CHAPTER TEN: The Fun Part

The first thing Jon did when he was on the Wall, after being released by Ser Allister and Donal Noye after grueling questioning, was seek out Maester Aemon.

Ser Allister and Jonos Slynt had been loath to let him go. Slynt had seemed all for an execution on grounds of desertion then and there. Donal had talked him down though, speaking first of something about his brother in a quiet voice Jon hadn't caught, and then louder about the rights of Lord Mormont.

"It's not your place, Slynt!" Donal had yelled. "It's for the Lord Commander to do, if indeed the deed is done!"

Ser Allister had reluctantly agreed. "Aye, it is," he had said. A moment passed before he suggested detaining Jon in a cell.

That enraged Donal further. He was the one who Jon had spoken to first and explained the entire story (excluding Ygritte and his brother entirely) to. When hearing what Qhorin had commanded Jon to do and how faithful Jon was, and all the information he had to share about the Wildlings and Mance, he seemed to feel he had done Jon a grave disservice. Indeed, as Jon finished, he had looked stricken.

"Jon, I-I'm sorry," he said. "We assumed you a traitor. We had from a scout that you and that wolf of yours had killed the Halfhand… and… and we thought." His horror was too much, for he stopped and stared at Jon wordlessly.

"It's fine," Jon had said tiredly.

Donal nodded, recovering quickly. "There's news from your brother as well."

"Robb?"

"Aye."

Jon sat up in his chair and looked at him intently. "What is it?"

"He has commanded-"

Whatever commands Robb had sent down were interrupted by a door slamming open and the entrance of a scowling Ser Allister.

"Why wasn't I told immediately Lord Snow had arrived?" he asked Donal.

Donal had puffed up and scowled. "You're not in command, Thorne. Command falls to me until Mormont returns."

Jon wanted to ask about Robb, and then about Bowen Marsh who had been left the Wall while Mormont was gone, but he didn't get the chance. Donal and Ser Allister were shouting over Jon then, and Jonos Slynt slunk into the room.

They debated his death, then his imprisonment, and then finally, after Jon had been made to recount his story again (and Ser Allister couldn't find a question Jon couldn't answer), Jon had been allowed to leave while they discussed.

"But you're not to leave Castle Black, Snow," Slynt had warned him, looking more like a frog than Jon remembered. "We'll need to keep you close, I think."

He had bitten back an angry retort and left the room without another word. There were brothers around, but none he recognized. He wondered when Ghost, Lord Mormont, Sam and Gilly would arrive. In the meantime, though… Jon cast his thoughts to Maester Aemon.

In all the time Jon had been on the Wall, he had never revealed his true lineage to Aemon. He thought Aemon was something like a great, great uncle through his father's blood. He had wanted to tell him the truth, knowing Aemon was likely the only member of his father's family he would ever meet. But he had resisted. It would do no good to tell him. What could come of it? Nothing but grief for the old man, he thought.

But now, when Jon would be leaving the Watch forever soon, he found he had the undeniable urge to tell him. Not to mention, Aemon would know what Robb had said, and he could look at his leg.

It was a slow walk to Aemon. He limped heavily, and the stairs were brutal.

"Maester Aemon," Jon said, standing in the doorway of the library. The old man was sitting at a table, Clydas reading something aloud from a large book to him.

Clydas fell silent. He turned to look at him, straightening and standing as he did. Aemon did not move.

"Is that Jon Snow?" he asked.

"Yes." Clydas was staring at him.

"I hadn't known you'd returned," the maester said, sounding interested.

"He hadn't," Clydas said.

"I only just did. I was shot by an arrow in my leg, Maester Aemon, I was hoping you could treat it."

The leg had pained him on the long ride to the Wall, and it pained him badly now, even with a walking stick.

"That can be arranged," Aemon said in his slightly trembling voice. "Leave us Clydas, I'm sure Jon will be sufficient help."

Clydas left, and Aemon stood and began to collect supplies. The man was nimble and quick despite his blindness and age. As he stacked bandages and other supplies on his table he said, "Sit Jon."

Jon sat. He felt vague apprehension, though after the trials of the past few days, it hardly fazed him. Aemon would keep his secret. They were, after all, family.

From the other side of the room where he was busying himself, Aemon called to him, "So I hear you're leaving the Wall soon?"

Jon's heart did a funny thing where it missed a beat. He felt like when he had once been walking downstairs and accidentally skipped a step and his stomach did an odd swoopy thing. How did Aemon know he intended to leave the Wall with Bran and Ygritte?

