Special thanks to bluegoldrose for betaing throughout the story.

Image Credit goes to StefTastan on DeviantArt

This piece is largely based on the books, although elements of the show do appear. Namely, Ygritte is more based on her show character, since she was more strongly defined.

YGRITTE

Jon Snow was gone.

One moment, he was hesitating before the old man Ygritte had just killed for him. The next, a grey direwolf had leapt out of nowhere and attacked the Thenns. In the chaos, Jon had fled, cutting his way out through the Thenns and leaping onto the man's horse. Ygritte had called out to him, but he rode off, never looking back. She had tried to shoot the horse down as she chased after him, but couldn't stop him from leaving them, from leaving her.

Why would 'e do this to me? Why, Jon? Yes, he had been a crow, but Ygritte thought he was loyal to her. They had marched together, hunted together south of the Wall, and warmed each other many a night. She knew he had doubts about being free once, but she thought they had left his mind. It was the shock about how wrong she was that made her want to kill Jon as much as his betrayal.

Jon hadn't killed her, that first time they met in the Frostfangs, though he and his crow brother had already killed the other two men with her. Instead, he took her captive. When the murdering crow Qhorin Halfhand told him to "Do what needs to be done," she expected that it would be the end for her. But even then, Jon had spared her. Later, she had joined Rattleshirt's band, and they had cornered Jon, along with Qhorin. She'd spoke up for him when Rattleshirt insisted they gut him, and Jon had killed the Halfhand for them. She had spent almost every day since with Jon, and when Mance ordered Jon south, she went with him.

She recalled the first time she lay with him, shortly after they left the Fist. He had been reluctant at first, and a little clumsy, but he proved to be good, better than most. Better than I expected from a crow. He was gentler than most wildlings, though no less passionate; they had made love three times that night, and once more in the morning.

She remembered that cave they had found, shortly before they climbed the Wall, and the time they spent inside it, and inside each other. It was as if they were the only two people in the world. And 'e did that thing, with 'is tongue. It was then she had realized that Jon was more than just a "good fuck"; she cared for him, and he for her. We should 'ave stayed together in that cave.

They had scaled the Wall together, and she had beheld the green lands of the south with him. He had told her of the Starks, descendants of the First Men, like herself, and of the great keep of Winterfell, where he had lived most of his life, though he had never felt he belonged there. 'e belonged with us. He taught her about the kneelers, and she taught him about how men were meant to live; free, unbound by any foolish laws from some king or lord they'd never seen.

And then, that one dreadful night, everything came apart. Styr had ordered Jon to kill a kneeler; an old man they had captured, and doomed to die soon. Jon had his sword drawn, yet he had hesitated to kill him, even at her behest. So she had killed him for Jon. That's when a great direwolf had attacked. And that was when he had turned on them, cutting his way through Free Folk and Thenns alike and riding off to his crow friends. She had tried to stop him, loosing her arrows at the horse, and in her fury, at Jon as well. She had rushed after the horse, but to no avail. Jon Snow had left her.

The following morning, the wildlings burned their dead and licked their wounds. Jon and that hellhound had left nine of them dead. Del and Bodger were the only ones of the free folk to have fallen that night; the rest of the dead had been Thenns. With five and a hundred warriors, including himself, Styr ordered them north toward Castle Black. Even without the element of surprise, the gate had to fall.

"Damned crow," Styr growled, "If he gets to Castle Black, he'll wake the rest of his crow friends, and they'll come down on us. Watch for horses. If you see any with crows on them, shoot the crows off, and take the horses."

Perhaps the crows had too few men to stop them, or perhaps she Jon had succumbed to the wounds she'd inflicted on him. They saw no crows, live or dead, on their way to the Wall. She did not see any sign of Jon, either, save for some bloody arrows by the road, her arrows, but no body.

They raided an underground village within sight of the Wall a couple days later. It seemed largely empty, and what few kneelers were there put up little fight. Ygritte herself killed some headstrong black-haired lad, one that bore an eerie resemblance to Jon. If the bastard was in her reach, would she kill him? Aye, I'd rip out 'is bastard 'eart, the way 'e ripped out mine. While they stayed a while to take what little the kneelers had left, Ygritte was uneasy.

"We should get movin'." She insisted.

"We wait until noon," Styr explained, "Then we march, reach Castle Black by nightfall. Maybe we'll catch the crows sleeping."

"And then we kill 'em?" Ygritte asked.

Styr nodded, "All of them."

Ygritte scowled, "I know. All of 'em."

"Even your crow lover?" Styr prodded.

"I'll do it meself." Ygritte glared at Styr.

They started down the dirt road to the Wall around noon, marching in brooding silence. Finally, Big Boil tried to sing "The Last of the Giants."

"Shut your mouth." Ygritte growled, "Do you want the crows to 'ear us?!" With that, Big Boil shut up.

