Beyond the Wall…

The surviving men of the Night's Watch's Great Ranging are still recovering their strength following the devastating defeat at the Battle at the Fist of the First Men against the White Walkers. Some of them were dying of their wounds, and the rest were starving for any scrap of food. They had been clearly outnumbered and unprepared against such a terrifying threat and it was a long journey back to Castle Black. Out of 300 selected for the Great Ranging, only around 60 men survived but their numbers dwindled down to just 44.

Once Lord Commander Jeor Mormont informed the remaining survivors that they were once again making a pit stop at Craster's Keep to resupply, something that had clearly hadn't settled with some of his men. Morale was low, and things were getting increasingly tense. Samwell Tarly was still shaken at having personally witnessed a White Walker up close, but at the same time he felt a sense of relief after managing to escape. He looked to his right and spotted his friend Jon Snow's direwolf.

"Ghost?" he called out.

The albino direwolf simply ignored Samwell and continued scouring the area. Nearby, one of the Night's Watchmen, the former rapist Rast, walks over to the former Prince Joffrey Baratheon.

"We need to get out of here," he whispers.

Joffrey looks at him. "How? And where would we go?" he asks a bit loudly.

Rast waves his hand to tell Joffrey to be quiet, but apparently some of the others heard what he had said.

"When the Lord Commander says we go, we go," said Edd.

"The Lord Commander told us to go to the Fist of the First Men. How'd that turn out for us?"

"He had no way of knowing."

"We do now," Joffrey spat incredulously. "We know what's out there."

Grenn intervened. "Craster's been out here surviving."

"So he's your new protector now? Our good friend Craster?"

Now aware of their discontent, Rast decided to stop playing games. "When the Walkers come calling, Craster will serve us up like so many pigs. If we want to live, we'll have to look out for ourselves."

Edd and Grenn looked at them in disbelief as Joffrey and Rast continued venting their growing frustrations.

"That own bastard Craster starved one of our own men, Bannen, to death," Rast stated.

"Craster's got his daughters to feed," Samwell tried to explain, but to no avail.

"Oh, so you're on his side now?" Joffrey sneered.

"We can't just show up and steal all his food. We're brothers of the Night's Watch, not thieves."

"Everything was fine for me down at King's Landing, piggy! I had everything! I had food, I had warmth, I had safety… I had power. Especially power! 'Til the day my own brother, the great King Daveth, took everything away from me and banished me to this frozen shithole of a wasteland!"

"Quiet, Joffrey!" Edd chastened him.

"You're gonna get us all in trouble again!" Grenn gritted through his teeth.

Samwell was taken aback by Joffrey's outburst; though he wasn't sure whether it was from the fear of the White Walkers or being forced to live the rest of his miserable life bound in service to the Night's Watch until his death.

"The day we leave, Craster will tap a barrel of our wine, and sit down to a feast of ham and potatoes and laugh at us starving in the snow," Rast agreed with Joffrey. "He's a bloody wildling."

In the main hall, Lord Commander Mormont is checking a map in his journal, as Craster continues to crassly berate the men of the Night's Watch.

"Never knew Bannen could smell so good," he mocked.

Craster was a thick man made thicker by the ragged smelly sheepskins he wore day and night. He had a broad flat nose, a mouth that drooped to one side, and a missing ear. And though his matted hair and tangled beard might be grey going white, his hard knuckly hands still looked strong enough to hurt.

The Old Bear, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, felt his hands curl into a fist as he listened to the Night Watch's unsavory ally continue to insult and degrade his men, and with the condition they're in, it'll only make matters worse in the long run. But Jeor knew he needed Craster for whatever supplies the wildling could offer so he could keep his men fed beyond the Wall itself. His thoughts were broken by shuddering sobs echoing down the long low windowless hall.

"Push, Gilly," he heard Morag, one of Craster's older daughter-wives, tell her. "Harder. Harder. Scream if it helps." She did, so loud it made Samwell outside wince.

"That's it," another woman said. "Another push, now. Oh, I see his head."

Downwind, other brothers were skinning and butchering the animals deemed too weak to go on. Spearmen and archers walked sentry behind the earthen dikes that were Craster's only defense against whatever hid in the wood beyond, while a dozen firepits sent up thick fingers of blue-grey smoke.

"You have one son, don't you, Mormont?"

Jeor briefly looked at Craster before returning to look at his map.

"I had 99," the wildling continued as he chewed on a lamb bone, picking off pieces of meat that still stuck to it. "You ever met a man with 99 sons?"

