Once again Devan was locked in a cell. At least he wasn't in shackles this time. And, as opposed to the cell in the capital, this cell had a bed, and food was served regularly. Commander Snow didn't seem to want to punish him too harshly for his escape attempts, probably because of his friendship with Devan's father.

Devan had been at Castle Black for about a month now and he had already tried to escape about a dozen times. Usually, his punishment was a day or two locked in this cell, then they let him out again, and then he tried to escape again. The guards outside the castle always caught him and brought him back since the brothers of the Nightwatch were supposed to stay in Castle Black or any of the other castles along the wall.

But Devan didn't intend to stay.

There must be a way. There must be a way for him to get back to Brynda and his child. And he would find it.

He sat on the bed, contemplating his next escape attempt when he heard the lock on the door opening. As he looked up a man entered. Tall with a red beard and a grin on his face. Tormund Giantsbane.

"I heard you tried to run again, little sea bird," Tormund said and shook Devan's hair roughly.

"It's Seaworth, I've told you that... and one of these days I will leave you all behind for good," Devan replied.

"I'll believe it when I see it...." Tormund muttered and sat down on the bed, making the whole rickety construction shake.

"And how do you plan to hide that?" he asked and pointed towards Devan's hands. On the back of both of them were black tattoos in the shape of snowflakes. The mark of the Night's Watch. All the men had been marked with them when they arrived, signifying that a man belonged at the wall and should be returned there if found elsewhere.

"I'll just wear gloves I guess..." Devan replied. "But do they really have to mark both hands?"

"Well, a man might be desperate enough to cut off his own hand. But he wouldn't be desperate enough to cut off both. To not be able to eat, fight, hold your own child. It wouldn't be worth it. Not even for freedom. Because how free would you be?"

Devan glared down at the tattoos again. It was true of course. He doubted he would ever be that desperate.

"Why are you even here yourself?" Devan asked. "You're not a prisoner. You can leave at any time."

"I'm here because Jon asked me to help him after we lead my people back beyond the wall," Tormund replied. "But I can leave just like you can. Everyone here is free to leave and go beyond the wall if they want. Wildlings and crows. But they don't want either of us in their kingdoms down south. Most men just chose to stay here. Because here they are fed and clothed. They get a bed to sleep in. Living beyond the wall is harsh if you're not used to it."

"I don't want to go beyond the wall... I want to go home."

"That you can't do. You know that, sea bird. And I don't blame you. If I had your woman, I would want to be with her too. If she's anything like her cousin."

They had talked several times since Devan arrived, as the wildling man had been eager to hear what "the large woman," as he called her, was up to. Once he found out that Devan was in love with Brienne's cousin, Tormund had wanted to know all the details. All the raunchy details. Devan hadn't told him anything, not even about a certain encounter on a couch, but that didn't mean Tormund stopped asking.

"Brynda sure is a great woman," Devan said with a smile. "Her cousin Brienne is a bit too rough for my taste though. She manhandled me quite well when they threw me in prison."

"That's why I like her," Tormund said with a giant grin on his face. "So, did she talk about me?"

"I was in a prison cell when I met her. She didn't really talk about her love life..."

"So, she has a love life then?" Tormund asked with a hurt expression on her face. "She's found someone else..."

"I don't know... I was in a prison cell! But I think King's guards take a vow of chastity, so I wouldn't think so."

Tormund looked relieved. "I'm sure she would break it for me though."

Devan rolled his eyes. This was not the first time they'd had this very discussion. It never led anywhere.

"If I were to leave here and go beyond the wall," he asked. "Is there a way to get back to Westeros from there?"

"The castles along the wall are all guarded, so unless you want to climb over the wall...."

"There's a hole in the wall."

"That hole is guarded by the Night's Watch as well."

"There must be a way..."

Tormund got up from the bed and sighed. This was not the first time they had this discussion either, and it also never led anywhere. "Come on, sea bird," he said. "Let's get you out of this cell. There's some warm food down in the hall."

***

The hall was full of young men. All frozen, lost, and grumpy. All dressed in black. All with the same tattoos on their hands. None of them wanted to be here, but none of them could leave. Not even the commander.

Devan sat poking around in his stew. It didn't look very appetizing. It was unclear which animal the meat even came from. Tormund, who sat next to Devan and happily chowed down his meal, claimed it was beaver tail. That did not make the meal more appetizing. Devan usually wasn't very picky when it came to eating, but the rubbery texture of the meat made even him lose his appetite.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder, and he turned around. "Seaworth," Jon Snow said. "So, you didn't go for the immediate escape upon release this time."

