Jeor

The four fires crackled and burned brightly, fed by hearty timbers that had been gathered from nearby trees. Three of them, of a decent size, were situated in a triangle formation and were on the very edges of their camp, giving a bit of warmth and light but also far enough away not to choke them all with their smoke. In the center was a large fire, a doe hung above it skinned and perfectly prepared, the meat crackling and popping as it was cooked and smoked. In the morning any that was left would be wrapped and salted, in case game became scarce, but for tonight at least they would eat well.

They all needed it after what they had gone through.

They'd set up camp near a small grove of trees, the old sentinels blocking the winds and offering a dry spot for them to rest. They'd gone back to the spot where they'd been ambushed and relieved the fallen wildlings of their possessions, Jeor shoving downthe ghastliness of such pillaging in the face of their need. Benjen had still with him his ranging gear but the lack of his horse meant the comforts he might have relied on were long gone, tucked away at Castle Black with the steed that had returned. The wildlings also had gears for themselves but Jeor hadn't been able to grab anything during his flight from Crastor's save for his sword. That meant taking Forde's sleeping fur, which had been rolled and tied into a tight bundle, as well as some flint, a few knives, and a water skin. Everything else was left behind though that mattered little as it had been torn apart by the wights.

Jeor looked around the odd collection of camp dwellers, observing how they were handling the situation. Benjen was perhaps the most calm but that was to be expected, with him having dealt with this the longest. He'd promised to tell his story once they'd settled in, as he felt it was a tale that needed to be told around the light of a fire and not while fleeing the site where the Others had fallen. He'd been very firm on that, the fact that they had to keep moving. Apparently Others had a kind of connection amongst themselves, same as they did with their wights, and if there were more of their kind out there they would have been attracted to the site of their deaths. Jeor didn't mind at all… the entire canyon was cursed now in his mind and he never wanted to see it again, let alone rest his head there. He wasn't one for superstition but in these times where myths and legends walked beside him to help gather firewood he wasn't going to chance it.

Mance… he couldn't honestly tell how Mance was feeling and he got the sense that if he asked the man he wouldn't have a proper answer; or more accurately he might give five answers. Startled, just like the rest of them, at how close they had come to death. Worried about what else might be lurking in the past ready to stumble into the present day. Nervous that they might be watched. And yet also relieved that he no longer had to go it alone. 'All he wants is to protect his people… to see them safe. Women, children, babes… to know that they will not become fodder for the Ancient Enemy.' He glanced at the King-Beyond-The-Wall, who without realizing it was plucking at the air like he was holding a lute; most likely crafting a new song in his head. 'What a burden to have to know you must save so many… and what it must feel like to have it suddenly lifted without warning.'

As for Steve he was in a pleasant mood, moving about to help where he could. At first Jeor had been worried about him being near the fire, wondering if the man would have to camp far away from them lest the flames hurt him, but Steve had merely smiled and let out an amused little huff. "Nay… fire can hurt me but only as it can also hurt you. I do not need the warmth… I can function completely without it… but I don't mind being near it. It is like…" he'd paused then, considering his words carefully, "…like sleeping on bedding stuffed with straw. It is preferable of course but I can sleep on the ground all the same." Steve had been the one to select the spot for them to camp, moving about the area before confirming that it was safe. He'd left the cooking to Benjen, claiming that even when he'd been a mere man like the rest of them he had been a horrible cook, joking that he'd even burned water once. Benjen had snorted at that, Mance had managed a chuckle, and Jeor had shook his head at the bad joke.

As for the final member of the group…

"Are we not gonna talk about this?" Ygritte complained as Benjen and Mance pulled the doe that she'd brought down from the flames and began to cut off pieces for them to eat. Mance had found some heavy, leather-like leaves that had been buried in the snow and as Benjen carved off pieces of the deer the wildling ruler wrapped the pieces in the leaves and passed them around. Jeor accepted his and bit into the gamey flesh, the meat perhaps a bit too warm to safely consume without burning his tongue but the weariness from their fight and flight had left his stomach demanding something to fill it. "Are we just going to sit here and eat and not discuss the fact that there's a damn Other sitting next to us all pleased as can be. 'Oh, hello there, I'm an immortal ice demon, call me Steve, pass a bit of venison over, will ya?' For fuck's sake!"

