It’s All Relative

When the shores of Bear Island came into view, Ned started to get even more restless. They could hear the clashing of arms and screams of dying men over the sounds of water. Torchlights soon came into view along the eastern walls of the keep, clusters of men on top of them. And, a little further from the shoreline, a huge host of men were fighting against horseriders, not more than a hundred heads. They saw some of the riders were wrenched from their saddles and got lost between the men on foot. Ned tightened his fist on the grip of Ice, which was laid on his lap. Orys barked to his men.

"Blood of the North is being spilt, men. Get us there faster!"

The boat jerked to a stop when it reached the shore. Ned jumped out of it as a man possessed, Ice unsheathed and raised above his head, he needed to reach to his sons. His men yelled battle cry and rushed into the fray. Greatjon was whirling his battleaxe over his head like a madman. Rickard was fighting in a frenzy beside him, he too wanted to reach to his son and ward as soon as they possibly could.

*Line Break*

The Skagosi weren't prepared for any attack from the back. They were licking their wounds they had received from the Bears, then some riders came out of the keep and drove them into even further disarray. They just got some semblance of fighting order and tried to pushing back against the riders when they were being cut down by enemies who landed on the shore using their very own methods. They tried to turn around and fight against the new foe, when another army arrived and attacked their flank from the right, they too used boats and rafts. The combined might of the entire North proved to be too much for the invaders. With their route to escape cut out, the only solution left for them was to yield their arms, more than one-third of the force of five thousand were already watering the soil of Bear Island with their blood.

*Line Break*

Ned gave orders to his men to secure the prisoners and see to their own wounded and dead. He could see Maege Mormont and Ser Wendel Manderly doing the same. He tried to look for Robb and Jon beside them, but he couldn't find them.

"You are late, My Lord."

Ned turned around to see Jon and that Forrester boy coming towards him. Their armours looked as if painted red, blood dripping from their weapons, but both of them had beaming smiles on their faces. They didn't look to be hurt bad.

"Jon!" Ned rushed to him and hugged him tight against his chest. Lya's boy…his son was safe. He pushed back from him and looked at him from head to feet.

"Are you alright, son? Where is your brother?"

"Robb is back at the keep, commanding defence with Lady Dacey and Lord Reed after we mounted our attack. Do not worry, father, he is safe. He got a scratch on his shoulder, but otherwise, he is alright."

Ned nodded, he looked to the Forrester boy and asked, "How are you, lad?"

"I am doing fine, My Lord, thank you for asking." He yelled out. Ned looked towards Jon askance.

Jon snorted and said, "He took a blow to his head, his ears are still ringing, he will be fine."

Rickard Karstark had reached them by then. "Jon, it is good to see you alright, lad. How is Torrhen?"

Jon bowed to him, "It is good to see you too, My Lord. Torrhen as back at the keep, helping with the defences."

Rickard nodded, he arched a brow at him, "Lady Maege was talking about how you planned the ride out and crush the invaders in between the forces and then rode at the front."

Ned turned his head so fast towards Jon that they were surprised he didn't hurt his neck. Jon gulped seeing his uncle's furious gaze upon him.

"I did what you taught me, My Lord. You told me that if I have an upper hand, I shouldn't hesitate to exploit it."

"I am proud of you, son, but we will be having a chat later."

Jon mentally sighed about the ominous nature of his uncle's comment. He nodded his head. Ned moved towards Lady Mormont to lend her a hand. Lord Rickard gave Jon a sly smile.

"I am proud of you too, my boy. I just wish that nobody says anything to Lady Anya."

Jon paled like a ghost, he was more afraid to have that conversation over the one with his uncle.

*Line Break*

The victory feast a couple of days later at Bear Island felt like the Harvest Festival. Almost all of the Northern Lords were present there to raise a glass and toast the brave warriors. Jon was once again put into an embarrassing position when a singer started to sing about the legendary White Wolf. Jon slid down so low in his seat that only the top of his head was visible over the table. Robb and the others were singing along the chorus lines while banging their goblets on the table. They tried to nudge him to sit up, but he appeared to be shrunk down even lower. Theon, who had tried to get Robb's attention by his tales of adventures into brothels, were glaring down at his mug when the part came about how the White Wolf led his small pack to hunt down thieving reavers. Fucking squid, thought Jon in his mind.

"Come on, Wolf, show me why my sister was so smitten by you in the last feast." Alysane dragged Jon up from his seat and led him to the dance floor, beaten her sister only by a few steps. Dacey threw her sister a murderous glare and went back to drag Robb forward and started to dance just beside them. Jon sent her a smile which could be described as a grimace and started to lead Alysane around the floor. This Mormont sister was even more adventurous than her elder sister. Jon had a hard time prying himself off of her.

*Line Break*

The fate of the invaders was determined by the War Council. While Lord Stark tried to give them all a lighter sentence, they argued that there was no point in showing mercy to the invaders. And since they couldn't be sent to the wall, as the Skagosi were no better than the Wildlings, they would only make it difficult for the Black Brothers, and neither could they be incarcerated for an indefinite time, they had all concluded that execution was the only way. Jon was squeamish about the sentencing, it was a different matter killing people in the heat of battle, but mass executing was another cup of ale. He took notice of the lords and how they appeared when they or their men carried out the deeds, for Lord Stark had told all, one who gave the sentence, should swing the blade. He saw lords like his uncle, Rickard Karstark, Howland Reed was solemn, while Lord Umber and Lady Mormont were appeared to be quenching their thirst for vengeance. He was most disturbed by the looks of Lord Bolton, the normal stone-like façade that Roose wore was absent, instead, the gleam in his eyes could light the blackest night.

After the execution and directing the men to burn the bodies, Ned took his sons to the Godswood of Mormont Keep, all three of them knelt before the Hearts Tree and prayed to the Old Gods, even Jon and Robb had executed men that day.

Ned sat down on a log and indicated for his sons to take seats beside him, none had uttered a single word since their return.

"I wished for you boys to retain your innocence longer, but alas, the Gods have their plans for us all." Ned broke the silence.

"Did we do the right thing, father?" Jon was scratching lines on the dirt with a broken stick.

"I don't know son. If you ask, have we performed our duties, then aye, we have. We have protected our lands, our people from the enemies. But if you are asking that were we on the right of killing so many, then I have no clear answer for you. We abided by the laws of the land. We do not have the facilities to hold them, we neither could have sent them to the Wall, so we had to take their lives for the crime they committed. I know executing a man hangs heavy on the soul. That is why we are here. Pledging to the Gods and asking them to ease the burdens on our minds and souls."

"Couldn't we send them back to their lands?" Robb asked in a low voice.

"No, we couldn't. Transporting so many men would have required almost double the guards, if not triple. Then there were the supplies to think about. All the lords of North have already contributed in defence of the Bear Island, none at present are in a place to afford what we all think is impractical expenditure."

"What do you mean, father?"

"We have decided in the War Council, son. We will, once and for all, eradicate the threat to North from Skagos. In three moon's time, we will muster our forces and launch our attack to bring them down to their knees. Magnar Gustoff had dared to attack unprovoked. None of the lords wants to show any leniency. And I, as the Lord Paramount, agree with them. We cannot leave our backyard unprotected from this kind of attacks in future."

Ned noticed that Jon had a faraway look on his face.

"What are you thinking, Jon?"

"I hope you realize, father, that they were not all Skagosi."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it, father. Skagos is not but an island, a bit bigger than Bear Island mayhaps, but it was full of hills and rocks. The people there, no matter how big their clans could be, couldn't provide an army as big as we faced."