Jon sat down next to him, also with a bowl of stew in his hand. His dire wolf Ghost jumped up next to him on the bench. Devan flinched a bit as the wolf sniffed his hair and tried to put its nose in his stew. As the wolf's tongue started to lick the contents of his bowl, Devan pushed it towards the animal. He didn't want to eat it anyway, and apparently, Ghost found beaver tail to be a delicacy.

"I figured I would at least get something to eat first," Devan replied.

"Well, you're not exactly eating your food, are you?" Jon replied and gestured towards Ghost, who was munching beside him.

"Maybe you should serve better food..."

"You know they used to hang men who escaped," Jon said in a sharper tone. "You're lucky I'm a kind commander and that I knew your father. A dozen escape attempts should at least have earned you a lost hand or a banishment beyond the wall."

"I don't think I'm exactly lucky..." Devan grumbled. "Then I wouldn't be here. Doomed to serve a punishment for a crime that I didn't commit."

"It doesn't matter if you committed your crime or not. Not once you're here. We're all the same here. Do you think you're the only one who has a woman or a child back in Westeros? Everyone wants to get back to someone."

"You're not the same. You're the commander. And you did commit your crime... my father told me he was the one who found you in that throne room. You admitted right away to killing the queen, even though there was no body."

"I am the commander. And I did commit my crime. My punishment is worse than yours because I have to force you all to stay here as well. I have to crush your dreams every time you try to escape."

"You don't have to. You could just let me... what would be the harm?"

"It would harm my honor. And honor is all I have these days. I've promised my sister Sansa and my brother Bran to contain prisoners up here, to keep their kingdoms safe. And the Northern soldiers would catch you if you escaped. They would catch you and punish you far worse than me."

"But why are we even up here? There's nothing to guard anymore. You won the war against the dead. I heard the rumors about it down south that they were going to invade the whole kingdom. But then the threat was vanquished before they made it further than Winterfell. I was almost disappointed."

"We did win. This time. But who knows if or when the threat will appear again. That's why we're here. To make sure that if something comes from the North, we're ready."

"Something did come from the North... and it now rules the whole of Westeros."

"My brother rules Westeros," Jon said in a defensive tone. This was also a discussion that had been had before.

"The king's not your brother," Devan insisted.

"You keep saying that, Seaworth. But why would I believe you? If I believed you, I would have to believe my brother is dead, and I can't believe that."

"But what if it is true? You know Lord Baratheon. Don't you trust him?"

Jon sighed, seemingly getting tired of Devan's line of questioning.

"I do trust Gendry, " he said. "But it can't be true. He and his wife must be mistaken."

"But what if it is?" Devan tried again.

Another sigh, but suddenly a glint in Jon's eyes. A hint of something else, a man who wasn't exasperated with life and duty. A man who lived for something besides honor.

"Then..." he said, a bit hesitantly. "I would have to avenge him."

"I'll prove it to you," Devan said confidently. "Somehow. I'll prove that he's not your brother, and then you'll take me with you to Westeros to avenge your brother."

"I don't know how you can prove that, Seaworth."

Devan thought for a moment, and then it dawned on him. There was a way. A way out of here. But it wasn't to the south. It was to the north. Far, far, north.

"The cave," he said. "The cave Meera told me about. The cave where your brother died."

"You're going to go beyond the wall alone?" Jon asked.

"Tormund can come with me. He'll help me find my way."

"If you'll tell me about what you did on that couch," Tormund said with another big grin. "Then, I'll go with you anywhere."

"Sure," Devan sighed, realizing how much time they would have to talk while traveling together.

"And what do you expect to find up there exactly?"

"Something... some kind of proof that what she said is true."

"So, you would bring this proof with you back to me?"

Devan nodded. He didn't know what he would find, but he knew there had to be something. Because it was his only chance to escape from this godforsaken place.

"I'll come with you," Jon suddenly said to Devan's surprise. "Then I can see with my own eyes whatever proof there is. And if there's nothing there, perhaps that will shut you up once and for all, Seaworth."

There was a hint of a smile on Jon's face. Perhaps the adventure of going beyond the wall excited him. Perhaps it reminded him of adventures lived in the past. Perhaps it reminded him of a certain wildling girl with red hair.

Devan smiled as well. Finally, he had a plan. A plan that could actually work. To go north to be able to go south. To prove to Jon that the king was not his brother. To make him realize that whatever did sit on that throne needed to be fought.

But he was a bit nervous about what they would find in that cave.