The cell lay deep in the cellars of the commander's tower, with only a narrow air vent admitting a little starlight.
Jon sat on the floor with his back against the cold wall, his arms wrapped around his knees and his head buried deep in the crook of his arms.
After the immense shock came despair and cold, surging over him like a tide.
The king wanted to kill him. The Night's Watch had handed him over.
His father lay in a dungeon in King's Landing, his fate unknown.
His life seemed to have plunged into the darkest abyss in a single instant.
The Night's Watch oath?
Night gathers, and now my watch begins-
The oath seemed so hollow and laughable now.
The kingdom he watched over could hardly wait to send him to the executioner's block.
Time passed in deathly silence and cold.
Jon had no idea how long he had been sitting there. Even his consciousness had grown hazy.
Suddenly, he heard extremely faint voices outside the door, deliberately kept low.
"-Fucking freezing-going for a piss-keep an eye on things-"
A guard's complaining voice gradually faded into the distance.
Then came a faint but distinct click.
Jon jerked his head up, his heart pounding.
In the darkness, the door slowly opened a crack.
A tall figure in a heavy black cloak slipped inside and quickly shut the door behind him.
The visitor lowered his hood, and by the faint starlight coming through the vent, Jon made out his face.
Lean and stern, with keen black eyes-and an extraordinarily complicated expression Jon had never seen before.
Ser Alliser Thorne?
Jon's body instantly tensed, and he instinctively clenched his fists.
They had clashed fiercely earlier that day, and Thorne had done everything he could to humiliate him.
*What was he