Updated Jon Snow

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***

It took longer than John would have liked to stay in the abandoned village, but there was nowhere to go. Such unexpected provisions, which fell to him in the form of a dusky cat, had to be prepared for the campaign, because otherwise the traveller would be starving to death, and therefore the carcass of the killed animal had to be gutted, skinned and skinned, which was not easy to do in the severe frost. While the skinned carcass hung in the frost, crusted over, John peeled the skin from the remains of meat and fat, trying to avoid damage. Proper processing was out of the question: Stark had no special tools or materials to keep the hide from further deterioration. He could only hope that the frost would do the job for him.

After a heart and liver carved and roasted on the fire, John began to prepare the meat. The Shadowcat was a predator, so its flesh was more stringy and had a less pleasant odour, but in the present situation only an idiot would be picky. John was faced with the problem of preserving the meat. He, Robb, and Theon had been taught how to make provisions when he lived in Winterfell, but they had always had salt and herbs to pick from the woods. Only once had they been told what to do if they had nothing at hand.

It was a lot of work, but in the end John managed to break through the ice that covered the surface of the well and draw water from it into a single bucket with broken handles. The traveller did not dare to use the Creek, for his body had only just recovered, and mostly at the expense of the cat. John did not dare to subject it to new strains, for it was foolish to hope that he would be so lucky again. He cut the meat into large chunks, dipped them in water and hung them up to freeze. Soon enough the pieces were covered with a crust of ice, which John hoped would keep them frozen longer. It was the most primitive method of storage, but in the present circumstances there was no choice.

John used the cat's skin to make a pouch, where he stuffed his future provisions. Unfortunately, he was unable to find anything else useful. With a final glance at the huge chartreuse, John moved on, heading towards Craster's dwelling, hoping that the deserters who had once been there hadn't eaten everything. The last time he'd been there, the Black Brothers had not lingered at the wildling's dwelling, but had hurried back to Castle Black.

It took several days, and all the while John was accompanied by a ringing silence, no birds, no wolves howling, no cats screaming. The sheep and elk had disappeared. Stark even wondered if there were any fish left in the local rivers. The whole snow-covered region had become a silent and lifeless wasteland, where only the crackling of the trees, which were bound by frost, could be heard. Would life ever return to these lands? Would the birds sing again? Would wolves and cats chase the mountain sheep, if there were any left? John did not know the answer, nor did he know if he would ever reach his final destination. In fact, he didn't even know what it looked like or if it was there at all. It could very well turn out that his whole journey was a road to nowhere that would end in nothing.

More than once or twice John had considered turning around and heading the other way, home. But is his home worth it? Maybe Winterfell has already fallen and all his kin have become part of the dead army. Or maybe the enemy is just approaching the walls of the ancient castle. Or maybe the enemy was already approaching the Isthmus, for Jon didn't know how many days he'd been in that pit and how many more after he'd climbed out.

With his bag on his shoulder, John walked stubbornly onwards, wading knee-deep in snow, occasionally climbing out onto small hills. He checked the path in front of him with a wooden staff he had made from a branch of the guardian tree, for he did not want to fall through the snow. It was snowing relentlessly, the frost had no intention of abating, but the worst of it was that it was impossible to know whether it was day or night. Old Nan's worst fairy tales were becoming real, and the Long Night had taken full effect, covering the North with its dark shroud. There were no stars to be seen, for the sky was covered with clouds, and John did not dare to use the Shout to disperse them. It would not do any good, for winter had come, and the Scream alone would not drive it away. Now it would only go away when the Night King fell.

In the part of his memory that Dovakin had left him, he remembered that Tyber Septimus had changed the climate in Syrodil in some way, but how he had done it was a mystery. Whether he used the Shriek or some unknown magic was unknown to historians. To Jon's great regret, he was as far from the man who became a god as a dungworm was from Dov. It was nice to dream that he could turn night into day and winter into summer with his Scream, but dreams would not help him survive, so John kept walking until he saw the manor on a low hill. The earth rampart around Craster's castle was not visible from under the snow, and the house itself was piled almost to the roof. The outbuildings were gone as if they had never existed, and somewhere under the snow were the empty rabbit cages that Lily had once bred.

