I don`t own any of ASOIAF only Gemma and Eli. Big spoilers in this chapter!
Jon
Black steaming blood leaps from his thigh in thick droplets, a trail of dark splotches staining the snow behind him. The stolen mare grunts and protests beneath his heavy figure, but he urges her on with a gentle kick. Pain lurches up his hip from where the arrow struck his leg, his head a woozy blur, hands gripping the horse for dear life. I need to be still as my companion carries me, lest I rip myself open once again. An empty Kingsroad stretches before him towards the ebony wall of ice. Home, he thinks upon seeing the black structure glistening before him. A heat stretches through Jon, not the kind he wishes for but one that is sick and deadly. The spurting blood slows and slows until the river is run dry and his leg is solid and numb as wood. Dead, heavy wood, pulling him sideways as if to unhorse him, and leave him stranded and death-bound in the wispy snow. Yet, shaking fingers grasp the mare`s mane in desperation, the young man determined to stay on the animal`s back. Already I miss Ygritte. Her hair, her warmth, her mouth . . . You were wrong to love her and wrong to leave her, a voice echoes sounding oddly like his Lord Father.
"But now I do my duty, though my heart begs me not to, father." I know he cannot hear me, though I wish he were here. I ride through a small sparse town and do not realize until I spy the brothel that it is Mole`s Town. The fever rises higher in me, splitting my head and drowning my spirit. I fall from the horse and slowly pull myself from the snowy ground.
"I need a fresh mount, with saddle and bridle," I shout in an authoritative tone that ill fits my wounded state. It works all the same, rousing the two stable boys from their beds to find a suitable gelding. "Wake the village. Warn them. There are wildings south of the Wall. Gather your goods and make for Castle Black." The boys jolt away then, rushing to awake the town sleeping in their huddles beneath the ground. He rides on faster now, the saddle holding him to the horse though he sways dangerously on the animal`s back. Soon, the stone towers of Castle Black hover over him yet no fires among the stone fortress are to be seen. Castle Black seems empty. However, smoke rises in thin grey wisps from the armory chimney, only just visible in the blackened night. With this strike of hope, it is to the armory he rides towards. A one armed man works the bellows as his mare approaches.
"Jon Snow?" Donal Noye exclaims when hit is ears hear Jon`s approach.
"None else." My leg aches suddenly as he gently sets himself on the ground, but he smiles. It is good to be home.
The smith steps away from the bellows, a look of curiosity on his face. "Your face. . ."
"A skinchanger tried to rip out my eye," Jon replies, having nearly forgotten about the attack of Orrel the wilding`s eagle.
Noye frowns at that. "Scarred or smooth, it`s a face I thought I`d seen the last of. We heard you`d gone over to Mance Rayder."
"Who told you that?" I ask, catching the door to remain upright.
"Jarman Buckwell. He returned a fortnight past. His scouts claim they saw you with their own eyes, riding alongside a wilding column and wearing a sheepskin cloak. I see the last parts true," he says eyeing my attire.
"It`s all true as far as it goes." He replies with no hesitation. They speak of the few men still running Castle Black as Noye helps Jon get to Maester Aemon. The world spins around him when they reach the room.
"Snow, Snow, Snow," the ravens squawk in their cage. Surely that is Sam`s doing. Aemon joins the two men then, slicing Jon`s breeches and the blood that drenches them. The heavy chain of base metals swings around the Maester`s throat, a sign of his vast knowledge.
"Jon Snow, you must tell me all you`ve seen and done when you are stronger. Donal, put the kettle of wine on the fire and my irons as well. I will want them red hot. Clydas I shall need that good sharp knife of yours." Even with the milky blind eyes, Aemon knows this room.
"There are wildings coming, from the south. We climbed the Wall," I reply trying to stay awake as the fever blazes inside of me.
"We?" Aemon asks with a brief pause.
"I was with them. Qhorin Halfhand commanded me to join them." Aemon`s finger poke at the wound gently. "The Magnar of Thenn – ahhhh that hurts," he whimpers trying to clench his teeth against the pain. "Where is the Old Bear?"
"Jon. . . It greives me to say, but Lord Commader Mormont was murdered at Craster`s Keep, at the hands of his Sworn Brothers."
"Bro. . . Our own men!?" Aemon`s words send a new wave of pain over him. I remember Mormont as I last saw him, with his raven perched on his arm begging for corn, every bit the usual. "Who was it? Who turned on him?"