"Are you saying that they were helped by outside forces?"

"Not outsiders, no, but Northerners. From beyond the Wall."

"Wildlings?" Ned spat.

"Aye, mayhaps Magnar Gustoff made alliances with them."

Ned was rubbing his chin in deep thought, "An interesting speculation, but that is all it is. We cannot be sure till we confront this Magnar." He peered at Jon, "You know, there was another issue brought up in the Council."

Jon turned his head to his uncle, "Oh?"

"Aye, after we bring the Skagosi to heel, we will need a lord to take his seat there, almost all of them voted in favour of the White Wolf."

Robb let out a whoop of delight. "That is great news, father! Jon, just imagine, you as the guardian lord of Skagos and my bannerman, just like we always planned, brother!"

Jon was stunned into silence, he never expected that. He looked from the excited face of Robb to the questioning eyes of his uncle. He would hate to disappoint Robb, but he didn't think lording over Skagos was something that the Old Gods had in their plans for him. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh.

"I am honoured and grateful that the Council had thought so highly of me. But I am afraid that I have to decline, My Lord."

"What?! Jon, are you serious?"

"Robb!" Ned put up a hand to stall his son's diatribe, "May I know why you are declining the offer?"

Jon sighed, he didn't have any clear answer to give. "I plan to travel, father. I want to see Westeros; I want to visit the far lands to the east. I don't want to be tied down right now. And anyway, I don't know where I will end up in the future…" He gave a meaningful look to his uncle.

"You can appoint a steward, Jon. One who can run your holdings while you travel. Please, brother, don't just throw it all away without further thoughts."

"Robb, while I agree that the offer is more than generous for a bastard like me, it is also quite impractical. You and I, we both led men and destroyed their forces. They would come to know of me as the killer of their families. Whosoever holds the lordship, will have an uphill battle to win over its people. But the hardship will be double for me. If I manage to bring them to an understanding, the steward I appoint then will need further time to gain their approval. Then we have to think about the smallfolk, we have slain almost all the fighting men by our estimates. We will be needing men to establish a working guards' roaster. Northerners are a tough breed, aye, but they don't know how to navigate in a rocky area, let alone find their livelihood there."

"Jon!" His uncle's voice cut through his rant, he turned to him to see that he was indicating the ground near his feet. He looked down to find that he had been scratching out the Targaryen sigil while he was thinking out loud. He hastily moved his feet and wiped it off.

"I agree with what you are saying, son. But I would also advise you to think some more on this."

"Aye, father."

"Come, let us return to the keep. It is almost time for supper."

They got up and made their way inside. Jon cleared his throat.

"Er…father?"

"What is it now, son?"

"I want to visit the Wall."

"Oh?" They stopped at their tracks, Robb was looking at Jon suspiciously.

"Aye, it has been a long time since I met Uncle Benjen. And if we are right about the wildlings involvement, we need to discuss this in details with the Lord Commander."

"Aye, and they also need to know their security leak by the ways of their abandoned castles. But that will come afterwards. Right now, your men will need their commander, the White Wolf to lead them again. After we deal with the Skagosi, you may visit your uncle."

"I will be going with him, father. He needs a chaperon to watch over him." Robb narrowed his eyes to Jon.

"What? Are you afraid that I will bring down the Wall, Stark?" Jon chuckled.

"I think you will attack the wildling hordes all by yourself, Snow. The White Wolf should be put on a leash."

"I would like to see you try."

"Don't tempt me, brother."

*Line Break*

As planned by the War Council, the North had launched an allied attack on Skagosi lands. It didn't take them much longer to destroy their defences and capture the Magner. Jon himself didn't lead the attacks this time, seeing Lord Stark himself at the vanguard. He was ordered to secure the supply routes and helped in quick evacuations of the wounded from the front lines. The men that he and Robb led, were quickly become known as the 'Wolfpack'. The company of hundred men that was comprised of not only Stark men, but men from almost all Northern houses, handpicked by their commanders themselves, had earned their reputation for their swift actions and reliability on the battlefield. With Asher and Torrhen acted as captains and commanded by the White Wolf and the Young Wolf, the Wolfpack had etched their names in Northern history.

At the trial of Gustoff, it became clear that he indeed formed alliances with several wildling tribes. They heard stories about how the 'King-beyond-the-wall' was gathering all of the tribes under his command. A few dissenter tribes, who didn't want to be commanded by this King, chose to ally themselves with the Skagosi to invade and capture Northern lands. Jon's wish to visit the wall would come true, but they would act as a delegation from the Warden of the North to Night's Watch.

The subject of the ruling lord of Skagos was brought up again after Gustoff and his minions were put to the swords. Ned had discussed the matter with Jon on their travels for a length of time. In the end, he had decided to abide by Jon's wishes. He discussed with his lords and made them agree that if Jon wasn't to be the Lord of Skagos, then neither of the lords' sons or nephews would get to rule the island. Instead, the lands were given to the Mountain Clans. They had helped the North and answered the call to arms in the Robert's Rebellion as well as in the current predicament but never were they commended or rewarded for their steadfast loyalty to the Starks. Plus, the Clansmen knew how to use the rocky terrain to yield crops and other sustenance. Also, they'd been warring with the wildling attacks since the creation of the Wall, none could be more suitable than them to become the ruling power of Skagos. The Wulls, the Norreys, the Burleys, the Liddles, the Flints – all were happy with this decision, they promised to take care of the lands and the people for the Ned. They would be leaving behind some of their men to maintain the peace, in the coming six moon's time, they would take proper control of the island. With every detail hashed out, the lords and their men began to prepare for the journey back home, after travels and wars for almost yearlong for some of them, it was time to return to their families.

*Line Break*

Robb wasn't japing when he told Jon that he would be coming with him to the Wall. Jon tried to make him dissuade from it and leave for White Harbour with Ser Wendel Manderly, but Robb was adamant. He ordered the Stark men, who were part of the Wolfpack, to prepare for the journey to the wall along with them. Jon could only watch as his stubborn cousin went about his ways, talking to Ned hadn't proved much successful either, for his uncle too thought that he needed a minder to keep track of him. Jon pointed out that they were of the same age, hence it doesn't make any sense to have Robb as a chaperon. Ned replied that he trusted Robb to have a leveller head and to take the necessary decision in his stead. Jon could yell in frustration.

The morning before their departure, Lord Reed and the Crannogmen had left for the Neck. Jon was sad to see the man go, he became used to having him around, giving him lessons in arms, helping him with his warging ability, or just have a chat with him. He went to bid him goodbye before they boarded the ships bound for White Harbour.

"I was wondering when you will be coming for a visit." Howland smiled at Jon.

"Forgive me, My Lord, I had to prepare for my journey. Else, I would have come much sooner."

"It is alright, lad. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I want to thank you, Lord Reed, for everything you have done for me for the past year. I will miss our times together for lessons."

"I did what I could for her son to help him find his way in the world. You need not thank me for that."

Jon often wondered about the person his mother was, he had heard so many describe her in so many different ways. But perhaps, the truest persona of Lyanna Stark could be described by someone like Howland Reed, who have met her for only a short time, yet she still claimed a special place in his heart, even after so long of her passing.

"I have something for you." Lord Reed brought out a long thin package wrapped in clothes.

