So your girl is unreliable and I am so sorry.

But I've been busy and trying to keep my flow of chapters going, especially as I am coming up to the main plot (I'm writing chapter fourteen atm) so it is leaving me anxious lmao.

Also I'm trying to build Zhalli and Robb's relationship, trying to have them build a friendship first - rather than just immediately falling in love. I want them to be allies first.

Anyway, I was a bit busy as I have so many assessments due because end of semester is coming and I have four assessments due next Friday (kill me) and it's very busy so I might not post another chapter until after next week.

And it was my on the 23rd! Woo, I'm actually 19 now so yay, so I didn't really write cause I went clubbing on the weekend lmao.

So onto the story, I hope you like this chapter. Jon is one of my favourite characters so I hope I did him justice but do keep in mind this story has characters that are likely OOC just cause... they are, they're older - shit happens lmao.

Anyway, enjoy Jon and I'll stop rambling xx

X

JON

SHARP bitter winds whipped against his cheeks. Jon Snow stood, looking over the Wall with his back straight Jon could feel eyes on him and he turned his gaze to Ser Davos Seaworth. Ser Davos was an aged man and one who had risen against the status of his birth to serve Stannis Baratheon, a man who had declared himself King. Yet, Stannis Baratheon was dead – long gone, five long years since he had attempted to take Winterfell back from the mad man that was Ramsay Bolton. The bastard had taken Jon's home, yet he did not have the power to take it back.

"Lord Commander," his head turned slowly to look down at his closest friend, Samwell Tarly.

"What is it Sam?" He asked quietly, studying his friend who slowly came to stand next to Jon on the platform.

"You received a letter," Sam held out the letter. "It is from your brother, Robb."

"Thank you," Jon hesitantly took the letter.

Only once had Jon received a letter from his father's wife, it had been a letter expressing anger. At him? At the world? Jon was not so sure, but it had been an odd letter after Ramsay Bolton had taken Winterfell. She had been furious with his brother Robb, he had refused to come and help take back his home as he was sailing around Essos and Westeros – causing trouble for Joffrey Baratheon. Lady Stark had wanted someone to take back Winterfell, someone to care. She had thought Jon could be that person, but he could not.

Robb sent him letters whenever he could, his brother was usually busy and often had no time to send letters. Something he learnt had enraged Lady Stark, from what the letters from his sister was to go by. Sansa Lannister, as she went by, had reached out to him after her marriage in an effort to get some advice from him. Jon felt so distant from his family, Bran was North the Wall but had not been heard from since he had sent Rickon to Riverrun. Jon had never felt so far away.

Jon,

By the time this letter reaches you I will be wed, to a Dothraki.

Jon raised a brow, a Dothraki?

It is the doing of Queen Daenerys Targaryen, I have allied myself with her in efforts to keep the North and the Riverlands independent. I also must let you know that I have found Arya.

His heart clenched, Jon took a deep breath. Everyone had thought Arya dead, and he could not help but admit that he had been one of them who thought her dead as well. He finished reading the letter, folded it and placed it in the inside pocket of his coat. Tapping the side of his pocket lightly, he turned to look over at his friend who was staring out at the Wall. Sam had his hands in the pockets of his coats and his lips were pressed together. Sam was a good man and an even better friend.

"What was the letter about?" Sam was not afraid to ask.

"Robb found Arya," Jon's heart swelled with the news. "And he has married one of the Dothraki."

"A Dothraki," Sam's eyes widened as he looked up at his friend. "What would his mother say?"

"Nothing good, I suspect," Jon could feel the letter burning in his pocket. He expected Lady Stark would be enraged, she had not been able to choose her son's wife for herself. And a Dothraki, Jon could only imagine what sort of woman Robb would have married and how she would grate on Lady Stark's words.

"Hm," Sam nodded his head slowly. "Do you think he would bring his bride to the Wall one day? I'd like to meet a Dothraki, and I'm sure Gilly would too."