"My lady," Steve said firmly, "language."

"…excuse me?" Ygritte asked, turning to him and shooting him a hot glare.

"We can talk without being uncivilized."

"What? You have a problem with me sayin' fuck?" She gestured at Jeor and Benjen. "Are ya like these two and don't use your cock either?"

"Ygritte…" Mance warned.

Steve though merely shook his head. "You can discuss things without being vulgar."

"Ya tellin' me the Others don't curse?"

"Oh, they do," Steve said. "Which is why we shouldn't."

Ygritte grit her teeth. "I'm gonna hurt ya, ya know that?"

"Ygritte!" Mance snapped. The wildling glared at him stubbornly but kept her mouth shut. "Enough." He turned to Steve. "Sorry about that."

"Nothing to apologize about." Steve took the venison and began to eat, much to the amusement of Jeor. He wondered what his sister would say when she heard he'd shared a meal with an Other. "But you are right, my lady, we do need to discuss things."

"We can start with you using that 'my lady' shit," Ygritte complained, Jeor feeling a headache coming on. He knew that Mance said that his people's tempers ran hot and needed release but it seemed like the young woman just enjoyed trying to pick fights. "I ain't no lady."

"You are a woman, aren't you?" Steve asked and Jeor couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or just utterly straight.

"There's a difference between a lady and a woman."

"There is?" Steve asked and now Jeor knew he was legitimately curious.

"Of course there is! A woman fights and hunts and fends for herself while a lady sits in a castle wearing dresses and getting fat and painting walls."

Benjen mouthed 'Painting walls?' and Mance just pinched the bridge of his nose; Jeor thought he was either going to moan or laugh.

Steve though was utterly baffled. "You mean to tell me that nowadays… women don't fight? They don't hunt? They don't protect their homes?"

Mance decided to step in and clear things up. "The poor folk do. They need to. But the highborn ladies? They don't."

"My sister does," Jeor stated.

Steve instantly grasped onto that. "Your sister, Lord Mormont, she is a ruler?" When he nodded Steve turned to Ygritte. "See? Ladies hunt and fight and do all the same things men do."

"Don't let Maege hear you call her a 'lady'," Benjen teased. "She won't fight you like Ygritte… she'll just smash your face in."

The wildling woman laughed at that. "What do ya know, a Southerner I might be able to get along with."

Steve though just shook his head. "I can't wrap my mind around it… why would a person's subjects stand for their lord or lady not pitching in?"

"Because that's the way things are," Jeor stated.

Mance nodded. "Times have changed since you were born, my friend. Thousand upon thousands of years." Steve grimaced at that and even Ygritte had the decency not to crow about her victory, realizing that Steve was used to a time when life was far different from what any of them knew. "I believe we should discuss things."

"I'll go first," Benjen said. "My tale is shorter and simpler than Steve's so its best to get it out of the way." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, removing droplets of grease from his lips. "I'd been sent out to find out what had happened to our lost brothers and for the first few weeks of my search I turned up nothing. I didn't even encounter any of the wild… the Free Folk." He looked to Mance who nodded in approve at the catch. "It nearly two months into the ranging when I first found signs of life… hoofprints leading out of the Haunted Forest towards the east and the occasional signs of a camp. I thought I had found the trail of a black brother who had become lost… it happens on occasion. They get mixed up in a storm and begin walking towards what they think is Castle Black only to end up near the Shivering Sea."

Ygritte snorted at that. "Never happen to one of us."

