the wildling man had managed to get a knife between his fingers and had thrown himself against Ser Alliser. He pulled his leg from the horse, making the master of arms of Castle Black fall on the snow with a surprised scream. His sword fell on the ground and the horse, scared, beat his hoofs violently on the ground, disturbing the mounts of the closest men.

Ned barely had time to think.

He saw the knife plunge into ser Alliser's chest, managing to intrude between chainmail and leather. In a split second, he thought of standing there, waiting for the wildling to end with ser Alliser's life. But then he understood he couldn't. Before the wildling could strike for the second time, Ned plunged his sword on the man's back, trespassing fur, flesh and bone. He then drew his sword out, covering the snow with blood, while the wildling fell beside ser Alliser.

Someone screamed. A girl.

Janos Slynt and Ulmer had already climbed down their horses to assist ser Alliser's wound. The man was in shock, his eyes wide open, without realizing what had just happened to him. Janos pressed his gloved hands against his friend's chest.

"We must take him to Maester Sam." He yelled immediately.

Ned climbed down his horse to inspect the wildling.

He was already dead.

In less than two minutes, Thoren Smallwood and Janos Slynt managed to put ser Alliser back on his horse.

"Go back to your fucking forest or I'll make arrows rain on you within an hour." Janos shouted toward the woman and the children. The only one weeping now was the oldest girl. The other three seemed oblivious to what had just happened. "You hear me?!"

And then he turned his horse to ride back to the gate, ser Alliser's horse galloping afterwards between two riders. One by one, all the others left until Eddard, Grenn, Ulmer and Ronnel were the only ones staying behind. They stood in silence looking to the wildlings. The dead man had his eyes open, staring sightlessly at the sky. The blood around him had already frozen and looked like a mirror with red glass. Meanwhile, the children were now hugging the woman, the only adult survivor, to console her.

"What are we waiting?" Ulmer asked, climbing to his horse. "Let's ride back."

Ned, finishing cleaning the sword with a ball of snow, sheath Quiet Wolf. He had to do something for the survivors before returning to Castle Black.

"Walk east." He said to them, loud enough for all of them to hear him. "The rumors you heard are true. You just knocked on the wrong gate."

Beside him, on the horses, the other men stirred uncomfortably. The little girl furrowed her brow, curious. The woman, who was supposed to take the lead, didn't spoke a word.

"East?"

"Right by the shore there is a Castle." Ned continued, calmly. "There is a man there called Cotter Pyke who can help you."

Finally, the woman stopped weeping and looked to Ned.

"Please, let us come with you… The sea is too far… We won't survive."

Ned knew that. He knew the boy wasn't going to live another mile. But it was the only chance for them.

"You have to try."

"Why?" The girl asked again, defiance brightening in her eyes. She had red hair. Kissed by fire, as Jon had told him a while ago. "You killed my uncle. You're a crow, just like them…"

"Your uncle tried to attack one of my brothers, little girl." Ned replied, sure those words would be enough. "Now return to the forest and hide among the trees as you go east. Believe me. It's all I can do for you."

And, before the girl could say anything else, he climbed back to his horse and rode to the gate. The other three followed him. As he rode through the snow, distancing himself from the children behind him, he felt tears stinging his eyes. Ned suspected that soon his dreams would be disturbed by each one of those wildlings he had just condemned to death. Still, there had been nothing he could have done. He had no authority to save them.

Finally, they passed the gates back to the icy tunnel and Grenn and Ulmer came down to close the gate. It was then that Ronnel dared to exchange a look with Ned that had a very clear meaning: What have you done? It was common knowledge that Cotter Pyke used to trade with wildlings in Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. What few men knew was that since last year the Commander of Eastwatch was in fact smuggling wildling children into Westeros. Most of them, Eddard suspected, were put in galleys and taken to Essos. Probably many of them would end as slavers. However, that was a better destiny than to die in the snow.

The point was that a secret kept among the sworn brothers who supported the wildlings cause was now known by Ulmer and Green.

"What was all that shit about?" Ulmer asked before climbing up to his horse. He was a grey-bearded outlaw, skilled with a bow. He was the last man of the Kingswood Brotherhood. "Pyke is letting wildlings pass?"