"Ygritte," Grigg the Goat asked, "What troubles you?"

"I'm fine!" She glared at him, and Grigg hurried away.

The truth was, she was troubled. Jon would be at Castle Black. If he was alive, it was the only place he would go. And if he was there...if 'e's there, I'll kill 'im. I 'ave to. But could she? The idea of seeing him again made her stomach knot up. But if I don't kill 'im, 'e'll kill me, 'im or some other crow. Maybe he wouldn't kill her, but if he had loved her, why did he leave her?

They reached Castle Black early that evening. When night fell, they attacked.

It was not quite what she expected; Jon had told her all about the great castles of the south, and this did not remind her of them; it looked more like a larger village, and it didn't even have a palisade, like some of the larger villages in the North. Even so, a couple of the towers were even taller than the one by the lake, and there were several large stone buildings, larger than any hall she had seen north of the Wall. She found herself impressed merely by its size.

And the Night's Watch was ready for them. For while they had no palisades, they had makeshift barricades of casks, crates and sacks walling off the buildings. There seemed to be crows at every window and behind every barricade, and on top every tower as well. Yet it was quiet as they approached.

"Damned crow." Styr fumed, clenching his axe, "He wasn't lying after all."

"Bu' 'e said a thousan'," Errok frowned, "Tha' can't be a thousan' crows, or they'd 'ave attacked us."

"How many are there, then?" Asked Big Boil, "A hundred? Two hundred?"

"There can't be that many o' them." Ygritte responded, "Jon was lyin' about that much, I know that."

"Of course you would," Styr shot back, "You had all that crow cock to yourself. And if you'd hadn't let him go, they wouldn't be ready."

Furious, Ygritte grabbed an arrow from her quiver and nocked it. She let loose at one of the crows. The arrow struck him in the head, but he didn't fall. And no response came from Castle Black.

"By the gods, 'e's still standin'!" Quort exclaimed in alarm.

"Aye, 'e's still standin'." Ygritte concluded, "They're made of straw, like those straw crows Mance had us fight against. Now, 'o wants to kill some real crows?"

Styr grinned, and growled something in the Old Tongue as he advanced, followed by his Thenns. Ygritte nocked an arrow, and rushed after him, with the other raiders behind her.

At first, there was no signs of life from Castle Black. Then she heard the sound of horns, two successive blasts in a row. An arrow struck the dirt a few paces in front of her, then a second arrow struck a couple feet behind her. There was a yell, and Ygritte turned to see a Thenn collapse with a shaft in his head. More arrows began flying at them from the towers, and another Thenn crumpled with a grunt. Ygritte spotted a crow, nocked and arrow, shot at him, and to her delight he toppled out of sight. She shot another crow, and cursed when it didn't topple. Straw crow.

The crows that weren't straw continued to loose arrows from their towers, and while they were few in number, they kept picking off Thenns and Free Folk with ease. There were no bowmen amongst the Thenns, but most of the raiders were good archers, and she was the best of them. The crows did not scare her.

Ygritte shot down another crow from a tower. She ducked as a shaft zipped past her, then nocked another arrow, aimed and let loose again. From a window, a crow popped out, an odd-looking short bow in hand. Why's 'e 'oldin' it sideways? She shot him before he could loose, and he did not reappear. She turned, and saw a Thenn gurgle blood as he collapsed, an arrow in his throat. Another Thenn raised his shield to stop a shaft. Ygritte watched Styr lead his Thenns against the barricade. As they clamored over it, one warrior stumbled and fell, an arrow in his back. She looked up, scouring for the archer that had killed him.

On one of the towers there were a couple crows standing unnaturally still. Straw crows. On another, there were four crows, but only one was still. One of the crows was leaning on a crutch, aiming a longbow. On a third tower, there was another crow with a longbow, along with two straw men. She let loose toward the third tower, and the crow disappeared. Ygritte turned toward the second tower, and the crow with the crutches was still there. Then, she paused.

It was Jon.

So I did hurt 'im, badly. But I didn't kill 'im. The other two didn't matter. Swiftly she knelt, drew an arrow from her quiver, and nocked it. Quickly, she raised the bow toward the tower, and pulled back the bowstring. For a few long seconds, the shaft pointed toward Jon, aiming toward his bastard heart, quivering slightly on the bow. Then, for some reason she could never explain, suddenly, she swayed the bow a little to the right, and let loose. The arrow zipped away, less than half a pace behind Jon. He didn't seem to notice at first, but then he turned toward her. Furious at herself, she rushed forward, looking away from Jon. I can't let 'im see me. She grabbed another arrow from her quiver, and fitted it to her bowstring. This time I won't miss. This time-

That's when the arrow struck her. She stumbled, and saw at the shaft protruding from her before she fell.