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Chapter Description: Jon begins cultivating allies... as well as targeting his enemies.

Please enjoy!

Year 294 AC (Before Season 1) Exact Timeframe: Mid/Late Year

Before Jon had left Winterfell, he told his father of the dragonglass mine at Dragonstone and bade Lord Stark to try to get some sort of trade going with Stannis Baratheon with the story of it being used for jewelry of all things for the Hill Tribes. The obsidian would be traded for furs or lumber. He made sure to emphasize just how important the dragonglass was as it is the only material that kills White Walkers and Wights. He also made sure to tell his father they needed to expand their food stores and glass gardens if possible.

Jon had also emphasized on trying to make the Free Folk allies, which was met with much more resistance. In the end, Jon told his father that they either did this or the Night King would have an army of over one-hundred thousand at minimum as Jon could remember the Army of the Dead as less of an army and more of a horde. Even when Dany had attacked with all three of her dragons, she had barely made a dent in their numbers.

When Lord Stark had said the Wall could hold against even that number, Jon nodded and said yes it could... in its heyday when the all nineteen castles were in use and maintained, and the black brothers could stand side by side along the top of the Wall from Westwatch to Eastwatch. Eventually, Jon wore his father down to send a letter to the Watch for both Uncle Benjen and Lord Commander Mormont to try and see if there were any rumors regarding the Dead.

He had gotten a pleasant surprise when he found his old horse Seren in the stables. Jon had known Seren when he was just a boy with Lord Stark having returned with his mother's horse who had been pregnant with the foal the two practically growing up together. The reason for Jon naming Seren as such was that it was an old name meaning Star from which Jon had gotten the idea upon seeing the glinting snowflakes on the horse's pitch black hide. It had been a surprise when Jon had gotten a notification as soon as he had petted his old steed.

[Companion Gained: Seren]
[Seren is the foal of Lyanna Stark's palfrey, Winter, and Rhaegar Targaryen's prized destrier, Storm. With Hullen's training as well as having inherited the strength and endurance of his stud and the graceful gait of his mare, this spirited stallion is ready for almost anything! All he needs is the right rider.]
[Training:
Endurance Training 1: Seren's already considerable endurance is improved with extra stamina and regeneration.
Endurance Training 2: Seren's endurance efficiency has reached its peak. This horse doesn't just gallop… it flies!
Strength Training: Seren's health is increased due to regular exercise and proper nutrition.
Swimming Lessons: Hullen has made sure that Seren knows how to swim across rivers.
Swimming Training: Hullen has put Seren through his paces when it comes to swimming so he can move through water as quickly as possible without hurting himself.]

"I guess we are a pair like our mother and father, eh, boy?" Jon spoke quietly, in awe of just how similar they were, still petting his horse gently on the snout. He tentatively warged into his horse who barely reacted. Jon suspected it was because of the bond of trust they built together that was why Seren hardly flinched as Jon finalized the bond between two. Once the bond between man and beast was cemented, Jon felt that bond become as strong and thick as bedrock filled with absolute trust and fondness. He remembered having to leave Seren back in Winterfell the first time around, and wondered what had become of him.

Had he been killed when Theon or Ramsay took Winterfell? Perhaps fed to Ramsay's hounds?

Or had Robb ridden him when he went off to war only to die in battle?

Or perhaps... against all odds he had survived through all of it and had been free.

Jon wished that last one had been true yet he knew it was likely nothing more than a nice dream.

"Seren," Jon said through his mouth as well as their bond, even as he took out an apple for his horse who munched on it happily with a nicker, "We're going on a journey. I don't know how it will end, but I know it will be difficult, so we need to trust each other. Alright?" His mount made a low squeal telling Jon he was ready for a fight, making Jon smile, "That's my boy."

"Snow! Snow! Snow!" A bird cawed at him from the rafters of the stable, causing both man and horse to jump. Jon's eyes zoomed toward the cause of the scare and found a raven staring at him and Jon sensed the presence of a warg within the bird.

Brynden.

"We'll take this to the godswood, Lord Bloodraven." Jon stated as he walked out of the stables. The raven cawed in response and flew towards the designated area. As he walked through Winterfell, Jon noticed a few people were giving him glances as he passed by. His nameday was approaching quickly and everyone had known that the Bastard of Winterfell would soon be leaving. He'd gotten several questions over the moons since he declared he would be leaving.

Was he leaving to join a mercenary company? No.

Was he leaving because of his family? Yes and no, and that's all I'm willing to say.

Where was he going then? A tour of Westeros to see what's out there in the Seven Kingdoms.

Was he going to join the Night's Watch? His response to that one always came with a smile, "Not in this lifetime."

When he reached the godswood, he found the raven standing on the branches of the heart tree. He looked around searching for anyone who might be currently inside the godswood. Finding none, Jon warged into the raven.

'Hello, Jon.' Bloodraven greeted, still in the form of a three-eyed raven and Jon in the image of Ghost.

'Lord Bloodraven.' Jon returned with a nod, 'Is there something you wished to speak to me about?'

'I do,' The Three-Eyed Raven acknowledged as he fluttered to the ground in front of Jon, 'what are your plans for when you leave Winterfell?'

Jon was surprised for a moment at the unexpected question. He briefly wondered what he should tell the Seer in front of him before asking, 'What do you mean?'

'It is just as I asked. What do you intend to do when you leave Winterfell? Do you intend to win fame and glory? Make a name for yourself? Cultivate power?'

'I,' Jon began, thinking over his response, 'I intend to acquire what I can for the Long Night. Allies, resources, food, weapons, whatever I can in preparation for the Others.'

'I see,' Bloodraven replied as if thinking it over, 'I did notice you talking with Eddard Stark about dragonglass and expansion of your food stores.'

'Been spying on us?' Jon asked without any heat. He had long expected this.

'No, young one, just observing. I approve of your actions. But you realize they will not be enough.' Jon looked away before nodding. It had been painfully obvious to him that if things happened as they had before, those food stores will be depleted quickly in the event of a war which was all too likely. As for the dragonglass, they could not bring it up as quickly as Jon had during his time mining it on Dragonstone. There would be questions asked if that happened, and with questions came problems. Jon realized that Bloodraven was continuing, 'Is there anything else you had in mind?'

'I need to understand my magical abilities more, as well as cultivate allies. The Free Folk would be my first choice, but I have no means of contacting them.' Jon admitted.

'The Free Folk, hmmm? You would be courting death by allying with them.' The Three-Eyed Raven was not condescending despite the words. He almost sounded contemplative.

'I am courting death with or without them. At least by making them allies of the Watch I can prevent the Night King from gathering a few thousand more to his army.'

'True,' Bloodraven conceded, 'but the Night's Watch and the Free Folk have been enemies centuries before even I was born.'

'It doesn't matter.' Jon stated evenly, 'It does not matter to the Night King who will kill them all either way. It does not matter if we run because he will chase us to the end. If we are to stand a chance, we must face him together.'

The Three-Eyed Raven stared at the White Wolf for a long moment before a sense of approval came over their shared mind-space.

'Well said. Aside from the Free Folk and learning more about your magical gifts, did you have any other plans?'

'Other than that?' Jon questioned to which the raven nodded, 'Not much else beyond going South and seeing if I can do the same thing. Or at least reduce the number of enemies we might have.'

'Any in particular?' Bloodraven questioned.

'I don't suppose Petyr Baelish is not Master of Coin yet?' A ripple of anger came over the mind-space at the mention of the man.

'I am afraid he already is, has been for nearly two years now.' Bloodraven informed emotionlessly. Jon silently cursed at the information as that meant Littlefinger was beyond his reach for the moment. Him and Tywin Lannister had been his top targets as they were the one who could cause the most immediate strife with Cersei and Joffrey as secondary priorities. The only other enemies he could think of would be Roose Bolton and Walder Frey for obvious reasons and even they couldn't be touched as they were not only lords of the realm, but the heads of their Houses. Jon couldn't get to them without having to fight for his life and even then he'd face serious consequences at this point in time as people would start asking questions.

'Then most of the enemies I had in mind are too powerful for me to stop right now.' Jon admitted, reining his anger in at that thought, save for one: Ramsay. He was currently a Snow instead of a Bolton, 'Wait a moment...' Jon hesitated before asking, 'Do you happen to know of Ramsay Snow?'

There was a ripple of disgust that did not come from him.

'I am aware of the Bastard of Bolton. Is he an enemy you wish to remove?'

'Considering what he'll do to two people I know personally? Yes.' The thought of Theon, who was a cocky little prick right now, being turned into the broken man he'd met on Dragonstone, and the thought of what would happen to Sansa, who was a naive innocent girl right now made his blood boil, 'And given by that wave of anger I just felt, you have either seen what he does in the future or more likely seen what he's already done.'

'I have seen him hunting young women with a pack of feral hounds who have been trained to kill wolves, and a companion of his takes his... pleasure from the poor girls' corpses.' Now Jon's disgust rippled through the shared space, 'While I would tell you where he is...'

'You mean to say you will not?' Jon asked, shocked.

'Roose Bolton has his son watched by several men who partake in these hunts. If you go to kill him, you may be overwhelmed.'

'How many?'

'Eight, with seven of them participating in these hunts.' Jon stopped cold at that. Seven men including Ramsay as well as a pack of vicious trained hounds against him alone without any Valyrian steel. He would be overwhelmed before he could kill half of them. If he ambushed them with a bow and arrow maybe, but... no. No, Bloodraven was right. Jon would get overwhelmed and if he were lucky they'd kill him on the spot. It was that or they'd torture him before bringing him to Roose Bolton who could then use him against House Stark.

No... no, it would not be wise to make a move against Ramsay Snow right now. The plan now remains largely the same.

'Looks like I need to focus on getting stronger and gaining allies then.' Jon stated, more to himself than Bloodraven.

'I may be able to help in that regard if you are willing to accept it.' Jon stared at the Three-Eyed Raven, contemplative. Bran, possessed by Drakhan or not, had been an unbelievably powerful Greenseer, capable of not only seeing the past and visions of the future, but also able to control multiple animals, something which took exceptional strength to do for a warg. Jon had no real expectations of becoming as strong as Bran had been, or will be as seemed to be the case. That being said, Jon could not turn down the opportunity though he was skeptical of it.

'And why would you want to help me, Lord Bloodraven?'

'Because I want what you want.'

'And that is?'

'Peace.'

'I have long since learned that not everyone shares the same idea of peace as I do.'

'Then what does peace look like to you?' Jon stopped and contemplated it. He knew the Peace he had and he knew the Peace that he wanted.

'The peace that I wish for is the one where the Iron Throne is nothing more than a memory and the people I cherish are alive and well.'

'It is a nice thought... but it may be impossible to acquire.'

'I know,' Jon replied solemnly, 'but it is what I wish for.' There was exasperation mixed with melancholy over the connection.

'Very well then. Unless circumstances become so dire that I am unable, I will help you, Nephew, in acquiring this impossible dream. Come to me here,' The image of a cave entrance, a cleft in a wooded hillside, halfway up, between some weirwood trees. Above the cave lay an ancient and massive weirwood tree with a face carved on its trunk. The following image was a map of the lands Beyond the Wall with an X just a bit northeast of the Fist of the First Men, 'When you do, I will train you in the ways of skingchanging and greensight.'

