Jacob I

Prince Jacob stood in a corner with his eyes on the wildling princess Val, as she was with two other wildlings. Her long, blonde braid and white furs made her a true northern beauty, the kind that could rival the ladies of the South.

The young man wasn't sure whether she would talk to him or puncture her spear into his heart.

The conditions on the Wall made him grit between his teeth. Jacob hated the cold, but he knew his time here couldn't be too long and he was ready to spill blood in the North.

"Gods….will any of our men survive the days being here or will a few die due to the conditions."

Prince Jacob's eyes were still on the wildling princess, but the stern words of his father were ringing in his head, imploring him to stay away from the woman because she was a wildling and a savage, in the eyes of his father.

He was walking through the treks of snow across his boots. He was alone, and he didn't have Sorrell around him, but he knew he had to not get attached to the man for good reasons.

Jacob sensed his heart was hardening by the second. It was happened when he got older, hardened and more aware of how the world actually was in this new grey view.

Being a prince, heir to the ugliest chair in the kingdom and a high value target made Jacob a lot less reckless in what he was doing; he was more calculated in his actions and began to play the game, as he and his father are getting closer to the end goal.

To be sat on the Iron Throne with the bodies of all their enemies lying in the throne room.

His presence on the wall caused a lot to stare, as if none of the Night's Watch had never had visit from royalty before, and they were saved by the rightful king. Not the usurper, who try to hold his father's throne.

Seeing Val made Jacob think of his inevitable wife, of how she would be and which house will she be from. Will she be pleasant looking? Will she be of a wealthy house? Will she be able to take on the mantle of princess and then queen?

"Where is Sorrell, he should be with me, as he is my sworn shield after all." The prince muttered to himself.

The prince's father was right about one thing. To never grow attached to people because they can turn quickly and can become another enemy to be killed.

Sorrell was a man of the Reach, from a house sworn to the Tyrells and he had disobeyed his own liege just to keep Jacob alive and to help him on his journey to get home to his family and to resume his role, as heir to the throne.

Duty was paramount in the eyes of King Stannis, and everything else just got in the way or needs to be disposed or killed off.

Prince Jacob strolled through the snows of the black castle, and wrapped his arms around himself.

The prince was old enough, to make his own choices and not be so reliant on his father's counsel, but it was a hard decision to think about, as it was going to determine his future. He was a future king, and he needed to start acting like it.

He began to walk into the Lord Commander's Tower, as it was dark and smelled of old smoke. It must have been when the old Lord Commander was killed.

The air thickened, as Prince Jacob walked up the steps. Some of the tower still remained, even though two floors of it were burned and ruined. The blackness within the tower released a haunting whisper, echoing the atmosphere. It made the prince shake his head.

He heard voices, when he was getting closer. Prince Jacob didn't understand how Jon could stay in this place, even after the Lord Commander before him died in this very tower.

"I would never understand the way of life here. I am highborn, my uncle had been king and was lucky to be afforded the privileges that noble society has given me."

As he got there, he saw the faces of Jon and Samwell. His eyebrow was raised, and he didn't understand how he and the Tarly boy were distant kin and he didn't inherit the ugliness of the members of House Florent.

"Your Grace, how can I be of service?" Samwell said, turning his head to face the prince.

"I hear you are to be departing from the Wall." Prince Jacob replied.

"I am to train to be a Maester for Castle Black."

"I heard two Queen's Men have gone south of the Wall." Jon inquired.

"Horpe and Massey were commanded to go; I wanted less Queen's Men around to cause trouble for the black brothers."

"Gilly and Maester Aemon will be accompanying me to Eastwatch by the sea to make the journey to Oldtown."

Prince Jacob saw the glow in Sam's eyes when he mentioned the wildling girl, he must care for her a lot and has to deal with criticism from the other black brothers about her presence on the Wall.

He wished he found someone, who would care for him beyond him being the rightful prince and highborn. Someone who would be with him, and not having to call him Your Grace all the time.

Samwell mentioning Oldtown stirred something within the Prince, as it made him remember how it was where he ended up after the end of the Battle of Blackwater. He had the luck of the seven on his side of not being caught and killed.

"May the Seven bless you on your journey, Samwell." The prince said lightly, as it was not a tone he would use often.

"I would say the same to you, Your Grace."

"Be careful, Samwell. The south isn't too kind these days, there is still a war going on and much of it is controlled by the Lannisters or the Tyrells."

"We are of the Night's Watch; we are to remain neutral in political matters."

"True, but it wouldn't apply to those foolish enough to think you are allied with my father."

Jacob was worried about Sam; he was journeying into the south with a maester and a wilding girl.

All he knew was that the Lannisters and Tyrells ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but it wouldn't last for long, as there will be power struggles between the two rich houses. He learned an important lesson from the game of thrones.

No powerful house will want to share power with a house they feel is beneath them.

