[Beyond the Wall]
Jon and Sam had been travelling beyond the Wall for many days now, and it was even more dreadful than they had anticipated it to be. The snow never stopped falling, and the wind howled like wolves. They had followed what little trail they could find, hoping to discover a sign of Bran Stark or Sandor Clegane. But the deeper they went into the woods, the less hope they had.
The fact that they hadn't crossed the Wall before and knew nothing of the lands beyond didn't help either. The only knowledge they had came from their brothers at Castle Black and whatever they could learn from them.
Their food was nearly gone. They had taken some supplies from Castle Black—dry bread, a few bits of meat, and some apples—but now even those were almost finished. The cold was biting, and their fingers ached. Sleep came only in short, cold bursts, and they were growing weaker with each day.
And if that wasn't enough, then the knowledge of undead walking these snow-filled lands was just the final push for them to live their time beyond the Wall with absolute dread. At least Jon was the only one who knew it; he hadn't told Sam this yet, and that was a small mercy for the already shaken fat man.
"We can't keep going like this, Jon," Sam said, shivering. "We'll die out here."
"We'll die if we stop going too, Sam. Just keep going." Jon didn't want to admit it, but he knew Sam was right. But being right doesn't mean a solution. He could be right too, but that solves nothing.
They needed shelter. Somewhere warm. Somewhere safe. And fast. Or he feared that, let alone searching for Bran, even making it back to Castle Black would be a lost cause. Well, perhaps going back to Castle Black might not be the best option. They might be executed the moment their brothers at Black saw them.
"I'm so cold that I could smell a warm fire and meat roasting on top of it," Sam gulped and said with self-pity.
"Aye… that would be nice." Jon nodded as if he too, could smell the food and warmth. And then suddenly he stopped.
"I can smell it too…" Jon blinked in confusion once he realised it and looked around.
"What is it?"
"Shush." Jon waved his hands and looked up, and indeed there it was: smoke.
"Smoke… come on." Jon bolted from there, hope surging in him that perhaps they wouldn't be dying today. Sam obviously followed.
That's when they saw it—a wooden house surrounded by a rough fence of logs. Smoke rose from the chimney, and a few pigs wandered nearby. It was the only sign of life they'd seen in days.
"That's Craster's place," Jon said, remembering the name. "Some of the Night's Watch talked about him."
"Who's Craster?"
"A… a wildling. He doesn't attack us and provides a safe place for us to stay, at least for the men of the Night's Watch." Jon muttered with contemplation. He wasn't looking for this place, and if it wasn't necessary, he would never interact with a wildling willingly. However, he had to if he wished to survive.
The farther north they went, the colder it became, and more dangerous.
"Is he safe?" Sam, not knowing anything about this Craster, asked.
"NO…!"
"But he has food and warm beds."
"And girls…" Sam muttered, seeing a few of Craster's daughters working outside.
"It's been months since I saw a girl."
"Keep your eyes to yourself, Sam. I heard not much about this Craster, but he ain't the one to let others ogle his daughters." Jon sighed and started walking.
With the stunt they pulled, they were certainly no longer men of Castle Black. However, Craster didn't need to know that. If they played their cards right, then perhaps they could get away with real food and warm beds tonight.
They approached the gate, and a large man with a thick beard stepped out to meet them. His clothes were old but warm, and he carried a sharp axe in his hand. He looked at them with a scowl.
"Whatya you crows want now?" said the man while munching on some meat.
"We're from the Night's Watch," Jon said quickly. "Rangers. We're searching for someone."
"Aye, that's what Crows do. They search, they come here to bother us, search a bit more, and go back to that dung place they came from. Nothing new," Craster grunted. "So, what do you want from me..." he added with slight hostility.
"Intel." Jon looked around. The man, who most likely was Craster himself, was the only person there outside of some girls. At least if it came down to it, the fight would technically go 50-50.
He's not counting the girls, and by extension, Sam.
"New here, eh, boy? That ain't how we do things here in my place," Craster said with a little grunt.
Jon indeed wasn't sure what kind of relationship the rangers had with this wildling beyond the Wall, but he couldn't show any weakness.