"What?"

Aemon was quite for a beat. "Hadn't you heard?"

"Heard what?" He managed to keep his voice from shaking.

"Your brother the King in the North sent Noye an order. You've been relieved of duty and are to be released of your vows. Your brother says he needs you with him to wage war against the Lannisters."

"He does?" Jon felt suddenly strange.

He remembered a time after he'd first come to the Wall, a few days after he'd sworn his vows when he had tried to join Robb on his own. That had been after Ned died. His friends had ridden him down and dragged him back to the Wall. At the time Aemon had said it had been honor that brought him back. Jon had asked him how that could be. Aemon had smiled and said, "I didn't say it was your honor."

Now Aemon said, "Yes, Jon Snow, he does. He's informed Noye that if he agrees he will send a hundred men to take your place, but if he does not, then not a single man will join the Watch so long as King Robb reigns in the North."

"He said that?"

"Yes," Aemon chuckled. "Noye was furious. Now tell me what happened to this leg of yours."

Jon explained how he'd been struck by an arrow, and how he had pushed it through an hour or so later. He also told Aemon that he had collapsed a few times after and fainted as well. "I drank some water though and had some food and I felt much better. Ygri- I thought perhaps it was just dehydration and blood loss that caused the fainting and weakness?"

Aemon nodded, carefully running his hands over the bandage and feeling it. Jon didn't think he had noticed his slip. "That could be," he said slowly. "It would surprise me if corruption could have moved that quickly. You said this was in the few days after you were hit?"

"Yes."

"Then I doubt it was corruption then… but there may be corruption now. Here." Aemon took Jon's hand and held it just above the bandages. "Feel the heat?"

Jon did. "And that means corruption?"

"It could. Or else your body is just trying hard to heal you. Either way, it would benefit from proper dressing, and I'll include some crushed mint and dill, which should see the infection gone if there is one."

"Thank you."

Aemon worked in silence. When he was nearing done and tying a cloth bandage over the dressed wound, Jon said tentatively, "There is something I need to tell you, Maester Aemon. I… I should have told you when I first came to the Wall."

His blind eyes moved to stare sightlessly at him for a moment before flicking back to what his hands were doing. Jon thought it must have been a force of habit. Jon waited to see if he would say something, but the maester seemed bemused.

"Before… before I left Winterfell, Lord Stark told me the name of my mother… and he told me the name of my father."

"I," Maester Aemon began slowly, "must confess I don't follow you, Jon. Eddard Stark was your father, was he not?"

Jon smiled wryly. "That's the fun part."

Maester Aemon smiled briefly at him, then finished tying a bandage on his leg. Then he sat back in his chair and cast his eyes close to Jon's head.

Jon checked that they were alone again, and the door was shut, before continuing. "Eddard Stark was as a father to me… but he was not my father. I was born in Dorne. Ned told me the story… It was after Rhaegar Targaryen fell on the Trident, and just as Robert pressed to King's Landing, but before the city was sacked. Ned was looking for Lyanna, and he was looking for her in Dorne."

Jon thought Aemon might interrupt, but the man was silent. He pressed on.

"He came to the Tower of Joy. Ned told me that she was guarded by Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning and one of Aerys's Seven. Ned slew Dayne and the others guarding the Tower. And then he proceeded inside. Lyanna was there, and she told him how Rhaegar had set aside his wife Elia Martell to marry her. She gave him the papers to prove it, and I have them with me now."

Ned had said Lyanna had wept when she was told Rhaegar had died, but Jon didn't say that now. He was quiet for a moment, then continued heavily, "Lyanna… she was dying. She'd been pregnant you see, and something had gone wrong… she died then… and when Ned left Dorne it was a child."

Aemon had grown pale as soon as Jon had mentioned Rhaegar Targaryen, and still when he'd mentioned Elia Martell. Now his face was slack and blank as he sat up straight in his chair. Jon had the sum of his attention, he let the moment hang for a few seconds.

Then he said, "My uncle Eddard told me that my mother's name was Lyanna Stark. My father's name was Rhaegar Targaryen. And the name my mother and father gave me was Jaeherys Targaryen."


Later that day, Jon was summoned by Donal Noye again. There he was told what Aemon had already told him: that Robb needed him at Winterfell. Then, gently, it was broken to him that his brothers Bran and Rickon had died at Winterfell when the Ironborn and Theon took the castle.

"Oh," Jon said blankly. He stared as his feet, struggling not to let on that this was not news to him and that it, being false, did not sadden him. It angered him. He would find Rickon and Osha as he had found Bran, and he would find Theon as well.

