A/N: Surprise POV!
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They're not actually being chased as far as they're aware of, but that doesn't stop them from racing their horses all the way to the Wall once they're clear of the forest's treeline. Snow puffs up in every direction as hooves pound along the nearly invisible, icy path. More than once, Jon looks back over his shoulder to make sure the sled attached to his and his uncle's horses is still coming with them, the massive wooden crate secured to it still locked in place.
After years of being in the Night's Watch and learning under his Uncle Benjen's tutelage, one would think that Jon would be used to this life by now. Even he had thought he was used to being a brother of the Night's Watch at this point, truth be told.
And yet, this latest ranging had turned everything that he thought he knew on its head. Every breath is like ice in his veins, his heart pounding in his chest even as they both come to a stop outside of the tunnel that leads to Castle Black.
Pulling a horn from his belt, Benjen gives it three short blows… and a moment later the thick oaken door begins to come open in front of them, followed by three grates made of heavy iron bars. Jon prepares a torch and together they make their way down the otherwise lightless tunnel, even as the door is sealed shut again behind them and their horses mere moments later.
Jon has never had much of a problem with darkness before. Even if the twisting tunnel that goes all the way through the Wall has always been a little bit eerie, it's also always felt relatively safe. Secure, even. Not anymore though. It's hard not to jump at every shadow, even though they're so very close to home.
Finally, they reach the other side where brothers of the Night's Watch await them. Jon breathes a little easier as they come out into Castle Black's main courtyard to see dozens of men, all in black cloaks, watching them carefully.
"The First Ranger has returned!"
There's a ragged cheer that runs through the brothers of the Night's Watch at that, even as Benjen and Jon finally dismount their horses. Not everyone particularly cares that they're back though, even if Benjen is essentially second to only Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Some probably aren't even particularly happy about it, all things considered.
But then, Jon has had years to get used to the grim reality of the Night's Watch. He'd grown up back in Winterfell thinking that the Night's Watch was an honored and ancient institution worthy of respect. From a young age, he'd believed that taking the black was one of the best things that a bastard like him could do with his life.
The truth had turned out to be much more complex than that. The Night's Watch was a shadow of its former self, an order made up mostly of thieves, murderers and worse these days. Still, not everyone was scum. Men like the Lord Commander and his Uncle Benjen and-
"Jon! You're back!"
Blinking, Jon looks over and smiles as Samwell Tarly makes his way down the stairs in his direction. Once the other man reaches him, Jon nods and clasps arms with him.
"Sam, good to see you again. And yes. I'm back."
Meanwhile, Uncle Benjen isn't wasting any time.
"I need men over here now! Get a proper cell set up inside the Castle and move this crate to it immediately. Do NOT open it. Do NOT drop it! And someone get me the Lord Commander as well!"
Even if his title didn't inspire quite like it should, it still commanded a certain amount of fear and respect. Jon watches as several brothers spring into action to do as the First Ranger has ordered… and he watches those who don't move a muscle as well.
Sometimes, Jon wondered at the wisdom behind offering certain men the Wall instead of the block or a noose. In his personal opinion, if a man had earned execution for his crimes, then he didn't belong on the Wall at all. All that sort of policy did was weaken the Night's Watch further.
Case in point, all of the men who have joined the Night's Watch in recent months. Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell are probably the biggest names with the biggest stories attached to them, but they're really not even the worst of the bunch. In fact, they mostly keep to themselves, with there being rumors of them having… that sort of relationship with one another.
Some had thought that Loras Tyrell's days as a capable swordsman were over since the King took his sword hand from him, but the pretty man had proven them wrong, learning to fight just as well with his remaining hand in no time at all. He wasn't a bad man, Jon had eventually decided. And while Renly Baratheon could be a bit… stuck up, he wasn't too bad either.
The likes of Janos Slynt and his group from the City Watch down in King's Landing on the other hand… they're slimy as all hell and men that Jon wouldn't trust to have his back any day of the week. Even if they've all sworn their oaths and wear their black cloaks same as everyone else, he can't help but watch them and feel like they still consider themselves goldcloaks, deep down inside.
But worse than even them have to be the handful of Ironborn who chose to take the black rather than die when Axel Baratheon and his armies reached the Iron Islands and finished off Euron Greyjoy's insurrection.
The Ironborn were all particularly mean-spirited, cruel men to begin with, but it was made worse by the Lord Commander's decision to keep all of them here at Castle Black. Rather than letting any of them garrison at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, where the Night's Watch kept all of its galleys and other ships large enough to be capable of crossing the Narrow Sea.