Jon received it with a look of pure delight on his face, he took special care to unwrap it and found a beautifully carved blowpipe, adorned with images of wolves, running wild or howling at the moon, along with a healthy supply of both kinds of Crannogmen concoctions and herbs to make more.

"A master should gift his pupil with the arms when he proves that he has learned how to wield it with enough skill." Howland had a proud smile on his face.

"I thank you, My Lord, I cannot express in words what this means to me." Jon gushed in gratitude.

"Think nothing of it, Jon. It has been my distinct pleasure to train you to combat like a Crannogman. But you must promise me that you will visit whenever you found yourself going to the south."

"I promise you, My Lord, I will come and visit you in Greywater Watch."

Howland put a hand on Jon's shoulder and lowered his voice, "I didn't ask you for propriety's sake, Aemon, you must visit my home. There are still a few things that you need to know, but alas, they are not my secrets to tell. Promise me, lad!"

Jon could only nod his head. He wondered what more secrets the Lord of Greywater Watch could hold. Puzzling with it, he bade the lord good fortune on his voyage and came back to finish preparing for his journey.

*Line Break*

The Wall came into view quite a while before their boats were anywhere near the castle of Eastwatch-by-sea. The idea and the sheer majesty of the construction of something so legendary rendered all of them speechless. The seven hundred feet tall, and more than three hundred miles long wall of ice had merged into the crags jutted out of the Bay of Seals. As they proceeded further, the castle of Eastwatch came into view, standing sentinel over the grey, windswept shore of the Bay. A few huts of the nearby fishermen's village could be seen strewn about at its foot. Jon could feel a thrum in his bones as they were nearing the Wall. He was almost sure that it was the magic of the Wall, calling out to him.

The commander of Eastwatch-by-sea, Cotter Pyke, was a rough, uncouth man. He rubbed all the wrong ways to Robb's senses. Jon pushed him to carry the conversation with Maester Harmune while he dealt with Commander Pyke by himself. When he heard about the wildling involvement in the Skagosi invasion, he let out a string of slurs. He raised his hands and swore to the high heaven that it was not something that he could pursue, the security risks that the entire realm was facing, were the things that the Lord Commander Mormont should be aware of, not him. He said to them that he had enough on his plates as it was with only a small contingent of Black Brothers at the Eastwatch. With the manpower he was granted, he could just about manage to man the Wall, sending out ships patrolling the waters of the Bay of Seals to prohibit possible wildling infiltration couldn't be conceivable with what he had under his command. Jon understood that it was futile to make a point with this man, it was only the morning, yet Pyke was already down in his cups. With such a man as commander, it was no wonder that the Watch was failing miserably at their duties.

Robb had learned from the Maester that the quickest way to Castle Black would be the trail along the foot of the Wall. They will be skirting around the forest, but since they are armed and travelling by groups, they should be safe from wildling attacks or attacks by beasts roaming these woods. They had decided to continue their journey the next day, after spending the night at Eastwatch.

They were the Northmen, they were accustomed to the cold, but they were not prepared for the cold that was around the seven hundred feet tall wall of ice. When they went atop the Wall, it felt to them as if they had travelled to a different country. Miles and miles of snow-covered ground, the trees of the forests were white with fallen snow. They saw nothing but white in front of their eyes. The Wall itself was beyond any of their cognitive measures. They had heard about it, read about it, but never could they believe in something that had been standing for thousands of years, strong as the day it was built.

They started their journey early on the next morning. It would take them about a week to reach Castle Black. Maester Harmune had offered to send a man with them but they refused. They started to slowly trek through the snow-covered ground on horseback.

On the third day, Gale had alerted Jon of an elk herd in the nearby woods. He took some men and went for a hunt and came back with a few elk carcasses big enough for all the men to have a semblance of a feast that night. After dining on roasted venison, they sat around the fire pit trading stories. Asher suggested that the environment was eerie enough that scary stories would be very appropriate. Torrhen was very apprehensive, but his objections drowned out when others very enthusiastically supported the notion. One by one, each man around the fire told of a story that they had heard, or from the popular folktales fitting their situation. Jon went last. He wrapped his cloak tightly about him and picked up a stick to stroke the fire. He looked everyone in their eyes and started to tell his story in a low but serious voice.

"I heard this story from Lord Reed, who swears by everything that this is a fact. It had happened down at a village near Harrenhal. A man, who was by trade a hunter, often left his village for months at a time. He used to say that it was not the hunting for beasts, but the forests that beckoned him. He loved nature so much that oftentimes he forgot to return to his family and friends, living among the trees.

One day, he returned to his village after almost six months. Naturally, his family was very happy to have their son returning home. He spent the day with his family, telling them all the wonderful things he had witnessed in the woods. In the afternoon, he went out to the local tavern to find his friends. He was greeted by a few acquaintances there, but he couldn't find any of his friends. Begging leave from the men, he went to the home of his best friend. He was shocked to see the state of the hut. His friends, who like everyone else in the village, might not have much but took pride in how he cared for his home. That once pristine abode of his friend was now no more than an abandoned hovel.

Thinking something might have happened to his friend, the hunter was agitated, he went inside of the derelict hut to find the man to be sitting in a corner, his hands wrapped around his knees, swaying back and forth, back and forth, and muttering under his breath. The hunter was scared out of his wits seeing his friend in such a state. He approached him cautiously calling out his name. after a while, and a lot of callings, the man seemed to be jolted back to his senses. His wild eyes roamed about his home and then landed on the hunter. It was as if the man had a hard time recognizing his childhood friend. The hunter sat in front of his friend, trying to coax out what had happened to him.

What the man told him was a tale that seemed very farfetched, but the hunter noticed that it pained the man to even recalling the events. He told that he and their other friends had gone out for a day of fishing and hunting like they had been doing since their childhood days. It was in the afternoon, nearly night when they heard the sound of weeping coming from somewhere near. They went to investigate and came upon a lass, not older than perhaps ten and five, sitting under a tree, hugging her knees close to her chest and resting her head on top of them. It was the girl's whimpering cries they had heard. They went near her, they could see that her dress was torn and drenched in fresh blood, her hair, which was black as the night, was dishevelled. They thought of her to be a victim of bandits. They tried to call her, but the girl didn't raise her head. They went closer to her, talking softly so as not to scare her, still, the girl won't look at them. When one of them reached down to touch her shoulder, the girl snapped up her head, it was not a face they saw, but just a slab of flesh. No eyes, nose or mouth.

They ran away from there, leaving behind all the fish and birds and rabbits they had gathered in panic. They didn't stop till they reached their village. They swore to each other to never go in that forest and had gone back to their homes, trying to forget it all. A week later, it was the night of a full moon. The man went out to call on a mutual friend, one who went with him to the forest, he couldn't rouse him from outside of his home. So, he went in. Inside, he found none of the family, no wife, no children. Only the man of the house sitting at a corner, his face and hands covered in blood, with a bloody knife in his hand, stabbing the floor in front of him and muttering to himself. No matter what he did, he couldn't break out the man from his indistinct state of mind. Come morning, there were no traces of the man could be found. Since then, all the men who went into the forest had gone missing, each on a full moon night. He was the last one remaining, and it was once again a full moon night.

The hunter sat stunned hearing his friend's tale. It couldn't be real, could it - thought he. He tried to reason with his friend. He tried to tell him that there must be other reasons behind all the disappearances. Or it could be simply something he thought deep in the cups. His friend looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, in a gravelly voice, he replied, 'Dreaming these things, am I? Then WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT BEHIND YOU?'"

