A/N: Hello dears!

We're back, and actually making a habit of updating on time! How about that. :D We know you've been waiting patiently (or maybe not so patiently), so without further ado, here's chapter 6!

Margaery sat atop the Wall, Ghost's huge muzzle sitting in her lap as she watched the sunrise. She was petting the direwolf's head, thankful for the cloak Jon's steward - Olly, that was the boy's name - had procured for her. She could hardly believe that just a few short weeks ago, she had been fleeing King's Landing for her life, after watching her second husband choke to death from poison. Now, she was here, at the edge of the world, in the care of a man who seemed...different.

Jon Snow was certainly a good kind of different, though Margaery had been surprised that the Lord Commander kept a direwolf as a pet. But he seemed like a truly kind man, which was an all too rare thing in Westeros. Who knew that kindness and mercy could be found at the Wall, of all places? Before now, she had thought of the Wall as a place where the roughest men of the Realm went to defend them against the Wildlings. Only after being there did she realize how nuanced the Watch truly was.

Margaery sighed, thinking back over the last few weeks. She missed her grandmother and brother terribly. She hoped they were both alright, but she trusted that her father would've sent them back to Highgarden to keep them safe. The weeks on the road had exhausted her, and though she was healing physically, she still felt drained mentally. Thinking about her family led to thinking about her guards, and before she could stop herself, a sob escaped her. While fleeing from the Boltons, she hadn't had time to grieve, but here, at the edge of the world, perhaps she could.

Offering a silent prayer to the gods, Margaery closed her eyes and remembered Brandeth's cheerful smile, Darrin's exaggerated tales, and Sterlan's steadfast companionship. They had given their lives so that she may live, but while most lords and ladies would consider this merely their duty, Margaery needed to grieve for their deaths. If she ever made it back to Highgarden, she would make sure that their families knew about their bravery.

She was startled from her thoughts when something wet touched her cheek. Ghost was inches from her face, nuzzling her cheeks. He seemed content to let her pet him, and slowly, her tears stopped falling. The direwolf was definitely a mystery, she thought as she stroked his coarse fur. Not unlike his master.

Once again, her thoughts drifted back to the Lord Commander, and she couldn't help but be intrigued by him. She didn't know him well enough to call him a friend, but she was tempted to. He'd been kind to her, even where he had no obligation to be, and perfectly courteous, where so many others would have tried to take advantage of her.

Gently putting an arm around the big white beast next to her, she sighed. "I think you would have quite the story to tell, if you could talk, Ghost. And I'd be very interested to hear it." The direwolf titled his head towards her, almost like he was listening. "Your master perplexes me. Perhaps you could tell me all about Jon Snow."

"I don't know if I could tell you everything, but I definitely have a few stories to tell." The voice came from behind her, and Margaery jumped. Ghost, however, remained passive, merely turning his head to look at the newcomer.

It was only Pyp, so Margaery relaxed. "Really? Do tell," she replied with a grin.

He grinned back, sitting down next to her. "Well, when we were brand new recruits, there was this one time…"

/*/

Jon closed the door to the lift, feeling oddly alone without Ghost at his side. But he was glad his wolf had taken so well to Margaery; she could use an extra protector in his absence.

Margaery…

She was…what was she? She was different, to say the least. She'd gone through more than most men would have to in their entire life, yet handled it with far more grace and inner strength. He'd never met anyone like her.

Unbidden, his mind wandered to Ygritte, and he couldn't help but compare the two women. They were both strong and capable, but where Ygritte was visibly hardened by her upbringing and circumstances, Margaery's tenacity seemed more internal. She was highborn; she had been taught how to conceal her innermost feelings. She had learned to put on a perfect mask, where Ygritte showed her feelings without restraint.

They were as different as night and day, and yet…and yet, he could feel the same kind of attraction towards each of them. Only the depth differed. He truly loved Ygritte, even to this day, and the way they parted broke his heart, but Margaery…

He didn't love her; he barely knew her…but there was something that drew him to her. He knew he had to be careful around her. He felt like he was standing on the top of the Wall, and he could either safely descend in the lift, back to Castle Black, or jump the 700 feet over the other side. The choice was yet before him. Jon remembered the moment the Wildlings summited the Wall, seeing Ygritte's face as she looked out over the view for the first time, the way they kissed as the sun broke through the clouds…

Finally, the lift reached the top. He yanked himself from his train of thought as he pulled the door open with a loud whine, stepping outside into the chilly wind. It was still warmer than usual and he wondered if the Wall would weep today. To his surprise, Pyp was sitting on Ghost's other side with Margaery. "Shouldn't you be on guard duty, Pyp?" he asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Pyp scrambled up. "I'm sorry Lord Commander, I was only just -"

Jon held up a hand to stop him. "No need to apologize. Just remember your duties next time," he laughed.

