Jon

After Two and a half weeks of nothing but riding on horseback, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea finally came into view. It was Jon's first time ever seeing the castle and he had to admit he was impressed. Castle Black used a lift to get to the top of the Wall, but here, one had to climb what seemed like countless steps. Jon and his company could see dozens of men walking up and down the steps, more than Jon's ever seen in a single castle. In the Harbor were ten ships, all wearing black sails. As his riding party drew closer to the gates, a horn blasted signaling them to open.

As they entered Eastwatch, a party of brothers of the Watch Greeted them. At the front was an elderly looking man just aging after sixty. His face wore a dark grey beard from ear to ear, arching over his chin above his upper lip. Next to his left eye on his temple was a long scar reaching down to his cheekbone. His head was completely bald and riddled with brown spots. "Commander Pyke." Jon addressed as he dismounted.

"Lord Snow," he said.

"He's not a Snow," Davos said, "he's Jon Targaryen, the King of Westeros."

"Forgive me, your grace." Commander Pyke bowed his head to Jon, obviously in no mood for flattery.

"It's alright," Jon said, trying not to be demanding or boastful. "I trust you received my raven."

"I did, and all I'm going to say is you're not taking any of my men, even if your wife's the one who got them here."

"I understand. We'll only be seeking the help of the Free Folk."

"You should know," Commander Pyke said, sounding nervous, "we haven't had any Wildlings come through for two moons. They used to come at least once a week."

"Makes sense. The Night King's nearly done gathering his army."

"Well fuck, I can't understand why anyone else would want to go north then."

"Anyone else? Are there others trying to go north?"

"Follow me." Commander Pyke ordered as the horses were taken by some Essosi stewards to the stables. Jon and his company were led through the castle into the cold cells of Eastwatch. "Caught some men camping about a mile away from here a month ago. One of them knocked out ten rangers before a giant came and seized him."

"What was a giant doing here?" Brienne asked.

"Apparently the only Wildling in the world who speaks whatever the fuck giant's speak was here and they needed a translator."

"They speak the Old Tongue." Tormund informed as they all stood in front of a cell filled with four men. Two were sitting against the icy wall, huddled in the shadows. One of them was leaning against the cell gates while the fourth was lying down on a bench, resting.

Commander Pyke grabbed hold of an axe he kept in his belt across his chest. He banged against the cold steel, gaining the attention of the prisoners. "Wake up ya shits!"

The four men startled at the banging, looking over to them. The one sleeping was instantly recognized by Brienne. "Sandor Clegane, what in seven hells are you doing at the Wall?"

The Hound turned his head to her, rising up when he realized who she was. "Brienne of fucking Tarth, I could ask you the same question."

"Shut it!" Commander Pyke spat at the hound. He turned to Jon, gesturing to his prisoners. "They want to go beyond the Wall too."

"We don't want to go," one of them said, "we have too." The one who spoke stood up from his seat, revealing his face. Jon didn't recognize him. "Our lord told us that the Great War is coming. Our place, be it on the battlefield or beyond the Wall, is wherever the Lord guides-"

"Enough about your lord Dondarrion!" Commander Pyke ordered.

"Dondarrion?" Jon inquired, "Lord Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven?"

"I renounced my claim to my titles years ago." Beric told Jon. "Ever since the Lord of Light brought me back from the depths of darkness, I've served him and the common folk."

"Thoros." Ser Jorah said. The other man who sat next to where Beric was leaned closer to them, looking at who recognized him. "I hardly recognized you."

"Ser Jorah Mormont. They won't give me anything to drink down here. I haven't been feeling like myself." Thoros slouched back into his corner, huddling with what he could to keep warm.

Jon gazed over to the other man who was leaning against the cage before they entered. He had short brown hair and a short brown beard to match. "And you are?"

"Anguy." There was a pause of silence, Jon hoping someone would break it with knowledge of who he was. Anguy just shrugged, not caring if any did. "I was a soldier for House Dondarrion before I joined the Brotherhood if that helps."

"Before I was married I was Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell."

"Ned Stark's son?"

Jon sighed, not wanting to explain the whole story over again right now. "I was."

"Here we all are," Beric said, "at the edge of the world, at the same moment, heading in the same direction for the same reason."

"Our reasons aren't your reasons." Davos said, being firm in his voice.

"It doesn't matter what we think our reasons are. There's a greater purpose at work, and we serve it together. Whether we know it or not. We may take the steps, but the Lord of Light is-"

"For fuck's sake!" The Hound exclaimed. "Will you shut your hole? Are we coming with you or not?"

Jon wasn't sure at first, but he wasn't about to argue when there were good fighters willing to go with them.

"Don't you want to know what we're doing?" Jorah asked.

