Disclaimer: This fanfiction is a work of fiction created by a fan of the Game of Thrones series and is not endorsed by or affiliated with George R.R. Martin, HBO, or any other entities associated with the original work. All characters, events, and settings depicted in this fanfiction are entirely fictional and should be regarded as such. The views and opinions expressed within this fanfiction are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policies or positions of the creators of Game of Thrones. Reader discretion is advised as this fanfiction may contain mature themes, violence, and explicit language consistent with the tone of the original series.
—
As Jon and Ser Arthur approached the gates of Castle Black, the imposing structure loomed before them, its weathered stone walls standing as a testament to centuries of history and tradition. The air was crisp and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the southern lands they had left behind.
Jon's heart pounded with anticipation as they neared the entrance, his thoughts filled with the challenges that lay ahead. Ser Arthur rode beside him, his expression calm and composed, a reassuring presence at his side.
As they reached the gates, Jon called out to the men on duty, announcing their arrival. The guards regarded them with wary curiosity, but quickly recognized Jon's Stark sigil and allowed them entry without hesitation.
Stepping through the gates, Jon felt a sense of familiarity wash over him. The courtyard bustled with activity as brothers of the Night's Watch went about their duties, their faces weathered and solemn beneath their fur-trimmed cloaks.
Jon dismounted from his horse, his eyes scanning the scene before him. Ser Arthur followed suit, his gaze sweeping over the courtyard with a keen eye for detail.
"We've arrived," Jon said, his voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Now, let's find the Lord Commander and inform him about the deserter, and then we can deal with the other matters of importance."
Ser Arthur nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Jon's determination.
Together, Jon and Ser Arthur made their way through the bustling courtyard of Castle Black, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stone walls. The air was chilly, tinged with the scent of woodsmoke and pine, a reminder of the harsh realities of life beyond the Wall.
As they approached the Lord Commander's quarters, Jon's heart quickened with anticipation. He knew that their arrival would likely stir up interest among the brothers of the Night's Watch, and he braced himself for the scrutiny that would undoubtedly follow.
But Jon was undeterred. He was here on a mission, and nothing would stand in his way. With Ser Arthur by his side, he felt a sense of confidence and purpose that spurred him forward.
As Jon and Ser Arthur made their way through the courtyard of Castle Black, their path was suddenly blocked by the imposing figure of Ser Alliser Thorne, the Master-at-Arms of the Night's Watch. His expression was stern, his eyes narrowed with suspicion as he regarded the newcomers.
"What business do you have here?" Ser Alliser demanded, his voice gruff and commanding.
Jon met the man's gaze evenly, his own expression calm but determined. "We seek an audience with the Lord Commander," he replied, his voice steady. "We have urgent news to report regarding a deserter from the Night's Watch."
Ser Alliser's brow furrowed at Jon's words, his gaze flickering with disbelief. "Deserter, you say?" he echoed, his tone skeptical. "And who are you to come here and make such claims?"
Jon bristled slightly at the man's tone, but he kept his composure. "My name is Jon Snow," he answered, his voice carrying a note of authority. "And this is Ser Donnel, a knight in service to House Stark. We come on behalf of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North."
Ser Alliser Thorne's lips curled into a sardonic smirk as he leveled his gaze at Jon, his tone dripping with contempt. "Ah, House Stark," he remarked, his voice laced with mockery. "A noble house with a penchant for rebellion, it seems. Tell me, Lord Stark's bastard, does the apple fall far from the tree? Or are you as headstrong and foolish as your aunt, Lyanna Stark?"
Jon's jaw clenched at the mention of Lyanna, his fists tightening at his sides as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Ser Arthur's expression hardened beside him, his eyes flashing with barely restrained anger at the insult directed at his liege lord's family.
But Jon remained outwardly composed, his voice steady despite the fury burning within him. "Lyanna Stark was a brave and honorable woman," he replied, his tone cold and measured. "And she deserves more respect than you are capable of giving."