Jon was speaking in a low, gentle voice. When he suddenly yelled out and pointed behind them, everyone jolted in their seats. Torrhen tried to turn and stand up all at once, thus ended up falling flat face-first on the ground. Jon toppled off the log he was sitting on laughing his head off.

"You fucking prick!" Torrhen growled getting up on his feet.

"Now, now, Torrhen, I am sure there are many men who are afraid of a little dark." Asher said in a sugary voice.

"Fuck off, Forrester!" Torrhen stormed off to his bedroll and started to prepare for the night.

Chuckling, they all broke up and arranged for their sleeping areas. It was quite late into the night when a shrill scream woke them up from their sleep. Thinking it was some woman in danger, Robb jumped to his feet with his sword unsheathed, only to find Jon and Asher rolling on the ground laughing while Torrhen was trembling under his furs. The howling duo had found berries in nearby bushes and squeezed them to gather red, blood-like juice. Then they lathered it on their faces and hands and went to spook Torrhen.

Torrhen was livid, "You fucking cunts! I will gut you alive! I will mount your heads in my room!"

The men had a hard time restraining him from attacking the two because they too were laughing like madmen.

The Castle Black came into view in the evening on the seventh day. They could hear the guards on top of the gate blowing the horn alerting the men of incoming riders. They spurred on their horses.

"Get a move on, Torrhen, it is getting dark after all." Robb sent a smirk at his way.

"Fuck you, Stark!" Torrhen rode on ahead alone from the group.

*Line Break*

Benjen Stark was waiting at the yard since he heard the one horn blast for incoming riders. They had received a raven from Eastwatch that Robb and Jon were coming for a visit as the delegation from the Warden of the North. It had been a few years since he saw his nephews. He had been to Winterfell, but with both boys away for fosterage, he didn't get the chance to see them. So, here he was waiting excitedly for the boys to ride through the gates. When he saw them coming, a face splitting grin formed on his face. There was Robb, with his Tully colourings, but a Stark in everything else. And then there was Jon, Benjen could see features of the Starks, better yet, features of his siblings getting more and more prominent with each passing year on that boy. He was built like Bran, his posture was screaming of Ned, and his hair and smile were just like Lya. Moisture formed at the corner of his eyes.

"Uncle Benjen!" The boys yelled excitedly and scrambled off their horses to rush at him. He laughed loudly as they both crashed into him and wrapped them in his arms. The men in the yard were looking wide-eyed at their serious and strict first ranger who was acting that way.

"Come on, lads, let me get a good look at you."

They both pushed away from him and stood shoulder to shoulder for his inspection, just like they had been doing since they were wee little babes. Benjen looked at them from head to feet and nodded his head.

"You have nearly become men grown. Very soon, you won't even ask me to tell you stories." He shook his head in mock sadness.

The boys looked at each other and shared a grin. They each wrapped an arm over his shoulder and pinned him between themselves.

"Never, Uncle Ben…"

"We won't ever be too old to hear stories from you…"

"Especially the one where you went to pray to the horse lord…"

"…just to become a better rider." They both finished in unison. Benjen chuckled at their antics.

"I can't believe Ned told you of that story. It seems I need to have a chat with my brother about telling his sons stories which were meant to be forgotten." He looked between his nephews and raised an eyebrow, "And I am pretty sure that I am entitled to hear quite a few stories myself. Isn't that right, White Wolf?" He nudged at Jon, "…or perhaps I should ask the Young Wolf?" he looked at Robb.

"Indeed we do, uncle, why, would you like to hear about the story where a young lad jumped over the railings of a ship and right into the freezing, cold water of the Bay of Ice?" Robb replied with a smirk.

*Line Break*

Lord Commander Jeor Mormont read the missive from Lord Stark carefully. He was in a meeting with Lord Stark's sons, Maester Aemon and Benjen Stark. What the letter told him was indeed very alarming. The blasted raven again cawed for corns. He placed the letter down on his desk and let out a sigh. He clasped his hands together and sat forward in his chair.

"We knew of the gathering of the wildlings under this 'King-beyond-the-wall'. First Ranger Benjen could assure you that we have been keeping a closer eye on the stirrings of the clans. But it was indeed news to us that there were a few disgruntled clans who made deals with the Skagosi."

"That is not all, My Lord. As our father has told you in his letter, the wildlings are having quite an easy time venturing southwards by the ways of the abandoned towers and castles along the Wall. More patrols atop the wall or men are needed to stop these invaders." Robb urged the man.

"That is easier said than done, My Lord Stark." The Maester said in a solemn tone, "The Watch is not what it was used to be."

"Aye, the Maester has it right. We could probably count to a thousand Black Brothers divided into three castles, most of them being the dregs and scums of the realms. They ship them off to us and wash off their hands. It falls to us to train the men in a semblance of a fighting force. We could scrounge enough to just man the Wall. A few learned men like your uncle here could be made into rangers to venture out beyond the Wall. But it was never enough. The castles you speak of, they are in ruins, even if we could send men out to those castles, they cannot even protect themselves from nature, let alone a wildling attack."

Jon was listening quietly to the discussions, but he couldn't remain silent any longer. "You could send letters to the lords, even to the King and ask them for help…"

Maester Aemon turned his head towards Jon, "Young master Snow?"

"Aye, Maester."

"You have made quite a name for yourself in such a young age, lad. But you are still to learn about how the world works."

"I don't understand, Maester."

Lord Commander snorted, "What the Maester is trying to tell in his polite way, lad, is that why do you think the lords will care if the keeps along the Wall crumble to dust? Their coins are better used for their purposes, that is their belief. The Watch still functions as it is only because, as us Northerners say, The North Remembers. Indeed, the North remembers their pledge to the Watch, whatever meagre handouts they manage to send our way, we have to make our peace with that. The rest of the realms would scourge their dungeons and send us more greenboys who are the worst excuse of human beings, for us to feed and train with our insufficient supplies if and when we ask them for help. That is the extent of the help we can expect of them."

"Mayhaps if you let the King know…"

Jeor leaned forward on his desk, "Do you think we never send pleas of help to the King? Yoren, our recruiter, goes to the Capitol twice a year. Whenever he tries to speak to the King, he was never present. He talks with his small council. The representatives of the King think that whatever the Watch got, is enough to protect themselves from the Snarks and Grumpkins, and a few wildlings with sticks. The King's coins are spent for feasts and tourneys. The Hand of the King tries to speak in our favour, but he is still a Southorn. He could never understand what we have to work with each day."

Jon was seething, the Nights' Watch, the once prestigious order had indeed become the worst. He knew that if he hadn't found the bracers, he would have joined the order himself, no matter what he told his Uncle Ned. The whoring bastard Robert was leading the realms to the depths of hells. He wondered what kind of a King his father would have become. Would he too avert his gaze from the plight of the North, or would he have done something to help the Watch? He looked towards Robb.

What are you planning, Snow? – Robb raised an eyebrow.

What can we do to help them, brother? – Jon nodded his head towards Lord Commander.

I can't think of anything! – Robb pursed his lips.

Do you reckon father could have any success sending messages to the South? – Jon narrowed his eyes.

Aye, that is the best we can hope for now. – Robb nodded his head.

Benjen was looking at his nephews as they carried on having a silent conversation between them. He cleared his throat.

"Perhaps we should break this meeting for now."

"Aye, take the lads to see the top of the Wall, Benjen. Mayhaps the cold air could churn up some ideas in their young heads." Jeor made a pointed stare at Benjen.

