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Chapter Text

JON

For four months Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen, as his cousin Bran said his mother had named him, had been beyond the Wall, with the Freefolk to help them rebuild after the war of the dawn.

Four months he since he had been banished to the Night´s watch again for saving the everyone from a mad tyrant, hell bent on conquering the world with fire and blood. When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the dying screams of the people of King´s landing and the roar of the dragon.

For four months he had been beyond the Wall, brooding over the feeling that nothing was right with the world. That this was not right and no matter what he did the feeling did not go away. It was like a large part of him was missing and would never come again.

Jon could not help but feel the bitterness and anger fester inside him as he sat on a fallen tree in the snow. Everything he had ever done was to help the people of the North and the people of Westeros and he got banished and named Queenslayer for his troubles. Jon had been the one trying to save everyone form the Night king and the others, but the Lords of Westeros would rather bicker over an ugly iron chair and who got to sit on it.

He knew the only way to get the help of Daenerys Targaryen was to bend the knee but everyone, including his cousin Sansa had only seen this as an act of betrayal. It wasn’t until he had come back here, beyond the wall, that he could see how blind he had been to Daenerys´s faults. But as bad a queen she would have made, was she worse than the Night King? It seemed after he came back to Winterfell, all the lords had turned against him. Jon had been trying to save them from the dead and all they saw was that Jon had given the North away.

Both Sansa and Arya had told him time and time again that the Dragon Queen could not be trusted, and the North was in danger as long as Daenerys was Queen. Yes, they were right about that, she had first and foremost cared that the iron throne was her birthright. Like being born to a certain someone automatically meant that you were a good king or a good Queen. She had such grand plans of reclaiming her lost birthright but had no plans on what to do when she actually got it. She said she couldn’t have children but who then would rule after her? What would happen to the seven kingdoms after she was gone? Would the Lords and Ladies of the realm accept whoever she chose as an heir? Or would there be another war over the succession?

For all her talk of helping the people of Westeros, she never really offered anything but fire and blood and killing their enemies. But there was never any thought on how to help the country heal after years of war, no she just brought more war to their shores.

Yes, freeing the slaves of Slavers Bay was great and really needed, but she hadn’t even tried to replace it with anything or even tried to get the people back to work.  Meereen hadn’t started to heal after the slave revolt until Tyrion Lannister came to the city and did his best to help.

It was like now for the first time he could think clearly, after a lifetime of mindlessly doing what others told him to do. It was like he had been a puppet on a string and finally his strings were cut. He could now see that Sansa and himself should have made more effort to talk to each other, a lot of their problems had come about because they didn’t communicate and just forged on ahead, no matter what. All that they had done had come from a good place, but the effects had left a lot to be desired.

Yes, he felt betrayed that he had trusted her with the truth of his parentage, and she had gone and told Tyrion. He really wished that she hadn’t done that, but he couldn’t blame her. She had known that Daenerys was unfit as a ruler long before he did, and she had been trying to help the people of Westeros. And furthermore, how could he have asked her and Arya to keep this secret, this secret had nearly destroyed Ned and Catelyn Stark´s marriage, maybe he hadn’t wanted it to be a secret deep down. And if there was one certainty in this world it was that all secrets come out eventually.

All his life he had been Eddard Stark´s bastard, the only stain on the man´s honor, and now he had a way to become something else, something more. It wasn’t that he wanted to become King, no, in fact that was the last thing he wanted, but it was a relief to know that he wasn’t the stain on the man´s honor like everyone had believed for years. No, Jon was a trueborn son of the last dragon and the rose of Winterfell, Lyanna Stark.

He had been so deep in his thoughts that he did not hear anyone approach him and sit down beside him.

“Well, that didn’t go according to plan.” At the voice, Jon almost jumped out of his skin. Beside him was a man, he was dressed in expensive black and white cloths that were not nearly warm enough for the climate beyond the wall, but he didn’t seem bothered by the cold. The man was neither handsome or ugly, neither young nor old. The man had a strange presence about him, like he both belonged but at the same time didn’t.

 Jon felt like the man was studying him like he was a fascinating insect. Jon could not shake the feeling that they had meet before.

“Who are you” Jon couldn’t keep the suspicion out of his voice, and he put a hand on the hilt of his sword, Longclaw. But the man just gave him a small, cold smile.

“I have many names, but you would know me as the Stranger.” Jon had never in his life stood up so fast. He could feel a cold shiver run down his spine as he stared at the man claiming to be death incarnate. He was lying, he had to be, that man couldn’t possibly be the Stranger of the Seven.

“Don’t worry, I will prove to you who I am soon enough.” The man said as he like he was reading his thoughts. Jon just continued to stare at him in disbelieve with one hand on Longclaw´s hilt.

“Sit down, Jon Targaryen. We have much to discuss.” Jon willed his legs to move back to the fallen tree and sat down, but he was careful never to take his eyes of this stranger.

“This was never supposed to happen, you know.” The man started. “You were supposed to win.”

“What are you talking about? We won. The Others are gone, never to return.” Jon countered.

“Yes, the Others are dead and gone, but you didn’t fulfill your destiny and you certainly didn’t win. The Bloodraven won.” The man replied. Jon had never been so confounded in his life. The Bloodraven was dead. According to Bran, Brynden Rivers had died when Bran and Meera escaped the children´s cave.  When Jon voiced this to the man he just snorted.

“That thing in King´s landing, that is sitting on your throne is not your cousin Bran, it is just wearing him to fool you and everyone else.”

“Wearing him?”

“Yes, your cousin Bran has been dead for some time now.” Jon felt something akin to an iceberg settle in his stomach, it couldn’t be true could it. Then again, the Bran he knew would never have banished Jon to the Wall after everything he had done.  Even with the threat of the Unsullied hanging over him. But what did he know, Ygritte had told him many times that he knew nothing. And she was right, he really didn’t know anything worth knowing. Maybe it was time to try to change that.

“Apparently the Bloodraven has been working in the shadows for a long time to get his revenge on the Targaryen bloodline, and now he has almost succeeded to wipe you all out of existence.”

“Why would he want revenge on the Targaryen´s?” Jon had to ask, this was sounding more and more absurd by the moment.

“Brynden Rivers sacrificed everything he had for the Targaryen´s and was awarded for his troubles with banishment to the wall. Does that sound familiar?” The Stranger asked with a mocking grin.

Jon could fell the cold in his stomach even more than before. Yes, that did sound very familiar to him.

“That is why the Bloodraven sent you up here. A poetic justice that you and the Targaryen line should end here at the wall, just like he was supposed to, while he rules from King´s Landing and is free to move his consciousness from body to body when the old one is failing him.” There was bitterness in the voice of the strange man.

Jon had only once felt that desperate hopelessness before, and that was when he was resurrected by Melisandre of Asshai. “Why are you telling me this?” He couldn’t keep the defeat out of his voice.

“Because I have an offer for you, and when I say I. I mean my siblings and I.” The man or the Stranger of the seven said.

“And what is that offer?”

“To do everything again, but this time my siblings and I will offer a little more helping hand than before.” Here he thought things couldn’t get any stranger. “It wouldn’t do to make the same mistakes over again, and we need to make sure that the Bloodraven cannot harvest your magical powers like before.”

“Magical powers!? What magical powers!? I have never had any magical powers nor do I what them.” This man was definitely crazy, and Jon had to get away from him as soon as possible.

“Sit still, you are not going anywhere, and you are going to listen to what I have to say.” How in the seven hells had he known that Jon had intended to run. He hadn’t even finished that thought yet.

“Now, where was I? Oh yes, your magical powers. Well every living being in the world is born with magic. Some with more than others. Some are born with just enough magic to keep them alive, and that is most people. But some have more magic in their blood. You are one of those people. But the Bloodraven has been leaching the magic of you, he couldn’t take it all because his body, the old one and the one he stole from Brandon Stark, could not hold all the magic. Their bodies were not made to handle that incredible amount of magic.” He took a short pause before continuing.

“So, instead he started to put the magic that he was taking from you into someone else. Someone you know well.” Jon thought that the dread that had taken hold of him would ever let go.

“You are the prince that was promised, so he couldn’t take all the magic, and then you would die, and the Others would win. Now that couldn’t happen, that didn’t work for his plans, so he directed some of the extra magic into Daenerys Targaryen.” Jon had never thought that he could have been so shocked. He actually felt a little faint. This could not be happening. But still the man continued.

“She would never have been able to hatch those eggs without your magic, and that was just a small part of your magic. She was never even supposed to have any dragon eggs. Those three where stolen from Winterfell, by one of Bloodraven´s people and sold to the magister that later gave them to Daenerys.”

“Winterfell? Why where their dragon eggs in Winterfell?”

“The dragon Vermax laid them close to Winterfell and Cregan Stark found them and hid them in the crypts. He had to hide them or else the Targaryen´s would have demanded them back. The old gods as you call them, sent Cregan Stark a vision that the eggs could not leave Winterfell. As you can see, we have been planning your destiny for some time.”

“I was supposed to have them? But if I hatched them, where on earth would I keep them? I could never have kept them in Winterfell without being discovered and they would have been killed or Robert Baratheon would have found out that I am not the son of Eddard Stark.”

“Relax, I will send you back and when I do you will go to the crypts and hatch them. You should be thankful that Catelyn Stark hated you as much as she did, because she never let the servants do anything for you including cleaning your chambers, that just happen to be located in an isolated part of Winterfell. This way until the dragons can take care of themselves you can hide them.”

“And what about after? How are we going to hide three dragons without anyone finding them?”

The Stranger rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Jon´s lack of faith in him.

“The dragons will be bounded to you, and only you and they will listen to you when you tell them to hide at day and only hunt at night. There are caves in the Wolfswood that they can use until you need to reveal them and use them to take back your throne and to win the War of the Dawn.”

“And just how are we going to bind them to me? And why should they listen to me, they didn’t always listen to Daenerys and they thought of her as their mother.”

Death snorted again. “I told you, she only had a some part of your magic, that is one of the reasons she had such a hard time controlling the dragons. With your magic being drained the dragons and your direwolf could still sense that you had a lot of it. Now about the hatching of the dragons, when you get back, all you need to do is slice your hand with a dagger and let a little blood on the eggs and put them in the fire and they will hatch already bounded to you. But as I said before you were being drained of magic but when we send you back, we will make sure that he cannot leach off you again.”

Jon was starting to feel faint again. This was getting to much. This could not be happening. This is probably a very strange dream that he would wake up from very soon. Yes, that was it, this was all just a crazy dream.

“Don’t worry Jon Targaryen. I promised you proof of who I am, and I am a…man of my word, so to speak.” The Stranger stood up, and faced Jon. “When you wake up in your old bed in Winterfell you will know that I have told the truth.  We will speak more then.”

Death raised his hand and touched two fingers to Jon´s forehead and then all he knew was darkness.

Chapter Text

JON

When Jon woke up, he could hardly move his limbs. He tried to open is eyes, but it was like they had been wired shut. He let out a strangled grunt in the effort to rise, but his body wasn’t working right. All he could do was lie there.

“Yes, I know, you are not feeling well right now, but you have to try to sit up.” He was so startled by the voice had he jumped up, and his eyes flew open. Then all he knew was pain, every single part of him was consumed by it. His mouth felt like he had tried to eat all the sand in Dorne, and his head felt like Robert Baratheon had used it for hammer practice.

“Don’t worry, the pain will pass.” He looked at the owner of the voice, it was the same man as before. The man who called himself the Stranger. “For a moment there we were worried you wouldn’t make it.” The Stranger had set down on a chair. It was then Jon looked around the room. It was his childhood room in Winterfell.

He reached for a mug of water that he had always kept on the nightstand beside his bed and drank deeply. His throat felt a little better but not by much.

It was the same small, dark room he had after Lady Stark had moved him into after he no longer had to be in the nursery with Robb. “What do you mean? Aren’t you Death? Can´t you just bring the dead back if you feel like it?” When Jon heard his own voice, he almost jumped out of his skin. He had the voice of a little boy. He looked down and sure enough, he also had the body of a child. He was maybe around ten or eleven.

The man snorted, he seemed really fond of doing that. “Sure I can, but only if they still have a soul.” All thought fled Jon´s mind for a moment.

“You see, when you were brought back to the land of the living last time, something went wrong. You were wrong.”

“What do you mean? Wrong?”

“Don´t you think it strange that before your death, you were making good decisions, sure some of them lead to your death, but you really can´t make people accept change that easily, and then after you were brought back, and it was like half your personality was gone along with your ability to listen to good advice.”

Now that he thought about it, yes that sounded about right. It was a hard thing to admit to oneself that they had made such horrible mistakes and committed such awful folly´s. But Jon had.  He had refused to listen to Sansa and Arya when they said not to trust Daenerys. And that was just one of his many mistakes. He hated himself for that, the self-loathing was almost suffocating.

It was like he couldn’t see past his own honor and pride. He could see past it before he died but for some reason after he was brought back, he had turned to an honorable fool. What on earth had happened to him?

“Now to be honest, everyone brought back by the Red priests are coming back wrong, but as the Bloodraven was leaching the magic from you, it made the affects of being brought back much, much worse. If you had all the magic that you were born with. I doubt anyone could have told the difference between before and after you had been resurrected. Now the fact that you didn’t have all your magic, caused your very soul to start to shatter.” The Stranger said in a nonchalant tone of voice.

“You are only alive now because the magic was starting to return to your body, at least the magic that Daenerys Targaryen had been possessing. Which was helping in healing your soul. You were very lucky that your soul was starting to put it-self back together again when we sent you back. If not, you wouldn’t have made it.” Jon nodded, he didn’t dare ask anything, he dreaded the answers the Stranger would give him.

“Soon you will be better that before, Jon Targaryen. Your soul will need a few days to adjust and your magic is back to where it is supposed to be.” Death adjusted himself in the chair and continued.

“Now before I leave you, there are a few things that you need to know. The fact that you now know a possible future outcome is enough to change certain things. I don’t know what exactly at this moment what those things are yet. I am not going to tell you not to try to change things. We sent you here to try to change things. Before the Long Night begins again, you are going to have to become the King of the seven kingdoms.” Jon could feel the fear and dread settle in his heart. He didn’t want to become king, but he would do his duty, as he always had.

“Another thing you need to know is because you have an amazing amount of magic, that is going to help the dragons, who are soon going to be bounded to you, grow faster than they normally would.” The Stranger stopped for a moment before continuing.

“But it is give and take, you make the dragons stronger and the dragons make you stronger. So, the magic levels are stable.”

“You said you and your siblings would help? What do you intend to do?” His voice sounded dead and defeated even to him.

“Aren´t I helping you now?” Death asked and raised a dark eyebrow, but before Jon could answer, Death kept going. “It is going to take some time, but we are going to try and send a few key people to help you take back your throne. But it is always a risk with these things, you never know if some wayward soul tags along for the ride.”

Jon felt bile rise up in his throat. This was getting worse and worse every second.

“Tomorrow you have to go to the crypts and find the eggs.” How in the seven hells was he supposed to find three small dragon eggs in the vast crypts of Winterfell? But before Jon could ask Death that question, he got the question answered. “Go to sleep now and tomorrow you will start to feel the pull. Follow it and you will find the eggs. And remember all you have to do is take the eggs, get them here to this room, cut yourself and bleed a little on them and put them in the fire.”

Jon nodded, he could feel the exhaustion creep into his body, and he could barely keep his eyes open.

“There is also another thing I should mention. Tomorrow when you wake up, I want you to look under your bed, one of my servants will have left something for you there.” Death had servants? What on earth could they leave under his bed?

“Now, I will be back in a couple of days and then I will try and answer any questions you might have, but for now you need to rest. I wouldn’t like to go through all this trouble just to monologue you to death. Oh, and try not to do anything stupid in the meantime.” With that Death was gone. He had disappeared from the room like he had never been here in the first place.

Jon decided to take Death´s advice and it didn’t take him long to fall asleep.

When Jon woke up again, he felt much better. In fact, he couldn’t remember feeling so well rested before in his life. But just like Death had promised, there was a pull. He could feel it deep inside him, it wanted him to go to the crypts. He knew as if by some vague instinct that if he ignored the pull, it would only get worse. Tonight, he promised himself, he would go down to the crypts when the castle slept and retrieve the eggs and hatch them. But first he had to break his fast and start his day.

He pulled himself from his bed and got dressed. Then then a thought struck him. He could see his family again. Uncle Ned, Robb and Rickon were all alive. Sansa, Arya and Bran would be there to.

He couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face. He had never been so excited before in his life. He was about to hurry out of his room and leave for the great hall, then he remembered the words of the Stranger. One of Death´s servants had left something under Jon´s bed. Worries started to creep up his spine and he couldn’t help but wonder what Death had left for him.

He slowly walked over to the bed. What on earth could the Stranger have left under his bed for him? He got to his knees and looked under his bed. He half expected someone to jump from under it and yell “SURPIRSE”. But that didn’t happen, no, instead he saw a long chest under it. He tried his best to reach it, but he had to go to his belly and almost crawl under to get to it. He managed to reach for it and pull it from under the bed.

The chest itself wasn’t very special, it was made of dark wood and it wasn’t locked. When Jon opened the chest, he didn’t realize what he was looking at for some time. He just stared at the object in wonder. It was the most beautiful sword he had ever seen, and he had possessed Longclaw for years. He picked up the sword, it was a little hard to do since he was still in his ten-year old body and the sword was large. But it was so perfect that he couldn’t help himself.

This sword was in a class of its own. It was a hand and a half, a bastard sword like Longclaw, but the hilt was black as sin and had a large ruby on the pommel and the cross guard was made in the likeness of two dragons roaring in anger. The blade itself was Valyrian steel, all dark grey and black, sharp enough to cut through steel like a hot knife through butter.

It took him longer than he was proud of, to realize that this was the sword of Kings, Blackfyre. The sword that had helped starting the Blackfyre rebellions. The sword Aegon the dragon had carried in his conquest.  All the Targaryen Kings had carried this sword until Aegon the Unworthy had given it to his bastard son.

And now it was his.

He couldn’t believe it, he was holding the most famous sword in the world. He was holding the sword of Aegon Targaryen, the rider of Balerion the Black Dread. The very man that had united six of the seven kingdoms.

Jon didn’t know how long he was kneeling on the floor and staring at the most beautiful blade he had ever seen. It wasn’t until he heard the growling of his stomach that he knew he had to get something to eat. He put the blade reluctantly back into the chest. Then he put the chest under his bed. It didn’t feel right to put Blackfyre under his bed. He wanted more than everything to strap it to his body and wear it proudly. But he knew he couldn’t. It would be taken from him faster he could react. No one would let the ten-year old bastard of Lord Ned Stark keep the sword of the Targaryen kings. No, honorable Ned Stark would probably be the first in line to take the sword from his person. His uncle wouldn’t want anyone thinking that Jon could be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and the sword would raise questions Jon couldn’t answer.

After putting the sword back under the bed with great reluctance, he stood up and when to the great hall where he knew his family would be at this time of day, breaking their fast.

It felt strange to walk through the halls of Winterfell once again. There was no sign of the Ironborn or the Boltons. It was just like he remembered from his childhood.  It felt like the home that it hadn’t been after he and Sansa took it from Ramsey Snow. Perhaps it was because now he had the hope that when he would walk into the great hall, his family would be there.

When Jon retched the door of the great hall, he was stunned. He had known that his family would be there but knowing and seeing was not the same thing. His uncle sat at his usual place and was laughing at some antic of Arya´s and Bran´s. Robb was conversing with Theon Greyjoy, while Lady Stark, who was apparently pregnant with Rickon, was talking with Sansa.

It was strange to see them all again, when he left for the wall last time, he thought he would never see any of his family members again. But here they were, they were all younger than last he saw them.

Robb was a ten-year old again and there were no whiskers trying to grow on his face. The last time Jon had seen him, was when he had left Winterfell for the wall, Robb had been smiling at him and he had snowflakes in his hair. Theon was no longer the shade of himself he had been that he had seen on Dragonstone, No, this Theon Greyjoy was one that Jon could remember. This Theon was cocky and full of himself. Lord and lady Stark looked a few years younger than he had last seen them, but the people that had changed the most were Arya, Bran and Sansa.

Arya was once again the willful little girl he had known, she had to be around five-years old now. She was very different from the grown woman he had said goodbye to on the docks of King´s Landing. Gone was the cold killer she had grown up to be. She no longer sat perfectly still and watched everyone and everything without seemingly moving her eyes.

Bran was much the same, now he was the energetic little boy of four and not the cold unfeeling husk that only cared about having revenge on the Targaryen line. For the first time since Death had told him that Bran had died in that cave, did Jon realize that the thing that had come back with Meera to Winterfell, was not in fact Brandon Stark.

But the person Jon was most shocked to see was Sansa. This girl listening to her mother was not the woman he had known. And for the first time he realized the depth of her transformation from the spoiled little girl to the strong woman that had showed up at Castle Black. They had never been close as children but seeing her now really brought home the change that she had gone through. It was like looking at two completely different people. He could feel the shame creep up on him, how much suffering had it taken to change the little girl she was now into the woman she had become.

Jon took a deep breath to gather his nerves and walked quietly to the table and sat down between Robb and Bran.

“You are late, did you have a late night Snow?” Robb asked with a cheeky grin. His eyes were shining bright with mischief.

Jon gave a weak smile. “Sorry, just nightmares.” He replayed, hoping that Robb would drop the conversation and talk about something else.

But Jon had not been lucky in his last life, and it looked like he wasn’t going to be lucky in this life either. “What about?”

The best lies all have a grain of truth in them, Sansa had said to him once, when they had a quiet moment after they had retaken Winterfell.

“The dead coming back to life only to kill us all and a mad tyrant burning down King´s Landing from dragon back.” That may have been too much because the silence following that statement was deafening. Jon looked around and everyone was staring at him. He forced a small smile on his face. “It was just a dream, nothing to worry about.”

“I think you have been reading to many of the old legends before sleep, Jon.” Robb said with a laugh. Jon forced himself to laugh with him and replied. “Yeah, I should probably switch to geography or economics.”

Everyone turned back to their own conversations. All except one, his uncle was staring at him in suspicion. Jon hurried to finish eating, and then he followed Robb and Theon outside to the training yard. Jon had the feeling that this would be a long day.

Chapter Text

JON

Ser Rodrick was waiting for them in the training yard. Jon was very nervous, while he had years of experience of battles and sword fighting, he knew he had downplay his abilities. It wouldn’t be good if he suddenly became an expert swordsman overnight.  How would he explain that?

But keeping his sword fighting abilities to himself was not his biggest obstacle. If he was going to have to become king, he had to convince his uncle that he was the best choice for the office.  Even then, the North had to support his uncle´s choice, and in the North his Targaryen name was more of a burden than a boon.

It would be for the best if they would support the man, despite the name. Then he would have to do something incredible for the North. Lead it to some sort of victory in battle or do some service for the North. He doubled that anyone would follow a ten-year old into battle, and hopefully there would not be any wars for the next few years.

But maybe he could do some service for the North and its people. Something that would even help in the wars to come.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Robb. He was laughing at something Theon had said.  It was so strange seeing them again. Both so young and carefree. They had both suffered horrible fates in the last life, and if Jon could help it, they wouldn’t have to suffer them again. Though this Theon could with some humbling, Jon thought as he listened to Theon brag about his incredible talent with a sword. Jon wasn’t sure where Theon had gotten that idea, he had never been all that talented with a sword. He was very good with a bow, but not a sword.

“Alright lads, grab your practice swords, and get ready.” Ser Rodrick was standing before them with his ever present no nonsense look on his face. He looked very much the same as before Jon left for the Wall for the first time. With his white whiskers that moved every time he said anything. “Who wants to go first?” Ser Rodrick asked.

Theon swaggered forward in all his awkward fifteen-year old glory. Gods, Jon was not looking forward to being a teenager again.

“I will go first Ser Rodrick.” Jon had not missed this Theon at all, who swaggered all around Winterfell, trying not to let anyone see that he wasn’t here willingly, and he was a hostage to ensure his father´s good behavior.

Robb always eager to prove his worth with a sword, jumped forward and volunteered himself.  The fight wasn’t very exciting or long. Even though Theon had five years on Robb and was a head taller, Robb won easily. Lord Stark eldest was really a talented swordsman. Robb was much quicker than the Ironborn and even as a ten-year old he was also stronger. When Robb had laid Theon flat on the ground, they heard slow clapping above them.

They all looked up and saw Lord and Lady Stark standing on the balcony, they were looking at their son and smiling. Jon could see the pride and joy in their eyes as they looked on their son winning his match. Jon would never have that. He would never look up and see his parents smiling down on him as he won a sword fight. Jon quickly looked away, so that they wouldn’t see his tears forming in his eyes.

He may have been a grown up in a child´s body, but this was always going to be an open wound for him. He had once been the motherless bastard son of Eddard Stark, but now he was the trueborn orphan of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. If he had a choice, he would have chosen to be the bastard of Lord Stark, at least he still would have had one parent instead of none.

Ser Rodrick beaconed him to step forward and have his turn. Jon´s head was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t realize that his body had automatically started to twirl the sword in his hand as he walked forward to his cousin. Jon´s practice sword was made like a longsword and Jon had been using a bastard sword for the last few years. But it wouldn’t be a problem. At Winterfell and Castle Black, they had been made to train with any kind of swords they could find themselves with.

Robb rushed towards him, but with skill that surpassed most full grown men, Jon laid his cousin quickly on his ass. It was then when Jon realized what he had done. He had been so deep in his thoughts that his instincts had taken over. Jon and Robb had always been rather even as fighting went, so Jon beating him so fast must have been a lot of shock to all watching.

The training yard was silent. Theon was staring at him with his mouth open and Robb was looking up at him from the ground with wide eyes. Jon was sure that Ser Rodrick´s eyebrows were never coming down from his forehead.

Jon looked slowly up to the balcony, where Lord and Lady Stark stood. Lady Stark looked like she was going to murder him, slowly and painfully for winning a match against her son. But even that was better that the look Lord Stark was giving him right now. He looked like he was carved from stone. Jon could not begin to start to guess what the Lord was feeling right now, but it was not pride.

Jon looked back down and handed the old knight the wooden sword back. Jon mumbled his apologies and hurried away. He had screwed that up. How was it that he managed to screw everything up, everything he did, no matter what he tried to do always ended up back firing into his face, hard.

It wasn’t long until he found himself in front of the crypts. He wasn’t surprised to find himself there. The pull of the dragon eggs was stronger, but he also wanted to visit his mother´s crypt.

Jon walked down the stairs into the cold crypts of the Starks. It was dark down there but for a few torches that were always lit by the servants. As a child he had never liked the crypts, he always felt like the Starks of old were judging him for being a Snow, but now he knew the truth of the matter. They hadn’t been judging him for being a Snow, but for being a Targaryen.

Targaryen´s didn’t belong in deep, dark tombs, no they were burned in dragonfire on Dragonstone. His father´s family had done that since they had come to Westeros.  As much as he always wanted to be a Stark, he wasn’t, he never could be because he was a Targaryen.

He went deeper and deeper into the crypts until he came to his destination. The statue of Lyanna Stark, his mother. This was the second time in his life he had stood before her statue, knowing that she was his mother. The first time had been when he, like a halfwit, had told Daenerys that he was the trueborn son of Rhaegar, her brother. How could he not have seen that she would have been threatened by his claim, no matter what he said.

How come he hadn’t seen the madness in her eyes when she had threatened Sansa just before they had gone on the dragonride. How could he have let that just slide, a foreign Queen, coming to his home demanding something that wasn’t hers to demand and threatening the woman holding the North together after his colossal failures.

He sat down by the wall, opposite the statue of his mother. It hit him how little he knew of his own mother. All he knew of her was that she was beautiful, and Arya looked a lot like her. But he didn’t know anything else. What was her favorite color? What was her favorite song? Would she proud of the man he had become? Though he doubted that she would be proud of her only son. He was the worst kind of failure there ever was.

But then he had a realization, perhaps the reason everything went the way it did was because he was acting like a Stark. He had always wanted to be a trueborn son of Eddard Stark and everything he did was to make him proud and Jon had always hoped that one day, Lord Stark would legitimize him and make him into a real Stark. But he wasn’t a Stark or Snow. He had always been a Targaryen.

So, maybe it was time to be a Targaryen. Not a burning down your village sort of Targaryen but more like the good ones. But that brought another thought into his mind. Would anyone want him as their king? Why would they? He hadn’t done anything for anyone, so what made him so great that he should be the king of not one kingdom, but seven of them.

He also knew that a lot of people would be skeptical of Jon being a Targaryen. Jon didn’t have the coloring of old Valyria, and a lot of people would only see young Eddard Stark. Though having the Stark looks might help here in the North, it wouldn’t help much in the south. People would most likely call him an imposter or something to that effect. Until they would see his dragons and the sword Blackfyre. He knew that having the sword of Aegon the Conqueror would give legitimacy to Jon´s claim, but how many would only accept Jon as King because they were afraid to be burned to death by dragons?

He didn’t want to be another Aegon the Conqueror or Maegor the Cruel. Neither could he be Aenys the son of Aegon, who was famous for being a weak king.

If he had to be any Targaryen king of old, he wanted to be Jaehaerys the Conciliator, who was both a fine warrior and decisive in thought and deed. The man that had really united the kingdoms he ruled. Sure, Aegon had conquered the kingdom and brought them to heel, but they hadn’t been really united until Jaehaerys had been king. The Lords under Aegon, Aenys and Maegor had been rebellious and the realm had been torn apart by war. But Jaehaerys and his queen, Alysanne had healed the kingdoms they ruled.

They had done great things like abolishing the rights of the first night and they had helped to build roads that were still being used today, almost two hundred years later.

That was the kind of Targaryen he wanted to be, to be remembered for helping the people of his country.

Jon was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of feet on stone. He didn’t bother to turn to the sound, instead he kept on looking at the statue in front of him. The sounds came closer and closer until whoever had come was just beside him and stopped there.

Before the person manage to say anything, Jon spoke. “How much trouble am I in?” His voice was flat and emotionless.

He heard a childish giggle. “Probably a lot, mother was furious that you beat Robb so easily. But I was more worried that you had starved to death, dinner is over.” Had he really been down here for that long. It had had been morning when he went down into the crypts and now it was evening? Though it would explain the growling of his stomach, which he has just noticing right now.

He looked up and saw his little sister Arya. She looked as she always had. Thin as a stick and her hair was a bird´s nest. Her dress was muddy and a little ruffled. She had clearly been playing with Bran around the castle.

Jon could feel the lump in his throat and tears gather in his eyes. He quickly willed them away and forced a smile on his face. It was so incredibly hard to be around his family and the people of Winterfell. It was like being stuck with ghosts that were hunting him and he didn’t know how to make these feeling stop.

“But father wants to talk to you in his solar.” Arya said with a grin. Jon nodded. “All right, I will be right up. Why don’t you tell him that I am on my way.”

She nodded with a grin and ran up the stairs, clearly eager to get out of the cold crypts of the Starks.

Jon stood up and made his way to the final resting place of Cregan Stark. This was where his dragon eggs where if the pull was anything to go by. He had to get them now, he couldn’t come here two days in a row. It would rouse suspicion.

Jon put his hand on the lid and pushed with all his strength. It was hard but with a lot of noise the lid of the coffin moved a little. It would have been easier if he had his older body, but one must make do. He couldn’t completely open the coffin, but he could stick his hand into it and feel around.

He put his hand into the coffin to search for the eggs. He could feel them, they were just there. He pulled his hand back out. He put his hands back on the lid to push a little more. The stone on stone made an awful sound. He prayed that no one was hearing it. He reached back into the coffin, he could feel the bones of his forefather, but he tried really hard not to think about it. Then he reached them.

One by one he got them out of the coffin. He put them on the ground and with difficulty, he managed to close the coffin. By now he was covered in sweat by the effort. All he wanted to do was grab the eggs and go to his room and hatch them. But he had to go and see the Lord of Winterfell first.

Jon gathered his dragon eggs into his arms and hurried back into the castle. When he left the crypts, he noticed that it was dark outside.

He managed to avoid people all the way into his room but there were a few close calls. He disposed of the eggs under the covers of his bed and then he went to his uncle´s solar.

It didn’t feel right to part with his dragon eggs when he had just gotten them. All the way to the solar he wanted to turn around and go back into his room to be with them and try to hatch them. The pull was stronger now that he had touched them, and with every step away from them the pull to turn back was stronger.

The walk to his uncle´s solar had never been this long, but finally he made it. Jon knocked on the door and waited to be allowed in. Jon heard his uncle´s deep voice, “Enter”.

The solar was not filled with riches, but with things from the Lord of the North that had given the Starks through the ages. There were a few tapestries that hung on the walls that showed historical moments of the North. His uncle was sitting behind his desk, looking serious as he did most of the time. He was reading some missive from some lord or another and there was a plate of untouched food on his desk, then he looked up and saw Jon, he gave his nephew a small smile in greeting and motioned him to sit opposed the Stark lord.

Jon sat down and waited for Ned Stark to begin. The Lord of Winterfell pointed to the plate of food and gave Jon a long look. Jon then knew that he was being ordered to eat, while Eddard was finishing reading the missive. He didn’t have to wait for long.

“I think that you and I need to talk Jon, about what happened in the training yard this morning and other things.” The man was looking at him like he was seeing right through him. Jon wanted to fidget in his chair, but he tried to smother that feeling. Was this what people felt when Jon looked at them?

Ned continued. “I noticed how strange you were acting this morning, Jon. These nightmares were not just nightmares, were they?” Jon didn’t respond. He just starred at the man in front of him. Eddard Stark didn’t believe in anything that involved magic, only in the old gods. He didn’t believe in signs, like when Jon talked him into allowing the Stark children to have the direwolf cubs. He doubted that the reason he allowed them to keep the pups was because Ned thought it was a sign, rather he thought that the wolfs could be trained to defend his children.

The Lord of Winterfell continued. “I also know that you are not the same boy that went to bed last night.” He could feel the blood drain from his face. Did he know? How could his uncle possibly know? “You are not the only one that has memories from a former life.” His uncle sounded tired and defeated.

“I woke up a few days ago with memories from a past life. A man came to me in the Godswood. He called himself the Father of the seven. He told me in a few days you would regain your memories.”

Jon just stared at the man. The Stranger had said that he and his siblings would be sending other people back, but he didn’t expect it to be so soon. Then all he felt was relief, he wasn’t all alone anymore. His uncle could help him. Together they could do this. He was so happy that he could cry.

“The man also told me that you and I need to work together to stop an impossible threat in the future.” Jon sighed. It was time to tell Lord Stark everything that happened after he had died. So, he did. Jon felt like he was speaking for hours, telling his uncle everything that had happened to him and his cousins. This was the hardest thing he had ever done. To tell someone he cared about, about all the horror that had happened to his children. About how Robb was betrayed by Roose Bolton and the Freys. How they all thought Bran and Rickon had been murdered by Theon but later to see Rickon murdered before him and Sansa and thinking that Bran had survived only to find something using his body to manipulate everyone around him. How Arya had become a cold killer. But the hardest was Sansa.

Sansa had gone through so much and grown into someone that should never be crossed. She had gone from a silly little brat to a formidable woman. She had told him not to trust Daenerys and she had told him not to make the same mistakes as Eddard and Robb, but he had trusted Daenerys and he had made the same mistakes as his uncle and his cousin.

How in the world could he have done that? He had played Ygritte without a problem, sure he had feelings for her, but she had never led him around by his cock like Daenerys had, and he had happily allowed it to happen.

He vowed to himself he would never allow it to happen again.

Jon also told his uncle about what the Bloodraven and Sam had told him. How Jon knew that Ned was his uncle and not his father. How Jon was the trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. How the Bloodraven had told him that his name was really Aegon Targaryen.

Jon looked at Ned, the man was burying his face into his hands. Jon had never seen his uncle this tired before. They sat in silence for a while.

“Your name is not Aegon.” This shocked Jon. But why would the Bloodraven lie about that? Why would he lie about his name? what was the point? But before Jon could ask what his name was, Ned spoke. “Your mother didn’t name you, she didn’t live long enough to do so, her dying words were to make me promise to protect you and make sure that Robert would never be able to get to you.”

So, his name was really Jon? He felt weirdly relived at that, everything had been taken away from him when he heard the news of his parentage. His father, siblings, everything, even his name. But now he felt he had it back. A little bit of himself. Maybe that was Bloodraven´s game, to take everything from him so he would feel even more lost. A name is a powerful thing.

“There is one other thing I should mention, Uncle.” Ned looked at him and waited for him to continue. “I have three dragon eggs in my room, that I need to hatch tonight.” His uncle´s eyebrows shot up. Before his uncle could say anything, Jon continued. “I will be able to control them, and I will hide them in a cave in the Wolfswood when they are big enough to take care themselves. We will need them to take back the Iron throne and to win the war of the Dawn, the last time we won against the Night King it was mostly luck, and we need the seven kingdoms united behind us if we are going to win.”

Ned just shook his head. “This day just keeps getting weirder.” Jon laughed at that. Yes, this day was getting weirder.

“Well, I am going to go to the kitchens and find some cooked meat for them, they will probably be hungry when they hatch.” Jon said as he stood up.

He was leaving the solar when his uncle´s voice stopped him. “Jon…do you mind if I watch when you hatch them? I would like to make sure that you are safe.” He hurriedly added that last part.

Jon smiled and nodded. “Sure, meet me in my room in a short while.” With that Jon left the solar to go to the kitchen to find meat for his soon to be born dragons.

When he arrived at his room holding a small plate of cooked meat, his uncle was waiting for him. He looked nervous, not that Jon could blame him. Jon was nervous to. It wasn’t every day that one is planning to hatch dragons. They entered the room and closed the door behind them.

Jon put the plate on his desk and fetched his dragon eggs from under the covers. He didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty of the eggs before but know in the reasonably well light room he could see it. One was the color of pure black and blood red. The second one was cream with golden rivers running though the surface. But the third one, the one of the dragon Jon himself had ridden into battle against the Night King was emerald and bronze. “Jon where did you get them?” Jon almost jumped, he had forgotten his uncle in his excitement. He really didn’t want to tell him, but he knew he had to.

“I found them in the crypts, in the tomb of Cregan Stark. He hid them so the Targaryen´s wouldn’t take them. He knew they would be needed here.”

Then Jon pulled out his dagger and put it by the fireplace. He lit a fire in the fireplace and then he fetched the eggs. “What are you doing with that dagger Jon?” Jon could hear the nervousness in his uncle´s voice.

“I need a little blood, I have to put them on the eggs to hatch them.” He replayed softly. Then Jon sat down in front of the fireplace. Sitting so close in front of the fireplace should be unbearably hot, but to Jon it was soothing and comfortable. He picked up the dagger and sliced his palm open, and bleed on the eggs.

Jon picked up the eggs and one by one, he put them in the fireplace. He could feel them in his mind, their presence was already there. It was strange but not unwelcome, in fact it felt right. All he needed was Ghost and he felt like he would be complete. The eggs hadn’t been in the fire for long before Jon reached into the fire with the hand he had cut. “JON! NO!” His uncle shouted.

“It is alright uncle, it doesn’t hurt.” Jon had never felt so calm in his life. The fire was so soothing and warm. Then he could feel them, their snouts were touching his fingers. He gave a short laugh. Then they started to crawl out of the fire. They were the same colors they had been in the other life. Black and red, cream and gold, emerald and bronze.

They crawled into his lap and cooed at him. The dragons were the size of large cats and just as agile. Jon could feel their hunger, he turned to his uncle and asked for the plate on the desk. Ned handed the plate to him, but Jon could see it in his eyes, the man was beyond shocked. Jon put the plate on the floor. Eddard walked to the bed and sat down while Jon was feeding his new dragons.

“Are you all right uncle?” His uncle hadn’t taken his eyes from the dragons. Then he dragged his eyes to Jon. “Well, now we stand a chance at winning.” Jon snorted at that.

“We can´t tell anyone about them, Jon” His uncle had turned grave again. “We also shouldn’t tell anyone that we have memories of another life.” Jon nodded his agreement. But then he had a thought.

“There are other that may get memories from the other life. We could tell them, if they are on our side.”

“What do you mean? On our side, are you expecting someone knowing of the other life while working against us?”

Jon frowned. “Yes, it is possible. The one who brought me back said that someone might comeback when he and his siblings brought people into their old bodies.”

Ned grew paler and frowned. “The Father brought me back, who brought you back?” He asked.

Jon turned back to his dragons, he started to pet the cream and golden one, Jon noticed that he didn’t feel any pain from the cut he had made on his hand. He looked at the cut and noticed that after he had put the hand into the fire, the cut had vanished. He was looking at a small scar that was now on his hand as he said. “The Stranger.”

Chapter Text

JON

Jon woke up sweating and his heart was racing. He was in his bed in Winterfell, safe and sound. He was not in King´s Landing as Daenerys was commanding Drogon to burn down the city. Almost every night he dreamed of it. The people screaming as the city collapsed around them and the roaring of Drogon as he set the innocent people on fire.

He turned on his side and saw the little dragons lying beside him on the bed. They would not be used to burn down cities, Jon vowed to himself. They would never be used to create such horrors.

His dragons were looking at him with concerned eyes. Jon could already feel their worries through his bond with them. He hadn’t managed to create such a bond with Rhaegal when he had been around the green dragon in his last life.

That brought another thought to him. He needed to find them new names. He couldn’t keep the old ones that the mad queen had given them. That wouldn’t do. He wasn’t that fond of his Targaryen uncle or his father, and he wouldn’t be naming one of his dragons after his aunt´s dead husband.

He didn’t know how long he was lying on his side, admiring his small baby dragons, when he started to feel through their bond that they were starting to get hungry. Jon sat up and walk to his desk. There was still a lot of meat leftover form the night before. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised. They had been hatched last night and they probably didn’t need a lot of food yet.  But soon they would.

He helped them to the floor, he really didn’t want them to eat while on his bed. He had been planning to make them do some training for their food, but they just reacted to his thoughts. If Jon wanted them to be still, they obeyed. That simplified things.

When he was done feeding them, he made sure that they understood that they had to be quiet and that if they heard anyone approach the door, they had to hide under the bed, behind the chest that held Blackfyre.

When he felt confident that they would listen to what he had told them to do, which was almost immediately, he headed down to the great hall to break his fast. On his way there, he remembered the training the day before. Jon had never in his life wanted to miss breakfast so much.

He didn’t feel like dealing with the angry looks from Lady Stark, or anyone else for that matter. But he knew that it couldn’t be avoided forever, and it was better to deal with it now than later. And Jon was many things, but a coward was not one of them. Hells he had stabbed the Dragon queen to death with her dragon just outside.

Now he had the same dragon in his room as a hatchling. But was it the same dragon? Yes, it was but this one hadn’t burned down a city, and hopefully never would. He couldn’t lay any blame on the dragon. He had been doing as he was ordered by his rider. No, Jon would be laying the blame on the person who had done the ordering. Jon resolved to find new names for them, he didn’t want any reminders that these dragons had once been hatched by Daenerys Targaryen. He wanted them to have a clean slate in this life.

But what could he name them? Maybe after the famous Targaryen dragons? No, definitely not. He didn’t want to be repeating the past, and he wanted them to have new names, not names that other dragons had carried before them. They would be like him, there were no other Targaryen´s with the name Jon, and his dragons wouldn’t have the names of the other Targaryen dragons.

Jon arrived at the great hall, with his head full of potential names for the dragons, so he didn’t notice the foul look Lady Stark was giving him or the nasty scowl Theon was sending him. Jon sat himself down beside Arya and in front of Robb. He was so immersed in his thoughts of dragon names that he didn’t notice that everyone had fallen silent.

“So…are you going to tell us were you learned that move?” Robb was giving him an eager look as he said those words. It was then he noticed that he was the center of attention. He hated it when people gave him so much attention. No one gave a bastard any attention except when they had done something wrong in his experience. But if he was to become the King of the Seven Kingdoms, he had to get used to it. Oh, how he dreaded when he had to become King.

Even people on other tables were looking at him. Apparently, all the men at arms had heard of Jon´s sudden increase of talent and now they were curious. But what was worse was Ser Rodrick who made no move to hide his interest in this conversation.

Jon really didn’t want to have this conversation. All he wanted to do was go to the library and see if he could find some ideas for names for his dragons.

Jon shrugged his shoulders. “I sometimes watch the guards train.” Yes, this could work, answer without answering or giving anything away. His cousin screwed up his young face, Jon remembered when Robb had done this a lot, until his mother made him stop. The future Warden of the North couldn’t be making faces at people.

“You learned that just by watching other people?” Robb sounded like he didn’t believe him. But Jon just shrugged his shoulders again and continued eating.

“Sometimes when you are in your lordly lessons, I practice my sword arm by myself in the godswood.” Thank the gods that Robb seemed to buy this, Robb had always loved and trusted Jon. Even though Jon hated himself for abusing that trust now, it was better than the alternative.  But he seemed to be the only one that bought that, though no one said anything.

“And speaking of the lordly lessons that Robb attends.” Jon looked over to his uncle that was now watching them like a hawk. “Jon, I want you to start attending them alongside Robb.” This caused Jon´s eyebrows to disappear into the roots of his curly hair. He looked at his cousin Robb, who looked overjoyed at having Jon with him at his lessons.

But lady Stark was not happy with her husband. Her face had turned so red that for a moment, Jon thought that the woman would explode. “Ned, you cannot do this. You cannot allow the bastard to attend lessons with your trueborn son.” She hissed at her husband. She was just loud enough for the children to hear, but the people on the other tables didn’t hear a thing.

The Lord of Winterfell gave her a cold look. “There are a lot of abandoned castles here in the north that badly need lords, I intend to give one to Jon, when he comes of age and for that he is going to need to attend the lessons. It would be a waste of maester Luwin´s time to have to teach them separately.” With every word the man spoke, his wife turned redder and redder, if that was possible.

“You intend to give the bastard a castle? And a lordship?” Her voice sounded shrill. “And what about Bran? Your trueborn son? What is he going to get?”

“Enough, Catelyn. Bran is only four-years old and he is too young to attend lessons. And in six-years Jon is going to be a man grown and he is going to need a place for himself.”

“OH, and what castle and lordship do you intend to give him? Moat Cailin? Queenscrown?” Those two castles and lordships were the most famous and largest abandoned castles in the North.

“I have not decided yet, but those two are a real possibility for Jon. Now children go about your duties. And Jon, I want you to come to my solar after dinner.” Jon nodded and hurried out of the great hall, with Robb trailing after him.

“VOW, can you believe that. You and I are going to attend the same lessons. I can´t wait, it is going to be so much fun.” Robb had started to attend the lordly lessons two years ago. Jon could still remember the sting he felt when he learned that he would not be attending with him.

“I thought you hated your lessons with maester Luwin?” Robb nodded with eagerness that only a young child could have.

“Yes, they are really boring. They are all numbers, high Valyrian and politics and things like that. But now you are going to suffer with me.” He finished with a laugh.

They headed to the practice yard together to wait for Ser Rodrick. They didn’t have to wait for long, because the portly knight came strolling up to them with Theon in tow. Theon had a sullen look on his face and the look quickly turned to anger as he spotted Jon.

Jon decided to ignore the older boy and just get on with his training. Ser Rodrick came up to Jon and handed him a wooded sword. “Now you and your brother Robb are two of the most talented young swordsmen I have ever trained.” This caused Robb to puff out his chest in pride and Theon to grow more sullen. But Jon kept his features schooled in the normal mask that didn’t give much away. “But yesterday, seeing you fight made me think that maybe you would be best served by fighting someone a little more seasoned.”

The knight gestured to a young man, who was probably in his late teens or early twenties. The young man walked over with a smile on his face, and there was a lot of confidence in his step. Jon knew this young man, this was Will, he had been a boy when he came to Winterfell from White Harbor to become a guard for Lord Stark. He was one of the most promising sword arms in the guard of Winterfell.

“Now your father, has given me permission to test you Jon. We want to find out exactly how good you are with a sword. And if you are good enough, we want you to train with the older boys.” Now this was interesting. It would be a good idea to have a more serious training than with Robb and Theon. He didn’t want to grow slow or weak, he was used to fight for his life. Jon wanted to become the best swordsman he could be, and maybe this could help him to become better.

Jon gave the older man a small smile and nodded his consent. But there was one thing that he should ask the aging knight. “Ser Rodrick, could I have a bastard sword?”

Everybody that knew him looked at him in surprise. The old Jon that they knew, would never have asked for a bastard sword instead of a longsword. Mostly because of the name. But Jon had found that he much preferred the bastard swords over the longswords.  Ser Rodrick stared at him and nodded.

Jon took the bastardized version of the wooden sword and tested the balance, not great but passible he thought to himself.

When Jon and the man, Will took up stances in the middle of the training yard, Jon noticed the excited look on Robb and the nasty grin on Theon. The Ironborn thought that Jon wouldn’t be able to beat Will. Not that Jon could blame him, Jon wouldn’t bet on himself if he was in Theon´s shoes.

Ser Rodrick gave the signal to start. Will lunged at Jon, probably wanting to get this over with quickly, and get to more important things. But Jon was ready for him. He side-stepped him and again the man lunged for him but this time the young guard swung his sword at Jon, which Jon easily parried. The young man started very quickly to grow angry at not being able to catch Jon of guard. It must be embarrassing to not be able to win immediately against a ten-year old.

But little did the young guardsman know, that Jon was going very easy on him. This was one of the best swordsmen in Winterfell? Jon thought him slow and his strikes were not heavy on his sword.

Will had gown very angry by now, he came rushing at Jon with a yell. But Jon was faster, he grabbed the young man´s sword arm and twisted it, forcing him to let his sword go. Then Jon kicked the back of his knees and let him fall by letting his arm go. Will was laying on his stomach in the dirt, disarmed by a ten-year old.

Jon walked over to the fallen sword and picked it up. Then he waited for the man to get off the ground. Will stood slowly up, out of the dirt. He was grunting in pain and clutching his sword arm to his chest.

“Are you alright Will?” The old knight asked.

“I think the bastard broke my arm.” That statement was met with silence. Until Ser Rodrick made his way over to the man and looked over his arm. “Go on and get the maester to look at it, it is a little bruised already and a little swollen. But I warn you now Will, Jon is Lord Stark´s son. So, baseborn or not, you are to show him respect.” His voice was gruff and a little angry.

Will looked at Jon angerly and grunted as he walked away. Ser Rodrick looked at Jon. “A bastard sword eh?”

EDDARD

Eddard Stark, the lord of Winterfell and the warden of the North, sighed tiredly. His lady wife was pacing in front of him in anger and demanding an explanation for his abominable behavior. She was demanding that he pull Jon from Robb´s lessons. It was an insult to her that the bastard was in the same lessons that her trueborn son was in.

Ned loved his wife with all his heart. But in this life and the last one, there were times when he wanted to send her to her room like an errant child. He restrained himself. He wasn’t one of those men that treated the women in his life like cattle. Yes, he had betrothed Sansa to that little shit Joffrey, but both Sansa and Catelyn had begged him to do it.

Sansa had wanted a golden prince, but she had been a child who didn’t know what she wanted yet. This time she wouldn’t be sold to anyone, she would marry a good man who was worthy of her. A man who would treat her with respect. Sansa hadn’t wanted that man when he had spoken about breaking her engagement, but as he said before, she had been a child.

But his wife, Catelyn Stark had no such defense. She was a woman grown who had taken Tyrion Lannister prisoner, when she knew full well in what kind of situation he was in at the capitol. She had been the one to preach caution when dealing with the Lannister´s, yet she had done this. He knew full well that he shouldn’t judge her for mistakes that she hadn’t made yet, but he would be damned if he let her make any of these mistakes again.

His redheaded wife was stalking about his solar and hissing insults at Jon, and he finally lost his temper. It wasn’t easy to make his lose his temper but enough was enough. “CATELYN ENOUGH.” His wife stopped and stared at him in bewilderment. She had never before been the subject of the brunt of his anger. But there was a first time for everything.

“Catelyn, I love you, but you will never talk this way about Jon again. Do you understand me?” Cat just stared at him for a little while.

“Have you not shamed me enough, my lord? Must you continue to treat the bastard as Robb´s equal? And now you want to give him a lordship that by rights should be Bran´s?”

“Enough, Catelyn. I have made my decision and my decision is final.” Ned was not proud that he raised his voice at his wife. While he admired her dedication to their children, she shouldn’t take her anger at her husband out on Jon. Jon had done nothing to her or anyone else, yet she continued to take all her anger at the world on Jon.

Catelyn bristled in anger at his words. He was very happy that there was a knock on his door to stop his wife from saying anything else. Ser Rodrick and maester Luwin walked into his solar. Catelyn gave him a last furious look before she swept out of the office.

For a moment he felt that he was being unfair to his wife. But then he remembered in the past life, when Jon had been going to the Wall and he had been trying to say goodbye to Bran. Ned had walked in on Catelyn letting her anger and sorrow out on Jon, and Ned felt his resolve strengthen. He couldn’t let his wife take her anger out on Jon. She would definitely regret it when the truth would come out.

There wasn’t any if´s or maybe´s anymore about the truth about Jon coming out. The truth was coming out, in a few years Ned and Jon would have to reclaim Jon´s birthright. He should have felt more guilt over betraying Robert, his oldest friend and a man who was more a brother to him that Brandon had ever been, but Robert would have killed Jon. That was something that Ned could never allow. Robert had also made an abominable king, he had plunged the Kingdoms into dept that that counted more than six million gold dragons, and that was just to the Lannister´s. How much did the Iron Throne owe the Iron bank?

The two men sat themselves down in front of him and brought him out of his musings. Ned gestured for Ser Rodrick to start with his report.

“Jon did well in the training today.” The knight, who had also trained Ned for a time as a child, said with pride in his tone. “He beat Will, very easily in the yard. But I think that the young Will is not going to get to forget that a ten-year old beat him into the dirt today.”

Luwin chuckled softly. “Yes, he was quite angry when he came to me, he kept saying that Jon had broken his arm.” Ned felt his throat constrict. Did Jon break a man´s arm and the two were chuckling over it? Had the world gone mad?

The maester of Winterfell noticed the look on Ned´s face. “Oh, don’t worry my lord. Young Will was just fine, a little bruised, but unbroken he remains.” Ned felt the relief wash over his very being.

“So, can we put Jon with the older men in training?” The lord of Winterfell asked. Ned needed Jon to get all the training he could get. Soon Jon would be the King of the Seven Kingdoms and if Jon was being serious about the Others returning, then he would need all the training in the world. He would have put Robb in the more advanced training with him, but he didn’t think that Robb could keep up with them yet. But Ned asked Ser Rodrick to make sure that Robb took his training seriously. The old knight had just laughed at that, apparently Robb was very serious about his sword training.

When Ser Rodrick had finished his report on Jon, Ned gestured for the maester to give his report on Jon´s first lesson with Robb in the managing of a lordship.

“Ah, Jon is very promising young student. If I didn’t know better then, I would have thought that he had been a lord before.” Ned wasn’t surprised at that. Jon had been the Lord Commander of the Night´s Watch in his old life, and a lot of the Lord Commander´s duties were very similar to many of the duties of a Lord.

“There is another reason for why I asked you two here today.” This got the attention of the two men. “I want to ask you two on how you feel about having Sansa in your lessons with the boys.”

The men were now flabbergasted. The Lord of Winterfell was asking them to train his daughter like they would train a lord of Winterfell. While some of the lords trained their daughters like boys, like the ones on bear island, they were very few who did that.

The men looked at one another and then back to Ned. “You want us to train Lady Sansa in all the lordly duties?” The maester asked with trepidation.

Ned nodded at them. “Yes, and Arya when she is old enough, I want both my son´s and daughter´s to have all the tools they can possibly have to defend themselves and the North.” That statement was met with silence. Then they both nodded their consent. Sansa and Arya would be trained with their brother´s. Arya would be ecstatic about learning to handle weaponry. Sansa on the other hand would be scandalized.

And Ned hadn’t even begun to worry about what Catelyn would say.

JON

Jon was sure that he had made an enemy of young Will today. The other guards had heard of his defeat by the hand of a ten-year old, and they hadn’t let him forget it and they probably never would.

After training Jon had left for his room, he had managed to go to the kitchens and gotten a little more meat for his dragons. He felt a lot better after being with them, even if it was only for a little while. But soon he had to leave for his lessons with maester Luwin.

While he like the lessons with maester Luwin, they were very tiring. Robb had hung on Jon´s every word when the maester asked Jon a question. Robb was in awe of Jon because of his sudden increase of talent in the sword, but Theon was worse than ever. Jon had almost forgotten how unbearable he could be before the Bastard of Bolton had gotten his hands on him. Theon took every opportunity to be snide and call him a bastard. While it didn’t bother Jon as much as it did before, it was still annoying.

Dinner had also been hard. He had to endure Lady Stark´s withering glares. It was like he had murdered someone dear to her and she was trying to kill him with her eyes. For the first time since he had come back into his old body, he missed being beyond the Wall. At least no one tried to murder him with a stare. No, the Freefolk just tried to murder people out right.

It wasn’t soon enough when his uncle called him to his solar. Jon gladly fled the great hall. Even though it was hard, he was very glad that he was back. After his lessons with the maester, Jon had played with Robb, Sansa, Arya and Bran. Jon knew that this was the last year that Sansa would play with them. Soon she would stop, she would try to be more of a lady, and ladies didn’t play with children and bastards, she had said in his last life when she was asked.

Jon knocked on his uncle´s solar door, he didn’t have to wait to be called in. Thankfully his uncle was alone, and Jon was greeted with one of Eddard Stark´s rare smiles.

“How was your first day in your lessons?” This brought a smile to Jon´s face. Jon always liked how much his uncle cared.

“It went well, I suppose. I asked maester Luwin at the end of the lesson for any book I might read so I can catch up on those two years I didn’t attend lessons.” That caused his uncle to give him beaming smile.

“Good, the more you study now the better prepared you will be when the time comes. But I also wanted to know something.” Ned had turned serious.

“I need to know about the Bolton´s and the others that sided with the Lannister´s.” That was a hard subject for Jon to talk about, the Bolton´s had done such horrible things to take over the North. The thought of what the Frey´s and the Bolton´s had done to Robb still haunted him. He had heard of what they had done to his body, even at the wall. They had murdered him at a wedding and then they had mutilated his body and put Greywind´s head instead of his own on his shoulders and paraded him around for everyone to see. And Sansa had been raped and tortured by Ramsay Snow for weeks, even months.

Jon had never hated anyone like Ramsay Snow before in his life. He could still remember how he had lost his temper at the battle of the bastards, when he had almost beat the monster to death. Jon shook his head out of his thoughts as his uncle continued.

“We cannot have them at our backs when the time comes, but we cannot punish them for a crime that they have not committed yet.”

Jon nodded, that was reasonable, but there was something that his uncle didn’t know. “Uncle, when Sansa and I retook Winterfell, she told me somethings. Apparently, the Bolton´s haven’t stopped flaying people even after it was outlawed here in the North. She told me how Ramsay gloated to her that he and his father had never stopped after you made it illegal. They have hidden rooms in the Dreadfort they use for torture.”

His uncle had gone pale at that news. He had always been wary of Roose Bolton, believing him to be cold, calculating and ruthless. But to hear that he was still flaying people for his own amusement was something unthinkable. Jon himself had been shocked when Sansa had told him that.

“We can´t just go and accuse a Lord of breaking the law without any proof.” Ned got up and started to pace the room.

“I agree, we need evidence of their crimes. And I think that I know how.” His uncle stopped abruptly and looked at him. Jon had spent some time with the smallfolk after he and Sansa had taken Winterfell back. He knew that some of the survivors of Wintertown had been refuges from the Bolton lands that had arrived twenty years before the sack of Winterfell. They had been the few to survive because they knew how to survive the Bolton´s and their savagery. And Jon also knew that they craved revenge and would not only testify, they would most likely be willing to go to the Bolton lands and try to help Stark men apprehend the Bastard of Bolton.

When Jon relayed this information to his uncle, Ned turned thought full and sat down. “Yes, that could work. And if they manage to capture Ramsay Snow in the act then that could be what we need. Roose Bolton is of still responsible for his son as he is not yet of age. It could also give us an excuse to search the Dreadfort.”

Jon left his uncle to put some finishing touches on their plan to bring the Bolton´s to justice, Jon just hoped it would work.

Chapter Text

SANSA

She was walking along the empty corridor. Everything around her was in a grey fog and she couldn’t see anyone. Sansa felt that she had been walking around for hours in the fog when she saw a familiar face. The face was grey and long, and happiness filled Sansa´s very being at seeing it. She walked closer as luminescent amber eyes followed her.

Her Lady looked exactly like she remembered her. But as Sansa fell to her knees in front of her and tried to hug her close, her arms went through Lady.  Her beloved direwolf gave a low whine.

Then Lady turned on her heel and walked over to the doorway. Just as she was about to walk through, she stopped and looked at Sansa. Lady looked like she wanted Sansa to follow her.

Sansa hurried to her feet and followed the direwolf though the corridors of Winterfell. As they got out of the castle, Sansa could see that the whole world was surrounded in the thick grey fog. But still Lady led her forwards. It didn’t take long for Sansa to realize that she was being led to the godswood. Why was Lady leading her there?

They came to a stop in front of the great weirwood tree of the Winterfell godswood. Not for the first time, Sansa marveled at the beauty of the weirwood tree. It stood tall and the face adorning it was crying it´s red sap. Red five-pointed leaf’s swayed in the nonexciting wind.

She had come very familiar with the godswood in Winterfell, in the last four months. After Jon had been sent back to the wall, she came her and sat in front of the Weirwood tree like he had so often done. The hole he had left in heart was still a gaping wound that Sansa knew that would never heal.

“Hello, Sansa Stark.” She turned at the voice that came from behind her. The owner of the voice was small. So small that she could have been mistaken for a child. The small creature was undoubtedly female, judging by her figure and stance and her eyes were double the size of any human eyes. The girl was dressed in leather and leaf´s and she had adorned twigs and feathers in her hair.

“Are you a child of the forest?” Sansa asked. The girls moss green eyes flashed with mischief.

“No, but we made them.” What had made the children? Sansa asked herself. The answer could only be one thing.

“Are you one of the old gods?” The creature that Sansa had mistaken for one of the children of the forest nodded her head.

“Yes, I am one of who you call the old gods.” Its voice sounded like a gentle breeze running through the leaf´s of a tree. “I have come with an offer for you, Sansa of House Stark.” Now this was interesting.

“How do I even know that you are who you say you are?” Sansa had been fooled enough times to just trust anyone to be honest about who they were.

But the girl just giggled. “You know, that is the same thing Jon of house Targaryen asked our brother…more or less.” Jon? Jon had meet one of the old gods? But the girl just giggled again. “You will see the proof of who I am, soon enough. But first I would like to explain somethings to you.”

“What things?” Sansa stood straighter and tried her best to carry herself like the Queen she was.

“We are going to send your consciousness back into your younger body. So you can help the prince that was promised fulfil his destiny.” Sansa wasn’t sure if she had heard the creature right. They wanted her to do what? Before she could demand an explanation, the girl continued.

The girl explained to Sansa what had happened to Jon, how both she and so many others had been played by the thing occupying her brother’s, Bran´s body. How the thing had been feeding of Jon´s magic and how he had planned all along to take the Iron throne for his own.

Sansa remembered that she had spent hours talking with what she had thought was Bran. What had been lies? What had been the truth?

The small creature that claimed to be one of the old gods just stared at her in silence.

“So, you are telling me that you intend to send me back in time, to help Jon take back his birthright and help him defeat not only the Baratheons and the Lannisters but also the Others.”

The creature nodded her head. “More or less, yes, that is what we plan on doing. Now I know you really don’t believe me to be telling you the truth of who I am, but when you wake up in your childhood bed, you will know that I spoke the truth.” With that the girl raised her hand and placed two of her three fingers on Sansa´s forehead and the world went dark.

She woke up slowly, she could feel the warmth and comfort laying there, and she didn’t want to get up. Sansa´s eyes flew open as she remembered her dream. It had been such a strange dream; she couldn’t remember ever having a dream like it. The closest thing she could remember was her dreams of being inside Lady as she hunted with her siblings, when she had been alive.

She looked around her room, and sure enough, it was her childhood bedroom. Sansa looked down on her body and to her shock it was a body of a seven-year old. She rushed over to her looking glass and stared at herself in disbelieve. Sansa looked exactly like she had when she had as a child, right down to the chubby cheeks.

Then the realization hit her like a brick. Her family was alive and well. She could see her parents again, her brothers and sister. She gave a small laugh of happiness; she could see them all again. But then she remembered what the girl had told her, Jon was here too, and he remembered. Her stomach started to do flips. Sansa had thought that she would never see him again after the thing that was in Bran had banished him to the wall.

Now that she was in her childhood bedroom, she couldn’t help but to believe the girl that called herself one of the old gods. Sansa had spent four horrible months thinking on everything that had happened and to her it didn’t make any sense. But she could worry about that later, she had to find Jon and talk to him.

She found her robe and put it on and hurried out of her room. She was running silently though the corridors. It took her a moment to realize that there was no one around so it must have been an early morning.

She arrived at his room, that was located far from everybody else in the castle. She didn’t know where his room had been when she was a child, she had never bothered. It hadn’t been until they had taken Winterfell back when she learned that he had been alone in this part of the castle, and she could still feel the shame. How could she not have bothered? How could she have been so mean to Jon and Arya? She knew that a lot of the childhood rivalry between the Stark sisters had come about, because of Septa Mordane. The Septa had always praised Sansa for every little thing and belittled Arya for breathing. And in Sansa´s spoiled mind, it had meant that it was alright to mock Arya and tease her. But she couldn’t place all the blame on the Septa, Sansa knew that she was responsible for her own actions and now she would start by making up for them.

Sansa knocked on Jon´s door and waited for him to open it. It didn’t take very long for the door to open, but to Sansa, it felt like an eternity.

And there he was, he was much younger than last time she had seen him. The last time they had been together they had been on the docks of king´s Landing, saying goodbye to one another.  He had looked haggard after the imprisonment by the unsullied and he had been wearing all black like the brothers of the nights watch. But still, Sansa had never seen a more handsome man in her life as Jon would be when he grew up again.

But now he was around ten-years old with no beard and no scars. But his eyes were old, and they had seen much. “Jon, I am so glad you are here.” He furrowed his brow as she half said, and half cried her greeting to him. But he didn’t get any time to answer her or ask her any questions, as she leapt into at him and threw her arms around his neck. She could feel his arms hug her around her middle. He must have realized that she remembered too.

This is where she wanted to be, in his arms. And she would be damned it the dragon queen got her claws in him again.

She didn’t know how long they stood there hugging each other in his doorway, but all to soon they let each other go. Jon ushered her into his room and closed the door after her.

“I can´t believe you are here.” His smile threatened to split his face, she had never seen him smile so brightly before. She could see the echoes of his adult self in the child´s face he had on now.

“I can hardly believe that I am here myself. But I am glad, we can protect our family now.” He nodded.

“Aye, we have already started working on strengthening the North for when the army of the Dead arrives and when we need to take the Iron Throne.” His words made Sansa stop. We? Who was we?

“Is there someone else that has their memories Jon?” He nodded.

“Aye, your father had his memories before me.” That would make thing much easier for them. If they had the Lord of Winterfell on their side, they could convince the north to follow Jon. And it was good that they had started their preparations.

She thought back to the last few days and she could see the difference between memories. It seemed that a few days ago, both Jon and her father had changed. But it was much more apparent in Jon than her father.

Jon had always been serious and more than a little broody but now he had become a master swordsman overnight and had taken to his new studies like a fish to water. For that Sansa was glad. A good king needed to be informed and well read.

“Is there anyone else?” She had to know.

“No not that I know of. But we must be careful, Uncle and I agreed that we shouldn’t tell anyone that we have memories of a former life, people will think us mad.” She agreed with that assessment, no one had to know anything.

“There is something else you have to know.” She looked at Jon as he said that. He looked very serious and a little guilty as he had spoken. “When I was brought back, I was given instructions on what I had to do.”

He shifted from one foot to the other as he spoke. “I had to hatch three dragon eggs so that we have a chance against the dead and so that we can claim the Iron Throne.” He spoke so fast that Sansa almost missed what he had said. Did Jon say he had three dragons?

Before Sansa could ask him, she heard chirping. She looked to the bed, where the sound had come from. And from underneath it came two familiar colored dragons and one that she had never seen before, he was the color of cream and gold. But this time they were much, much smaller than she had seen them when Jon and Daenerys had ridden the green one and the black one just before the battle against the dead.

“They are mine.” Jon said in a strong voice. “They will listen to me and no one else I swear. Daenerys Targaryen will not get her hands on them I promise.” Even though his voice was strong and clear now, she could still hear the fear behind it.

She didn’t say anything, she just walked over to him and gave him a hug. Of course, she trusted Jon with his new dragons. He had never been the one to burn down everything in a fit of madness. She knew in her heart that Jon was not the kind of person.

“I have something else I want to show you.” He was much calmer now that he had been before.

“Do you have more dragons under your bed?” Her tone was teasing. But Jon just gave her a smile and said nothing as he knelt down and dragged a long chest from under the bed.

The little dragons scrabbled out of the way and Sansa moved closer to Jon to see what was inside the chest. He opened the chest, and in it lay the most beautiful sword Sansa had seen. A valyrian steel sword that shone in the light of the fireplace. The hilt was a deep black and on the pommel was a large ruby the size of a hen´s egg and the cross guard was made in the shape of two roaring dragons.

Blackfyre.

The name echoed inside of her mind as she stared in wonder at the sword of kings. “Where did you get it? It has been lost since the days of Aegon the unworthy.”

“It was put under my bed when I arrived.” Sansa sat down on the bed. The sword was a boon that was for sure. There were many that would look at the sword and see it as the symbol of the Targaryen rule. The sword was as much of a symbol to the Targaryens as their dragons. after they had become extinct, it was the sword that had served as the symbol of Targaryen strength and their right to rule. And now Jon had three dragons and the sword.

It would be hard for Robert Baratheon and the Lannisters to go against Jon now.

As Sansa sat on the bed, the dragons had moved closer and they had started to sniff at her night gown.

“Have you thought of names for them yet? Or are you going to let them keep the names they had in last life?”

Jon shook his head. “I will not have them use the names they had in last life, I don’t what them to have the names Daenerys gave them, nor do I much care for my Targaryen uncle or my aunt´s dead husband.” He was silence for a moment. “I think I have found names that I can use.”

He sat down beside her. “I think that I will name the cream and gold one Illyrion, after the valyrian city that was destroyed long before the freehold was great. The green and bronze one, I named Earendil, that is the name for one of the brightest stars in the sky, in valyrian. The black and red one, I decided to call Algernon.”

“You named a large black dragon after a small white mouse?” She asked with a laugh. Jon laughed with her and nodded.

“I thought it was fitting.” They laughed together, and for a moment everything was all right with the world.

Then they heard a knock on the door. Jon jumped off his bed and kicked the chest under it and the dragons rushed after it.

Then he made his way to the door and opened it. In the doorway stood her father. He looked just like she remembered him. Tall and strong, with his dark hair tied behind his head and on his face, he had his neatly trimmed beard.

Before anything could be said or her father could tell them the reason why he was here, she ran over to him and jumped into his arms. She was so glad to see him again.

“Sansa what are you doing here, I have been looking all over for you. Your mother has been so worried for you when your maid came to wake you, you weren’t in your room.” She hadn’t realized before but there were tears running down her face.

“Father, I remember.” She had never seen anyone lose the color in their face so fast.

“I am sorry Sansa.” He looked so sad that it almost broke her heart. But this brought another question to her mind. How much did he know about what had happened to her?

She turned to face Jon, who was very interested in his feet at the moment. So, he had told her father what had happened to her. She really couldn’t blame Jon, in all honestly, she was glad that she didn’t have to tell her father, her story herself. It was to painful.

She put on her brave face that she had gotten used to wearing around people. “It doesn’t matter, now I should go back to my room and change into something more appropriate.”

She glanced at Jon when she said that, and she could see him start blushing. Even though they were children, they knew now that they weren’t siblings and therefore it was inappropriate for Jon to see Sansa in her nightgown. But the blush that lit up his face was worth it.

With those parting words she strutted out of the room and went to her own room to chance. She entered her room and found her handmaiden looking very frightened. “Is everything alright?” Sansa asked the young girl. Her handmaid looked at Sansa and she could see the relief flood her face.

“My lady I was very worried, I thought you had been kidnapped.” Sansa couldn’t help but to raise an eyebrow.

“You thought that I was kidnapped from my own father´s castle?” the girl blushed, and Sansa just shook her head. “Well, let´s just get ready for the day.”

The girl nodded eagerly as she rushed to help Sansa get dressed for the day. Sansa was not happy with the dress that the girl had picked out but said nothing. The dress was a pale pink and was made from an expensive material that Sansa had favored as a child. She had long since stopped wearing so expensive clothing and preferred the usual northern style dresses. They were a lot more practical than the ones that Sansa owned.

She would have to change that, it wouldn’t do to have such horribly impractical clothing here in the north, she would freeze if she tried to do anything.

She hurriedly got dressed and went down to break her fast.

JON

Meeting his cousin Sansa and finding out she had her memories restored, was a shock to say the least. Of all the things he expected to happen when he opened the door, this was not one of them. But he was very glad. He still couldn’t believe it, he thought to himself as he walked down to the great hall.

He felt now they really stood a chance at winning this. Sure, having dragons and his uncle Ned was a boon. But he felt much better knowing that Sansa was here, she had seen the army of the dead, she knew the players in the game of thrones, and she knew how to play it. He could learn a lot from her.

He was also happy that she had seen the dragons and she still didn’t hate him. There had been a nagging doubt that she would see him as another mad Targaryen. Jon knew logically that she wouldn’t judge him by the actions of Daenerys, but he couldn’t help it. He had felt such fear when he showed her the dragons, but he knew that he couldn’t keep them a secret, not from her.

He entered the great hall and saw that his family was already there. The only thing out of place was that Sansa was being scolded by her mother, though she didn’t seem all that bothered by it.  Arya however was gleeful; she had never seen Sansa being taken to task by their mother before and she was probably enjoying the moment to the fullest now.

Jon sat down in his seat beside Robb, who was also watching his sister being scolded with great interest.

Jon said nothing as he sat down and went to find his food. After a little while lady Catelyn stopped scolding her daughter and let her start on her breakfast. That is when his uncle decided to address them all.

“Sansa, I have something to tell you.” The man seemed a little nervous, but not at taking to Sansa but he was casting nervous glances at his wife. Sansa on the other hand looked at her father in interest.

“I have decided that you will be attending lessons with the boys and you shall also be attending their training in the yard.” This statement was met with silence. Then both Arya and Robb exploded. “WHY DOES SHE GET TO LEARN HOW TO USE A SWORD BUT NOT ME!”

“SHE IS A GIRL, AND GIRLS DON’T USE SWORDS!”

They were both shouting at their father. “ENOUGH” The lord of Winterfell´s voice carried very well in the great hall. The hall had fallen silent.

Their father had never before raised his voice at his children. “Sansa will learn how to use a sword and, in a year, so shall you Arya.” This made the young girl smile so brightly that she could have lit the whole great hall by herself. Robb on the other hand looked even more put out.

“But father-.” The heir to Winterfell was interrupted by his father.

“Robb, this has nothing to do with you. They will learn how to handle weapons like so many ladies of the north before them, they will also be attending all the lessons you attend, and I will not hear more about this. Am I understood?” His voice was firm, and he gave no room for the young lord to protest.

Robb pouted and nodded solemnly. Jon thought his cousin looked like his father had denied him everything he had ever wanted. Jon had to hold in his laugh at the poor boy’s misery.

 As soon as the meal was over, the young lord rushed out of the hall with Theon hot on his heels. Jon decided to talk to his uncle before training.

Jon could see that his uncle was talking quietly with lady Stark. He couldn’t help but to notice that she didn’t seem very mad, a little but Jon figured that she wasn’t very happy about her daughters learning how to fight. In the south it was frowned upon that girls should learn how to defend themselves. Well, everywhere but Dorne. But here in the north is wasn’t that uncommon that women learned how to fight.

The women of bear island had been helping to fight the ironborn invaders for centuries, and with great result. So, he really didn’t understand why Robb was so mad that his sisters would learn how to defend themselves.

Jon himself had met women that fought just as well, and in some cases better than any man. His cousin Arya and Brienne of Tarth for example were both fierce warriors that could easily take down any man that stood in their way.

Jon noticed that his uncle was done talking to his wife, so he walked over.

“I think you, Sansa and I need to take later this evening, Lord Stark.” Jon stated. The man nodded his head and said. “After dinner.”

EDDARD

Jon and Sansa entered his solar. It was strange watching them together. They looked much closer than they had been the day before.

Ned had been so confused at finding Sansa in Jon´s room this morning. But he had gone there to get him to help with the search for Ned´s daughter, but there had been no need for that after he had entered the room.

They had never been very close when they were younger and seeing them now was surreal for him. They tried to behave like they had before, but there was something different about how they behaved now.

Jon and Sansa sat down in front of him. “Now, was there anything you wanted to speak to me about?” Jon nodded his head. Whatever the boy wanted to talk to him about was serious indeed. Ned saw Sansa reach her hand out and took Jon´s hand in her own. The gesture was innocent enough sure, but it made Ned feel a little uneasy.

“Uncle.” His nephew brought him out of his thoughts. “I think you should tell lady Catelyn that my mother is dead.” That statement was followed by silence. Why was the boy bringing that up now?

“And may I ask what that would accomplice?” His voice was a lot harsher than he intended.

“Father, you do realize that the reason my mother lashes out in anger at Jon is because she is hurting. She probably thinks that Jon´s mother is in Wintertown and maybe one day you will come home one day with another babe to raise here. But if you tell her and swear to her that Jon´s mother is dead, then that might help her get some closure on the subject. You have to understand that she lives in constant fear of an unknown woman, that does not exist.”

Ned sighed; he knew Sansa was right. He was hurting the woman he loved. Perhaps it was time to tell her at least that Jon´s mother was dead and never coming back.

Chapter Text

CATELYN

After her husband had told her that Jon´s mother had died birthing him, she was hunted by guilt. She remembered the day when she had entered the sept her husband had built her and prayed that his bastard would die.

But when she had heard that his mother was dead, dead and never coming back, she had begged her husband to give the boy the Stark name and be done with it, as long as he was not placed in the line of succession. Even though she felt a little guilty, she didn’t want the bastard to usurp her children.

Ned had refused. She had never been as surprised by anything in her life before. He had told her that Jon´s fate was not to be a Stark, and one day she would understand why and that he hoped that she could forgive him. Then he had left their chambers so that she could think.

Catelyn was watching the boy now, he was sitting beside Robb and listening to her son as he rambled on about something that she couldn’t hear.

In the last few days she had noticed a change in the boy, he was less sullen than he had been before. The sullen expression on his face had given into seriousness. It was like he had changed overnight. He like Robb had always been a talented pupil when training with a sword, but one day it was like he had grown into a master swordsman. Catelyn had to admit to herself that it irked her, knowing that the bastard was more talented with the sword than her son was.

Maybe the rumors of Ned having an affair with Ashara Dayne was true after all, her brother was Arthur Dayne, the sword of the morning and the most skilled sword ever lived if the stories were true. So, maybe the boy had inherited the skill of the Dayne´s with a sword.

Even though Ned had told her that the boy’s mother was dead it still stung that her husband had another child with a woman, but she felt a little calmer knowing that he wasn´t sneaking of to see Jon Snow´s mother every time he went to Wintertown. Then the guilt returned. She felt relieved that the boy didn’t have a mother. And again, she felt that she was the worst woman in the world.

Now not only didn’t he have the hope of one day meet his mother, but now he had no hope of ever being a Stark. Not for the first time, she didn’t understand her husband thinking. What were his plans for Jon Snow? He had made it clear that he would never be a Stark, and therefore he could never inherit Winterfell, much to Catelyn´s relief. But what could Ned be planning for the boy?

Sansa was also sitting beside the boy, she looked strange in her borrowed pants and with her hair tied in a northern fashion. Catelyn´s elder daughter had always favored the styles of the south but now she was dressed in a boys northern clothing that Catelyn didn’t recognize.