"Garth of Oldtown, Ollo Lophand, Dirk . . . thieves, cowards and killers, the lot of them. We should have seen it coming." Aemon sighs working on my wound. "The Watch is not what it was. Too few honest men to keep the rouges in line. A dozen true men made it back. Dolorous Edd, Giant, your friend the Aurochs. We heard the tale from them." We speak more of the wildings, until I confess even my sins with Ygritte to them.
"I wasn`t strong enough. The Halfhand commanded me, ride with them, watch, I must not balk, I . . ." tears start to form and fall at my feverish confession.
After the wound is washed and drained, Aemon grasps a wide blade, glowing bright red from the fire. I will not scream, I tell myself, but even that vow is broken as they press the blade to my open wound. I pound my fist on the table in agony, though with much effort the rest of my body stays still. I think of the girl kissed by fire then. I`m sorry Ygritte. I had to, I`m sorry. I wish I could tell her, wish I could see her in this agony that she would help me through. I wish we had just stayed in that damn cave. The pain ebbs through me as they pull the knife away and when it again kisses my tender flesh, the world fades around me.
I wake on and off in feverish bursts caused by milk of the poppy. On one occasion, Pyp and Grenn speak of bad news.
"He might still be alive," Pyp says, speaking of Sam. "He might surprise us all and come riding up tomorrow."
"With Mance Rayder`s head, aye." Grenn laughed, trying to lighten his wounded friend`s mood. "Sam the slayer!"
"And Glenn?" I ask tiredly.
Pyp and Grenn meet eyes then, a sad glance of knowing. "He rode off just after the battle at the Fist of the First Men, Jon. He led away a group of wights."
"There was no way he survived. He gave me the torch before leading them off and hasn`t been seen or heard about since," Grenn looks away remembering the moment. They are most likely dead, and that anger burns somewhere inside, yet through his anger a sadness plagues him as well. "There`s even more too Jon."
"It`s too much for now, he doesn`t need to know yet Grenn," Pyp sighs. Aemon walks over to the men gathered around his bedside, ignoring his brothers` banter.
"Be strong, Jon. Winterfell is no more," the old man says, blind eyes staring down in his direction.
"No more?" Jon`s voice is weak and cracks at the words. "My brothers are at Winterfell. Bran and Rickon!" It doesn`t make sense, Summer was at the tower where Ygritte shot him. . .
"I`m sorry Jon," Pyp says, squeezing his shoulder gently. "We all are."
. . .
He awoke to the sound of Mole`s Town burning. I hobble down the steps of the King`s Tower on a measly wooden crutch toward the armory. Noye protests at my determination to fight, but with persistence, I manage to get a longbow out of him. I wait in a tower with Satin and Owen the builder, watching for the wildings to approach like the coming sunrise, only grey and brown and black. As the wildings run towards my outnumbered brothers, I draw back a goose fletched arrow and let it fly. It strikes a man in the eye as he leaves the shadows. He does not rise again. For every man I kill, another takes their place in the trees, aiming to kill my brothers.
Ygritte, I pray you stayed south to raid. Please, stay away. It is not until later when I catch the sight of long red hair passing behind a tower that I know she is hear and fear for the girl kissed by fire. I bring up my bow as if to do it myself, but the fingers will not release the arrow. Before he can blink, the red is gone. A moment later, the trapdoor to the tower is creaking open and Longclaw is released from its sheath. I bury it in the head that burst forth from beneath.
"Satin, the oil!" I yell pointing towards the iron kettle he stands next to. As the Thenns gather to climb the ladder my brother and I pour the scalding hot substance on them, melting skin from bone. The screams echo throughout my ears deafening me while Satin and Owen look as if they might vomit. I place the heavy kettle over the trapdoor and give my dark haired friend a wild shake. "Retch later." As I glance out into the battle I notice that only a dozen men in black cloaks are left fighting. The wildings gather at the entrance to Castle Black, trying to scale the barricade. A warhorn sounds, long and low in the night, from atop the Castle nearly 200 feet up. Fiery arrows rain down upon the barricade of sacks and alcohol soaked wool and wood where the fire catches as planned. When Jon runs out of arrows, he throws burning wood from the tower, catching the wildings in the blaze. As the battle dies Owen and Satin help me from the tower, my leg a throbbing reminder of my time as a Free Man. In the yard, his two brothers help him search through the mutilated bodies for a girl kissed by fire. He finds many Thenns still burning with long black open wounds and faces, the smell of burning flesh invading his nose. He finds some wilding friends, Quort and Stone Thumbs dying in the rubble. Then Big Boil, lifeless in a pool of blood. He felt sad for them, guilty too, but his grief for the Free Folk paled in comparison to the wave of emotions that came upon him when he found her. Ygritte lay beneath the Lord Commander`s tower, an arrow lodged between her breasts. She seemed to wear a glittering mask as the ice crystals settled on her face. The arrow in her is black, not fletched with white duck feathers as mine are. I kneel in the snow beside her, the white crunching beneath my weight.