John struggled up onto the roof and peered through the chimney hole into the dark and cold interior. Squeezing in, Stark jumped to the dirt floor, somehow clear of snow, and looked around, trying to make out anything.

- I thought I'd never see you again,' came a muffled voice, and John jumped in surprise. There was the sound of a flint striking a flintlock, and bright sparks struck the pipe, igniting it instantly. In a minute the walls of the manor house were lit by the flames of the fire, allowing John to see the man sitting before him. He was dressed in black. His long hair fell to his shoulders, and there was no longer a hint of laughter in his grey-blue eyes. Only sadness.

- Uncle...' John exhaled in astonishment.

- You have chosen a bad time and place to walk, nephew,' Benjen Stark said, stepping forward. The firelight illuminated his face, which was touched by decay.

Without another word, Jon threw his bag to the ground and sprang to his uncle before squeezing him in a hug. Benjen was a man the young man had always admired and held up as an example. When Stark had gone beyond the Wall and disappeared, Jon had been the only man in the Night's Watch who hadn't believed in the First Scout's death to the last. Bran's story of seeing his uncle filled him with both joy and longing.

- It's good to see you, too,' Benjen answered the hug, then pulled back slightly and examined his nephew. - You've grown since the last time we met. I've changed, too.

- When Bran told me everything,' John started to say, but he couldn't finish. He didn't have the words.

- So Bran was able to come back? - Benjen asked.

- Yes, he's home now,' John nodded.

- Did the wall fall? - The former scout asked.

- Unfortunately,' the young man answered. Then he asked. - Did you know that this could happen?

- I had a suspicion,' Benjen sat down by the fire and threw a couple of logs into the fire. The frost that covered them began to melt, and the room began to fill with smoke. - I feared this might happen, but I made a mistake. Letting Bran reach the Wall when I should have stopped him. Feelings often play a cruel trick on us, John, and we pay the ultimate price for it.

- It's not your fault, Uncle,' John said, sitting down beside him. - It was only a matter of time before the Wall fell. The Night King and his pack hadn't taken this long to gather their strength and stick around. They would have found a way south without Bran sooner or later.

- Yes, they did, but it would have taken them longer,' Benjen countered. - And that time could have been spent preparing to repel the invasion. And because of me, you don't have that time. I'm half dead, nephew, but I'm not out of my mind. I made a mistake, and you all have to pay for it.

- Then help me make it right,' he said, stepping forward. - I am travelling to the land of Eternal Winter. I believe there is something there that will allow us to stop the invasion, and maybe even end the Night King.

Benjen Stark gave his nephew a strange look, then asked:

- How did you know about that?

- I don't remember,' Jon admitted honestly. - After the Wall fell, I woke up in a pit that I could hardly get out of. I had only one thought in my head: 'You have to go north.' So I'm going.

- The lands you're talking about are dangerous even in summer. What makes you think you can pass them now that winter has begun?

- I don't know,' John answered. - But I believe our salvation lies there.

Stark was silent for a while, staring into the fire, thinking about something of his own. Jon waited patiently, not daring to interrupt. Covering his eyes for a moment, Benjen finally asked:

- Do you know about Craster's sons?

- About him giving them to the Others? - John asked. - Yes, I do. I even saw one of them come for the baby.

- Have you ever wondered what the Night King does with children? What he wants them for?

- I guess,' the young man admitted, 'but I don't understand how he does it.

- There is a place far to the north where these monsters bring the children,' Benjen answered. - They built some kind of altar where they turn the babies into the Others. I don't know what else you could be looking for in this blighted land besides this place. But to be honest, even if you find this altar, I don't know what you'll do with it.

Now it was time for John to wonder. He ran his fingers through his full-grown beard, pondering his uncle's words. Maybe he was right, and this was the altar John was headed for. Or maybe it was something else, something he didn't yet know. He sat there, wondering for the first time where exactly his path lay.

- To the place where it all began,' the woman's quiet voice sounded as if it were real. - Where death came from.

Shaking his head, John looked around, but there was no one else in the house but his uncle. Benjen himself was staring into the fire, giving his nephew time to think. But John had already made up his mind. He had gone forward thoughtlessly before, but now everything was different. On that distant altar the infants were reborn into the very embodiment of death, that's where they came from, and so his goal was now clear.

- I need to get to that altar, Uncle,' John finally announced. - I don't know what to do with it yet, but I must get there. Will you help me?

