It never seemed to be easier getting used to the cold of the North, more so when at The Wall. It became tolerable, like the chronic pain of a man who knows his time is coming, like a man who knows there will be a time when everything would end and that would become the only comfort.
Jon sat at his new desk, the one that still felt foreign to him.
Over the past weeks he had received two ravens with what he considered good news separately, but he was not so sure of them combined. Stannis had been the first to reply, promising help to fight against the wildlings; until then no other lord had taken him seriously. He had to admit he was slightly disappointed when he did not receive a response from Robb, but just a couple of days later, his half-brother assured him he would ride to The Wall and join him.
It would be the first time they saw each other since the day he had left with their uncle Benjen. Since then much had happened to them, and sometimes felt quite sad not to be able to share it with someone who he knew since childhood, who would miss their father's advice as much as he did during those bad days and still had unanswered questions.
Recently becoming Lord Commander, Jon had started to put his new title to good use. That of course did not mean he had not regretted the death of the previous Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont. But due the circumstances, there was not much time to mourn or think about mistakes.
He moved to stand and the wound in his leg stung. Each time those hurt, Jon thought about Ygritte and how similar they were. He had spoken the truth when he said he loved her, and even if she never said it, he knew she did as well. But both of them had loyalties with their people, he had to honor his word as a member of the Night's Watch and she had always let him know what she thought about his people.
He could not blame her and feel resentment against her for injuring him. Jon had thought about doing the same, and he would probably have to, but those were things he did not wish to think about. Besides, after taking the black, he could never commit himself to a woman, so it was better that way.
"Jon," Samwell trudged into the chambers and dusted off the snow falling at the time. "Scouts said Stannis is a day away from here with a thousand men."
"And Robb?"
Samwell smiled. "He's little less than two days away, with about three thousand men."
Jon nodded somberly. It would be great to have that help. It would make the battle much easier, but he knew Mance Rayder could arrive earlier than that. He was faster and knew the terrains better than most. He also had the knowledge of how the Night's Watch behaved and thought.
"That's not all," Samwell continued with excitement and a grin growing on his face. Jon frowned at that. "Your brother has a dragon."
"What?" Jon muttered.
"Apparently, his wife is the owner of said dragons. Three, but only one of them is accompanying him." Sam kept talking about what he knew about dragons, and how incredible was for them to return now, in time of need. Jon was sure he should have paid attention to one or other thing his friend was saying but he had been caught up in the little detail.
Robb was married and he had a son. Not only that but over a year before he had been proclaimed King in the North, an old title that had not been used since Aegon the Conqueror had forced Torrhen Stark to bend the knee. It had taken another Targaryen to arrive, but this time she had decided to join a Stark.
It was only logical for Robb to aspire to be Warden of the North, but the false accusations against their father had forced him into taking different paths. Once in it, Jon could only imagine Robb's bravery and stubbornness had led him to be King.
"Would it be a problem?" Jon wondered aloud and Sam just looked at him, those round and dull eyes wide as he tried to understand the dilemma. "Two of the men who want the throne will be here, fighting."
"Not against each other," Sam pointed out.
"Who says they won't?" Jon clenched his fists and groaned under his breath. He should have thought better than to just send those ravens to all the lords in the Seven Kingdoms. But this was a problem that involved Westeros as a whole and since the Night's Watch was as weak as it ever had been, he had been desperate.
"There's a truce. You know your brother, and Stannis Baratheon has the reputation as rule abinding-"
"What about the red priestess? Do you think she'll respect this truce?" Jon scowled at the quill on his desk. He had never been the kind of man skilled with words, perhaps something most Starks had in common. If he had, perhaps he would not have been in such predicament. "I do not trust her, or what they say about her."
"She's not the one fighting the war."
"Please tell me Robb hasn't brought his wife with him." It was the only thing that would surely end up badly. Battle was no place for women, much less queens, but according to one of Arya's messages, Daenerys Targaryen was not like other queens or ladies.
"No. Well, according to the scouts it's only him and his troops."
"So we just have to wait now?"
"I believe so," Samwell muttered, shrugging his shoulders and making that small piece of neck he had disappear completely under the jowls.
"It might be the worst of all."
-o-
The battle started without warning in the early morning. Stannis was supposedly just a few hours away, while Robb still had at least half a day to go. Time was not on their side, but hopefully their luck was.
Jon grabbed Longclaw and called Ghost to his side. They had to be ready to face the enemy, no matter how unexpected Mance Rayder's attack was.
Running through the throng of men fighting, shouting, Jon had little time to overthink his steps. He just needed to repel the attack and do what the Night's Watch had been doing since forver, protect the Seven Kingdoms from those who lived beyond The Wall.
Wildlings had started to rain on them, just like the scarce arrows they could shoot. It seemed so little, they were much less than the ones attacking and wildlings had no fear because there was something else out there that they feared more than to the Night's Watch. Even if they were more prepared for battle, by formal training for a short time, seemed like they would not hold it for much longer.
Stannis arrived soon and his forces attacked immediately. It was a relief and for a while it felt like it was enough to defeat Mance Rayder, but Jon knew the wildlings were resourceful; hard life had forced them into a life style used to deal with hardships. They would not surrender. It was a battle that would last till the end.