"Is it worse than sitting in a freezing cell, waiting to die?" Thoros asked.

"He's right," Jon said, "we're all on the same side."

Brienne looked over to Jon, being cautious of the Hound. "How can you be sure that we are?"

"We're all breathing." Jon looked over to Commander Pyke who just doubtfully shook his head as he unlocked the gates to the cell. As the cage opened, the men inside quickly walked out, eager to get someplace warmer. "We have some gear one our horses. What we can't spare we'll barrow form the Watch."

Commander Pyke just shrugged at him. "As long as you don't take my men."

They were given the Common Room to themselves to prepare. Everyone stripped themselves of any armor they had and replaced it with clothes that would protect them from the cold. As they all dressed in heavy furs and joined by six of the Free Folk, Davos brought in two rolled up clothes and set them on the table. He unrolled them, revealing many dragonglass weapons, mostly daggers and hatchets. Davos looked to the brotherhood remnants, "These are made of dragonglass, they can kill the White the Walkers-"

"And stop their soldiers." Anguy interrupted. Davos looked at him, surprised he knew. "When you're in a cell for a month, you hear things." He looked through the selection and took two of the dragonglass daggers and placed them at his hips. He looked at the weapons again, seeming troubled. "You got any arrow heads?"

Jon still had the pouch of them Abroko gave him on Dragonstone in his satchel. He pulled out the pouch and handed it to Anguy. "There's at least a dozen in here."

Anguy took the pouch from him and emptied some of it into his hand. He inspected them carefully, looking pleased. "Perfect, I just need some arrows and a bow and I'll be set." He placed the arrowheads back into the pouch as everyone else took a dragonglass weapons. The Free Folk brought dragonglass spears and a halberd for Tormund along with a Thenn axe.

"Lord Jon," Beric said, "if I remember, you said you were a Snow before you were married. What do we call you now?"

"King," Brienne told him. The other brotherhood members looked up at him. "You stand in the presence of Jon of House Targaryen."

"Targaryen? How'd you manage that?"

"Save it for the walk." Jon said as he replaced his steel dagger with the dragonglass dagger Abroko gave him.

Finally prepared, the hunting party waited in the tunnel for the passage north to the gate to beyond the Wall began to rise, a burst of air colder than what they already felt struck at them like a wave of water. Snow stung passed their faces as the gate reached its height. The winds of the true north rushed through the tunnel, reminding Jon of the harshness he would be heading into. He looked back at those joining him, seeing if there were sure about this. He saw distress among them, but also determination. He took the first step and everyone followed after him, into the blizzard.

"So, King Targaryen," Thoros said loudly to break through the howling wind, "How'd you get to be a Targaryen?"


The walk was cold, but bearable. After a few hours, the snow died down and the skies cleared, giving a warm comfort to everyone's faces. Jon kept to the middle of the group, letting the Free Folk lead, but also so he could enjoy the conversations he heard around him after explaining everything that happened starting when Maester Aemon died and the dragons hatched.

Beric took this opportunity to have talk with Jon as the trudged through an icy landscape. "You look just like him." Beric said to Jon.

"Who?"

"Rhaegar. I only ever saw him once when I was a boy at Harrenhal, but I'll never forget his face. Or those eyes, violet as amethysts. Though I must say, the black hair suits you more than silver would. But I must say, you are the spitting image of a Stark, like Ned was."

"You knew him?"

"Of course, I did. When he was Hand, he sent me off hunting for the Mountain. That's how I achieved my first death. Your Wildling friend told me the Red Woman brought you back. Thoros brought me back after the battle, and five times after that. Now you and I serve the same Lord."

"I serve the North and all of Westeros."

"The North didn't raise you from the dead or gift you with dragons, and neither did Westeros."

"You're right, Melissandre raised me from the dead and my Uncle Aemon Targaryen gifted me with dragons. I never saw the Lord of Light when I died. I never spoke with him, never heard him. I don't know what he wants from me."

"He wants you alive."

"Why?"

Beric simply smiled at him. "I don't know."

"That's all anyone can tell me, 'I don't know.' What's the point in serving a god if none of us knows what he wants?"

"I think about that all the time. I don't think it's our purpose to understand, except for one thing. We're soldiers. We have to know what we're fighting for. I'm not fighting so that you or someone else can sit on a throne made of swords." Beric stopped and pulled Jon aside, out of the way of the hunting party.

"So what are you fighting for?"

"Life. Death is the enemy. The first enemy, and the last."

"But we all die."

"The enemy always wins," Beric assured him, "and we still need to fight him. That's all I know. You and I won't find much joy while we here, but we can keep others alive. We can defend those who can't defend themselves."