"Yes." Eddard said, his voice cold as ice. "Will you tell?"

Grenn, mounting again his horse, shook his head to say no. Ulmer, however, seemed more suspicions and kept his ground.

"I know ser Alliser calls you a traitor." He said. "But I never saw you as one, ser. Until now."

That word doesn't mean anything by now.

"Ulmer, do you remember your vows to the Night's Watch?" Eddard asked, firmly. Every time he asked himself if what he was doing was the right, he remembered his vows.

"What of it?" Ulmer asked.

"Didn't we swear to be the shield that guards the realms of men?"

Ulmer laughed.

"We are no shield if we let the wildlings pass. Do you want to bring rape, robbery and plunder to the North, ser? If I rightly recall, you were Lord of Winterfell and it was your duty to behead any wildling that had somehow entered the kingdom. So explain me how that makes sense."

"It was what my father taught me, and his father before him." Eddard replied. "It doesn't mean we were right. Now that I've seen with my own eyes, I know the wildlings are just like us. And they are dying out there, filling this land with dead corpses. They are desperate for food, for shelter, for protection. They are men, same as us… The only difference is that there is a Wall between us."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sick and tired of hearing all that shit… And my position is the same, ser. Letting the wildlings through that gate would never result. Besides, we would have to share our provisions for the winter and the weather isn't that bad yet…"

Idiot.

"They will die then." Eddard retorted. "And then they'll rise and attack the Wall. And how do you kill a dead man, Ulmer?"

"Fire." He answered. "I participated on Mormont's Great Ranging, ser. I fought at the Fist of the First Men…"

"And you think it'll be easy to make fire during the cold nights? To make pyres with the dead?"

Ulmer kicked the gate.

"Don't worry about them, ser. They'll never pass this gate." Lord Commander had ordered the door to be reinforced a few months ago with steel and ironwood. "I'm more worried with you now. Do you plan to rebel against Lord Commander?"

Traitor. Exiled. Rebel.

"Of course not."

Ronnell moved again on his horse, uncomfortable. This was too risky.

"Well…" Ulmer grinned again. "Then you don't have to worry, ser. I know you're a fool and that someday you'll lose your head, but it won't be on my account. I won't tell your secret. I hate ser Alliser as much as you do. He always treated me like shit." Ned nodded and a cold smile touched his lips, acknowledging Ulmer's vote of trust. "However, I don't like you either. You are letting the wildlings trick you. They are not the same as us. They aren't! And remember that even those children would have grown up one day to be just like their parents..."

"I guess we'll never know." Ronnel replied, anxious to put an end to the conversation.

Ulmer gave a friendly pat on Ned's horse's muzzle and turned to climb his own mount. Without exchanging another word, they resumed their journey to Castle Black. By the time they reached the courtyard, the brothers, who only an hour later had gathered there, had already dispersed.

Delivering his stallion to a stable boy, Ned and Ronnel prepared to go searching for Edd in the Shield Hall but Hernen, Lord Commander's squire, came running to detain Ned. The boy was wheezing.

"Lord Commander has summoned you to his chambers, ser."

"Why?" Ned asked immediately. Could it be about Alliser's attack?

"A raven, ser." The squire replied quickly. "A raven arrived. It's all I know."

Dark wings, dark words.

"I'll meet you later." Eddard said toward Ronnel. His friend, who was certainly eager to talk about what Ulmer would or wouldn't say, nodded and turned back.

Snuggling inside his fur, Eddard followed the squire across the courtyard. Around them the typical sounds of Castle Black were awakening for another day: the latest recruits starting their train, the metallic sounds coming from the blacksmith and the wind whistling unmercifully.

Since Lord Commander's Tower had burnt down a few years ago - the night Jon had set it on fire to save Mormont from a wight – the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch kept his quarters on the King's Towers. It was a round tower with merlons atop it and with a lot of stairs. Ned climbed up all the steps until he finally reached the last floor. Voices came from behind the door.

Janos Slynt.

Sighing, he stood against the wall while the squire knocked three times at the door.

The voices stopped immediately and were followed by footsteps.

"Ser Eddard." Janos opened the door to let him in. "I was just telling Lord Commander what happened."

