Chapter Text
For the watch.
I want my bride back.
You know nothing, Jon Snow.
Stick ‘em with the pointy end.
Jon awoke with a gasp. It was dark and cold, but he barely noticed. He sat up and looked at his chest.
He remembers knives in the darkness and then nothing. It comes back to him slowly, the battle of Harhome, Wun-Wun, Arya.
‘Gods be good, Arya…’ He thinks as he remembers the raven from Ramsay Snow. He knows he is still at the wall, he recognizes the room. ‘Betrayed by my brothers.’
As he collects his thoughts Ser Davos enters the room, a wild look of disbelief on the Onion Knight's face.
“She did it. By the seven, the witch really did it.” He exclaims with a breath. Jon looked at him, unsure of what to say, not completely able to fully understand what was happening.
Jon was alive, yet he felt like a ghost. Things just passed through him. The first order of business was to put to trial the traitors of the watch. The men who had attacked him in the night. He had no choice but to sentence them to death for their crimes. His father’s words in his mind.
The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.
He had, under the advice of Ser Davos, decided to hang the men. Jon pulled the lever and watched them hang, with no remorse, and no emotion.
“For the watch.” He said as the life left the men. He knew then that his time on the wall had ended. He still meant to ride South to Winterfell and have the Bolton Bastard answer for his crimes. His thoughts turned to his sister, remembering the small girl he had left behind all those years ago. He prayed to any god who would listen that she was safe, that Ramsay had not caught up with her. He looked across the ground at Castle Black, searching for Edd. He sought him out and gathered him to his solar. He knew Edd would expect Jon to stay, to re-pledge his life to the Watch. He looked grimly at his brother, his friend. He handed him his cloak to Edd, knowing he trusted no other to succeed him. The young man tried to protest, to give it back.
“No Edd, it’s yours , wear it, burn it, do what you wish, but my watch has ended.”
There was an alarm at the gate and Jon’s heart stopped.
‘Arya.’ It had to be her. He felt like a greenboy again, back at Winterfell. ‘Little sister.’ He longed to see her again, to muss her hair, to hold her and assure her she was safe. He crossed the grounds with great speed, watching as the gates opened. He stopped suddenly, unable to move, paralyzed with fear, or maybe hope, he wasn’t sure. Slowly a thin girl entered, wearing a tattered grey dress, and a hooded cloak over her head. She looked up at him and Jon couldn’t breathe. His eyes met hers, the same grey, haunted eyes. Her long face so thin, her hair dull and ragged.
“ Jon. ” She breathed and they ran to each other. As he reached her he held her in his arms and fell to his knees. He buried his face in her hair, breathing it in. He whispered her name over and over like a prayer. She sobbed, and he held her even closer.
“Shh, little sister, you’re safe. I have you. Arya. You’re mine now, you are safe.” In this moment, despite the fact he knew the world around them may have been falling apart, Jon could not spare a thought for the Others or any Southron War. For the first time in so long he felt safe, he felt at home.