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The wind howled through the trees, biting at Jon Snow's face as he trudged through the snow-covered forest. His breath came in ragged clouds, visible in the frigid air. The world around him was white and still, save for the occasional rustle of snow-laden branches swaying in the bitter wind. They weren't far beyond the Wall - no more than a few hours travel by foot. He could easily see it in a distance.This was his first time beyond the Wall, still new to his position in the Night's Watch, walked in the middle of the small group. They were returning from a training expedition led by one of Ser Alliser's rangers. Jon was separated from Grenn and Edd who were part of another group returning. Four other crows, men he had barely exchanged a word with, walked ahead of him. Jon didn't know their names, but the camaraderie of the Watch hadn't quite reached him yet. "Damn cold," the stocky one muttered, his voice rough. "What's the point of this shit? Could have done this blasted shit at the Wall. No wildlings out here. Just us and the dead trees."Jon kept his silence, though he shared the same thought. No one had warned him of the isolation that came with these missions beyond the Wall, nor the unsettling quiet. If only Uncle Benjen had been there to guide his group.The forest was too quiet, and Jon felt his unease grow with each step. He reached for the hilt of Longclaw, the weight of the blade grounding him.Suddenly, the silence was broken by a distant, low growl—so faint that Jon wondered if it was his imagination.The stocky man froze, narrowing his eyes toward the shadowy line of trees. "Did you hear that?"Jon tensed, instinctively drawing Longclaw from its scabbard, his senses alert."Probably a wolf," the man with the patch on his eye said dismissively, "Nothing to worry about."But Jon wasn't so sure. The growl had been too... primal. Too close.Without warning, a blur of movement shot out of the shadows—two hulking figures charging through the trees. Before Jon could even raise his sword, one of the men was taken down with a brutal swipe from a massive clawed hand, the other screaming as he was dragged into the trees."Wildlings!" Jon shouted, his heart racing. The first of the attackers emerged fully from the shadows—a tall, gaunt figure wearing the furs and leather armor of a Thenn. His face was as cold as the land he came from, and his eyes gleamed with predatory hunger.Jon lunged at him with Longclaw, but the Thenn dodged with surprising agility for a man his size. Jon's blade missed, and the Thenn slashed at him with a curved, wicked-looking knife. Jon raised his sword to block, but the force of the blow sent a shock through his arms.He staggered back, heart hammering, and barely dodged the Thenn's next strike. The two of them circled, Jon's boots slipping on the snow as he fought to regain his footing. His breath came in sharp gasps. He attempted to back away and slipped backwards in the snow, falling on to his back.Jon's breaths came ragged and shallow, misting in the frigid air as he sat up to crawl backwards towards a snow-draped boulder. The pain in his side throbbed where the Thenn's axe had glanced off his ribs. Around him lay the bodies of two of his brothers—Harker and Darrin—both dead, their blood black against the white snow.And the Wildlings were closing in.The Thenns' leader, a hulking man with a cruel smile and a scar across his bald head, stood a few paces away, his heavy axe glinting."Southron boy's still breathing," he said in the Old Tongue, sneering. "Weak, but breathing." He glanced behind him to his men, their laughter low and rough. "Lucky for you, we've got company."Jon lifted his head, wincing at the pain, and saw her.A girl, no older than him, emerged soundlessly from the shadows of the trees. She was cloaked in darkness—dark colors that were too fine for Wildling garb. Her black hair hung wavy around a pale face, and her brown eyes caught the faint light like polished glass. There was something unearthly about her calm as she surveyed the scene."A Were," one of the Thenns spat, his voice carrying in disgust.The leader turned to her, grinning wide enough to show teeth. "You're far from your kind, beast. I have to say though that the two would make a pretty couple," he said, pointing his axe at Jon like he was already a corpse. "I'll let you get first sight of my time with her before I end you both." He directs a sickening grin at Jon.Jon felt a chill run down his spine at the words, his heart clenching with fear—not for himself, but for the strange woman standing in front of him, so seemingly unprepared for what they could do. She was nothing more than a girl, not much older than Jon, and yet she wasn't backing down. But what could she do against them? He was already bleeding, and the Thenns had him surrounded.She stayed silent for a moment before her lips twisted into a frown. "Your funeral," she said simply.Aela dropped her cloak to the snow with a fluid motion, revealing her form beneath. Jon blinked, his breath catching in his throat, as her body began to contort before his eyes. Her limbs lengthened with sickening cracks, and fur sprouted across her skin. Her face contorted, lengthening into a wolf's snout lined with fangs. She dropped to all fours, the remnants of her clothing hanging tattered from the monstrous shape she had become. Massive, dark, and hunched, she resembled the terrifying werewolves from Old Nan's stories, or the beasts Jon had once seen in an old book—bigger than any direwolf. The transformation was grotesque and fast—a horrific yet awe-inspiring sight. She was no longer a girl. The Thenns froze, staring as Aela's new form towered over them, her claws gleaming in the moonlight. With a snarl, she lunged forward in an instant. The first Thenn barely had time to react before she raked her claws across his chest, throwing him aside like a ragdoll. His scream was short and cut off as she turned to the second Thenn, her speed and strength overwhelming him.Jon could only watch in stunned silence as Aela tore the men apart with brutal efficiency. The Thenns fought, but they were no match for the fury of the werewolf before them. It was violent and primal, a storm unleashed upon them. Blood sprayed, and limbs were torn asunder with terrifying ease. Jon's stomach churned, both horrified and fascinated by the brutality of it all. She was a force of nature, and Jon had no doubt she could kill them all in seconds if she wished.When the last Thenn fell to the ground, his life extinguished, Aela stood over the bodies, chest heaving with heavy breaths. She paused, her yellow eyes flicking over to Jon, and in that moment, Jon realized he had been holding his breath, the horror of what he had witnessed still clouding his mind.The beast stepped back, lowering her head as though shaking herself awake. Slowly, her monstrous shape shrank and twisted again, the fur retracting, claws retracting. Bones snapped as she stood upright.And there she was again.Jon could see the moment she realized he was frightened. Her gaze softened, and she reached down to pick up her cloak, wrapping it around her body."I... I'm sorry," Aela murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes searched Jon's face, noting the shock that still gripped him. "I didn't mean to frighten you."Jon blinked, trying to shake off the knot in his stomach. "You—you saved me," he managed to say, his voice hoarse from the fear and the adrenaline still surging through his veins.Aela nodded, kneeling beside him. The strength she had shown in the battle had disappeared, replaced by a quiet understanding. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch warm despite the coldness of the night.Jon swallowed, trying to find words. "What... what are you?""Alive. Same as you." Her lips quirked faintly before she crouched beside him. "You're hurt.""I'm fine," Jon muttered, though his side throbbed. His eyes remained on the blood-streaked snow as she helped him to his feet. Her hands were steady and warm, despite what he'd just seen her do."You shouldn't look so horrified," she said. "They would've killed you. Or worse."Jon's mouth tightened as he glanced back at the bodies. "I've seen men killed before.""Not like this, though." She tilted her head, her brown eyes studying him carefully. "You're from the Wall, aren't you?"He nodded stiffly. "Jon Snow. I'm of the Night's Watch.""Well, Jon Snow," she said, standing straight again. "I'm Aela. And you're welcome."Jon opened his mouth to respond—likely something pointed about werewolves or gratitude—but the pain in his side forced him to double over slightly. The girl sighed and reached out again, this time with a surprising gentleness."Come on," she said. "You won't make it back to your brothers like this. I'll help you."Jon hesitated but saw no other choice. "You're not... like them," he finally said, though it wasn't a question. Who else lived north of the wall besides wildlings and Craster?"No," she replied quietly. "I'm not."She looped his arm over her shoulders and began to lead him away from the bloodied clearing. Jon kept his eyes ahead, avoiding the dead and trying not to think about what she really was—or how she'd just saved his life.
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Jon Snow tossed and turned in his bunk, his eyes snapping open at the break of dawn. His chest heaved as though he’d been running for hours, but the only sound in the room was the low snores of the other brothers. Another dream. Another night chasing her through endless snow, her browns eyes glinting in the distance as she looked over her shoulder with a grin. He never caught her.He sat up, running a hand through his hair, damp with sweat. It had been weeks since she’d saved him, and yet the memory of her hadn’t faded. The dreams were always the same. A black-haired girl bounding through the snow, her form cloaked in dark clothing as she vanished into the flurry of snow coming down.Weeks had passed since that day beyond the Wall, the day she saved him. Her black-furred form with piercing yellow eyes had torn through the Thenns like a shadow of vengeance. She hadn’t spoken much, only enough to ensure his survival before vanishing once she’d delivered him back to the Wall. Jon didn’t know if he was haunted or enchanted.The morning’s chill was sharp as Jon made his way to the Lord Commander’s chambers. Jeor Mormont stood by the hearth, his broad frame illuminated by the firelight. He turned when Jon entered, his piercing gaze sizing him up.“You’ve been distracted, Snow,” Mormont said gruffly, motioning for Jon to sit. “I see it.”Jon stiffened. “I’m fine, my lord.”Mormont snorted. “No, you’re not. Go to Maester Aemon. Perhaps he can help you sort your head before you get yourself killed.”Jon lowered his gaze, knowing better than to argue. He left without another word, the weight of Mormont’s words settling heavily on his shoulders. Maester Aemon’s chambers were warm, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and herbs. The blind old man turned his head slightly as Jon entered, his wrinkled face softening in welcome.“Jon Snow,” Aemon greeted. “Sit. What troubles you?”Jon hesitated, unsure how much he could say. He settled into the chair, his hands resting on his knees. “The Lord Commander thinks I’ve been…distracted.”“And are you?”Before Jon could answer, Samwell shuffled in, his arms laden with books. He froze when he saw Jon. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t know—”“It’s quite all right, Samwell,” Aemon said gently. “Stay. Perhaps you can shed light on what troubles our friend here.”Sam glanced nervously at Jon, who shot him a warning look. But Sam, ever the worrier, pressed on. “Well, Jon hasn’t been sleeping much. He has these dreams, you see…”“Dreams?” Aemon asked, his brow furrowing.Jon sighed, resigning himself. “They’re nothing. Just dreams.”“They’re about her, aren’t they?” Sam blurted out. “The wolf girl.”Jon’s glare could have frozen fire. “Sam—”“A wolf girl?” Aemon asked, tilting his head.Jon’s jaw tightened. “It’s nothing, Maester. Really, it's nothing."“Dreams often hold truths we do not wish to confront,” Aemon said. “Tell me, Jon, what happened beyond the Wall? What did you see?”Jon hesitated, then relented. “We were attacked by Thenns beyond the Wall. I thought we were done for. Then she came. She…she wasn’t a wolf, not exactly. She was…”“A Were,” Aemon finished for him, his expression unreadable.Sam’s eyes widened. “A Were? You mean they’re real? Werewolves?”“As real as the Wall itself,” Aemon said. “They are an ancient people, older even than the Watch. They dwell far beyond the Wall, in a hidden city carved into the northern caverns. They are both man and beast, though their human forms are no different from ours.”Jon leaned forward, his voice low. “Why would one of them save me?”Aemon tilted his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps she saw something in you worth saving.”Sam, ever the scholar, couldn’t resist. “But if they’ve lived so far north all this time, wouldn’t they be…inbred or something?”Aemon chuckled softly. “Hardly. Their numbers are vast, scattered across the north. Their isolation is deliberate, and while they do allow outsiders to join their ranks, it is rare. Those who seek them often do not return, for the Weres are fiercely protective of their ways.”“Do they ever come south of the Wall?” Jon asked, his curiosity growing despite himself.“Not as far as I am aware,” Aemon said. “They have no interest in the realms of men. Their lives are hard, shaped by the endless winters and the laws of the pack. Those who join them must embrace these ways, for they are not easily given to change.”Jon absorbed this in silence, his thoughts drifting once more to her—her pale face, her steady brown eyes, the quiet strength in her every movement.“She hasn’t left your thoughts, has she?” Aemon asked gently.Jon looked away, unwilling to admit the truth.As he left Aemon’s chambers that evening, Jon stood on the Wall, staring out into the endless expanse of snow and ice. The cold wind bit at his face, but he hardly felt it.Somewhere out there, she was waiting—or so his dreams seemed to tell him. And for the first time, Jon felt a pull toward a world he did not yet understand, a place beyond the Wall where men and beasts were one. Time felt like it passed in a blink of an eye. Months passed between his first faithful meeting with Aela, to what he witnessed at Craster's Keep, and now being a captive of Wildlings. Jon wished for those earlier days among his brothers. He wasn't sure he'd ever see Samwell, Grenn, Edd, or Pyp again.The snow fell steadily, blanketing the small encampment where Jon sat bound. Ygritte’s group of wildlings had taken him captive, and the sharp bite of the ropes around his wrists was a constant reminder of his situation. The fire crackled nearby, its warmth barely reaching him as he sat stiffly, his back straight, his pride refusing to let him appear weak.The wildlings were scattered around the camp, some dozing while others stood watch. Ygritte sat a few feet away, sharpening her knife with deliberate strokes, her eyes flicking to him occasionally. Jon ignored her, his mind preoccupied with thoughts he couldn’t shake.He had tried not to sleep, but exhaustion eventually claimed him. His head dipped, and the world around him blurred and faded.The snow swirled in his dream, soft and endless, blanketing the ground in an unmarred expanse of white. He was kneeling in the middle of it, alone, the wind whispering around him. Then she appeared, her silhouette emerging from the storm like a shadow given life.Aela.She was kneeling beside him now, her long black hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. Her brown eyes held a warmth that contrasted with the icy landscape around them. She reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek, and he flinched slightly at the contact before relaxing under her gentle touch.Her hands were warm—warmer than they should have been in the cold—and they caressed his windburned face with a tenderness he hadn’t known in years. He closed his eyes briefly, his breath hitching as her thumb traced the edge of his jaw.“You won’t be bound forever, Jon Snow,” she said, her voice steady and filled with quiet conviction.He opened his eyes, meeting hers. There was something about the way she looked at him—a certainty that seemed to pierce through the fog of his thoughts.“This won’t be the end of you,” she continued, her words a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “You will be free again.”Jon felt his chest tighten, an unfamiliar fluttering in his heart under her gaze. “How do you know?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.A faint smile tugged at her lips, one that was both reassuring and enigmatic. “Because you’re stronger than you believe.”She leaned in closer, her face mere inches from his, and Jon felt an inexplicable pull toward her. Her scent, faintly earthy and wild, filled his senses, and he felt the world around him slip further away.He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to keep her from vanishing like she always did. But before he could move, she began to fade, her form dissolving into the swirling snow.“Aela,” he called, his voice breaking as he tried to hold onto the dream. “Don’t go.”But she was already gone.Jon jolted awake, the harsh cold of reality snapping him back to the present. His heart was pounding, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. He was acutely aware of the ropes biting into his wrists, the hard ground beneath him, and the fire that barely chased away the chill.“You made a noise,” Ygritte’s voice broke through his daze, sharp and mocking.Jon blinked, turning his head toward her. She was staring at him with a smirk, her knife forgotten in her lap.“What were you dreaming about, eh?” she asked, her tone dripping with amusement. “Didn’t sound like nightmares to me.”Jon said nothing, his face a mask of stoicism.Ygritte tilted her head, her grin widening as she leaned closer. “Don’t tell me the crow’s dreaming of a lass. Someone waiting for you back at your Wall?”Her words stung more than Jon cared to admit, but he refused to let it show. He turned his head away, fixing his gaze on the snow beyond the firelight.Ygritte snorted. “Suit yourself, then. But you keep making sounds like that, the lads’ll think you’ve gone soft.”She returned to sharpening her knife, but her occasional glances suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced by his silence.Jon forced himself to calm his breathing, his mind still reeling from the vividness of the dream. He could still feel the warmth of her touch, the softness of her voice echoing in his ears.Even here, surrounded by enemies, she had found him—if only in his dreams.
