Authors Note:

Sorry if there are any spelling errors throughout my stories, a lot of the time I write them quickly and am in a bit of a rush to post them up, so I can skip the mistakes sometimes! I hope they don't make reading too difficult!

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Chapter 11 – Compromises

Jon

The storm had finally passed after bearing down for days on Castle Black, denying anyone access to the grounds outside of the old stone building. A few of the men had taken the time to shovel snow from the courtyard so that training could commence, and now Jon could hear them from his office, wood crashing against wood, shouting and yelling as orders were thrown around by the senior trainers.

Jon sat at his desk, his quill poised over a piece of blank parchment. He had a duty to the Night's Watch. He had sworn to not participate in anything outside of protecting the Wall. This was something he had been adamant about, something he was still adamant about. But things were changing. They were no longer fighting off minor Wildling advances, protecting the castle from small groups of hopeful rebels. Now they had to contend with an army of lifeless mutants, with no idea of how to defeat them. With a heavy heart, Jon reluctantly began to write his message to Stannis Baratheon.

He read over his finished letter, making sure he was happy with it. It was short, to the point. He was inviting Stannis to the castle to talk, negotiate terms before agreeing to anything. Stannis was a man of business, he would know that the Lord Commander couldn't bow to his every command without at least discussing it first.

Jon sealed the parchment with candle wax and the mark of the Night's Watch, a detailed crow's head within the familiar circle outline. Jon took it straight to Ed, who was relaxing against a beam under the barracks in the courtyard, chatting lazily with a man called Pete Holling. Both men jumped and tried to busy themselves as Jon appeared, but Jon didn't really care, particularly as Ed was one of the only remaining men who was truly loyal to him.

'I need both of you to deliver a message,' he said in a hushed voice, making sure no one was in range to hear him. 'To Stannis Baratheon. His army are camping outside of a wood, 7 miles from Winterfell. You take this straight to him, and only to him. Tell him it's from the Lord Commander, he'll understand.' Ed nodded, taking the note from Jon's hand. 'And Ed, don't tell anyone.'

Jon watched Ed and Holling ride off from his tower window shortly afterwards, carrying enough food to last the journey. Still in two minds about whether he was making the right decision, he decided that now wasn't the time to be dwelling on it. He had other things to do. Opening another message from the small stack on his desk, he realised it was a response from Ser Denys Mallister, Lord Commander of Shadow Tower, one of the three remaining Night's Watch castles.

Lord Commander Snow,

On receipt of your warning message, which I had Maester Mullin consider, I have decided to back you on your quest to find dragon glass. Please inform of us of any assistance you need and we will provide this accordingly.

However, we have not yet informed our men of the reason behind the need for dragon glass, only that it may be more effective in battle. We do not yet wish to worry about so-called White Walkers that may or may not be beyond the Wall.

Lord Commander Mallister, Shadow Tower

This was both a win and a defeat. Mallister hadn't witnessed the things that Jon had. Whether it was that he didn't believe him, or just didn't want to believe him, was another question. At least he was willing to help in his search for more weapons, which was more than the Lord Commander at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea had agreed to do. Sighing, Jon placed the message on the desk, closing his eyes as he planned his next move.

But he was interrupted by loud, abrupt knocking on his door. Before he had the chance to answer, one of the soldiers burst into the office.

'My Lord, there are Wildlings at the gate. They… they want to talk.'

Jon rushed through the gates of the southern entrance, over the snowy ground to where Tormund and a small group of other Wildling folk were stood, their hands in the air. There were only six of them, all looking tired and pale.

'Can you tell your puppets to lower their bows?' Tormund grunted harshly, glaring up at the top of the Wall, where the tiny figures of about twenty men could be seen, in position, their bows poised and pointing directly at the group. Jon scowled, guessing Alliser Thorne was behind this. He beckoned for them to lower their weapons, but only a few responded.

'They won't shoot,' Jon assured them. The others Wildlings gave him an uneasy, questionable look, but he wasn't bothered about them right now. 'Why are you here?' he asked Tormund.

'The White Walkers,' Tormund replied, looking straight at Jon. His heart sank. 'They attacked Hardhome, just after you left. They destroyed homes, killed hundreds. Now the dead belong to them.'

Jon looked to the heavens. The time he thought they had was running out. Fast. 'What will you do now?'

Tormund sighed. 'The survivors have moved inland, to the forests and the areas…' he paused, glancing awkwardly at his companions. 'The areas closer to the Wall,' he finished, his gaze dropping as the others looked defeated. One of the men growled, looking at the floor angrily.

'We didn't have a choice,' the only woman said quickly, not meeting Jon's gaze. She had dark platted hair and a hood that was too big for her head. 'We have children.'

'If you can promise that we will not be hunted,' said Tormund slowly. 'Then we will give the word that it is safer to move into those areas to the other tribes. If you can promise this…' He paused again. 'Then, and only then… will we agree to help you fight.'