This was not Robb´s old clothing, he would not have lent his sister his old clothing. He was still too angry at his father for letting the girls join them. No, these clothing didn’t look as expensive as Robb´s. Could she have gotten them from the bastard? No Cat didn’t think so. He and Sansa weren’t that close. She must have asked the servant girls for something to wear in the training yard.

That was something that had surprised her, her husband putting Sansa and soon Arya in the lessons with the boys. Cat was glad that her daughter would be learning how to handle the duties of a lord, it would help them when it came time for them to advice their husbands, but she did not agree with them learning how to wield weapons. It was un lady like and she didn’t want her daughters doing it.

Didn’t Ned know how hard it was for a girl to find a husband if she wielded a weapon, no respectable man would want them. Well, some men would probably look past it with Sansa, she was growing into the perfect beautiful lady and if Catelyn acted quickly, she could put a stop to this silliness of the girls learning how to use weapons.

SANSA

Her new clothes or Jon´s old clothes rather, felt strange. For the first time in her life she was wearing pants. She wasn’t sure she like it. Sansa was so used to be wearing dresses, but Jon had insisted that she should wear pants for the occasion. She was also wearing one of his old tunics and a jerkin over the tunic.

But the fact she had never worn clothes like this before was not the worst part, no it was the horrible, amazing smell that came from them. After the shock of coming back had worn of, all those feelings had come rushing back like a river being let loose from a dam.

She had held those feeling locked inside her and tried never letting them out. She couldn’t let anyone see that she had fallen in love with Jon Snow.

At first it had been because he was her half-brother, then it was because he was with the dragon queen, but when she had thought that she could finally have him, that awful thing that had killed her brother, had sent Jon to the wall to take the black.

She had been so overwhelmed with emotions the day before, that she hadn’t even thought about Jon like that, but now it was different. She was just glad that they were in their younger bodies, so she wasn’t physically attracted to him yet.

But she knew that it would come sooner rather than later most likely. She could remember how handsome he would grow up to be. How soft his curly hair looked when he tied it behind his head, or how his trimmed beard accented his well-shaped jaw. How the scar over his eye didn’t take anything away from his handsome features, but instead gave his face something distinguished instead.

Sansa was violently pulled from her mental drooling of adult Jon, by the younger one.  He beaconed her to follow him to the yard. While she would be training with Robb and Theon, Jon would be training with the older men.

She was very nervous for today. She was going to her first ever weapons training in either of her lives and that thought terrified her more than she wanted to admit. But she would meet this head on like any other challenge that came her way.

It turned out that she didn’t need to worry. Ser Rodrick assured her the first few lessons would be how to hold the sword and how to strike with it. So, her opponent would be a straw man and not her brother or Theon. But after the practice she was covered with sweat and all her muscles were sore.

Ser Rodrick was a good teacher, but he had made it clear to her that it would take time for her to master the sword, so she would have to be patient and it would become easier in time.

Her lessons with maester Luwin however was something she excelled in immediately. Much to Robb´s and Theon´s annoyance. She didn’t understand why on earth Robb was so against her joining their lessons. He didn’t have a problem with Jon joining.

She just hoped that he would get over it soon, she wanted her brother back. But for now, she had more important thing to worry about. After her lessons with maester Luwin with the boys, it had been time for sewing lessons with septa Mordane. That lesson had been a nightmare.

The entire time the septa had been complaining about Sansa learning swordsmanship. Like it was any of her business. She had called it barbaric that ladies were forced to learn how to use weapons and that they had no place learning such things. Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel had both nodded their head in agreement, but Arya didn’t.

As Sansa sat there and sewed, she could see her sister´s face turn red with anger. But before Arya could start to scream her head off, Sansa intervened.

“Are you calling the people of the North barbarians, septa?” Septa Mordane started to lose the color in her face, it wouldn’t be good for her to call them barbarians to their face.  The room was completely silent as they all waited for an answer.

“No, of course not, Lady Sansa. I didn’t mean it like that.” The septa started to stutter a little and Sansa felt almost sorry for her, almost.

“Are you then calling my father a barbarian?” By now all the color had been drained from the woman´s face. Calling the people of the north barbarians was one thing but calling the lord of Winterfell a barbarian was another thing entirely.

“I would never call a lord of a great house a barbarian. What has gotten into you young lady?” Sansa could only remember the old septa being this angry at her sister.

“You just said that the people who let their ladies’ practice with swords were barbarians, and the people of the north have been doing that for hundreds of years if not thousands and now my father is doing this was well. And people who do barbaric things are barbarians are they not septa?” Sansa waited for an answer that never came, as the septa just stared at her. Sansa could feel the gaze of her sister on her. Sansa supposed that this would go a long way to start to fix their relationship, but there was still a long way to go.

ROBB

It wasn’t that he hated his sister, for joining their lessons. It wasn’t her fault, not really. He knew that he was being unreasonable, but he had wanted Jon and Theon in the lessons, not the girls. Girls were silly and only wanted to sing songs and do lady thing. Well, all girls except for Arya. But she was special, she was the only girl that was fun. All the other girls in Winterfell, including Sansa wanted to do lady things. Why couldn’t his father see that?

His mother had always said that ladies didn’t use weapons and it was his job to protect them and make sure that they were save. Didn’t his father think that Robb was up to the job of protecting his sisters? Was his father ashamed of him?

Jon didn’t seem to mind that the girls were learning how to use a sword, in fact Jon was encouraging Sansa to use one, and Robb had heard Jon tell her that if she needed any help, all she would have to do was ask.

Robb could finally understand Arya in her annoyance of Sansa. For a long time now there had been an animosity between the Stark sisters, but Robb had never understood Arya´s feeling of ineptitude when she was compared to Sansa in her lessons. But now as Sansa had joined their lessons, he could understand Arya´s plight. Sansa was so effortlessly good at the lessons that Robb felt like a failure next to her.

Robb was supposed to the next lord of Winterfell and the warden of the north and he was being out done by his own sister. Something that Theon kept on reminding him.

Robb had been wandering aimlessly though the hall of Winterfell, when he found himself at the entrance of the library of Winterfell. The library was one of the biggest in Westeros and in the last few days it had become a second home to Robb´s bastard brother, Jon Snow.

It took some time for Robb to find Jon, but eventually Robb found his brother, Jon was half buried in books and papers were all around him. Robb had to admit that as he looked over the papers that he didn’t fully comprehend whatever there was on them, but to him it seemed like Jon was working on improvements for the castles on the wall and the lands surrounding it.

“What are you doing?” The heir to Winterfell had to know what on earth his brother was doing.

Jon looked up from whatever he was doing and looked at him. Over the last few days, Robb had noticed that Jon had changed a lot. Not only had he become a master swordsman over night, but he also had started to haunt the library more than Robb thought healthy for a person that wasn’t a maester.

“I am looking over everything we have on the castles of the wall and seeing if I can make some improvements.” This answer baffled Robb, why would Jon be concerned about the night´s watch? Jon could be outside playing with his siblings and causing trouble with Robb. Why on earth would he choose to be here in the library looking though dusty old books about the watch?

“Why would you do that? It sounds really boring.” The darker haired boy raised an eyebrow at that.

“That may be, but it is needed. The nights watch had been in a decline for the past century if not more and they need help if they are going to defend the realms of men. Only three of the castles on the wall are manned and even they barely have the men to defend those castles.”

Robb had known that they watch was declining but he didn’t know that it was this bad. While he didn’t believe old nan´s stories of the Others coming south with their giant ice spiders that were as big as hounds, Robb did believe in wildlings and he knew that they were always coming south to kidnap girls and kill people.

What if they came south and tried to take his sisters, he could prove to his father that he could protect Sansa and Arya by helping Jon, helping the night´s watch. Yes, that could work and then his father would see him for the worthy successor that Robb was.

“What can I do to help?”

JON

Over the last few days, Jon had been putting together a plan for lord Stark to help the nights watch. It was hard but rewarding work. It had been Jon´s dream as lord commander of the nights watch to man all the castles on the wall and restore the watch to its former glory but he couldn’t do that in his last life. But now with the help of the lord of Winterfell and the warden of the north, that dream seemed to be in Jon´s grasp.

Robb walking into the library and offering his help had been a surprise. Jon loved Robb like a brother, but the heir to Winterfell, as Jon was seeing for the first time, was very spoiled and his view of the world was very narrow and limited.

Jon remembered when he had arrived at the wall for the first time and seen, thanks to Tyrion Lannister, that he himself had been spoiled and had thought way too much of himself and his abilities. Jon could never thank the smaller man enough for opening his eyes to the truth, that Jon had grown up having a lot of privileges that were denied to most other people.

Sure, lady Catelyn despised the very sight of him, but he had never gone to bed hungry or cold. That was a lot more than most people could claim.

Robb on the other hand didn’t have a Tyrion Lannister to make him see the error in his ways, and Jon doubted that the heir to Winterfell would take kindly to his bastard brother trying to make him see how privileged he really was, especially with Theon whispering in his ear.

Theon had been much worse that he had been in Jon´s former life. Jon could tolerate the ironborn in the last life but now Theon took every opportunity he could get to remind Jon of his bastard status. But for Jon it was much easier to take than before. Jon had taken Tyrion´s advice to heart and made his bastard status his armor and that was before he had learned that he really wasn’t a bastard, but a trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. That was more that the ironborn could ever claim.

Jon suspected that Theon was telling Robb that Jon was after his place as the future lord of Winterfell, but Jon highly doubted that Robb believed him. However, Jon knew that he had to be careful not to do anything that could reinforce that believe into Robb´s mind. Jon didn’t want Robb thinking that Jon was after Winterfell and the north.

But Robb helping Jon with his work in improving the castles of the nights watch, could help the heir to Winterfell see the suffering some people had to live with and how fortunate they were being raised in Winterfell.

As they sat together and worked on their plans, Jon could help but to notice that something seemed to be on Robb´s mind.

“What´s bothering you?” Jon asked after a little while. His cousin seemed to think about telling Jon his troubles for a while, but then he sighed.

“I don’t understand why father would let the girls use weapons like boys. Both mother and septa Mordane say that ladies don’t use weapons, so why is father making them?” That was still bothering Robb. Sansa and Arya learning how to use swords.

“Because he wants them to know how to defend themselves.” That didn’t seem to stop his cousins worries, in fact it seemed to make him a little mad.

“But ladies aren’t supposed to do that, I am supposed to protect Sansa and Arya. Mother and septa Mordane said so.” His voice had gotten a little louder and Jon could hear the beginning of cracking in it, like he was starting to cry.

But it hit Jon there, Robb´s problem wasn’t with the girls learning how to fight, not really. His mother had told him that he was supposed to protect his sisters and then his father had put the girls in weapons training. Making the heir to Winterfell feel inadequate at protecting his sisters and probably making him think that he wasn’t good enough.

“Robb.” The ten-year old looked up from the table and to Jon. “It´s great that you want to protect Sansa and Arya, but someday they are going to get married and leave Winterfell and you won’t be able to protect them anymore.”

“But then their husbands will protect them.” Jon could see the fear in Robb´s eyes. His cousin was waiting for Jon to confirm his believes, but Jon couldn’t do that to him, the heir to the north had to know the truth.

“And who will protect them from their husbands?”

The young boy seemed so lost. “Why would their husbands hurt them?” It his Jon full force then, this wasn’t the boy Jon had grown up with, not really. That boy had been murdered and betrayed by who he thought were his allies, because he hadn’t been prepared for the world like it really was. The Robb he grew up with hadn’t been prepared for the political game that was being played, he hadn’t been prepared for the depth some men would sink to win the game of thrones or the consequences it brought to offend men like Walder Frey.

But this Robb had the potential to learn that before anything happened and to be prepared to learn how play the politics like Sansa had. Jon doubted that Robb would be as good as Sansa, Robb was much to like his father to be a great political player. But he could learn enough to know that in war, the politics mattered, just as much as the battles being won and lost.

“Not all men are good Robb, like Aerys Targaryen, he liked to hurt his wife with the king´s guard standing outside the door, and they did nothing.” Jon was really glad that Tyrion had told him that story. At the time neither man had known that Tyrion was talking about Jon´s grandfather, but the horror stories that Ser Jaime had told his brother about Aerys had rattled Jon when he had time to talk to Tyrion on Dragonstone.

A part of Jon hoped that Tyrion would be one of the people that remembered and a part of him hoped that he wasn’t one of them. When Jon had gotten to know Tyrion, he had been so unnervingly smart that it was a little frightening, but when he had meet him again on Dragonstone, Tyrion had been so preoccupied with impressing Daenerys that there had been little room for anything else.

But Tyrion had been the one to make Jon see reason and the need to eliminate the dragon queen. If she hadn’t been, Jon doubted that there would have been much of Westeros left after she was done.

Jon looked at his cousin. Robb seemed a little lost, his father had always told them it was a man duty to protect his family and now Robb was learning for the first time that not all men held that to a high standard, not even a king.

“That is why lord Stark is training his daughters how to wield weapons, so that they can defend themselves if need be.” The young heir seemed to take that as a good enough excuse for Lord Stark to let his daughters learn how to defend themselves.

As much a child Robb was now, he loved his sisters and wouldn’t want them hurt. After that they buried their heads in the books and plans for the watch. But Jon could see that Robb felt better knowing that his father wasn’t making his sisters learn how use weapons because he thought that Robb was inadequate, but because he didn’t want them hurt.

They managed to put the finishing touches on the plans just before dinner. They packed up their plans and made their way to the great hall. Robb was almost bouncing up and down with the excitement of presenting their plans to his father. Like Jon, Robb had grown up trying to seek the approval of his father, and everything that Robb did was always painted with that brush.

Jon had learned some time ago that it didn’t pay to try to life his way like that. A man gets what he earns when he earns it, his uncle Benjen had told him once and now Jon tried to life by those words. Jon thought it was a good code to life by in this new life.

As much anger he had felt for his uncle for not telling him what the nights watch had been, it had taught him so many things that he doubted he would have learned elsewhere, and what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to save lord commander Mormont. But Jon didn’t want to give his uncle to much credit, the result hadn’t been the intent of Ned Starks plan. If he had a plan that was.

Jon knew best of all that his uncle had his limitations and strengths. Eddard Stark was a capable military commander and could lead men into battle, but as a political player he left a lot to be desired. Or he had been in the last life, hopefully he had learned from his experiences like Jon and Sansa had. Not that Jon himself was a very capable political player, but he hoped with time that Sansa could teach him a thing or two.

His uncle seemed to be on board to dispose of Robert Baratheon and place Jon on the iron throne, if the looks at the very mention of Roberts name were anything to go by. Over the last few days, every time that Robert´s very name came up, his uncle looked like somebody had taken a shit in his dinner. But thankfully he didn’t say anything.

Jon and Robb sat down at the table. Robb immediately sat next to Sansa and apologized for his behavior and said that he should have been a better big brother. That made Jon smile, even though Robb had always been very smart, it was a little surprising to see how little work it had taken for Jon to make him see sense. It also seemed to make Sansa incredibly happy to know that her brother wasn’t angry at her, and that was worth all the hard work in the world.

In the past life, Robb had been a very capable military leader like his father, but he had lacked education in the political maneuvering that was needed alongside the military actions that he was taking. Like keeping his word at marring the girl he had promised to marry and not putting the Westerling girl´s honor above his own.

Then again promising Walder Frey not only Robb´s hand for one of his girls but also Arya´s, had been very stupid. Not only the heir but also one of the future lords sister, for one minor house of the Riverlands, a house that should have gone and defended their sworn lord anyway had to marry into a great house twice over to defend their liege lord and no one smelled something fishy at that?

Then again Jon had to bend the knee to get Daenerys Targaryen to help save the continent she intended to rule, so who was he to judge.

EDDARD

He was very glad when dinner was over, his wife had tried to persuade him to make Sansa not learn how to wield weapons, but when he had said that Cat would not be able to change his mind on the matter of the girls learning how to handle weapons, she had stormed off in a huff. But at least she had stopped trying to send Jon away, that was at least something. Eddard had noticed that his wife had been a little calmer at knowing that her husband wasn’t going off to see Jon´s mother. It turned out that Sansa was right about his wife had been worried about him having an affair.

Ned couldn’t blame her, not really. He hadn’t been the best husband in the world and to the best of her knowledge, he had brought a bastard home from the war, but that didn’t give Catelyn an excuse to take her anger out on Jon. Her anger should have been directed at him, and Ned knew that he deserved it.

Ned had time to think in the black cells in king´s landing. One of his regrets had not been to tell Jon of who his mother was before he had left for the wall. That still haunted him, and it would continue to haunt him until he died a final time. Ned knew that he was just as guilty of depriving Jon of his birthright as Robert and the Lannisters.

He should have planned for placing Jon on the throne the entire time, he had known in his heart that Robert would have made for an awful king, and his brothers wouldn’t be any better, just a different kind of awful.

Ned knew in his heart that Jon would be a better king that any of the Baratheon brothers would be. Not that it was hard to better than them.

There was a knock on his door and in walked Robb and Jon. Robb seemed very proud of himself and Jon seemed amused but tried not to let it show.

Jon seemed to be content to let Robb present the plans for the watch that Ned had asked Jon for. Ned had agreed with Jon that the watch need all the help they could get, as they were the first line of defense against the Others. The plan was good and very sound, this would help the nights watch and get more men to volunteer if they were desperate enough.

It was a known fact that as soon as the castles on the wall had started to crumble and the food supply had gotten smaller, the men stopped coming. The men went were the food went and if there was food on the wall, the men went to the wall.

But it would be expensive to start paying for the glass gardens and the repairs of the castles and the north wouldn’t be able to support it alone as it was. They would need the support of the crown at first, and that alone would be difficult. Ned knew that the crown owed money to everyone and Robert loved his tourneys and feast too much to stop spending money on them anytime soon.

Ned would have to discuss it with Jon and Sansa when Robb wasn’t in the room. But Ned was very happy with the fact that Robb had helped Jon with the plan. It would help him in the future when he was the lord of Winterfell and Warden of the north.

In his last life, Ned hadn’t taught his children well enough to survive in the world. He could see that after Jon had told him what had happened after he had died. The mistakes he and his family had made would not be repeated, ever again.

Ned knew now that he needed to make sure that his children would learn the ways of the North, of their land and their people. In his last life he had let his wife take charge of their upbringing as was custom, but he would not let that happen now.

Ned would make sure that they would have the best education they could possibly have, maester Luwin was a very good teacher and of course he would continue, but maybe the maester could start teaching them more things, like healing and other things that could be useful in the years to come.

Ned dismissed the boys as he continued to look over the plans. These were really good and if they could start on them, it would go a long way to help the nights watch.

Ned had sent a letter to the wall, asking his brother Benjen to come to Winterfell to discuss the watch and what they needed the most. Yes, Ned had Jon to talk to and to be honest, Jon probably knew more about what the watch needed but having Benjen come to Winterfell and talk to him about the watch and their needs would help to show that Ned was listening to his peoples worries.

Ned´s ears were still ringing after Sansa had given him a lecture on the importance of politics and not just doing whatever Ned thought was right. While he didn’t enjoy being lectured by Sansa, he had to admit she was right. He needed to be careful moving forward.

But first he had to write a letter to Robert and try to persuade him to send money for the wall, if that succeeded, it would go along way to help the watch.

Chapter Text

THE THIEF

This place gave him the shivers, he couldn’t understand how the Starks could stand the thought of having to spend the afterlife in such a dark and cold place. But then again, the Starks were cold themselves. He had never really met any of the Starks or talked to them, but everyone always said that they had winter in their bones and ice in their blood, so they must be a cold people.

He still couldn’t believe his luck of having this job, if this worked out, he could live on his earnings for years without taking a single job. Jobs like this must pay well, not everyone could pull something like this off, no; only the best and most experienced thieves could do this and even then, most of them probably would have said no.

It wasn’t a job for the faint of heart, only men like him could pull something like this off. Strong men, hard men only ventured into the crypts of Winterfell to take things from the dead.

He finally arrived at the statue. The former Lord of Winterfell stared at him with his stony eyes. He was judging him for what he was about to do. The sword in his lap was rusting and could not have been used for anything and the direwolf lying by the lord´s feet was snarling at him.

He walked slowly over to the stone coffin that held the bones of the former Warden of the North, the lid looked heavy and hard to move, but he was strong, and he could easily do this.

The stone lid had been heavy, but it hadn’t presented a real challenge for him. He pushed the lid of the coffin and gave a wince at the stone on stone scraping. The sound alone made him want to rip his ears off.

He looked into the coffin that held the bones of the old man of the north, Cregan Stark.  His bones had long lost anything that resembled meat and the remainder of the clothes that he had been buried in were almost gone. But the thing that surprised him was that the things that he had been supposed to take were not there.

He had been hired to take three big, colorful stones from the coffin of Cregan Stark, but they were nowhere to be found. He could feel fear tingle down his spine and cold sweat form on his brow.

Had he gotten the wrong name? Had he been tricked? He turned around and ran up the stairs, he knew that he didn’t close the coffin, but who cared. The stones hadn’t been in there and nothing had been taken, he just knew that he had to get out of there as fast as possible.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and not from the running, but from fear. He didn’t want to be caught, he knew that the Starks wouldn’t take lightly to their crypts being defiled and robbed, if he was caught, he would be killed or sent to the wall. He had no interest of spending his time on that frozen hell. On the wall the Starks had many friends and they would not take kindly to the man who had tried to rob the crypts of the ancient Kings of Winter.

He managed to get himself to Wintertown, where he was supposed to meet his contact. He wasn’t sure if he should, maybe it would be better just to leave quietly from the north, maybe take a ship from White Harbor to the free cities. He could make a living there, there were a lot of fat purses just waiting for him to take them.

But the decision was taken from him, as a tall man walked into his path as he turned to walk into one of the alleyways.

The small alley was dark, and he couldn’t make out his contacts’ face as he had a hood on, but he knew that it was him, the dark cloak and the sound of the man’s voice was unmistakable.

“Well, where are they? Give them to me.” His voice was low and deep, and the Crownland accent rang through the quiet night. 

“They weren’t there, I looked everywhere.” He tried to keep his voice from shaking but it was impossible. Fear was gripping him and holding him still as a shiver ran down his spine and making it hard for him to stand.

His contact was perfectly still, and his eyeless stare put more fear in his heart than all the swords and daggers he had ever encountered. Then his contact gave a nod and he felt an icy sting in his chest, as the man seem to look behind him. It was then he realized that they hadn’t been alone in the alleyway, someone had followed them.

The last thing he saw was windburned face, crocked teeth and cruel dark eyes staring at him from underneath the hood.

EDDARD

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, staring at the response from the man he had considered a brother. Ned had written Robert a half a year ago and Ned knew that it didn’t take a raven this long to deliver a letter from the capitol to Winterfell.

The letter had been written by Jon Arryn and signed by Robert and had carried the sigil of the crowned stag. He had to reread it three times before he could comprehend the contents of the letter.

Robert had denied the request for funds, and he had written that the crown couldn’t afford the expense of helping rebuild and man the castles on the wall. He had almost thrown the letter in the fire in his anger, but he had managed to stop himself. Instead he asked the guard to send for Sansa and Jon, they needed to hear of this moving forward.

Ned knew for a fact that Robert was always holding tourneys at every occasion he could think of, and the feast were numerous and very frequent in his court. But the lord of the seven kingdoms and the protector of the realm could not afford to spend money on helping the north man and repair the wall? 

Ned was at a loss of words at the moment. This was not the boy he had grown up with, or maybe it was, maybe he had always been this way and Ned had just refused to see it.  Not for the first time did he regret not placing Jon on the throne and becoming his regent until he became of age. But there was nothing he could do about that now, but to work his hardest to help Jon win back the iron throne.

Ned was sure of that Jon would make a better king than Robert, he wasn’t likely to start drinking and whoring his way through life like his former best friend was trying to do. 

As luck would have it, Ned had a brother, even though he was in the night´s watch. Half a year ago, Ned had written to Benjen and asked him to come to Winterfell. Benjen couldn’t come at that time, as he was leaving on a ranging, but he had promised that he would come when he would return.

Ned had received a letter from his last brother the day before yesterday, and apparently, Benjen was on his way to the ancestral home of the Starks this very moment.  

There was also the issue that of the crypts. This morning Ned had been woken up with the rising of the sun, by one of the guards. Apparently, someone had opened the coffin of Cregan Stark.

When he heard that, Ned had felt his heart drop and cold sweat form on his brow. It seemed that Jon had been right that someone had broken into the crypts to steal the dragon eggs in their last life.

He had spent hours in the crypts looking for any clues, but the thief had left nothing for them to find. Who could possibly know about the eggs? They had lain there silently for around one hundred years.

Ned was pulled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. Jon and Sansa entered his solar and sat down in their usual chairs. They had been spending a large amount of time in his solar this last half a year, trying to come up with ideas on how to strengthen the north before the upcoming battles. Sansa was working on trade deals and Jon was working on plans for the abandoned castles all around the north, along with the castles on the wall. 

Sansa wanted to make more trade deals with the Riverlands and the Vale, she wanted to strengthen the ties between them and the north. She also was making trade plans between the North and the free cities of Braavos and Pentos. Ned wasn’t sure why she wanted to strengthen the ties between the North and the free cities, but as he had come to learn in the past half a year, Sansa had her reasons and she had a lot more knowledge of these things than Ned did.

Maybe it would be a good idea for him to get into contact with the former first sword of Braavos again. Arya had taken to the water dancing like a fish to water in the last life, and water dancing seemed to work well for those who weren’t physically strong and would have to rely on being quick. That could benefit Sansa too.

Jon on the other hand had made some excellent plans for many of the castles on the wall, and he was now making plans for the abandoned castles that littered the north. He had started to draw up plans for Moat Cailin and he was almost done with the plans for Queen´s crown.

He had also finished with some of the smaller strongholds in the north, that were already being settled by some new minor lords that Ned had felt the need to reward for their services to the north and house Stark.

Ned was also glad that Jon was dragging Robb along with the planning of the castles. Robb needed to see what ruling the north was really like. And seeing that ruling wasn’t just going off to battles and fighting wars, was good for him. Most of the duties of a lords involved mountains of paperwork.

He didn’t want his children to make the same mistakes they had in last life and the tales that Jon had told him, still haunted him. The horrors Sansa had to suffer at the hands of the Bolton bastard, Petyr Baelish and that little shit Joffrey.

How Robb had been betrayed by those he thought were his allies and how they had desecrated his body after death. How little Arya had almost lost who she was, to become strong enough to survive in this world and how his youngest sons had both been murdered.

“I have something to tell you two.” Ned tried to keep the tiredness out of his voice, but it slipped through anyway.  The last few months were taking their toll on Eddard Stark.

“I have received a letter from Robert, he had denied the request for funds for the wall.” Neither Sansa nor Jon looked surprised, Jon looked disappointed and a little angry, but not surprised. Sansa on the other hand, looked like she wanted to take a horse from the stables and ride to King´s Landing and give Robert the smack he deserved.

“Well, this will work for us in the long run.” Sansa stated. Ned couldn’t hold back his surprise, how could this benefit them? They had just been denied the funds they needed to start to rebuild the castles, now the weight of the rebuilding would fall squarely in the shoulders of the Northern lords.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jon nodding his head. “Aye, I agree, this could be an opportunity for us, when we need to rally the lord of the north against Robert Baratheon.” Ned could see Sansa beaming at Jon, those two had been growing closer and closer in the past half a year, much to the irritation of Septa Mordane and his wife.

Sansa managed to pacify his wife, by playing it of as she was getting closer to all her siblings. Sansa and Arya were growing very close after the incident with the Septa. They were now rarely seen apart from each other and most often they were in the company of Jon and sometimes even Robb.

Ned had been very pleasantly surprised when Robb and gone and forgiven him for insisting that his sisters should learn how to fight, but that brought a question to Ned´s mind. Why did Ned need to be forgiven for teaching his daughters how to wield weapons? The women of the north had been using weapons for hundreds of years.

Not letting women learn how to defend themselves was a southern custom, not a northern one. It didn’t take Ned a long time to figure out that it was because of the Septa and his wife that his son was holding on to these southern believes.

“But it does present problems for us to rebuild the wall and to man it.” Jon said as he stroked his hairless chin. It seemed like this was a habit of his that he had carried with him to his past, even though he didn’t have a beard to stroke yet.

Sansa nodded. “Yes, I agree, but that just means that we need to escalate our trade plans, so that it is easier for us to start on the wall.” Ned wasn’t sure on how long they sat there and discussed trade negotiation. It was strange sitting there and discussing trade with two people that were inhabiting bodies of children.

“There is another matter I wanted to discuss with you two.” His partners in crime waited for him to continue. “There was a break in last night in the crypts.” Ned could see Jon´s face turn stern and Sansa furrowed her brow.

“Someone was trying to get into the coffin of Cregan Stark.” It wasn’t a question; Ned could see that Jon already knew the answer Ned would give him. The warden of the North nodded his head.

“Thank the gods that you had already taken the eggs.” Was the only thing Sansa said to this, there really wasn’t anything else to say. Since whoever had gone in the crypts, hadn’t taken anything nor was it likely that they would find out who exactly it was, there really wasn’t anything they could do.

They sat in silence for a while, before Sansa broke it. “Is there any news on the Bolton issue?” Ned nodded again.

“Aye, the bastard has disappeared. The men don’t know where he has gone too but I have made sure that they stay put. They have been finding bodies around the Dreadfort and are trying to identify them without rousing suspicion. But it is slow work.”  Sansa frowned at the news that the bastard had disappeared. Ned could understand that it didn’t sit well with her.

Jon and Sansa left the solar after a while. But Ned would not have a moment to himself for long.

“Lord Stark.” It was Ser Rodrik, he sounded shaken to his core. “You have to come to Wintertown, there has been a murder.”

JON

He finished the last of the plans for the castles of the north and put them away for now. He had been spending so much time in the library, that Robb was starting to think that Jon was considering becoming a maester.

The heir to Winterfell was sitting opposite him with his head lying on his arms, and snoring loudly, much to Sansa´s annoyance.  Jon, Robb and Sansa had been spending all their free time in the library to research their projects, and in that time, they had all grown very close.

But Jon had to admit, he was the closest to Sansa of all the Starks. They had gone through so much, that they couldn’t talk to anyone else but each other about, and that kind of forced them to grow so close. They didn’t feel comfortable talking about their experiences with lord Stark, Jon had felt awful enough tell his uncle once, he wasn’t going to talk more in detail about everything that had happened after his death unless he had to.

Jon could tell that Arya and Robb had at first been annoyed by the fact that Jon had been spending so much time with Sansa, but they had quickly come around. After Jon had the talk to Robb about the girls and their weapons training and why it was needed, the heir to Winterfell seemed to start to accept Sansa´s presence in their lessons.

It was Sansa herself that had changed Arya´s mind about her, after the Septa Mordane incident, they had slowly grown closer than they had been before and if Jon didn’t know better, he would have thought that they had always been this close.

Jon watched as Sansa made sure that Robb was asleep and that they were alone.

“So, how are they doing?” Jon didn’t need a clarification on who she was talking about. Sansa was asking about his dragons that he had hidden away deep in the Wolfswood.  Jon could always feel them in his mind, and he had started warging into them a few days after they had been hatched.

It was a strange experience to warg into the dragons, it was a little different from Ghost. But then again warging into Algernon, was not the same as warging into Earendil, nor was warging into the emerald dragon like warging into Illyrion. It was like each of the four creatures that he had warged into was different even though three of them were from the same species.

“They are doing really well; they are growing really fast.” Jon whispered back to her.  It was no lie that the dragons were growing really fast, in fact hadn’t he been warned about their growth, he would have been alarmed. When Jon had hatched them, they had been the size of large cats, but now a little more than a half a year after their hatching, they had grown to the size of garrons.

At their whispered conversation, Robb snorted awake and mumbled something that couldn’t be understood even if they had a hundred years to decipher it. Both Sansa and Jon laughed at the heir to the north as he grumbled that they should have awakened him.

“Hey, I have a thought.” This statement from Robb made Sansa raise an eyebrow.

“Careful not to hurt yourself.” Sansa said with a grin. Jon snorted at that, if there was something that he enjoyed, it was listening to Sansa´s jabs at people. Even when it was at him, which happened more often than not.

“HA,HA, very funny.” Robb´s tone didn’t leave out the fact that he didn’t find it at all funny. “I think that we should go out and hunt rabbits in the wolfswood tomorrow. What do you two think?” They had been going out to the wolfswood more often than in the past life to hunt, mostly to spend some time with Robb that didn’t include the library, and Sansa wanted to know how to hunt in case she needed that skill.

Sansa seemed to think about it for a moment, before she nodded her agreement. “Sure, let´s ask father, he would never forgive us if we went out without his permission.”

They left the library together and went to the great hall, were dinner was about to be served. As they waited for lord Stark, Sansa was talking their ears of about the trade agreement she was drawing up between the north and the Riverlands.

While Jon was very interested in what Sansa had to say, Robb on the other hand looked like he wanted to rip his ears off but was too polite to do it in front of his sister.

“FATHER!” Robb shouted as the lord of Winterfell entered the great hall. Ned Stark gave his eldest child a warm but tired smile. As he looked closer, Jon could see something was on Ned Starks mind. Was he still preoccupied by the letter from Robert Baratheon and the attempted theft of the dragon eggs? It appeared so to Jon.

The Warden of the north sat down in his usual seat. “Father can Jon, Sansa and I go hunting in the wolfswood tomorrow, and maybe Theon too if he wants to come.” Theon had not been spending as much time with Robb as he had in the last life, Jon thought that it was because of him, Theon was making no attempt to hide his dislike for Jon. The dislike had only escalated when Jon had also started to spend time with Sansa.

Jon made sure that he never said a bad word to or about the ironborn, but for some reason he seemed to hate Jon more and more with every passing day.

“No, I have better things to do, I am going to start training with the men tomorrow.” The ironborn gave Jon a nasty smirk, like he had achieved something that Jon had not.

Before Jon could stop his cousin, he said something that he shouldn’t have. “Piff, big deal, Jon has been beating them black and blue for half a year.” Jon closed his eyes at that, he didn’t want to be dragged into this discussion. But Robb wasn’t telling a lie, for the last half a year, Jon had been besting the grown men left and right, much to Ser Rodrik´s pride.

But Robb´s statement started a loud verbal fight, Jon wasn’t sure what it was about, nor did he much care. It didn’t take long for Lord Stark to cut into their argument.

“Enough you two, I don’t want to hear any more of this.” The hall was filled with silence for a while, but his uncle broke it again after some time.

“Robb, you and the others may go and hunt tomorrow, but I want you to take a few guards with you.” Robb looked like he was about to protest, but he must have thought better of it. Jon was very glad when dinner was over.

ROBB

Robb was very happy to get out of the castle, even for a few hours. These past few months had been very busy for him, as he had spent them in the lessons with Luwin and Ser Rodrik and he had been helping Jon and Sansa with their projects.

Robb couldn’t understand why it was so important to rebuild the castles around the north and the wall and establish trade routes now. It didn’t make sense to him.

Then again there were many things that he didn’t understand these days, like what had gotten into Theon. Robb didn’t understand why he didn’t like Jon. Jon had never done anything to the ironborn, but still he insisted on being an arse to Jon.

Robb looked over at Sansa and Jon, as their bastard brother was teaching her to set a rabbit trap. Those two had been growing closer and closer for the last few months. At first Robb had been jealous that Jon was spending time with her, but now Robb could see that he had been selfish.

But to him it was still strange to see Sansa being nice to Jon, sure she had never been exactly mean to Jon, but she had never been nice either. She had rather cold to him ever since she learned what the word bastard meant.

But know those two were as thick as thieves. Sansa was giggling at something Jon had said and she was turning a little red in the face, like she was getting to warm, but it was a little chilly outside, then again, maybe it was a girl thing. All girls were weird.

They were accompanied by two guards from Winterfell, that looked a little bored. They were standing a close by and talking together quietly.

Suddenly Jon went completely still. “What is it Jon?” Sansa asked their brother quietly. But Jon didn’t answer, he just pulled her behind him and kept his eyes on the trees in front of them, the two guards had stopped talking and were watching Jon with interest.

Then something came whizzing from the tree line and Robb could see an arrow sticking out of one of their guard’s chest. The guard must have been dead before he hit the ground.

Then five men rushed out of the trees and ran towards them, but Jon grabbed a dagger that he always had on his belt and threw it at one of the men, the dagger landed in the man’s eye, and the men that had run out of the trees stared at the body of their friend in shock.

They must have been surprised that a ten-year old had killed one of their own.

Jon grabbed Sansa´s arm and dragged her to Robb and pushed her into his arms, as he did that, Jon went to the downed guard and took his sword and ran to the men that had started to run to them again. Robb could see that Sansa´s face had lost all color and she looked petrified as she stared at their attackers.

“Take Robb and Sansa back to Winterfell.” Jon shouted as he charged at the men.

The guard that was still living grabbed Robb and Sansa and dragged them away. The guard picked up Sansa and threw her over his shoulder and ran with her back to Winterfell, while dragging Robb after him. The last he saw of Jon was him fending of their attackers to buy them time to escape.

Sansa was screaming the entre time that they needed to go back for Jon, that Jon was going to get hurt. But the guard didn’t stop until they reached the castle gates.

His feet were numb as they reached the castle, and Robb thought that his heart would never stop beating so fast. Robb could spy his father and mother come running out of the castle, Robb had never seen his father look so pale in his life. The guard managed to explain what had happened, and the Lord of Winterfell roared with anger as he ran to the stables with around twenty men following him.

Lady Stark, ran to her two eldest and hugged them close, but she lost the grip on Sansa.

Robb´s sister tried to run back to where they had come, she was crying and screaming that they needed to save Jon, but one of the guards managed to stop her. Robb couldn’t recall seeing his sister in this kind of hysterics before, not even when Arya had ruined one of her favorite dresses.

Robb watched on as Sansa was being dragged into the castle by the guard, followed by their mother, Lady Stark was most likely taking Sansa to maester Luwin to get her some dreamwine so that she would calm down.  But before they could get her into the castle, Sansa bit the guard’s hand and he released her with a yelp.

Sansa was running back to the gate, but this time Robb was the one that caught her. He hugged her as tight to his body as he could. “Sansa.” He whispered in her ear. “Jon is going to be fine, Father had gone to get him, and Jon is the best sword in Winterfell, it will take more than a few bandits to take him down.” Sansa stopped fighting him, and just sobbed into his chest.

They must have been standing there for a while, they didn’t move until they could hear the shouting of men just outside the gate, Robb could hear the shouting for a maester.

He could see his sister turn even paler at those words. Their father was the first to enter the castle courtyard, and in his arms was the limp body of Jon Snow.

Jon had four arrows imbedded in him. One was in his thigh, one in his side and one in his shoulder, but the one that worried Robb the most was the one that was sticking out of his chest. The lord of Winterfell ran into the castle with Jon in his arms, and Sansa seeing what was happening rushed after him.

Robb´s mother then rushed after her elder daughter, leaving Robb as the only Stark in the courtyard.

Then four guardsmen came into the courtyard, they seemed to be dragging someone into the yard with a lot of difficulty.

That someone was one of the ugliest souls Robb had ever seen. The young man was big boned, and his skin was pink and blotchy, his hair was long, dark and dry looking but it was his eyes that disturbed Robb the most, they were a dirty grey color, so pale that they seemed almost colorless.

The entre time as the guards dragged the young man to the dungeons, he was screaming profanities and threats. The young man reminded Robb of a wild dog that had been beaten so many times that he had turned mad.

As he watched the guards drag the man that had been a part of the ambush, Robb couldn’t help but to wonder what the motive had been. But he doubted that he would find any answers here, so he turned around and entered the castle, he had to find out if Jon was going to live.

Robb needed Jon, they were not just brothers, they were best friends, if Jon died, the young man that the guards had dragged into the dungeons would pay dearly.

Chapter Text

JON ARRYN

He walked quietly as he could to the tower of the hand. The crumpled message lay firmly in his hand and his heart was beating so fast in his chest that he was sure that his heart would jump out of it. This couldn’t be possible, no, it couldn’t be. This could not have happened right under his nose and leave him none the wiser, but he had to find out the truth of the matter for himself.

All his life, Jon had tried to live his life by his house words, Higher than honor. He had tried to imprint them as best he could in his wards, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon. But it seemed that only Ned had been paying him any attention.

Jon was very disappointed with Robert as of late. The letter Jon had to send to Ned, had broken his heart. The north had supported Robert in taking the throne and helped him when the Greyjoys rebelled. Robert could not have taken the throne without Ned and the north.

But Robert hadn’t paid them any honors after either war, they had no members on the small counsel, nor did they get any honorary positions in Robert´s court. And now they were asking for help manning and rebuilding the castles on the wall to help defend against wildlings and the king said no.

No?

How could he do that? Robert was using the crown´s lack of money as an excuse not to help them, but it wasn’t so dire as of yet, that Robert couldn’t spend a few thousand gold dragons on the order that help to guard the realms of men, when he was spending ungodly amount of money on tourneys, feasts and whores.

Jon and Varys had been the only ones that cautioned against the inaction that was not helping the lords of the north. All the other lords of the small counsel had brushed of the concerns of the northern lords and called them, northern superstitions. They said that the Wildlings could never get over the wall and that they had the full confidence that the northern lords would break them if they dared.

But that was just it, would the northern lords even want to route them back if the southern lords didn’t help them? Would the lords of the north just let them pass into the south in revenge?

Jon knew that Ned would never allow that to happen, but even Ned as the lord of Winterfell and warden of the north, couldn’t stop the wildlings alone. Maybe the other lords would resent Ned for being Robert´s friend at all.

Maybe the lords of the north would dispose of Ned and place his son, the young Robb as the lord of Winterfell and use him to rebel against the iron throne.

Jon didn’t voice this concern to the small counsel, he would have been laughed out of the room. Jon knew that the only reason that the small counsel respected Eddard Stark was because that he was a great lord and had been raised in the south alongside Robert Baratheon. Well, except for Stannis, he did respect Ned, but he didn’t like him, not that Stannis liked anyone.

The southern lords didn’t like, nor respect the northern ones, they called them drunken barbarians and many other things of the like, but for now Jon had another problem he had to deal with.

Jon continued to walk up the stairs, he wasn’t sure he should trust the source of the information that was in the note, but in these times, one had to be sure of everything.

Jon could feel his age when he walked all those stairs, but he did his best at not letting it show, even though there was no one around, only his loyal Arryn guards.

Jon was supposed to be dining with the king, but when he had gotten the letter from his informant, he had decided to cancel, Robert hadn’t been very disappointed, no, in matter of fact, he seemed glad to be able to spend more time with his whores.

When he finally made it to the living quarters of the tower of the hand, he had to take a breath. He was getting to old for this. He greeted the four Arryn guard that were on duty today and walked into his bedchamber that he shared with his young wife.

Even though he had gotten the letter, and it had clearly stated what was happening, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

There on their marriage bed, lay his wife Lysa, and on top of her was a man, that she was clutching close to her. The man was grunting lowly and Lysa was biting her lip, so that she wouldn’t make a sound. The only reason that she hadn’t screamed was because she had her eyes firmly shut, but then like she had read his thoughts, she opened them.

Her scream could have woken the dead as she saw her husband in the doorway of their bedchamber. The scream was enough to startle Jon out of his shock.

“GUARDS!” At his shout the guard came rushing in. By this time the man that had been fucking his wife, had jumped up and shown his face.

Petyr Baelish.  If this had been under another circumstances, Jon would have laughed himself silly at the man´s face. The whoremonger was looking like he had never been so afraid in his life.

But Jon couldn’t afford to lose focus now, he ordered his guards to seize them both. Littlefinger was dragged away to the dungeons, until Jon could figure out what to do with him, his wife was dragged away to a barely used apartment, high in the tower of the hand. There she would stay until this could be sorted out.

He knew that he wasn’t the youngest or the most handsome anymore, but how could his Lysa be this stupid? He knew that she didn’t love him, he wasn’t an imbecile, but this was adultery, was Robert even his son? Was he Littlefinger´s?

Robert sure looked more alike Littlefinger than he did Jon, and Robert didn’t resemble his mother a lot either, Robert had her eyes and her temperament. But every time Jon looked at the boy, he saw no family resemblance between himself and the boy.

And now that Jon thought about this and had the evidence that his wife had been cheating on him, the thought that Robert was Littlefinger´s son made a whole lot of sense. The boy was sickly as Petyr had been as a lad and looked just like him at that age.

Jon turned back and went to his office, he had work to do. 

SANSA

She didn’t know how long they stayed outside maester Luwin´s study, waiting for news on Jon. Her father and Robb were waiting with her and they seemed like they were almost as restless as she was. Almost.

Her mother was sitting nearby, on one of the chairs that the servants had brought for them. She was holding baby Rickon in her arms as he slept, and Bran was half asleep by her feet.

Arya on the other hand was not going to go to sleep any time soon. She was crying silently in her fathers’ arms, as he tried to comfort her, but she seemed to be inconsolable.

It didn’t matter that she and Sansa had grown so close as of late, Jon would always be Arya´s favorite. But Sansa couldn’t find it in herself to be jealous, Jon had always been Arya´s go to guy, he was the one that every man that Arya would ever meet, would have to measure up too.

But Jon had become Sansa´s go to as well, and she didn’t know how they could go on if anything would happen to him. He was the prince that was promised and if he died, they had no hope left. But more than that, he was the one-man Sansa wanted to spend the rest of her life with, even though sometimes he did stupid things like this.

Sansa knew in her heart that if Jon hadn’t done what he did, they would all have died or gotten injured. But seeing him rush forward in their defense like this, had brought home how easy it was to kill him, sure he was the best swordsman in Winterfell, but he could still be brought down by arrows.

Sansa could see her mother was watching her like a hawk. Catelyn Stark was probably not pleased with how Sansa had behaved when they returned to the castle, but Sansa found herself not caring about what her mother thought.

Her mother had been pestering them, she was trying to get the girls to go to their lessons and Robb to the yard to practice. But she had stopped when Robb had told them all the story of what had happened, and how Jon had bought them time to run away, with his life most likely.

Sansa just hoped that with this information, her mother would stop her pestering.

Her mother most likely had the best of intentions in mind when she was trying to get them to go to their lessons, work could distract your mind from your troubles, but it really struck Sansa as insensitive that her mother was behaving like this. Couldn’t she see that they were waiting for news to know if Jon would life?

After her mother had found out Jon´s mother was dead, lady Catelyn had calmed down somewhat when it came to Jon, but Sansa could see it in her eyes that she would never like Jon at all, and that broke Sansa´s heart.

They must have waited for hours until the door was opened. Out stepped maester Luwin, the old man looked tired, worn and more than a little sweaty. In fact, his grey robes looked darker than usual because had sweated so much. But there was also blood on his clothes that could only be from Jon. It made Sansa´s insides freeze, knowing that Jon´s blood was covering the maesters robes.

Before anyone could start asking questions, the maester spoke up.

“Jon is alive.” The collective sigh of relief was very audible in the hallway. “I have the highest hopes that he will be making a full recovery, but for the next few months he will need rest and time to heal and it will be hard going for him in the upcoming weeks.”

Sansa watched as her mother stood up with Rickon in her arms and ordered her brood to follow her, but Sansa ignored her and decided to stay with her father, who had put Arya down and ordered her to follow their mother, she didn’t seem happy with not getting to see Jon, but their father said that she could see him after he had rested.

“Sansa-.” Catelyn started to say but Sansa´s father shook his head. Sansa could see her mother’s nostrils flare in annoyance, then she turned and stalked away. Dragging Bran and Arya with her and ignoring their protests. Even if their father had ordered her to follow their mother, Arya would have to protest, it was a matter of principle.

“So, Jon is going to be fine?” Robb asked with a small voice. The guilt in his tone was almost overwhelming, Sansa could understand very well from Robb was coming from. Sansa felt guilty herself that she had been dragged away to safety when Jon had been risking his life for theirs.

The maester seemed a little uncomfortable to discuss this in front of Robb and Sansa. But their father just nodded at him to let him know it was alright. “Yes, I believe that Jon will be just fine and back in the practice yard in a few months.” That reassurance seemed to make Robb really happy, but Sansa wasn’t convinced. Jon had been hit in the thigh, shoulder, side and his chest, and the maester believed that he would be up and about in the training yard in a few months?

“However, he has sustained injuries that I will need to monitor in the next couple of weeks, and he will be needing a lot of help in the meantime.” The maester finished.

“Can we see him?” She wanted to see Jon with her own eyes, to make sure that he was safe. The maester seemed to think on the matter but ultimately let them into Jon´s sickroom.

The room was almost unbearably hot, and the fire was blazing in the hearth. But Sansa entered the room despite the heat.

Sansa walked straight to Jon´s side as he lay there motionless. He was laying there pale and covered with furs to keep him warm, but as she grabbed his hand in hers, she could feel the incredible amount of heat that seemed to radiate of Jon´s body.

Sansa shot a look to the maester, he seemed very tired after making sure that Jon would live. Did Jon have a fever and the maester didn’t care? That was not like him.

“Yes, I know.” The maester walked over to Jon´s other side. “He seems to have higher than normal body heat for some reason, but it isn’t acting like a fever and I think that it may be helping him.” Jon had a little higher than normal body heat, but he wasn’t normally like a blazing inferno, and how was it helping him?

“How is him being hot, helping him maester Luwin?” Robb had walked to Sansa´s side and was staring at Jon sadly. Both Sansa and Robb had started sweating in the heat of the room. But Jon was looking like it didn’t have any effect on him at all, he was paler than normal, but that had to be because of the blood loss he had sustained.

“I don’t know, but it seems that the warmer he is, the better he feels.” The old man answered. The maester of Winterfell seemed rattled.

Sansa had to force herself not to look at her father. Was this the Targaryen blood working? Or was this something else?

She heard her father clear his throat. “Well, Sansa, Robb we should let Jon rest, he is going to need it. And I need the two of you to help me.” Robb looked about to protest but thought better of it. Sansa could understand, she wanted to stay with Jon too and make sure that he would be fine. But she knew that she couldn’t, so they both followed their father out of the room.

EDDARD

The feeling of helplessness was not leaving Ned anytime soon. He was sure of that at least. Ned had only once felt this helpless in his life, and that was when Lyanna had died and entrusted him with her son. He had failed her, again.

Her only child, Jon was lying in bed with four arrow holes in his body that had come about because he had tried to save Ned´s children.

Ned was very grateful to Jon and thankful that they hadn’t died. But that didn’t mean that Ned didn’t feel like the failure he was.

Ned had charged Robb and Sansa to start writing letters to all the lords in the north that they should come to Winterfell. He trusted Sansa to do a lot better job than he, himself could, and Robb could learn a thing or two from her.

Ned had decided that it was time for the lords to come together and discuss the wall and what they should do about it. Ned would read the letters over and sign them when he had the chance, but now he had to talk to a prisoner.

Sansa had pulled him aside and told him who it was, the man who had attacked the children was none other than Ramsay Snow, the man who had tortured and raped Sansa for months and shot Rickon down like he was game.

Ned didn’t believe that one should punish a man for crimes that they hadn’t committed yet, but in this case, he really wanted to make an exception.  But he knew that he wouldn’t.

Ned needed this monster to gain access to the Dreadfort. Ramsay Snow was still not a man grown and therefore he was the responsibility of Roose Bolton, and he was living in the Dreadfort.

Which meant that Ned could use that as an excuse of search the castle to see if he could find anything else incriminating on the Bolton bastard, and to see if he could implicate Roose Bolton as well.

Ned walked down the stairs to the dungeons that held the bastard of Bolton. Ned looked at the young man that was sitting calmly on the floor of his tiny cell. He was an ugly thing, with dry dark hair and colorless grey eyes. But there was no fear in them, only madness.

“Why did you come here and attack my children?” The question was followed by silence for a while. Then the young man broke it, with his voice that reminded Ned of worms for some reason.

“Why did you send those dogs to my lands?” This made Ned raise an eyebrow. So, he had found out that Ned had sent men to the lands surrounding the Dreadfort and had come here to retaliate.

“I don’t recall a Ramsay Snow having lands in the north.” Ned had been told by Sansa, that the boy hated it when he was called by the name Snow, and it seemed like it was true. The ugly brute was biting down on his teeth that Ned thought for a moment that he would break them.

The young man didn’t answer, he looked at Ned with eyes that were filled with hate for a moment, and then the look in his eyes turned mocking. “Is he dead? The boy that came charging at me and my men?” When he said “my men” his voice was filled with a strange pride.

“No, he will be fine, as it turns out.” Ned could see the disbelieve in his eyes for a second, before it disappeared.

“That is…disappointing.” The bastard of Bolton was clenching his teeth again in anger. “But he fought well for a…what? twelve-year-old?”

“Ten…Jon is ten.” Ramsay Snow just stared again at Ned in disbelieve. Yes, Ned could understand his shock, it was unbelievable that a ten-year-old could have bested five men in battle for life and death, but here they were.

Ned wondered if the bastard of Bolton had either sent the man that was killed in Wintertown, to the crypts and killed him when he didn’t have anything of value, or if he didn’t know anything about it and it was just a coincidence that they had found the body a day before the attack. He decided not to ask the bastard today, Ned wanted to get more information first.

“You know, I thought that he would go down when I hit him with the first arrow. But the arrow in the thigh didn’t even slow him down.” The wormy voice filled the dungeon. Roose Bolton´s bastard was trying to rile him up, but Ned wanted to see were this would go, and hopefully he would get something out of the bastard.

“Then I tried his shoulder, but he just kept on going.” His eyes were wide as he remembered shooting Jon with arrows. “You know I have never seen anyone move like him in my life.” It sounded like the bastard admired Jon.

“It wasn’t until I hit him in the side that he started to slow a little, but still he kept on going, slicing through my boys like he was carving a cake.” The bastard didn’t seem upset that his men had all died. It seemed to Ned that he was more amused by the thought.

“But I don’t have to tell you what happened next.” The mocking tone and the smug smile made Ned have to hold himself back from making the bastard swallow his own teeth for that comment.

Of course, Ned knew what had happened after that.

Ned and the guard had arrived just as Jon cut down the last man of Ramsay´s party, and Ned had seen as the bastard shot the arrow into Jon´s chest. Ned could see it now in his mind´s eye, how Jon had fallen slowly to the ground, with four arrows in his body.

The Stark men had rushed the Bolton bastard and taken him captive, but Ned had only eyes for Jon, as he lay there completely still on the forest floor.

Then Ramsay changed the subject. Effectively bringing Ned out of his memories. “Will I be dying now?” He sounded almost bored when he spoke of his own death. Like the very thought was so boring that it was unbearable.

“Soon.” Was the only thing that the lord of Winterfell said as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the dungeons. He had to get out of there, if he didn’t, he was sure that he would kill the bastard.

He was sure that Ramsay Snow couldn’t be human, there was something so inhumane about him and the way he was, that it gave Ned a feeling that he had never felt before.

The feeling spoke of something so dark and horrible that Ned didn’t have a word for it. He shook of the thoughts and returned to his solar where the eldest of his children were.

As he entered the solar, Sansa and Robb were still working on the letters. He took one of the finished once and looked it over, it was very well written, and he could help but to let out a proud smile at that.

“Why don’t you two go and visit Jon again, I will finish these.” Robb gave his father an exited beam and ran out the door, but Sansa stayed.

“How did it go?” Ned gave a sigh.

“As well as it could have.” He sat down in his chair and stared at the desk. He was beyond exhausted after the last two days.

“Is Allyn in trouble?” Ned looked at his daughter at that, her face was unreadable.

“No, Allyn is not in any sort of trouble, he did what he was supposed to do, he took you and Robb to safety.” As far as the guard knew, Jon was a bastard and they weren’t as important as their trueborn siblings, so it was expected of him to make sure that Robb and Sansa had been brought to safety before worrying about Jon.

Yes, Jon wasn’t really a bastard born, but for now it was his armor that he was thought of as one.

“You know, the lords will love Jon for this.” Ned looked carefully at his second born child. She looked like she was planning something.

“You want to use this incident when the time comes to gain the support of the northern lords?” This could work, the northern lords would not soon forget the boy who had risked his life to save the heir to Winterfell and the first-born daughter of the Warden of the North.

Sansa nodded. “Yes, I think it is a good idea for them to know how Jon used himself as a bait to make sure that Robb and I could be brought to safety.”

Ned nodded, but then he frowned as he thought. That could work, nobody would think that Robb was a coward because he was only ten-years old and it was unreasonable for anyone, even the lords of the north to expect a ten-year old to fight.

“Aye, I agree. Now why don’t you go and see Jon, I have to finish up here.” Ned gave his daughter a small, tired smile.

Sansa nodded at that and then she left, most likely to see Jon.

CATELYN

She didn’t hate Jon Snow. If she ever had, she sure didn’t hate him now, not after what he had done. Sure, she didn’t want him in here in Winterfell, he was the constant reminder of her husband´s infidelity, as well as a threat to her children´s birthrights, no matter what her husband said.

Sure, Ned wouldn’t place Jon Snow in the line of succession or give him the Stark name, but who knew if the bastard didn’t decide that he wanted Winterfell after all. But the bastard saving Robb made her doubt that he wanted Winterfell, if he had wanted Winterfell, wouldn’t he have let Robb die?

She was thankful that the bastard saved Robb and Sansa, she really was. It had rattled her, seeing how close her children had come to harm, and if not for the bastard, they would have most likely been killed and Sansa raped.

Cat couldn’t bear the thought of her precious, perfect Sansa being raped and murdered. Cat could feel the tears well up in her eyes at the very thought, and Jon Snow had saved her from that fate, and now he was lying in a sickroom for his troubles.

But the shock of seeing Sansa behave like she had done, when the guard brought them to Winterfell, was almost too much for Cat to bear. Cat could understand that Sansa was frightened by the attackers but to behave like this was unacceptable.

A good southern lady would never have behaved like this, not for anything. This must have been because of the weapons training that she was receiving, that had to be the reason she was behaving so un-lady like. 

Cat knew she must do something about this, Sansa couldn’t continue in the training yard, no this had to stop right now. Sansa should never have been in the wolfswood with Robb and the bastard in the first place, that was no place for a lady.

How would she ever get a husband if she not only behaved like a wildling, but was also swinging a sword about? This had to stop, and she would make her husband see sense if it was the last thing she did.

But the look Sansa had given her, when she had tried to get the children away from the sickroom, chilled her to the core. Cat had never seen her perfect little lady give anyone this look before, not even Arya when they were fighting.

But sickrooms were no place for children, it would be good for them to go to their lessons and distract them from the bastard, children shouldn’t worry about such things. But her husband had allowed Robb and Sansa to stay with the bastard, Cat could feel the anger at Ned at the very thought.

Why did he always do this? Why did he always have to contradict her in front of the children? Couldn’t he see that it would be bad for them to see something like this, they could see the bastard later.

She was grateful to him for saving Sansa and Robb, but children didn’t belong in sickrooms, certainly not sickrooms of bastards.

Cat walked through the halls of the great castle of the Starks, she always felt like an outsider here in this castle, she had told Ned that she felt like an outsider in the godswood, but it was the entre castle that made her feel this way. Hopefully it would change with time.

She knew that she was a southern lady at heart and no amount of time would change that. Her name may be Catelyn Stark but, in her heart, she was a Tully of Riverrun, the daughter of Hoster Tully the lord of Riverrun and lord paramount of the Riverlands.

She was on her way to her husband’s solar, she needed to talk to him about all of this. She needed him to stop making her little girl learn how to use weapons and let Cat take charge of the rearing of the children. Cat was glad that Ned was taking interest in the children, but it was her area as the lady of the household to raise the children.

It was a woman´s job to make sure that the children were properly readied for the world, well except maybe the heir, he could learn from the lord, but the others were her responsibility, especially Sansa.

Sansa needed her the most, Sansa needed to learn how to be the perfect lady and Sansa couldn’t learn how to be a lady unless she stopped this nonsense with the swords and other weapons.

Cat arrived at the door and knocked, when she heard her husband’s voice, she entered the solar. Her husband was sitting in his chair, surrounded by the gifts from the other houses of the north that had been collected over the centuries of Stark rule. The room was nothing like her father´s solar. Her father’s solar was grand and filled with light and a view of the rivers.

She sat down in the chair in front of the desk. Her Ned looked years older than he really was at this moment. His desk was filled with letters, both sealed and opened. She could see that some of the letters were written in Sansa´s and Robb´s hands. Ned had clearly been drafting them to help with the letters to the lords.

That made Cat really happy, her children helping to write the letters to the lords was something that she supported very much. This was something that Sansa should be doing, learning how to help her future husband.

“What are you doing?” Why was he writing to the lords? What could possibly have happened so that Ned would have decided to write to them? She knew that Ned had been having a lot more contact with them over the last half a year but, this was so much more. It looked like he was writing to them all at the same time now.

“I need to call the lords of the north to Winterfell; we need to have a gathering.” His deep voice resonated within the walls of the solar, but Cat was having a hard time processing those words. Why in the world was Ned calling the lords here now? This couldn’t possibly be because of the attack, could it?

Then again someone had attacked the heir to Winterfell and the north and the lord of Winterfell´s eldest daughter, and Cat had heard from the guards that they had captured one of the attackers. Maybe he had given Ned some sort of a clue on who had ordered the attack. No one would have attacked people so close to Winterfell on their own and not having powerful backers.

Maybe one of the lords had ordered a hit on her son Robb, he was the heir to Winterfell. Or maybe one of the lords had ordered his lackies to kidnap Sansa, Cat had heard that there were some wildlings that came over the wall and kidnaped girls.

“May I ask why?” She tried her hardest to keep the curiosity out of her voice, but judging by the small smile on his face, she wasn’t very successful at it.

“I need to talk to them; I have to explain somethings that cannot be put in a letter.” He fell silent for a time. “We need to come up with plans for payment for the castles on the wall and we have been working on trade deals with the Riverlands and the Vale. And I would like their ideas and input on the deals.”

This left her a little startled if she was being truthful to herself. Why was Ned thinking about trade deals and restoring the castles on the wall now?

And who was we? When she asked her husband this question, he turned a little sheepish.

“Sansa has been helping me with the trade deals and Robb and Jon have been looking into the abandoned castles on the wall and around the north. It was their work that made it possible for us to settle the castles we have in the last half a year.”

This made all thought flee Cats mind, Sansa had been helping her father planning trade deals and Robb and the bastard had been helping with the abandoned castles? For a half a year? Without her knowing?

Well in her defense, she had been heavily pregnant and then she had been taking care of Rickon, her precious little babe. She had been very busy the last half a year.

But they were children, how could they have help with all this? She asked him this. “Well, Cat they are really smart children, they have had a little help from maester Luwin and have been spending a lot of time together in the library, and this is good for them and especially Robb.”

Robb? Restoring castles and rebuilding the night´s watch was good for Robb? How?

“How on earth is this benefitting Robb, I can understand the trade deals, but rebuilding castles and restoring orders that are mostly a refuge of criminals are not something a lord of a great house should be concerning himself with.” Her husband´s small grin slipped of his face. It was then she realized that she had spoken out of turn.

“It is a lord’s duty to see to that his lands are taken care of, and the night´s watch makes sure that we are not invaded from the north.” His voice was a little hard and his eyes were like two glaciers.

“I am sorry, my lord, I spoke out of turn.” She looked at her hands in her lap, she hated it when he was mad.

Her husband sighed. “I am sorry too, my love. This day has not been easy for any one of us, but I will have you know that this is what Robb will have to deal with when he takes the mantle of the lord of Winterfell. Ever since the days of Cregan Stark the north has been in a rapid decline, and it will be his job and the job of his children to help the north grow.”

This statement made Cat more than a little afraid, her son would inherit a broken kingdom and he would have to fix it. He would have to spend his life trying to make it better and her grandchildren would have to do this too.

“Don’t look so sad, there are ruins in all the kingdoms, that the great lords should be rebuilding or making habitable again, like Castamere in the Westerlands. It is one of the largest gold mines in Westeros, but there is no governing lord there mining for said gold.” This made her think, yes that was true and even in the Riverlands had its share of ruins, the most famous ruin in all of Westeros was there. Harrenhall was habitable but it was a ruin and a blight on the beauty of her homeland.

She nodded. “But this is not what I came to ask you about, I want you to stop making Sansa attend the weapon lessons with the boys.” She could see Ned´s face turn to stone, before he could say anything, she continued on, she had to make him see sense.

“Ned, please. Don’t you know how hard it will be for us to find a husband for Sansa if she is waving a sword around, and I have not even started on her little tantrum in the yard today, she was behaving like a savage.” Her tone had been rising steadily over the course of her speech, but her husband’s face had also been growing more and more serious.

“Sansa will be continuing her weapons lessons with the boys, today has made it clear that it is necessary for all our children to know how to defend themselves, and her reaction to leaving Jon in the woods while Allyn took her and Robb to safety was perfectly reasonable.”

Cat could feel the anger in her belly rise, why couldn’t he see that it wasn’t respectable for a lady to wield weapons?

“Ned, you cannot do this. Sansa is a lady and she cannot be handling weapons. No respectable lord will want her.” She could feel her face heat up with anger.

“Catelyn, Sansa is a northern lady and they wield weapons all the time, as do many women of lesser birth in the north and they have no trouble getting respectable husbands. And if any one of the lords do not approve of Sansa knowing how to defend herself, I do not what them as her husband.” This made her fall silent for a while.

She could feel the frustration bubble up as she tried to explain to him the importance of this matter.

“Ned, how can we find a respectable lord wanting to marry her if she is behaving like a wildling?”

“You mean a southern lord?” Cat could feel the bite in her husband´s question.

“Let me tell you something my Lady.” She hated it when he called her my lady, it was to formal and didn’t speak to their close bond that they shared. “I will not be letting Sansa marry some southern lord, she and Robb will be marrying people that have been raised in the north to appreciate the traditions of the north.”

Cat could feel her spine go rigged with anger and tension, she decided it was time to leave the solar before she said something to her husband that she would regret.

Chapter Text

JON

Everything was dark around him, and he felt like he was floating in a warm, bottomless lake. He didn’t know how long he had been lying there when he heard the most beautiful voice that had ever reached his ears. It was soft and gentle and reminded him of a summer breeze. Jon could spend the rest of his life listening to this voice.

“Jon wake up.” He was awake, why was the beautiful voice trying to get him to wake up when he was awake.

“Jon, please I just want you to wake up.” The voice was begging him now, the voice was very close to him and whispering to him.

By now the darkness was giving away to the uncomfortable light and he was starting to feel pain everywhere in his body. Why in the gods name was he in pain? The more the voice begged him to wake up, the more pain he was in.

He was starting to realize that he was indeed waking up, as the lovely voice was begging him to do. Now he didn’t feel like he was floating in warm water. No, now he felt like all his limbs were made of lead and he felt like he could barely move them.

He could hear the voice even better now, he had heard it before, he was sure of that. But it was still as beautiful as before. The person who the voice belonged to had to be holding his hand, the voice was so close that it had to be the person who the voice belonged to the one holding his hand.

The hand was small and warm, he tightened his hold on the little hand and gave a low grunt.

“Jon.” The surprise in the voice was palpable. “Jon are you awake?”

He did his best to open his eyes, but it was slow work. As he opened his eyes, light stung his eyes and the pain was so great that he thought that his body was on fire.

“Maester Luwin!” the voice shouted. There was a lot of noise as he felt another person came to his other side. They were talking about something that he didn’t get.

He tried to open his eyes again and this time it was a little easier, but only just. As he opened his eyes, he saw red.

It took him a little while to realize that the red being that was holding his hand and the owner of the lovely voice, was Sansa.

“Hi.” His voice was raspy, and he barely recognized it. Sansa was very close to his face and clutching his hand to her chest and there were tears in her eyes, but not of sorrow, but happiness.

“Jon, you scared me half to death.” Sansa was smiling down at him and her eyes were filled with tears. “Never, ever do this to me again, I thought that I was going to lose you.”

“Jon.” He looked at the maester, he seemed a little worried. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible.” Was the only thing that he could groan out, his throat was dry, and he hoped for a mug of water. “Water.” He begged; he really needed some water for his throat.

Sansa reached for a jug that was on a table nearby and poured water in a mug. She walked back to Jon and put her hand under the back of his head and helped him drink. The water was warm, but it was better than nothing.

Jon laid back on his bed after the mug of water, even drinking water was hard. It was so hard that in fact he was starting to feel sleepy again, he tried to mumble something to Sansa and the maester, but sleep overtook him again.

The next time he woke up, it was a little easier for him to wake up. The morning light was streaming through the window and he noticed that someone was sleeping with their head next to him.

The long red hair was a dead giveaway, it was Sansa that was sleeping with her head on her arms and she had her upper half on his bed. “Sansa.” He rasped out. His voice was a little better than it had been before.

Sansa woke up slowly, she looked at him and tried to blink the sleepiness out of her eyes. She looked so adorable when she was sleepy. But when she realized that he was awake, a smile spread over her face.

“How are you feeling.” She asked him, Jon could hear the concern in her voice. It really warmed his heart to hear that she cared so much. He could see that her clothes were sticking to her body, as she was sweating from the heat in the room and her lovely red hair was sticking to her face.

“Like someone tried to kill me.” His voice didn’t rise above whisper. Sansa smile turned to a frown.

“Don’t joke about that, you have been in and out of consciousness for the last two days.” That was strange, Jon could only remember waking up once. “You have been talking in your sleep about the Others and the burning of King´s Landing.”

Jon could feel his stomach drop, but then he realized that everything that he had said could be written off as the rambling of fever dreams and the result of the milk of the poppy.

“Are we alone?” he asked her, he wanted to speak with her without having someone overhear them.

“Yes, maester Luwin went to speak to father just a few minutes ago, and he left me in charge while he is gone.” The answer was accompanied by an impish grin.

“So, I am at the mercy of the Queen in the north?” He couldn’t help the quip that slipped out. Jon noticed that her face seemed to redden a little, and she bit her lip. Had he said something wrong?

But that thought fled his mind as she gave him a small smile. “Yes, and now you have to do whatever I want.” The tone of voice that Sansa used made Jon blush a little, but he did his best to ignore it.

He decided to quickly change the subject. “Has something happen when I was out?”

Sansa nodded. “Yes, father has asked all the lords of the north to come to Winterfell, he wants to start the rebuilding the castles on the wall, and he wants the lord’s inputs on how to fund the project. He has also sent a letter to lord Bolton that he is to come to Winterfell to answer for the crimes of his son.” The name of the bastard son of Roose Bolton was enough to make Jon want to punch something, but in his current state, Jon couldn’t hurt a kitten.

When he had realized that it was the Bolton bastard attacking them, all thought had gone from Jon´s mind, the only thing that he could think about was to keep Sansa safe from the monster. Jon had sworn to her that he would protect her, and he had failed her so many times, but not this time.

Ramsay would never again get his hands-on Sansa again as long as Jon drew breath. For the first time in his life, Jon had been a little afraid of himself. He had rushed without any thought into battle, and for a moment he had forgotten that he still had the body of a ten-year old.

But the battle madness had more than made up for his small body, and the fact that Jon was a skilled swordsman and his opponents were both not very skilled when it came to a battle against armed opponents. It had been very clear to Jon that the men that Ramsay had with him, had never had any lessons on how to handle weaponry.

“That´s good. We need to get the castles up and running as soon as possible.” Jon tried to sit up, the pain was unbearable, but he tried anyway. But Sansa wasn’t having any of it.

“Jon, what on earth do you think you are doing? You are hurt and you can’t be sitting up so soon.” She put her tiny hands on his chest and forced him to be still. As soon as her hands were on his chest, his heart started to beat so fast that it was like it was trying to break out of his chest.

“You have to be still Jon, you are still healing and the more you move now, the more risk it is of you ripping the stiches open.” Sansa was frowning at him as she scolded him. Jon sighed and nodded.

Silence filled the room for a while before Sansa spoke again. “Your children are fine by the way.” Jon had to stifle a groan at that, he doubted that she would stop referring to the dragons as his children anytime soon. Over the course of the last half a year, Sansa had jokingly referred to the dragons as Jon´s children when they were alone, she had heard from the introduction of Daenerys when she arrived in Winterfell in their last life, that she styled herself as the mother of dragons and now Sansa seemed to enjoy teasing him and calling the dragons his children.

She was smiling at Jon again and there was a twinkle in her eyes.

“I know they are fine.” Jon replied softly, he knew that they were just fine, hiding in their cave and sleeping the day away, so that they would have the strength to hunt when night would fall.

Jon was glad that he had managed to keep them away from the battle, he didn’t want anyone to know that he had dragons the size of garrons in the wolfswood. It wasn’t time to reveal the dragons to the world just yet, they had to grow bigger, and the north had to become stronger before Jon would let it be known that he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.

It also wouldn’t be good, if some guards knew about them. The more people that knew about the dragons, the more risk there was of people finding out. And even if the dragons had arrived after the guard had taken Sansa and Robb away, maybe one of the bastards’ men could have runaway and told someone about them. And how would Jon even begin to explain where the fire had come from without mentioning dragons?

Sansa opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted.

“JON YOU ARE AWAKE.” They both looked at the door and saw that Arya was running towards them, and by the looks of it, intended to tackle Jon. But Sansa saved him from the excruciating pain of being tackled by a five-year old, Jon didn’t think he could take being attacked by Arya, when he was as injured as he was.

“Arya, you have to be careful, Jon is hurting right now, and we have to treat him like he is made of glass.” The last bit was said with a devious look in her eyes. Jon stared at her in bewilderment for a moment and then he intended to respond but again there was an interruption.

“Arya, don’t tackle Jon-.” The voice of Robb Stark cut itself of as he entered the room. “Oh, Sansa you stopped her, that’s good, I thought that she was going to try to shake Jon awake.” Wait, what? Arya was going to shake him awake?

Why were the women in his life trying to kill him?

SANSA

Arya ignored their brother and bounced off to where Jon was lying on his sickbed and started to pepper him with questions. Robb, now having noticed that Jon was awake, was walking over to Jon, but Sansa decided to stop him.

“Robb, can you do me a favor?” Her older brother looked at her with surprise, he glanced at Jon, where he lay in his sickbed and sighed.

“Sure, of course.” The defeat in his voice was apparent, he must have been looking forward to seeing Jon.

“I need you to stay here and watch over Jon, he cannot move or sit up, maester Luwin´s orders.” Robb´s face lit up with happiness that she wasn’t asking him to leave the room and he could talk to Jon. “And don’t let Arya start crawling all over him, his stiches could open and that would be very painful for him and we would need to close them again.”

Robb frowned at that last bit; they both knew that it would be hard to keep Arya from what she wanted to do.

But non the less, her older brother nodded his consent. “And don’t let him do anything for himself.” and with that Sansa left the room as she heard Jon protest her last words. 

She had been wanting to speak to her father, as they had both been busy for the last two days, she had been working with maester Luwin and helping him with taking care of Jon, and her father had been busy with the preparations with the impending arrival of the lords.

All the servants of Winterfell were making sure that everything was in order for when the lords would arrive in two weeks, and seeing them rushing about, brought back memories of when they had been expecting Robert Baratheon´s arrival in Winterfell, just before everything went to the seven hells.

As Sansa walked through the busy corridors, she could hear her mother ordering the servants about.

Sansa quickened her pace so that her mother wouldn’t try to recruit her for the preparations, Sansa really needed to talk to her father and get back to Jon as soon as possible.

She arrived at the solar, but when she intended to knock on the door, it was opened. The doorway was filled with the color grey.

“Sansa, I thought you were with Jon.” The maester of Winterfell said in a startled voice and his brushy eyebrows were raised high on his forehead. Sansa had been the person that had spent the most time helping the maester looking after Jon while he was recovering, and it must have been a shock to see her leave the sickroom willingly.

“Yes, I was but I really have to talk to father, and to inform you that Jon is awake, and I left Robb in charge of Jon while I am here.”

That caused the old man to smile. “That should make Robb happy, he does so love to be in charge.” Truer words had never been spoken, Sansa thought to herself.

The maester left, presumably to see to his patient and Sansa entered the solar of the lord of Winterfell. She noticed that her father´s desk was filled with letters, and her father was looking were tired.

“Have you been here all night?” Sansa asked her father. Ned Stark nodded his head and sighed. Her father had been working so hard these past months, while Sansa, Jon and Robb were coming up with plans, it fell on her father´s shoulders to make them a reality. He was also making sure that the guards were being increased and he had also been supervising the troop recruitment.

They had decided to use the Wildling threat to disguise the real reason for the increasing need for soldiers.

“How is Jon keeping up?” Her father seemed glad for the distraction she was providing.

“Better than we dared hope, I am just glad that he will recover.” She said as she sat down in front of the desk. She asked him the question that had been burning on her mind for the last two days. “Has the Bolton bastard said anything?”

They really wanted him to talk, anything he said now could be played to their advantage when Roose Bolton arrived. Sansa had been hoping that he had said something to incriminate his father, she knew that there was no love lost between Roose Bolton and his bastard.

Her father shook his head. “No, he hasn’t said anything of importance that would incriminate his father yet, but hopefully he will.”

Sansa hadn’t really been expecting it, but they had enough to search the Dreadfort to see if the Bolton bastard had any accomplices there or if he was hiding any victims in the castle.

“Father, there is another thing I would like to talk to you about.” Her father frowned a little, but he was listening with rapt attention. “I think that you should increase the amount of guard around Ramsay Snow, and they shouldn’t let anyone past them, if they are not with you.”

Her father straightened in his chair. “I have the usual amount of guards around him, you think that it isn’t enough?”

Sansa shook her head. “I think that Roose Bolton may try to silence his son permanently, or maybe some of Ramsay´s men may try to break him out.”

“You think that Roose may try to kill his own son?” Sansa could see that the act of killing one’s own kin, seemed unthinkable to Ned Stark, but to Roose Bolton it would be a trifle.

“If it would keep you from searching the Dreadfort, I have no doubt that lord Bolton would kill his bastard a hundred times.” Sansa´s response seemed to leave the Lord of Winterfell stunned.

But after a moment he nodded. “Alright, I will talk to Ser Rodrick and ask him to double the guard.”

That made Sansa feel a lot better. “Thank you, father, but you should make sure that it is only guards that have been here for a long time and ones that you trust with our life. I don’t think that it would be a good idea to have any of the new recruits guarding the prisoners, they are more easily bribed or infiltrated.”

The warden of the north nodded. “Aye, I agree with you there, sweetling.”

Sansa smiled at her father, she was very glad that he was listening to her, when she was trying to help him, that meant a lot to her, there were so many fathers that just ignored their daughters when they spoke and didn’t care what they thought, and the fact that her father cared to hear what she had to say meant the world to her.

“Father, have you thought about what the northern lords may say when you present them with the letter from Robert Baratheon?” Sansa had been pondering over what they might say when they found out that the man that claimed to be their king, refused to help them pay for the restoration of the Wall.

“There are a few things that I think that they might say, but what worries me is the fact that they may demand to stop paying taxes to the crown.” That had occurred to Sansa as well, it was reasonable for the lords of the north to refuse to pay the taxes, when the king didn’t help them to prevent war with the wildlings.

Sansa knew that they would have to make peace with the freefolk sooner rather than later, they needed their numbers to defeat the army of the Dead when it came marching on the wall, and the fewer wildling among the dead, was better for them.

But her father wasn’t finished. “If the lords of the north stop paying taxes, what is to stop Robert from demanding that the Riverlands and the Vale stop doing business with us until we pay, or threating the free cities that he will stop doing business with them if they trade with us.”

Sansa nodded, that had occurred to her. “I agree with that he might entertain those ideas, but I think that the threat of the lords of the north just letting the Wildlings past the wall and into the south may trouble the Riverlords and the lords of the Vale more than the thought of angering Robert.”

Her father frowned at that, he didn’t seem comfortable with threating to let the wildings loose on the south, as was understandable, Sansa didn’t like the thought either.

So, she continued. “But I don’t think that we must threaten him with that, the Riverlands and the Vale are more bound to you than Robert. It was your marriage that bound the Riverlands to you and Jon Arryn´s marriage that bound the Riverlands to the Vale. That was the alliance that broke the Targaryen dynasty, not Robert Baratheon.” She fell silent to let that thought sink in, then she continued.

“As for the free cities, Robert would be hard pressed to tell them what to do. I know that there is a shortage of timber in Essos and the north has that in abundance and fur is a luxury item in a lot of the free cities, especially in Pentos and Braavos, they will want to trade with us more than they want the trade with Robert Baratheon, not only that but Robert Baratheon owes a considerable amount of money to the iron bank and some of the free cities, so he is not really in a position to demand anything of them.”

