Benjen carried the bag of iron spikes and a small hammer, its head wrapped in thick felt. They both carried a long coil of rope, and Benjen took the lead. The rising moon painted the mountains in silver, while casting shadows amidst the rocks, making the trail difficult to see. They worked their way up a steep, twisting trail, which was hard going, and slow, but to hurry would risk a broken ankle. Jon's time with the Freefolk gave him the confidence and instinctive knowledge to know where to put his feet; he'd made many nighttime climbs like this.
The Frostfangs were a cruel place, but Jon minded not. The ice-cold wind, which cut like a knife, was far kinder than the deathly cold brought by the Night King and his army. For safety, he carried Longclaw, sheathed, across his back, a dirk and dagger for closer work.
Sometimes, the mountain would fold back on itself, and they would lose sight of the fire, but always reappeared. The climb was as treacherous as Jon remembered. In places, Jon had to flatten his back against the cold stone, inching along the ravine sideways. When the track widened, it was no less treacherous; huge cracks, big enough to swallow a leg, and rubble littered everywhere.
Two hours into the climb, a fierce wind so wild that it was all he could do to cling to the rock, and hope he would not be blown off the mountain. They resumed their climb once the gale subsided. Looking down, there was nothing below but a black pit, and above him were the moon and stars. The narrow track eventually ended with a massive block of black granite thrusting out from the side of the mountain.
"Straight up there," Benjen said in a subdued voice. "We best get above them." He pulled his gloves off and tucked them into his belt, before tying one end of his rope around his waist, the other around Jon.
Benjen started climbing upwards. Jon watched closely, making note of each protruding rock, each hole in the cliff face, and every handhold Benjen could find. When the last of the rope uncoiled, Jon removed his gloves and followed him. Once Jon reached him, he took out his felt-headed hammer and drove a spike into a crack in the stone, soft as he could, so as not to alert the wildlings.
When the spike was secure, Jon started after him. Up they went, crossing the moonlit wall of rock. Anyone below would easily see them, but the mountain hid them from the wildlings. Jon knew the wildlings were close by. It wouldn't be long before he saw his ex-lover.
After it felt like they'd been climbing for an eternity instead of hours, Jon was crawling on his hands and knees behind Benjen along a rocky shelf. They crept along on their bellies until they were looking down on their prey. The obvious way to seek help from the wildlings would be to keep all three alive and parley with them, but Jon knew that wasn't the wildling way. As much as he'd once loved Ygritte, he knew she was as fierce as the fire-kissed hair on her head. That plan wasn't an option, instead a Watcher needed to die as a show of strength, allowing the others to be controlled.
Jon scanned the three Watchers to decide on which one to kill. One man sat near the fire, feeding it twigs and branches. The second watched the pass, either for crows or whitewalkers, most likely the latter, for the Night's Watch rarely ventured this far north. The third Watcher was asleep under the furs. Jon would leave that one for later.
Jon touched Benjen's arm, pointing at the wildling under the furs, and shook his head. That one was to be left alone. Benjen nodded, giving a thumbs up in understanding. They had already discussed who would kill the unlucky wildling Benjen had willingly volunteered. Jon had spent too much time with them and was too sympathetic to their cause to murder a man in cold blood for no reason, save that he was the unlucky one. Benjen had no such problems. He hated wildlings and was only agreeing to Jon's suggestion because it was the lesser of the two evils.
The obvious choice was the man watching the pass who had a horn around his neck. Should he live, he would alert more wildlings and they would all be dead. Jon pointed the man out and ran a finger across his own throat. Benjen nodded, pulled out his dirk and jumped down to the shelf where the wildlings were guarding.
Benjen moved fast, leaping down on the wildlings in a rain of pebbles. Jon unsheathed Longclaw and followed. It all happened in a heartbeat. Benjen's wildling reached first for his horn instead of his blade. He got it as far as his lips, but before he could sound it, Benjen knocked the horn aside with a swipe of his short sword. A swift slashing motion with his dagger across the man's neck left blood spurting over Benjen's face; the man collapsed to the floor, his life ebbing away while gurgling on his own blood.
Jon's man leapt to his feet, thrusting at his face with a torch. Jon cut the torch in two, kicked the man in the ribs and threw him over toward Benjen, who held him from behind, dagger at his throat. "You don't want to end up like your friend here, do you?"
Jon noticed the sleeping wildling stir. Jon slid his dirk free and grabbed her by the long matted mane of red hair and jamming the point of the knife up under her chin.
"Hello Ygritte,"
Jon's heart thumped loud in his ears. The last time he saw her was when she died in his arms at Castle Black. Here she was, very much alive and wriggling in his arms.
"How d'you know my name... crow?" Ygritte asked.
Jon ignored her question. "Will you yield?" he asked, pulling her hair back and giving the dirk a half turn.
