A/N: I don't write these often but I'll say more characters will be reintroduced and the story won't be confined to beyond the wall and Castle Black. I'm taking this story across the world beyond Westeros. Enjoy the reading.

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The moment the wall gates closed locking him out of Westeros in isolation from the rest of the world a genuine smile spread across his features for the first time since he could remember. Suiting up a Ranger for the Night's Watch was something he'd always wanted. He could never be Jon Stark taking up the mantle from his father, that was always Robb's place. Instead he took pride in following Uncle Benjen's footsteps as the first Ranger beyond the wall. His father's words were always true. 'It's a great honor serving in the Night's Watch; Starks have manned the walls for thousands of years, and you are a Stark you might not have my name but you have my blood.' Another wide smile etched across his face breaking into a full grin at the memory.

"You gunna let me in on the joke or keep em' to yourself?" Tormund asked riding beside the ranger.

"Nothin's funny, just happy I'm where I belong." He said letting the smile's remnants fade.

"Damn straight, fuck the south, this is where real men live. The real north."

"Like you my friend?" Jon asked settling his horse to a slower walk.

"Who else?" Tormund questioned raising his arms boastfully, "I fucked a giantess drinking her tit milk, survived the dead, rode on a fucking dragon, and followed two kings of the free folk in my lifetime."

"I'm no king." Jon replied.

"Ah but you are Jon Snow, you're Mance Rayder's successor. He believed you when you saw the others."

"Aye the others are gone now."

"For the moment, they could return. Winter has ended, seasons end, nights always come."

Jon glared at the wildling lieutenant, "the dead are gone Tormund, the Night King is gone."

"And if they're not?"

"Then we'll be ready."

The traveling Free folk over three hundred men, women, and children rested at White Tree gathering small animals repopulating the forest and collecting any dried wood nearby for the long trip north. The villages south were destroyed beyond repair from the recent invasion, it would probably be the same everywhere else. Heading north was the only way to find out.

Jon slipped Longclaw into it's scabbard after a thorough sharpening in pursuit of a straggler wandering from the group. He followed the sound of twigs snapping coming to a boy around Bran's age when he left Winterfell for Castle Black the first time.

An arrow shot out of a bow missing it's intended target of a lone squirrel resting atop a tree scaring it off.

"You shouldn't wander this far from the group."

The boy turns around staring at him in a mix of shock and awe, "s-sorry your grace." He said kneeling at Jon's feet.

"There's no need for that, there are no kneelers beyond the wall." Jon said holding a laugh back recalling the first time he encountered Mance and Tormund standing in the boy's position.

The boy got up steadily unable to peel his eyes off Jon, "everyone says you're our king, we've all chosen to follow you now."

"That's kind of everyone but I'm not a king just a ranger of the Night's Watch." Jon settled for a solemn smile before speaking again. "If I teach you how to shoot arrows will you stop straying from the group?"

"You have my word your gra— I mean sir."

"Call me Jon." He shook the younger man's hand putting him at ease.

"I'm Oliver."

Jon nods walking toward the tree line relieving Oliver of the bows and arrows aiming at the trees. "Remember once you nock the arrow you need to pull your arm all the way back," he said tugging the string bending the bow, "make sure your elbows are locked in place." The arrow spikes a squirrel splintering the tree's face.

"Woah nice shot, perfect aim." Oliver said ripping the arrow and bloody squirrel out of the tree attempting to hand it to Jon.

"Hang onto it, this one's on me." He hands back the borrowed bow and arrow missing the feel of holding one.

"Thanks Jon." He said tucking arrows onto his back.

Jon nods walking toward the tree line, "Keep practicing and you will be a great marksman."

Oliver stopped himself from bowing, "I'll shoot everyday your—uh...Jon."

"Good we should head back Olly..." Jon halted in his tracks remembering his former steward plunging a knife through his heart. He shook the mental image of Olly swinging lifelessly from the hangman's rope.

A voice frees from his thoughts, "there you are Oliver, how many times have I told you not to stray too far."

"Talia," Oliver said slinging the bow onto his shoulder showing her the dead animal, "Jon taught me how to shoot arrows."

"It was nothing, I was happy to help." Jon said tucking his arms in the warmth of the cloak.

Talia knelt at Oliver's side speaking lowly to him keeping her eyes on Jon. Oliver waves to Jon earning one back leaving to join the group. "Sorry if he caused you any trouble he's always running off recklessly on his own."