"Aye, Lord Commander." Benjen got up from his seat and ushered the boys out of the solar.

Jeor started to massage his forehead. Problems for the Watch seemed to come in never-ending waves.

"What do you think, Maester?"

"The air began to change, Lord Commander. Only time will tell which way they will blow."

"A clearer answer would have been appreciated."

"Forgive an old man of his follies, My Lord. With your leave?"

Jeor sighed and leaned back into his chair as the old Maester made his way out of the solar. He again picked up the missive from Lord Stark. What was he to answer back to the Warden of the North?

*Line Break*

Jon was standing atop the Wall, looking out at the snow-covered ground from the foot of the Wall to the end of the dark, foreboding forest. The wind was quite furious so high up. He wrapped his cloak about him more tightly. A few Brothers were standing further away, standing sentry.

"Be careful that the wind doesn't carry you off, nephew."

Jon turned his head to see his uncle coming towards him. "I have quite a secure footing, uncle, you need not worry."

"Aye, secure enough to ram a burning ship aground." Benjen gave him a smirk.

Jon chuckled and turned back his gaze. Uncle and nephew stood there in silence for a while.

"What troubles you, lad?"

Jon sighed and looked around for any eavesdropper. The Black Brothers on top of the wall were standing quite far from them. The howl of the winds would cover their voices from reaching them.

"I know about my mother, uncle."

Benjen turned towards him with a surprised look on his face, "So he finally relented, did he? Good for you, Jon. You are finally aware of your roots, both of them."

Jon nodded his head. He waited for a few moments for any comments from his uncle. But none came.

"You don't know, do you?"

"Know what, Jon?"

"The identity of my mother, you don't know it?"

Benjen sighed, "It is between your parents, lad. I respect my brother enough to not pry into his life. If Ned decides someday that I ought to know, he will tell me."

Jon shook his head, "It is not what you think, uncle. You knew her very well."

"Oh?" Benjen looked at him askance.

"Aye, she was the one who taught you how to ride a horse properly."

Benjen's face turned ashen, he kept looking at Jon with wide, unblinking eyes, his jaw slacked. "Lya?!" He croaked.

Jon nodded, "Aye, your sister."

Benjen took a couple of steps back, "No, no…she was…they said that she died of fever…no!"

Jon rushed towards him and helped him to sit down resting against the footwall. He never thought that his uncle would break down like this. He sat beside him putting an arm over his shoulder. Benjen was shivering, not from the cold, but from the emotional blow, Jon just gave to him.

"How did you…did Ned…" He couldn't form his words properly.

"No, I found out by myself quite accidentally…" Jon launched on to the tales of how he came to know of his heritage and the consequent conversations with Ned Stark and Howland Reed.

He told him everything he knew, everything he learnt from his Uncle Ned, from the letters of his parents, what Howland Reed had told him. Benjen laughed when he was told about the Knight of Laughing Tree.

"That sure sounds like something Lya would do." He wiped the tears off his eyes. "Who else knows about this?"

"Uncle Ned and Lord Reed, as they were the ones who went to the tower. I insisted on telling to Lady Stark. And now you. I plan to tell Robb at sometimes in the future, as it is his right to know as the heir to the North."

Benjen nodded, "Do you plan to…" He didn't finish his sentence.

"To take the Iron Throne? I don't know, uncle. I am yet to decide on that."

They fell quiet, sitting side by side.

"I was there too, you know. All four of us Stark siblings were there at Harrenhal."

"Aye, Uncle Ned told me."

"I made fun of your mother, she was shedding tears after listening to the Prince sing. She got annoyed and emptied her glass of wine on my head before storming off the hall." He let out a hollow laugh.

"I was a boy myself, not so much older than you are now. I was so excited to see the jousts, watching those legendary knights fight in the tourney. I didn't think of anything else. But now that I look back, there was something in the air. Who bloody cared about celebrating Lord Darry's daughter's name day. But all the lords of the realms or their heirs were present at that tourney. Something big was to happen at that tourney. The King wasn't scheduled to come, but to everyone's surprise, he made an appearance. Your grandfather didn't go, because there must always be a Stark at Winterfell. We went in his stead. Ned came down from Vale with Robert and Lord Arryn. I was so happy to see my brother after such long a time. Bran was being Bran, boasting about to the ladies and trying to impress his betroth, or having a drinking competition. I didn't pay much attention to what Lya was doing. When they called for the list, I was excited to see the mystery knight. Seven hells, what would have I done if I knew it was Lya under those armours." He shook his head.

Jon kept quiet; Benjen continued to reminisce. "When the Mad King called for the knight's arrest, I too went out with the searching party, trying to win some glory. I came back to find that Robert Baratheon had chased the knight away. He was explaining to one and all in glorifying details how he fought with the fucker…and then he announced to all about his betrothal with Lya. I remember seeing her being equally mad and scared. The next day, the Prince gave the crown of winter roses to Lya after winning the joust, declaring her as his Queen of Love and Beauty. I remember Robert raving and ranting to Bran and Ned. Ned was trying to make him stop, but Bran just sat there, all quiet. I was afraid that should my wild brother do something foolish. Lya bustled inside of the tent, another round of shouting later, she dragged off Ned and Bran out of the tent. Robert tried to follow, but she quite furiously told him off that we were going for a family discussion. I watched as Robert storming off, Lya sent Ned and me away, telling us that she needed to speak with Bran alone. So we just roamed about ourselves, around evening, we found Robert Baratheon had set up a session of drinking around a campfire with a serving wench sitting on his lap.

We came back home after the tourney, Ned went to Vale again. I remember Lya yelling at our father about her betrothal. He tried to calm her down. Bran was quite uncharacteristically remained silent about everything. About six moons later, they both went to Riverrun, for Bran's marriage. After that, everything stopped making sense. Ravens came about Lya's abduction by the Prince. They told how Bran was a prisoner at the Capitol. Father went with his men to try and rescue him…and then, war. Ned returned with the woman who was to marry Bran. Two little babes in their arms. I couldn't stay at Winterfell. I could hear their voices – father, Bran…Lya! I begged Ned to let me go, I begged him for permission to join the Watch – I don't know, for my penance mayhaps, for being alive." Wrecking sobs shook Benjen's entire body.

They fell quiet. Uncle and nephew both sat there on the ice of the Wall listening to the winds' howl at the night. After a long while, Benjen nudged Jon's shoulder.

"So, Aemon, eh? I remember how you liked to pretend to be the dragon-knight in your games."

"Not yet, Uncle Ben, not yet…I am still Jon and will be so till I become worthy enough to bear such a name. I need a favour from you though."

"What is it?"

"I need you to set up a discreet meeting with my namesake."

"Your namesake? What are you…Maester Aemon?"

"Aye, he is my great grand uncle, or add another couple of great to that. That is the other reason for my visit here, I wanted to meet with both my uncles."

Benjen nodded, "Give me a few days, I will see what I can do…Now come, let us go inside and get warm. We will catch our death sitting out here on the ice."

They got up and made their way to the lift.

"You know, I was thinking how you more and more look like as if all my siblings put together when you rode through the gates. But your heart, it's all Lya."

Jon gave him a sad smile, "I would like to hear more about her from you."

"And I would love to talk about her with you, son."

*Line Break*

The boys were looking while the Master-at-arms, Ser Aliser Thorne was training the recruits. The surly man was teaching them less and insulting them more. Watching the training for quite a while, they decided to go down and have a few spars of their own. They skirted around the men and went to the weapon racks to choose their arms.