But when they told him that Sansa had been married to Tyrion Lannister, a man that Jon had known and liked when he briefly knew him, he hadn't been able to hide his confusion, and then his anger.

"When are you planning to head to Riverrun?" Donal asked him.

"I'm not sure," Jon said after a moment's silence. "A few days, I suppose. Tomorrow, even." Probably when the wildling threat had been dealt with, but if it dragged on too long he'd have no choice but to leave it unfinished.

He nodded. "Of course, we'll send you with some men-"

"No," Jon said, stricken. During the day there had been a reprieve from assaults by Mance Raydar, but at night there was sure to be another attack, as there had been the two nights before. "I don't need anyone. I would rather slip through the North unseen, with the Ironborn about. Although I wouldn't mind meeting Theon…" he trailed off and grimaced apologetically at Donal. "But no, I don't need anyone. In fact, they'd just slow me down."

But Donal still looked anxious. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Jon changed the subject quickly. "Has there been no sign of the Old Bear?" Jon had told Donal that Wildling scouts had seen Mormont and a few others heading to the Wall. Donal had thankfully not questioned this frail story.

"None."

"Nor of Ghost?" Jon knew Ghost was still a day or so from the Wall, or at least he thought so… but he'd had no more wolf dreams since seeing Craster's Keep burn, and he could only sense Ghost far off in the distance.

"None."

Too soon, night had fallen and Mance Raydar's men had taken up their swords and spears again. Jon was on the Wall when it started.

Ser Allister had his eyes on the trees below. Jon was half a step behind and to the side of him. Horse, a man whose build lived up to his name, was on Allister's other side.

"There," Allister said needlessly when it emerged. He pointed, but they had all seen it. It was impossible not to.

"IT'S COMING!" Horse raised the shout.

'It' was Mance's turtle. It did not truly look like a turtle.

"Turtles don't have fur," Satin, a new brother from King's Landing had said when they saw the Wildlings making it.

"Most of them don't have wildlings under them, either," Pyp had said.

The turtle, such as it was, was an overturned boat. Any wildling who had approached the gate to open it in the last two nights was lying dead outside it now. Ten or more men lay there, and two giants. Such it had been for the past two days. But they were out of barrels of pitch, almost out of barrels of oil to drop on them and would be out of arrows to rain on them within a day or two. And now, Jon thought they stood at least a fair chance of opening the gate if they stayed under their fur protected mobile shelter.

"Ready the oil," Ser Allister barked over his shoulder and men hastened to obey. They were almost out of barrels, but not quite. There were four loaded, and two more held back as reserves. Men hastened to obey him, and the oil was readied.

"Light!"

The barrel was lit, and they all watched the rope burn away slowly.

The turtle was almost underneath them now, almost there…

"DROP!"

The barrel was dropped.

The wildlings holding up the boat fell to the side, and a few dropped it. The barrel had nearly broken them, but it had not burned them. Ser Allister's mouth twisted.

"READY ANOTHER!"

Another was readied. Before it was even done, Ser Allister was screaming to light and drop it. It was done.

This one broke the turtle clean in half. There had been a giant underneath, and he was the largest ant scurrying below them, seven hundred feet down.

"ARCHERS!" Ser Allister commanded. "Fire at will! I'll knight the man myself who takes down that giant!"

But it was too late by Jon's estimation. The giant and a few of his men were pressed close to the Wall… it seemed nigh impossible to hit them. Ser Allister must have realized that as well. He turned abruptly away from the sight, his face sour.

"I'm heading to the Gate," he said. He might have been talking to Jon, the only one near him, but he never looked at him. It seemed to pain him to say, but there was no one else and they both knew it, "You have the Wall, Lord Snow."

Jon stepped forward and stood where Allister had been as the man left.

"Halt archers!" Jon boomed. They were all missing and it was no good anyway. "Take up the rocks!"

This had been Jon's own idea. He'd had men haul buckets of rocks up the Wall. They were put at the feet of the archers, to drop when arrows wouldn't work. The rocks varied in size, and there were even four or five very large ones sitting next to buckets.

"Only those directly over the gate! Pyp, Gren, Satin, Horse, that's you all! Drop the ROCKS!"

Drop them they did. Jon saw a few hit, if not kill, the few free folk he could see.

"Gren, Pyp, the large one!" Jon barked, but they were both busy and Jon said a quick, "Never mind" and hurried to drop it himself before the moment passed.