Ser Alliser's smirk widened at Jon's response, his eyes glittering with malice. "Brave and honorable, perhaps," he conceded, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But ultimately, she was just another Stark who met a tragic end because of her own folly."
Jon's eyes flashed with defiance as he met Ser Alliser's gaze, his voice cool and composed despite the tension crackling between them. "Ah yes, you were a Targaryen loyalists, weren't you?" he remarked, his tone tinged with sarcasm. "A pity they didn't have better fighters, isn't it? Perhaps they might have fared better in Robert's Rebellion."
Ser Alliser's expression darkened at Jon's words, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to contain his anger. "You dare to mock the honor of those who fought and died for a righteous cause?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Jon's gaze remained steady, his voice calm but firm as he met Ser Alliser's glare head-on. "Protecting a king who liked to burn people alive hardly counts as a righteous cause," he retorted, his tone cutting through the tension like a knife.
Ser Alliser's expression darkened further at Jon's words, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury. "You know nothing of loyalty or honor, you worthless bastard," he spat, his voice dripping with venom.
Jon's resolve hardened as he met Ser Alliser's furious gaze, his own expression a mask of calm defiance. Despite the anger coursing through him at the insult, he knew that rising to Ser Alliser's bait would only serve to escalate the situation further.
"You're entitled to your opinion, Ser Alliser," Jon replied evenly, his voice steady despite the tension thick in the air. "But I stand by my words. Loyalty and honor are earned, not inherited. And I will prove my worth to my family, regardless of your opinion of me."
With that, Jon turned away from Ser Alliser, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor as he continued on his way. Ser Arthur followed close behind, his own expression unreadable as they made their way through the corridors of Castle Black.
The encounter with Ser Alliser had left a bitter taste in Jon's mouth, but he knew that he could not afford to let it distract him from his mission.
—
As Jon and Ser Arthur reached the Lord Commander's solar, Jon's heart quickened with anticipation. This was the moment they had been preparing for since leaving Winterfell, and he was determined to make the most of it.
With a deep breath to steady himself, Jon raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door. The wood echoed with the sound, reverberating through the quiet hallway of Castle Black.
Moments later, the door swung open, revealing the austere figure of Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. His grizzled face was etched with lines of age and experience, his eyes sharp and penetrating as he regarded the newcomers.
"Lord Commander Mormont," Jon began, his voice respectful but firm. "Ser Donnel and I have urgent news to report regarding a deserter from the Night's Watch. May we come in?"
Jeor Mormont's gaze flickered with curiosity at Jon's words, but he nodded in acknowledgment, stepping aside to allow them entry into his solar.
"Of course," he replied, his voice grave. "Enter, and speak your piece."
As Jon and Ser Arthur entered the Lord Commander's solar, Jeor Mormont's gaze lingered on Jon for a moment, his expression unreadable. He had already heard of the encounter between Jon and Ser Alliser Thorne from his steward, who had rushed to inform him of the confrontation.
"Jon Snow," Mormont began, his voice measured. "I trust you've had a... interesting encounter with Ser Alliser Thorne."
Jon nodded, his jaw set with determination. "Yes, Lord Commander," he replied evenly. "It seems Ser Alliser and I have... differing opinions."
Mormont's lips quirked in a faint smile at Jon's understatement. "So it would seem," he agreed, his tone wry. "But let us set aside such matters for now. You mentioned urgent news regarding a deserter. Tell me, what have you discovered?"
Jon cleared his throat, his gaze steady as he addressed Jeor Mormont. "Lord Commander, if it pleases you, I would request the presence of my uncle, Benjen Stark, who serves as the First Ranger here," he began, his tone respectful but firm. "This matter concerns the Night's Watch as a whole, and I believe his insight and experience would be invaluable in addressing it."
Jeor Mormont considered Jon's request for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "Very well," he replied finally, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Send for Ranger Stark and have him join us. We will hear what you have to say, and then decide on the appropriate course of action."
With a nod of gratitude, Jon turned to leave the solar, his mind already racing with the weight of the task ahead. As he made his way to find his uncle, he knew that the fate of the deserter rested in their hands, and that they must tread carefully in their judgment.
