As he rode away from Queenscrown, Jon felt a mixture of sadness and confusion. Sadness for leaving his family, confusion over what had transpired between him and Sansa. Of course, it was only a kiss or four, and they were only for show, however when he told Sansa to imagine someone else, he'd expected himself to imagine he was kissing Daenerys; he didn't, in his mind's eye it was the adult Sansa he used. It shouldn't have mattered, but imagining her being in his arms had the desired effect, and he knew it shouldn't.
Jon cast his mind back to their relationship before the long night. How did he feel about Sansa before he met Daenerys? Jon had thought their closeness was about their bond forged out of a need for each other. He was certain it couldn't have been more to it than that.
Jon reflected on his reaction towards Littlefinger's advances, and he knew that was more than an overprotective brother. Had he felt something else and suppressed his feelings out of guilt because of who she was? Did that explain why he had suddenly fallen for Daenerys? A distraction from where his heart lay.
If he had to choose between them, he knew he'd always choose Sansa, but was that because he'd believed her to be his sister or something else? These were questions he'd never have the answer to. What he knew, was his reaction to Sansa when they kissed should have been more muted. Had they been in their adult bodies, Jon would have struggled to stop himself from taking it further.
The next question for Jon had been who had Sansa imagined when they kissed? Whoever it was had elicited a passion in her he had never expected, especially that morning in bed.
For the first time, Jon was glad she still had the body of a girl of ten and four, otherwise he would have struggled to stop himself. Yet the kisses which were of a more sexual nature weren't the ones which confused him the most. It had been a goodbye kiss. Either Sansa was the greatest mummer of all time, or she meant it.
The words she'd said to him weren't for others to hear, they were for him. Sansa spoke to him like a wife would speak to her husband who was going off to war, not a sister or cousin. Her tears had seemed as real as his had been.
"You seem to still be in Queenscrown, or at the wall already." Tyrion interrupted his thoughts.
"Aye." Jon sighed. "Still in Queenscrown. Still tucked up under the furs, where it is warm and dry. Gods, I wish."
"Sick of our company already, or were you wishing to be in bed with your Lady wife?" he smirked.
"What do you think?" Jon asked.
"If you'd have asked me yesterday, I would have thought you found our company distasteful, this morning I'm not so sure." Tyrion frowned. "You know, I didn't believe you would have bedded her. I mean, she was your sister and all."
"When Lady Stark thought I was my uncle's bastard, she kept us apart. We found out a few years ago that I was Brandon's son, she still kept us apart because I was a bastard. But we secretly ignored her." Jon lowered his eyes, trying to look as guilty as he could.
"Ah, so love blossomed." Tyrion seemingly understood what Jon was trying to tell him. "And is that a reason for your insistence on marrying her?"
"It wasn't my insistence, we got caught." Jon lied. "Lady Stark wasn't happy about her perfect daughter cavorting in secret to someone she was not betrothed to, even worse, with a bastard. She was no longer of any desire towards a High Lord."
"You dishonoured her?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow, Jon nodded.
"Lord and Lady Stark couldn't exactly tell that to the King what really happened, they were far too embarrassed; so we were married in secret and sent away before King Robert arrived." Jon looked over towards Benjen, who was listening carefully to his tale.
"Forgive me, but I am confused. Where does Lady Arya comes into all of this. Why was she sent to Queenscrown?" he asked.
Benjen laughed. "Even I could answer your question without speaking to my brother. My niece adores Jon. And no matter what Cat said or did, the little one was never interested in learning how to run a house," he turned to Jon. "Am I right?"
Jon nodded. "She promised Lady Stark she would learn how to run a keep if she could be fostered with us for a while. Lord Stark knew I was to leave to go north to help sort out the wildling problem, so Arya was to keep her company. She's learning well." Jon added.
"I noticed." Tyrion agreed.
"Best thing that's happened to her." Benjen added.
"I take it Lady Whitestark isn't too happy about you leaving so soon into your marriage. It is a bit... convenient, is it not?"
"I don't understand?" Jon frowned, pretending to act like a stupid boy of ten and six.
"Ah, the ignorance of youth." Tyrion sighed. "Should you go missing north of the wall, then Lady Whitestark is suddenly a widow and once again marriageable. You being away for a year will confirm whether or not she is with your child. If not, then she will again be one of the most sought after ladies in the land. Not only would she be the key to the north, but she would even have her own lands and keep. Clever ploy from Lord and Lady Stark."
