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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
ASOIAF and all of its characters belong to GRRM
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 89: Oath Keeper
The night was cold...colder than any Jon could remember. But perhaps it was his imagination, some side effect of the tremendous amount of pressure he was feeling right now.
He was well aware that he would only get one chance at this. Failure could only end with their deaths.
As he moved quietly through the narrow corridors of Castle Black, he noticed that the wind carried the smell of blood and smoke. He stopped for a moment to watch the courtyard while hidden in the shadows.
The pyres had been lit. The wildlings were being led toward them, kicking and screaming against their cursed fate. They would all soon become sacrifices for a god whose name they had never heard before.
Despite having been on opposite sides of a war, Jon could not help but feel pity for them. Most of the wildlings only wanted a chance for a life south of the Wall.
The image of Ygritte's face appeared before him...the red-headed woman with whom he had shared everything. The only woman who had ever made him break his oath, albeit for a short period of time.
He remembered her hair, the color of fire in the snow. He remembered her laugh, wild and free. He remembered her eyes, blue as the winter sky, and the way she had looked at him when she told him he knew nothing.
He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. This was not the time to get distracted. He might have time to mourn her loss in the future, if he was lucky enough. If he survived this night.
He gave the courtyard another glance. Stannis's men stood in formation, their yellow and black banners snapping in the cold wind. And at the center of it all, before the flames and with her arms raised to the sky, was the Red Woman...Lady Melisandre. Her voice carried across the yard, chanting words in a language Jon did not recognize.
The flames seemed to react to her chant, rising higher, twisting and dancing as if they were alive. The first prisoners began to scream as the fire touched their flesh.
Jon forced himself to look away. He had seen enough death for a lifetime.
"Jon." Samwell Tarly appeared at his side, his worried face half-hidden beneath his hood, his hands trembling. "The guards are distracted. Most of them are watching the ceremony. We have perhaps an hour before they return to their posts. It is now or never."
Jon nodded. "Is everything ready?"
Sam swallowed hard. "Gilly is waiting with the baby. I told her to stay near the old gate. The tunnels you showed me… I checked them. The entrance is sealed, but I think we can break through with a hammer."
"Good." Jon turned to look in the direction of the ice cells. "I will get my father. You get Bran. Meet me at the old gate. Do not wait for me if I am not there."
"Jon…" Sam's voice cracked. "What if something goes wrong?"
"Then you get Bran and Gilly out. You do not look back." Jon gripped his friend's shoulder. "You can do this, Sam. You are braver than you know."
Sam nodded, though his face was white as the snow beneath their feet.
He slipped away into the shadows, and Jon turned toward the ice cells.
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This was by far the coldest part of the castle. In fact, it was more part of the Wall than the castle. There was a large storage area nearby where food was left to be frozen so it would last longer. And of course… there were the ice cells.
Usually, the criminals brought here were not expected to ever leave. It was considered by many as a death sentence to be locked in this place.
Jon wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and moved through the narrow corridor, his boots silent on the frozen stone. The walls were slick with frost, and his breath misted in the air, each exhalation a small cloud that vanished almost instantly.
Most of the guards were gone, drawn away by the ceremony. Only a couple remained.
Jon spotted them near the cells. They were standing next to a torch, soaking what little heat they could get while having an animated conversation. They were laughing about something.
Neither of them heard him approach.
With a swift strike, Jon knocked them both out before they could react, using the flat side of his Valyrian steel sword. Had he used the sharp part, these two men would be missing their heads.
They fell without a sound, their bodies slumping against the frozen wall.
He found Ned Stark in the third cell he checked, sitting on the frozen floor with his back against the wall. His beard was frosted, his hands bound in front of him, his face pale and worn. But his eyes were open, and they met Jon's with a spark of recognition.
"Jon?" The word was hoarse, barely a whisper. "You should not be here."
"I know that." Jon knelt before the cell, pulling a key from his pocket. "But I am getting you out anyway."
"You cannot. Stannis has the Wall. There are thousands of his men. If you are caught, they will-"
"I do not care what they will do." Jon slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door swung open with a groan. "I am not leaving you here to freeze to death."