"No, it wasn't any trouble at all, your son's a natural archer, he'll be a great one if he practices."

Talia covers her mouth slightly amused, "I'm not Oliver's mother. I am his sister." The brunette said standing closer to the ranger. "Our parents and elder brother fell at Hardhome fighting the others."

Jon sighed turning his gaze to her, "I'm sorry for your loss you two are strong for making it here."

"It's all thanks to you. You saved us when everyone else south of the wall wanted to see us wiped out."

"I did what I thought I was right." Jon rubs the aching scar on his chest over his heart recalling doing what he thought was right got him killed by his sworn brothers.

"That's why we'll follow you wherever," she met Jon's eyes, "everyone's talking about how you're our king now, the king beyond the wall."

Jon chuckled shaking his head, "I'm no king, just a ranger guarding the realms of men."

Talia couldn't hide a grin tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "the free folk follow you because you feel that way, they are right when they say you're not like the other crows, you care about us."

"Aye your not savage people like the rest of the world thinks, just the freest."

"And now so are you Jon Snow," Talia places her hands behind her back retreating the way she came.

"You know my name?"

"Everybody does." Talia disappeared before he caught her name, though he was sure he heard it earlier. She was right; he was free along with the free folk completing Mance's personal manifesto for his people that were now his. Jon fondly reflected on Mance's final words he spoke to him before his execution at the hands of Stannis Baratheon.

Jon pounded on the door waiting to be led out of the stockroom turning to Mance for the last time, "I think you're making a terrible mistake." Jon knew what was coming, it was inevitable since refusing to bend the knee.

'The freedom to make my own mistakes was all I ever wanted.' Mance said showing a real vulnerable fear of death everyone experienced.

"I didn't understand at that time but you were talking about true freedom weren't you?" Jon asked heading off to a particular destination he had in mind since arriving.

Longclaw split the snow in half as Jon kneeled holding the White Wolf hilt tightly resting beneath the massive Godswood. He shut his eyes releasing a chilled breath, "Night Gathers. And now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife. Hold no lands. Father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns through the cold. The light that brings the dawn. The horn that wakes the sleepers. The shield that guards the realm of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch. For this night and all nights to come." 'Kill the boy and let the man rise.' Maester Aemon's words proved true. He was resurrected for the purpose of reclaiming his childhood home, uniting the living to fight the others, and saving the realm from imminent destruction at the hands of his half-aunt and former love Daenerys Targaryen ultimately finding a silver lining in it all. The first time taking the oath of the black he kneeled a boy standing a man. At this moment he knelt a man rising a true veteran ranger of the Night's Watch and to the free folk the King of the 'true north.'

Jon sheaths Longclaw in it's scabbard meeting Tormund's band of lieutenants discussing their camp's current resources and needs. "Where the hell were you Snow? Taking a shit out in the middle of the woods?" Tormund asked.

Jon smirked joining the group, "it was a big one."

Tormund grunted in disgust, "I hope you at least wiped with your hand."

Jon shook his head appreciating the levity "what's going on?" He inquired to the group drawing all eyes to him.

"There are too few horses, we only have a little more than two dozen." Said Axel a former tribe leader of the horn foots.

Tormund grunted again, "we'll just have to catch some fuckin horses when we get out of the forest then."

"How can you be sure we'll find any live horses around?" He asked.

"Look around friend spring and summer are comin, along with it animals, last time I checked horses are animals."

"Tormund's right." Jon said surprising the group. "It's only been a few months since the others came. They herded through the eastern coast to Hardhome all the way to Eastwatch by-the-sea. The wildlife most likely migrated to Frostfangs northwest of Shadow Tower to avoid their path."

"I see makes sense," Brielle said tying her raven hair in a ponytail, "the squirrels are already here and we're not a full day's ride from the wall. I guaran-fuckin-tee you there are horses roaming around up north."

"That settles it then, we'll find horses after we get out of this forest, we will need em to cross the distance." Jon said adjusting his gloves glancing at the five free folk lieutenants. "I'm thinking of heading East to Storrold's point—Hardhome."

"Hardhome?" Brielle scoffed, "that place is a ruin like all the rest."

"Everyone died, what point would there be in returning?" Rowan a veteran solider questioned.

"We don't know that," Jon stepped toward the group, "the surrounding cliffs are abundant with caves, our people are survivors. It's possible they're out there."

