Hopefulness

Hearing the chirping of birds, Jon looked up to see them fly overhead, heading south beyond the Wall. A small breeze rushed up, ruffling his clothes and Jon brought his cloak tighter around him as he did. It was hard to imagine just how cold it was here, the cold of Deepwood Motte paled in comparison. It was equally as hard to believe that he had been comfortable on the Wall at one point.

Tearing his gaze from the birds, Jon looked down at the forest below, luckily a mist hadn't fallen yet allowing a clear view of the ground beneath the top of the Wall. And while the vast open land was completely exposed and empty, Jon could make out the Wildling camp in the forest a few miles ahead. Fires were burning, throwing up smoke into the air.

"Lord Stark." Joer Mormont greeted and despite having gotten used to being referred to as such, Jon still found himself frowning whenever he heard it. "I'm glad you came."

"I couldn't just leave the Watch to face the Wildlings alone," Jon answered.

"Free you maybe, but you're still part of the Watch, aye?" Joer's question went unanswered, but the silence said it all. "Nonetheless, you have my gratitude, I know that considering the war in the North against the Ironborn and the Bolton-Dustin rebellion that it couldn't have been easy agreeing to come here."

Jon nodded his head. "A lot of the castellans were hesitant to agree, a war against the Ironborn has been a constant back and forth between us. And now the Bolton-Dustin rebellion things have become more complicated."

Joer took note of the frustration in his voice and frowned. "I know it's a bit late for this advice, but don't underestimate the Ironborn, a lot of people do. A lot view them as simple thugs and they'd be right. They don't have a trained military, they're a seafaring people and one of the best. But that doesn't mean they're not fighters. What they lack in formations and discipline they make up for in savagery, stubbornness and tenacity."

Jon couldn't help but agree with that sentiment.

Back when the Ironborn first invaded, many had viewed it as a simple nuisance that with the Mountain Clans help would be easy to clean up, even with their superior numbers. Look how that had turned out? Most of the west was in the hands of the Ironborn and while they were currently in a stalemate, things were not looking good.

"Even so, I didn't expect this much trouble."

"You're inexperienced, the Ironborn aren't much threat to a skilled commander like Lord Jason Mallister, but to any other man, they're a very dangerous threat. Would you underestimate a Mountain Clansmen?" Joer asked and Jon shook his head without hesitation, he'd seen the Clansmen fight and they were a sight to behold. "Then don't underestimate the Ironborn cause they're every bit as dangerous."

"I'm going to," Jon said firmly. "Once we're done here, I'm going to end the war. We've already received news that the eastern houses have finally agreed to transfer troops after drawing in practically every able-bodied man they could. That'll give us near fifteen thousand men."

"And your enemies?"

"Last our scouts reported, the Ironborn have less than ten thousand men scattered across the western shore. Five thousand are stationed Torrhen's Square under Victarion Greyjoy. As for the Bolton's and Dustin's, we know that they have seven thousand stationed at Winterfell, but we've also received news that they have a further two thousand stationed at the Dreadfort." Jon stated, the frown growing deeper on his face.

"And what of Catelyn Stark and your brothers?"

"Even if I have to do it myself, I'll sneak into Winterfell and get them out."

Joer chuckled at that. "I believe you. For what it's worth, the Ironborn seemed to have thrown practically man and resources they had into conquering the North, young and old. They're not a rich nation and this reprieve is probably doing more damage to them than they're letting on."

"You've fought them before, right?"

"Mormont Keep has suffered raids from the Ironborn many a time. Though it's always brushed off as exiles or rogues whenever it comes down to it. So, there's nothing we can do to take the fight to them." Here it was Joer that frowned, remembering the hardships of being Lord of House Mormont. "But yes, I have. They're fans of quick hit and run tactics, raiders that's what they are. They don't have the resources nor does the North have resources to sustain conflict on this level. And whereas the North have their pride and a desire to protect homes and get revenge, the Ironborn do not."

Jon nodded his head at this, both men turning to see Samwell Tarly stepping out of the elevator. "I imagine though they'll not be easily ousted."