Her father was looking at her with a proud smile on his face. “You have clearly been thinking about this.”

Sansa smiled at him; she may be a grown woman in a child´s body but she did love making her father proud of her. “I also think that you should invite Jon Arryn to Winterfell.”

This caused her father to rise his eyebrows to his hairline. “Whatever for?”

“Jon Arryn is hand of the King and is the second most powerful man in the kingdoms, and as this matter affects both the north and the crown, a representative should be made available to the lords of the North to listen to their complaints. And who better than the man that raised you and Robert to mediate this dispute?” Sansa had to admit, that was not the only reason she wanted the man to come to Winterfell, she had never met the man in person and she really wanted to get the measure of him before they would have to move to take back Jon´s birth right.

She wanted to know what the man thought of Robert as a king and if he would side with house Stark when it came time to choose between Jon of house Targaryen or Robert of house Baratheon. If they managed to keep him alive this time.

“Alright.” Her father spoke. “I will send Jon a letter with all haste and invite him to Winterfell, but he will not make the two week deadline for the first meetings, but if he agrees to come north and takes a ship to White Harbor, he could make it to Winterfell in a months’ time if the winds are kind.”

Sansa nodded, it would be good to have two weeks for the lords of the north to talk to her father before Jon Arryn would arrive. “Alright, I am going back to Jon and see if he is still amongst the living, after all I left him with Arya and Robb.”

As she left the solar, she could hear her father chuckle at the thought of Jon being hugged to death by Ned´s younger daughter.

JON ARRYN

He was fuming as he left the room that he had made his wife stay in. Lysa had confirmed everything he had suspected about her.

She had indeed been having an affair with Littlefinger for years now, and Robert was indeed Petyr´s son and not Jon´s. She had apparently been planning to pass him off as Jon´s offspring and let Jon think that his legacy was secure, while Lysa and Littlefinger were laughing behind his back at their deceit, and how they had played the hand of the king, the Warden of the east and the lord of the Vale.

This could not stand, he had to do something about this, they would not get away with this. Littlefinger was still in the dungeons and his cheating wife was going to be in her apartments until Jon decided what to do with her.

On one hand it would be entirely reasonable to divorce her and take another wife, but he was reluctant to break the alliance to the Riverlands, sure there was no war at this time, but how could Jon be sure that the unstable peace after the Greyjoy rebellion had been crushed, wouldn’t be broken.

The thrice damned Lannisters were always trying to spread their influence, and Robert was just letting them invade his court. It seemed that every time that a position at court opened, Cersei Lannister managed to talk the king into letting a Lannister fill it. Jon wasn’t sure how she did it, since Robert despised his wife.

But Jon had other problems to deal with now, because by now the entre court knew what had happened, and Jon could feel the gazes on him as he passed, he knew that they were laughing at him behind his back, he could hear the sniggers when he walked by the noble men and women that had made the court of Robert Baratheon, their playing ground in the game of thrones.

Jon stopped at the royal apartments, he had a meeting with the king, the first one they had together since Jon had found his wife with the whoremonger. The king had been busy entertaining some whore or five in the meantime, after all it had been almost two days since Jon had found Lysa and Baelish together.

“Your grace.” Jon greeted as he entered the room. Robert was already halfway to being drunk and there where dark wine stains on his expensive tunic that was decorated in the crowned stag of Baratheon.

Robert Baratheon had been the very image of every woman´s idea of a gallant knight, but Robert seemed to be trying his best to move as far away from that image as he could, if by his drinking, whoring and eating were anything to judge by.

Robert had gained a lot of weight after he had come home from the Greyjoy rebellion that had taken place four years ago. Jon knew that if the king kept this up, he would be unrecognizable in few years.

“Jon.” The king of the seven kingdoms bellowed, as he waved the goblet around his head, spilling the contents over the brim of the cup. “Great, you are here, pour yourself a cup, you look like you need it.”

Jon snorted, he had never been much of a drinker, but right now he didn’t mind one cup of wine. As Jon poured himself a cup of wine, Robert continued. “So, tell me what happened? Why is my hand throwing my master of coins in a cell?”

If Jon hadn’t been so used to Robert and his ways, he would have been very irritated by him. Jon knew that it was the talk of the court that Jon had Littlefinger arrested for sleeping with his wife. Surely Robert must have heard of it by now.

“Surely you know Robert, you must have heard that Baelish was fucking Lysa and I walked in on them, and now I know that Robert isn’t even my son but his.” Robert swore loudly when he heard.

Robert´s ruff, loud voice filled the room. “I had thought that it was just rumors.” He was silent for a while. “I am sorry Jon; I know how much you needed a son to inherit the Vale.”

“Thank you, Robert, I appreciate that.”

Robert turned thoughtful; it was a look that was very out of place on the man´s large face. “You know, you could always just name someone that you like to become your heir, many lords have done so over the centuries.” Jon chuckled at Robert, sure Jon could do that, but it would have to be someone that the lords of the Vale respected.

Jon knew that Harry Hardyng was his next living blood relative, but Jon didn’t like the boy when he had met him. Lady Waynwood had come to the capitol a year ago, and she had taken her ward, Harry with her.

The boy reminded Jon too much of King Robert to want him for an heir, but as Jon had thought that he had a son and that his line was secure, he hadn’t put much thought into the matter.

Now Jon was being saddled with Harry Hardyng as an heir, but Robert was right, Jon could just name someone as his heir and marry that someone to one of the lesser Arryns, so that the Arryn blood would continue on in the ruling house.

It was something he could think on, but maybe there was still time to have another son. He was brought out of his thoughts by Robert´s loud voice. “What about the boy, my namesake? What will happen to him?”

Jon sighed, he didn’t wish the boy ill, no, he had thought that he was his son for so long that it was hard to think of him as anything else.

“I think I will send him to his grandfather, Hoster wouldn’t blame him for his mothers’ crimes.” Jon stared into the cup that was still filled with Arbor Gold for a moment, then he drank deeply from the cup. Robert had been right; he had needed a drink.

“That is a good idea, the boy can stay in the Riverlands with his grandfather and maybe assist that bumbling idiot Edmure when he becomes the lord of Riverrun, the gods save us.” Robert laughed at his joke.

Jon couldn’t help but to grin, yes, a bumbling idiot was the correct way to describe Edmure Tully, even though Jon would never say it out loud, he respected Hoster too much to say anything ill about his only son and heir, even if it was the truth. 

Then there was a knock on the door, Robert shouted at the person to come in. Jon watched Ser Mandon Moore walk in. Jon had never liked Ser Mandon, he had always reminded Jon of a walking corpse for some reason and the white armor and cloak of the king’s guard made him look like he was wrapped in a funeral shroud.

“Your grace, Lord hand, there has been an incident.” Jon could feel his stomach drop and cold shiver ran down his spine. What could have happened now? Hadn’t there been enough trouble for this month?

“Well, spit it out, you dumb fuck.” The king of the seven kingdoms bellowed out, as he waved his golden goblet around his head, demanding it to be filled again.

“Lord Baelish has escaped the dungeons and is nowhere to be found.”

Chapter Text

CATELYN

She had been so busy since all the lords had confirmed their impending arrival to Winterfell. There was so much to do and so little time that she barely had any time to see her children, as they had their lessons and their own duties to attend to.

Cat only had a week left to make sure everything was up to her standards as the lady of Winterfell, and that was not a lot of time for any respectable lady to organize such a large castle, but Catelyn was nothing if not determined to do her very best.

Catelyn may not have a lot of time to organize for the arrival of the northern lords, but this was what she did best. No one could organize like she could, and she took a lot a pride in that.

Cat was talking to the cook about what would be served at the feast when all the lords had arrived, when a servant came up to them and drew her attention. 

“Lady Stark, lord Stark askes that when you have time, that you come to his solar.” Cat nodded at the servant, so that she knew that Cat had gotten the message from her lord husband.

When Cat was finished with the cook, she began her trek to the lord´s solar. She really did love her husband, even though they were having a hard time right at this moment. Why couldn’t he just let her raise their children as custom dictated?

Until a half a year ago, he had been content to let her educate the children and seeing to their rearing, but then something in him had changed, he started to take great interest in his children and in rebuilding the north. Not for the first time, Cat wondered what had made him take such a turn.

The eldest child of Hoster Tully shook her head, she had other things to worry about now, She could continue her argument with her husband when the lords had left Winterfell, she didn’t want the lords of the north to know about how the lord and lady of Winterfell were fighting.

No, they could never see the disagreement between their lord and lady, the nobles of Westeros could never see weakness, then they would pounce like bloodhounds.

When she arrived at the solar, she let herself inside. As soon as she entered the room, she noticed that her husband was looking particularly worried. In the last few months her husband was looking more and more tired and worried by the day, but now he was also looking very sad.

He looked at her as she entered and bid her to sit down, his voice was so grave that she was sure that someone had died.

The question tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it. “What is wrong Ned?” Her husband sighed.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, my love.” He looked her straight in the eyes and his grey orbs looked soft and sorrowful. “I got a letter from Jon Arryn today; I had thought to ask him to come to Winterfell and listen to the complaints that the lords of the north have.”

Why was this causing Ned such trouble, Cat would think that the arrival of Jon Arryn would make him happy, as the hand of the king was like a father to Ned. Had something happened? To Lysa or her little son?

She waited with bated breath as her husband continued. “Jon said he couldn’t come because…” He lapsed into silence as he seemed to gather his thoughts, but Cat was getting more and more unnerved. What on earth had happened to make her husband so rattled.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “Ned, tell me what happened.” She dug her hands into the skirt of her dress in anticipation of what Ned had to say. Whatever he had to say, it seemed serious.

Ned sighed. “Jon had a letter delivered to him some time ago, letting him now that he needed to go to his rooms in the tower of the hand, there he found his wife in bed with lord Petyr Baelish.” Cat stared at her husband, was this some sort of joke? Cat stood up and started to stalk the room in her anger.

Her sister would never be unfaithful to her husband and little Petyr would never do this; he was just a sweet young man that was very romantic. Petyr had fought for Cat´s hand when she had been promised to Brandon and he had never had eyes for Lysa, surely Jon Arryn was mistaken.

Lysa couldn’t have done this, this would cast doubt on the paternity of her son by lord Arryn. Lysa´s son stood to inherit the Vale, how could she put the future of her only son in jeopardy? Lysa would never do that.

Cat stood up and shook her head, this was nonsense. This was just lies told to Jon Arryn to cast doubt on her family, it had to be.

Cat looked at her lord husband, he was looking at her sadly. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out, so she just stared at her husband and she could feel tears start to form in her eyes but she kept them at bay, she would not give whoever had told these lies to Jon Arryn the satisfaction.

“There is more.” Ned looked at the letter that was on the table, that she was just noticing now. “Jon talked to Lysa and she told him that her son, Robert, isn’t Jon´s trueborn son but Baelish´s bastard.”

Cat just stared at her husband; she couldn’t comprehend his words. “No, this isn’t true, these are lies.” She stated firmly, she had to be strong now, for her family, for her children.

Her Ned frowned. “Cat, Jon walked in on Lysa and Baelish in bed together and your sister confessed to having lied about her own son and trying to pass him of as Jon´s.” Catelyn could feel a lump in her throat, and she could barely breath. How could her sister have done this? How could she have shamed them so?

Lysa had shamed house Tully in front of all the lords of Westeros, oh how would their poor father take this? Hoster Tully would be heart broken when he heard this.

Cat collapsed into the chair that she had been using before and stared at her husband. “Ned, what will happen to Lysa now?” Would Jon Arryn set her sister aside and take a new wife? Cat´s father had been so happy when he had he had found both his girls’ respectable husbands and this was how Lysa repaid him? By throwing all his hard work aside.

Then a darker and more terrifying thought crept up to her, would this cause her husband to suspect her of having an affair? Would he doubt the legitimacy of her trueborn children? Would he set her aside and call her beautiful, perfect babes, bastards, and put his own bastard ahead in the line of succession?

But Ned had told her himself that his bastard would never bare the name Stark, but that had been before Lysa had shamed them all with her abominable behavior. Would he now change his mind?

Before she could force the tears away, she started sobbing uncontrollably. She buried her face in her hands as she cried for her little babes. All of her children except Arya had the Tully coloring, would Ned think that his wife had an affair and that was why she hadn’t given him sons with the Stark look?

As she buried her face into her hands and cried for her babes, she could feel her husbands’ large arms wrap around her, to her comfort. Cat dug her hands into his tunic and wailed and cried.

She didn’t know how long she stayed in his embrace, crying in fear of her perfect children´s birth rights. When she calmed down, Ned sat down on a chair beside her and held her hand. She loved this about her husband, he could be so sweet and caring, underneath the cold exterior.

“I know you are frightened about your sister and her boy, and what will happen to them now.” She looked at her husband as he spoke. Now Cat was a lot more worried about her own precious children than what would happen to Lysa, her sister had brought this on herself with her reckless behavior.

She said nothing to her husband as he continued. “While Jon hasn’t decided on what will happen to Lysa, I am sure that your father will take good care of her boy.” What? Her father? What did he have to do with any of this?

“What on earth do you mean my lord? What does my father have to do with this?” Her husband frowned at her question.

“Jon intendeds to send the boy to your father, as he the boy’s grandfather.” Jon Arryn intended to do what? Hadn´t her father been shamed enough? Did Jon Arryn really want to dump the shame of their house into his lap?

Cat stood up and started to pace again. How could they do this to her father? After everything he had done for them in the rebellion, Hoster Tully had supported them in overthrowing the Targaryens and now they wanted to shame him like this?

Cat turned to her husband. “Why on earth would Jon Arryn do this? Why is he sending the family shame to my father like this?” She demanded to know the answer, her father had been through enough.

Ned stood up from his chair and stared at her. “I highly doubt that Jon intends to shame Hoster, but the boy should grow up with his family and right now the only family he has that is not being detained, is your family.”

Cat shook her head at her husband, house Tully had been shamed enough, they shouldn’t have to take in the family bastard. Cat had enough of bastards for one lifetime, she had suffered enough humiliation, her family shouldn’t have to suffer more. “No, Ned this cannot be allowed to happen. My father cannot be humiliated like this.”

Ned looked at her and furrowed his brow. “Cat, this is out of my hands, there is nothing I can do.”

Of course, Ned could do something, Jon Arryn loved Ned like a son, he would listen to reason when it came from Ned. “Talk to Jon Arryn, make him see reason.” She implored her husband.

But her husband just shook his head. “I am sorry my love, but there is nothing I can do.” He looked so sorrowful that she almost believed him, almost.

Cat stood as straight as she could and left the room with her head held high, this was not over, not by a long shot.

SANSA

She was sitting in the great hall, beside her was her older brother Robb, and her younger sister Arya. Sansa´s only sister was being extremely well behaved compared to what she was usually like when she was attending feast and had to sit still, and Robb was trying his best to show all the lords that had gathered in the great hall of Winterfell, that he was a worthy heir to the North.

Robb was sitting beside her in their house colors and trying his best to seem older than he really was, but it was easy for Sansa to see how worried he was.

Not that Sansa could blame him, the last two weeks had been hard. It had started by Jon being injured when they had been attacked by the bastard of Bolton and then a week later, they had gotten the news that Lysa Arryn had been caught by her husband having an affair with Petyr Baelish.

That worried Sansa more than she could say, it hadn’t happened the first time around and that meant that there was someone in the capitol that most likely had their memories of their last life.

That was what kept Sansa awake at night, they didn’t know who it was that remembered, and they had no idea if they were on their side or against them.

Sure, getting Littlefinger out of the way, was good for helping Jon to the iron throne, but Littlefinger had so many enemies in the past life that it could easily be someone that was playing against placing Jon on the throne.

Sansa couldn’t help but to feel a little gleeful at the prospect that Lysa Arryn had been caught by her husband having an affair, after what she had done to Sansa in her past life, she could say that she didn’t like her maternal aunt. That woman was cruel and vindictive, and Sansa could honestly say that she never wanted to see her again. But all that gleefulness evaporated when she had seen what the news had done to her mother.

The last week had been very hard on her mother and Sansa could see that her sister’s indiscretion was weighing heavily on Lady Stark´s shoulders.

While Sansa could understand that her mother was upset that Lysa had an affair and now her son was declared a bastard, her reaction was a little bit extreme. But it hadn’t taken Sansa long to figure out what was bothering her mother.

Her mother was worried about how this was looking not only for house Tully, but herself as four of her five children had the Tully look. Catelyn Stark must be worried about her own husband thinking that Robb, Bran, Rickon and herself were all bastards themselves and that he would disinherit them.

Sansa knew that she would have to talk to her father about this, her mother had to be assured that her husband wouldn’t be setting her aside and declaring his children by her, to be bastards.

Sansa looked to where her parents were sitting, and she could see that her lady mother was tense and trying her hardest to seem like herself, but anyone that knew her, could see that she was very worried.

Sansa could see that her father was glancing at his lady occasionally, he must be worried about her as well.

Sansa tore her eyes from her parents and looked over the crowd of lords and lordlings. The great hall of Winterfell was filled with lords and ladies from all over the north, and their banners hung all over the walls of the hall in their honor.

She could see the Umbers cheering loudly as the Smalljon was gulping down ale. It was strange to see him here after he had declared for Ramsay in the last life, drinking and celebrating under the banner of the Starks and surrounded by people that had fought against him in their last life.

Beside the Umbers, were the women of Bear island cheering the Smalljon on in his drinking. She looked over the gathered women of Bear island and saw that Lyanna Mormont was missing, she must have been left behind on the island because of how young she was.

As she looked over the hall, she noticed that all the lords had showed up and while most of them were feasting and celebrating, some however were not.

Roose Bolton was sitting in a dark corner of the great hall, looking grim as his cold eyes looked over the hall, beside him was lord Ryswell who was whispering to him and Lady Dustin was looking down her long nose at the gathered lords.

Sansa knew that they would have trouble with these three houses, though she doubted that Lord Ryswell and Lady Dustin had the courage to defy her father while he was still in the north. Ned Stark was too well loved by the other lords for those three houses to defy him openly, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t try to work against him from the shadows.

Tomorrow, her father would be holding a meeting of the lords to discuss the wall and the funding for the restoration of the castles, and she was sure that Lord Ryswell and Lady Dustin would grumble and moan about having to help paying for the castles.

Roose Bolton would also be answering for the crimes of his son tomorrow, which explained the fowl look on his face.

As she pondered on the reactions of the lords when they heard that Robert Baratheon was refusing to help with the wall and how Roose Bolton would answer her father, she felt something heavy lean against her shoulder. Sansa looked at what it was and saw her sister, half sleeping and using Sansa as her private pillow.

Sansa could help the smile that sneaked it´s way to her face, she loved that Arya had begun to trust her more in the last half a year.

Sansa shook her sister gently to wake her up. “Come on Arya, let’s get you to bed.” Arya grumbled softy as Sansa helped her to stand up.

Sansa guided her to where their parents sat, so that she could tell them where Sansa was taking Arya.

“Father.” Sansa spoke close to her father so that she was sure that he could hear her over the din of the gathered lords. “I am taking Arya to bed; can I talk to you after the feast? I have something to tell you.”

The lord of Winterfell looked at her and smiled gently at her. “Of course, I will see you in my solar in a few minutes.”

With that Sansa left the great hall with her sister in tow, she was glad to escape the great hall. She would have preferred to spend her evening with Jon in his sickroom, but she had to attend the feast and she could go and visit Jon when she was done talking with her father.

When Sansa hadn’t been attending her lessons and helping her mother, she had been spending her time with Jon and helping maester Luwin taking care of him.

Jon had been feeling better with every passing day, he had even been walking around his room with the aid of a cane, as well as Sansa. But he had escaped attending the feast, but he would have to attend the meeting tomorrow, to testify against Ramsay.

As Sansa and Arya arrived at the younger girls’ bedroom, after Sansa help her sister into her sleeping clothes, she guided Arya to her bed, and her little sister was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Sansa then hurried to her father´s solar and entered the room. Her father had not yet arrived, so she just sat down and waited for him, Sansa was glad that she didn’t have to wait for long.

The warden of the north entered the room around five minutes after her and sat in his chair. “So, you have something to tell me, sweetling?”

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about mother.” This made the lord of Winterfell lean back in his chair as he waited for her to continue. “I think that mother might be worried that you might think that Robb, Bran, Rickon and I are bastards too, after the whole Lysa fiasco.”

Her father´s face looked so shocked as she said this. “Why would she think that? You are all my children; I have no doubt of that.”

Sansa was starting to feel annoyed. “I know that father, but you need to assure her that you know that we are all your children, as you may have noticed, we don’t exactly have many Stark traits.”

This caused her father to smile at her again. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He said warmly.

This made Sansa frown, she had been told all her life that she took after her Tully mother and that she didn’t carry a lot of the Stark looks about her. Before Sansa could say anything to contradict him, her father started again.

“Rickon is just like my brother Brandon, and Bran is a lot like Benjen. Robb however takes after my father a lot in his character.” Her father fell silent as he seemed lost in his memories of his fallen family. “But you however, take a lot after my mother.”

This statement cause Sansa to just stare at her father. Sansa didn’t know a lot about her grandmother, all she knew was that she had been her husband´s cousin, and that she had the Stark look.

“I take after my grandmother?” She asked, with her voice filled with curiosity.

Her father smiled and nodded at her. “Aye, from what I remember of her, you are just like her, she was incredibly intelligent too and she kept my father on his toes and in line.”

Sansa was about to ask her father more about Lyarra Stark, but he pulled himself out of the reminiscing mood very quickly.

“I shall talk with Catelyn tonight about these concerns, I don’t want her to worry about something that will not happen, but I should tell you something.” This caught Sansa´s interest. Had something happened?

“I got another letter from Jon Arryn.” This caused Sansa to grow even more curious, in his last letter, that had arrived a week ago, he had stated that he couldn’t come north, until he had resolved the situation with Lysa and her son. Had something changed?

She decided not to interrupt her father and let him continue. “He is coming to Winterfell after all, but he will arrive in a month and he will be bringing both his wife and her son with him to Winterfell.” Her father looked grave as he told her this. Something was going on; she could feel it.

“Father what happened?” She had to know, lord Arryn was coming to Winterfell with his disgraced wife and her bastard son, something fishy was going on and she had to find out what it was.

“Jon asked your grandfather, Hoster Tully to take his grandson in, as it is unseemly that the lord paramount of the Vale is raising his wife´s bastard that was born after he married his wife, but Hoster denied taking the boy in, stating that he is a shame to his house.” This made Sansa slump in her chair, she knew that Hoster Tully was a proud man, as was very clear in her mother´s demeanor, but to deny his own grandson hearth and home was harsh.

Sansa looked at her father and asked him. “Do you think that he intends to ask you to foster the boy? I mean mother is his aunt, making you his uncle by marriage.”

But her father shook his head. “No, I don’t think so, I just know that Jon cannot have the boy in his own home but he needs to find him a good home to grow up in, and your grandfather has denied taking him in and your granduncle Brynden is not the type to raise children.”

Sansa had never met her grandfather or her granduncle as they both had died before she had the chance in their last life, but her grandfather wasn’t looking like a man she wanted to meet, how could he be so mean to a boy because his mother had committed a crime?

Her father sighed. “But we will deal with those problems when it comes to it, why don’t you go to Jon and inform him what has happened, I am sure that he is going stir crazy in that room.”

Sansa nodded, Jon was going crazy cooped up in that room, with nothing but read the books the maester had given him to read during the day, and warging into his dragons at night.

Sansa was sure that Jon was itching for any news, so she stood up and left for the sickroom of the rightful king of the seven kingdoms.

VARYS

He made his way to the tower of the hand through the secret pathways that lay all through the Red Keep. The servants of the hand of the king were all busy as bees, making sure that they hadn’t forgotten anything before Lord Arryn traveled to White Harbor and from there to Winterfell.

Varys was glad that Jon Arryn was going to Winterfell, this gave Varys an opportunity to move very precious cargo north where it would be safe. Jon Arryn would also take Lady Arryn with him north, and that would make the Red Keep a lot better working environment, as Varys wouldn’t have to listen to her shrieking, that echoed all though the castle.

Varys had to make sure that no harm would come to the shipment, and who was better than hand of the king to make sure that Varys´s shipment would make it north and to the rightful king of the seven kingdoms.

When Varys had woken up in his bed a three months ago, he had been very surprised to see that everything that he had been told had indeed been the truth, and now he could focus on making sure that the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark would take back the iron throne.

Sure, the young man had been hesitant to take the throne in their last life, but everything had been explained to Varys what had happened after Daenerys Targaryen had burned him in dragon fire.

Varys was very glad that Jon Targaryen had seen what Daenerys was in the end, but Varys would have preferred him to have been placed on the Iron throne after he had killed his aunt, but they had a chance to do that now, and Varys would be making sure that Daenerys Targaryen wouldn’t come near the throne this time, hells if it was up to Varys, the girl wouldn’t even get to Westeros in this lifetime.

Her father´s madness was too profound in her and her brother, to let them anywhere near the throne, Or Westeros for that matter.

But Varys was even more glad when he had been told that Daenerys would not have dragons this time, in fact it was Jon Targaryen that would have the dragons now. When he had heard that, Varys had almost started dancing in happiness, he was sure that the rightful king wouldn’t start burning people that displeased him, no he was of the north, where the lords didn’t employ headsmen but believed that if you passed the sentence, you should swing the sword.

The rightful king also had Sansa Stark on his side, and she remembered, and was trying to help him to win back his birth right. Now, Sansa Stark was a formidable woman. Varys had greatly admired her strength and courage in the crypts of Winterfell when the long night was looming over them, and Lady Stark had the guts to stare down the dragon queen when Daenerys was demanding the northerner to march south to take the capitol.

But when Varys had found out that everyone had been played by the thing that was inhabiting the body of Brandon Stark, he couldn’t help but to shiver. When Varys had met the thing that was disguising itself as Brandon Stark, he had felt unnerved at being in the same room as the thing was occupying.

Varys could understand why they had lost, that thing could see everything, they hadn’t stood a chance.

But now it was different he thought to himself as he entered the solar of the hand though the secret door, Varys didn’t want anyone to know it was him that had let Jon Arryn know about the affair his wife had with Littlefinger.

Varys had hoped that Jon Arryn finding Littlefinger with his wife, would have resulted in Baelish losing his life a lot sooner, but at least this would limit Petyr´s options by a lot. Littlefinger was in the wind for now, but he had very little resources from what Varys could tell.

He couldn’t go back to the Vale, as the Valemen would no doubt find out and drag him kicking and screaming from his holdfast, and all of his establishments were now being searched high and low for him and they were now the property of the crown, until such a time when they would be sold off to the highest bidder.

While Varys was sure that it wouldn’t take Robert Baratheon a long time to spend all that money on tourneys and whores, at least Baelish wouldn’t be here to sink the crown into more dept than it could possibly pay off in a hundred years.

It wouldn’t do for Jon Targaryen to take back his throne only to be having to pay of depts until he was old and grey. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

It did bring up a troubling fact though, it seemed like the books on the crown’s finances had also disappeared, Varys´s little birds hadn’t found them anywhere, but as luck would have it, neither did Cersei Lannister´s people.

But Varys was now making sure that all his little birds were also looking for Littlefinger, the man may be disgraced, but he was still dangerous and had to be found.

Varys saw the hand of the king sitting by his desk, with his head in his hands. “Bad time my lord?” Varys asked the older man.

Jon Arryn jumped at hearing his voice. “Lord Varys, how did you get in here?” The man sounded suspicious as he looked back and forth between Varys and the door of the solar.

“I have my ways, my lord.” Varys wouldn’t be telling lord Arryn about the secret passageways anytime soon.

“Is there anything you need Lord Varys?” The warden of the east clearly wasn’t in the mood to make small talk.

So, Varys decided to get straight to the point. “Indeed, my lord. I have come to ask you for a favor.” Varys could see that the man looked a little skeptical at him. “Nothing illegal or sinister I promise you my lord.”

The older man sighed at that, even if he didn’t like it, Jon Arryn owed Varys for telling him about his wife and Littlefinger. If Varys hadn’t said anything, he would still be thinking that Robert Stone or Waters was his son.

“Alright, what is it that you need?” The defeat in the older man´s tone was evident.

Varys smiled a little. “I need you to take something with you, when you head north, I need you to take it to Winterfell and put it in Lord Stark´s care.”

Jon Arryn just stared at the bald man in front of him. “Why on earth are you sending something to Ned?” Varys just shrugged his shoulders; Jon Arryn didn’t need to know anything about the history of the package or why Varys was sending it to Winterfell. Varys just needed him to deliver the package save and sound to Winterfell, where it would be kept safe until they needed it.

The lord of the Eyrie then sighed when he realized that he wouldn’t get an answer. “Alright, I will do it, as long as it isn’t illegal.” Lord Arryn said the last thing with a stern glare that he must have used a hundred times on Robert Baratheon when he was younger. Too bad it didn’t work anymore; life would be so much easier for Varys if it did.

Varys grinned. “Good it shall be at the docks tomorrow, and ready when you set sail to White Harbor.”

Before the lord of the Vale could say anything more Varys left the solar, he had a lot of work to do, Varys had to make sure that the package would arrive, ready to be shipped and then he had to start laying to ground work for Jon of house Targaryen, the last son of prince Rhaegar Targaryen, to take back his birth right and become the king of the seven kingdoms.

Chapter Text

EDDARD

After Sansa had left the solar to go to Jon, and tell him what had transpired, Ned let out a sigh of exhaustion. The last few months had been very busy, and Ned couldn’t remember when slept through the whole night, it was like his mind couldn’t rest after coming back.

He was always thinking about how he needed to strengthen the north in any way he could, and how to get Jon on the Iron Throne. Ned knew that to get Jon on that throne they would need to go to war with Robert. There was no way that Robert would give up that throne without a fight.

Ned should have seen it sooner; he should have seen what his friend was before all this happened. Ned should have listened to Lyanna when she had voiced her concerns to him when their father had announced the engagement between Robert and herself. If he had listened, maybe he could have avoided that thrice damned rebellion.

But that was a fleeting thought, if Lyanna and Rhaegar hadn’t disappeared, something else would have made the situation boil over and caused a war, with Aerys on the throne, it had been unavoidable.

Ned could feel the icy grip on his heart every time that he thought of his beloved little sister. He missed her so much, and the pain didn’t lessen or go away, and he was still learning to live with it, even after all this time.

In his last life, he had shamed her, he had shamed his sister by letting her only child live as a bastard and making sure that Jon´s birth right would never be his. Ned was doing everything in his power to make sure that this time Jon would take his rightful place as the king of the seven kingdoms, but that would never lessen the shame he felt at not start working on placing him on the throne immediately.

Jon was a good man and he would be a good king; Ned was sure of it. He would be much better than Robert. The very thought of Robert´s name made Ned start to feel angry again.

Now when Ned thought of his once friend, all he could feel was disgust and anger. Ned remembered well in the rebellion when Robert had made it clear that he intended to claim the Iron Throne. It had been before Ned had gone to the capitol and while they had all agreed that Aerys had to go, they weren’t sure what to do next.

Ned had already suspected that Lyanna hadn’t been kidnapped by this time and made sure not to say anything to anyone at this time because he wasn’t sure if he was correct or not. And if Robert heard that his betrothed had run away from him, when he thought himself in love with her, he would have gone berserk.

Ned was sure now, that the reason because of Robert´s hatred for anyone Targaryen, wasn’t because of Rhaegar had disappeared with Lyanna, but because anyone with the last name Targaryen had a stronger claim on the throne, and could there for make a claim to it, and as long as there was someone with said last name, Robert wouldn’t be secure on the Iron throne.

Ned was sure of that this was the reason for it, after the talk they had in Ned´s last life when Robert first talked about killing Daenerys Targaryen as they were making their way south from Winterfell. At the time, Ned had thought it was anger and grief that drove him to such extremes, but now Ned was sure that it was the fear of the children of the mad king coming back to claim what they thought was theirs.

But it wasn’t theirs, it was Jon´s, it had been since the moment he was born. Jon had to unite the seven kingdoms before the long night, the north couldn’t face this alone and they would need all the help they could get.

There was a knock on the solar door and in walked his old friend, Howland Reed. Ned´s face broke out in a smile, they hadn’t had any time to talk since the crannogman had arrived in Winterfell, but there was no time like the present.

Ned stood up and embraced his old friend and coconspirator. Howland Reed was the only person that knew of the identity of Jon Targaryen, that didn’t live in Winterfell, and one of the few people trusted beyond a doubt.

“How are you Ned? You look old.” The smaller man said with a teasing grin and a glint in his eyes. But Ned just laughed.

“I am fine my friend, and you?”

The younger man just shrugged his shoulders. “I am well as can be, the children are driving me up the walls, but you know how children can be.”

Yes, Ned thought, he knew well, how challenging children could be. Ned walked back to his seat and gestured for the younger man to sit down in the chair opposite him. “Howland I would like to thank you for coming all this way to Winterfell, I know how you don’t like to travel outside the neck.”

The crannogmen were famous for many things, and one of them was that they didn’t like to travel long distances from their homeland in the neck, not that Ned could blame them, he himself didn’t like to leave the north if he could help it.

But the smaller man smiled. “Its fine Ned, you are the liege lord and your bannermen have to obey.” Ned opened his mouth to counter what the man had just said, Ned didn’t think of Howland as just one his bannermen, but the lord of Greywater watch continued before Ned could speak.

“And the reason for this gathering is serious indeed.” Ned nodded his agreement, he opened his drawer and took out the letter Robert had sent him, denying his request for funds for the wall, and handed it to the smaller man.

The lord of Greywater watch read the letter and as he progressed further, the higher his eyebrows rose. Finally, the man looked at Ned and handed him back the letter. They sat in silence for a moment before Ned asked. “What do you think?”

His friend looked at Ned with tired green eyes that always made Ned think that Howland knew more than he let on. “I think that this is one of the most stupid things that he could have done, the lords of the north will not forget this easily, nor will they forgive him for this.”

That is what Ned was thought, but as Ned had been Robert´s friend, he hoped that their dislike for Robert would be taking out on him and his family. “That is what I think, but I have invited Jon Arryn to come to Winterfell, to discuss how to fund the restoration of the wall. I am even prepared to stop paying the crown taxes until such a time as when the restorations are complete.”

This made the lord of Greywater watch stare open mouthed at Ned. “You would really do this? This could anger Robert and make him do something even more stupid.”

Ned couldn’t help but to agree with him there. “I know, but the northern lords cannot be expected to pay for his drinking, whoring and his tourneys and be refused the help we so desperately need.” Ned fell silent for a moment, he could not side with Robert on this issue, he had to represent his people and their needs. “Howland, there is also another thing you need to know, that I must do, that will anger Robert.”

The crannogman sat up straighter than before and fixed his intelligent eyes firmly on Ned´s own grey ones. Ned felt like a nervous boy when his friend looked at him like this, but he took a deep breath and spoke. “Howland, I mean to put Jon on the iron throne.”

Ned stared firmly at his friend, he couldn’t falter now, Ned knew that sooner rather than later, he would need Howland Reed to place Jon on that throne and the sooner he knew, the more time they had to plan. But Ned knew what he was asking of his friend, he was asking him to go to war in the not so distant future.

Then a slow smile spread over the crannogman´s face. “I was starting to lose hope that you would ever get around to put Lya´s son on the throne.” Relief spread through Ned´s body like warm ale when he heard his friend’s response. For a moment he had feared that Howland would have refused him. Ned´s friend continued. “If you ask me, you should have started planning for this when we found Lya in that tower.”

Ned couldn’t help but to smile at that, after Lyanna had saved Howland from those squires all those years ago, the lord of Greywater watch had been very fond of her. “Thank you, my friend, but it will take some time for us to strengthen the north before we must declare for Jon, but I do worry that the lords will not like to declare for an Targaryen after what Aerys did.”

“I understand.” Howland said as he rubbed his bearded chin. “But I wouldn’t worry too much yet, after what Jon did for your boy and your daughter, I think that they are willing to give him a chance.”

Ned looked at his friend with doubt in clearly written on his face, Ned doubted that the lords of the north would be so easily persuaded. Howland looked at his face for a moment, then he gave a low chuckle.

“Oh, Ned. They may be an argumentative lot, but they are not stupid, they know which way the wind blows. Also, when you present the letter from Robert to them tomorrow, I doubt that they will be willing to follow him into a battle against you for the next millennia or two.”

There weren’t many times that Ned was glad that the northern lords were so proud, but this was defiantly one of such times. Or maybe it was just common sense, if the man that claimed to be the protector of the realms didn’t protect them now, no one would expect him to do it later.

Then there was a knock on the door, Ned called for whoever it was to enter. Jory Cassel entered the solar. “Lord Stark,” Jory began. “We have some news.”

JON

Jon was sitting on the edge of his bed as he was trying his best to put on his newly made clothes, but it was hard work as he was still in a lot of pain. Every time he moved it seemed, the injuries he had sustained started to scream in protest of his movements. He had managed to pull on his trousers, but he couldn’t lace them up with only one working hand.

Jon was pondering on his dilemma when the door was opened. He looked up and saw Sansa and Robb walk through the door. As soon as Sansa saw what he was doing, she rushed over to Jon to try to help him. Jon felt a blush coming on, Sansa had helped him dress before, she had been helping maester Luwin since Jon had gotten injured, but he always felt embarrassed by it somehow.

Her actions made Robb just snicker as he approached them and helped Sansa with the monumental task of dressing their cousin. Jon couldn’t help the embarrassment that washed over him as his cousins helped him get dressed for the gathering of the lords. It felt weird to Jon having to be helped into his clothes like a child, he just prayed that soon he would be able to do this by himself.

“There, we are all done.” Robb stated as he finished helping Jon into his new dark grey doublet with a white direwolf stitched into the chest. Jon adjusted the doublet slightly as he tried to will the blush away that was still gracing his face.

As a child and as a young man, he had always been embarrassed about wearing the bastard colors of house Stark but now he kind of liked it. For now, it was his armor and he would wear it with pride.

Robb walked over to the end of Jon´s sickbed where the cane was resting silently. Jon took the hated thing and tried his best to stand up. He had been walking around the room with Sansa´s aid, it was painful and slow but every step he took was progress, or so he told himself. It felt really frustrating, having such trouble with such a simple thing as walking.

He could feel a small arm around his waist, Sansa was now helping him to his feet. “Thank you.” He said to her with a small smile. She was looking very pretty in her white and grey dress with the direwolf of house Stark and with her long, crimson hair braided in a northern style.

Sansa looked like she was going to say something to him, but Robb interrupted.

“I feel I should be helping you walk into the great hall.” Robb stated while furrowing his brow. “I am stronger, and it is a long walk.”

Jon saw Sansa roll her eyes at the Stark heir. “Robb, I have been helping Jon walking in this room for a week now, and I am strong enough to help him to the great hall, thank you very much.” Sansa fixed her brother a glare that Jon had often seen her use in their last life, on the lords when they were arguing.

“Fine.” Robb said holding his hands up in surrender. “But I will be here, if this gets too hard, we all know that Jon is getting rather chubby from bedrest.” The last part was said with a snigger, and Jon tried to swat his cousin with his cane, in vengeance. 

But regrettably Robb manage to dodge the cane before it connected to his leg.

“Alright that is enough.” Sansa held Jon still so that he wouldn’t try to reach for Robb again with his cane. “You can continue your lover´s spat later.”

Jon snorted at that. “For this to be a lover´s spat, I would have to love this twat.” Robb put his hand on his heart and faked a hurt look.

He looked like he was going to counter again, but Sansa stopped him. “Alright let´s go we can´t be late.”

Jon nodded and did his best to gracelessly hobble out of the room with Sansa´s aid. It would take some time for them to make their way to the great hall, the longer they walked the more pain Jon was in.

Robb hurried after them and walked along side Jon to make sure that he wouldn’t tumble to the ground. The walk over to the great hall had never seemed so long before in his life, the pain in his leg was hellish, every time he put any weight on it, and the other wounds were burning with pain.

They had to stop twice for Jon to rest a little, before they made it to the great hall. When they finally arrived, Jon saw that the hall was filled to the brim with lords from all over the north. He saw the Umbers talking loudly with the Glovers. He noticed that the three sons of lord Karstark were boasting loudly to the Mormont girls, as the Lady Maege Mormont was talking quietly to lord Hornwood.

The new Lady of Bear island didn’t look to be in a festive mood, something Jon could understand, her nephew Jorah Mormont had fled the north just before Jon had been returned to his old body, to escape from Lord Stark´s justice after committing the crime of selling people into slavery. 

In the opposite corner was Lord Bolton, flanked by Lady Dustin and Lord Ryswell. Unlike the other lords they were very quiet and didn’t seek out to talk to anyone around them. Then the cold, colorless eyes of Roose Bolton landed on Jon, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

Jon hadn’t met Roose Bolton before this moment in either lives, he hoped that he would never have to meet him again after this. The coldness of his eyes and his very demeanor was enough for Jon to never want to be in the same room as the man again.

Beside him, Jon could feel Sansa stiffen as she noticed the lord of the Dreadfort, neither of them felt comfortable in the presence of the man. So, they hurried as they could to find their seats. Robb, as Lord Starks eldest son and heir would be seated next to his lord father at the high table. But Jon would be sitting with his cousins for the first time at a feast.

It felt odd to Jon, as Sansa half help and half dragged him over to her siblings, that he would be allowed to sit with the Stark children. Sansa helped him into a seat next to herself and Arya, Jon noticed Bran sitting beside Arya, the little boy smiled at him. Bran seemed exited that he and Arya had been allowed to attend the gathering, but Jon doubted that it would last very long.

Right now, the young child was excited by all the banners that hung on the walls and the new faces of the people he had never seen before.

Arya however didn’t seem happy, no in fact she seemed annoyed that she had been stuffed in a dress and made to sit still, two days in a row. She would rather be running wild in the godswood or playing with her siblings, than having to stay here and listen to old men talk about how to rebuild the castles on the wall.

They didn’t have to wait long for the Lord of Winterfell to call for silence, so that they could begin the meeting. Lord Eddard Stark was wearing his lord of Winterfell face that made him look like he was hewn from stone and beside him were his eldest son and heir, Robb Stark and his wife Lady Stark.

The lady of Winterfell´s face looked worn and she looked like she had aged ten years after she had heard about her sister´s infidelity.

His uncle stood up to speak to the lords. “My lords thank you all for coming on such a short notice, there are a few matters that I would like to put to you, in this gathering.” The Lords were all silent and listened to the lord of Winterfell with rapt attention. “As you all well know, the Night´s watch has been in rapid decline for the past two centuries, but I mean to help the watch rebuild and man the wall.”

This statement from the lord of Winterfell was met with murmurs of approval, especially from the lords that had their holds in the northern most regions of the kingdom of the north. They were hit the hardest by the raids of the freefolk.

Ned Stark continued. “I have written a letter to Robert Baratheon to ask for help to fund the rebuilding of the castles of the wall.” Jon´s uncle held up a letter that Robert Baratheon had sent to the lord of Winterfell in reply. “He sent a letter in reply, denying this request.”

The roar of anger rang out throughout the great hall of Winterfell. The lords had jumped to their feet and were all yelling and shouting at one another in their righteous anger. Jon glanced at his younger cousins, Arya was staring wide eyed at the men shouting and yelling in anger, but Bran was looking like he wanted to start crying from fear.

Jon dumped his injured shoulder with a wince to Arya. She looked at him with wide eyes and he gestured to Bran, he was very glad how quick she was at understanding him. Arya grabbed her little brother´s hand under the table and held on tight. That seemed to calm Bran down a little.

As the lord of Winterfell, demanded the lords to quiet down, Jon felt something take his hand on his other side. He looked down and saw that Sansa had grabbed his hand, he looked at her face and saw that she was smiling at him.

She glanced at her younger siblings and mouthed thank you, as she squeezed his hand, before she let it go. When she had let his hand go, he felt a strange sense of loss.

Jon shook his head of the thought and listened to his uncle address the lords.

“We cannot afford to fight among ourselves.” Ned Stark´s voice carried over the hall that had fallen silent again. “I have invited Jon Arryn to Winterfell to hear our grievances about this matters and others that you may have, he will arrive in Winterfell in a months’ time.”

This seemed to have made the lords calm down somewhat. But they weren’t happy with the man that claimed to be the protector of the realm. He could see the anger that burned on the faces of the lords, they would not soon forget this slight against them by the man that styled himself the king of the seven kingdoms.

“There is another matter I would like to put to you.” His uncle´s grey eyes looked like steel as he changed the topic and sat back down. “Two weeks ago, my heir Robb, my daughter Sansa and Jon Snow were ambushed in the wolfswood.”

Jon had to force himself to be still at this moment when the eyes of the lords turned to him and Sansa as they sat together with her siblings. The lords of the north had clearly heard this tale by judging by the way they were looking at him. Fighting five men and live to tell the tale was impressive by most standards but doing so when you were ten-years of age was even more so.

“The men that attacked them, killed one of their guards and tried to attack them, and if not for the actions of Jon Snow and our guard Allyn, my son and heir and my daughter would be dead.” Jon could see a glint of pride in his uncle´s eyes as he looked at Jon.

The lord of Winterfell looked back to the lords and continued. “Allyn of Wintertown did his duty by making sure that no harm would come to Robb and Sansa by making sure that they got to Winterfell unharmed.” This statement was followed by cheers and hollers from the lords in the hall.

Jon could spot the young man sitting with some of the Manderly knights, Allyn had come to Jon´s room not long after he had woken up. He had begged Jon his forgiveness at leaving him behind to fight of their attackers. Jon had of course told him that there was nothing to forgive, Allyn had done the right thing.

Allyn was now blushing to the roots of his dark hair and he was cheered by the lords of the north.

“Allyn of Wintertown.” The deep voice of the lord of Winterfell rang throughout the hall, effectively silencing the lords. “Will you please step forward.”

The young man stepped forward looking very unsure of himself. Jon´s uncle nodded at Ser Rodrik as the old knight made his way to the younger man. Jon could see the proud smile that had formed under the master at arms white whiskers.

As the master at arms unsheathed his sword, it seemed to dawn on the younger man what they intended to do. The happy smile spread over his face and Jon was sure that his eyes were filled with tears.

Ser Rodrik gestured for the man to kneel. “Allyn of Wintertown, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid before you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?” The hall was silent as they waited for an answer.

“I do so swear.” As the young man swore his vow of knighthood, Ser Rodrick moved his sword to Allyn´s left shoulder and bid him to rise as Ser Allyn of Wintertown.

The hall was filled with cheers and the newly dubbed knight blushed to the tip of his ears as he made his way back to the other knights that clapped him on the back in congratulation.

When the hall was silent again, Jon´s uncle started again. “But there is another person that deserves much praise, it is thanks to him that made sure that Ser Allyn could do his duty, Jon Snow.” Eddard Stark gestured to him, and all the eyes of the lords followed. Jon felt his heart hammer in his chest, and he was sure that his cheeks started to redden. “Took four arrows as he valiantly defended my heir and my daughter.”

Jon could see a smile threaten to form on the face of the lord of Winterfell. “Jon Snow, would you please step forward.” Jon could feel the color drain from his face, did they intend to knight him as well? His mind may be that of an adult, but his body was still that of a ten-year old, well now it was closer to eleven-years old, but the point was still the same.

He was too young to be knighted, right? Well sure ten was young, but Daemon Blackfyre had been twelve when he had been knighted by his father, Aegon the fourth and given the sword Blackfyre, for winning a squire tourney.

Jon rose to his feet, and he could see that Sansa was having a hard time letting him go by himself. She seemed torn; she knew that he was having a hard time walking but the lords needed to see him do this on his own.

His walk was slow, and he was grateful that no one said anything about it. He finally made it in front of the high table and waited for his uncle to continue.

“I know there is nothing I can do in return for what you have given me, Jon.” The sincerity in his uncle´s eyes was almost overwhelming. “You stood your ground and you were ready to give your life to save Robb and Sansa, and for that I am eternally grateful, and there is nothing I could give you that comes close to repaying the debt I owe you.”

Jon thought for a moment that he had seen a tear in the man´s eyes, but he was sure that it was just a trick of the light.

“But I hope,” The lord of Winterfell started again. “That this will be a start.”

Jon could hear the sounds of footsteps draw closer to him, and he could see that the master at arms step towards him with a large, face splitting grin on his face. But Jon could only stare at him with his eyes wide open in surprise, and his heart still hammering away in his chest. He was so surprised by this turn of events that he had almost forgotten the pain in his body.

All young boys dreamt of being knights when they grow up and preforming feats of heroism that earned them renown and the respect, they so craved, and Jon had been no exception. He had loved playing Aemon the dragonknight and while Robb had been playing Cregan Stark, as they reenacted their famous duel.

Ser Rodrik bid him to kneel, and with difficulty, Jon obeyed.

“Jon Snow of Winterfell, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid before you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?”

The hall was silent when Ser Rodrik had finished his speech. Jon looked at him, and the pride in the man´s eyes was obvious, Ser Rodrik had been training Jon since the younger man could hold a stick. Jon wouldn’t be half the swordsman without the old knight´s training.

“I do so swear.” Jon tried his best to keep his voice steady, but by now he was in a lot of pain and he just wanted to sit down.

Ser Rodrik smiled even wider. “Arise, Ser Jon Snow of Winterfell.” Jon stood up slowly with the aid of his cane, and to the sound of the northern lords cheering and hollering so loudly that he thought for a moment that he would go deaf.

Jon glanced at the high table and saw his uncle smiling proudly and Robb was grinning so widely that for a moment Jon thought that his face would be split in two. Jon smiled back to them, as Ser Rodrik let Jon return to his table. The people in the room were still cheering loudly, but no one was as loud as Bran and Arya. They were both shouting and jumping up and down in their happiness, while Sansa was clapping her hands and smiling proudly at him.

As Jon limped back to his chair, he could spot Theon Greyjoy looking irritated at the attention that was being paid to Jon. Greyjoy seemed to take every good thing that came Jon´s way as a personal offence at his person in this life. Theon had been an insufferable ass in their last life, but now he was even worse, but thankfully they didn’t have to spend too much time together.

Jon could feel cold eyes land on him, and he knew that it wasn’t Theon´s gaze that was on him now. Jon glanced back and he could see that the stare belonged to Roose Bolton, the lord of the Dreadfort was looking at him with his cold lifeless eyes, beside him was the lady of Barrowlands, who reminded Jon of a bird of prey for some reason, and her father, Lord Ryswell the lord of the Rills. None of the three were saying anything, only looking sullen and irate at having to be in attendance.

Jon hurried as best he could and sat back down in his seat. The relief he felt at finally getting to rest his leg was go great, he had to resist the urge to sigh happily.

But his rest was short lived as Arya and Bran both jumped of their chairs and hugged him around the middle. Jon did his best to hug them back, but they had to return to their seats, as their father wasn’t finished.

“We did however manage to capture the leader of the attackers alive.” Ned Stark looked to his captain of the guards, the newly instated Jory Cassel, and nodded at him. The captain jumped to do his bidding.

They didn’t have to wait for long as four guards escorted the Bolton bastard into the great hall. The ugly young man was dirty from his stay in the dungeons, his long hair was in tangles and it lay flat and lifeless down to his shoulders.

The lords gathered in the hall looked at the man with disgust, and the Smalljon spat at his feet as he passed him by. Jon could see the flash of anger in Ramsay´s eyes at that.

The guards lead the bastard of Bolton to the middle of the floor so that everyone could see him. The young man was chained hand and foot so that he couldn’t hurt the guard that were making sure that he wouldn’t go anywhere.

Eddard Stark stared at the young man that intended to hurt his children. Then he looked at the lord of the Dreadfort and gestured for him to approach. The silence was now deafening as all the lords and ladies of the north stared him down.

But the lord of the Dreadfort didn’t look at them, he was only looking, unblinking at the lord of Winterfell. “Lord Roose Bolton, your bastard son attacked my children without cause.” As soon as Jon heard his uncle say bastard son, he was impressed by his tactics. Calling Ramsay bastard was a sure way to make him angry and hopefully do something stupid.

Jon glanced at Ramsay Snow, and he could see the older boy start going a little red in anger and he was clenching his fist.

Uncle Ned inter laced his fingers and leaned his elbows on the table. “There have also been disturbing rumors from the lands around the Dreadfort. Apparently, there have been women disappearing, and then found later dead, flayed, raped and dismembered.” Roose Bolton´s eyes didn’t give anything away, as he stared at Eddard Stark.

“I fail to see how to this has to do with me. I am not responsible for the bastard’s actions.” They had to strain to hear Roose Bolton´s quiet voice, as he tried to distance himself from his son.

Jon looked at his uncle, he could not guess what he was thinking at this moment. “No, you are right lord Bolton.” Ned said. “But you are responsible for your own actions.”

This caused almost all the occupants of the hall to start muttering among themselves, Jon and Sansa both looked at the lord of Winterfell, did he know something they didn’t?

Roose Bolton stood up straighter. “I have no idea what you are talking about Lord Stark.” The man´s voice was toneless, and Jon could not guess what he was thinking.

The warden of the north nodded at Jory, and the man hurried out of the hall. “That is strange, because we have witnesses that you, along with your bastard son were the ones responsible for the fate of the women who were murdered.”

Then Jory entered the hall again, he was followed by a trail for people, all of them were clearly small folk, judging by the clothing that they were wearing, and their mannerisms. Jon noticed that most of the people that followed Jory, were women, but there were a few men in the group, and Jon recognized one of them, it was the maester Wolkan that had been in Winterfell when the Bolton´s had occupied the castle in their last lives, and the Stark guards that his uncle had sent to the Dreadfort lands to gather evidence. 

The people that the guards brought in, were looking very frightened as they tried their best not to get to near the lord of the Dreadfort and his bastard.

Lord Stark continued. “These people are all servants of the Dreadfort, they are all here to testify that you and your bastard son have been torturing people in the Dreadfort for years.” The lords and ladies started to murmur again, but this time it was in fury. It was obvious that the people in the room believed the accusations, but Lord Ryswell and Lady Dustin were looking a little rattled.

“They are lying.” Roose Bolton´s quiet voice cut through the murmurings of the other lords. This caused an uproar in the hall. The Umbers, Karstarks and the Mormonts all started to yell at the lord of the Dreadfort that he was the liar, and most of the other lords were also voicing their agreements of their words.

But the lord of the Dreadfort kept on talking in his low voice. “The bastard may have done something and gotten these…servants to lie about me if he got caught. I am sure that the servants also helped him with his murder of my trueborn son and heir, Domeric.”

Jon frowned at that, as far as he knew Domeric Bolton was still alive and well, living in the Dreadfort until he would be sent to squire for lord Redfort in the Vale. Jon could see what the man was trying to do, he was trying his best to cast all the blame on his own bastard and the servants, making lord Stark look silly for having listen to them in the first place.

A lord’s words weighted more than that of a commoner or that of a bastard, and if Lord Bolton said that the servants had helped his bastard getting rid of a lord’s trueborn heir, there would be people that would believe it.

Ramsay Snow had turned red with anger at this point and he was shaking so hard that the chains that held him were rattling. The bastard of Bolton had clearly seen what the man was trying to do as well.

Then the bastard of Bolton let out a primal scream, and his wild, colorless eyes promised murder as he ripped himself free of the guards and lunched himself at the lord of the Dreadfort.

Everything seemed to go move a lot slower as they tumbled to the stone floor of the great hall, the Stark guards hurried to separate father and son, but it was too late.

As soon as the lord of the Dreadfort fell to the floor, there was a resounding crack that filled the hall, the guards managed to drag the bastard of his father.

Ramsay was flailing around as the guards finally managed to drag him of his lord father. It was then when Jon noticed that the bastard’s mouth was covered with blood and he spat something out.

That something turned out to be the ear of Roose Bolton.

Chapter Text

JON

The hall was in an uproar after the guards had left with Ramsay Snow, presumably to the dungeons to await justice in the form of Ice, the ancestral sword of the Starks.

The rapidly cooling body of Roose Bolton was still lying on the stone floor as a puddle of blood gathered around his head. Jon´s uncle and maester Luwin were standing around the body, but everyone knew that it was too late for the lord of the Dreadfort.

Every soul in the hall had heard the sickening crack as Roose´s skull broke on the stone floor, effectively ending his life and his line, if what he said about his trueborn son was true.

As far as Jon knew, Domeric Bolton had died a year before Robert Baratheon had come to Winterfell, the Bolton heir had been a newly dubbed knight and had been in the Vale for years. But according to Roose Bolton, his own bastard son had killed him in this lifetime.

Had Ramsay killed Domeric in the last life as well? If so, what had made the Bolton bastard kill his brother this time? Or had he just gotten the opportunity sooner in this life for some reason?

Jon looked to his side and saw that Arya was still staring at the corpse on the floor and Bran was close to tears but refused to let them fall. Jon turned to them with difficulty. “Hey, are you two alright?”

The two children looked at him with wide eyes, Arya put on a brave face and nodded her head. But Bran´s lip started to quiver as he tried to suppress his tears. Jon couldn’t help the pity that was digging a hole in his heart at the sight of Bran looking so close to tears.

“Come here.” Jon gestured for the young boy to come over to him, and Bran hurried over as fast as he could. Jon helped Bran so that the younger boy could use Jon´s good leg as a seat and he wrapped his injured arm around his young cousin. Bran used the opportunity to bury his face into Jon´s neck to hide his tears.

Jon used his good hand to rub his back, as he whispered in his ear that everything would be alright.

Jon glanced back to the lords, he could see Lord Ryswell and his daughter, the lady Dustin, talking among themselves in hushed whispers. From the looks on their faces they were both very unsettled.

He knew exactly why they were so frightened, now that Roose Bolton was gone, along with his trueborn son and heir, and his bastard son facing the sword of Eddard Stark, there was no one that could inherit the Dreadfort and be on their side.

Now it would be up to the lord of Winterfell to decide who would inherit the Dreadfort, and all the lords of the north that were likely candidates would not be likely to work against the man that gave them lordship over one of the largest lands in the north.

The Dreadfort itself was a strong castle made of stone on the banks of the upper weeping water and had massive towers and strong walls. Centuries ago, lord Bolton had risen against house Stark, and Harlon Stark had laid siege to the castle and it had taken them two years to starve the Boltons out.

Jon could see Ned Stark order his guards to take the dead body of the lord of the Dreadfort out of the hall and place it somewhere appropriate until they could bury the body. The man turned back to the high table and Jon locked eyes with his uncle. Ned looked at the young boy in Jon´s lap and gave Jon a small smile of gratitude for making sure that Bran was alright.

Jon could feel something lean on his arm. He looked and saw Arya had lightly placed her head on his upper arm, it seemed as if she was trying her hardest to make it look like she was not hiding, when she clearly was.

“Jon,” He heard Sansa whisper to him. “Are you alright?” As he looked at her, he could see the concern shine brightly in her eyes. But for a moment he frowned, why wouldn’t he be alright? He had seen people die before and he himself had caused many deaths in his past life.

It was like she could read his thoughts, Sansa glanced at Bran and Arya and then back to him. That made Jon realize that she was worried about how Bran sitting in his lap and Arya leaning against his arm, could cause him pain and discomfort.

Jon sent his lovely cousin a smile, as he nodded his head to tell her that he was alright. Judging by the look she sent him, she clearly didn’t believe him, but she didn’t say anything on the subject. But Jon had a feeling that he would have to be put on bed rest for longer than he cared for after this.

“My lords.” His uncle called for attention. “May I have your attention.” All the lords stopped their muttering to one another and listened carefully to what the lord of Winterfell had to say.

“I know that these resent events are surprising and more than a little disturbing, so why don’t we take a break and reconvene in and hours’ time.” This was met with agreements from the lords gathered in the hall. No one had expected Ramsay to do this to his own father and most of the lords wanted a little time to gather their thoughts.

Most of the lords when outside for fresh air and Jon was sure that some of them even were going out for a quick spar to help clear their heads.

Jon could spy lord Howland Reed making a bee line to his uncle along with the Greatjon. They both started to talk to his uncle in low voices. But then something drew Jon´s eye to the shadows in the far corner of the great hall. It was a dark figure that Jon hadn’t notice enter the hall, then again Jon thought that if he didn’t want to be seen, they would have had a hard time noticing that man.

Jon´s uncle Benjen Stark, the first ranger of the nights watch approached his brother, and as uncle Ned noticed his younger brother, they embraced each other.

“That´s uncle Benjen.” Jon could hear Arya whisper excitedly beside him. The arrival of their uncle Benjen seemed to have distracted her from what had happened earlier, but Bran was not so easily tempted out of the safety of his cousin’s arms.

Bran glanced at their uncle, but quickly hid again in the crook of his neck. Sansa was smiling at them, but their attention was drawn by something red out of the corner of their eyes, lady Catelyn was walking briskly to her husband to presumably join their conversation.

“Hey is Bran alright?” Robb´s voice came from behind them, and it almost made Jon jump from surprise, he had been too absorbed in his thoughts of what the lord and lady of Winterfell were discussing with Greatjon Umber and Howland Reed.

Jon glanced at his four-year-old cousin that was in his arms. “Yeah, I think he is fine, just a little startled. No one expected Ramsay to do that.” Robb nodded with a solemn look on his face.

“Aye, I agree, to do that to his own father is just unthinkable.” Jon could see that Robb was rattled by what had happened, just like the majority of the lords that had witnessed the bastard´s brutality.

But Jon had to admit, that this made things a little easier for them, even if uncle Ned had offered Roose Bolton hospitality, uncle Ned had made no secret of the fact that the man had to answer for his son´s crimes.

And the fact that he had been offered guest rights was not enough to shield him from answering uncle Ned´s questions, as uncle Ned had witnesses that claimed Roose Bolton had committed the horrible crimes along with his bastard son.

Jon sat there with the Stark children, in silence for a long time, waiting until the lords assembled again. Finally, the hour that they had to gather their thought on what had happened, was up and all the lords and ladies attending came back to the great hall.

The great hall of Winterfell was filled with murmurs and whispers of the lords as they took their seats. Bran was still refusing to look up from Jon´s neck when Robb had to take his leave of them and return to his seat beside his father.

Benjen however came instead and took Bran´s unoccupied seat, though Benjen did have to remove the pillows that Bran had been using to prop him up so that he could see over the table.

Their uncle gave them a small, exhausted smile. Benjen Stark was still filthy from the road, it seemed that the man had ridden hard to get as fast as he could to Winterfell.

 Jon glanced back to his uncle Ned, as the lord of Winterfell stood up to address the lords.

“My lords, I have come to a decision.” The entre hall held its breath as they waited for what Ned Stark would decide.

“We will ride to the Dreadfort and find the truth of the matter, if the late lord Bolton did indeed commit the crimes that he was accused of.” The lords called out their approval of the plan, but there was one of the lords that didn’t seem like he was on board with the plan.

Lord Ryswell stood up and took to the floor. “Lord Stark, if I may, lord Bolton is now dead at the hands of his bastard, who also killed his only trueborn son. Why not just let the matter die with him?”

Ned Stark´s face was like it was carved out of stone when the lord of the Rills finished speaking. “And what about the families of the victims that suffered at the hands of whoever did this to them? Should we just forget about them as well?”

At this the lord of the Rills seemed a little uncomfortable, but he nodded his head in defeat and sat back down.

“Then it is settled,” uncle Ned spoke again. “We will head to the Dreadfort when we have spoken to Lord Arryn about our grievances on how to finance the rebuilding and reconstruction of the castles of the wall, until then I hope that you will all do me the honor of being my guests here in Winterfell.”

SANSA

After her father had adjourned the meeting of the lords, she turned to Jon who was still holding Bran securely in his arms. It was really touching to see him taking care of her little brother like he was doing at this moment. She couldn’t count the times when she had seen him comfort Arya when she was troubled.

Now that she thought about it, Robb and Sansa´s younger siblings had more often sought out Jon for comfort rather than either of their older siblings. In her last lifetime, she had been so preoccupied by being the perfect lady and with her head in the clouds about noble knights and golden princes that she hadn’t had time for anything but that, and Robb was busy learning how to be the lord of Winterfell so that he hadn’t had much time either.

Sansa could feel the guilt creep into her gut as she thought of how little she had taken care of her younger siblings in her last life. She remembered in her last life, how she barely recognized her youngest brother as he had been laid to his final rest beside their father, she hadn’t seen him since she had been thirteen and he had been six-years old.

But Sansa had been spending more time with her siblings in this life, than she had in her last life, in fact every moment that she could, she was spending with her siblings, Jon or doing research for the trade deals.

Sansa reached over to Jon and Bran and stroked the young boy´s hair. “Hey, it is all over now.” She tried to keep her voice as gentle as she could, to try to coax him to look up. It worked; the little red headed boy looked at his sister as she smiled at him.

Bran tried to smile at her, but it was a little forced as he was half hid in Jon´s neck.

“Hello you four.” A deep voice greeted them, and they all looked up at the source of the voice, it was their uncle Benjen Stark. He had stood up from his chair and was now standing behind them with a grin on his long face.

“UNCLE BEN” Arya cried out and lunched herself at the black clad man that was smiling at them kindly, and with much affection.

Sansa glanced at Jon, and she could see the bottomless sadness in his eyes. Jon had told her that they had met beyond the Wall when Jon had taken his party to find a dead man to use it to prove that they weren’t lying, and to get help from the other lords and monarchs.

Benjen had died saving Jon and she could see that the rightful king of the seven kingdoms was still blaming himself for his uncle´s death.

Uncle Benjen lifted Arya up and placed her on his hip as she smiled widely at her beloved uncle. Their uncle that had dedicated his life to the nights watch, came up to Jon and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright Jon?” The concern in his voice was palpable as he looked at his nephew. But Jon just smiled at his uncle even though Sansa could see the sadness was lingering in his eyes.

“I am alright uncle Benjen.” Jon said as he rubbed his young cousin´s back to make him feel better.

“Ned told me what happened.” Benjen´s tone was serious as he stared at Jon. “He told me how you bought Ser Allyn time to get Robb and Sansa to safety, while you fought five men on your own.”

Jon opened his mouth to reply to their uncle, but Arya was quicker. “He did, he did, Jon and Ser Allyn saved Robb and Sansa and Jon fought five men and won.” Sansa could see Jon starting to blush a little as Arya kept going.

“That is why father had Ser Rodrik make him a knight, did you see uncle Benjen, did you see?” When Arya had started to talk about how Ser Rodrik had knighted Jon, Bran looked up at their uncle to see if he had watched when Jon had taken his vows.

Their uncle laughed at his niece´s excitement. “Aye, I did see, I don’t think that I have ever known anyone that deserved a knighthood more that our Ser Jon Snow.” Sansa giggled at how red in the face, Jon turned.

“And now Jon can make me a knight.” Arya exclaimed happily from her uncle´s arms. Uncle Benjen was trying his hardest not to laugh at the young girl´s dreams at becoming a knight at five-years old.

“I think that you need to learn how to use a sword first.” Sansa looked at where her father had appeared with Robb and their mother, and while Robb and her father were smiling kindly at Arya at her eagerness at becoming a knight, Catelyn Stark was sending Jon a fowl look for having Bran in his arms.

Sansa knew the only reason she wasn’t demanding Jon to put Bran down this instance was because she didn’t want to cause a scene in front of the lords of the north. Her mother´s face was drawn into the ugliest frown she could possibly make at this moment, and Sansa was a little worried that she would lose control of her temper at any time if this wasn’t contained.

“Well,” Sansa started. “I think that Jon has to go back to his room and rest now, he has had enough excitement for one day.” She stood up from her chair and placed her hands on her hips as she gave Jon a pointed look.

Jon gave a defeated sigh as Benjen and Robb snickered at his misery. The lord of Winterfell took Bran out his Jon´s arms so that the injured knight could be helped to his feet.

Sansa moved to help Jon and as she did, Jon spoke. “I know better than to argue with you Starks, you are a stubborn lot.” He was grinning playfully as he said that and there was a twinkle in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat.

“I will have you know that I am not stubborn, Ser.” Sansa lifted her chin high as she pretended, badly to be offended. Jon just laughed as they started on their slow trek back to his room.

On the way back they had to stop five times for Jon to rest his leg a little, and Sansa couldn’t help but to doubt that he would be up to moving around the next day or two. She could see that he was trying his hardest to cover up how much pain he really was in, but it was clear as day that he longed for a little rest.

They finally made it to his sickroom and the room was as warm as they had left it. It was uncomfortably warm for Sansa as she was starting to sweat almost immediately as they entered, but Jon didn’t seem to have any problems with the heat.

She helped him take of his clothes and put him into something more comfortable to sleep in like she had done for many days now, and as always Jon started to blush to the roots of his hair.

EDDARD

He sighed tiredly as he watched Sansa help Jon back to his room. It had been painful to watch as Jon had limped his way to the middle of the great hall to take his vows of knighthood, Ned had almost asked him to return to his seat because watching Jon who had risked his life to save his children being in pain, was agony for Ned. But Ned couldn’t do that to Jon, the young man had to do this, and it had paid off for Jon.

The lords of the north were impressed by him, not only to have saved Robb and Sansa, but also how well he seemed to carry himself after all these wounds that he had taken. It had also been necessary for the lords to see how wounded Jon had been after saving Robb and Sansa.

When the lords had arrived at Winterfell, it was clear that news of Jon heroics had reached them, Ned had been endlessly asked about what had happened and many of the lords had asked him what he intended to do with Roose Bolton and his bastard, and it seemed that many of the lords had suspected Roose of doing something fowl, as there had been refugees coming from the Bolton lands to their own in the last few years.

But now they needed to find a new lord of the Dreadfort, Ned knew that many of the lords would be angling for the Dreadfort for their second or third sons as the Dreadfort had one of the largest lands in the north and the Dreadfort itself was one of the strongest castles.

Ned knew that he would have to install someone loyal to the Starks at the Dreadfort, someone that wouldn’t work against them when it came time for them to declare for Jon and put him on the iron throne.

Ned gestured for his brother to follow him and they made their way to Ned´s solar. They had taken a couple of steps when Ned had an idea, he turned around and gestured for Robb to follow them to the solar.

It would be good for Robb to listen to what they had to say, one day he would have to rule the north and he needed all the experience that he could get.

Robb beamed at them, as he hurried after his father and uncle to the solar, and Ned couldn’t escape his little brother´s curious gaze. It was unusual for lords to drag their ten-year old sons to important meetings, but this was important for Robb to know.

The lords had been impressed with Robb, he had asked after their families and how they were doing, Robb had known all off the lords by name and their immediate families. It was clear to Ned that Robb was benefiting from all the time in the library with Jon and Sansa over the last half a year.

They took their seats and almost immediately Benjen spoke. “So, why the sudden interest in the nights watch Ned? Not that we aren’t grateful, we really are as we can use all the help we can get.”

Ned hated not telling Benjen the real truth, but he couldn’t, Ben would never believe that he had lived through this before and he was now trying to make up for his mistakes in past life.

“As you know, the north and the watch have been in decline for the past two hundred years or so, probably for much longer, and we have to put a stop to it.” Ned could see that Robb was listening to what they were saying with rapt attention, much to his pride.

Ned was proud that Robb was taking his role as the future lord of Winterfell and warden of the north so seriously, Ned had seen so much improvement in Robb over the last half a year and he was sure that Robb would continue to do the north proud.

But it wasn’t enough that Robb was learning all he could about the north and its people, no when the time came, so would Arya, Bran and Rickon. They would also have to learn everything that they could to defend the north and the people that lived in it.

“As you know,” Ned continued. “We have been rebuilding the castles here on Stark lands and resettling them, and so far, it has been working really well, and we are hoping that more lords here in the north will be following in our footsteps.”

Benjen nodded quietly at his older brother. “Aye, even at the wall, we have been hearing of the rebuilding you are doing here, and I really can’t believe that our father didn’t start when he was the lord of Winterfell.”

Ned smiled at that. “Aye, I know he wanted to rebuild moat Cailin, but for some reason he never started.”

“He most likely didn’t have the funds.” Robb stated. When he had spoken up, Benjen looked startled at the young boy staring at them. Benjen hadn’t seen how much Robb had changed over the last half a year, but when he would start having real conversations with Jon and Sansa, Ned doubted that the ranger of the night´s watch would ever recover from the shock.

Ned gestured for Robb to continue, he wanted to hear what the heir to the north had to say. “Well, house Stark isn’t a the wealthiest of houses, but we are by no means poor. But we still don’t have means to rebuild a castle of that size, on our own yet.”

The young boy turned to his uncle. “As you know uncle Benjen, house Stark makes most of its gold from taxes, and we invested some of that gold into rebuilding the uninhabited castles on the Starks lands, but now that they are settled again, we can start to expect increase in the amount of money we can get from the Stark lands through taxation.”

Robb took a breath before he continued to explain how they planned to rebuild the moat Cailin and the other castles.

“Grandfather Rickard lacked the funds to rebuild the castle, and for now, so do we, but we plan to start small, like with the castles on our own lands, which will hopefully start making the other lords do the same, which will also increase the amount of taxes we get as the lord paramount´s of the north. We are also planning to start selling wool, wood, fur and leather to the free cities. Revenue from both the trade deals and the taxes will eventually let us start rebuilding the moat Cailin, but most likely it will take us some time to complete it.” When Robb finished speaking about taxes and trade deals, Benjen was staring dumbfounded at the young boy.

The solar was filled with silence until Benjen found his voice again. “You know, when I was your age all I wanted to do was play in the godswood with Lyanna, not spending my time talking about trade deals and how to rebuild the castles in the north.”

Ned felt so amused as he watched his eldest son frown at his uncle at that. “I would rather be looking for ways to improve our home than playing games, and this way I can actually spend time with Jon, and Sansa too I suppose.”

This made Benjen look very surprised. “They have been spending all their time thinking about trade deals and how to rebuild castles?”

Robb nodded furiously. “Aye, Sansa is really good with the trade deals and Jon and I have been working on the plans for the castles…well more Jon than I, but I helped.” Robb turned to his father and Ned could see the pride shining in Robb´s eyes.

“Father, could you show uncle Ben the plans for the castles on the wall, please.” It were moments like this when Ned could see the young child that Robb really was, he had started taking his studies more seriously in the last half a year and Robb had matured a lot since then, but there were instances like these that his true age showed.

Ned reached into one of the drawers and pulled out the plans for the castles on the wall. He handed them to his younger brother and Benjen started to look them over. As he looked over the plans for the castles, the higher his eyebrows rose and the disbelieve in his eyes grew more apparent.

Benjen looked up from the plans with shock written all over his face. “Ned, Robb and Jon made these?”

Ned nodded as Robb spoke again. “Well as I said, Jon did most of the work, but I helped him look through the old plans of the castles in the library.” Ned smiled at his son, he really couldn’t be prouder of him, Robb could have said that he and Jon had shared the work equally to everyone and no one would have contradicted him as he was the heir to Winterfell and everyone thought Jon was just a bastard, but he didn’t, and only took credit of the actual work he did.

Ned sent his son a proud smile and Robb returned the smile a thousand-fold, as the young boy beamed back at his father.

“Ned.” Benjen started again. “If these plans are realized, it would greatly help the watch. The improvements of the castles alone would go a long way, but I cannot see how this can be done without the help from the crown.”

Ned nodded at his brother. “Aye, I will be hard for us to do this without support from the other kingdoms, but that is why I have asked Jon Arryn to come to Winterfell, maybe if he sees the plans he can talk some sense into Robert, but I have my doubts, I just hope that we don’t have to take drastic measures before Robert is willing to listen to reason.”

“What do intend to do Ned?” The worry in his brother´s voice made Ned almost smile.

“Well I think that if it shall come to it, I may have to stop paying taxes to the crown until such a time as reconstruction is complete.” Ned had never seen his brother go so pale so fast, this was a last resort for Ned if Robert didn’t help them, but if the north stopped paying taxes it would cause Robert many troubles.

If the north stopped paying taxes to the crown, Robert would have to do something, it wouldn’t be good for him if one of the kingdoms stopped paying the taxes, the other lords would likely see it as weakness and start doing so as well, and Robert would have to do something.

Now, the Riverlands would have to side with Ned, as they were family, and the Iron islands wouldn’t side with either of them, but as Ned was the one holding the heir to the islands and Balon´s last living son, the north would most likely not be the subject to their war time raids if it came to war.

If Robert would decide to resort to calling his banners, they would break on moat Cailin, even if it was a ruin, Ned had already put a garrison there to defend it if need be.

“Do you think that it will come to that?” Benjen asked looking even more worried than before. Ned shook his head.

“No, I do not think so, I think that he will rant and rave but sooner than later Jon will be able to talk some sense into him or so I hope.” Jon had always been the only one that could talk any sense into the large man, not even Ned didn’t have the ability to make the lord of Storm´s end see reason when he went on one of his tirades.

“You are putting a lot of faith into Jon Arryn, are you sure that he will not side with Robert Baratheon on this matter?” Ned could understand his concerns, Benjen didn’t know the hand of the king and it was hard to trust a man that you didn’t know.

But Ned was sure that the lord of the Eyrie would see the northern lords need. “Aye, I am sure that he can talk some sense into Robert, but I would appreciate it if you would stay and talk to Jon about the need that the night´s watch has of help.” He could understand that it was hard for Benjen to stay here in Winterfell for the month waiting for Jon Arryn to arrive and then the talks, but they needed the hand of the king to see how great the need was for funding for the restoration was.

Benjen sighed. “Aye, I will write to Jeor and tell him what is happening. He will most likely be fine with me staying here for the next month or so, as this is work on the behalf of the watch.”

Ned felt relief wash over him at that, it would make their case much stronger, having a black brother to tell the lord hand about the watch´s troubles.

“Now tell me something Ned.” Benjen furrowed his brow as he spoke, reminding Ned of their father. “I know that it is well deserved, but why did you let Ser Rodrik knight Jon?”

“It was my idea.” Robb piped up with a smile. It was true, Robb had come to his father´s solar this very morning to make his case for making Jon a knight. Robb had made Ned think, it was a good idea for Jon to be a knight, as in the south knights were respected and many of the Targaryen kings had knightly training before taking up their mantle as kings.

It would give Jon some standing in the south and force the lords to take him a little more seriously, especially now that he was the youngest ever to earn his spurs.

Sure, there weren’t many knights here in the north, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t have them, Ned´s brother Brandon even had a squire, Ethan Glover who had hoped to be a knight, and house Manderly had many knights in their service and Winterfell had even one of their own until this day when increased their number to three.

Benjen smiled at his nephew as he ruffled his hair, making Robb laugh.

Chapter Text

JON

The last month was a bustle of activity as the castle was filled with lords from all over the north as they waited for the hand of the king to arrive at Winterfell to listen to the lord’s complaints.

Jon had started walking around on his own now and didn’t need any help with dressing anymore as his arm was no longer in a sling to restrict his movements. Jon had been really tired at blushing like a fool every time he saw Sansa, because she was always the one to help him dress. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful for her help, he really appreciated her help, but the embarrassment was killing him.

Jon had now fled to the library, he had been hounded by the lords, they were all very interested in how he had fought the Ramsay Snow and his men and the library was the only place that he had any peace from the questions.

He also wanted to be as far away from lady Stark as possible, she was rushing around the castle and making sure that every lord and lady in the castle had everything that they needed for their stay, and Jon didn’t want to be in her way. She was in a fowl enough mood to begin with.

 She was sending him such glares that Jon had been worried that he would spontaneously catch on fire if he wasn’t careful, it seemed that the events of the last month hadn’t made her think any better of him.

Jon just shook his head as he refocused on the book in front of him. It was an old journal that clearly hadn’t been used for many years and Jon couldn’t make out the name of the maester that had written it, he could make out the letter M and the letter F, but otherwise the name was undecipherable.

It had great ideas on how to make the north into a powerhouse to rival the Reach and the Westerlands. One of the ideas was that they could plant rye, wheat and barley, which all grew in the cold climates of the north. The author suggested that they could make an alcoholic beverages out of these plants, as well as using these products for making food.

And that was just one of many great ideas that the author had, as he read on Jon grew more and more convinced that he had to show his uncle this journal.

He was so engrossed in the journal that he didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approach him from behind.

“What are you reading?” Jon jumped at the voice of his young cousin, and as he turned around, he could see that Arya was standing behind him, grinning like a cat.

 “Arya, don’t sneak up on people like that, you nearly killed me.” That may have been a little exaggerated, but she had scared the living hells out of him.