"And when I return?" Jon raised an eyebrow.
"Then their daughter will be happy and they will have grandchildren. Robb will become one of the most desirable matches in the Seven Kingdoms, after my repulsive nephew and Loras Tyrell; although I doubt any union with him would bear fruit. He prefers the company of men than women." Tyrion clarified.
"I'm sure Prince Joffrey would be more than happy with a match to Lady Margaery, I hear she is most beautiful." Jon filed that away for future reference, he would need to write to Sansa about Joffrey and Margaery.
It hadn't occurred to them that the King and Queen were arranging their second choice for the crown Prince. There was no way Margaery would wed Robb over Joffrey, after all, Joffrey was the heir to the throne, whereas Robb was only the heir to Winterfell. Lady Margaery had been raised to expect more than being a northern Lady.
A sennight later, they arrived at Castle Black with men who were joining the watch, namely Rast, who Jon absolutely hated as he'd been involved with the mutiny which led to the death of Lord Commander Mormont. The place was exactly how Jon remembered, and just as depressing. Ser Alliser was alive and being a cunt towards anyone who didn't live up to his expectations.
"Morning Lord Snow," Ser Alliser welcomed him with a sneer.
"It's Lord Whitestark," Jon corrected him.
"You're a northern bastard, I think Lord Snow is more fitting. I suppose you are here to speak with the Lord Commander." he looked Jon up and down, appraising him. "Mance Rayder won't care whether you are one of us, or a little jumped up lordling, or the King of the Seven fucking Kingdoms. He'll eat a little shit like you alive." Ser Alliser's face was so close, Jon could smell his rancid breath.
"We'll see." Jon smirked.
"Cocky little twat aren't you?" Ser Alliser said.
"With reason." Jon said calmly. "You'd be dead in thirty seconds old man, if I bothered to try." The hatred Jon had for the man was hard to suppress and took joy in winding Ser Alliser up, especially when the man had absolutely no power over him. He was going to do what Ser Alliser had killed him for; bringing the Freefolk through the wall, and Thorne had no choice in the matter. "If you want to see what I can do, you can try. But you will lose."
Benjen approached Ser Alliser. "Thorne, Jon is the best swordsman I've ever seen. Even Ser Arthur Dayne would have had his work cut out. It's not worth the effort." he put a hand on Ser Alliser's chest, before turning to Jon. "If you want to make the right impression lad, stop insulting my brothers," he shot Jon a warning glance. "Now follow me, I'm sure the Lord Commander is looking forward to meeting with you." Benjen turned and made his way towards Lord Commander Mormont's quarters, without even needing Benjen's guidance.
Benjen knocked on the door. "Lord Commander." he called out.
"Come in," came the voice of Jeor Mormont from the other side of the door, raising a lump in the throat of Jon. Jon and Benjen entered the room. The familiarity and strangeness struck Jon immediately. When Jon became Lord Commander Mormont, he had used different chambers from these as they had been burnt when Othor the wight, tried to kill the Old Bear.
When Jon walked in, the Lord Commander wasn't alone, sitting beside him was Maester Aemon and a rather dishevelled looking raven sat on a perch. "Lord Commander." Benjen nodded his head.
"Lord Commander." Jon smiled.
"Benjen, Lord Whitestark." Jeor Mormont acknowledged them. "Close the door and lock it. We don't want anyone walking in."
"Come here, boy." Maester Aemon said to Jon. "Let me look at you." Jon approached the blind Maester, who touched Jon's face and smiled, he saw tears in the old man's eyes. "Do you prefer Aegon or Jon?" he asked.
"I've always been called Jon, Maester Aemon," Jon replied.
"Ah, mores the pity. You look like him, you know," Maester Aemon told him.
"Who?" Jon asked.
"My brother, Egg. You have his nose and cheeks. I might be blind, but I can still remember the shape of his face." Maester Aemon said. "I take it most believe you to look like a Stark."
"I favour my mother's colouring." Jon said.
"Good! If you had your father's Valyrian features, you'd be dead by now." Maester Aemon smiled.
"Black hair and grey eyes of a Stark." Benjen said proudly. "But he's as pretty as his father. Luckily, people see what they want to see."
