6. Jon

They rode hard and made good time across the land as they had neared The Wall. His good friend, Lord Commander of the Night's watch Eddison Tollett had greeted them at Castle Black. He too had tried to warn Jon against going beyond the wall but Jon was adamant.

"You're looking for trouble, Jon," Dolorous Edd warned.

"Fucker won't listen," Tormund Giantsbane said from beside Jon.

Edd grumbled a little more but eventually raised the gates and they passed through, making their way towards the Haunted Forest.

"Through the forest?" Tormund checked with Jon.

Jon nodded. "We stay as close to the water as we can without being seen," Jon said.

"Are you sure you're going to catch one of those fuckers in there?" Clegane asked looking unimpressed with the forest.

"Yes," Jon answered. "Hardhome used to lay on the other side of this forest."

"What's there now?" Gendry asked.

"Nothing," Tormund said gruffly. "Aint nothing but the dead there now, boy."

They didn't speak much after that, as Jon led them through the forest. Jon knew they didn't have the time or the resources to go too far beyond The Wall in search of a wight. The closest guaranteed point he marked on the map was Hardhome. Sam had visibly blanched when he had seen Jon's intentions. Nobody wanted to relive that but if they didn't get the necessary men they needed – they would be facing a lot worse than the massacre at Hardhome.

The forest had grown thicker around them and everything was blanketed in a deep covering of snow. It seemed the arrival of winter had made the already unforgivable land even more unbearable. Ghost had been silent and vigilant beside him so far. They were careful not to rattle their horses too much, not to shout or yell for each other. Jon eventually called for them to rest. They were quite some distance from Castle Black now. The horses needed tending to and he could see the cold beginning to wear on the others especially Gendry and Clegane, who continuously cursed the gods for nearly having his cock frozen off.

"Shall I cut it off and then maybe you'd quite yeh whining?" Beric Dondarrion offered.

The Hound simply glared at the man. Jon watched the men with the smallest of smiles before reaching through his things in search of something to drink. Gendry was seated at the foot of a tree, shivering and looking utterly miserable. Jon took pity on him and grabbed some of the wine he'd managed to sneak with him.

"You okay?" Jon asked quietly.

The other men were still bickering amongst themselves and Jon left them to it. A way of managing their tempers and the cold, he figured.

"Y-yeah," Gendry replied, stuttering in the cold. He rubbed his hands together and looked around them nervously. "Never thought I'd live to see a winter… or go beyond the wall."

Jon smiled sympathetically. "No one ever does." He handed the flask to Gendry. "Here, something to warm your bones."

Gendry gave a grateful smile and drank it. While they sat there sharing the wine, Jon allowed himself one moment to think on home. He knew this was dangerous and quite possibly foolish but he also knew it needed to be done. His only hope was that he would make it back to his sisters. And Hermione. Jon dared to think that mayhaps he would be allowed one more chance to embrace the comforts of another. He earnestly hoped that were the case as he was sincerely enjoying the company he had found in Hermione. She felt like a kindred spirit. And perhaps for that reason, seeing her with a bow in hand nearly stopped his heart. It was almost too much to watch this woman, whom he'd become so inexplicably attached to, learn how to use the very weapon that had killed the only other woman he'd loved. He rarely thought on Ygritte these days, not to say he had forgotten her. She had been the first woman he'd ever loved but her death had left him feeling more cold and alone than he'd ever been. Even now, the image of Ygritte with her luck – fire-kissed hair- and bow- in-hand – was so brief he barely had the chance to hold onto it. Until Hermione had literally stumbled into his world. It had been so long since his heart stirred in such affection, he almost ignored it on basic principle. But Jon had soon found that ignoring her or his quiet affections was not so easy and that he enjoyed her company far too much to deny himself just a fraction of it.

There seemed to be something deeper and a little darker that most would not have attributed to her warm smile. Jon was a warrior, he could see it easy enough. Her eyes spoke of seeing the horrors of battle and yet she carried herself with enough grace and poise that even Sansa was impressed – though she would never admit it. Though Hermione was not of their world, she seemed to fit in seamlessly. Stumbling upon her and saving her from the wight in the Godswood that day, he never thought he'd feel this way. Sitting in the cold, thinking of home and wishing on her. His lips were numb from the cold but the memory of kissing her was still with him.

Hoisting himself up and tucking the flask away Jon noticed that Ghost had gone off again.

The rest of the group were gearing up too, mounting their horse when Jon sensed it. That awful tiny prickle at the back of his head, telling him they were being watched.

"Quiet," he called sharply.