"Yes, sir," Pyp said, appropriately abashed. He turned and quickly returned to his post, leaving Jon alone with Margaery and Ghost.

The Lord Commander turned to the Lady. "If you're ready, my lady, we can go back down. I'm sure you need your rest. And a good fire wouldn't hurt either, I imagine."

She smiled. "Ghost has been keeping me warm, but you're right; a fire would be nice." Jon smiled back, offering her his arm as they got onto the lift, Ghost following silently behind them, true to his name.

As soon as they returned to his quarters, Jon summoned Olly to get a fire going. Soon, he had one blazing in the fireplace. The wineskin and cups were still sitting on Jon's desk, undisturbed. "So, now you've seen where we live our lives," Jon said, pouring more wine for each of them and handing over her cup. "The men will be out to train soon; I hope they don't wake you."

Margaery drank deep. "I doubt they will. It's been...a tiring month."

Jon nodded in sympathetic understanding, taking a drink. "I'll understand if you don't want to stay in here all day. I imagine you'd get rather bored," he laughed. "You'd be welcome to watch a sparring practice, if you wish."

She smiled. "Thank you, Jon."

/*/

Once they had finished their wine, Jon left Margaery to rest while he went to train the men, and patted Ghost on the head as he passed him. Every day, he was more thankful for that albino direwolf he found as a pup. He donned his practice armour and sheathed his sword, jogging down the steps to the courtyard.

"Oi, Lord Commander," Hugh called loudly from a distance, "how's your new lady treating you? Keeping up with her alright?" Jon bristled, but said nothing. He refused to even look in the ranger's direction. "I imagine she can't take too much," he continued, ignoring the Lord Commander's obvious snub of his comment. "She looks like a frail little flower."

"That's enough," Jon snapped firmly. He was sure the ranger knew nothing about Margaery, but the oblique reference to the sigil of House Tyrell was still enough to worry him. "Bethany is a guest of the Watch, and she will be staying at Castle Black until she is strong enough to move on. You will all treat her with the respect she is due. Is that clear?"

"Oh come on, my lord," another jeered. "You can't expect us to believe you have a pretty little thing like her in your chambers and you're not using her!"

"I'll take her if you won't," Hugh added, sniggering.

Most of the other men looked uncomfortable, Jon noted, but there were a few who were grinning. Did they really have no respect?

"You'll shut your mouth, or I'll shut it for you," he said quietly, stepping forward and putting his hand on his sword menacingly. "No one touches Bethany. Is that understood?" he asked, raising his voice and looking around. A half-hearted assent came from most of the men. "Very good. Let's begin."

/*/

It started out as a regular day for Gilly. She'd done most of her chores and they'd gone by fairly fast, even with little Sam on her hip all day. She only had laundry left to do, after which she'd have to go to Mole's Town for Hobb to get supplies, she thought to herself as she made her way past the kitchens.

She was still adjusting to life at the Wall, which was very different from Craster's Keep. Most of the time, the men left her alone, but sometimes one or two of them got ideas, and they'd harass her. It was nothing serious as long as she had little Sam with her, but it was never pleasant. The men never liked a screaming baby, and rather left her alone when the child was unhappy. Apparently, sitting on his mother's hip was not all he wanted to do. At the moment, however, he was contentedly playing with the collar of her dress. She wished he was old enough to walk on his own, this basket was getting heavier…

And then it slipped.

Gilly cursed under her breath, trying to catch some of the black cloaks as they fell to the ground. Little Sam noticed her sudden change in attitude, and quickly started to cry.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a voice behind her sneered. She recognized the voice of Edvin, a ranger, and one of the men who most enjoyed tormenting her. He had been Rast's protégé when he arrived at the Wall, before the latter became a mutineer holed up in her previous home. Another man had stayed with him after the mutiny, but Gilly didn't know him by name.