"Jon Snow," she says her voice a soft whistle, as if the arrow punctured a lung. "Is this a proper castle now? Not just a tower?"
I grasp her hand with overwhelming dread. "It is."
"Good. I wanted t` see one proper castle, before. . . before I. . ."
"You`ll see a hundred castles. The battle`s done. Maester Aemon will see to you." I touch her hair gently, running my finger through the beautiful red strands. "You`re kissed by fire remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch you up, and we`ll get you some milk of the poppy for the pain."
"D`you remember the cave? We should have stayed in that cave I told you so." I have to lean close to her lips to hear her words: She strains to speak.
"We`ll go to the cave. You`re not going to die Ygritte, you`re not." At my desperate attempts to sooth us both, the tears flow silently onto my cheeks.
Ygritte cups her hand to his cheek trying to wipe them away. "Oh. . . You know nothing Jon Snow." With a final sigh, she dies, and my tears drip onto her face. The girl kissed by fire`s empty green eyes bore into my own before I close them for the last time.
. . . .
Eli
The grass is rich and cool beneath me while the dirt mucks the blue linen clothes I wear: I care not. My mind stays focused on the girl by my side. Her kiss is slow and yearning, with soft lips pressed against my own. She giggles against me, girlish and sweet when I brazenly brush my tongue against her mouth.
"It is too soon for such things," she whispers, but her eyes disagree with her words.
"We are to be married! Does it matter if I kiss you now or later, truly?"
Cassia pushes herself from the ground, her golden hair tumbling about her shoulders as she rises. "Septa Villa would not approve of such behavior," my betrothed mentions giving me a mocking glare.
"Well Septa Villa is not here!" I stand and pull her to me as if we are to dancing to music unheard among the trees.
"You have your brother`s spirit in you, always breaking the rules." Cassia`s comparison is innocent, but I feel the blow in my gut all the same. My feet stop dancing to the imaginary music.
"Did my brother ever kiss you?" I ask, referring to the man she was once sworn to marry. Her face falters then.
"Your brother and I only ever met the once before he left for the North. When your father took me for his ward. We barely knew each other. Why should we have kissed?"
"He was supposed to be your love," I say. "I was jealous of how you swooned over him when you first arrived. I`d never seen a girl so beautiful, ever."
She considers her words carefully before proceeding. "Your brother was comely yes, very much so. Yet I did not know him as I know you. I love you with all my heart Eli Amador, son of the Waterfall and heir to the Land of Lanka: I wish to be your Lady Wife." A wide smile graces her face then and with mocking tone she says, "besides, you look as he did with lighter hair." I make a move to tickle her sides, but let myself be serious, heart warmed by her words. I kneel in the grass next to the great waterfall that is my birthright and stare up at the girl of my dreams.
"And you Cassia Westerling of the Crag and the two towers, have no match for beauty of any kind in all the land. There is no better woman to help me run these lands than you and on the morrow you shall have your wish; we will be married soon enough."
"I must say I don`t remember your brother having such a flair for drama," she chuckles, hand tracing my face. "And my cousin quite outmatches me in beauty."
"The Queen?! Aye, you both have Lannister blood but such a statement is a lie and a bad one at that! When she marched down the Kingsroad so long ago with Robert I remember her face, cold and cruel and ugly though by definition fair. You are far too sweet to have contest from the likes of a frigid lioness such as Cercei Lannister."
"You say such things! If she were hear you may very well lose your pretty head for that, Eli."
"My point exactly," I say with a nonchalant shrug of my shoulders. We walk back to the keep where dinner awaits us but are detained by the ever irritating Septa Villa. She gripes about the state of our clothes until we are forced to change. By the time Cassia and I grace my mother and father with our presence, supper is half over. There are many guests tonight for my father`s men have been wanting to celebrate as my wedding day approaches. Father laughs with them at their stories from their posts and even Mother seems more chipper than usual. The air is sweet and life is blissful, I realize as I stare at Cassia across the table, nibbling on her small bit of lamb. And she makes it so.
Edwin the bird trainer storms into the feast, a fearful look upon his face. "M`lord there has been a letter sent for you!" He forgets to bow but instead goes straight to my father, kneeling before him with the splotches of bird dung on his woolen coverlet.