'Are you trying to make me your successor, Bloodraven?' Jon queried curiously. It sounded like it given that Bran had done similar things.

'No,' The Three-Eyed Raven stated, 'You know who that is meant to be. That has not changed, if anything, it may happen sooner. Surely you have sensed it.' Jon winced, knowing what Bloodraven was talking about. Who he was talking about. Jon had been able to sense the Stark siblings' warg powers growing at a steady rate, save for Bran and Rickon's. Their powers had effectively doubled over the course of time since Jon's return while their older siblings had progressed half as fast. At the rate they were growing their powers were going to manifest soon. Most likely in the form of Greendreams, 'You are not the only one who must cultivate allies, Jon. With Drakhan influencing things beyond my sight, I need any assistance I can get.'

'I see,' Jon reviewed the knowledge that was passed over to him. He wished magical knowledge could be done similarly, but alas it wasn't meant to be. The wargs who taught him had spoken that doing so could accidentally twist the connection causing deadly problems for both sender and recipient as the one receiving the knowledge could act on it subconsciously. A warg skinchanging into a person was dangerous enough. Two wargs skinchanging into each other at the same time? It would be a total disaster.

'You know the trip will take at least 2 months from Castle Black alone, and that's not counting the Others or any members of the Free Folk looking for easy prey.'

'I have long since taken steps for that. When you arrive at Castle Black speak to Aemon. Tell him who you are and that a friend Beyond the Wall returned something for you. And keep the raven. He will be of some help to you as well as I. Not only will he enable us to communicate, I have taken the liberty of training him to send messages to most places including every regional capital and city.' And with that, the connection was severed leaving Jon alone to warg back into himself.

Once he was back in his body, Jon looked to the raven who was waiting for him patiently. He held his arm out, elbow cocked and the bird flew over to perch on his forearm. The raven did not look any different from any other raven that Jon had ever seen before. Even if this particular raven wasn't uniquely looking by any means, it needed a name for Jon to call it.

"Can I call you Raven?" He asked. The crow cawed in his face giving him the distinct impression that it did not appreciate the name. Its breath was rank-smelling, making Jon's eyes water as he flinched at the harsh noise. Right, ravens and crows were carrion eaters.

"Then how about... Corben. Is that better?"

"Corben!" The crow cawed in agreement.

[Companion Gained: Corben]
[As a wild raven from Beyond the Wall, Corben has not had any formal training, but he has come to serve you at his master's bidding. Intelligent and clever, Brynden has taken it upon himself to bestow Corben with the necessary knowledge to best serve your interests. All you need to do is warg into him to finalize the bond.]
[Training:
Messenger: Through warging, Bloodraven has transferred the names and locations of most of the castles in Westeros to Corben's mind. He's able to carry messages to whichever castle you wish him to go to.
Common Tongue: Corben can understand Common and even speak a few words.
Heightened Perception Range: When warged, Corben can be used to great effect while in the air and is able to hear and spot danger from a good distance away.]

For the first time in this life, and fourth time in decades, Jon stood at the gates of Castle Black. Memories of his old life came to the front of his mind. As a boy of sixteen, Jon had thought the Order of the Night's Watch was a respectable order, and indeed had respectable men in its ranks. However, he had been sorely disappointed to find it in the state it was when he arrived. The North was the only kingdom which regarded the Night's Watch as an honorable vocation while the rest of the kingdoms viewed it as a penal colony. And they treated it as such. They ship north criminals and bad men or just unfortunate souls who've come under bad luck and force them to take the black. Therefore, there were numerous members of the Night's Watch who weren't honorable or good, and the cold did little to change that.

Criminals, smallfolk, orphans, outcasts, thirdborn sons, those who had nowhere else to go. Coming north to make something out of themselves. And there were other bastards in Castle Black aside from Jon himself.

Jon remembered the chip he had on his shoulder when he met Grenn and Pyp. It had taken Tyrion Lannister of all people to tell him of how lucky he had been. The questions he had asked Jon popped into his head now as the gates opened. How many of them grew up in a castle? How many of them held a sword before they joined the Night's Watch? How many learned how to read and write? How many ate regularly? How many of them had a father to love them and claim them as their own?

Old memories directed him to where the stables were to take Seren as several black brothers watched him. He dismounted his horse to hear footsteps moving towards him from behind. Turning around to see his Uncle Benjen, Jon smiled and happily embraced the man who returned it with equal enthusiasm. It was wonderful to see his Uncle again considering the last time had been when Benjen saved Jon from the Dead at the cost of himself.

"Ned sent a letter saying you were on your way. He must have waited quite a bit for you to arrive so shortly." Benjen said, smiling as he pulled away.

"Probably wanted it to be a surprise or something." Jon said airily, fighting the wince that came when he realized that there was a downside with Fast Traveling. He'd had the presence of mind on Fast Traveling to Mole's Town to appear coming north, but he hadn't thought that Lord Stark would send a letter after telling him he would visit the Wall first.

"Well, Nephew, welcome to the Wall." Benjen said as he led him up to the Lord Commander's Tower. As they walked Jon looked around at what had once been his home for several years. The Lance, the tallest tower at the castle, though only a third of the height of the Wall, was slim and crumbling. The King's Tower, a hundred foot tall round tower with merlons atop it, overlooked the gate and the foot of the wooden stair leading up the Wall. Reserved for honored guests and named for kings, no king has visited the tower in over a hundred years in Jon's time. At least not until Stannis Baratheon. Hardin's Tower still had that broken battlement, from which stone has spilled into the yard below and is still severely leaning. Has no one thought to clean that up? The Silent Tower and the Tower of Guards still looked like the strongest of the towers at least.

His gaze trailed over the elevator winch before moving around on the ground floor. The common hall, a great timbered keep, seemed to be full with the brothers taking their meals. Jon wondered if the crows were nesting in the rafters at this time. Though that was only a few thanks goodness since most nested in the rookery. Jon's eyes wandered over to it to see Maester Aemon's quarters located in the stout wooden keep beneath it. Jon spied the armory beside it where the equipment for weapons practice were kept. Donal Noye was still forging weapons and armor there. Beside that was the old Flint Barracks where most of the brothers reside. Nearby was the Shieldhall which was a feast hall of dark stone. In years past, when the Night's Watch was much larger in number, its walls had been hung with rows of brightly colored wooden shields. When a knight took the black, his shield would adorn its wall and he would take up the plain black shield of the brotherhood. Jon wonders if there would be any shields there right now but doubts it.

"Ned had sent word that you had been attacked. That you were almost killed in the godswood of all places." Benjen spoke out as they went up the wooden steps.

"Aye, I was. For a few moments... it seemed like the end." Jon admitted, trying not to lie. He knew he couldn't reveal information freely, even with family as much as he'd like to.

"He implied as much... said he and your siblings were losing their minds over it. We'll have to go to the Heart Tree just beyond the Wall to thank the Old Gods for this mercy." Jon was about to say there was no need yet stopped as he thought of it. Yes, he could just get whatever Bloodraven had left with Maester Aemon, leave Castle Black, and then Fast Travel past the Wall, but... something felt off. Like he would be doing things wrong... like he was missing an opportunity. He heard a caw overhead and felt a tug in the back of his mind that he associated with Corben.

[Quest Acquired!]
[Seizing Opportunity: Whether by chance, fate, or perhaps divine intervention, you feel an opportunity arise by going with your Uncle Benjen beyond the wall. Seize it!]
[Main Objective: Listen to your gut.]
[Bonus Objective:?]
[Bonus Objective:?]
[Bonus Objective:?]
[Bonus Objective:?]
[Bonus Objective:?]
[Bonus Objective:?]
[Bonus Objective:?]
[Bonus Objective:?]
[Bonus Objective:?]
[Bonus Objective:?]

Jon fought hard not to react to the list of bonus objectives. He can't remember ever seeing so many on a single quest! What in the world could just going out to the Heart Tree, not a mile away from the Wall lead to? Then he remembered when Sam and he took his vows at it and how it led to Lord Commander Mormont almost being murdered in his bed and Jon subsequently acquiring Longclaw... and everything else that led to.

Alright, perhaps it will be worth it in the long run.

"You know what, Uncle? I think that's a great idea. We should do that tomorrow."

It was late into the night now. After a long day of working beside the black brothers, as a means of earning his keep as per the agreement with Lord Commander Mormont, whom Jon was silently ecstatic to see again, and having to deal with Ser Alliser Thorne, whom Jon was less than pleased to see which was mutual with the sour knight, Jon sat down in the library and began reading... waiting for the final person he wished to see once more.

His insides twisted at the thought of seeing Aemon again.

Aemon had been a friend and mentor, giving wise counsel to Jon during his time as Lord Commander. It killed him a little when he realized that despite the fact that they were kin neither had been aware of it. It was a strange if cruel irony, he supposed: Jon had been bound to the Wall believing all his family dead, alone, unable to help at all, the same as Aemon, and yet both were kin unknowing of one another, supporting each other. Aemon had been the deciding factor that made him Lord Commander while Jon had always done his best to see to it that the old man had comfort when he could. Aemon had been the one to save Jon from Thorne and Slynt when the two thought to execute him for desertion.

In his depression while living with the Free Folk, after killing Dany, Jon tortured himself with the what-ifs. Among them was what if Maester Aemon had lived long enough to meet her, or if she came to Wall earlier. He'd imagine the older Targaryen's final days would be a bright spot for both of them. That maybe Aemon's influence, short as it might have been, could have prevented Daenerys's spiral into madness. However, Jon suspected that maybe they would have started their relationship sooner as a consequence too. It may not have been so terrible. At least they would have more time together before the truth ripped them apart.

An old, fragile hand was suddenly on his shoulder making him jump.

"My goodness!" A familiar old voice spoke, shaking just a little, "I do not need my eyes to see you are far too deep in thought, young man. What troubles you?" An old wizened face with pale violet eyes asked. Maester Aemon Targaryen looked just as Jon remembered him even decades later: balding with white hair still along the top and back of his head, clouded milk-white violet eyes, wrinkled and shrunken.

Still no less a wise, very old dragon.

"Just... thinking of past mistakes, Maester Aemon." Jon replied slowly.

"A voice I do not recognize. If I must hazard a guess, you are Jon Snow, son of Lord Eddard Stark." The elderly maester stated as he moved to sit down with Jon moving to help him, "No need, lad, I know my way around this library better than any other place in Castle Black. But," The old man sat down gingerly, "you have not answered my question, Jon Snow. What weighs down on you so that even a man as blind as I can see it?"

"What exactly have you heard about me, maester?" Jon asked haltingly. He was afraid of how wrong this might seem. Aemon was going to be the second person he revealed his secret to and worried he might actually kill the old man by doing it. Said old man smiled.

"Oh! Even we have heard of the attack in the godswood of Winterfell. Lord Stark's naturalborn son nearly killed right in front of the heart tree. Many of the brothers here that grew up in the North were unhappy at hearing of such sacrilege." Jon did not answer, thinking over how it happened as Maester Aemon continued, "Still, it was good news to hear of your recovery. Whispers say the Old Gods themselves protected you from death though I'm sure Winterfell's maester had a hand in it."