Tormund shakes his head scratching his beard, "I highly doubt it, but what other choice do we have? Live in the fucking mountains?" He snorts spitting on the ground making his stance transparent.

Brielle sighed placing a soothing hand on her forehead, "you're right unfortunately we have to go back. What about food? I don't mean to be picky but squirrels won't last us until we reach Hardhome." She said folding her arms.

Jon glanced at the ground contemplating their options, "we head north of Craster's old keep gather food and fresh water on the banks of Milkwater. It will detour us a bit but it'll prove necessary."

The small group nodded in agreement heading off to pack their belongings and families for the day's trip. Tormund clasps Jon's shoulder when the ranger finished supplying his horse's saddle. "Mind telling me who that fine piece of ass staring at you is? Never seen her before." Tormund said looking in Talia's direction licking a palm slicking his hair back.

Jon met Talia's eyes from across the way. She offered a warm smile turning back to her friends in a faster manner. "She's very kind, just not my type."

Tormund bellowed a laugh, "I forgot you like pretty redheads, got plenty of those round here."

"There's no time for that, besides I can't take a wife or father any children."

"You're too honorable Snow it sometimes makes me sick. You could just easily stick your cock in em' for a night." Tormund grinned settling his own horse, "I also forgot you like em in southern dresses." He said leading the horse toward the group preparing to depart.

He pondered Tormund's words a moment more narrowing his eyes at movement beyond the tree line meters away. Jon rests a hand on Longclaw's hilt glaring at the spot he'd last seen the movement. As quick as it came the tension left his body seeing Ghost coming straight for him, "Hey boy," Jon runs his gloved hands over the dire wolf's fur clutching his face, "a bird? How in the seven hells did you get that?" The ranger asked picking remnants of feather and bone between Ghost's teeth. "At least I know your animal instincts are working, come on lets go boy." Jon climbs on his horse taking his place at the front of the herd with Ghost by his side leaving the abandoned White Tree behind.

The free folk huddled together crossing the Haunted Forest's territory faster than any time previously eager for the journey ahead. During Mance's reign there was never time enjoy with their loved ones. There was constant tension between the six sub groups of free folk: the forest dwellers, frozen shore tribes, Frostfang mountain Hornfoots, the face painted cave people, the cannibalistic Thenns, and the last of the giants was at an all time high due to the looming threat of white walkers. Since the long night passed the ninety individual tribes within the six subgroups were in a state of peace.

Next morning's sunrise was a sight to behold as the free folk climbed over the hill coming to the sight of where Craster's Keep stood before burning to the ground. Trees were chopped down around the surrounding area then hauled to carvers turning logs into timber for the keep's reconstruction. Jon's group set a few logs down collapsing from exhaustion. One at a time workers tapped Jon's shoulders leaving him atop the log pile. "You gonna work or just sit there all day Snow?" Tormund discarded two logs off his arms adding to the stack.

"Just-give me-a second." Jon heaved holding a hand out. The month of captivity in King's Landing hampered his stamina; swordplay would be fine, hard manual labor was an entirely different matter.

"Your offer still stands about this place?" Tormund questions sitting beside Jon pouring the canteen's contents on his face shoving it in Jon's hand.

"Aye the offer stands, ten families are staying behind to finish the keep and call it home." Jon raised the canteen above his mouth receiving droplets. He grunted tossing the empty container at Tormund.

"Can you two slackers move already, we have work to do." Jon and Tormund turned toward a girl of nearly eight holding her hands on her sides with a dagger for the purpose of carving.

"You get no argument from me." Tormund stood holding his hands up defensively getting back to work.

"Sorry about that miss, don't let me bother you." Jon said wiping a brow preparing to depart for Milkwater's banks a half a day ride from their position.

The girl's eyes resembled saucers staring at Jon, "your the king of the north." The girl spoke causing Jon to face her again.

"No," Jon smiled, "the north belongs to the Starks."

"But you're a Stark."