They all fell silent immediately. The rustling of leaves and the low growling could barely be heard. But it was enough. They all tensed, turning in every direction trying to catch sight of the wight. There was only silence, far more than Jon would have liked. Any noise he had heard before had now disappeared and Jon worried, he had merely imagined it - in his eagerness to catch a wight and go back home to Winterfell. To Hermione.

He caught the slight movement of Tormund in the corner of his eye. The Chieftain had spotted something between the frost-covered trees. Another wight – or perhaps the same. Quietly he drew Longclaw from his sheath, tightly gripping the hilt. Gendry too followed suit and with a nod to Tormund, they moved, slowly and quietly between the trees. It was hard to see much ahead of them, given the dim light and the heavy coverage of the tress. It made Jon especially uneasy.

The rustling of leaves picked up again and the grumbling grew steadier. They followed the sounds, moving as best they could through the heavy snow and trees. Jon froze, trepidation running through his body as they neared a small clearing between all the forage. He almost groaned in frustration at the sight of the wights. One was all he had asked for but the Gods had seen fit to deliver a group to them. He barely had time to size them up before the wights screeched a horrible wretched sound and charged at them.

He ducked, shoving Gendry out of the way as the wight came at him. The sounds of fighting erupted around him as they all descended into a gruesome fight. Jon evaded another harsh blow from the wight. Unfortunately, the savagery of the wight seemed to weigh against Jon. He raised his sword just in time to stop the vicious blow from the wight. The sword snapped, shattering to pieces as Jon's Valyrian steel cut through it. He under swiped as the wight looked at him in something akin to shock, Jon reckoned – and then cut through the wight. A screamed echoed loudly throughout as the wight staggered and then fell to the ground. Jon turned just in time as another wight came running towards him. He barely raised his defence when a second wight joined their fight. He was outnumbered and with the clashing of metal around him, Jon knew the others in his group were just as busy. He chanced a glance, frantically, finding only Clegane pulling a wight of Gendry and then strangling it. In the distance, he heard the shouts of Tormund. He grunted and then pushed the wights of him. They stumbled, screeching once more.

"Move," Clegane growled at him, yanking Gendry up. "We're gonna get fuckin' slaughtered if we stay here."

He was right, Jon realized. They were outnumbered, especially in steel. They needed to get to the others. Tormund's experience and Dondarrion's flaming sword maybe what they needed. Jon raised his sword, driving it through the wight before pulling it out.

"Come on!" he called shoving the dead wight aside.

They raced through the forest, the clanging of swords and shouts, their navigator. As they came within distance of the others, a wight, far bigger than Jon had ever incurred attacked him from behind. Jon felt the cold kiss of his blade through his arm and he groaned. Jon stumbled, his surprised cry muffled by his fall. Immediately, his fingers sought through the snow for the hilt of his sword, clutching it desperately and then dragging it over his face just in time. The wight's sword broken as he predicted on impact with Longclaw but this time the wight was not deterred so easily. it pushed against him, growling and snapping ferociously at Jon's face. He pushed hard against the wight, grunting with the effort it took. He was vaguely aware of the cold tearing into his shoulder where the wight had stabbed him. Moving his legs to trip the wight, it stumbled and fell – Jon was able to scramble away quickly. He slid across the floor eyes on the trembling wight. He tried to get to his feet but his hand slipped. He looked down in horror. He was now crumpled atop the frozen water of the Shivering Sea. Jon could only pray the ice was thick enough to hold his weight. Gendry looked on from the shoreline and Jon had to quickly stop him from rushing across the ice.

"Gendry!" Jon screamed in warning as another wight snuck up from behind.

Gendry turned, though not quick enough to avoid the slash from the ice-cold blade. Jon watched in abject horror as the wight moved onto the ice, ignoring the crumpled form of Gendry at his feet. His steady movements and clear focus had Jon realizing this was not a wight but a walker. The walker almost swaggered towards Jon and soon they were engaged in a raging battle. The walker was a fierce opponent who did not give him a minutes respite. Jon panted and heaved, finally noticing the strain on his shoulder. But he had pure adrenaline scorching through his body as he dodged the advances of the walker. It was all he had. The touch of the walker's blade burned against Jon's skin as it tore through his clothes. He gasped more in shock than pain.

Their harsh movements had caused the ice to become more slippery.

"Seven fucking hells!" Jon swore in frustration as he tried to maintain his balance.

