Once Mance agreed to the terms Jon brought him, he expected the clans to agree with their King. That notion turned out to be a mistake. Most of the Freefolk knew nothing of the goings on south of the wall. The Bastard of Winterfell meant nothing to them, however, the name Benjen Stark did. Being the nephew of a Night's Watch ranger did not endear him to the Freefolk despite Mance's assurances. This meant Jon needed to prove himself as someone with experience of living with the Freefolk and their customs.

One custom which plagued Jon daily, was women. Ygritte once told him they would claw their eyes out for him, she wasn't jesting. Women literally fought over him, only to be turned down. When this got to the stage of being a daily occurrence, Mance put a stop to it. This allowed Jon to relax and sleep without fear of a woman stealing into his tent, should Ghost leave him.

Jon relished the evenings in his tent. He could finally get some sleep and privacy. He was taking himself to hand almost every night, always thinking about Sansa. When he woke, he wondered if she ever considered him the same way. Then he thought about the torture she'd endured, and those desires were put to the back of his mind until he retired to his tent at night and took himself in hand again.

After a week of doing this, Jon realised his feelings for Daenerys had diminished. He understood the situation, which caused him to believe he was in love with her. A prisoner falling in love with his gaoler. His feelings for Ygritte far surpassed his love for Daenerys, that he'd always been certain. Now faced with a living Ygritte, he no longer harboured those desires. Jon may have been forced into marrying with Sansa, but at least their love was genuine, and was a tried and tested partnership.

When Jon told Edd, Pyp and Grenn, of the prisoner agreement, they were understandably angry with Jon. However, when he made it known the Freefolk women were excellent lovers and may offer themselves as spearwives, the three men changed their minds. They suddenly immersed themselves in the wildling way of living.

Benjen's reaction was a different matter. He hated the Freefolk, and Jon offering him in return for Tormund and Ygritte was an insult. Benjen refused to speak to Jon for a fortnight. He eventually came around, understanding Jon's position and Mance's promises to keep him safe. Mance offered Benjen extra winter survival tips for the Watch to pacify him. Benjen eventually adapted, and Jon even heard a rumour his uncle broke his vow of celibacy. Jon said nothing, for he'd done the same.

The camp only moved a mile a day. By the time everyone packed up and set off, it was already past midday. Most set off at sunrise, because of the large number, children, elderly, infirm and animals, progress was slow. Only compounded by the misery of dense snow and high winds. From their initial camp on the Milkwater, was two hundred leagues back to Castle Black as the crow flies, twice that with the diversions. Some days, the weather was so bad, they couldn't move at all. Jon knew the journey had taken three months from the wall for him to reach Mance, at this rate it would take thrice the time to get back.

After five turns of the moon to prove himself to the Freefolk, an agreement was reached to allow Jon to head south with Tormund and Ygritte. Most of the clans were amenable to the agreement, but three were still against it. Although Mance had wanted everyone to consent, he had to admit the battle was lost. He couldn't risk holding Jon up any longer.

Jon, Tormund and Ygritte set out after the camp had travelled around a hundred miles. The weather had severely deteriorated since he left Castle Black, despite having the experience of the Freefolk, the journey would take at least three moons to return to Castle Black.

Crossing the Milkwater to get to the Fist of the First Men was a much shorter route than the Skirling Pass. Or it should have been. Tormund and Ygritte knew all the places for shelter and wanted to ensure they were always within a mile of a cave to rest. As the weather slowly worsened, Jon was thankful for their foresight, spending two days in a cave when the weather was too bad to go outside. They were kept alive by Ghost hunting game for them, and even that was measly. Other than the weather, most of their journey had been uneventful.

Two moons after they set off, they were within sight of the haunted forest. Like before, the ground would be sodden and just as hard going as the snow. The only difference was the lack of caves to sleep and protect themselves from what was once rain, was now sleet and small snow flurries.