Arya just giggled at his suffering. “I didn’t sneak, I walked normally.”

Jon rolled his eyes at her as he closed his book. “What brings you here?”

“Father sent me, lord Arryn and his men were spotted, and you need to be in the courtyard with the rest of us.” She answered with a smile.

Jon just shook his head again, he would be standing beside Theon Greyjoy, much to their shared grief. Greyjoy´s dislike of Jon hadn’t lessened in the last month since Jon had been made a knight, in fact, the iron born had grown to like him less if that could be believed.

Jon placed the journal in his pocket and grabbed him cane. He only had to use the blasted thing for around a month or so more, maester Luwin estimated that by then Jon could be walking around without it, to Jon´s happiness.

Arya had been enjoying the fact that the northern lords were in Winterfell, she had taken a liking to the second youngest Mormont girl, Jorelle Mormont who was often called Jory.

They had been running around Winterfell playing pranks and getting into trouble. It made Jon feel so happy for his little sister to see her finally have a female friend who had so much in common with her.

Sansa had been making a lot of headway into repairing their relationship, but they were sisters and while Sansa was trying to make sure to take interest in everything Arya loved, she didn’t have the same burning passion for weapons and horseback riding.

But Lady Jorelle did have the same passion as Arya for learning to use weapons and riding horses, and Jon had seen Arya and her new friend spend hours talking about their shared interests.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Arya piped up as they exited the library and headed for the courtyard where all the lords of the north would be gathering.

Jon smiled gently at his sister, for she would always be his little sister, no matter who he called father. “It is an old journal I found; it has some good ideas that I want to put to lord Stark.”

Arya nodded, seemingly putting this out of her mind, but then she frowned at Jon. “Jon, why do you call father, lord Stark now?”

This question made Jon freeze in place. He had been worried that someone would catch on to him sooner rather than later, but he had hoped that no one would have noticed that he had stopped calling Eddard Stark father.

It didn’t feel right anymore, and he was getting tired of the lies, but he couldn’t start calling the man, uncle. So, he had just started to call the man lord Stark when anyone that didn’t know the truth was around.

“Well, I do it because it is respectful.” He could feel the guilt start gnawing at his insides for his lies. He really didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her that lord Stark was his uncle and not his father. Arya was only five-years old now and she could accidentally say something to someone.

Arya frowned at his response. “Should I call father, lord Stark too? I don’t want to be disrespectful to him.” The worry in her eyes made him feel even worse for lying to her, perhaps it would have been better just to call his uncle, father.

Jon shoved the guilt down before he responded. “No, you are a trueborn daughter of house Stark, you can call him father.” He tried his best to smile at her, but he was sure that it came of as a grimace. 

Arya didn’t seem convinced at his words. “But you are his son, you can call him father.” Her logic must have seemed infallible to a five-year old, and he loved her even more for not caring about the difference between a trueborn child and a bastard one, but she was only a five-year old.

Jon did his best to kneel in front of her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Arya, I am a Snow, you know that.” Arya nodded her head, he remembered when she had come to him crying, fearing that because they looked alike that she was a bastard too, it had happened a few months before Jon, Sansa and uncle Ned had come back.

“And as a Snow I am expected to behave differently from trueborn children. I have to show the lords more respect than my trueborn counterparts.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“But that´s not fair.” She stated looking as sad as only a five-year old could.

A small smile creeped out on his face at her words. “I know, but life is rarely fair, but I am just glad that I have you as my sister.”

His last words made her smile as brightly as the sun as she then jumped at him to hug him around the neck.

When she finally let him go, he rose back to his feet and they continued their walk to the courtyard.

The courtyard was filled with northern lords, all ready to greet the hand of the king, lord Jon Arryn.

Jon could see that the lords seemed happy that the hand was making the long trip to Winterfell to hear their complaints, even though every lord and lady in the north knew that Robert hadn’t asked his hand to travel all the way here to hear them out.

However, the man that Jon Arryn served, Robert Baratheon wasn’t in high regard in the north at this moment and likely wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Jon would even go so far to say that the man was hated here in the north, the anger at the man that claimed to be the lord protector of the realm was almost suffocating.

Arya and Jon separated, as she headed to the lineup of the Stark children and Jon headed to where maester Luwin and ser Rodrik were standing. Jon took his place beside the older knight and Theon Greyjoy who scowled at him nastily, but Jon paid him no mind.

They hadn’t been waiting long when the first Arryn banners appeared in the courtyard of Winterfell. The Arryn party wasn’t large, but they did travel with a small carriage drawn by four lovely gray horses.

As the carriage came to a stop in the courtyard, lord Arryn himself rode into the yard followed by his wife and a dozen knights.

Lord Jon Arryn had clearly once been broad shouldered and handsome, that much was clear, but those days seemed to be over for him. As he smiled at his one-time ward, lord Eddard Stark, Jon could see that his name sake had half of his teeth missing and most of his once blond hair had fallen out or turned gray.

His wife was a fraction of his age however, but while she was around two years younger than her sister, the lady Stark, she looked like she was ten-years older than lady Catelyn. She had the look of someone that had been quite overweight and lost that weight in an extremely short amount of time, as her skin seemed to hang of her, like the clothes that she was wearing.

While her clothes were in the Arryn blue and white, they didn’t seem as elaborate and expensive as the wife of the hand would be expected to wear.

She was helped off her horse by one of the knights, as her husband was greeting his former ward, she then approached her sister and the air between then couldn’t have been any colder. It seemed that lady Stark was having a hard time forgiving her sister for her infidelity and mothering a bastard.

Jon could also see that when she greeted her good brother, that she hadn’t forgiven him either for his crime of trying to send his wife´s bastard to lady Catelyn´s father, to be raised in Riverrun.

Jon Arryn then went and greeted the Stark children, like Robert had done in another lifetime, but while Robert Baratheon had been jolly and always seemed half drunk or on the way to be half drunk, Jon Arryn had an air of an kindly grandfather, as he walked down the line, greeting all the children of Eddard Stark.

After greeting the Stark children, he went and greeted the northern lords, and it seemed like he knew many of them, but that shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Jon, many of the lords had been with uncle Ned in the rebellion and must have meet Jon Arryn.

As the lord and lady Arryn were making their rounds, Jon could spy a woman getting out of the carriage with a two-year old in her arms.

The boy had brown hair and the Tully blue eyes, and it was clear to Jon that this was Robert Waters. The little boy seemed sickly and weak, and on the verge of crying but was trying to hold it in.

Lysa Arryn seemed to want more than anything to run over to the woman and the child and rip the boy from the woman´s arms. Jon felt a swell of pity for the lady of the Vale, as she stared at her young son with her pale, watery eyes.

After Jon Arryn had greeted all the lords and ladies, the lord hand and his party were led away to their rooms so that they could freshen up before the feast, that lord Stark was holding in his honor.

The feast begun as soon as it was starting to get dark, and like all other northern feast, it was loud and had the ale and mead flowing freely. It bore startling resemblance to the feast Jon´s uncle had thrown for Robert Baratheon when he had arrived in Winterfell, but there was one clear difference for Jon.

He had been placed by the Stark children this time.

Jon had been seated between Robb and Sansa, and he was observing the inhabitants of the great hall of Winterfell. The northern lords and ladies were clearly enjoying the hospitality of Eddard Stark as they cheered and toasted to the health of the lord of Winterfell.

The air in the hall was heavy with the smell of roasted meats and smoke, reminding Jon of his dragons that were hiding in the Wolfswood. He had been longing to see them but with all the guests in the castle and Jon having a hard time moving around in the last few weeks, he hadn’t been able to.

But Jon resolved to go tonight, with everyone drunk and enjoying themselves at the feast, it shouldn’t be hard for him to sneak out to visit Algernon, Earendil and Illyrion.

Even though he could warg into them anytime he wanted, it wasn’t the same as spending time with them.

It felt surreal to sit here, at the high table when lord and lady Stark were entertaining such important guests like the lord hand and his wife. But much to his relief, no one thought any of it that he was sitting there, with his cousins, in front of all the lords of the north and the hand of Robert Baratheon.

He could feel the heat of Sansa´s body as she leaned closer to him. “Are you alright Jon? You look a little distracted.” Her blue eyes bored into his grey ones.

He smiled at her and whispered back to her. “I am fine, but I want to go and see them tonight.”

Sansa looked a little worried at first, she must have thought that he wasn’t up to it, with his leg still recovering. Then she seemed to accept that he was going and there wasn’t anything that she could say to stop him.

She rolled her eyes at him, before she smiled a little at him. “Do you think that I should come with you? It is a bit of a walk and you are still hurting.”

“I think I will be fine, Sansa. I have been walking around a lot and I will take breaks.” He tried to reassure her that he would be fine, but she was worried, and he knew that no amount of reassuring would make her stop her from worrying.

After some time, Jon decided that it was time for him to go, he couldn’t really wait any longer. He excused himself from the table and exited the great hall.

He went to his room and found his black cloak that he used when he went on one of his nighttime walks into the forest to meet his dragons, and he noticed that it was getting rather small, it seemed that he was growing a lot faster than in his former life.

Jon walked through the deserted hallways of Winterfell and he used the east gate that was not used as much as the other gates, unless it was for a hunt as it led directly in to the wolfswood, which suited Jon´s purposes perfectly.

Jon had done this so many times by now that he knew the guard´s schedules by heart. Jon waited until the guard left his sight, then he left the castle though the east gate and disappeared into the wolfswood.

The night was beautiful, and the moonlight was so bright that it made the forest look like it was enchanted, and the stars twinkled cheerfully down on him was he limped his way to the caves that hid the only three dragons left in the known world.

He could always feel them in his mind, no matter if he was awake or asleep, they were always with him, just like Ghost had been in his past life.

He could feel them now, they were waiting for him in the clearing, and he could feel their excitement at seeing him after such a long time apart.

The walk took a longer time than usual, on the account of his limp. But when he arrived, he saw them waiting for him. Illyrion was glowing hauntingly in the pale moonlight and he let out a happy thrill as he saw Jon approach him, Earendil had been feasting on a large buck when he entered the clearing, but the emerald dragon stopped immediately as Jon limped to them.

Jon glanced at the entrance of the cave, the opening of the cave was as dark as the void and Jon could only see the glowing red eyes of Algernon as he appeared out of the darkness like a wraith.

Illyrion and Earendil got to him first and Jon noticed that in the month that he hadn’t been able to see them, they had grown. They were still too small to be ridden, but Jon was sure that in a year, Jon could start going on short nighttime flights.

Algernon hurried over to them and Jon was having trouble with petting the three of them with only one hand as the other was still clutching the cane, that was keeping him upright.

He stood there in the clearing, just trying to pet his dragons with one hand, feeling the happiness swell in his chest.

Jon took a seat on one of the fallen trees, to rest his leg. Now with both his hands free, he could do a better job petting them.

“My, they are getting big.” Jon jumped at the voice and looked to where the voice had come from. Jon could see the Stranger standing there, in his usual black and white clothing.

He was just as unnerving as Jon had remembered him being and his stare was just as penetrating and chilling as it had been when Jon had met him beyond the wall more than six months ago.

All three dragons looked at the Stranger and showed him their ink black teeth. They clearly didn’t like him by the way they were looking at him.

But the Stranger only smiled at them, his smile was joyless and cold, and his teeth reminded Jon of fangs for some reason.

He approached them and the dragons seemed to flank around Jon, for his protection. Illyrion went behind Jon to guard his back, while Algernon placed his head in Jon´s lap and Earendil remained in front of him.

Jon smiled at the dragons for their protectiveness of him. “They don’t like you.” Jon stated to the Stranger.

The Stranger laughed at that, his laugh was just like his smile, cold and joyless. “Of course, they don’t, no one likes death.” He stopped a little way from Jon and the dragons.

“But that is not why I am here.” The Stranger stated as he stared at them with mild curiosity in his colorless eyes. “I am here to help you.”

This piped Jon´s curiosity, everything that the Stranger would tell him, he really wanted to know, so he stayed quiet and waited until he continued.

“It is about the Boltons and the Dreadfort.” Jon frowned at that, now that the lord of the Dreadfort, his heir and his bastard son were all dead, the castle and all its lands were now in the hands of house Stark until Jon´s uncle would most likely give it to someone that had either served house Stark well or maybe even Bran.

Jon knew that lady Stark would fight with all her might for Bran to inherit the Dreadfort, its lands was larger than Moat Cailin and Queenscrown and it wasn’t a ruin, so that all it needed was a competent castellan and it would be ready for Bran when the time came for him to rule the Dreadfort.

Jon stayed silent as he petted Algernon´s large head and waited for the Stranger to continue.

“As you know, Roose Bolton and his bastard son were killing people and torturing them in the Dreadfort.” The Stranger looked up to the stars and locked his arms behind his back as he stared up at the sky. “And I know your uncle is going to the Dreadfort to find the proof of the late lord Bolton´s guilt.”

Jon nodded his head. “Aye, when he is done talking to lord Arryn about the castles on the wall.”

The Stranger didn’t look down from the stars that glittered like diamonds above them. “Yes, but it will be pretty hard to find the torture chamber if you don’t already know where it is.”

“And you are going to tell me where it is?” Jon guessed as he continued to pet Algernon, that was still snarling at the Stranger, who paid the black dragon no mind.

The Stranger looked finally looked back down. “Of course, I am going to tell you and you are going to travel to the Dreadfort with your uncle and find it.”

Jon frowned at that. “Why me?” He couldn’t help but to wonder why he had to be the one to find the torture chamber.

The Stranger almost smiled at that. “I will tell you when the time is right.” Silence fell over them, as the Stranger looked back to the stars.

It was some time before the Stranger spoke up again. “Go to the belly of the beast, deep in its bowels you will find a flayed man, bathed in darkness and you will know that you are in the right place.”

With that the Stranger left, and it was like he had never been there before, leaving Jon and the dragons alone in the clearing.

EDDARD

The feast last night had been almost as loud as the feast as Ned had hosted for Robert in his last life, and his ears were still ringing from the noise.

Jon Arryn was sitting in front of him, in Eddard´s solar as the older man was looking over the plans for the castles on the wall.

Ned had felt the tension in the air between Jon and his wife, it had been very awkward at first, sitting with them. But as the Ned had started to talk to friend and mentor, the awkwardness had faded away between them, but it hadn’t for the Tully sisters.

The atmosphere between Ned´s wife and lady Arryn had been frosty at best, and Ned was getting worried that they would never get over this.

Every time Cat looked at her sister, Ned could see the anger in her eyes for shaming their father and their family. Family, duty, honor, or so the Tully words went. Family came first.

And Lysa had discarded those words when she shamed her family by being unfaithful to her husband and having a bastard and trying to pass said bastard of as Jon Arryn´s trueborn son, and now she was paying the price for her infidelity.

Ned could see how much this matter was hurting Jon, he had thought that his legacy was secure in young Robert and finding out otherwise must have been heartbreaking.

“These plans are impressive Ned, and you said that your bastard made them?” Ned was brought out of his thoughts by Jon´s question.

Ned could see how Jon´s eyes were light up with wonder, at seeing the plans. They were really good and would go a long way to help the watch, but only if they had the funding for them.

“Yes, Jon did almost all the work on the plans, and we are really hoping that you can talk to Robert about helping us fund the project.” Ned looked at his mentor with hope that the older man would tell him that he would go to king´s landing and convince Robert that he needed to do his duty to the north.

But Ned felt his hope die in his chest, as he watched Jon turn sad as the older man looked down on the plans in his hands. “Ned, these plans are excellent Ned, and if I could, I would approve them now, right here at this moment.” The hand of Robert Baratheon fell silent as sorrow filled his eyes.

“But Robert will never approve of it.” This made Ned frown. Why would Robert not want to spend money on the wall? He spent fortunes on tourneys, but why not the very wall that kept a large part of the seven kingdoms save?

“Why not?” Ned asked his foster father.

Jon shook his head. “I am really not sure, a part of me thinks that he just wants to spend that money on his whoring, drinking and tourneys.” He was silent for a moment; it was like he was contemplating if he should tell Ned something.

Then the older man shook his head and smiled sadly, but Ned had seen this smile before. Jon had always had that smiled when Robert had done something stupid or reckless, but the last time Ned had seen that small, sad smile was when Ned had left King´s landing to lift the siege of Storm´s End.

Ned had a feeling that Robert either had done something stupid or was planning to do something stupid, but what could it be? Now that Robert was sitting on the iron throne, it was hard to contain his rashness and his inclinations.

“What is it Jon?” Ned asked him and leaned forward on his elbows.

But the older man just shook his head again. “It´s nothing Ned, I am probably just over thinking this.” Ned wasn’t satisfied with this answer.

“Jon, the north´s safety is on the line here. I need to know.” As far as Ned knew Robert hadn’t done anything at this time in their last life, had he been planning to do something in their last life but Jon had managed to stop it because he had been in king´s landing, but he couldn’t stop him now that he was in Winterfell.

Jon sighed at Ned´s words. “I am just worried about him, Ned. He spends so much time doing anything but ruling and the Lannisters have almost taken over the capitol and we cannot find the books on the crown´s finances. We don’t know where Littlefinger hid them.”

This made stare at the lord of the Eyrie in shook. They didn’t know where the books about the crown´s finances were located.

Ned couldn’t find any words at the moment to express his shook. “Jon, why on earth was that man allowed to take the books out of the Red keep?” The books were an essential part to keep the kingdoms running like they should, and the fact that Baelish had been allowed to take them out of the castle was a grave oversight.

Jon looked like he had aged ten years over the course of their conversation. “At first he wasn’t allowed to, but as he started to find Robert more and more money for his atrocious spending, Baelish was allowed more and more leeway in his work at finding Robert the money he so likes to spend.”

Ned closed his eyes in frustration, how could they have let that worm take the book out of the keep, but Ned knew that he wasn’t in any position to judge Jon and Robert for trusting Baelish, when Ned himself had done so as well, and he had paid for that mistake with his life.

They had all paid for their mistake of trusting Petyr Baelish, and now all that was left of Ned to do was to learn from his mistakes since he had the opportunity to do so.

“I know it was wrong of Robert and I to trust Baelish with the books.” Jon leaned back in his chair. “We have searched everywhere but we cannot find them, and now Baelish is somewhere out there, doing gods only know what.”

Wait, what? Petyr Baelish wasn’t in the Red keep´s dungeons?

“Jon, what do you mean? I thought that you would have arrested Baelish.” Ned stared at his friend and mentor in shook.

But Jon just gave Ned a disappointed look. “Of course, I did Ned, but he escaped two days after I threw him in the black cells.” Ned could feel his heart drop in his chest at these news, Sansa and Jon were convinced that Littlefinger was one of the most dangerous men in the seven kingdoms, and Ned was inclined to agree with them, and now he was unaccounted for.

Ned buried his face in his hands, this was not good.

“Now, Ned it´s not as bad as all that. Lord Varys is looking for the man so I doubt that Baelish will stay hidden for long.” Jon´s words didn’t nothing to settle Ned´s worries.

“Are you sure that lord Varys can be trusted?” Ned asked the lord hand and he didn’t even try to hide the disbelief in his voice.

Jon just shrugged his shoulders. “Well it was him that told me of the affair.” With these words, Jon had stolen all words out of Ned´s mind and the lord of Winterfell just stared at the older man.

“What?” That was the only thing that he managed to croak out.

Jon nodded absentmindedly. “Yes, I was surprised as well when he gave me the news. But here we are.”

In their last life, Varys hadn’t said anything of the sort to Jon, Ned was sure of it. That meant that it was Varys that remembered in the capitol, but on who´s side was the man?

“Which reminds me.” Jon said as reached into his pocket and pulled out a parcel and placed it on the table. “Lord Varys asked me to send you this.”

Ned frowned at that, why was the master of whispers sending him anything. Ned took the parcel of the table and examined it, it was something square, thick and bound in brown cloth that had been tied with a thin rope.

Ned glanced at his mentor and untied the rope, as he opened the parcel and removed the cloth, it revealed a book.

It was a thick, nondescript journal that Ned had never seen before.

Jon looked at Ned with curiosity. “Why is Varys sending you an old journal, Ned?”

Chapter Text

EDDARD

Ned stared at the journal that was resting peacefully on his desk as he pondered on his foster father´s question. Why did the spider send him this journal? He looked it over without opening it, and he couldn’t find anything that gave him a hint what lord Varys had thinking. It looked like he would have to open it to find out, but that would have to wait.

“I don’t know why lord Varys is sending me this, but that is not the most pressing matter right now.” Ned opened a drawer on his desk and put the journal in.

He would let Jon and Sansa see it, as they could guess his motives better than Ned did. They had worked with him in their last life, and Jon had told him how lord Varys had tried to put Jon on the throne, but Jon had resisted.

Ned had worked with lord Varys in his last life as well, but he didn’t know the man like Sansa and Jon, and if Ned was being fair, he was not a good player in the game of throne, like Sansa, nor was he the rightful king, like Jon who had to know these things.

Ned knew that he had to know these things too, but he had a feeling that he would never be good enough at the great game.

As he pondered on Varys and his motives, Ned realized that every time that Ned spoke with Jon about their past lives, it seemed that Jon always had that haunted look in his eyes. It was clear to Ned that Jon regretted many things that he had done before he was sent back.

“You are right.” Jon Arryn said as he rubbed his weary brow. “I was wondering how to tell you this, but I suppose that there is no way to say this easily.” Ned could feel the dread creep into his stomach as he listened to his foster father, what on earth had happened now?

“As you know, after Littlefinger was arrested the crown needed another master of coin.” Jon adjusted in his chair and fixed his eyes on Ned. “I suggested lord Manderly for the job, but the only supporter in the small council was lord Varys, all the other lords didn’t want to hear of it and Robert agreed with them.” Ned could feel a cold fury rise in his belly, lord Manderly was a good man who had fought on the banks of the Trident in the rebellion.

And now Robert didn’t want to consider him for a job that he would be well suited for. Ned remembered many a night where those two had feasted and drunk together in the rebellion, Ned would have thought that Robert would have been eager to have lord Manderly on the small council because of that alone.

“The queen tried to push the king into granting the honor to Ser Jaime, but that suggestion was quickly denied.” Ned had to hold in a snort of laughter. The Kingslayer, the master of coin? That was a horrible idea if there ever was one.

“Then who did the small council settle for?” Ned asked his foster father with humor in his voice, he was sure that whoever it was, he wouldn’t like it. It would most likely be the court fool that Robert wanted for the position, Ned thought to himself and tried not to grin.

Ned wasn’t disappointed. “It is Mace Tyrell.” That was worse that the court fool. Ned slumped in his chair as Jon said those words. He almost couldn’t believe what he had heard the older man say.

“You are telling me,” Ned began with disbelieve in his tone. “that Robert didn’t want to have a man, that fought for him in the rebellion, on the small council. But he would rather have a man that sat outside the wall of Storm´s End and feasted with his lords, while Robert´s own brother starved inside the castle walls?”

Jon opened his mouth so say something, but Ned wasn’t done. “Lord Manderly has greatly improved the economy of White Harbor and his lands in the years since he became the lord of New castle, but he was looked over for a job that he could have done with his eyes closed, for a man that was on the opposite side of the war and has done nothing in the time he has been the lord of Highgarden?”

Jon sighed and nodded his head in resigned silence. Ned didn’t know how long they sat there as Ned just stared at his foster father. How could Robert be this stupid?

“But that is not all.” Ned looked slowly up from the table, as he waited for Jon to continue. What more could his former friend do to anger him and his people?

“Robert wants to raise taxes on all the seven kingdoms.” Ned closed his eyes in irritation, so that he wouldn’t take out his anger at his former friend on Jon. The lord of the Eyrie didn’t deserve his anger after trying to put lord Manderly in the position of master of coin.

“Ned, I know yo-.” Jon started but Ned interrupted him.

“No.”

That word was followed by silence, as Jon blinked at his onetime ward.

“Ned what do you mean? No?” Jon asked, and Ned could feel the suspicion in his voice.

“In the rebellion, Robert took the first chance he got to make it known that he would be declaring himself king. He profited greatly on my families suffering and my sisters body was barely cold when he agreed to marry the Lannister woman at your urging, and now he denies us the help we need to protect ourselves, disregards one our lords who would do a great job as the master of coin and now he wants to tax us more so he can whore himself to an early grave.”

Jon stared at Ned the entire time as his voice started to rise higher in his anger at Robert Baratheon. Ned had never been as sure of his decision of placing his nephew on the iron throne.

“So, no Jon. We will not be paying him more taxes, in fact from this day until such a time as the reconstruction of the castles on the wall is complete, the north will not be paying the crown more taxes.”

The older man just kept on staring at Ned like he had grown an extra head, but after a while, he sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “I agree with you Ned.”

At those words, all the anger in Ned fled in surprise, of all the things that the lord of Winterfell expected to hear, this was not one of them.

“I think that we made a mistake.” Ned could hear his foster fathers heart break in his tone as he whispered those words.

“What do you mean?” The lord of Winterfell asked the older man.

Jon stayed quiet for a while before he shook his head. “It´s nothing Ned, forget it.” He tried to smile, but it was forced and was more like a grimace than a smile. Ned knew something was on his mind, that much was obvious. But he seemed like he couldn’t bring himself to say what was wrong.

“I will of course help you with dealing with Robert, and I will try to get him to see reason, and maybe I can get some of the lords of the Vale to help the nights watch as well.” Jon looked a little pensive for a moment before he added.

“I know that lord Royce will most likely what to help, he is a friend of the watch.” Ned smiled at that, yes lord Royce had been a friend to the watch, and like the Starks, the Royce´s considered it an honorable pursuit to join the watch.

“And maybe,” Jon added. “I can give the lords that help the watch, some tax breaks if the small  council can dissuade Robert in increasing the taxes, for I think that the members of the council will try to do so, they don´t like higher taxes any more than we do.” 

Ned nodded. “That would go a long way in helping us, and if tax breaks are involved, a lot of the lords would most likely help, making the process much quicker.”

Jon looked over the plans once again. “Do you think I could get copies of the plans? I know that it would be easier to persuade the lords if they see that their money isn’t being wasted.”

Ned nodded. “Of course, I will ask Jon to draw up copies for you.”

ROBB

The courtyard of Winterfell was filled with people bustling about, as they were getting ready to leave for the Dreadfort. Robb was standing by his own horse, a handsome grey gelding that had strong legs, a sturdy back and a gleaming coat that shone in the sun.

His father had given him the horse for his last name day, and he and been so happy getting this horse and it was now his pride and joy.

He had been so surprised when his father had told him that he and Jon would be accompanying the lords of the north and the lord hand to the Dreadfort.

From there they would be traveling to Castle Black to talk to lord commander Jeor Mormont, who was lady Mormonts brother.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot the maester of the Dreadfort, who had been ready to testify against the lord of the Dreadfort. He would be going with them to the Dreadfort to see if he could be of any help.

Robb was trying his hardest to contain his excitement at traveling with the grownups, but he was having a hard time of it. This was the first time Robb was traveling so far away from Winterfell, and he had to act like a future lord, so the lords of the north could see that he would be a worthy lord of Winterfell and the warden of the north.

He was trying his best at imitating his father´s stony expression, but he wasn’t as good as Jon was at it.

It was strange how good Jon was at being a grown up. It seemed to come naturally to him as swordplay and appearing serious. It made Robb a little jealous to be perfectly honest.

Robb would one day be the lord of Winterfell, but here was his bastard brother doing a much better job of being just like their father than Robb could ever hope to be.

But the jealously turned quickly into guilt as he watched his brother limp his way to Robb. “Are you ready Stark?” Jon asked him as he leaned on his cane, and not for the first time, Jon looked a lot older than her really was.

“Of course, I am Snow.” Robb tried his best to look taller and more grown up, but he was sure that he failed. Robb wasn’t good at pretending, as he had always proved in their childhood games, and he felt guilt flood his mind yet again.

The stable boy, Hodor came walking with a bay gelding who was older than Robb´s own grey mount, and handed Jon the reins, as he said his own name happily over and over again. Jon thanked his with a kind smile.

Robb looked around for his uncle Benjen to ask him more about the watch, but then he remembered that uncle Benjen had left the day before to castle black to talk with the lord Commander of the watch about the restorations that Robb´s father wanted to help them make on the wall.

Robb could see that that the lords were getting ready to leave, as his father walked out of the castle beside Jon Arryn. The lord hand was leaving his wife and her son, Robb´s cousin, in Winterfell while they traveled to the Dreadfort and then to Castle Black, much to Robb´s happiness, as he didn’t like his aunt Lysa.

He didn’t like how she was looking down her nose at everything about the north and his family, and if she wasn’t doing that, she was always making mean comments about how Sansa was learning how to use weapons, and how wild Arya was, and the looks she sent Jon were not kind either.

Robb´s lady mother and his siblings followed the lord Eddard Stark out of the castle. Sansa seemed torn between wanting to go with them and wanting to stay behind.

The reason she like to go with them, was most like because of their aunt. Sansa seemed to detest their aunt and Robb had a feeling that it wasn’t because of how Lysa Arryn had been unfaithful to her husband. Most likely it was because how mean aunt Lysa was to her and Arya for learning how to handle weapons. Robb could feel guilt creep up on him again, as he hadn’t been kind to Sansa when she had started either.

Arya was very jealous that Robb and Jon were going, and she wasn’t allowed to go, and she made no attempt to hide it. But her anger at being left behind was lessened by the fact that lady Mormont and Robb´s father had agreed that Jorelle Mormont would be fostered in Winterfell until she became of age.

Robb watched along with Jon as their father said goodbye to those who would be staying. After saying goodbye to Sansa, Arya and Bran, those three rushed over to Robb and Jon to say their final goodbyes, as they wouldn’t be seeing them for at least two and half months.

Arya hugged Robb and as she clung to his neck and Bran clung to his leg, he could spy Sansa holding onto Jon and whispering in his ear. Arya released him and threw herself at Jon with little Bran following in her footsteps, Sansa then came to Robb and hugged him close. “Be careful, Robb and watch out of Jon, he is still healing.”

Robb nodded with a smile. “Of course, I will wrap him in wool and never let him out of my sight.” Sansa rolled her eyes at him. She was another person that was better than him at being a grown up, and she was even younger than him.

He glanced over her shoulder and he could see the cold goodbye their father was getting from his wife. They had fought again when he had told them that he would be taking Robb with him to the Dreadfort.

She didn’t think that he was big enough to see what they could find what was lurking in the dungeons of the keep of the Red kings.

Robb was soon going to be eleven years old, practically a man grown, and he couldn’t be hiding behind his mother’s skirts forever.

His lady mother called her younger three children back, and they reluctantly went back to her. Lord Eddard came up to them after his cold goodbye to his wife. “Are the two of you ready?” He asked them with concern in his grey eyes.

Robb put on his serious face and nodded, trying his hardest to show his father that he was not making a mistake in bringing him along with the men.

“Alright then, mount your horses.” Robb mounted his tall horse with a little difficulty but when he was mounted, he felt just like a man grown. He glanced at Jon and he could see that he was have some difficulty with getting on the horse. He had tied the cane to his saddle and was now pulling himself up.

Robb was going to dismount to help him, but Jon managed somehow to drag himself into the saddle. All the time when Jon had been getting on the horse, the bay gelding had stood perfectly still like a statue, which Robb couldn’t help but to think was odd.

He had never seen a horse so still before. It was like he knew that it was best for Jon if he stood so still while he was making the climb.

When Jon was in the saddle, Robb could see that Jon was in pain.

“Having trouble mounting Snow.” Theon Greyjoy came up to them already mounted, and he had a nasty grin on his face. Ever since Jon had been allowed to train with the older men, Theon had been growing more and more awful to Jon.

It was really getting on Robb´s nerves, in fact Robb had stopped spending time with the iron born because he was so nasty.

Robb frowned at Theon. “You would have trouble mounting a horse if you had been injured like Jon was.” Jon said nothing as Robb defended him to Theon, and just stared stonily at the Greyjoy heir.

Theon snorted. “I wouldn’t have gotten injured in the first place.” The iron born made his horse walked forward and as he passed them, Jon´s horse bit the iron born in the calf making him yell out with pain. At Theon´s yell, his horse bolted out of the castle courtyard, with Theon still yelling and cursing in the saddle, trying to keep the horse under control.

Everyone stared after the iron born, but soon the lords of the north started to laugh at Theon´s plight.

“What happened?” Their father came up to Jon and Robb, and he was already mounted on his light grey destrier who´s hindquarters were covered with the heraldry of house Stark.

Robb opened his mouth to speak but he was beaten to it by the Greatjon. “Harhar, come of its Ned. Ser Jon´s horse just bit the boy a little, making his horse started as young Greyjoy squealed like a little girl.”  This was followed by more laughter from the lords of the North.

Robb could see that when the Greatjon called him Ser, Jon had turned a little red. Robb just smirked at his brother, Jon always had a hard time when someone complemented him, so of course he would have to take some time to get used to his new title.

Their father gave the two boys a look that said, behave or I will leave you here. Then the lord of Winterfell nodded, and they were on their way to the Dreadfort that had once served as the stronghold of the Boltons.

JON

He watched the Dreadfort rise high on the banks of the upper Weeping water. The seat of the Red kings truly lived up to its name. It had high dark walls and triangular merlons that looked like teeth, and there was an air of dread that seemed to emanate of the tall stone castle.

Jon glanced at his uncle, the closer they rode to the Dreadfort, the graver and more serious he became, which was an achievement of its own.

Ned Stark had told him that Robert wanted to increase taxes on all the lords of Westeros, but Jon Arryn was sure that the small council would try to talk him out of it, as they wouldn’t like paying the high taxes either.

But his uncle´s mood had improved when Jon showed him the journal that he had found in the library of Winterfell. Ned had been greatly impressed with this mysterious M.F. They all wanted to start immediately on increasing the herds of Goats they had on Stark land, and getting started on establishing sheep herds, as both these creatures did well when they could roam around on such vast lands as they had in the north.

Ned had also discussed with the leaders of the mountain clans about buying wooly cattle from them. The leaders of the mountain clans had of course accepted and had sent some men to start leading some of their herds to the Stark lands.

Sansa would also start making plans for them so that they could start growing wheat, rye and barley, while they were away, which they could make into food and with the instructions from the journal, they could start experimenting on making alcohol from these plants.

Jon´s uncle had wanted to use all the ideas in the journal, but they had decided to start with these ideas, and see how they would work out and then they would start on the other plans.

His uncle had reminded Jon of a little boy when they talked about the improvements they could make for the people of the north; Ned Stark was so excited to help his people and he seemed to think of little else in the last few months.

Not that Jon and Sansa were any less excided than Ned Stark. It was a shared dream between the three of them, to help the north grow into the powerhouse they knew that it could be.

Before the conquest the north had been strong, but it was like after his Targaryen ancestors had taken over, the inhabitants had just let it wither over the centuries.

The three of them were determined to stop that decline and start to build something stronger than before, something that they would be proud to leave behind.

They rode up to the castle and the large, thick portcullis was draw up to let them in. As they rode through, Jon glanced up at the highest point of the gate, and the iron points didn’t go all the way up, making the gate look like a cruel mouth of a monster and they the willing meal, traveling into its mouth.

The courtyard was large, but not as large as the one in Winterfell, and not nearly as warm. Jon could see the grim faced captain of the Dreadfort guard come and talk to his uncle, but Jon wasn’t listening, he was too busy pondering on the riddle the Stanger had given him.

Go to the belly of the beast, travel deep into its bowels and find a flayed man, bathed in darkness, and then he would know he was in the right place.

Jon was sure that the beast was the Dreadfort itself, it had to be. Where else could the Boltons have hidden a torture chamber for all this time. And it must be in a place that was hard to find but easily accessible to the Boltons.

The obvious place to look was the dungeons, but if Jon was hiding a torture chamber, he wouldn’t have the entrance there. But where to look?

It was then he noticed that everyone was dismounting, and he did his best to follow suit. It had been getting easier and easier, but it was still a little painful.

Jon petted the bay gelding; he had grown to like the horse since he had bitten Greyjoy. The lords of the north were still laughing at Theon for his yelling as his horse had bolted.

Jon took his cane and walked closer to Lord Stark as he was starting to coordinate the search of the Dreadfort. He seemed to be focusing on the dungeons, but Jon had a feeling that they wouldn’t find anything there. Maybe it would be a good idea to look through the lords solar and see if they could find a hint there.

He watched as the people started to take their leave and start their search, then he approached his uncle, who was talking with lord Arryn and the Greatjon. Robb was standing with his father and listening intently to what he was saying.

Uncle Ned waived him over, when he spotted him. “Jon, I think that it is best that you and Robb follow me.” Robb nodded eagerly, but Jon had a different idea.

“Lord Stark if I may,” Jon began and leaned a little on his cane. “I would like to see the lord´s solar, maybe maester Wolkan can show it to me?” Jon turned to the maester who was standing a few feet away and had a striking resemblance to a frightened mouse.

Uncle Ned looked at the maester for a few moments before he nodded. “Alright but take Jory and Ser Allyn with you.”

Jon nodded his consent at taking the two men with him and the maester to the solar. He went past his uncle and Robb, and as he limped passed them, Robb gave him a strange look. Robb would never admit to it, but he really wanted to be the one to find the secret chamber of the Boltons.

Robb thought it was an adventure they were on, but he was only a boy of eleven, who had never traveled this far from his home before. “Jon,” Robb whispered before they could get past him. “Don’t you what to help with the search?”

Jon smiled at him. “I don’t think that with this limp, I can be of much help.” As Jon replied, Robb turned embarrassed about it when Jon mention the limp. Robb was clearly still feeling guilty about not having been with Jon when he had been hit with the arrows.

They entered the castle, and as they walked through the halls, Jon felt the oppressive atmosphere was trying to smother him and even though the torches that were gripped with skeletal human hands, were lit, it still felt dark somehow.

“Is it always this creepy?” Jory asked the maester, and it was clear that he didn’t want to be in here.

“Yes.” Answered the maester with a shaking voice and they traveled to the solar. The solar of the lord of the Dreadfort was just like the rest of the castle, dark and oppressive.

Ser Allyn and Jory started to look around in the bookcases that were all around the room, pulling out book and scrolls and looking them over then returning them to their proper place. But Jon looked around as he stood there in the middle of the room. The room was circular, and the walls were lined with old bookcases that were filled with books and scrolls, but between every bookcase there was one of the skeletal hands that were holding lit torches.

All except one.

It was just like the others, and it was on the right side of the room if you were sitting behind the desk. Jon stared at it for a moment. The same feeling of this being important, rose again in his belly.

“Maester,” Jon spoke. “Why isn’t this touch lit like the others?” The maester, who had served Sansa in their last life after they had taken Winterfell, looked at the torch.

“I don’t know, it had never been lit since I got here.”

Jon made his decision and limped over to the skeletal hand and the unlit torch. There was nothing special about hand or the torch, but it was what was underneath it that almost made him gasp.

There in under the hand, covered in darkness was the sigil of house Bolton, a flayed man on a cross.

A flayed man bathed in darkness, he thought to himself. So, he was in the right place. “Jon, what are you doing?” Jory asked but Jon didn’t pay him any attention.

The legends about the Nightfort on the wall, were filled with stories about hidden doors that were activated by pulling on something like this torch.

Jon took a closer look and he could see if this was a hint if this was one of those torches. He could see light scratching marks on the wall, as something had rubbed up against it over and over again over the centuries, and there was a slight draft that blew form the bookcase beside the torch, which explained why the torch wasn’t lit.

Jon reached out and turned the skeletal hand in the direction of the scratch marks. The effects were instantaneous.

The bookcase beside him made a clicking sound, just like a door had been unlocked. Jon pulled it out and it swung open like a door. Jon looked to his companions, and they were looking very surprised at the hidden door.

“Hand me one of those torches.” Jon asked the maester, maester Wolkan hurried and handed him a lit torch.

Jon started to the doorway and he could see that it was a round staircase that lead down deep into the dark. “Wait, Ser Jon.” He turned and looked at Ser Allyn who had spoken. “We should wait for lord Stark.”

Jon looked at him for a moment, and he could see that Ser Allyn really didn’t want to go down there, but he didn’t want to admit it. Jon couldn’t blame him, but he had to go, he had to see what was down there.

“Ser Allyn, go and find lord Stark and tell him we found something and bring him here.” Then he turned back around and started down into the darkness. He could hear Jory and the maester hurry after him, by the sounds of the heavy boots that Jory always wore and the maester chain that Wolkan had around his neck.

They walked in silence for some time, and it seemed like the stairs had no end, they walked for so long that Jon was sure that they were close to the levels of the dungeons. They finally arrived at the bottom of the stairs and they could see a door that was flanked by two more of the skeletal torch holders. Jon reached out and lit them with his own.

The door was made of iron and had the sigil of house Bolton embedded into it. Jon walked up to it and pulled on it, and to his surprise it was unlocked. It was clear that late Roose Bolton didn’t think anyone would find this place.

“Wait,” Jon turned around to look at Jory. “I should go first; we don’t know what is in there.” The captain of Winterfell´s guard had a serious look on his face, and Jon decided to let him go first.

Jory drew his sword from its sheath and entered first, followed closely by Jon and the maester. As they walked through the door, they were assaulted by the worst smell Jon had ever felt, and that was counting when he had fought the undead and half rotted corpses of the army of the dead.

But this smell was so much worse, and it made his eyes water. They walked around the room and lit the torches so they could see what was in this fowl smelling chamber.

The room was damp, and it was filled with all manners of torture devices with people still strapped to them, but it was clear that they were all dead. Jon also noticed that most of the people in the room were young women.

Closest to him was a girl of around thirteen years of age, naked and strapped to table, she had clearly been flayed in a couple of places. Jon walked closer to her, like he was in a trance and he couldn’t take his eyes of the horror in front of him.

“Jon, Jon common let’s go, I don’t think that you are old enough to see this.” Jon could hear Jory call out to him, and it was clear to Jon that the man wanted to vomit, but he ignored him.

As he reached her, he could see that someone had bitten her thighs so hard that he had left deep marks on her skin. Her light-colored eyes were bloodshot and staring blankly up at the celling, and she was missing three fingers on both her hands. Jon also noted that there were bruises around her neck, like she had been strangled to death.

Jon looked away from the poor girl, was this what the Stranger had wanted him to see?

He looked around the room, it was a large chamber that had no decorations other than the tools made for torture that were hanging on the walls, and on his right, there were small cells that still held dead bodies of the people that Roose Bolton had been torturing.

Jon could see another door at the other end of the room, Jon limped to the other door and tried to open it, but this one was locked. He could hear retching, and he glanced behind him and he could see that Jory had vomited on one of the corners of the room, and the maester was looking like he wanted to find his own corner.

He could feel numbness settle over him, as he looked over the horror in the room. Then he could hear the sound of footsteps come down the steps, and he knew that his uncle was on his way here.

He was trying his best to keep from vomiting, as he leaned on his cane. He closed his eyes and tried to think about something else to keep from retching. Jon could hear his uncle talk to the maester and Jory, but he tuned it out.

He didn’t know how long he stood there until someone touching his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw his uncle, looking down at him with concern in his eyes. “Jon are you all right?” Jon nodded at the man.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the lords of the north and lord Arryn try to keep the vomit down, but some, like lord Galbart Glover, lord Hornwood and Ser Wylis Manderly failed and tried to find a corner before they started to spew on the other lords.

Jon could see that Ned was looking a little green himself. “Where is Robb?” Jon asked as he looked around the room and couldn’t see his cousin anywhere.

“In the courtyard, with Theon and most of the men. I didn’t want Robb to see this. He is too young.” Ned looked him over. “You shouldn’t have seen this either.” The lord of Winterfell said, looking graver than Jon had ever seen him.

But Jon shook his head. “I needed to see this.” He stated quietly so only his uncle could hear him. His uncle sent him a concerned look.

“Why did you need to see this Jon?” Ned whispered back with bewilderment in his voice.

“The Stranger told me I needed to see this.” Jon replied just as quietly, as he glanced back at the young girl on the table, drawing his uncle´s attention to her.

Ned Stark looked at her for a moment before he slowly closed his eyes in horror at the sight before him.

Then his uncle turned to his captain of the guard, who had finally stopped retching out his stomach. “Jory, take Jon back upstairs into the courtyard.” Jory nodded, still looking green as he led Jon to the door, as Jon thought that they couldn’t get out of this room fast enough.

Chapter Text

CATELYN

Even though she and her husband were fighting at the moment, she really missed him. Over the years she had grown to love him, even though he was making the grave mistake of letting their daughters learn who to handle weaponry.

Cat watched from the balcony, as her elder daughter was in the training yard with the master at arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel. The knight was Sansa´s partner himself, now that Robb was with his father and the other northern lords at the Dreadfort, looking for that torture chamber.

Cat hadn’t talked to her daughter much in the last few days as she had been very busy with Lysa and making sure that she behaved herself. Lysa was wroth that she wasn’t allowed to be with her bastard as much as she pleased.

Jon Arryn had left instructions with the servants that Lysa was only allowed to be with her bastard for two hours a day, and she was not allowed to breastfeed him anymore, as he was both getting too old for it, and Lysa couldn’t be seen breastfeeding her own bastard that had been conceived when she had been married to her husband.

While Cat was still angry at Jon Arryn for trying to send Lysa´s bastard to their father, Hoster Tully, she thought that he was too lenient on his wife. Lysa had shamed house Tully and house Arryn with her behavior, and the fact that she was allowed at all to see her bastard was scandalous.

Normally if a woman had committed such a crime against her husband, she would have at least been set aside and made to join the silent sisters. But Jon Arryn hadn’t set her aside, nor was it looking like he was going too.

Catelyn had to admit that she was feeling conflicted about that decision of his. While she was angry that Lysa wasn’t getting her proper punishment, she was glad that her father didn’t have to bear the shame of having his daughter set aside and shamed more in front of the lords of Westeros.

And speaking of shame, Cat spotted the shame of house Tully wobble around on his short legs around the courtyard of Winterfell with his nurse holding his hand. As she watched him doing his best to walk around the yard, she could feel anger slither around in her belly like a snake.

She didn’t want him here, she wanted him gone. Why was it that every time that her sister screwed up, Cat had to be the one to pay for her mistakes, even as girls Cat had always been the one to clean up after Lysa, well no more.

Catelyn would be damned if Lysa´s bastard would be staying here in Winterfell with her family. He had to go, and she didn’t care where he was sent, as long it was a long way from here. She shouldn’t have to suffer both her husband´s bastard and her sister´s bastard. She had suffered enough for one lifetime.

Cat glanced back at her own beautiful, trueborn daughter. Sansa was wearing her lovely hair in a northern braid that fell down her back, and she was again wearing trousers and shirt that Cat still didn’t know where she had found.

Cat didn’t know how Sansa did it, but her lovely daughter was as graceful as a dancer when she avoided getting hit by Ser Rodrik´s sword. Somehow Sansa made swordsmanship even look graceful and ladylike.

Cat had pondered briefly on putting a stop to Sansa´s lessons while Ned was away with the lords, but she knew that she couldn’t. Eddard had commanded that Sansa should learn how to wield a sword and Catelyn knew that Ser Rodrik wouldn’t go against her husband, not for anything.

And even if she did manage to put a stop to the lessons, Ned would just make them start again when he came back, so it would be of no use. Cat would have to make her husband see that it was in Sansa´s best interest to put a stop to these lessons. She owned it to her daughter.

She saw a movement down below and she could see that Arya and young Jorelle Mormont were watching Sansa as she trained with the master at arms. Soon Arya and the young Mormont girl would be joining the older children in the training yard, and Cat knew that Arya would never be pried out of those lessons, much to Catelyn´s dismay.

Ned always said that Arya looked like Lyanna, and Cat was sure that he was right. Catelyn had met the rose of Winterfell once, and that had been at the tourney at Harrenhall.

Lyanna Stark was a beautiful woman, but anyone who looked at her could see how willful she was, just like Arya. Lyanna Stark had carried her willfulness around her like a cape, and Cat had thought her too wild to be a proper lady.

She had been just as wild as eldest brother, and Catelyn´s great love, Brandon. She would never admit it out loud, but there would always be a part of her that would love Brandon in a way that she would never lover her husband.

Cat loved Ned, truly, but she had dreamt of Brandon and their lives together for years before she even met Ned. Most of her formative years had been thinking about how they would get married and how he would whisk her away to his castle in the north, and they would live out their lives in blissful happiness.

But Catelyn had always known that Brandon would have had his little love affairs on the side, and that by the tourney at Harrenhall he already had a couple of bastards of his own, but he would never have disrespected her by bringing them to Winterfell, like Ned had.

Just thinking about Ned´s bastard made her feel angry and afraid. While she was grateful that he had risked his life for Robb and Sansa, she couldn’t stand how Ned had started to place him with his trueborn siblings at feasts. But for now, there was nothing that she could do about it as he had saved Robb and Sansa.

She could also feel the fear swarming around her, of the lords of the north wanting the bastard as a future lord of Winterfell instead of Robb. Even though her husband had assured her that the bastard would never inherit Winterfell and the north, and he would never be a Stark, she lived in fear of the moment when the lords of the north would decide that the bastard was a better candidate than her trueborn son.

Already most of the lords were very impressed with the bastard after the incident in the wolfswood, and how he had stayed behind to make sure his trueborn siblings escaped.

And that caused her to fear the bastard even more, the fact that he had stayed behind to selflessly sacrifice himself to make sure that Robb and Sansa escaped had impressed the lords of the north, and how long until they decided that Robb was a coward for not staying behind and fighting as well?

Robb was only ten, well almost eleven and it was unreasonable to expect him to stay and fight like an grown man, but the bastard had done it and the northern lords were known for their prowess in battle and they would take better to someone as their leader, who had shown such skill as the bastard had when he saved Robb and Sansa.

Catelyn was drawn out of her thoughts when someone walked up to her. That person turned out to be her sister, one of the people she didn’t want to see. Cat could feel the anger burn in her belly at the very sight of her sister.

Lysa had been strutting around Winterfell like she owned the place, much to Cat´s irritation. Winterfell was her dominion, not Lysa´s. Cat´s little sister was lucky that she even had a home after her stunt with Petyr.

It was all Lysa´s fault that people were looking down on their family, she had shamed them with her behavior and now everyone was laughing behind their back at the Tully´s of Riverrun.

Cat shot her sister a look that clearly told her to be careful about what she would say to her. Lysa had been criticizing Cat´s perfect trueborn children, and Cat wouldn’t stand for it. Lysa was the last person that could criticize her and her family after what she had done.

Lysa looked out into the training yard with a disdainful look on her face, and her watery blue eyes were glaring daggers at Sansa in the yard. Lysa would give Sansa that look, she had always been jealous of those who were more beautiful than her, so it was only natural that Lysa would be jealous of Sansa.

“I still cannot believe that you are allowing this.” She turned her nose up in distaste as she watched Sansa spin gracefully and swing the sword back to meet Ser Rodrik´s practice blade.

While Cat didn’t want Sansa to learn how to wield a sword, Lysa had no right to judge her and her family and how her children were being raised. “Ned wants our daughters to learn how to defend themselves.” She replied tightly as she shot her a glare in warning.

Cat hated Lysa for putting her in the position of having to defend Ned´s decision of having their girls learning how to fight, when all Cat wanted to do was to drag Sansa from the yard and into the keep where she should be sowing with septa Mordane like a proper lady.

But Lysa just sent her a smug smile in return. “Hardy lady like, I imagine that it will be hard for you to find her a husband if she is allowed to run wild like some wildling.”

Cat felt the anger rise in her chest once more, how dare that harpy bring up the fact that Catelyn would have a hard time finding Sansa a husband. Catelyn knew that if this was allowed to continue, all of Cat´s dreams of Sansa marrying the crown prince would be ruined.

Cat really wanted Sansa to thrive in life and the best place for her to do that was to be the queen of the seven kingdoms. Catelyn knew that if Sansa would become queen it would make Catelyn´s father incredibly happy, having a granddaughter for a queen.

Catelyn knew that it had been their father´s dream to help house Tully rise high in life and having Sansa as queen would help him realize that dream, but now it was all but gone just because Ned wanted his daughters to behave like barbarians.

Catelyn gave her sister a cold smile. “At least you will never have to worry about finding your children spouses.” She knew that it was a low blow but Lysa deserved it for humiliating house Tully in front of all the lords of Westeros.

Lysa´s smug grin fell of her face and she turned white as curdled milk, then she turned as purple in her anger. But Catelyn didn’t care anymore, she turned her back on her sister and walked back into the castle.

She had only just gotten into the castle, when she was stopped. She half expected her sister to come charging after her to start a fight, but it was only maester Luwin. The little grey man looked a little winded like he had run a long way.

“My lady.” He said as he reached the lady of Winterfell. He had to take a moment to get his breath back before he could tell her what he wanted. Cat folded her hands in front of her as she waited for the man to continue.

“Lord Stark has sent a letter from the Dreadfort, they found the torture chamber of the Boltons.” She looked at the man with wide eyes, she hadn’t expected them to find anything in the castle of the Boltons as the lords of the Dreadfort had always been rumored to be cunning.

There had been so many stories circulating about the Dreadfort over the centuries and she had been afraid to have Robb go with the men, in case the castle of the Boltons had secret traps around their home. It was the sort of thing that she had heard about the Boltons do when she had been a child, growing up in Riverrun.

“Is everyone alright?” She had to know about Robb and if he was unhurt. She had a huge fight with Ned about Robb going with the lords to the Dreadfort. She was sure that Robb wasn’t old enough to go, but Ned disagreed with her and took him with the lords to the Dreadfort, but luckily, he had also taken the bastard with him so that she didn’t have to look at his miserable face.

The maester smiled at her, and she could breathe easier. “Yes, my lady, everyone is fine. Lord Stark wanted you to know that they are now on their way to Castle Black to talk with the lord commander of the nights watch.”

She could feel a small smile bloom on her face at the relief that Robb and Ned were alright, but she would have to wait for at least a month and a half for them to return to Winterfell. She turned back to the small grey maester. “Did Ned write about what he has planned for the castle?”

She tried to sound disinterested but when in reality she was very interested in the fate of the castle. She wanted Bran to inherit the castle, it had good lands that were perfect for farming. All they would need was a good castellan to handle the lands and a good castle with large profitable lands would be waiting for Bran when he entered adulthood.

She was also hoping that Ned would be giving Rickon Moat Cailin. The lands to the north of the ancient castle were very fertile and it was Moat Cailin that was the key to the north, and Ned was starting his work on rebuilding the castle soon.

“There is also another letter my lady.” She looked back to the maester of Winterfell as he continued. “It came from your uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, he wanted you to know that he is on his way now to Winterfell.”

EDDARD

The great hall of the Last Hearth was filled to the brim with the lords and ladies of the north, and as all northern feasts it was loud, and the ale was flowing freely. Ned was sitting beside the Greatjon in a seat of honor as his liege lord, and both Robb and Jon had been dragged to where the heirs of the north were sitting, on the table below them. Ned´s foster father was sitting on the Greatjon´s other side in deep conversation with the lady of Last Hearth.

He could also spot Theon Greyjoy with Robb and Jon, but he seemed to talk more with Arnolf Karstark than them. It wasn’t hard to see that Robb and Theon no longer spent any time together, in their last life, they had been good friends, but now Robb didn’t even want to talk to Theon.

Ned had to admit that he was glad that Robb was no longer spending a lot of time around the iron born, as Theon had more interest in bedding whores than learning how to govern his future lands and that was not someone that Ned wanted around his son. Not to mention that he had betrayed Robb by taking Winterfell and fooling Robb into thinking that his brothers were dead.

He would much rather have Robb continue to spend his time with Jon, as the rightful king was a much better influence on Robb, than Theon could ever hope to be.

In fact, ever since they had left the Dreadfort which had led to everyone´s happiness, Robb had been hovering around Jon more than usual. After leaving the torture chamber of the Boltons, Jon had been graver and more serious than he was usually, and that seemed to make Robb very concerned about his wellbeing. The Stranger may have had his reasons for wanting Jon to see what had happened down in the chamber, but Ned could see that what Jon had found in the chamber had its effect on the rightful king of the seven kingdoms.

Ned had thought that Robb would have been jealous of Jon for having been the one to find the chamber, but the future lord of Winterfell had only been concerned about his cousin after he had seen how effected Jon and everyone else had been at seeing the horrors in that dreaded chamber.

Ned had gone himself and helped with burying the bodies of the victims of the Boltons, as he felt that it was his fault that they had suffered the way they had because Ned hadn’t stopped the Boltons sooner. When the other lords had seen how their liege lord had gone and stated to help the guards and common folk with the burials, they had all rushed over to help as well.

But Ned would never forgive himself for not doing anything sooner, every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was that girl strapped on the table, and he knew that the image would never leave him.

Ned had left the Dreadfort fully garrisoned with his own trusted men, but he still had to find a competent castellan for the Dreadfort until a lord could take over.

“So, Ned,” The Greatjon´s booming voice brought him out of his thoughts with a jolt. “What do you plan on doing with the Dreadfort?” The Greatjon was the largest man that he had ever seen, he was just shy of seven feet tall and great brushy bread and clear grey eyes of the north. But there was always a glint in them that made Ned think that the man was shrewder than he let on.

It seemed that the lord of Last Hearth was very careful to conceal his intelligence from the other lords, so that he could be underestimated when he needed to be. But Greatjon, like his ancestors had always been faithful supporters of house Stark, well until the Smalljon in their last life.

But the young man couldn’t be blamed for things that he hadn’t done, no more than Theon could be blamed for his betrayal of Robb in his last life, but that didn’t mean that Ned wouldn’t be weary of him. But at the moment the heir to Last Hearth was regaling Robb with a story, making the heir to Winterfell laugh merrily at the young man antics.

“I don’t know.” Ned answered honestly. At first, he had intended to give Jon the Dreadfort, but as all its lands were almost flat and had little to no large forest lands, it would be hard to hide the ever-growing dragons. Ned was not eager to separate Jon from his dragons; the gods only knew what would happen then. No, it would be better for Jon to inherit a place where he could more easily hide the large dragons.

That however made Jon having the lordship over Moat Cailin impossible, as ever since they started on their trade deals, more and more people were using the king´s road, which meant that they were traveling through Moat Cailin to get north or south.

However, there was a place that was perfect for Jon, and that was Queenscrown. The gift had large fertile lands with vast forests and to the west of Queenscrown lay the western mountains. But both Brandon´s gift and the new gift belonged to the night´s watch, but Ned had a plan. If he could convince to Jeor Mormont, the lord commander of the night´s watch to let Jon be the lord of the gifts, then instead of paying taxes to Winterfell, he would pay them to the nights watch. That deal would be good for everybody.

The north would have more habitable lands to use, the watch would see increase in taxes and food supply and Jon would have lands and a holdfast of his own. But the Queenscrown was in ruins, but as Jon had saved both Robb and Sansa, it would be easy for Ned to justify to everyone why he was helping Jon rebuilding the tower holdfast.

Ned could hear the large man beside him give a hum as he thought. “I would have thought that you would have wanted to give your bastard the castle.” The Greatjon shot Ned a sideways look and the lord of Winterfell let out a sigh. He had expected someone to ask him if he intended to do give Jon the Dreadfort as it now belonged to Winterfell, and that he had saved Robb and Sansa.

The lords knew that they weren’t likely to get the castle and its lands, as Ned had two trueborn sons without lands, and they believed that Jon was his bastard and he also didn’t have lands yet. Most of them would be angling to marry their daughters to Robb, and if that failed, they would try to marry their daughters to which ever son of Ned´s that stood to get the Dreadfort, even if it was Jon, who they thought of as a Snow.

Jon had impressed every single one of the lords with his bravery when he had saved Robb and Sansa, and now that they had seen the plans for the castles on the wall, they were even more impressed with him.

But Ned was surprised that Greatjon would think that Ned would bypass his trueborn sons in favor of Jon. Even though that here in the north, bastards weren’t looked down on as much as in the other kingdoms, except for in Dorne, they wouldn’t be expected to inherit before their trueborn siblings.

Ned shot his friend a look. “You know that I cannot do that. If I give Jon the Dreadfort, it would set a dangerous precedence.” He was glad that he could use that excuse, as it wouldn’t be good to place Jon in the Dreadfort because of the dragons.

“Aye,” The large man agreed. “You are right there, are you then giving the Dreadfort to your younger boy, Brandon?”

Ned nodded at that. “Aye, I think that is a real option if I place a good castellan over the castle until he is of age.”

The lord of Last Hearth stroked his massive beard in thought. “I think that is a good idea, and I assume that you are going to start rebuilding Moat Cailin soon and place young Rickon there when he is old enough to rule.”

Ned shot him a bewildered look, and the large man just let out a laugh. “Oh, come of it Ned. Moat Cailin is a massive castle and it will take years to rebuild, so it would be for the best to place your youngest son there, giving you time to start on the reconstructions.” The man slapped Ned on the back good naturedly and Ned let out a grunt at the impact.

“But what about your bastard? You know you have to honor him after everything he has done, I mean knighting him is all well and good, and the gods know that he is one of the few to actually earn a knighthood, but is it enough?” The Greatjon was looking at Ned with unconcealed interest now. It seemed that the rightful king was one of the few that had really impressed the Greatjon.

Ned sighed. “Well, I have been thinking about talking to lord commander Mormont about resettling the gift and placing a lord in Queenscrown. I think that Jon would do an excellent job as the lord of Queenscrown.”

Ned could see a happy glint in the Greatjon´s eyes at Ned´s words. The lord of Last Hearth would be happy if the gift was resettled, because that would mean that the watch would get stronger and then they would have an easier time protecting the lands to the south of the wall against wildlings.

“I think that I speak for all the lords in the north, when I say that placing Ser Jon in Queenscrown would be a fantastic idea.” Greatjon exclaimed happily with a laugh before he continued. “I don’t think that the old bear will be hard to persuade, he must be as sick of having such good lands as the ones in the gift unused for year as the rest of us are.”

Ned was sure that Greatjon Umber was right about that, it would most likely irk Jeor Mormont knowing that so much good lands were abandoned because of wildling raids and because the nights watch didn’t have the resources to work these lands anymore.

But Ned had a feeling that Jon would do a good job in restoring the lands of the gift, if he was allowed to rule as the lord of Queenscrown.

“I think that Ser Jon would do an excellent job in governing the gift.” Ned was surprised to see that the lord of the Eyrie had joined the conversation with Ned and Greatjon.

At first the Greatjon had been weary of Jon Arryn as he was Robert´s hand, but when he found out that the lord of the Eyrie had tried to install a northern lord for the position of master of coin, and he had also promised to help with the rebuilding of the castles of the wall with his own money and he would also be trying to get his own lords to help the nights watch, the large man had warmed up to him.

Ned was glad that both Jon Arryn and Greatjon Umber seemed to agree that it was a good idea to have the rightful king rule as the new lord of the crown. He knew that they were good men to have on his side when the time came, and if his nephew did as good a job as Ned thought he would, then Ned was sure that Greatjon Umber would place Jon on that throne by himself if he had to.

Chapter Text

JON

As he watched the Wall rise higher and higher on the horizon, he could feel a whirlwind of emotions rise in his breast, anger and guilt was the most dominating emotions that kept rising in him as he recalled deciding to take the black, thinking that it was a noble order and not a collection of criminals and those who had no place in the world.

It had taken him a long time to get over the anger at his uncle, who he thought was his father, that he hadn’t told Jon what the night´s watch really was. Jon did his best to shove the anger back down, being angry at the man now didn’t serve any purpose.

Ned Stark was helping him now and Jon would never again take the black if he could help it, he had been ready to dedicate his life to the watch, but he had been betrayed by the men who had been his sworn brothers.

They had been riding for hours now and Jon could feel the aching in the now closed wounds all over his body and it wasn’t improving his mood at all and neither was the cold wind that kept blowing the snow up into the air all around them.

The sun was setting and making the Wall, that had been weeping all day, look pink and purple and blue and there were a few stars that had started to peek out in the sky.

The Wall had rarely been so beautiful, and Jon was glad that they had arrived at last. He could hear the lords and ladies around him chat happily about how beautiful the Wall was now.

But not everyone was participating in the conversations. Lord Ryswell and Lady Dustin had been very silent ever since they left the Dreadfort.

Jon had his theories about why, the one that he kept thinking about were that they suspected that Roose Bolton had killed his second wife, lady Bethany Bolton of house Ryswell, who had been lord Ryswells daughter and lady Dustin´s sister, and all they knew that she had died of a fever.

Could the lord of the Dreadfort have lied about she had died, and done the same thing to her as he had done to the others in the chamber under the Dreadfort?

Jon had to admit that it was likely that he had, he hadn’t exactly been the paragon of kindness when he had been alive.

The lord of Winterfell and the hand of Robert Baratheon where riding at the head of the party along with the Wull of the mountain clans, lady Mormont and Ser Wylis Manderly who was representing his father, as lord Wyman Manderly, the lord of Newcastle and the White Harbor, didn’t feel up to riding such a long way.

Jon was thankful for that, as lord Wyman would have time correspond to Sansa about the trade deals that they were making in Essos and to the Vale and the Riverlands, as much of the good would be transported to Gulltown as it was the easiest and fastest way to the Vale, and some goods would be transported by ships to Maidenpool in the Riverlands, but most of the Riverlands trades would be going through the King´s road as well.

As the approached Castle Black, Jon could see the look of wonder of many of the lords and ladies transformed into a look of shock. They had all known that watch dearly needed help, but Jon could see now that they hadn’t expected the situation to be so dire as this.

The once proud stone walls were run down as was the King´s tower, but it was still habitable, and it would be used by the visiting lords and ladies for their stay in the castle. Castle Black was exactly like Jon remembered it being like when he had first arrived at the wall, a young green boy thinking that he was joining a respected order, so that he could bring himself some honor in life.

It was a bittersweet moment for him, riding through the gates of Castle Black and to see all the black clad men in the courtyard.

Jon could recognize some of the men that had gathered in the courtyard, like Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, who was just like he remembered, large and with gray almost white beard and his hair that was starting to thin out on the top of his head.

He was flanked by two of Jon´s uncles, Benjen Stark and Aemon Targaryen. The old maester was just like Jon remembered him from when he had seen him before Jon had left beyond the wall to rescue the Freefolk from Hardhome.

Guilt started to gnaw at his insides again, he felt so guilty that he couldn’t tell the old man that he had a relative right here, when he thought that the last of his family was beyond the Narrow Sea in Essos, fleeing from Robert Baratheon.

As he dismounted, he could feel the exhaustion overwhelm the guilt he felt, as he was still recuperating from his injuries, but Jon was glad that he no longer had to use the blasted cane.

He handed a stable boy the reins, so that his horse could have it´s well-earned rest. The bay gelding had very considerate about Jon´s injuries all the way from Winterfell and he seemed to react more to Jon´s thoughts than any other command.

Jon glanced at his cousin who was dismounting his grey horse and together they made their way over to the lord of Winterfell, who was greeting the lord commander and the senior command of the watch.

While seeing Benjen and maester Aemon brought him happiness, seeing Bowen March and Ser Alliser Thorne there made Jon feel the phantom pain as he remembered his stabbing by their hand, and Jon had to fight the instinct to rub at the places where the knifes had landed in his body.

Jon followed Robb to the lord of Winterfell with a small limp. Jon watched at the Lord Commander greeted all the lords and ladies happily, as this was likely the first time in a long time, when the lords of the North came all the way here to see how they could help the watch.

The northern lords had always helped the watch the most of all of the nobility of Westeros, but when his uncle had called all the lords of the north to Winterfell to discuss how to help the watch, it had set a precedent as no other lord had done so before him.

After all the lords had been introduced to the senior command, they were shown to the King´s tower where lord Stark and some of the other lords would be staying. The chamber that Jon would be sharing with Robb was small with two small cots that they could use to sleep in, and it had a small window that could let in the light, it also had a small wash basin, filled with cold water that they could use to freshen up before dinner.

But it would serve just fine, Jon thought to himself, just before he looked at the face Robb was making.

Robb, being the heir to Winterfell, had always received the finest things he could wish for, and he had never had to stay inside such a rundown room before and had never been made to sleep in such a small cot.

“Jon,” The red headed boy looked at him with surprise in his Tully blue eyes. “Are you sure that this is the room where are supposed to use?”

Jon could see in his eyes that Robb hoped that there had been a mistake and the steward that had showed them the room, would come back and show them to another room, but Robb would have no such luck.

Jon walked over to the basin. “Aye, I am sure that this is the room, as lord Stark and lord Arryn are in the room next to us.” Jon started to clean his face of the dirt that had gathered from the road.

As Castle Black had so few available spaces that were habitable to use, all the lords would have to share with someone else to make sure that everyone would have room. But Jon doubted that many of the lords would really mind at all, as most of them had to share a bed with someone in the coldest time of winter so that they wouldn’t freeze to death.

As Jon started to splash the cold water in his face, he could feel some of the exhaustion flee, but he knew that soon he would just as tired again, then he could hear Robb let a sigh as he came over to clean his face as well.

Robb let out a startled yelp as he splashed his face, and Jon had to stifle a laugh at his expense. It didn’t take them a long time to get ready for the feast that was being held in the honor of the lords of the North.

The feast was held in the shield hall was it was the largest of the halls in Castle Black, and it was just like Jon remembered, build with dark stone and adorned with colorful shields that hung on the walls.

Jon had been seated next to Robb at one of the tables in the hall with the other heirs of the lords of the north, he did his best to follow the discussions around him, but he was growing more and more tired by the minute.

He glanced at his cousin as he took a swing of the ale that the watch had been brewing for around eight thousand years, and he couldn’t help the snort that escaped him as he took a swing himself.

Robb like the other heirs, chocked on the ale like Sansa had done when she had arrived at the wall in their last life. Words couldn’t describe how much he missed her; she truly was the only person that he could be himself around.

When he was with Sansa, Jon didn’t feel like he was playing a role to please her. No, when he was with her, he was just Jon and no one else, and he felt that he could tell her anything and he wouldn’t get judged by when he said. Even with his uncle Ned, Jon felt that he was playing a role, the role of the future king and it was exhausting.

The only time when he could see her since he had left with the lords, was when he warged into the dragons at night, she had been coming around every so often to visit the three dragons in the Wolfswood, and seeing her even though the eyes of Algernon, Earendil and Illyrion and not his own, made him feel much better.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see that the heirs to the lordships of the north were daring each other to take bigger and bigger chugs of the ale. But Jon didn’t partake in their merriment, he was getting so tired that he was starting to fight to keep his eyes open.

Jon hurriedly excused himself from the table, so that he could finally get some well-deserved sleep.

SANSA

Her father, brother and Jon had been gone for around a month, and she couldn’t wait for them to come back.

Sansa had been working hard on the trade deals, after Jon had found the journal by this mysterious M.F. They had to change a little in their plans, but most of what she was doing was just adding to them.

The herd of wooly cattle that they had bought of the mountain clans were already here and thriving and they had started to plant wheat, barley and rye that would be used both for food and alcohol, if the experiments would work.

She was already making plans to send more lumber to White Harbor and from there it would be sent to Essos, as they had already reached an accord with merchants from Pentos and Braavos. The merchants from the free cities had also expressed interest in buying fine yarns that had been already worked from the wool that was abundant here in the north.

She had already started to hire workers to work the wool into fine yarn that was dyed in rich colors that were popular with the rich and noble people of both Westeros and Essos.

Sansa was very glad that she had used that idea from the journal, because not only would they get higher prices from the sold wares that had been made here in the north, it was also creating jobs for the smallfolk, which would make them a lot happier.

Sansa leaned back into her father´s chair. Her lord father had loaned her his solar while he was away, and she couldn’t be gladder that he had done so.

It was one of the few places that her aunt Lysa wouldn’t come and bother her, ever since Sansa´s father and lord Jon Arryn had left Winterfell, aunt Lysa had made it her mission in life to be as insufferable as she possibly could.

Every time that Sansa laid eyes on her aunt, she felt as she was back in the Eyrie when the older woman had tried to kill her by throwing her out the Moondoor because Petyr Baelish was obsessed with her.

She had to fight the shiver when she thought about that lying snake, while she was glad that Littlefinger wasn’t in a position of power in the capitol and hopefully wouldn’t have such an easy time killing Jon Arryn anymore, she was worried that she couldn’t predict his movements anymore.

When he had been in the capitol, she had more or less known what he was going to do, but now he was in the wind, and there was no way for her to know what he would do next.

But she did know that he wanted her mother, lady Catelyn and he wanted the throne. At this time, he hadn’t been obsessed with Sansa and all his efforts had been with trying to get the iron throne and Catelyn Stark.

So, she had to assume that he wanted the same things now, but she had to be ready to adjust any plans they came up with if anything changed.

Sansa took the letters that she had been writing and placed them in one of the drawers of her father´s desk, they could wait until tomorrow, when her eyes weren’t as tired as they were now.

As she moved to place the letters in the drawer, she could see a leather-bound journal in there. Sansa frowned and took it out and looked it over, it didn’t have anything that could give her a clue on the owner on the outside.

Sansa frowned at the journal and then she decided to open it and see if she could spot the owners name written on the inside of the cover.

She opened it and immediately she recognized the name written in a spidery scrawl on the inside of the cover. Septon Maynard, the very septon who had married Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark on the isle of faces.

She could feel her heart race as she hurriedly looked for the passage where the septon stated that he had married the prince of Dragonstone and the rose of Winterfell.

And there it was, the proof they would need to prove that Jon was the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, and the heir to the Iron Throne.

She could feel the happiness swell in her heart as she read those words, but that happiness evaporated when she wondered why was the journal here rather than at the Citadel in Oldtown?

As far as Sansa knew, her father didn’t know about the journal, or maybe Jon had told him about it and the lord of Winterfell had sent someone to retrieve it?

That didn’t sound like her father to be honest, but he had been trying to learn from his mistakes, just like Sansa and Jon had been trying to.

Sansa jumped as the door swung open and Arya and her friend, Jorelle Mormont hurried in and closed the door with a bang. Sansa hurriedly put the journal back into the drawer and closed it.

She could see the anger on her little sister´s face as both the girls took their seats in front of the desk that her father. It was clear to Sansa that their aunt had done something to anger Arya a lot this time.

Their aunt seemed to delight to torment Arya for some reason, and it bothered Sansa to no end. There were only two women that Sansa hated more than her aunt, and that was Cersei Lannister and Daenerys Targaryen.

Just thinking about the silver queen made Sansa burn with anger and jealousy. She still hated the fact that Jon had been with that hateful brat. When she came back, Sansa had resolved not to let that woman get her hands-on Jon again, and that resolve hadn’t lessened with time, if anything that resolve grew stronger and stronger with every passing day.

Sansa loved Jon with all her heart and she wanted what was best for him, and Daenerys Targaryen defiantly wasn’t the best for him, the mad queen had demanded that Jon would keep his real identity a secret so that the dragon queen could claim the throne instead of giving it up.

That made Sansa burn with anger, why should Jon have to give anything up for that woman to become queen?

Sure, she had freed the slaves from centuries of oppression and that was really impressive, but she hadn’t done anything to help them build their life up again after the slave revolts. And it wasn’t like she had done it alone, the only reason she had managed to free the slaves was because of the dragons.

When Daenerys had been in Winterfell with the two dragons, they had been a source of fear and anxiety for Sansa, but now the three dragons that were hidden in the Wolfswood made her smile with fondness.

Ever since Jon had left with the others, Sansa had been sneaking out to the Wolfswood to visit the dragons, when she was with them, she felt closer to Jon. Over the last half a year, Sansa and Jon had grown so close, and she could feel that she loved him more with every day that passed.

She hadn’t thought that she could feel this way after what Ramsay had done to her, but Jon with his sincere want to protect her and his kindness had broken down all her walls, and she just hoped that one day he would love her back.

Sansa noticed that her little sister was giving her a strange look, so she decided to bring herself out of her depressing thoughts.

“What is it?” Sansa asked her sister, even though she knew that Lysa had done something, she felt that asking the girls what had happened was the polite thing to do.

Arya´s cheeks were flushed with anger and she was clenching her tiny fists in her lap, and Sansa could see that young Jorelle wasn’t faring any better than Arya.

“That hateful hag happened.” Sansa stared at her five-year old who would soon be turning six, in surprise. She had been clearly spending too much time around the boys for her own good. “She called me a beast.”

Sansa saw Jorelle nod furiously at Arya´s words. It really warmed her heart that Arya had a friend that she could relate to, sure the relationship between her and Arya was now much better than before, but Arya needed a friend.

“Why did she do that?” Why had their aunt called Arya such a thing? While Lysa Arryn had always been criticizing and needling everything that Arya did, she had never gone and call her a beast or anything of the like before.

Arya looked a little guilty at that. “Well…I kind of splattered a little mud on her dress as Jorelle and I were running past her.” Arya bit her lip as she answered her sister.

Sansa frowned when her sister said that, a little mud on her dress wasn’t enough for a gown woman to call a five-year old girl a beast.

“Arya, don’t listen to that hateful woman.” Sansa told her sister and looked her straight in the eyes. “She is just a sad woman who is lashing out in anger and you can’t pay her any mind.” She looked at Jorelle who was also looking at her. “Neither of you.”

She didn’t want her aunt to lash out at Jorelle either, young Jorelle was a lovely girl and didn’t deserve to be the on the receiving end of Lysa Arryn´s anger at the world.

Both girls nodded at that, but Sansa could see that they really didn’t understand, as they were so young.

Sansa smiled at them. “Come on let´s go to dinner.” As they left the solar, Sansa glanced at the drawer where the journal was lying silently.

They made their way to the great hall and as they could hear a ruckus in the hall, as they got closer Sansa could recognize the voice of her mother and her aunt, and it became clear to her that they were fighting.

The girls walked into the Great hall and she could see her mother and aunt standing close together and shouting at each other. All the servants and a few guards were standing by and staring open mouthed at the two Tully sisters as they screamed at each other.

“You are just a sad old hag.” Aunt Lysa screamed at the lady of Winterfell, and her face was red spotted, and her red hair was wild and uncontrolled.

Sansa watched as her mother turned even redder than her hair. “And you are a stupid slut that has shamed us all in front of the lords of Westeros, father is ashamed of calling you his daughter.”

As soon as her mother said her last word, aunt Lysa let out  a primal scream and threw herself at her sister in her rage, they fell to the floor yelling and screaming and Lysa was grabbing Catelyn Stark´s lovely red hair as they tumbled around on the stone floor.

Sansa turned to the guards as the two ladies fought on the floor like they had been drinking at a cheap tavern. “Guards get lady Arryn of my mother.” She shouted at the terrified guards, it didn’t take them a long time to rush over and try to separate the two women.

While the guards managed to separate the two ladies, they hadn’t managed it without injury, one guard had scratch marks on his cheek from lady Arryn and another had a black eye from Sansa´s mother.

“Take lady Arryn to her room, where she can calm down, and make sure that there were guards stationed outside of her chambers.” Sansa ordered, and the guards were quick to follow them.

Sansa turned back to her mother, who was being held upright by a guard and Sansa could see her bright blue Tully eyes glancing wildly around her. “Take my mother to maester Luwin to see to her injuries.” Sansa ordered as she noticed that her mother was missing a chunk of her hair, and her lip was split, and she had a scratch mark on her throat.

She could hear Arya snort quietly behind her. “Look who´s a beast now.” Sansa´s little sister whispered to her friend, who had to stifle a laugh.

Sansa had a feeling that this evening would be a long one for her.

VARYS

He rubbed his face with his hand as he let out an irritated sigh. With the name day of “Prince” Joffrey fast approaching, Cersei Lannister wanted to hold a tourney and a feast in his honor.

While normally this wouldn’t be a problem for them, but after Robert Baratheon had denied the north funding for the reconstruction of the castles on the Wall, it would anger the lords of the north if Robert started to throw a lot of money for a tourney and a feast.

Even the small council were all hesitant to start spending a lot of money on such extravagances like the Lannister woman wanted, after Robert rejected the northern lords.

While Varys was thrilled that the Lannister woman was so intent to giving her bastard a feast and a tourney to celebrate his name day, as it would anger to northern lords and make them more inclined towards the rightful king when the time came, it was too much too soon.

Both the north and the king´s dragons needed to grow stronger before they had to overthrow Robert Baratheon.

Varys looked at the reports from his spies from the north, and then he threw them to the fire as he didn’t want anyone to read them just to be save. It seemed like the only good news that he was receiving was from the north these days, it seemed that the rightful king, lord Stark and lady Sansa were all hard at work in strengthening the north.