To be fair, Jon agreed with Lord Commander Mormont's decision there. Even the commander of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, a man named Cotter Pyke, agreed with the Lord Commander. And HE was even Ironborn himself, apparently! But to hear Uncle Benjen tell it, he didn't consider himself the same sort of Ironborn as these new recruits.
No, according to what Benjen told him of what Cotter Pyke had said, these men were greedy, opportunistic cowards who would likely leap at the first chance to desert and escape to Essos if they thought they could get away with it. But then, given that likelihood, Jon just wished they hadn't been allowed to take the black in the first place.
"Jon?"
Pulled from his inner thoughts, Jon looks over to see Sam glancing nervously between Benjen and the crate that's currently being offloaded from their makeshift sled and carried inside.
"… The First Ranger seems… tense. Did something happen out there? You two were gone longer than expected…"
He blinks again, before realizing that for a split second he hadn't thought about everything that had happened over the course of the last several days. He'd been too busy basking in Sam's presence and taking in the other men in the yard. A shiver runs down Jon's spine, the smile dropping from his face. He opens his mouth to respond, but truth be told he doesn't know what he's going to say. Fortunately, he never has to figure it out.
"Jon! With me, I want you there when I report on our findings to the Lord Commander!"
His Uncle's voice cuts through the air like a knife and Jon jolts before throwing Sam an apologetic look.
"Sorry Sam. I'll tell you what I can later."
"Oh! Sure, no worries Jon. You know where to find me of course."
Of course. Sam was pretty much the Lord Steward's protégé at this point, when he wasn't helping Maester Aemon with things. It wouldn't be hard to track the other man down, all things considered. They exchange a second grasp of the arms and a single nod before Jon finally follows Benjen inside.
Soon enough, he finds himself quietly waiting for the Lord Commander's arrival alongside his uncle. Eventually, Jeor Mormont shows up. Though Jon keeps his thoughts to himself, he can't help feeling that the Lord Commander is indicative of the state of the Night's Watch these days. He's a stubborn old man who started out with plenty of honor but is now stuck with an ailing body that's slowly but surely failing him more and more each day.
The Night's Watch is much the same way. Old. Dying. Rotted. And ill-prepared for what's coming their way.
"First Ranger. Report."
The Lord Commander spares Jon himself a single look before focusing his attention on Benjen. In response, Jon's uncle grimaces and nods to the iron-barred cell where he's had the men stash their crate.
"Better to show you, Lord Commander. You won't believe me if I try to put it in words."
The ever-present frown on Jeor Mormont's face deepens at that, but he nods all the same. Fortunately, the crate has been prepared ahead of time and there's a rope coming out through the bars of the cell. When Benjen gives him the signal, Jon gives the rope a rough tug, causing the crate to finally splinter open on one side.
There's the briefest of pauses… and then a creaking sound that causes Jon to shudder in remembrance. Even Benjen twitches and shuts his eyes for a moment. Meanwhile, the Lord Commander's eyes narrow and he takes a step closer to the bars.
"What is-"
With a screech, the wight they'd captured in the wooden crate comes bursting out, slamming itself violently against the bars just as Benjen grabs the Lord Commander by his shoulder and roughly yanks him back a step. The result is that the skeleton fingers of the undead, much like claws at this point, swipe through air instead of Jeor's beard.
With a curse, Jeor Mormont draws his sword, the Valyrian Steel Blade Longclaw, and holds it in front of himself. To the older man's credit, Jon can see that the blade wavers for just a second before firming up.
"What in the hells is this thing?"
Benjen's voice is exhausted and grave as he answers the Lord Commander.
"A corpse, Lord Commander. Only, one that has been brought back to life. One that seeks to kill everything around it, to supply more bodies to be brought back from the dead. To put it more plainly… it is a wight."
A wight. The sort of thing that Jon had never thought was real until now. Right up there with grumpkins and snarks. They were supposed to be nothing but fairy tales, nightmare fuel to keep little boys and girls from sneaking out after dark and getting themselves killed by the more real threats like wild animals or bad weather.
But then, who could say what was and wasn't real anymore? And if wights were real… well, in the old stories, wights were said to be nothing but foot soldiers to the Walkers beyond the wall. And yet, Jon and Benjen hadn't seen any Others on this particularly harrowing ranging. Not with their own eyes anyways…
For several long moments, the Lord Commander just stares at the undead creature as it tries to force its way through the bars to get at them. Fortunately, the iron bars are placed closely enough together that it can't force its way through.