That sounded like something Ned would say. You do what is right, because its right and that's all the reason you need. That was what the Night's Watch was when it was founded by men of honor. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men."

"Maybe we don't need to understand any more than that. Maybe that's enough."

"Aye, maybe that's enough." Jon agreed.

They rejoined the group and kept pace with them as they approached a range of mountains. As they pressed on through the rocky slopes, Jon took interest in the conversations involving the Hound. Brienne seemed to keep her distance, but now she finally decided to get up close to him. Jon kept his pace behind them, eavesdropping. "Thought you died in your fall." Brienne said.

"I wish I did, then I wouldn't have to stuck you lot, freezing my cock off looking for walking dead men." The Hound told her.

"You haven't changed a bit," Brienne smiled, "thought Arya would've done that since she spared your life."

The Hound turned his head to her, finally showing an expression other than aggravated. "You found her?"

"She came home to Winterfell shortly after her brother Brandon."

"Who's protecting her if you're here?"

"She would've been the one in place if I didn't go. Beside the only one who needs protecting is whoever gets in her way."

The Hound smiled for the first time Jon ever had ever seen him. "It won't be me."

"You should come back with us to Winterfell. I feel she's getting tired of training with me. Neither of us can best the other."

"If I had the strength I had years ago… I'm not much of a fighter anymore. Just slightly better than most."

"You're too hard on yourself." Anguy said, walking up next to Brienne and the Hound while stringing a dragonglass arrow. "We all lose our strength sometimes, but we can get it back if we work for it."

"I've never had to work for anything, I've only killed because that's what I was good at."

"And here you are, walking with a band of fools, going to kill that which is already dead."

"Would you fuck off already?" Anguy shrugged as he fell to the back of the hunting party. The Hound's gaze fell to Jo0n, noticing he was listening. "You too, I don't care if you're the King of Westeros or the fucking world, piss off." Jon tried to keep his distance after that, but he managed to listen in on an argument with Tormund. All Jon could hear was talk about how gingers were beautiful and they were kissed by fire. Jon remembered when Tormund told that to Sansa when they were camping before the Battle of the Bastards.

The hunting party never stopped moving. As they passed a valley next to an icy river, Jon could feel the moral dropping and the mood dying. Anguy felt this as well and decided to begin singing the Bear and the Maiden Fair. Beric and Thoros Joined him while everyone else kept to themselves, either because they didn't want to sing, or they didn't know the words. Jon personally never heard the song, but feeling bored hummed with the tune.

By the third time they sung it, Brienne became irritated for reasons Jon did not know. "Don't you know any other tunes?" She called out to them from the back of the party.

"Fraid not, milady." Anguy said

"I know one," Jorah said, "compliments to our new King." Jon turned his head to Jorah, hoping he wasn't going to sing what he thought he was.

"How'd you learn it?" Jon asked.

"I've been at Winterfell for over two weeks and its thing only song I've heard people sing there." Jorah told him.

"Now that's a song I know." Brienne said, smiling.

She and Jorah both began to sing the song of the Night Dragons, Jon keeping his eyes to the ground, buried in embarrassment. By the second time they sung it, everyone except for the Hound knew the words and joined them, Jon as well. Though after singing over and over, they all grew bored of it.

"Can't you think of another verse?" Thoros asked.

"I didn't write it," Jon told him, "my dragons taught it to me. That's all I know and all they've sung."

"Maybe because they want you to keep it going." Thoros said as he took a quick drink of his rum.


They pressed on through the entire day and didn't stop as dusk approached. A new storm began to swallow the sky and even though the sun was gone, there was still light from the brightness of the snow. A light flurry began before the heavy flurry would consume them. As the hunting party reached the foot of a mountain they passed, the Hound stopped and looked out to the mountains in the distanced a pointed out to the largest peak. "That's what I saw in the fire, a mountain shaped like an arrowhead."

"Are you sure?" Thoros asked.

"We're getting close." Sandor assured.

Brienne walked next to the Hound, looking out to the mountain. "You mean to say we've been following a vision you saw in a fire?"

"You got a better idea?"

Brienne's eyes dropped to the ground, thinking of something better, yet she remained silence as she continued to the mountain with the others.

The storm of snow turned into a blizzard and the winds pushed against them, as if they were a force to keep others away from the evil they sought after. The Free Folk guide who led them through caught a lead ahead of them and continued to fight against the snow and the winds. Frost began to form from the sweat of their brows and the warmth of their furs had nearly disappeared. Tormund suddenly tapped Jon, pointed out to an object in the distance. "Look!" Everyone but the guide stopped and tried to make out the shape.

"A bear," Sandor said, "a big fucker. He's got a rider."

Barely visible, Jon could identify the shape of a snow bear and someone riding atop it. "It could be warg." Jon said.

