A/N: In this AU, Senior Officers of the Watch are allowed to marry and have children. Also, Jon is a Stark. Jon and Ygritte cannot have children of their own, so they have adopted two children; Olly and Gared.

Jon Stark sat in the common area of his house, cradling his eldest son, Gared, to his chest. The entire house was quiet, his youngest son, Olly and his wife Ygritte had long retired to bed.

Earlier in the day, Gared was running down a set of stairs in the courtyard, playing tag with his friends when a boy named Britt pushed him down the stairs.

Jon shuddered at the memory of being summoned to the infirmary.

The Lord Commander entered the infirmary to find his trainee commander, Frostfinger holding Gared in his arms. The usually stoic 13-year-old was sobbing in his mentor's arms; his pale face a mask of agony.

Samwell, Castle Black's maestor, and one of Jon's best friends was moving around the room, setting up the necessary supplies to treat the wounded boy.

"What happened?" Jon asked, making his way over and reaching out so that Frostfinger could transfer Gared into his father's arms.

Gared let out a small, sharp, scream, as his arm jostled but quickly settled at the familiarity of his father's hold.

"Gared, Cotter, and Finn were racing up and down the stairs that lead up from the training yard," Frostfinger explained. "We'd finished training for the day, but they were still all riled up; so I suggested that they run it off. I only caught the moments before the incident, but from what I saw, that new boy, Britt appeared out of nowhere and pushed Gared down the last four stairs.

The impact knocked the poor lad out, which was a blessing considering the state of his arm. He came to while I was carrying him up here, and he's been cryin' ever since."

Jon's heart sank at the mention of his son's attacker. Britt was a new recruit of the Watch. He was two years older than Gared, and he seemed to take sadistic pleasure in tormenting the boy and his friends.

Britt was becoming increasingly volatile towards Gared; to the point that measures were taken to keep the boys separated. Despite this, Britt somehow managed to get his hands on the elder Stark boy. He could have killed Gared, and that thought alone made Jon's blood boil.

"What is being done with Britt?" The Lord Commander asked, his voice dangerously low.

"The little brat is getting a proper thrashing, and he's been moved to Grenn's quarters so that someone can keep an eye on 'im at all times. He'll be in full lockdown for a week. Grenn is planning to thrash him every day of his confinement.

Britt will be living with Grenn for the foreseeable future since the kid can't be trusted to be on his own."

"Good," Jon responded coldly. "Grenn doesn't take shit from anyone, least of all a bratty little kid. If anyone can straighten Britt out, it'll be him."

"A-am I in trouble?" Gared asked, trepidation lacing his voice as he caught the barely contained rage in his father's voice.

"Not at all, son," Jon assured, quickly gentling his tone. "Britt is the one at fault for this, and he is being punished."

"I promise ya, lad, that boy won't be going anywhere near you or your friends after Grenn's done with him. He's got the kid under lock and key," Frostfinger assured, usually stern voice gentle as he placed a hand on Gared's good arm. "And if Britt does up being stupid enough to harass you, he'll have Grenn, your father, and me to answer to."

When Sam was ready to set Gared's arm, he directed Jon to lay the boy on the table.

"Now, I'll need you both to hold Gared down while I set this," Sam explained. "I've given him a sedative, but when I push the bone back in, the pain may be so great that he wakes up. We cannot afford to have him start thrashing in the middle of the procedure."

Jon nodded and moved to take a firm hold of Gared's left shoulder; Frostfinger did the same on the right.

All seemed to be going well, and Jon began to think that Gared would remain sedated. Then, Sam pushed the bone back into the open wound, and Gared awoke with a piercing scream.

Jon felt like an utter monster holding his son down as the boy cried and begged.

"It hurts! Make it stop! I'll be good! Just make it stop!" the 13-year-old wailed.

"You are good, son," Jon assured, leaning down to kiss Gared's forehead. "You're so good. We're almost done."

The rest of the procedure was a blur, and soon Jon was back at the house where he and Ygritte could properly fuss over their eldest.

To combat the pain, Jon and Ygritte were dosing their eldest with Milk of the Poppy. Gared was working through the medication faster than he could safely take it. So, the boy spent the last hour between doses, crying until he passed out from exhaustion.

When it was time to retire for bed, Ygritte suggested that they take shifts staying up with Gared to help him through the pain and fear that his injury produced.

So, here they were; Jon staring into the dying embers in the hearth as he listened to the howl of wolves beyond the wall. He wanted to ensure that Gared was truly asleep before attempting to move them. Jon only recently managed to lull the 13-year-old into a restless sleep, and there was no way that he was disturbing Gared.

Another half-hour of steady rocking assured Jon that his boy was well and truly asleep. So, he moved to swaddle Gared in a blanket before carrying him down the hall and into the master bedroom.

Ygritte looked up as her husband entered the room; the sound of footsteps in the hallway waking her out of a light doze.

"Ya got him to sleep?" She asked in amazement.

"More like he cried himself into unconsciousness," Jon responded quietly, laying down on the bed next to his wife and settling his son against his chest. "But he fell asleep all the same."

"Well, at least he'll get some sleep before we need to dose him again," Ygritte commented, adjusting so that her head was resting on Jon's shoulder.

"I got a few hours of sleep in," she continued. "Why don't you try to get some rest? I'll dose Gared in an hour and stay up with him."

"If you insist," Jon replied. "Wake me if he gets too upset, or he won't take the medicine," with that, the Lord Commander settled one arm around his wife's shoulders and the other across his son's back. Soon he too was asleep.