As they waited, Jon's eyes fall on a very familiar sword. Jeor Mormont followed Jon's gaze to where Longclaw, the ancestral Valyrian steel sword of House Mormont, hung proudly on the wall behind him. A faint chuckle escaped his lips as he observed Jon's lingering gaze.
"Ah, I see you've taken notice of Longclaw," Mormont remarked, his voice gruff but not unkind. "It's a fine blade, one that has served House Mormont well for generations."
Jon nodded, a hint of admiration in his eyes as he regarded the sword. "It is indeed an impressive weapon," he agreed, his voice tinged with respect. "Valyrian steel, forged with the skill of ancient artisans. A rare and valuable possession, to be sure."
Mormont's chuckle deepened at Jon's words, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Aye, that it is," he replied, his tone gruff but fond. "But remember, lad, it's not the blade that makes the man, but how he wields it. And I've seen enough to know that you've got a good head on your shoulders. Unfortunately, I'm too old to properly wield it anymore."
Their conversation was interrupted by Benjen Stark entering the Lord Commander's solar, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Jon standing before him. There was a flicker of hope in his gaze, tempered by a deep sadness that Jon couldn't ignore.
"Jon," Benjen began, his voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and sorrow. "Are you finally here to join the Night's Watch?"
Jon met his uncle's gaze with a solemn expression, his heart heavy with the weight of his answer. "No, Uncle Benjen," he replied, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling within him. "I'm not here to take the black."
As relief washed over Benjen Stark, a flicker of warmth softened his features, replacing the initial sadness that had clouded his expression.
"Jon," he said, his voice tinged with relief and a hint of affection. "I must admit, I had always hoped that you would get to experience life beyond the Wall. The Night's Watch is a noble calling, but it's not the only path available to you."
Jon met his uncle's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and understanding, appreciating the sentiment behind Benjen's words.
"Thank you, Uncle Benjen," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I know that my choices may not always align with what others expect of me, but I hope to find my own way in this world."
Benjen nodded in understanding, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Benjen's question hung in the air, heavy with curiosity and genuine interest, as he searched Jon's face for answers.
"Jon," he began, his voice gentle yet probing. "You've always wanted to join the Night's Watch, as long as I can remember. What made you change your mind?"
Jon met his uncle's gaze, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes as he considered his response. "It's true, Uncle Benjen," he admitted, his voice tinged with introspection. "I've always felt drawn to the Night's Watch, but recent events have made me question whether it's truly the path for me."
He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Uncle Benjen," Jon began, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. "Father gave me a letter that had been written by Mother, to be given to me on my sixteenth nameday. In it, she asked me, as a last request of a dying mother, to live life and to have a family."
As Jon revealed the contents of the letter to Benjen, a solemn hush fell over the room, the weight of his mother's final words echoing in the air.
Benjen listened in silence, his expression grave as he absorbed the significance of Jon's words. The revelation struck a chord deep within him, stirring memories of their mother and the love she had bestowed upon them.
"That's... that's quite a request," Benjen murmured, his voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and reverence. "To carry the wishes of our mother, even in death... it's a heavy burden, Jon."
Jon nodded in agreement, a sense of solemnity settling over him as he contemplated the weight of his mother's final words. "It is," he replied, his voice filled with quiet determination. "But it's a burden I am willing to bear, Uncle. For her sake, and for the sake of our family."
Benjen regarded Jon with a mixture of pride and sympathy, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the sacrifices Jon was willing to make for the ones he loved. "I have no doubt that you will honor her memory, Jon," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "And whatever path you choose, know that you carry the strength and spirit of our House with you."
As the weight of Jon's revelation hung in the air, Lord Commander Mormont's voice cut through the solemn silence, his tone firm yet compassionate.
"Jon, Benjen," he began, his gaze shifting between the two men. "As much as I understand the importance of family matters, we must address the pressing issue at hand first."
Jon and Benjen exchanged a brief glance, a shared understanding passing between them as they refocused their attention on the task at hand. With a nod of agreement, Jon turned back to Mormont, his expression resolute.