Jon kept thinking it over: his return and Maester Aemon, and the perfect words came to him as his mouth unconsciously spoke them, "Kill the boy, and let the man be born."

"What did you say?!" The Maester said, smile replaced by one of pure shock. Tell him, Jon yelled to himself.

"It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born. You told those words to your brother Aegon V when he was chosen by the Great Council to be king. I was half his age when you told me that."

"We have never met before tonight." The elder whispered, still in shock.

"When I was attacked in the godswood... I died." Jon admitted to which Aemon inhaled sharply, "As my soul left my body, I... experienced a... vision of sorts, I suppose."

"A vision?" The maester asked curiously, though still stunned.

"One that spanned years, decades. An entire different life, one I'm sure I would have lived had I not been attacked..." And so Jon told Maester Aemon of his journey to Castle Black after the death of Jon Arryn, Hand to King Robert. He spoke of how he was steward to Lord Commander Mormont, the War of the Five Kings, the Conflict beyond the Wall, Daenerys Targaryen hatching dragons, and the Others returning. All through it all, Maester Aemon listened silently with rapt attention. He did not ask questions or interrupt with a scoff or snort. He just listened as he always had when Jon explained his reason for making a decision.

Then Jon came to the part he was most dreading, "However nothing was so shocking as when I found out the truth about my mother and father," He licked his lips before proceeding, "It turned out that my mother was Lyanna Stark... and my father... my birthfather... was Rhaegar Targaryen." Aemon inhaled sharply at that, "When I found myself back in Winterfell, alive once more, I confronted Lord Stark. And he confirmed it. I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his second wife, Lyanna, whom he married in the sight of the Old Gods and New. Before she died on her birthing bed, my mother named me... Aegon Targaryen." Aemon exhaled, almost gasping then he raised his hands.

"May I?" He asked as his old hands came towards Jon's face. Jon merely grabs them and places them on his cheeks, silently giving his Uncle permission. The old man's fingers traced Jon's cheeks and nose before moving downward to his chin moving back up to his forward as he asked, "Your coloring?"

"I take after my mother in that regard: dark hair and grey eyes. Apparently the Stark's long face. Though I have been called pretty on occasion so that might be something from our family's side." He replied, jesting at the end. Wrinkled old lips quirked in a grin.

"Your coloring may be of the Starks, but from what I can feel your face bears a striking resemblance to that of my father, Maekar." He said as his hands pulled away.

"Really?" Jon was surprised by that. He always assumed he was more Stark than Targaryen. He remembered histories and stories including Maekar I, the Anvil of Redgrass Field he had been called before he was named as the fourteenth Targaryen king.

"Oh yes! My father was a very stern man, not prone to laughter or smiling. Even now I can still see his long grim face." Aemon chuckled, "You are very lucky indeed, nephew, that your mother's family bears such a similar resemblance. And more fortunate that there are none alive save myself who remember that." His chuckles ceased, "However, your name..."

"I honestly do not know why she gave me that name." Jon admitted with a shake of his head. Maester Aemon hummed in thought.

"Do you have any idea, my boy?"

"A few," Jon admitted with a shrug, "my favorite one is that she was trying to honor the princess and her son."

"And the one you dread?"

"That she was being intentionally spiteful." Jon said, looking down which prompted the maester to make a noncommittal hum.

"Any others?"

"Aside from delirium due to loss of blood?" Jon questioned before answering, "The only other explanation that made sense to me is that it would cause confusion among any who would think to kill me over it should it ever be found out. To confuse me for my brother and look for someone with Dornish features if anything."

"Each of those is very possible, perhaps more than one had actually happened. That being said... I suspect it may not have been your mother who chose your name, but your father." Jon stilled, processing that. He had never considered it would be Rhaegar who might have named him and his mother merely honored it, however...

"Why would he do that? He already had a son by that name."

"My boy, you have to understand your father was mired in prophecy. He and I would exchange letters over them, one of which regarded The Prince that was Promised." Jon froze entirely, working very hard not to react. He hated prophecies, that one in particular. Everyone who put their faith in it, who obsessed over it like Stannis and Melisandre were ultimately destroyed by it one way or another. Maester Aemon continued, oblivious to his newly revealed nephew's turmoil, "In fact he was convinced that he may have been the prophesied prince before believing it to be his firstborn son."

"Why would he believe that?" Jon questioned with a raised brow.

"According to the prophecy, this figure would be born 'amidst salt and smoke,' under a bleeding star, and pull a sword named Lightbringer from flames, which they would use to combat an impending darkness. Your father believed himself to be the one due to being born during the Tragedy of Summerhall: salt of his mother's tears and the smoke of a majority of our House burning."

"And what made him think it was Aegon instead of him?"

"There was a red comet in the sky the day Prince Aegon was born." Jon stared at him, his heart hammering inside his chest. A comet? Like the one that was meant to happen in a few years? Like the one foretold in the Weirbook of the First Men? "Rhaegar informed me through his letter that he had read an old tome of our family's, one that had been in our possession since Old Valyria. He mentioned that one of the prophecies foretold how a red star would herald the coming of ancient lords of winter."

Jon remembered Bloodraven telling him of other things similar to the Weirbook of the First Men and the Blood Amber Tear. What was it? What was it?! Oh! He said something about a Dragon's Fang, hadn't he?

"But..." Maester Aemon was still speaking, "given everything you have told me, I would think the prophesied one to be you, Nephew, as Rhaegar may have."

"I... don't understand... Uncle." Jon spoke hesitantly, unable to think clearly.

"During my correspondence with your father, he also confided in me that Elia could not have any more children due to a difficult birth with Aegon. He confided in me that he felt that the dragon must have three heads as it did when Aegon and his wives Visenya and Rhaenys began their conquest. I agreed."

"So he wanted - no - needed a third child? A 'Visenya' to complete the triad?" Jon asked with wide eyes before rolling them, scoffing, "Rhaegar would have been disappointed in me then."

"I do not think so, nephew. In fact, I think it is why he chose to give you the name Aegon. I think in the last days of the war, he may have realized that the worst was very possible and chose to name you Aegon, not to slight Elia or his firstborn, but to bequeath his hopes to you. To put his faith in you, his son." Jon did not say anything at the words. He could feel some small understanding from that viewpoint. He too had believed in his own children after all. It was a parent's duty to believe in their children. Aemon continued after a moment of silence, "I may not have met Rhaegar face to face, but his letters told me he was a good if melancholic man, one burdened with responsibility and only wished to do the right thing. A man who is vastly different from the one Robert Baratheon and his ilk speak of." That struck a few cords with Jon. It sounded all too familiar. Jon had only wanted to do the right thing too. He struggled with it, bore it like a heavy mantle. It made people rely on him, follow him, made him responsible. Perhaps... he was more similar to his birthfather than he thought.

"Still doesn't excuse the fact he dishonored his wife. That he set her aside and married another woman even if no one else knew about it."

"Perhaps." Aemon conceded solemnly, "Rhaegar did not go too deep into detail about his family life. What little I could gleam from it was that he did his duty. That seemed to be the main drive for him: duty."

"Duty is the death of love." Jon whispered out looking down, eyes stinging as he remembered the last time he uttered those words, the memory flaying him even now.

"Wise words, and the reverse is true as well: Love is the death of duty. Did I tell you that in the vision?"

"You did, Uncle." Jon took solace in the fact it was getting easier to call him that, at least.

"And it appears you learned that lesson the hard way, Nephew." An old hand gingerly moved Jon's face up to see a sad look had come across the elder's face, "And I am truly sorry for that."

"There's nothing to forgive. Though... I am a little depressed that my birthfather may not have loved my mother. That he might have tricked or coerced her somehow."

"I do not know how it began or ended. Perhaps that might be how it was..." Aemon seemed to hesitate before his wrinkled lips drew a firm line, "I think your father may have been trying to honor a promise between your two Houses while fulfilling another prophecy or something subjective to the one about the Prince."

"How do you figure that?"

"There is a subject of the prophecy that says the song of ice and fire belongs to the prince that was promised. I'm afraid I do not know the exact details, but I do know that many ascribe those names to more... primal as well as primordial forces that shape the world of men." Jon looked at him silently, confused. Aemon, having had years of experience in dealing with such things, explained, "Fire is love, passion, life... light and all things associated with it. Inversely, Ice can embody... hate... betrayal... death… darkness."

It became harder to breathe as Jon listened to his uncle's words, the meaning digging into his mind. Jon had been most if not all of those things at one point. He betrayed the women he loved. He died and returned to life. He was born of Ice and Fire and was thus both. Was he... truly... the Prince that was Promised!?

"I suspect you have already realized this, but your father... Rhaegar most likely chose your mother believing Ice and Fire to mean House Stark and House Targaryen. That he intended to honor the Pact of Ice and Fire set forth by Lord Cregan Stark and Prince Jacaerys Velaryon over a century and a half ago." Maester Aemon stood up and if the man had not been blind Jon would have sworn he would have seen fire in those pale violet eyes, "And I believe Rhaegar has succeeded in fulfilling the prophecy. The Prince who was Promised sits before me, here and now, Son of Ice and Fire, the One who Died and Lived again, descended from the line of Aerys and Rhaella, the one who has seen the darkness and will bring forth light to battle it."

Jon tried to say something, anything, but couldn't. He did not believe himself to be any prophesied savior. 'Then why did Grim take an interest in him personally? Could he not truly fit the prophecy with the way Aemon spoke of it?' A vain voice filled his mind. He shook his head to clear it. Prophecy and thrones were not his interest. They would not save the world from what was coming. They only brought ruin to those who obsessed over them. He would not do so as Melisandre had... as Rhaegar and Daenerys had.

"So tell me, Aegon." Aemon spoke as he stood, appearing like a soldier ready to follow a king's command, "What must we do?"

Jon stared at him silently, thinking on what to say. Inhaling, he spoke...

It was very cold as the snow fell lightly. Jon had almost forgotten how frigid it could be north of the Wall. Old Jon's decades of living in a world that changed from seasons lasting years to months had thrown his Younger self for a loop. After the Others were defeated everything had changed, and would change when they won. Still... Jon looked around to the expanse of white that filled the space between the Wall and the Haunted Forest... it was difficult to believe this was all the Night King's doing. Even with the power he had shown, Jon still found it difficult to believe that a single entity could cause this. Perhaps it had been him and the other walkers too. He remembered when they called on that storm when he and Rhaegal attempted to do a bombing run against them.

Jon remembered Bran saying that the Night King was the first of his kind and Grim mentioned that the Children of Forest had turned him from a man into a white walker. If that was so, then what of the other ones? Jon can vaguely recall seeing around ten or a dozen of them on the battlefield, and there was the one he killed during the ill-fated wight hunt, and the one at Hardhome, and the one Sam killed put the number up to thirteen or fifteen as far as Jon knew. Not including the Night King.

