NOTE: Hi Guys!
I know it's been a while! I took a little bit more time than before for this chapter for a very simple reason. I added it very recently! In fact, I made a lot of changes in the story since I started publishing it (as the most attentive of you may have noticed, with the final number of chapter changing every time I publish another one xD) and the reason is pretty simple: when I first started writing this story, I something similar to a storyboard. I resumed all of my chapters with little texts where I would put every idea I wanted in every chapter. Very useful to help me keeping track of what I want to do. Especially later when things will happen everywhere in Westeros at the same time xD.
The problem is, to resume an idea in a single sentence is a very different thing than to develop the said idea in a story! So when I started writing I realized my chapters were wayyyy too long ( and that's saying something coming from me as all of my chapters are 20 pages long at least!) or had way too many events happening at the same time! I hadn't the time to really build my story into something coherent and at least a bit believable. Which is essential with a story about an OC.
So I had to cut some chapters in two, and to add chapters so I had more time to build my version of the Westerosi universe!
Now the number of chapters will maybe change again once or twice, but I don't think it will be more than 22 or 23 chapters max!
Now to this chapter in particular!
My original plan was to have one single chapter at the very end of this book that would explain everything that happened on the Wall for Jon. Everything that I changed in fact. But upon checking my plans, I realized -again xD- that a single chapter for Jon was too short. I mean, he spends ONE YEAR on the Wall! ONE YEAR! Even if things don't change that much, there are still changes! And I need to explain that! So I thought I would put it here, right before the... main part of the Kingslanding arc of this story, so we could catch up with our favorite crow!
Now one last thing before we begin! IMPORTANT! I said in the first chapter that the event at the Wall would happen ONE Year before the rest of the storyline.
Well, I lied xD. It's just the thing with the deserter that Ned beheads that happens one year before. The rest will happen pretty much at the same time as the rest of the season 1 events. Which means that Jon will still go beyond the Wall at the end with the Lord Commander and the rest to investigate about the White Walkers.
The main difference would be that Jon is there long before that. Which, all in all, will change some things for him. But you'll see that very soon ;)
So, anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and dear Jon, and if you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to share them!
Chapter 12: The black bird on the Wall.
Year 297 Sixth month to Year 298 eighth month after the Conquest.
Castle Black.
Jon.
It was strange, to call himself a Brother of the Nights Watch. Sometimes, on the deep of the night, in the middle of his bed, with Ghost's red eyes shining in the dark, he wondered how he did it. The darkest part of him would have bet on his death the first week. Or days. Or hours.
It depended on his mood really.
He has never been threatened. Not really. Or, well, not physically at least. But good gods had he been hated back then.
He could still picture it like it was yesterday. Sometimes in the cold of the night, he confessed silently that his first days in Castle Black were clearer than his last days at Winterfell. Winterfell was like a dream floating on the back of his mind. A dream of warms and softness and love. Of Rickon's bright smile and Arya's laugh. Of Bran's clever eyes and Robb's shadow. Of Father's strong hand on his back and Kyria's voice, that seemed to haunt him even more than the rest. The words and the advises engraved in his mind.
But all of them, all of what used to be his life had faded when his eyes found the Wall for the first time. How small he had felt then, compare to the magnificence of the greatest creation ever built by men. Or any other kind of creature as far as he knew. And that included the Giants who he had been something thousand of years ago. He remembered Uncle Benjen's warm hand on his shoulder as he was gathering his thought, his own hands trembling on the rein of his horse.
"Impressive isn't it?" had asked Benjen slowly.
He had only nodded, not trusting his voice to express what he wasn't even able to think clearly. There were so many things he could have said. So many things he wasn't even thinking. But when it came to talking, nothing came.
Talk Jon for gods sake! How do you expect us to understand you if you never talk?
Kyria's words and tone were constant companions to him. No doubt she would be pleased with that. Even miles and miles away, she was scolding him like a little boy. It was impressive in its way. To have a sister so bossy and insisting, that even miles apart she could bother him.
"It's… wonderful." he had babbled awkwardly.
"Aye, it is. Impressive and wonderful. You'll learn to hate it soon enough lad." had said the man behind them, a recruiter for the Watch.
Yoren he was called, also Jon only learned that later. A good man, with a loud mouth and even louder humor. Jon liked him. He wasn't often at the Wall though.
He had joined them with three skinny lads, all dirty and grumpy. A couple of thieves and a rapist that had chosen the Wall over any other punishment.
None of the boys had talked to him at first. The four of them had been as awkward as young men ready to dedicate their life to a thousand years old order could be. But then, Kyria's voice had rung in his head again, and he had opened his mouth, just to shut her up.
Sometimes he worried about his sanity…
"I'm Jon." he had said softly one night, while they were all resting, the wall imposing on Jon's back.
The three of them had looked at him owlishly, slowly blinking. Jon felt his face flush, but the stubborn part of him had insisted on looking at them.
No matter where they came from, those boys would be his brothers one day. He couldn't just sulk in a corner and wait for the best to happen. He wasn't just the Bastard of Winterfell anymore.
"I'm Tehn." had answered one of the thieves.
A skinny lad, with sandy blond hair, thin and rat-tail looking, lowering around his long face like they were caring all the misery of the world.
The other two have stayed silent. But Jon still had considered it a victory. He and Tehn had talked a bit that night. Nothing much, really, but it was more than what Jon would have done without his annoying sister's voice in his head.
Arriving at Castle Black had been completely different than seeing the Wall for the first time.
All those books Kyria had forced him to read had kind of reaped off the idealistic image of the Wall Jon had to build within the years and Uncle Benjen's stories. But he hadn't expected that.
Castle Black was a ruin. A hundred men, maybe even less were all that was left from this order, as Ancient as the Wall itself and Jon's Family. Eight thousand years and that was what was left.
A handful of half-starved half iced men, a couple of buildings, standing by Will alone and a couple of rotting woods column. An old Maester blind and weak, and a Lord Commander, who looked stronger than all the watch reunited. An oddity in the weak thing that was supposed to guard the realm of men.
It had been hard. A very harsh wake-up call. In the first few weeks, Jon hadn't taken this well. To realize that literally, everyone around him knew what he was sailing too, and no one took the time to tell him. Not his Father, not Uncle Benjen… He even wondered if Kyria knew too.
He preferred to believe that she hadn't known, and would have told him if she was. His sister's words in his mind had been the only thing that kept him going those first days. Stopping believing them would have broken his resolve.
No doubt that without her, this annoying voice in his head, he would have run straight back in Winterfell, his tail between his legs and everything else. Humiliation be damned.