"Look here, you maggots. The young lordlings have decided to grace us with their presence and have come down to wallow in the mud with us." Ser Aliser's scathing voice cut over the grunting and panting of the recruits.

They turned around to see the man approaching them, "So you are Lord Stark's whelps, are you?"

Robb bristled in indignation, Jon grabbed his arm and indicated him to remain quiet. He had heard of the man from his uncle. Ser Aliser was a Targaryen loyalist. He refused to bend the knee to Robert and chose the Black instead. He hated all of those who partook in the Rebellion, and Eddard Stark was most notable among them.

"Aye, Ser, this is Lord Robb, eldest son and heir to Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. These are Lord Torrhen Karstark of Karhold and Lord Asher Forrester of Ironwrath. My name is Jon Snow."

"Yes, the White Wolf. We have heard about you even here in this frozen peace of shithole, Lord Snow."

"Forgive me, Ser, but I am no lord."

Ser Aliser quirked an eyebrow, "Aren't you? Your clothing says quite a different tale, Lord Snow." The men around them snickered hearing that.

Jon was having a hard time keeping all three of Robb, Asher and Torrhen calm from the barbs that targeted them, Jon in particular.

Ser Aliser sneered at them, "What are you doing in my yard?"

Jon took a deep breath, he needed to remain calm too, "We didn't mean to disrupt your lessons, Ser. We just came down to have a few spars of our own."

"Hear that lads, Lord Snow is here to show you what a lordling can do with a sword. If you pay close attention, you may learn a thing or two." He turned towards Jon with a mocking smile on his face, "Come on then, My Lord, have a spar with me. Let us show these filths what a young warrior like you does to a proper foe."

Jon could see that Benjen was striding fast towards them, probably wanting to put an end to all of these. Jon shook his head at him. He turned to find his cousin and friends were all red in the face, eyes burning with anger. He pushed them along and took them towards the weapon racks.

Robb was seething, "Why did you stop me, Jon? I could have…"

Jon cut him off, "You could have what, Robb? Punish him? Take a look around, brother, he is already at the Wall, he is already being punished. Here in Castle Black, it is different from the outside world. None here is a lord or a peasant. They are all Black Brothers, they are all the same. You want to be respected by them, you have to earn it."

Robb didn't look like he was convinced, neither did the others. Jon smirked and unclipped his belt with Frost and Freedom sheathed to it.

"Calm down, brother. Here, keep a hold of these. Let me see if I have learned enough to go against a fully trained knight."

He winked at them and went to choose a sword with workable balance. Only a bastard sword seemed alright in his hand. He strapped on a buckler and swung the sword as he approached the yard, which was surrounded by the recruits, all eager to see how their master-at-arms beat the shit out of a lordling.

Ser Aliser snorted seeing Jon's sword, "A bastard sword for a bastard, how apt." The men around them roared in laughter. "Are you finally ready for our spar, My Lord?"

Jon nodded his head and went into a guarded stance. Ser Aliser started to circle him, trying to find an angle of attack. Jon moved along with him. The knight took a quick few steps forward and swung his blade aimed at his head. Jon bent backwards and let the sword glide away from him, then he got back to his stance. Ser Aliser tried to jab at his side, but Jon caught it on his buckler to deflect it, the knight put his buckler forward and tried to bash his sword arm, Jon turned on his left heel to avoid the attack. He took a couple of steps back and again got back in his defensive stance. Ser Aliser was quick on his feet as well as bulkier than him. He didn't want to challenge him in strength. He planned to be defensive and on the lookout for a chance to make a strike of his own. The knight again rushed towards him and swung at his body, Jon drove forward and rolled under the knight's extended arm and jumped up behind him, he tried to swing his sword, but the knight proved to be quicker than he thought. He turned around just in time to deflect Jon's strike with his buckler. He again made a jab at his body. Jon jumped backwards and out of his reach.

"Stop dancing around and fight me, bastard!" He snarled at him.

Jon hid his smirk behind his raised buckler. He is losing his cool – he thought, good, that means he may make a mistake. Ser Aliser rushed at him again and swiftly swung his sword once, twice, thrice. Jon avoided all and danced away from him, making the knight come towards him, again and again. He could see that the knight was getting frustrated, being bested by a greenboy, and a Stark-spawn to boot. His swings became wilder, leaving his body more open, Jon was waiting for such a chance. Ser Aliser thrusted his sword to his upper torso and over-extended his reach, Jon put his right foot forward and pivoted on the heel bending backwards at the same time, leaving the sword gliding way top of him. He could see from his position the shocked look in the Knight's eyes, he never saw movements like this, Jon dragged his left foot back and turned on his left heel and swung his sword with his full strength and momentum towards the Knight's wide open mid-section. If it wasn't a blunted sword, or if he wasn't wearing his armours, Ser Aliser would have spilt his guts with that strike. Still, he grabbed his belly with his shielded arm and doubled over in pain, Jon jumped up and towards him with his sword drawn back, Ser Aliser saw him move by the corner of his eyes and put his buckler up to stave the attack off. But it was a feint, Jon didn't land the attack with his sword, instead, he punched with his left hand and bashed his buckler hard to the Knight's face. Ser Aliser crumpled down on the ground, blood was flowing freely from his broken nose and cut lips. Jon brought his left heel down on his wrist and put pressure on it for the knight to release the grip of his sword, he raised his blunted sword point first aimed at the knight's throat.

"Snow, that is enough, lad!"

Jon stopped and turned his head. The Lord Commander was standing on the landing just outside of his solar watching over the fight. He nodded his head and lowered the sword, stepping away from the downed man. Ser Aliser sat up and wiped his face off and spat a glob of blood and spittle, he was looking at Jon with a venomous glare.

"I think that is enough lesson for the day, don't you think, Ser?" Jon offered his hand to the knight.

He grabbed his hand and Jon pulled him off the ground, even he was a head shorter than the man, Jon was staring hard at his eyes.

"I heard you speak of my family as the 'Usurper's dogs'. You made a very big mistake there, Ser. You see, we are not dogs, but wolves, and we protect our pack members…from any kind of attack." He gave him a curt nod and turned back towards the weapons rack to put his sword back on it.

Robb and the others had huge smiles on their faces.

"Damn, Jon, that was brutal!" Asher clapped him on his back.

"Aye, you destroyed him, brother!" Robb couldn't be happier. Jon had exacted vengeance for the slight to their family.

"So this is how the famous White Wolf fights?" They turned around to see Benjen coming towards them, a big smile etched on his face. "Not bad, nephew. You are indeed becoming quite the warrior." He ruffled his hair.

Jon gave them all a small smile and turned to look at Ser Aliser. The man shoved a Brother roughly out of his way and went inside the castle. Jon let out a sigh and shook his head. Even the man was a Targaryen loyalist, he had to do it. He couldn't let one of his families belittled for the sake of the other. He was as much a wolf as he was a dragon, after all.

Ping!

Quest Success!

For this night and all the nights to come!

Earn the respect of the Black Brothers

Reward: +30 Reputation with the Watch

*Line Break*

It had been a week since they had come to Castle Black, and three days after Jon demolished Ser Alisher. Jon and the others got to spar in the yard without any problems whatsoever. The recruits even thronged to their practice and watch how they wield a blade. Some even approached them for a lesson and two, which they were happy to give. Ser Alisher kept his distance from them. He sneered if he saw them giving the recruits arms lessons, and took it out later on those poor berks. Still, that didn't stop them from learning from the White Wolf.