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The air in Mance Rayder's tent was heavy with the scent of woodsmoke and leather. Tormund stood near the central fire, his arms crossed, while Ygritte leaned casually against the tent's pole, her eyes flicking to Jon Snow. Jon stood stiffly, trying to mask the turmoil in his thoughts. Mance sat across from them, his sharp eyes scanning the group as he laid out his plan."We need allies," Mance began, his voice even but firm. "Not just more fighters—we need the kind of power that makes men stop and think before drawing their swords." He leaned forward, his expression grave. "The Weres have that power."Tormund snorted. "If they don't rip us to shreds for setting foot near their lands."Mance allowed himself a small grin. "That's why I'm sending you, Tormund. You've got a way with people.""Aye, but these aren't people," Tormund countered. "They're beasts, from what I hear.""Beasts or not, they've lived north of the Wall longer than any of us," Mance replied. "They know this land, and they've thrived in it. If we can convince them to join us, it could mean the difference between success and failure when we face the crows."Jon's jaw tightened at the mention of the Night's Watch. He forced himself to remain silent, his eyes fixed on the fire. The flames seemed to dance in rhythm with his conflicted thoughts."And if they refuse?" Ygritte asked, her tone sharp."Then we'll know where they stand," Mance said simply. "But we're not going to threaten them. This is a gesture of good faith. If they're willing to listen, we'll offer them a place with us when we cross the Wall."Tormund grumbled but nodded. "Fine. I'll talk to them. But don't blame me if I come back missing an arm."Mance's gaze shifted to Jon. "You'll go with them, Snow. You've seen more of the Weres than any of us. Keep your eyes open and your wits about you. We need to understand them as much as we need their answer."Jon hesitated but nodded. "Yes, Lord Commander." The title slipped out instinctively, earning a smirk from Mance.As the meeting ended, Ygritte lingered, her eyes narrowing at Jon. "You've been quiet, crow. What's rattling around in that head of yours?""Nothing," Jon replied curtly, brushing past her. He couldn't shake the image of Aela from his mind, her brown eyes haunting him even as he tried to focus on the mission ahead. The trek northward was grueling, the icy wind biting at their faces and the snow crunching beneath their boots. Tormund led the group, his boisterous laughter cutting through the chill as he regaled them with tales of the Weres."They've got claws like daggers and teeth sharp enough to crack bone," he said, grinning. "But they're not all savages. I heard they've got a city carved into the rock, with torches that never go out and rivers that run hot as dragon's blood.""Sounds like a fairy tale," Ygritte scoffed."Fairy tale or not, we're heading straight into it," Tormund shot back. "So keep your arrows ready, girl."Jon remained silent, his thoughts distant. The memory of Aela's touch in his dream was as vivid as the icy air around him. He couldn't decide if it was a warning or a comfort.As they ventured deeper into the north, the landscape grew harsher. The trees thinned, giving way to jagged cliffs and snow-covered plains. The group's unease grew with every step, the vast emptiness around them feeling more like a presence than a void. By nightfall, they reached the edge of a gorge. It was a natural fortress, with sheer walls and a narrow path leading down into shadowy depths. Tormund called a halt, his jovial demeanor replaced with cautious resolve."We'll camp here," he said. "At first light, I'll call for a meeting. No sudden moves, no weapons drawn. We're here to talk, not fight."Ygritte looked skeptical. "And if they don't feel like talking?""Then we run," Tormund replied with a grin. "Fast."Jon helped set up camp, his eyes drawn to the gorge. He felt a strange pull toward it as if something unseen was calling to him. He couldn't shake the feeling that Aela was near, watching from the shadows. Jon found himself dreaming once more. He was sitting on a thick layer of furs, the warmth of a hearth crackling before him. The sound of the wind howling outside the cave seemed distant, muted by the steady glow of firelight. Across from him, Aela knelt, her black hair spilling over her shoulders like a dark curtain. She was watching him with an expression that seemed both serene and knowing."Aela," he said, his voice low and hesitant. "Where am I? Why do I keep seeing you?"She smiled, a small, mysterious curve of her lips. "You'll find out soon."Her hands reached out, brushing lightly against his cheek. Her touch was warm, a stark contrast to the cold that seemed to follow him even in his dreams. Jon felt a flutter in his chest, an ache he didn't want to name."Will I see you again?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. "Am I losing my mind?""No, you're not. I'm here, Jon," Aela replied, her tone gentle but firm. "We will meet once more. Soon."Jon reached for her, but his hand grasped only air as the dream began to dissolve. The warmth of the hearth faded, replaced by the biting chill of reality.He woke abruptly, the rough texture of a fur-lined bedroll beneath him. His breaths came quick and shallow as he tried to shake off the lingering sense of her presence. Around him, the camp was quiet except for the sound of the wind.Those around him were sleeping, save for a man, Dirk, a man from Tormund's tribe, who was serving as a lookout.Jon pulled the furs tighter around him and turned on his side with the hopes of falling back to sleep. The image of Aela, her touch, her words, lingered in his mind, more vivid than the cold night around him. Sleep did not come back so easily. As dawn broke, Tormund stepped forward, his voice booming as he called into the gorge. "We come in peace! We seek a meeting with your chieftain!"For a long moment, there was silence. Then, from deep within the gorge, a low, resonant howl rose, sending a shiver down Jon's spine. Figures began to emerge from the mist, their movements silent and deliberate. The Weres had answered.Jon's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, but he didn't draw it. His heart raced as he saw the shadowy forms step forward, their eyes gleaming like embers in the pale morning light.
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The gorge opened before them like a jagged scar, its depths obscured by shadow. Jon Snow followed Tormund's lead as they descended into the maw of the Were territory, flanked by grim-faced scouts whose movements were as silent as snowfall. The cold bit sharper here, seeping through furs and leather, and the distant echoes of rushing water hinted at the lifeblood that sustained this hidden world.Jon's eyes narrowed as the path grew narrower, spiraling into darkness. Then, all at once, the gorge widened, revealing the vast system of caves and tunnels that formed the Weres' underground city. Torches flickered along carved walls, illuminating homes built into the rock and bridges spanning chasms. Voices carried faintly from below—a hum of life that reminded Jon of Winterfell's Great Hall during a feast."Hmph," Tormund muttered, craning his neck. "They've been busy. Looks like they've been digging for centuries."Jon said nothing, his eyes scanning the labyrinthine expanse. This was no simple stronghold—it was a kingdom forged in the stone, protected by nature's harshest barriers. His hand tightened on Longclaw as the party approached the Glacier Hall, a massive cavern dominated by a high table and carved thrones. The air grew colder, the torches dimmer, as they entered.At the table sat Aela, flanked by what Jon assumed was her council. She wore a dress of deep blue, the fabric heavy but elegant, trimmed with intricate embroidery that evoked swirling frost patterns. Her expression was cool, unreadable, and her eyes flicked to Jon with a sharpness that made his shoulders stiffen. He didn't know she'd address him and that worried him more. "Tormund Giantsbane," she said, her voice calm but firm. "And you bring the Crow turned Wildling. I am Aela, daughter of Harvald, acting chieftain of the Weres."“Aye, I bring the best men Mance has,” Tormund replied, grinning. “We come to talk sense into you and yours. The dead are marching. We need every able fighter to push south.”Aela's gaze lingered on Tormund, then shifted to Jon. "And you?"Jon stepped forward, his voice steady. "I've seen what's coming. The White Walkers are no myth. They'll sweep through the Gorge as they've done to every village, every stronghold in their path. The Wall won't hold forever. Together, we have a chance to stop them."Aela tilted her head slightly, her expression unchanged. "The Gorge is our home. We do not abandon it. The Weres will not march south."Tormund's face reddened, his booming voice filling the cavern. "You'll sit here in your caves and wait for the dead to come knocking? They'll slaughter you just the same!"Aela remained unmoved, her tone as icy as the air. "We know of the dead, Giantsbane. We have seen their work, heard their wails in the night. This is why we remain here. The Gorge protects us, and we will not abandon it for battles we cannot win."Before Tormund could respond, a voice rang out from the back of the hall. "Then you're a fucking coward!"Ygritte had pushed her way into the hall, her fiery hair wild, her eyes blazing. She stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Aela. "You sit here playing queen while the rest of us fight to survive!"Aela's gaze turned to her, sharp as a blade, but it was her uncle who spoke, his voice a low growl that silenced the hall. "Mind your tongue, girl. You are guests here by our mercy. Do not tempt us to turn you from guests to corpses."Ygritte glared, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Tormund's right-hand man stepped forward, placing a firm hand on her arm and guiding her out of the hall despite her protests. The tension lingered even after she was gone.Jon stepped forward, his voice steady but urgent. "The dead won't care about your walls or your warriors. They'll come for all of us, and by the time they reach the Gorge, it will be too late."Aela's eyes met his, and for a moment, Jon thought he saw something flicker there. Doubt? Curiosity? It vanished as quickly as it appeared."Our decision is final," she said. "But you will stay the night. It is our custom to offer hospitality to those who come in peace."Tormund grumbled but nodded, and the group was led to a smaller chamber where a meal had been prepared. The hall buzzed with conversation, but Jon found his attention drawn to Aela, seated at the high table. Her composure never faltered, though her eyes occasionally swept the room, landing on him more than once. After the meal, Tormund was deep in conversation with one of Aela’s uncles about fermented goatsmilk, his laughter echoing through the chamber. Jon sat apart, his thoughts restless, when Aela approached him.“Walk with me,” she said softly, her voice carrying an authority that brooked no argument.Jon rose and followed her through a narrow tunnel that opened into a smaller, quieter cavern. The flickering torchlight cast shadows on the walls, and the faint sound of dripping water filled the silence.Aela turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “You speak of the dead as if you’ve stood before them.”Jon nodded. “I have. I’ve seen their numbers, their strength. They’re not just a threat to the Wall or the North. They’re a threat to everyone.”She studied him, her gaze piercing. “And yet, you’re here, with the Wildlings. Why?”Jon hesitated, the weight of his divided loyalties pressing down on him. “Because it’s the only way to save both my brothers and the Free Folk. If we don’t stand together, we all fall.”Aela’s lips curved slightly, though it was not quite a smile. “You’re either a fool or the most stubborn man I’ve met, Jon Snow.”Jon’s mouth twitched. “I’ve been called worse.”For a moment, the tension between them softened, replaced by a quiet understanding. Aela’s eyes lingered on him, and Jon found himself drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain. Her voice softened, losing its formal edge. “You speak with conviction, Jon Snow. I don’t know if it will be enough, but you make it difficult to dismiss your words.”Jon met her gaze. “If you’ve seen them, then you know what’s at stake. I’m not asking you to abandon your home. I’m asking you to help save it.”Aela’s expression faltered, and for the first time, the weight of leadership seemed to show. “The Gorge has protected us for generations. But...” She exhaled sharply, dropping the chieftain act as her tone shifted to something quieter, more human. “What exactly did you see, Jon? What makes you so certain there’s no other way?”Jon’s voice was low but firm. “I saw death—relentless and unyielding. Armies of the dead, led by beings of ice that no blade can cut. I’ve fought them, lost brothers to them. They’re coming for all of us.”Aela looked away, her eyes distant as if weighing the truth of his words against the safety of her people. “I will think on it,” she said at last. “But know this, Jon Snow. Trust does not come easily to my people.”“I wouldn’t expect it to,” Jon replied. “But trust goes both ways.”Aela studied him a moment longer before nodding. “We’ll speak again before you leave.” She turned and walked away, her steps echoing faintly as she disappeared into the tunnels.Jon lingered for a moment, his hand brushing the hilt of Longclaw. The flickering shadows seemed to stretch endlessly around him, but for the first time since entering the Gorge, he felt the faintest glimmer of hope. The quiet of the chambers Jon had been assigned was broken by a sharp knock at the wooden door. He had been seated on the edge of the cot, cleaning Longclaw with slow, deliberate strokes. The interruption made him glance up, brow furrowing.