"Oh no, expect firm resistance. As I said, they're stubborn and tenacious, they'll continue fighting so long as they believe they have a chance of winning. And right now, as much as I hate to admit…"

"They still do." Jon finished, watching Owen Norrey stop Sam. "Let him through Owen."

"Lord Stark, Lord Commander." Sam greeted, looking slightly out of breath and Jon paused to take a look at his friend. He was still incredibly overweight, but he looked to be at least stronger than last he saw him.

"Just Jon, Sam." He told Sam with a smile.

"What do you want, boy?" Joer asked much more firmly.

"A l-letter." He fumbled in his hands a white letter, presenting it to Jon as soon as he got a firm grip upon it. "From King Robb."

Just like he never got used to being referred to as Lord Stark, he couldn't get used to Robb being a King. It was hard to compare the stories of his brother to what he remembered of him. Then again, it was hard to compare the life they once had to the one they were living now.

"Thank you, Sam." Taking the letter, Jon opened it, his eyes flickering across the parchment as a smile slowly came upon his face. 'Though maybe with this, I can finally start to return things to normal.'

"Good news, Lord Stark?" Joer asked and upon realising he wasn't alone and who just exactly he would have to convince now, made his smile slowly slip away.

"Hopefully." Jon turned to Joer with a firm look upon his face. "I need to go beyond the Wall."

-X- Line Break -X-

Theon cautiously followed behind Torren Liddle and Greatjon as they walked through the camp of Mountain Clansmen. He was honestly surprised to find so many still alive, he had thought that all were killed in Winterfell by the Bolton's. It was why everyone had been so shocked, not only had the Bolton's suddenly rebelled but with six hundred men wiped out a defending force of a thousand with what seemed too little to no casualties on their end.

But it seems that wasn't the case. 'They must have been caught off-guard and scattered by the Bolton's.' Looking around, Theon would wager that there was a good few hundred men here which lends credence to his thoughts.

"Lord Umber." Stepping out of a tent, a muscular man plated in the armour of the House Stark guards stepped out, Theon recognised the man instantly as Hallis Mollen, son and heir to House Mollen. And just like he recognised Hallis, he recognised Theon. "Traitor!" The man spat, drawing his blade, but Greatjon stepped in the way.

"Now, we'll 'ave none a that yet. The cunt helped ma escape from the Ironborn, and he knows a way into Winterfell." Greatjon muttered and Hallis seethed, glaring hatefully at Theon as the men around them tensed. Theon honestly feared that Hallis or some other soldier would ignore Greatjons words and attack, but they didn't. They never let go of their weapons, but they didn't make any more moves towards him. "So, who are ye?"

"Hallis Mollen, Captain of the Stark Household guard," Hallis muttered angrily, his failure in Winterfell still burned him, his blood boiling as he thought about it.

"Then what the fuck happened?!"

"Bolton's." Hallis ground his teeth. "They came to us under the guise of helping and Lady Stark ordered us to let them in. We believed they were here to reinforce us. Then they attacked us, slaughtered around two hundred men before we knew what was happening. After that it was chaos, I tried to rally a defence, but the Bolton's just scattered us. I only survived because Torren Liddle dragged me to safety."

Greatjon and Theon looked to the gnarled figure of Torren, the man had certainly seen better days. "How many men ye lost?"

"In Winterfell, we had a thousand, about six hundred were scattered with the remaining four hundred killed or captured. After that, I and Torren gathered around four hundred of the six hundred that escaped. But we got reinforced about a week ago by three hundred Smallfolk. All of them refused to bow to the Bolton's threats of harming the Starks and came to us instead." Hallis explained.

The silence that followed was deafening.

They had only seven hundred men to face off against the rebel force of ten times that number. Certainly not very good odds.

"The plan?" Torren questioned simply after a moment of silence.

"I won't lie to ye lads, it ain't a pretty one." Greatjon sighed out, but a smirk came to his face. "But we'll make the cunts pay!" There seemed to be more than a few that we're pleased with that news.