Ah, Gilly. A sweet, slim little Wildling that was Sam's not-so-secret lover. They had three children together, including the son that had belonged to Gilly's father and herself. She was a curious little thing and well-loved among the inhabitants of the wall even though many of them were rapists, murderers and thieves. But no one would touch sweet little Gilly, especially not if they wanted to face Sam. Sam was not frightening, but he was best friends with the Lord Commander and that would mean for sure the men would be punished.

"I suppose, when they come to the North, he might bring his wife," Jon shrugged his shoulders. "I cannot know."

"They might invite us to Winterfell," Sam perked up.

"Mayhap," Jon wasn't so sure. He knew his brother would request him to return to Winterfell, perhaps even his help in taking back Winterfell. But he could not, he was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch – he was supposed to have no loyalty.

"I would like to visit Winterfell one day," Sam mused as he studied what was passed the Wall. The snow-capped mountains, something seemingly innocent yet the Wall hid an evil that threatened to return.

Jon knew the dead would return, whether it was in the next sennight or in the next year. It would be some time but they had to be prepared, if not there would be trouble. Turning away from the Wall, Jon decided to head to the elevator and looked over his shoulder for his friend. Sam then stumbled toward him, they got into the elevator together and Jon turned away from the ice wall. He then faced out at Castle Black, studying the people as he went down. He was one of the first Night Commanders in history to have a treaty with the Wildlings, something his men had tried to condemn him for.

"Lord Commander," he turned his head as one of the Wildlings made their way toward him. Val, a beautiful woman with flowing blonde hair. She was a Wildling and fierce woman, but Jon had always loved Ygritte – even though the Wildling woman was dead.

"Val," he nodded at her. "How are you?"

"Well," she took a deep breath. "I feel a change in the air, do you not, Jon Snow?"

He felt the letter burning in his pocket, "I agree." He lowered his hair, looking down at the snow-covered ground. "There is something in the air."

"We have received another letter from Ramsay Bolton," Val's pretty face curled into a sneer. "He has another demand for us."

"And what is it this time?"

"We bend to his will and you send him a woman," Val was disgusted.

"Ah," Jon nodded his head slowly. "The same thing he has demanded of us for years."

"Hm," Val then stepped back with a smile. "Tormund, it is good to see you."

"Val," the large man with red hair and a matching red beard looked to Jon. "Lord Commander, we have a rider approaching Castle Black."

"Thank you, Tormund," Jon nodded at him. "I will deal with it."

Jon looked at the two men for a moment, a little taken at the difference between them. Val was a beauty, often mistaken as a princess and many of the men who could wished to marry her. Her hair was long and light blonde, curling lightly as it fell to her waist. Her pale blue eyes studied men sharply, distrust in them and it was clear that she deemed them unworthy of her time. Val was, perhaps, one of the most beautiful women that Jon had ever seen.

Tormund, on the other hand, was large and very, very tall. His red hair and red beard were wild, he had a scar over his eye and he was a man whose grin was enough to make his enemies fear him. Tormund was a large man and he towered over most men, except for Wun Wun, the giant, in Castle Black. He was a fierce fighter too, so much so that Jon had given the Wildling the ability to train some of his men.

Moving toward the gates, Jon stood with his men as the rider came thundering into Castle Black. They skidded to a stop, eyes wide and they appeared startled as they gazed at the men and several women staring at them. It was a man, Jon observed, no older than Robb and appeared taller than him. He was a large man, with thick arms from what gathered. The man had bright blue eyes and thick, black curls that appeared to fall over his shoulders.

"Is this the Night's Watch?" The man asked, brows furrowed as he looked around at the crowd, especially at the children to stared up at the man on the black steed.

"Yes," Jon stepped forward. "Who is asking?"

"Gendry Waters," he slipped off the back of his horse and offered his hand.

"Jon Snow," Jon shook the man's hand. The man was an inch or so taller than Jon, and much thicker than Jon's strong, lean figure.