Prince Jacob felt out of place. Jon and Sam were close friends, and trusted each other more than anything in the world. It gave a cruel reminder, of how his mind was still stuck to the past in that regard.

"I need to stop thinking about the past, I thought I had gotten over it. However, it still hurts to see other people happy and I am just stuck in a hole of darkness."

"I hear you will be married soon, Your Grace." Sam announced, "You will be someone's lord husband soon."

"My marriage problems shouldn't deter you from your own quest. It will be a long and hard journey, and I hope you come back alive." Jacob replied.

"I didn't know you thought so highly of me, Your Grace."

"I realised that I should be fearing my own mortality, going onto another battle and fighting again."

"Death will come for us all, Your Grace." Jon said cryptically, as the prince knew what he was talking about.

"Unless everyone else can put their petty squabbles behind them and focus on preparing for the winter."

"Banding rival groups together is not easy, and I have seen first-hand."

Prince Jacob chuckled, even though the bitter enmity between the black brothers and the wildlings was not good because his father intended to band to two together. It's a good idea in writing, but putting it into action was another task.

"I am prepared to take my leave, and I will be there to see you, Gilly and Maester Aemon off." The prince said.

"I'm honoured by such a kind gesture, Your Grace. You must have more important things to do."

"Not so much, other than war strategy for long hours of the day. I'll be glad to take a break away from reading maps of the North for most of the day."

"Is it true, you got your scars from the Blackwater and the battle south of the wall?" Samwell asked, looking directly at the scar beneath his eye, and the one on top of his lip.

"My uncle always says that battle scars make the warrior."

"My condolences for your loss, Your Grace."

"It matters not, people die all the time and soon enough we will be dead too." Prince Jacob said.

"It's a bold thing to say, Your Grace." Jon said.

"I say it because I believe it to be true. It matters not what the lords and ladies think, I believe this winter will be a harsh one and whatever is behind the wall must be stopped."

"The white walkers."

"I read something in a book in Oldtown when I was younger of how Valyrian steel can kill of the cold monsters, as those kinds of weapons were made in ancient Valyria in dragon fire."

The idea of death intrigued Jacob, and sometimes it made him wish he could have died on the Blackwater. To not have the weight of being a prince, a future king and a future husband on his shoulders and he could be elsewhere.

It was hard, to live in a world that was empty and cold. The people in it were the shadows of who they used to me and were shells of who they were. Shells filled with the illusions of power, grandeur and status.

Jacob didn't want it, but by honour and duty those titles were forced on him. He had to bear the brunt of it. His father didn't have much time left; he was getting older, thin and gaunt by the days.

It might have the coldness and the discomfort gritting his bones, but Prince Jacob brushed a part of his hair backwards, as it was growing longer. It might even had been longer than Uncle Robert's, when he was young and in his prime.

The prince made his leave of the Lord Commander's Tower with his black cloak following him from behind his still and cold blue irises.

"Why am I overthinking, making rash choices and slipping back into the comfort of being my father's favourite soldier?"

The thoughts rattling into the prince's mind, and he was close to lashing out in the open. His cruel, snappy mind didn't leave him alone, as he was stuck with those thoughts, as an extension of the feelings he had pushed down in favour of following his father without question.

The crossroad of manhood was not as easy as lords claim it to be. It's internally suffocating to try and live up to the expectations laid out in front of young men. Crippling self-hate and the self-doubt is in there all the time.

Jacob feels he is always on a hangman's noose, whether to be hanged for failure or to be set free for following duty and nothing else mattered.

Prince Jacob was bored; he was sick of reading maps and the limited books inside the keep. It was the day after he spoke with Jon and Samwell about the latter's journey to the Citadel to train and become the new master for Castle Black.

It was a noble endeavour, even if his own father Lord Randyll didn't see it that way, like many of the manly and brutish high lords.

He was accompanied by Ser Sorrell Grimm, the knight who owed a lot to him. The knight wore more layers, as he understood it. Sorrell was born in the south and has not visited the cold region of the North before.

The prince stood with the knight, as the two were inside the common room of the castle. As it was the only part of Castle Black that was properly warm and had a fire going on. Most of the black brothers were finishing their morning meal.

"I'm sorry, if I have acted improper towards you." Jacob said, walking with the knight.

"What do you mean, Your Grace?" Sorrell asked.

"I may act out of character, but the cold is getting into my bones."

"Mine too."

"Us southerners are not cut out for the cold weather. How are we going to survive the rest of the war?"

"Luck and faith from the Seven, Your Grace."

"I'm not sure luck will help us, there is only so much luck can do for someone before they realise it was their perseverance that helped them through tough times."

"How did you become so sceptical about such things, Your Grace?"

"I'm starting to think wider and outside of my own mind. It's something that Jon said that made me realise the hardships of what we are going to face."

"As long as you have a clean sword and a good eye, you will be fine."

"I hope you are right, if you are not, then you will be dead before me."

