One day, several weeks before The Battle of Castle Black, a young boy showed up on the grounds, revealing his name to be Olly.

"The wildlings raided my village," he gasped, half sobbing, half yelling, "A red haired girl shot my father with an arrow then killed my mother with a spear. They made me watch."

Jon Snow froze. Ygritte. He exchanged a look across the room with Sam, who seemed to understand.

"They said they're coming here."

Later, Sam approached Jon as they stood watch on The Wall that night.

"Was that your girl they were talking about back there?" He asked quietly.

"She's not my girl," he said quickly, and then, "but yes, it sounded like her."

"She killed that boy's parents in front of him. I knew the wildlings were harsh, but I guess I never really knew how cruel."

Jon shot him an aggravated look. "Ygritte's killed a lot of people, Sam. And a lot of people have tried to kill her. That's why it's called an army. Everyone dies eventually; does it really matter how or when?"

"Of course it matters," Sam said. "Are you alright, Jon?"

"Fine." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired of staying up half the night waiting for the wildlings to come is all."

"Yeah, me too."

They were both quiet for a while, as they walked up and down their length of The Wall. What Jon didn't tell Sam was that he hadn't even been ordered to keep watch; he'd volunteered.


"Where the bleeding fuck is Snow?" Thorne asked the next morning, storming into the mess hall where Sam sat breaking his fast with a few others.

"What do you mean?" Asked Sam through a mouthful of potatoes.

"What I mean is that he's not in his sleeping chambers, he's not in the courtyard, he's not here, he's not on the wall, he's not on the grounds anywhere."

"I'm sure he's around somewhere," Sam said, swallowing his food with a big gulp. "Did you check the armory?"

"And you know what else?" Thorne asked, ignoring the question, "That wildling bitch is missing too. Put two and two together, boy, he's run off with her."

"No," Sam muttered, "No, he wouldn't do that."

"Seven Hells. Open your eyes, Samwell." He shook his head bitterly. "We're sending out a party of men to track both of them down."

"You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"You don't betray the Night's Watch and get away with it; he knows that. He's stupid, but he knows that much." He turned to leave, and said as he marched away, "I hope she was worth it to him."

Sam turned back to the table, his eyes full of worry.

"Can't believe it," one of the others muttered. "I mean, Snow? Most of us expected him to become Lord Commander one day." The few other men sitting with them nodded in agreement to this, but Sam just stared down at his plate.

Run fast, Jon, he thought, run fast and get somewhere they'll never find you.


"Did you like growing up in a castle?" Ygritte asked him.

He shrugged. "Sure I liked it."

And he had; he may have been a bastard, but he was a lord's bastard, and he knew he had privileges many could only dream of. He'd grown up easy, with a comfortable bed to sleep in every night, and his half siblings to play with all day. His wealthy standing allowed him to embrace life fully, and fall in love with the simple aspects of the world, like the way the sun set over the hills at night.

"I have five brothers and sisters," he told her, smiling at the thought of Arya's wildness, or Bran's kind nature. "Or had, at least," he frowned. "Robb was the same age as me. The Lannisters killed him and Catelyn Stark on the same night. I don't know where the rest are; things fell apart when my father and Catelyn were killed. Sansa was betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon; now he's dead, who knows what happened to her. Rickon was still very young when I left. Bran fell from a tower and can't use his legs now, and Arya..." He paused. Four years it had been, since he'd seen his dear sister. "Arya reminds me of you; you'd like her." He looked at Ygritte. "She always wanted to fight with the boys instead of learn to sew." He laughed, a little sadly. "She hated the woman who gave her sewing lessons, was always getting herself into trouble. I gave her a sword right before I left for Castle Black. She knows how to look after herself; I'm sure wherever she is, she's alright." He said this, almost trying to convince himself the words were true.

"You miss them," Ygritte observed, "I know the nights watchmen are told to forget about their family, but I guess you never were one to follow the rules, were you?"

"There are things more important than following rules."

They'd woken a few hours ago, and had immediately set off again, eating as they walked.

"They'll be looking for you," Ygritte said, "They'll want to find you and kill you; kill us."

"I know," was all he said.

"Winterfell will be the first place they look."

"I know. We're not going to Winterfell. I only said that because I had no other plan."

"You still don't have a plan."

"Do you?"

"We could go north. Where I'm from."

"We're not going north now that we've been walking south for ten hours."

"Fine. Have it your-" Before she could finish her sentence, she clutched her stomach, doubled over and vomited right in the snow, barely missing Jon's feet.

He jumped back. "What's the matter?" he asked, alarmed.

She spit a few times and wiped her mouth before standing up. "Wouldn't be surprised if I had food poisoning from that rancid meat you gave me."

"I ate it too. Why aren't I puking?"

"You're used to it," she walked in front of him so he wouldn't see her face, afraid it might give something away.

"Do you need to stop for a bit?" He asked, rushing ahead to catch up with her.

She shook her head. "I'm fine; we need to keep moving."

Her excuse had worked in satisfying Jon this time, but what would happen the next time she got sick, she didn't know. He may know nothing, but even he wouldn't be fooled by a false food poisoning cover up twice.

...

They kissed each other roughly, almost urgently, before Ygritte dropped down to her knees.

"You sure we can't just do it like normal?" She asked, looking up at him.

"Yes," he replied, glancing around to make sure none of the other free folk were near, as she undid the ties on his pants. "I'm okay with most blood. But not that kind of blood."

She laughed, and said "It won't hurt you."

She'd been having her blood the past few days, and poor Jon Snow had had to find out the hard way.

They'd been going at it one day in a cave, and he'd been nearly finished when he looked down, and practically cried out at the sight.

Ygritte, of course, had thrown her head back with laughter.

"It's not fair, really," she now mused, pulling his trousers down. "You getting all the pleasure while I'm here doing all the work. I think it's time you got over your fear of blood."

"I'm not afraid of blood."

"No? Prove it. Make love like a true free man." She stood up and shrugged her thick coat off, then her own pants. To her delight, Jon didn't try and stop her.

...