Had the others been men once? Captured and transformed by the Children as Brandon the Bloody had been? But for what purpose? The Night King alone, even without his dreaded ice blades, was more than enough for men of this era. The First Men at that point in time had been using bronze weapons which were even more useless against a white walker. Perhaps the Night King had not discovered his powers of the dead at the point and all the Children had was one powerful weapon, not the army they needed to fight the First Men. He would have to ask Bloodraven about this when he had the chance. As his thoughts turned to the Three-Eyed Raven, Maester Aemon's warning came to mind

"Be wary when dealing with Lord Bloodraven, nephew. He was not a terrible man, but he was a man loyal to his beliefs first and foremost. That makes him more dangerous than most men. It is why he was sent to the Wall in the first place when he broke his word in providing Aenys Blackfyre safe conduct. While he might have been right in viewing the Blackfyres as a threat to House Targaryen, the way he had done it had been wrong. It closed off any chance of reconciliation between the two Houses and proved himself untrustworthy. Expect him to want something."

Of course Jon expected Bloodraven to want something. Everyone wanted something. He just wasn't sure what. It seemed that he wanted to pass on his title and position to Bran, but Jon felt there was more to it than that. There was more to the Three-Eyed Raven than Brynden Rivers. He admitted as much after Jon called him out on it, but that still left him with the same question: What does the Three-Eyed Raven want?

Could it be as he said? That he wanted peace? Jon wondered what sort of peace a being who knows as much as that would desire. Well, either way Jon would find out soon enough. And if things went bad, Jon now had a means of fighting through. He still couldn't believe that Bloodraven had sent it to the Wall.

Following him back to his room, Aemon had bade Jon to help move a wardrobe over to find a small hole in the stone wall. Upon digging through it Jon found something long and folded in a tightly bound hide.

"This was found at the heart tree that the northern recruits pray at when swearing their vows not a fortnight ago. It was brought to me by the Lord Commander himself, telling me just what sword this is. He was one of the scarce few to identify it as-"

"Dark Sister." Jon whispered reverently as he looked over the legendary blade.

"Yes..." Aemon said with a nod, "if your vision holds true, you will need it when you make the journey beyond the Wall as well as any food or provisions."

"Do not worry about that, Uncle. I have everything I need now."

Dark Sister was now safely tucked away in his Inventory unbeknownst to anyone else. He practiced with a quick equip as he lay down for the previous night. He just hoped he could use it well given how little he uses a one-handed longsword.

"We are here." Uncle Benjen announced. Jon focused on what was in front of him as he beheld the heart tree, "Let's hurry and give thanks. We need to head back before nightfall. I think Old Hobb is making venison stew tonight."

That made Jon smile. Three-Finger Hobb was actually a decent cook with the right ingredients... and as long as you didn't insult him... or think about where he may have put his hands. Jon remembered when the man had made them racks of lamb baked in a crust of garlic and herbs, garnished with sprigs of mint, and surrounded by mashed yellow turnips swimming in butter when they were ready to swear their oaths. Hobb was a good sort, always trying to do well with his cooking. He could remember how well he and Sam got along with the cook saying Sam knew how to appreciate good cooking, saying the Watch needed more of his sort which Jon had agreed with silently.

"Then we should move quickly." Jon agreed as he kneeled down. He wondered if Grim could hear him, if any of the supposed gods that he insinuated were out there listening. And so Jon prayed...

He prayed that he would defeat Drakhan and the Night King.

He prayed to bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms.

He prayed that all of his friends and loved ones would live this time.

He prayed... for help to make all of it possible.

Jon wasn't sure how long they stayed there kneeling in the snow praying. It could have been a few seconds, a few minutes or longer until they were interrupted by the caw of a crow. Jon looked up to see Corben staring intently at him until the raven cawed again before flying deeper into the Haunted Forest. A ping only he heard sounded off.

[Quest Updated!]
[Seizing Opportunity: Whether by chance, fate, or perhaps divine intervention, you feel an opportunity arise by going with your Uncle Benjen beyond the wall. Upon praying, Corben called out and flew away. You may want to see where he is going.]
[Main Objective: Listen to your gut]
[Bonus Objective: Follow Corben]
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He silently debated with himself over doing it now or waiting for nightfall then Fast Traveling beyond the Wall. His gut was saying now making Jon sigh internally as he realized he was going to have to talk to his Uncle Benjen about this.

It was dark now, the only light he had was the campfire he had going. It was not too big as he feared he would attract the dead, but he suspected that was not who he was here for. For three days he planted himself here after Corben landed on the branch above him and crowed. A command from Bloodraven to wait. For whom or what he knew not. Uncle Benjen had come along after much protest, and a small scuffle which Jon had won after showing him his magical barrier. Creation and Spirit Magic were incredible when applied correctly. With no means of being able to drag him back to the Wall, Benjen had been forced to go back alone only to come back with food and provisions of his own as well as four men, all of whom with their own horses.

Three of the men Jon had seen dead and executed in his previous life.

Othor was still a big, ugly man who carried a hunting horn and an axe. Jon remembered when he had to stop him as a wight as he tried to murder Lord Commander Mormont in his bed. Yet in a way it was thanks to Othor who Jon lit aflame that they discovered the wights were weak to fire.

Jafer Flowers had been the other wight, and had to be hacked to pieces after he killed Ser Jaremy Rykker as well as four other men. He was a thin man with hair down to his shoulders, closer to Benjen's age, maybe even a little older, wielding a sword.

Next to him was the man he would kill as a wight, Ser Jaremy of House Rykker. The man seemed skilled with a longsword, and had a noble face that was usually accompanied with a sardonic smile which was absent since he got here. In fact, he seemed more impatient than anything else.

Finally, they had someone that Jon had actually sort of met before. Will was older than Jon by a few years. He was not of noble birth, but Benjen said he was a reliable soldier and a true ranger.

None of these men were happy to be here on Jon's account. They had made no secret about it to which Jon replied that they were free to return to Castle Black whenever they wished. After three days, Jon finally heard it.

A cry came in the dark from an eagle who landed on a branch a distance away. Jon could feel the presence of a warg within the eagle and knew it was not Bloodraven whose presence was already in Corben. He focused on the eagle and reached...

He was now in front of the eagle as Ghost.

"Who the fuck are you?" The eagle cried out, anger and shock radiating across the connection.

"Someone who does not appreciate being spied on." Jon retorted sharply, sending his own annoyance back.

"You crows don't belong here."

"I am no man of the Night's Watch. Now, how many of the Free Folk are coming towards us?"

"You... if you're a warg... and callin' us by that name then you're a traitor! You'll get yours when they get close enough."

"How many!?" Jon demanded, taking control of the connection.

"You'll find out soon enough, traitor." The eagle was wincing now as if in pain.

"Aye, I will." Jon confirmed as he severed the connection between the warg and his eagle.

Jon looked through the eyes of the eagle to see multiple shadows approaching them in the darkness. One was bigger than the others, giant in comparison to the regular ones. Actually... The bigger one looked a bit familiar.

Wait... it couldn't be!

Jon warged out of the eagle with a smile gracing his face. It disappeared when he heard the rangers arguing with his uncle.

"-you didn't mention he's bloody fuckin' warg, Benjen! That makes him one o' them!" Jaremy Rykker.

"Say that again Rykker and I'll gut you where you stand, brother or no. That's my brother's son who's never been to the Wall. The wildlings have the blood of the First Men, same as most of the Northern Houses."

"Explains a lot." Someone muttered.

"You lot should look alive, we got company." Jon informed calmly, making them startle.

"Company?" Uncle Benjen asked, his voice turning to steel, "How many?"

"At least half a dozen, one of them big and burly." Came his reply. With a curse, all of them save Jon, unsheathed their weapons and made ready for a fight. There was silence for a long moment as Jon listened then he heard them approach. They were being very quiet and from the sounds of it they realised that the black brothers had caught on. Now they were trying to figure out if it was smart to attack them or not. Jon would not give them that chance.

"Come on out, Tormund!" He called bringing silence to the clearing. Benjen and the others were staring at him bewildered with mounting apprehension. Then there were footsteps approaching. A single pair, but Jon knew who they belonged to. In a few moments, a lone finger came out of the darkness and into their campfire.

It surprised Jon by how young Tormund looked right now. The Tormund Giantsbane he knew, the one his children called Uncle Tormund, had died old and infirm, hair grey and most of his teeth gone, but with a smile on his face. That Tormund had been Jon's oldest and most loyal friend. He had to forcibly remember that this man was not him. This Tormund was younger, fiercer, with fiery red hair and most of his teeth in a snarl, giving Jon a look he reserved for his enemies. Clad in furs, he was as tall as he was when Jon met him. A big hulking brute of man that would one day kill Rattleshirt and Smalljon Umber if things went as they did previously. They might still regardless of what changes he made.

"Word of me must be spreading if the crows know me by name." He said, voice mixed with pride and a desire to fight.

"No, Tall-talker, just known to me." Jon replied, crossing his arms, bringing Giantsbane's attention to him, "You going to call your men and spearwives out?" The red-haired giant of a man stared at him while Jon continued to stare back, not breaking eye-contact. Tormund raised his hand then waved over as several people clad in furs came out. Half of them had arrows trained on them while the other half had clubs, daggers and axes drawn. Jon heard the Night's Watchmen next to him shuffle nervously.

Alright, they were talking... or at least not fighting yet... now what?

Several days later found Jon, his uncle, the Night's Watchmen, Tormund and a couple of other familiar faces of the Free Folk sitting around yet another campfire. Tormund and the others had been staring at him since they sat down... with two of the other Free Folk glaring at him hard. The worst part was that Jon knew them both. Well, one which Jon had known personally and the other he knew enough that he hated him.

Things had not gone well in their first meeting. There were accusations of Jon being a traitor to the Seven Kingdoms by the black brothers to which Benjen had tried to calm them down even though he had a lot of questions. When the Free Folk pulled down their hoods and one of them revealed themselves to be Ygritte, Jon hadn't been able to shut his mouth and cursed loudly. At her question he told her he knew her by name which startled her as well as the rest. And then their warg joined up looking ready for a fight, and Jon recognized him as well. He really should have known it was Orell by the eagle. Then Flowers made a crack about wildlings, then someone shot back about the Night's Watch and soon enough it looked like a blood bath was about to happen.

Jon put a stop to that by placing a barrier between the two groups much to their shock. Some of the Free Folk jumped back in fright or shot off an arrow only for it to bounce off the barrier. Jon then laid down the law: that there would be no fighting in front of him. If the brothers of the Night's Watch could not keep their gobs shut, they could very well head back to the Wall. No one was keeping them here. All of them looked toward Benjen, who merely glanced at Jon then at the barrier and back before looking to his brothers to give them a nod. They immediately became uncomfortable at the notion of leaving them behind at the mercy of wildlings and decided they would be silent for now.

Jon then turned to the Free Folk and told them that a powerful Greenseer had told him to stay right here to meet someone. He admitted he knew Tormund, Ygritte and Orell to their further confusion and suspicion. He admitted he knew about Mance and his efforts to unite the tribes much to the shock of the Night's Watchmen. There were doubts and threats thrown his way to which Jon answered by asking Tormund if his sons and daughters were alright... by name.

Jon had never met Tormund's sons since the last of them died at Hardhome while the others died at the Wall, but his daughters were a different story. Munda had not gotten stolen by Longspear Ryk yet, and little Yerra was still a tot. Yerra had been like a big sister to Jon's children in his previous life. She made sure to hammer home the lesson of womanly fury to his boys when their mother couldn't and how to put down a man when he tries to take what isn't his to his girls.