Jeor shook his head 'no' as several of his men entered Craster's Keep, edging themselves closer to the firepit to stay warm as Craster continued speaking.

"I had more daughters than I can count."

"I'm glad for you," the Old Bear finally spoke up.

"Are you now?" Craster raised an eyebrow. "Me, I'll be glad when you and yours have gone. Past time, I'm thinking."

"As soon as our wounded are strong enough to travel…"

"Bah! They're strong as they're like to get, old crow, and both of us know it. Them that's dying, why don't you cut their throats and be done with it? Or leave them, if you don't have the stomach, and I'll sort them out myself."

Lord Commander Mormont bristled, but one of his own men stepped foward.

"And whose throat are you gonna cut, old man?" Karl Tanner challenged.

Edd, Grenn, Samwell and Joffrey looked at him. Joffrey has heard of this man before from his older brother Daveth. From what he remembered, Karl Tanner originally hailed from Gin Alley in Flea Bottom, King's Landing where he was apparently revered as a legend, making a name for himself as a highly-capable enforcer, assassin, and cutthroat. He was eventually arrested and in exchange for amnesty for his crimes, Karl became a ranger of the Night's Watch. Seeing him in person and being in the same room with him, made Joffrey felt a little uneasy. Samwell felt uneasy too, but remained silent.

"Wait outside," Jeor ordered, but Karl didn't move.

"It's cold outside and there's nothing to eat."

The wildling merely looked at him. "My wives gave you bread."

"There's sawdust in the bread," Karl pointed out as he showed the wildling a loaf of bread littered with sawdust all over it.

"If you don't like it, you go out there and eat the snow."

"I'd rather eat what you've got hidden away."

That was when trouble started as Craster began glaring at Karl with such intensity. Knowing there was going to be a problem, Jeor stood up from his bench and walked over to Karl and gave him a hard look.

"I told you to wait outside," he ordered again.

Rast stepped forward. "He's sitting there drinking our wine, eating his fill while we die."

Craster narrowed his eyes. "I gave you crows enough. I've got to feed my women!"

"You admit you've got a hidden larder then?" Joffrey snapped. "How else would you have made it through a winter like this?"

And just like that, more of Jeor's men began stepping forward to address their complaints.

"He's got hams," Garth of Oldtown said, in a reverent voice. "There were pigs, last time we were here. I bet he's got hams hidden someplace else. Smoked and salted hams, and bacon too."

"Sausage," said Dirk. "Them long black ones, they're like rocks, they keep for years. I bet he's got a hundred hanging in some cellar."

"Oats," suggested Ollo Lophand. "Corn. Barley."

"Apples," said Garth of Greenaway. "Barrels and barrels of crisp autumn apples. There are apple trees out there, I saw 'em."

"Dried berries. Cabbages. Pine nuts."

"Salt mutton. There's a sheepfold. He's got casks and casks of mutton laid by, you know he does."

Jeor grabbed Joffrey and Rast by the scruffs of their necks and threw them outside. "Enough! Out! Both of you!"

"I am a godly man!" Craster yelled as he rose from his feet.

"You're a stingy bastard!" Rast yelled back.

"'Bastard'?!"

And that was the last straw. It was too late. Craster stood, reached over and grabbed one of his one-handed axes in a blinding fury.

"Out with you, you little thief," he growled, jabbing the head of the axe in his hand towards each Night's Watchmen individually, same steel axe that Mormont had given him as a guest gift the last time they passed through. "And you! And you! Go sleep in the cold on empty bellies! I'll chop the hands off the next man who calls me bastard."

A tense moment of silence filled the room as Lord Commander Mormont saw to it that Joffrey and Rast remained outside and didn't come back inside, albeit with the occasional squeaking of wandering rats. No one spoke. No one moved. Karl, on the other hand, firmly stared directly at Craster.

"You're a bastard," he challenged. "A daughter-fucking, wildling bastard."

Bellowing a loud, angry roar, Craster charged at him in a blind rage. Despite being drunk and clumsy, the wildling moved quicker than Samwell would have believed possible, vaulting across the table with axe in hand. A woman screamed, Garth Greenaway and Orphan Oss drew knives, but Karl was incredibly fast and grabbed Craster's hand wielding the axe and unsheathed a hidden dagger in his sleeve and roughly stabbed him through his throat and into the roof of his mouth without even flinching. Craster spat blood and is flung backward to the ground, holding his throat before his movements slowly ceased, the axe slipping from his fingers.