Mance merely shot her a look. "There are tales your gran has told-"

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" the young woman hollered, staring at Mance like he'd committed the most foul of betrayals. He merely raised an eyebrow and she scrunched down in a huff, nose wrinkling and face squished up like Jeor's niece Dacey used to do when told that it was time for her lessons. "Whose side are you on anyway?"

"There are no sides," Benjen reminded her. "We all see that now. I learned and accepted that when I finally found the rider. By then I'd gone farther North than I was comfortable with but I thought I was chasing after a Black Brother."

"You weren't though," Jeor said.

Benjen pulled out his water skin and took a drink. "They once were," he admitted. "The Others… it was a trap. Led me into a depression before revealing itself… and its masters."

"They actually set a trap?" Mance asked, surprised by Benjen's tale.

Jeor nodded his head in agreement. "They can. That's how they almost killed me the first time. Wights came in on their horses, slumped over dead in the saddles. It's happened a few times... Ranger takes an arrow to the throat or the belly and dies before they can even dismount. And if they are wrapped up good enough they can remain on there for weeks at a time." He shook his head. "Rangers tell tales of finding dead Brothers riding about long after death, their steeds not even realizing the men on their backs are dead. Ghoulish thing to find, to be sure. The younger rangers, it sometimes pushes them to try and get moved to one of the other branches. The stewards or the builders. The older ones are just too jaded to care... they loot the body, bury if they can, and go on their way. Though I have gotten the sense, from time to time, that a few Rangers got lazy and not even bothered to do that." He rubbed his chin in thought. "And now I wonder how many of those dead bodies were spies sent by the Great Enemy to see our lapses."

"Entirely possible," Steve stated. "A strong enough Other can see through the eyes of the wights they raise... their twisted, bastardized version of Warging." He looked to Benjen. "What you describe, a wight leading you on a chase... that was a powerful Other who did that. Wights are like wild dogs... they can remain motionless but once they get going it is hard to keep them from tearing apart anything that still breathes. To be able to have control over one for that long, to lead you so far away from your Castle Black... that worries me. It means they had a purpose and a desire for you."

"I gathered that much when the trap was finally sprung. They weren't trying to kill me, even though they had plenty of chances to do so. They wanted me to keep moving, to go deeper into places no Brother has ever tred. I knew something was wrong though when their blows sought to bruise and bludgeon rather than hack and slash."

"They wanted to convert you," Steve said with a deep frown that marred his features. "To imprison your soul and let an Other Spirit take control of your body. It is... not a pleasant fate."

"Speakin' from experience?" Ygritte asked. Steve winced and the girl, to her credit, quickly added, "I'm sorry... was just-"

"It's fine," Steve said, holding up his hand. "And no, not exactly. I am... different."

"Obviously," Jeor said with a gallows laugh.

Steve shrugged at that. "But I've fought Others who were once allies... friends... brothers in arms. Once or twice they were able to gain control, though only for a moment. It takes a very powerful soul to wrest control from an Other. And when they have their words, assuming they could do more than just scream in agony, were always the same." His eyes gained a far-away look, troubled and haunted. "'Kill me'."

They all grew silent after that, thinking of their encounter with the two Others and just how different things could have played out had Steve and Benjen not arrived. How it could have been them, locked inside of corpse's shell or made a prisoner of their own bodies, tortured for decades... centuries... fighting for a moment of freedom purely so they could beg for death...

Benjen finally began his story once more. "They expected me to try and hold them off, or to flee the other way… I knew that both of those options would never work. They had raised 20 wights and were slowly closing in on me." He looked away, body tense. "I'm not proud of it, but my only option was to flee. And to do that I had to be cruel. That horse the wight had been riding on wasn't dead… it didn't know that it's rider had perished. It deserved better than to be lit on fire-" Ygritte started at that and Jeor didn't blame her, "-but it did the trick. She went racing through their ranks in a panic, saddlebags aflame, while I leapt from my horse and sent it off the other way, letting them think I was fleeing. I hoped ti hide and make my escape after they'd chased my horse. In the confusion though I made my mistake. A few wights pursued me but when I lost my footing and slid into that crevice I was able to twist my body and slow my descent. They didn't… dashed themselves upon the rocks."