When he had heard that the rightful king had risked his life to save his cousins, Varys didn’t know whether to groan and slam his head to the table in frustration or start cheering wildly in in happiness.

He was frustrated that the king would risk his life like this, but he was so happy that the King would be fine, and now the lords of the north would really take well to Jon Targaryen, as he had risked his life to save the heir to the north and the daughter of the lord of Winterfell.

And the fact that lord Stark had knighted the king was a good move on his part, it would make the lords of the south take the king more seriously, as knighthood mattered a lot here in the south. Like how Laenor Velayron had been knighted before he married Rhaenyra Targaryen, the daughter of Viserys the first. The lords of the south had thought it only proper to knight the man before he married the princess of Dragonstone, and the bride’s father had agreed with them.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. “Come in.” Varys called. The person that entered his solar was none other than Renly Baratheon, he was clad in his signature green and black clothing and as always, he was immaculately groomed.

The young lord of Storm´s End was a youth of eighteen, and he had held the office of Master of laws of a year now, or ever since he had come from the trip he had gone around the Stormlands, to get to know his bannermen.

Varys had always considered the man intelligent, but his false sense of self-importance always got in his way.

“How can I help you, lord Renly?” Varys asked as the brother of Robert Baratheon looked around the small solar. Varys didn’t have a large solar, and he didn’t have it richly decorated either and the only furniture was the small desk, his chair and a bookshelf. Varys had this solar since the days of Aerys Targaryen had called him to the capitol of the seven kingdoms, but he didn’t mind how small it was because it was in a great location of the Red keep.

Behind the bookshelf was a secret passageway that led to the heart of the secret passageways of the Red keep, so it was much easier for Varys to get around.

The young lord gave Varys a condescending smile. “A pleasure as always Varys,” lord Renly took a seat on the edge on Varys´s desk, making Varys lean a little back to get a distance between them. “I was wondering if you could answer a question for me.”

Varys folded his arms in front of his belly. “And what question would that be?”

“I was wondering if you had any word on the books?” Varys resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the dark-haired man, he had bee hounding Varys for the books ever since they found out that they were missing.

“I regret to inform you my lord, that I have not had a word of the book.” That was no lie, not one of the spies in his employ had told him anything about the missing books ever since Littlefinger had been arrested, which was a problem for the new master of coin, lord Mace Tyrell.

Lord Renly sighed. “That is disappointing, it is fundamental for the master of coin to have them to see how much the crown really owes their creditors.” Varys bit his tongue to keep from saying something snide to the pampered lord.

“Indeed but rest assured that I am doing everything in my power to find them.” He gave the lord of Storm´s End a simpering smile that he had no doubt would make the lord uncomfortable.

Renly gave Varys a fake smile. “I am sure you are.” Varys knew that Renly didn’t believe him for a moment but he was smarter than to say anything to Varys, as the lord of Storm´s End knew that Varys knew too much about everyone, including lord Renly himself, and the young lord knew that it wouldn’t do to make an enemy of Varys.

Renly stood back up and turned to leave the solar, but as he was almost at the door he turned back to Varys. “By the way, have you heard anything about how lord Arryn is doing in the north?”

Varys had to wonder why the man wanted to know about the lord hand, Renly didn’t care about anything that didn’t directly involve him. “Yes, lord Arryn decided to go with lord Stark to the Dreadfort to search it for proof of the late lord Bolton´s guilt.”

The last report actually had been that they had found the proof and were on their way to Castle Black to talk to lord commander Jeor Mormont about the restorations of the castles on the wall.

Lord Renly gave Varys a long look. “Why on earth did he do that?” Of course, lord Renly wouldn’t understand why lord Arryn had gone with lord Stark, lord Renly was a spoiled little lordling that didn’t understand that when one held a position of power, one had a lot of responsibility.

Lord Renly only had the office of Master of Laws because he was Robert´s brother, and in all the time he had held the office in both lifetimes he hadn’t really done anything of note with his power.

“Lord Arryn probably went with lord Stark to the Dreadfort, because lord Stark intended to go to Castle Black to assess the situation of the watch.” Lord Renly scoffed at Varys´s answer before he left the solar.

Varys was filled with relief when the young man left, Varys had a lot of work to do, helping to dethrone the young man´s brother.

Chapter Text

CATELYN

She felt a sting as the maester dapped the wound on her neck to clean it out, and she let out a hiss in protest. Cat had a feeling that the man was punishing her for her actions.

She could see it in his eyes that he was judging her, and Cat couldn’t find it in herself to be angry for that, because he was right. She had shamed herself and her family by getting in a fight with her sister, in the middle of the great hall no less.

But that was not the worst of it. No, the worst thing was that Sansa, Arya and Arya´s little friend had witnessed the fighting between her and her sister.

Catelyn could feel the shame bubble in her gut at the very thought. She shouldn’t have fought Lysa, but that slut made her so angry, all she did was complain about everything and blaming everyone but herself about what had happened to her.

But Cat knew better, everything that had happened was Lysa´s fault, and no one else’s. Lysa had been the one to cheat on her husband with little Petyr.

Cat was still not sure what to think about Petyr and his role in the fall of house Tully from grace. Petyr had always been a weak little child and a romantic, like how he had fought for Cat´s hand against Brandon and lost.

It seemed a little strange to Cat that Petyr had been having an affair with Lysa, when he had been in love with Cat. But Jon Arryn had walked in on them and he was famous for his honor and truthfulness and Lysa had also confessed that Petyr was the father of her bastard.

Why on earth was Petyr with Lysa, and fathered a bastard on her when he was in love with Cat? That didn’t make sense to her.

And the fact that Lysa had attacked her in the middle of the great hall of Winterfell was unthinkable, what would Ned think when he found out that Cat had been fighting with her sister in the hall and that it had ended with Lysa violently attacking her?

Cat knew that soon everyone would find out that the lady of Winterfell had been fighting with her sister and that it had ended with Lysa acting like a beast.

Cat held in a sob, how could this have happened? a few months ago, house Tully had been respected as one of the great houses of Westeros, but now Lysa seemed determined to drag their names through the mud by any means necessary.

There was knock on the door that brought her out of her thoughts. “Come in.” Maester Luwin called as he continued to treat her wound at her neck, making Cat winch once more.

She was just glad that he was done treating her scalp, it had been so painful when he had put the lotion in her scalp, and she could still feel the burning in her skin. The maester had told her that her hair would grow back, but it would take some time, much to Cat´s horror.

Catelyn would have a small bald spot in her scalp before the lotion would work its magic and help her hair grow back.

The person who knocked turned out to be Sansa. It was strange to see her little face look so serious, then again, she had started to look more and more serious over the last half a year.

With every day that passed, Sansa reminded her more and more of the lord of Winterfell, her father. Sansa had flawlessly adopted the stony mask that Ned used when dealing with the lords, and she used it indiscriminately when she felt that it was needed.

And Sansa was using that face now.

Catelyn was torn between pride and anger, she was proud of Sansa for being so lady like and well put together, but Cat didn’t like the look Sansa was sending her.

“Ah, lady Sansa.” The small grey man greeted the elder daughter of house Stark. “Is everything down in the great hall under control?”

As the man asked her seven, almost eight-year old daughter if the mess that Catelyn herself had made, had been cleaned up and she could feel shame bubble in her stomach.

“Yes, everything is fine now, and everyone is going about their duties.” Sansa replied with a smile as she placed her hands behind her back. “But how are you doing here?” Sansa looked over to Cat.

“How are you mother?” Sansa asked with her stoic look back on her face, and it made her heart drop to her stomach. Was her daughter so ashamed of her now after what had happened with Lysa?

“I am fine, I suppose.” Catelyn replied in a low voice. Sansa looked her over with her Tully blue eyes and Cat could see concern in them.

“That is good, but if I may ask what were the two of you fighting about?” Catelyn almost closed her eyes in dread, she didn’t want to tell Sansa, she was too young to know about what Lysa and her were fighting about.

“Nothing for you to worry about, sweetling.” The lady of Winterfell replied with a small smile.

For a moment Cat thought that Sansa would drop it, but she was very disappointed. “Usually I would agree with you mother, but as I had to be the one to clean your and aunt Lysa´s mess, I think that I deserve an explanation.”

Catelyn felt the irritation wash over her at her daughter’s words. Sure, Cat had made a mistake, but that didn’t give Sansa the right to lecture her, Cat was still her mother.

“Sansa, I love you and I am thankful for you handling the situation in the great hall, but I think that you are still too young to know about these things.” Cat could see her daughter’s nostrils flare at her words.

“Mother I am trying to help you, but I cannot do that unless I have all the facts.” The flash of anger that had been on Sansa´s face before had quickly been buried under the mask that revealed no emotion, and Cat couldn’t begin to guess what Sansa was thinking at the moment.

The anger that Cat was feeling quickly evaporated and was replaced by love and grief. She loved how caring her daughter was and Cat was now surer than ever that Sansa would make a wonderful mother and wife one day, but Catelyn grieved that Sansa was trying to take on too much responsibility too soon.

Cat smiled kindly at her elder daughter. “Don’t you worry sweetling, I will handle this, why don’t you go on and play with Jeyne Pool?” Over the last half a year, Cat had noticed, much to her concern that Sansa had been distancing herself from young Jeyne. While Jeyne was beneath her in their status, the steward’s daughter was well behaved and good-mannered girl.

Sansa stared at her mother for a moment before she turned to maester Luwin. “When you are done here, why don’t you go and take a look at aunt Lysa, but be sure to take a guard with you, she is still raving in her room.” The maester smiled and nodded at Sansa.

Sansa turned back to Catelyn. “I hope you will recover soon mother, but why don’t you take tomorrow of from your duties, I will make sure that they are all completed.” Cat opened her mouth to protest, but Sansa spoke before she could say a word. “You need your rest mother, and I am sure Winterfell wont crumble if you take one day off.” Sansa sent her a small smile, that warmed her heart.

Sansa was such a beautiful girl when she smiled like that.

JON

Jon woke up slowly and he could feel the slight ache in his scars and his muscles were stiff. He looked out the small window and judging by the sun and the light it seemed to be around noon. He let out a sigh, he had intended to get up much earlier than this and do something with his day.

He could feel his stomach protest angerly at having missed breakfast, so Jon decided to get out of bed and go and get something to eat.

Jon got up and dressed slowly in his grey clothing with the white direwolf on them, that Sansa had thoughtfully made him. He always made sure to dress with care when he was dressing into clothing that Sansa had made for him, as he didn’t want to damage the beautifully made clothes.

It made him smile that Sansa had taken the time to provide him with clothing, and even he could see the care and attention that had gone into making this for him.

When he had finished dressing, he heard a throat clearing itself and he jumped around, only to see the Stranger giving him a cold smile.

“Hello.” The Stranger crossed his leg over the other as he sat on Jon´s cot, like he belonged there. “Feeling better?” He asked as he gestured at where the arrows had pierced Jon´s body.

Jon nodded. “Much, thank you for asking.” He answered as he turned to fully face the Stranger and placed his hands behind his back as he waited for the Stanger to speak.

“Good, I am glad.” The Stranger fixed his colorless eyes on Jon´s grey ones and not of the first time Jon felt like he was reading his thoughts. “You found the chamber I take it.” The Stranger´s words weren’t a question but a statement.

“Aye, I did.” Jon answered with a low tone and he could see the young girl´s face flash before his eyes. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her lying there on the table, strapped down and staring with her unseeing eyes into the air. “Why did I have to see that?”

The Stranger looked at him for a moment. “Remember how you killed Daenerys Targaryen to protect the people from her wrath?” Jon closed his eyes and nodded, yes, he remembered that well, he could still feel the hot blood wash over his hand after he had stabbed her in the heart, and he could still see the life drain from her violet eyes.

“I didn’t want you to forget that lesson you learned that day.” The Stranger was looking at him and there was no emotion in his eyes as he said those words. “What you did that day, was more Kingly than all of your ancestors actions, you sacrificed everything for the welfare of your people, and that was the moment when my siblings and I decided to send you back to try again.”

Jon stared at the Stranger in shock, there were no words that came to mind as he tried to process what he had been told.

But the Stranger continued. “I also wanted to drive the lesson home that not all of the horror happens to people are in times of war, and the fact that if war isn’t being fought, that doesn’t mean that you can rest easy when you are sitting on the throne.”

Jon walked over to the cot and sat down beside the Stranger. All his thoughts were in a turmoil and he felt so strange having to listen to this, the gods had respected that he had killed his own aunt?

The silence was deafening as the Stranger waited for a moment for Jon to gather his thoughts on what he had told him.

“Well Jon Targaryen, we won’t be seeing each other for a while after this,” This made Jon look up sharply at the black and white clad figure that was before him. “But I will leave you with this, you are going to be given a great gift today, you should strive to know it well, because if you do, you shall be richly rewarded.” The Stranger said the last part with a sly smirk and then he was gone like he had never even been there in the first place.

Jon buried his face in his hands as he sat there for a moment on the cot. Every time when he thought of the moment, he stabbed Daenerys that day in the throne room, he felt guilt wash over him like a flood.

The guilt wasn’t because of having stabbed her; no, it was because the fact he hadn’t acted sooner. If he had killed her on Dragonstone, she would never have killed all those people in King´s Landing.

So many deaths could have been avoided if he had only acted sooner, but there was no use in dwelling in the past, all he could do now was to learn from his mistakes and hopefully do better than last time.

When he heard his stomach loudly protest from hunger, Jon stood up from the cot, he had to get something to eat.

He grabbed his dagger and attached it to his belt and left the room, but as he opened the door, he walked straight into his cousin Robb, who looked shocked to see him awake and out and about.

“Jon you are awake?” Jon had to frown at the surprise in his cousins’ tone, while Jon was usually up early, it was alright to sleep in occasionally. “I was getting worried.” Wait why on earth was Robb worried?

“Robb, why on were you worried?” Jon asked the red headed boy with a raised brow.

The heir to Winterfell looked at Jon strangely for a moment, before a look of realization dawned on his face. “Jon, you have been sleeping for little over a day.”

Jon just stared at his cousin in surprise. He had lost a whole day? No wonder his stomach was protesting so angerly. But still having lost a whole day was extreme, even if he was still healing.

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat,” Robb said with a smile as he dragged Jon out of the room. “Sansa will never forgive me if you don’t eat enough.”

Jon was dragged from the King´s tower to the mess hall, were the food was served, by his cousin. The hall was filled with lords and black brothers and Robb lead him over to where Ned Stark was sitting with Lord Arryn and lord Commander Mormont.

Robb sat him down in front of the lord of Winterfell. “Jon stay, I will go and get you something to eat.” Then the red headed boy was gone before Jon could insist on getting his own food.

Jon turned to looked at the men in front of him, and he could see the merriment in their eyes as they watched Robb go, to find his bastard brother something to eat. Jon felt his cheeks start to heat up for a moment, he wasn’t used to people running around, doing things for him, even when Sansa had been helping taking care of him.

Sansa had been helping him, because he was injured, but now he was fine and didn’t need Robb to run around getting his meals. But he knew better than to say anything, he didn’t want to seem ungrateful to Robb, who was being so kind.

“Are you alright Ser Jon?” Jon looked at lord Arryn who had just spoken, he was still getting used to be addressed as a knight.

“Aye, I am well, thank you for asking lord hand.” Jon smiled at the man, Jon like his namesake as he was kind and didn’t treat him differently from others even though he believed Jon to be a bastard.

“We were worried about you Jon, you were sleeping for such a long time, but both maester Wolkan and maester Aemon told us that after the long ride here it was best to let you sleep.” uncle Ned looked him over like he was trying to see how he was.

Before Jon could reply, Robb returned with two plates filled with mutton stew and black bread on a tray.

Jon only half listened to the three men as they talked about the situation here at the wall, as he was so absorbed into his meal. But he did turn to listen when his uncle turned to both Robb and Jon to address them. “I want the two of you to come to the shield hall, there is an announcement that lord commander Mormont and I would like everyone to hear.”

Jon looked at his uncle as he spoke, and Jon could see a glint in his eyes as the older man looked at him. As he nodded along with Robb, Jon couldn’t help but to wonder what his uncle wanted them to hear.

After they had finished their lunch, Jon and Robb decided to wait in the shield hall. As they walked to the hall, Jon couldn’t help but to notice that Robb was sending him guilty glances.

“What is it Robb?” When he asked, Robb stopped and bit his lip, clearly having an inner debate with himself if he should tell Jon what he was thinking.

But it didn’t take him to decide. “I´m sorry Jon, I went with uncle Benjen to the top of the Wall yesterday when you were sleeping.” Jon felt a little bewildered at Robb´s words, that is what he was worried about? “I am sorry that we didn’t wait for you to wake up to go.”

Jon smiled at his cousin´s words and throw his arm around the red head´s shoulders as they continued their walk to the shield hall. “Don’t worry about it, we can go up there together before we go back south.”

Robb still had a guilty look on his face. “But we talked about going up there together for the first time.”

“Don´t worry about this Robb, I am not mad at you for going up there without me.” Jon could see that Robb seemed a little reassured by Jon´s words, but there was still a lingering glint of doubt in his eyes.

Jon dragged him into the shield hall, and they took their seats, just below the high table. There were only a few men already here.

“So, while I was asleep yesterday, what was happening?” Jon asked as they had some time to waste while they waited. Jon grabbed the jug of ale and poured himself a cup.

Robb stared at him when Jon offered to pour him a cup, then he shook his head. It seemed that the heir to Winterfell wasn’t a fan of the ale of the watch, not that Jon could blame him.

Robb shrugged his shoulders. “Not much, Father, lord Arryn, and the lord commander and his senior command spent all time in the lord commanders solar, talking. Then when they were done, uncle Benjen took me up in the lift.”

“You weren’t in the meeting?” Jon asked and he couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. His uncle had been making sure that Robb was involved in most of the duties that Ned Stark had to attend as the lord of Winterfell.

“No, father thought that I would just be bored, so I spent most of the day in the library reading.” This made Jon frown a little, Robb had taken much interest in the duties of a lord in the last half a year, so it seemed a little odd that Robb hadn’t gone with his father to the meeting. “Yeah, I thought that it was weird too.” Robb said as he noticed the look on Jon´s face.

Then both lords of the north and black brothers started to enter the hall and take their seats. Ned Stark took a seat with lord Arryn and Lord Commander Mormont at the high table. But Jon couldn’t help but to notice that Ser Alliser Throne was sending him the biggest stink eye that rivaled the angry look that the man had sent him when he had been voted lord commander.

“Jon why is that man looking at you like that?” Robb leaned over and whispered in his ear with concern in his voice.

“I don’t know.” Jon answered truthfully, he hadn’t even talked to the man in this lifetime, so he wasn’t sure what he had done to anger the man this time. Sure, Alliser Thorne was a Targaryen supporter, and Jon was thought to be the bastard of Ned Stark, but that was no cause to try to kill him with his eyes.

But that thought almost made Jon snort, Ser Alliser had hated Jon because he thought that Jon was Ned Stark bastard, when in fact Jon was the last living son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Thorne would be shocked when the truth came out.

He observed lord commander Jeor Mormont stand up. “Thank you all for coming, we have a few announcements to make before you can all go on with your day.”

Jon could see that all the black brothers were on the edge of their seats, Jon could understand as they had probably been hearing about how the lords of the north wanted to help the watch.

Lord Commander Mormont continued. “The lords of the north and lord Arryn are going to provide funding to help us restore our order to its former glory by helping us to rebuild the castles on the wall.” This caused the black brothers to start cheering heartily.

When they had calmed down, the old bear started again. “And thanks to the hard work of Ser Jon Snow and lord Robb Stark that made the plans, we can start very soon.” Jon could feel a blush coming on as the black brothers started to cheer for him and Robb.

Jon could see that see Robb puff out his chest a little when the black brothers started to cheer, Jon however didn’t puff out his chest, but nodded thankfully to the black brothers who were now cheering for him and Robb.

As the men settled down, Lord Commander Mormont continued. “Lord Stark and I have talked and we have come to the decision that both the new gift and Brandon´s gift shall be given to Ser Jon Snow to rule as it´s lord, and he shall pay taxes to the watch instead of to Winterfell.”

Jon stared at the lord commander as he said those words, of all the things that he had expected to hear, this wasn’t one of them. Jon stared at his uncle, trying to see what the man was thinking, but all be got from Lord Stark was a proud smile.

Jon glanced to his side where Robb was staring open mouthed at his father in his surprise.

“So,” Lord Commander Mormont lifted his cup of ale. “Let´s raise our cups to Ser Jon Snow, the lord of Queenscrown.” This was met with more cheers as the men raised their cups to toast to him.

Jon was still so surprised at the old bear´s announcements, Jon looked at his uncle Ned as he sat beside the old bear. The lord of Winterfell raised his cup and sent Jon a small smile.

The next few hours passed by in a blur for Jon, as all the lords and ladies came to him and congratulated him on becoming a lord of the realm, as well as many black brothers. And Robb who had gotten over his shock slapped Jon on the back and congratulated him with a toothy grin.

It seemed to Jon that many of the black brothers seemed glad that the gift would hopefully soon become inhabited again, and that Jon would be paying his taxes to the night´s watch instead of to Winterfell.

But Jon noticed that not all of the black brothers seemed happy with the arrangement. Ser Alliser Thorne and Bowen March seemed angry that the night´s watch was giving away it´s lands to him, even if he would be paying all his taxes to the watch instead of to Winterfell.

Not that Jon was particularly grieved to hear how they had protested that Jon should have the gift. But it did explain the angry glare that Thorne had been sending him all through the meeting.

Now Jon understood the Stanger´s words, that today he would receive a gift. But the Stanger had told him that he should know it well and he would be richly rewarded for it if he did.

After the meeting, Jon decided to hurry over to the library to see if he could find out anything new about the Gift and the lands that he would be ruling until they could announce his true parentage to the world and take the iron throne.

Robb decided to stay with his father, as he wanted to see more of Castle Black before they left. The library was located in the vaults under the castle, and Jon knew from his last life that it held many books and scrolls that not even the citadel had.

It had scrolls and books about the language of the children, though they were so faded that they could hardly be read anymore, and books about old Valyria before the doom.

But those were not the book that he was looking for right now, Jon was looking for any and all book containing information on the Gift, and the lands that he was supposed to help grow.

A lot of the information he was finding, he already knew, like how the Gift had great farming lands with rich soil that was easy to work. Jon had been sitting in the library for a few hours trying to find out anything new, when he heard someone behind him.

Jon looked behind him and he could see that it was maester Aemon and his assistant Clydas. Jon stared at his great, great, great uncle, and he felt the familiar guilt rear its ugly head in his belly.

Jon wanted nothing more than to tell the old maester that Jon was his family, but Jon doubted that the man would ever believe him if he did tell him. It sounded unbelievable that Jon was really the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark and for now Jon had no way to prove that he really was a Targaryen.

Sure, he had his dragons, but he couldn’t reveal them now, they were still too small and could be easily hurt and killed.

Jon remembered with horror how Daenerys had taken it when he had told her about how he was her nephew. But maester Aemon wasn’t anything like Daenerys, Jon knew that the old man would just be glad that he had family so close to him.

“Who is there Clydas?” The maester asked his assistant as he gripped his black cane in his gnarled hand, bring Jon out of his thoughts. The maester was just like he remembered him, small and frail and his unseeing eyes looking right passed him.

“It´s lord Snow, Ned Stark´s bastard.” Clydas said the word bastard with no bite, but as a matter of fact, and once Jon would have been a little angry that the man was using that to identify him to the maester, but now he didn’t care.

Clydas´s words brought a smile to the old maester´s face. “Oh, I have been wanting to speak to you, my lord.” Jon opened his mouth to tell him that he wasn’t a lord, but then he closed it. As of this day, Jon was truly a lord in his own right.

Jon offered the old man a seat by the table, which the maester gratefully took, then he dismissed his assistant so that Clydas could go and feed the ravens while the maester talked to Jon.

The maester didn’t speak until he had heard Clydas leave the library, then he turned his unseeing eyes at Jon. “So, you are the one that has been making the plans for the castles here at the wall.” Jon could see the intelligence in his eyes as the old man waited for Jon to say anything.

“Robb also did a lot of work.” He repeated what he had said in the courtyard when they arrived at castle black.

But the maester let out a small laugh and Jon could see the light of the candles reflect on his bald shiny head. “Young Robb has been telling everyone how will listen that you were the one doing most of the work and that he only helped a little.”

Jon rolled his eyes at that; he should have expected that to happen.

“If I may ask,” The maester continued. “What made you decide on helping the watch?”

Jon was having a hard time with this talk; he didn’t know what to say to this man who had always helped him. Jon wanted nothing more than to tell the man that he was the son of Rhaegar, but he had no way to prove it to him, and Jon didn’t want the man to hate him and thinking that Jon was trying to trick him.

“Honestly, I knew that the watch needed help, so I just did it.” Jon tried to look anywhere but into his uncle´s unseeing eyes, Jon hated himself for not telling the maester the whole truth.

“Humm, are you sure that it has nothing to do with the Others and the dead returning, nephew?”

Chapter Text

JON

Jon stared at the maester and the older man´s words echoed around in his head as he tried his best to grasp their meaning. The candle on the table flickered making the old man in front of him look even older as the light deepened his wrinkles and made his bald head shine.

The maester´s unseeing eyes stared right pasted his head as the man waited for the answer to his unexpected question.

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out as he tried to find the right words to say.

Jon had been battling with the guilt of not being able to say anything to his paternal uncle, as he didn’t have any proof other than his dragons that he was the son of Rhaegar, and he knew that for their safety, he could reveal them yet.

They may have been growing faster than before and Jon had an extreme amount of control over them, as he could warg into them now at will, but as it had been proved in his last life, dragons weren’t immortal, and they could be hurt.

He could still remember the Night king shooting down Viserion with a single spear, and he could still feel the hurt in his heart when he had heard the news that Rhaegal had been killed by Eurion Greyjoy.

Jon looked back at the old maester, who was still waiting patiently for an answer. “You know.” Jon said in a tired tone, if the maester knew about the army of the dead and the Others, he must know about what happened afterwards, how Jon had killed the man´s niece, turning Jon into a kinslayer.

“Yes,” The maester´s frail voice sounded throughout the library and Jon could see the sadness in his milky white eyes. “I have been made aware.” Jon knew that the man had heard that Jon had been the one to kill Daenerys, it only took one look at the man in front of him to realize that.

“I won’t apologize,” Jon said in a firm tone, maybe it was insensitive to say that, but he knew that he had done the right thing. Daenerys had intended to go around the world and impose not only her will and rules on people but to kill all those who stood in her way to do it, and that wasn’t something he could allow her to do. “I would kill her again if I had to.”

Jon knew that it was a real possibility that the man would hate him for killing Daenerys, she was his niece after all, and it would crush Jon to know that the older man hated him. Maester Aemon had been one of the men that had influenced Jon the most, the older man along  with Sam had made him see the error of his ways when Jon had thought that it was beneath him to act as Jeor Mormont´s steward.

But the older man´s hate for him was something that he would have to life with if it came to it, Jon knew that it wasn’t ideal to have killed Daenerys himself, but Jon wasn’t the sort to have others do his killing for him, and it was his duty to make sure that his aunt wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

The maester was silent for a moment, as he pondered on Jon´s words. “It seems that you have taken my words to heart.” There was no hate in the older man´s voice, no anger or blame, only curiosity.

Jon stared at the man in front of him. Yes, Jon had taken the man´s words to heart, before he had decided on killing Daenerys, he had quoted the maester´s words to Tyrion in the smaller man´s cell. Love is the death of duty.

But had he really loved Daenerys? He wasn’t so sure anymore, perhaps in the long run it didn’t really matter if he had loved her or not, he was sure that he didn’t love her anymore at least.

He knew in his heart that no matter what happened in the future, he would not be with her ever again, just the very thought of having to be in the same room as her, made him uncomfortable.

“Aye, I took all your words to heart.” Jon replied to the older man, if the man decided to hate him for what he had done, it was a price that Jon would have to pay for making the world just a little bit safer. “Do you hate me, uncle?” Jon half whispered, dreading the answer as he stared back at the table, not wanting to look the man in the eyes.

He could faintly hear the other Targaryen adjust in his chair, but Jon looked up when he felt the man´s soft hand brush against his cheek. The maester took his cheek and made Jon look at him and there was a firmness in his unseeing pale eyes that Jon remembered seeing when he had told Jon of how his vows had been tested in the rebellion.

“I do not hate you nephew; I could never hate you.” The man said firmly, and Jon could hardly believe his own ears. Jon could feel his own eyes burn with unshed tears that wanted to fall, but he willed them away.

“You don’t?”

“No, of course not, it only pains me that you were the one that had to do it.” His uncle Aemon sent him a sad but reassuring smile, and Jon could feel a weight lift of his shoulders that he hadn’t really notice there before.

The old maester let go of his cheek and he let his hand fall back to the table before he spoke again. “I was shown what happened,” He sounded so tired as he spoke and so old and frail. “I was shown what she did to the capitol, and how she finished what her father started.”

Sadness lay over the room like a blanket, before the maester spoke again. “Dragons are the great grief and glory of our house, never forget that Jon.” His voice was firm as steel and his unseeing eyes pinned him down, making it impossible for Jon to move if he wanted to. “They can be used to do wonderous things, or terrible.”

The old maester´s words rang true in Jon´s mind, he was all too aware of the terrible thing’s dragons could do, he was reminded of it every night as he was transported back to the burning of King´s Landing. But he was also aware of the wonderous things that dragons were capable off, like helping fight against the dead and helping their riders fly.

Flying on the back of a dragon was the most incredible experience that he had ever had, and he looked forward to being able to do so again. But that brought a question to his mind.

“Uncle,” Jon started and looked into the other man´s unseeing eyes. “Do you know how the dragon riders of old knew which dragon they would ride?”

It had been bothering Jon for some time now, as he had no preference to any one of the dragons that he had hatched. It was clear that Daenerys had preferred Drogon to his siblings, and Jon had his suspicions that it was become he was so alike in color to Balerion the black dread, and the fact that she had believed that Drogon was the dread come again.

His uncle looked thoughtful for a moment. “To be truthful I don’t know,” Those words made his heart sink to his stomach, he had hoped that his uncle had some wisdom about dragon riders to share. “The Targaryen´s who hatched dragons bounded with those dragons that they hatched, but I am not so sure how the riders bounded with those already hatched.”

That didn’t answer his question at all, the three dragons in question had all been hatched by him, and the only other person that had hatched more than one dragon was Daenerys and it had been clear that she preferred Drogon over the others.

But Jon didn’t prefer one over the others, he knew in his heart that if anything happened to anyone of them, he would be heartbroken. No matter how Sansa teased him how the dragons were his children, to Jon it was more like they were all a part of him rather than his children.

It was more like his relationship with Ghost, the albino direwolf had been a part of him as well like the dragons were now. Jon just hoped that he could have his old friend by his side once again.

He was started out of his thoughts by the old maester´s voice. “Are you worried about your dragons?” Jon had kind of figured that the man knew that Jon had dragons when he had said those words about dragons being their grief and glory, so he wasn’t that surprised by his words.

When Jon confirmed his words, it made the older man smile happily at him. “When I was told that you had hatched three dragons back into the world, I could hardly believe it.”

Jon knew that maester Aemon had thought like many others that Daenerys had been the prince that was promised because she had hatched dragons from stone, but for some reason it rang hollow for Jon to be thought of as some promised prince, even though the Stranger had confirmed it that Jon was indeed that promised prince. He didn’t feel like a figure from a prophesy, he felt like a kid who was in way over his head.

“When I was told I had to hatched them, I could barely believe it myself.” Jon said with a small smile, he missed Algernon, Illyrion and Earendil. Being on the road meant that he couldn’t spend any time with them as they were still hiding in the Wolfswood, and not spending time with them was hard on Jon.

“Yes,” The maester said. “I was told that you were always supposed to have the eggs, but they had been stolen from the crypts by someone working for Brynden Rivers.”

Jon confirmed his words with a sigh. Now that he had the dragons, he couldn’t imagine life without them.

Even now, with them in the Wolfswood close to Winterfell, and him here at Castle Black, he could feel them in his mind, ever present and there for him, giving him strength.

“Why is it that you are asking me how the dragon riders of old chose their dragons?” The old maester asked and Jon could hear the curiosity in his voice.

“With Daenerys, it was clear that she preferred Drogon, the black dragon over the others, and she always rode that dragon.” Jon said as he looked back into the small flame of the candle that was still flickering on the table. “But I don’t have that preference, I love them all the same and prefer not one over the other.”

The fear of him not riding any of the dragons crept into his gut, it was a dreadful feeling, that doubt that he would ever again fly through the air on the back of a dragon.

“Humm, and you are worried that maybe you will not bond with them like the dragon riders of old?” The maester asked him.

“Well, I have already bonded with them as I can warg into them, but I am not sure if I will ride them if I don’t have a preference.” He tried his best to keep his doubt out of his voice, but he failed miserably as that doubt could be heard plain as day.

The old maester rubbed his chin as he thought on Jon´s words. “That is interesting, warging is where you enter the minds of animals, correct?” The old maester asked.

Jon confirmed his words, and the older man continued. “I have never heard of a dragon rider entering the mind of their dragons, but then again I think you may be the first dragon rider with the ability to warg into their dragons.”

Jon make a sound of agreement, as far as he knew there was no one else who could both ride dragons and warg into animals as both skills were very rare, and warging was a gift of the Firstmen as far as he knew.

Jon had a feeling that if any of the Andals had the ability of warging, it would be more talked about than it was now and sure. There were more wargs in the worlds than potential dragon riders, but that was most likely because of the Doom of Valyria that had wiped out most of the dragonlords and the dragons.

“Perhaps you can ride all of them,” Aemon piped up cheerfully, making Jon stare at the older man in surprise.

“But there has never been anyone that has ridden more than one dragon.” Jon stated. That much he knew for sure, every time a dragon rider lost their dragon, that rider never flew again.

“Just because something has never happened, doesn’t mean that it cannot happen.” His uncle said pointedly. “For all we know you were meant to have three eggs because you were supposed to have three mounts.”

Jon stared at his uncle and he was sure that the disbelief was written plainly on his face. “But that is impossible.” He stated firmly to his uncle.

“Why is it impossible?” Aemon Targaryen countered and raised his silvery eyebrows and Jon just continued to stare at the man in front of him in shock. He could offer no other logic than it had never been done before as far as he knew.

But his uncle continued before he could formulate an answer. “But I think we may be getting ahead of ourselves, maybe you can just pick one of the dragons like Maegor Targaryen did.”

Jon felt a grimace form on his face at his uncle´s words, it left a bitter taste in his mouth to be anything like Maegor the cruel. “But Maegor picked his father´s dragon because he felt the other dragons were beneath him and unworthy.” Jon countered. It was well known throughout the seven kingdoms that Maegor the cruel had coveted his father´s dragon, Balerion the black dread.

“That is true, maybe you have to make a choice between your dragons, or maybe you will just ride them all, who knows.” Aemon stated and shrugged his shoulders.

Jon pondered on his statement; would he have to choose between the dragons? The three dragons were different in more ways than just their coloring.

Algernon was the largest and strongest and the quickest to anger but he was a caring soul in his own way, Illyrion was the most slender and swiftest and loved nothing more than a good chin rub and was the kindest and the most playful of the three, and Earendil was the most cunning and the smartest and loved dozing in the rays of the sun and was the calmest.

Before he could spiral further into his thoughts of the dragons he had hatched, the old maester chuckled. “There is no reason for us to worry about this more than we have to, now tell an old man what his long-lost nephew has been up to these last few months.”

Jon smiled at the maester that he had come to respect so much and had considered an uncle before he had even known they really were family, and with a laugh he began to tell the maester of his adventures in Winterfell.

TYRION

He was sitting beside his brother, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard and his nephew Joffrey as he watched his sister rage at their father, telling him of the injustice that the King and the small council had paid to her.

Tyrion had arrived in the capitol with his father to celebrate the crown prince´s name day, and so far, it was proving to be entertaining affair.

His lovely sister had turned red with fury and her emerald eyes reminded Tyrion of wildfire from the history books that he had bought from the citadel.

Tyrion glanced at his nephew as he pouted in his anger at not getting the tourney thrown in his honor that he had wanted. No instead all Joffrey would get was a mountain of gifts and a feast, which Cersei had said was not enough for the crown prince of the seven kingdoms and a Lannister of Casterly Rock.

Tyrion had to restrain himself for pointing out that Joffrey wasn’t a Lannister of Casterly Rock, but a Baratheon of Storm´s End. He knew that all he would reap from that was his sweet sister´s scorn.

“Can you believe it father?” Cersei stated with scorn and anger in her voice. “They denied Joff his right of a tourney just because it would anger some northern barbarians.” Cersei spoke with a sneer that made her lovely face as ugly as a hag´s as she shook her head.

Tyrion was a little surprised that she could move her head like this, as her long golden hair was piled on top of her head in elaborate crown that seemed very painful.

Tyrion watched his father stare at his oldest child before he spoke. “It was stupid of Robert not helping the northerners.” He stated with a frown.

All of his children stared at the lord of the Rock at hearing those words. While Tyrion knew his father to be a smart man and a capable commander, as he had served Aerys Targaryen for years as his hand, before their falling out, he had to admit he was surprised at his words.

“What on earth do you mean father?” Cersei gasped and her eyes were wide as dinner plates. “There is no point in throwing coin away for some dying order at the edge of the world, let the northerners deal with it if they want.”

Tyrion had a hard time not rolling his eyes at his sister´s words, she wasn’t dumb by any means, but she was petty and short sighted and not as smart as she thought she was, which he was sure would one day be her down fall.

Not helping the northerners was short sighted to say the least, while they didn’t have the riches of the Westerlands and the Reach, they could in a short amount of time raise around twenty thousand fighting men and they were trained to fight in the cold and snow, unlike most of the other kingdoms.

Only the Knights of the Vale also trained in such conditions and it was a valuable skill for the warriors to have as they could fight in wintertime and the snow, unlike the armies of the other kingdoms.

No one knew if Robert would soon need their help again, and now Ned Stark and the northerners had a reason to say no. Before this had happened, he would never had thought that Ned Stark would say no to his friend, but this could break their friendship.

Robert hadn’t paid the north any honors after the rebellion, and it had been noticed by Tyrion along with many of the other lords.

Tyrion could see the frustration at her words in Tywin´s eyes, it was clear that she didn’t understand why it was imperative to keep the northern lord’s content, at least not to give them a reason to rebel.

“You do realize that the men of the night´s watch are the only thing that stands between us and thousands of wildlings?” Tyrion piped up as he picked up a golden goblet filled with Arbor gold.

Cersei huffed indignantly. “The wildlings are just some savages; I am sure that the northern lords will handle them if it comes to it.”

Tyrion took a swallow of wine before he countered. “And what if they don’t want to and just let the wildlings south of the Neck?”

Now it was everyone´s turn to stare at him in surprise. “But brother,” Jaime spoke up with a smirk on his handsome face. “We all know that Ned Stark it too honorable to do that.”

Tyrion nodded his agreement and looked at his brother over the brim of his golden goblet. “Yes, I agree, Lord Stark is too honorable to do that.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see his sister send him a satisfied smirk, but before she could say anything, Tyrion spoke up again. “But are his lords?”

Tyrion could see there was a small glint of satisfaction in his father’s eyes, but only for a moment before it was gone. Well maybe it wasn’t satisfaction but more like not the usual burning hatred that his father had for him.

Cersei huffed again and picked up her own goblet. “You cannot seriously believe that lord Stark would allow that to happen.” She drank deeply from the cup and sent Tyrion her foulest look that she could muster.

Their father gave an irritated sigh. “He may not have a choice if you allow your husband to make such stupid decisions, you just handed the lords their excuse to rebel on a silver platter.”

Tyrion could see the horror in Cersei´s eyes, and for the first time she was feeling what it was like to be the disappointing child in the family, much to his glee.

“Well no more,” Their father continued to glare at his first-born child and the Queen of the seven kingdoms. “You will rein in your husband´s stupidity, the fact that he was allowed to offend the north in such a way was one thing, but ignoring lord Arryn´s suggestion of making lord Manderly the master of coin was a travesty for this family.”

Cersei opened her mouth to say something, but her father quieted her down by sending her another even angrier glare. “When Robert denied Lord Stark´s request, he showed weakness that reflects on us, if Robert cannot be counted on to help the man who put him on the throne, how can he be trusted to rule seven kingdoms?”

Tywin Lannister´s voice was as hard as steel when he spoke those words, and he was just glad that the lord of the Rock wasn’t directing them at him.

Joffrey was staring at his grandfather as the man scolded his mother. “But what about my tourney?” Asked the soon to be nine-year-old and pouted.

Tywin turned to his grandson. “There will be no tourney for you this year, it would be folly to hold a tourney after denying lord Stark his request.”

Tyrion thought it harsh of lord Tywin to say this to his grandson, as he was so young, but some adversity was good for the boy as his mother spoiled him rotten.

“But I want-.” Joffrey started to demand, but he was quieted by a firm glare from the lord of the Rock.

“So,” Began the Queen´s twin. “Do you want her to try to convince Robert to send Ned Stark the money after all?”

Tywin closed his eyes in frustration before he spoke though gritted teeth. “No, that would show even more weakness, and we cannot afford to be seen as weak.”

He fixed them all a stare. “From this day forward, no more mistakes and no more stupidity, we are Lannisters of Casterly Rock, act like it.”

Tyrion had a feeling that the next couple of years would be interesting here in the capitol, maybe he should stay awhile when his father left for the Rock to see how things progressed, he thought to himself with a smirk.

EDDARD

Ned walked across the courtyard of Castle Black and he could see his nephew practice his swordplay with the new recruits of the watch. He was glad to see that Jon was healing so fast, and Ned knew that soon he would be back to where he had been in terms of physical abilities.

Robb had opted out of the lesson to explore Castle Black as they would be heading south in the morning, and he wanted to see as much of the castle as he could before they left.

He could feel a swell of pride in his heart as the rightful king gave his opponent some pointers on how to improve his swordsmanship. This was supposed how a leader should behave, helping others to improve to become better than they were before.

There was also guilt lurking in his heart, he had denied the seven kingdoms such a leader when he had not told Jon the truth in their last life and allowed the boy to exile himself to the Wall because he hadn’t felt welcome in his own home.

Jon was the sort of King that the people of the seven kingdoms deserved, and to deny them this leadership was a crime that Ned could never really atone for.

Ned had foolishly supported his former friend Robert Baratheon while denying Jon his birthright, making him just as bad as the Lannisters and Robert who would try to kill Jon if the eldest Baratheon brother knew the truth.

Ned sighed as he continued his trek to the iron cage that would soon hull him to the top of the wall. The cage itself was big enough to hold ten men and was operated by a winch that the black brother next to it used to help the lord of Winterfell ascend to the top, after he had closed the gate.

Ned watched as the light of the sun was turning the world pink and purple as it set behind the mountains to the west. The cold wind was slapping at him and it felt like a thousand tiny needles were pricking at his face the higher the cage rose.

The iron cage groaned and creaked all the way up to the top from the cold and the effort to climb so high, and Ned breathed out a sigh of relief when the cage was finally brought to a stop at the top.

He hurriedly opened the cage and walked out of it, he really hated that infernal thing, but he had to go up, his brother had asked him to come up and talk to him so that they could talk in private.

He had a feeling that he knew what Benjen wanted to talk about, and he could feel the dread settle in his stomach at the anticipation of their talk.

Ned walked past a few black brothers that bowed and greeted him with uncharacteristic cheer that one didn’t often see in those that had dedicated their life to the watch. It seemed that the lords of the north had brought themselves a lot of good will with the black brothers when they had pledged to help them restore the watch.

Even getting Jeor Mormont to relinquish the Gifts to Jon had been a popular decision as now it looked like that the lands could finally be used once again, it had been such a waste to see those fertile lands not in use for decades now, but Ned was sure that Jon would put them to use as soon as he could.

Ever since he had been made the new lord of the Gifts, Jon had been spending a lot of time coming up with plans for the lands and restoring Queenscrown.

Jon had only been the lord of Queenscrown for three days now and already he had negotiated a favorable deal with the mountain clans for wooly cattle, sheep and goats.

Jon would also be getting wheat, barley and rye to grow from the Stark lands, Jon had tried to get Ned to accept payment for it, but Ned had refused, after all Jon had devoted time and energy to plan for the castles on the Stark lands, and he had to get paid somehow.

Ned walked along the path until he found the cove where his brother had taken up post where they could talk undisturbed.

His brother was standing and looking into the lands beyond the Wall, Ned could see the haunted forest had crept much closer to the Wall then the watch wanted.

Traditionally the men of the watch had cut all the trees that grew a half a mile from the Wall itself, but now with the diminishing numbers of the black brothers, the trees had grown tall too close for comfort, making it easier for wildlings to hide in the woods bellow, and soon so would other scarier things hide there as well.

But hopefully that would change soon, as with the restoration of the castles and Jon taking command of the Gifts, men would once again come north to take the black, making it easier for the watch to cut the trees, and even sell the lumber for some profit.

Ned greeted his brother as he stood beside him and continued looking to the lands in the north. From this height, the tall trees looked like needles sticking out of the snow and Ned felt the tingle in his fingertips looking straight down from this incredible height.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Ned asked his brother, trying to mask his suspicion as he had a feeling what Benjen wanted to talk about.

Benjen didn’t disappoint. “I have to admit, I was surprised that you asked the lord commander to give the Gifts to Jon, I expected you to want Jon to take the black.”

Ned couldn’t lie to himself, hearing his brother say those words hurt, mostly because they had been true.

In their past life, Ned had wanted Jon to want to take the black so that Ned didn’t have to make the decision to declare for either Jon or Robert. Ned hadn’t wanted to go to another war for the throne, especially when he would be torn between his friend and his blood, but now Ned was fully intent on reclaiming Jon´s birthright and place him on that throne.

“I won’t lie to you, Benjen.” Ned spoke after a moment of silence. “At first I wanted that, but someone convinced me that it would be better to recover his birthright.”

Benjen turned to look at his older brother, and Ned could see surprise on his normally stoic face. “Who convinced you to do that.”

Ned smiled a little at his youngest sibling. “Jon.” That was true, the Father of the Seven may have come to him claiming that Jon needed to take back his birthright, but it had been Jon himself that had convinced Ned.

Jon was a man that did the right thing, and he was a much better leader than most of the high lords of Westeros, who only cared about riches and power.

Jon didn’t really care about those things, he wanted to make the lives of the people better and he listened to advice but kept his own council.

Ned knew that Jon would be a man that he was proud to call his king.

“So, Lya´s boy is going to have the north backing him,” Benjen smiled at his own words. “I would never have thought that you would go against him.” Ned didn’t need to ask who him was.

“I know, but Jon will make a better ruler than Robert ever will.”

Benjen snorted at that. “On that we can agree.” The Stark that had dedicated his life to the watch looked thoughtful for a moment. “Is that why you have been making all these plans and having Jon help you? To make him more likable in the other lords’ eyes?”

Ned snorted at his brother, that was not the reason they were doing that, but it was a happy side effect of their efforts. “No, you think that I could come up with something so cunning?” Ned asked his little brother with a laugh.

Benjen just shook his head. “So, the son of Rhaegar and Lya is going to be king, it will be good to have someone on the iron throne that actually cares about the north and its people.”

Ned silently agreed with his brother, it had been too long since that they had a king that cared about all his subjects, the last one had been Aegon the fifth, who had had actually wanted to help his people and had sent food and supplies north in the harsh winter, much to the anger of many of the southern lords, many of which felt that he provided too much aid to the northerners.

Then Ned felt his blood freeze in his veins as he heard a small voice carry over to them. “Father what is going on?” 

Chapter Text

ROBB

He stared at his father as the lord of Winterfell looked back at him with horror written all over his face. It was clear that Robb had interrupted his talk with uncle Benjen, and the man who had dedicated his life to the watch was staring at Robb with equal horror in his grey eyes.

But Robb hadn’t been able to keep quiet anymore, as he had listened to their conversation, Robb had gone through so many emotions that he was feeling slightly dizzy.

But anger, surprise and horror had been the main emotions that he had felt and could still feel. The very fact that his father had wanted Jon to take the black and serve for the rest of his life here at the Wall in these circumstances that the watch was now in, was something that Robb was sure that he would never forgive the man for.

But when they had said that Jon was the son of Rhaegar and Lya, and that they were planning to place him on the throne, Robb´s world had come crashing down on him.

He had believed his entire life that he and Jon were brothers but now he was learning that it had all been a lie. It was then when he had stepped forward and asked his father what was going on.

His father and uncle were still standing there staring at him like they were frozen and the surprise and horror in their eyes was apparent to him.

“How much did you hear?” The lord of Winterfell asked after a moment of silence, and Robb felt the anger burning in his veins.

“I heard everything.” He stated, he wasn’t sure if it was true, but he didn’t really care if he was lying to his father or not, not when the man himself had been caught lying to him for so long.

Robb clenched his fist and he wanted nothing more than to hit his father, but even in his anger, he knew that it would be too much. Whatever the man had done, he was still Robb´s father and the lord of Winterfell.

His father closed his eyes and said nothing for a moment. “We should all go down and talk.” The lord of Winterfell stated in a tired tone, as Robb´s uncle nodded at him.

His father tried to put his hand on his shoulder to steer him to the iron cage, but Robb shrugged it off and stormed ahead of them. He may not have punched the man like Robb felt he deserved, but he knew that he had to make his rage felt somehow.

Robb could feel the cold wind claw at his face as they traveled down the Wall in the iron cage in silence. He wanted to glance at his father to see if there was remorse on his face, but he didn’t want to give the man the satisfaction to see that Robb cared. The betrayal cut too deeply for him to want to stop being angry just yet.

But Robb wasn’t just angry that his father had kept something so important a secret, but the anger burned hottest when he thought on his father´s words that he had wanted Jon to take the black.

When the cage got to the bottom, his father asked Benjen to take him to the room, Jon and Robb were sharing and wait for him there, then the lord of Winterfell hurried away.

Benjen sighed. “Come on, we should wait until your father returns.” The Stark who had dedicated his life to the watch, steered Robb to the King´s tower where they would wait for his father´s return.

When they entered the room, Robb sat down on his cot and crossed his arms and waited in silence. Uncle Benjen tried to initiate a conversation with him, but Robb didn’t answer, but only glared at him in anger.

When Benjen sighed after failing for the third time to start a conversation, Robb started to feel a little guilty at not responding. Uncle Benjen had always been kind to him and all his siblings, but it had been clear to him that he had known the entre time that Jon wasn’t his brother.

They didn’t have to wait long for his father to enter the room, but now the lord of Winterfell was followed by Jon who was looking very confused as he glanced between them, as if he was trying to figure out what had happened.

“What is going on?” Jon asked as he glanced at them and there was a suspicion in his voice. Robb glared at his father, waiting him to come clean and tell Jon everything that he had heard him and uncle Benjen talk about.

His father sighed before he spoke. “Robb overheard Benjen and I talking.” Ned Stark took a seat on the other cot. “He knows.”

The last statement made Robb´s eyes widen in surprise, did Jon know that he wasn’t the son of Ned Stark and that he had intended for him to take the black?

Before Robb could spiral more into his thoughts, Jon cleared his throat. “Alright then.” The darker hair boy shrugged his shoulders and clasped his hand together behind his back like he didn’t care one bit if Robb knew or not, and Robb could see no signs of anger or disbelieve, which only meant that he must have known for some time.

“You knew?” Robb asked the other boy who he had grown up thinking that was his brother, and Robb hated how small his voice was when he asked his question. He couldn’t help but to feel a little betrayed that Jon had known and hadn’t told him.

Jon nodded. “Aye, I found out around nine months ago, when I found three dragon eggs in the crypts under Winterfell.” Robb stared at Jon in surprise as did uncle Benjen, it was clear that he didn’t know about the dragon eggs like him.

“You found dragon eggs? Like in the stories?” Benjen gasped out and his eyes were the size of plates.

But before Jon could answer Benjen´s question, Robb angerly growled out. “And why didn’t you tell me? I thought that you trusted me?” He could feel the anger surge in his gut at the fact that Jon didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth. Had Jon never really thought of Robb as his brother?

“Of course, I trust you.” Jon stated and there was hurt in his eyes. “I just can’t go around telling people that I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.” Jon rubbed the back of his neck and turned to their…no, Robb´s father.

“Tell him the truth, he deserves to know.” Jon stated and the lord of Winterfell stared at Jon and there was doubt in his father´s eyes, that irritated Robb more than he could say.

The room was filled with silence before the lord of Winterfell nodded and told Robb the story of what had happened at the tourney of Harrenhall and Robert´s rebellion and the aftermath.

When his father finally stopped talking, Robb sat there on the cot, trying his best to come to grips with the fact that the boy who Robb had believed to be his bastard brother was really the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark and the rightful King of the seven Kingdoms.

When Robb had heard from his father that Jon was the son of Rhaegar and Lya, he had suspected that Lya was in fact Lyanna Stark, but the fact that he really was a trueborn was the most shocking part of the story.

Rhaegar had set Elia Martell aside and married his aunt on the isle of faces, making Jon the only living heir to the Iron throne.

But Robert Baratheon was his father´s best friend, and now the lord of Winterfell wanted to declare for Jon instead and make him King. “But you said that you wanted Jon to take the black at one point.”

When he said that, he could see that it was something that Jon hadn’t know about before this, as the dark-haired boy looked at the lord of Winterfell with a frown, as the older man closed his eyes in expiration.

“Aye,” The lord of Winterfell admitted, and his voice sounded like it belonged to a much older man than his father. “I didn’t want to have to decide between my friend and my nephew.” He looked up and Robb was sure that he had seen the ghost of a tear in his eyes.

“I was a coward, and I thought it was better if Jon took the black before he found out the truth about his parents, so that if he ever found out he couldn’t lay claim on the throne.” Robb felt the horror mount in his stomach at hearing his father´s confession, but Jon looked like his face was carved out of stone and he gave nothing away.

Silence filled the room again before it was broken by Jon. “It doesn’t matter.” Robb knew Jon well enough to know that he was holding in his temper at their fath…Robb´s father.

But Robb wasn’t willing to let the man of the hook so fast, Robb stood up and turned to Jon. “How can you say that!? He was willing to let you exile yourself here and let his friend steal your birthright?”

As soon as Robb said the word birthright, Jon closed his eyes and let his arms fall to his sides. “A man gets what he earns when he earns it.” He said quietly and Robb had a hard time hearing him.

“What?” Robb asked him not entirely sure if he had heard him.

Jon looked at Robb and gave him a small smile. “A man gets what he earns when he earns it.” He repeated and there was a faraway look in his eyes, like he was remembering something from a long ago.

“Wise words,” Their uncle Benjen stated as he rubbed his breaded chin. “Where did you hear them?”

Jon smiled at the man. “Some old man said them to me once.” There was so much laughter in his eyes that for a moment Robb felt like they weren’t talking about how his father was planning to dethrone his old friend and place Jon on the Iron throne, and how Robb´s father had at one point planed on sending Jon here to take the black so that Jon couldn’t claim the throne that was his birthright.

Robb sat back down on the cot and stared at his hands. All his life he had expected to rule the North with Jon by his side, but know he was hearing that not only wasn’t Jon his brother but cousin and the fact that his father was planning on reclaiming his birthright and making him King.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, thinking how everything had turned on its head, when he felt someone sit down beside him. Robb looked up and saw it was Jon, who was looking ahead.

It was then when Robb realized that both his father and uncle had left the room, leaving Jon and Robb alone.

“I know that it is a lot to take in, when I found out I thought that I was going insane.” Jon said as he leaned his elbows on his knees. He then glanced at Robb with his dark grey eyes. “We didn’t keep it from you because we didn’t trust you, but the more people who know, the more dangerous it is.”

“But I don’t understand.” Robb said and he could feel his voice start to break, he wasn’t ready to let go of Jon. As he stared at the other boy, he didn’t see a Kingly cousin, he just saw his brother who had always been there for him and getting into trouble at his behest.

Jon looked at him for a moment with his Stark grey eyes that had always been a source of envy for Robb, as he had always wanted to look more like a Stark than he did. “I know, it will take some time to get used to.”

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Robb stared at his hands and clenched his fists. “I just want you to be my brother again.” He knew that he was being selfish, but he didn’t want anything to change. All Robb had ever wanted was to rule the North and have Jon there with him to help him, but now Jon would have to go south and rule all the seven Kingdoms one day as the King.

“I am your brother.” Jon stated firmly, and as Robb glanced back at him, he could see that he eyes looked like the rippled steel of his father´s sword, Ice. “I may be your cousin by blood, but you will always be my brother, whether you like it or not.”

Robb did his best to push down the tears that were threating to come, he was so relieved that Jon still wanted him as a brother, so he decided to hug him as hard as he could so that Jon couldn’t see the tears of relief in his eyes.

As they hugged, Jon spoke up again. “Sansa knows.” This made Robb push Jon away from him to an arm’s length while still holding him still at the shoulders.

“What!?” Robb hissed before he could stop himself.

“We didn’t tell her.” Jon stated firmly and shot him a look that said, do you take me for an idiot? “She figured it out by herself sometime after we started to spend some much time together.” He looked a little embarrassed by that and rubbed the back of his neck again as Robb let his arms drop back to his lap.

That did make sense to Robb, Sansa was quickly becoming the smartest person he knew, aside from maester Luwin. So maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that she would figure it out after spending so much time with Jon.

“But I still don’t understand, how can you forgive father for what he almost did?” Robb bit his lip and stared at Jon. If Robb was in Jon´s position, he would never forgive the lord of Winterfell for intending to send him to the Wall just so his friend could remain King when in fact it was Jon´s birthright. “Why aren’t you angry with him?”

Jon looked at him with his dark grey eyes, and for a moment Robb thought that they had flashed indigo. “I am angry at him, I will freely admit that, but it is not because he didn’t declare from me right away.”

Robb stared at the other boy as Jon looked at his hands sadly. He could hardly believe his own ears at what he was saying. He couldn’t imagine the feeling of having the North and Winterfell being ruled by the man that had killed his father, and having his own uncle keeping it all from him by lying and telling everyone that he was his bastard son.

He opened his mouth to say something be Jon continued talking. “I am mad that he didn’t tell me the truth that my mother is really dead, when I lived all my life believing that she could be alive and wondering about me.”

Robb had never seen his brother, for that was what Jon really was no matter who he called father, looking so sad before and his heart went out to him.

Jon looked up from his hands and to Robb. “I am mad that he intended to have me take the black and dedicate my whole life to the watch without telling me the whole truth, but I am not mad that he didn’t immediately declare that I am Rhaegar´s and Lyanna´s son, because in my heart I don’t want to become King, even though I know that I have to be.”

Robb continued to stare at Jon. “But if you become King, you would be the most powerful man in the Kingdoms, and you could avenge your father.”

Jon gave a small sad smile at his words, much to Robb´s surprise. “A King is a servant to his people, and I will have to spend the rest of my life in King´s Landing while the rest of my family is here in the North.” Jon interlaced his fingers and sighed. “As for avenging my father, Rhaegar was slain in battle, and he wasn’t exactly blameless in what happened.”

Robb frowned at his words. “But your mother was in love with him and ran away with him so that she didn’t have to marry Robert Baratheon.” He tried to reason with Jon, but Jon just shook his head.

“My mother was a girl of fifteen years when she ran away with Rhaegar, that is how old Theon is now, and Rhaegar was a man of twenty four years of age with two children and a wife, and as far as I know, he knew that my mother didn’t want to marry Robert Baratheon, so I think that he may have taken a little bit of advantage of her.” Jon fell silent for a moment before he spoke again.

“Not that I think that she was blameless, but she was just a scared fifteen-year-old girl that didn’t want to marry a man like Robert, and they could both have handled the situation better than they did, especially when Rhaegar knew what kind of man his father was.” There was no anger in Jon´s voice, only sorrow and regret.

But he wasn’t done. “But I think that perhaps we shouldn’t judge them too harshly, they had no idea that Uncle Brandon would charge to the capitol to demand Rhaegar´s head and that it would start a war.”

They sat together for a moment, just thinking about everything that had transpired before Robb asked Jon his final question that had been burning on his mind. “But if you don’t want to be King, why are you going to claim the throne?”

Jon looked a little started at that question for a moment before he recovered. “Sooner or later people will find out the truth and when that happens, Robert Baratheon will do everything in his power to kill me, and most likely all of you as well for having allowed me to live, and I cannot let that happen, and the safest place for us is with me on that damned throne. And maybe I can actually do something good on that iron monstrosity.”

Robb wanted nothing more than to assure him that Robert was his father´s friend, and that he wouldn’t do that, but then he remembered the stories of little Aegon and Rhaenys who had been killed by the Lannisters, and now Robert had a Lannister Queen so that he couldn’t be that horrified by the fact that Tywin Lannister had a hand in the deaths of children.

Robb also remembered how Robert Baratheon had refused his father when he had asked for the funds to help the watch restore the castles of the wall, and it was then he made up his mind. “I will help you Jon.” Robb sat up straighter and he put on his best determined face that he could. “I will help you reclaim your birthright and help you to become the best King the seven Kingdoms have ever seen.

He could feel a sense of pride when Jon gave him a small smile as he thanked him for his support.

“There is also something else I should tell you.” Robb stared at Jon, it couldn’t be that he had more surprises in store, as today it had been revealed to him that Jon wasn’t his brother but a hidden King.  “I have three dragons hidden away and the sword Blackfyre.”

Robb stared at Jon. “I am sorry, what?”

SER BRYNDEN

He tried his best to tone out his nephew´s voice but he was sure that no amount of patience could keep him from going insane in the long run. Edmure Tully was one of the most irritating people that he had ever met, excluding the man´s sister, Lysa of course.

Lysa was in a class of her own, but Brynden hadn’t seen her for some time now, but he doubted that she had changed in the time he hadn’t seen her. Especially after what he had heard about what she had done.

Her actions were the reason he was traveling to the heart of the north. Brynden knew that he had to talk to Jon Arryn after his niece´s indiscretions, so he had left the Vale and stopped for a few days in Riverrun before heading to Winterfell.

He now regretted stopping in his childhood home, Edmure had been just as dimwitted as he remembered and Hoster had been wroth with Lysa for her actions. That Brynden could understand well but refusing her blameless son hearth and home was spiteful, even for Hoster.

All his life, Hoster had been a proud man, and being the heir and future lord of the Riverlands, it was expected that he should be proud, but this was too much. The boy, Robert Waters was still family even though he was a bastard, and he was Hoster´s grandson.

Even the dimwitted Edmure had been angry at his father for that decision, so to spite his father and to make sure that Hoster knew what he thought of this matter, he had followed Brynden north to Winterfell and was now trying to chat his ears off.

Edmure´s friends Marq Piper and Patrek Mallister had decided to come along with them north, much to his irritation. Brynden had intended to go alone, but now he was in the company of knights and squires and servants.

Edmure and his friends had been loud and annoying the entire trip and Brynden couldn’t be happier now that they were finally arriving at Winterfell and he didn’t have to spend all day with those three.

Marq Piper was a lot like his father in character, but nothing like the man in appearance. While his father was short and fat, the heir to Pinkmaiden was average height and rather handsome.

But Patrek Mallister was just like his father who was tall and rode a horse like he feared nothing, and he was apparently a fearsome jouster.

But Brynden found them all to be silly children who liked to play at being warriors, but he had to respect Edmure´s stance against his father.

Edmure was a blithering idiot, but he was a good gentle soul, which is something that he must have inherited from his mother, as Hoster had always been rather opportunistic like how he had married both his daughters in the rebellion for his armies.

Sure, that was good for house Tully to have their blood in the ruling houses of the Vale and the North, but it made house Tully look desperate and like Hoster was trying to get rid of his daughters.

Then again perhaps he was trying to get rid of his daughters. Petyr Baelish had been made to leave Riverrun in quite a hurry, sure challenging Brandon Stark to a duel for Cat´s hand was serious, but was it enough to make the son of Hoster´s friend leave in such a hurry?

Had something else happened to make Hoster so furious that he had not only kicked Baelish out of Riverrun, but also sold Lysa off to a man who had lost half of his teeth and was decades older than her?

He would find out when he arrived at Winterfell or so he hoped.

Brynden watched the castle of the Stark´s grow taller on the horizon. It didn’t take a long time until he could see riders leave the castle and come towards the Riverlands delegation. The Blackfish could see the snarling grey direwolf on the banners of the riders.

As the riders got closer, Brynden recognized Ser Rodrik Cassel who had fought alongside lord Stark in the Greyjoy rebellion.

The man was a good fighter from what the blackfish could remember, and completely loyal to lord Stark. “Greetings my lords.” The northerner said and bowed his head in respect. “I have been sent to escort you the rest of the way by lady Stark.”

This made Edmure laugh jovially. “That is my sister for you, always courteous and proper.” Edmure wasn’t wrong, Cat had always been proper and courteous, even as a little girl. Brynden had always thought it was an attempt to win the approval of her father, and an attempt to remain the favorite child of Hoster Tully.

Brynden had noticed the same behavior in Hoster when they had been children, the two brothers had always been fighting for their fathers love and acceptance, and as Hoster was the elder and the heir, he almost always won.

He shook his head of the thought as they approached the great stone keep of the Starks. As they rode thought the gate, he could hear Edmure chat with Ser Rodrik, and he was thankful that his ears weren’t being assaulted by the younger man.

As soon as they entered the courtyard, Brynden could feel the heat rise considerably, and he thought that it must be because of the hot water than ran through the walls of the castle.

In the courtyard, all the Starks that were in the castle were in attendance, as was Lysa Arryn. But Brynden couldn’t see her son anywhere.

He could see that Lysa had seen better days, as it was clear to him that she had lost much of the weight that she had gained and there was a pale-yellow spot around her eye that was almost healed.

Catelyn however was looking beautiful but for the healing scratch marks on her neck, almost healed split lip and it seemed that she was trying her best to hide the fact that a patch of her lovely red hair had been pulled out of her head.

Brynden stared at the two women as he dismounted his horse, the two of them had clearly gotten into a fight, while Brynden didn’t have a hard time believing Lysa to lunch herself into a vicious fight, as to him it seemed to fit her character quite well, he had a hard time seeing Cat in a fight.

All her life she had been raised to be the perfect lady and she had faithfully maintained that idea as she grew up as far as Brynden could tell. So, it was quite a shock to see her like she had been in a tavern brawl.

But while Lysa´s son wasn’t amongst the crowd that had gathered, Catelyn´s children were there, she was holding the newborn Rickon and little Bran was clinging to her skirt while her two girls, Sansa and Arya were standing tall beside her.

Brynden had heard that lord Stark and Jon Arryn had gone to the Dreadfort and then to the Wall to assess the situation and that lord Stark had taken his heir Robb and his bastard son with them.

Brynden had been surprised to hear that lord Stark was heading to the Dreadfort and the Wall, but Hoster had assured him that it was the truth, apparently lord Bolton had been murdered by his bastard son at the gathering of the Northern lords at Winterfell, after some horrible accusations.

Brynden had to admire Ned Stark for going to the Dreadfort even though the lord was dead to see if the accusations were true or not, Brynden had a feeling that if it had been his own brother, he would have just swept the whole thing under the rug as it were, if the man was already dead, as it didn’t really serve any political purpose other than smear the memory of another lord.

Then again most of the other lords would have done so as well, as it was much easier and convenient to do so.

“Cat.” Called his nephew and rushed of his destrier, effectively pulling Brynden out of his thoughts. The red headed man rushed over to his sister and pulled the woman into a hug, not giving her a change to hand her babe to a nursemaid.

“It is good to see you Edmure.” Cat said with a laugh, and Brynden felt relief that her babe wasn’t hurt by Edmure´s rush to hug his eldest living sibling.

Brynden walked over to them as the heir to Riverrun let his sister go to greet his other sister. Cat turned to Brynden with a smile and gave him a hug as well, making Brynden a little uncomfortable, as he never really liked receiving hugs.

“It is good to see you as well, uncle.” Cat adjusted the babe in her arms, as she turned a little to her other children. “Allow me to introduce my children, these are Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon.” As she named the children she pointed to each child, confirming Brynden´s guesses which ones were which.

Brynden greeted them all and he couldn’t help but to smile at them, they all took after the Tullys in looks except for little Arya, who was more like Ned Stark than any of the others.

After greeting them, he walked over to Lysa to greet her, but their greeting was much colder than the one he had received from her sister.

Luckily, the greetings were over soon, and Cat had them all shown to their rooms, and informed them that a small modest feast was being held in their honor, making Brynden inwardly sigh.

After getting ready, Brynden exited the room he had been assigned too and asked one of the servants to show him to the great hall, were he would be meeting the rest of his family.

As he neared the great hall, both Edmure and his friends caught up with him and as they entered, Brynden tried his best to ignore them.

The hall was already filled with the knights and squires that had followed them from the Riverlands, as well as many of the Stark guards.

His niece had made room for all the nobles of the Tully party at the high table together, as they were so few and this way they could all talk and catch up, Brynden really needed to hear Lysa´s version of the story as he had only heard the vile rumors and the story from Hoster, who was furious, so Brynden didn’t exactly trust him to be objective.

But he knew he had to wait until he could get her alone, as he didn’t think she would be willing to talk about what had happened in front of the Mallister and Piper heirs.

Brynden was seated between Cat and Lysa, normally Lysa would have been seated beside her sister, but Brynden could see that something had happened between the two of them. Both Tully sisters were sending each other angry glares.

In front of him was little Bran who was seated beside his sister Sansa who was keeping an eye on her little brother.

They sat and started their dinner and Edmure started immediately talking to his sister Catelyn as he sat in her other side. “So, sweet sister, where is your stoic husband again and when will he be returning?” He said with a smile as he took a bite of venison.

Cat sent him a small smile. “My lord husband will be returning with in the week, and he will be delighted to find you all here.” Brynden had to force down a snort at that, he had fought with Ned Stark in Robert´s rebellion and in the Greyjoy rebellion, and that man wasn’t often delighted.

In fact, he couldn’t imagine Ned Stark to be delighted to have unannounced guests in his home, but Brynden was also sure that he couldn’t be angry at it either.

“Well I will be glad to meet him again; I haven’t seen the old man since he stopped in Riverrun after the Greyjoy rebellion.” He said with a laugh and winked at the children in front of him, Arya and her friend grinned at Edmure and little Bran giggled.

But Brynden saw Sansa discreetly roll her eyes at her dimwitted uncle, and for a moment Brynden thought that the little eight-year-old child knew how foolish her uncle was. But that couldn’t possibly be as she was meeting her uncle for the first time.

“So, uncle Edmure,” little lady Sansa spoke up as she picked up a cup of watered-down wine. “How is grandfather and the Riverlands faring?” She took a dainty sip. “I heard that grandfather is quite happy with the new trade agreements with the North, and that commers are already picking up.”

Brynden just stared at the young girl as she spoke, and he had a hard time comprehending that a girl of seven or eight years had said them. Edmure and his friends Marq Piper and Patrek Mallister were all staring open mouthed at lady Sansa was she waited for her uncle to answer her question.

“I…um…” He gave Cat a look of surprise as he tried his best to find his words. “I hear that everything is going very well, father is in good health, but I must admit that I haven’t had much time to acquaint myself with the trade deals that your father and mine have been making between the Riverlands and the North.” He gave a nervous laugh to try to cover up the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about the trade deals.

Lady Sansa gave a warm smile. “Of course, uncle, I am sure that you must be very busy with getting to know all your future vassal lords,” She put the cup down on the table. “It is a shame that so many heirs don’t go touring around their future lands and to get to know the people that they will one day be ruling.” Brynden had to hold down a snort once again, that was a polite way to describe what Edmure was doing.

But lady Sansa was right, many of the lords didn’t go around their own lands to get to know the people, Lord Renly Baratheon had gone around the Stormlands last year to get to know his lords, but Brynden had also heard that he, like Edmure was spending most of his time feasting and rolling around in the bedchamber.

Brynden however wasn’t interested in Edmure and his travels around the Riverlands with his friends as they went looking for trouble and adventures. He was more interested in lady Sansa´s interest in the Riverlands and the trade deals. “So, lady Sansa what is your interest in the trade deals?” The Blackfish said as he rubbed his chin and waited for an answer.

Sansa looked at him for a moment and he could see the intelligence shine in her bright Tully blue eyes, it seemed that all the wits and intelligence that had been denied to Edmure and Lysa, had been given to the young lady before him.

His niece smiled at her uncle. “Father has been asking both Robb and I to attend when he is seeing to his lordly duties, and he has been asking us to help with the research.”

Brynden was impressed, it was rare that a lord would take any interest in the rearing of their children, aside from the heir, and the fact that Ned Stark was training his daughter to rule a lordship was something else entirely, but Brynden couldn’t help but to like it.

But it was clear that Edmure and his friends weren’t as impressed. “Lord Stark has been teaching you how to rule like a lord?” The future lord of Seagard asked with a horrified tone in his voice.

“That is not the only thing that he is teaching her,” Lysa said with a smirk as she swallowed a large amount of wine. “Lady Sansa has been learning how to play with swords.” Edmure chocked on the wine he was drinking, and Cat closed his eyes in horror at her words.

Brynden wasn’t surprised that he could see the horror in her eyes, Catelyn of house Tully was raised to be the perfect lady, and perfect ladies didn’t intrude on the affairs of the masculine world.

After her mother had died, Cat had been mostly raised by the septa at Riverrun, as her father was always so busy with the ruling of the Riverlands, and to be perfectly honest, he thought it a crying shame as she had been such a promising child when she was young.

“Of course, father is letting Sansa learn how to learn to swing a sword, she´s a Stark.” little Arya piped up with a grin as she shoved a bite of baked potatoes into her mouth. “And she is getting rather good, not as good as Jon, but good enough to give Theon a thrashing one day for sure.”

Sansa blushed a little at her little sister´s praise. “Well, not all of us can be as good as Jon.”

The young girl in the colors of house Mormont beside Arya, snorted. “Nor as handsome, Alys said that she would marry him in a heartbeat if he would have her.” Brynden could see fear in Catelyn´s eyes at the girl´s statement.

Her words made Arya make a noise of disgust. “That is my brother, you are talking about.” Brynden felt a laughter bubble in his gut and he hid it behind the cup of wine he was pretending to sip out of.

“Jon?” Edmure asked. “Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell? Is he really that good with a sword?” The heir to Riverrun asked with a look of surprise.

“Yes, he has been thrashing the guards of months now in the training yard and one day Jon will be the best sword in all of Westeros,” Arya stated proudly as it were her own accomplishment. “And I will be his squire.”

This earned her a few laughs from Edmure and his friends. But Arya didn’t see what they were finding so funny. When she asked them why they were laughing, they seemed a little embarrassed, but Lysa wasn’t.

“Girls, don’t become knights.” She said snidely and took another swallow of her wine.

“Technically they can.” Sansa said as she took a small bite of her meal, and now it was everyone´s turn to stare at her again. “All they need is a knight with an open mind.”

Brynden could see the love Arya held for her sister in that moment, as the small red head defended her dreams of becoming a knight.

“But you would be hard pressed to find one of those.” Marq Piper spoke up as he took a bit of his venison.

“No, I won´t,” young Arya stated firmly. “Jon would take me as a squire, I know he will.”

“Enough.” Cat spoke up for the first time in a while. “Enough of this nonsense, or I will put you to bed young lady.”

As little Arya pouted, Edmure frowned. “Wait, Lord Ned had the boy really knighted?” He looked between Catelyn and the children.

Brynden could see Catelyn once again close her eyes, but this time in frustration as Edmure continued talking. “I thought that it was just some rumor that he had earned a knighthood.”

“It´s true,” Piped young Brandon up, startling Brynden, as he had almost forgotten the young boy as he had been co quiet. “Jon saved Robb and Sansa from the Bolton bastard.”

“So, it´s true,” Patrek spoke with the astonishment clear in his voice. “The bastard brother really saved his trueborn siblings from certain death.”

“That is commendable of him, and it seems that his knighthood is well deserved.” Brynden said. He was impressed with this young Ser Snow, and he was looking forward to meeting him.

Chapter Text

JON

After brushing down his horse, he made his way to where his uncle Ned and the others were sitting and drinking their ale and eating their dinner.

His head was still full of thoughts about how Robb now knew about the fact that Jon wasn’t his brother, but his cousin. It had been a fear of his that Robb would have been angry at him for not telling him and would want nothing to do with Jon anymore after finding out the truth.

But it seemed that the only people Robb was angry with was his own father and his father´s former best friend, Robert Baratheon.

Jon had done his best to tell Robb the truth, but there was still something that he would never talk about with anyone but those who had shared in the experience, and what was the fact that they had lived other lives before this one. So, Jon couldn’t tell Robb that Ned Stark had actually let Jon go to the watch without telling him anything about who his parents were in their last lives.

But it did help a little to hear Ned admit that he had been wrong and a coward in not telling Jon the truth. While it didn’t change anything, it for some reason make Jon feel a little better knowing that Ned was sorry for what he had done and that he regretted it.

As he walked closer to where the lords were sitting, he passed maester Wolkan, or former maester Wolkan as the man was insisting. The man seemed convinced that the citadel would strip him of his chain because he had testified against lord Bolton, when he was sworn to serve the lord of the Dreadfort.

Jon had to admit that it was a very likely option that the maesters of the citadel would decide to strip the man of his chains, as Wolkan had broken a very fundamental rule that kept the maesters in the good graces of the lords, and if the lords didn’t think that they couldn’t trust the maesters to keep their secrets, then they wouldn’t want them in their castles and having access to all their secrets.

Jon greeted the man as they passed each other, and Wolkan bowed deeply to Jon which made a little uncomfortable. When Wolkan had told Jon about his troubles, which Jon had managed to drag out of him on the way back to Winterfell, Jon had offered Wolkan a place with him at Queenscrown, as Jon would be making his way North again soon. Wolkan had been so grateful that he would have a place to go to if the maesters excommunicated him, as not many lords would employ a man who had been stripped of his chain. But Jon couldn’t find it in himself to let the man just go after his bravery of standing up and telling the truth about Roose Bolton.

So, Wolkan had naturally accepted the opportunity to join Jon at Queenscrown when he would be making his journey back North.

His uncle and Robb had both tried to persuade Jon to stay longer in Winterfell, but he wanted to start as soon as he could on seeing the restorations through. He felt like this was an opportunity for him to show the people of Westeros that he could do good things for them and help improve their lives, so he decided that he would go to Queenscrown as soon as he could and start working on restoring it.

He took a seat beside his cousin and Robb handed him a mug of ale, and a servant came over in a hurry to give him a bowl of stew.

There weren’t as many of the lords with them anymore, as lords Karstark and Umber along with lady Mormont had all gone to their holds along with their sworn lords. But the lords who had their homes in the more southern parts of the North where still with them and would be staying in Winterfell until they headed back to their castles.

The gathering around the fire was a small one, as many of the lords had taken their leave and gone to their tents to get some sleep as they would be reaching Winterfell in a few days and they wanted to get some shut eye for the journey.

His uncle was talking to lord Jon Arryn, Ser Wylis Manderly and lord Howland Reed, who had clearly decided to stay awake for a little while yet.

“So, lord Arryn,” Ser Wylis spoke up. “How are things in King´s Landing truly?” Jon could understand his question, as Jon Arryn had been the man who had tried to get Robert Baratheon to make Ser Wylis´s father the master of coin, but regrettably nothing had come of it.

Jon Arryn sighed tiredly before he spoke. “After Littlefinger escaped the dungeons, things haven’t been all that well I am afraid, as you probably know like many others, he was taken captive after his and my wife´s…indiscretion.”

Jon watched as the heir to White Harbor and Newcastle nodded, and there was a seriousness in his eyes that Jon hadn’t seen before, as every time Jon had seen the heir to New castle, he had been jovial and merry.

The fact that Lysa Arryn had mothered a bastard child while married to the lord of the Eyrie and the Warden of the East, was so shocking to most people and Jon doubted that it would be soon when people stopped talking about it.

“My apologies, I shouldn’t have brought it up, my lord.” The heir to White Harbor looked embarrassed for having brought lord Arryn´s troubles up.

But Jon´s namesake just gave a short laugh. “Nothing to be sorry about, Ser Wylis.” He took a short swing of the ale. “It is not your fault, and you have a right to know what is happening in the capitol.”