"Of course, Lord Commander," Jon replied, his voice steady. "The matter of the deserter takes precedence."
"As you wish, Lord Commander," Jon began, his voice carrying the weight of conviction. "Before Father executed him, the deserter spoke of seeing something beyond the Wall. Something... unnatural."
Mormont raised a skeptical eyebrow, his expression betraying his doubt. "White Walkers, you say?" he questioned, his tone tinged with disbelief. "Are you certain this deserter's tale is to be believed, Jon? Men often see things in the darkness beyond the Wall that cloud their judgment."
Jon's jaw tightened, his resolve hardening as he met Mormont's skeptical gaze. "I understand your skepticism, Lord Commander," he replied, his voice steady. "But the fear in the deserter's eyes... it was genuine. And if what he saw is true, then we ignore it at our peril."
Mormont regarded Jon with a thoughtful expression, his skepticism warring with the gravity of Jon's words. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded solemnly. "Very well," Mormont conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. "We shall investigate this matter further. But until we have more concrete evidence, we must proceed with caution."
Benjen suggests a party of Rangers be sent to investigate.
"An excellent suggestion, Benjen," Mormont remarked, his eyes brightening with approval. "Sending a party of Rangers to investigate the claims of the deserter would allow us to gather valuable intelligence without committing all our resources to a single venture. And who better to lead such a mission than one of our most seasoned Rangers?"
Benjen's chest swelled with pride at Mormont's words, his sense of duty propelling him forward. "I volunteer to lead the mission," he declared, his voice firm with resolve. "I know the lands beyond the Wall better than anyone, and I am prepared to face whatever dangers may await us."
"Very well, Benjen," Mormont replied, his tone solemn. "You shall lead the party of Rangers and investigate these reports of White Walkers. May the Old Gods watch over you on your journey."
"However, this can only happen once Uncle Benjen returns from his visit to Winterfell," Jon tells them, "King Robert is on his way there, most probably to make Lord Stark the new Hand of the King. He will expect the entire Stark Household to be present there."
Jon's words hung in the air, carrying a weight of urgency and necessity. Lord Commander Mormont's brow furrowed in contemplation, his gaze shifting between Jon and Benjen. "You speak wisely, Jon," he conceded, his tone solemn. "The arrival of King Robert at Winterfell is indeed a matter of great significance. It would not be prudent for us to venture beyond the Wall while such important events unfold in the realm."
Benjen nodded in agreement, his expression grave. "Aye, the King's presence at Winterfell will require the full attention and attendance of House Stark," he added, his voice tinged with concern. "We cannot afford to be absent during this crucial time."
Mormont's jaw tightened with determination as he met Benjen's gaze. "Then it is settled," he declared, his voice resolute. "We shall await Benjen's return from Winterfell before embarking on our mission. In the meantime, we must remain vigilant and prepared for whatever challenges may arise."
"Very well," Jon acknowledged, nodding in agreement with Benjen's decision. "In one day's time, we shall make our preparations and ensure that we are ready to depart for Winterfell."
Lord Commander Mormont offered a solemn nod of approval. "Agreed," he concurred, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "We shall use this time wisely to gather supplies, arm ourselves, and make any necessary arrangements for the journey ahead."
Benjen's expression hardened with resolve as he met the gazes of his companions. "Then let us make haste," he declared, his tone resolute. "We have much to do in preparation for the mission, and we cannot afford to delay."
"While I'm here, could I have a meeting with the Maester of Castle Black?" Jon ask tentatively, "I also wish to see the Weirwood Tree beyond the Wall."
"Of course, Jon," Benjen replied, his tone filled with a sense of camaraderie. "I'll arrange for you to meet Maester Aemon. He's a wise old man with much knowledge to share."
Mormont offered a reassuring smile. "And I'll have someone show you the way to the Weirwood Tree," he added, his voice warm with encouragement. "It's a sacred place for the Night's Watch, and I'm sure you'll find it quite... enlightening."
—
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