"The Others you encountered," Jeor asked, "were they the ones you saved us from?"

Steve answered. "No. The ones that you faced were mere soldiers, certainly not commanders. Benjen faced two of the White Order."

Mance grimaced. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret asking but what is the White Order?"

The heroic Other sighed. "The Others and their forces can be broken down into five groups: wights, which you have all seen. After that are Thralls… men who agree to serve the Others in exchange for power. They remain human but gain strength beyond that of mortal men. They believe it will ensure their survival but they are merely prolonging their deaths… though for some that is worth the cost of betraying humanity. Then there are low ranking Others, who can raise wights and easily dispatch the unprepared. But above them are the White Order, the Court's elite guard. They know the darker magics or are blessed with skills far beyond what a common Other can do."

"And the final one?" Jeor pressed. "The… Court?"

"The most powerful and deadly. Not just of their kind… but of all creatures that have every walked the lands. They are the ones that can break whole kingdoms. They rule over all they see and their gaze goes far. As such they seek only the most powerful in soul to take over. Their magics and skills are far beyond anything you have seen. I would say they were the things of legend but even storytellers never predicted the likes of them." Steve turned to Benjen before what he had said could fully sink in. "But we should finish your tale."

"Right," the ranger stated. "It was dark down there, the starlight and the moon that had lit the Others' trap barely visible. But I could hear them searching for me and I dared not move or make a sound. I pressed myself to the cold rock and ice, hoping they would pass on. How I would get back to Castle Black… I hadn't thought that far. I just wanted to escape. To get even a few more hours of life back. A few times I could see them high above, searching… they didn't know I'd fallen down there so they never sent any wights to look for me but it still was terrifying to have them so close. The only thing I could do was recite my oath, using it to calm my nerves." He cleared his throat and said in a firm voice, "Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death."

Jeor joined in, finding his own strength in the oath, and he could see from the corner of his eye Mance have murmuring the words. "I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

He shook his head and shot a glare at Steve. "Damn near pissed myself when you burst out of the ice behind me when I was halfway through."

"I apologized for that a dozen times," the pale man said. He turned to the rest of the group and finished Benjen's tale. "It took time to convince him to trust me but I was able to get both of us out of that crevice and make our way towards the Fist of the First Men. We would take out wights when we could, thinking they were hunting parties for Benjen here, but when we stumbled onto you three we realized that there was a bigger plot in place."

"Well, I'm thankful you happened to be there," Mance said, slicing off another piece of venison. "More so now that I've heard you story."

Jeor frowned. "What were you doing in that ice?"

"Sleeping," Steve admitted with a shrug. "That is another long story."

"What made you wake up? That poem?" Ygritte asked, Mance wincing at her dismissive tone.

Steve though accepted what she said at face value. "Yes. I… function differently than how I once did. I can heal from nearly all wounds but only if given time. It is a," he searched for the right word, "great sleep. I was vaguely aware that time had passed, like when you believe you have been awake but in reality you've drifted in and out of sleep. But the oath… it is a powerful thing. A promise. To hear another speak it drew me once more into the world of the living." He smiled slightly. "Even if you have butchered it."

"Butchered it?" Jeor asked, mildly offended that this man was making light of the Oath of the Night's Watch.

Steve accepted another piece of meat from Mance, taking a bite and swallowing down a mouthful of water before he spoke. "Perhaps for you and your… Night's Watch…" he rolled the words around on his tongue like they were a strange new fruit he'd never tasted before and he was trying to determine if it was something he enjoyed, "…but for me you have taken the oath of the Knights of the Dawn and added much to them." He made a rolling motion with his hand. "The beginning, for one. Your watch ends with your death? No… your watch ends when victory is assured or when your duty has been done."