But he had remembered her words whispered against his ears in their last embrace. Those were as clear in his mind like the shadow of the Wall above him. No matter how blurry the rest of it became with the moons passing.
You, Jon Snow, will always be more than they'll ever think. We will see each other again someday. I know it.
He could hear it. Sometimes so loud it woke him up at night. It haunted him. Sometimes he hated it. When all he could feel was the cold and the loneliness of this life. This life that even though he chose it, was still his punishment for being born as he was. For what other reason his Father would have hidden the truth about this place.
You are worth a hundred bastard of the North.
He still didn't understand what she meant by that.
How could someone like him be worth of a hundred bastard? Being of the North or of any other Kingdom for what it was worth.
He was nothing else than a bastard with half of his blood coming from a good family. He knew enough of life as a bastard now after close to seventeen years of life to say that being a highborn bastard didn't matter much more than being a lowborn one.
He had still been born on the wrong side of the sheet like people loved to remind him. Worse even, he was his Father's only mistake. The dirty spot on his unmovable honor.
With all that, how could he be better than any other bastard?
He didn't understand it. How could he? With something like Kyria's last word who couldn't have been more cryptic even if she tried to make them sound so, how could he understand any of this?
He resented her for that. As much as he loved his family, he resented Kyria for spitting those words to him like that just before he had to leave maybe forever the only place and the only person he could hope to have answers from...
But, as much as he hated those words, and as much as he hated the long hours he spent thinking about it, it ha helped him somehow. He liked to believe that someone believed in him. Even so far from him.
He had taken strength in this, and in all those afternoons in the library, where she made him swallow book after book with a determination that would have put a Maester to shame.
He tried to use what she had made him learn. As much as he could. But fighting his brooding nature and inconvenient shyness was a work of every instant. And something he hadn't been sure he wanted to accomplish at the time.
In the first weeks, he refused to even try. He felt betrayed. He didn't want to blend into this new environment and with those peoples, pathetic as they were. He didn't want any part in this mockery of his childhood dreams of great honor and glory in brotherhood as old as their world was. Or just so. The welcome he received from Alliser Throne hadn't help.
How could his Father send him in such a place? How could he not warn him of the hardship of the Watch, the dishonor of this brotherhood in downfall? How could he condemn him in such a life?
His disgust ate him for many days, accentuating his natural melancholic disposition.
Without Uncle Benjen he would have continued in this path until it would have been too late for him to integrate himself in the dynamic of the Watch.
Fortunately, Uncle Benjen hadn't let that happen.
"Stop that." he had said one day.
"What?" has asked Jon.
Both of them were on the Wall. Jon had found a secluded place to brood peacefully on the unfairness of his life.
"I know this place is not what you expected. I can understand your disappointment, but honestly Jon what did you expect?"
"Something else." he had said somberly.
"Aye maybe. But it is what it is. You can still leave Jon. No one is forcing you to stay here."
"I'm not a deserter."
"You're not a man of the Night's Watch Jon. Not yet. You can leave and make a life of your own elsewhere." had said Uncle Benjen before Jon could continue. "But if you chose to stay. You become part of this place. Do you understand me? You won't survive long here alone. And I won't be with you all the time, holding your hand like a little boy. You're a man Jon. And I'm not your nanny. If you want to have a place here, then start earning that place. Do you understand? You stay and you become a man or leave. If this is glory you want, you can find it elsewhere."
He had been furious then. To say such a thing. Like he was some coward or something else just as disgraceful. A pampered Lord from a warm castle, ready to flee at the first sign of unpleasantness. He was no coward!
But then he had understood.
Uncle Benjen was pushing him. It didn't matter what direction he wanted to take, he only had to choose one. Leave or stay.
He stayed.
After these days, he started following his sister's advice. He tried to stop mop and complain in a corner like he did all the time. She said he had to build his own story. So that's what he tried to do. He found Tehn again and the boy became the first friend he made here.
He learned that those endless discussions back home had their usefulness, and that asking questions, while never a good thing in the presence of Lady Catelyn, had actually helped him here.
There, he learned that Tehn had been accused of rape by the daughter of a merchant he had refused to sleep with. One of those men rich enough to think themselves, lords. Or something close to it. As he was an orphan from the village, no one had tried to hear his version, and he had been sentenced to the Wall.
When he had started asking questions to other people, he soon learned that it was harder to judge when you knew the story behind the man. For some of them.
In his earlier weeks, he learned about one of the Rangers, a middle-aged man whose wife left him one day, without an explanation. The farm he lived in belonged to his father in law, and without his daughter, the old men had refused to let him stay. Not knowing what else to do, he came to the Wall.
The man would have been interesting to know if he hadn't disappeared beyond the wall a couple of days later.
Another lesson Jon learned that day.
Not all of them were like Tehn or this man of course. But a couple of the Men of the Watch had heartbreaking stories, like this one, Kevlar, who lost his entire family to a raid of Iron born during the Rebellion of Ballon Greyjoy. His wife and kids were raped and killed as well as his mother and younger sister. When the war ended, he had no one left. Not knowing what else to do, he came to the Wall, to find some usefulness.
Jon had been surprised by the number of people who came to the Wall because they didn't know what else to do. Sometimes, he wondered if he wasn't one of them.
And then, there was Edd.
He didn't talk much about himself, but gods do he liked to complain. About everyone and everything. Edd was surprisingly easy to like, for a grumpy, skinny guy like him.
He befriends a couple of other brothers, but nothing like Tehn and Edd. Tehn in particular had been one good support for Jon. As they came to the Wall at the same time, they were trained together. It was easier to befriend someone this way, as Jon knew already. It was the same way that brought Theon and Robb's friendship. Besides Father had said that one could find his true friends on the Battlefield. The training Yard was a practice for the battlefield.
With Tehn and Edd and them Kevar later, it became easier, to be there. He was not alone anymore.
When he swore his vow, he was alone. Out of the recruits, he was the only one worshiping the old gods. Uncle Benjen had insisted to be there with him. His presence, warm on his back felt welcoming, as he stood up again, the words still resonating on his head.
For this night and all my nights to come...
He had smiled at him, something warm and incredibly sad on his face. Jon had smiled too, not sure how he was supposed to take this expression. Not sure how he felt about all of this.
Some part of him wanted to weep then. He couldn't say why for sure, but he felt like he lost something that day. As he stood in front of his uncle, solemn and silent, his mind went back to the old Maester Aemon, and the story he shared with Jon the day before.
Aemon Targaryen.