Ned rose slowly, his joints stiff, his breath misting in the cold air. He staggered slightly, and Jon caught his arm to steady him.
"Your brother. Bran… is he safe?" Ned asked.
"For now." Jon helped his father out of the cell. "I have Sam getting Bran. We are leaving tonight. There is a tunnel… a secret passage that leads north. I know the way."
Ned studied his face, his grey eyes searching Jon's. "You have thought about this."
"I have thought about nothing else."
Jon pointed at the unconscious guards. "Grab one of their blades, in case you need to use it." He paused, a shadow crossing his face. "I am sorry… I could not find Ice, your sword. I do not know where Stannis is keeping it."
Ned grabbed the longsword from one of Stannis's soldiers and held it firmly in his hands. He tested its weight, its balance. It was not Ice, but it would serve. "Do not worry about it. There are more important things right now."
They moved through the corridor, keeping to the shadows. The sounds of the ceremony drifted from the courtyard...the chanting, the screams, the roar of the flames. Jon did not look back.
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They were passing the main holding cells when Jon stopped. Through the bars, he could see a figure huddled in the corner...a man with a scarred face and long, tangled hair, his hands bound in chains. He was thinner than Jon remembered, his face more gaunt, but there was no mistaking him.
This was Mance Rayder. The King-beyond-the-Wall.
Jon hesitated. He remembered the man he had met beyond the Wall, the man who had spoken of freedom and survival, the man who had led a hundred thousand wildlings south to escape the darkness. Mance had tried to break the Wall, yes. But he had been trying to save his people. That counted for something.
"What are you doing?" Ned's voice was sharp.
Jon did not answer. He crossed to the cell and looked through the bars. Mance's eyes opened, and for a moment, they held Jon's gaze.
"Snow." Mance's voice was rough, dry as old parchment. "Come to watch me burn?"
"No." Jon pulled out the key. "Come to let you go."
Mance's eyes widened. "Why?"
"Because you know the lands north of the Wall better than anyone else." Jon pointed at Ned. "I will save your life, and you will help me keep my father and brother alive while you are north of the Wall."
"North?" Mance frowned, his brow furrowing.
"Escaping south is impossible. There are thousands of men camped in the Gift. The north is the only way you can go."
Mance Rayder glanced at Ned's cold grey eyes. "Lord Stark… I did not expect to see you again."
"Neither did I." Ned turned his attention to Jon. "Jon… are you sure about this? This man is dangerous."
Jon shook his head. "He may be a wildling now, but Mance Rayder was once a brother of the Night's Watch, and I know he is a man of his word."
He pulled a key from his pocket. "Promise me that you will guide them to safety, and you will be free again."
Mance smiled.
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They found Sam at the old gate. Gilly was beside him, her baby in her arms, her eyes wide with fear. A hammer lay at his feet, and the wooden wall behind him had been splintered open, revealing a dark tunnel that stretched into the earth.
"Jon." Sam's voice was barely a whisper. "I did it. I opened the way."
"Father." Bran hurried to greet Ned and make sure he was okay. The two direwolves followed the boy every step, their golden eyes watchful.
Jon looked at the tunnel. It was narrow, dark, and it smelled of damp earth and old stone. "This will take you north of the Wall. You will come out near the Fist of the First Men."
Bran was the first to notice the stranger standing behind Jon. His grey eyes narrowed. Summer reacted to his uneasiness by growling menacingly, his hackles rising.
"Jon." Bran's voice was sharp. "Who is that?"
Jon stepped aside, revealing Mance Rayder in the flickering torchlight. The King-beyond-the-Wall stood with his hands at his sides, his face bruised and bloodied, but his eyes were clear and watchful.
"This is Mance Rayder," Jon said. "The King-beyond-the-Wall."
Sam's face went white. "You brought Mance Rayder along? Jon, he is-"
"He is going to help us." Jon cut him off. "He knows the lands north of the Wall better than anyone alive. He will guide them to safety."
Bran stared at the wildling king. "You really trust him?"