As the caves had thinned out, they took to sleeping under rocks. One particular night, they had found a boulder large enough to protect them from the wind. The night, cold as ever, fresh snow had fallen, blanketing the earth, as white as Ghost's fur. The sky was clear, stars twinkling in the sky, the half-moon lighting up the earth. They took it in turns to sleep. One person guarded, while the others slept, this was their routine since setting off for Castle Black.

Jon was on first guard duty. Each guard shift was three hours, and Jon had just taken over from Ygritte. He'd already had his allocated six hours, although he rarely slept, he was always alert, convinced they would encounter wights or whitewalkers. Ghost was his constant companion on these cold nights, keeping him warm. Although the direwolf appeared to sleep, Jon was sure the silent white beast had one ear open for trouble.

The air seemed to grow colder, nothing unusual. The temperature was always at its lowest just before dawn. Despite the fire they'd built, his breath was like smoke in the air. Ghost lifted his head and sat up, looking around.

"What's the matter, boy?" Jon whispered. Ghost stood, at first he was agitated, his fur standing on end. Then the air grew colder, an icy shiver ran down Jon's spine. This was a different type of cold. This was the cold only death brought.

Jon stood, unsheathed Longclaw and peered out from the rock, looking for signs of wights or whitewalkers, hoping the sound was just a shadowcat. He crept out from the cave and took in his surroundings. The stars had disappeared; the moon was barely visible. An icy mist engulfed them. Jon ran back under the rock and kicked Tormund and Ygritte.

"What the..." Tormund started, but Jon put his finger to his lips and pointed outside.

Jon reached inside his cloak and pulled out two dragonglass daggers, handing them one each. The three of them, exited their shelter, and each picked up a torch, readying it, should they be needed to fight the wights en masse. Out of nowhere, Jon saw bright blue eyes running towards him. It was a wight. Jon grabbed hold of Longclaw with two hands and swiped the creature as it ran mindlessly at him. The wight split in two, and lay dead on the ground.

A screeching noise alerted them to another wight approaching from the opposite direction, but before they had the chance to attack, Ghost disappeared toward the sound. Then three more wights appeared, exhibiting varying states of decay. Two men and one woman. The wights carried swords, rendering the dragonglass daggers useless. Longclaw was more effective, taking down two wights, Tormund and Ygritte killed the other.

"Are they gone?" Ygritte whispered.

Jon shook his head. "This mist, they bring it."

Then Jon saw it in the distance. Approaching was a man, long white hair, a blue body and blue eyes. He wore armour similar to that he saw the whitewalkers wear at Hardhome and carried a spear.

"I'll take this one." Jon said, approaching the whitewalker.

Whitewalkers weren't mindless killing machines like the wights. The whitewalkers and the Night King had motivation, for what, Jon wasn't certain, but increasing their army was high on their agenda. From Jon's experience, they weren't particularly skilled fighters; they didn't need to be, very little could hurt them.

The whitewalker in question approached Jon and parried its spear, but Jon ducked. He needed the whitewalker to think he could be beaten. A spear was a terrible weapon to use in one-on-one combat, Longclaw was better. He ducked twice, before he blocking the parry from the whitewalker. The strength of the creature exceeded what he remembered. Jon should've known, his body was still weaker than when he fought at Hardhome.

The whitewalker looked at him in shock. With speed and agility, Jon took his chance like had done at Hardhome, he swung his sword across the middle of the whitewalker; before the creature had chance to react, it shattered into a million icy fragments. The wights attacking Tormund and Ygritte fell to their feet. The mist cleared, and the moon shone visible once more.

Tormund stared at Jon. "Where did you learn to fight like that? I've never seen a man fight with a sword like you."

He looked to the sky. "Experience. They've gone for now."

Ygritte raised an eyebrow. "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

Once upon a time, that statement was correct, not now. "I know more than you." he said, putting Longclaw back in its sheathe. Jon's concern now turned to Ghost, who still hadn't returned. "Ghost."

Jon waited for a minute before the sound of padding paws caught his attention. Ghost ran over and pressed himself against Jon, knocking him sideways. Ghost had grown to Jon's waist and was much stronger than him. Jon ran his gloved fingers through the white fur and checked for injuries.