"I yield... if you tell me how you know my name... crow." she asked again, her words steamed in the cold air.
"I'm not a crow. I know your name because I've got the sight." Ygritte looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and disbelief. He pulled the dirk away from her pale throat. "You're our captive, then." Jon let go his grip on the girl's hair, and she scuttled backwards, away from them.
Benjen tied a gag around the mouth of the wildling Jon tackled. "She's a spearwife. She was after that when you grabbed her." Benjen gestured at the long-hafted axe that lay beside her sleeping furs. "Give her half a chance and she'll bury it between your eyes."
Jon sheathed Longclaw and tucked his dagger in his belt. "You are my captive, Ygritte."
Ygritte rubbed at her throat with her hand. It came away bloody. "I gave you my name."
"You can call me Jon Snow."
"An evil name."
"A bastard name," he said. "They call me the bastard of Winterfell, that's all you need to know." Ygritte watched him warily as Benjen thrust a branch into the fire. When the branch was blazing, he took flung it out over the pass. It fell through the night, spinning into the darkness.
"You ought to burn that one you killed," said Ygritte. "Need a bigger fire for that. A big fire burns bright."
Benjen turned, his grey eyes scanning the distance. "Are there more wildlings?"
"Burn him," Ygritte repeated, "or it might be you'll need them swords again."
Jon knew she was right, otherwise the dead might haunt them. "We should do as she says."
Benjen kneeled beside the man he'd killed. "We should feed em to the shadowcats." He stripped the dead man of his cloak, boots, belt, and vest. He hoisted the body over his shoulder and hauled it to the edge and tossed it down into the dark. It hit the ground with a wet, heavy smack below them.
Ygritte watched in silence. "Did Mance send you here?" Benjen asked, warming his hands over the fire.
"Were you sent to watch for us, or the whitewalkers?" Jon asked, but Ygritte said nothing. "Where's Mance? Is he waiting beyond the pass?"
"He's with the free folk."
"Are you the only ones here?" Benjen stoked the fire with a stick.
"Hundreds and thousands. More than you ever saw, crow." She smiled, flashing her crooked white teeth.
"We know why you're here." Jon said.
"No, you don't."
"Mance is gathering the Freefolk together. Uniting every clan and tribe. Giants, Thenns, the lot of em. He means to march south of the wall to escape winter."
"How d'you know that, crow?" Ygritte asked.
"I'm not a crow." Jon repeated, sitting down beside the fire. "I told you, I have the sight."
"Then why are you wearing black?" Before Jon could reply, the low, rumbling growl of a shadowcat echoed in the distance, then another, closer by. "They won't trouble us," Ygritte said. "It's the dead they've come for. Cats can smell blood six miles off. They'll stay near the bodies till they've eaten every stringy shred o' meat, and cracked the bones for the marrow."
"At least the walkers won't turn them." Jon blinked to keep his eyes open. The warmth of the fire made him feel drowsy, but he dared not sleep. He had taken Ygritte captive, and it was up to him to guard her while Benjen huddled down to sleep, as did the gagged wildling.
Ygritte rubbed her hands together to keep warm. "If you've got the sight, why do you need us?"
"I need you to take me to Mance." Jon said.
"You've got the sight. Why do you need me? Can't you remember where to find him?"
"I have the sight. I don't have a map inside my head." Jon looked around. "Besides, all mountains look the same."
"What can your sight tell you about me?" she asked.
Jon wrapped his arms around his knees, not knowing what to say. He stared into the orange flames, flickering into the night sky, for help, but Melisandre wasn't on hand to give him false visions to use as lies, so he told her the truth. "You'll be dead before winter comes, if we don't get you south."
Ygritte eyed him with suspicion. "Did you see much of me with your… sight?"
"Too much." Jon said, his face turning slightly pink at the memories.
A smirk lit up Ygritte's face. "Will we be lovers?"
Jon turned to face her. "The sight gave me a choice of two paths to follow. I could follow the first path, which showed me everything until my death. Or I could choose the mysterious second path. I chose the latter. To answer your question, if I'd chosen the first path, then yes, we would have been lovers."
"Prove it!" Ygritte challenged him. "If we were lovers in a different life, I want you to prove it."
"If I can prove I've got the sight, will you take me to Mance?" Jon asked.
Ygritte narrowed her eyes. "Aye, I might. If you know about the walkers, Mance will talk to you."
Jon took a deep breath. He knew there was only one way to prove his knowledge to Ygritte. "You've got a mole, just here," he pointed to a spot atop his right thigh.
"Doesn't everyone have a mole there?" she asked.
"There's a scar left of your bellybutton. An arrow hit you as a little girl," he said. The expression on Ygritte's face was one of shock. "You told me about your first time. He was just a boy who came trading with his brothers. He had red hair like you, kissed by fire." Jon lowered his face to hers. "You hair isn't the only place kissed by fire."