Truly, he hadn't need to say anything else. Everyone knew what happened to the Targaryen. Jon more than others. His father had helped chase the family away from Westeros. Or at least what was left of them.
As soon as he had said his name, Jon had known what to expect. But still, hearing it from his old voice. Trembling with emotion, grief, pain, as he narrated the death of his family, his great-nephew, the children, his situation, as an old useless man. Unable to protect the family he renounced years and years ago…
It shacked something deep within Jon. A sensible cord he didn't know he had. A deep part of him, a place where he hides the little boy he once was. That little boy crying for a mother he'll never know, begging for answers, for affection, for love. For proof, he was important to someone. A proof he wasn't just a bastard.
That very same part of him who was still attached to the life he had, with his siblings back home. The part he knew would break if anything had to happen to them. The same part that kept him awake for nights and nights after the old Maester's story, terrified that such a thing may happen to his family.
Maybe that was why. Maybe this was the reason why he felt like crying the day he pronounced his vows.
It didn't matter. He did it. It was done, he was a Brother of the Night's Watch.
Then, came the moment of his assignment.
In such a few words, Jon's world crumbled again in a spiral of indignation disgust and utter frustration for the fate that was assigned to him. Anger burned hotter than ever before in his mind when the Lord Commander said that word behind his name.
Stewart.
Him. A Stewart. Out of the ten boys that swore their vow, he had been the most skilled with a sword He had spend his first month training them, just like Ser Rodrick was training him back home.
And despite all this, he was a Stewart. The Lord Commander Stewart maybe but still a Stewart. A servant.
The first days had been really hard for him to bear. He couldn't train on the yard anymore and had to serve the Lord Commander, serve him his meals, his ale, cleans his room, his office, arrange his letters.
Everything. He was a servant. A servant, just good enough to milk cows and stitch socks.
He had been revolted. If he could then, certainly would he have left then?
But honor had defended it. He couldn't leave. He had said the words. He engaged himself for life. It was done. There was nothing he could do against it.
Every situation can be an opportunity. Or so they said. You just have to look for it.
Again, more so than Benjen's conceals, it had been Kyria's voice that had helped him see things through. Every situation can be an opportunity. It was something from her little book of manipulations. She had annoyed them with it for days before he left.
But how could this be an opportunity? He was sewing socks and serving food for someone else!
It hit him a couple of weeks later. Days of wondering again and again Why fate seemed so determined to torment him in such a way. Why did he have to be overlooked, again and again, forgotten on the back of the room like some annoying nuisance?
But when he thought about it, it suddenly became simple. Oh so simple. He wasn't asking the right question. It was not about why him. Why his little person. It was about someone else. It was about for whom he bringing food and arranging things.
Lord Commander Jeor Mormont.
The most important man in all the Watch. The Leader. Who had asked for him. To be his shadow, to follow him everywhere to help him, support him, ease his tasks. Him. Jon Snow was to be seen with the leader of the Watch day and night.
It took him a couple of days to understand the meaning of all this. He still wasn't so sure of his explanation. But he knew Lord Commander Mormont must have had a reason for doing what he did. As Kyria liked to remind him, no one ever did things without reason. There was always a purpose, a goal. Lord Commander Mormont was just the same. He wanted something from this situation. He wanted Jon close to him, close to the main vein of the Watch.
The boldest part of Jon's mind liked to phantasm that he wanted him because he saw something special in Jon. Something worth leading maybe.
But he couldn't think like that. It was too hopeful, and life by now had shown him that hope could be very dangerous for him.
He was still the Bastard after all. Lord Snow as they liked to call him now.
No, he couldn't think like that. Those were prideful thoughts. He didn't like thinking this. What claim could he had on a position that wasn't even his? That was ridiculous.
But still, thinking about it helped him accept his own position. He made peace with it, after a time. He could even have started to feel at home, if not for one detail.
Alliser Thorne.
The man was a Ranger. He had been on the Wall since the Targaryen's defeat. Close to twenty years now. He was important among the men. He trained them. A couple of years ago, he took the post of Master at Arms of Castle Black. He was respected. If they were an army, he would have been their general.
And, for some reason, he seemed to despise Jon. He couldn't say for sure if it was him he hated, or what he was. A bastard, A Stark, the son of the man who helped usurp his King…
If Jon thought about it, the man had many reasons do dislike him. Jon couldn't really blame him for that. But it was hard to support it.
Sometimes the man infuriated him, angered him. Part of him wanted to hit him, to beat him, to chew him until he had nothing to say. But he couldn't do that.
You can't let your anger guide you, Jon. That's the quickest way to make a mistake.
It was annoying. To have his sister's voice constantly on his head, just to reprimand him like a little boy. Sometimes he wanted to ignore this voice, just to make it stop. Just to prove her he wasn't under her command, he was a man, and Kyria couldn't tell him what to do, no matter where she was. At Winterfell, or in his head.
Why should he listen anyway?
She wasn't there anymore. She wasn't there and she couldn't know what was happening to him if he didn't tell her.
Except she could.
We will see each other again someday. I know it. You must know it too.
Sometimes it was easy to forget everything that happened before he left Winterfell. To forget the screams, the visions… His sister's white eyes as she fell from her horse all those moons ago, and the old voice of Nan resonating in their ears, full of the wisdom of the old legends.
It was easy and tempting. But he couldn't do that. Not to himself and not to them. To Robb and Kyria who were both still neck down in all of this, trying to understand, trying to prepare. He couldn't just forget everything and go on with his life.
He felt like listening to this voice in his mind was all he could do to continue this fight. To fulfill his word.
He swore Kyria he'll help her. He couldn't do that anymore. Not physically. But he could follow the path she opened for him. He could use what she tried to teach him and build a life for himself.
You have to build your own story.
He tried to live by those words. One, night, maybe six months after his arrival, he sat ina corner of the baraks Ghost's head on his knee and he thought. He thought about the Watch, his position inside it. The things he did, the things he could do. The things he could offer it. The things he knew...
Every idea, every information. He was tempted to write them, like Kyria did with her dreams, but he didn't had the patience to do so.
So instead he thought. About her, about Father, about Robb. he thought of those times, those discussions with the three of them. He could almost picture it. The heart tree, big and magestic. His blood red leaves, the shadow on his face, the sun, shining behind it. And between its roots, Father. The slow move of his arm, cleaning the great sword of his family. He thought of Kyria and Robb, next to him, on their Father's feet, listening to what he had to say, when he said it.