Jon couldn't believe his ears. He looked at each of them, a mix of a defeat and hope in their exhausted faces. Swallowing, Jon wondered if he dared ask the one question, the one request that was he was still willing to offer them. But Tormund seemed to read his mind, and got there before him.

'We will not pass the Wall, Snow. My people will not risk their lives, ever. It's this, or nothing.' He gave Jon a hard look, and Jon couldn't help but wonder how much coaxing it had already taken for the Wildlings to agree to moving closer inland. He was hardly going to refuse them.

'Our war is now against the White Walkers, not our brothers - whether they are inside, or beyond the Wall,' said Jon. Tormund and a couple of others nodded as the woman smiled, finally looking at Jon. But the man who had growled, growled again, bearing his teeth as he lowered his arms.

'We'll never be your brothers, fucking Crow,' he sneered, turning and leaving. The others followed him and, with one last look at Jon, Tormund left as well.

Jon was breathing hard as he started back for the castle, his mind spinning with the dilemma of retelling the encounter to his men and to Alliser Thorne, of his newfound pact with the Wildlings and of the advancing army of the dead.

Eilya

'Y… You're leaving?'

Breakfast had not long finished, and Eilya was in the process of cleaning the long wooden dining tables with a cloth and a bucket of water, when Dannard had appeared, a large leather sack over one shoulder, his black wolf-skin cloak slung over the other.

'Alliser Thorne was commanded to take his best men, I guess I should take that as a compliment,' Dannard smiled, shrugging despite his heavy belongings.

Eilya dropped her cloth, slumped onto a stool and began to sob into her hands. 'But y… you'll… die out there!' she whimpered, as Dannard quickly sat beside her. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he turned her to face him and lowered her hands gently.

'Hey, don't cry,' he said softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. 'Nothing out there is a match for me! Don't you even worry yourself.'

Eilya sniffed, gazing into her brothers blue eyes sadly. He didn't look sad. In fact, he looked excited, and that made her feel momentarily annoyed. But she didn't want to start an argument with him, not right before he went out beyond the Wall. She sniffed again. 'When will you be back?'

Dannard's smile faltered, and he dropped his gaze. 'I'm not sure,' he replied honestly. 'The Lord Commander wants us to track the surroundings, look out for anything… strange.' He bit his lip, as though wondering whether he should continue. He looked at Eilya again, and spoke quietly. 'There's… things out there, Eily. Things that you nor I could even dream about, things that… well, aren't like us. Some of the men don't believe it, they reckon the Lord Commander's going mad, believing old stories, but I don't. He's a good man, and a brilliant leader. He knows what's going on, better than anyone. And I have to do my duty, for the Watch.'

Dannard kissed her forehead as she swallowed back more tears, before picking up his belongings and leaving the dining hall, leaving Eilya alone. She stared at the spot where her brother had sat moments before. 'I know,' she whispered, in response to everything that Dannard had just said.

A couple of days had passed since the best of the rangers had left on their dangerous mission. It felt longer for Eilya, who had been waiting on tenterhooks for information, listening in on any conversation that passed her by, badgering Sam every few hours for anything new he may have heard from the Lord Commander. But there was nothing.

The grounds felt quieter since they had left, too. For the first day, no training commenced at all, as there was no one there to deliver it or to watch over the soldiers. On the second day, Jon had made sure that there were men training. After cleaning up, Eilya had stood and watched him through a small grimy window in the dining hall, as he weaved through the men, giving orders, showing the weaker ones how to defend themselves.

He wasn't like Ser Alliser, Eilya thought, standing on her tip toes to see him clearly. He was kind, not just to her, but to others. He cared. Then she had felt an unwelcome feeling in the pit of her stomach, a mix between grief and guilt. She felt bad for having been annoyed at him. He was the Lord Commander, he didn't have time for her and her silly, girlish daydreams, or her fantasies of him possibly liking her, too. She was lucky he had been there to save her, she should be grateful that he hadn't let her sleep alone that night. No one else would have been quite so kind. And she couldn't blame him for Dannard leaving… her brother was a Night's Watchman now, it was his duty. Leaving the window, Eilya had at that moment decided that she would leave her dreams and her anger behind, too.

However, there was obviously a lot of pent-up anger between the soldiers, as later that evening a fight broke out over supper.

'I'm not sure how it started, miss. Two of the men – builders, I think they are, miss, they were yelling, and then one of them said something, and then they just started fighting!'

Gilly shook her head slowly, dabbing at a small wound on Ollie's forehead as he sat and explained enthusiastically of the events. 'And then?'

'Then, then some others joined in, and it was funny at first, but then one of them was bleeding, miss. They were all separated after a while, but someone hit me… but I didn't fall, I swear!' Ollie turned quickly to look at Eilya too, who was holding a bowl of warm water.

'I bet you didn't,' she laughed, as Gilly pulled his head round to face her again. 'But why didn't the Lord Commander stop them?' Eilya smiled, trying her best to ignore the butterflies in her heart as she asked Ollie about Jon.