"Lord Eddard Stark's bastard?" Gendry studied Jon, blinking slowly.

"Yes," Jon frowned.

"I met your father once," the man said casually. "He came to see me, I was a blacksmith you see. He asked me a few questions and just stared, it was bloody strange if I say so myself." He then cleared his throat, "I'm the bastard of Robert Baratheon, according to some Red Witch."

That did not mean much to many of the occupants of Castle Black, but to those it did mean something to stopped to watch the man. "I met your father once," Jon studied the man. "He wasn't the great man the stories painted him to be."

"I know," Gendry shrugged his shoulders. "I never even met the man."

"Well," Jon nodded at him. "It is nice to meet you, Gendry. Have you come to join the Night's Watch?"

"No," Gendry shook his head. "I came because I had nowhere else to go."

"And why did you have nowhere else to go?" Jon asked as he led Gendry through Castle Black to the dining hall where most of their meetings were conducted.

"Cersei Lannister's spies are closing in on me," he shivered. "I'm not the only of Robert's bastards still alive, but I'm the only one she knows of."

"Why are they after you?" Jon frowned, "Robert Baratheon died years ago, her son is the King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"A shit King," Gendry curled his nose. "And your brother is King of the North, or am I wrong?"

"You're not," Jon shrugged his shoulders. "But the southerners do not see it that way. So why have they come after you?"

"They tried years ago," Gendry admitted. "Just after Robert died, many of his bastards were killed. But not all of them. And I am the oldest male, Joffrey is trying and failing to give the kingdom heirs. There is growing suspicion and anger among the smallfolk."

"Toward the Lannisters?"

"Yes," Gendry nodded. "I've seen it. Kings Landing is a mess, filled with starvation and crime, but they do not fix it. Many people go without food, even on the country side. And the North," he shuddered. "It is a cold, barren wasteland that Ramsay Bolton has raped and pillaged."

Jon's eyes shut, his childhood home – his life blood, ruined. "And what do you suggest?"

"I want to declare for your brother," Gendry then smiled. "It would do well for a Stark and a Baratheon to work together, do you not think? Even if I am a bastard."

"Why did you come to me?" Jon frowned, "Why not ride to Lady Stark in the Riverlands?"

"Ah," Gendry shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't think Lady Stark would treat a bastard well," he looked down. "I met your sister, you see, Arya. When we were younger, we were travelling North before we were separated." Jon leaned forward, Arya – he had not heard of her in so long. "And she told me of you, your treatment by Lady Stark and I did not think she would be welcoming to me."

Jon was unsurprised, "Well, you are welcome here." He cleared his throat, "I will send a letter to Robb, I do not know if it will get to him soon. He is currently in Essos."

"Across the Narrow Sea?" Gendry's brows furrowed, "Why would he be there?"

"He's trying to make an ally of the Dragon Queen," Jon answered casually, slowly. "I do not know when he will return, if he will ever return."

Gendry frowned, "Well, can I stay here for a while then?"

"I cannot see why not," Jon shrugged his shoulders. "Wildlings inhabit Castle Rock, and you must pull your weight."

"Good thing I'm a smith then," Gendry was positive. "Do you have a place I can rest?"

Gendry was led by Val toward a place where he would be sharing with other men. Gendry was a little struck by Val's beauty but quickly averted his gaze, completely opposite to his father who would have stared blatantly. Gendry seemed a little embarrassed by looking at her, Jon then turned his attention back to the Wildlings that surrounded him. Tormund stepped up and Jon clasped his hands together, looking at the beast Gendry had arrived on that was led to the stables.

"We are running out of room," Tormund reminded Jon.

"I know," Jon was concerned about it. "But we will have to make do with what we have. It is too dangerous," there was a lot of danger. It surrounded them, but there was nothing they could do.