All these questions had put Tormund off kilter for the most part before he started demanding answers on how Jon could possibly know of even his youngest, banging against the barrier trying to get at Jon. Before Jon could answer they were interrupted as an entire murder of ravens and crows flew in and dropped bundles of cloth all around them. Jon did not let the barrier down a bit as Tormund hardly took his eyes off of him. When Jon demanded what was in them, it was his Uncle Benjen who answered.

"Some kind of spearheads and arrowheads. They look like they're made of some sort of black rock. Almost like glass."

Dragonglass! Bloodraven had given them dragonglass! Were they supposed to hunt a wight or White Walker? It would be suicide since both groups don't trust each other. Corben called to him by name. So Bloodraven wished to speak. As soon as Jon let the barrier down so he could talk to him, Tormund attempted to tackle him. Jon used his new ability Telekinesis, to push the big man back.

"Do not be so hasty, Tormund. I promise you, I am no threat to you and your family. I'd look after any of yours as if they were my own. Just let me speak to this old man, and then we'll settle the matter." Jon said softly before warging into Corben. Orell attempted to do the same, whether to be a little shit and try to demand answers or something, Jon wasn't sure. What did happen however had been amusing if nothing else. In their shared space, all three wargs appeared as their animals. Orell was ready to begin with a tirade or something, when Bloodraven uttered one single word, "Leave," and Orell was thrown out.

Jon's amusement had been short-lived as Bloodraven told him of what he wanted. He told him of Craster, what was actually happening to the man's sons... and the fact another was going to be born very soon. Jon's anger and rage actually forcefully severed the connection between him and the Three-Eyed Raven. When Jon returned back to his own skin he was vaguely aware of Orell kneeling on the ground clutching his head as well as Tormund and Benjen next to him arguing and ready for a fight.

And then Jon roared. He started cursing Craster, vowing vengeance, he got so loud everyone backed away from him. He kept yelling and cursing, switching between Common and Old Tongue back and forth as he paced around. Black Brothers as well as Free Folk moved to get out of his way. Finally, after several more minutes, he calmed down enough to march straight to his uncle and asked if he knew. When Benjen was confused he specified, asking if he knew Craster was sacrificing his own sons to the White Walkers and that was how their numbers are growing. The whole clearing went dead silent at that. When Benjen admitted that he did know that Craster sacrificed his sons, but did not know to whom Jon walked away from him towards the cloth bundle before tossing it to his uncle to catch. He then looked at Tormund and told him that dragonglass is the only substance that can kill wights as well as their masters and that one was coming south very soon.

He then declared he was going to kill Craster and the White Walker that was coming and they were free to join or leave. Jon did not care which. He then marched in the direction of Craster's Keep with his Uncle Benjen following after him, trying to dissuade him. Ser Jaremy, Other, Jafer, and Will silently followed after, terrified of Jon.

On the second night, they realized that Tormund and his band were following them.

On the third, Jon invited them to come share the fire which was silently refused.

He offered it the next five nights to be met with the same result.

And now here they were on the eighth night, almost to Craster's, with Tormund accompanied by Ygritte and Orell while the rest of their group stood a ways back. A couple of their members had taken the dragonglass back to the main camp.

"Well boy..." Tormund started after the silence became unbearable, "talk! How do you know me!? How do you know them!?" He gestured to Ygritte and Orell, "Because I sure as fuck never met you until a back there by the trees! And they haven't either!" Jon considered how best to explain before he stood up and began to disrobe, "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Explaining," Jon deadpanned, "I grew up in Winterfell, raised by Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and yes I know - you lot consider everything south of the Wall as South and nothing else - but everyone further south calls the lands just under the Wall the North. Anyway... I was raised knowing I wasn't his trueborn son. I knew I had no real future and would always be considered a threat to his children as a result. So, one day, a few moons ago actually, I went to the godswood... in front of the heart tree. For guidance or just to think, I can't really remember anymore. It feels like an entirely different life right now. But..." Jon got his furs off and gripped his tunic before taking that off too, "What did happen was that I was attacked by... well... let's call it a monster. This monster did this to me."

And with that he lifted up his remaining linen shirt, showing the scars all over his body. Everyone moved back, some gripping their weapons, horrified at the sight.

"Jon... how did-?" His uncle stuttered out, speechless and he was not the only one. Every single person was looking at him with shock and more than a little trepidation. After a moment Tormund stood up and walked over to him and just stared at him. Jon refused to back down as the bigger man walked into his personal space not breaking eye-contact.

"Your eyes aren't blue at least. And none of the other deadmen we've seen speak or look as alive as you." The Giantsbane's eyes softened a tad before they hardened once again, "Still don't tell me how you know me." Jon merely nodded back to the fire, for Tormund to sit who did, but did not stop looking at Jon who began to redress himself. It was fucking cold.

"As I lay there dying, with my blood pouring out of me by the bucketload, as I felt my soul slip from my body... I experienced something. Not an afterlife, but... a vision. Of a different life, you could say. It was as real to me as this moment is to all of you." Jon gestured to them, "In this vision, many things happened. I'll not go into every detail, but I'll explain what I can..."

And so he did. He talks only about certain parts: his time with the Night's Watch, Benjen's disappearance and the Others returning. He talks about the Great Ranging with Jeor Mormont and Qhorin Halfhand to which most of the Free Folk made derisive snorts, scoffs, and one spat on the ground. He meets Ygritte's eyes as he talks about meeting her, unable to execute her. He sees Tormund's smirk as he talks about mistaking him for the King-Beyond-the-Wall instead of Mance. He endures the glares from Orell as well as the other brothers aside from Benjen when he speaks about sleeping with Ygritte, and doesn't look at Ygritte when he admits it wasn't just for the mission either, nor when he tells about how he returned to the Watch.

He speaks of the attack on the Wall after mentioning the mutiny and identifying Karl Tanner as the one who killed the Lord Commander. His uncle's eyes had darkened with murder at the name even though Jon told him he couldn't do anything to the man this time. He smiles when he gets to the part about Ygritte having an arrow on him during the battle.

"That funny t'you, Jon Snow?" She scoffs having become a bit more at ease with him than the others.

"No," He replied staring wistfully into the flames, "just remembering what I felt and thought in that moment." He admitted with an easy smile that made everyone stop. "I had just gotten my face smashed in by a Thenn, maybe even their Magnar. Right on the anvil too. I in turn caved his head in with the blacksmith's hammer. And then I heard you nock your bow and when I turned to see you... everything else faded away. I was just... happy to see you again despite the fact I was probably going to die at your hand." For most of the older men around, it surprised them by just how young Jon looked at that moment, reminded that it was a boy who had been talking to them, not a man. For Ygritte, she feels herself melt just a bit at seeing his smile and hearing his buttery words. All that went away as the boyish smile fell back into a frown, "And then you were shot in the back by one of us. I didn't care who saw or if I'd get attacked as I caught you before you fell, and I held you as you died. We had our parting words, and then I grieved for you as the light left your eyes."

He continued on, not looking at them anymore, just the fire. He spoke of a southern king, not naming him as Stannis. How his army cut theirs to pieces and how Jon ended Mance Rayder's life with an arrow over letting him be burnt at the stake. He spoke of being named Lord Commander over Alliser Thorne with Maester Aemon being the deciding vote. He spoke of releasing Tormund from chains to bring Free Folk south to save them from the dead. That got a reaction from all of them. Most scoffing in derision and naming him a liar or saying it was only to kill the remnants. Jon spoke of Hardhome, of the chieftains whom he met by name including Karsi, and finally... how the White Walkers came and slaughtered everyone but the five thousand that had already been on the boats. And the Night King revealing himself as he raised the Army of the Dead.

Everyone was silent at that, trying not to look afraid and failing miserably.

"Eventually, we defeated them," He admitted to the collective shock of the group, several of which he noticed look toward their dragonglass weapons, "But that was years down the road, with several alliances and an army at the beck of a southern queen by that point, and by the end... both the Night's Watch and the Free Folk were almost completely gone. The Free Folk were reduced to a few hundred," the aforementioned gasped and cursed quietly while the brothers looked stunned, "and the Night's Watch was far fewer than that. Barely a hundred actually."

"After that, I... I just couldn't stay in the Seven Kingdoms anymore." He admitted, not going into detail on just why, "I couldn't stand the politics, the petty grievances, and the other horseshit that came with lords and kings." He got some amused snorts and laughs from both sides for that, "There wasn't much need for a Night's Watch anymore with the Others gone and the Wall was falling apart as everything began to warm up, so I left." Jon inhaled before sighing audibly, "I sincerely wish I could share this," He pointed at his temple, "with you and make you see it, but-"

"Snow! Snow! Snow!" Corben called above them, making everyone jump.

"Oh, what now?" Jon grumbled as he warged into the bird. He didn't even get the chance to say anything as Bloodraven spoke.

'There is a way. It will be your first lesson.'

He'd shared his memories with Benjen and Tormund last night, and now both groups were traveling together, or at least parallel to each other. It had been a major shock to Jon when his uncle admitted he remembered saving him from the Army of the Dead, which Jon had not even spoken of let alone gotten to. When he asked what happened to him during his ranging, however, Benjen could not answer as he did not remember it.

Benjen likened it to a dream or a long lost memory that he could only half-remember. None of the other men of the Watch wished to do it, having been disturbed enough by Jon. The Free Folk had been even more wary of it, until Tormund did as he always did by plunging balls first into the matter with little tact. Granted Benjen admitting he'd seen Tormund helping Jon in their hunt for the wight had helped.

"Fuck!" Tormund growled as he came up to him, arm held out, "Hurry the fuck up boy! I can't stand this shit no more! If this helps me better understand what the fuck you two are talkin' about then fine! Lay your damn hands on and do it!"

Jon rolled his eyes as he used a combination of warging with his Creation Magic to show Tormund the memories he had of him. Once it was over, Tormund looked at him, recognition in his blue eyes before he looked to everyone else. Recognition flashed on several people. Some looks were mixed with sadness and some with anger, but all he looked at with a knowing expression. Then he turned to Jon and gave him a very familiar grin.

"My little crow!" The big wildling bear hugged Jon, lifting him off his feet into the air as he squeezed the breath from his lungs, "I can't believe how little you are! You don't have much more to grow do you? Har!" Jon smiled through the pain.

"What about you? Less grey in your hair and more teeth in your mouth." Jon returned with a hug as Tormund put him back on the ground, his grin falling away to a more severe expression.

"Yer serious about Craster and the Others?"

"You saw how angry I got."

"Aye," Tormund nodded grimly, "little can make you that angry." He turned in the direction Jon figured Craster's Keep was, pointing his machete, "Craster is just down that way. If we leave at dawn we can be there just before nightfall."

"Aye, but the babe will come the day after, and the Walker that night." Jon informed.

"Hmmm, think it'll bring any wights we can capture?" Tormund asked while eyeing the black brother's. Jon knew what Tormund was thinking and he wished the same, however...

"As nice as that would be, I doubt it. The first time I saw it happened, it was just a single one alone. And then Craster found me and beat me bloody." That made Tormund turn to him.