"Report, First Ranger. What exactly happened out there?"
Jon keeps a close watch on the wight, even as Benjen dutifully recounts their experiences… to a certain extent. He explains how they went out on their ranging just as intended, only to be ambushed on the second night by a dozen wights. That was true. He then goes on to explain how they fought off the attack and found themselves fleeing. That was also true.
Eventually, he goes into detail about how he deemed it both necessary and feasible to capture a wight to bring proof back to Castle Black, and how together he and Jon had managed to craft a wooden crate and trap one inside by the skin of their teeth.
That part… was less true. Not entirely a lie, but it did leave out some rather critical information. Like just who helped them capture the wight in the first place.
But then, Jeor Mormont wasn't born yesterday. Perhaps he detects the deception in Benjen's report. Or perhaps the Lord Commander is simply of a one track mind.
"And what of the original reason you and your nephew went on this ranging? What of the reports that the Wildlings have named a new King Beyond the Wall and are massing in greater numbers?"
There's a brief moment where Benjen meets Jon's eyes. Jon wants so badly to speak out… but his uncle shakes his head ever so slightly and Jon holds his tongue.
"The reports are true, Lord Commander. It's as we feared. They've named Rayder their King Beyond the Wall and they've amassed an army that's heading this way as we speak."
There's so much more nuance to it than that. Jon and Benjen hadn't actually got to meet Mance Rayder himself… but it was Wildlings who'd saved them from the wights after that first attack. Or as they apparently liked to be called, Free Folk.
They were desperate, the Free Folk were. According to their claims, they were being pushed into attacking the Wall by an army of wights coming down from the North and slaughtering them by the hundreds if not the thousands. If nothing was done, they would all die… so they were doing something. They were running, fleeing south for their own survival.
It was Jon's idea to capture a wight and show it to the Lord Commander to convince him that the Free Folk weren't the true threat. He'd managed to convince the wilding woman Ygritte of his plan, and she in turn had convinced the wildling man Tormund Giantsbane that it was the only way.
He and Benjen would never have been able to capture the wight on their own, just the two of them. They certainly wouldn't have survived to make it back to the Wall without Ygritte and Tormund's help. But… once the mission was accomplished and they'd left the Free Folk behind; Benjen had told him there was a flaw in Jon's plan.
Namely, that there was no way they would be able to convince the Lord Commander that the threat posed by the wights (and presumably their White Walker Masters) was great enough to let an army of Wildlings through the Wall. Jeor Mormont was an honorable man… but he was also a stubborn man, old and set in his ways.
That said…
"Lord Commander, between this wight and the massing Wildlings… we can't go on like this. We need help. That's why I would ask for your permission to take Jon south to Winterfell, to ask aid from my brother Lord Stark."
Jon tries not to so much as twitch as the Lord Commander considers Benjen's words. This was the plan, in the end. They needed permission from a higher power to consider letting the Free Folk past the Wall so they could deprive their true enemy of further wights. Hopefully Jon's father would be willing to act as that higher power.
But if Mormont knew what they were planning, he would never approve them going to Winterfell. Hence the need for subterfuge... and for Jon to keep his mouth shut and let Benjen do the talking here.
"... Very well."
He bites back the urge to whoop with joy as the Lord Commander finally responds with a nod. Jeor grimaces at the wight in the cell for a moment longer before sheathing his sword with a sigh.
"You're right. We need help. Perhaps the King himself will see fit to fly up here and put an end to all of our problems for us…"
That last part is said with a dry tone that makes it clear how much Jeor Mormont actually believes that will happen. To be fair, nobody at the Wall is sure what to believe about the more fantastical tales coming out of Axel Baratheon's latest war… and even their new Ironborn Recruits refuse to talk about it.
Regardless, Jon puts such silly rumors out of his mind and focuses on the matter at hand. With approval to go see his father secured, he and Benjen will probably be able to leave as early as tomorrow.
For a moment, a freckled face with blue eyes and hair the color of fire flits through Jon's mind. And then it shifts, transforming into something rotted, with those same blue eyes glowing and the hair matted and torn away.
Nobody deserved such a fate, not even Ygritte or her fellow Free Folk. And Jon would do everything in his power to try and save them from it.
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A/N: Sure Jon, you have totally platonic reasons for wanting to save Ygritte, one hundred percent my dude.
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