"The Night's Watch serve til their deaths," Mance stated. "But I get the sense that isn't how it was for your Knights."

Steve let out a chuckle at that. "No… certainly not. The Knights were men of high birth and low, from all corners of the world, from every Kingdom here and across the Narrow Sea who sought to do their duty. Some did serve till they were old men, for that was their purpose, but others merely served for a few years, to supplement and support until another arose to take their place. It was common for a Knight to train his replacement, so that they could return to their homes secure in the knowledge that the realms of men were safe."

"Homes?" Benjen asked, surprised. "You mean you would return to your families? Make families of your own?"

"Of course," Steve said.

"But what of the worry that you would not be loyal to the Wa…to the Knights but instead your House?" Jeor asked.

Steve stared at him like he'd suddenly declared the sky was orange. "Loyalty to the Knights was to bring honor and glory to your family and your people. You did all you could as a Knight so that all would know the men your lands bred were noble. And when you returned and settled down with a wife and children of your own you would be proud to know that they would look upon you with pride."

Ygritte let out a laugh. "You mean you Crows have been keeping your balls full for no reason?"

Mance ignored her even as Jeor and Benjen bristled at that. "You were going to leave the Knights?"

"I was," Steve stated. "When the Others were finally driven back I was going to return home to the Westerlands. My father and my brother were accepting that I went to do my duty. The first man to achieve the title of Lord Captain of the Knights; we had existed for several decades but no man had ever earned enough votes to be Lord Captain until I. And they knew my desiree to help others and protect the innocent. But when it was all over I would have returned home… my father would arrange a proper marriage for me and I would finally be given lands of my own."

"Then what is your oath?" Mance asked.

Steve cleared his throat, setting his meat aside and giving the words all the gravity and respect they deserved. "The Night falls… but forever it shall not last. For I shall see the sun rise again. I am the sword against the darkness. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn. I am the shield that guards the realms of men." He looked down at his own shield and patted it. "I don't know where you thought we were celibate or that we awoke sleepers."

Jeor was utterly floored by what the man was saying but as he considered it a thought occurred to him. "Steve… you said you were the first Lord Captain of the Knights. There is no such position in the Night's Watch. And we are told they were founded after the final battle against the Others, when they were driven back and we thought them defeated. If our oaths are similar…"

"The Knights of the Dawn became the Night's Watch? I assumed as much."

"But it's more than that," Jeor pressed. "You were their first Lord Captain… and it is clear that you disappeared without them knowing what had happened to you. You had no wife… no children… no crown…"

"They did it to honor you. To emulate you," Mance finished.

Steve blinked before letting out a groan, rubbing his brow. "That sounds like some of them." He massaged his temples. "I became something of a symbol to them… especially after…" he waved his hand at his face and armor. "There were a few that I think would have deified me, had I allowed them. Though now it seems they actually did."

"This may be interesting for you but I am more curious how you ended up as you are," Ygritte stated. "Oaths and the Crows refusing to fuck can wait… how did ya end up becoming a fucking Other and not feel the urge to murder all of us?"

Steve, clearly fighting the urge to chide her over her curses, took a breath before he spoke, steeling himself. Jeor had seen such moods before, when young recruits to the Night's Watch would ask old Rangers for tales of adventures and the grizzled old men would brace themselves to tell tales that destroyed the songs of youth and revealed painful memories of what still haunted their nightmares.

"To understand that you have to understand my life," Steve said softly, picking up a stick and poking at the fire, pushing about some glowing ashes. "I am the second son of Lann Rogers."

"Lann the Clever?" Benjen asked. "Founder of House Lannister? Who stole Casterly Rock from House Casterly?"

"Lannister?" Steve asked, bemused by that only to sour slightly. "Stole? They say he stole it?"

Jeor held up his hand. "Others use the term 'tricked'. Those less pleased with your family would say 'swindled'. Your father was known as a great trickster… even the current Lannisters, your family's descendants, boast of this."

