Chapter 7: Snow and Ice

In all honesty, I had forgotten just how large the North was said to be.

At this stage, we had been on the road for more than a fortnight, and the Wall, a structure that I feel necessary to remind you is more than seven-hundred feet tall, was nowhere to be seen, not even in the distance over the horizon. I remained certain that I would catch a glimpse of it in any moment, but the heavy snowfalls and cold winds stinging my eyes didn't much help. At this point, I was wrapped in so many layers I looked like a giant fur-ball, and still, I found it cold enough to make me shiver. Tyrion was rather less lucky, receiving only a single fur atop his clothing, having not seen fit to acquire the appropriate clothing like I had when I had left King's Landing. He got a tattered old cloak from Benjen, the man's distaste of my uncle evident in his tone and face.

Speaking of Benjen, he appeared uncomfortable around me, clearly unhappy with the fact that a boy as young as me, and a prince at that, was making his way to the Wall, filled to the brim with rapists, murderers, thieves and every manner of scoundrel imaginable. When we made camp every night after leaving the inns to the south of us, he refused to allow me to assist, although I expressed a desire to make myself useful. Even then, I was forced to sit nightly with Tyrion as camp was made, occasionally huddling in the same spot, sharing a book. I even shared with him my unfinished plans for Bran's new saddle-brace, and Tyrion aided me in completing the design ready to be gifted to the Starks upon our return.

It was in this place that Tyrion confided in me his fascination with dragons, recounting how he once sought them out in the Red Keep, and had been both fascinated and haunted by the sight of the bones. He expressed his desire to see them once more, and I smiled, nodded and expressed to him my certainty that not only would he one day lay eyes on a dragon, he may even one day be lucky enough to ride atop it's back. Tyrion had frowned, and then snorted and laughed, only to frown once again when he realised that I wasn't japing with him. He asked me to elaborate, and I remained vague, childishly revelling in his confused scepticism.

Still, the days passed by as we progressed ever closer to the wall, till the fated day came in which Jon Snow sat himself down opposite Tyrion and me and asked his question, "Why do you read so much?"

I stayed silent, eagerly watching the two talk. Tyrion began his speech of self-deprecation, and I cut him off midway, "Well, uncle, I'm glad you weren't born a smallfolk. The world would be a lot more dull without you in it."

Tyrion offered me a small smile, more genuine than any other I had yet managed to drag out of him, and reciprocated the sentiment, "Likewise, dear nephew." He then turned his attention back to Jon Snow, completing his speech, "... and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge. That's why I read so much, Jon Snow."

I turned to Jon, "And you will find, Jon, that there is no sharper mind in all the Seven Kingdoms."

Jon looked at Tyrion after sparing me only a glance for my comment, "What are you reading about?"

"Dragons," Tyrion told him.

"What good is that? There are no more dragons." Jon said this with some degree of certainty.

Tyrion replied in earnest, his tone becoming ever so slightly acerbic as he recalled his childhood. He took Jon's horror at his words with some offence, and began to attack the Night's Watch, "... watching for grumkins and snarks and all the other monsters your wet nurse warned you about. The good part is there are no grumkins or snarks, so it's scarcely dangerous work."

It was at this point that I felt it necessary to cut in, before Tyrion could cut Jon down any further with his tongue, "Aren't there?"

Tyrion turned to look at me with an amused smile on his face, "Unless you have some fresh specimen to share, dear nephew, I should think not."

"Would you have believed dragons had ever existed, uncle, had you not seen the proof? If you hadn't seen the bones, and had only read it in books and heard it in tales, would you have believed it?"

Tyrion seemed thoughtful, "I don't know. I'd like to say I would have, but the truth is that I just don't know."

"So, you'll admit that there is some truths to legends? Even if they are exaggerated?"

Tyrion seemed reluctant to agree, but Jon spoke before he could, "Still, doesn't mean that there are dragons in the world now. They're all dead, everyone knows that."

I raised my eyebrow at the boy, "Are they?"

Jon sensed a trap, and spoke with a touch of caution in his voice, "I think so."

I simply smiled, "Tell you what, Jon Snow, if ever I stumble upon a dragon, I will send you a raven, and you can come down and see it as a guest of the prince. And if ever you stumble upon a grumkin, or a snark, or maybe even the great other, you send me a raven, and I will come North at once."

Jon observed me with curiosity evident in his eyes, "Do you like them? The creatures from the tales, I mean?"

"Not at all. If ever you do send me that raven, I will march North with my father's, or gods forbid, my brother's armies, intent on rendering those creatures into little more than tales once again."

Jon seemed confused, "Then why?"

It took a moment for me to answer, as I was unable to tell him the truth of my knowledge, and yet I found a suitable explanation, "I often find, Jon Snow, that men have far too great a tendency to keep a closed mind. I don't like to eliminate any possibility without proof. As always, once you have eliminated the impossible, what remains, no matter how improbable, must be true. And if it is true, then it only seems prudent to prepare for it. If creatures as magical as dragons could once have existed, then why not the others?" I snorted, "Hell, once upon a time, people used to say that King's Landing was a city so vile that nothing less than fire could purify it. And yet, we proved them all wrong, didn't we, uncle? No matter how improbable our feat may have been."