“Come in,” he called.The door creaked open, revealing one of Aela’s scouts. A man with a long, stern face and a trimmed beard to match. Jon recognized him as one of the envoy who greeted Tormund earlier in the day when he summoned the Weres for a meeting. “The chieftain requests your presence in her study. Now.”Jon nodded, sliding Longclaw back into its sheath. The scout stepped aside as he exited, leading him through the maze of tunnels lit by sporadic torches. The walk was silent, save for the occasional distant murmur of voices or the faint drip of water from the cavern walls.When they arrived, the scout gestured toward a sturdy oak door. Jon hesitated briefly before pushing it open.Aela was seated behind a roughly hewn desk, her hands resting on a stack of parchment. The room was sparsely furnished—a single bookshelf, a map pinned to one wall, and the ever-present chill of the Gorge hanging in the air. She was dressed in a looser gown now, not as elaborate as the one she wore earlier. This one, Jon realized with a slight blush, was likely for sleeping.She looked up as he entered, her face devoid of the cold detachment she’d worn earlier.“Sit,” she said, gesturing to a chair across from her.Jon complied, settling into the seat and meeting her gaze. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence heavy with unspoken words.“You’ve seen them,” Aela began, her tone quieter than before. “The dead. The Walkers. But that’s not all, is it?”Jon stiffened slightly, his expression guarded. “What do you mean?”She leaned forward, her eyes searching his. “You’ve had dreams. Of me.”Jon’s grip on the armrest tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “Yes.”Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled slowly. “You’re not the only one.”That admission hung in the air between them like a weight. Jon’s mind raced, but he forced himself to remain calm. “You’ve seen me, too.”Aela nodded, her fingers brushing the edge of the desk. “At first, I thought they were nothing more than fragments of my own fears or desires. But when you arrived today, I knew.”Jon leaned forward slightly, his voice steady despite the storm of questions swirling in his head. “What have you seen?”She hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. “A field of snow, stained red with blood. You, standing at its center, holding a blade that glows like the sun. And shadows... shadows of figures I can’t see clearly, but I know they’re coming.”Jon’s chest tightened. He swallowed hard before speaking. “I’ve seen the same. And more.”Her brows furrowed, the faintest trace of unease crossing her features. “What else?”Jon took a deep breath. “There was a great fire, consuming everything. I was trying to reach someone—your voice was calling my name—but I couldn’t find you. And there was something else... a wolf, larger than any I’ve ever seen, standing at your side.”Aela’s eyes widened, and for the first time, her composure cracked. “A wolf?”“Yes,” Jon said firmly. “White as snow, with eyes like embers. It wasn’t Ghost, but it felt... connected to me somehow.”She leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “I’ve seen that wolf, too. But only in glimpses.”The realization settled over them like a cold gust of wind. Jon’s voice softened, though the urgency remained. “What does it mean?”Aela shook her head, her fingers tightening on the edge of the desk. “I don’t know. But dreams like these are not mere coincidence. The Weres have long believed in the power of visions, though they’re rare even among us.”Jon frowned, his thoughts tumbling over one another. “If they’re connected, there must be a reason. Something we’re meant to do.”Her gaze flicked to him, and for a moment, the walls she kept so carefully raised seemed to lower. “Or something we’re meant to stop.”The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken fears. Jon could see the weight of her responsibilities etched into her features, and for a fleeting moment, he felt an odd kinship with her. They were both leaders thrust into impossible situations, burdened by choices that could mean life or death for their people.Finally, Aela broke the silence, her voice quieter than before. “I don’t have answers for you, Jon Snow. But if our dreams are truly connected, then perhaps we’re meant to face whatever comes together.”Jon nodded, his resolve hardening. “Then we’ll find the answers. One way or another.”Aela studied him for a moment longer before rising from her chair. “You should rest. The Gorge is safe—for now.”He stood as well, inclining his head. “Thank you, Aela.”As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him. “Jon.”He looked back, meeting her gaze.“If the dreams show us the future,” she said softly, “then let’s hope we’re strong enough to face it.”Jon didn’t reply. He simply nodded once before stepping out into the cold, winding tunnels, the weight of their shared visions pressing heavy on his shoulders.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The Next Morning
Jon Snow adjusted his cloak against the biting wind, his eyes scanning the horizon as Tormund inspected the bindings on their sled. They had lingered long enough, and Jon was eager to return to Mance with what he had learned of Aela and her people. Trust was a fragile currency, and the longer they stayed, the more precarious their position became."Jon Snow."Jon turned to see one of Aela's kin—her uncle Calder, if memory served—approaching with the same measured grace all the Werefolk seemed to possess. His dark cloak, lined with wolf fur, billowed slightly as he walked, his piercing blue eyes never leaving Jon's."Aela sends word," the man said, his tone neutral yet commanding. "She offers you and your party another night's stay. A storm is moving in this morning from the west. It would be best to wait one more night. The baths will be prepared, and provisions will be gathered for your return in the morrow. She suggests rest might serve you better than haste."Before Jon could respond, Tormund clapped a meaty hand on his shoulder, his grin wide. "Now that's an offer I won't turn down. A warm bath, eh? Maybe even something decent to eat? Snow, you'd be a fool to refuse!"Jon hesitated, his instincts screaming caution. Yet, the Werefolk had shown no hostility—only guarded curiosity—and Aela herself had been more enigmatic than threatening. He gave a subtle nod, his expression guarded. "We accept her generosity. Thank her for the invitation."The man inclined his head, his eyes lingering on Jon for a moment longer than was comfortable before he turned and disappeared into the shadows. The Were guards led them deeper into the gorge once more, the air growing warmer as the cold stone walls gave way to smoother, carved passages. The underground city was a marvel of engineering, its design blending seamlessly with the natural elements. The group was ushered into a further down to a chamber where steam billowed from communal baths carved directly into the rock, fed by natural hot springs.Tormund let out a low whistle, his eyes twinkling as he took in the sights around him. Yesterday had been a tense exchange with little time to take in the views of the Were Caverns within the northwestern gorge. "Now this is living. Makes you wonder why anyone would want to leave a place like this."Ygritte snorted, her fiery red hair damp from the steam. "All this for what? To sit underground like moles? Bet they haven't seen the sun in years.""Ygritte," Jon murmured, his tone a warning.She ignored him, her voice rising. "And these guards—silent as the grave, they are. What kind of folk don't even speak? Maybe they're scared of us. Or maybe they've got something to hide."One of the Were guards shifted slightly, the movement almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make Jon's hand twitch toward the hilt of his sword. If she kept this up, they would be dead soon.Thankfully, Ygritte said nothing more as one of the guards turned and offered a nod to them. "As a guest, Aela has offered you full access to this bath house. When you are finished, please notify the guards. They will guide you to your quarters." This time Aela had made arrangements for all the members of their small party. Unlike the night prior, she chose to broker with only him and Tormund. Jon wasn't certain if it was kindness and generosity she was showing due to the storm moving in, or if there was an ulterior motive. He'd come to realize since leaving Winterfell that everyone had an ulterior motive - including himself. Jon sighed loudly as he heard another crude remark be made by Ygritte, who was not at all appeased by any of the arrangements made. Everything the Weres have offered thus far had been a problem to her. Jon knew that the reason she came along (besides being an excellent with a bow) was him. She still didn't trust him without her there constantly. In a way, none of them trusted him regardless of the months he spent with them. Ygritte especially made it known to him that while he was 'hers' he would not be without her."That's enough, girl," Tormund growled, his voice low but dangerous.Ygritte turned on him, her cheeks flushed—not just from the heat. "Oh, come on, Tormund! You're telling me this doesn't make your skin crawl? All this... this softness? Baths and fancy caves—what kind of wildlings are they?"Tormund's expression darkened, and when he spoke, his voice echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap. "Enough, girl! You forget where you are. These folk ain't ones to suffer insults, and I'll not have you getting us all killed."The tension in the room was thick as the Were guards exchanged glances, their stoic masks unbroken.Ygritte glared at Tormund, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked to Jon, as if expecting him to intervene, but he only shook his head."Listen to him," Jon urged quietly. "We're guests here. Act like it."The words stung, and Jon could see the hurt in Ygritte's eyes. But she said nothing more, turning away and sinking into the nearest bath with a splash.Tormund sighed heavily, his earlier mirth replaced by grim resolve. "Don't let your tongue get you killed, Ygritte. These folk... they ain't like us. And that's not a bad thing, but it's dangerous all the same."Jon remained silent, his thoughts swirling as he watched the Were guards resume their posts. He couldn't shake the feeling that Aela's invitation was more than a simple act of hospitality.
Afternoon
Jon didn't know what to make of Tomas Redfang. A young lad with fiery hair that rivaled that of Tormund and Ygritte's. His face was heavily freckled and he had dark brown eyes. A wolfish smile to boot that almost reminded Jon of his brother Robb. He was also one of the first Weres besides Aela that allowed himself to be relaxed enough to show emotion.Jon followed Tomas down a dimly lit corridor, the flicker of torches casting elongated shadows against the smooth, hewn walls. The air in the Gorge was cool and carried the faint tang of mineral springs, an otherworldly contrast to the harsh winds of the surface. Tomas, youthful and eager, led the way with a quick, sprightly step, his enthusiasm occasionally causing him to forget Jon's deliberate pace."The spring stretch further this way," Tomas said, pointing toward a faintly glowing archway carved into the stone. These are the ceremonial ones that only the chieftain and council are allowed access to. "Fed by natural hot springs. Aela insisted the quarters for our quests be well-equipped."Jon gave a polite nod, his eyes scanning the intricate carvings etched into the stone walls. The patterns were mesmerizing, spiraling motifs interspersed with symbols Jon couldn't decipher. The craftsmanship was astonishing, a testament to generations of effort. He couldn't help but compare it to the stark, utilitarian design of the Wall."This place... it's vast," Jon said, his voice tinged with awe. "Larger than I imagined."Tomas grinned, his youthful pride evident. "It's taken centuries to carve out. Chief Harvald says we're just caretakers for what's been built, always looking to make it better."Jon's brow furrowed at the mention of Aela's father. "Your leader?""Aye, though he's away," Tomas answered before quickly clamping his mouth shut, as if realizing he'd said too much. His eyes darted nervously toward Jon. "He's... handling important matters. That's all I can say."Jon gave him a reassuring glance. "You've said nothing out of turn."They walked on in silence for a few moments, the corridor opening into a larger chamber. The space was dominated by towering stalactites and pools of water that shimmered with a faint luminescence. The air was warmer here, the underground springs filling the room with a soothing mist. Tomas stopped at the edge of one pool, gesturing for Jon to sit on one of the stone benches carved nearby."Our ancestors believed this place was sacred," Tomas said, his tone quieter now. "Aela says it's a reminder that even in the coldest, harshest places, there can be warmth and life."Jon's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Wise words."Tomas's chest puffed slightly with pride. "Aela's the wisest person I know. She's... she's been through a lot, more than most. Losing her mother and older brother... it changed her."Jon's gaze sharpened at the admission. "Her family was killed?"Realizing what he'd let slip, Tomas paled. "I... I shouldn't have said that. Please, don't tell her I spoke out of turn."Jon raised a hand, his expression earnest. "Your words stay with me. You have my word."Tomas relaxed, though the tension in his shoulders lingered. He turned his attention back to the pool. "It was white walkers. A few years ago. They took her brother, her mother, and many others. That's why we patrol so far out now. Why the guards are always on edge."Jon felt a pang of understanding. Loss was a language he knew well, a common thread that connected even those divided by walls and customs. He nodded slowly, his respect for Aela deepening."She's made this place safe," Jon said after a pause. "That's no small thing."Tomas's smile returned, albeit faintly. "She doesn't see it that way. Says it's just what she has to do."The boy's reverence for Aela was clear, and Jon found himself admiring the woman through his eyes. Tomas's youthful optimism was a rare thing in a world so often overshadowed by despair."Thank you for showing me this," Jon said, standing. "It's... more than I expected."Tomas gave a quick nod, his grin broadening. "There's more to see if you'd like. But, uh, maybe I'll keep my mouth shut this time."Jon chuckled softly, clapping the boy's shoulder. "Lead the way."