Steve though shook his head in frustration. "The only ones who would claim that my father stole Casterly Rock would be the Casterlys themselves and I am not surprised that cruel monsters such as them would claim such a thing." He looked at the group, eyes narrowed and jaw set. "My father led a rebellion to free our lands from the greedy and vile Casterlys. They used their power to do as they wished without punishment or hint of remorse. They would seize homes and weapons and crops to fill their halls. They would murder men purely for the sin of being more attractive or stronger in arms. They would take women and…" he glanced at Ygritte, "…well, I won't say it, not here."

"Oh piss off on not tryin' to offend my precious innocent ears. They took'em to rape'em," the wildling said bluntly. "All men do that-"

Jeor watched as Steve's eyes BLAZED blue and Ygritte pulled back, for the first time allowing fright to show on her features. Everything about the man seemed to change even if he remained the same, the kindness and the humanity giving way to power and barely controlled rage. It was like looking upon a child's room in the day only to then witness it in the black of night, when the shadows turned the joyful things of youth into monsters that lurched and clawed their way every close to the trembling young one. It had been easy to forget that Steve was an Other… he had pale skin and his hair was like spun gold but otherwise he was like any other man. But Jeor would never forget again, not seeing those cold burning eyes.

"No. All. Men." Steve ground out before he shut his eyes and shuddered. When he finally looked at them again he was back to normal, the glow having faded and his features once more than of man rather than monster. "I'm sorry."

"No… I poked a bear I shouldn't of," Ygritte admitted. The closest to an apology they'd get from her, Jeor reasoned. And though she tried to hide it he could tell that she had been startled by what she had seen.

"You did but that gave me no right," Steve stated.

Jeor cut through the tension. "So the tales of your father sneaking through Casterly Rock?"

"Those were true. It was when King Edwick Stark and King Fillius Greenhand came for a grand visit, a meeting of kings, that he truly began to use the passageways to his advantage. He whispered in their bedchambers, moved things about to create distrust between Casterly siblings, stole letters and planted false ones… eventually, by the end of that visit the Casterlys were going mad and threatened the two kings, calling them thieves and criminals and worse. King Edwick and King Fillius didn't take kindly to such threats and dealt with the Casterlys to the last one." Steve shook his head. "It wasn't a noble thing to do but it had to be done. My father did not wish to be placed in that position but we are not able to determine the roles fate will demand of us. He certainly didn't expect to be named the new lord of the Rock but took the title and sought to bring the Kingdom of the Westerlands under control. It wasn't easy of course… they looked down upon him for his small stature and "common" blood but he-"

Benjen coughed, a bit of water spraying from his lips. Jeor didn't blame him, as he'd nearly done the same thing himself.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Benjen sputtered. "Stature?"

Steve nodded simply, it clear he was used to such a question. "Yes, he was a dwarf. That was how he was able to sneak about Casterly Rock through passages no one else could." He narrowed his eyes. "I do not take kindly to insults about him-"

"It's not that," Jeor stated quickly. "It's merely… let us say that the current head of your family has issues when it comes to dwarves."

Mance and Ygritte looked at each other, not versed at all in the history of Tywin Lannister and his son The Imp, before Ygritte motioned for Steve to continue, which he did. "My brother Mikien was to be my father's heir and I supported him fully. He had always been the stronger of the two of us and it was his right as first born. I was… weak in my youth. Not like the other boys." Jeor wondered, considering how hard live was thousands of years ago, just how "weak" Steve had actually been. A child who was weak on Bear Island might be seen as a god in the softer and plumper places of the world, after all. "I trained with many in the yards but I was always behind. Luckily there were a few that were kind to me and helped me." A great cloud of melancholy suddenly came over Steve but just as quickly as it had appeared it was gone. "But as my father and brother secured our new kingdom whispers began to arise from the North. A threat was attacking settlements, a winter wind was blowing even in summer, and there were rumors of the dead rising. My father didn't want me to go, my brother neither. But I was determined to do so. Finally I received their blessing and I traveled with others to Winterfell, meeting with King Edwick's son, Prince Bran. An arrogant, cocky young man… prone to drinking and whoring and then whoring and drinking… but with a mind even sharper than my father's. We, along with a few others, made our way North towards the Walls of the North… and it was there that we first encountered the Great Enemy."