"Whatya want?"
"That's a nice sword. Castle-forged…" Craster looked at the sword at Jon's side.
"We've been out in the cold a long time," Jon replied. "We need a place to stay. Just for the night. Food…"
Craster looked them up and down. "It will cost you more."
"Depends on whether you have the intel or not." Jon never once broke eye contact.
Sam, on the side, was getting nervous. Especially when Craster's eyes went to him.
"You can stay. But you follow my rules."
"What rules?" Sam asked nervously.
"First, give me your weapons," Craster said. "And any wine you got?"
"One sword and a dagger, for intel and food, warmth, and shelter." Jon again repeated.
They had no wine. But they still had their weapons.
"Second," Craster continued, "you don't talk to my daughters. Don't look at 'em. Don't even think about 'em. Break that rule, and I'll cut your guts out."
Jon nodded slowly. "Your roof, your rules."
Inside, the hall was warm from the fire. It smelled of smoke, sweat, and something sour. Craster's daughters moved around quietly. They were all women. Young, tired-looking, and they didn't say a word. None of them met Jon or Sam's eyes.
One notion did come to Jon's mind, though: if they are indeed his daughters, then what happened to his sons? He can't always have daughters, right?
As they sat near the fire, Sam whispered, "Are all these his daughters?"
They ate the little food Craster gave them and tried to rest. But sleep didn't come easily. Not in a place like this. He needed answers, intel about Bran and Benjen.
"Get some sleep. We'll need it."
---
[Wall]
So, the talk with Lord Mormont regarding the wildlings didn't go as well as I thought it would have. Stubborn fools, all of them. They are willing to see a hundred thousand men added to the enemy, but not willing to take those free folks south of the Wall.
"Are you sure you're going alone?" Ned Stark asked from the side.
"Yes, I am."
"They are not the kind of people who will see reason," Ned replied.
"I certainly am meeting a lot of those kind of people lately, wouldn't you say, Stark?" I rolled my eyes.
"For thousands of years, the Night's Watch have protected that Wall. Safeguarding the realm of men. Many of ours have died at the hands of those wildlings. You're asking to forget all those grievances you don't even know about." Joer Mormont chipped in from the side as we all made our way toward the Wall's gate.
"It was the Wall which guarded us, Mormont, not the Night's Watch. Thousands of years of grievances, and you ask me to believe that blood had only flowed from one side. That's not how battle works, old man. If it does, then that's no battle.
The war you have been fighting wasn't even the intention when the First Men made that big Wall. The things which it meant to keep out are the real enemy, the very one which you can't see. If you did, then you'd see that the enemy doesn't care whether one wears a white cloak or a black cloak, which god they pray to, and where they stay.
Everything living is the enemy of that enemy. And I'm not sure about here, but where I come from, the enemy's enemy is a friend." I snorted and saw the great door open up.
"What if they refuse?"
"I'll kill them and make sure to burn their bodies," I replied without hesitation.
"There are thousands of them, boy. You're marching to your death." I looked at the man with slight irritation.
"Don't pull age with me, Mormont. Your ancestors' combine would not match my time. As for death, yes, it's marching toward them. And don't think that I won't extend the same courtesy to you once I come back, with how so many rational minds I could find out there and saw the gates closed on us."
That definitely shut the old man up.
"Is that a threat?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
"No… That's my word to you. And ask those Lannisters if you wish to know whether I keep my word." I rotated my hammer in my hand and looked at Ned one last time before heading out of the gates.
I had no horse, not much food, and the clothes I wore were not suited for the cold. However, I didn't care. I can hunt my own food. With Lvl 2 Godly Body, I don't feel much cold either. As for a horse, I wouldn't ride one even if I got one for free.
"Make sure you prepare the Gift by the time I come back, Stark. That's about the only place we could keep those wild folks," I said before heading out.
Didn't get any reply, and honestly wasn't expecting one either. He'll do it, and if not, then perhaps me intending to save him was a wasted effort on my part. In that case, he'll be useless.
xxx
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