That morning, Jon was not that invested in sparring with his friends. Uncle Benjen had said the previous night that he managed to arrange for a meeting with Maester Aemon. The old Maester had asked him to be in his rooms later that morning. Robb and Asher asked him a couple of times why he appeared to be distracted, Jon made up some excuses and went back to his room to freshen up. He grabbed the chest his Uncle Ned had given him. It held the egg and all the letters of his parents.

His heart was beating fast as he stood before the door to the Maester's rooms. This was the first time he would meet a member of his father's family. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Enter." The Maester's voice came from the room.

Jon pushed the doors open and entered the room. The room was very much like the rooms of Maester Luwin or Darryl, sparsely decorated, but hundreds of tomes and scrolls covered almost all the walls in numerous shelves. The Maester himself was sitting by the hearth in a chair, his legs covered in a thick blanket.

"Good morning, Maester." Jon stuttered out.

"Good morning to you too, young master Snow. Come, have a seat."

Jon dragged a spare chair from the room and set it in front of the Maester and sat upon it. He was wondering how should he proceed.

"Your uncle said that you have some important information to share with me." The question was evident in his voice.

"Aye, Maester, but I don't know where to start."

Aemon chuckled, "Always start at the beginning, lad. I have been told that is the best way."

Jon blurted out, "I am your nephew!" He couldn't stop himself.

For whatever it was the Maester thought Jon wanted to have this meeting, he didn't expect to hear those particular words. He sat straight in his chair, his milky white eyes trained towards Jon, brows furrowed.

"Viserys? You can't be him. You would have found out by your features…"

"No Maester, I am the son of your other nephew, Rhaeger."

"Aegon? But they told me you were dead…no, no…you are Lyanna's boy! Oh, Rhaeger! Oh, you bloody fool!"

"Maester?!" Jon was getting concerned about him, if a younger man like his Uncle Benjen could break down, then Maester Aemon was bound to have a more severe reaction than him. He was almost out of the room to go and get some help when the old man himself stopped him.

"Come back, lad, it is quite alright. I am used to having such earth-shattering news of my family. Come back to your seat."

Jon slowly came back and sat down. "I am sorry, Maester."

He waved the apology away, "Don't fret about it." He raised his hand towards his face but stopped short from touching. "May I?"

Jon understood that he wanted to use his hand as a substitute for his eyes. He replied, "Aye, Maester."

"Call me uncle, lad." He brushed his fingers all over Jon's face, tears spilt down his cheeks.

"The colours of your hair and eyes?"

"Black and grey…Uncle!"

He nodded happily. "You strongly favoured the Starks, but I can feel traces of Egg in you. Just as he was about your age."

He grasped Jon's hands, "Thank you, nephew, I had lamented thinking that I was the last Targaryen. For none knew whether Viserys is still alive or not."

"He lives, Uncle, him and his sister, Daenerys, I was told they are somewhere in Essos, hiding from Robert's hired hands."

Maester Aemon nodded, "That is indeed great news, yes! A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing. But tell me, you are not truly named Jon, are you?"

Jon squeezed his hands, "I heard that father wanted to name me Aegon, but mother disagreed, she named me after his favourite uncle, whom he respected greatly."

"Aemon?" He breathed.

"Aye, Uncle, mayhaps Mother wanted me to be a wise man like you, but I had no easier friendship with books, so I took after our other namesake."

The Maester chuckled hearing his answer. Both Targaryens, young and old, spoke for a long time. Jon again told his story of how he found out about his ancestry. Maester Aemon told him how his father, Rhaeger had come to meet him at the wall in disguise. How he was obsessed with the prophecy of the Promised Prince after a witch made some predictions to him. He didn't know about the conspiracy Rhella and Rhaeger carried out about the child named Aegon, for letters could always get lost. Whenever they exchanged messages, it was always about the new songs his father wrote or asking advice from his wise uncle. He showed Jon the letters, he even mentioned to him about glimpsing 'the beauty of a winter rose' on his way to and from the wall. They both shed tears together for the family they lost.

During a lull in their conversation, Maester Aemon asked, "What do you plan to do, Aemon?"

Jon chuckled, "It is funny how everyone keeps asking me the same question, and I tell them the same answer each time – 'I haven't decided yet.' To tell you the truth, Uncle, I am not sure myself. I want to travel the world. And I will do it in any way possible. Afterwards, I am not sure. I feel like there is so much for me to accomplish. It is the exact reason why I tell everyone to call me Jon. I feel like I haven't earned to bear the name 'Aemon' yet. One of my namesakes was the famous Dragonknight, and the other one is truly the wisest man I have the fortune to meet."

Maester Aemon smiled at him, "You honour me, nephew. If you think me wise, then please listen to what I have to say."

"Of course, Uncle."

He sat back up in his chair and grabbed Jon's hands in a tight grip. "Be Jon Snow for as long as you like. But once you decide, you need to become Aemon Targaryen. Just as I told my brother after he was crowned by the Great Council – Kill the boy Egg, and let the man Aegon be born. I say the same to you now; when you feel that you are ready, kill the boy Jon Snow, and let the man Aemon Targaryen be born."

"When will I become ready?"

"You will know when the time is right, nobody can decide that for you. All I can say for now is never stop growing. There are lessons to learn from everything and everybody around you. Be the best that you can be. But maintain caution that you do not become arrogant. I heard about your little incident at the yard. While I agree that Ser Aliser needed to be taken down a step or two, mayhaps you could have led with a calmer mind. I hope you know about my brother Aerion? Do not become another Brightflame, Aemon. Lord Stark had done well by you; you are growing into a fine young man. Never forget his teachings, for you cannot forego your roots."

A sombre silence filled the room. After a few moments, Jon remembered the things his father left for him.

"I have the Dark Sister, Uncle!" He said excitedly.

"Oh? So he left it for you then? I wondered what happened to the blade. It was I who gave it to him. Brynden left it under my care before he disappeared beyond the wall."

Jon took out the still sheathed sword and helped the Maester to grip it.

"I changed its appearance a bit, and also renamed it to keep its identity hidden, for now, else I would attract too much attention. I hope you do not mind."

"It is your birth right, Aemon. You can do whatever you like with it." He brushed his fingers on the wolfhead pommel. "What do you call it?"

"Frost, I wanted it to be linked with my Stark family, alongside Uncle Ned's Ice while I still maintain the name, Jon Snow. Dark Sister will once again sing freely in the hand of another Aemon Targaryen, Uncle, that I promise you."

"A fitting name for such a fine sword." The Maester nodded. He handed the sword back. "And I also appreciate the plans you have for it."

"…and I also have a dragon egg." Jon took out the egg from the chest, it still felt warm to his touch, he pushed the egg to his uncle's hands. At first, the old man frowned, then his face split into a childlike smile.

"It is alive!"

Jon was happy that his uncle could also feel the life inside the stonelike shell. "Aye. Uncle, it is alive."

Suddenly, Maester Aemon went very serious. "You must give me your word that you will not try to hatch it as my brother did."

"But, Uncle…"

"Your word, Aemon!"

Jon sighed, "I promise you that I will not take any risks to hatch this egg. I have been trying to find anything related to dragons. But I won't ever try to hatch it by dousing it in the wildfire, you have my word."

"I can help you with that information. I have a few tomes in my collection written by the Valyrian dragonlords. Not even the Maesters at Citadel are aware of these. I have discovered them in a hidden room at Dragonstone in my youth and kept them secret for fear of my brother. You are learned in Valyrian, are you not?"