He didn't watch it fall, remembering Jarl and the others that fell.

A minute later Pyp gasped then grinned at him and said, "I think Ser Allister owes you a knighthood, Jon."

It took him a moment to remember. "I hit the giant?" His aim had been poor, he was sure, but perhaps luck had been on his side. He thought privately that in the unlikely event Ser Allister did offer to knight him, he'd refuse. Knights kept the Seven, and Jon kept the old gods of his mother's family.

"Aye, right in the head too!" They peered over the edge to see. To Jon's shock, and slight regret, the giant was slumped to the ground, holding his head. Jon thought he could see the rock next to him. He didn't see any blood, but Jon knew weakness when he saw it.

"More!" he boomed. Others scrambled to take up rocks, more coming in from all sides of the Walls as the archers who weren't throwing them switched out the buckets. The giant was pelted. Jon wasn't sure how fast rocks fell when they dropped for seven hundred feet, but he was amazed the giant had lived after being hit with the large rock Jon had pushed. Surely, under this he would die.

A few minutes later as they continued, it was clear he had. Other wildlings that had been hidden under the turtle but were exposed now were running for the trees ("Archers loose AT WILL!") but the giant was still below.

A ragged cheer was taken up among the men as the assault of that evening died. Jon stepped back, then headed down off the Wall.

"Gren, you have the Wall," he called over his shoulder.

"Me?" asked Gren.

"Him?" asked Pyp. It was hard to say who was more horrified.

"What do I do if they come back?" Gren called after him.

Jon turned to look at him before he left. "Stop them."


Ghost was nearby.

Nearby and still beyond the Wall. Jon could not wait for him to come. But Donal Noye had agreed that if the wolf appeared he would be allowed through the gates and sent south to Jon. Jon expected to see him within a day or two, at the most.

So that night, assured that his former brothers would continue the fight without him as they had before, he had announced it was time for him to leave. Jon ate dinner with his brothers one last time and enjoyed it as much he could. He had wanted to see the fight finished, but it was not to be. Ygritte and Bran needed him. Robb needed him.

Donal Noye did not come to see him off. Neither did Ser Allister. Nor did Gren and Pyp or even Satin, as Jon had hoped. Instead, several members of the Watch he didn't know by anything other than their faces readied his horse and gathered to see him leave. Word had spread quickly on the Wall that Jon was leaving, off to play at war with Robb.

The brothers around him seemed friendly enough… until they didn't. Jon was on his horse, fixing his saddle bags when one of them stepped in front of him, sneering.

"Lord Snow's afraid of the Wildlings, boys," the man said. Jon couldn't help but notice he had a hand gripping the golden dagger at his belt. "Did you see? He only stayed a night with Mance Raydar outside our gates before he's off. He's had his fill of fighting and is off to cower behind the Wall with that traitor brother of his."

"It's not fear," suggested another brother from behind them. His voice was greasy. "Didn't you know, Daron? Jon Snow likes the Wildlings. I heard he even took one of them to bed!"

"Did you really, Lord Snow?" laughed the first man. "Some unwashed whore, was she, Lord Snow?"

Jon reached for his sword as soon as he said "whore" and as he did he felt a hand on the back of his neck immediately. Jon Snow was pulled down from his horse roughly. They had wanted this, he thought as he lay there trying to draw his sword. Planned it, even.

The men—his brothers—stood over him on the ground. One of them kicked him harshly in his stomach and Jon kept his silence. Then they kicked his wounded leg. Jon cried out harshly once, and then again a second later.

Something was wrong with him, but he wasn't sure what. Something was wrong with everything around him— Oh.

He knew what was wrong. He knew why he couldn't draw his sword, and why the world seemed to be spinning.

There in his chest, directly over his heart was the handle of a dagger. It was gold, he noticed, and he knew he'd been stabbed as he was pulled from the horse. Jon didn't understand, what he was seeing didn't make sense.

"Wh-what?" he managed to croak. Then the air was knocked out of him as his stomach was hit with a fist, then another knife. "I-I don't… sto- stop... wha… I don'… Why?"

Another knife took him in the chest, between ribs. Someone pulled the first one out and stuck it in his abdomen viciously.

"Wildling lover," a man above him sneered.

"Coward," spat another.

Jon groaned; someone above him laughed; and then everything fell to blackness.

Somewhere else, a white direwolf howled in pained fury while a grey thrashed wildly in a crumbling brick building. But there on the ground, Jon Snow writhed, alone and in pain. Seconds passed slowly, and there in the cold, Jon Snow died.