"I`m sure it can wait for after dinner or even the morrow, Edwin. Yes, we will discuss it in the morning," father booms before turning back to the boisterous table.
"M`lord, forgive me but it comes from the Blackfish! He stresses that the letter must be addressed immediately!" Both Mother and Father look up at that, the seriousness dawning on them. They arise from the long oaken table simultaneously and walk briskly towards the rookery with Edwin, Mother muttering apologies to everyone as they pass. The table quiets after that, my father`s men choosing to pick at their food rather than go back to their rambunctious moods. Cassia announces to the Septa that she is not hungry anymore and would like a walk in the garden, preferably with me. When I accept, Septa Villa protests, until I remind her that we will be married in less than a fortnight, as if she could forget. Cassia and I do go outside, if only for a moment, before we return to the Keep through the kitchens, wanting to stay unseen. We climb the stairs and moonlit towers to the very tallest point of the Moonlit Keep. The thin oak door hides no sound as we sit next to it, eagerly listening to the conversation within.
"We should speak to the knights, Norne. What if they come for us?! We have never had good relations with the Freys, Lord Walder would bear no guilt in tearing down what little we have in the Valley," Mother says with worry seeping into her voice.
"Cassia`s mother was a Frey, a daughter of Walder`s! He would not dare attack us: Our families will be joined by marriage soon!" I hear father`s heavy boots scuffing the floor as he paces.
"We have supported the King in the North through this war! We have given them food, and shelter, and the few men of arms that we can spare. The Freys could attack and take Cassia away and feel none the worse for it! Robb Stark is dead, Norne! And we are banner men of the Tully`s! We are not safe here! We should join Brynden Tully at Riverrun and help him defend the Trident."
"Calixta, you would have me desert my own land! Where is the courage in that? The Valley of the Moon has not been invaded since Lanka fist settled here. We are joyous people not fighters! It is the mountains that guard us. The Freys will not come for us and the Blackfish is far, far away from the Twins, he does not know what he has heard, I swear it. Not even Walder Frey would dishonor the Gods and kill his own guests."
"You are ignorant if you believe that! For the love you bear your son, send him away if you do not believe this warning, please, Norne!" Mother weeps then, I hear her sobs from behind the door. Cassia reaches over to me and grasps my hand tightly, fear blatant on her face.
"There is no danger woman! Stop your worrying, Brynden Tully knows not what he speaks of." Footsteps come near the door and I grab Cassia`s hand and pull her from the scene about to pour into the stairway. We rush through the castle, uncaring about the eyes that spy us together. When we are far away from the rookery, I turn back towards my beloved, panting from the run.
"Cassia, gather your things together, as little as you can manage. Be prepared to leave should the Freys attack!" I say gently grabbing her shoulders.
"We should have a secret meeting place," she offers with hands holding tight to my arms.
"The falls! I will have a horse prepared just in case and if the horns sound you go there and I will meet you."
"And if you do not come?" She asks, green eyes growing more worried as we speak.
"Then head North to the Karstarks or south to the Tully`s, but try and follow the Kingsroad. If you keep going North and can cross the river and it will be there. Let it lead you." I urge her to gather her things while I move to find my own. Instead of heading towards my chambers, I walk briskly to the armory. Lander, my father`s master at arms, is not there thankfully, so I look for the familiar sword sheathed in silver. Wrapped in a green cloth bag under two very heavy hammers, I find the blade. My grandfather`s sword sparkles in the little bits of light and I hide it underneath my coat when I return to the bright night. Quickly, I set a saddle out in the shadows next to a huge black stallion so it is ready if need be. I gather food from the trees and fill the green bag before I sneak into the kitchens gathering preserves and honey and dried meat. I steal two skins of spiced wine to hide and finally head towards my chambers. When I enter though, I am not alone. Mother waits in a chair next to the fire.
She stands when my footsteps reveal my presence and glances down to my bag of stolen goods. "It seems I have done well as a mother. You are smarter than your father." She laughs then, a sad daunting laugh.
"I`m sorry, I shouldn`t have mother, but I`m so scared for Cassia. I have to keep her safe."
"There is no need to apologize. You should leave now and be done with it."
"The Septa would notice, as would Father. And what if no one comes? Then we will be lost with no way to be sent back," I say, putting the items underneath my bed.
