The Lord Commander watched out of wary eyes as the Stark boy led the risen sorcerer over towards the pair of cots the Stark had cobbled together out of his own supplies and heavy-fur cloak as well as the few expensive-looking silken-velvet pillows and blankets that the sorcerer had laid upon in his stone coffin. Making a decision he walked over as Benjen's boy lowered the smaller boy onto the cot, reaching into his own pack and digging out some salted dried meat and his skin filled with stout.
"Here." Mormont offered the handful of things to Jon. "Give him these and thank him for saving my men."
Jon nodded, carefully hiding his surprise at the action. They'd brought little-enough supplies with them – and Mormont was a bigger man than most. Jon had assumed – wrongly it appeared – that he'd be the one sharing his rations with the Warrior.
Harry looked up at Jon with steadfast patience, waiting for the teen to translate.
"The Lord Commander thanks you for looking after his men and has given you a small form of payment towards that debt." Jon said handing him the meat and skin as his curiosity took hold of him. "What is your name? I am Jon Balerion of the Houses of Targaryen and Stark." He figured it would be safe enough since with Robert dead and armies marching there were worse things to be than the son of the much-beloved Prince Rhaegar – at least much-beloved by the smallfolk.
"Give the Lord Commander my thanks for the meal." Harry said with a small smile and polite nod towards the much-larger man. "My name is Harry James, Lord of the Houses of Black and Potter, last of the House of Peverell, Jon Targaryen-Stark."
"He thanks you for the meal." Jon translated quickly. "And says his name is Harry James, Lord of the Houses of Black and Potter, last of the House of Peverell."
"Highborn then?" Mormont arched a brow, scratching at his beard before giving a nod. "Very well. Once he's up to it see if that hokum of his can do anything about the walking-bloody-dead outside."
"Yes, Lord Commander." Jon gave a polite nod as he agreed – though he was under no real obligation to follow the man's commands, he would do so anyway as long as he was a member of this company.
Harry tasted the contents of the skin with caution that rapidly was undone in the face of the hoppy-grain contents of the skin. He did enjoy a good beer – and with this being the olden days or close to them beer and wine were certain to be a much safer beverage than the water, unless it was water conjured by Harry himself. The meat when he tried it was a tough salted jerky but not bad either. At least it was better than starving now that his systems were working again as he was no longer under the stasis spell.
His younger companion settled down next to him with a skin and meat of his own – though Harry's nose smelled wine rather than beer.
Nobility then, rather than a watchman. Not that he didn't know of Jon's lack of Vows by the white fur the teen wore in place of the all-black attire of the watch. It made sense to him now why the sometimes-visitors to his tomb called the brothers of the watch "crows", they made him strangely nostalgic for his former Potions Professor.
Then his mind wandered to wondering if potions was even a viable subject in the current Epoch.
He rather supposed he would find out – one way or another.
Much like everything else with his new home.
Including just who it was Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen – and wasn't the looks on the other men's faces interesting when Jon had said the latter? - had woken him to fight.
…
The sound of stone grinding on stone snapped Jon from his deep, exhausted slumber. A brief moment of confusion quickly passed as he blinked in the gloom of the tomb, the vague flickers from the lone remaining lit torch casting licks of light on the statues that instantly reminded him of where he had bedded down for the night. Another moment confirmed that the sounds that woke him were coming from behind him towards the back of the tomb not ahead of him where the massive doors stayed sealed thank the gods.
With the knowledge that he wasn't about to be slain by the frozen-walking-dead, Jon climbed stealthily to his feet, casting his glance around the shadowed tomb, the low light a result of Harry somehow snuffing the flames in the braziers and lit trench along the walls once all were bedded down for the night.
Harry.
Jon's head snapped around with a crack as his conscious mind caught up with his sleep-hazed images from his first waking.
Harry wasn't in his pallet.
Jumping to his feet, he padded softly towards the sounds, squinting blearily in the dim light of the braziers, Harry having extinguished most of the oil lights to let the exhausted Night's Watch sleep. Rounding the casket, he was confused for a quick moment when he noticed that the edge of it was off-center, as if the massively heavy coffin had been rotated. Coming up next to a curious Ghost – the traitor hadn't woken him whenever Harry had gotten up to do…whatever he was doing – he crouched down, letting out a soft gasp and shooting a worried look over at the sleeping forms of the Night's Watch.
"Don't worry." Harry called up to Jon from the chamber that had been hidden by the tomb where he had wasted away, locked in stasis for an epoch or more. "I cast a ward around them when I woke, they won't wake or hear anything until I remove it." Harry moved to stand at the base of the stairs, craning his head up at the man and his direwolf. "Come down, it's safe enough."
Shaking off his surprise at the hidden chamber and its golden inset carvings along every surface he could see along the stair and walls – the cause of his initial worry regarding the Night's Watch awakening, Mormont and a few others had proven themselves honorable, the rest…not so much – Jon rose to his full height and smoothly descended the stairs, Ghost padding softly at his heels.
"When I was condemned to the long night." Harry's voice echoed as the warrior-mage led the way down the golden and silvered gilded tunnel that led into the under-chamber of the tomb.
:::
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