Jon furrows his brows unsure of what he was. Being Lyanna Stark's and Rhaegar Targaryen's child hadn't settled yet, he would always consider Ned Stark his father. All that mattered was his maternal mother Lyanna was not a southern born noblewoman, fisherman's wife, or a whore like he'd been led to believe growing up. The stories he heard of his mother were overwhelmingly great, she was a strong willed honorable woman. His maternal father Rhaegar was demonized in the stories saying he kidnapped and raped her hiding in Dorne contributing to the outbreak of Robert's Rebellion. Jon was less at peace with his Targaryen bloodline. Sharing both lines proved a gift and curse; in the end he chose Stark over Targaryen the moment he stuck a knife in his aunt. If he grew up Aegean Targaryen alongside Daenerys across the Narrow Sea it could have easily gone the other way. He recalls recoiling at Dany's proposed vision for 'the new age' she wanted to create. The once volatile pure Targaryen bloodline was wiped out, but the Starks lived on ruling Westeros. At this moment Jon felt content being a Snow wearing the title of bastard like armor like he always had.

Jon's smile grew, "I'm not a Stark, just a bastard serving in the Night's Watch." He replied. The young girl embraced the ranger catching him by surprise.

"You're more than those things to us, your our king, who we'll follow anywhere. You're the king of the true north—don't forget that."

"I won't." Jon wrapped a gentle arm around her for a moment, "make sure to watch over your family and neighbors. This will be a nice place to live."

"I promise I will." The blonde girl grinned happily getting to work. Jon smiled at the sight feeling pride course through his veins heading to collect his horse.

Ten families consisting mostly of children and old people said their farewells to the traveling caravan journey northeast. "Anything you need call on us, you have our word we'll turn this barren land into a thriving settlement." Joseph a former tribe leader said exchanging a handshake sharing mutual respect.

"I have no doubt you will my friend. I only ask Watchmen traveling through receive a night's rest and a hot meal for the trek up north."

Joseph nods agreeing to the terms, "it shall be done my king." Jon held himself back from renouncing the title of 'king.' Even If he did it wouldn't change much, he was bonded to the free folk the moment he let them through Castle Black's gates to safety and died for the act. So long as he held no crown and sought no glory in conquest he could keep to his oath.

The caravan waved to the families saying their final goodbyes until they vanished fading into the forest. The families turned to one another sharing embraces eager to begin their new lives building a community on ashes of the old. Their new king Jon Snow gave them a surge of hope they desperately searched for after Mance's execution. Joseph wipes tears from his eyes pulling his wife and daughter closer staring in the direction where Jon and the others left moments earlier, "damn you young ones, damn you." He said continuing the reconstruction of the keep.

Jon chugged greedily from his canteen hoping to rid of slight dehydration from the trip settling underneath a tree. Having to travel through the night until morning took its toll on them, they would need to recuperate for a day to complete the second half of their journey through the woods. The ranger threw his head against the tree listening to Milkwater's rushing stream releasing a ragged breath. Jon's eyelids fluttered closing on their own as his breathing evened out—he needed sleep."

Bark! Bark! Bark!

Jon's eyes snapped open to the sight of Ghost barreling toward him. "Ghost? What is it boy?" He hardly seen his companion move like this without threats present. "What is it Ghost?" Jon steps back from the frostbitten arm dropping from the direwolf's jaws. Time slowed as Jon took another step back tuning out Ghost's howls staring at the dismembered flesh. In a flash Jon was on horseback trailing Ghost through the forest at high speeds pushing his horse to the limit.

Tormund drops firewood into a large pile finishing his campsite pausing at the distinct sound of hooves pounding into the ground at a rapid pace. He sprints for his horse witnessing Jon race through the forest dodging trees in pursuit of Ghost.

"Snow where the hell are you running off to?" Tormund yells a distance away only receiving silence. He trailed Ghost and Jon's trajected path finally catching up to the pair, "you trackin something or what?"

"Shut up and follow me!" Jon said pulling on the reins tightly turning sharply hot on Ghost's trail west delving deeper into the forest straying from the caravan. Tormund didn't argue rarely seeing Jon this determined without a purpose, whatever bothered him was legitimate.

Ghost slowed his sprint entering fog as the trio came to a small clearing a few hundred meters from the river. Jon and Tormund hitched their horse following the direwolf on foot toward the field's center. It felt like an eternity before one of them moved listening to dead silence watching the mist dissipate. Jon was first to step forward passing his loyal companion who dropped the arm pedaling back towards Tormund.

Jon's arms dropped to his sides seeing the swirly pattern of half buried hands and arms decorating the snow. "It can't be..." Jon clenched his fists tightly swallowing hard glancing at Ghost and Tormund.

"For fuck's sake." The wildling lieutenant said placing a hand on his forehead in disbelief.

The battle against the dead wasn't over.