Prince Jacob then heard irate voices in his ear, as he turned around for it to be Jon and that lumbering fool Janos Slynt. He never liked the man, and he took a liking to watching men like him be humiliated or being ordered around.

And then he saw a crowd of men, from his father's army, the other black brothers and others surrounding them. The prince stood up, and the knight followed behind him to see what the dispute was about, as it has many men interested.

The iron prince stood beside Jon and the other men stepped back, as most didn't know the prince was in their presence.

"I see you are failing to comply with the orders of your Lord Commander." Prince Jacob said sternly.

"I didn't vote for this traitor and bastard." Slynt replied with anger in his tone.

"Brother Slynt, you were ordered to take command of the castle of Greyguard." Jon commanded.

"He has been elected, and you should respect the decision made by most black brothers, who did vote for him."

"With all due respect, Your Grace. He is too young for such a title, being young and inexperienced gives him the licence to do what he wants."

"Punishment for refusing a direct command is death." Jon said.

Prince Jacob didn't like it when men would grovel to him, but he only liked it when they would beg for mercy from getting killed by a sword.

"Just because these fools voted for you, it doesn't mean I must be ordered around by a bastard, who seems to have most of these men heeding your commands, and that scarred prince favouring you but not me."

"Your Grace, should I cut off his fingers." Sorrell shouted, etching to pull out his sword. He was tensed, as he wanted to defend the prince's honour, even though he can do it on his own.

"No…it's the Lord Commander's choice to make about his punishment." Jacob said, with his hand out. As the knight put his sword away.

Jon cleared his throat and said. "Take Slynt to the top of the Wall and hang him." He instructed to two black brothers, who seem eager to do so.

"You will not through with such a thing, Tywin Lannister will have his retribution if I am harmed." Slynt says arrogantly.

Prince Jacob and Ser Sorrell began to laugh, as he knew what really happened to the Old Lion, who claimed to shit gold. He was dead, as will be the rest of house when he and his father were on the throne.

"You cannot do such, Slynt. Tywin Lannister is dead, and you are making empty threats just to save yourself."

"Liar, you are telling lies to further your own father's agenda."

"No, it's true my lord. He is dead, he was murdered by his own Imp son. The same one who sent you here."

Janos Slynt's eyes widened, whilst he was being taken by the two black brothers. He looked as if he had seen something come back from the dead. It was satisfying to see fear in the eyes of men, who think they cannot be afraid of anything in the world.

"Your Grace, I apologise for my comments. Stop this execution….." Slynt complained.

Most of the men went outside, as they were following wherever the Lord Commander went with a slightly imprisoned Slynt, who was to be hanged for all men to see.

Outside was a different story, as it was colder than inside the common room. Jacob with Sorrell behind him were in the mist of the black brothers, as they witness Janos Slynt, a man who used bribes and scheming to get ahead, to be pulled down to a lowly rat in need of killing.

"Are you going to let him kill me?" Slynt yelled, as Jacob ignored him. It was cruel to say he wanted the man to die.

For the things, he had done to others and how the blood of Ned Stark is still on his hands.

All the brothers on the Wall gathered around, along with the King's and Queen's Men of his father's army. They were all together to see an execution, and hopefully it would send a signal to Throne to stop his scheming against the Lord Commander as well.

"Edd, fetch me a block." The Lord Commander said, as the black brother named brought him one.

Prince Jacob has seen his fair share of blood and mauled bodies, but it didn't stop him from wanting to see this insubordinate fool dead in front of all the Night's Watch and his father's men to see.

Slynt was placed on the block with his head bent on the block of wood. He looked to be scared by the tears streaming from his eyes, but none of the other men saw it. The prince looked up at the King's Tower to see his father on the steps.

"What is father doing, he must want to watch Slynt get his head chopped off. Or is he inspecting me, judging and criticising my lack of involvement in the situation."

Jacob ignored the sight of his father watching, and focused on the beheading itself. He had Sorrell with him, as the southern knight's eyes widened and stepped back. He must have seen his fair share of beheadings for small things in the south.

Jon pulled out his sword, as it was Valyrian steel with a sharp silver edge. It had the hilt of a wolf on it, even though it must have belonged to the old Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont; he never saw Jon with a sword like that in Winterfell.

Slynt looked to be scared, and he began muttering like a mad man. "Have mercy my lord. I will obey your orders; I will be insubordinate no more."

"Too late for that." Prince Jacob thought in his mind. He folded his arms, and watched in silence among the others.

"Please, my lord. Mercy…I'll go….I will….I." Slynt begged, but the swing of the steel sword swiftly takes his head quickly, spilling the blood from his headless body.

The prince's eyes widened, and covered his nose. He was used to blood from the battlefield, but not executions or beheadings, as his mother would always keep him from them.

At the corner of the prince's eye, he saw his father Stannis standing there. Looking at Jon, as a sign of having earned the rightful king's approval and trust. It was vital to catch the king's attention, and this beheading did and he had his eye on the Lord Commander.