"Aye, Maester Luwin took great care in teaching me." He was very happy about this unexpected wealth of knowledge.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Uncle, I am also a warg!"

Jon laughed loudly at the stunned look on the old man's face.

*Line Break*

Jon didn't know where he was. The ground and the bushes around him are covered in deep snow. The trees could be there since the beginning of the time, so big they were. He didn't know how he got here, wherever 'here' is. He didn't have his weapons about him, which he found even more strange. He never ventured out at least without his dagger, and since receiving Frost and Freedom, he always made sure they are secured to his belt. Was he attacked and the muggers ran off with his weapons? He shook his head, trying to remember where he was before 'waking up here'. He looked around him for any sign of a landmark but couldn't find any. The sun was of no help as it was hidden by a cloudy sky. He broke off a branch from a tree for a makeshift staff and took off decided on a way.

He walked by his estimation about an hour through the woods and snow. Still, he couldn't find any sign of a way out. The funny thing was that if he was stuck that deep in a wood, he had yet to meet any kind of wild lives. He couldn't even hear the buzzing of insects. Tired of treading through the snow, he decided to rest for a few minutes and think about the odd situation he found himself in. He sat down and leaned against a tree. But he jumped back to his feet almost instantly, he recognized the area. He had been walking through dense wood for a long time, yet he was back right where he started. He was almost sure that he didn't turn around at any point and kept his way as straight as possible. He looked around the ground but couldn't see his footprints. It didn't snow in the meantime that they would get covered. He grabbed his staff tightly, what the fuck is going on?

A sound of chuckling came from behind him. He whirled around to find an old man standing, leisurely leaning against a tree. He was quite tall, about six feet in height. His long, white hair was covering half of his face. He was wearing a blood-red tunic and black breeches with black boots. His tunic had linings of grey. He also had a grey cloak on his shoulder with a grey hood, though it wasn't covering his head.

"Who the fuck are you? Where am I?" Jon growled at him.

"You are exactly where you were meant to be, young man." The man said with a smile.

"I am in no mood for riddles, old man, speak clearly."

"Or what? Would you beat me to death?" He smirked at Jon.

"You are about to find out." Jon took a step forward threateningly.

A sudden gust of wind blew through the trees. The old man seemed almost annoyed by it.

"Oh, alright. I was just having a little fun." The man stood straighter and drew a serious mien on his face. "Come, walk with me, Aemon."

Jon was shocked out of his skull. Another one knew of his secret, a man he didn't even recognize?

"Who are you? How do you know about that name?

The man again gave his infuriating smirk to him. "I know everything there is to know about you, Aemon Targaryen. Now come, we mustn't tarry any longer." He strode away without a backward glance.

Jon had to run to catch up with him. For an old man, he was quite quick on his feet.

"Can you at least tell me who you are, My Lord?"

"Of course, how rude of me," he shook his head as if he hadn't heard Jon asking the same question before, "Ser Brynden Rivers, at your service, also known as Lord Bloodraven. Bastard son of King Aegon IV. Former Hands to the King Aerys I and King Maeker I. Former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

Jon took a wide-eyed glance at the old man, truly, the red birthmark, which looked like a raven spreading its wings, was present at the right side of his face and neck, the reason he was called 'Bloodraven'. Also the empty left eye socket, a reminder of when he lost it in the duel against Aegor Bittersteel.

"Are not supposed to be dead?" Jon blurted out.

Bloodraven let out a bark of laughter. "I don't know. Am I?" He asked him back.

Jon didn't know what he was to reply. They continued to walk in silence.

"My Lord…"

He cut him off, "You can call me uncle, you know, like Aemon, I am also your distant uncle. So you can call me uncle like you call him."

"You know about that? Oh…of course, you do, a thousand eyes and one!" Jon muttered under his breath.

Bloodraven let out another barklike laughter. "Ask me what you were going to ask, lad."

"Very well, Uncle Brynden, where exactly are we?"

"We are right at the middle of true North, lad, the lands beyond the Wall."

When did he cross the Wall, and how? Jon shook his head. "And where are we going?"

"Oh, we are not going anywhere, for we are already here."

Jon looked around him. They had reached the top of a wooded hill. Right at the summit, there was a huge Weirwood tree. Jon turned towards Bloodraven with an incredulous look on his face.

"It's impossible. I have been travelling in the same direction for an hour but turned back to where I started from. Yet here we are, walking the same way and reached this hill."

Bloodraven turned away from him and snickered. "That would be my doing, Aemon, think nothing of it."

"What do you mean, Uncle?"

"Oh, don't be like that. I do get to have a little fun with my grand-nephew, don't I?" Jon kept staring at him. Bloodraven shook his head and muttered, "You bloody Northerner!"

He waved his hands to indicate the surrounding area, "This is where I want you to come, Aemon. Memorize this place. Right beneath this tree, you will find the entrance to a cave. You must come to the cave, Aemon."

"Is this another of your bloody mummery?"

His face changed as if carved out of stone. "I have been called many things in my life, Aemon. A bastard, a kinslayer, a dark mage…but never was I known for japing about the safety of the realms, safety of all the people. What I ask of you now, know this, it is paramount that you heed my words. Come to this hill, Aemon. The lives of the entire Westeros, mayhaps even the world, may depend upon it."

"But I don't know where is this place, I have never been to the north of the Wall."

Bloodraven pointed towards a mountain range at a distance. "You see those mountains, those are the Frostfang Mountains. Right at the foot of it is the rounded hilltop called Fist of the First Men, situated at the western edge of the Haunted Forest. That is where we are standing now, this is the Haunted Forest." He turned Jon towards the south, he could see the wall in distance. "And that way, as you can see, is the Wall. You must come beyond the wall, Aemon. Convince your Uncle Benjen to act as a guide for you. Leaving the Wall, you will reach a place called Craster's Keep in several day's journeys. From there, keep the Fist on your left, and continue to venture north in a relatively straight line, you cannot miss this hill. We must talk face to face, Aemon. Come and find me."

Jon tried to wrap his head around everything Bloodraven had told him. He was extremely confused about the whole situation.

"Wait, is this all happening in real? Or is it all inside of my head because I drank too much?"

"Of course it is all happening in your head, Aemon, but that doesn't mean that it is anything but real." He winked at him, "Now it is time for you to return, Aemon. You must wake up now…"

"…up Jon, you must wake up now!" Robb's voice cut through the haze.

Jon opened his eyes and bolted up straight, he was still at Castle Black, in their shared room with Robb and others, and his cousin was shaking his shoulder to get him to wake up from his sleep.

"Gods, Jon, were you drunk or what? I must have been calling you for the past fifteen minutes."

Jon shook his head, he could still feel the grip of Bloodraven's hand on his shoulder. "I was too tired, brother, so I slept quite deeply. I am up now."

"Well, get a move on then, time for breaking our fast is almost over." Robb got out of the room.

Jon got up and started to dress, he was still thinking about the dream he had. Sounds of wings made him turn around towards the window. Lord Mormont's raven flew in through it and landed on his empty bed. The bird looked at him and started cawing.

"Snow! Snow! Snow!"

Jon chuckled, "Aye, I am Jon Snow."

"Hill! Hill! Hill!"

Jon could only stare at the bird.

"Come! Come! Come!" The raven flew out of the window.

Jon made a plan to have a talk with his Uncle Benjen about a trip beyond the Wall, as soon as possible.