Two of Craster's daughter-wives were wailing, a third cursed, a fourth flew at Karl and tried to scratch his eyes out but is knocked down to the floor as Karl's dagger was placed at her throat. Jeor Mormont stood over Craster's corpse, his face reddened and dark with anger.

"The Gods will curse us for this," the Old Bear bellowed. "By all the laws—"

"There are no laws beyond the Wall," Karl shouted before threatening one of Craster's daughter-wives. "Show us where he hides the food, or you'll get the same as him."

Jeor snarled as he unsheathed his longsword and pointed it at Karl. "Unhand her."

Karl drops the girl and begins to face off against Mormont with his dagger.

"I'll have your head for this, you—"

Suddenly, Rast comes up behind Mormont and literally stabs the Lord Commander in the back, which makes Mormont drop his sword as Rast yanked out the knife, all red. For a brief moment the rest of the men stare in shock, before Grenn charges and tackles Karl to the ground. All the world had finally went mad as the entire room explodes into utter chaos.

*CLASH!*

*CLANG!*

*SWISH!*

Wounded as he was, Jeor Mormont turned around and grabbed Rast by his throat as he forcibly shoved the traitorous mutineer against the nearest pillar and began tightening his grip. Rast clawed at the Old Bear as he struggled to free himself, feeling air being choked out of him. Jeor might have had a knife lodged into his back, but he was twice Rast's size and strength.

Still choking Rast, Mormont nearly succeeds in crushing Rast's windpipe with his bare hands. However, Jeor starts coughing up thick red blood. His wound was a mortal one. The injured Mormont then slowly sinks to the floor as he continues coughing up blood. Seeing that the Lord Commander was on the ground unarmed and utterly helpless, Rast grabs a knife and repeatedly pounds it into Mormont's throat until the Old Bear is dead.

As Craster's daughter-wives screamed and fled the room whilst the Night's Watchmen were too busy fighting each other, Samwell slipped outside and made a run for it. The desperate Night's Watch recruits like Rast, mostly conscripted criminals exiled to the Wall, turn on officers who are loyal to Mormont, as well as some of the other common recruits like Grenn who stay loyal. Quick flashes of the fight go by as no one can really perceive what's happening, and the mutiny spreads throughout Craster's Keep.

The overweight Tarly made his way to find Gilly and her newborn son, sword in hand, but stopped in his tracks once he sees Joffrey standing in his way – pointing a longsword at him.

"T-Take it easy, Joffrey," Samwell tried speaking to him. "You don't have to do this."

Joffrey stood his ground. "Look around you, Tarly! This is what it's come to! A life of nothing but torment, misery and eternal damnation! We should've done this a long time ago! It was the only way any of us were to ever survive in this Gods forsaken hellhole!"

"There's still time! It's not too late. Come with me. Come back to the Wall with me. We have to warn the others."

"And then what?! The Wall is too far away, our bellies are empty, and worst of all we saw what was out there!"

Samwell was so very tired. All he wanted was to sleep, to sleep and sleep and never wake, and he knew that if he just stayed here soon enough Dirk or Ollo Lophand or Clubfoot Karl would get angry with him and grant his wish, just to see him die. But something in his gut urged him to keep moving. Instead of cowering, Samwell uncharacteristically stood his ground and took one step towards Joffrey. The Illborn, startled, gripped his sword in both hands.

"Stay back!" he warned as he shook. "I know how to use it!"

Samwell continued pressing forward until he got in Joffrey's face. "We have to warn everyone south of the Wall. If the White Walkers invade, then nowhere will be safe. I'd much rather die on my feet than on my knees begging like a coward. All my life I've been told how much of a coward I am. And you know what? I am."

Joffrey remained in his path.

"I am a coward," he continued. "But when I knelt before the weirwood tree and swore my oaths, I made a promise that I would stop running. Make something out of myself, find a sense of purpose. Yes, you're the shittiest person I've ever met. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows what a cruel, horrible, sadistic person you are. But you're still one of us. You are a brother of the Night's Watch, just like me."

"I only spat out the words because I couldn't stomach them! Because it was something I didn't want! All I want is to go home!" Joffrey screamed as his voice cracked, for his posturing starting to waver.

Seeing his chance at knowing how distracted Joffrey was, Samwell disarmed him and forced him to the ground, applying his full weight to pin him down. Joffrey struggled to move, but Samwell was just too heavy.

"Unhand me, you fat piece of shit! I command you! Get off of me right now!"