"He got the drop on you?" He asked, surprised.

"Remember, this was before we met. I was green as summer grass." Jon tsked at his past self's lack of perception.

"Well this time you got me backing you up. We'll get that disgusting piece of dogshit." The redhead grinned savagely.

"Thank-" Jon started only to be interrupted.

"Tormund what the fuck?!" Orell shouted, bringing the two's attention to the warg. Everyone was staring at them with wide eyes, unable to believe what they were hearing, "You're seriously going to help a crow?!"

"He's no crow, Orell. He hasn't been one yet. An' I don't think he will ever be now." Tormund turned to him inquisitively to which Jon nodded prompting the bigger man to continue, "Aye, he won't. He's got my trust. If that's not good 'nough for the rest of you, fuck off back to Mance. I'll be by soon enough."

"And what will you be doing with that-that-that boy?!" Orell snarled, glaring at Jon hatefully.

"I'll be helpin' him kill a White Walker while the rest of you craven shits run away." Tormund turned to Jon, "Is there anything you don' want me tellin' them?"

"Hmm," Jon hummed thinking, "don't tell them about her. About... Dany."

"And anything connected to her?" He hesitantly asked after a moment. Jon knew that if he told them about the dragons they would either call him mad or believe him to be their prophet of salvation or something similar. Not to mention the chance of his true heritage being revealed as Tormund had been aware of it. If they managed to get the Free Folk south of the Wall, Jon did not need them carrying any tales about dragons. Of any sort.

"Aye." Jon replied with a nod. His oldest friend sighed exasperatedly.

"Fine. You know it's going to be harder not to, right?"

"I appreciate your sacrifice." Jon snarked, making his friend scoff.

"Dany?" Benjen asked with a tilt of the head, "Was that the name of the woman with-"

"Uncle!" Jon snapped, bringing him to a stop, "If you must know, yes. Kindly do not speak of her or there will be trouble later down the road. We'll need her help when the time comes."

"Oi, Jon Snow!" Ygritte barked, coming up to him as everyone else stopped, still out of breath from seeing a White Walker die.

"Yes, Ygritte?" Jon answered calmly, turning to face her.

"Do me." She ordered, making Jon blink. Was she asking-?

"Want to bed him now that you've seen 'Im in action?" Tormund guffawed, turning them both crimson.

"No, you fuckin' idiot!" She growled, and pointed to Jon, finger in his face, "You said this one and I were together, then I died. And when he shared... whatever it was... with you, you suddenly know a bunch o' things! I want to know what he saw!"

Jon flinched at the idea, eyes going to her bow and quiver still full of arrows. Sharing memories with Ygritte sounded almost as dangerous as facing down a White Walker and its wights alone. Then again... didn't he owe it to her? They had a history with each other... or at least he had one with her. Eventually, under the silent watchful eyes of everyone, he raised his hand and removed the glove from it. Jon looked at her, and her face softened at seeing the affection bubbling in his eyes. Jon knew that Dany would be the love of his life, but Ygritte had been his first love. Despite everything that happened between them, she would always have a place in his heart. Even when someone else owned it.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by Tormund hitting him on the shoulder roughly, "You sure you want to do that? You don't want to do anything stupid boy...more stupid than usual at least."

Jon could tell he thought the same thing Jon had.

"You're probably right, Tormund." Jon replied thoughtfully, still looking into her blue eyes which were glaring at their mutual friend, "But... well... you could use the help, I think. Mance seemed to trust her the first time."

"They've barely met at this point." Tormund informed him gruffly.

"Still." Tormund rolled his eyes. He raised his hands as he backed away.

"Alright, just be ready for her to bruise your balls."

"More like she'll cut my cock off and wear it around her neck." Jon muttered. Ygritte, who had been ready to open her mouth, promptly closed it and stared at him in shock.

"You must be tellin' the truth. 'Cause I was about to say those exact words!" She whispered out. Jon stared at her and got ready for what was coming. He gingerly raised his hand to her face. She looked at it curiously, wondering why he was treating her differently than he had with Tormund and Benjen. Realization dawned in her eyes as Jon was treating her somewhat like a lover. Jon did not even seem to realize he was doing it like this as he hand caressed her cheek. He closed his eyes. Hundreds of memories of her, or them, came to his mind's eye as he focused.

"Strike hard and true, Jon Snow, or I'll come back to haunt you."

"Did you pull a knife on me in the night?~"

"It's dangerous being free, but most come to like the taste o' it."

"The first time you've seen a giant, Jon Snow?"

"A man can own a woman or a man can own a knife, but no man can own both. Every little girl learns that from her mother. And men can't own the land no more'n they can own the sea or the sky. You kneelers think you do, but Mance is going t' show you different."

"You're mine as I'm yours. And if we die, we die. But first we'll live."

"Do you remember that cave...? We should've stayed in that cave..."

"We'll go back there."

"You know nothing...Jon Snow..."

"Snow? Did you love her? She loved you."

"She told you?"

"No. All she talked about was killin' you. That's how I know. She belongs in the North. The Real North. Understand me?"

He remembers her funeral. Making her pyre, alone. Only when he lit her aflame did he finally allow his tears to flow. He remembers Melisandre trying to seduce him, his hand on her breast, and the small amount of lust he might have felt died the instant Ygritte came to mind.

"I know... but I still love her."

Jon ended it there and pulled away from her. As his hand left her face, he noticed her follow it just a bit. Then she opened her which promptly turned to blue flames as she glared at him. The good news was that she did not hit him. The bad news? She palmed him and had a near death grip on him. Jon, who would have jumped if she did not have such a firm grip on him, froze while everyone else exchanged glances with Tormund hissing in sympathy.

"How many others?" She growled, giving his crotch a threatening squeeze. Jon could honestly say he was now afraid.

"After you?" He asked for clarification. He took her nostrils flaring as a yes, "Two others."

Ygritte's eyebrows shot up in surprise before they narrowed.

"I know any o' them?"

"That depends..." Jon glanced back at the group, to Tormund specifically, "Have they?"

"Aye." The red head replied nodding, looking ready to wince. Jon inhaled through the nose and braced himself.

"Val was my third and last." Ygritte inhaled sharply and her grip became almost painful.

"Anyone else? This southern girl... Dany wasn't it?" And like that, the pain was ignored as Jon remembered everything else, "How long after me did you meet her? How long before you shared her bed?"

"I met her three nearly four years after you died," Jon admitted woodenly, not even wincing. He heard Tormund curse in the background as Ygritte's eyes widened again while she stared into his own, "and she was the love of my life." The admission made Ygritte freeze entirely, "In the end though, she died in my arms, as you did. When she did... I wished I died too. I wasn't even trying to live after her death. Ask Tormund. He can tell you how much of a mess I was when he saw me after."

"He's not lying girl." Tormund said from behind, "Some days, I thought it might actually be a mercy to just put him out of his misery."

"Then why didn't you?" Jon asked, glancing back, not seeing his friend.

"After all the shit we had to do and swallow? Fuck no, I wasn't doing that! 'Sides," Tormund's voice was grinning now, "Val already had her eye on you even back then. And you know how stubborn she is."

"That I do." Jon huffed with a small laugh as he glanced at Ygritte.

"Did she know about this southern girl?"

"Oh, aye she knew. She gave me six beautiful children, and she knew I loved a dead woman more than I loved her... just as I knew she loved Jarl more than she loved me and would have been with him had he lived." Ygritte slowly let go of his crotch, looking him in the eyes. Her own beautiful blues were swirling with hurt anger, and Jon felt his heart crack knowing he'd caused it once again.

"And what do you intend to do now, Jon Snow? Will you take all three of us as your wives?" She asked almost contemptuously. Jon heard someone smack something behind him. He thinks it might be Tormund palming his face.

"No," Jon shook his head, "the only thing I intend for you three is to live south of the Wall until the others are defeated. And then you can live your lives happily... preferably without me in it." Ygritte gasped lightly as he looked down, "The day you and Dany met me was the day both your lives had been forfeit as far as I'm concerned. The best thing I can do is stay out of your lives as best as I can. As for Val... she'll have Jarl. I'm sure they'll be happy together."

Then Ygritte really did punch him in the face. After blackening his eye she stormed off. Tormund sighed as trudged up to his side.

"You really do know nothing." Jon refused to answer.

When they approached Craster's Keep, it was just beginning to dawn. Ygritte had rejoined them, but stayed away from Jon. Which was fine by him. It was for the best as far as he was concerned. He had Dark Sister out, waiting to be swung while he made his Uncle Benjen hold the newborn boy. Aside from Benjen and Tormund, the rest of the Free Folk and the remaining black brothers were heeding his orders at this point. Killing a White Walker in full view can make people believe in someone instantly.

There were already a few of the wives about as they approached the Keep. They all stopped and stared at them, at Jon in particular, at his sword. He scanned them, but none carried a weapon. The younger ones glanced back at the house, fearful of Craster's reaction. The older wives just stared blankly at him. Not fearful, not perplexed. They just waited for their man to come out and deal with these strangers.

He remembered their deadened looks the last time and mentally cursed Craster for the thousandth time. He looked as well for a young Gilly, but couldn't find her. He felt both perturbed and relieved. As horrible as Craster is, he was still an important part of Gilly's life at the moment. One she could do without for the better, but still. He remembered Sam and her, and Little Sam too. Memories of their little family during his time at the Wall buzzed in his head again. Jon had been a part of that family in some capacity... an uncle if anything given his relationship with Sam. That had made Gilly family too. Why else would she name her next child Jon? He guessed that made Little Sam his nephew too.

What he was about to do... would erase Little Sam forever. Thoughts of the smiling boy zoomed in his mind's eye. He felt his stomach clench in disgust. How many babes would his actions erase? His children with Val came to the forefront of his thoughts. He looked over to the babe in Benjen's hands.

How many babes would his actions save?

A muffled raised voice came from the Keep and Jon cast his thoughts aside. Now was not the time to agonize over his decisions. The door banged open and Craster stumbled through, a small axe in his hand. He narrowed in on them quickly though, focus flooding back into his beady eyes.

Said eyes widened upon seeing everyone behind Jon.

"Yeh... the First Ranger, aren't ya?" Craster said looking towards Benjen before his eyes widened upon seeing the baby, "What the fuck?! Why do you have him? Do you have any fuckin' idea-?"

"How many?" Jon asked evenly, bringing Craster's attention to him. Jon however was looking at the women around them.

"Oi," Craster growled dangerously while he raised his axe, "take yeh fuckin' eyes off my daughters and wives 'fore I cut you down to pig feed, boy!" Tormund brought his sword up ready to kill the man, but Jon raised a hand to stop him.

"How many sons?" Jon clarified, voice still dangerously even as he brought his eyes back to Craster who froze. His wives trembled upon realizing who the babe in Benjen's arms was as a woman in the background sobbed.

"Answer the question, Craster." Benjen ordered still holding the boy.

"Did you even keep count?" Jon continued to ask. Craster was looking over everyone behind Jon.

"Why are the crows and freefolk not killing each other?" He wondered aloud.

"It's what happens when you face a White Walker in combat." Jon proclaimed, his patience thinning, "Now answer the fucking question!"