“What about the boy?” Asked Uncle Ned with concern in his voice, Jon had a feeling that he wanted to find him a home where he would be treated well and educated. “What will be done with him?”

Jon Arryn sighed again as he stared into the mug of ale in his hands. “I don’t know, Hoster cannot take him, and he is the boy´s grandfather, and the boy´s father is somewhere out there, fleeing from the law, so he cannot find him a place, and the boy has no living relatives on his father´s side.”

Before anything else could be said, Theon Greyjoy strutted up to them. The iron born boy handed Jon´s uncle a letter which Ned opened and read quickly.

They were all silent while the lord of the North read. “It seems that Ser Brynden Tully is arriving in Winterfell, or has arrived, depending how fast the messenger rode to us.”

“Ser Brynden?” Lord Arryn asked surprised with his brushy eyebrows rising high on his forehead. “What is he doing so far North if I may ask?”

Ned Stark looked at his foster father. “It seems that he wants to talk to you, Jon.” He looked back to the letter as he looked it over again. “It doesn’t state why, but I think we can guess the reason he came all this way.”

Yes, it wasn’t that hard to guess why his cousin´s uncle was making his way North to speak to lord Arryn. Ser Brynden had most likely come to talk to the man after the incident with his niece who was lord Arryn´s wife.

Jon could see an exited glint in Robb´s eyes at the prospect of meeting his famous uncle, the Blackfish.

Ser Brynden Tully was one of the legendary warriors of their time and he had served in the war of the Nine penny kings and in their last life, he had served Robb faithfully and had held Riverrun in his name for some time after his death. But regrettably the man had died before Sansa could have met him, and Jon knew that it was something Sansa regretted very much, as she would have loved to meet him.

Thinking of Sansa made him a little nervous, he wasn’t sure how she would react to Jon going to Queenscrown for some time to rebuild the Gift.

Over the time they had spent together ever since they had come back, they had grown so close and she was the only person he felt that he could be himself around, and he wasn’t sure how he would be able to be so far away from her, for so long, when now they had been separated for little over two months and he longed to talk to her and tell her everything that had happened.

He felt so restless not having her to talk to her about everything, and he missed her greatly, which would be felt even more deeply when he would be going North for such an extended period of time.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by Robb. “But what will happen to little Robert?” The young boy looked at lord Arryn with his big Tully blue eyes and there was worry in them.

Ned Stark glanced at his foster father before the hand of the King replied to the heir to the North and Winterfell. “Well, I will try to find a good home for him, where he can learn something that can help him in the future, when he is older.”

Jon looked at the hand of the King, most men who had been saddled with the bastard of their wives who had been conceived when they had been married to said wives, would most likely have tried to ship the boy of the wall where the boy would trouble them no more, but it seemed that Jon Arryn didn’t want to do that.

It seemed to Jon that he had found the reason why everyone called Ned Stark so honorable as the man took after his foster father more than his actual father. Not that Ned Stark was as honorable as people would like to believe.

Ned Stark had tired and succeeded in making Jon believe that the watch was much more than just a refuge to the unwanted men of Westeros, but Jon couldn’t really lay all the blame on Ned Stark´s shoulders, Jon had decided to join the watch without actually making sure that he knew what the watch was. He had just believed the man he thought was his father and refused to listen to anyone else, believing that Ned Stark could do no wrong.

Well he wouldn’t be making that mistake again. Which was one of the reasons why he was going to Queenscrown and supervise the restorations himself, but the biggest reason was that he wanted to restore the Gifts on his own merit and hard work, and not have his uncle just do everything for him.

But his uncle would be helping him even though Jon had insisted on going himself. His uncle Ned would be providing guards, which was helping Ned as much as he was helping Jon. It made his excuse of training soldiers to defend the North from the Freefolk much easier to sell if the guards were sent north to the Gifts to fight the Freefolk that managed to get over the Wall.

His uncle would also be providing Jon with builders so that they could start on repairing the tower holdfast of Queenscrown and the small abandoned town that had once been at the shore of the lake.

“But what will happen to him in the meantime?” Robb asked, ever persistent in his search for answers, as he inquired about the fate of his young cousin.

Jon could see that this made his Uncle Ned look deep in thought. “Well, he could always stay in the Dreadfort and be raised by whoever I will name castellan there.” The lord of Winterfell wondered out loud as he stared into the fire.

Jon Arryn stared at his foster son with wide eyes, and the nephew of the lord of Winterfell could see wonder and gratitude in the pale blue eyes of the hand of the King. “Ned, if you would allow young Robert to stay there, I would be eternally grateful to you.”

Jon had to admit that having Robert Waters grow up in the Dreadfort since it was now belonged to house Stark was a fine solution of the problem. The young boy couldn’t be raised in the Vale, as it would still be a slap in the face of Jon Arryn and his lords, since Lysa Arryn had been unfaithful to her husband and Robert Waters was the result of that unfaithfulness, and his grandfather didn’t want him either because the lord of Riverrun considered him a blight on the honor of his house.

So, letting the boy grow up in the Dreadfort under the supervision of someone that the boy´s uncle trusted, was the best solution to the problem. Jon would have volunteered to foster the boy, but he knew that he was still too young, or so people believed, so he had decided to say nothing on the matter.

Jon looked at Robb, and he could see that the heir to Winterfell looked happy with having young Robert stay in the North, as little Robert was after all his family, even if he had the bastard name of Waters.

But Jon could still see that Robb had a long way to go to forgive his father for the lies he had told to everyone and the fact that once he had intended to send Jon to the Wall, without telling Jon the truth, and Jon had to admit that he loved his brother even more for that.

But at the same time, Jon didn’t want this to do lasting damage to the relationship between father and son. Robb deserved to have a father he loved and respected, and Ned had the work cut out for him to earn Robb´s respect after what happened.

As Jon watched the men and Robb talk around the fire, he observed that no matter how much Robb tried to hide it, there was a hint of anger in his eyes, and all Jon could do was to hope that Robb would soon forgive his father.

EDDARD

He was so glad to ride through the gates of Winterfell; his foster father Jon Arryn was riding beside him and Ned could see the relief on his face as well. Ever since Ned had agreed to let young Robert Waters stay in the Dreadfort with whomever Ned decided to make castellan there, Jon had been much happier than he had been before.

As they entered the courtyard of the castle, Ned felt a smile breakout on his face as he spotted his wife and children, excluding Robb, standing there waiting for him and the party returning to Winterfell.

Catelyn was standing there with little Rickon in her arms, smiling softly and Bran was clinging to her skirt. As Ned dismounted from his grey stallion, the little boy ran to him laughing and threw himself at his father, making Ned laugh as he caught him and hugged him close.

“I missed you father.” Little Bran said as he hugged Ned around the neck, making Ned incredibly happy and guilty at the same time.

Ned was still battling with himself after Robb had found out the truth, and it seemed that his eldest son and heir wasn’t going to forgive Ned anytime soon for intending to send Jon to the Wall without telling him the truth of his parentage.

Not that Ned could really blame his son for his anger towards him. What Ned had done in his last life was wrong and he could never really make up for his mistakes.

Ned walked over to his wife with Bran in his arms, as he walked closer to Cat, he could see that there was a faint line on her lip and there was a chunk of her hair missing from her scalp. What on earth had happened to her?

He leaned over and kissed her temple, he would ask her what happened when they were alone, he didn’t want to embarrass his wife. He also gave little Rickon a kiss on the top of the head, making the few months-old babe giggle as his beard tickled him.

“Father.” He didn’t have much time to turn, when Arya launched herself at his leg and hugged it with all her strength. “We all missed you.” She smiled up at him, before she ran to Robb and Jon to greet them, and Bran wiggled out of his arms to run after her.

It was then Ned could greet Ser Brynden, who was standing next to Cat and next to him was Lysa Arryn, looking irritated at having to be here.

On Cat´s other side was her brother Edmure Tully, the heir to Riverrun and the Riverlands. Ned had to admit, that he hadn’t expected him to be here. Ned greeted both men with the respect that their status demanded. “It is good to see you both here in Winterfell.” Ned said to them as he shook their hands.

Ser Brynden gave a respectful nod. “Thank you, lord Eddard, I apologize for arriving so suddenly.” He glanced at Lysa Arryn. “But I have an urgent need to talk to lord Arryn.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Ser Brynden wanted to talk about with Jon Arryn, it had to involve Lysa´s unfaithfulness to her husband.

After making all the necessary greetings to the two men, Ned turned to Sansa, who was patiently waiting to greet her father with a smile.

He reached out and hugged his elder daughter. “Welcome home father.” She said with a smile. “There are a few letters waiting for you in your solar.”

He laughed at her words. “I am sure they will be there tomorrow, sweetling.”

Sansa smiled and nodded and left to greet her brother and cousin, who were still being held captive by Arya and Bran.

After greeting everyone Ned hurried to his solar and took a bath to wash the grime and dirt from the road of his body, and when he was done and in the middle of dressing there was a knock on the door of his chamber.

He called for the person to enter and it turned out to be his lovely wife. “Cat, I thought you were getting ready for the feast.” He said with curiosity in his tone.

She gave him a weak smile and rubbed her hands together after closing the door. She must have left Rickon with the wet nurse, since he was nowhere in sight. Ned could see that she was uncomfortable, he gestured for her to sit down on the bed, then he waited until she started to speak.

“I am afraid I have brought disgrace upon you, my lord.” She said as she looked at her hands that were folded in her lap.

Her words caused Ned to frown. “What do you mean my lady?”

She looked up at him, and it was then when he noticed tears in her eyes. “Not too long ago, Lysa and I got into a fight in the great hall, and then she attacked me, and I had to defend myself.” The tears were now running down her face as she spoke. “But the worst thing is that the girls and the servants all saw what happened.”

It was then she broke down in tears and buried her face in her hands. It took Ned a moment to shake himself out of his shock, that did explain the line that must had been because of a split lip and the missing chunk of hair had to have been a result of their fight.

Ned could hardly believe what his dutiful and ladylike wife was saying, she and her sister had gotten into a fight in the middle of the great hall in front of not only their daughters, a daughter of one of his bannermen but also all of the servants.

He walked over to his wife as she cried and sat down beside her on the bed, and he put his arm around her shoulders to try to comfort her.

Of everything he had expected her to tell him, this wasn’t one of them, he was having a hard time imagining his wife fighting her sister, when Cat had always been the very image of a highborn southern lady. But this explained the line on her lip and the missing chunk of hair on her head.

As Catelyn got her sobs under control, he had to ask. “What were you fighting about?” As he asked, he could feel her go still as a statue and she looked up at him with her big blue eyes that all but one of their children had inherited.

He could see that she didn’t want to talk about the incident anymore, but he had to know so that he could help her.

They sat there in silence for a moment, while Ned waited for his lady wife to say something. “She came into the great hall, and Lysa was making her jabs at the children like she has been doing ever since you and Lord Arryn left Winterfell.” This made Ned frown, why on earth was Lysa making jabs at her own nieces and nephews? But he said nothing as he waited for her to continue.

“I just got so angry with her for saying that Sansa and Arya will never find proper husbands and I said that she was in a no position to say anything when she couldn’t even be faithful to her own husband.” As she said those words, Ned noticed that her face was pale, and the rosy color of her cheeks wasn’t there anymore.

Cat wiped the tears away from her face. “Then we just started to scream at one another, and she accused me of trying to steal little Petyr away from her when we were children and other nonsense.”

Catelyn rubbed her eyes with her hands and Ned could see that this had been bothering her for some time now, and he hugged her close to him. “You haven’t shamed me, my lady.” Cat looked up at him with her big blue eyes and stared at him in surprise. “While I think that both of you shouldn’t have been fighting in the great hall in front of our daughters, our ward and the servants, I cannot be mad because you were defending yourself.” He smiled softly at his wife.

“And you can’t go on fighting your sister like this anymore, when you respond to her like this, it just gives her more to throw back at you.” Ned knew that he was a little condescending, but it seemed that his wife needed to hear them, as she hadn’t shown the greatest of restraints when it came to her sister.

Catelyn nodded and wiped her eyes once again to make sure than no more tears were running down her face. “I am just glad that you are back Ned.” She sent him a weak smile, which he returned, he was every glad to be back home.

“Come now, my lady, we have a feast to attend.” Ned hurriedly dressed and they both left the lord´s chamber to go to the great hall, where the servants were waiting to serve dinner.

SANSA

They walked through the dark forest while only using the half moon and the stars as guides, and she could hear Robb stumble a little from behind her, as he hadn’t traveled this way before, especially not in the dark.

Sansa was glad that the feast was over and done with, as she had been waiting eagerly to talk to Jon alone. But it seemed that she would have to wait for longer as when she had hugged her cousin as they returned to the castle, Jon had whispered in her ear that Robb knew.

She had felt her blood freeze in her veins when he had told her that her brother now knew that Jon was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. It wasn’t because she didn’t want Robb to know, but it would be much harder for them to conceal the truth, the more people who knew it.

They had all decided to meet by Jon´s room and head from there to the clearing in the Wolfswood, where the dragons were hiding. Apparently, Robb was dying to meet the dragons, and Sansa couldn’t really blame him for that, as Jon´s dragons were the first dragons that had been hatched in around hundred and fifty years, and only three other people had seen them.

They traveled in silence and as they entered the clearing the moon was high in the sky and shining brightly at them, and she could hear her brother let out a gasp. It was one thing to hear about dragons but seeing them in real life was something else indeed.

The destrier sized dragons where all waiting for them in the middle of the clearing, and for some reason they reminded her of overgrown puppies as they hurried over to Jon.

She let out a giggle as the three dragons rushed over to Jon, letting out happy shrieks as Jon walked towards them with a large smile on his face. Jon was having a hard time petting the ever-growing dragons as they clamored for his attentions.

Robb however was standing beside her, stiff as a statue with his eyes wide in wonder and awe. Sansa understood the feeling very well.

Before she had first seen the two dragons that followed the Dragon Queen around, she had heard from multiple sources that dragons were back in the world, but that did very little to prepare one for seeing dragons in real life.

As Jon was greeting his dragons, she dragged Robb over to a fallen log and they took their seats so Jon could have a moment with the dragons in relative peace.

As she turned to looked at Robb, she could hear Jon let out a laugh. “So,” She began as Robb was still staring at Jon and the dragons. “You know.”

It was then when Robb managed to drag his eyes from the dragons. “Aye, I overheard father and Uncle Benjen talking.” Sansa could see a flash of anger in his eyes as he mentions their father.

“What did they say?” She asked as concern filled her being.

Robb glanced at Jon and the dragons before he spoke. “I heard father say that he had planned to get Jon to take the black without him knowing who his parents are.” At her brother´s words, she could feel her stomach drop. So, that had been his intentions like she had suspected ever since she had been told of Jon´s parentage.

It brought her pain to think that her father had wanted to condemn Jon to a life on the Wall, when his friend, who had been happy that Tywin Lannister had ordered the death of Jon´s siblings, sat on Jon´s throne and was stealing his birthright.

“He said he was sorry, and that he was a coward for what he had intended to do.” Robb continued as he looked at her with his Tully blue eyes. “But I don’t know if I can forgive him for what he wanted to do.”

Sansa looked at Jon where he was still petting the dragons with the largest smile on his face, and she watched as Algernon licked his face, making the rightful ruler laugh as he tried to wipe the dragon saliva out of his face as Illyrion begged for a rub on the chin.

“I think what father did was wrong,” Sansa spoke as she looked back to Robb. “But he is trying to make up for his mistakes now, and we have to give him the benefit of the doubt.” Robb sighed and nodded.

“That is what Jon told me as well.” They sat in silence for a moment, before Jon walked over to them with the dragons following his every step. Jon took a seat in the grass in front of them and Earendil laid his ever-growing body behind Jon, so that he could lean back and use the emerald dragon like the back of a chair.

Sansa could see that when the dragons came closer, it brought Robb out of his musings about their father.

It was then when Illyrion fixed his golden eyes on Robb and walked slowly closer to the heir to Winterfell, and sniffed him curiously, making Robb start glancing between the dragon and Jon who was sitting on the ground and giving him a smile. “It´s all right, Illyrion won’t hurt you.”

Robb reached out slowly and the cream-colored dragon sniffed at his hand, before he started to inch closer and closer to Robb, and it was clear to Sansa that Illyrion wanted Robb to pet him. As Robb started to hesitantly pet the pale and golden dragon, she could feel something large and warm in her lap.

Algernon looked at her with his hopeful red eyes, making her giggle as she gave him what he wanted.

“What were you two talking about?” Jon asked as he leaned against Earendil´s emerald body.

“Father.” Answered Sansa, she glanced at Robb, who was staring transfixed at Illyrion as the heir to Winterfell slowly petted the pale dragon.

“Ah,” She could see that Jon understood what they had been talking about. Jon frowned for a moment and he seemed to debate with himself if he should say something.

“Sansa, I have something to tell you.” His tone was so grave that she was beginning to worry again. Sansa decided to wait for him to say something more. “Uncle negotiated with Lord Commander Mormont and they decided to make me the lord of Queenscrown.”

“That is great Jon, this could really help in strengthen the watch and the North.” She said and she could help but to smile.

But Jon was still frowning. “I will be leaving for Queenscrown in a week or so.” Sansa could feel her heart sink into her stomach at his words. He had just returned home, and now he was leaving again?

She could feel the same emotions swell in her being as when she had been standing on the dock of King´s Landing, when Jon had been leaving for the last time to take the Black once again.

She realized she had stopped petting Algernon, when he nuzzled his large head to get her to continue. “Why?” As she asked, she had to forcefully keep her voice from cracking with emotion, she didn’t want him to leave again.

Jon sighed. “I want to prove myself that I can help restore the Gifts and not just hide behind Uncle Ned.” Sansa could understand Jon´s desire to prove himself, and it was one of the reasons she loved him, Jon had such drive and thirst to prove himself worthy and she couldn’t help but to admire that.

Jon rubbed the back of his head as he continued. “How can I ask everyone to declare for me, if I haven’t proven myself to be a capable lord and worthy of being made King?”

There was a lot of truth in his words, it would be hard for the lords that weren’t directly tied to Robert Baratheon, to deny the trueborn son of Rhaegar his birthright if they knew he was alive and the fact he was already proving himself to be a good ruler.

“You are right.” She agreed with him sadly. It had been hard when Jon had been gone with her father and brother to the Dreadfort and the Wall, she had missed talking to him and confiding in him, as he was the only person she felt comfortable talking about her experiences, as the only other person who knew that she had lived another life, was her father and there was no way she was talking about her treatment at the hands of Ramsay Snow with her father.

“So,” Robb began. “There is nothing we can say to change your mind.” His voice was filled with sorrow and there was a small sad smile on his face.

“Afraid not.” Jon replied with an equally sad smile on his face. They sat there in silence for a few moments before Robb spoke again.

“So, how did you know how to hatch dragon eggs?” The question made Jon look a little sheepish.

“Well, to be honest I wasn’t sure if it was going to work and I just followed my gut.” Sansa had to suppress a snort at his non answer.

As they all talked about the dragons and what the future would hold for them when it would be time to reveal that Jon was in fact the trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, she couldn’t help but to feel the bittersweet taste linger in her mouth.

While she hated that Jon had to leave for Queenscrown to oversee the restorations, she knew that it was something that Jon needed to do to prove himself to the other lords of the realm.

As she watched Robb pepper Jon with questions, she couldn’t help but to think that the next few years would be hard for her.

Chapter Text

JON

The last week had been a busy one for Jon, as he was making the preparations for leaving for the Queenscrown for the next few years. He was both incredibly nervous and excited to go North and he just hoped that he would do a good job in restoring the Gifts so that they could be profitable again.

But while he had been busy packing and his uncle had been organizing for the new Stark guards to take the trek North with him, half of his cousins weren’t talking to him at all.

Both Arya and Bran were angry with him for leaving for Queenscrown, well they were probably angrier that he was leaving and not taking them with him. Jon just hoped that they would forgive him before he left for the next few years.

But at least Sansa and Robb were still talking to him, even though he could see the sadness in their eyes every time he looked at them.

Jon looked around his room, it was almost empty since he was leaving this morning after breaking his fast with his family for the last time in a while. He got down to his knees and dragged the chest that contained the sword of his ancestor’s from under the bed.

He looked around himself, just to be sure that no one had managed to sneak up on him. He then opened the chest and he could feel a smile form on his face at seeing the sword resting peacefully in the dark chest.

The roaring dragons on the hilt reminded him of Algernon, Earendil and Illyrion, who had already left for Queenscrown.

The dragons would arrive much faster than Jon and the other men, even though the destrier sized dragons would only be traveling at night so that they would be avoiding being seen. They would most likely be in the mountains west of Queenscrown in four or five days, so that they would have a lot of time to choose a place to hide in for the next few years.

The mountains in the Gifts were uninhabited so that the dragons would be safe there until it was time for Jon to reveal his parentage and stake his claim on the Iron throne. He dreaded having to go to war yet again, he was so sick of the constant battles and fighting, but he knew that he had to do this and there was no escaping it.

He then closed the chest and placed it in the bigger one that was holding the clothes that he would be using on the journey; it was a good excuse for him to keep it close to him on the journey North.

Jon closed the chest that was now hiding the sword Blackfyre and the clothes he would be using and locked it, while keeping the key on a leather strap around his neck.

He exited the room, and left for the great hall, knowing that the servants would be arriving to collect the last of his belongings.

The way to the great hall reminded him of when he had first arrived after coming back, and he could help but to find the moment very bittersweet.

As he entered the hall, he could see that Sansa and Robb were talking amongst themselves and his uncle was chatting with Jon Arryn, who would also be leaving very soon for the Vale to have his own gathering of lords, to discuss the situation with Jon Arryn´s lack of heirs of his blood and to try and get his own lords to help the nights watch.

Jon hurried over to Sansa and Robb and they moved so that he could sit between them. Arya and her friend Jorelle were sitting in front of them and the moment Arya noticed Jon, she sent him an angry look, that was marred with sadness. Bran was sitting beside her and he was giving Jon the saddest look that Jon had ever seen and the almost five-year old looked on the verge of tears.

Robb opened his mouth to say something, but his uncle Edmure was quicker. “So, Ser Jon, are you exited for leaving to your new lordship?” The heir to Riverrun spoke with a kind smile on his face as he lifted his cup to his lips to take a sip.

Jon hadn’t spent a lot of time around the future lord of Riverrun, but when they had spoken, Edmure Tully struck him as a kind man, but a bit of a buffoon, but Jon couldn’t help but to like him non the less.

Jon could see when lord Edmure asked the question, his sister looked a little smug as she took a small bit out of her meal. Ever since she had found out that Jon would be leaving Winterfell, she had been looking happier than Jon had ever seen her.

When Jon had been a child, he would have been hurt by how she acted around him, but after the first time he had heard her say his name in his last lifetime, he had stopped caring what she thought of him. But at the time it had hurt, hearing that she would have wanted for him to have taken the fall, but in her defense, she had been grieving for Bran, who had been grievously hurt, but it had still stung hearing her say that.

But her sister, who was sitting beside her husband, wasn’t looked smug or happy. Ever since Lysa Arryn had learned that her son, Robert Waters would be going to the Dreadfort to be raised there, she had been crying and sobbing like the boy was dying and throwing the most furious fits, throwing things and shouting profanities.

Jon cleared his throat. “Well, I am more nervous than excited, as I will be leaving Winterfell and living in the Gift, away from all my family.” Another person that was happy that Jon was going was Theon Greyjoy, but he seemed torn between happiness and anger that Jon was leaving and the fact that Jon was now a lord in his own right, and the only reason he was leaving was because he was taking up that lordship now.

At his words, his uncle sent him a kind smile. “I was nervous as well when my father sent me to the Eyrie to foster with lord Arryn, but I am sure that you will do great things in the Gifts.”

The hand of Robert Baratheon gave a short laugh. “If he does half as good a job in the Gift as he did, making the plans for the castles on the Wall, he will quickly turn the lands around make them profitable indeed.”

Jon rubbed the back on his neck. “Thank you, lord Arryn, but Robb did a lot of work on those plans.” At his words, now it was Robb´s turn to become bashful. Jon knew that he really wanted to impress his uncle Brynden who was one of his heroes.

“Do you really have to go Jon?” Bran´s little voice reached him, and he couldn’t help the guilt that bubbled in his gut.

“I am afraid so.” Jon said as he smiled sadly, he would really miss them all and it would be hard to stay in the Gifts without them.

“Why?” Demanded Arya loudly as she stared at him with tears in her grey eyes. “Why do you have to leave?”

Jon fought a sigh before he answered his little sister. “I have to go and help to restore the lands.” He tried his best to explain to her, but it was clear that she didn’t really want to hear it.

“But why? Why can’t you get someone else to do it and go when all the lands have been restored?” She was frowning as she stared him down, while waiting for him to answer.

Jon looked at her sadly. “Because that is not me.” Was the only thing he said, while begging her to understand with his eyes. She had used this logic so often that he hoped that she would understand his meaning when he said those words back to her now.

He couldn’t count the times when she had said that to someone who had tried to make her into a lady, and he hoped that she would understand that he didn’t want to do something that wasn’t in his nature as well.

Her eyes started to well up with tears and she bit her lip to stop from crying, her hands were in her lap and as she looked down at her hands, she nodded. “Fine.” She said in a small voice. “But you have to promise to write and come and visit.”

Jon let out a relieved smile. “I promise to write as often as I can,” He reached over and ruffled her hair which made her laugh despite herself. “you will most likely be sick of me with in a half a year.”

“Will you write to me too?” Bran asked with a worried look on his face, the young boy had just started his reading lessons, and like Arya he couldn’t read anything too complicated yet, but this would maybe cause them to take an interest in reading and writing lesson with maester Luwin.

“Of course, I will write too you Bran, and you have to write back and tell me everything that is happening here in Winterfell.” The little boy and the lord of the Dreadfort gave a little laugh and a nod.

When his uncle Ned had announced that Bran would be the lord of the Dreadfort, the little boy had been worried that he would have to leave like Jon was leaving, but when he had been assured that he wouldn’t be leaving until he was of age and his father would be finding someone to manage the lands until he was old enough, Bran had felt better.

It hadn’t taken his uncle a long time to find someone to manage the Dreadfort and its lands, in fact it had only taken Ned Stark a full day after they returned to Winterfell to find a castellan.

After Lysa Arryn´s indiscretion with Petyr Baelish, Ser Brynden hadn’t been eager to return to the Vale and Jon Arryn had understood that well, so Catelyn Stark had suggested that her uncle could serve in the Dreadfort and make sure that the lands were made ready for Bran to take over when the time came.

She had been very happy that Ser Brynden accepted her and lord Stark´s offer, but it seemed her happiness had been dampened when she found out that Robert Waters would be fostered in the Dreadfort.

Ser Brynden however was glad that Ned Stark had promised to keep the boy save and had been happy to foster him, and Ser Brynden had also promised to take the boy on as a squire if he showed any interest or aptitude for sword play.

As the last meal he attended in Winterfell for a while dragged on, he noticed that Sansa didn’t really say much for the duration of the meal. Even her eyes were down cast and they were overflowing in sadness.

He was going to say something, but when he opened his mouth, his uncle announced it was time for them to leave for the courtyard, and Jon had to start on his journey North.

            SANSA

The week had been hellish for her, and every day brought her more dread than the day before and it was only because Jon would be leaving today.

Her father had already asked her if she was feeling well, and she knew that he hadn’t believed her when she had told him that she was just a little sad that Jon would be leaving.

She just hoped that he didn’t suspect the truth, Sansa was sure that she would die of embarrassment if he found out that she was in love with Jon and had been in love with him before she had found out that he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.

They all made their way to the courtyard, to say their goodbyes to Jon, and she had to fight the urge to cry and try to drag Jon back into the castle and beg him to stay.

But she knew that she couldn’t do that, he needed to do this. Jon needed to prove to the lords of Westeros that he could manage his lordship, and if he did a good job now at the age they all thought he was, it would go such a long way to prove to them that he would be a good King.

She held in her sobs by force of will as she made her way outside with the others to make her goodbyes to Jon, she would miss him so much when he was gone.

The courtyard was filled with guards baring the Stark colors, that would be going with Jon, North to Queenscrown to guard the new lord and his people, and there were even more guards outside the gate that would be going with Jon on his journey. All in all, her father had gathered around five hundred men to go with Jon North, but Sansa was sure that more would soon follow as they need as many soldiers to help them claim the Iron throne when the time came.

Even the newly knighted Ser Allyn would be going with Jon to Queenscrown and he would be Jon´s captain of the guards, as he had been following Jory Cassel around and learning from him when they had been on their journey thought the North.

The stable hand Hodor was holding onto the reins of Jon´s bay gelding, who was waiting patiently for his master to say his goodbyes to his family.

Both Arya and Bran rushed over to hug their cousin, and it seemed that they were now both crying into his jerkin as Jon tried his best to comfort them.

As she watched her little sister and brother hug the life out of the man she loved, tried her best to commit him to her memory, but she knew that it wouldn’t be enough for her.

The situation was reminding her too much of when Jon had taken the black for the last time and she was having so much trouble keeping all her sadness at Jon leaving them, in. She watched as Jon shook hands with her father and thanked him for his help by sending guards and builders North, after he had managed to calm Arya and Bran down a little.

Sansa could spy former Maester Wolkan standing by his horse, waiting for Jon to say his goodbyes to his family. The citadel had sent a raven to Winterfell, telling them that the man was now stripped of his chain and he would no longer have any sort of affiliation with the order of the maesters.

It hadn’t come as a surprise to Sansa, the maesters wouldn’t like having someone in their order who had testified against the lord that they were sworn to serve. But Jon had done a wise thing in giving the man a place to go to, Wolkan was a learned man and he would be very grateful to Jon for offering him a place in his home, when not many other lords would be willing to do so.

Jon was now saying his goodbyes to Robb, and Sansa could see that her brother was looking decisively unhappy with the fact that his best friend was now leaving for some years. “You write to us as often as you can Snow.” Her brother said, while trying his best to sound grown up.

“You too Stark.” Jon said with a sad grin, and they gave each other a one-armed hug and slapped each other’s back.

Jon then, turned to Sansa, and she could see the sad look in his beautiful valyrian steel grey eyes. Before he could say anything, she rushed over to hug him.

“I don’t want you to go.” She whispered in his ear, so low that no one else could hear her. She felt his arms tighten around her.

“I don’t want to leave you.” He whispered back, and at his words she wanted nothing more than to start crying her eyes out, and demand that he stay. But that wasn’t something she would ever do; she couldn’t deny Jon the opportunity to prove himself. No matter her personal feelings, she would never try to deny Jon what was best for him.

As they let each other go, Jon placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead, like he had done so long ago, when he had left for Dragonstone in their last lives, only this time Jon was taller than her.

He then let her go, and walked over to his horse and gracefully mounted the patient gelding and she noticed that everything was starting to get blurry, and it took her a moment to realize it was because of the tears that were making their escape from her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.

When Jon and the party going North, had left the courtyard, she turned on her heel and made her way in a hurry to the Godswood.

When she arrived in the Godswood, she sat down in front of the Weirwood tree, she finally lost the battle with her tears, and Sansa buried her face into her hands and sobbed.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, just crying into her hands, she knew that her reaction to Jon leaving was rather extreme, but she couldn’t help but to feel the overwhelming sadness take over her very being, and she felt like she was back in King´s Landing, saying her final goodbyes to the man she loved.

She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, making her look up with a started look on her tear streaked face.

But she felt she could breathe easier when she saw Robb´s concerned face staring back at her. “Hey, are you alright?” The concern in his voice was touching and she loved her brother for being so concerned with her wellbeing, but she was also embarrassed that he was seeing her like this.

The only person she had ever allowed to see her as anything but strong for the last few years, was Jon himself, but now he wasn’t here.

She tried her best to get her sobbing under control as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “I will be fine, Robb. Thank you for asking, I just don’t want Jon to leave.”

Robb´s hand rubbed her shoulder in a valiant effort to make her feel a little better. “Aye, me either, I wish he would have stayed here with us, but you know how he is,” Robb smiled sadly at her. “when he sets his mind on something, it is hard to making him change it again.”

Sansa laughed at that; Robb had never been righter than at that moment. Jon´s stubbornness was one of his most loveable and infuriating traits that he possessed. “You are right, he is stubborn.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I just wish he could have stayed with us for a longer time, even though I know it is the best thing for him to leave and restore the Gifts and perhaps make them even better than they were before.”

“Me too.” Robb agree with her. “But he needed to do this.”

Yes, Jon had needed to do this, and as much as she wanted, she couldn’t be selfish and beg him to stay in Winterfell. Ultimately, she wanted what was best for Jon, and right now, what was best for him was to prove himself capable to the other lords, so she would support him in his decision to go North.

She just hoped that the years spent apart would pass quickly.

SER BARRISTAN

They rode though the King´s forest as the King was trying to hunt down a white stag that had been spotted around these parts, but Barristan was sure that the man couldn’t spot anything in the state that he was in.

Since the King couldn’t throw a tourney for the crown prince, he had dragged him and the men of the court to hunt for the stag, but right now he was so drunk that Barristan was impressed that he could even ride the horse he was on.

The crown prince was looking sullen as he rode beside his father on his pony, he had been wroth when his father had told him that there would be no tourney this year.

Barristan was riding beside the prince´s uncle, Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer who was looking annoyed by the whole affair.

“Imp.” Called the King with his loud voice, and the prince´s other Lannister Uncle rode up the line. “There you are, here share a drink with me.” The King handed him a flagon of Arbor gold and Tyrion Lannister took a swing of it.

“Thank you kindly, your grace.” The Imp of Casterly Rock said as he handed the flagon back to the Baratheon King.

“So, Lannister tell me, what made you decide to stay in the capitol after your father left us?” The King drank deeply from the flagon.

Barristan hadn’t been that surprised to find out that Tyrion Lannister had decided to stay in King´s Landing when lord Tywin had left, the current lord Lannister was hard man, who Barristan had to admit that he found him insufferable.

“I just wanted to spend some time with my family.” The small ugly man replied with a grin.

“HA,” Robert bellowed out. “Sure, it is, and I am the Queen of thorns.” This made the lords around them laugh, and Barristan was sure that they were all faking their laughter.

Barristan had spent enough time at court to know that whenever a King made a joke, people laughed even if it wasn’t funny at all.

Lord Tyrion gave a chuckle at the King´s words. “Well in all honesty I was getting rather sick of the Westerlands, and I wanted to spend some time in the illustrious capitol of the Seven Kingdoms.”

King Robert snorted at that. “I think shit stained is rather the word to describe King´s Landing. Shit and piss that is all one can smell in this place.” Robert Baratheon took another swing of the wine and Barristan could see the blood colored wine trickle down into his now bearded chin.

He couldn’t help the bitter feeling that overcame him as he listened to the Baratheon King, if anyone was to blame for the state of the city, it was Robert Baratheon. All the man cared about was drinking and whoring himself to an early grave.

Barristan knew in his heart that if Rhaegar had lived, he would never have allowed the city to fall into such disrepair.

He was well aware that Rhaegar Targaryen wasn’t a man without his faults, the silver prince had been a man obsessed with prophesy and prone to melancholy, but even then he had cared deeply about the people and he had plans to help the city grow and make it better than it had been before.

Then he had run away with Lyanna Stark, or taken her, depending who you talked to. But in his heart, he was sure that Rhaegar hadn’t taken his lady Lyanna against her will, that hadn’t been his way.

Rhaegar, who would have been one of the finest Kings, wouldn’t have taken a girl against her will, Barristan knew that to be the truth. The Dragon prince had been a kind and gentle soul, despite his stubbornness.

Lord Tyrion cleared his throat, bring Barristan back to the present. “I hear that lord Arryn is on his way to the Vale, is that true, your grace?” The curiosity was burning in his mismatched eyes.

The ever-fattening King hummed. “Yes, he is on his way to the Eyrie to discuss something or another with his lords, probably something to do with his crises about heirs.”

Lord Tyrion nodded and rubbed his chin in thought. “If I may ask your grace, is it true that lord Stark agreed to keep the young bastard in the Dreadfort and foster him there?”

Even after the last few months, people were still talking about the scandal that had rocked the capitol when Jon Arryn had found his wife in bed with Petyr Baelish. While Jon Arryn was universally liked and thought well of, his wife was not.

In fact, Lysa Arryn seemed to have gone out of her way sometimes to make people dislike her as much as possible, but no one had said anything as she was the wife of the lord hand, lord of the Eyrie and the Warden of the East.

But now after her affair had been made public, no one was afraid to publicly ridicule her.

The King let out a laugh before he took another swing of wine. “HA, good man that Ned, if there is a man that can be relied on it is Ned Stark.”

His words seemed to make few of the men, including the Imp of Lannister, uncomfortable, after the King hadn’t sent help to fund the restorations to the Wall, everyone was wondering if the King could rely on the Warden of the North anymore.

By not honoring the Northerners after either rebellion, and now denying them the funds they asked for to protect themselves, the North had been grievously offended, and it was becoming more and more clear to everyone.

Well everyone but the King it seemed, Robert Baratheon seemed to firmly believe that Ned Stark would support him no matter what, but thankfully Robert had decided to put a hold on any tourneys that he had been planning to throw for the next months, so that he would offend the lord of Winterfell.

It seemed that Robert Baratheon had found something that he loved more than Eddard Stark, and that was spending money of wine, women and food.

“Yes, it seemed that he is a good and reliable friend to have,” Lord Tyrion said. “and it seems that his bastard is just like the man himself.”

The Baratheon King let out a laugh. “HAHA, yes trust Ned to father the most honorable bastard in history of Westeros.” This cause many of the men to chuckle.

The story of how Ned Stark´s bastard son had risked his life to save his trueborn brother and sister had traveled far and wide, and the fact that he was officially the youngest ever to earn his spurs was impressive indeed.

There was also the news that said bastard had been made the new lord of the Gifts, which had surprised many of the lords, as the Gifts had belonged to the Nights watch, but it seemed that the lord commander had been desperate enough to give the boy the lands in exchange for him paying taxes to the watch instead of Winterfell.

Barristan had to admit that he was very interested in meeting the new lord of the Gifts, he seemed to on his way to become an interesting man indeed.

“I heard that he killed four men on his own when he saved the Stark children.” Piped lord Tyrell, and Barristan could see that both the Kingslayer and the crown prince seemed interested in the conversation now.

“That is what Jon said.” The King said with a laugh. “and it was him that found the torture chamber of the Boltons.” Barristan frowned at that, even though the boy who was said to be around ten or eleven years old had defended his siblings when he had to, finding the infamous torture chamber of the Red King must have been traumatizing indeed.

Barristan glanced at Tyrion Lannister, and he was sure that the small man must have been thinking the same thing.

But before anyone could say anything more, a call was heard from one of the scouts in the front of the party, saying that the stag had been spotted. Which put a halt on any conversation as they all rushed forward to hunt the stag.

Chapter Text

JON

Jon shook his curly dark hair out of his face as they rode on to Queenscrown, they were almost back home from the new Freefolk settlement that was a few hours ride out of the town that had clustered around the old tower keep.

The settlement of Freefolk wasn’t large, and it mostly had women and children, but there were sometimes disputes that had to be settled, that the current leaders couldn’t solve, so Jon had to go and settle them himself.

As the horses trotted down the King´s road, Jon rubbed his eyebrows, as he glanced to the west where the sun was setting behind the Western mountains. Maybe he would have time to take a nap before he sneaked out to meet Algernon, Earendil and Illyrion tonight.

Thinking for the three dragons made Jon smile involuntarily, and he tried his best to stop so that the guards wouldn’t think that he was losing his mind.

Ser Allyn was riding beside him, as he kept an eye on the large fields that stretched on as the eye could see on either side of the King´s road. The fields were filled with barley, wheat and rye and many other green vegetables that they had been growing for the last five years now to a great result.

His captain of the guards sighed. “I cannot wait until we get back, so I can kick back with Dragon-water in front of the fire while reading little Ned a story.” Jon smiled at the man, shortly after coming to Queenscrown the man had gotten married and he now had a three-year-old son, whom he had named after the lord of Winterfell.

“Just don’t drink too much Dragon-water, the last time you had too much, you decided to get married.” Jon said with a smirk as the older knight snorted.

“Ah, and what a day that was.” Ser Allyn looked blissfully into the distance. “I still cannot believe that my lovely Sylla agreed to marry me that day.”

“I am surprised that you can actually remember that day.” Jon said with his eyebrows going straight to his hairline. The day Ser Allyn had asked Sylla to marry him, had also been the day he had first had the now famous Dragon-water, and he had made the same mistake as many had and had drunk the amber liquid like one drank ale. It turned out that Dragon-water was much stronger than the Northern ale and at first it had resulted in some colorful incidents that many were still struggling to remember.

His words caused many of the guards to snicker but the man who had been knighted on the same day as Jon just grinned.

They talked as they rode south from the settlement to Queenscrown, and Jon could see the tall tower of the old keep rise in the distance, as the fields gave away to the growing apple trees, he felt glad that they were finally coming home.

The old tower had been the first thing that had been restored in the Gifts, but the town surrounding it had quickly sprung up around the tower keep and now it was a bustling town that was growing every day, where they made many things, including dyed wool that was made into fine yarns that they would sell at high prices at markets all round Westeros and Essos even.

They also made many things out of the leather they got from wild and domesticated animals, and they worked wood from the forests all around the Gifts, that they either made into things like furniture that would be sold at markets all around Westeros, or sent the lumber either to White Harbor or East watch by the sea, so that they could be made into ships, or sent off to Essos where it was sold off at a high price.

They had also built a large warehouse for the copper stills they used to make Dragon-water, and to house the wooden casks it was stored in until it was ready for drinking.

As they rode to the Tower keep that Queen Alysanne had once used, Jon had to admit that the tower was getting a little cramped, as it didn’t only serve as his lordly seat, it also served as Wolkan´s research building, as well as his teaching headquarters, where he taught interested people how to heal and take care of the sick.

The former maester seemed to have a keen interest in the healing arts and was delighted in teaching others how to heal people. Jon was pretty sure that when he had offered Wolkan a place at Queenscrown, he had stuck gold, as the man had paid for his research materials and upkeep a hundred times over.

They rode through the wooden town, and when they arrived at the stables, Jon handed his horse to one of the stable hands and headed over the wooden bridge into the Tower to look over the letters that had likely arrived in his day long absence, and then hopefully take a nap.

As he sat down at his desk in his solar, he looked over the letters that were occupying his desk and insisting that he read them.

They were from all over Westeros, and a few from Essos as well, from buyers of the goods that they produced all around the Gifts.

Jon reached out and picked up one letter that had been sent from Dorne, telling him that they were ready to send another shipment of sand, which them would be made into glass by the Northerners so that they could build glass houses all around the Gift and at the castles on the wall.

As Jon was in the middle of reading the missive, there was a knock on the door and a girl entered with his dinner. “Milord.” The girl curtsied and placed the trey on the corner of his desk.

The girl was none other than Gilly, she along with many of her sisters and fellow wives of Craster had decided to come to Queenscrown to seek safety and work, when Jeor Mormont had brought the man to justice at maester Aemon´s urging.

Jon of course had offered them all places here in Queenscrown, but some of them had elected to stay North of the Wall, as they had lived their whole life there and they wanted to spend the rest of their lives there as well.

“Your uncle Benjen has arrived and would like to talk to you.” She said with one of her sweet smiles that showed her overbite.

Jon glanced up at her with surprise in his eyes, when on earth had the man arrived, as when Jon returned Benjen hadn’t been there for he would have greeted him as Jon came back home.

“When on earth did he arrive?” Jon asked his friend.

“Just now, milord and he is asking if he can see you.”

Jon smiled that his uncle had come from Castle Black to see him. “Aye, of course let him in, and could you bring him something to eat as well, I am sure that he is hungry after the journey here.”

Gilly smiled and hurried to do his bidding. Benjen was the only one of his Stark family that he had seen for the last almost five years since he had left for Queenscrown, as the others were still so busy with the entire North, and they hadn´t been able to visit, and Jon being busy with the Gifts and helping the watch restore the castles that he hadn´t been able to go south to Winterfell.

When his uncle entered, Jon stood up and gave the man a hug in greeting. “Jon it is good to see you again.” His said with a smile. “You are as tall as Ned and me now.”

For the first time Jon noticed that it was indeed true that Jon stood at the exact high of his uncle Benjen, which for him was very strange indeed, as he had always been a few inches smaller than both his Stark uncles.

Jon had to stop himself from frowning at the man´s word in thought, it was strange that suddenly he was taller than he had been in his last life, but it wasn’t that much difference, and he had bigger things to deal with, so he put the worries out of his mind.

Jon gestured for the man to sit down, as the Gilly entered with a trey filled with food for his uncle. Jon thanked her with a smile as she took her leave of them.

“What brings you to Queenscrown uncle?” Jon asked as he took a seat himself.

The man grinned at him. “Well there has been some news from beyond the Wall that the senior command wants you to know.”

Jon sat straighter in his chair as he listened intently at his uncle. “There has been word from one of the Freefolk´s leaders, he and his people want to enter into negotiations, to be let south of the Wall.”

This made Jon´s eyebrows rise to his hairline, while there were small Freefolk settlements around the Gift that lived mostly in peace with the Northerners, he hadn´t expected any of the Freefolk leaders to try to enter into negotiations, when in his last life Mance Rayder had just attacked the Wall to try to get through.

“Which leader of the Freefolk is it?” Jon asked as he rubbed his now bearded chin, as he had finally managed grow a decent beard again, even though it was not as good as the one he had spotted when the Northern lords had crowned him King in the North.

Benjen swallowed a piece of bread before he answered. “Tormund Giantsbane.”

Jon stared at the man; Tormund wanted to negotiate to be allowed though the Wall? When Jon had first met the man, he hadn´t been the one for negotiating, and it hadn´t been until after Hardhome that they had started to trust one another and developed the friendship that they had shared.

Did this mean that Tormund remembered? Jon hoped that this was in fact true. He had missed his old friend, and it would make it easier to get the Freefolk on their side if he was advocating for peace between the Northerners and the Freefolk.

Benjen pulled him out of his thoughts once again. “He asked for you by name to attend the meeting.” Benjen sent him a searching look before he continued. “And Jeor wants the same thing, as they would be living on your lands if we can all come to an agreement.”

Jon nodded. “Of course, I will attend.” Benjen smiled at him for a moment before he turned serious once again.

“There is something else you have to know Jon.” The older man leaned a little forward and put his elbows on his knees. “More and more villages have been abandoned north of the Wall, and many of the Wildlings have been branding together behind Mance Rayder, and we fear that he may attack the Wall.”

Yes, that was well within the realms of possibilities, as he had done the same thing before. “Uncle, you know that the North will stand behind you, and if I have to, I will take Algernon, Earendil and Illyrion and help you fight.” But he hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, by now Jeor Mormont knew that something strange was happening beyond the Wall, to make the Freefolk band together and start moving south, so there was hope for them to negotiate with the Freefolk.

The ranger of the watch smiled at him, and there was a glint in his eyes. “Aye, I know, but are you sure that it would be wise to take them out of hiding yet?”

There was worry in the man´s eyes as he asked, but Jon just sighed. “I won’t be able to hide them for much longer, as they are getting so enormous, so I suppose that it doesn’t really matter.” Jon let out a laugh. “I am actually a little surprised that we have managed to hide them this long.”

Now it was Benjen´s turn to look shocked. “Are they already too big to be hidden in the Western mountains?”

Jon nodded as his smiled turned into a tired look, and he grabbed two cups and pored a small quantity of Dragon-water into both containers and handed Benjen one of them.

“Aye, they soon have to come out of hiding.”

His uncle took a sip of the amber liquid as Jon continued. “But that is not all.” At his words Benjen sent him a curious look, and Jon stood up and walked to a locked chest that he kept by a large oak bookcase.

Jon pulled out a key and opened the chest and pulled out the object that he wanted to show his uncle. Benjen would be the first person who would know this, as he hadn´t wanted to put the information into a letter, fearing that word would get out.

When he placed the object on the table, Benjen chocked on his Dragon-water. “Jon, is that…?”

Jon nodded. “Aye, that is gold.”

The lump of gold was a big as his fist, and it shone merrily in the light of the fire, as Benjen stared in wonder at the object. “Did you find it in the mountains?” The man asked as he picked up the lump to examine it.

“Aye, I had gone to the dragons, around four years ago to go on one of my midnight flights, and it was then I found a cave, and the walls were covered with gold.” Jon took a sip of the Dragon-water and watched his uncle look over the rock.

“And you didn’t say anything for four years?” The man asked in an astonished tone.

Jon snorted. “The gold is where the dragons are hiding, so until I bring them out of hiding, the gold cannot be mined, so there was no point in mentioning it.”

Benjen handed Jon the lump and he went to place it back into the chest. “You are right, but I have to admit that I am surprised that no one has found the gold before you.”

Jon sat back down in his chair. “I am not, the mountains are a hard terrain to travel though, and even if someone were to go there, the mouth of the cave is hard to locate, unless you are in the air.”

Benjen looked thoughtful for a moment. “So, will you be starting to mine for the gold when you can bring the dragons out of hiding?”

Jon smiled and took another sip. “It will take years to start mining and for the mines to start turning profit, and when the dragons are not in hiding anymore, I will be fighting a war, so I think I will be a little busy.”

But his uncle sent him a smile. “But you will be fighting a war with three dragons on your side, so that will make things easier.”

Jon knew that his uncle was trying to see the bright side of things, but Jon knew better than anyone that dragons weren’t invincible. “Dragons can be killed like anything else, uncle. And even if they couldn’t be killed, they shouldn’t be used to burn down castles and subjugate people.”

His uncle said nothing and waited for Jon to continue. “Sure, they make fighting a war a lot easier, but one has to know when to use them, and when not too.” He could still hear the screams of the people of King´s Landing when Daenerys had burned the city, even after all these years.

But Jon knew that he would have to use them in battle someday soon, because he knew that if he always refused to use them, it wouldn’t matter if he had them or not, the lords would think him Aenys Targaryen come again, and think him weak, and a weak king was just as bad as a tyrannical one.

“I don’t think that you are likely to burn down castles Jon.” The man said with a smile on his face. “I think that you will do a good job, as the lord of the Seven kingdoms.”

Jon hoped with all his being that he was right.

TORMUND

He trekked thought the snow and he heard his warriors followed him faithfully. They had an important mission to complete and every single one of them understood that they had to do this, no matter how ill they liked it.

He glanced at the spearwife beside him, who had only joined his people when he had killed the former leader of her former war band, Rattleshirt.

The young woman was Ygritte, with her fiery red hair and pretty blue eyes. He had to admit that he was glad that she had joined up with his clan and war party, as he wanted the girl to live this time around.

Tormund had to fight the urge to sigh, as he thought of his last life, and all the horror that had happened then. So naturally he had jumped at the chance to come back and help his friend Jon Snow, or rather Jon Targaryen as he had been told, to save the world yet again, and perhaps save more of his people than they could the last time around.

He watched as one of his scouts send him the signal to move, and then they attacked. His people rushed forward and Tormund had to admit that even though the enemy was small, they fought fiercely.

As Tormund fought, he could hear the rushing of the red leaves on the giant Weirwood tree that stood proudly on the high hill above them.

The children of the forest were nimble and fast, and one of them had managed to land a punch on his chin, but after a long and hard battle, the children had been subdued.

Tormund turned to Ygritte. “How many did we lose?”

The woman grimaced. “We lost seven and ten more are injured.” He had expected more losses than this, but they had managed to sneak up on the children, as they hadn´t been expecting them.

He nodded and made his way into the cave, with many of his warriors following him. As they followed the tunnel, he could see pale roots sticking out of the walls that reminded him of gnarly bones.

After many long moments of walking they finally made it to the end of the tunnel and entered the cave directly under the large Weirwood tree. There it was, tangled in the pale roots of the Weirwood tree, like he was sitting on a throne.

The three eyed raven was glaring weakly at him with his cruel red eye, as the other eye had a root sticking out of it, and likely couldn’t see anything at all.

The man was pale and skeletal, and dressed in rotted black clothing of the night´s watch, and his finely spun white and silver hair reached the floor of the cave.

The corpse man opened his mouth and tried to speak, but it was like the thing had forgotten how to utter any words. Tormund stared at the thing that had caused so much pain and horror. He remembered well how the thing that used his friend´s cousin as a vessel to become the leader of the kneelers and had sent Jon to join a dying order for doing the right thing.

As the thing opened his mouth again to say something, Tormund ignored it and followed the instructions that he had gotten from the fires of the red god, or the burning god, or whatever his name was again.

While he was grateful for the second chance that he had been given by the flaming god, and the instructions how to stop the thing that was now tangled in the roots of the Weirwood, he was still of the true North and the old gods.

The old ways were his ways until he was dead and gone, and no fiery god would change that.

Tormund walked behind the thing in the roots and knelt on the ground of the cave and started to dig with his hands.

“Firespeak, what are you doing?” Ever since he had come back with his memories, he had started to see visions in the flames, like Jon had told him that the red woman had received, and when his people found out they had added that name to his many other ones.

But he had to say that he still liked the name Giantsbane the best.

Tormund just grunted out an answer, he knew that it was hear somewhere, he had seen it. As he dug into the ground, he could hear the thing in the roots, grunt and whisper out, “Don´t.” over and over again.

Then he found it, just like the fires had foretold.

The sword that he had dug up had a black hilt and the pommel was made in the likeness of golden flames, and the cross guard was in the same golden color like the pommel, but it was the blade itself that was the most impressive. The steel was just like Jon´s Longclaw in color and sharpness, but it was much smaller and slimmer, like it had been made for someone much smaller and skinnier, like a woman.

He walked back in front of the three eyed raven, and he smirked at the man, who was stuck in the tree. “Mine.” He growled out in a low and weak voice.

“Harhar,” He had to laugh at the thing that was glaring at him evilly. “We both know that that is not true.”

He observed the thing for a few more moments, he wasn’t anything alike he had been when he had been in Bran Stark´s body, this thing was more primitive that it had been in his last life, like it barely had any energy to move or talk.

“We should go Tormund.” Ygritte spoke up and looked the three eyed raven in disgust and horror.

He tied the sword to his hips so that he wouldn’t lose it. “Aye, we should.” He looked at the thing in the tree for a moment. “Let’s burn everything, and make sure nothing is left of this place.”

The creature in the tree gasped. “No.” in a low voice, as Tormund´s people got to work on ridding the world of the evil in the cave.

JON ARRYN

He was woken up by a knock on the door of his chamber and one of his guards calling him to wake up. “My lord hand, there has something happened, you are wanted in the small council chamber.”

He could feel a lump in his throat as he dressed faster than he had ever before. Nothing good could come of being woken at the hour of the wolf and being called to the small council chamber in the dead of night.

He rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes, as he had gone to sleep a little later than he would have liked, as his four-year-old daughter Alys had having trouble sleeping.

The little blond-haired girl was the apple of his eye and had been since the moment she was born. There was no doubt in his mind that the girl was his child, as she was just like his sister, who he had named his daughter after.

After Lysa´s indiscretion, people had been surprised that he hadn´t made her join the silent sisters for her affair. But Jon didn’t have the heart to do it. She had only been a sixteen-year old girl when she married him at Riverrun, and he had been a sixty-five-year-old man who had been looking for a fertile bride so that he could have sons.

It didn’t excuse her by no means, but he just couldn’t bring himself to force her to join the silent sisters.

So, he had offered her a choice, if she wanted to join the sisters of her own free choice and will, she would of course be allowed to do that.

Or she could be set aside and join her father at Riverrun and take the Tully name once again. when he had offered her this, his wife had pleaded and begged him for another chance, and she had promised to do everything he asked, if he just forgave her and gave her another change.

It seemed that the reality of the situation had been thrust in front of her eyes, that if she had been set aside and sent to her father, things wouldn’t have been good for her, for if Hoster had been content to send a blameless child away, what would he have done if his daughter had turned up at his door?

So, he had decided to give her a one more chance, but it hadn´t been without it´s conditions. Lysa now had to be in the constant presence of two septas when she wasn’t in his presence so that both he and the lords of the Vale could be assured of the paternity of any children that they had.

After that, she had fallen pregnant surprisingly quickly, especially when all the miscarriages she had suffered before Robert Waters had been conceived, were taken into consideration.

Could it be because she had been actively trying not to have his children? No, that couldn’t be, she had been so devastated every time when she had lost a babe, and Lysa was many things, but she would never intentionally harm her own child.

He hurried out of his room as he made his way to the small council chamber, and when he finally entered the throne room, he could see bodies of Baratheon and Lannister men litter the floor as their lifeblood had been spilled all over the floor and he felt fear slither in his gut at the sight.

When he entered the small council chambers, he was stunned as he stared forward at the scene in front of him. 

Robert was in a rage as grabbed a chair and threw it across the room in his anger, making the men inside the room do their best not to get hit.

“What is going on.” Jon shouted over the ruckus that Robert was making, and the formally fit man turned to look at him with the fury of the Baratheons shining in his eyes and sweat running down his face at the effort it took to throw the massive fit he was having.

“The whore happened.” This made Jon frown as he tried to figure out which whore the man was talking about, Robert had so many that it was hard to keep track of them all, especially now that the crown owned Baelish´s establishments, and Robert had just decided to keep them as he had grown fond of the coin they provided.

Robert grabbed one of the silver cups on the table, that were still standing, and filled it with wine and took a great swing of the contents. The table was red with spilled wine, as the man had most likely thrown something at the table, which had made the majority of the contents spill everywhere.

“What whore are you talking about, Robert?” Jon asked slowly like he was trying to calm a startled horse.

The other man frowned as he poured himself another cup. “My fucking wife, the whore Cersei.” Jon glanced at the other man in the room, and he could see that while Mace Tyrell was startled and afraid, there was a happy glint in his eyes, but Grand maester Pycelle frowned at the man´s words.

“Queen Cersei is your wife, your grace, and the mother of your children, I do not think that it is a good idea to talk this way about her.” The ancient man tried to reason with the King, but Jon still didn’t know what had happened.

“THOSE BASTARDS ARE NO CHILDREN OF MINE.” Robert shouted as he threw the cup, along with its contents at the old man, and it hit the man square in the face, spilling wine over his face and chest, and causing him to cradle it as he cried out in pain, while Robert bellowed. “ANOTHER CUP.”

The lord of Highgarden rushed over with another cup for the King so that the man could have more wine.

But his words made Jon stare at the lord of the Seven Kingdoms, what had made the man think that the children weren’t his, then it hit him like the cup had hit Pycelle.

Had the King walked in on his Queen having an affair?

“What exactly happened Robert? I need to know.” But the man just took another swing of his new cup. Then his younger brother, Renly answered for him.

“There was a messenger that arrived this evening, telling my brother that the Queen was having an affair and the children weren’t even his.” Renly glanced at his brother who was drinking more wine, causing it to spill all over him and turning his tunic red with wine stains.

Renly then turned his blue eyes back to Jon as he continued. “We went to where the Queen was said to be meeting with her lover, with guard to see if we could catch her in the act.” It was then when Jon spotted a victorious look on the man´s face, and it seemed that what had happened pleased the man greatly. “We spotted her with her brother, Jaime Lannister and then we arrested them, and took her son Joffrey, who they no doubt intended to inherit my brother´s throne after his death.”

Jon could only stare at the man; the Queen had been having an affair with her brother? And the children had all been fathered by the Kingslayer?

But how the King had learned about the affair, reminded him of how he had learned of Lysa´s affair with Littlefinger, which made him look around for Varys, to see if he had anything to add to the conversation.

But he was nowhere to be found. “Where is Varys?” Jon asked the other men in the room with a confused frown on his face.

But Robert snorted. “The coward hasn’t been spotted; he had most likely run away to hide under Tywin´s skirt.”

“Wait, why would Varys go to Tywin Lannister?” Jon asked the man he had raised the best he could.

His question was followed by an awkward silence before Robert broke it again. “We cannot find the whore´s other to whelps anywhere, so Varys had most likely taken them to Tywin in hopes of the man protecting him.”

Jon frowned at his words. “Why would Varys need to be protected?” He asked the King with a frown that seemed to be growing stuck to his face.

But now it was Stannis who answered. “The eunuch clearly kept the Queen´s secret from my brother, and now he intends to buy favor with Tywin by bringing him the children to Casterly Rock.”

This logic made no sense to Jon, Varys had never seemed to like Tywin Lannister or any Lannister for that matter, so why would he side with Tywin now?

If Jon was a betting man, he would guess the reason he had disappeared from the city was because he knew that Robert would most likely kill him for not having told him about Cersei´s affair with her brother.

He knew that his foster son most likely would have killed the man, as he was the master of Whispers and hadn´t told him how his heir had been a bastard born of incest.

But that raised the question, why hadn´t Varys told anyone of the Queen´s infidelity?

“Not to mention that the eunuch hasn’t had any luck locating Littlefinger or the books nor has he managed to get his assassins to kill Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen.” Lord Renly said snidely.

Jon had been trying his best to dissuade Robert from killing the Targaryen children, but ever since Littlefinger and the books were in the wind, and with the North not paying taxes to the crown, Robert had started to grow more and more concerned with the security of his rule, and he would only grow even more insecure as now he had no son to inherit his throne.

Robert would never rest easy as long as someone with the name Targaryen was out there, just waiting to try to claim the throne.

Mace Tyrell opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Robert bellowed out for whomever to come in as he took another swing of wine to cool his anger.

Ser Arys Oakheart entered and there was confusion and fear on his comely face. As he bowed to Robert and the lords gathered in the small council chambers, Robert spoke up again. “Well where is Ser Barristan and the imp? Barristan needs to start looking for another kingsguard to replace Tywin´s not so pretty anymore spawn, and we need to find the imp, no matter what dingy tavern or brothel he is currently holed up in.”

Jon stared at the man in front of him, was this the man he had raise all those years ago in the Vale alongside Ned? And what had the man done to Jaime Lannister, if Robert indeed intended to set Cersei aside, he would need a guarantee that Tywin wouldn’t rise against him and if he harmed the Kingslayer, Tywin would raise a force to attack Robert.

“Robert,” He said interrupting whatever Ser Arys had to say. “You cannot harm Ser Jaime, if Tywin finds out that you harmed his favorite son, he will rise against you.”

“Damn Tywin Lannister and his pride,” Robert spit out in anger. “Let him rise against me, and I will crush him, after the Targaryen scum, the damn lion will be child´s play.” In his anger, the dark-haired man seemed to forget that he was no longer the warrior that he had been, and Tywin wasn’t Aerys Targaryen, who was too lost in his madness to see reason.

Then the King of the Seven Kingdoms turned to Ser Arys once again. “Well, where the fuck is the old man? He has to find a replacement for the Kingslayer,” Robert let out a laugh and took another swing of the wine. “he should enjoy that; Barristan was always harping on about how he should have traded the white cloak for a black one.”

“Your grace,” Ser Arys said in a shacky tone which in itself was unusual for the man. “We cannot locate Ser Barristan anywhere.”

As everyone turned to look at the man, Jon could only wonder what on earth was going on.

Chapter Text

EDDARD

He watched the head of the black brother he had just decapitated roll on the ground, away from him. He could smell the blood in the air as the head left a red trail in its wake in the summer snow.

Maybe somethings were always meant to be and would never change, no matter if the gods were helping you or not.

The man had said the same things as he had in his last life, only this time, Ned believed every word that he said, but that was not enough to buy the man life, as he was a deserter, and as a deserter he had to die.

The North and the Wall was now getting stronger than it had been in years, with all the restorations that had been implemented in the last few years since Ned, Jon and Sansa had come back to their younger bodies, but there was still work to be done.

But Ned knew that it was very soon that they would need to raise their banners and march on to war, against the man he had once called friend.

The lord of Winterfell handed Theon Greyjoy the great sword Ice, so that it could be sheathed and taken back home and cleaned, then he turned to his children who had attended the execution.

Even though he had been executing the same man for the same crime, there were differences this time. This time Jon wasn’t there with them, but Sansa and Arya were in his place, both looking strange to his eyes in their jerkins and trousers, and Ned´s elder daughter had taken up Jon´s task of encouraging Bran.

His wife had been outraged when Ned had started to take Sansa and later Arya to attend executions, but maybe one day they would have to do this for themselves as they were of the North, or the very least have to watch as someone followed their orders.

Though he had to admit, he found it hard to imagine that one day one of his little girls would be ordering someone to death.

He ordered the men to burn the body before he made his way to where the children were standing. Sansa sent him one of her now rare smiles, as she steered her sister away so that he could talk to Bran alone.

Ever since Jon had left for Queenscrown, Ned elder daughter had seemed a lot more somber and serious, and her once lively and bright smiles had dimmed, much to his and his wife´s concern. Not for the first time, Ned had to wonder if Sansa had feelings for Jon.

He had to admit that it felt strange to think about that Sansa could have feelings for her cousin as they had been raised as siblings, but when they had been children they had never been close, and Sansa had done everything to distance herself from the bastard of Winterfell.

But when he really thought about why Sansa was so sad and despondent after Jon had left for his new lordship, it was the only thing that made sense to him.

Ned had to admit that if there was anyone that he felt was worthy of his little girl, Jon was the only one he could think of that came closest. He was sure that if Jon and Sansa would marry that Jon would treat Sansa well and with all the respect and dignity she deserved, and he would be faithful to her.

He pulled himself from the thoughts of Jon and Sansa, it was too early to think of such things now, as the world believed them to be half siblings, and he made his way to his second youngest child, who was shifting from one foot to the other in nervousness. “Are you alright Bran?” He asked the boy who had been named after his own brother but was so different in every way that counted from Ned´s wild older sibling.

The red headed boy nodded. “I am fine.” Ned could see that the boy was trying to put on a brave face.

“Do you know why I did it?” Ned asked the boy, who frowned at the question.

“Because he is a deserter of the Night´s watch?” Bran´s answer came out more of a question than an actual answer, and Ned had to fight a smile.

“But do you know why I had to be the one to do it?”

This made Bran´s frown deepen. “Because our way is the old way.”

Ned reached out and placed his hand on the boy´s shoulder. “A man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, and he owes it to the man to look him in the eyes and hear his last words, and if he cannot, then perhaps that man does not deserve to die.”

He looked into his son´s blue eyes. “Do you understand?” The nine-year old boy nodded at him, before they turned and started to walk towards the horses.

Bran looked up at him for a moment before he asked. “Does Jon do his own beheading as well?” It seemed that the five years that Bran hadn’t seen Jon, hadn’t made him any less impressed with his cousin and his achievements.

“Aye, he does.” Ned answered his son with a smile. “Like us, Jon is of the North and holds true to the old ways.”

Bran smiled at his words. “Do you think that I will be as good a lord as him?” Ned laughed and ruffled his auburn hair.

“I am sure if you study hard and are good and kind to your people, you will be just fine.” With those words, they mounted their horses and rode on, but Ned kept his eyes on the edge of the trees and on the road in front of him, he knew that if everything was the same as before, they would find the dead stag on the road, and six direwolf pups in need of rescue.

He only half listened to the men around him chat, and he could see that Robb and Arya were teasing each other mercilessly, until Arya challenged her brother to a race and spurred her horse into a gallop with a laugh.

In his last life it had been Robb and Jon who had raced on a head, and found the direwolf, but it seemed that Arya had taken Jon´s place this time.

It didn’t take long until Arya rode back to them, yelling that they had found something. Sansa glanced at him from her horse, and his heart warmed seeing the excitement in her eyes of the prospect of having her wolf cub again.

They all hurriedly rode forward until they came to were Robb was looking over the carcass of a large stag that had clearly been dead for hours now. He could hear the guards and Theon talk around him, but he tuned it out as he dismounted his horse.

Ned took a quick look over the dead stag, and he was reminded of the words of his wife in other life, that the dead stag and direwolf had been signs from the gods, and it was only now that he truly believed them and that they had been a warning sent from the old gods.

He turned and walked toward where he knew that the dead direwolf had lain with her pups, and he could hear everyone dismount behind him, and there were some who followed him.

In their last life they had found a dead direwolf with five pups trying to drink from her, and one that had wandered off.

But lying there in the clearing, was a living, full grown direwolf, staring at him with her golden eyes, giving him the shock of a lifetime and making him almost stumble from sheer astonishment.

He heard a gasp behind him, and he tried to keep Arya from approaching any closer. “Arya stay back.” He ordered and moved her behind him, and he heard the unmistakable sound of swords being drawn from their sheaths, and but gestured them to stay away.

The large she-wolf stared at him with her piercing eyes but made no move against him nor did she send him a growl or a snarl.

She stared at him, while five of her pups were searching for her teats then she lowered her large head to the ground and let out a small whine.

It was hard to explain the feeling that washed over him as he stared into the eyes of the wolf, and he knew in his gut that she wasn’t going to harm him, nor his children.

Had the old gods really sent her to him and his children?

He took a step forward, and he heard Jory call out to him. “No, my lord she will kill you.” But he ignored the man and continued towards the direwolf.

She didn’t move as he approached her and just continued looking at him with her knowing eyes as he knelt by her head in the summer snow. Ned reached out his hand and she sniffed at it before licking it, letting him know that it was alright to pet her.

It was then when he noticed that her hind leg was injured, and it was clearly causing her pain. He leaned a little closer to the injury and examined it closely. It wasn’t serious, but it would need tending to, and without cleaning it would surely fester.

“Father?” He spotted Arya inching closer with the look of uncontrolled curiosity on her face. He turned to look at her, and he could feel it in the back of his mind that the she-wolf didn’t mind her presence.

He beaconed her over. “Come on, it is alright, she won’t hurt you.” Arya knelt beside him and slowly reached her hand closer to the wolf´s head to let her sniff at it.

Like with Ned, the she-wolf licked her hand, making Arya giggle. Now it was Bran´s turn to inch closer as he stared in awe of the direwolf.

“Can I pet her too?” Bran asked as he stared at the large wolf, and Ned gestured him forward. The she-wolf seemed to relish the attention she was getting, and Arya dug her small hand into her pocket and pulled out a dried piece of meat and handed it to the direwolf, which she happily gulped down.

“Can we keep her father?” Bran asked and turned his big blue eyes at him.

Ned looked into the eyes of the she-wolf once again as he spoke to Bran. “She is a direwolf Bran, and direwolves belong to themselves.” The lord of the Dreadfort looked like he wanted to say something as Ned continued. “But we cannot in good conscience let the sigil of our house die out here along with her pups.”

This seemed to make the boy very happy as he threw himself at his neck and laughed happily. “So, she will come with us to Winterfell?”

Ned confirmed his words as Arya turned to her father. “Can each one of us have a pup?”

He looked into the eyes of his begging children. “Aye, but you have to understand, that a direwolf is no mutt that can be kicked around, they are fierce beasts that will be faithful to you, if you are faithful to them.” He fell silent for a few moments before he added. “And you will train them and take care of them, and if they die, you will bury them yourselves.”

He then picked up one of the dark furred direwolf pups and handed Bran one that looked the most like the one that had been his, in their last life, as the she-wolf watched calmly on the proceedings.

When all his children had picked out their pups, and Ned had taken the black one into his arms for Rickon, Arya spoke up. “But what about Jon? He should have one too.”

Ned frowned and looked around him as he tried to spot the albino pup that Jon had gotten last time. But it was then when Sansa´s pup started to grow restless, and the little she-wolf tried to get at something in the south side of the clearing.

Sansa walked over to where the little wolf was trying to go, and every eye in the clearing followed her as she knelt into the snow.

When she stood back up and turned to face them, she had the largest smile on her face, as the two pups snugged together in her arms.

“I found Jon´s pup.” She said with a smile as she approached them.

As everyone stared at the unbelievable find, Arya spoke up once again. “Do direwolves just pop up like daisies in this clearing?”

VARYS

The ship rocked back and forth as Varys sat in the cabin, he was sharing with three other people. The two of said people were Tommen and Myrcella Waters, who were Cersei Lannister´s bastards that had been fathered by her brother, Ser Jaime Lannister.

Varys rubbed his hairless chin as he sat by the small desk and glanced at the two sleeping figures of the children. He knew that when Robert had gotten the letter, telling him of the affair that Cersei had with her brother, he had to take the children out of the city and to safety when he left the capital.

He knew that when Robert found out about Cersei and her brother that it would no longer be safe for him in the Red Keep, as Robert no doubt thought that the spy master had failed him one too many times.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the children in King´s Landing, Varys knew that Robert was quite capable of executing them for the crimes of his wife, as he had proven when he had gloated over the dead bodies of Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen, when Tywin Lannister presented their mutilated corpses to him as a coronation present.

He watched as little Tommen clutched his little kitten closer to him in his sleep, as his dyed mud brown hair fell into his eyes, and he was glad that he had saved the poor children. They didn’t deserve the cruelties that Robert would no doubt inflict on them.

Little Myrcella hugged her little brother close in her sleep and buried her tear streaked face into his hair. The fact that they had to cut her hair short and dye it a dull brown had made the little girl cry silently, but she had suffered the loss of her hair with more dignity that he had expected.

While he hadn´t intended for Robert to find out just yet about the infidelities of his wife, things weren’t as horrible as they seemed, the North was now stronger than ever, and the King´s dragons must be quite large at this point, so now that Robert had found out that Cersei´s children weren’t his, a wedge had been driven between him and the Lannisters, making him even more financially unstable.

Especially now that it was becoming more and more clear to everyone that Littlefinger had been stealing from the crown even though there was still no word on the books so that they could confirm it.

Every time he thought of those damned books he could feel the annoyance bubble in his gut, he desperately needed them, as he knew that there had to be some proof that Littlefinger had been stealing in them, why else would he hide them so well.

As he thought of Littlefinger, Varys grew sure of that it had been him that had sent Robert the letter, claiming, rightfully so, that Cersei had been having an affair.

It fit with his method of creating chaos so that he could profit on it and leaving Robert without a son to inherit the Kingdoms would certainly do so.

Was this all an attempt to try and get back into Robert´s good graces? It could be, as the man who had exposed such treason would be well rewarded.

But Littlefinger had also had an affair with Lysa Arryn, and fathered a bastard on her, which would most likely be a strike against him with Robert who loved Jon Arryn. But maybe this would be enough to earn the man a clean slate with the Stag King.

He looked up as the door was opened and the fourth and final inhabitant of the room entered and closed the door behind them.

The tall man pulled the hood away from his lined face and looked at the two children that were sleeping peacefully on the bed. “I haven’t murdered them, that is Robert´s game.” Varys said to the man.

While Robert hadn´t actually murdered children yet, the fat man was comfortable with taking much joy in the suffering of innocents and ordering children dead for his own gain.

And that was just as bad as doing the act himself.

Ser Barristan Selmy´s blue eyes fixed him a look, and Varys thought to himself that the man looked strange without white cloak and armor. “I never said you did.” The knight couldn’t be more different from Varys in all respects, but the spy master still liked and respected the man.

“How is our cargo doing?” Varys wanted to change the subject to something safer.

The knight of the King´s guard shot him another look, this one more pointed. “Did you have to put lord Tyrion in a crate?”

“Yes.” No, he hadn´t, but the small man had betrayed Varys to the Dragon Queen in another life, and Varys wasn’t above petty revenge, even if the man didn’t know he had betrayed him. “Lord Tyrion has very distinctive features that are hard to disguise.”

Varys would have been able to disguise the man as a child as he was just a little taller than Tommen and Myrcella, and Varys doubted that the sailors would have raised an eyebrow at him if he kept his hood on, but this was much more fun for Varys.

The older man sat down on a chair next to Varys. “So, what is he like? The rightful King?” Barristan asked in a low but and excited voice and glanced around him to make sure that no one was hiding in a corner and listening in on their conversation.

“He is a lot like Rhaegar in many ways, but he also takes after his mother.” Varys said with a small smile, when Varys had told the other man of the true King and Rhaegar´s son, the older man had almost taken of his head in his anger.

He had thought that Varys had been lying, but when Varys had managed to explain how Rhaegar had married Lyanna and they had run away together, the knight had been willing to listen.

“In what ways is he alike the prince? Aside from being a skilled swordsman?” There was a hunger in the older man´s eyes, hunger for knowing more about the rightful King and the last child of the man he had admired so much.

“He is a good man,” Varys said thoughtfully. “and he doesn’t want power for power´s sake, rather he wants to be able to do something good with it.” That was always the feeling that Jon Targaryen had left him with when they met.

The rightful King was a good and capable leader, even when men had thought him to be a bastard, they had preferred him to those of trueborn blood.

“But,” Varys spoke up again, making Ser Barristan look at him. “he is also stubborn like his father, and he is a very serious young man, but he seems to be a lot more grounded than Rhaegar and he isn’t obsessed with prophecies.”

Ser Barristan looked sad when he mentioned prophecies. “Rhaegar would have been a good King.” He said sadly and looked into his lap.

Varys agreed that Rhaegar would have made a good King, not great but good. People often looked wistfully into the past and wondered what could have been if Rhaegar had been King instead of Robert, and Varys agreed that the dragon prince would have been better than Fat King Robert and the Mad King Aerys, but being worse than those two was probably very hard.

The Mad King burned people alive for his own amusement, and the Fat King was drinking, eating and whoring himself to death.

But if you compared Rhaegar to the actual good Kings that Westeros had, Varys doubted that the dragon prince would have been as good as them, the man was to obsessed over prophecies and making them come true to be all that effective as a King. Not to mention the lapse in judgement he had shown when he had run away with Lyanna Stark.

But Varys decided not to open that discussion now, it didn’t do anything to dwell on the past and what could have been. So, he changed the subject. “So, what did the captain say? When will we arrive in White Harbor?”

Ser Barristan pulled himself out of reminiscing about Rhaegar and the family he had served with such pride. “If the winds hold, around two weeks” Varys nodded, when they arrived in White Harbor, they would have to travel from there on horseback to Winterfell and remain in hiding until it was time for King Jon to announce his existence.

Until then they would have to lay low.

JON ARRYN

Jon hurried to the chambers of the King as fast as he aging body allowed him, and he was sure that he had terrified more than one servant with the look of anger on his face alone.

He could feel his blood boil at Robert actions, how could the man have done this? This was madness. This was something he had expected of the mad King, and not the man he had raised in the Eyrie all those years ago.

He had hurried to the dungeons to see Jaime Lannister after the small council meeting had been concluded and what he had seen had brought dread and terror to his stomach, and he had known that he had to talk to Robert about this.

This could not be allowed to stand, when Tywin found out about this, there would be hell to pay. It was bad enough that Robert had imprisoned Cersei and her son Joffrey Waters in the black cells, but this was going way beyond any line of decency.

The hand of Robert Baratheon arrived at the King´s solar, and he could see the tired face of Ser Arys guarding the door. When the King´s guard saw him, he immediately went to inform Robert of his arrival.

When Jon entered the solar, he could see that Robert had graduated from wine to the Northern Dragon-water that had been becoming very popular in the last few years. “Ah, Jon you are here, we need to talk.”

Jon nodded and took a seat. “Yes, I am afraid we do.” Robert opened his mouth to say something, but Jon decided to press his luck by interrupting whatever he had to say. “What on earth did you do to Jaime Lannister?”

Jon made sure that Robert could hear the shock and outrage in his voice. “That fuck was fucking my wife, his own sister. He got what was coming for him.”

“Robert,” Jon stared at the man in front of him, even after all the mistakes the man had made in the last years running the Seven Kingdoms, this one should have been easy to avoid. “You beat his face to a pulp and broke his sword hand so badly that he will never use it again, the maester even had to remove a finger.”

Robert growled lowly. “That is not nearly enough for what he and the whore did to me.” He took a swing of the Dragon-water. “I have no sons Jon, no sons to inherit my Kingdoms after I am gone.”

The man he had raised in the Eyrie sounded so sad as he said that, and Jon almost felt sorry for him. “Robert, we needed Jaime Lannister whole so that Tywin couldn’t make a move against us.”

But the King just snorted. “I didn’t geld him, even though I wanted too, and that is the only part that Tywin really wants, so that the Kingslayer can sire some heirs to continue Tywin´s damned legacy.” He let out a laugh at his own joke.

“Robert you have imprisoned his favorite son, are setting aside his daughter and declared the children bastards, Tywin will go to war for less.” He tried to make Robert see reason, but the bigger man just waved his hand in dismissal.