"What do we do now?" Tormund asked.

"The sun will be up soon, might as well get a move on." Jon said. Soon, they continued on their way to Castle Black.

They continued to follow the Milkwater, which provided food from ice-fishing, in which Jon was becoming an expert. When they passed Craster's, they found a deserted keep. The women and animals were all gone, as was the food and wine. In the courtyard, stood a burnt out pyre, large enough to burn a man. Jon wondered if Sam and his men were the culprits. Had the women gone to the wall for safety, or were they stubborn and stayed north?

Jon, Tormund, and Ygritte, spent the night in the keep, enjoying the shelter and warmth it brought, but then they needed to make for the wall. Hope filled him inside. In less than two moons, Jon would be back at Queenscrown and with his family once more. He was desperate to see Sansa. However, a large snowstorm prevented them for moving for two more days, increasing Jon's frustration. Ghost kept them fed with game, and they were warm inside, but Jon wanted to go home.

The only consolation from being stuck in the keep, was having a comfortable place to sleep. Cots which hadn't been slept in for some time, brought welcome relief from the hard ground he'd become accustomed to. For the first time since they left Mance's camp, Jon took himself in hand, thinking of Sansa.

In his mind, Jon believed he would only dream of Sansa taking him to hand. He couldn't imagine her doing it in real life. Jon was certain, Sansa would see coupling as a duty, not for satisfaction. From her experience, he wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to couple for any other purpose than to produce an heir.

Once the storm passed, they left Craster's and continued on to the wall. They spent a night at Whitetree, then continued on. Five days later, the wall loomed up ahead, Jon's heart skipped a beat. He was nearly home.

"It's going to be strange not climbing that fucker." Tormund said. "It's tough, but worth it at the end."

Ygritte laughed. "Aye, last time I nearly fell."

"Oh, we went on some proper raids after that."

"No raiding." Jon said. "You'll have everything you need."

Tormund scowled. "If you say, King Egg."

Jon rolled his eyes. Most of the time, Tormund called him Jon Snow, but when he didn't like what Jon had to say, he called him King Egg. Even Ygritte had taken on the nickname.

"This best be no trap." Ygritte said as they emerged from the haunted forest and the black ironwood gate, covered with rolled steel, loomed before them.

Jon waved a torch so the men atop the wall could see him. The sound of a single horn blew, Jon waited as the gates creaked opened. They entered the tunnel, followed by Ghost, walked through the tunnel and were met at the other side by Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon.

The Old Bear smiled. "Good to see you, Jon. Thought you might be dead after all this time. Would you like to introduce your companions?"

Jon pointed to Tormund, "This is Tormund Giantsbane," he turned to Ygritte, "and this is Ygritte."

"Welcome to Castle Black. I'm sure you'll be comfortable here for a night or two." Mormont said, looking down the tunnel. "What happened to the others?"

"I sent Sam back."

"Aye, he and a wildling lass called Gilly passed through around nine moons ago. They left for Queenscrown two days later. She'd just had a baby."

"Good. What about my other men, and Craster's wives?" Jon asked.

Mormont shook his head. "Other than Gilly, the wives didn't come south. Your men didn't make it much further south than Craster's. They came across a walker. Hard to believe, but Sam says he killed it with dragonglass."

"I suspect he's telling the truth of it." Jon said. The Old Bear would know Sam wasn't lying. "We saw a walker and some wights."

"This fucker fought off most of them himself, and a walker. Not seen nothing like it." Tormund shook his head.

"I'll have Satin escort you to your rooms. There you can have a bath and some food." Mormont said, his raven approached. "Then we'll talk more in my solar over wine and ale."

"King, King, Snow, Snow." the raven quorked. Jon eyed the raven with discomfort, that bird knew too much. Jon wondered whether it was the Three-Eyed-Raven, watching over them.

"Would you like me to send a raven to Queenscrown, Jon Snow?" Maester Aemon asked.