Craster's baleful glare at Jon's order morphed slowly into a smile of sickening satisfaction.

"I have many sons," he said, his voice low and proud, "My loins are strong. More so than most younger men. The men today are weak. They're not even men."

Jon heard Tormund as well as the others tense and grip their weapons. The anger in the air was palpable. Craster glanced at them and seemed to lose a bit of his bravado. However it returned quickly as he raised his arms.

"Why else do you think I keep so many wives? One cunt alone wouldn't cut it. I'm a true man."

"So you don't know how many boys you've given to the White Walkers?" Jon sighed out.

Craster dropped his smile quickly, but the snarl didn't return. Instead there was a calm look on his face that could be described as reverent.

"I'm a godly man, boy. I give all I have to the Old Gods. My sons…they're strong now. And I'm their sire." He smirked, chuckling, "I'm the father of gods!"

Jon did something even he had not expected when he heard that. He laughed. It had started small. A breath, then a giggle, then a chuckle before he started almost roaring in laughter. He could feel everyone's eyes on him yet he couldn't bring himself to care. It was rich hearing Craster claim to be the father of gods when the gods themselves would spit on the man.

"Oh," He gasped for breath, meeting Craster's glare head on with his own eyes filled with mirth, "forgive me. That was too funny. You..." Jon pointed at him derisively, "a father of gods. They are not your sons any more. The moment you gave them to their real father they stopped being yours. Given what you just said, you know what they do. Well... last night, I stole not one, but two of his children from him." Jon gestured to the babe in Benjen's arms, "One you already know about, and the other, I killed," He brought Dark Sister up for emphasis, "with this."

All the eyes of the inhabitants of Craster's Keep widened at Jon's words as they took in his words.

"Th-That's not possible. Yeh lyin' boy! Gods don't die!" Craster denied, unable to comprehend the idea.

"You're right." Jon nodded in agreement making the man smile before Jon wiped it off his face, "Gods don't die. But monsters do and the White Walker I killed, the creature that shattered into ice when my blade pierced it through the chest, was most certainly a monster. And you..." Jon snorted derisively at Craster, using Bully, "father of gods? You're breeding stock, Craster. A step up from the common farm animal. Good enough not to slaughter yet. You're not a man. You're barely even human anymore. No... actually you're a disgusting animal..." He readied Dark Sister, "That I've come to put down."

Craster snarled and charged at Jon with his axe raised high.

Jon moved, following everything he knew of his Intensity Stance which was perfect for Dark Sister.

Using the Calm as Still Water ability, Valyrian steel carved through the wooden handle as Jon's elbow came up and scored the man directly in the nose. An audible crack went through the air as Craster fell to the ground. As he lay on the snow moaning Jon followed it up with an attack that was guaranteed a death blow by the Opportunist ability. He did not leave it to chance and aimed for a fatal area anyway. Craster had just enough time to look surprised as Jon stabbed his blade into his neck. Smoothly pulling out, the blade left Craster's throat with loud slick sound and blood squirted out before pouring out in a steady stream, coursing through the snow. Craster tried desperately to stop it by wrapping his hands around his throat but it was no use.

All of this happened within a few seconds.

In a single instant for Jon over fifty years of combat made themselves known in the instant Craster charged with how easily he was cut down.

Screams came from a few younger girls, but they were quickly stifled by the elders. Nobody moved. Not to attack Jon with his sword still out. Not to aid Craster still writhing on the ground. Soon enough he stilled. All was silent in the yard. Jon stepped forward and wiped his blade clean on Craster's shirt before sheathing it. He stared at the corpse, thinking back. Years ago, this man had snuck up on him to beat him bloody. Yet... Jon ended him so quickly even he had been a bit surprised.

Jon had faced the White Walker in combat and won, but he did have help from Tormund and Uncle Benjen. Craster however had been real confirmation at just how different Jon was from his previous self. Yes, Craster had snuck on him the first time while this time had been in broad daylight. Jon knew he had no training, but he had expected Craster to be like Tormund in a fight: feral yet experienced.

It underlined the gap between the boy he was and the man he grew into.

Suddenly, there was a creak as someone stepped closer. Only then, did he look up to meet the eyes of the women he just widowed. There was fear in a few of them, but most just continued to stare at him with blank eyes. Jon stood still, not quite sure how to proceed from here. Finally an older wife stepped from the ranks and walked over. She stopped at Craster's corpse, staring down at him. Jon saw a single tear run down her cheek.

She turned to face him, the strain of the tear shining in the morning light. Despite that, she was quite calm. Jon did not look away even though he wanted to. He noticed the sunlight reflected in her left eye as well. He vaguely recognized her despite the fact there was a massive bruise just below her eye. He couldn't remember her name.

"Meaning no disrespect, ser crow, Craster beat us... and worse. Your brother crows beat us and worse. We'll find our own way."

"You want to stay here in Craster's Keep?" The woman spat at the ground with hatred.

"Burn it to the ground and all the dead with it."

"Are you here to claim wives from us?" she asked, looking towards Jon and everyone with him. Jon took the question in before shaking his head.

"No." He looked around, before coming back to the woman.

She nodded slowly, turned to Craster and spat. It landed square between his unseeing eyes. She turned back to Jon.

"Then we have no quarrel with you." Murmurs broke out amongst the women. Most agreed with the sentiment while others didn't.

"He killed our protector!"

"Craster was no protector!" the elder woman shouted. Her eyes were ablaze with a fury that Jon had only seen once in his life. In an older Sansa when she faced down Ramsay. Nothing but the worst in life was responsible for such a fury.

"He kept the old gods at bay!" the young woman moaned. "What will we do when they come? Now that they have not gotten Eva's boy? More'll come to claim him!" The fury in the woman's eyes faded enough to allow fear. The realization spread amongst the group, with the murmurs growing louder and louder.

"You must leave," Jon interjected, his voice carrying through the yard and the murmurs ceased. "Take what you can and go south of the Wall. Settle so that if the North realizes the dangers beyond the Wall and opens the gates for refugees, you'll be there."

"You're a southerner, ain't you?" said the woman. She stepped closer to him. "The crows will never open the gates for us. Not for any Free Folk."

"They will for me." Uncle Benjen said, coming up to them with the babe. He held the whimpering infant towards her, who took the baby gently before holding the boy out for one of the others to take. Once the boy was safely out of sight, Benjen continued, "I am First Ranger of the Watch, and until recently..." He briefly glanced at Jon, "I was not aware of what exactly Craster was doing with his sons. Given what Craster's done, I assume no wildling would associate themselves with you?"

"Most wouldn't." Tormund answered, coming up to them with the woman nodding solemnly, "Some might, but... they'd be difficult to find."

"So it would be best to come with us." Benjen motioned to his remaining black brothers who looked unhappy yet begrudgingly nodded all the same, "We'll take you south of the Wall where you and yours can remain safe from the Others."

"And there'll be no trouble with your fellow crows lettin' a few wildlings through?"

"We're working on that," said Jon, forcing himself to breathe steadily. "As soon as he's back, the Night's Watch and Winterfell will know of the White Walkers and know that the Free Folk must come south. Not only that but Tormund here," Jon gestured to his old friend, "has the ear of Mance Rayder, King Beyond the Wall, so they'll know to try and make peace first as they come south. It's just… the idiocy of men that we need to deal with first." He gestured to Craster on the ground, holding back a flinch, "I'm sure you have experience with that."

"If we wait for men's idiocy to fade, they'll die long before they cross." The woman sighed, her eyes on her dead husband.

"It'll take time," Jon admitted, "but there's a chance. You have a chance. Take it!" She stared at Jon for a long moment then looked toward the men beside him. Out of his peripheral he saw them nod. The elder looked to him and gave a single nod before turning to her fellow wives... no... her fellow widows.

"Prepare a pyre." She pointed to Craster. "He needs to burn tonight. We'll take what we can, then we leave and we burn the rest."

A few left immediately to find material for the pyre. The rest trickled out slowly with wide eyes, not quite believing their new lot. They were Craster's wives ten minutes ago and now they were widowed. Some approached the corpse, mostly the young, to see that he was truly gone. A couple also spat on him, kicked him, taking what little vengeance they could. Eventually they all left. When she turned back towards them she had a steely yet fearful look in her eyes.

"Nine and fifty." She whispered. All three men froze at the words.

"Wot?" Tormund asked quietly while Benjen tried to steady himself. Jon's heart was racing.

"Craster has sixty sons. All of them given to the White Walkers." She looked towards where they took the baby, "Until today."

"Gods be good." Uncle Benjen whispered. Jon had to think about that. He honestly had not been aware of that bit of information! Where had they been during the Long Night? Had most of Craster's sons not survived the journey into the Lands of Always Winter? Or... had the Night King held them back on purpose? Left them to hibernate in the Far North as he had done previously in the event he failed in his crusade?

The widow walked to the entrance of the cabin, then stopped. Bracing herself against the beam of wood, she explained, "My mother was the woman Craster stole, and I... was his first daughter... his second wife. My mother gave him many sons... and I did too, as well as the rest of my daughters, and some of my granddaughters."

With those words, she walked into the cabin, and Jon knew that was all they would hear.

As the widows moved around grabbing what food and provisions they needed Jon, Tormund and Benjen were standing off to the side with everyone else. Jon had spotted Gilly earlier and noticed she seemed a bit more... cheerful than when he had met her before. He hoped it was due to Craster having not yet touched her, but he'd settle for it being for his death.

"What was that about making peace?" His uncle asked with his arms crossed bringing Jon's focus onto him. He knew this was coming.

"It's the best choice we have, Uncle Benjen." Jon replied calmly.

"They've slaughtered thousands of us!" Ser Rykker snarled, nearly foaming at the mouth, "The Wildlings have been raiding the lands below the Wall for generations!"

"Aye they have." Jon replied with a nod, "Just as we have slaughtered and hunted thousands of them for generations as well. I'm more than aware of the blood spilt between the two more than you ever will, Ser Rykker. And I know I can't convince you to forget your dead, to make peace for the sake of peace. So instead I'll ask you this: Which would you rather have? A hundred thousand Free Folk at your back or a thousand wights charging at you from the front? Let me tell you this, Ser. I've seen the latter," Everyone flinched at the reminder of his vision, "and I know what I'd prefer."

That seemed to make Rykker, and by extension the rest of the Night's Watchmen, simmer down. After Jon's story, having experienced a White Walker, and seeing one of their own raised last night, they knew just how bad things could get. The truth was clear.

Now wasn't the time to hold onto grudges. Better to deal with men than deadmen.

"So Stark here goes back to the Wall and tries to get the old King Crow to try and deal with us while I and the rest try to do the same with Mance." Tormund said before focusing on Jon, "What about you?"

"What about him? He's coming back with us." Benjen replied to the question, but Tormund didn't respond. He just kept looking at Jon.

"No," Jon said to Benjen, "while this has provided a major opportunity for when the Great War comes, it is not why I am here, Uncle." Benjen's grey eyes widened, something akin to a betrayed look swam in them, "The reason I came to the Wall was to actually go see my ally who lives on this side of it." Jon gestured to Corben who was staring down at all of them from a nearby branch.