But rather than continue Steve looked out into the darkness, tensing for a moment before he picked up his shield. "You need to rest."

Ygritte though wasn't happy. "I thought you said you'd tell us about how you became…" she gestured at him.

"We have a long day ahead of us. We will be making our way on foot towards your Wall and we will not go unhindered. There will be fights to come, from the living and the dead. Rest is what we need now, not stories."

"You think I can't handle myself, is that it?" Ygritte demanded. "I'm not afraid of those icy bastards!"

"Then you know nothing, Ygritte."

Mance though placed a hand on her shoulder before she could speak. "Another time."

"But-"

"The man just spoke of dark things," the King-Beyond-The-Wall whispered to her, low and firm. "For once allow your curiosity to be held. There will be plenty of time later."

She grit her teeth before letting out a huff, looking to Steve who had risen and begun to stare out into the night. "I… suppose you're right." She wagged her finger at him, though he didn't see it with his back turned to her. "But I will have answers!"

"Of course… my lady," Steve said and this time Jeor knew he was teasing her.

"Milord," she said with a mocking bow before moving to get her bedroll laid out. Benjen and Mance set about wrapping the deer and filling their water skins with fresh snow but Jeor, his mind still puzzling over what Steve had told them, walked over to the taller man.

"I will keep watch," he said quietly. "I can sense Others and I don't need sleep, not after the long rest I had."

"I can only imagine," the Lord Commander said to the Lord Captain. "But I have a different question."

"And that is?"

"Why did your father really sneak into Casterly Rock?" Steve turned to stare at him and the Old Bear clasped his hands in front of him, looking out into the darkness. "I'm old, Captain… not as old as you in years but older in wisdom. I've dealt with plenty of people, as both the Lord of Bear Island and Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and I can tell when someone is holding something back. What is it you didn't want to admit to the others?"

"Nothing dangerous, if that is your concern," Steve said before letting out a weary sigh. "Ygritte was right… the Casterlys did take women and rape them. But if that was merely it then they might only be foul and villainous. But that was not enough for Rätsel Casterly. She was a petty creature, vain and cruel. If she believed any woman to be a potential rival she would glory in bringing her down, mocking her and tormenting her. Should King Caster III have spent too long raping a conquest she would not be returned but rather forced into servitude, made to perform the most odious of tasks. Mucking stables, picking fleas from the hunting hounds, collecting the filth from the chamber pots by hand. They would only be scrubbed clean when Queen Rätsel wished to torment them personally… bringing them into her chambers dressed in hair shirts to clean her feet with their tongues or bath her in perfumes and lotions till their hands were raw."

"Who did they take?" Jeor asked quietly.

"My mother," Steve whispered. "Her crime was loving my father. 'No man should be loved more than his king'. He… wasn't able to save her… but he freed her all the same."

He nodded and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "I'm sorry." He looked back at the camp. "I think I'll stand watch with you."

"You should rest."

"In a few minutes," Jeor promised.

The two quietly looked out into the darkness.

~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Notes: So I am editing this at 2am in the morning, pulling an all-nighter because my work is putting me on midnights this week to cover for another manager who is taking a short vacation. So if there are any real screw ups it is because I am very tired and struggling to stay awake.

For those curious about King Edwick, going "But House Star was founded by Bran the Builder!"… history is a funny thing. It loves to create heroes. And it sounds so much better that Bran the Builder was the first King In The North rather than the 12th.

Originally we got Steve's entire backstory but I decided to spread it out a bit to avoid the massive info dump.

Next time we return to Iron Point and Tony.