Later that evening
He was summoned to Aela's chambers as the evening settled over the cavern, the air cool and alive with the faint hum of distant voices and running water. The chamber was simple yet elegant, carved into the stone with sweeping arches and walls adorned with intricate engravings. The balcony drew his gaze immediately—a vantage point that overlooked the heart of the Were city, where torchlight danced across bridges and stairways weaving through the cavern like veins in stone.Aela stood there, her figure framed against the warm glow of the city below. She turned as he entered, her usual air of authority softened by a quiet composure. "Come, Jon Snow," she said, gesturing to the balcony.Jon stepped forward, his boots scuffing against the smooth floor. The view was breathtaking, a world thriving beneath the surface in defiance of the cold and dark."It's... remarkable," Jon said, his voice low as he leaned against the railing. "I've never seen anything like it."Aela nodded, her gaze fixed on the city. "It is the work of many generations. Stone is our strength and our shelter, but it is also our legacy. To live surrounded by beauty, even in hardship, reminds us of what we fight to protect."Jon traced a finger over the engraved railing, the craftsmanship exquisite and precise. "Your people are skilled. This must have taken lifetimes.""It has," Aela said. "But survival alone is not enough. We build because it gives meaning to our struggle."Jon studied her, the pride in her voice tempered by a quiet weight. "You carry much of that burden yourself."She met his gaze, her expression inscrutable. "As do you. Leadership is a heavy mantle, no matter how it's placed upon you. But you already know that."Jon's jaw tightened. "It's not about what I want. It's about what's needed."Aela smiled faintly. "And that, Jon Snow, is why you intrigue me."They stood in silence for a moment, the distant murmurs of the small city below their only company."You speak of unity," Aela said finally, her tone thoughtful. "Of forging alliances. Yet trust is not easily given, especially in times such as these."Jon nodded. "Trust is earned. But the White Walkers don't wait for us to find common ground. If we don't stand together, there won't be anyone left to distrust."Aela's gaze was piercing, yet not unkind. "You see the urgency. That much is clear. But you must understand—my people have endured by staying apart. Isolation has kept us alive.""And how long will that last?" Jon asked, his voice quiet but firm. "The dead don't care about borders or walls. They'll come for all of us, whether we're ready or not."Aela's expression shifted, a flicker of something—pain, or perhaps understanding—crossing her face. "You speak with conviction. It's... rare to see someone so young carry such a burden without breaking.""I don't have the luxury of breaking," Jon replied.Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Perhaps we are not so different after all."As the conversation ebbed, Aela stepped back into the solar and retrieved something from a small chest. She returned, holding a polished stone no larger than her palm. Its surface was engraved with a delicate frost pattern that seemed to catch the light in unusual ways.She held it out to him. "Take this."Jon hesitated, studying the stone before ultimately accepting it. The polished stone rested in Jon's hand, its cool surface a grounding weight. He turned it over absently as he lingered near the railing, the conversation still echoing in his mind."It reminds me of Winterfell," he said quietly, breaking the silence. Aela, who had been watching him from the shadow of the balcony arch, tilted her head in question."Home," he clarified, his voice tinged with longing. "It reminds me of home. Warmth, safety—things I've not truly known in a long time."Her expression softened, and she stepped closer. "Then it serves its purpose better than I hoped."Jon glanced at her, puzzled. "Its purpose?"Aela's lips curved in a faint smile. "I gave it to you as a symbol of endurance, yes. But also because I see in you a kinship. You carry the weight of others, their lives, their fears, and yet you stand. Few can endure such burdens without breaking."Her words settled over him, heavy yet strangely comforting. He clenched the stone tighter, its coolness anchoring him to the moment. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "It means more than I can say."They remained in companionable silence for a few moments before Aela guided him away from the overlook of the city below and its distant hum. They moved inward towards a grand hearth. In front of it was a bench and warm, thick furs spread out on the floor. It struck Jon suddenly that this place was familiar and the 'why' behind it. It was the place of one of his dreams with Aela. His heart thudded nervously as he glanced towards the young woman to his right. Jon could deny it to others, but not to himself. He found Aela not just pleasant to look at, but beautiful. Her hair had two braids in the front with two small charms hanging from the ends. Jon could see that they were miniature wolves. It made him think of Ghost and his family back home in Winterfell - or at least what was left of his family now that his father was dead and his brother was fighting a war.Lost in his thoughts, Jon's gaze remained fixed on the hearth in front of him as he took a seat next to Aela on the bench."What troubles you, Jon?" Aela asked, her voice gentle yet perceptive.He hesitated, his jaw tightening as if the words he wanted to say were a battle he was reluctant to fight. Finally, he spoke, his tone raw. "It's... everything. My family... The vows I took. The men I lead. Always being torn between what's right for them and what I..." He trailed off, shaking his head."What you want?" Aela finished for him, her voice low.Jon nodded, the admission pulling a weight from his chest. "I've given my life to duty, to the Watch. And yet, every step I take feels like it's at odds with some part of me. Like I'll never be enough—not for them, not for the Wildings, and not for myself."Aela's gaze grew distant, and when she spoke, her voice carried the weight of her own struggles. "Leadership is a lonely road. To guide others, you must stand apart. And as a woman, I've had to prove my worth every day, even to those I fight for."Their eyes met, unspoken understanding passing between them. "I've known isolation," Aela continued, her voice softer now. "I've known what it is to bear the weight of expectations while yearning for something more."Jon studied her, the shared pain in her words cutting through his defenses. "It's a heavy burden," he said."It is," Aela agreed. "But sharing it... even for a moment... can make it bearable."Aela leaned closer, her hand brushing lightly against his that rested on his thigh. Jon glanced down at her hand and swallowed thickly as he felt an uncomfortable tightening smallclothes. It was embarrassing, he thought to himself, that the mere touch of a pretty girl could impact him like this. He looked back up at her and her gaze held his, searching, questioning. "The gorge has always been a place of sanctuary," she murmured. "A place where walls—both stone and those within—can come down."Jon exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time in what felt like years. "I haven't felt safe or... understood in a long time," he admitted.Aela's fingers grazed his hand, a deliberate yet delicate touch. "You're more than your duty, Jon Snow. You're a man who deserves to live, not just survive." She offered him a rare, but genuine smile. At least - Jon wanted to believe it was genuine. Her eyes shined in the light of the hearth, a warmth in them that made his heart flutter. He wondered then, since she was a werewolf, if her hearing was sharp enough in human form to hear how his heart was responding to her. The way his breathing labored lightly from the excitement stirring in him.Her words stirred something deeper within him—a yearning he'd buried beneath layers of obligation and restraint. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing her cheek. The warmth of her skin grounded him, and when she leaned into his touch without hesitation.Jon closed the gap between them, his lips finding hers with a tentative brush. Aela responded in kind, the kiss growing bolder as the barriers between them fell away. Their movements were measured yet urgent, each touch speaking of vulnerability and the need to be seen—not as leaders or symbols, but as two people searching for solace.Gently, she pulled back from him, her right hand tangled in his curls and her left supporting her weight on his thigh. She slid off the bench and pulled him with her onto the furs beneath them. Her hands roamed his body eagerly while she pressed her lips to his once more.Jon leaned back on his elbows as he allowed Aela to take the lead - which she did so happily. She pulled back from his lips and gently nipped his swollen lower lip before staring into his eyes, hers dark with. She sat back on her hunches and, without losing eye contact, she began to shed her heavy robe and thin sleeping gown beneath it. Jon could only watch in awe as he took in her now naked body. His eyes trailed over her form from the way her inky black hair spill down over one side of her shoulder to the size and shape of her breasts and down her soft body to the shapely part of her hips. He could see the black curls covering her mound and his heart beat hammered in his chest loudly. So loudly in fact, he was certain every Were within a mile perimeter could hear it. He had only ever seen two women naked before - one a failed attempt in a whorehouse back in Winterfell with Ros, and the other was Ygritte twice when she attempted to take his virginity. Yet, while both women were beautiful, their bodies did not speak to him the way Aela's did.His breath quickened as he scanned her body once more as she moved to kick away her discarded clothes before moving to him languidly on the furs. She crawled to him on all fours and Jon felt like a a fool. An utter fool who was frozen in shock that this was happening. It wasn't a dream - it was real. And he didn't want it to stop."You can touch me," She said softly with an amused smile. Jon wanted to. He really did, yet it felt as if his body was not responding to anything his brain was ordering it to do.Gently, Aela gripped his right hand and brought it up to her left breast. She pressed his palm against it and Jon almost choked at how soft it. He could feel the pebbling of her nipples from his touch as he continued to stare mutely. She released his wrist and slid her hand down his arm in a gentle caress. Jon seemed to snap out of it momentarily and he allowed himself the opportunity to gently squeeze Aela's breast in hopes of making her feel good. He felt a twinge of pride when she softly moaned and pressed into his hand. He made her make that sound. He could do that.In a blur of kisses and touches Jon found himself naked and on his back with Aela pressing kisses along his neck as her hand worked on his cock. She attempted to take him in her mouth and as much as the idea of such a lewd act excited Jon, he felt conflicted on it being too far for a woman of high stature. Even if the Weres had different views on sex, it was one thing he couldn't let Aela do without feeling dirty for it.He tried to remain quiet but the feeling was unlike anything he ever experienced before. Her hand was doing things to him that he'd never imagine possible. Funny, he'd realize later in the aftermath, that his hand could never do this kind of justice. The soft, small hand of Aela working him while she peppered love bites across his upper body was something he'd dream of for an eternity.Lost in his pleasure and his thoughts, Jon was surprised to feel Aela's hand move away from his cock."W-what?" Jon stuttered, unable to finish his question fully. Aela looked equally disheveled with swollen lips and pupils blown wide open with desire. Jon felt like a prey waiting for the hunter to jump him - except he wanted it more than he ever realized he would."I want to mount you." Aela said. "Would you prefer that or would you like me on my back?"Jon blinked in surprise and stuttered over it. "erm.."She stared expectantly. Jon blinked once more and nodded. "If you are sure... you can take the lead."She smiled at that and teased, "I think I've already done so."Jon let out a surprised scoff at that, "I suppose you have."Aela swung her leg over his hips and set gently down on his upper thighs. His cock was weeping pre-cum as it lay stiff against his abdomen. She looked confident and sure in what she was doing.Jon leaned up on his elbows and watched with rapt attention as Aela aligned herself with his cock before she carefully sunk down on him. Jon immediately tossed his head back roughly against the furs from her hot, tight heat engulfing him. He moaned loudly and felt his groin tighten. He arched from the burning hot pleasure.Aela huffed as she bottomed out and she arched over him with the overwhelming sensations she was experiencing. It hurt a little just as she expected and she knew as soon as she started moving that there would be blood. Jon in his throes did not realize Aela's discomfort. He wrestled with the urge to spill his seed in her. It was hard to fight off. In the back of his mind, he could understand why some men insisted they couldn't live without this. It was sinful how amazing it felt.Finally, after some time Aela began to rock gently with a hiss escaping her lips. She looked beautiful with her hair flowing around her shoulders as she moved above him. Her breasts were perky and lovely to Jon.His hands moved from gripping the furs next to him to holding her hips and helping her set a tempo. Time seemed to suspend as they found a fleeting refuge in each other, the moment hot and passionate.Jon knew he wouldn't last long and it almost embarrassed him of that fact until he realized with wide eyes that there was blood coating Aela's inner thighs and on him as well. Virgin blood. Aela was a virgin too."A-Aela," Jon huffed out while he attempted to slow her hips as they rocked fervently over him. "A-Aela," his voice more urgent as he stared up at her with a mix of reverence but concern.She didn't respond but moaned softly instead. Her gaze was unfocused as she picked up pace, sweat now running down her body in rivets. She chased the feeling building in her. She needed this.Jon could see her desperation and was feeling it too himself. He licked his thumb and brought his hand between them. His finger found her nub hidden beneath the dark curls that covered her down below. Jon had heard the stories plenty enough to know that women often loved this area to be touched. He wanted her to feel as good as he did.It didn't last long until Aela tensed above him and shook aggressively with a cry. She leaned forward with closed eyes and a red face. She was panting heavily into his neck as his hands gripped tightly around her back and he held her there.His own finish followed soon after hers. His vision had whitened out when he felt the coil in him snap. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could feel his seed pump into Aela as he held her tightly to him while the high wore off him.Afterward, they lay together in the quiet of her chambers against the warm furs. Both were a sweaty panting mess, but neither said a word as they processed what just happened in the glow of the hearth. At some point, she had shifted off of him and moved to a pitcher of water across the room. Jon noticed how she gingerly walked back with both a rag and a bowl of water. She proceeded to quietly clean herself of the blood and cum between her thighs and then she turned to him, doing the same. Neither said a word as she did her task.The warmth of her body next him, the soft rhythm of her breathing as she washed him, should have brought him comfort. Instead, his mind churned, thoughts circling endlessly like vultures over a battlefield. He felt conflicted.He stared at the ceiling, the flicker of torchlight casting shifting shadows, and felt the weight of what had just happened pressing down on him. He'd broken his vows before—living among the Free Folk, doing what was necessary to survive and fulfill his duty. But this was different.This hadn't been for duty. This had been for him. For her.Jon turned his head, watching Aela's peaceful profile. She pressed a kiss to his forehead with a smile and nuzzled into his side. He smiled down at her before turning on his side to pull her against him as he buried his head in her hair. At some point he felt her relax fully and her breathing evened out. He pulled a nearby pile of furs on the bench towards him and clumsily draped it over the two of them.Jon studies Aela as she slept against his side. Her face, normally so guarded, was soft and open in the dim light. He thought of how she'd looked at him, with trust so complete it made his chest ache. She had given him more than her body; she'd given him her vulnerability, her first experience of intimacy.And he'd taken it, willingly.He closed his eyes, a knot of guilt and something more profound twisting inside him. He wanted to believe it was enough that she'd seemed happy, that she'd given herself freely. But another thought clawed at him, darker and more insistent.What if he had gotten her with child?The realization struck like a blow to the gut, leaving him breathless. A bastard. Like him.Jon's throat tightened. He knew too well the burden of bastardy—the shame, the isolation, the endless questions about your worth. Would their child—if there was one—bear the same weight? The same scorn? He thought of Aela, of her pride and strength, and imagined the pain it would cause her to bring a child into the world under such circumstances.He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't let her suffer for his weakness.But the thought of Aela carrying his child stirred something else in him, something unexpected. A fierce, protective instinct. If there were a child... if it came to that... he wouldn't abandon them. He wouldn't let them grow up the way he had, with only half-answers and shadows of love.Jon turned his gaze back to her, his hand brushing against hers. She stirred slightly but didn't wake. He marveled at how peaceful she looked, how unaware of the storm raging inside him.For now, he decided, he would let her rest. Tomorrow would bring its own trials, and he would face them as he always did—one step at a time. But tonight, the doubts and fears were his alone to bear. As he lay there, the weight of his choices pressed heavily on his chest, he had only hoped that he hadn't brought more harm than good to Aela by bedding her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The pale light of dawn crept into the room from the balcony overlooking the city below. It cast soft golden rays across the room. Jon stirred awake, his senses coming alive with the warmth beside him. Aela’s dark hair spilled across the pillow, her face turned toward him, serene in the quiet stillness. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to take it in—the unguarded peace she wore in sleep.Then the weight of his thoughts settled heavily on his chest. He sat up slowly, careful not to wake her, and ran a hand over his face. Memories of the night before surged through him, vivid and undeniable. It wasn’t the first time Jon Snow had crossed a line that his vows forbade, but this was different. This wasn’t for survival or strategy. This had been a choice.The thought unsettled him. Had he dishonored her? Was this another mistake—one he couldn’t take back?Aela stirred, her lashes fluttering before her brown eyes met his. A small, sleepy smile touched her lips. “Good morning,” she murmured, her voice soft and unguarded.Jon swallowed, his throat dry. “Good morning.” He tried to sound casual, but his tone betrayed him, strained with uncertainty.She sat up, the fur blanket slipping slightly from her shoulders as she reached for him. “Jon,” she said gently, “you’re troubled.”Jon hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I’m thinking,” he admitted, his tone measured.Aela smiled faintly. “That much is clear. What’s on your mind?”Jon pushed himself up slightly, resting on his elbow. “What we did…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know if it was wise. Not for me, and not for you.”Aela tilted her head, studying him. “You regret it?”“No,” Jon said quickly, surprising himself with the sharpness of his reply. “But I fear what might come of it. If I’ve… if I’ve gotten you with child…” He faltered, his voice thick with unease. “I’ll leave soon, Aela. I can’t stay here, and I don’t know what the Weres would do if they thought—”Jon pushed himself upright, the furs pooling around his waist. He couldn’t meet her eyes at first. “What we did…” His voice wavered, his thoughts chasing one another like ravens in flight. “I don’t know if it was wise. Not for me, and not for you.”“Do you regret it?” Aela asked, her tone calm but curious.“No,” Jon said quickly, the word escaping before he could second-guess it. His cheeks flushed, and he ran a hand through his unruly hair. “But I fear what might come of it. If I’ve…” He swallowed hard. “If I’ve gotten you with child…” His voice dropped to a whisper, the shame unmistakable. “I’ll leave soon, Aela. I can’t stay here, and I don’t know what the Weres would do if they thought you carried a bastard.”He forced himself to look at her, to see how his words landed. “I know what it’s like to grow up that way. To bear that mark. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all a child. Least of all you.”Aela sat up, her bare shoulders framed by the flickering light of the hearth. There was no anger in her expression, no rebuke—only a calm, unshakable resolve. “The Weres would not turn on me,” she said, her voice even but firm. “I am their leader. They follow me because they trust me, Jon. That trust doesn’t break so easily.”Jon’s brow furrowed. “You said yourself they’re wary of outsiders. If they thought—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I won’t be here to protect you.”“You think I need protection?” Aela asked, a flicker of amusement softening her tone. “Jon, I saved you from the Thenns. I tore them apart before they could kill you. Do you truly think I can’t handle this?”Jon opened his mouth to argue, but her words struck him silent. The memory flashed before him—the blood-soaked snow, the snarling wolf, her fierce eyes bright yellow in her transformed state. She had saved him, and not just then. Time and again, she had proven her strength, her resilience.“I know you’re strong,” he admitted, his voice low. “Stronger than I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry for you. You deserve better than this, Aela. Better than me.”Aela reached for his hand, her fingers warm against his calloused skin. “You don’t need to fear for me,” she said softly. “And there are ways to prevent a child. Teas and herbs that I know well. I will brew some this morning.”Jon exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing. But the guilt lingered, heavy and unrelenting. “Why risk this, then? Why risk your people’s trust for me?”Aela’s expression softened. She reached up, her hand resting gently on his cheek. “Because I trust you. I’ve trusted you since the day you stood your ground against the Thenns. You were ready to die, but you didn’t flinch. That was the day I knew there was something more to you, something worth standing beside.”Jon frowned, her words stirring something deep within him. “But it wasn’t me who saved you that day,” he said quietly. “It was you. You turned into the wolf and tore them apart. You saved me.”Aela smiled faintly. “And perhaps that’s why we’re tied together. I can’t explain it, Jon, but I feel it. Like the Old Gods are guiding us. Like we were meant to find each other.”Jon looked away, her words unsettling him. “Tied together,” he repeated, his voice uncertain. “You sound like you intended this.”Aela shook her head. “I didn’t plan it, Jon. When you came to my solar last night, I only knew that I wanted to... to be close to you. I didn’t mean to seduce you. But I won’t pretend I didn’t want what happened.”Jon ran a hand through his hair, his mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. “I’ve broken my vows,” he said quietly. “Not for the first time, but this feels... different.” He turned to her, his gaze earnest. “If I’ve brought you harm, Aela—if this leads to more harm—”Aela silenced him with a hand on his cheek, her touch gentle but firm. “You’ve brought me no harm, Jon Snow. Last night wasn’t about oaths or duty. It was about trust. And you trusted me, just as I trusted you.”Jon held her gaze, the storm inside him momentarily quieted by the steady warmth in her eyes. Gods, he thought to himself, she was beautiful.She shifted and the furs fell further down her body, now pooled at her waist, exposing her upper body fully to the cool air in the room.Jon swallowed and turned away, running a hand through his hair. “Come south with me,” he said suddenly, the words escaping before he could stop them. “Leave the Weres behind. Come with me to Mance’s camp. It’s safer for you there.”Aela smiled faintly, her resolve unshaken. “The Weres are my people, Jon. I can’t abandon them.”“But it’s not safe here,” he argued, his voice rising. “Not with what’s coming. The White Walkers, the Night’s Watch—there’s a storm on the horizon, and you’ll be caught in the middle of it.”Aela reached out, her hand resting gently on his cheek. Her touch stilled him, her warmth grounding his spiraling thoughts. “I know the risks, Jon,” pain flashed in her eyes as if she was thinking back to something awful. “But I belong here. My people need me, just as yours need you. We have our own paths to walk.”Her resolve would not break, Jon realized bitterly. There was nothing he could do to bring her south or convince her people to join Mance’s cause. He should be glad, he thought to himself with confliction. Wildlings alone will bring hell to the Wall. A thousand or so Weres (a sizable portion of which could transform into werewolves) would be an added layer of mayhem.He thought back to what Tormund had said on the trek to the Were Caverns. These people would not bend a knee or leave their homes. Even if faced with ultimate death. Jon wanted to chalk it up to stubborn pride and arrogance. Yet, in the brief time he’d known Aela, he realized that this place was more than just a physical location - it was the one place that belonged to them - uncontested and unchallenged. It had for centuries from what Jon could gather.Jon looked at her, truly looked at her—the fierce, beautiful woman who had saved his life and stood steadfast in the face of danger. There was a pull between them, undeniable and inexplicable. He couldn’t put it into words, but he felt it, like the tug of the North in his blood.Before he could second-guess himself, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. Aela responded in kind, her touch light but sure, as though anchoring them both in the moment.When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the quiet. For now, the world outside could wait. The air was crisp as Jon and his companions prepared to depart the Were village. The morning sun cast long shadows over the snow-packed ground, and a quiet tension lingered in the camp. Jon stood beside the sled, tightening the straps on their provisions, his gloved hands steady despite the roiling in his chest. He could feel Aela’s presence nearby, even before she spoke.She approached with measured steps, her fur-lined cloak sweeping over the snow. Aela held herself with the dignity of a leader, her expression calm and composed. In her arms, she carried a wooden crate.“Tormund,” she said, addressing the red-haired wildling with a small, polite smile. “A parting gift.”Tormund looked up from securing his axe to his belt, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “What’s this, little wolf?”Aela opened the crate to reveal several bottles of brown liquid. “Cider, brewed by my uncle. He told me once your fermented goat’s milk was... memorable.” Her lips twitched with faint amusement, but her tone remained formal.Tormund burst into laughter, the sound booming across the clearing. “Ha! Memorable, she says! Aye, little wolf, you’ve got wit about you. I’ll take your cider gladly, though I’ll wager it won’t be as strong as my milk!” He reached for the crate, his grin wide. “You’re a sharp one, just like a she-wolf should be.”The nickname didn’t ruffle Aela; she simply inclined her head. “Safe travels to you, Tormund. May your journey be swift and uneventful.”Jon’s chest tightened as Aela turned her attention to him. Her brown eyes met his, cool and unreadable, a stark contrast to the warmth he had seen in them just a few hours ago. She didn’t step closer but held her ground a few paces away, as though keeping the distance would fortify the barrier between them.“Jon Snow,” she said, her voice steady and formal. “May the Old Gods watch over you. Your path will not be an easy one, but you carry strength and purpose. That will see you through.”Jon felt the sting of her formality, though he knew it was necessary. He straightened, his jaw tightening as he inclined his head. “And may they watch over you and your people, Aela. You’ll need that strength as well.”Her expression softened for the briefest moment, so fleeting that Jon almost doubted he’d seen it. But she said nothing more, turning to nod at Ygritte, who stood a few steps away by the sled, her expression dark and stormy.Ygritte crossed her arms, her lips curling into a scowl. “Aye, well, we’ll be on our way, then. Don’t want to overstay our welcome.”Jon shot her a warning glance, but Ygritte was already muttering under her breath, her eyes darting between him and Aela.“Not much of a farewell, is it?” she said loudly enough for Jon to hear. “Chieftain’s all polite now, but she’s got the look of one who’s hiding something. Reckon she’s no better than the highborn ladies you hate so much.”Jon’s temper flared, but he kept his tone calm. “Enough, Ygritte.”She glared at him, her cheeks flushed with irritation. “Oh, I’ve said enough, have I? Funny how extra quiet you get when she’s around. Seems I’m not the only one with secrets.”Aela didn’t rise to the bait. She stepped back, her gaze sweeping over the group one last time. “Good health to you all,” she said evenly, her voice carrying a quiet resolve. “And may the winds favor your journey.”Nothing more needed to be said - their time was up and they needed to part ways.Jon climbed onto the sled, his heart heavy as the sled dogs stirred, their breath misting in the cold air. He glanced at Aela one last time, his eyes searching hers for something—anything—that might give him the courage to speak the words he couldn’t. But she held his gaze with quiet dignity, giving him no more than the parting she had already offered.As the sled began to move, Ygritte’s grumbling filled the air, but Jon hardly heard her. His thoughts lingered on Aela, on the warmth of her touch and the strength of her resolve. He knew this was the way it had to be, but that knowledge did little to soothe the ache in his chest.Behind them, Aela watched until the sled disappeared over the horizon, her expression unreadable as the winter wind tugged at her cloak.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The hearth in Aela's chambers had burned low, embers glowing faintly in the dim light. She had fallen asleep wrapped in her furs, the weight of recent days pressing down on her. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of wood. Outside, the icy wind howled, carrying with it the scent of snow and pine.In her dreams, she was no longer in her chambers. She stood in the shadow of the Frostfangs, the mountains looming vast and stark against a steel-gray sky. The snow swirled around her, yet she didn't feel the cold. She felt something else instead—his presence.It had been at least two moons since his visit to the Were Caverns with Tormund on behalf of Mance Rayder to treaty. Jon emerged from the haze of snow, his furs blending into the storm behind him. He looked tired as if the weight of his choices had worn him thin, but his gray eyes met hers with a familiar intensity."I didn't mean to disturb your rest," he said, his voice steady yet filled with uncertainty."You never disturb me, Jon," Aela replied, stepping closer. Her heart ached at the sight of him, yet she didn't reach out.Jon hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground before returning to hers. "I've been thinking... My time with the wildlings is over. I've done what I can for them, but I have to return to the Wall. To my brothers. They'll need me when the time comes."Aela's brows furrowed, sensing the turmoil beneath his words. "You're afraid.""I'd be a fool not to be," Jon admitted. "Leaving won't be easy. The wildlings don't forgive easily, and Mance... he'll see it as betrayal." He paused, the wind whipping his cloak around him. "There's more. I broke my vows once more—with Ygritte."Aela's chest tightened, but she said nothing, letting him continue."I had no choice," he said, his voice quiet now. "It was the only way to gain their trust, to survive long enough to learn their plans. Tormund knew something happened between us, and Ygritte was suspecting it too. I didn't think about what it meant until it was too late. I can't take it back." He met her gaze again, searching for something—judgment, perhaps, or forgiveness.Aela's lips curved into a small, sad smile. "You think this would hurt me."Jon didn't answer, but the flicker of guilt in his eyes spoke volumes."It doesn't," Aela said gently. "I understand why you did it. You chose what you had to, for the sake of your survival. But you must be careful. Escaping won't just cost you. I've... I've had a feeling, a shadow over what's to come. I fear for you."Jon frowned, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "What do you mean?"Aela shook her head, the words eluding her. "I don't know. It's just a sense that something is waiting for you—something dangerous."He stepped closer then, his face inches from hers. The warmth of his breath reached her cheeks, despite the cold. "Aela... If I make it out, I'll need to find safety. If something happens to me—""Tell me where you'll go," she interrupted.Jon hesitated before nodding. "The Shadow Tower. It's the safest place to rejoin the Watch."Aela placed a hand over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "Then I'll find you there if I can."He didn't respond. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. For a moment, the storm faded, leaving only the two of them standing in its wake.And then the dream dissolved.Aela awoke with a sharp intake of breath, her brown eyes snapping open. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of dying embers. Her heart raced, the dream lingering vividly in her mind.She sat up, running a hand through her dark hair. The sensation of Jon's presence clung to her, as real as if he had been there. But the words he had spoken weighed heavily on her.The Shadow Tower.Aela swung her legs over the side of her bed, her bare feet brushing against the cold stone floor. Her father, Harvald, had returned just days ago from the north, bringing with him news of wildling movements and tensions with the Watch. He had warned her—again and again—that their kind could trust no one outside their pack, least of all a Crow. Weres stayed away from the Wall. It was paramount that it remained that way.But Aela had made her decision before she even realized it.She dressed quickly, pulling on thick layers and fastening her cloak at her throat. She grabbed her pack, filling it with food, water, and a small blade for protection. She could imagine her father's voice in her mind, stern and unyielding. "Aela, you will be chieftain someday. Your duty is to your people, not to some outsider."Yet Jon wasn't just some outsider.As quietly as she could, Aela slipped out of her chambers and into the night. The guards camp outside the gorge entrance was still, the guards at the perimeter appeared unaware of her departure. Her breath misted in the cold air as she made her way quickly out of sight. It helped she planned the perimeter for guards at this hour of the night.Her steps were quick and she remained alert as she navigated her way through Were territory. She felt the knot of apprehension in her chest tighten in her chest. If her father discovered she had left, his wrath would be swift. But she couldn't let that stop her."I'll find you, Jon Snow," she murmured under her breath, "And may the Old Gods protect us both."Without another glance back, Aela fled into the, the trees swallowing her as she made her way south. The forest was dense and eerily silent as Aela crept through the snow, her breath visible in the frigid air. Moonlight filtered through the skeletal branches, casting pale shadows across the frozen ground. She crouched low, her sharp eyes scanning the treeline for any movement.In her werewolf form, Aela was a shadow of muscle and fur, her senses sharper and her body more agile. She had tracked Jon's path south, using what little information her dream had given her and following the faint trails left by the wildlings. She had crossed into the Gift, south of the Wall, through an icy gorge—a perilous path few dared to take.Now she was closer, her instincts pulling her toward him like a magnet.The faint scent of smoke reached her sensitive nose. She stilled, her ears twitching as she listened. The crackle of a fire and faint voices drifted through the trees. She shifted slightly, her massive paws silent against the snow.Wildlings.Aela approached the edge of the clearing, where she spotted the flicker of firelight. A small group of them sat huddled around the flames, their laughter harsh and grating against the quiet night. They had set up camp not far from a crumbling farmhouse, its roof sagging under the weight of accumulated snow.She sniffed the air again, searching for Jon's scent. It was faint but unmistakable, carried on the breeze. He was close—closer than she had hoped.Aela retreated into the shadows, the fur along her spine bristling. Her heart hammered in her chest as she considered her next move. Jon had told her in the dream that he intended to leave the wildlings, but if they discovered his plans—or her presence—there would be blood.The moon hung high in the sky when Aela finally stopped to shift. She found a secluded grove surrounded by thick pines, far enough from the wildling camp to avoid detection. She crouched low, her fur rippling as her bones began to shift and crack. The transformation was swift and fluid, the pain a fleeting echo of what it had been when she was younger.When it was over, she knelt in the snow, shivering slightly as her human form emerged. Her breath came in sharp gasps, and she pressed a hand to her chest, steadying herself.Her mind raced. She was so close to Jon now, but what would she find when she reached him? Would he even want her here? Would the wildlings see her as an outsider, a threat?No time for doubts now, she thought. She retrieved her pack, which she had hidden in a hollowed-out tree, and quickly dressed in her furs. During her transformation, she carried her pack around her neck, finding it easiest to carry that why while running on all fours.She set out again, her steps purposeful as she followed the trail of smoke and firelight.The farmhouse came into view just as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon. Aela kept to the cover of the trees, her sharp eyes scanning the area. She spotted several wildlings moving about—gathering firewood, sharpening blades, and speaking in low voices.Her heart clenched when she saw Jon among them. He was seated on a log near the fire, his cloak wrapped tightly around him. His hair was damp with melted snow, and his face was drawn, as though he hadn't slept in days.Aela's instincts screamed at her to approach him, to close the distance between them. But she held back, knowing the risks. If she exposed herself now, the wildlings might see her as a threat—or worse, use her against Jon.She crouched low, waiting for an opportunity to approach unseen. Jon sat silently by the fire, his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of broth. The warmth did little to chase away the chill that had settled deep in his bones. He glanced around the camp, his mind heavy with unease.He had been with the wildlings long enough to know their ways, their tempers. But his heart wasn't with them. It never had been. He thought of the Wall, of the brothers he had left behind. Of Ghost, who had disappeared. And of Aela, whose face lingered in his thoughts more often than he cared to admit.A rustling in the trees caught his attention. Jon's eyes narrowed as he scanned the treeline, his hand instinctively moving to Longclaw's hilt. He stood slowly, his movements careful as he stepped away from the fire."Something wrong, crow?" Tormund's gruff voice broke the silence.Jon shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the trees. "Probably nothing," he said, though his gut told him otherwise.As the camp began to stir, Aela seized her moment. She waited until the wildlings were distracted, most of them preoccupied with preparing for the day's journey. Moving swiftly and silently, she skirted the edge of the clearing, keeping low to the ground.When she was close enough, she crouched behind a snow-laden bush and let out a soft, low whistle—a sound she hoped Jon would recognize. She had done it once or twice in their dream meetings.Jon froze, his head snapping toward the sound. His hand tightened on Longclaw, but then his eyes widened slightly, recognition flashing across his face. He didn't move, didn't speak, but his shoulders relaxed minutely.Aela held her breath, waiting for him to acknowledge her. When he gave a subtle nod, she exhaled and retreated back into the trees.Jon turned to Tormund, his expression neutral. "I need a moment. I'll catch up."Tormund grunted, unconcerned. "Don't take too long, crow. We leave soon."Jon nodded and slipped away, his steps quick and deliberate as he followed Aela's trail into the forest. Aela stepped out from the trees, her form blending seamlessly into the morning mist. She approached Jon cautiously, her brown eyes scanning the camp behind him for any signs of pursuit."You shouldn't have come," Jon muttered, his voice low but firm. Worry shown in his stormy eyes as he stared at the young woman in front of him."I dreamed of you again," she whispered, closing the gap between them. Her breath was visible in the frigid air, and though her face was calm, her eyes betrayed her worry. "You were in danger. I couldn't ignore it."Jon's jaw tightened as he glanced back toward the camp. The wildlings were preparing to move south, unaware of Aela's presence. He reached for her arm, his grip firm but not unkind."You need to leave," he said, his voice carrying a weight that brooked no argument. "I can't protect you here.""I didn't come for your protection," Aela shot back, her voice steady but soft. "I came for you."Jon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You don't understand. This is my battle, my mistake to resolve. If they find you, it won't just be me they'll hunt—it'll be you, too."Aela stepped closer, her breath mingling with his in the cold air. "I won't leave you to face this alone."Jon grabbed her by the shoulders, his dark eyes boring into hers. "You have to," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Listen to me, Aela. I need you to go north, toward the Wall. There's a spot a mile out from here where it's safe to wait. I'll meet you there when it's over."She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. "And if you don't?"His grip tightened, his hands trembling slightly. "Then you'll keep going. You'll find safety. You don't owe me this.""I owe you nothing," Aela replied quietly, her gaze unwavering. "But I choose to stand by you."For a moment, Jon said nothing, his expression softening as he studied her face. Then, without warning, he pulled her close, his arms encircling her in a fierce embrace."I can't lose you," he murmured, his voice barely audible."You won't," she promised.Jon pulled back, his hands lingering on her arms. "Go," he said firmly. "I'll find you."Reluctantly, Aela nodded. She turned and disappeared into the forest, her figure swallowed by the mist. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon when Aela spotted the rider. At first, she thought it was a trick of the fading light, but as the figure came into view, her heart seized in her chest.Jon slumped forward in the saddle, his body barely upright as his horse trudged through the snow. Blood stained his cloak, and arrows jutted from his back and shoulder like cruel markers of his defeat. A third was sticking out of his calf."No," Aela whispered, breaking into a run.The horse came to an unsteady halt as Aela reached its side. Jon's head lolled, his face pale and slick with sweat. His eyes fluttered open briefly, and he tried to speak, but no sound came."Easy," Aela murmured, her voice trembling as she steadied him. She carefully pulled him from the saddle, her strength bolstered by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. He groaned in pain as she laid him on his stomach on the ground, her hands moving quickly to assess the damage.The arrows had pierced deeply, and his breathing was shallow. Aela's hands hovered over the wounds, her mind racing."Stay with me, Jon," she said urgently.He blinked at her, his lips forming a single word: "Aela."Her heart clenched at the sound of her name. "I'm here," she said firmly. "I'm not leaving you."Aela glanced around, her sharp eyes searching for shelter. She spotted a crumbling shack a short distance away, its roof partially caved in but its walls still standing.Summoning her strength, she hoisted Jon onto her shoulders, her muscles protesting under his weight. In human form, she was much weaker. She staggered toward the shack, her breaths coming in labored gasps as she fought through the snow. The shack was cold and dark but better than the open forest. Aela laid Jon on a makeshift pallet of furs on his side, her hands already working to remove the arrows.He hissed in pain, his body jerking as she snapped the first shaft and pulled it free. Blood welled from the wound, and Aela pressed a strip of cloth against it, her hands steady despite the panic clawing at her chest."You're going to be fine," she said, more to herself than to him. "You've survived worse."Jon's lips twitched in a faint, pained smile. "Have I?"She met his gaze, her expression softening. "You will," she said firmly.One by one, she removed the arrows, her hands slick with blood. She worked quickly, her movements efficient but gentle. When she was done, she cleaned the wounds with snowmelt and bound them tightly with strips of cloth.Jon's breathing steadied slightly, though his face remained pale. He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a weak but grateful look."You shouldn't have come," he murmured."And yet, here I am," Aela replied, her voice soft.Jon's lips parted as if to argue, but the effort was too much. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing into the furs.Aela sat back, her hands trembling as the adrenaline began to wear off. She leaned against the wall, her eyes fixed on Jon's face. The small shack was deathly quiet save for the soft crackling of the fire Aela had managed to build in the crumbling hearth. Jon lay on the makeshift bed of furs, his face pale and damp with sweat, his breathing shallow but steady. His fever had set in late the previous night, leaving him restless and murmuring in his delirium.Aela sat beside him, her knees drawn up and her back resting against the rotting wall. Her brown eyes never left him, scanning his features for any sign of change. She'd barely left his side since dragging him to the shack, only slipping out once at dawn to fetch fresh water from a nearby stream.When Jon groaned softly, his head shifting against the fur beneath him, Aela leaned forward. She dipped a cloth into the bowl of cool water beside her and pressed it gently to his forehead. His skin was hot to the touch, the fever burning away whatever strength he had left."It's all right," she whispered, her voice low and soothing as she stroked a hand through his damp hair. The strands were thick and unruly, curling slightly at the ends. "I'm here, Jon. You're safe."He mumbled something incoherent, his brows furrowing as though he were trapped in a dream."Shhh," she murmured, her fingers continuing their rhythmic motion through his hair. "No one will hurt you. Not while I'm here."But even as she spoke, Aela's sharp senses remained on high alert. Her ears picked up the faintest noises—the distant rustle of leaves, the creak of snow-laden branches—and her nose twitched at every unfamiliar scent carried on the cold wind. She was ready, poised to act at the first sign of danger.And if it came to that, she would kill them all.The thought came unbidden but resolute. She knew the wildlings wouldn't hesitate to kill Jon if they found him, and she wouldn't hesitate to stop them. Not Tormund, despite his grudging kindness. Not any of them.And certainly not Ygritte.Aela's jaw tightened as she thought of the red-haired woman. She had seen the way Ygritte looked at Jon—possessive, almost predatory. She hadn't spoken of it to Jon, but she knew it was Ygritte's arrows that had done the most damage. There was no doubt in her mind.Her fingers paused briefly in their motion through Jon's hair, her claws threatening to extend before she caught herself. The image of Ygritte's face flashed in her mind, and Aela felt a surge of malice so strong it startled her.She would tear her apart.The thought came swiftly, and for a moment, Aela didn't question it. But then, as the heat of the emotion faded, she sat back, frowning. Why did she care so much? What was it about Jon that had roused such fierce protectiveness—and, if she were honest with herself, jealousy?She glanced down at him, her gaze softening. He looked so fragile now, so far removed from the quiet strength he usually carried. Seeing him like this made something deep within her chest ache, a feeling she couldn't quite name.Jon stirred again, his lips moving without sound. She leaned closer, her sharp hearing picking up the faintest whisper."Wall... I