Eddard nodded, uninterested.

"Yes, yes, very brave…" Slynt bowed his head. Even though six years had passed, the former commander of the City Watch was still afraid to face Eddard alone, as if he feared some retaliation. "You acted quickly, ser. One more stab and ser Alliser could have died."

Once again, Ned didn't respond to what seemed to be a very poorly done thank you. He sighed and looked behind Janos' shoulder toward the desk where Lord Commander was waiting. Although he had no intention of retaliating against Janos Slynt, Ned treated him as a man without honor, ignoring him whenever he could.

Janos Slynt was used to it by now and, understanding that no other word would come from Eddard's lips, said "I shall leave you now, ser." After looking back to exchange one last glance with the Lord Commander, he passed into the corridor and began making his way back to the courtyard.

Ned entered the room and heard the squire closing the door behind him.

Lord Commander's room was circular and quite simple. It had a large bed, a desk full of papers and a fireplace. A bookcase with some books and scrolls was leaning against a wall. There was also a little cabinet with some swords and a bow, but only for decorative purposes. A tall candlestick with seven burning candles stood at the desk's side, lighting the dark chamber.

"Ser Eddard, take a seat."

Seated beside his desk, the Old Pomegranate pointed a finger to a chair on the other side of the table. As soon as Ned sat in the chair, the Lord Commander took a long breath and looked to the squire.

"Boy, pour us some wine."

Hernen, an orphan from a small house on the Riverlands, obliged immediately and brought two cups and a mug with mulled wine.

"Maester Sam is treating ser Alliser and it seems he'll be fine." Marsh said, after a few seconds of silence. "A superficial wound and two broken ribs."

"I'm pleased to hear it."

Bowen Marsh nodded, as if expecting that answer.

"Yes, it's good news." He drummed his fingers around his glass. "But this only proves the wildlings are too tricky, ser Eddard. Will you now see reason?"

Ned didn't reply for a while, pondering the words he should say next.

"Ser Alliser was refusing help, Lord Commander." He finally said. "Three starved children, a dying woman and a man who must only had twenty years. They were asking for help. How can we blame the man to let despair take hold of his senses?"

Bowen Marsh lifted his cup and took a long sip. His eyes stared back at Ned while he drank. Meanwhile, Ned decided not to drink so early in the morning. He didn't know yet what Marsh wanted and what news had arrived at Castle Black. By the time the Lord Commander put his glass down with a dry thud, a more serious expression had taken hold of his face.

"A raven from Long Barrow flew in right after you left." He said, showing him a bit of parchment that was hidden beneath a book. "The wildlings attacked Long Barrow as we feared, but the castle is now safe. Lord Umber and your brother are currently securing the gate."

But not my son, he understood by the tone of his voice. Something had happened.

"However, the attack was worse than we thought. Two hundred wildlings commanded by the new Lord of Bones, it seems. Two giants." He looked down at the scribbled message. "And yes, three mammoths. I don't know how they still have such numbers… But somehow they managed to break the outer gate and make our men meet them beyond the Wall. Some of our sworn brothers died, and your son…"

"What about him?" Ned asked. His hands clasped the cup, feeling the warmness of the mulled wine.

Bowen Marsh pressed his lips, reluctant to continue.

"It seems your son was killed during the fight."

For a moment he thought he hadn't heard right.

"Killed?" The word sounded strange in his lips.

"Lord Umber is not sure…" Bowen Marsh continued, passing the parchment. "They found your son's cloak and his sword in the snow after piling up the dead to make a pyre. It seems your son was taken down during the fight… And there is a chance that his body was piled with the bodies of other wildlings and burned down…"

No.

"It can't be."

"I'm afraid it's true, ser…"

"And the direwolf?" Ned interjected immediately.

Bowen Marsh was taken aback with that question and instead of replying his eyes darted toward the message. Ned hadn't moved an inch to take the letter. His hands were still holding the cup fiercely. The tendons of his fingers were fully stretched.

"Well, Lord Umber didn't mention the wolf. The beast is probably lost beyond the Wall."

Eddard nodded, making an effort to look distressed.

No, Lord Commander, Jon isn't dead. He can't be.

And then he took the cup and drank all of it in one long gulp.