Then, he tried to remember those books, those conversations with Robb, with Kyria, with Father. Every time he thought she was trying to teach him something. Every time she wanted to make him listen. To make him understand.
He understood one thing that night. He couldn't do nothing. He had to try, anything to stop being the sad bastard on the wall. He had to try to do what he never even thought about doing before.
Make people like him...
But how? He had friends in the Watch, of course, he had Kevar and Tehn and Edd. He had Maester Aemon who liked him, Lord Commander Mormont who seemed to enjoy his opinion from time to time. He had his uncle Benjen, always by his side.
Your own story.
But they could only help him. They couldn't make other people like him, or Thorne stops his vendetta against him.
He had to do this on his own. Build his own life. Without them to help.
He tried to find a way for weeks. To find something he could do to help his situation. Something, anything.
He knew from Kyria that the first step in a situation like the one he was in, he had to think of practicality first. What did he have to offer them? Other than himself?
He wasn't smart like Kyria. He wasn't strong like Robb. He hadn't be trained at many things if excluded the few month before his leaving.
He was only confident in one thing in truth: he knew how to fight. Better than the men brought here. And his first weeks at Castle Black had shown him he was also good at teaching how to fight.
He thought about it a couple of more days before acting. The plan in his mind wasn't much of a plan truly, and for it to work he'll have to deal very closely with Thorne. He wasn't sure to be able to do that with a clear head.
Besides, it was no part of his duties as a Stewart.
But he had to try.
So, one day, as he was serving the Lord Commander's meal, he took his chance.
"You want something Jon Snow?" asked the Lord Commander.
Jon had stayed behind the man, contrary to what he used to do. It was enough to catch the man's attention. Jon wondered. Was it that easy?
"If you'll allow me, my lord, I had a thought."
"A thought? About what?"
"About my...about what I could do to help."
"You think you're not helping?" snorted Mormon. "you're a Brother of the Night's Watch. You're a Stewart. What else do you want?"
Before Jon could answer, the man looked up, crossing Jon's eyes.
"You think you know better than us what use we could have of you?" he challenged him sternly, almost daring him to do just so.
"No! No- I-" Jon took a deep breath, he needed to think about it. "I do not think such a thing, My Lord. I couldn't. It would be very arrogant my Lord."
He took a moment to choose his next words carefully. Lord Mormont took it as an opening to speak again.
"Only an arrogant boy thinks himself not arrogant," he said wisely.
"Why is that?"
"If you're not arrogant, don't say it. Show it." said the man. "prove you are something else than an arrogant little lordling"
"I am no Lordling, my Lord. I can't be," said Jon, his cheeks flushed.
"You've been raised in a castle didn't you?" said Lord Commander, chewing a piece of his thin meat.
"I did my lord."
"Then you're a Lorlding. Bastard or not, it doesn't matter. You've been pampered all your life compared to most of the men here. That alone, make you arrogant."
Jon blinked, ready to deny it. He wasn't pampered, he wasn't a lordling! He wasn't even wanted in his own home! He had spent his entire life being ignored and looked down in his Father's keep, like a disease you want to wash away. All his life he had to pay for other's mistakes! He had to live as the disgrace of the most honorable man of the Seven Kingdoms! He was no Lordling!
But then he thought about it. He did live in a castle. Warm, well fed, well learned, well raised. That alone was more than most could say about their lives.
Ashamed, Jon lowered his gaze. The Lord Commander observed him like a hawk observes his prey.
"I just wanted to help my lord," he said finally.
"And you think you know better than us how you could do that."
"I just thought-"
"That is arrogant." cut Lord Commander.
"I don't-"
"You're a boy." said the man. "A boy as green as grass can be. Who never saw a real battle or tasted a true winter. And you think you know better than us, seasoned fighters and commanders, how you should serve the Watch?"
"I don't presume to know any better," he said. "I don't know any better. But I thought of something and I wanted it to share it with you. With your permission."
His tone may have been a bit harsher than what he would have wanted. But at least he said what he wanted to say. Lord Mormont looked up again, observing him silently.
"Mh. Very well then. What is your thought."
Again, Jon restrained from talking again. He took his time to think about what he wanted to say. His first idea had been to propose himself in helping the new lads training with Ser Alliser. But now, he couldn't say that. He would only prove the Lord Commander he was right. No, he needed to do something else.
No. It wasn't about him. It was about the watch. What it needed. Not him.
" I am not the only one high born here." he started slowly. "and I am not the only one trained in a castle."
"You are not. Right now and counting you, there are fifteen men battle-trained, for one hundred and twenty sworn brother. In Castle Black only of course." answered Mormont.
Jon bite his lip.
"I thought… Maybe we could… Maybe we could help. Training the men." he started slowly. "Ser Alliser does a fine job, and it's not my place to say otherwise. But I thought that maybe with more men to train… I don't know, to train smaller groups. Maybe we could be more efficient." he babbled nervously.
He always had been a nervous talker.
Mormont blinked slowly.
"That's an interesting idea." concede the man.
Jon waited for the rest. But he didn't say anything else. He almost asked, but in the end, stayed quiet.
It reminded him of one of Uncle Benjen's first lessons when he was still angry at everyone and everything.
If you want to lead one day, learn to follow!
Jon hadn't heard of his idea for days after that.
He grew impatient, of course. He wanted to know. To have answers. He wanted to see if his little scheme or whatever he should call it, had taken roots in the Lord Commander's mind.
He was no politician. He had no head for those things. Not like his sister. Or even Robb to a point. He was just good with a sword. But Kyria tried to teach him.
And now he tried to see if her teaching did him any good. He hoped he could do something with it.
But he knew he couldn't just harass the Lord Commander until he had an answer. It wouldn't do him any good.
Talking is not like fighting. It needs more patience. For your words to go through your adversary mind. For him to understand them. To accept them as his own. Fighting is much quicker. You just need to strike well enough.
Patience. Before coming to the Wall, Jon thought he was a patient person. Now he wasn't so sure. He wanted it to work. Since he took his vows he couldn't train as he did before. He didn't have the time, nor was he allowed.
"You're a steward, Lord Snow. Not a Ranger."
But he wanted to. There was only that much he could do as a Stewart, and he knew deep down he could do much more. If only he could have the chance!
"That's a good idea." had said Uncle Benjen when he talked to him about what he did.
"You think so?"
"Training smalls groups would help us for sure. And Thorne would have an easier job. It's always harder to train larges crowd of people when they had no idea of what they are doing." had said uncle Benjen.
"So you think he will accept?"
Uncle Benjen frowned.
"I don't know. He may be. When did you talk to him about this?"