have to... Wall..."Aela frowned, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You're not going anywhere yet," she said softly.His eyes fluttered open briefly, glazed with fever. For a moment, they locked onto hers, and he tried to speak. "Aela...""I'm here," she said quickly, taking his hand in hers. "Rest, Jon. Just rest."His fingers weakly squeezed hers before his eyes drifted shut again. Aela held his hand for a moment longer, her heart twisting. The hours stretched on, and Aela remained by Jon's side, feeding him small sips of water when he could manage it and cooling his fever as best she could.Her mind wandered back to her earlier thoughts of Ygritte. The intensity of her emotions unsettled her. She had always been protective of her kin, her people—but this was different. This was personal.The realization made her stomach twist. She cared for Jon, more deeply than she wanted to admit, and the thought of losing him—or of him choosing someone else—cut deeper than she had expected.She shook her head, trying to clear the troubling thoughts. This wasn't the time for such feelings. Jon needed her focus, her strength.Her hand brushed his hair again, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You're not allowed to die, you know," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of determination. "Not after I've come this far for you."Jon didn't respond, but his breathing seemed to ease slightly as if her presence was enough to comfort him even in his fevered state.Aela leaned back against the wall, her eyes never leaving him. Whatever it took, she would see him through this.While Jon rested, Aela wrestled with her own thoughts. Her decision to escort him to the Wall was final, but the implications weighed heavily on her. Returning to the Were clans after such an act of defiance would not be easy. Her father, Harvald, would not forgive her easily for abandoning her duties, even if it was to save a life.And yet, the thought of leaving Jon alone, wounded and vulnerable, was unbearable.She glanced at Jon, his face peaceful in sleep. The feelings he stirred in her were unfamiliar, a mix of fierce protectiveness and something deeper, more vulnerable. She didn't fully understand it, but she knew one thing with certainty: she would see him to safety, no matter the cost.And if the wildlings came, she would be ready. The fire had burned low, the glow of embers casting faint flickers of light across the cramped shack. Jon stirred on the pallet, his breathing no longer labored but still shallow. His fever had broken during the night, though the wounds on his side and shoulder remained raw and tender.Aela sat on a stool near the hearth, sharpening her blade in slow, deliberate strokes. Her keen ears picked up the shift in Jon's breathing, a telltale sign he was waking. She set the blade down and moved to his side, her brown eyes scanning his face.Jon's eyes fluttered open, their familiar grey finding hers. He blinked, his gaze sharpening despite the lingering haze of exhaustion. "Aela," he murmured, his voice rough."I'm here," she replied softly, kneeling beside him. "How do you feel?""Alive," he muttered, attempting a wry smile that faltered as he winced. "Thanks to you."Aela's lips quirked, but her expression remained serious. "Don't thank me yet. You're not out of the woods." She reached for the water bowl, soaking a cloth to dab gently at his brow.Jon sighed, the cool sensation easing some of his discomfort. "How long... before I can move?""A fortnight," Aela replied firmly. "You'll be well enough to make the journey to the Wall by then. I'll escort you before I journey home."Jon's eyes widened slightly, alarm flickering across his face. "You'd go back through the gorge? Alone?"Aela nodded, her tone calm but resolute. "It's the only way. The way I came."Jon shifted, trying to prop himself up, but Aela's hand pressed lightly against his chest, urging him back down. "You shouldn't have risked that for me," he said, his voice low but laced with emotion. "It's too dangerous.""I would've risked more," she admitted, her gaze steady. "I couldn't leave you to die, Jon. Not after..." She trailed off, her voice softening. "Not after what we've shared."Jon's expression wavered between gratitude and something deeper, though he didn't yet have the words to name it. "I've no right to ask this of you. Your people—""Will understand," she interrupted firmly, though the slight hesitation in her voice betrayed her uncertainty. She glanced away, the weight of her decision settling heavily on her shoulders. "This is something I must do."Jon studied her, his brow furrowed. "Aela..." He hesitated, then reached for her hand. "Thank you. For everything." As the days passed, Jon's strength returned bit by bit, though the pain in his wounds reminded him of how close he'd come to death. Aela remained a constant presence, tending to him with a quiet determination that left him both comforted and unsettled.He couldn't shake the memory of her confession—that she had risked her life to save his. It wasn't just the danger of crossing the gorge that haunted him, but the fact that she had chosen him, a southerner (considered by those beyond the wall) and a crow, over her own safety.At night, when the fever dreams receded, he would watch her as she kept vigil by the fire. Her profile, sharp and fierce, seemed almost otherworldly in the dim light. She was unlike anyone he'd ever known—strong, selfless, and deeply loyal.Jon found himself drawn to her in ways he couldn't fully understand. It wasn't love—not yet—but there was a bond between them that felt strong. He couldn't help but think that maybe in another lifetime she'd be his. He could only wish it and dream it.
South of the Wall
The woods were still, the faint rustle of leaves barely audible over the sound of Jon's labored breaths. Aela dismounted first, her boots crunching softly on the frozen ground. She turned to steady Jon as he swung his leg over the saddle and eased himself down with a grimace, his injuries still far from healed."Careful," she murmured, her hands on his arms to keep him steady.Once he was steady, Aela took the reins of the mare and led her a few steps away. She patted the mare's neck, her fingers brushing through the thick mane as if to soothe herself. The Wall loomed in the distance, the black gate barely visible through the frost-laden trees.Jon stared ahead at his destination. His grey eyes scanned the Wall's towering expanse in the distance, the black gate barely visible from their vantage point. Relief and apprehension warred within him.Aela stepped back, stroking the mare's mane as if to distract herself. Her brown eyes, shadowed with exhaustion, lifted to meet his. "This is where we part," she said quietly, a soft smile curving her lips though her gaze was heavy with sadness. "It'll be safer for you if I don't come closer."Jon nodded, though his jaw tightened. "You'll have a perilous journey back. I should..." He hesitated, his voice trailing off. The Wall needed him, but his heart pulled in another direction. "I should go with you."Aela shook her head, her smile faint but firm. "We both know the Wall needs you more than I do, Jon. Your brothers will need every hand they can get for what's coming. And I'll manage."The thought of her navigating the brutal winter, hostile wildlings, and worse—White Walkers—made Jon's chest ache with a worry he couldn't express. "I don't like leaving you to face this alone," he admitted, his voice low.Aela stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. "When the time is right, I'll reach out again. We'll meet once more."Jon's lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced back at the Wall, then at her, the conflict clear in his eyes. "Take the horse," he said abruptly.Aela shook her head, stepping back and placing the reins in his hand. "No. You'll need her more than I will. She'll get you to the Wall faster, and you're still not strong enough to make the journey on foot."Jon looked down at the reins, then back at her. "You're risking your life for me, and now you're giving me the only chance you have to make it easier on yourself." His voice dropped to a near whisper. Jon's expression softened, though the weight of their parting was evident in his eyes. "You've done more for me than I deserve, Aela. Thank you." His voice carried the quiet sincerity that was unmistakably his.Without another word, he mounted the horse, wincing as the movement jarred his injuries. He urged the mare forward, casting one last look over his shoulder at Aela. She stood still, her figure framed by the trees, watching him go.Only when he disappeared into the distance did she turn and shift into her werewolf form. The transformation was swift, her limbs elongating, fur sprouting along her skin. With one last glance toward the Wall, she sprinted into the forest, heading toward the gorge.
Were Caverns
The warmth of the Were Caverns was a stark contrast to the biting cold of the wilderness, but Aela felt no comfort as she was summoned to her father's chamber. Harvald sat in his carved wooden chair, his broad shoulders tense, his face a mask of barely restrained anger."You've returned," he said gruffly, rising as she stepped inside."Yes, Father," Aela replied, her voice steady despite the unease coiling in her chest."Close the door," he ordered.The heavy wooden door shut with a dull thud, and for a moment, silence reigned. Then Harvald turned to her, his eyes blazing.Aela didn't flinch, meeting his gaze with quiet resolve. "I did what I thought was right.""What you thought was right?" Harvald echoed, his voice incredulous. "You left the Caverns, crossed the gorge, and risked your life for a crow. A southerner."Her silence only seemed to enrage him further. "The world out there took your mother," he said, his voice breaking slightly, "and your brother. Do you think it will spare you?"In a rare, impulsive outburst, he raised his hand and struck her across the face. The sound echoed in the chamber, sharp and loud.Aela staggered but did not flinch. Tears welled in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks, but she remained silent, her head bowed.Harvald's breathing was uneven, his hand trembling as he realized what he had done. Guilt and regret flashed across his face, but he quickly masked it with a gruff demeanor. "Go to your chambers," he ordered, his voice quieter but no less firm. "You are not to leave the Caverns. Not to patrol, not to hunt. Nowhere.""Father—""You think with your heart, not your head," he interrupted, his tone heavy with both anger and sorrow. "You risked everything for a crow." His voice softened as he added, "I'm trying to protect you, Aela. And I will."Without another word, he turned his back to her, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his emotions.Aela blinked back more tears as two guards entered to escort her to her chambers. She followed them without resistance, her mind spinning with thoughts of Jon, her father, and the path she had chosen.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Castle Black
The fire in Jon's chest burned brighter with each passing day. Since his return to the Wall, his thoughts had been dominated by Aela. He hadn’t heard a word from her since they parted ways near the southern edge of the gorge. She’d promised she would return to the safety of her people, yet silence gnawed at his resolve. Nights were restless, and even his brothers noticed the shadow of unease clouding him.The situation had only worsened after Lord Commander Mormont’s death at Craster’s Keep. Jon’s fury at the betrayal, his desperate vengeance for Mormont, and the blood that had soaked his hands during the fight did little to calm the storm within him. He avenged the Lord Commander, but peace still eluded him. Aela's face lingered in his mind, her words replaying endlessly, yet he knew nothing of her fate.One night, as Jon stood atop the Wall during his watch shift, the bitter wind cut through his cloak. He gazed northward, toward the expanse of frozen wilderness stretching beyond sight, wondering where Aela might be. He thought of the gorge, the icy dangers that loomed there, and her father’s wrath. His chest tightened at the memory of her courage, her resolve to protect him even at great risk to herself.A sudden movement above startled him. A large eagle owl swooped down, its wings nearly silent despite its size. It landed gracefully on the edge of the Wall, its golden eyes fixed on him. In its talons was a small, rolled piece of parchment, bound with twine but bearing no symbol. The bird stared at him for a moment before tilting its head and holding the letter aloft.Jon approached cautiously, his hand steady despite the wind. The owl’s sharp beak and talons made him wary, but it held still as he untied the parchment. As soon as the letter was free, the owl lifted off and disappeared into the dark sky.Shielding the parchment from the wind, Jon ducked behind the Wall’s parapet and near the faint glow of a torch. He unrolled the letter carefully, his heart pounding as he recognized the slanted handwriting from his time at the Caverns. It was Aela’s.
Jon,
I hope this letter finds you in good health and safe at the Wall. I made it back to the Weres as promised, though not without consequences. My father was furious, as I expected, and I have been stripped of leadership duties. For now, I am tasked with training the younger Weres, which keeps me occupied.
My people’s traditions are harsh, but their safety is my priority. I accept the punishment without regret. Knowing you were alive and free was worth any price. I couldn’t rest knowing you might have been killed. Even now, I find myself thinking of you, wondering if the Wall’s cold is as biting as our gorge’s winds.
Take care of yourself, Jon Snow. Our paths may differ now, but we will cross each other once more.
— Aela
Jon exhaled slowly, his hands steadying the parchment as his eyes read the words again. Relief washed over him, but it was tempered by the ache of distance. She was alive, and yet her absence loomed as heavily as the Wall itself. Her punishment gnawed at him. The idea of her being stripped of the authority she wore so naturally made his jaw clench. He wanted to protect her, to do something—anything—but the miles of ice and stone made it impossible.The sound of footsteps behind him broke his thoughts. Jon quickly tucked the letter into his cloak as one of his brothers called out, "All clear up here?"He nodded, turning back toward the wilderness beyond the Wall. His gaze lingered on the vast expanse for a moment longer before resuming his watch. In the silence, he whispered her name, the sound of it carried only by the wind. The following day, Jon stood near the rookery, feeding the ravens scraps of dried meat. He watched them squabble, their sharp cries echoing in the cold air. His mind wandered to Aela's letter, tucked safely beneath his tunic. He had spent the night thinking of what to say in return and had finally scribbled a response on a scrap of parchment. Yet, as he gazed at the birds, doubt crept in. How would he even get his message back to her?The piercing shriek of the rookery birds startled him, pulling his attention skyward. He followed their frenzied movements, his breath catching as a massive eagle owl glided down and landed gracefully among the ravens. The smaller birds flapped and scattered, their discontented squawks drowned out by the owl’s commanding presence.In the daylight, Jon could finally see the creature in its full splendor. Its feathers were a blend of tawny and cream, marked with intricate patterns that seemed to ripple with every slight movement. Golden eyes stared unblinking, as though the bird could peer into his very thoughts. Jon stood transfixed, the parchment clutched in his hand.Gathering his resolve, he approached the owl cautiously. It turned its head slightly, watching him without flinching. Jon reached for the pouch of meat at his belt and pulled out a piece, offering it on an open palm. The bird snatched it with a swift movement, tearing into the morsel with its sharp beak.Jon hesitated, feeling almost foolish as he held up the rolled parchment. “This is for Aela,” he murmured softly, as though the bird could understand.The owl tilted its head, its gaze sharp and piercing, before it extended a taloned foot toward him. Jon blinked in surprise, then quickly tied the parchment to the offered limb. He made sure the knot was secure but loose enough not to harm the bird.As soon as he stepped back, the owl let out a loud, echoing hoot and launched itself into the sky. Jon followed its ascent, shading his eyes as it soared beyond the Wall and disappeared into the northern expanse.For a moment, he simply stood there, the wind biting at his face. Then he turned and made his way down to the warmth of the common hall.