"Sit." Mormont commanded, to which Jon and Benjen followed his orders. "Lord Stark has asked a lot from me. Things that will not be popular with the men." he said. "I don't want a mutiny. When are you planning to announce your presence to the world?" he asked. "I can tell the men that I am allowing this on the orders of a prince, or Lord Stark. Which is it to be?"
"King, King," the words came from the mouth of the raven.
"For the time being it must be under the orders of Lord Stark." Jon ignored the raven. "We are waiting until King Robert is no longer with us."
"Are you planning on killing him?" Mormont asked.
Jon shook his head. "But someone is. Jon Arryn was poisoned, and it is obvious Robert's children are not his. If he should get close to the truth, then he will be killed. I suspect that will happen sooner rather than later."
"And what makes you think you can talk Mance Rayder into helping us?" Mormont asked.
"The whitewalkers are on the other side of the wall. The wildlings just want to flee from them. It is in our interests and theirs for them to be south of the wall. I don't need to talk Mance Rayder into allowing his men to go south, I need to make sure Mance has enough control over the wildlings to make sure they stick to the laws of Westeros while they are living there." Jon explained.
"And where would you have them settle?" Mormont asked.
"The land in the gift is fertile land and unused. Allowing them to farm the land and provide an income for the watch will be the best thing to happen to you for over a hundred years. It will slow down the march of the army of the dead as they will have fewer people to add to their army. That will give us, and I mean those that are south of the wall; it will give us time to arm ourselves and research as much as possible to destroy them." he turned to Maester Aemon. "Uncle, we will need the help of the Citadel, although I doubt they will be forthcoming with information. I believe Archmaester Marwyn might be sympathetic to the cause."
"And how would you know about that?" Maester Aemon asked.
"A bit of greensight." Jon said truthfully.
"I will take your word for it." Maester Aemon nodded.
Jon turned to the Lord Commander. "I will need some men to go with me. I will want to bond with and trust. They won't need to take the black, Lord Stark has issued pardons for any crimes. Instead, they will work for me, and if they wish to take the black afterwards, I will not say no. I'll choose from the new recruits," he added.
"Lord Stark mentioned something about that in his raven. Other than the taxes, what do we get in return? We need men." Mormont said gruffly.
"Men, men," the raven agreed.
"The wildlings won't kneel, they won't swear fealty or take any oaths, but they will help man the wall, of that I can be certain." Jon told them.
Mormont raised an eyebrow. "Greensight?" he asked.
Jon smiled and shook his head. "We captured some wildlings and asked them what was going on. That's how we know so much. Mance Rayder has gathered most of the clans together, even the ones who hate each other. Hornfoots, ice-river clans, giants, Thenns. He has an army a hundred thousand strong. If we don't offer them the option of coming south, then they'll do it their way, which will be a lot bloodier."
Mormont nodded. "Alright, the new bunch will start tomorrow. Pick your men and train them separately."
"Thank you, Lord Commander." Jon smiled. "I also request Uncle Benjen joins me on the journey," he said.
"He's supposed to be going on a mission to find Gared and Waymar Royce." Mormont stated. "But I'll send someone else instead." he turned to Benjen. "Do you fancy swapping with Ser Alliser? I'll send him with Othor and Jafer."
Benjen nodded. "Aye, it might do him some good to get out of Castle Black. It seems he wants to butt heads with Jon."
"I'll help with the training of all the men if you want." Jon offered. "I've trained men before."
"I think Ser Alliser wants to see what he can do first. He won't want to leave his post to a greenboy. Especially one who isn't a brother." Benjen said.
Jon said nothing, he'd not fought in front of Benjen or Tyrion, although Jon knew Benjen was aware of his increased skill.
Mormont nodded. "Just don't kill him, or injure him too much."
"I'll try not to." Jon smiled.
"Benjen, see our guest to his quarters." Mormont said as Jon and Benjen stood up. "We'll talk more later," he added, and with that they left and made their way to the room Jon used to occupy as a steward, where Ghost was sat waiting for him.
"How did he know where you were going to stay?" Benjen frowned.
"I don't know." Jon shook his head, baffled by Ghost's behaviour. He'd never shown inclination towards being knowledgeable about anything of note since they'd returned. Jon opened the door and let Ghost inside, Benjen joined him and lit the fire.
"Don't go winding Ser Alliser up." Benjen warned. "I know you knew him, Ned never told me much about what happened to him."