"A sennight now."
Uncle Benjen nodded. Jon waited for something else.
"Well then?"
"What?"
"What do you think?"
"I think a lot of things," he said.
"About what I just told you, uncle."
Benjen smiled.
" I think this is worth a thought. But in the end, the Lord Commander will decide."
He decided. At some point.
A couple of months ago, Yoren came back with ten recruits, peasants for most of them. A couple of thieves, two rapers, three bastards of different Kingdoms who had nowhere else to go. And a handful of murderers.
Good crew…
Jon was used to it by now. Used to see people coming here, not because they wanted to serve a cause greater than them, but because they had nothing left. No choice. No way out. No hope.
"We're fucked," grumbled Edd next to him, looking at the young and not so young boys coming to the yard, looking around them with big round eyes.
It was strange to see the awe in those empty faces.
"You always think that," said Tehn, a hand scratching his thin blond hairs.
"Because it's true. Look at them. They look half-starved already."
"They're not covered enough for the snow," said Kevar, his elbows against the wooden rail.
The four of them were observing like they did every time there were recruits. It was a way to evaluate their new brothers and what they should expect from them.
"How many are going to piss themselves when they'll see him do you think?" asked Tehn with a smile.
Jon snorted.
"Why do you always ask that?"
"Because it's funny," he said back with a shrug of his slim shoulders.
He looked like his clothes were eating him half of the time. He was thinner than anything Jon ever saw before he came here. He looked weak, fragile, like a child. Strangely, he was not. He could even be a good fighter. If he was trained to do so.
"I don't think it's funny," said Kevar softly.
"It is, admit it," said Tehn with a smile. " They're always screaming like little girls the first time."
"You didn't look smarter when we came here," said Jon casually. "He is huge after all. Everyone would be impressed at first. It is no common sight."
Edd snorted.
As if he wanted to prove his master's words, Ghost suddenly appeared in the yard, slow and silent, like he always was. He had grown, of course since they first came here. Jon couldn't say for sure if he was full grown. No one knew much about Direwolves south of the Wall. But he was no ordinary pet that was sure.
He obeyed only Jon, no matter how many tried to command him. He didn't like others trying to control him. Thorne tried to lock him up once. In one of the few unused storage rooms of Castle Black.
He didn't last more than a sennight. For a wolf as silent as Ghost was, he knew how to make himself known. After another night supporting the endless sounds in Ghost's prison, Lord Commander Mormont ordered Thorne to open the door and let the beast be.
He then asked Jon Snow to take care of it. One accident with Ghost and he would be killed on sight.
But Ghost was smart. And Loyal. No matter how big be became, Jon could still count on him to listen when needed.
And so, be started to be the welcome party of the recruits. Every time they came, he would appear and wait for their reaction.
Most of the times they would scream.
This time was no exception. The beast made a few steps, his head low, sniffing the new arrivals. The first man who saw him was on the back of the group. A tall lad with ginger hair. Or light brown, Jon couldn't be sure from where he was.
"Oh, look at that one!" said Tehn excitingly.
Just as he was saying it, the lad on the yard, screamed. He made an impressive jump back and fell right on his ass. Ghost took another sniff and a step forward. The boy screamed again. It caught the attention of his fellow recruits, who immediately tried to run away, screaming and falling on each other just like the first one.
They fell down like sticks pilled together.
Tehn laughed loudly, cautioning the boys attention. Kevar and Edd didn't seem to have reacted but Jon fought a smile of his own.
"Ghost. Enough," he called.
The wolf huffed, looked up to him with his blood-red eyes. Jon held his gaze calmly. Then, with one last huff, the great wolf walked away, scaring a horse who was too close.
Jon pitied the poor beast. With a wolf almost as tall as him, he could understand the fear.
" You are no fun Jon." pouted Tehn.
"I think we might need to introduce ourselves now."
"Why?" frowned Edd.
"Because someone laughed at them like a child?" proposed Kevar.
Jon snorted again.
"Fuck you Old shit, it was funny!" protested Tehn.
"Aye, let's do that." agree Jon, already climbing down the stairs to the yard.
His friend followed him. The boys down there are all looking at them now, different shades of anger in their faces. Some looked more humiliated than angry though.
As he made his way closer to them, Jon noticed most of them weren't that young, contrary to what he thought. Some seemed old and beaten by their lives.
The one closer to them, the first who had witnessed Ghost. He was still red and looked furious, his eyes flashing in the middle of his red face.
"What the bloody hell was that?!" he cried, right to Jon's face.
"That was Ghost. My Direwolf," he said, almost proudly.
Why shouldn't he be? Ghost was magnificent and belonged with him. His only pride in the life he now lived. To have such an impressive beast as a friend, and faithful companion.
"I'm sorry if he frightened you. But you'll have to get used to him," he said softly.
"Why should we? A beast like that don't belong on the Wall." said one of the men behind.
Jon looked at him. He kept his face as straight as possible. He wanted to impose himself and his wolf to them from the very beginning. He was there for long enough now to know that weakness was not something good to show around there. Those guys were ready to rip anyone off as soon as he showed the tiniest weakness. He needed to show who he was now. To discourage them from defying him later.
"A Direwolf belongs to the North. This place is as far as the North can be without going through the Wall. But, be my guest. Make him leave." he said neutrally, only an inch of threat animated his face as he extended his arm to where Ghost had left them.
He didn't like to do that. But he had been bothered before. He didn't want to have to watch his back because some of them thought a Stewart like him could be bullied all day long.
The man who had talked frowned, not that much thrilled at the idea and drop his gaze.
"What is he even doing here?" asked the first guy.
The boy with reddish hair. He looked angry and fierce. He couldn't say why, but Jon liked him, somehow. Maybe it was the hair. They looked a bit like Robb's.
"He's with me," said Jon simply.
All eyes fell on him. The silence lasted for an agonizing amount of time. To the point where Jon was ready to just leave. He didn't though.
"You?" spat a man on the back.
Jon didn't answer. A hand pressed on his shoulder snapped him off of the eye contest he involuntary started with the guy.
"You'd better get used to this if you want to survive here boys," said Edd while gripping his shoulder.
One of them snorted. Jon's eyes fell back on the first one.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The guy hesitated.
"Grenn."
"I'm Jon," he said back.
"Lord Snow!" called an all too well-known voice behind him.
If he had less control, he would have rolled his eyes. He turned his head, followed by his friend surrounding him like they often do when this particular person ventured to close to him. It was kind and quite unnecessary. He could defend himself well enough.
But it was good to have support around him.
