They had been at Queenscrown for several weeks now. In that time, Jon's people had truly impressed him. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he would not have believed the scale of work that these northmen had accomplished. The once abandoned and ruined village was being coaxed back to life bit by bit, building by building.

Already the outer half of their wooden wall was completed, and the inner half of the wall would be finished within another day or two. Some of the men and older boys had been set to the task of digging the moat that would further protect the village. And already the rocks and spoil from their work was being used to fill in the gap between the completed sections of wall. As more men finished the work of erecting the walls and towers, they were reassigned to digging the moat, speeding it along to its own conclusion. Once the laborious task of digging out the moat and then filling the wall was completed however Queenscrown would be, for all intents and purposes, impregnable to wildling attacks.

The clinking sound of a chain behind him however made him pause in his ruminations. Rather, Queenscrown would be impregnable if it wasn't for one small matter, the prisoner that Jon had taken. The wildling girl was little loved in the village. Rather, he should say that she was little loved outside of those that she spread her legs for in exchange for better food and a warm bed. To the rest of the people, she was a sign of their Lord's weakness. When some of the smallfolk failed to notice that Tyrion was around he had heard grumblings of how "Lord Stark's bastard" might be too soft to be entrusted with a keep so far north. Once or twice he had even caught a dirty look being thrown Jon's way when the boy's back was turned. The smallfolk worried that if the wildlings attacked, the captured girl would turn on them and start to kill in order to ingratiate herself to her own kind again.

Jon's own attitude hadn't helped matters either if he was being honest with himself. The boy had grown surly and withdrawn after his brief battle with the wildling raiders. He was often curt and caustic to those with whom he spoke. It was a trait that could instill fear in those below him, afterall it was never wise to anger someone who could take your head with naught but a word, but it would never win him the true loyalty of his people. And that was something that Tyrion knew Jon desired. While Tyrion's own father would likely beam with pride at Jon's treatment of those around him, Lord Stark would almost surely have pulled his son aside and scolded him for it.

As for himself, he was worried about Jon. Only a few malcontents were grumbling at the moment, but unless Jon did something to stop the talk, it would soon spread like wildfire. Seeing as he quite liked the boy, that was something that he did not wish to see happen.

Tyrion had attempted to go and speak to Jon once he saw how the lad's attitude was effecting the settlement, but the boy's uncle had stopped him in his tracks and told him quite plainly, "Give him some space, my lord. Jon's never killed before and it can be a shocking thing to take a man's life for the first time. He needs time to come to terms with it. Let him get the self-loathing out first, then you can speak to him."

Intellectually, Tyrion could understand that. He simply felt that the First Ranger was handling the situation poorly. Jon needed someone to speak bluntly to him, and someone who could bear the boy's sharp tongue in return. And Tyrion believed he was that man. Because if Jon didn't change, he would quickly find himself on the verge of losing the trust and faith of his people. It hadn't happened yet, but it would unless he did something about it. Tyrion was about to turn and head towards Jon's tent to have that conversation with the young Lord when he heard a barely polite, "S'cuse me, m'lord," come from the captured wildling.

Tyrion turned to look at the girl. He hadn't spoken with her since her capture, in truth he saw no need to. She was a prisoner of Lord Wolff and little more than that. While he was most assuredly curious about what life was like beyond the Wall, he wasn't curious enough to spend the effort to seek her out and speak to her about it. However, since the opportunity had presented itself...

"Osha, isn't it? How do you find life south of the Wall?"

"Not much of a life, m'lord. Wearing these chains ain't exactly pleasing."

"Well, perhaps you should have considered that before you crossed into the Seven Kingdoms to raid."

The girl scoffed at him and said, "Are all Lords as dumb as you? Do you ride into a battle planning on being made into a prisoner and forced to serve your captors?"

"Fair point. Though you seem to have accepted that fate readily enough. Particularly when the only other option was to lose your head."

"Aye, I did. If you knew what was waiting for you north of the Wall, and that this was your only means of staying safe and alive, mayhaps you would make the same choice."

"And what is north of the Wall, hmmm? Snarks and grumpkins? All the beasts that my wetnurse warned me of? If you are trying to build sympathy for you in your betters, you are failing miserably."

The wildling girl gave a bitter laugh and replied, "Betters? The only 'better' I've ever found was my husband, gods rest him. You kneelers can scoff and laugh at us and our ways all you want. But when the cold winds rise, and the ones you love die horrible deaths, only to return in the night with eyes shining like blue ice, and their dead, black hands are reaching for your throat, then maybe you'll understand. The long night is coming for us, m'lord. Whether you likes it or not."

From behind Osha, Tyrion heard a voice say, "My brother would find that tale amusing. He always did like the 'scary ones' as he put it. I'll have to remember to tell it to him when he awakes."