Tyrion's response was deliberately deadpan, "Not my grandest boast, dear nephew. I would rather tell tales of pleasing whores and making mischief than of the drudgery of plumbing."

I allowed myself to laugh, "Be that as it may, uncle, it is mine. I'm rather proud of it, actually." I turned back to Jon, "So, will you send me that raven?"

Jon eyed me for a moment, and then let out a breath of laughter, "Sure I will. If ever I do stumble upon a grumkin, snark, or otherwise, you will be the first to know."

"And you swear on your famous northern honour?"

He smiled, "I do, my prince."

With the conversation deemed over, we made our way back to camp for dinner, and the rest of the day passed without an incident of note. A few days passed us by, till eventually, the Wall came into view. On our first night, we were sent packing off to our beds, me and Tyrion being graced with a room to call our own. Several dozen more mornings passed till I found the right moment, making my way to the common hall, to Lord Commander Mormont, and requested an audience with them after they had broken their fasts. There was much grumbling, but the prince got what he wanted, once again. I took my chest, filled with all the wealth I had spent the past few years accumulating, and made my way to the Commanders Keep, lugging my chest with me all the way up the stairs. Inside, were sat Maester Aemon and the Lord Commander.

When I came in, the ongoing conversation between the two ceased, and they watched me with curious and somewhat annoyed eyes as I brought my chest to the nearest table and set it down with an almighty thud. Aemon wasn't quite looking the right way, blind as he was, but he was close enough. As I sat down, Lord Commander Mormont spoke, "So, what does the young prince want with us, heh?"

I looked the three of them over with what I hoped was a hard stare, "To give you a gift, and to request a favour."

He tilted his head in the direction of the chest I had hauled, "I assume that's the gift?"

I nodded, fished out a key hanging from a string around my neck from under my tunic, and used it to unlock the chest, throwing the lid open and revealing the fortune underneath, "A thousand dragons, give or take. Enough coin to clothe, feed and arm your men for half a year, and all the coin I have in the world."

Mormont looked genuinely speechless, "... Must be some mighty favour you mean to ask, if you're willing to sacrifice a fortune for it."

"Not at all. I just wanted to request that you keep an eye out, all of you." I turned to Maester Aemon, "Have you noticed the days grow shorter, Maester?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then spoke, "Aye. Reports from the Citadel tell us the days grow shorter. Starks are always right eventually: winter is coming."

I brushed away his concerns with a wave of my hand, "That it is, Maester Aemon, that it is. However, what truly matters is what it means."

Jeor spoke up, "And what does it mean, little prince?"

I hesitated, considering what to disclose and what to keep close to my chest, pondering the potential implications. If I kept too much to my chest, I risked the same or perhaps even a worse outcome for the Wall. Conversely, if I said too much, they would dismiss me as mad, and would likely cast my words aside with a false smile. I needed to balance this if I were to have any impact, and telling them of the Others beyond the wall would only prove counter-productive, "As you know, the last summer has been an exceedingly long one. For nine years, the gods have seen fit to grace us with warmth, and yet, winter is coming, and the Maesters at Oldtown have reason to believe it will be a particularly brutal one, far worse than any alive today has ever witnessed."

Maester Aemon nodded, "Wise and surprisingly astute words, for one so young."

I nodded at the man, even though I knew he couldn't see it, "You see, the Wall is one of the key defensive institutions of the Seven Kingdoms. The Crown and all the lords have a vested interest in the survival of the Wall and the Nights Watch to keep out the wildlings, just as it has a vested interest in the strength of the Royal Navy to protect our shores from would-be invaders from Essos. As such, I have been wondering as to the impact of winter upon the wildlings. There is a belief that it may create a sufficient enough pressure for the wildlings to seek to unify and form an army to break past the Wall. Have you heard any such rumours? Of wildlings forming an army?"

Jeor had a strange look on his face, "That we have."

I feigned a sigh and rubbed my brow, "Well, my father and the Crown may not have much to say about this, but I believe it is the duty of the Royal Family to ensure that the men of the Nights Watch have the resources needed to protect the realm. If nobody else will do it, then the responsibility falls to me. And so we must come to the favours I wish to ask of you."

Jeor nodded, "Ask them."

"If my... suspicions are proven true, I ask that the first raven you send, any of you, be to me. I should like to be informed of any developments at the Wall, and if need be, I will personally provide, to the best of my ability, whatever aid you need, be it men, or swords, or grain. I don't care if it's wildlings or the others risen again, I want to know, and I want to be thefirst to know."

Jeor looked at Maester Aemon and then back at me, "That is easily enough done. Do you have another request?"

Before I could answer, Jon burst into the chambers, panting from climbing the tower so quickly, his words panicked, "Bran," he said. "What does it say about Bran?"