"I trust that he will keep his word." Jon met Mance's eyes. There was no fear in them, no deception. Only the weariness of a man who had been fighting for survival his entire life.
Mance inclined his head. "I am a prisoner no longer. That counts for something." He looked at the dark tunnel behind them. "I may be a wildling, but I know how to repay a favour. You say this tunnel will lead us close to the Fist of the First Men?"
"It should, if I read the map right." Jon responded. "Regardless, it should be safer than staying here."
Mance nodded slowly. "We can go to Hardhome from there. I bet my people fled there when Stannis's army appeared."
Bran's eyes widened. "Hardhome? I have heard of it. They say it is cursed."
Mance grinned. "Is that what they say in the south, boy? Maybe it is. But curses don't matter when you're running for your life."
Ned spoke for the first time. His voice was hoarse, but there was strength in it. "And what of the woman and child?"
All eyes turned to Gilly, who clutched her baby tighter. She had been silent until now, her eyes fixed on the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible.
Sam stepped forward. "Gilly is coming with you. She has nowhere else to go. The Night's Watch is not a safe place for her. Jon promised me that she could have a place in Winterfell."
Gilly looked up, her eyes wide with fear. "Winterfell? I do not want to go to a castle. I do not know anyone there. I-"
"You will be safe there," Sam said gently. "Lord Stark will protect you. His people are kind. You will have a roof over your head and food to eat. Your son will grow up strong."
Gilly's eyes filled with tears. "And you? Will you come with us?"
Sam's face crumpled. He looked at Jon, then back at Gilly. "I… I cannot. My vows...I cannot leave."
"I did not have the chance to tell you before." Jon addressed his father. "But I did promise Sam. Please, try to keep the girl and babe safe."
Ned turned to Jon. "You are not coming with us." It was not a question.
Jon met his father's eyes. "I am a man of the Night's Watch. I swore an oath, and I won't break it."
"Jon-" Bran began.
"I have broken it once," Jon said, his voice flat. "I will not break it again. This is my place."
Ned studied him for a long moment. The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows that made him look older, wearier. Then he nodded. "You are more like me than you know, Jon. I used to think that honor was everything. I have learned that it is not so simple." He placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. "But you have done enough. More than enough. I am proud of you."
Jon nodded and looked away. He could not speak. The words were stuck in his throat.
Ghost stepped forward, his white fur bright in the torchlight. He pressed his head against Jon's hand, and Jon stroked his ears.
"You go with them," Jon said softly. "Stay with them, and protect them."
Ghost whined, but he did not argue. He turned and padded to Bran's side.
Mance stepped into the tunnel, his chains clinking. "We must hurry if we are to leave. Someone will eventually notice we are gone."
"He is right." Jon's voice was firm. "The ceremony will end soon, and Stannis will realize his prisoners are missing. We cannot afford to waste time."
Ned looked at Jon one last time. "The gods watch over you, Jon. Wherever you go, whatever you become."
Jon nodded. "If the gods are good, we shall meet again."
Bran paused at the entrance to the tunnel. "I will see you again, brother. I know it."
Jon forced a smile. "Go."
The group disappeared into the darkness, one by one. Ghost lingered for a moment, his golden eyes fixed on Jon. Then he turned and followed his pack.
Jon stood there for a long moment, watching them go, before covering the entrance with planks of wood. He worked quickly, silently, his hands moving with a purpose that belied the storm inside him.
He did not know if he would see them again. He did not know if he had made the right choice. He only knew that he could not break his oath. Not again.
Sam stood beside him, his face pale, his eyes red. "What do we do now?"
Jon looked back at Castle Black. The fires still burned. The chanting still echoed. But soon, the ceremony would end, and the guards would return to their posts.
"We wait," Jon said. "We go back inside. We pretend that nothing has happened. And when they ask questions, we tell them we know nothing."
"And if they do not believe us?"
Jon's hand went to his sword. "Then we face what comes, like men of the Night's Watch."
They turned and walked back toward the castle, the snow falling around them like a shroud.
Behind them, the tunnel sealed shut, and the darkness swallowed the last traces of the escaping party.
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