"Alright, I'll take you to Mance. But not your friend. He can stay here." She turned away and lay down, closing her eyes, to settle down to sleep.
Dawn arrived with Edd, Pyp and Grenn. The eastern sky had turned pink when Benjen spied the others below, climbing their way upward. Jon woke Ygritte and pulled her along by the arm as they descended into the ravine to meet them. Thankfully, there was another way off the mountain, along a gentler path to the one which took them there.
Ghost rushed over at first scent of them. Jon knelt to let the direwolf close his jaws around his forearm, tugging back and forth. When he glanced up, he saw Ygritte watching with eyes as wide with shock and fear. "He won't hurt you, not if I say so," Jon said, standing up. "I proved myself truthful last night. Now it's your turn. If you want your people to live, take me to Mance."
"How can you help Mance?" Ygritte asked.
"Because I'm a Lord," Jon told her.
Ygritte burst into laughter. "I thought you said you were the bastard of Winterfell. Did you lie?"
"Being a bastard doesn't stop a man from becoming a king. Even south of the wall. I am the only chance your people have to survive this winter."
Benjen nodded. "The lad doesn't lie. He's my nephew.."
Ygritte eyed them all up. "I'll take the pretty lord and his wolf to Mance. Arnulf can take the rest of yer. We'll be quicker than you lot, especially with them greenboys. If he is who he says he is, we should make decent time."
Edd shook his head. "She'll slit your throat with your dagger."
Jon smiled at Edd. "No, she won't." He turned to his prisoner. "Give me your hands," he said. Ygritte held her hands out where Jon tied them together with the rope he'd used for climbing the ridge. As he fastened the knot, a sudden sense of déjà vu fell over him. He remembered tying her up before. Would history repeat itself? "Lead the way," he said.
The journey with Ygritte along the Skirling Pass was hard going. The mountains blocked the sun for most of the day, so they rode in the shadowy cold air. Jon occasionally spotted weeds sprouting through the rocks, but there was no grass.
They were now high above the tree canopy, although they could occasionally find a twig or branch that had blown away from the forest. Anything they found which could burn, they carried.
During the day, Ghost was nowhere to be seen, but he brought them a rabbit and spent the night beside them, constantly on guard, watching for the blue-eyed monsters who wrought death. The rest of his company and Arnulf, the wildling who'd been with Ygritte, were now a long way behind them.
The first night reminded him of how she'd tried to provoke him when he was an innocent greenboy. Back then, he wouldn't light a fire for fear of being discovered. Now he had no such fear, but that wasn't the only problem.
They rested under a rock instead of out in the open. Jon knew they would not only be safer, but it would keep them warm. He rolled up an old cloth to use as a pillow for comfort and lay down on the rocky ground. "We start out again at first light. Get some sleep!" It did not surprise Jon when Ygritte wiggled up next to him. "Stop moving," he said.
"I'm just trying to get comfortable."
Ygritte moved again. "Stop it! You're still moving."
"Was I? I didn't notice that time."
Jon turned over to face her. "You sleep away from me, over there," he pointed to the other side of the fire, "closer to the rocks. I'll stay on this side of the fire. Now get some sleep."
Ygritte huffed and shuffled over to the other side of the orange flames, and lay down on the ground, hiding her from view.
When he woke, Ygritte was curled up in his arms. Jon sat up like a shot and backed away. "Did you pull a knife on me in the night?" she asked, her voice full of innocence.
"I told you to sleep over there." he nodded to the other side of the dead fire while tying his swordbelt around his waist.
"The fire went out, and I got cold. Body heat keeps us nice and warm. But you lot who live south of the wall won't know that."
Jon picked up the rope and tied it around Ygritte's hands. "Of course I know that. I just don't want to keep warm next to you."
"What's the matter? Can't be the first time you pressed your bone against a woman's arse," she teased. "I know you say you've got the sight, but that's just like a dream. It's nothing like the real thing."
Jon pulled her up and checked her binding. "Let's move." he tugged on the rope and they set off.
"It is the first time. How old are you, boy?" she asked.
"I'm a married man, so no, it's not the first time," he replied.
"It must have taken ages to get here. How long has it been since you fucked your woman? Do you love her?"
Jon sighed. It had been over a year since he last bedded Dany. "Too long." then he thought of Sansa. "Aye, I love her." Jon wasn't sure in what capacity he loved Sansa, but it was the truth. He loved her and he missed her.
"Don't your stones hurt if your bone goes too long without it?" she asked.
Jon wasn't getting into this old argument. "No." he lied.
Ygritte pretended she didn't hear him. "I heard they get all swollen and bruised if you don't use them. Of course, maybe that's just what the lads say when they want me feeling sorry for them. As if I'd feel sorry for them."
Jon had had enough of her incessant chattering. "Will you shut up?" he said.