Aela,
Your letter brought a measure of peace I hadn’t felt in weeks. Knowing you are safe, even under such conditions, is a relief beyond words. I regret the punishment you face, though I cannot deny my gratitude for what you’ve done for me. Twice now, you’ve saved my life, and I vow to return the favor someday. Perhaps, when I do, you can finally take a rest from rescuing me.
Life at the Wall is grim as ever. We faced betrayal and bloodshed at Craster’s Keep, and Lord Commander Mormont paid the ultimate price. I avenged him, but the weight of it lingers. The Wildlings plot destruction upon us at the wall. I fear we don't have the man power to be successful in defending it. The acting Lord Commander will not see reason. I'm not sure what more we can do in preparation. It feels like there's not enough time.
The few moments of solace I have had has been through sleep. Yet, even then it's not as rewarding. I thought I might see you in my dreams, as you had before, but your absence there troubled me more than I can say.
Keep your courage, Aela. And know that whatever paths we walk, I will not forget what you have done for me.
Yours,
Jon
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Aela's Solar
The day was waning, the pale light of dusk creeping through the narrow windows of the keep. Aela stood by the training yard, watching as the last of the young Weres filtered out, their chatter and laughter trailing into the cold air. She waved them off with a faint smile, then turned back toward the keep, her steps purposeful but weighed down by her thoughts.Inside her solar, the hearth burned low, casting flickering shadows across the modest room. Aela shut the heavy door behind her, leaning against it for a moment. She exhaled deeply, her eyes catching the large eagle owl perched on the windowsill. The creature gave a soft hoot, tilting its head at her.Before she could approach, a knock came at the door."Come in," Aela called, her voice steady despite the faint tension in her chest.The door creaked open to reveal her uncle, Hrolf. His broad frame filled the doorway, his weathered face splitting into a knowing grin as he stepped inside."Thought I'd find you here," he said, his voice warm. His piercing blue eyes landed on the owl, and he held up a roll of parchment. "Imagine my surprise when I intercepted this on its way here."Aela's breath caught as she recognized the parchment. Her letter from Jon. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, but Hrolf only laughed softly, shutting the door behind him."I'm not here to scold you, girl," he said, pulling out a chair and sinking into it. "But I think it's time you told me why you're writing to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."Aela hesitated, her fingers tightening around the back of a chair. She had always been close to Hrolf—closer than she had been to anyone after her mother's death and Ulfric's fall. He had been her rock, her fiercest supporter when others questioned her decisions.Still, the weight of the truth felt daunting."Uncle," she began, her voice quieter than she intended, "I went south because I had to. It wasn't just duty."Hrolf leaned forward, his sharp gaze softening. "Go on, then. I'm listening."Aela moved to sit across from him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She kept her eyes fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth as she spoke."It started after I saved him from the Thenns," she said. "That night, I had the first dream. At first, I thought it was nothing—just my mind replaying the battle. But the dreams didn't stop. They became... clearer. Sometimes, it feels like we're truly speaking to each other. Other times, it's like he's sending me fragments of himself—memories, emotions."Hrolf tilted his head, his expression unreadable."I feel a tie to him, Uncle," Aela admitted, her voice trembling. "Something deeper than anything I've known. When I saw him at the gorge, it was like I knew him. Like we were meant to meet."For a long moment, Hrolf was silent, his gaze searching her face. Then, to her surprise, he smiled."I thought as much," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Do you remember the story of the first Were? The one your mother used to tell you when you were a pup?"Aela frowned, nodding. "The she-wolf and the man who betrayed her. The Children of the Forest created her to restore balance, but...""But men are cruel," Hrolf finished, his tone darkening. "When she revealed her true form, her mate turned on her. He led a hunt against her and their children, driving them north into the gorge. There, she disappeared. But her children rose, filled with the rage of her blood. They hunted their father and his men, avenging her suffering. That was how the Weres came to be—born from the sins of men, tempered by the Children's magic."Aela nodded, the old tale stirring something deep within her.Hrolf's gaze softened. "There's more to that story, Aela. Your mother believed it wasn't just a tale—it was a prophecy. The Children didn't create the she-wolf and the man to punish mankind. They did it to protect the balance. One day, the bond they forged will return—a man and a she-wolf, united not in betrayal, but in love. Their bond will protect us, as the Children intended."Aela stared at him, her heart pounding. "Do you think... do you think it's us? Jon and me?"Hrolf smiled, his expression both knowing and proud. "I think you already know the answer to that, girl. You're bonded to him, aren't you?"Aela swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "I know I care for him. I know he cares for me, too. But... I don't know if we're part of the prophecy. All I know is that we're connected. And I'll find him again. I have to."Hrolf rose from his chair, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Then trust in that bond, Aela. Whatever the prophecy says, whatever fate holds for you, trust yourself. You've never led us astray before."As he left the room, Aela turned back to the owl perched on the sill. She reached out, running her fingers gently over its feathers."We'll meet again," she murmured, her voice steady now. "I know we will."The owl hooted softly, as if in agreement, and Aela let her resolve harden. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it—because she had to.
Dreamland
The firelight flickered against the cavern walls, casting warm shadows over the furs piled beneath them. Jon lay back, Aela's presence above him a comforting weight that eased the cold ache of reality. Her hair spilled around her like a dark curtain, and her eyes, alight with something he could only call devotion, met his own.Jon reached up, his calloused hands cradling her face as if she were made of the most delicate glass. He drew her closer, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. Aela sighed into the kiss, her hand splaying across his chest, her warmth sinking into him like the fire nearby."Stay," he whispered, his voice raw with longing. "I care for you, Aela. I want you to be safe."Her smile was soft, but her eyes glimmered with something unsaid. As he gazed at her, Jon felt the dream shift, the air thickening and the firelight growing dimmer. He glanced down, his breath catching in his throat. Aela's form had changed, her hands now resting on the gentle curve of her belly.She was with child.Jon's fingers trembled as he reached out, his palm hovering over the swell of her stomach. Aela placed her hand over his, anchoring him in this surreal moment. Her eyes held his, filled with a depth of love and certainty that made his heart ache."I'm yours," she murmured, her voice a vow as ancient as the stones around them. "For an eternity."Jon's throat tightened, words failing him as he leaned up to kiss her again, sealing her promise with his own. Though the dream felt fragile, fleeting, he held onto her with everything he had, praying that somehow, when he awoke, the bond between them would remain unbroken.
Dreamland
The dream unfolded slowly, the air heavy with warmth and the faint scent of pine. They stood in a quiet glade, a far cry from the icy chill of the Wall or the shadowed caverns of the Weres. Aela stood before Jon, her hands brushing his as if grounding herself in the shared space.Jon studied her face, etched with worry. Her brow was furrowed, and there was a weariness in her eyes that mirrored his own."You look tired," she murmured, her voice soft, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek. "Too tired."Jon caught her hand, holding it firm against his face. "I'm fine, Aela," he replied, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. "Don't go. Please."Aela hesitated, the air around them shifting as if she were trying to wake. "Jon, I—""Stay," he pleaded, his hand tightening around hers. "Whatever this is—this connection—we don't have much time. Please."Her resolve faltered, and she nodded, stepping closer. Her hand lingered on his chest, over his heart. "There's something I need to tell you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.Jon frowned, his dark eyes searching hers. "What is it?"She took a deep breath, her gaze steady. "The bond we share isn't just chance or fate. It's... older than both of us. Older than the North. There's a prophecy—one I dreamt of before I even knew your name."Jon's brow furrowed, skepticism flickering in his expression. "Prophecies," he muttered, his tone clipped. "They're dangerous things. They twist the truth to fit whatever people want them to mean.""This one is different," Aela insisted, her voice firm but gentle. "It's about a man and a she-wolf. The Children of the Forest created the first Weres by turning a she-wolf into a woman to protect the balance of nature. She loved a man and bore his children, but when she transformed, he and his people hunted her down."Jon's jaw tightened, his skepticism giving way to a guarded curiosity. "What does that have to do with us?"Aela hesitated, her fingers curling into his tunic. "The bond between us—it's like theirs. The dreams, the pull we feel toward each other. The prophecy says their love was meant to protect, to heal what was broken. I think..." She swallowed hard. "I think we're meant to do the same."Jon stared at her, the weight of her words settling over him like a cloak of snow. "I swore vows," he said quietly, his voice laced with conflict. "To the Night's Watch. To serve, to protect. This... what you're saying—""I know what you swore," Aela interrupted gently. "But I also know what's in your heart, Jon. I've felt it in these dreams, in every word we've shared."Jon shifted uneasily, his brow furrowing. "Aela... prophecies are words. They can twist to mean anything. I've seen men die chasing them, believing they were chosen.""But this isn't just words, Jon," Aela pressed, stepping closer. "You've seen it too—these dreams, the way they warn us, guide us. This isn't something I imagined. It's real."He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "Dreams aren't proof, Aela. They're... echoes, shadows of what we fear or hope. I don't doubt your belief in this, but how can you be so certain it's true?""Because I feel it," she said, her voice trembling now, not with fear but with an intensity that made Jon pause. "I've felt it since the moment I saved you from the Thenns. I didn't just see you dying, Jon—I felt you slipping away. And every time since, every dream we've shared, I've felt that bond grow stronger."Jon looked away, his jaw tightening as he grappled with her words. He wanted to dismiss them, to fall back on reason and logic, but the truth was undeniable: Aela's presence in his dreams had been a constant, a solace he hadn't wanted to admit he needed.When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, less certain. "And this prophecy... it says what? That we're meant to... what, save each other? Save the world?"Aela shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. "It doesn't spell out the future, Jon. It's not a map. But it's a truth I feel in my soul. And you feel it too, don't you?"Jon's breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. He searched her face, looking for doubt, for anything to tell him this was all a dream's trickery. But all he saw was the quiet certainty in her eyes, the same certainty that had guided him more times than he cared to admit."I don't know what I believe," he admitted finally. Aela reached for his hand, her touch grounding him in a way he hadn't realized he needed. The dream began to fade, the edges of the glade dissolving into shadow. Aela's grip tightened, her voice urgent. "Stay alive, Jon. Please.""I'll try," he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of her plea.As the dream dissolved completely, Jon woke to the icy chill of the Wall and the murmur of betrayal gathering just beyond his chamber door.
Castle Black
The cold bit deeply as Jon fell to his knees, his gloved hand pressing uselessly against the searing pain in his stomach. The snow beneath him darkened with blood, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The faces of his brothers swam in his vision—some twisted with guilt, others hard with conviction."Traitor," someone whispered, the word cutting sharper than any blade.Jon staggered, his legs giving way beneath him. The world blurred, the cold tightening its grip on him like a shroud. But as his vision dimmed, it wasn't the faces of his betrayers he saw.It was her.Aela's face appeared in his mind, not as he had last seen her in a dream, but alive, vibrant, her eyes glowing with determination. Her voice echoed softly, the words of her last plea: Stay alive, Jon. Please.He wanted to reach for her, to hold onto that fleeting image, but his strength was failing. Instead, he clung to the memory of her touch, the way her hand had lingered against his cheek, grounding him in the dream they had shared.Jon's lips parted, a whisper escaping into the frigid night air. "Aela..."Her name was a tether, pulling him back from the abyss for one last heartbeat. His thoughts raced—regret for the words left unsaid, for the promises he had no time to make. If this was the end, he wanted her to know...
I care for you. I always have.
But the words never passed his lips. His body slumped forward, the snow rising to meet him. Darkness closed in, heavy and unyielding, carrying him far from the Wall and his brothers.In the void, there was only silence—and then, faintly, the sensation of warmth. It was not the warmth of life, but something deeper, more primal. The bond he had shared with Aela flickered faintly, like a flame struggling against the wind.And as the world slipped away, he thought not of his duty or his vows, but of her. Of the woman who had found him, saved him, and changed him.
The Caverns
The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the wind outside Aela's chambers. She lay curled beneath thick furs, her breathing steady as sleep claimed her. The dreams had come more sporadically lately, as though the tie that bound her to Jon was fraying.But this time, the dream was vivid—too vivid.Aela found herself standing in an expanse of shadowy white, the world around her fading into the void. Then, he was there. Jon. His dark curls were matted with blood, his face pale as if the life were already slipping from him.He staggered toward her, his steps unsteady, his hand pressed against a wound in his chest. Red seeped through his fingers, a stark contrast against the snow beneath his boots. His eyes met hers, wide with pain but filled with something deeper—regret, and something unspoken they had both always known."I care for you," he said, his voice weak but firm. "I always have."Before she could respond, before she could move, he crumpled. His body fell into the snow, and the bond that tethered her to him shattered like glass."No!" Aela screamed, running to him, her hands reaching out. But the moment she touched him, the vision faded, and she was yanked from the dream.Aela woke with a sob, clutching her chest as if the pain had pierced her own heart. It was as though part of her had been ripped away, leaving an aching void in its place."It wasn't just a dream," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He's dead."Her tears spilled freely as she curled into herself, the weight of her grief pressing down on her. She could still feel the echo of his presence, faint and fading, like the last note of a song. The man she had come to care for so deeply, the one she felt destined to protect, was gone.