Jeor looked to me, and I waved him on. Jeor unfurled Robb's letter, handing it to him to read. After a moment, Jon's face broke out with a wide smile, and his tone was filled to the brim with joy, "He woke up. The gods gave him back." Jon read the rest of the letter, "Robb says that his legs were all shattered, and that it'll take years, but that the Maester expects that he should at least be able to walk again, in time." I offered a smile to Jon, and so joyous was the news of his brothers survival, that he neglected to ask me what I was doing here instead of being with my uncle. He returned a grin, and then raced back down the stairs, no doubt to spread the news to my uncle in the common hall.

Turning back to face Jeor, I made to speak, and then opted to hold my tongue at the last second, before deciding to switch subjects, "Do you know when First Ranger Stark is due back from beyond the Wall?"

Jeor shook his head, "No."

I looked around, and then made my decision, opting to abandon my request to have Jeor specifically look out for Jon, in favour of something else, "I have a question that will sound mighty strange to hear. You see, I was wondering if you perhaps had any use for dragonglass weapons?"

Jeor frowned, "I don't think so. I've never used one myself, but from what I hear, it's far too brittle to make much use of."

I pressed the issue, "But for something like arrowheads, it might work, yes?"

Jeor tilted his head to one side, "I suppose so. But why pick dragonglass when you can have steel?"

I struggled to come up with a plausible answer, "... Because its cheaper. For me to acquire, I mean. Castle-forged steel can be mighty costly, and if I'm to honour the commitments I have made this day, any savings that can be made will be a great help."

Jeor sized me up with a hard stare for a moment, before giving me a sharp nod in the affirmative, "Aye, I believe that'll be fine."

I allowed myself a wide smile, "Excellent. I expect you should have the first shipment of such weapons within a year or two. I know its a long time to wait, which is why I brought my gold north, so that you could acquire what you need yourself before I can make the necessary arrangements."

As I stood from the chambers and made to leave, Jeor spoke up, "Why?"

"What?"

"I don't mean to sound unappreciative, little prince, but why? Why go to all this effort? And why are you so concerned with the Nights Watch? Most boys your age are too busy playing with sticks and dreaming of skirts to be bothered with the matters of the realm."

I smiled, "You will find, Lord Commander Mormont, that I am not most boys. As for my concern with the Watch, is a prince not allowed to express concern over the safety of his realm?" Jeor seemed unsatisfied with my answer, so I selected one I believed he might find more plausible, letting my smile slip off my face in the process, "They say that men come to the Wall and the Nights Watch to cleanse their sins. That they somehow redeem themselves through their service to their Watch. I know its not my fault, but I feel responsible, that day when Bran fell. I will never join the Watch, Lord Commander, on account of my position, but that does not mean that I cannot serve it, and I can only pray that it will be enough to lessen the guilt festering in my heart."

Jeor sized me up for a moment longer, and then accepted my words with a nod, "Thank you, my prince."

I smiled and left his chamber, ruminating on the consequences of my actions as I descended the steps and made my way back to my uncle in the common hall. In truth, I felt that I had done all that I could at this stage, to prepare for the wights and to shore up the Wall. Anything more, and I risked raising too many suspicions, and anything less, and I fear that nothing would have changed. For a moment, I had been tempted to find some way to save Jeor, to change things this far north so completely. And yet if I didn't, then Jon would not be able to let the wildlings south of the Wall, and the army of the dead would be all the larger for it.

Still, I hoped that at least I had managed to plant the seeds of future cooperation into the minds of Jon and Maester Aemon. If I stood any chance of actually beating the wights, I would need their support. There also remained the possibility of added political benefits gained from working with Jon in the far future. If ever I managed to get all those who would one day contest my future claim to the throne, getting them to cooperate would be far easier with Jon at my side. With a living wight on hand, there remained no doubt in my mind that I could find some way to make peace, no matter how temporary, and Jon was just the man to get it.

Most importantly, I needed to be sure that Jon would come to me for aid instead of Daenerys. Though Tyrion looked more like his book portrayal than his show portrayal, Jon Snow appeared eerily similar to Kit Harrington, and the uncertainty was unsettling. In truth, I was torn between the two timelines, and all the evidence pointed to the fact that the world I was in was a blend between the books and the show. There also remained the question of what had caused the delay in the initiation of the plot with the death of Jon Arryn, and what impact it would have on future events. So far, it didn't seem to be much, but I couldn't help but worry over it anyways.

In truth, however, that was all a topic better considered later on, when I had more information on hand. Looking up at the Wall, the vast structure made of blocks of ice stacked so high that one struggled to see the top, I abandoned my concerns in the face of an impending sense of dread.

Was I going to have to climb that?

And so Tommen builds bridges with those in the North. How many will survive what is to come?
I was really nervous writing this chapter. I really didn't know how to write Jon or Tyrion properly, not to mention Jeor or Aemon.
Let me know if I got them right, or if their dialogue needs an edit.
Feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
Hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. May be subject to rewrite in the future.