"You... Jon..." Benjen forced a frustrated sigh out as he pinched between his eyes, "Alright, where is your ally?"

"North-northeast." Jon informed, hesitating before adding, "Past the Fist of the First Men."

"Past the-!" Benjen nearly yelled as he looked back up to his nephew before forcing his voice down, "Are you mad?! That is too far north! You'll never make it!"

Jon groaned before placing a hand on his uncle's shoulder and closed his eyes, focusing on the Grimoire. He was suddenly in the Sanctuary's war room looking down at the World Map as the book called it.

"Fist of the First Men." He called out and the magical mechanism shifted to the location with it appearing dead center of the map. When Jon exited and opened his eyes, he found his uncle looking around panicky.

"Where? How?" He asked before Jon closed his again and this time took them back to Craster's Keep. They appeared slightly away from the keep. And he could see the people they had traveled with looking around for them. Corben cawed and flew over to him, perching on his shoulder.

"Still think I won't make it?" Jon teased with a small grin.

"You can move to any place you wish?" His uncle asked after several long seconds of gaping at him.

"If I have a good idea of the place, yes. It's why I'll go to The Fist first then make my way to the cave where he is at since I've never been there before."

"Then I should-"

"Go to the Wall and make sure the Free Folk and the Night's Watch can join forces." Jon interrupted tersely, "You know what they are capable of. Of how many wights the Night King can make from them. That must not happen. Besides..." He placed his hand on Dark Sister, "I have all the protection I need right here."

"What if you run into a swarm of wights? Or even the Night King himself?"

"Then I'll run as hard as I can until I'm safe enough to move somewhere else." Benjen crossed his arms. He looked toward Craster's Keep, at everyone moving around even as they were spotted and the two groups were moving over to them.

"Where the fuck did you two disappear to?" Tormund demanded as he came up to them.

"The Fist of the First Men and back. If you can believe it." Benjen informed everyone, making them stare at Jon in utter shock.

"That's a good few weeks away!" Orell uttered out hoarsely, not believing it.

"Aye it is." Jon turned toward everyone, "I will leave all of you here. You both know what to do, but just in case: Uncle Benjen, you and the rest of the brothers need to make sure Lord Commander Mormont knows of the real danger here and why it is best that the Watch begins speaking with the Free Folk. Remind him that he is the shield that guards the realms of men. The realms of men! Tormund, you need to do the same with Mance. Beat Rattleshirt to death again if he tries to make trouble like before."

"You know I will, but what about you? You sure you don't need any company?" Tormund asked, glancing at Ygritte who was staring at Jon intently.

" 'Fraid not. I don't believe the Three-Eyed Raven likes unexpected visitors." There mumbles about a 'three-eyed crow' amongst the Free Folk. Something about the Last Greenseer still being alive. Tormund said nothing at first until he walked up to Jon and hugged him.

"Be careful out there... little crow."

"You too... your grace." He added that last bit with a smile. It worked as Tormund laughed lightly.

"We'll see each other again."

"We always seem too." As Tormund moved away, his uncle came up to him not bothering to say anything as he hugged him, "Don't worry Uncle. I'll be back south of the Wall before you know it."

"You'd better. I'll be sending a letter to your father about this, you know?"

"I suspected you would." Jon pulled away easily, "You'll make sure they'll be safe, right?" He nodded to Craster's Keep. Benjen nodded back to him, determination swirling in his stormy eyes.

"Like you said, I am the shield that guards the realms of men. They'll be fine."

"Good." Jon nodded once more as he pulled back from the group. He looked at Ygritte who hadn't stopped staring at him, "The next time we see each other... I hope you'll be happier... with someone far better to you than I ever was, Ygritte." She looked ready to tear up now. Jon turned around, not wishing to say anymore as he focused on the Fist of the First Men one more time.

He opened his eyes to an expanse of white and found himself at the top of The Fist. There was a sudden ping in his ear.

[Quest Completed!]
[Seizing Opportunity: Whether by chance, fate, or perhaps divine intervention, you felt an opportunity arise by going with your Uncle Benjen beyond the wall. In seizing it, you have opened a path to a possible partnership between the Free Folk and the Night's Watch! By completing most of the bonus objectives you have ensured a smoother attempt for peace talks between the two factions.]
[Main Objective: Listen to your gut.][Success: 10000 XP]
[Bonus Objective: Listen to Bloodraven][Success: 1000 XP]
[Bonus Objective: Tell your story][Success: 1000 XP]
[Bonus Objective: Save the baby][Success: 1000 XP]
[Bonus Objective: Kill the White Walker][Success: 1000 XP]
[Bonus Objective: Kill Craster][Success: 1000 XP]
[Bonus Objective: Share memories with Tormund][Success: 1000 XP]
[Bonus Objective: Share memories with Benjen][Success: 1000 XP]
[Bonus Objective: Share memories with Gilly][Failed]
[Bonus Objective: Share memories with Ygritte][Success: 1000 XP]
[Bonus Objective: Share memories with Orell][Failed]

Damn. He should have at least tried to share the memories with Gilly, but he had been concerned that it might affect her badly. He'd probably have to do it again at some point. For Sam if nothing else. Orell... yeah, he could not feel bad about that. He killed Orell the first time. The bastard would most likely try to kill him the second the spell finished, if he let Jon do it in the first place.

Well, at least he was much closer to leveling up now. Then he felt Bloodraven's presence in the bird still perched on his shoulder. He looked at the raven to find it staring at him quietly.

"Lead on." Jon gestured toward the direction he was supposed to go. The Raven flew quietly ahead and Jon marched after it.

Not as action filled as the previous two chapters, but I like this one enough.

Thoughts: I did not really know what was going to go into this particular chapter. I wanted Jon to start gathering friends as the baseline for this chapter and it sort of took off from there.

For animal companions: I know Jon is a warg, but until he gets Ghost and Rhaegal, I wanted him to have something else. I love Assassin's Creed and when I had Bayek use a different form of Eagle Vision, I noticed it was a lot like Skinchanging, and then I played Valhalla, and that was how I got the idea for Corben. I mentioned Corben in the previous chapters so I felt like I should introduce him in this one as well as the horse Jon would ride.

As for Seren, I took inspiration from the Fanfic: Winter Roses which had a horse that was crossbred from Lyanna's Palfrey, Winter, and Rhaegar's prized Courser, Storm. I liked that little part because Jon had something else binding him to his parents even though he didn't know it at the time. In that Fic, the horse was named Winterstorm, but I wanted a different name. I looked up several old english names and Seren stood out to me as it was a gender neutral name.

The whole thing with Bloodraven asking Jon to come north had not been planned at all. It started merely as Jon trying to figure out what to do and as I wrote through it I realized that Jon, despite what he has right now, can't take any of them on and hope to survive the repercussions. Killing any member of the current ruling family is out of the question since he would never get away with it. Same thing for Tywin and Baelish. He might have a chance at killing Walder Frey, but the man is surrounded by his entire family near 24/7. Getting into the Twins would be one thing, but getting out with no trouble is an entirely different matter. Same thing with Roose Bolton, only it'll be much worse as Roose will try to use it anyway he can to gain leverage over House Stark. Jon's best chance on this front is with Ramsay and I realized that even though Jon probably could do it, it would be too soon. And if Ramsay suddenly disappears, there are going to be questions about it as Domeric does not exist in this world making him Roose's only heir right now.

With Bloodraven and Jon, it is still early in their partnership. Neither really knows the other that well right now as opposed to the amiability they had in the previous chapter. Jon's experience with Bran is not the best, and Bloodraven is distant towards most people at least. They're still trying to see where they stand with each other. That being said, in this story, to me, Bloodraven feels a certain... kinship with Jon that goes beyond blood. Both know what it's like to love someone and lose them, both know what it's like to do a terrible thing for the sake of the many, and both know what kind of burden it is to carry something like that even though no one thanks you for it. I also like to think that Bloodraven sees a bit of himself in Jon especially when he explains what peace is to him. I imagine that Brynden Rivers in ASOIAF was much the same early on: only wishing for the realm and his family to be at peace after living through the Blackfyre Rebellions.

I wanted Jon's return to castle black to be full of memories for him and I took the book's description though I much envisioned it as the show did. Still I hoped it came out well enough. Jon and Aemon had been tricky for me. I wanted it to be a warm reunion, but I also wanted duty to be an underlying theme as both men had lived their lives by that. I also wanted to hash out why Jon's name might be Aegon, with reasons for both sides of his parents. There is no confirmation as to why... at least not yet.

I also wanted to infer about Rhaegar and Lyanna's relationship to be something between both the show and the books. I like to believe there was love between them and Jon came from that, but I also know that things are not so pretty. My general idea of R+L is that Rhaegar's initial motivations had been centered in prophecy, that the Long Night was coming and he had to do something about it. He ended up choosing Lyanna as his potential second-wife due to not only seeing her as Ice so to speak, but also her actions at the Tourney of Harrenhall, something which he admired. Lyanna, meanwhile, admired Rhaegar's more gentle characteristics like playing the harp, and found him to be a better man than Robert at least. But her main motivation was essentially trying to be free and she believed Rhaegar could give her that. That mutual admiration and motivation eventually grew into something more.

The whole chapter, especially the latter half, essentially focuses on Jon facing his past and trying to forge a new future. We really get to see lay groundwork for an alliance between the Free Folk and the Night's Watch: He gets Maester Aemon on board near instantly after the reveal, and later get Benjen, and the remaining rangers who would have died had Jon not done anything, on board as well. Now they can begin to lean on Jeor Mormont to start as well as spread word that the Others are definitely real and back. On the Free Folk side, Jon has Tormund, who is pretty much his best friend right now, as well as Ygritte who really doesn't know what to do at the moment with him since she now vaguely remembers their time together and he's got the other Free Folk who are going to spread the word that Jon killed a White Walker and he's a prophet of sorts.

On the enemy side of things, Jon has delivered a small yet effective punch to the Others in cutting off their means of new White Walkers. While I'm not sure if the Night King could have more people doing what Craster does in some way, I feel like Craster is the only one who would.

For the missing parts, like say the fight with the White Walker, I did not feel like it was necessary at this point. If I ever get to organizing it, I might add it in later, but... we'll see.

Dealing with Craster, I wanted to play with how Jon would use certain abilities with Grimoire, and I have to say, I actually liked doing it. For those of you who might say Craster went down too easily. I would normally be inclined to agree, but there is a reason that I am not giving out Jon's levels during these chapters. I do not know how strong he should be during this. I only write what feels right. And from my point of view Jon has survived war and death, has had time to adjust to his younger body, and is armed with Valyrian steel, is going to absolutely destroy Craster with his small axe.

With Jon and Ygritte, I'm unsure of how to proceed. I know they both feel something for each other, but at the same time Jon feels more for Daenerys and really does believe they are better off without him in their lives. Ygritte, meanwhile, is still pissed about everything that happened between them, but like Dany, she knows what was going through Jon's head at the time. She's more pissed off that there are other women to deal with, one she knows about, and another she can only imagine, especially since it's that one that Jon names the love of his life. And the second she sees Jon's expression when talking about Dany, she knows something massive went down, but she's not sure what, and Tormund won't tell anyone what it was either.

Okay... now... what to do for the next chapter?