'He wasn't there, miss,' Ollie replied, keeping his head as still as possible. 'Sometimes he's too busy, so I take supper to him-' The boy stopped short, looking alarmed. 'Miss, I need to take his stew to the Lord Commander, he'll be expecting it, miss!'

'I can take it,' Eilya said, before her brain had time to register that thought. Ollie looked at her, obviously deliberating her proposal.

'If you're sure, miss-'

'Yes, of course,' said Eilya, jumping to her feet. 'Our Lord Commander has to eat, doesn't he?'

Jon

All too often, he would find himself staring at that wooden cabinet, Jon realised, as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, dropping a message he had been skimming over onto the desk in front of him. He had been sat there for hours, reading but not actually concentrating, thinking but not coming to any conclusions. He was exhausted, and yet he couldn't switch off. Jon closed his eyes and momentarily began to wonder about the dream he might be having that night, when there was a small knock on his office door.

'Come in, he sighed, opening his eyes and placing his quill back in its holder. The door opened slowly, and in stepped Eilya, holding a tray, staring back at him nervously.

Jon jumped up from his chair quickly, and stood awkwardly behind his desk. 'Eilya,' he started, as the door closed behind her. 'What, er… what are you doing here?' He realised how rude that must have sounded, and mentally slapped himself. 'I mean… what can I do for you?'

'My Lord, I have brought you supper,' she replied quietly, bowing her head to the stew on the tray in her outstretched hands.

'Eilya, please,' Jon sighed, to which Eilya looked suddenly alarmed. 'Please, just call me Jon.'

Eilya physically calmed down, and smiled slightly as she continued. 'Jon. Ollie has had… a bit of an accident.' She crossed the room nervously, placing the tray and a napkin on the desk before Jon.

'An accident?' Jon asked, concerned, ignoring the food. He didn't feel hungry. Not while she was there, standing so perfectly in front of him. He had been doing his best to avoid her, to keep her away, but now she was here, on the other side of the desk, almost close enough to reach out and touch…

Her voice broke his thoughts. 'There was a fight, in the eating quarters. Someone caught Ollie – nothing major, the fight was stopped shortly afterwards.'

Jon rolled his eyes. He had forgotten that there was no one in any form of authority that had been available to attend supper, other than himself - he should probably be counting himself lucky that no further damage came to anyone or anything.

'Well, men will be men, I suppose,' he smiled, and Eilya smiled back.

'I should know, I grew up with one…' her smile faltered slightly. Her blue eyes dropped their gaze, and she suddenly looked sad. Jon knew she was thinking about her brother, and a pang of guilt hit him, out of nowhere. He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the horrible emotion.

'Dannard will be fine,' Jon said slowly, carefully. 'He's a good man.'

'He said the same about you.' Eilya smiled at him, wistfully, before she appeared to find herself again. 'My L… I mean, Jon, I'm sorry, I will leave you to-'

'Are you worried about him?'

Jon asked that without meaning to, without his brain telling him to. Why? Of course she was worried about him, it was her brother, he was beyond the Wall. Why the hell did he ask that?

'Yes. I worry about Dann all the time,' Eilya admitted, twisting her hands. 'He's brave… but, I worry that his bravery will eventually get the better of him. But then, he's always been safe, with all the stupid things he's done. I know, through it all, I have to stay positive.'

That wasn't what he had wanted to ask, Jon suddenly realised. He didn't need to know if she was worried – everyone was worried, everyone plus himself, and no one had an answer, no one could tell him what he should do, how to save them all. Jon swallowed, feeling her gaze on him, her big eyes burning into his, and he wanted to grab her – he wanted an answer to the question that had been burning his brain without him even realising.

'How do you carry on?' he asked, sounding calmer than he felt, trying to hide his desperation behind a steady voice. 'How do you stay… positive?'

Eilya blinked, visibly taken aback by the question. She didn't speak for a moment, staring up at him as she formulated her answer. Jon looked back, suddenly feeling weak. All this time, he had been thinking, planning, with nothing, no answers, no conclusion. Now he just felt tired. He wanted to reach out and hold the girl standing on the other side of his desk, he wanted to feel something other than worry, and she was the only person who could give him that. This was more than just the things he dreamt about doing with her. The feeling he craved was something else entirely.

But he couldn't touch her. He couldn't move. All he could do was ask.

'I guess I just keep thinking about what comes next,' Eilya replied finally. 'Winter can't last forever, spring has to come eventually, right?' She gave him a small, honest smile, one that he wished beyond anything he could return. 'If you can't be positive, then one must ask, what's the point? All we can do is… hope.'

Jon didn't say anything, and Eilya left quickly afterwards. He watched, not wanting her to leave, but not knowing what to say. He couldn't hope, he had nothing left in him to hope. Her answer had left a hollowness in the pit of his stomach, making him feel scared and lost, and it only worsened as she left him again, closing the door between them without so much as a goodnight.