"I feared you would say that. There are things that need to be put into place then, if such things do come in the night." Mother leads me out of the room and up a flight of stairs towards the library. Once there, she climbs the ladder and pulls a book down off the top shelf. Upon opening it I see that the book is empty of everything except a small key. Mother motions for me to follow her to the ancient desk by the windows. She twists the key in and opens a drawer. "These maps were your grandfathers. He knew ways through the wilderness that few men can say they saw and lived to tell a soul. Gemma took two when she left, but there are six here; five for Westeros and one for when your grandfather travelled to Bravos. Put them with your things. If ruin should come to the Valley of the Moon they would do well to stay in the hands of an Amador. Should you need them they will be hard to read, for many of the routes your grandfather found were not roads but old trails overgrown with wildlife." Mother hands me the dusty papers to gather her own things. When I reach my room I fold them gently place them in my bag when the door opens once again.
"It is done," Cassia says throwing her arms around me in a nervous flurry.
"Do not fret; if they catch you the Freys will do you no harm. You are their kin," I whisper smoothing my hands over her hair.
"And you? They will kill you and all your family!"
"Ha! As if they could catch me! If need be I`ll hide in the falls for a week or two. The Freys will never find me! You have no need to worry sweet one." She takes comfort in my boastful lie.
. . .
After a moon passes, I presume that the Freys will not come for us and let my guard down. It saddens me that my wedding was postponed for nothing. The Gods curse me for that insolence. The night before my wedding I hear the screams of dying men on the road east. I gather my things and throw on what little armor exists in my abode before I carry my pack and sword into the hall. Madness has erupted. Servants scramble for weapons and gold and food while Knights don their armor and kiss their ladies before heading out into the night. I see Father among them, strapping a steel sword to himself while holding Mother in a tight worried embrace.
"What good is it that I marry a smart woman but do not head her counsel, eh? I`m sorry Calixta." Father pauses as he spies me in the busy hall. I rush to meet him. "Eli, go south to the Tullys, the Blackfish is fierce; he will care for you. Take your mother. Remember the blood of Lanka lives and dies with you, the line must continue on!"
"Wait Father! What about Gemma and you? You can leave with us and we`ll find her together!"
"You`re a good lad," the Lord of the Valley says mussing my hair. "Find your sister then, and tell her that I love her, even though she ran away, I do. And I love you my little Eli."
"Leave with us Norne! The Valley will never survive an attack; only two dozen can bear arms here if that! Have your men leave and we`ll all go to Riverrun. Please!" Mother begs grasping at his shoulders and hands.
"My father always said I lacked courage. I`ll prove him wrong and protect our home before I meet him." He kisses mother then, long and sad. "Go the both of you." We run from him then and I pray Cassia awaits us at the falls next to the heart tree. I saddle the large black stallion while Mother prepares a gentle spotted gelding for the ride. We mount but not before men break into the stables. Mother takes off into the night and I follow, arrows whizzing by our heads. Most of the men I can avoid, but the ones that come too close I strike at with my sword. If it does not kill them they do keep their distance, of which I am grateful for. It is odd that the sigil on the breast of our enemies is not of the blue towers of the house of Frey but a man flayed and bloody. We leave our pursuers long behind but the clash of battle resonates throughout the wood as we halt by the waterfall. Cassia is nowhere to be found.
I search for her among the brush, listening for her footsteps and calling her name as loudly as I dare. Mother pulls the horses away from the trail lest they be seen and softly calls for her too. It is not until I hear a soft whimper and a laugh that I realize where Cassia is. Mother and I glance at each other gathering ourselves low to the ground. I look through a small hole in the bushes to see a grisly scene before me. Cassia`s form lies draped over a huge rock, her alabaster skin pure and glowing in the moonlight. Her dress is torn from her body lying in pieces all around her as she moans and cries from the man assaulting her. The dirty man with darkened hair grunts and pulls at Cassia`s yellow mane as he plunges himself into her painfully. When she cries out too loud her smacks at her delicate head and shushes her. I pull grandfather`s sword free and lurch at him, forgetting to be quiet. He hears me and pushes Cassia away, into the rock. He draws his blade but moves slow with his breeches around his ankles and trips. I swing at him with the sword, drawing blood on the first try. The man falls down and I strike over and over until his spine snaps and his body lies in two red pieces. I find Mother leaning over my bride, stroking the golden hair I loved so well, tears on her face. Cassia lays sprawled out by the rock, her fragile head dented where she was thrust into the huge stone. I find myself on the ground next to her, unsure of how I got there, cradling her naked body against me, for the first and last time.