Samwell grabbed Joffrey's arm and continued to hold him down. "Night gathers, and now my watch begins," he firmly began reciting the Night's Watch oath. "It shall not end until my death. 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."

Joffrey ceased his struggle and stared at Samwell. For a moment he looked away, but surprisingly felt his mouth move on its own.

"…I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls," the Illborn reciprocated.

Samwell felt himself smile as they both continued the recite the words.

"I am 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."

Once that was done, Samwell looked down at Joffrey before lifting himself off of him.

"I know that you're scared. I am too," he extended a hand. "But if we don't make it back to the Wall, then we'll have lost everything for good. I can't do this by myself. I need your help."

That was first for Joffrey; hearing someone actually asking him for help, but it was something that he detested for the most part of his life. He begged before and was shamed, and now he was in the most precarious situations in his life. Fight or flee, kill or be killed. Joffrey hated looking so weak and defenseless. But what were his options?

"I'd take that offer if I were you," said a woman's voice.

Samwell and Joffrey turned to see three of Craster's wives standing over them. Two were haggard old women they did not know.

"What's done is done," said the woman on the right.

"The blackest crows are down in the cellar, gorging," said the woman on the left, "or up in the loft with the young ones. They'll be back soon, though. Best you be gone when they do."

"Take Gilly and the baby with you."

"What about you two?" asked Samwell.

The woman on the right shook her head in resignation. "Take them someplace warm. Make sure they both survive. Make sure those things do not take him like they did Craster's sons. The cold winds are rising out there, crow, and the dead come with it. I can feel it in my bones. They'll be here soon, the sons."

'The White Walkers,' thought Joffrey fearfully.

Samwell gulped, but nodded his head as he pulled Joffrey to his feet.

"We'll come back for you. I promise," the overweight Tarly promised.

"It's too late for us," the woman on the left adamantly refused. "But it's not too late for you."

Joffrey looked at Samwell, who returned to meet his gaze. It was now or never. Both of them sprinted towards the holdfast keeping Gilly and her baby. As she was looking out the small hole in the wall to see what was going on, Gilly turned to look at both Joffrey and Samwell packing whatever necessities they could find.

"Quickly. Quickly," Samwell panted.

Gilly held her infant close to her chest. "What's happening?" she asked fearfully. "I'm not going out there!"

"You don't have a choice in the matter anymore!" Joffrey screamed, causing the baby to cry.

Samwell nodded. "We have to go. Now!"

Feeling there was no way out, Gilly held her son close and wrapped him in bundles of warm cloth before venturing outside with Joffrey and Samwell.

"Follow me! I know the best way! Come on!"

All three of them were now running for their very lives, struggling to get away from the fighting as quickly as possible. One of the mutineers, Rast, had strolled outside with a bow in hand and began shooting off one arrow after another at the fleeing trio.

*STRETCHING, TWANG!*

*WHIP!*

*WHOOSH!*

A couple of them missed, each one whizzing by, until…

*BAM!*

"GAH!" Joffrey screeched in agony as an arrow found its mark and lodged itself into his back.

Samwell looked back and picked him up. "Hold on, Joffrey! We're gonna make it back to the Wall!"

The former Prince whimpered and let out more cries of pain as they moved to avoid more arrows. As they moved out of sight, Rast threw down his bow and shouted at them.

"Run fast, piggy! You too, Illborn! And sleep well! I'll be cutting your throats one of these nights."

######

Author's Note: Another cameo chapter reaches its conclusion. The mutiny at Craster's Keep has begun, and the mutineers have struck hard and fast. What's more, both Samwell and Joffrey each show uncharacteristic signs of change within themselves? But during their escape only one of them was wounded. What are your thoughts? Let me know.

God of war: Will Joffrey return to the king landing beside his brother deavth

―He tries that and he'll be executed by the Night's Watch as a deserter.

DaddyChad: Will there be a meeting between Daveth and Joffrey in the future?

―That remains to be decided.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

―Thanks.

mpowers045: Now Sam I would be against this but now that what I saw, I'l Say one thing. Way to go! Two thumbs up

―Sam might be physically weaker, but he's not stupid. Whatever he lacks in strength he makes up for in intelligence, personality and morality.

The Three Stoogies: a good chapter Joffery showing some back bone keep up the great work

―Thanks.

Praetor12: Gotta say I'm surprised, I thought Joffrey would be among the mutineers.

―Don't worry, I've got something else in store for him.