"What are you doing here?" asked Ser Alliser behind them.
"Welcoming the recruits Ser," he answered, looking at the man right in the eyes.
"How kind of you Stewart," he said with something very close to contempt.
Sometimes he wondered if Ser Alliser was somehow related to Lady Catelyn. They tended to share some similarities.
Their almost instinctive hatred of everything even slightly related to him was one example.
The mention of his position in the Watch seemed to amuse some of the new men around. Jon chooses to stay silent.
"It's the least we could have done Ser." said Tehn next to him. Quite bravely he could say.
"Of course..."
Those eyes were heavy on them. But Jon refused to go away. He would not bow in front of this man. And he refused to submit to anyone's contempt. Not anymore.
Not that honor was due to Lady Catelyn. And she wasn't there to fulfill it.
"Don't you have work to do Lord Snow?" said the man, looking at Jon from under his nose.
"Not just now Ser Alliser," he said back, his eyes still in the man.
Thorne hummed. He opened his mouth, surely to enlightened again but a voice, from behind them stopped him immediately.
"Jon Snow!" called the trembling voice of old Maester Amon from up on the gallery.
Jon looked up, giving up the eyeing contest he somehow started with the old knight.
"A raven came for you. From Winterfell."
Jon couldn't climb the stairs fast enough. He ignored the biter voices behind him. The voices of those who still didn't like him, and his rich education.
He smiled tightly at the old men, even though, as blind as he were, the poor fool couldn't see it. He then took the paper from his hands.
It was from Kyria. The sight of the soft letters of her hand only ever brought a smile on his face. He missed home.
However, the words made him quickly lose his smile.
Jon,
Something happened.
Bran had been hurt. One of the barn outside of the keep had burned. We don't know why. Bran was close. He is wounded. We don't know anything else. Mother refused to leave the Maester Tower.
We don't know anything else, Jon. I don't know what to do.
I tried you know. I tried to do something about that. He was not supposed to be burned. He was supposed to fall. But I stopped that. He didn't fall. And now he is burned.
I tried to save him. He told me I couldn't but I tried anyway. It's my fault.
I don't know what to do Jon. I wish you were there too.
I'm scared Jon. I'm really scared now.
Please take care of yourself brother. Don't make a mistake. It would kill Father if he had to take your head for desertion. Robb too.
I love you, Jon.
I'm sorry.
Kyria.
No. No this couldn't be happening! How could this be?!
Bran…
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A couple of days later, he received another letter. From Robb this time. Bran would live. Then, another fortnight later, Robb wrote again. And again, one last time, a sennight later. So many news in so little time. He didn't know what to think about this. All of this. Someone had tried to kill Bran. Lady Catelyn and Summer had stopped it. Bran had woken up. And Kyria went South with Father Sansa and Arya.
He took every news with a confused frown. Part of him wanted to leave. To just go and find his home. Be with his brother. Help his family. But he hesitated too long and before he could properly take a decision, the other letters were there.
Now he didn't know what to do.
Maybe that was why Lord Commander Mormont chose this time precisely to finally answer his suggestion. Between two alarming letters send by his brother's hand. In the middle of Jon's confusion about what to do.
It had been so long by then, Jon almost forgot it.
The old man hadn't.
"I thought about this idea of yours," he said one day.
Jon had blinked slowly at him, his sudden exclamation brutally had brought him out of his thought.
"This thing about trained brothers training others." elaborate the Commander.
"Yes my Lord," said Jon, unsure of what else he was supposed to respond.
"This new bunch of recruit that Yoren brought back. We are going to test your idea on them."
Jon blinked.
"Yoren will go back South soon. Further South. You'll take this time to apply this idea of yours. You as well as the noble born brothers present, will join Ser Alliser on the yard and start your new duty."
Jon took a moment to fully understand what he was saying.
"Is that clear?"
"Y-yes, Yes My lord. I will be there." nodded Jon, hardly believing what was happening.
That was his chance.
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He only understood later the reason why Lord Mormont decided to act now.
Maester Aemon must have told the Lord Commander about the numerous letters Jon received recently within the last months.
Maybe he had been scared, that the news he kept having from home were troubling enough to… tempt him in making a mistake.
Or maybe he was just thinking too much.
But still, somehow it was a strange coincidence.
Jon thought about it for a long time. Enough to almost miss the time for his appointment with the other men supposed to help Ser Alliser in his training of the men.
There wasn't much else to say about the discussion. Maybe he didn't pay as much attention as he should have. Lord Commander Mormont had similar arguments than the ones Jon exposed himself all those months ago. As well as more like the necessity for an institution to have well-trained men as often and as numerous as possible. That the Watch couldn't afford ot feed farm boys who knew nothing of a good fight and ended up killed the first day out of the Wall. That having groups of men used to fight together would be an advantage agianst the Wildlings. Like small squads that could be displayed on the field.
It was unlikely to happen of course, but for too long already the Watch had lacked the discipline necessary for a fighting army, one displayed to defend the Wall at that.
They were all good arguments, and Jon wisely kept his mouth shut when the question of whose idea it was came up to the conversation.
"The responsibility should be shared between Benjen and me Ser Alliser." had answered the Commander.
Ser Alliser didn't seem convinced. Nor did he looked unhappy to Jon's utter surprise. He would have thought the man displeased by the idea of others stealing his job. The idea of little group training together for a long amount of time under the tutelage of men already trained even seemed appealing to him
It was a bit unfair, if one took the time to think about it, as it put the men castle trained, and so the high born brothers on an upper level compared to those from less fortunate background who had to look at their fellow brothers like army officers. It was against the rules of the Watch. Once a man was Sworn to the Watch where he came from didn't matter anymore.
At this argument, Lord Mormont offered another.
"Once the first recruits trained, they will be able to have their own units, and then birth and status won't matter anymore." said the Commander.
It had been interesting.
At the end of the discussion, Jon and nine other sworn brothers had the new and older recruit displayed between them, with orders to start the training first light on the morrow.
The old Bear specified that the exercise would be a try first. If the thing worked well enough, they would apply the thing to the two other Castle still functional on the Wall.
Jon found himself responsible for three of the recruits as well as some of the new brothers. The first day was strange, and thrilling. Responsabilities... Eleven men he had to train, to teach and whom would be under his direct command. It wasn't an army, but after on year of serving like... well like a servant, Jon would have been happy with one sole man as long as he could figtha again.
"Why should we do what you say?" grumbled one of the men, Pip, if he remembered well.