"I`m so sorry. . . It`s all my fault. I should have been here and this would have never happened. I`m sorry. . . Cassia. I love you, I`m sorry," I continue to mutter helpless words until the sound of horses tears me back to reality. I don`t want to leave her. Mother pulls at me, straining to yank me away from Cassia`s lifeless body while I sob over her, useless. With a kiss on her pale cheek, I let Mother drag me away from the girl that would have been my wife in only hours.
. . .
We ride for days in silence, not stopping at an inn for nearly three days. I still cannot sleep or eat the image of Cassia`s death haunts me so. It is only when we stop that we realize that Mother and I are heading North, not South to Riverrun.
"We can`t turn around, we will be caught if we head south," Mother says pacing around the room, the dilemma driving her mad with worry. An idea strikes me suddenly.
"Mother, Gemma is at the Wall, with the Knight`s Watch. We`ll go to her, she`ll protects us."
"Tell me, how you would know that?" She asks, the anger erupting in her tired brown eyes.
"I know that`s where she is; she used to talk about it all the time. We have to go, we have to find her."
"She told me that`s where she was going," Mother admits, plopping down on the hay bed.
"You`ve known all this time but never told father?"
"Gemma has big dreams," the middle aged woman says in defense. "And she`s strong like Danny and your grandfather were, like you are. I had dreams when I was young too, though they went askew as the dreams of women tend to do. I thought it was time that a mother didn`t get in the way of her daughter`s dreams." Mother smiles then. "Besides she would have gone even if I had raised up a big fuss."
"Father would have been furious," I remark sitting next to my mother.
"Yes, well as much I love the man there are things he had best not know. . ." I realize suddenly that the person who had truly run Lanka`s Falls for the past twenty years was not my father.
"It has been said that behind every great man exists a great woman."
She laughs hard at that. "Who told you that?"
"Father did when he was trying to convince Gemma to marry that Fossoway boy."
"His heart was good, though the presentation off," Mother whispers, smiling through the tears that gather in her eyes. With that she lays in the bed and sleeps for the first time in days.
We continue North relatively undisturbed though many innkeepers tell us to stay away from Winterfell. As we get closer we hear that the Boltons occupy the ancient frigid keep.
"The Boltons bear the sigil of the frayed man. They were ones to attack us, not the Freys. Why would they break from the Starks?" Mother wonders aloud on the Kingsroad one morning.
"Gold most likely."
She gives me an irritated look as if I had just spoken the obvious. "Yes well we should avoid Winterfell all the same."
The new long route pulls us away from civilization and into the wilderness. Grandfather`s map guides us through and past Winterfell but the white cold powder everywhere slows us down. Mother believes it is snow; I really don`t care so long as we find shelter during the night. Wolves and shadowcats roam around us, making it hard to sleep but at least they stay away. Finally, after a week in the cold wilderness, we pass Winterfell and can travel on the Kingsroad again. By the time Mole`s town is around us, Mother and I can see the Wall in plain sight looming over the earth like an everlasting shadow. Yet, no people inhabit the town. People that are alive anyways. Dead bodies litter the ground, the rot in them causing my stomach to lurch. We ride forth to where the map says Castle Black when two men come out to meet us, one twice as tall as myself with brown long hair and a bushy beard while the other is much shorter with a dazed look upon his face.
"What`s your business with the Watch?" The tall one says glancing between us.
"We`re looking for someone. They may be using a different name, my son if you must know," says mother looking at the man she sits nearly eye to eye atop her horse.
"What name would he be using, yah think?"
"Maybe a Rivers?" I input, glancing at Mother.
The large man laughs then while his companion looks about, confused. "There are too many Rivers to keep count here. Come, have a look around maybe you`ll find him." He turns then to lead us toward the great mass of towers. We search among the few brothers that reside still, led by the huge man named Grenn, but find no one that even remotely resembles my sister. Then he takes us to the old Maester.
"We have been attacked by Wildings as of late, we fear there may be more to come. Our forces are strewn about the Wall, tomorrow brings bad omens for the men here. It would be wise to run South, go back to where you came," the blind old man says catering to his ravens.
"There is no place to return to," I tell him.
"Then stay and fight with us, if the time comes. Your brother may yet be here, though it is not likely. What were they in the Watch? A builder or steward perhaps?"
"They said they were a ranger in the last letter," I exclaim glancing at mother.
"There are so few rangers left here boy, he was probably lost to the Others on the Fist." We walk out in the yard then, watching the men train in the beaten square armor with clumsy step. A voice calls to us.
"You said your brother was a ranger?" A lanky man with black hair says. Grenn stands next to him, preparing his armor. "Your brother was a ranger?" He asks again coming closer and looking at mother and me intensely.
