Written for the Tumblr hiatus fic challenge #3: Crossover.

What if Marty Deeks wasn't created in the NCIS Los Angeles universe, but instead lived in the world of Westeros and served as a member of the Night's Watch?

As usual, I own nothing other than my own insanity. I am simply borrowing the characters of NCIS Los Angeles and the location from Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire).

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. 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. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. 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." — the Night's Watch oath

It was a cold like he'd never experienced before, so bone-chilling that he thought he'd never be warm again. Or be happy again. Gone were the days of warm pools of water, or searching for pretty girls in low-cut dresses through the never-ending gardens back home. Now he led a different life as a man of the Night's Watch. There was only ice now and most of the people he shared this castle with were criminals. The only thing he searched for anymore were his frozen balls in this unrelenting cold weather.

Was it worth it? Marty wondered. He thought that it probably wasn't, but he had simply done what needed to be done. Paying this price for his crime was more ideal than sacrificing his head. Not that there was much in this cold, harsh place to live for other than a sense of duty.

One thing reminded of home, at least. His canine companion Monty had made the weeks long trip from Highgarden to Castle Black with him, though the mangy mutt was far from pleased with the climate of his new home. For a group of society's rejects, his new mates were a somewhat bearable group of men. They were certainly better than the strange and frightening things that lived beyond The Wall (a literal wall of ice that served as the northernmost border of the lands of the seven kingdoms).

Marty had made a few friends in his short tenure in the north. Gee was an orphan with a smart mouth, but scrappy and brave as hell. Marty had once asked if Gee was a family name. The surly man laughed and asked, "What's a family?" Lord Hanna was another acquaintance. They weren't quite friends but the large tower of a man had a soft spot for Monty, so Marty therefore had a soft spot for him. There were some men who came to Castle Black willingly, and Lord Hanna was one of them. One of these days he would be brave enough to ask why a Lord had taken the black and denied his name and land to protect the realm of men. He bet it was a hell of a story.

Monty growled and it echoed through their fire, but Marty ignored him and held the shaft of a new arrow he was making over the flame. He pulled it away quickly, holding the wood straight until it cooled. Making, and shooting, arrows was something he'd loved since he was a child. He lacked sophisticated training, sure, but would put his self-taught skills up against any other bowman.

The dog's growling grew louder and his hackles rose. Marty sighed and chastised his pet. "If you don't shut up, Alliser's going to put you in a kennel. Then your furry ass really will have something to whine about. Look, see, there's nothing to be-" He turned his head and froze, coming face to face with what appeared to be a beast from his grandmother's stories of old.

Puffs of steam escaped from a wet nose as black as coal. The animal had snow white fur and blood red eyes, which were scary enough on their own. The pure size of this creature left Marty trembling in fear, though he tried to tell himself it was just a side effect of the frigid air around him.

"Ghost!" A low voice barked as the shadow of a man came into Marty's line of sight. Ghost backed away and licked his chops, undoubtedly regretting not feasting on them before his owner showed up.

Marty exhaled and muttered in disbelief. "That's the biggest fucking dog I've ever seen in my life."

"Not a dog," the low voice spoke again as the man stepped into the light cast by his small fire. "A direwolf."

The wolf sat down then. In typical fashion, Monty rose to his feet to protect his owner but only after the threat had been squashed. Too busy staring at the mysterious man, Marty let his dog have his moment of bravery without admonishment. The only thing more impressive than the wolf was the massive sword attached to the man in black.

"I've never actually seen one," he said, referring to the wolf, not the sword. "I didn't think they lived south of The Wall."

The man, or boy really, smiled softly. Marty knew of him, the steward that thought himself to be a ranger but carried himself like a king. His name gave away his true status, however. Jon Snow bore the surname of bastards in the north, despite being raised amongst lords. He didn't have the sword or the wolf but at least Marty was trueborn, and carried his family name Brandel even after being banished to The Wall.

Jon knelt down to pick up a new arrow from the ground and admired it, fingering the feathers. "You're quite the fletcher."

Instinctively Marty straightened, not expecting the compliment. "I'm an even better shot," he countered confidently.

He couldn't have been older than twenty, but Marty thought Jon's eyes made him seem much older. They were dark and sad, like they had seen indescribable terrors. He felt like the darker boy was sizing him up, judging him by his near opposite appearance. Marty was southern, with fair hair and bright blue eyes that used to sparkle a long time ago. "But have you had to use one of your arrows on a man before?"

Now it was Marty's turn to return the smile, though it wasn't soft. "I killed my father with one. Not for sport or pleasure, but in a life or death situation. I didn't hesitate then, and I won't hesitate in the future."

Jon nodded, satisfied with the response. "Jon Snow," he introduced himself.

"Martin Brandel. But you can call me Marty. Or Deeks. That's my mother's house name, and I would take hers over my father's if I could. And this here is Monty. Forgive his growling, but the snow has made him a little crotchety." He ruffled his dog's ears and forced himself to stop talking. He could be known to ramble at times.

Jon approached Monty slowly and let him sniff the back of his hand. "In his defense, there's very little to take pleasure in here. You have your oath, and your men. Friends if you're lucky. But Monty will be your best friend. He will keep you warm at night, because nobody else will."

Because nobody else will. That may be the hardest part of his new life. Fuck lands or crowns or glory. Marty wanted the girls back home. Well really, one girl. She had long waves of dark hair, mismatched eyes of hazel and black, and a smile that could melt the wall of ice he was sworn to protect. And she was strong, too. She'd as soon kill you as kiss you. He'd thought maybe he loved her. He knew for sure he missed her. But none of that mattered anymore.

A loud blast of a horn from the top of the wall shook him and frightened Monty, though Jon didn't seem phased. One blow from the sentry's horn signaled returning rangers, and wasn't a terribly uncommon sound. When the horn blew a second time, Marty hoped that maybe it was all in his head. One blast was good. Two was bad. Three was the worst anyone could imagine. He prayed that the horn wouldn't blow again.

"Wildlings," Jon murmured, rising to his feet. "You say you're good with your bow?"

Marty began to shake but nodded his head. Even though he'd been selected as a ranger, he hadn't gone past The Wall yet, much less encountered the people who lived beyond it. The stories he'd been told were horrific.

"Follow me."

Swallowing his fear, he rose to his feet and gathered his arrows. There was nothing to be afraid of, he told himself. You conquered your father. You can conquer anything. Grabbing Monty by the scruff of his neck, he pushed him toward one of the castle's interior doors. The mutt looked at him with sad eyes, but Marty shook his head. "Don't worry, boy. I'll be back."