"Leave me alone, Edvin," Gilly said, trying to make her voice as forceful as she could. Little Sam was still crying, clutching her tightly.

The man sneered. "I should leave you alone?" he scoffed, stepping gradually closer. "You're the one dropping our laundry in the mud. What, is this job not good enough for you? A filthy, little Wildling bitch gets beyond the Wall and gets delusions of grandeur."

He was almost nose to nose with her now, but Gilly was too scared to move, too terrified of what one flinch might mean to him. The man just smirked hungrily at her. Desperately, she looked around, but there was no one to help her. And who would anyway? While most of the men left her alone, they didn't really step up for her anyway. No one but Sam and Jon and their small circle of friends.

As Edvin took another step closer, Gilly flinched, and she immediately saw what a mistake that had been. Edvin grinned derisively, and she could see him get ready to do… something. She closed her eyes and hugged little Sam close.

"What's going on here?" a new voice called out.

Gilly's eyes shot open, and landed on a beautiful lady standing behind the man. She was certain she'd never seen her before, but there was only one person it could be: Bethany Flowers of The Reach. She'd heard the rumors about Jon and Sam's friends finding her in the Gift, but hadn't seen her before now.

"This ain't your business, girlie," Edvin snapped, glaring at the other woman. Despite the obvious threat, Bethany didn't seem afraid, and Gilly was impressed with her courage.

Suddenly, there was a quiet growl from behind the woman. The huge white wolf Jon had brought to the Keep stepped out from behind Bethany, snarling at Edvin. Gilly wondered if Ghost had just done her job for her; his muzzle looked bloody, as though from a fresh kill. Despite having seen the wolf around the keep several times, he still unnerved Gilly, and she inched back right along with the man in front of her. Bethany, however, seemed unfazed.

Ghost growled a little louder as Edvin stumbled back. "Care to take it up with him, then?" Bethany said, almost casually gesturing to the direwolf. As if on command, the wolf snapped at the man, who turned and fled in fear.

Gilly watched as Bethany stepped up to Ghost and reached out. "Thank you," she whispered, but her hand never touched him, as the direwolf let out a low growl and stalked off. Sighing, Bethany turned back around. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?" she asked kindly.

Gilly shook her head. "No, m'lady; you got here just in time," she said softly.

The other woman smiled kindly. "It's Bethany, please. I'm no lady."

Fighting the urge to curtsy, like she heard you were supposed to do before the highborn, Gilly smiled nervously. "I'm Gilly, mil- Bethany. And this is little Sam."

The lady - Bethany - then focussed on the still-fussy baby. "There now, little Ser, there's no need for tears, you've chased the bad man off and saves us poor maidens," she said, smiling softly at the babe. Little Sam - perhaps due to the kind tone, or the attention he was receiving - slowly stopped hiccoughing and stared, wide-eyed at Bethany.

Gilly grinned. "I think he likes you, he never quiets down so quickly."

Bethany positively beamed. "May I hold him?" she asked, surprising Gilly.

Not many would take such care with her child, and Gilly was grateful, especially since it would free up her hands to pick up the laundry again. "Of course. He can be a bit fussy, though," she warned, but Bethany didn't seem to be worried in the least. She reached for the baby, and Sam let her take him without complaint, immediately grabbing a tiny fistful of her hair and studying it with the intensity only a baby could manage.

"Hello, little one, does my hair fascinate you?" she asked, affection shining in her eyes.

Gilly bent down and picked up the cloaks. Thankfully, they'd been on their way to wash these, so the extra stains wouldn't matter much. Bethany continued cooing at little Sam, brushing back the little wisps of blond hair that were starting to grow on his head. It really did warm Gilly's heart, to see someone like Bethany being so gentle and considerate with her baby.

Grinning, Bethany looked up. "He's lovely. But I have to admit, I was surprised to see another woman here, let alone one with a child."

Though the other woman sounded genuinely curious and not accusatory or suspicious, Gilly's smile melted off her face. "I can't go back to where I was…"

Immediately, Bethany realized the misunderstanding. "No, no that's not what I meant at all," she said quickly, putting a friendly hand on Gilly's arm. Her other arm stayed wrapped tightly around little Sam. "I'm sorry if I upset you. Can I walk with you for a while?"

Gilly brightened a little. Perhaps it wasn't impossible to make a friend at Castle Black, after all.

A/N: Don't forget to tell us what you think!