Osha whirled around and said hotly, "A scary tale?! Is that all you believe it to be?! Think what you want, boy! Until you've had to fight your own husband or wife off of you and watch them burn to keep them from coming back again, you are nothing but a green summer babe! Put my head over a block if you want, but I'll not have anyone call me liar about my husband. He was a good man, and he loved me! And I loved him. But one day he went out hunting. And when he came back, he wasn't the same anymore. He was covered in blood, his skin was deathly white, and his brown eyes were blazing blue! There wasn't a spark of recognition in those other worldly eyes as he tried to kill me. Those cold dead hands wrapped around my throat and it was only by chance that I escaped. We fell into the fire and it burned him away and killed him for good."

By now there were tears in the eyes of the wildling girl. And when she continued it was in a softer, sadder voice, "Do with me what you will, m'lord. But don't ever speak ill of my husband. He already suffered a fate worse than death. And it's a fate that is coming for us all if we aren't ready for it."

Jon continued to study her with the cold, grey eyes of the Starks. From where Tyrion stood, he had a good look at the little lordling. And what he saw was a boy trying to be a man, but struggling with it. As Jon stood with his feet slightly apart and his hands clasped behind his back, Tyrion watched the struggle play out on the lads face. On one hand, he very clearly wanted to exact some vengeance on Osha for the way her tongue had just lashed him. On the other, was his own sense of honor, likely instilled in him by his Lord Father, telling him that petty retribution was beneath him.

Before Jon could say something that he would later regret, Tyrion spoke up and said, "My Lord, if you have a moment, could you and I speak privately?"

Jon's head snapped to look at Tyrion and for a moment he saw the storm brewing in Jon's eyes. But the young Lord blinked quickly several times and the storm in his eyes dissipated into nothingness. Jon replied, "Lord Tyrion. I didn't see you there. Of course, come with me." Turning back to look at the wildling girl, Jon said, "Be about your duties Osha. And mind your tongue in the future or I'll have it out of your head."

With that, Jon strode off towards his tent, his irritation was plain in how the normally considerate young man was making no effort to shorten his stride so that Tyrion could keep up. Tyrion only rolled his eyes and did his best to keep up with the Lord of Queenscrown. When they reached Jon's tent, the tower still wasn't ready for Jon to move into, a guard held open the flap for them before letting it drop back into place and resuming his vigil. Tyrion had always had a gift for remembering names and faces, so he told the man, "Thank you, Alebelly."

The man nodded his head and said a polite, "M'lord."

Once Tyrion was in the tent he saw Jon standing and staring at his armor that was mounted in the corner on a stand. Ah. So that was what was eating at the young lord. He would have to break Jon out of this somehow. And what better way to do it than with a jape.

"Well, that was a fine morning run. We should do them more often."

Jon whirled about when he heard Tyrion's voice, almost as if he had already forgotten that he had been with him. To Jon's credit, he hung his head just a bit and said, "My apologies, Lord Tyrion. It was not my intention to force you to run to keep up with me."

Tyrion just smiled at Jon and told him, "It was but a jest, My Lord. You seem to have been in a dark mood of late, and I thought perhaps a small jape would help alleviate it somewhat."

"I thank you for your concern, My Lord, but I'm fine. What is it you wished to discuss with me?"

Taking a deep breath, Tyrion plunged in and said, "Jon, ever since you returned from your fight against the wildlings, your entire demeanor has changed. You're sullen, withdrawn and quick to anger. I understand that taking a man's life, whether in battle or while delivering the King's Justice, is no easy thing to live with. But it is your duty to live with it. You accepted that duty when your Lord Father had you raised to Lordship and given these lands.

"And until now, you've done an exemplary job of ruling. But Jon, if you don't break out of this black humor, you will forfeit all the progress you've made thus far. You will lose the respect of the people, the respect that I might remind you, you have worked very hard to earn."

"How dare you, Lord Tyrion? The son of Tywin Lannister you may be, but these are my lands! And I will not be spoken to this way! Not in my own home!"

Tyrion started to laugh. He hadn't meant to, but he couldn't help it. Through his laughter, he told Jon, "Or what? You may be descended from House Stark, Lord Wolff, but you are still a boy playing at being a man! I like you, Jon. I think you're quick witted, tough and brave. But this attitude does not suit you in the least. Even now, I can see the guilt in your eyes for speaking like that to me. No offense, My Lord, but you still act more the bastard than the Lord."

This time, Tyrion could see the blood rushing to Jon's face. His barb had found it's mark. Good. He wanted Jon angry. The anger would help clear the lad's head so that his advice would find room to roost within it.

"Remember what I told you the night we met? 'The world will not let you forget what you are, so wear it like armor and their words will never affect you.' Those words still apply. Only now, what you are is a Lord. And if you ever stop acting like a Lord, your own people will begin to question you. Because they will not forget what you are. Right now, you are just Lord Stark's son. And though you have made an excellent start at becoming your own man, these last weeks have begun to show your people that you don't believe that you're actually ready for this."