A part of Jon would have liked to bite off the boy's head like a beast. To make him swallow back his words with some wit of his own. Like Kyria would do.
But he wasn't Kyria, and he wasn't good with words in general.
Instead, he took a deep breath and shrugged.
"Because I know how to swing a sword." he said simply. "and you don't."
The man showed his teeth, his eyes were fierce and angry. Jon wondered what he had done to anger the lad so much. His meeting with Ghost couldn't be the sole reason.
"We're eleven against you!" snorted another. He didn't know his name.
"And you want to fight twelve against one?" he said, still relatively calm.
He didn't feel calm, however. Even if he was better than them, he couldn't fight twelve men alone without risk of getting hurt.
But they didn't know that…
"Try me then, Pip isn't it?" he said back.
The boy hesitated for a second. He looked at Jon, then at his training sword, a thoughtful expression on his face. A couple of men behind him whispered to each other. One of them nodded, another called out for Pip to do it.
"Teach Lord Snow a lesson!" he said.
Finally, he decided and ran right on Jon's sword. Then, when he fell on the cold floor, another one took his place. And another. And another. Until Jon was the only one who stood.
He looked at them then. Each one of them, right in the eyes.
"So. Will you listen then?"
No one found more reason to complain.
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It was one of those days that found Lord Tyrion Lannister knocking at the main door. Before Robb's last letter, and a small sennight after their first session of training. He was flanked of a handful of Lannister guards, red and gold and more colorful than anything Jon saw in a long time.
Distractedly, he put Grenn back on the floor with a swift of his sword.
"You need to move more." he said to the boy. "a moving target is harder to hit."
Grenn nodded, his head low.
"Impressive!" called the imp from the corner where he stood, surrounded by his men.
Jon looked at the man, noticing from the corner of his eyes how the boys around him, surrounding him like faithful men.
It was interesting to notice. His idea seemed to work.
"Do you intend to take the Black my Lord?" asked Jon with some impertinence he didn't know he had.
Lord Tyrion blinked opened his mouth and laughed loudly.
"Me? Good gods no! What use would the Watch have of a humble dwarf like me? No, no, I simply wanted to see the Wall and the brave men of the Watch who defend us from any harm that may come to us." his eyes were sharp and smart when he talked.
The little man took some time to look at Jon with his sharp little eyes.
"You. You're Jon Snow aren't you?" he said rhetorically. "You look like your Father."
Jon nodded, his jaw tied close.
"Well then Jon Snow, why don't you take me to your Lord Commander? I could tell you about your darling family."
"With all your respect my Lord, I do not serve you," said Jon his voice cold and strong.
The imp's eyes glinted.
"But you are the Lord Commander Stewart are you not? You serve him."
"I serve the Watch," answered Jon.
"Who is commanded by Lord Commander Mormont, whom you are the personal Stewart." added the man smartly.
I don't like you. Jon thought angrily.
But the half-man wasn't wrong. So with one shared look with his men around him, Jon signed the imp to follow him to the Lord Commander's office.
"Thank you Bastard." said the man cheerfully.
Jon's shoulder tensed. He took a deep breath, trying as hard as he could to ignore the annoying man behind him. He knew what he was doing. Lannister was testing him. He was trying to see if he could annoy him enough so he might snap. But he won't. Oh no, this annoying little man won't see him lose his senses.
As Kyria liked to remind them: it would do him no good to open his mouth when his thought were clouded by anger.
From the other side of the yard, a couple of men carefully walked away, allowing the imposing figure of Jon's faithful friend to observe the new arrivals. Jon smiled.
"By the Seven. So you have one too!" observed Lord Tyrion with awe. " I thought those beasts were only for the Stark children."
"Lord Stark is my Father," he said between his greeted teeth.
"Indeed." nodded the man. "but Lady Stark is not your Mother. Which makes you, the Bastard of Winterfell. I heard quite a lot about you back there."
Jon didn't answer, he climbed the first steps leading to the Lord Commander Tower, determined to ignore the imp's attempt to anger him.
The man seemed to like the sound of his own voice, as he didn't wait long to delight them with it again.
Did he ever shut up?
"Did I offend you? Sorry." he didn't sound sorry at all. "You are a bastard though."
He couldn't deny that. But he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of fulfilling the conversation.
"If you'll allow me, Bastard." said the imp again, as they walked the last steps of the wooden stairs. "let me give you some advice!"
"I don't need it," said Jon harshly.
Both of them stopped in front of the Lord Commander's office.
"Oh, but you do."
Jon looked down at him. The imp's face was serious, his eyes sharper than even before, looking right in Jon's.
"Never forget what you are bastard. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used against you."
Not expecting an answer, Lord Tyrion knocked on the door in front of them.
"And how do you know anything about being a bastard my Lord," asked Jon, his voice ice cold.
As the voice of the Lord Commander boomed through the door, commanding Jon to open it, Tyrion Lannister smiled sarcastically at Jon a strange light in his troubling eyes.
"All dwarfs are bastards in their Father's eyes, Jon Snow."
"Who is that?" asked the Lord Commander.
Jon announced their guest and waited for the man to step inside the room, as it was expected of him. His eyes, however, didn't leave Tyrion's small silhouette, the weight of his words echoing in his being with a new meaning.
All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes.
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The days following the dwarf's arrival, Jon spend a lot of time observing the man, familiarizing himself once more with the shadowy corners of a castle, like he used to do so often back home.
The words he spoke to him that first time, were haunting him. The gravity in them, the fatality of his declaration.
Tyrion Lannister seemed to be more complicated than he first expected.
So he watched. Between his training sessions with the recruits and the brothers he had under his wing, and his daily duties as a Stewart, he watched.
He noticed then, that the Lannister half-man had made a habit of asking a lot of questions to a lot of people. He seemed to never stop talking. Once he was talking with the Lord Commander, another time with Maester Aemon, another time with one of the Recruits -Rat or something like that- and on and on…
He never stopped.
As Jon observed him and contemplated his words, a familiar voice invaded his mind, disturbing his line of thought and confusing his certitudes.
Listen to the Bastard in his father's eyes. Learn from him.
Kyria had told him that. That day. With this strange tone in her voice, the one he felt compelled to listen to. She had told him that and now Jon wondered.
Bastard in his father's eyes. Was she referring to Tyrion Lannister? Did she want him to learn something from the little man?
But what?
All those questions polluted his mind for a couple of days. He thought and theorized and thought again when finally he came to the only logical conclusion. He needed to go to the man directly. Talk to him. Try to understand him.
He went to him one first time. While the dwarf was reading in a corner, in his rare silent moments. He tried to talk.