"That`s what the letter said." The two men share a glance then.
"There was a boy, came a bit late for recruiting but could best any of us with a sword, who was a ranger." Grenn says solemnly.
"Was?" Mother asks quietly.
"He looked a whole lot like you," the man says pointing at me. "But Glenn`s hair was darker and he was smaller, does that sound right?" I nod, hoping that news is good from here on out. My wish is in vain. "At the battle of the Fist, he led away a group of wights from the men. He was one of the few still on a horse and they were the only ones following that I could see so I guess he thought it was his duty to . . . protect everyone. He gave his torch to Grenn here." He pats his brutish companion on the chest with a sad smile. "A brave lad, that one."
"And a good friend. It`s an honor to meet his kin," Grenn claps me on the shoulder and shares a look with mother, as if that stifles the pain any bit.
"He left some things behind. We can make use of them. . . but the Watch won`t miss them if you take his stuff." Mother nods gently and lets me lead her by the hand to Gemma`s old chambers. The tall man, Pyp, shows us the way and leaves us in peace when we enter the cold and empty room. A thick fur lies over the straw bed. That looks to be the item that was Gemma`s. I look under the bed where a cloth bag lies, one that I recognize. It is mostly empty, all except a few gold coins, a lock of dark brown hair, two of grandfather`s maps, and the pit of a dragon pear. I hold it out for mother along with the lock of hair. Her hands grasp the hair and put it to her cheek, the tears already coming. I place the pit in my pocket in hopes it may bring good fortune, for once.
. . .
Nearly five moons pass over head bringing only war and death. There is constantly something to do and when the thousands upon thousands of wildings attack, I join the brothers in fight, while Mother stays with Maester Aemon. It is grisly business that never seems to end and I don`t see how we survive it. Surely, we would all die without Jon Snow. Any man could see that our numbers of forty men to the near five thousand wildings is a fool`s gamble; we will all die here. But Snow pushes them back and protects the barricade, using the Wall to his advantage. He walks with a crutch but commands with an intense voice and the men listen. They all respect that he has the Wall. I notice he is close to Grenn and Pyp, but also to the other men. Jon Snow is well loved among them, though still green as the brothers put it. They say I am green too, but that does not stop my arrows from killing a wildling. When one shoots from seven hundred feet up to the snowy ground below, he does not need to be an excellent archer. It will strike someone in the throng of warriors pulsating at the gate. When we break their "turtle", the hull of a ship that the wildings use to block arrows, our enemy finally recedes somewhat beyond the Wall. The men scream and cheer before we take the long decent down the shaft to access the damage.
"Eli!" The older boy named Snow says, limping over to me. "Would you accompany me to Maester Aegon`s study? I am in need of some dreamwine, I think." When we are off the lift I limp slowly to the rookery with Jon leaning on me every so often. Mother is there with Aemon, tending to the wounded, and she embraces me as she does every day. Her tears fall on my breast; she cries often these days, more I have ever seen. After Jon takes the dreamwine I walk with him to the steward`s chambers in the King`s Tower.
"I knew your sister," he blurts once the door closes behind us in his room.
"You knew she was a girl?!"
"Yes, well, but she told me, it wasn`t like that!" he says reading the look on my face and blushing slightly. "She told my friend Sam too. . ."
"Why would she tell you?" At my question he tells me story of a bear attacking my sister. It sounds like her to rush into danger as she did. I do feel like Jon is leaving certain details out of the story but I feel no need to pressure him.
"She was brilliant, you know. It started out we were the only two any good with a sword and it amazes me how she could come here all by herself with no aid. She was a strong one," Jon rambles on about her, his eyes glittering like I have never seen before, yet his smile is sad. He does not say it, but I get the feeling that Jon may have loved Gemma. A man does not rant about a woman in such a way without loving her. His voice trails off mid-sentence explaining some other story that I hadn`t been listening to.
A group of black brothers come soon after, with Janos Slynt and Ser Allistor Thorne in the lead. They throw Jon in an ice cage and label him a turncloak yet when they give him a chance to prove himself they send him beyond the Wall, to stay the wilding army. He leaves by himself to negotiate with Mance Rayder, and I expect that he will not come back. It seems luck strikes someone, for he does come back, only with a true army and wilding captives in tow. The banners behind Jon are the Baratheon stag among a flaming heart. I know not who it is at first, but realize that it is King Stannis himself, here to help the Watch.
A pudgy man embraces Jon tenderly upon their return. I learn that this is the 'Sam' Jon spoke of, another friend to my sister. The three of us speak of her sometimes, until Sam proposes that I help him in the Rookery with Maester Aemon`s birds. He shows me maps and journals from past members of the Night`s Watch. And I even show him grandfather`s maps.