Jon thought about it for a minute. He wanted to surprise Sansa, but he also wanted to reassure her he was alive. "I'll send one just before we leave."

The hot bath was heavenly. Jon's cold, aching muscles, soothed by the warm water. Jon hadn't bathed for nigh on ten moons, and he smelled ripe. The soap was odourless, but it removed the stench of fur, sweat, food and smoke. His hair was so greasy, it was straight.

Once he washed the dirt out and towelled himself dry, his curls returned. Jon could finally look himself in the mirror, and he had to laugh. His hair was past his shoulders, his beard was almost the same length as Tormund's. Jon considered trimming it, but wanted to wait until he got home. Maybe Sansa would indulge him and do the honours.

Once they were clean and fed, Jon met with Lord Commander Mormont, Maester Aemon, Tormund, and Ygritte in the Old Bear's solar. All except Maester Aemon, were drinking ale. He brought the cloth containing the dragonglass with him.

Tormund grimaced at the taste of the ale. "What is this shit?"

Jon laughed. "A thousand years and the Night's Watch still can't brew a decent ale."

"Enough of the niceties." Mormont turned to Jon. "Where's Benjen and the rest of the men?"

"With Mance." Jon replied.

"As hostages?" Mormont asked.

Tormund furrowed his brows. "Guests."

"In exchange for the safety of Tormund and Ygritte, Mance kept the rest of my men."

"Mance won't hurt 'em. More worried you lot'll hurt us, though." Ygritte said.

"They'll be fine. I wouldn't be surprised if Edd, Pyp and Grenn are settling down with some spearwives. Benjen and Mance were getting on when we left. They were trading winter survival tips. Might come in useful for the rangers." Jon said.

"How long before we should expect them?" Mormont asked.

"Once they pass the poor weather, they should double their pace. Twelve moons?" Jon looked to Tormund and Ygritte, who nodded.

Jon handed the cloth to Mormont, who unfolded it and examined the contents. "Dragonglass."

Jon nodded. "Have they finished mining it?"

Mormont looked uncomfortable. "They mined dragonglass from Dragonstone for a while. But once the wars started, they had to stop. I sent the men to Skagos for the time being."

"How much has been mined?" Jon asked.

"Six tonnes so far." Maester Aemon replied. "Should Stannis become reasonable, then we can return to Dragonstone. The deposits there are far superior and plentiful, unlike Skagos."

"I take it Robert is dead."

Mormont took a gulp of ale. "Aye, two moons before you left Castle Black. We found out a sennight after you left."

"Who is the King?"

"Joffrey has taken the crown. Although there have been battles between him and Stannis. Lord Renly also passed, as was foretold. There are other political ramifications, however, I believe your wife will know more than I. The Night's Watch takes no part in the issues of the realm." Maester Aemon said.

"We came across a whitewalker. I killed it." Jon said.

"I've not seen no man fight like him." Tormund said. "He was so fast."

"Jon is believed to be one of the best swordsmen in all the Seven Kingdoms." said Maester Aemon. "You were lucky to have him defending you. Also, the most experienced man to fight the army of the dead."

"Where were they?" Mormont asked.

"Close the Fist of the First Men." Jon replied. "Craster is dead. I wouldn't bother sending anyone else north of the wall. The Freefolk will be here before the army of the dead. They have skinchangers who can see through the eyes of birds."

"Is that so?" Mormont asked.

"Tis true." Ygritte said.

They continued talking for another hour, Maester Aemon and Lord Commander Mormont, fascinated to talk with the Freefolk in a civilised manner. They eventually retired to their chambers, where Jon started his letter to Sansa.

Sansa

I've just arrived at Castle Black with Tormund and Ygritte. Lord Commander Mormont says Sam is with you. Did he reach you safely? I've left Uncle Benjen north with the Freefolk. I should be home soon. We'll stop off at Moles Town and then make our way to Queenscrown.

I've missed you all.

Jon

He rolled it up, melted some wax and sealed it, ready to send the next morning before he set out for home.