Why do you read so much?
He left the conversation with a new understanding of the man and his mind, and a strange need to find a library himself. He reminded him of Kyria. She too felt the need to cultivate her mind like him and Robb cultivated their skills with swords. The sole difference would then be that Kyria wanted them to work with something else than words only.
Later that day, when Maester Aemon found him in his library, Jon talked. He didn't think about it at first, the old man just sat close to him asking for his purpose when coming to this place and Jon just talked. He shared his memories with his bookworm of a sister and the way each book of this place reminded him of her. Maester Aemon answered with his own tales and Jon learned more about the old men in this sole hour than he had in the year he spends up there.
He thought about it later. There only did he understood what happened. He had done just like Tyrion Lannister. He had talked and asked questions until the person in front of him allowed him to know things he wouldn't have otherwise.
Was it the thing Kyria wanted to teach him when she was so insistent about the right question?
Jon started again on the morrow. And the day after. And the one after that. With his friends first, Tehn and Edd and Kevar. Then Grenn and Pip and Rat and the others he was training.
Like with Tehn he asked why they were here, then he elaborated. Asking about their childhood, their lives before the Wall, what they expected from this new life.
Anything he could think of.
He talked too of course. To them and to the Lannister dwarf too to his surprise.
Days followed each other like that until Yoren decided it was time for him to go back South. Tyrion Lannister and his guards followed him, the little man being finally tired of the Wall and its weather.
"I will talk to my sister the Queen about this place," he said to Jon.
"Will she listen?"
The man smiled a sardonic one, and didn't answer. It didn't matter, Jon knew.
"Good luck around there Bastard," he said then.
"Aye." smiled Jon. When had he started to smile when Tyrion called him that? "And you too dwarf."
They smiled and then he was gone.
Jon watched him leave with the strange impression of having learned more of him than he expected.
"What do you think Jon?" asked uncle Benjen, a hand on his shoulder, as they watched the gates getting close behind the imp and Yoren.
"Of what?"
"Of dear Lannister imp?" snorted the older Stark. "a true well breed southern noble if I ever saw one. Or, well, half one."
Jon hummed.
"He is more than he looks," he said simply.
Uncle Benjen looked at him, intrigued by such an answer, but Jon didn't elaborate. In truth, he didn't know what else to say. Tyrion Lannister was a complicated man.
"He certainly is something." said uncle Benjen after some time. "let's just hope he will stay true to his word and talk to the Queen about the state of this place."
"I think he will," said Jon confidently.
He just wasn't sure that the Queen would listen. Tyrion didn't seem to think so.
"Any news about Bran?" asked uncle Benjen.
"He woke up," said Jon somberly.
After another moment of silence, Jon opened his mouth to say what his uncle seemed to want to say himself.
"You are leaving aren't you?" he asked softly.
"Aye. We heard disturbing news from beyond the Wall."
"What news?"
"Stories. Myth. I hope."
He didn't say more, and Jon didn't ask. He had learned early in his life as a sworn brother not to ask about his uncle's missions. At first, it was because they were hurting him. To know his uncle was away, living the life Jon had dreamed of was hard. But then, he had just didn't want to. Somehow not knowing allowed him to think that his uncle would come back safely.
He could tell himself that the danger wasn't so big.
It became a habit of some sort. Each time he had a new mission, Uncle Benjen would tell Jon. And Jon would not ask any precision.
"It will certainly take a couple of months." said uncle Benjen.
"Very well," answered Jon.
The plea for him to stay safe was left unsaid. He couldn't show weakness. Not even for his family.
On the morrow, Jon watched as his uncle rode right into the haunted forest, flanked by two other rangers, his heart heavy with worry.
It was the last time he saw his beloved uncle Benjen.
TBC.
So? What do you think? Good? Bad? Awful?
I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied with this chapter. I put everything I needed to put in there, but... I don't know it feels like something is missing.
I wished to include Sam's arrival too, but I had already a lot of things said in this chapter, so I thought better to leave it that way with Benjen's departure and disappearance Beyond the Wall. Even though technically it's a Cliffanger, we all know what happened to him after that.
I took a lot of liberties with the watch ^^' I just thought someone like Jon wouldn't be satisfied as a Stewart for an entire year without at least trying ot do something else. He doesn't last long in the show but by then he's already with the Wildlings so it doesn't really count ^^
I wanted to show that in this world, where Jon spend one full year on the Wall before going beyond it, he couldn't live the exact same things and have the same reactions to the people he met. I like to think that Jon would have been well-liked at the Wall at some point without the Free Folks business. So putting Jon on the Wall can give him a bit more of a good reputation in it before those events. That's also why I had this idea of little squads.
As I already said, I only watched the show so everything I know about the Watch come from what I remember about it in the show. I know Thorne didn't like it when Jon trained the men, both before and after his excursion beyond the Wall. And once he becomes Mormont's personal Stewart we don't see him train anymore. So I had this idea.
If I'm wrong well... sorry ^^'. I kind of like it this way.
Finally, the OC. Don't worry they won't have a lot of importance in the plot, beside being Jon's friends. I only thought it would be normal for him to make other friends while Grenn Pip (is it the right wait of writing BTW?) and Sam as they are not here yet. And with more friends, Jon is more part of the Wall. See what I mean?
ANYWAY, I hope you liked this one! Do not hesitate to share your opinion! As always thank you so much for following, commenting or just liking this story! I really appreciate that! Thank you all for taking the time to read me and I hope you'll like this one as much as the others!
Now, before I leave you I will (FINALLY) answer some of the last reviews I received ^^ Sorry for not doing that before!
Guest (3 Jan): euhm... I literally didn't know this paring existed xD It's an interesting idea but no I don't think I'll do something like that. Not on this story at least ^^
SarahELupin: Thank you! I hope you'll like this one as well ^^
M: Thank you so much for all your comments! It's always such a pleasure to read you ^^. As for the tourney, well we'll see it next chapter! As i said i wanted to put this one before because the tourney is kind of a central point in the plot and as such I think we needed to see what happened to Jon before the shit start to come ^^.
Mnu: Well I did everythig I could ^^ Sorry...
Bookworm3: Wow easy there! I said I had plans for the wolves! I'm not going to kill them! Or well, some of them might die at one point but I can garantie you it won't be now!
And that's it! I know there is others, but I don't want to take to much space with this note. So to every one else I didn't include here: THANK YOU! I truly appreciate your enthusiasm and I hope you'll continue writing your opinion just as much as you did before!
See you next time!
Bubyyye!