"Will you shut up?" she mimicked his voice. "You think you're better than me, Jon Snow, but I'm a free woman."
"You don't look free right now," he said.
"I might be your prisoner, but I'm a free woman."
"You call yourselves the Freefolk, I get that. But right now, until I see Mance, you are my prisoner. Once you've led me to him, then you'll be a free woman again."
"And you think you're free? You southroners have to kneel to a king who doesn't give a fuck about you lot. All he wants is to live in warm his la-di-da castle, eat fancy food and drink fancy wine."
Jon rolled his eyes. "You're right. The southron king doesn't give a fuck about us, or the whitewalkers. All he wants to do is live in his nice warm castle, get drunk, fuck whores and hunt boars."
Ygritte stopped dead and turned to face him. "You'd never need to kneel for Mance. He doesn't kneel for no southron king. He's not bothered about fucking whores, although he does like to get drunk and hunt boars when we can find them."
Jon pushed her to walk again. "Neither do I, c'mon, move."
Ygritte set off walking. "You think we're savages because we don't live in stone castles. We can't make steel as good as yours, it's true, but we're free. We don't go serving some shit king who's only king because his father was."
Jon wondered whether King Robert was still alive or if Cersei had had him murdered, which would make Joffrey the king. Not that it mattered. He wanted Joffrey, Renly and Stannis to go to war with one another before he would press his claim for the Iron Throne. "King Robert's father was not a king. He took the Iron Throne by force." Surprising himself with the amount of venom in his voice. "Don't you serve Mance Rayder, the King beyond the Wall"
"Good for him. We chose Mance Rayder to lead us. He used to be a crow, but he preferred to be free. You could be free, too. You don't need to live your whole life kneeling for stupid kings. Wake up when you want to wake up. I could show you the streams to fish, the woods to hunt. Build yourself a cabin for you and your wife up here."
"I don't think my wife would like it here. She's a lady."
"Oh, a lady, is she? Is she pretty? Does she dress up in silk dresses and act all posh?" she asked. "I bet she can't even use a weapon. Has she ever killed a man?"
"My wife can use a longbow and a dagger. She sometimes wears dresses, but most of the time, she wears leather breeches and woollen coats with cloaks. Yes, she has killed a man or two. She hated her ex-husband so much that she fed him to his hounds. And yes, my wife is pretty. In fact, I'd go as far as saying she's stunningly beautiful. Probably the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms."
Ygritte stopped again and turned to face Jon. "But she's too posh to come north of the wall." She edged closer to him. "Maybe you should forget about your beautiful lady wife. Like I said, build yourself a cabin up here and find a nice girl to warm your bed at night. You're a pretty lad. The girls would claw each other's eyes out to get naked with you."
"I love my wife!" Jon pushed her to move forward. "Now walk!"
Ygritte was silent for about ten minutes before she started asking questions again. "Does your wife know we were lovers in your greensight?"
"Aye, she knows about you and me." Jon replied. "She's got the greensight too."
"So why did she let you come north if she knows about me? How does she know we won't become lovers again?" a smirk lit up her face.
"Sansa knows how much of a threat the whitewalkers are, and wants to help get the Freefolk to safety just as much as I do," he said. "She trusts me to stay faithful to our marriage vows."
"Is that because you love her or you're scared she might feed you to that wolf of yours?"
Jon found the direction this conversation was taking uncomfortable. Although they were discussing Sansa, this conversation would most likely apply to his relationship with Dany. On Dragonstone, despite being a king, he'd been her prisoner. Knowing at any point, she could have set her dragons on him, burning him to a crisp. Death by dragonfire was a constant threat.
Jon often wondered what would have happened between him and Dany if they'd have beaten the whitewalkers? Would she still love him? To Daenerys, Jon would he be a threat to her quest for the Iron Throne, and deep down, he knew it, and it scared him.
"Sansa wouldn't feed me to Ghost; her sister trained as a faceless assassin and would kill me in my sleep if I was unfaithful to her."
"She wouldn't need to know. I won't tell, I promise," Ygritte said.
"Sansa would see my guilt the moment I return to Queenscrown. She knows a guilty face a mile off."
"So the only reason you don't want to fuck me is because your wife might find out and she'd kill you? Sounds like a wonderful wife."
Jon laughed at her reasoning. "Not really. I won't cheat on her because love her. Even if my stones hurt. Painful stones are better than a broken heart."
"Gods, I'm going to be sick. You're under the thumb Jon Snow. Let's talk about something else. How did you get a direwolf?"
Their non-stop bickering continued for the next few days, while she led him to Mance, or so he hoped. No matter how many times he'd tried to tell her he was a married man, she insisted on flirting with him and trying to bed him. At least he knew her intentions were genuine, and she found him attractive. It wasn't a ploy on behalf of Mance after all.