"I was Lord Commander when Ser Alliser ended my watch." Jon told him, as he lit the fire in the chambers. "He murdered me. He told me if he had the chance to do it all over again, he prayed he'd do the same. We'll see."
"Ser Alliser will be the one to take my place." Benjen told him. "You might be condemning an innocent man to death."
"There's nothing innocent about Ser Alliser." Jon scowled as the heat from the fire permeated the room.
"Maybe, maybe not. But you are sentencing a man who has yet to commit the crime." Benjen tried to reason with Jon, but it was of little use. Jon hated Ser Alliser, the feelings had been mutual from the moment both laid eyes on one another.
"We never liked each other." he smiled at Benjen. "At least this time I can put him in his place. Why did you pretend you'd seen me fight?" he asked.
"I heard enough from Ned and Robb. The second coming of Ser Arthur Dayne if you'd have them tell you what." Benjen laughed.
"Let's see what Ser Alliser can do against Ser Arthur reborn." Jon turned to Ghost. "Stay here." he said as he and Benjen left for the sparring session with Thorne.
Jon and Ser Alliser stood in the yard, while the newcomers and brothers alike watched on with interest. Few would dare go against Ser Alliser, Jon knew that. And in truth he shouldn't be goading them. But Jon needed the men to know how good he was and that he was one of them, not someone like Thorne. He hadn't even bothered to don the training armour, he just chose a blunted sword, checked the balance felt alright and stood waiting for Thorne to remove his cloak.
"Let's see if the bastard, Lord Snow here, bleeds like the rest of us." Thorne sneered, but Jon said nothing as they faced one another. Jon took Thorne's appearance once again, the beady blue eyes, yellowing teeth, haggard, sallow skin and faded blonde hair. The man was taller than Jon, but that made little difference when skill was involved. Of course, Ser Alliser was a skilled knight who had fought in many battles, but Jon had far more skill, speed and youth on his side. As a result, it took less than a minute to have Ser Alliser on his arse.
"Is that the best you can do, Ser Alliser?" Jon asked.
"Again!" Ser Alliser cried.
"I was giving you a chance that time." Jon warned, but the master-at-arms wouldn't listen. This time Jon was faster, he hit Thorne's ankles, the man dropped to his knees and Jon had him. "Again, or have you had enough? I can do this all day."
"I yield…bastard." Thorne tried to rile Jon up, but it wouldn't work. He'd been called bastard more times than he could count, and he wasn't even one in the first place. Now he felt it was a badge of honour, something he could use to his advantage. Should anyone suspect who he really was, he wouldn't get fair treatment.
"We done?" Jon asked. "Your posture was all wrong, and your eyes gave you away. I knew exactly where you were going to go. Is there any more training you want to do?" Ser Alliser was gritting his yellowing teeth together, Jon could smell the stench of anger radiating from him.
"Another time... bastard." Thorne scowled, marching off towards the armoury. Jon glanced up towards the Lord Commander's chambers and saw the Old Bear stood with Tyrion.
"Don't be too clever, or too good. Questions will be asked." Benjen whispered into his ear.
"And what answer would you have me give, uncle?" Jon asked. "There is nothing other than skill that could explain my sword-fighting abilities."
"Just don't get too cocky." Benjen warned. "These lads need to think they can learn something from you." and he is spending too much time watching you, he cocked his head over to Tyrion.
"Mayhaps we can hold his hand while he pisses off the wall." Jon smirked.
"Give him a quick push over the edge?" Benjen laughed and clapped Jon on the back, before they made their way to the armoury.
Over the following week, Jon had already integrated himself with Pyp, Grenn and Edd. Fortunately, Thorne had left him alone, preparing to go north of the wall. Leaving Jon to spend time around Tyrion, but he was always cautious what he said. He knew the man too well and right now, didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.
Jon knew it was going to take a while to train them up, and what was especially maddening was that Sam wouldn't be arriving for another sennight, and the wights wouldn't be discovered for another three moons after that. If everything went to plan, Jon would hopefully injure his hand saving the Lord Commander, and that would delay their journey for another turn of the moon. Meaning he wasn't going anywhere for almost five moons.
Jon knew not how he was going to cope. Unlike last time, he wasn't learning anything, and to make matters worse, he wasn't able to do his normal job of being Lord Commander. Facts that were making him snappy, and to make matters worse, every day seemed to merge with the last. Sam couldn't come fast enough.