It was not until he saw a blur of grey run past him that Jon realized Robb had arrived. Grey Wind had joined Ghost in battle as long lost brothers.
"Rhaegal!" Robb's voice boomed from behind him as he drew out his sword. "Dracarys!" Jon watched with wide eyes as a large shadow fell upon the fighters from both sides. All men seemed to freeze from a fraction of a moment as they saw a dragon for the first time in their lives.
From the top of the wall, the green dragon breathed out fire, burning the men who kept on trying to climb it. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and the screams became sharper but soon extinguished as the wind carried away the ashes and smoke.
With Robb's troops, and the dragon keeping the last wildlings from climbing the wall, soon they had the upperhand. That of course did not mean the battle ended immediately, but it made things easier, and seeing they had a bigger chance to win helped keeping the men fighting with more strength.
Arms grew tired, and sweat covered his face, but soon it would be all over. Soon.
-o-
What bothered him the most about the end of a battle was the ominous silence, the screams of men breaking it. It was foolish for him to believe someone could be blinded by victory when after battle you never returned complete.
"Jon."
He turned to see a man who resembled his half-brother. Had they been so young? Had they changed so much? There was coarse hair covering Robb's face, just like his. His hair had grown wild when once he always kept it short and clean. In his face he could see dirt and sweat, splatters of blood here and there and the hint of a smile under all of that. He was a man now, a king. Robb looked taller and stronger, sharp angles where before there was the softness of childrens.
Jon was sure Robb saw the same in him.
Snorting a breathless laugh, Jon imitated Robb and both opened their arms to welcome the other in a tight embrace. They patted their backs and laughed with sadness, as long lost friends who had finally found common ground.
Was this King in the North better than him with a sword? Had Robb grown as a warrior? Jon had many questions, but some of those he did not want to find answers to.
"Look at you," Robb called. "Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
"And you, King in the North," Jon retorted.
A moment passed as if they were weighing what to say. They used to have so much in common and now it seemed like none of that was left. Those two years had been a lifetime away. They had gone through so much, maybe they were no longer the same boys who played together in a courtyard.
It was Robb who decided to break this with a heartfelt, "I needed you more than once. You wouldn't have betrayed me. I could have used someone like that."
It was hard and it reminded him of that time in which he was about to desert, in which he wanted to go with his brother and avenge the death of their father, rescue their sisters and fight together. Yet, he had never been so good with words, learning from early age that as a bastard, he had never had a said in much.
"I wanted to join you, but I don't know what good it would have done."
They would have time to talk about all that and more later, perhaps during a meal and sharing wine. Now they had much to do with troops and mess to deal with, which was reminded to Robb as one of his second in command approached to tell him something.
With a silent nod, Jon watched as Robb walked to his troops, probably to discuss the damage done and what would happen next, before they met with Stannis that night whose troops were as far as they could from Robb's, eyeing them with suspicion.
Meanwhile, Jon decided to study the harm done to the Night's Watch, moving through bodies on the ground, of men coughing their last breath and watching as some brothers tried to mend each other's wounds the best they could. He doubted Maester Aemon or Sam could deal with that much damage and he only hoped builders could work fast on reparing the Wall and Castle Black.
As he slowly approached the Wall, he saw more bodies, some that had fallen to the ground in bad shape, charred by the dragon's fire.
And among the dead and the mud mixed with blood, under the grey and dirt, that fiery red hair still called him. He recognized her immediately. It was the same face he had held in his hands and kissed, the same beauty that had haunted him for nights.
He rushed to her, he fell on his knees next to her and soon lifted her head so those bright eyes could look at him once more, so he could see her face again.
"Let go of me," she hissed and her eyes shut tightly in pain as he moved her.
There was an arrow lodged at her side, Jon could see it. He could feel the life slipping through his fingers and thought about what he had done, wondering not for the first time why it had been so difficult, why he had met her under those circumstances.
"I'll call the maester, Sam. Someone-"
"Let me die like this," she spat. "I will be no traitor."
"Ygritte," he muttered softly. "I did not lie."
"You did not. But we are too different, and just like you I won't," she was interrupted by a sudden coughing fit. "I won't give my back to my people." Her trembling hand reached for the arrow, curling her fingers around it.
Jon knew that as soon as she pulled it out, blood would ooze from it and soon she would be gone.
The sound of footsteps forced him to look up, and they found one unexpected man. Theon.
"Robb sent me for you," he said in a voice that lacked all the sarcastic humor he used to have. "He wishes for you and Stannis to join him for supper."
"I'm busy," Jon said between clenched teeth, still cradling Ygritte's face in his hands. She was about to pull the arrow, to finish her own life and forbid fate to make decisions for her. He was not about to let her though. "Help me," he said to Theon. Pulling her hand away, holding her, he watched the spark of anger in her eyes. "Take her legs."
"Jon!" she protested. "Let me, let go of me!" she cried with her last strength. "I'll kill you, like I should've done!"
"For that you'd have to live," Jon whispered and lifted her from the ground with Theon's help.