“Not even the old lion can win a war against all the other Kingdoms, we shall smash him, but in the meantime, I have to find a new wife.” Jon was surprised that the man was actually bringing this up by himself, Jon would have thought that he would have to persuade Robert with a lot more difficulty. “I need to get Mace Tyrell of my back, as he and Renly are always showing me a likeness of his daughter and trying to get me to marry her.”

Jon could have slapped himself, of course that was the reason Robert was starting so early to look for a new bride, and not drowning his sorrows in a new whore. “Well, lady Margaery is not a bad choice, she does bring the Reach which is very beneficial for you, but I think you should look North for a bride, like lord Arnolf Karstark´s daughter Eddara, who is twenty years old and unmarried.”

Robert stared at him for a moment before letting out a booming laugh. “Why on earth would I marry a Karstark, when there is a Stark I could marry?”

Jon could feel something akin to a stone settle in his stomach when Robert said those words. “Robert, Ned has no living sisters and his elder daughter is only thirteen years old.”

“And what of it? Your wife was sixteen when you married her when you were around sixty.” Jon rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“Robert, my marriage to Lysa hasn’t exactly been what you would call a happy one.”

But Robert just took another swing of the Dragon-water. “All girls dream of becoming Queens, and that should make her happy and I need to have trueborn sons, and Serena Stark will give them to me, like her aunt would have if the gods would have been kinder.”

“Her name is Sansa, and Ned had already told me that he is going to marry her to some Northern lord.” Jon tried to dissuade Robert from this ridiculous notion of Robert marrying Ned´s daughter.

Ned would never agree to marry his little girl to Robert, Ned had realized what his old friend was, and there was no way that Ned would let his little girl suffer a fate like being married to a man old enough to be her father, who spent all his time drinking and whoring.

“Why on earth would he do that, when he can marry her to the King of the Seven Kingdoms?” Robert asked the question like Ned would find it an honor to marry his little girl to his old friend.  

“Robert, the girl is thirteen years old and not ready to have children, and you need children now.” Jon hoped that his would work to deter him from the notion of marrying Sansa Stark, the girl deserved better than marry a man who would drink and whore himself to an early grave and would only use her as an replacement for her dead aunt.

Robert snorted into his cup. “Send Ned a letter that I will be marrying his daughter, that should make the Northern lords happy, to know that Ned´s girl will be becoming the Queen.”

While Sansa Stark would be a good Queen for the realm and many of the Northern lord would be a happier having a Northern Queen but being married to a man so much older than her would not be good for the girl.

The girl was bright and intelligent, and those qualities would be wasted on a man such as Robert.

Not to mention that Ned would be furious that Robert would be trying to marry his little girl.

“Robert I don’t think that this is a good idea, you refused to help Ned when he asked for it in restoring the castles on the Wall that defend the realm, and now you are demanding his daughter as well.” Jon tried to reason with the younger man.

But his words just made the man in front of him turn red in the face with anger. “And Ned and the Northern lords haven’t been paying the crown taxes for almost six years now, and I have looked the other way.” He drank more Dragon-water and stared at Jon with fury in his eyes. “As for his daughter, Ned will be honored that I will be making her Queen, and his grandson will be a King one day, what more could he want?”

Jon opened his mouth to tried once again to reason with Robert, but the man interrupted him. “Enough, I have made up my mind, if I cannot marry a son to Ned´s daughter, I will just marry her myself, send the letter Jon.”

The hand of the King stared at the man in front of him, he had a hard time believing that he had raised this man himself. How could he have failed Robert so? How could he have failed the Kingdoms so?

“Now,” Robert spoke up in his booming voice, effectively bringing Jon out if his depressing thoughts. “It is time to call the banners, Tywin will be marching on us as soon as he hears that I have set his whore of a daughter aside.”

Jon nodded, feeling his years like never before. “Yes, I will be traveling with Lysa and Alys to the Vale in two days’ time, and I will be summoning my lords and prepare them for war.”

“Oh, piss on that.” Robert frowned at the man who had raised him. “Send a letter to Lord Royce, and get him to raise the banners, stay here with me while the knights of the Vale march south.”

“No, I can´t Robert,” Jon had not sounded so firm to the younger man in years now. “I cannot show such favoritism to one of my lords, I need to do this myself, and I intend to escort Lysa and Alys to the Eyrie myself, where they will be safe until this all blows over.”

Robert let out a sigh. “Fine then, just be quick about it and make sure to write to Ned and Hoster to start marching south as well, we need to crush Tywin once and for all.”

Jon agreed to write to his good brother and good father, but he wasn’t sure if they would answer the call. Ned would be furious that Robert was calling him to a war once again and demanding his teenage daughter for a bride, especially after everything that had passed between them in the last few years.

But Hoster would be over the moon to know that his granddaughter would be a Queen and most likely given his actions, he wouldn’t care much about her being so young and Robert so old.

“But what about your brother, Renly?” Jon asked as he rubbed the back of his head.

Robert let out a groan. “What about him?” The King never liked talking to or about his brothers, but if Robert was going to march of to a war, it would be better for him to make sure that Tywin couldn’t move.

“You could marry him to lady Margaery and tie the Reach to you that way.” If Robert asked lord Mace to marry his daughter to lord Renly, there was no way for him to refuse, as he clearly thought that she was old enough to wed, as the man had been shamelessly trying to marry her of to Robert, who was even older than Renly.

Robert let a laugh. “Yes, that will make the man shut up about his precious little flower, and maybe it will be good for Renly to finally marry, and he seems to like the girl as he is always with her likeness around.”

Jon let out a small smile. “I will tell lord Tyrell then.” He was relieved that Robert was on board with this idea, because then Tywin wouldn’t be able to try to marry the girl to one of his own lords, or even Jaime if he ever got him back. The last thing they needed was for the Westerlands and the Reach to join together.

As he turned around and left the solar when their talks were concluded, he could feel the same feeling in his chest as when the rebellion broke out in earnest.

Chapter Text

JON

The familiar feeling of entering Ghost´s mind brought a sense of wonder and happiness to Jon. It was so different from warging into the dragons but at the same time it was so welcoming and comfortable that it made him want to smile.

In his last life, Jon had spent many a night with Ghost as they hunted in the night, but never before had Jon been able to control his faithful friend to such extent as he did now. Jon had come to associate such control with the dragons, but never Ghost.

He was in such control right now that he could move every muscle in Ghost´s body, and every miniscule movement was within his reach, when in his last life, he could only make vague suggestions and hint and nudge Ghost to do what he wanted.

Jon stood up on unsteady feet that were covered with white fur and he made the difficult climb out of the cot and onto the floor of the room that he was in. He had a hard time containing the glee that he felt of being reunited with his friend, even though they were only together in their minds.

He turned and looked behind him as he heard a soft whine, and he could see a small grey direwolf pup that had been lying beside him, that was now looking at him with its golden eyes filled with curiosity.

He blinked at the pup a few times before he started to investigate the room that he was now in. It was rather large and in the middle was a big and soft looking bed, and everything was bathed in an orange glow of the fire that was burning in the hearth.

As Jon inspected the room, a familiar sweet scent tickled his nose, making him stop in his tracks and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and bask in the heavenly smell.

Jon resolved to follow the scent to its origins, and he tracked it to a screen that had been placed in the room to hide something from view when one entered through the door.

What he saw behind the screen, made him freeze and he was completely unable to move as he watched Sansa, lying in a copper tub filled with water.

Her auburn hair was pulled into a bun atop of her head, with a few locks escaping from it as they framed her face, and her cheeks were flushed red from the heat of the water as she washed her neck with a washcloth.

Jon stood there in Ghost´s skin, as if spellbound, staring at a drop of water that ran down her long shapely neck and down to her collar bone.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there like a statue, just staring at her until she opened her eyes and looked at him with her deep blue eyes.

Her smile was gentle, and her eyes twinkled in the light of the fire. “Ghost what are you doing? You should be resting; you had a hard day.”

Sansa´s gentle and musical voice was enough to break him from the spell, and he realized how wrong it was for him to be staring at her while she was thinking that she was save from any prying eyes.

Before she had even finished speaking, he violently ripped his conscious from Ghost´s mind. He landed back in his own body with such force that he fell of the chair that his body had been sleeping in and onto the hard-stone floor, effectively knocking the wind from his lungs and making him groan in pain.

The only thought that ran though his mind was that he deserved the pain for not leaving Ghost´s mind immediately when he saw Sansa in that tub.

She was so different from what she had looked like only five years ago, and now Sansa reminded him a lot more of the strong, intelligent woman that he recognized from his last life.

Jon laid there flat on his back, staring into the dark ceiling with his heart racing so fast that he was sure that it would soon burst out of his chest. When had Sansa become so incredibly beautiful?

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and gritted his teeth in self-loathing, but as his eyes were closed, all he could see was Sansa in that tub, washing her neck and that drop of water running down her collar bone.

Jon hurriedly opened his eyes once again to try and get the image out of his head, and looked around the dark room that he had been occupying as he laid there on the cold stone floor, and it took him a moment to realize that he was in the library of Castle Black.

He heaved himself from the floor and he was just thankful that he was alone in the library and that no one had seen him practically throw himself to the ground when he woke up from his unexpected nap.

He had fallen asleep when reading and used the book as a makeshift pillow as there was a small pool of drool on the page, which he hurriedly tried to wipe off with his sleeve.

 “Jon? Are you alright?” As the voice carried over to him, Jon jumped and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword that he had strapped around his hip, but when he saw that it was his uncle Benjen, Jon quickly let the sword go and let out a breath.

Benjen Stark looked so much older in the light of the fire, it was like he had aged ten years just entering the dark library as he stood half in the darkness and half in the light of the candles Jon had been using to read.

His uncle was staring at him wide eyed with his hands raised to show him that he was no threat. “Jon what is going on? Why are you so jumpy?”

Jon closed his eyes in shame, only to open them again in a hurry as the image of Sansa seemed burned to the back of his eyelids. “Nothing, I am sorry. I fell asleep reading and…” He trailed off as a blush worked its way to his cheeks, which he was unable to stop.

The older man let out a chuckle as he walked over to the desk Jon had been using and looked at the book he had been reading. “Horse tribes, being a study of the nomads of the Eastern plains of Essos, by maester Illster.” Benjen shot his nephew an amused look. “No wonder you fell asleep.”

The smirk on Benjen´s face made Jon even more irritated than before. “It is actually quite fascinating; it details the fall of the Kingdoms of Sarnor at the hands of the Dothraki.” Jon crossed his arms over his chest as he stared his uncle down, only to be smirked at.

“If it’s so fascinating, why did you fall asleep reading it?” The man turned to leaf through the book, page to page without reading a letter, making Jon lose the spot he had been reading.

“Is there a reason you were looking for me?” Jon couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice as he stared at the book, hoping that his uncle would turn the pages back and find his spot once again.

“What makes you think that I was looking for you?” There was a twinkle in his uncle´s blue grey eyes as he now was turning a page after page, not even looking at the book, clearly doing this knowing how much he was irritating Jon. 

But Jon knew that he really wasn’t irritated at his uncle, he was annoyed with himself for not having left Ghost´s mind earlier, and to his shame he had been directing his frustrations onto his uncle, who didn’t seem to mind it at all. 

“Because you are in a library.” He let out a smile as his uncle turned to look at him with bewildered eyes and the man finally stopped turning the pages. “I am actually surprised that you knew that there was one here.”

The man stared at him before letting out a bark like laugh. “There are times like this when you remind me so much of Lyanna.” Benjen walked over to Jon and through his arm over Jon´s shoulder and gave him a one-armed squeeze. “She was a cheeky bugger too.”

Even though he knew that his mother had flaws and had made many mistakes, it really warmed his heart to be compared to her and he treasured every little thing that his uncles told him about her, the good and the bad.

“But there is a reason I came here looking for you.” Uncle Benjen let him go and gave him a slap on the back. “We leave tomorrow at dawn for Craster´s Keep, where we will be meeting Tormund Giantsbane for the negotiations. Craster´s former wives have been kind enough to host us for the talks.”

Jon nodded as he closed the book that he had been reading and returned it to its proper place on the shelf. “Who will be coming with us?”

They started to walk out of the library after Jon had blown out all the candles. “Lord Commander Mormont and some of the rangers.” Benjen said as they walked together.

“And how are the men of the watch feeling about this meeting?” Jon asked his uncle while casting a worried glance his way. When he had offered the Freefolk sanctuary from the Others he had been stabbed to death, and he hoped that the same thing wouldn’t happen to Jeor Mormont.

Then again, the old bear had many things going for him that Jon hadn´t when he had served as the lord commander.

Lord commander Mormont had been serving the Watch for years now and he had been a good lord of Bear island for many years before he had abdicated and took the black in favor of his son.

And Jon had been a young man that hadn´t served that long in the watch, and only had a limited military experience under his belt, no matter how successful he had been leading the defense of the Wall when Mance Rayder had attacked them.

When a young man who had only recently joined and many of the men had thought him to be a traitor, took the leadership over men who had been at the Wall for years and served faithfully, there was bound to be a lot of friction.

“Most of the men was in favor of the meeting as this would end in them having fewer enemies and the wildlings that you have on your lands have not been troubling us here.” They made their way out of the vaults and into the courtyard of Castle Black, and to the west Jon could see that the sun was starting to set, making the sky look red and orange, reminding him of the light in Sansa´s room which caused him to blush deeply. “But of course, there are those who are all together against the negotiations.”

Both of them glanced at Ser Alliser Thorne, who was shouting at a new recruit as they made their way past the training yard. Jon wasn’t sure why the old bear kept the man as a master at arms when he was such a dreadful teacher.

“Will you be heading to Winterfell after the negotiations are done?” Benjen hurriedly changed the subject as they made their way away from the training yard.

“Aye,” Jon grinned at his uncle. “I will be heading there after I make a stop at Queenscrown.” He was looking forward to visit Winterfell and see his family again, it had been too long since he had seen them.

But thinking about Winterfell brought the image of Sansa back into his mind, causing him to start blushing furiously again, much to his embarrassment. “Will you be heading to Winterfell as well?” Jon hurriedly asked before Benjen could comment on the redness of Jon´s face.

The man gave him a weathered grin. “Aye, I think I will. It has been a long time since I have seen them all, and I am sure that Jeor will want me there as a representative of the watch as we discuss this with Ned.”

“But let´s not worry about that now,” Benjen bumped his shoulder to Jon´s. “come on and let us get some food in our belly.”

SANSA

She stood beside her older brother, as they both watched their little sister avoid the wooden sword that Master Syrio swung at her. Arya moved with more grace than any dancer and she was as swift as the wind in her movements as she attacked their water dancer instructor.

While Sansa had improved so much in the last five years in swordsmanship, she was not nearly as good at water dancing as Arya was nor would she make an excellent warrior, but she would be able to protect herself if need be.

But the younger Stark sister seemed to have a natural ability for the art, she was quickly becoming a swift and deadly with a blade in her hands.

“Damn,” Robb said as they watched as Arya ducked gracefully under Master Syrio´s sword, just in the nick of time from being hit. “I would kill to be as fast as her.”

Sansa let out a laugh, while Robb excelled in their lessons with Ser Rodrik, but he was always to slow for Arya and Sansa when he stepped into the ring with them in the water dancing, however he could easily best them when he faced them under the watch full eye of Ser Rodrik, and his sisters had to fight on his terms.

“So would I.” She agreed with her brother as she felt Greywind and Nymeria´s small forms bump into her leg as they played on the ground at their feet.

Bran, Rickon and Jorelle were all cheering for Arya while waiting for their turn, creating such ruckus that she almost wanted to cover her ears, but she watched for a few moments longer until she knew that she had to go to her room and take a bath, because she was still covered in sweat and dirt from her own training that had ended just before Arya´s had started.

Both Ghost and Lady, who had been sitting by her feet rushed after her to follow her into the castle. Ever since they had found the cubs a week ago, Ghost seemed to have gravitated towards her since he didn’t have Jon to follow around.

But when Ghost wasn’t following her and Lady around, he could often be spotted, staring Northward, like he was trying to spot Jon on the horizon.

It reminded Sansa uncannily of when Jon had gone to Dragonstone, and then to King´s Landing in their last lifetimes. And it was almost like Ghost had retained the memories of their past lives and was now just waiting for Jon to come back home.

But she and the direwolf pups never made it, as a guard came rushing out of the castle to meet them. “Lady Sansa, your father is asking for you and your brother, lord Robb to meet him in his solar.”

The man seemed out of breath and he had clearly hurried to find them, making it clear that whatever her father had to say to her, and Robb was important.

Sansa turned around and called for her brother, making him hurry over to her with Greywind on his heels. “Sansa, what is wrong?”

The concern in his voice was touching, and it made her smile softly. “Father wants to see us.”

They half walked, half ran through the halls of Winterfell and to their fathers solar with the three pups running to keep up with them.

They made it in record time to their father´s solar and knocked on the door to let the lord of Winterfell know that they had arrived. Ned Stark´s deep voice carried through the door, letting them know it was alright for them to enter. 

As they walked into the solar, Sansa could see her father´s direwolf, Frost lying in front of the fire staring at them with her golden eyes, while Sansa´s mother and father sat by the desk, waiting for Sansa and Robb to sit down.

Greywind hurried over to his mother along with Lady to have a drink, while Ghost stayed with Sansa like always.

Even though Ghost never drank from his mother and relayed upon Sansa to feed him, he was still keeping up with his siblings in growth, but she knew that when Jon came back to Winterfell to claim him once more, Ghost would outgrow the others very quickly, like he had done in their last lives.

Her father was looking grim as he poured ale into two cups and offered it to her and Robb, while Robb and her mother looked baffled at being summoned. “It seems that Cersei Lannister was having an affair and all the children have been declared bastards.”

It was just so like her father to announce this without any warning, but the news made Robb´s eyes almost pop out of his head as he choked on a sip of ale, as their mother gasped in shock. “Good gods. Then Robert doesn’t have any sons to inherit the Kingdoms.”

“Aye,” The lord of Winterfell poured another cup, this one for his wife. “he has of course arrested his wife, and her lover, which turned out to be her brother, Jaime Lannister.”

The disgust on Robb´s face was clear to them all. “Her own brother?”

Their father nodded again. “Aye, and Robert has also arrested their son Joffrey Waters, but the other two children have not been found as of yet, and Robert is offering a substantial reward for their capture, and return.”

While Sansa was glad that they had managed to get Joffrey, she was glad that little Tommen and Myrcella hadn´t been caught, as Robert would most likely end up killing them for their mother´s crimes.

“But there is more, it seems that Tyrion Lannister along with lord Varys the spy master and Ser Barristan Selmy have all also disappeared from the capital was well.” Now this was very interesting indeed.

After Sansa had asked her father about the journal of septon Maynard that had proof that Rhaegar Targaryen had married Lyanna, he had told her that Jon Arryn told him that lord Varys had been the one to send it North.

Confirming that lord Varys was one of those who remembered and were working towards making Jon the King of the Seven Kingdoms, like he had been trying in their last lives.

“Father,” Sansa decided to speak up. “when Tywin Lannister finds out that Robert has taken his favorite son, and his daughter and grandson into captivity, he will declare war on house Baratheon.”

She could only imagine Lord Tywin´s fury when he found out that Cersei was being set aside and her children declared bastards, and the fact that Ser Jaime was imprisoned. The man had declared war on house Tully and the Riverlands in their last lives when Tyrion had been taken, and lord Tywin famously despised his youngest child.

What would he do when the golden twins of house Lannister were taken captive by Robert?

“Sansa is right Ned.” Her mother agreed with her as she stared at her husband. “Tywin´s anger will be terrible when he finds out.” Lady came strutting over to them after drinking from her mother and laid down next to Ghost and yawned tiredly.

“Aye, but this is not what worries me.” This made them all frown, what on earth had happened to make her father so grim? Robert and the Lannisters being at each other´s throat, was good for them as they would never now unite against Jon in the field of battle.

“Robert is also asking for Sansa´s hand in marriage.” Sansa stared at her father, not really comprehending what he was saying for a few moments.

The fear was creeping up her spine as the meaning of her father´s words started to seep into her skull. She knew that her father wanted to dethrone Robert and crown Jon in his stead, but the dread and fear of the thought of being sold off to a man like Robert was almost crippling.

She could hear Lady start to growl at her feet, and Ghost was showing his teeth at no one in the room, but only in his fury at something was making her so afraid.

“This is the most advantageous marriage,” Her mother spoke up in a faint voice. “but surely Robert wants a woman who is ready to have children, as Sansa is too young, and it would be very dangerous for her.”

“Who cares what Robert wants?” Robb growled out in anger with his Tully blue eye burning. “I will kill him if he lays on finger on my sister.”

“Robb,” Their mother was clearly shocked to hear him talk this way about the King. “that is treason.”

 “Enough.” The lord of Winterfell spoke and to Sansa´s eyes the man looked like he was made from stone. “Sansa will not be marrying Robert.”

“Ned,” Now there was fear in her mother´s eyes. “If you deny Robert this, he will be furious and may take this for treason, and our Sansa would be Queen, I am sure you can talk Robert into waiting until she is old enough to marry.”

“I don’t want to be Robert´s Queen.” Sansa couldn’t keep silent anymore. “I would rather die than to marry him.” She could feel the sting of tears run down her cheeks.

“But Sansa, you always wanted to become a Queen, remember?” Her mother sent her a sweet smile, but Sansa shook her head.

“I don’t care about that, I just want…” She managed to stop herself before she told them all that she only wanted to marry Jon, and no one else. At this moment all she wanted to do was to grab a horse from the stables and ride to Queenscrown and stay there with Jon forever.

She felt their eyes on her as they waited for her to continue. “Sweetling,” Her father said patiently. “what is it that you want? You can tell us.”

As she sat there, staring into her father´s eyes, she could see something that she was sure was hope in his warm grey eyes, and she made up her mind. “I want to marry Jon.”

CATELYN

When her father had told her of her betrothal to Brandon Stark, she had been so happy, and she had thanked him profusely for such an advantageous match.

And now her daughter was being offered an even more advantageous match, which would make her a Queen, and she was saying no.

But Cat could understand that very well. When she had been betrothed to Brandon, she had been twelve and he fourteen, but while Robert was a year older than Sansa´s father, so of course she wouldn’t be all that enthusiastic about marrying him.

But the man was the King non the less, and when a King asked something, you obeyed.

And now all Catelyn could do was to stare at her little girl as another tear rolled down her cheek as she claimed to want to marry someone named Jon. Was Sansa talking about the Smalljon? But he was now already married with a child on the way.

Before Cat could inquire further into the identity of this Jon person, her husband smiled so widely that it reminded Catelyn of when he had first laid eyes on Robb in her arms.

He stood up from his chair and walked over to where Sansa was siting and pulled her into his arms. “Alright sweetling, I will talk to him and we shall see what we can do.”

Sansa smiled a watery smile before she looked worried and frightened again. “But only if he wants to, I don’t what to make him do anything he doesn’t want to.”

Cat´s husband smiled at their beautiful daughter. “I know sweetling.” He kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t you and Robb get yourselves something to eat and clean up after training, while your mother and I talk, I think that it is time that she knows the truth.”

Sansa´s darted to her, as she frowned deeply. Ned and the children were keeping something from her? Catelyn could feel the righteous anger flow into her veins like lave, and she tried her best to from demanding to know what was going on.

Sansa nodded and grabbed Robb´s hand and led her shocked brother out the door with the three pups after them. Cat´s first born looked like someone had clubbed him on the head as he stared at his sister as she dragged him out the door.

But as the door closed, she couldn’t hold her peace anymore. She stood up and slammed her cup of ale on the table in anger. “Ned what in the name of the Seven is going on? You and the children have been keeping things from me?”

She could understand that her husband was keeping something from her, that was his right, but the children should not be keeping secrets from her.

 “Not by choice.” Ned sighed and walked back to his chair. “I believe that it is time for you to know the truth about Jon.”

“Yes, who is this Jon that Sansa is so adamant on marrying?” For the life of her, she couldn’t think of any Jon´s that Sansa had meet recently that she could possibly want to marry. “The only Jon I can think of her knowing is your bastard, but he is her half-brother so it cannot be him.”

“Cat,” Ned eyes looked sorrowful, and it was like he was begging her to understand. “Jon is not my son.”

Hoster Tully´s eldest child stared at her husband for what seemed like an eternity, not really understanding what he was saying. “Is he… is he Brandon´s bastard?” She whispered, not really wanting to know.

“No, Cat.” She could feel the relief flood her, not because Brandon having bastards was a surprise to her, but the fact that if someone who was known to be Brandon´s son, could make the argument that they were the rightful ruler of the North, and try to usurp her son from his birthright. “Jon is Lyanna´s trueborn son by Rhaegar Targaryen.”

And just like that the relief that she had been feeling was replaced by what felt like a punch in the gut.

She collapsed back into her chair, and her hands started to shake. “What?” It felt like her whole body was going numb and she was having a hard time believing her own ears. “Are you telling me that he is…”

“Aye, Cat.” Ned looked at her with his grey eyes that were filled with concern. “Jon is Rhaegar Targaryen´s trueborn son and heir, and the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“No.” She started to shake her head; this just couldn’t be. The boy couldn’t be the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, it was impossible. “Please tell me that this isn’t true Ned.”

“It is Cat, it is all true.”

Hot tears ran now down her cheeks. “But he kidnapped her, and he raped her and here you are keeping his son safe.” She half screamed at her husband.

“No, Cat.” Ned denied, patiently. “Lyanna love Rhaegar, and she married him, and she loved her son and begged me to keep him save from Robert who would have killed him if he knew that Jon existed.”

“But Brandon and your father thought that she had been kidnapped.” Catelyn could barely see for the tears that welled up in her eyes, that she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to. “and now you are telling me that it was all a lie?”

Ned shook his head once again. “I don’t know why Brandon thought that Lyanna had been kidnapped by Rhaegar, we never saw any proof that he had. But I think that someone may have lied to him, but why I couldn’t even guess.”

Her husband opened a drawer in his desk and handed her a handkerchief to dry her eyes. When she had hurriedly wiped away all the tears that formed in her eyes, she took the cup back from the desk and took a large swallow of the bitter drink. “Why on earth would anyone do that? Why would anyone try to lie to Brandon about his sister being kidnapped?”

She got no answer from her husband, as he clearly didn’t know either, so they sat there until Cat finally asked. “Why didn’t you tell me Ned?” She asked with such anger in her voice that she hardly recognized it.

“Until six years ago, only three people knew. Benjen, Howland Reed and I, and I wanted to keep it that way but…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

“But what Ned?” She gathered enough strength to stand up to tower over him. “You decided to tell our children, but not me, your wife.”

“I didn’t tell them.” Ned denied softly. “Six years ago, Jon figured it out himself, then after he and Sansa started to get close, Sansa also figured it out, and then half a year later at the Wall, Robb overheard me talking to Benjen about it when we thought that no one was listening.”

She couldn’t have been more shocked if he had slapped her in the face. “They knew for six years Ned? My children knew for six years.”

She had never before in her life felt so betrayed by anyone, nor had she felt more like a fool for not having seen something that her seven year old daughter had figured out by spending a few hours with the bast… no not bastard, the trueborn son of the last dragon.

Then the thought struck her. “Is he… is he the Jon that Sansa was so adamant on marrying?”

She knew the truth before he confirmed it. “Aye, I think that she has been in love with him for some time now.”

Catelyn sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me, after the children found out?”

“I was afraid that if I did, your attitude towards Jon would also change. And if it did, it would have made the wrong people suspicious.” Cat opened her mouth to protest his words, but there was nothing she could say that wasn’t a straight out lie.

If she had known that the boy wasn’t her husband´s bastard and in fact the rightful King, she would have treated him very differently than she had done, and she certainly wouldn’t have prayed for the boy´s death.

“Why are you telling me now?” She asked her lord husband in a deadpan voice.

“Because I aim to put him on the throne.”

Chapter Text

ROBB

His sister dragged him through the halls of Winterfell and he was barely paying any attention where they were going, as his head was still spinning from all the information that had been shoved into it, in such a short span of time.

The anger he had felt, when their father had announced that Robert was demanding Sansa´s hand in marriage, had made Robb burn with anger, and for a moment he had thought that he would start breathing fire like Jon´s dragons. 

The gall of the man caused Robb to see red, and he would be damned if the fat King Robert would lay a finger on his little sister.

His sisters deserved to have husbands that loved, respected, and took care of them, and Robb would rather die than seeing either one of them married to a man like Robert Baratheon.

The man was famous for eating, drinking, and whoring and he was also old enough to be their father, and he thought that he deserved to marry Sansa just because he sat on the Iron throne?

But when his sister had told them that she wanted to marry Jon, all the anger at the usurper had vanished, and it had been replaced by shock.

Jon had been raised here in Winterfell, as their brother and Sansa wanted to marry him non the less?

But he is not your brother, whispered a voice that sounded a lot like Sansa herself in his mind. He is your cousin and cousins marry all the time.

That was true, it was perfectly respectable to marry your cousin, and they were close in age, and who was better to love, respect and protect Sansa than Jon? And if Jon married Sansa, he would be Robb´s brother again in fact.

In all honesty, when Robb thought about it, Jon was the only person that he trusted with Sansa´s wellbeing. Jon was good and kind, and Robb couldn’t imagine him to start whoring and drinking himself it to an early grave, or disrespect Sansa like he knew Robert Baratheon would.

It had been Jon who had told Robb that there was no guarantee that a husband would treat Sansa and Arya with the respect that they deserved, and it had been Jon who had always offered Sansa help when it came to her lessons in the training yard.

Jon was also the man they were planning to place in the Iron throne, and to rule the Seven Kingdoms, and if Sansa married him, she would be Jon´s Queen.

Sansa would make a wonderful Queen, of that Robb was sure.

So why was it wrong for them to be together?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Sansa, as she dragged him into her room and pushed him down on one of the chairs by her small desk, that was filled with letters, scrolls and books.

She poured him a cup of water and handed it to him, as he continued to stare in surprise at her and he was vaguely aware that the direwolves had followed them into the room.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything to his sister, but she was quicker. “Robb, I know that this is a shock to you that I want to marry Jon, but please don’t be mad.”

Sansa had been all smiles when they left their father´s solar, but now as she begged him not to get angry, he could see the worry and fear in her eyes and again he tried to speak but was interrupted.

“I know that this all seems strange to you, and at first it did for me too, but I love Jon with all my heart and I just want to be with him.”

She grabbed a cup and poured herself some water. “And I know that you think of Jon as your brother and not your cousin, but he is our cousin and it is perfectly respectable for us to marry when we announce that Jon is really Rhaegar´s and Lyanna´s trueborn son and heir. In fact, it would help to prove that our father´s words are true as he is ready to marry his own daughter to Jon.”

Sansa walked up and down the room, with her cup in hand as she glanced at him as he sat there, still shocked and confused by the situation as his sister continued to try and convince him that it would be good for them if she married Jon.

“And me, marrying Jon might help us when it is time for us to take back his birthright, I mean the Northern lords would believe father´s word that Jon is a trueborn son of Rhaegar´s and Lyanna´s, but they might get offended that Rhaegar didn’t ask for her hand like tradition demands, and that it was all done in such secrecy that it cost uncle Brandon and grandfather Rickard their lives, and they could hold it against Jon that his parents kept the marriage and the conception a secret.”

Robb was given no change to say anything as Sansa continued her monologuing.

“Yes, I mean every Northern lord might hate Robert Baratheon after he ignored our need, but we must have the North united behind Jon if we are to take back the Iron throne, and while they might like and respect him after everything he has done to help us rebuild the North, they might want a more tangible bond to him in the form of a marriage.”

His sister put the mug back on the table, without having taken a sip from it as she continued her pacing.

“Sansa I-.”

“And yes I know that if he married Margaery Tyrell, it would tie the Reach to him, but if he marries me, then not only would it secure the North to him for generations to come, but also tie the Vale and the Riverlands to him through our mother and aunt Lysa.”

“San-.”

“And yes, I know that lord Arryn has a trueborn daughter by our aunt that he could also theoretically marry, but she is only four years old, and Jon will be needed heirs a lot sooner than she could provide them for him, and it would be a lot better that Alys Arryn would marry Rickon when the time comes as they are much closer in age, and Rickon is the youngest of three sons so I think that the Northern lords would be alright with it if he married a southern girl, in fact I think that they would be glad if he did marry Alys, because if he married her then his children would be in line to inherit the Vale.”

His sister was clearly getting more and more nervous as she started to speak faster and faster as she was trying to reason with him and making him see that marrying Jon was what was best for the North.

“Sansa, please stop.” Robb stood up, put his own mug on the table and gently grabbed her by the upper arms, making her stare up at him with her blue eye wide in surprise, as he stopped her from continuing speaking so rapidly that she could hardly be understood anymore.

“I know that you, marrying Jon would be great for the North and for Jon, but is it something you really want?”

Her big blue eyes were wide in surprise as she answered him. “Yes, I want it more than anything in the world.”

He watched as the smile on her face grew once again as she started to talk about how much she loved their cousin, and how kind, gentle and strong he was, and even when she mentioned Jon´s flaws there was a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes but Robb was only half listing to what she was saying.

Robb was more focused on the smile and how her eyes lit up rather than her words. The smile that had grown to be so rare, lit up her face and it was more than enough to convince him that Sansa marrying Jon was the right thing to do.

He smiled gently at her and let go of her arms. “That is all I care about; I just want you to be happy.”

Sansa´s eyes were suddenly filled with happy tears, as her smile turned even brighter, and she hugged him tight around the waist. “I was so afraid that you would be angry with me.”

“Why would I be angry with you?”

Sansa hugged him even tighter and whispered sadly. “You were so disgusted with Ser Jaime and Cersei Lannister.” It was like she was trying not to be heard and was worried that reminding him of his disgust with the Lannister twins would make him change his mind about just wanting her to be happy.

Robb hugged his little sister close and he felt the urge to kick himself for his words earlier in their father´s solar. “I think that this situation with you and Jon is vastly different from the one that the Kingslayer and his sister are in.”

He leaned a little back so that he could look her in the eye. “After all you and Jon are cousins, and not siblings, so it should be fine.”

He smiled at her as she giggled at reminding her of her own words, as she had tried to make him see the benefits of the marriage between her and Jon.

They talked for a few hours more, and as Robb listened to his sister, he grew more and more convinced that they were doing the right thing.

But when the servants came to her chambers with her tub to so that she could wash the dirt form the trainyard off her, Robb hurried to his own rooms with Greywind on his heels, intending to take a bath himself as he was dirty as well from training with master Syrio.

But he didn’t even make it halfway to his chambers, as a guard intercepted him and bade him to meet his father in his solar again.

Robb frowned but did as he was asked, he couldn’t imagine what his father wanted to speak about now.

An unbidden thought entered his mind that his father wanted to find Robb a wife now that they would soon be placing Jon on the Iron throne.

He knocked on his father´s solar and waited until his father called for him to come in.

When he entered, Robb could see the exhaustion on his father´s face as the lord of Winterfell gestured for him to take a seat. “I am sorry for asking you to come again, Robb but there was something I wanted to talk to you about without anyone else present.”

Robb nodded mutely and waited for him to continue.

His father cleared his throat and laced his fingers together and once again the thoughts of him being married off entered his mind.

“I think that it is time for you to take a wife, Robb.”

Robb had known that this day would come, but he had hoped to have a little more time. “And who have you decided on?”

He knew full well that it would always be his father who would decide on who Robb married and that he would just have to live with his father´s decision.

“I haven’t, nor am I going to without your input.”

Robb could only stare at his father in surprise. He opened and closed his mouth in surprise, trying to find the words, but it seemed that every thought had fled his mind.

“You are going to allow me to have a say in who I marry?” He managed to croak out, barely believing what his father was saying.

“Aye, I will not be forcing you, or any of your siblings into a marriage that you do not want. And as long as you pick a highborn girl from the North, I do not see the harm in having you pick your own bride.”

Robb could feel the smile form on his face. “Thank you, father, I…thank you, I don’t…” He was almost at a loss for words, he was so happy that he could have a say in this matter that he was sure that he would be smiling for the rest of the month.

His father smiled at him. “You are welcome son, now I will be inviting the lords and their children to Winterfell to discuss the negotiations with the Freefolk that want to be allowed to live on the Gifts, and the fact that Robert is commanding me to raise my banners and marry Sansa to him, and I think that is a good opportunity for you to get to know the daughters of the lords and hopefully pick one of them.”

He nodded furiously at his father with a large grin on his face. “I will father, I will pick someone that will help house Stark grow stronger, I promise.”

While he was still angry at his father for having wanted Jon to have taken the black at one point, the amount of happiness he was feeling now was threating to overshadow everything else.

JON

His garron shook his shaggy mane as they rode through the haunted forest toward what had formerly been known as Craster´s Keep.

The journey from Castle Black had been relatively calm and quiet so far, and Jon could only hope that it would stay that way but as soon as they entered the North side of the Wall, it seemed to grow much colder with every step they took.

As they rode though the haunted forest, Jon had to compare it to the last time he had traveled this way.

It had been in his last life when he had decided to take Tormund up on the offer to travel North with him and help him settle his people and to help them rebuild their lives after the Great War.

When Jon had ridden though the forest last time, it had been just another forest after the fall of the Others and their dead soldiers, but now it had become just as dark and oppressive as it had been before the War and the atmosphere was almost suffocating.

Jon could hear his captain of the guards, Ser Allyn grumble in a low voice about the unnatural darkness of the forest as Benjen rode up to Jon. “He has the right of it, this forest has been growing darker for years now.”

He glanced at the youngest of his mother´s bothers, and he could see the seriousness in his blue grey eyes, making it clear that he was not jesting. “What do you mean?”

Jon hadn´t served the watch in his other life long enough to see any visible changes before the fall of the Others, he had simply thought that the forest had always been so dark and dreary.

“When I first joined the watch, the forest was dark and unnerving, but it seems to grow darker with every year that passes, and now the villages like Whitetree back there are being abandoned.”

Jon studied his uncle for a few moments in silence before he spoke. “The women at Craster´s aren’t safe here.”

Benjen shook his head. “No, I don’t think that they are. Whatever is making the others flee will most likely soon turn its eyes to them.”

Jon knew that his uncle´s words were true, with Craster no longer sacrificing his sons to the Others, they would soon come baring down on the women.

They fell silent and Jon glanced around them, and he could see that some of the night´s watch men were weary of negotiating with the Freefolk, while a few of them were outright saying that this was folly at its height.

But the fact that they had ridden out and were attempting to negotiate was progress, and Jon was sure that they would prefer not having to fight the Freefolk and live mostly in peace, and there were many of the Night´s watchmen were convinced that they could negotiate with the Freefolk as the ones that lived in the Gifts were peaceful and obeyed the law just like everyone else.

Jeor Mormont had chosen a variety of men to accompany them, veterans, and fresh-faced recruits alike but Jon was glad that the men who had stabbed him to death in another life were not here and had remained at the Wall.

If Ser Alliser Thorne had accompanied them, he would have been a liability at the very best, as he seemed to have transferred his hatred of anyone that was associated with Robert´s rebellion on to the Freefolk since there were so few men that he could take his anger out on at the Wall.

Thorne would most likely tried to kill any attempt at negotiations at it´s infancy if given half the change, and it seemed that the Old bear had recognized that since he had thankfully left the man at the Wall, despite the fact that he was one of the senior members of the watch.

“Here we are.” Benjen pulled Jon out of his thoughts with a relief filled voice, and Jon would see the home of Craster´s former wives appear amongst the trees. Jon could see that the Freefolk that followed Tormund had already made their way to Craster´s and were already bustling about in a quiet manner that was unusual for the people beyond the Wall, as they kept sending them suspicious looks.

“I´ll be glad to warm myself by the fire and be away from the damned cold.”

There was a hint of mirth in his uncle´s voice, as he fixed his laughing blue grey eyes on Jon, making him smile at little in return. He too longed for a fire to warm his frozen bones, as the weather had been getting colder and colder by the day, but every time Jon had looked into the fires, all he could think about was Sansa´s hair and the way she had looked in the tub as he had seen her though Ghost´s eyes.

Jon took extra care that every time he warged into Ghost that he would not see anything inappropriate and thankfully he hadn´t witnessed anything like what he had witnessed the first time he had entered Ghost´s mind in this life.

But the image of Sansa haunted him still, and when he closed his eyes it was all he could see.

Jon almost jumped out of his skin when he felt someone shake his knee and call his name. As he was pulled out of his thoughts, he noticed that they had stopped, and everyone was already dismounted and were giving him curious looks.

He could feel his cheeks burn as he hurriedly dismounted his garron and planted his feet beside his uncle. “Are you alright Jon?” Benjen asked quietly with a half a smile on his lips.

“Uh, yeah I am, just fine, I am great.” He stumbled over his words like a child trying to hide their misdeeds from their parents and he could feel his cheeks grow even hotter.

His uncle slung his arm around Jon´s shoulders and chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that your head was in the clouds over some girl.”

The feeling that washed over him was somewhere between embarrassment and terror. If anyone found out that he had warged into Ghost and seen Sansa in the tub, he was sure that he would be murdered on the spot, and Jon was sure that he would deserve it.

He felt like the worst sort of bastard when he thought about how little self-control he had when he had stumbled on Sansa having a bath and the fact that he had broken her trust in him.

“Oh, so it is a girl.” Benjen was grinning playfully at him as he ruffled his curly hair. “There are times when I forget how young you are, not even a man grown and yet here you are doing important diplomatic work for the realms of men.”

His uncle moved his hand to Jon´s shoulder and the grin was replaced by serious look in his eyes as he spoke so quietly that only Jon could hear him. “You must remember that the girl you marry will one day become Queen, so you must be careful who you pick. You cannot just think about your feelings or how much you care about the girl, you have to think about how many swords and lords she will bring to your cause.”

“I know uncle.” Jon replied as quietly. He knew all too well the truth in his uncle´s words, but the girl that was haunting Jon every waking moment would bring Jon more swords and lords to his cause than any other, but Jon would never force that fate on Sansa.

He would never force her to marry him for an alliance for her father´s armies and her familial connections. She deserved better than that.

Sansa had suffered enough men for many lifetimes that had tried to use her for to get the North, and he would not be one of those men. It was his duty to see her marry someone that she loved and loved her in return, even if the thought of her marrying some lordling made him so angry that he could hardly see straight.

“Good, now come on, before they start the meeting without us.” Jon grabbed his saddle bag from his garron and one of his men lead the small horse away to be taken care of until Jon had need of him again.

Jon and Benjen caught up with the others, and together they made their way into the wooden building.

The keep itself was just a hall with a sleeping loft above it, making the hall long and low and it could only hold about fifty men inside, so most of the Night´s watch men had to wait outside, as did the Freefolk.

The hall had a few benches that surrounded a large wooden throne like chair that Jon remembered Craster siting in while watching his wives do most of the work around the keep. But now the matriarch, Daella had claimed the chair for her own and gestured them to come closer.

As he and the night´s watch men made their way to her, his eyes found Tormund who was smirking at him from beside the matriarch, and the knowing glint in his eyes as he raised his mug to them as they entered made any doubt disappear that he had in his mind and he was sure that the red headed man remembered everything.

But behind Tormund, was a person that Jon hadn´t expected. Seeing Ygritte once again made him feel like he had just been punched in the stomach as the guilt threatened to overwhelm him, but Jon was just glad that she didn’t remember, for if she had, he would have found himself full of arrows before stepping foot inside. 

Jon could see that Tormund and many of his people in the hall had dragonglass daggers attached to their belts, and Jon couldn’t help but to wonder where they had gotten them.

The matriarch gestured for them to take their seats on the benches facing the Freefolk, and Jon could see a glimmer of hope that they might come to a peaceful understanding in her eyes, as he took the seat she offered him next to her.

Daella had the same face and eyes as her daughter Gilly and when she smiled, she revealed the same overbite as she gave him a once over. “You must be Jon Snow, Benjen´s nephew.”

“I am my lady.” Daella gave a little laugh.

“I am no lady, Jon Snow. Your uncle Benjen talks about you every time he rides though here like you are his own son and it is clear that he thinks highly of you, but if you would be so kind as to tell me, how is my daughter Gilly doing in the south, in your lands?” There was worry in the woman´s eyes when she mentioned her daughter and she seemed to sit on the edge of her seat when she asked about her.

“Gilly is doing well, she is learning her letters and numbers and healing from our healer Wolkan, who is a great learned man and he thinks that she had a bright future in the art of healing.” Jon opened his saddlebag and drew out a shawl made of beautiful and warm fabrics that Gilly had made for her mother when she heard that Jon was traveling North. “Gilly asked me to deliver this to you and to tell you that she is always thinking about you.”

As Gilly´s mother accepted the shawl there were tears in her eyes as she thanked him.

Jon turned to face Tormund who was giving him a knowing smirk. “No pretty shawl for me, little crow?”

Jon had to fight the laugh at the jab that Tormund had so loved to use in their last lives. “I am afraid not, but I do have Dragonwater that I think that you would enjoy better.” Jon reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a wineskin that was filled with the amber liquid and tossed it to the wild haired man.

Tormund seemed to grow extremely excited to taste the Dragonwater and took a large swing from the wineskin, as some of his people glared at Jon wearily, most likely thinking that Jon was trying to poison Tormund.

“He is not a black brother.” Jon glanced behind him and lord commander Jeor, who had taken his seat next to Jon, at Thoren Smallwood.

The Riverlander was a ranger that Jon remembered having become first ranger after his uncle Benjen disappeared, but he had died at the fist of the First men.

Jon had no love for Smallwood, the man was aggressive and a friend of Alliser Thorne, and he hated the Freefolk with passion.

“Aye,” Jon heard his uncle Benjen pipe up in amusement from behind him, preferring to stand like he was guarding Jon and making sure he was safe, which he most likely was. “and he is not so short, but I don’t see you mentioning that, Smallwood.”

As the men gave nervous laughs, Jon turned back to Tormund who was smirking at Smallwood before fixing his eyes to Jon once more. “We would like to make a deal with you little crow, to be let south of the Wall.”

Tormund handed Jeor Mormont the wineskin to drink from it, and he could see that the old bear gave a half smirk at the gesture as he took it and drank from it.

“That can be arranged.” Jon said and leaned on his elbows that he rested on his knees. “There are many Freefolk that have been settling in the Gifts and are living peacefully amongst us, who follow our laws and earn a good living.”

He felt Ygritte´s displeasure before she even spoke. “You mean you force them to work the fields like slaves while you sit pretty in your castle.”

There was a snort from one of the spearwives beside her that Jon had never seen before. “I don’t think this one needs a castle to be pretty, I think that is pretty enough right here.”

As everyone laugh at her words, another spearwife that Jon had never seen, agreed with the other one with a smirk. “Oh, aye I think I might steal this one myself if given half the change.”

Jon knew that he had to change the subject and fast as he listened to them laugh at the jabs of the spearwives.

“The lands around of the Gifts are first and foremost used for agricultural purposes, so most of our people work the fields, but they are not slaves and can leave whenever they wish, but it is the most lucrative work for those who don’t have education in other fields, like building, healing or working at a forge.”

Ygritte opened her mouth to respond harshly judging by the look on her face, but Tormund jumped in. “Ygritte, enough if we are to live in the south, we are going to have to follow their laws until we can return back to our lands.”

“Why are you trying to go south?” Jeor Mormont asked Tormund in a serious manner. The lord commander had been growing more concerned with all the abandoned villages north of the Wall in the last few years, and it was clear to the older man that something unusual was going on.

The Freefolk all looked fearful for the first time since they arrived. “It´s the dead.” Tormund said grimly and rubbed his beard. “The Others have returned from the lands of always Winter and have started to hunt us down in droves, and it is them that are taking your rangers.”

Smallwood snorted in anger. “That is convenient for you, that you are not the ones killing our friends but the dead and the stuff of wives´s tales that you cannot prove exist are the ones responsible.”

“Smallwood.” Jeor Mormont barked at the man. “Be silent or go outside.”

Jon remembered when the old bear had spoken like this to him when he had spoken out of turn in this very house, and he found himself not envying the Riverlander one bit.

Thoren Smallwood closed his mouth in anger and shot the lord commander an evil look. The old bear turned back to Tormund. “The Others have been gone for more than eight thousand years.”

“Aye,” Tormund agreed. “But they were not dead, and now they have returned, and they don’t care if we are crows, freefolk or southerners. They will kill us all if given the change.”

Benjen shifted behind him. “Then why are there so few of you here to talk to us and try and negotiate if the Others are coming for us all?”

Tormund glanced at Jon for a moment before answering Benjen´s question. “Mance doesn’t think that it is possible, and that the lords of the south and the crows hate us too much to try and make peace with us.”

The man wasn’t wrong, there was so much hate between the men of the southern side of the Wall and the Freefolk that if they didn’t believe that they had an even greater enemy than each other, it would be hard to make peace between them.

But ever since Jon had been allowing small groups of Freefolk on his lands, to live and work alongside Northerners, the hatred seemed to have lessened a lot, but there was still a lot of work to be done to lessen the anger between the Northerners and Freefolk.

They talked for a few more hours, speaking about the conditions that had to be met with on both sides, for Jon and the watch to let the Freefolk south of the Wall.

As they talked the air grew steadily colder as the sun set, and he could see that Craster´s former wives were tending fires to warm the hall, but it didn’t seem to bare much fruit as some of the men and Freefolk were clearly trying not to seem bothered by the cold.

“But,” Tormund said with a grin and reached for something behind him. “I have a gift for the lord of Queenscrown, as a token of good faith and to show you all that we want to make peace between our peoples and work together against the dead.”

He could feel confusion enter his mind and he opened his mouth to say that there was no need to give him anything, but he quickly closed his mouth when Tormund handed him what looked like a sword wrapped in old cloth that had clearly seen better days.

Jon shot his friend a bewildered look, and Tormund was sending him the most excited look he had seen since they had celebrated the end of the Great War in Winterfell and Jon had almost thrown up from drinking too much.

He slowly unwrapped the cloth of the sword, and when he had a good look at it all he could do was to stare numbly at the blade.

“Is that…?” He could hear his uncle say in amazement.

“Darksister.” Jon finished as he picked the blade up and examined it closer. The hilt was black, and the pommel was made in the shape of golden flames.

“Where did you find her?” Jeor Mormont asked Tormund in surprise, making the red head smirk.

“Found her in a cave with a three eyed crow that didn’t want to give her up.” Jon quickly looked at his friend at his words. “but the three eyed crow didn’t live long enough to fight for it, I´m afraid.” He finished with a laugh and Jon had to force the sigh of relief down so that he didn’t draw attention to himself.

The relief that he felt that Bloodraven wasn’t around anymore to lure his cousin Bran to his cave was so great that he almost felt dizzy from it.

Bran, who was always so kind and quick to smile didn’t deserve to end up dying in some cave only for his body to be taken over by Brynden Rivers to have his revenge.

Jon had been trying to come up with an excuse to travel beyond the Wall in the last year to the cave, but he didn’t know where it was located and he didn’t even know where to begin to look for it.

He glanced back at the sword in his hands before looking at his friend to thank him, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he could see his breath came out of his mouth like smoke out of a dragon´s mouth, leaving pale trails in its wake as his hot breath clashed with the cold air.

Jon could feel terror grip him as he glanced at the fire that one of the women was tending, trying desperately to stoke the flame, but no matter how fiercely the fire burned, the air only grew colder.

The others in the room had followed his line of sight and Jon could see the fear and dread in Tormund´s eyes that he was sure that was mirrored in his own grey ones.

“What is it?” Benjen asked, and Jon could hear how he was battling with his teeth from making them chatter as the air around them continued to grow colder.

But Jon didn’t answer as he watched his breath linger in the air as he grabbed the hilt of Darksister tighter in his hands as the screams started.

Chapter Text

JON

Despite the fear that griped his heart, he forced his feet to move out of the keep as he clenched the hilt of Darksister tightly in his fist like the sword was his only lifeline, and he could feel his heart jump into his throat as more screams could be heard.

What greeted him when he made it into the open air, made his blood feel like it was freezing in his veins.

In the pale light of the moon, he could see people try and flee in terror as dead men rushed out from the tree line from the north.

Before any of the black brothers behind him, or the leaders of the Freefolk could do anything, Jon found himself starting to bark out orders. “Get those who cannot defend themselves and the children out of here and lead them south to the Wall.” He yelled at Ser Allyn, who had followed him out of the hall and was now staring at the dead with horror on his face as they came rushing forward.

Jon´s words seemed to have pulled the knight out of his stupor and Jon could hear the man start to call out to people to follow him south to safety.

Jon left those who were the most vulnerable in the capable hands of Ser Allyn of Wintertown and hurriedly turned to Tormund and lord commander Mormont. “We need to form a line and get everyone with weapon made of dragonglass to the front and everyone with a bow behind them, we need to set them on fire.”

“You heard the man.” Tormund bellowed immediately after Jon had spoken. “Let’s show these dead cunts what the people of the true North are made of.”

As the leaders of the Freefolk and the Night´s watch tried to form a line of defense, a loud piercing shriek was heard. Jon turned and spotted a dead man clad in rotted fur and leather rush forward at where they were forming a line to defend against the dead as terrified Freefolk ran past them to try and get to safety.

The icy blue eyes were fixed on lord commander Mormont like the creature knew that this was the leader of the Watch.

Jon didn’t spend much time contemplating what the creature knew or did not know, rather he stepped forward, into its path and swung the newly reclaimed valyrian sword at the dead man´s throat.

The effects didn’t disappoint, and like a puppet with its strings cut, it fell to the ground in a heap, never to move again.

But Jon didn’t have any time to stop and think, as another dead man came rushing forward, this time the creature headed straight towards him. It´s mouth was opened in a silent scream, and Jon thought for a moment that it looked like the void of death that had greeted him when he had died at the hands of his brothers of the Night´s Watch.

As the dead man came at him, Jon hurriedly jumped out of the way and to his left, and swung Darksister at its knee, effectively cutting its foot off, making it fall to the ground before Jon stabbed into its back before moving on, knowing that the second life had gone out of its body.

The sword of Visenya Targaryen and Aemon the Dragonknight was much lighter in his hands than any other blade it´s size that he had held in his grasp. It was almost the weight of a dagger but it´s balance was perfect, and it was ideal for combat that required one to fight in proximity with others as its small size made it easier to move around. 

Jon was now glad for all the time he had spent training at Queenscrown whenever he had time. There was no way for him to count the hours he had fought men of all sizes to improve and hone his skills with a sword, and most of the time he had fought against more than one opponent to make sure that he was in shape to fight in an actual battle rather than some game of the highborn where every battle was fought one on one.

All around him the battle raged, and he could hear the agonized screams of the living, along with the nocking and firing of bow and arrows behind him as the people beside him were cut down by dead men.

Both dead men and the living fell, but the living still fought on and as Jon buried the blade of Darksister into a dead man´s throat and yanked it back out again he could feel someone elbow their way to his side.

He could see a black cloak and the grey blue eyes of his uncle. “Jon, we need to get you out of here and to safety.”

 “No, we need to get one of the dead men as proof and retreat to Castle Black with as many survivors as we can.” Jon countered as a fire arrow flew overhead and buried itself into the skull of a dead man who crumpled to the ground almost as soon as he caught on fire.

And before his uncle could tell him once again to leave for the Wall with the others, a dead Thenn rushed forward at them, making Jon feel the urge to kick himself for being distracted in a middle of a battle. The Thenn swung a crude looking battle axe at his head, but Jon managed to block it just in time with Darksister.

As Jon was about to disengage with the dead man, he watched out of the corner of his eye as his uncle Benjen swung a black dagger that shone in the moonlight, into the man´s throat, making him crumble into the dirt and snow at their feet.

Not for the first time since he had heard the screams of terror, did he wish that he had Algernon, Earendil and Illyrion with him, but he knew that it was still too dangerous for him to call them to fight the dead.

He didn’t want to risk a catastrophe like when the Night King shot down Viserion, during their mad journey to find a dead man to prove to Cersei and Daenerys that the Others were coming for them all, and until the dead and the Others were dealt with it didn’t really matter who sat on the Iron throne.

Whatever happened, the Night King could not get a dragon of his own to bring down the Wall like last time.

They had to make sure that the Wall would keep standing and if only one of the White Walkers were here, then they might be able to bring down one or more of the dragons and resurrect them as their own.

Terror filled him just at the very thought of the dragons that he had hatched dying, and he had to force himself to shove those thoughts aside and focus on the battle before him.

But even now, such a long distance away from him, Jon could feel their thoughts as his own as he could feel Ghost´s thoughts and feelings as well; and it took everything he had to make sure that they didn’t come rushing over the Wall to defend him.

It was easier with Ghost, as he couldn’t fly and it would take him weeks just to get to Castle Black, but the dragons had grown so much that they would make it here to Craster´s Keep in just a few short hours if they decided to fly over.

They kept on fighting for what felt like hours, and not long after uncle Benjen had made his way over to Jon, the first ranger of the Night´s Watch disappeared from his sights and into the fray, only to be replaced by Tormund, who fought his way over to him, bellowing out swears and hollering insults to the dead men.

Jon heard the large man let out a booming laugh as they kept pushing back the dead. Thankfully, it seemed like it was only a small scouting party, otherwise it would have been impossible for them to hold back their enemy.

“KEEP PUSHING THEM BACK” Jon yelled at the black brothers and Freefolk who were fighting side by side and the sight was both comforting and horrifyingly familiar to Jon.

It was heartening that both Freefolk and the Night´s watch could work together but horrifying and more than a little sad that it took the threat of the dead to force them to see that they had more than enough in common to work side by side.

More fire arrows flew overhead and lit more of the dead men on fire, and some of the arrows continued to land on the large sentinel trees in front of them, bathing the dark forest around them in a warm glow as they caught on fire and brought heat to the air around them.

He could feel the chill of the night air flee from him, and while not nearly as warm as the fires from Algernon, Earendil and Illyrion, it brought courage to his heart and some of the weariness seeped from his muscles and he felt himself fight fiercer than before.

But as soon as the warm feeling came, it disappeared as the fires in the trees blew out like candles, and the cold returned with vengeance.

Out of the tree line it made it´s slow trek. The pale white body of the Other shone in the moonlight and it´s frozen blue eyes were alight in cold amusement like it thought that the very fact that they dared to defend themselves against its minions was the most hilarious thing that had ever happened.

The White Walker said something in what Jon assumed was his language, but to him it sounded like an icy lake, creaking, and groaning when you put too much weight on it.

It looked over the men around it with it´s cold eyes, until they landed on uncle Benjen, who was closest to it. The White Walker looked Benjen over before making his way slowly over to him as terror seemed to grip every man that had seen it.

It said something again in its cold tongue that no man or woman in the clearing could understand. He doubted that any living person could ever understand it´s language, it was like human ears weren’t meant to comprehend its words.

The Walker made his way to his uncle, and Jon glanced at the sword in his uncle Benjen´s hand. Castle forged steel would never hold up against the weapon of a Walker, like he had seen during the massacre of Hardhome.

Jon griped the hilt of Darksister tighter in his fist and rushed forward.

Only to have a dead man come screaming towards him. The corpse came so suddenly at him that he almost didn’t have time to cut off its hand and then it´s head to save himself.

But when its head rolled off its shoulders, he continued to make his way to his uncle. When he started to run towards them again, he could see the Other had closed the distance and was swing it´s great sword down at the man.

Benjen dropped the dragonglass dagger that he must have gotten from one of the fallen Freefolk in favor of blocking the great sword with the strength of both of his hands.

As soon as the icy weapon of the Other clashed with Benjen´s castle forged steel, his uncle´s sword shattered into thousands of pieces, and Benjen Stark let out a scream of pain from the force that the White Walker had used to bring down its blade.

Jon felt like his legs were burning from the effort it took to sprint to his uncle after having spent such a long time fighting an enemy that felt no pain or exhaustion.

Another dead man came at him to stop him from getting too close, but this time Jon was ready for him and ducked and swung his sword at the carcasses’ side, almost splitting it in two before continuing his run.

The first ranger of the Night´s Watch clutched his arm close to his chest and gritted his teeth in pain.

All around them the battle had resumed, and more dead things made their way out of the woods. But Jon only cared about reaching his uncle.

He wouldn’t let the older man die like he had the first time around. He owed it to the man to save him from such a fate.

Despite being in pain, his uncle Benjen was clearly not ready to give up on his life and made a dive for the dagger that he had dropped when he had tried to block the sword of the Other.

The Other let out another laugh-like sound and raised his sword again. Only for Benjen to roll out of the way and try to scramble from the figure made of ice before the creature could split him in half with his sword.

It was then when Benjen noticed that Jon was getting close to them. Terror flooded the man´s face, and he grew white so fast that Jon was a little surprised that he remined conscious. “JON, NO.”

But Jon ignored him as continued forward, but his element of surprise was gone. The Other turned around and fixed his cold eyes on him.

Its stare made him stop, and he felt like he was being impaled by small sharp icicles, but he ignored the feeling and gripped the Valyrian sword of his ancestors so hard that he was sure that his knuckles turned white.

The White Walker grinned cruelly at him while walking slowly towards him with his arms open wide while holding the enormous great sword in one of his frozen hands like it weighted nothing at all.

It moved slowly, with predator like grace. Like it was a wolf, and he was the sheep that had unwittingly stumbled into its lair.

But Jon was no sheep.

Then with speed that was beyond any human, the Other attacked.

Jon knew that Darksister would hold against the Other´s sword, unlike the sword his uncle had carried until now, but he still remembered the astonishment on the White Walker he had killed at Hardhome, when Longclaw hadn´t shattered at the contact with the icy sword. He wanted to keep the element of surprise until he had an opening to use it. But until then he had to lead the icy figure away from his uncle.

Another torrent of arrows flew over their heads and Jon could see that the fire was starting to reignite in the sentinel trees around them, much to his relief.

But his relief was short lived as the Other swung its great sword at him, forcing him to duck under it to avoid its deadly edge. The creature was just as fast as the other one he had fought, and much faster than any man he had ever battled, and much to his surprise he found himself able to keep up with its movements and duck and avoid the swing of its blade even though he could feel his muscles scream at him from the exhaustion of having been fighting the dead for what he felt like for hours, and now the White Walker before him.

Jon managed to lead the Other a few steps away from his uncle, until the creature managed to strike true.

Pain filled him as the icy blade managed to nick him across his right eye and he could feel blood drip into it.

He forced himself from grabbing at his eye from the pain; he knew that there was no time. He had to try and kill the Walker before he was killed by him.

As he felt the blood drip down in face, the Other lifted the sword and struck.

The surprise on the Walker´s face, was just like the surprise that had been on the Other that Jon had killed at Hardhome in another life, when he had blocked the icy blade with another Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw.

And the surprised look was still on its face when Jon repeated the move, he had used to kill the Other at Hardhome, and it was still on its face when it shattered into thousand pieces like uncle Benjen´s sword had done.

As the shattered remains of the White Walker fell into the soft summer snow, Jon let out a breath of pain and relief while still grasping tight on to the hilt of Darksister.

However, his relief vanished as he watched as all the dead men around him that were left standing, crumbled to the ground, leaving them without any proof that the dead were come for them all.

“Jon.” He heard his name called out to him, and he could see his uncle stumble to his feet, still grasping his right arm close to his chest.

He then felt someone come up to him, grasping at his shoulder with a large hand. Then Tormund´s face appeared before him and Jon could see both concern and awe in his eyes. “Jon are you alright?”

Jon only grinned weakly at his friend, but he felt that the pain and the blood gave it away that he wasn’t alright as it made the grin transform into a grimace as the wound started throb more noticeably now that his focus wasn’t on the Other.

“Jon, open your eye, I got to see it.” The larger man grabbed his head and forced him to open his injured eye. As the man inspected his eye, Jon felt another presence come up to him.

“Is he alright? Can he see?” Benjen´s voice washed over him, and he felt touched by his concern even though he felt a little irritated that the older man had wanted to send him home.

“Harhar.” Tormund let out a pleased laugh. “Oh aye, the luckiest damned fool I have ever known.”

Benjen rushed forward and grabbed him in a one-armed hug with his good hand. “You damned foolish boy.” The man whispered without any real bite behind his words. “You should have run with the others and gone to safety.”

“We have to go.” Jeor Mormont injected forcibly as he made his way over to them with a stunned look on his weathered face as blood tinkled down the side of his head. “The fires are spreading, and we need to make it to Castle Black as fast as we can before any more of those monsters show up.”

“We need to burn the dead,” Jon spoke up in a low voice, but he knew that the older men had heard him. “we cannot afford them coming back and attacking us again.”

The lord commander nodded at him as he took Benjen Stark by the shoulder of his uninjured arm, but he sent Jon a look of surprise and awe that made his stomach feel like a stone had settled in it.

As the lord commander called out to his men to burn the dead Jon felt Tormund grab him by the arm and lead him away and as they passed Freefolk and Black brothers alike as they all worked together to burn those who had fallen, he noticed that they all wore similar looks as Jeor Mormont.

“Harhar, there is no escaping it now little crow, now the women will be trying to steal you from your bed by the hundreds.”

The large man let out a jolly laugh at his own joke as they stepped over a dead body of a black brother, while Jon had to stifle a groan.

“Well, I am glad that my misery amuses you Tormund.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, it does. Now let’s get you to a healer, we got to get you all pretty for the women.”

As they walked away from the fires, Jon could feel the pain in his face grow more and more intense, and he wasn’t sure which was the cause. The fact that the battle madness was leaving his body or the fact that they were going away from the heat of the flames.

KEVAN

He watched as his older brother stalked the solar of the lord of Casterly Rock, like an angry lion that had its pawn nicked by a thorn. 

Kevan had never seen his brother stalk aimlessly across a room before, as the man had always claimed it a waste of time and energy.

The Warden of the West was grasping a letter in his hand that he had clearly just received, and most likely it was the source of his newfound anger.

Tywin hadn´t even been this angry when the mad King had taken Jaime into the King´s guard and made him ineligible to inherit Casterly Rock, or when Aerys had refused to marry prince Rhaegar to Cersei.

Kevan glanced at his sister, who was sitting between him and her useless husband, Emmon Frey. The weasel looking man was looking terrified at seeing the lord of the Rock so angry, and Kevan had to admit that it brought him some sort of perverse pleasure to see the man so afraid.

He had never been able to make sense of their father´s thinking when he had promised poor Genna to that damned weasel.

A Lannister of Casterly Rock, married to a second son of a minor house in the Riverlands, the disgrace was unbearable.

“Are there any news from the capital, brother?” Genna asked, and Keven could hear the concern in her voice.

She would be concerned that Jaime, Cersei, and Joffrey were imprisoned, and that Tyrion was in the wind along with Tommen and Myrcella.

After the death of Joanna, Genna was like a mother to Tywin´s children, but Kevan was sure that she had a special place in her heart for Tyrion.

Perhaps it was because he wasn’t loved by his father and so often ridiculed by many for his size.

Kevan would never admit it out loud, but he knew that it was one of Tywin´s few failings that he didn’t love nor respect Tyrion.

The young man was very capable when he set his mind to it, and unlike Jaime who was by no means slow or dim, the younger son of Tywin showed the wit and intelligence that the current lord of the Rock was famous and revered for.

“Yes.” Tywin growled out and stopped his pacing and took a seat at the desk and handed her the letter to read.

The last time Tywin had handed them a letter to read, was a few days ago when the grand maester had written him to say that Robert had accused Jaime and Cersei of incest and he had arrested them, along with crown prince Joffrey.

But there was still no news of Tyrion, Tommen and Myrcella, thankfully. Kevan knew that if they were caught, the fate of Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen would await the children sooner rather than later.

It had only taken the lord of Casterly Rock a few moments to compose himself from his rage when they had first gotten word of what had happened to poor Jaime, Cersei, and Joffrey, before he commanded his maester to write to all his bannermen, so that they could soon begin their march to war.

But this time they would be going against Robert Baratheon.

Kevan would have been nervous if not for the fact he had seen the man recently, and the second son of Tytos Lannister was sure that the Demon of the Trident was leagues past his prime.

The man didn’t look anything at all like he had twenty years ago, when he defeated the last dragon on the Trident, now he resembled an angry boar in more than just his personality.

Kevan glanced at his sister as she read the letter Tywin had just handed her, and he could see her growing paler by the moment.

“Are you sure that this is true, Tywin?” Genna asked with an uncharacteristic tremble in her voice.

“Yes, Pycelle hasn’t failed me before.”

Kevan looked between his siblings as he asked what had happened.

Tywin gave a snarl of anger as he spoke. “The fool Robert has decided to harm Jaime, by breaking his sword hand so badly that they had to remove one finger. Pycelle doubts that he will ever hold a sword with it again.”

It took Kevan a moment to process his brother´s words and their meaning. “Has Robert lost his mind?”

Tywin snorted angerly. “He must think himself untouchable in the Red Keep, as he holds my children and grandson hostage, but he is wrong.”

The lord of the Rock opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a map that he laid out on his desk.

The map depicted the whole of Westeros with as much detail as possible.

“I have suspected Robert of doing something so stupid ever since he spurred Ned Stark and the Northern lords, but even I couldn’t imagine the depth of Robert´s hubris.”

Kevan could see from the corner of his eye that Emmon was looking hungerly over all the castles that were painted on the map, and it took everything that he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the man.

Emmon Frey didn’t care that Jaime and Cersei were now being unfairly accused of incest by a man that had grown tired of his wife and wanted most likely to find himself a younger woman.

No, the only thing that Emmon cared about was finally getting a castle of his own.

“Will we be attacking the Riverlands?” Emmon´s hungerly asked as he gazed at the likeness of Riverrun.

“No.”

Tywin´s deadpan voice made everyone stare at him in surprise.

“Why not? Hoster Tully will surly answer Robert´s call.” Emmon tried to reason, but he was met with the stony look from Kevan´s brother that made the weasel like man shrink in on himself.

“Because” The lord of the Rock growled out. “Hoster Tully is more bound to Eddard Stark than Robert Baratheon, and if we attack the Riverlands, the North is honor bound to come to their aid, instead we shall fortify the borders we share with the Riverlands to make sure that no Riverlord can come into the West to seek glory.”

“But won’t Ned Stark come south anyway to answer Robert´s call?” Emmon stared in fear at the lord of the Rock.

“That remains to be seen. If Ned Stark has any pride left to him, he will ignore Robert and stay in the North as long as possible.”

“It is not like you brother, to bank so much on the man´s pride when you know of his love for Robert.” Genna pointed out.

“Normally I wouldn’t, but I think that Ned Stark´s hands will be bound by the will of his lords, who have all been gravely offended by Robert when he refused them any honors or aid. We also have no other choice than to gamble on the pride of the Northerners as the North been growing stronger by the month in the last five years with two large fleets under their command, and the fact that the Reach is now bound to Robert by marriage or will be very soon.”

“What do you mean?” Kevan found himself asking in surprise.

Genna turned to him, and he could see the distaste on her face as she waved the letter in her hand around. “Apparently Mace Tyrell finally found himself a Baratheon to marry his little flower to, though it wasn’t the one he wanted.”

The final words in the sentence were said with no small degree of apprehension in her eyes and it didn’t take Kevan long to figure out which Baratheon he had married his daughter to as there was only one possibility.

“He is marrying her to Renly Baratheon. But why settle for him when he can finally make her a Queen?” It was no secret that Mace Tyrell had been angling to make his daughter Queen, so he wasn’t that surprised to hear that the lord of Highgarden was aiming for a marriage, but why settle for Renly when Cersei was finally out of the way?

Tywin scowled and grabbed a cup of wine that was on the end of his table. “Apparently Robert is more interested in Ned Stark´s older daughter than the rose of Highgarden.”

Kevan eyebrows rose to his receding hairline at his brother´s words. “Isn´t she too young to have children? I thought she was around eleven or twelve?”

“She is now thirteen I hear.” Genna interjected with a deep frown. “Much too young to marry and have children in my opinion.”

“It will not matter.” Tywin took a sip of his wine. “We shall dethrone Robert and place Joffrey on the Iron throne, and then we can marry the Stark girl to Joffrey and thus bring the North back to the fold, along with the Riverlands.”

Kevan rubbed his golden bearded jaw in thought. Yes, marrying Joffrey to the Stark girl was a good idea, as the Starks and the North was rising quickly as a new powerhouse in Westeros in the last five years.

He and most of the lords of the realm would never have believed it five years ago that Ned Stark would have been able to turn his barren wasteland into something profitable, but now here they were.

The North was quickly closing the gap between them and the Reach in matters of wealth, and now the North had two fleets, one on East coast of the North and the other on the West coast.

So, having the future King marry into the Stark family and by extension the Tully family and the Arryn family, was a splendid idea from his brother, and it would go a long way to bind houses Stark, Tully and Arryn more to them than Robert.

“But what about the Vale?” Kevan asked his brother. “Do you think that they will follow Ned Stark?”

“I think that they might, but I will not be counting on it, while Jon Arryn must be as frustrated by Robert´s stupidity as the rest of us, he is still the man´s hand but after we dethrone Robert, we can just offer him to marry his daughter to Tommen and bringing him back into the King´s peace that way.”

“Then Tommen would be the future lord of the Eyrie and the Vale.” Kevan said while trying not to let his disappointment show. He would rather have one of his own sons marry the Arryn girl and become the future ruler of the Vale than little Tommen, but he would obey his elder brother, like he had always done.

Tywin said nothing, only nodded firmly as he stared at the map before him. “We need to secure more alliances to overthrow Robert and put Joffrey on the throne.”

“My father-.” Genna´s stupid husband began with a slimy grin on his face, clearly trying to win Tywin´s favor.

“Yes, your father will be important to our plans.” Tywin said with his emotionless mask on his face. “You will have to write to him, and make sure that he lets no one across the bridge, from either the North or the South.”

Emmon stared at Tywin with surprise in his dull, watery eyes. “But I thought you said that Ned Stark wouldn’t ride south to help Robert.”

“I said that he may not, not that he will not. And if he does ride south with the Northern army at his back, your father will be needed to stop him from crossing the river on his way to Riverrun, where he would most likely head to.” The lord of the Rock explained though gritted teeth.

There was fear in Emmon Frey´s eyes. It was said that Ned Stark and the Northern lords were building up an army for the last five years to fight the threat of the Wildlings that lived North of the Wall and Ned Stark himself was a capable military commander, even if he wasn’t Tywin´s equal, nor even Bronze Yohn Royce´s, but the man was competent non the less.

And now he was the only one of the lords of Westeros that was truly prepared for war.

Tywin sent their good brother out to write to his father, and when the door closed on Emmon´s heels, Tywin growled out in a low voice, “Fool.”

Silence filled the solar for a moment before Genna broke it with a question aimed directly to their brother. “Ned Stark may not want to marry his daughter to Joffrey, maybe he will use the rumors about Jaime and Cersei to justify his decision.”

Tywin gritted his teeth at Genna. “Those are just foul rumors spread by Robert and his cohorts to discredit house Lannister and give him an excuse to find himself a younger wife.”

Genna looked their older brother over with her sharp green eyes. There was a look in them that made Kevan think that she knew something that they didn’t. “Rumors or not, it may not matter at this stage. There will be those who will want to believe them no matter what, because it fits in whatever they want to believe.”

Not for the first time Kevan thought it a crying shame that Genna hadn´t been born a man. She would have been a great addition to Tywin´s war council when it came time for them to march to war.

Tywin said nothing, but only stared at the map on his desk with anger in his green and golden eyes.

“So, what alliances where you hoping to make brother?” Kevan changed the subject and tried not to let his eagerness show, he was hopeful for good marriages for his children now that they would be heading to war.

War was a good way to make great marriage alliances for your house, if you had a good lord making them, like his brother.

Kevan hoped to find heiresses for his sons Lancel, Willem and Martyn and perhaps a lord of a large castle for his daughter Janei. After his tireless service to house Lannister and to Tywin, perhaps now he would get those matches for his children.

“After we defeat Robert, the ones who allied with him will have answer for not helping to set free their rightful King Joffrey, and Mace and his son Loras will either die or go to the Wall to live out their miserable lives, leaving Highgarden without a Tyrell heir.” Tywin sat down and laced his fingers together.

“The next in line to inherit Highgarden is one of the Redwyne twins as their mother is lord Tyrell´s sister.” The lord of the Rock continued and Kevan felt himself get excited by the conversation, perhaps now there was a change for Janei to get a good husband.

Marrying her into the Redwyne family would be a boon, that family was almost as rich as the Tyrell´s and now both twins stood to inherit castles and lordships of their own.

“Do you think that lord Redwyne would agree to an alliance with us?” Genna asked in a skeptical tone and Kevan felt himself grow a little annoyed by it.

“When I promise one of his sons Highgarden, agreeable marriages for his children and the office of master of ships, I am sure that he will jump at the chance.” Tywin said in a cool and collected manner.

“And what about Viserys Targaryen?” Genna asked and grabbed a cup from the table and poured Arbor gold into it. “I hear that he has his eyes on the Iron Throne.”

“The Beggar King is of no concern to us.” Tywin leaned back and stared at their younger sister. “He has no armies, no money and most importantly no connections in Westeros.”

“Yes, you are right, Viserys Targaryen doesn’t have armies, nor money or any real connections in the Seven Kingdoms. But those are all things that he can achieve with enough luck and determination, however what he has is the best claim on the throne, which is something that you cannot buy.”

It was clear that Genna´s words annoyed Tywin more than he let on. “We shall worry about Viserys Targaryen later, now we have more pressing matter to attend to, and a more real threat than the Mad King´s son.”

“And most likely you are right, but if he decides to marry his sister to prince Doran´s son and heir, Trystane, he will gain a Kingdom to his side that will never willingly support anyone with Lannister blood on the throne.”

Kevan felt a tinkle of worry in his heart at his sister´s words, the Dornish would happily support Rhaegar´s brother if it meant that they would go against house Lannister.

“You are right, and I think that if the boy has any wits about him, he will do that, however he is still Aerys´s son so him having wits is not very likely and if he does, he is far more Robert´s problem than mine for the foreseeable future.”

“Now if we can move on to more pressing matters, we have alliances to discuss before we march on to war with that fool Robert.”

“Tywin, there is still the fact that we are only one kingdom fighting a war against Robert and maybe five of kingdoms and the Riverlands, even with you at the forefront, how is it possible for us to win?” Genna fixed her green eyes at their older brother, and once again Kevan found himself irritated by her insistent questioning of their lord brother.

Tywin clenched his teeth together like he often did when he was feeling annoyed. “For now, we are but one kingdom, but when we make favorable marriage alliances, we will have many allies that will help us overthrow the fat fool.”

“What about the Golden company?” Genna asked in a firm voice as she stared at their brother in an unwavering gaze. “Have you thought to hire them?”

Tywin leaned back into his chair, and there was a glint of satisfaction in his golden green eyes. “As a matter of fact, I have. I have sent an envoy to Essos to hire them at whatever cost so they may sail to the Stormlands and start raiding there.”

Kevan had no doubt that the Golden company would be anything less than enthusiastic to work for Tywin Lannister, as he had been instrumental in overthrowing house Targaryen almost sixteen years ago and could afford to pay them handsomely.

Chapter Text

ELDON ESTERMONT

The lord of Greenstone smoothed his green tunic adorned with the three turtles of house Estermont on his breast, as he walked through the halls of the Red Keep.

It was a relief to wear his house colors once again, and he felt that it was time for him to swap out the black mourning clothing after his wife had died of a fever two months ago. His sons were still devastated by her loss and were refusing to wear anything but black.

But Eldon knew that now was the time for him wear his colors once again after being called to the capital to serve on the small council, as the new master of Whispers since lord Varys had betrayed Eldon´s own grandnephew, King Robert.

Eldon was sure that lord Varys running away from court, was a blessing in disguise. He had spoken in favor of executing the Essosi when they had taken the capital after the death of Mad King Aerys, but King Robert had allowed the man to enter his service and Varys had betrayed him after everything Robert had done for the man.

Two of his guards that he had decided to take with him to King´s Landing flanked him as he made his way to the small council chambers, and as they approached the door that led to the chamber, Eldon spotted two of the famed Kingsguard.

Sers Preston Greenfield and Arys Oakheart were both stone faced as they guarded the small council chamber, and the tension was practically pouring off them.

“Sers, I am lord Eldon Estermont. I have come to take up my role as the master of Whispers.” He was not too proud to say that he puffed out his chest a little, it was such an honor to serve the King on his small council and now it was finally Eldon´s turn.

Ser Arys nodded. “We were told to expect you, my lord. Please go on in, the King will most likely be arriving soon.”