Benjen Stark smiled sadly, then answered:

- Of course I will help you, nephew.

***

The journey back to Dragonstone took many days, during which Gendry cursed everything and everyone, especially the icy winds that blew in from the north and chilled his body to the bone. No wonder the Dothraki locked themselves in the lower deck and only went upstairs when needed. Nomads didn't like sea travel as it was, and in this weather it was torture. How they'd managed to sail all the way to Westeros from the Slaver's Bay, Gendry refused to understand.

When they finally arrived at the fortress, Tyrion noticed that most of the Ironborn fleet was gone, which meant that the siege of King's Harbour was already in full swing. Soon it became apparent that the vast majority of the Dothraki and Unsullied were gone - only the bare minimum needed for defence was left on the island.

- Only a fool would dare to attack us here,' the Imp admonished Gendry, 'but only an even greater fool would not concern himself with his own safety, relying only on the strength of the walls.

Daenerys Targaryen's dragons soared high above the castle, their roars ringing the gloomy walls of the fortress. It seemed to Gendry himself that the stone dragons, which had been sculpted in great numbers before the Doom of Valyria, would at any moment support their brethren with a united roar and take to the skies, and the many gargoyles of all shapes would follow.

- How many of them are there? - Gendry once asked.

- Many thousands,' Tyrion replied. - Dogs and griffins and demons and manticores and gods only know who else. The castle architect had a sick imagination.

Gendry, with Lannister's permission, made his way to his quarters in the Stone Drum, the centrepiece of Dragonstone. Baratheon was tired and eager to rest, but Tyrion had yet to appear before the queen and tell her of his journey. There was no doubt that much of what was said would not please the Mother of Dragons, and Lannister himself admitted that he had no idea how the queen would behave. Just in case, Tyrion warned the young man that the Queen might demand to see him to hear not only her Hand but also her recent bastard.

Gendry himself tried to avoid unnecessary meetings with Daenerys Targaryen. He kept thinking that at any moment the Mother of Dragons would remember exactly who his father was and order him to give the young lord to her dragons. Time passed, Gendry was still alive, but his fears were nowhere to be found.

When Gendry entered his chambers, to which he had to get used to, he fell on the bed, remembering how he had already been on a similar bed, only with his hands bound, and on it sat the Red Priestess, who was now in the Stark kingdom. Gendry had a burning desire to smash her head in, but she smiled at the hateful look in his eyes, either because she knew she was safe or because she wasn't afraid to die. Beric and Thoros noticed him, and Lord Lightning even wanted to speak to the young man, but Sandor Clegane prevented him. The dog only had to take one look at Gendry to realise that this conversation would not end well - the young man's hatred for the Brotherhood without Banners was too great.

There was a tactful knock and Namina, one of the maids Daenerys had brought with her from Meereen, came through the door. Formerly a slave, this girl of fourteen did not pray to her queen to remove her collar.

- The queen wishes to see you,' the maid said in a heavily accented voice, looking down at the floor. No matter how many times Gendry asked her, she never looked him in the face, yet blushed as if he had asked her something shameful. - She's waiting for you in the Painted Table Chamber.

- I will change and come,' the young man replied, rising from the bed, and Namina immediately left, as if she was afraid to linger in the young lord's chambers. What was the reason for this behaviour, Gendry did not know.

Gendry threw off his sea-salt-soaked camisole and began to change his clothes. It was unusual for him to wear the clothes of the nobility, but now he was part of it, so he had to look the part. He had to change his trousers and put on a clean shirt, over which he wore a camisole made in the colours of his house. With his boots on, Gendry left his rooms and headed for the stairs that led to the top of the Stone Drum.

There were two people walking towards him, a man and a girl. The stranger had a green beard and blue hair that made Gendry's eyes widen. He had never seen anything like it before. Everything from his hair to his clothes told him that the stranger had come from far away. As he came closer, the man put two fingers to his forehead and then to his chest, but he didn't slow down. But all of Gendry's interest in the stranger vanished as soon as he caught a glimpse of the man's companion.

She was short, her dark hair slicked back, revealing her forehead. Grey eyes looked at the surroundings with polite interest, but in their depths one could see indifference. At first thinking he was mistaken, Gendry took a step towards the girl and asked:

- Arya?