"You should keep these to yourself, Eli. If Stannis finds these he may take them and they would be lost from you forever," he warns.
"I will. I just thought you should know, I guess."
Mother comes down with fever, and I look after her rather than help Sam. I hear her whispering about Gemma and Father and Danny in her sleep, sometimes startling herself awake. I kiss her brow and sleep takes me too, it seems I get so little these days. Mostly, my dreams are filled with Cassia, her kiss, her voice, her hair trailing behind her. I dream of how it would feel to be married to her, as Lords of The Valley of the Moon. I think of our children, golden hair and stormy eyes swimming in the river and climbing trees. Then I wake, tearful and guilt stricken that I could not save the girl who would have shared it all with me.
The Night`s Watch votes for the 998th Lord Commander at least ten times and King Stannis grows restless at their indecisiveness. At supper the King`s men locks them all in a room, determined to get a decision made. Cotter Pyke, the Commander of Eastwatch by the Sea, as well as Ser Denys Mallister, the Shadow Tower`s Commander both withdraw their chance to be the head of the Night`s Watch. I think that Janos Slynt will be the new Lord Commander, he has the best chance until Dolorous Edd nominates a new proposition for Lord Commander.
"Jon Snow," he says, though I am unsure if his proposition is one of seriousness. Whether it is or not the men take to it, murmuring his name in agreement. I see the man himself sneak into the dining room, an enormous white wolf at his heels. The men clap him on the back and some even dare to pat the wolf, but Jon only looks around confused until Janos Slynt blusters at him. Then men of the Night`s Watch begin calling for a vote by chanting "Kettle, Kettle, Kettle!" The Kettle is pulled away from the hearth, two men struggling with the heavy black thing, and as the lid comes off a black raven pops out, causing half the men in the room to nearly wet themselves. It circles the room three times and lands before Jon.
"Snow," it caws over and over again. Then it flies to the man`s shoulder.
"I know that bird! That`s Lord Mormont`s raven!" Sam says walking to Jon. Allistor yells about it being a trick by Sam, until the bird speaks again. "Corn?" It says hopefully. The bird squawks again before saying "Kettle, kettle, kettle?" When the vote is counted a torrent of arrowheads are released from the kettle, signifying that Jon is the Lord Commander.
I follow Jon, Grenn, Pyp, Sam, and the wolf out into the night wind. They jest with each other about the raven and the choosing, proud that their friend is the new Lord Commander. Jon seems happier than usual but worried. I imagine I would be too with as much responsibility as he has now. I congratulate him as well and stupid words fly out before I can stop myself.
"Gemma would be proud," I say smiling at him unable to take the words back now that they hang in the air. Jon returns the smile, though surprised at my outburst, before heading towards the tower of the Lord Commander; his new home.
. . . .
Gemma
Stranger and I wander along the Giant`s stair exploring caves and finding food. At the base of the mountain, we travel through a huge cave, led only by Stranger`s eyes in the darkness. I hear the sniff of an animal, a horse perhaps, and the shifting of the rider upon it. Yet, when I move to dismount from Stranger he lurches, pushing me on his back. He lowers his head as if to grip something with his teeth before turning and running from the person in the darkness. Stanger leaps down from ledge to ledge until we stand in the haunted forest. I jump off the shadowcat to try and pry the item from his huge mouth. He drops it before me in the snow offering no fight. The horn is white bone like the Night`s Watch`s but older with engravings on it that are unfamiliar. It seems to be in perfect condition. I look back up at the cave only twenty feet above my head. A man is up there, on the back of an elk. It is queer to see him, for few men have ever rode elks. Only the Children of the Forest were said to. His cloak is black as my own, marking him as a man of the Watch himself. My brother. Yet the hands that grip the Elk`s reins look as pale and dead as an Other`s. I look back down at the horn.
"I don`t suppose he wants me to go back, eh?" Stranger`s shiny silver eyes meet mine own and his tail twitches slightly as if to confirm my statement. "So you know him then?" The tail twitches again but, as per usual, he gives no reliable indication of knowledge. "I will only return if you come with me!" I say throwing my arms around the shadowcat. As if to answer, he sneaks under me so I sit on his back once more and we are off; back to duty and honor and the Night`s Watch.
Author`s Note
That was a long chapter! Sorry it took so long. Tell me what you think of this chapter and also let me know how you feel about another love interest for Gemma. Thanks for reading!