At that, Jon's head jerked back in surprise and he said, "What? I'll admit that I've been a bit short-tempered of late. Perhaps you would too if you had just taken a man's head off his shoulders. But how can you said that? Have I truly been as bad as all that?"

Giving a very soft chuckle Tyrion replied, "My Lord, that would be putting it politely. The people you are charged with leading, protecting and ruling, have seen you cower from your duties in reaction to your first fight. That is not a thing that inspires confidence in others. You need to embrace your responsibilities as you did when we first arrived here. Show them that you are the man they were beginning to think you were. That you are more than just Eddard Stark's son. That you have what it takes to rule in your own right."

Jon was quiet for some time while he mulled over Tyrion's words and when he finally spoke he said, "Thank you, Lord Tyrion. I do appreciate your counsel. But how do I live with having killed four men? Every time I look at my armor or my sword, all I see is their blood. How do I ever go back to who I was before I had to kill? I've trained for battle since I was old enough to hold a stick in my hand. But my father never told me how to deal with the feelings afterwards."

Tyrion grew quiet while he pondered what Jon had said. In a way, he wasn't the one to ask this. He had never had to kill. But he knew what his brother had told him. So he said, "You live with it by reminding yourself that it was your duty to kill them. You live with it by remembering that they would have gladly killed you had you not killed them first. Even the man you executed, he knew the risk he was taking when he deserted from the Night's Watch. His death is on his own head, not yours. In a way, you could even say that those men all killed themselves."

"I see." Jon paused while he thought over Tyrion's words and he spoke again, he said, "It does make some sense to look at it that way, that it was my duty to kill them for their crimes. But how can you say that they killed themselves? Those men I killed died in battle or on the block by my hand. I doubt that was what they had in mind when they woke up that morning."

"I say that they killed themselves because each and every one of them knew what would happen to them if they were caught on this side of the Wall. Yet they crossed it anyway. They were all dead men the moment they entered the Seven Kingdoms. They simply used your hand to do the deed rather than slitting their own throats."

Jon didn't respond to him right away, and Tyrion let him think on his words without interruption. At first. But then a thought entered his head and he had to ask, "Is that why you spared Osha's life? Despite her killing one of your men?"

Jon nodded his head quietly. In this moment, he looked exactly like what he was, a fourteen year old boy who didn't know what to do next. When he spoke, it was in a soft voice, almost as if he was afraid of giving voice to his thoughts. He said, "I couldn't stand to see more blood. In that moment, when I looked at her, all I could see were the men I had already killed. Osha did kill one of my men. But it was in battle, and I thought that might make a difference."

Tyrion felt for Jon, truly. In a way, he was trapped in a situation that he hadn't asked for. So he told him, "It did to you. And that is really all that matters, My Lord. Whether you spare a life or take one, it is your decision to do so. But if I may, you have to live with the consequences of that decision, regardless of which way you decide. In this case, your people need to see you fulfilling your responsibilities, not cowering away in your tent. They need to know that you are strong enough to do the work your Lord Father gave you. Because right now, they think you to be weak. Sparing the life of a wildling, one that killed one of your own men, is not something they can understand. Some of your fighting men likely do, they will all have dealt with having to take a life before, but your smallfolk don't. They've never been called on to kill. And gods willing they never will. But you need to tell them why you didn't kill her, so they can begin to understand it. And it has to be a reason that makes sense to them."

Jon nodded his understanding, took a few deep breaths, and when he looked back at Tyrion, the doubt and most of the self loathing was gone from his eyes. The boy had squared his shoulders and he once again stood tall. "I can do that. I can do the task my father gave to me. Thank you, Lord Tyrion. It is good to have a friend that will speak truth to you, even if it's a truth you may not want to hear."

"Think nothing of it, My Lord. I am glad to be able to help you in any way that I can. And I expect the same in return. Should you ever feel that I need to hear some hard truths, don't hesitate to tell me."

"I won't. As one friend to another, you have my word. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to be about my duties. Particularly in dealing with Osha in a way that will calm my smallfolk and show them that I left her alive for a reason."

"Oh? And what reason do you intend for your smallfolk to see?"

"Information, My Lord. Information. This settlement is exposed here. None of the nearby castles along the Wall are manned, and from what my uncle has told me, patrols are becoming more and more infrequent. What better way to learn where and when the wildlings like to cross the Wall than from a wildling?"

Tyrion smirked a bit and said, "A wise idea, Lord Wolff. And one that even the densest of smallfolk would understand. I shall leave you to it."

As Tyrion left Jon's tent, he overheard the boy ask his guard to send for the First Ranger and to bring the wildling to his tent at once. Jon was acting like a Lord again. Tyrion smiled to himself and was quite pleased with his work. Now if only there was a whore or two around for him to visit, that would make his day complete. Alas, none had seen fit to join with them. So he would have to settle for a book and some wine.