The walker advanced and was able to kick Jon's sword out of his hand. His sword flew from his hand, skidding across the frozen water, Jon watching in despair as it moved further from him. The walker knocked Jon back, causing him to stumble on the ice. Again the walker advanced and all Jon could do was duck each swipe with another step back. He slipped and the walker took advantage of that, bringing the sword up. Jon barely had time to register the blade looming over his head as he heard the crack beneath his feet. The walker's eyes gleamed, watching the crack run through the ice and then he dug his sword into the crack. Jon yelled but it was of no use as he felt the ice give way under him, barely noticing the walker jumping back. His fingers grappled with the rough edges of the broken ice before he was plunged into an icy hell. His body screamed, immediately protesting as the ice shocked his entire being. It was cold like Jon had never experienced before, made worse by his weakened state due to the injuries he'd incurred. His clothes weighed him down, dragging him further into the depths of the icy waters. His eyes blurred and all he felt was the sharp stab of ice against his body. His fingers fumbled with the fastening around his cloak as he tried to shake free from it. His body started objecting to the lack of air, everything became too heavy and consisted of entirely too much effort. The light above his head where he had fallen through was now a little obscured. He couldn't hear anything for the water doused all his senses. Jon kicked and tried to push himself up but it was difficult. His body was becoming more numb with each second he spent in the water. His mind felt hazy and all he could think of then was that he'd broken his promise to Hermione. He would die in this cold frozen wasteland, far from her. His movements lost their urgency and he could feel himself slipping further from awareness. As the darkness was about to close in, Jon felt himself being yanked up. The movement was harsh and so jarring, he somehow managed to choke underwater. His body had long since been screaming for air, and it was vocalized as they broke the surface. He was being pulled again, this time out of the water, coughing and wheezing; teeth shuttering. He shivered and did his best to regain his sense. The cold air brushed against his frozen clothes and he didn't think it was possible to feel any colder.

He looked around, taking in as much as he cold. Gendry had pulled him out of the water but it had been Thoros who jumped into the water to get him. The priest looked at Jon, shivering himself but mostly he looked relieved.

"T-thank you," Jon said through his shivers.

Thoros nodded. "You can't die here, Jon Snow." Was all he said.

Jon didn't say anything to that. He looked around frantically remembering the walker that had loomed above him before he fell.

"It's okay. Got him," Gendry assured him turning and pointing to the spot behind him. Only the spot was now empty.

They all tensed and then Thoros screamed. The walker had run his blade across the back of Thoros of Myr. He slumped forward, groaning in pain. Jon, despite his shivering, managed to react, scrambling back just enough. He heard the clatter of something against the ice and turned in time to see Gendry had thrown his across the ice to him. With what little strength he had in him, Jon gripped his sword and as the walker came to him again, he rose on his knees. When the walker raised his sword, ready to strike, Jon raised himself even quicker of the ground, slashing the walker across the neck.

The walker didn't scream but looked at him with cold eyes as his sword dropped to the floor, loudly. He followed shortly after.

Jon spun around. His body gearing up for another attack. But there was none. He could vaguely make out the forms of the others making their way towards him. Tormund had hastily joined him with Ghost beside him, his snout dirty. His friend looked a little worse for the wear but thankfully still very much alive.

"Tell me we got at least one," Jon grumbled.

"Aye, we got the fucker." Tormund said with a grin.

"Good." Jon managed weakly and then he stumbled forward. He felt his body give way. Longclaw feeling too heavy in his hands. It clattered noisily to the floor.

There were several shouts of "Your Grace!" and "Snow!", as he fell, his knees hitting the ice. Hard.

The world shifted and he realized too late he was in deep trouble now. The adrenaline he had used up during the fight was all gone now. All that remained were the pains and chill of the water he'd been thrown in. Everything hurt; everything was cold. He was only briefly aware of the gentle prod Ghost gave him before the numbness started taking over.

His last thoughts were rather predictably of Winterfell and Arya, Bran and Sansa, and of Sam too. But his head swirled and his chest heaved, barely able to draw breath. He could barely make out the muffled sounds of those around him as they tried to elicit a reaction from him but he was so tired. Even keeping his eyes opened seemed like a mammoth task. His heart thundered almost painfully as he thought of Hermione. And with the memory of her sweet smile and the touch of her lips against his, Jon succumbed to the darkness that had been creeping in.

AN: Hello

I was initially supposed to post this earlier in the week, but I got so busy and then truthfully I did forget. But here it is nonetheless. I couldn't decide for the longest time which of the two chapters to post first but eventually i settled for this. Next update will be Monday as usual and because it will be a littel different i'm giving this one a a gift to you.

A heartfelt thank you for all the love you've given this story thus far! Don't forget to review.

Stay safe!