The bear stopped and turned its head, revealing a deathly light.

"Do bears have blue eyes?" Brienne asked. The bear and the rider disappeared in a flash of white, only to reappear, but heading straight for them. The guide noticed this and immediately turned around, running back to the others. The bear disappeared in another flash of white as the guide kept running. Everyone drew their weapons and readied for their tangle with the beast, but as the guide was nearly there, the bear reappeared charging at him from his side. In an instant, the bear chomped at the guide, picking him up and carrying him away screaming, and once again disappearing.

Jon and the others ran over to chase after them, but all the found was a patch of snow stained blood and the guide's dragonglass spear. Everyone formed a circle, keeping watch for where the bear might strike again. The winds around them howled as the fear began to form as nothing continued to happen.

Behind Jon, a loud roar came out from the blizzard and the bear appeared as if from nowhere. It pushed forward one of the Free Folk, launching him into the snow. As he tried desperately to crawl away, the bear sank its teeth into his back. He screamed as the snap of his spine sounded through the screaming winds and then he lay motionless and lifeless. Jon charged forward at the bear, hoped a powerful strike from Longclaw would be able to kill it, but when the blade met the bear's skin, it hardly scrathed it. The muscle was decayed, but still tough. The bear swatted at Jon, sending him flying into the air, back to where he was. As he hit the ground, Sandor knelt down to him, pulling him up as Thoros and Beric ran their hands on the edges of their swords, igniting the blades in magical fire. They charged at the bear as it looked for its next victim.

The dead rider atop of it dismounted as the bear stood up and sliced the chest of a Free Folk clean open. When he fell to the ground, the bear sank its teeth in his back and did the same thing he did the first time.

Beric swung his sword down on the beast, igniting it instantly when the blade touched its hide. The rider was engaging Tormund with a sword the was broken in half. He was easily disarmed and the other Free folk surrounded it, trying to make the capture. The bear charged at them, shoving them aside and spread its fire to its rider.

One of the free folk carrying a spear tossed it aside and tried to tackle the wright into the snow to douse the flames. But as he brought it down to the ground, the wright's strength was greater and it freed an arm, instantly clawing at the face of it's attacker. Its fingers grabbed hold of the Free Folk's jaw and pulled it off before grabbing a dagger at it's belt and rapidly stabbing his neck. Before the Free Fold bled out, the wright it ceased moving.

The bear fended off the others as they attacked at it. Anguy shot a dragonglass arrow at hit, but ti became stuck in its hide. The bear swatted at Brienne, missing her, but able to get her to back away. It turned its gaze to Sandor who stood frozen from fear. The bear was nothing, but the fires scared him. As the bear charged at him, Thoros shoved him aside and blocked the bear's chomp with his sword. Thoros was pushed to the ground and his blade wound up trapped in the bear's jaw, clenching as hard as it could.

Tormund charged at the bear with his axe, landing a powerful blow to the bear's head, but it shoved him away as if it was nothing. Thoros' sword was ripped from his hands and the bear bit down into his body, breaking many ribs. Thoros cried out as he was slid side to side by the bear, attempting to tear him apart.

Jorah finally sank a dragonglass dagger deep into the bear's body, killing it for good. It collapses off of Thoros and and continued to burn. Anguy retired his arrow and dragged Thoros away with Beric. They rested him on a small lump of snow and lifted his robes, revealing the bloody damage the was done. His skin was misshaped and his muscle exposed, bleeding from the tears. Sandor stood near him, looking at the suffering Thoros took instead of him.

Jorah walked to Thoros, examining his condition with everyone else. "We have to get him back to Eastwatch."

Thoros shook his head. "No time," he grunted, "flask!" Beric padded through the red priest's robes until he found what Thoros wanted. He uncorked it and put the tips to his friend's mouth, letting him drink as much as he wanted. Jon knew he couldn't keep bleeding and so did he. When he was done, Thoros look at Beric as he pulled the flask away. "Go on," he said.

Beric held his flaming sword over Thoros' chest and brought the blade down onto the wounds, cauterizing them. Sandor turned away as Thoros moaned and ground his teeth while the sizzling sounded and the smell erupted. Jon recognized it from when he burned in Wildfire.

As Beric pulled his sword away, Thros calmed down. "You alright?" Beric asked.

"I just got bit by a dead bear." Thoros reminded.

"Aye, you did." Beric grin at him, knowing full well what happened, happened.

Thoros' brow arched high. "Funny old life." Beric sank his sword into the snow, dousing the flames of his sword as he and Anguy grabbed hold of Thoros and helped him onto his feet.

Jon was inspecting two of the dead Free Folk, discovering the direction the tracks came from, and the direction they would be heading.