Jon's mornings consisted of reading letters sent to him from all over the Seven Kingdoms. It was a tiring business, listening to the demands of Lords and how they thought he should run the Wall. No one liked that he had close ties with the Wildlings, in fact, some of them believed he should be over thrown. Jon reached up to rub his chest where he had been stabbed multiple times, left to bleed out until he had been brought back. They had tried to over throw him, yet they failed.

"What complaints have you received today?" He looked up as Tormund made his way toward him.

"Many," Jon breathed out harshly, "But it is what I suspect. It appears they have many things to complain about."

"Bloody Southerners," Tormund cracked a grin and then held out a jug of wine. "Your wine is shit, Snow."

"Have you tried ale?"

"That piss poor ale," Tormund spat with a laugh. "It's gone stale, you should get some more."

"I think we have more pressing matters than ale," Jon furrowed his brows. "We need more food for the winter, we are running out. And with Ramsay Bolton the Warden of the North," he clenched his hands into fists. "I doubt he will send any to us. And the Northern Lords that are still in the North fear the bastard too much to send us any food or grain."

"So what do we do?" Tormund frowned, "Send out raiding parties?"

"Hm," Jon shrugged his shoulders. "I am unsure."

"We have to get food somehow," Tormund said slowly. "If not we'll all starve to death."

"I know this," Jon was tired. Tired of being the Lord Commander, sometimes he just wanted to run away and forget the life he was living. But he couldn't, he was stuck and it was something he had to live with. "But there is not much else we can do. Right now we wait, when we get short on food we go out hunting and we make sure there is enough for everyone."

"Right," Tormund grew silent.

Jon read over the letters and placed them in piles to be burnt. He was disgusted at the letter from King's Landing, a demand that the Wildlings all be put down otherwise Joffrey would send someone to deal with him. The King would not, he faced much discontent from his people in the South – he would never come North, not again. He read over other letters, curious at the one from Dorne which he stuffed into a pocket and would send an answer to when he could. Jon reached over to take a sip of water and looked up at Tormund who was watching him.

"I like the Gendry lad," Tormund suddenly said. "Good head on his shoulders, and a big, bloody bastard. I didn't know you bred men like that in the South."

Jon sent a dry look to his friend, "He's a Baratheon."

"And that's supposed to mean something to me?" Tormund snorted, "You're big but you're small too. He's big all over, his arms are the size of tree trunks."

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were in love," Jon teased.

"I can appreciate a good warrior Snow," Tormund pointed a finger to his friend.

"Of course," Jon rose to his feet. "Gendry is good with a war hammer," the Baratheon bastard had been there little over a week. He trained with the men and showed miraculous skill with a hammer, but he wasn't as good with a sword. Jon appreciated the strength of Gendry and so did many of the Wildlings and the men of the Night's Watch. He fit in well with them all and already was working on better armour and weapons in the forge for the Wildlings and the men of the Night's Watch. Jon had come to respect the man, he was nothing like what Jon had briefly seen of his father.

Jon followed Tormund out of the dining hall and he came to stand on the balcony. His hands rested on the barriers and he looked down at the men who were training. Most of them were men of the Night's Watch, others were Wildling who were already focused on building relations and preparing themselves for the wars to come. The war that was inevitable was the one over Westeros, between the Dragon Queen, Wolf King and the Bastard King in the South – Jon dreaded when it came.

Heading down the stairs to the training grounds, Jon's eyes ran over the new recruits and watched as they fought against each other, training harder than ever before. New recruits didn't come as often as they used to, from what Jon gathered by men from before he was even considering joining the Night's Watch. The recruits that did come were mostly volunteers, men that had no home to go to after they had lost everything during the wars or due to the Lannisters and their reign. Jon felt pity for the men, he had not lost everything but he had lost his home.

"Lord Commander," the men stopped what they were doing. Eddison Tollett stood to the side, nodding at his commander.

"Edd," Jon took a deep breath, "How are the recruits coming along?"

"Well," Edd looked over the men he was training. "They should be ready for raids passed the wall in a week or so," Jon watched the faces of the men as they paled.

"Good," Jon then nodded at the men. "You've done well," he looked up, pressing his lips together as he looked at the older members of the Watch who looked over them. Not all of had been pleased when he had become Commander of the Night's Watch all those years before.

The men seemed jittery and pale, one of them stepped forward. "We will need to go… beyond the Wall?" The man spoke with a Flea Bottom accent.

"You didn't think the Wall would be easy did ya?" Edd snorted, "There is nothing easy about being a man of the Watch."

"Right," the man nodded his head, lips pressed together as he stepped back in line. "Will the bastard of King Robert join the Watch?"

"No," Jon shook his head. "He has not come to join the Watch."

"I thought all men had to join the Watch," one of the men glowered. "We don't get a choice."

"You're criminals," Edd reminded them. "You raped a young girl," there was disgust in his tone. "But we forget and you atone for your sins. The Baratheon Bastard is here to serve a different purpose, one to King Robb."

"I thought men of the Watch were not meant to take sides in the war," a small boy frowned. What had he done? Jon didn't want to know, he was just so young that he would find out from Edd.

Nodding at his men he then turned to leave them, hands in front of his chest as he made his way through Castle Black. He decided to look for Sam and Gilly, the two who would be together in the library or eating. Jon decided to head to the library first, heading up the stairs and through one of the doors. He made his way to the library door and placed his hand on the door handle, he opened it slowly and peered into the large, warm room. The library was larger than the one at Winterfell, but he knew it could not be as big as the one in the Citadel.

"Mama," a childlike voice could be heard echoing through the library. "What's this word?"

"Uh," Gilly's familiar voice struggled to read the word. "Sam, what's this word?"

"It's a name, King Jaehaerys Targaryen the First, or Jaehaerys the Wise." Sam answered in a matter of fact, "See, Jon."

Jon moved through the books and came to the little nook by the roaring fire that had been made for Gilly and her children. Her youngest son which was named after Jon sat on her lap, curious about the words that were written down on the page that Gilly was holding. Their oldest son, Sam, was nowhere to be seen but that wasn't so strange as he was probably bothering Hobb, the cook. The newest of their children, a babe and a girl, was in a little basinet by the fire and sleeping soundly. Jon smiled as he made his way toward the family.

"Jon," the child grinned at him, pushing himself off his mother's lap to throw himself at his namesake.

Jon Snow grinned and lifted the boy into his arms, "He is picking up the words quickly then?" Jon asked his two friends.

"He is like his father," Gilly admitted as she leaned over to check on her daughter.

"I can even count to ten now!" Jon bragged to the man who was much like his uncle, a grin on his face so like Sam's.

Seeing Sam and Gilly so happy made Jon want to children of his own. Already his rule as Lord Commander was rather unconventional, but it was not as if he could have children. Sam was an exception, not the rule. Heart heavy, Jon pressed a kiss to Jon's temple and lowered the boy to the ground. He then studied his friends as Jon hurried back to sit himself back on his mother's lap, resting his head back against her bosom. Gilly brushed back her son's brown hair, kissing the top of his head before putting the book back on their laps.

"How can we help you, Jon?" Sam suddenly asked, looking up at his best friend.

Jon shrugged his shoulders and moved to sit down, "I needed a break. You two are the only people I know that are able to escape and that is why I decided to join you both."

"You're welcome to sit with us Jon," Gilly smiled at him.

"Where is Sam?" Jon then asked curiously.

"Off bothering Hobb," Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Today he told us he'd like to be the cook for the Night's Watch, said he'd be able to make our food a lot tastier than Hobb every could."

Jon laughed, "Our meals aren't as fine as they are in the South. Have you told him that?"

"Of course we have," Gilly rolled her eyes. "He won't listen however, I fear he'll head South to be a cook in the grand kitchens of the King."

"Maybe one day he can do that."