Ser Preston opened the door without a word to allow him into the chamber, but his guards had to wait outside.

He made his way into the chamber, and he found that both of King Robert´s brothers were there along with the master of Coin, Mace Tyrell.

“Good day my lords.” Eldon greeted interrupting any conversations that had been happening in the chamber.

“Ah, Uncle Eldon.” Renly greeted with a large smile on his face as he stopped talking to Mace Tyrell.

Eldon had never agreed with the King to foster his little brother with Mace Tyrell, especially when the man had almost starved Stannis at Storm´s End when the lord of Highgarden had laid siege outside of the castle wall´s and feasted with his lords every night.

He, like many others of the Stormlords felt like King Robert was rewarding Mace Tyrell for his part in fighting for Aerys Targaryen. Renly would have been a lot better served by having fostered elsewhere, like with Eldon himself who was after all the boy´s granduncle.

“It is good to see you again uncle.” Renly walked over still with a smile on his face. “I haven’t seen you since I completed my tour of the Stormlands and took up my post here in the capital.”

“It is good to see you as well, nephew.”

Renly turned somber as he clasped Eldon´s hand in his large one. “Again, I am so sorry about your wife, Uncle Eldon, and I cannot say how much I regret not being able to come to her funeral and pay my respects to her and your house.”

Eldon would be lying if he said that he wasn’t touched the younger man´s words. “Thank you so much my lord. Your letter was a comfort to me and my sons.”

“You aren’t leading your men from Greenstone lord Estermont?” Stannis´s stern voice came from the other side of the chamber, where he was standing alone, looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The sudden turn in conversation almost made Eldon dizzy, and not for the first time he was struck how different the brothers were from one another.

“No, I am not my lord. My eldest son and heir, Aemon is leading the men in my stead while I will be serving here.”

Eldon wasn’t sure if his son was ready for leading the men of Greenstone. Eldon himself had led the men in both the last two wars where Aemon had been old enough to fight in, and he would have led the men himself again, if King Robert hadn´t asked for him to serve on the small council.

And now his little boy would be leading the men and taking both his younger brother and son with him into battle.

“Aemon is a good man, and I am sure that he will do you proud.” Renly clapped his back and led him to a seat at the table.

“Thank you, my lord. But when should we expect the King and the others to arrive?” Eldon asked his liege lord as the man led him to a seat.

“Robert will come when he feels like it, and others will not be coming for a long time.” At Renly´s words, he could only stare at the young man in bewilderment.

“What do you mean? Where is lord Arryn and the grand maester Pycelle?” It would be hard for them to run the realm without the hand and the grand maester.

“Lord Arryn has left for the Vale to call his banners.” Stannis stood as straight as a lance with a hard look on his face. “and Pycelle has been put in a black cell.”

“A black cell?” Eldon asked in surprise.

“Oh, yes.” Mace spoke up for the first time, and he seemed jolly at where the grand maester had ended up. “In a black cell for treason.”

“What did he do?”

“Come on Eldon, you know as well as everyman in the Seven Kingdoms that Pycelle is Tywin´s man through and though.” Renly took a seat beside him and poured himself a glass of Arbor gold.

“But what did he do?”

“He has been informing Tywin of what we have been planning.” Eldon was sure that he heard Stannis grit his teeth, like he had done ever since he had been a teenager.

Eldon and the rest jumped to their feet when the doors were suddenly opened with a bang, allowing the King of the Seven Kingdoms into the small council chamber.

The King stalked into the chamber with a large happy grin on his face and a skip in his step as he took a deep swallow of wine from the cup he was holding in his hands.

“Let´s plan a war, shall we.” The man bellowed and made his way to his seat at the head of the table with an excited glint in his eyes.

It was only then when Eldon noticed that the King was followed by Ser Meryn Trant. The Stormlander was following the King with his chest puffed out like a young rooster looking over his flock of hens.

The lord of Greenstone glanced over at his young liege lord, who seemed a little uncomfortable. As the others were taking their seats, Eldon leaned over to the young man and whispered. “What is going on?”

“My brother appointed Ser Meryn as the new lord commander of the Kingsguard.” Eldon could hear the uncertainty in the younger man´s voice, but he couldn’t understand why. Ser Meryn was a Stormlander and had served King Robert with distinction for years now, so why was lord Renly so uncomfortable with the man´s appointment?

“So, where are you with the Stormlords?” The King asked his youngest brother as he gestured for a servant boy to get him more wine.

“They have all responded and are calling their banners as we speak and will be here within a fortnight.” Renly smiled, showing all his pearly white teeth.

“And you uncle? Who is leading your men now that you will be here?” The King asked. Eldon felt himself sit taller as he answered his King.

“My son Aemon is leading my men into battle.”

“Good, it is about time the man led an army, how old is he now? Fifty?”

Eldon felt heat rush to his face. “Aemon is forty-two.”

“Well, it is still time for him to lead the men to victory,” The King took another swing of the wine in his hand as he laughed happily. “but he shall have an opportunity for glory now.”

Eldon felt his stomach drop and his face turned cold from humiliation at the man´s words, but he swallowed the uncomfortable feeling. King Robert was a monarch, and they weren’t like normal men and sometimes they said things without thinking it through.

And furthermore, Robert was his father´s son, who himself had never been famous for overly courteous words.

“We need a new grand maester now that Pycelle is in the black cells.” Renly spoke up, much to Eldon´s relief.

“We can talk about that later,” Robert waved his hand. “we need to concentrate on the old lion.”

“But Robert, we need to-.” Renly was waved off by the King.

“We have bigger things to worry about, for now Pycelle´s apprentices can continue tending the ravens, and it is not like the man was doing much to actually ruling the Seven Kingdoms.”

The King let out another laugh, that lord Tyrell, Ser Meryn and Eldon all joined in with the man.

“Now, we have to act fast,” King Robert gestured for one of the servants to bring forth a map of Westeros. “We will meet the other Stormlanders here at King´s Landing and go the Gold road to Casterly Rock.”

Robert turned to face Mace Tyrell. “You and the Reach lords shall take the Ocean Road to Casterly Rock and block of any route of escape for the Old Lion to the South.”

Lord Mace seemed to swell in size at being addressed by the King and nodded furiously with a happy smile on his face.

Robert then looked at his brother Stannis. “You and the Crown lords and the lords of the Narrow sea will take the royal fleet and sail for Lannisport and take the city.”

Stannis looked at his older brother and nodded firmly. “Yes, I will be leaving for Dragonstone at daybreak.”

King Robert waved him off. “Yes, yes, and make sure that you keep Bar Emmon, Celtigar and those thrice damned Velaryon´s on a short leash.”

It was no secret that his grandnephew didn’t like the old Targaryen loyalists, and Eldon couldn’t blame the man, if those three houses ever had the opportunity to declare for the beggar King, they would so in a heartbeat, and so they couldn’t be trusted.

Eldon glanced at Mace Tyrell, who was looking as happy as a clam. For a moment he thought about including him in the Targaryen loyalist category but decided against it. The Tyrell´s were something even worse than Targaryen loyalists, they were opportunists. No one in their right mind would think that house Tyrell would flock to the beggar King, as the Targaryen boy had no hope of winning if he sailed to Westeros.

“I look forward to ride at your side brother, and to bring the old lion to his knees.” Renly said with a smile on his handsome face.

“You won’t be coming.” King Robert growled out and took another swing of his wine. “You will be here, and I will lead the Stormlords.”

“But brother I am the-.” Renly started before the King interrupted the younger Baratheon angerly.

“Careful Renly, you may be my brother, but I am your King. You will stay here and hold the city.” The King demanded and shot the lord of the Stormlands a furious look.

Lord Renly stared at King Robert with disbelief in his blue eyes. “Hold the city? You are going to attack the Lannisters with all the force of the Seven Kingdoms, how-.”

“YOU WILL STAY HERE; I AM THE KING AND YOU WILL DO AS I SAY.”

Silence filled the room and Eldon felt the urge to sink into his chair. He glanced at the lord paramount of the Stormlands, who had gone stark white as he stared at the King who had turned as red as the crimson of the Lannister banners.

For a few moments, the King and the lord paramount of the Stormlands stared at each other before lord Renly averted his gaze. Eldon could feel the anger and humiliation radiate of the younger man, and it took all his considerable amount of restrain from putting a comforting hand on the young man´s shoulder.

Lord Renly had clearly had his heart set on going to war against the Lannisters and win some glory.

“Now, it will take Ned some time to rally his men, but he will have to ride south to Riverrun and link up with the Riverlords, and Jon and the knights of the Vale. Then Ned´s Eastern fleet will join the Iron fleet and sail south.” Robert went back to looking at the map before him, and Eldon could see the happy glint return to his eyes.

He could see why, it was looking like an easy victory for the crown, but there was still the issue of the old lion himself and his impregnable castle.

He opened his mouth to ask the King how he planned to take Casterly Rock, but lord Tyrell spoke first. “My daughter and mother are making their way to the capital as we speak, so that lord Renly can take Margaery´s hand in marriage before we head to war.”

The lord of Greenstone glanced at the King, and he could see that the man would have preferred to have just headed out of the city at this very moment, rather than wait until lady Margaery and the Queen of Thorns herself would make their way to the capital.

He remembered well when King Robert had come from the Vale to rally his lords to rebel against the Mad King.

The young man had been energetic and eager to ride forward to war, and that vigor seemed to exude off him in waves and it made the lords under his command eager to follow him to the depts of the Seven Hells if the man so commanded.

And now the man seemed to regain some of that demeanor that he had clearly lost over the years since the Greyjoy rebellion.

It seemed like the looming war on the horizon was good for the King, and it seemed like it was breathing life back into the large man before him, and it was good to see him looking more like himself, like he had been almost sixteen years ago.

As they sat there and listened to the King make plans about how to take the West, there was a knock on the door, and ser Arys peaked into the small council chamber. “Your grace, one of Pycelle´s assistants are here. He says that he has a letter from Winterfell.”

“Let the man in, now.” King Robert almost jumped when he heard the word “Winterfell” and he seemed like he was a child being given his nameday gift.

The kingsguard let a young man into the room, and the grey clad man seemed a little frightened at having to be in here.

“Your grace.” The man bowed deeply before the King, before the lord of the Seven Kingdoms hollered.

“Well, tell us when we can expect Ned to ride south with his Northern lords.” King Robert smiled widely and sat down as a servant filled his empty cup of wine.

The man opened the letter and read it quickly in silence, and with every word that he read, the young man grew paler before he looked up.

 “Lord Stark, regrets to inform your grace that he cannot send his men south, as there has been growing concern about the Wildlings and there is a threat that the King beyond the Wall, Mance Ryder will attack the Wall.”

“WHAT!?” The King stood up with such speed that the newly filled cup flew to the floor and smashed into a thousand pieces. “WHAT THE IN THE SEVEN HELLS DO YOU MEAN THAT HE IS NOT COMING?”

“There is more-.” The young man stuttered before the King interrupted him in anger.

“I THOUGHT THAT NED AND THE NORTHERN LORDS WERE NOT PAYING ME MY TAXES BECAUSE THEY WERE TRYING RESTORE THE WALL SO THAT THEY WOULDN’T HAVE TO FIGHT THOSE DAMENED WILDLINGS!” The King looked so angry that it looked like the man was about to explode from rage.

“Your grace-.” The grey clad man tried to get the King´s attention but once again the large black bearded man interrupted.

“NO TAXES FROM THE NORTH FOR MORE THAN FIVE YEARS TO REPAIR THAT THIRCE DAMNED WALL AND NOW THEY REFUSE TO COME?”

“Your grace,” Eldon couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I am sure that lord Eddard wouldn’t refuse to ride south unless it was absolutely necessary. He must have many reasons to believe these Wildlings to be a real threat to the North.”

His grandnephew seemed to calm down a little at that, but his face was still redder than Eldon was sure was healthy and Eldon could practically feel the rage simmer of the large man.

Eldon decided to continue to try and calm the man down. “I am sure that lord Eddard will deal with this, King beyond the Wall in a quick manner and then he will ride south with all haste to join us in taking Casterly Rock and bring lord Tywin to justice for having raised his banners.”

“He still has no right to refuse me when I call on him, I am his King.” King Robert insisted, much calmer than before, but the anger was still easy to hear in his voice. “When I call the banners, I expect to be obeyed.”

King Robert placed his knuckles on the table and fixed his stare on the grey man, who was staring back in terror. “Write to Winterfell and tell Ned that his King is ordering him to ride south with his banners.”

“Yes,” The letter in the young man´s hands was shacking from fear. “but there is more.”

“Well spit it out man.”

“Lord Stark says that…” It was like the man lost his voice for a moment before finding it again. “He says that his daughter will be marrying a man closer to her age, that was brought up to value Northern traditions.”

The silence that filled the room when the King had scolded his brother had been awkward and uncomfortable, but this one was terrifying.

They all stared at the man as he stood there still as a statue, just staring at the man who had told him that his old friend wouldn’t be marrying his daughter to him.

But then, quicker than Eldon thought the King could move, the lord of the Seven Kingdoms grabbed the back of his chair that was now behind him and threw it at the small man, who was still standing there shaking.

The assistant to the former grand maester had to throw himself to the ground to avoid the flying chair that came his way, as the King roared in his fury.

DAENERYS

Angry tears ran down her cheeks as she sat on her knees, dry heaving into the now half-filled chamber pot that the young slave girl had brought her.

Her head was pounding as more and more memories flooded into her mind, and she stifled a sob that wanted to make its way up her throat.

How could he have done this to her?

As she thought about him, she could feel the cool blade of his dagger in her heart once again and Dany could feel the pain in her chest like Jon was stabbing her right now.

Her last memory before waking up in the night, was the betrayal of her lover, and those beautiful words echoing in her ears as soulful grey eyes stared into hers.

For what felt like the hundredth time, she checked her chest to see if she really had been stabbed in the heart, but she found nothing but flawless skin where the knife would have entered her body.

Had it all been a dream?

No, it couldn’t have been a dream, she knew that it was real.

She pulled herself of her knees and stood up. Her legs were shaking from the effort of being hunched over the chamber pot, as she made her way slowly to the window to get some fresh air to calm her raging stomach.

She was filled with more confusion as her violet eyes took in the city of Pentos.

Dany hadn´t been in the city since she had married her sun and her stars, Khal Drogo. The city was just like she remembered it, merchants selling their wares on the busy streets and the people walked around in colorful clothing made of fine materials.

Dany stared out the window as if spell bound when a servant came into the room.

“My lady what has happened?” Dany turned around to face the girl with a frown on her face. Why was she calling Dany a lady? She was the Queen of Meereen, the Khalessi of the great grass sea, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the breaker of chains and the mother of dragons.

But she said nothing as the girl finally noticed the chamber pot by the bed that was half filled with her sick. The girl´s eyes widened, and she rushed towards her to make sure that she wants ill or harmed.

“What day is it?” Dany tried to keep the trembling out of her voice, but she felt so weak and tired that she couldn’t, much to her anger.

The girl sent her another worried look. “My lady, you are to meet the Khal today, don’t you remember?”

Dany stared at the girl in shock, she was to meet her husband again today. She felt happiness fill her as she tried to conjure up his image in her mind, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember his face.

It had been so long ago that she had last seen him, she closed her eyes to try and picture his bronze skin, and long hair, but the more she tried, the more his skin turned pale and his eyes went from dark brown to dark grey.

Dany felt anger blossom in her belly.

How dare Jon Snow invade her mind like he had any right to it after what he had done?

He had murdered her when she was only just achieved her dreams of restoring house Targaryen to its rightful place and taken back her birthright as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

She clenched her fists and pushed the girl away from her and sat down on her bed. She could hear the girl say that she was going to get some help to clean up and fill the tub, so Dany could wash herself, but she paid her no mind.

How could he have done this to her? Jon had been in love with her and he had been devoted only to her, until they reached Winterfell, where everything had all fallen apart.

Winterfell.

The very name made her see red in anger. That is where everything had gone wrong. If there was one place she hated, it was the North and Winterfell.

She remembered their cold faces and stony eyes as she had ridden beside Jon to the castle. He had tried to excuse their behavior by claiming that the Northerners didn’t trust outsiders.

But she knew better, she wasn’t an outsider. Dany was their Queen and they continually treated her like she was lesser than them, like she was some usurper. 

And she remembered the cold eyes of Sansa Stark when she hardly even greeted her and showed Dany the reverence that she deserved when she had come to save them.

Sansa Stark.

Dany hated that little harlot more than she hated Cersei Lannister.

Everything had gone wrong when they had arrived in Winterfell and Jon had been reunited with that silly girl.

Jon had started to pull away from her when he had been reunited with the Stark girl, and he hadn´t kept the secret when she asked, and he had insisted that the Stark girl needed to know.

Dany could feel the dread settle in her as she thought more and more about this, had Sansa Stark manipulated Jon into killing her, the woman that he loved?

Both the traitors Varys and Tyrion had agreed that the girl was smart, and they had always been harping on about how clever she was.

So, if she was so clever, then it wouldn’t be hard for her to turn Jon against his Queen.

Had Sansa Stark been behind it all? Had she made everyone turn against Dany after everything she had done for the North? Dany had suspected it when she had been on Dragonstone just after she had lost Rhaegal and Missandei, but now she knew that it was the truth.

She could feel the fury burn in her gut as the truth because as clear as day to her. It had been that Harpy, Sansa Stark who had told Tyrion about how Jon was Rhaegar´s trueborn son and made everyone turn against her, the rightful Queen.

The Stark girl had wanted Jon to kill Dany so that she could get her claws into him and marry him and become the new Queen.

Dany remembered well the looks the Stark girl had sent her Jon, the little looks of longing that had she had always been sending him hadn´t really bothered Dany at first. Because who would leave the most beautiful woman in the world for some wide-eyed girl with dreams above her station.

She stood up from her bed and started to stalk the room, Sansa Stark wanting Dany dead so that she could dig her filthy claws into Jon made sense. That had been the girl´s plan all along, to kill Daenerys, who was the rightful Queen, and to marry Jon so that she could usurp Daenerys´s rightful place on the iron throne.

Dany could feel the rage become even greater and it was like Drogon had breathed fire into her belly. She would get her revenge against Sansa Stark even if it were the last thing she would ever do.

As she stalked the room in her anger, she could hear the doors to her room slam open. “There you are Daenerys.”

She almost jumped in surprise at hearing her hateful brother´s voice carry over to her. In her anger at the betrayals that she had suffered, she had completely forgotten this nuisance that was called Viserys.

Dany turned to see her brother strut towards her with a familiar lavender colored dress in his arms.

The clothing in his arms confirmed the servant girl´s words that this was the day that she would meet her husband, and she felt an excited tingle run up her spine.

If this was the day, she would meet Drogo again, then their marriage would happen very soon, and she would get her dragons again.

She had to fight the urge to smirk, the moment she got her hands on her eggs, she would show them all how strong she was.

With both her dragons and Khal Drogo at her side, she would have everything she needed to invade the Seven Kingdoms again and take back what by rights belonged to her.

Her sun and her stars would be convinced to invade the Seven Kingdoms when she would step out of the fire once again with her dragons at her command.

“Daenerys, I am talking to you. You don’t want to wake the dragon, now do you?” She turned to her brother, who was looking at her with angry lilac eyes, and she could hardly believe that once she had thought that he was the dragon.

No Viserys wasn’t a dragon, she was the dragon, and she would take back what was hers.

He grabbed her chin in a painfully tight grip and forced her to look at him. “You shall not disappoint me today.”

It took all the self-control she had to force herself from striking the worm before her and calling for the guards.

But she knew that she would have to wait until she had her dragons and her husband by her side once more. Then Viserys would find out who was really the dragon.

She looked up at her brother, who was glaring daggers at her and she tried to see the similarities between him and Jon.

It was hard to spot any because Jon favored his mother´s coloring, but Jon had the cheek bones and general bone structure of old Valyria, but with a slightly longer face.

Jon was also a bit shorter than Viserys, but he more than made up for his short stature with his handsome looks and skills in the bedchamber.

Perhaps when she had brought justice to Sansa Stark and all those who had betrayed her, she would allow Jon to be her consort, if he saw the error of his ways and begged her forgiveness and swore his undying loyalty and obedience, of course.

And if he didn’t, he could watch as his family burned, and then he would die for betraying her. Just thinking about him, made her feel pain between her ribs, and once again she was sure that she felt the blade stab at her heart.

As Viserys started to turn purple in his anger that she hadn´t answered him, she spoke up. “When will we be meeting him?”

This seemed deflate her brother and his anger was forgotten by the astonishment of how firmly she spoke to him, and he even dropped the vice grip he had on her chin in his surprise.

“Khal Drogo will be here at noon.” He managed to choke out as he stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time, which was perfectly accurate.

The man who styled himself as the true King of Westeros, was seeing the real Daenerys Targaryen for the very first time in his life.

He opened his mouth, most likely to say something about her body like he had the last time, but she spoke up before he could. She had no interest in his poisonous words. “Good, there is no time to waste.”

This seemed to make him chipper as a smile lit up his gaunt face. “I knew you would come around sweet sister. Soon I shall have my army, and we shall take back my birth right.”

There was nothing that she would rather do than to laugh into his arrogant face. Dany wasn’t sure how anyone could be so blind as Viserys was. He would never rule the Seven Kingdoms, he would die long before that would ever happen.

He offered her the dress so that she could look at it. “Isn´t it lovely? It was a gift from Illyrio.”

She took the dress from his hands and looked at it with critical eyes, she had worn better but for now it would suffice. “Yes, it is quite wonderful.” She didn’t feel like making him angry right now, not when they shared a common goal for the moment.

Dany knew that it would be best for her to wait until she had hatched her dragon eggs, then when everyone could see that she was the true heir to the throne and the true dragon.

Dany could feel her brother´s eyes look her over for a moment. “You don’t slouch anymore; you are carrying yourself like a true Targaryen princess.” He actually sounded pleased with her for a moment.

“Not a princess, a Queen.” She said as she looked over the dress in her hands. Dany then turned to her dimwitted brother. “I have to get ready now, it wouldn’t be good to keep the Khal waiting.”

Viserys stared at her with his lilac eyes wide, and Dany knew that once again she had stunned him from saying anything, then he seemed to shake himself out of his stupor. “Yes indeed, well hurry up then.”  As he then made his way out of her rooms, he kept shooting her bewildered glances.

The room was now filled with servant girls, who had just finished cleaning the room, and filled the tub with almost boiling hot water.

Dany handed one of the servant girls the dress and started to strip out of her clothes. She watched as the material of her dress pooled around her feet, before stepping out of it.

With calm and deliberate steps, she walked towards the looking glass which the magister had provided for her. Her body looked exactly how she remembered it being, before she married Drogo, and as she turned to look at herself from a different angle a thought hit her like a lightning bolt.

She could have children again.

The realization hit her so hard that she almost lost her breath, and she felt tears of happiness well in her eyes.

Her laid her hands across her belly, and she found herself smiling so widely that it pained her, but she didn’t care about that anymore.

Who cared about something as trivial as pain when for the first time in years, house Targaryen had hope.

Her thoughts turned to little Rhaego, who she had never even held in her arms before the cruel witch, Mirri Maz Duur had murdered him.

For a moment she was tempted to burn the witch again when she hatched her dragon eggs, but she decided against that thought immediately.

Although the thought of binding the witch to the pyre once again to hatch her dragon eggs brought no small amount of satisfaction to her heart, she knew that it would take too much time to locate her, and Dany needed her dragons now.

She had to hatch her dragons much sooner than before. It would be best to hatch them at her wedding to Khal Drogo and then everyone would see that she was the true heir to the Targaryen dynasty and not her weak brother nor Jon Snow.

Both men were too weak to rule.

But she was strong, she had brought dragons back into the world and freed the slaves and would do so once again.

With a smile on her face, she walked to the tub. The hot fumes rose from the almost boiling hot water, just how she liked it.

Dany walked to the tub and dipped her foot into the water. But as soon as her flesh touched the hot water, pain shot though her that made her scream from the top of her lungs.

The pain made her lose her balance and fall backwards from shock. Pain shot though her as her hip landed hard on the cold marble floor, but the agony in her hip was nothing compared to the one in her foot.

The slave girls rushed to her as she lay on the floor in pain. “My lady, are you alright?”

“I am fine, just fine.” Dany tried to reassure them, but her words fell on deaf ears as one of the girls ordered another to get some salve for the burn on her foot.

Dany had never felt pain like this before. Heat nor fire had ever hurt her.

She looked at her foot, that had already turned red, and she could see blisters form on the skin that had been white as fresh fallen snow before it had been dipped into the water.

Then the pain was overshadowed by confusion.

Why had she been burned by the water?

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Pain shot once again though her foot and she had to fight not to show it on her face as the servant girl stood behind her sitting form and brushed her silver hair. Dany glanced at her injured foot that was now wrapped in bandages that were so thick that she couldn’t adorn a slipper.

The very fact that her foot was wounded after the water made fear settle in her belly like a stone. Why had the water burned her? Was it the cost of having her memories returned to her?

No, it couldn’t be, it had to be a fluke.

She clenched her fist, it just had to be a strange coincident that she had burned. Dany tried to fix her mind on the objective ahead of her and push the pain of her burnt foot out of it.

But the pain only served to remind her of her brother, who had reprimanded her for having gotten injured by the bathwater.

Dany had almost forgotten the relief it had brought her when Drogo had finally killed him.

She could remember the calm that had settled over her when she had stared at her brother grotesque form, when he had laid there in the tent with his crown of gold in the tent.

But now that calm was gone, and not even a half a day had gone by her getting her memories and already she longed for that serenity again.

Especially now when her brother had cruelly told her that she would just have to limp to the meeting with Drogo before he had insisted that she should get ready.

She fought a frown that was making its way to her face, as she looked down on the dress she was wearing for the meeting with her husband.

Dany had forgotten how much she had come to hate this dress and the ceremony that she was being forced to participate in.

She was of blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror, not some broodmare that could be sold to the highest bidder.

But there was another part of her that was bursting with excitement to meet her husband once again.

However as soon as she thought about her beloved husband, his comely features morphed in the handsome form of the treacherous Jon Snow.

A grimace formed on her face thinking about him, but she shook her head of the thought of the man and his treasons. There would soon be a time when he would be forced to answer for his crimes, but that would have to wait until she hatched her dragons.

And if he groveled convincingly enough, she might be able to forgive him, but he would never come close to her dragons again.

Fear clawed at her when she thought of Jon Snow having access to a dragon once again.

Just thinking about how easily Jon Snow had controlled Rhaegal had filled her with unease, and it was terrifying now that she knew who his real father was.

She had been so sure that Rhaegal had only listened to Jon because he had known that his mother had been fond of the man, but now knowing that he had the blood of the dragon made her determined to never allow him near the green dragon again.

No, this time Rhaegal would go to her son, Rhaego.

The very thought of having her son ride a dragon when he became old enough brought a smile to her face.

She could see him now, a young boy with silver hair and violet eyes, riding in the sky on the dragon named for his uncle, while she rode the black dread come again.

But that brought the thought of Viserion to her mind.

Viserys couldn’t be allowed to ride a dragon, her brother was undeserving of being a dragonrider and had proven himself untrustworthy repeatedly thought the course of his life.

It would be better for everyone if Viserys would never come close to her dragons, and she was sure that Drogo would make sure that while the dragons were small, her brother would never come near them.

But perhaps her husband could ride the smallest dragon.

Dany knew that Viserion would allow her husband to ride him if she commanded it.

She had more control over the three dragons than any other dragonrider in history before. She had never even heard of a dragonlord that had managed to command three dragons even though she had only ridden one of them.

Rhaegal and Viserion had followed her to Westeros and then into battle beyond the Wall, while Rhaenyra Targaryen had to ask the dragonseed of Dragonstone to try and tame the dragons of the island and to help her fight for her birthright in the dance of the dragons.

But Dany had no need for bastards, she would command the dragons herself and this time she would not spend any time listening to the mewling’s of lords that thought that they knew better than her.

Dany should have heeded the words of Olenna Tyrell, the old woman had more wisdom in her pinky finger than the high lords of the world combined.

The lady of Highgarden had been right when she had told Dany to be a dragon.

“My lady.” The servant girl spoke to her as she finished with her hair. “It is time to go.”

Dany glanced at the dress she was wearing and was again filled with anger and contempt for both it, and the men who had given it to her.

She was no slave for them to sell when it was convenient, and they would soon both see it.

Dany looked at herself in the looking glass that was resting peacefully on the table nearby, before standing up and heading out of her chambers with the girl rushing after her.

But walking was proving to be a difficult task for her, as the pain in her foot from the hot water was agonizing.

Dany gritted her teeth and forced herself to lean into the pain. No one would ever see her limp or winch at feeling pain.

The last time when she had made this walk, she had felt like she was going to meet the executioner and it had taken all the strength she had not to vomit from fear.

But that was not who she was now.

Dany had been reborn in the Red waste along with her dragons, and again she had been reborn in this life, with all her memories to give her even more advantage over her enemies and she would not be cowed into being the simpering little girl she had been.

That girl was dead.

She had died on in the Red Waste along with Khal Drogo, and in her place was now Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Dany held her head higher as she made her way into the courtyard and she could feel the heat of the Pentoshi sun beat down on her.

The magister spotted her before her imbecilic brother did, and the obese man smiled widely at seeing her.

He was probably pleased to see Dany in the dress she was wearing, that left little to the imagination, as her nipples could even be seen through the fabric of the dress.

“Ah, there you are princess,” The man placed his hands on his enormous stomach and gave a nod of approval. “you look breathtaking, I am sure that the Khal will be more than pleased.”

Dany had no doubt that the Khal would think her beautiful, but as soon as Viserys spotted her she knew that her brother didn’t share the same thoughts as the Khal no doubt would have.

An ugly frown dominated his features. “You are late.” He barked at her, his lilac eyes flashing. “When will the Khal arrive.” Even though he was still staring at her angerly, his words were clearly directed at their host, who finally tore his eyes of her body.

“The Dothraki do things in their own time, your grace.” The magister gave her brother a smile, but Dany couldn’t help but to think it false.

Viserys huffed angerly and turned to face the entrance where Dany knew that Drogo would soon arrive through.

Dany could feel the anger radiate of her brother as she took up her stance behind him, like she had done so many years ago.

It would be best to go along with their little plan for now, even though it enraged her to be placed behind her worthless brother.

She felt pain flare up in her foot once again, making her bite down on her tongue to keep from gasping from the torture of having to stand completely still on it.

The magister took up his place beside her brother and tried to draw the false King into a conversation, but Viserys didn’t seemed to have much interest in the man´s words and seemed to prefer to stare at the entrance of the courtyard with his pale lilac eyes.

Soon after the magister gave up trying to converse with Viserys, her brother spoke up once again. “Where is he?”

Viserys sounded like a petulant child, demanding sweets as he frowned at the magister.

“The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality.” The fat man seemed almost weary of Viserys´s behavior even though he hid it well, as he explained to her witless brother that the Dothraki didn’t care about him or his childishness.

But almost as soon as the magister had finished speaking, the earth started to shake and she could hear the neighing of horses, as her husband and his bloodriders neared.

The excitement that filled her heart at knowing that the moment she and Drogo would finally be reunited could hardly be contained, and a small part of her wondered if he remembered her too.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, she pushed it away. It was impossible for him to have remembered anything of their last lives.

Well, she would remind him of how much he loved her.

Her heart leaped into her throat as she watched Drogo and his bloodriders charge into the courtyard, and she almost didn’t notice magister Illyrio walked up to them, greeting them in Dothraki.

“May I present my honored guests, Viserys of house Targaryen, the third of his name, the rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men, and his sister Daenerys of house Targaryen.” Anger filled her at the man´s introduction of Viserys as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, but she forced it down. 

She took a few steps forward, staring at her husband, drinking in his handsome features with her violet eyes, as she felt a hand grab her arm in a painfully tight grip.

“Do you see how long his hair is? When the Doth-.” Viserys tried to whisper his words of poison in her ears, but she would have none of it.

Before he had even finished speaking, she ripped her arm out of his grip and fixed him such a furious look that he actually took a step back in surprise.

His lilac eyes were wide as he stared at her, and his mouth was opening and closing without a sound coming out of it.

The look of fury she was sending him was only reserved for those who had committed the highest of treasons, like Varys, Tyrion Lannister, and the whore Sansa Stark who had turned Jon against her, and it was clearly more than enough to silence her cowardly brother.

“Princess?” Magister Illyrio called, clearly not certain what had happened.

Dany gave her brother a last glare before turning back to the Khal and his bloodriders.

When she had stepped forward in her last life, every step she had taken had been almost hesitant, but now she made her way to the Khal with as much confidence as her injured foot allowed her to, and kept her head held high.

Dany made her way to her husband´s horse and as she looked at him, she found herself a little surprised.

In her memories he had always seemed to have this towering presence and almost unreal good looks.

But now as she looked at him, she found him a bit severe looking, and his beard was not as tidy and close cut as she wanted it to be. Even his hair, though long as it should be, was too straight and his eyes were the wrong color.

Just as she realized what she had been thinking and the horror of it made itself known to her, Drogo turned his horse around and rode away, with his bloodriders after him, leaving her in the dust, horrified at her own thoughts.

Dany could hear her brother squeak at the magister, but she paid them little mind, as she was too deep in her own mind, cursing herself for even comparing Jon Snow with a man like Khal Drogo.

The traitor couldn´t compare with her husband.

She turned to look where her brother was speaking with the magister and slowly made her way to them, as she tried her best to push any thought of soft but traitorous dark grey eyes out of her mind.

The magister led them away from the courtyard to the gardens of his palace that overlook the Narrow Sea.

Dany remembered this so clearly that it was almost like it had happened yesterday.

It took all her restraint from pushing Viserys into the sea when she recalled his words about how he would have happily let all the Dothraki, and their horses rape her if that was what it took to get the throne.

But it wasn’t his throne, it was her throne, and she would take it with fire and blood, and with Khal Drogo and her son at her side and her dragons at her back.

Just thinking about little Rhaego brought a smile back on her face, her son would have a better childhood than she had.

Rhaego wouldn’t have to be forced to live life on the run with a mad brother abusing him. No, her son and heir would be raised in the Red Keep and waited on by servants and learn how to swing a sword for the lord commander of the Queensguard, Ser Barristan the Bold himself.

Dany smiled and she could see it so clearly in her mind, raising her son in the castle of her ancestors and teaching him how to rule.

As the two men started to walk on a head as they spoke about unimportant things, she followed them, but she stayed in the Red Keep, ruling Westeros, and punishing those who had wronged her with Khal Drogo at her side as her beloved dragons roamed the sky above them, roaring and reminding her enemies what happened to those who defied the true Queen of Westeros.

As they continued to walk, she could see someone walk towards them, that had not been here in her last life.

“Ah, there you are my lord.” The magister smiled at the man and opened his arms wide in welcome.

Dany had never seen this person before in her life, for she was sure she would have remembered him.

He was rather short and slight of built, even shorter than Jon Snow, but he had none of the traitor’s sturdiness about him that would compensate for that shortness.

This man was clearly not a warrior of any renown, but there was cunning in his grey-green eyes and his small, pointed beard made his face look even pointier than necessary.

The short man bowed deeply before her brother. “Your grace, it is good to see you again.”

Viserys seemed almost smug when he spotted the short man. “And you, lord Baelish, any more news out of my Kingdom?”

A smirk settled on the face of the newcomer lord Baelish. “Yes, your grace, and most happy news for you.”

Dany stared at the man in disbelief. Who was this and what news could he possibly have for them?

“It seems that the alliance between the Usurper and the Lannisters has now come to a close.” This, lord Baelish said those words like he himself had been personally responsible for this, and as she glanced over at the magister, who was staring at the man before them with his eyes full of surprise.

“And how did this happen?”

The small man smiled at the magister. “I sent a letter to the Usurper by one of my agents to inform him where to find his wife and her brother, where they would meet in secret.”

This didn’t make any sense to her, there had been no breaking in the usurper’s alliance with the Lannisters when he was alive, so why was there one now? And why was this Baelish helping her brother?

“What did that accomplice?” Viserys´s snide voice was getting on her nerves and all she wanted to do was to snarl at him to keep his mouth shut.

But this lord Baelish didn’t seem bothered at all. If anything, he seemed more amused at her brother´s behavior. “Because Robert Baratheon didn’t know that this was where his wife was fucking her brother the Kingslayer, and all three children that he thought were his heirs, are in fact the Kingslayer´s bastards.”

Viserys stared at the small man before letting out a laugh that was like that of a mad man´s. “You shall be well awarded for this Baelish when I take back my throne, you shall have your pick of the lordships of my enemies.”

Lord Baelish bowed and thanked him with a smirk on his face. Then his quick eyes turned to Dany, who had still not said a word.

Magister Illyrio seemed to have followed the man´s gaze to her, and hurriedly introduced them. “Lord Baelish, this is Daenerys Stormborn, the princess of Dragonstone. Princess Daenerys, this is lord Petyr Baelish, lord of Baelish Keep.”

But this introduction did little to help Dany figure out who this man was. She had no idea where this Baelish keep was. Was it in Westeros? The man certainly sounded like he was a Westerosi nobleman, but his name sounded Braavosi.

But she refused to ask the man where this Baelish keep was. Dany had no interest in letting the man know how little she knew about him.

The man took her hand and gave her a kiss on the knuckles, and she could feel the hairs on his chin tickle her fingers. “It is an honor to meet you, princess Daenerys. You certainly have your mother´s beauty.”

She found herself having to stop from smiling at his words. “Thank you, lord Baelish. It is good to see that not all the lords have forgotten their loyalties to house Targaryen.”

“I look forward to see your house back in its rightful place, princess.”

As always Viserys seemed to take it badly to have anyone´s attention stray from him, even for a moment. “Is there to be a war then?”

Lord Baelish smiled her brother. “Of course, Robert Baratheon is not the sort of man to allow this to go unpunished, and Tywin Lannister will of course not take this slight to his family well.”

Viserys was now positively giddy at the prospect, but Dany wasn’t as happy with this turn of events.

She wanted to be the one to bring justice to her enemies and make them pay for betraying her family. Dany had seen herself coming flying on Drogon´s back and laying waste to all of the usurper´s armies, with her husband commanding the Dothraki.

“Now is the time to invade, Illyrio.” Viserys said happily with a crazed look in his eyes.

But the magister didn’t seem as sure as her brother did. “There is still the question about what Eddard Stark will do.”

Viserys scoffed. “The usurper´s dog will of course run to his aid.”

Baelish smiled at her brother’s words. “Aptly named, your grace.” Viserys preened at the complement. “But I think that Stark will want to hide in the North for as long as he can, and I doubt that he will rush to the Usurper´s defense.”

“And why is that?” She asked him coldly, feeling the righteous anger within her. Why did they care about the lord of that wasteland decided to do?

The men turned to her, as she stared down the small man, demanding answers.

“Stark and the Northerners asked for funds to rebuild the castles on the Walls, but the Usurper denied them, and now relations between them are rather cold.”

She could only stare at the man, what was going on? Why was everything happing differently in Westeros now? Did someone else have memories of their last life?

Worry filled her as she wondered if anyone else had gotten their memories back, and she could vaguely hear her brother tell the other men that he would mount all the traitor´s head on pikes on the walls of the Red Keep when he took the throne once more.

JON ARRYN

He finished fastening the pin that signified his position as the hand of the King, and he felt the smile on his face that hadn´t left him since they had set off for the Vale.

Jon glanced at his wife that was sitting by the desk, reading the Seven-pointed star once again, and he found himself smiling even wider than before.

If someone had told him five years ago that Lysa and he would now be expecting their second child by now, he would have thought them mad.

He felt a pull on his trousers and looked down to see little Alys stare at him with wide blue eyes, holding her craved falcon in one hand. His little girl stretched her arms to him, silently asking to be picked up.

Jon smiled at her and pulled her into his arms. “Are you ready to see the Vale?”

Alys nodded eagerly. “Will we be seeing my castle?”

His daughter had seemingly taken up ownership of the Eyrie without having ever set eyes on it, and it was a great source of amusement for him and her nurses. “Soon, but we will be landing in Gulltown in a few moments, and meet with its lord, lord Grafton.”

Alys pouted and tossed her blond curls in annoyance. “But uncle Robert says that lord Grafton is a traitor and…” She hesitated while looking thoughtful, as she tried to remember what the King had called the lord of Gulltown.

Jon felt himself grow pale at his daughter’s words. “Sweetling, you must never call anyone a traitor, especially a lord under our service.” He tried to explain to her as gently as he could while still sounding firm.

Alys stared at him, clearly surprised, not having understood what she was saying, only knowing that the King didn’t like lord Grafton.

Not for the first time, the lord of the Eyrie felt anger and annoyance at Robert, he hated it when he started to spew out his opinions about everything and everyone near his daughter, especially when it was his opinions about the lords who had sided with house Targaryen in the Rebellion.

“Did I do something bad?” She clutched her toy falcon close to her chest and stared at him with tears in her eyes.

“No, you didn’t do anything bad.” He tried to assure her. “But you must not say something like this, even if King Robert says it.”

“But why?”

He refrained from sighing with expiration, for the last year Alys had been questioning everything, and never seemed to grow tried with trying to get to the bottom of every mystery that crossed her path.

Instead of getting in a long downward spiral of answering questions that the four-year-old most likely wouldn’t even understand the answer too, he chose to distract her by offering to take her outside the cabin to watch as the sailors docked the ship.

Before he had even finished offering her the option of going outside, all questions about why she shouldn’t call lord Grafton a traitor disappeared.

Jon carried little Alys out of the cabin and gave his wife a nod and a smile before they headed out.

The afternoon sun was shining brightly in the sky, and the seagulls were screaming loudly but Alys seemed to enjoy it all.

“Look at all the boats.” Alys cried happily, making him chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“Ships sweetling, when they are this big, they are called ships.” But she was right, the harbor was filled with ships of all sizes, making it seem like a floating forest made up of masts decorated with colorful sails instead of leaves.

“Look father, this one is blue.” The four-year-old pointed at a galley, that was flying the colors of house Arryn proudly. “Is it mine?”

“No sweetling, Lady of the Sea belongs to the Gulltown Arryn´s.”

“Don’t I have any boats?” Alys asked him, clearly wanting to own a fleet of ships now.

“And what would you do with a ship?” He asked her, wanting to hear her answer.

Alys pouted, thinking of an answer before her attention was pulled away by something behind him. “Papa, look at the big ship.”

Jon turned around to see a three-mast carrack further away, gracefully resting on the water while waiting to be allowed to dock with the other merchant vessels. And even though the sails had been dropped, Jon knew that this ship belonged to house Manderly because of the blue-green color of the sails.

“That ship is from the North, and it is from White Harbor belonging to house Manderly.” Jon told her, knowing that his four-year-old daughter wouldn’t know where White Harbor, but he wanted to talk to her like she was older.

“Where is that?” Alys asked, blue eyes wide with curiosity.

Jon turned and pointed north. “It is there, but you can’t see it from here.”

“Can we go there?” Alys asked looking hopeful.

“Not now,” He smiled at his daughter. “We have to meet the lords of the Vale and you have to see our castle.”

They watched as the sailors rushed around and Alys seemed so excited to see how they docked the ship, but Jon was more interested in seeing both lords Yohn Royce and Gerold Grafton on the docks, waiting for them.

As the ship was being guided to the dock, Jon sent a man to the cabin to fetch his wife so that she could greet the lords alongside him.

Lysa made her way to his side and the two septas that usually followed her around appeared like specters from bellow, and when the ship had finally docked, they made their way off the ship to greet the two men.

“It is good to see you lord Arryn.” Lord Royce greeted them with a large smile and a bow, but while the lord of Runestone was clearly happy to see him, the lord of Gulltown wasn’t as jubilant at his arrival, but he was none the less courteous and polite as he greeted them.

“It is good to see you again as well, my lords.” The lord of Runestone kissed the back of Lysa´s hand to show her proper respect that her station as the lady of his liege lord demanded, but Jon could see that his old friend clearly didn’t like it.

It had come as a no surprise to him that the lords of the Vale didn’t agree with nor like his decision of not sending Lysa to the silent sisters, and not taking another wife, preferably one of the Vale.

Some lords had even cried for her head for her insult.

The lord of Gulltown beckoned for his guards to bring forth the horses. “I am sorry my lady, regrettably the carriage is indisposed as my wife has taken it to visit her mother.”

“It is no problem at all, my lord.” Lysa spoke demurely as was her way in these last five years.

As one of the guards came with a horse for him, Jon placed his little girl in the front of the saddle, before he pulled himself into the saddle behind her.

As Alys giggled happily at being on horseback, he smiled and ran his hand though her blond curls, but as he looked back up, he could see both lord Royce and lord Grafton stare at him with their eyebrows high on their forehead in bewilderment.

It was clearly strange for them to see a father spending time with their daughter, but Jon didn’t care. Alys was his child and maybe one day she would rule the Vale in her own right, and Jon wanted to spend all the time he had with his only living child for as long as he could.

Just thinking about how little time he could have left to spend time with his family made him fearful.

And now Robert was calling his banners and heading into a war with Tywin Lannister, who was famous for his ruthlessness and cunning, and Jon couldn’t be certain that he would live to see the end of the war.

He was already an old man, and his time in this world was ending and he wanted to spend it with his child, and hopefully the child Lysa was now carrying.

Jon kept one hand on the reins to steer his horse, and the other was kept around Alys to make sure that she was secure in the saddle in front of him.

“We have prepared a feast in your honor, if it please you, my lord.” Lord Grafton rode up to him, as he glanced curiously at his daughter and then at him.

“Thank you very much lord Grafton, it will be an honor to dine in your hall.” The lord of Gulltown nodded and gave a small, tight smile. “I had not thought to see you here lord Yohn, but I will say that it is a pleasant surprise. Have the either of you heard any news?”

Both lord Grafton and lord Royce looked at one another before fixing their eyes on him again. “I think that it is best to wait until we are alone.”  Bronze Yohn said in a low tone, making Jon worried.

Their words caused him to frown and all through their ride to lord Grafton´s castle and throughout the feast their words echoed around in his head, causing the worry to rise in his chest.

When the feast was at an end, the lord of the castle led him and his friend, the lord of Runestone to his solar where they could converse in privacy.

Lord Gerold offered them both a glass of Dragonwater as they sat down by the fire.

“I am sorry for not having told you this before, Jon.” Yohn took the glass from lord Grafton, as the younger man sat down beside him while Jon nursed his own glass. “But I would not trust this with a bird or a rider.”

“What is going on? Has something happened?”

Yohn took a drink before he spoke. “There has been talk around the Vale since your wife…” The looked uncomfortable as he took another sip of the amber liquid. “Ever since you decided pardon your lady wife´s indiscretion there has been talk among the lords that you are getting too old to lead them.”

Jon scoffed at those words. He was not the oldest lord in the Seven Kingdoms, he was sure that old Walder Frey was at least twenty years his senior and he was still ruling the crossing, likely holding on to life only to spite his many, many descendants.

“Too old?” He asked the two men, indignant and offended. “Since when has age has anything to do with being a lord?”

“It is not just your age, my lord.” Lord Gerold said hesitantly as he traced the sigil of his house on the glass with his finger. “Some of the lords, especially the younger ones are saying that you are growing soft in your…in the last few years.”

“Soft? They think that I am soft?” He felt the anger rise in him and his hand clenched the glass in his hand, as his nostrils flared. “I have been ruling the Seven Kingdoms while the King drinks and whores and eats his way to an early grave, and they think that I am soft?”

Lord Gerold seemed extremely interested in the contents of his glass and seemed to shrink in on himself but Yohn would not be cowed. “Jon, you know that I would never think that you are weak, and lord Gerold doesn’t think so either, but many of the lord´s pride have been wounded by lady Lysa.”

Jon´s anger boiled in him. “I was the one who she was unfaithful to,” He growled out in his rage. “I was the one that was being fooled by her and Baelish and being led to believe that their bastard was my trueborn son and heir.”

A part of him could understand the lords injured pride, but right now he was too angry to care. The most important task that a lord had to accomplish was to secure the future of his house, but Lysa and Baelish had tried to make sure that he couldn’t fulfill that duty.

As he thought of that, his anger seemed to melt away from him, Lysa had repented for her crimes against him, and she had done everything that he had asked of her and she had given him the most precious and beautiful little girl that he had come to love more than anything.

“Lysa has repented for her crimes against me, and the Vale.” Jon said with a frown as he stared at his old friend.

“She has.” Yohn agreed with him. “Lady Arryn has complied with all the wishes of the lords, she has been accompanied by the two septas that were chosen when she wasn’t with you, and lady Alys is certainly your daughter.”

Jon felt disarmed by the man´s calm and reasonable words and all he could do was to sit in silence as the other man continued to speak. “But the lord’s pride was still injured, and you know as well as I do that men with wounded prides often do things that most would consider stupid.”

He knew well how a man´s anger and pride could lead him down a road that often ended in death and destruction.

Lashing out in anger at the very lords he was supposed to protect would neither serve him nor his family, and it would only set the lords against him if they weren’t already aiming for his downfall.

“What exactly is going on?” Jon asked the men before him, wanting to know the truth.

“The rumors have been around since you pardoned lady Arryn, but they have been becoming worse in the last two years, ever since lord Harry Hardyng reached majority.” Yohn said calmly but with a frown on his face. “The boy has been traveling around the Vale and trying to charm the lords without seeming like he is trying to push his claim.”

Jon felt the food that he had eaten at the feast tumble in his belly. “Who has he met with?”

“He has been meeting everyone, he has even come to Runestone to try and charm me and Nestor.” Jon gripped the glass in his hand, and he felt fear continue to cling to him.

“He has also come here my lord.” Lord Grafton spoke up hesitantly. Jon could understand the man´s hesitance in telling him about lord Hardyng´s visit, as the man´s father had sided with Aerys Targaryen in the rebellion, but Jon didn’t hold it against the younger man.

It was a terrible choice to have to make, it had only been made easy for Jon because Aerys had demanded Ned´s and Robert´s heads despite them not having committed any crimes.

“If he has been traveling around the Vale for two years now, why am I learning about this first now?” Jon asked the men before him with hard eyes.

But once again, the lord of Runestone would not be intimidated by him and took another sip of the Dragonwater. “At first we didn’t know that he was making his way around the Vale, but the boy wasn’t doing anything wrong, even if what he was doing is presumptuous and in bad taste.”

“He wasn’t doing anything wrong?” He didn’t like that wording from his old friend. “Has that changed now? Is he doing something wrong?” Harry Hardyng had to be doing something if the two men seemed so unsettled by it.

Lord Grafton took a sip of his Dragonwater before he spoke. “Lord Hardyng hasn’t done anything against you, my lord. But he and his friends have been implying that you are too old and too soft to lead the knights of the Vale into the war we are facing, and they are using the fact that you pardoned lady Arryn for her crimes as a reason for their words, and there are many of the lords who are angry enough to listen.”

“Who are listening?” Jon took a large sip of the alcohol in his glass and he felt it burn as it traveled down his throat. “Which of the lords are saying I am too old and weak to lead?”

“Corbray, Melcom and Waxley are among those who are traveling with Hardyng and helping him impress the lords with his youth and prowess. But I do not know who agrees with him or not, but as your sole living male heir and next in line to inherit, he has a lot of sway.”

Jon opened his mouth to say that Hardyng would never inherit the Vale or the Eyrie, but he refrained from doing so.

Yohn had the right of it, as his closest living male relative, Harry Hardyng was the next in line to inherit, but only if Jon never had any living sons.

If Lysa was carrying a boy in her belly, and that boy managed to grow up healthy and strong, then Harry wouldn’t become the lord of the Vale.

Harry Hardyng had spent the last five years believing that he would inherit the Vale, and if Lysa had a boy then only the gods knew what the young man would do.

Chapter Text

EDDARD

His feet carried him over to the Weirwood tree in the Godswood, and he could feel the weariness seep into his bones.

The last few days had been spent entertaining the lords and listening to their complaints, and he had longed for a little peace and quiet, if only for a few moments.

Winterfell was now being steadily filled with the lords of the North, and they were waiting on the last few so that they could begin discussing matters like the war in the south and the Wildlings gathering beyond the Wall.

Both Sansa and Jon´s letters from Queenscrown told him that they needed to ally themselves with the Wildlings, or the Freefolk as Jon always addressed them as, and Ned was inclined to listen to them.

Both Jon and Sansa had survived the long night in their last life, albeit by the skin of their teeth, and it would be prudent to listen to them.

Ned sat down before the Hearttree and almost immediately a large, fluffy head placed itself in his lap, and large amber eyes stared at him, begging him for a rub.

He smiled and chuckled at Frost´s puppy like behavior and gave into her begging.

The grey direwolf closed her eyes in contentment. “You are just a gigantic puppy aren´t you?” He asked the wolf quietly with a small smile.

All the lords that had arrived had been astounded by Frost and her pups having taken up residence in Winterfell, and many of them seemed convinced that the wolves were a message from the Gods.

Something Ned would have been hard-pressed to believe in his last life.

“My lord.” His wife´s voice carried over to him, causing Frost to open her eyes slowly and Ned to turn his head to the lady of Winterfell.

Cat was looking pale and worn, and Ned could feel guilt rumble in him, because he knew that he was the cause of it.

Ever since he had told her that he intended to crown Jon and place him on the Iron throne, she had been troubled and silent, clearly worried about how Robert would take it when the truth would come out.

But Ned was under no illusions that Robert would take it well when he found out. The man would be furious when he would hear that a child of Rhaegar still drew breath, and Ned was sure that the man would resort to the same tactics he had when he had been told that Daenerys Targaryen was pregnant.

Jon would have to be surrounded by guards and have food tasters making sure that Robert and his other enemies couldn’t poison him.

But even knowing the truth was wearing on her, Ned couldn’t find it in himself to be sad that she finally knew the truth.

Cat deserved to know, and he had wanted her to know and be prepared when he made it clear to the lords of the North that house Stark was throwing its weight behind Jon´s claim.

“How are you, my lady?” Ned asked his wife gently and keeping his words formal. “Is something the matter?”

He regretted his words, as he could see a flash of anger in her blue eyes.

“No, there is nothing wrong as such,” Her words and tone was civil and polite even though a bit icy. But he understood, he had kept such a large secret from her, which if anyone found out, her children and herself could have been hurt.

She wrung her hands together and glanced away from him and stared into the calm pond by the Hearttree.

“Would you like to have a seat?” Ned asked her, and her eyes darted back to him. After a moment of contemplation, she nodded and made her way to him.

Ned nudged Frost to move so that Cat could take a seat beside him, and the large direwolf huffed and decided to lay down by his feet, looking offended that she had to relocate.

Cat took her seat, but there was a nervous air around her and she seemed to fidget a little before she spoke. “The lords are charmed by the children, and Robb seems to be making a favorable impression on them.”

“Aye, I think that Ser Wylis is hoping that Robb will become his good son before he has to return to White Harbor.” Ned was glad that his words caused his wife to smile.

The heir to White Harbor had brought both his daughters to Winterfell with him, and he had been very busy singing their praises and bragging about how talented they were in waterdancing, which seemed to have become the new fashionable pursuit of any young Northern lady.

“Yes, but I am sure that Arnolf Karstark is if anything more determined than Ser Wylis, even though lady Alys is a bit young to be married.” Cat gave a soft laugh, and Ned chuckled out of relief that his wife could still stand to have a conversation with him.

“And how have you been doing? I am sure that having the lords around is a lot of work for you.” Ned inquired as Frost yawned and leaned against his legs.

Cat smiled faintly at him. “It is no trouble at all, the lords of the North do not need much other than ale and hearty food.”

There was a lot of truth in her words, if the Northern lords were happy and content then they were easily pleased. But if angered then there few that could hold grudges like the lords of the North.

That was something that worried Ned. He knew that many of the lords had been very grieved when his father and brother had been murdered by King Aerys, and that they would have preferred Brandon to become the lord of Winterfell like he was supposed to be.

And now that the time for revealing the truth about Jon was at their doorstep, he was a bit worried how many of the lords would take the news.

Lords Ryswell and Karstark were prickly at the best of times, and lady Dustin was a hard woman who had hated him for years now.

“What about you, Ned?” Cat sent him a searching look. “You have been rather distracted in the last few days.”

Ned knew that Catelyn suspected why he was behaving like he was walking on a knife´s edge.

Ever since he had sent the letter to Robert, he had been anxious. Ned knew that Robert would be furious when he found out that he wouldn´t be marching south and giving him Sansa´s hand in marriage.

He could see Robert, red faced, throwing things in his fury while he cursed Ned to the depths of the seven hells.

“I am fine.” Ned tried to smile at her, to offer her some reassurance but he knew that he wasn’t fooling her. “But I will be glad when everything is over and done with.”

Cat closed her eyes, almost like she was in pain. “Ned are you sure this is a good idea?” When she opened them again, Ned could see the fear and uncertainty in them, and he couldn’t blame her.

Going to war was not something that he was eager to do, or something that he desired, but he knew that it couldn’t be avoided.

When Robert found out, and it would happen whether Ned told people or not, there would be hells to pay and he was sure when he found out, the eldest of the Baratheon brothers would fly into a fury that would burn hotter than any of his past rages.

“I have to, there is no other choice.”

If he told her the truth of why Jon needed to be placed on the throne, Ned knew that his wife would question his sanity.

“Ned, if you do this, do you know what it will do to this family?” She sent him a pleading look.

Ned frowned and clenched his fist in his lap. “Cat,” He whispered and leaned in closer so that she could hear him, without them having any fear of anyone entering the Godswood could overhear them. “if it was Robb who had been denied his birthright, wouldn’t you fight to help him reclaim it?”

Cat glared at him angerly and whispered coldly. “Robb is my son, it is different. You will be heading into a war against Robert Baratheon and taking my son with you. To fight for the grandson of the man who burned your father while Brandon was forced to watch as he strangled himself to death.”

Like always when Catelyn mentioned his brother, he felt like his chest had been filled with ice. Ned knew that Brandon´s specter would always be between them, haunting their marriage.

“How do you think that the lords of the North will take it, when you make it known that you intend to place the son of the man who took your sister and the grandson of their lord´s killer and the man who denied them-.” His lady wife cut herself off, but it was too late, he knew what she had meant to say.

Denied them of the man who would have been a better lord, denied them of the man who she was to marry.

He felt like his body had been dunked into an icy lake. “My father is as much Jon´s grandfather as he is Robb´s.” His voice was cold, and he did his best to keep himself calm. “Jon is not Aerys, nor is he Rhaegar. Jon is a good man and has been ruling Queenscrown since he was ten-years-old with better results than most men who have ruled their own lands for decades.”

Gone where the small, almost shy smiles that they had shared only a few moments before. Now there were glares between them and looks that could freeze water.

“The lords who share borders with the Gifts have nothing but praises to say about Jon, and all the lords of the North share a deep seeded dislike for Robert and his behavior over the last few years.”

Catelyn and Ned stared at each other for a moment, before Cat looked away and stared furiously ahead of her.

As they sat there in angry silence, the bad temper started to melt off him and he could feel nothing but guilt and sadness.

His wife made herself likely to stand up, but his hand darted out and gently grabbed hers. Her blue eyes stared at his hand in surprise and slowly they found his grey ones. “Cat,” His whisper almost sounded broken. “please, I understand why you are afraid, and you are right to be. What we are about to do is extremely dangerous, but I believe that not only will the North be better off with Jon on the throne, but the Seven Kingdoms as a whole.”

She continued to stare at him as he continued. “I know that Jon is not likely to become anything like Robert, drinking and whoring his life away and he will never be anything like Aerys.”

They sat in silence, neither of them speaking for a short while before Ned broke the silence once more. “I know that it is a lot for me to ask of you, especially after everything that you just found out, but I have to ask you to trust me.”

Cat looked down on their entwined hands, her long red hair falling over her shoulders, almost obscuring her face from view, and as he could feel himself loosing hope, her smaller hand squeezed his.

They sat there in somewhat comfortable silence, but Ned knew that their marriage was still on rocky ground.

His lies and Brandon´s ghost were hovering over it, tearing it down from the inside, and if Cat and he were to have any hope of piecing it together and moving forward, they would have to work together and be honest with each other.

But the silence was broken by footsteps coming towards them.

The maester of the castle walked to them, the chains around his neck clicking with every step.

“My lord, my lady.” Maester Luwin bowed to them. “I am glad I found you.”

“Is something wrong?” Ned asked with a frown. “Are the lords asking about my whereabouts already?”

Ned had thought that he would be allowed a few moments in the Godswood after having spent every waking moment with the lords that had already arrived in Winterfell.

“No, my lord.” The maester looked rather worried as he spoke. “The lords are being entertained by young Robb and the others and I am sure that they haven´t even noticed that you are gone.”

Ned didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended. “Then what is wrong?”

“A letter my lord, from King´s Landing.” The smaller man pulled a letter out of his sleeve and handed it to him quietly.

He could hear his wife´s breath hitch and her hand grab his tighter, Ned gave her hand a squeeze, trying to assure her that everything would be alright before he let it go, to grab the letter from the maester.

The sigil of a crowned stag glared at him from its yellow-colored wax that sealed the small roll that contained the words of his once friend, Robert Baratheon.

He stared at it for a moment. Over the last few years, he had been so angry at Robert for his behavior towards the North and his family, and now the moment he would have to raise his banners for Jon and march to war against the man who for so long he had called friend and brother, was almost here.

Ned sighed and opened the letter, there was no point in delaying it any further.

The shacky handwriting did not match the angry words that almost jumped of the letter at him.

As he read the letter, he could feel both his wife and maester grow more anxious. “Ned what is it?” His wife asked hesitantly.

He didn’t answer for a moment, too angry to form words, but after a few breaths to calm himself down, he answered her. “Robert is again demanding that I march south with my banners to help him fight the Lannisters, and that I bring Sansa with me, so that he can marry her at the earliest opportunity.”

Cat when completely white and she brought her hands to her lips. “He wants to bring Sansa into a war?”

Ned nodded at her words, if he were to do what Robert was demanding of him, he would be bringing Sansa, to the Westerlands to a war against Tywin Lannister.

But Ned would not be doing anything that Robert was demanding of him.

The lords of the North would never agree to ride to war with Robert, the lords that were already in Winterfell had no trouble showing their anger and disgust at Robert´s behavior in the recent years, and Ned was sure that the lords that were only days away from here would be a lot more vocal in their displeasure of the eldest Baratheon brother, as it where the lords that were closest to the Wall.

But he had a feeling that it would be Sansa herself who would be harder to convince than any of the lords of the North.

Sansa would never agree to marry Robert and would probably just take a horse from the stables and ride to Queenscrown to Jon, who would never hand her over to be married to Robert, or any man that she objected to.

That much he was certain of.

He had to fight to maintain the stern look on his face, as he almost smiled at the image of anyone trying to get Sansa to marry Robert Baratheon and thinking that they could succeed.

Words couldn’t describe how proud he was of his daughter and of the woman she had become, and he was sure that if she married Jon, she would truly thrive and be allowed to be her own person who was respected and cared for.

“What are we going to do Ned?” Cat asked, her voice shacking with fear of Robert´s reaction when he would get a second letter, denying him what he wanted.

He turned his light grey eyes to his wife. “I will send him another letter, very much like the one we sent him before, and I will show this one to the lords and the one I received from him earlier.”

“Are you sure that it is wise, my lord?” The maester asked hesitantly with worry written all over his face. “The lords of the North are angry at King Robert and might even contemplate trying to break away from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Ned was almost surprised how accurately maester Luwin had predicted the lords and what they would do. Or what they had done in another life.

But he wasn’t sure if the lords of the North were as eager to tear themselves away from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms now that they had a lot stronger trade deals with the Vale, the Riverlands and Dorne.

And Sansa had been writing to Jon and they had been talking about possible deals with the Crownlands and the lords of the Narrow Sea.

And if they decided to break away then those deals would most likely be affected. “Why don’t we head to my solar, and ask Robb and Sansa to come as well, and we can talk about this situation some more and decide our next move.”

As maester nodded and Ned stood up getting ready to head to his solar, Cat remained seated on the log, looking at her hands.

“Cat, aren’t you coming with us?” Ned asked her gently, hoping that she would say yes.

She stared at him in surprise. “You want me to come with you?”

“Of course, I would like to hear what you think as well.” He could feel his heart become a little lighter when she smiled so happily at him, and he could feel a sense of hope rise in his chest that maybe their marriage could be saved.

JON

He scratched at the healing wound over his right eye as he made his way into the courtyard of Castle Black, and he could feel like there was weight lifted of his shoulders that he hadn´t know he was carrying around.

It felt good to be on the south side of the Wall, and the sooner he could go to Queenscrown and make sure to get the Freefolk settled, the better. Every step of the way back to the wall had been overshadowed by fear of the Others attacking them as they made their way to safety.

They had been forced to travel slowly as they had so many that were wounded or infirm, making traveling fast impossible, making an attack from their rear more likely, and the fact that they had lost many of their warriors in the battle with the dead.

“Jon, how are you holding up?” Jon turned to face his uncle, who was wearing a look of concern on his face.

“I am alright uncle Benjen,” He fought the urge to scratch at his healing wound on his face again as he spoke. “just glad to be heading home.”

But Jon knew that it was almost time for him to travel south and start to try and unite the Seven Kingdoms against the dead and the White Walkers. And when he headed south to try and take the iron throne, his life would cease to be his own.

“Are you sure?” Benjen asked seriously, his blue grey eyes boring into his grey ones.

Jon had thought that his uncle had been protective on the way North, but it was nothing compared with how protective he had become on their way back to Castle Black.

The man had hovered around him the entire way, and he had insisted that he was always with his guards around him and a part of him, a prideful one wanted to brush of his concerns, but the rest of him knew that he shouldn’t.

“Aye, I am sure that I am alright.” Jon smiled at his uncle as they walked across the courtyard, and Jon could see that the black brothers that hadn´t come with them beyond the Wall were all watching.

Most of them had looks of suspicion on their faces, but there were a few of them that had looks of clear hatred and contempt at seeing the Freefolk among them.

One of such men was Ser Alliser Thorne, who was standing in the middle of the courtyard, with such look of pure loathing that was reminded of when he had been elected as lord commander. But this time the look was not directed at him, but rather at the refugees that were making their way south, to safety.

“I see Ser Alliser isn’t happy with the Freefolk being allowed south of the Wall.” Jon noted to his uncle.

“Aye, I wouldn’t expect him to. Most of us have lost someone to the Wildlings and carry grudges.”

Jon looked at the man beside him. “And how many of them have been killed by Night´s watch men?”

Benjen looked at him with his brows raised high on his forehead and looked ready to say something, but Jon was quicker. “My point is that we have killed their people, and they have killed our people, and the only way to stop the killing is to make peace and it has to start somewhere, why not with us?”

He knew that it would be a difficult process to make peace between the Northern lords and the Freefolk, and he did dread heading to Winterfell and try and make the lords see that this was the right course of action and the best way for them to win against an enemy that they most likely didn’t even believe that existed.

“Wise words Jon.” His uncle put his hand on his shoulder, and Jon could almost sense that there was more that his uncle wanted to say, and that there was a deeper meaning in his words. “Words that more of us should take to heart.”

He felt a sense of pride at his uncle´s words. Even now, he wanted the people around him to be proud of him and that he was worthy of their love and trust.

“Will you be heading with me to Winterfell?” Jon asked his uncle, trying to change the subject.

“Aye, I think that it will be for the best, especially when the lord commander is staying here.” They walked across the courtyard, the Freefolk parting as they made their way, and Jon had to fight the urge to duck his head, at the looks that were being sent his way. “It would be best for him to stay here just in case.”

Jon had to admit that he would have liked it better if the Old Bear had decided to travel with them to Winterfell and tell the lords of what he had seen beyond the Wall as it would only help in trying to convince them of the truth.

Lord commander Mormont´s word carried a lot of weight in the North, and he was one of the North´s most respected figures even though his son had proven to be a slaver.

But Jon could understand why Mormont had to stay in Castle Black. If Mormont wasn’t at Castle Black, then the men who were against the Freefolk being allowed to come south of the Wall might attempt to do something stupid.

“Stark.” They both turned when they heard the old bear call for his uncle. “It is time, why don’t you and lord Snow come and meet us in my solar.”

Benjen clapped his shoulder, and they made their way into the solar, and as he was walking, he could feel Ser Alliser´s eyes on him. Jon felt the urge to rub at where he had been stabbed in the heart in his last life.

When they entered the solar, his uncle Aemon was already there as were the lord steward Bowen March and the first builder Othell Yarwyck.

Seeing Bowen March again was harder than seeing Ser Alliser. Jon had disliked the knight from the start and the betrayal while surprising hadn´t cut like Bowen March´s had.

Jon had liked the lord steward well enough, and he had served under him until he had gone with lord commander Mormont beyond the Wall.

The lord commander entered the solar and bade them to take a seat. Jon sat down beside his uncle Aemon and greeted him warmly.

But there was no chance at a conversation as the old bear began immediately. “Thank you all for coming.” The Old bear spoke calmy, but his face was grave.

But neither Bowen March nor Othell Yarwyck shared in that calm demeanor. “Lord commander, what were you thinking?” The lord steward looked both enraged and terrified as he spoke. “We had thought that you have only gone beyond the Wall to see what they were planning, not to let them south.”

Mormont sent the man a cold look, that would have made most men think twice about what they had to say. “March, you weren’t there.” The leader of the Night´s Watch leaned forward and stared at the lord steward with grim look in his eyes. “We were set upon by something, things that are more horrifying and dangerous than the Wildlings.”

Bowen stared at him with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“It´s the Others, they are back.” Benjen spoke, his face as stoic as his older brother often was. “We were met with a force of them, and we would have lost if not for Jon.” His uncle placed his hand on his shoulder again, and Jon could feel the embarrassment heat up his face.

Every step as they had travel to the Wall, the black brothers, the Freefolk and his own men had been sending him looks of awe, which never failed to amuse Tormund.

Othell and Bowen both stared at Jon for a moment, before the first builder spoke. “And how did young lord Snow do that?” Jon wasn’t deaf to the almost cautious tone that the man used when saying the word Snow.

It was no secret that Othell Yarwyck didn’t trust those with bastard names like most of those who had been raised in the light of the Seven, and Jon was no exception even though he had been working with the Watch for almost five years, helping to rebuild the castles and feed the men.

Jon decided to remain silent, which didn’t seem to bother Benjen, who seemed more than happy to explain the men how Jon had defeated the Other.

As his maternal uncle told them how Jon had used the sword Darksister, which had been given to him by Tormund as a token of good faith, to kill a creature out of legend, Jon´s hand itched to scratch the healing wound over his right eye.

“You have Darksister?” The soft but frail voice of Aemon Targaryen broke though the silence after Benjen had finished telling them how the Others had fallen on them during the peace talks.

“Aye.” Jon confirmed and unstrapped the sheath around his hips and handed him the sword of their ancestors.

The old man took the sword with weathered hands and traced the hilt with his fingers. “What color are the flames?” He asked, his voice shaking with emotion.

“Golden,” Jon confirmed. “as are the flames of the cross guard, and the hilt is black.”

The maester gave a soft but tearful laugh. “So, it is truly Darksister. I haven’t been close to this sword since my uncle Brynden left on a ranging beyond the Wall, and I had never thought to be in its presence again.”

The man handed it back to him, but Jon decided to speak up. “It belongs to you; you should have her.”

Jon knew that even if he would soon have to reveal himself as Rhaegar´s trueborn son, it would be strange for people to see a bastard of Winterfell carrying one of the missing Targaryen Valyrian swords, which was why he never carried Blackfyre, who remined hidden in Queenscrown, waiting for the day he would have to reveal his parentage.

But maester Aemon just laughed. “No, she belongs to you. I am no warrior, and an old man besides, and it would be an insult to the sword to lay unused in a maester´s solar.”

Jon opened his mouth to say something more, to ask him if he was sure, but decided against it when he suddenly became very much aware of the other men in the room. So, instead he thanked the man profusely and strapped the sword back to his body.

“Are you sure it was an Other?” Bowen asked, skepticism in his voice was so clear that even a deaf man could have heard it, as he dragged the conversation back to the Others.

“Of course, we are sure.” Jeor Mormont growled, looking just like an angry bear. “Unless you can name another creature that was made of ice and commands an army of the dead.”

Yarwyck seemed uncomfortable for a moment. “We aren’t doubting your word, lord commander. But you have to appreciate how unbelievable it all sounds to us.”

Jon thought it strange that a Westerman seemed more open to believing in the Others returning than the Northern Bowen March. “But it would have been better if you have brought one of those things with you as proof.”

The lord commander grunted at that. “Aye, it would have been better, but even if we had managed to capture one, it would have endangered the women and children that we were traveling with.”

Bowen scoffed at that. “Wildlings, it would have been better if they had died.”

“These are innocent women and children you are talking about.” Benjen sounded offended at the lord steward’s words and stared at him in disbelief.

Before this argument could devolve further, the lord commander stopped the two men. “Enough of this both of you. Lord Snow has come to an agreement with their leader, Tormund Giantsbane and if they keep their half of the deal then we will not have any trouble with the Wildlings.”

Bowen March now sent Jon a cold look. “He is just a boy; how can he hope to force the Wildlings to obey anything? And why should we trust any promise that Tormund Giantsbane makes? Because he gave the bastard a Targaryen sword?”

“This boy has been ruling the Gifts for the last five years with more success than most lords of the realm combined,” Benjen spat out, jumping to his feet in anger. “this boy saved the heir to Winterfell from certain death and was knighted at ten-years-old, this boy killed an Other in single combat.”

As Benjen´s fury grew, Jon decided that it had gone far enough. He placed his hand on his uncle´s forearm and spoke softly. “Benjen.” The man didn’t take his eyes of Bowen March who seemed to be afraid of his uncle. “I am sure that the lord steward didn’t mean any offence.”

Jon knew full well that March had meant every word that he had said, and offence had very much been intended, but Jon felt that it would be best to ignore it.

He was done with holding grudges because of childish insults, like he had so often done when he had been younger.

There was a time, not so long ago when Jon would have looked for any perceived insult that might come his way, and no slight had been forgotten, but he knew now that it only served to make him angry and bitter, and it really didn’t help.

Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not.

Jon hadn´t forgotten the words of Tyrion Lannister, and he never would. Those words had helped him more than he could say, and he would always be thankful for them.

Jon looked at the man, who had once helped stab him to death, in another life. “I understand your concerns lord steward. The Night´s Watch and the Freefolk have been enemies for thousands of years, and such deep seeded enmities do not stop overnight.”

He let his hand fall of his uncle´s forearm as the other men looked at him with furrowed brows. “But we cannot hope to stand against the dead by ourselves. We have no idea how many of the Others there are, and we have no idea how many of the dead they have under their command.”

“Aye,” The lord commander gave him a look of approval. “if the Others are truly back in force, we have to stand together and fight. We cannot afford to fight wars on two fronts. And lord Snow has been keeping the Wildlings who are living on his lands in line just fine, and I am sure that he will do the same with the ones arriving now.”

“You are sure that the Others are returning?” Now the lord steward´s voice waivered as he spoke.

“Aye, we are sure.” The lord commander stared Bowen March down, and Jon could see how the lord steward seemed to accept his words for the truth, even if he didn’t want to believe it.

Jeor Mormont gestured for Benjen to sit back down, which was reluctantly obeyed as the first ranger continued to stare angerly at March.

“Now, lord Snow, when are you going to Winterfell?”

“I have to go to Queenscrown and make sure that the Freefolk are settled, and then I will be heading to Winterfell.”

The old bear rubbed his brow. “How long do you think that it will take for you to make sure that they are settled?”

“Not long.” Jon replied without hesitation, making the other man raise his eyebrows. “I have spoken to Tormund at length, and I have good people that I trust to help in these matters.”

The man seemed relived at hearing that. “Good, we have to move with haste and convince the lord of the North that we are telling the truth.”

Chapter Text

SANSA

Her heart was heavy in her chest as she stared at the door before her. Guilt and relief swirled inside of her and she hoped that she had made the right choice in convincing her father that this was the right course of action.

Sansa raised her fist and knocked on the door but when no sound came from inside the room, Sansa spoke. “Arya, please I want to talk to you.”

When no answer came, Sansa got worried that Arya might have climbed out the window and ran away. Then Sansa remembered this morning when Jorelle had told them that Arya had allowed her into her room and they had spoken but she hadn´t gotten anything out of her. The young Mormont girl had asked Sansa why Arya was feeling so devastated.

Sansa had felt horrible when she couldn’t tell Jorelle what her friend was going through. She had tried to assure her that one day, hopefully soon, she would know the truth.

The feeling in Sansa´s gut told her that it would be sooner rather than later.

She had seen how much the lords of the North loved Jon, for all that he had done especially the lords, that lived closest to Queenscrown as their lands had been repeatedly attacked by raiding parties from the Wildlings until Jon had taken up rule in the Gifts.

There was a reoccurring thought that seemed to infiltrate her mind, what if they decided to hate Jon on principle?

She remembered how much the lords had disliked Daenerys Targaryen when she had arrived and how much Sansa had hated the woman as well.

No, that had been different.

Daenerys Targaryen had been a foreigner. The Dragon Queen had made no attempts to learn anything about them or their traditions. She had come to lord over them, thinking that dragons were enough to rule the Seven Kingdoms and that fire and blood were the only thing that was needed to carry the day.

But Jon was not like that and the lords of the North knew it. They had seen him make peace with the Freefolk that now lived on his lands. They had seen him help build castles, as well as making sure that the Wall was standing strong against those who would attack them from the North.

While Jon had dragons, he understood that not everyone would be comfortable with one man having so much power and how easy it would be for him to burn down castles and cities filled with people.

Sansa remembered that day in Winterfell. When the Dragon Queen had arrived and how easy it was for her to just fall back on threats of fire and blood when she was trying to get them to see her as their Queen.

A wet nose bumped her hand making her look down into the golden eyes of her beloved direwolf, Lady made her realize that she was distracting herself from her problems.

Sansa raised her hand to knock again and spoke once more. “Arya, I know you are in there.”

Sansa sighed as Arya didn’t answer. “Arya, I am coming in.” She grabbed the doorknob and when it turned, she let out a breath of relief that Arya hadn´t locked herself in.

The room was dark but even then Sansa could see the bump under the skins on the bed and both Nymeria and Ghost were lying around the small figure that was hiding under the covers.

She felt she could breathe lighter seeing both Nymeria and Ghost lying around the person in bed, for if Arya had truly run away in her anger and melancholy, Nymeria would have gone with her while Ghost would have at least returned to Sansa or tried to follow Arya.

“Arya, please I have to talk to you.” Lady walked to the bed and jumped up and started to sniff at the covers and skins that Arya was hiding under.

As the dainty direwolf inspected the bed and tried to find Arya, Sansa could hear her sister grunt in discomfort.

When Lady heard the noise from the younger girl, she immediately got excited and burrowed her nose to where Arya was hiding, then squeals and giggles could be heard. “No, Lady stop it, stop licking me, it’s disgusting.”

Arya´s head appeared, her brown hair messy and sticking in every direction possible, looking like she was having a hard time staying angry at the usually composed and dignified direwolf.

Lady on the other hand was looking so proud of herself for having found Arya and was waving her tail happily, whacking Ghost in the face with it.

The white direwolf, looking unhappy at the treatment, hopped of the bed and made his way to the unlit fireplace. Looking like a pale, disgruntled specter in the poorly lit room.

Sansa walked to the bed where Arya was still inhabiting, glaring at Lady, who inched closer to lick her face again. “No, Lady.”

Lady stared at her mistress, almost looking hurt until Sansa scratched between her ears.

Arya stared at Sansa´s direwolf pup. “That was a low blow, ordering Lady to lick my face like that. You know that they clean their butts with their tongue.”

 “I did not order Lady to lick you.” Sansa said with a laugh as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “I have no idea why she did that.”

Arya shot her a look that made it clear that she did not believe her but Sansa was glad for Lady´s actions as they had served to lighten the mood, if only by little. “Did mother or father send you to get me down to the meeting?”

“No, they didn’t. I think that father is coming by later though, to try and get you down.”

“Then why are you here?” Arya sounded sullen and defeated as she hugged her knees close to her chest. “Shouldn’t you be entertaining the ladies or fending off the unmarried lords?”

Sansa smiled softly at her sister; it meant the world to her that there wasn’t any malice in Arya´s words. In their last life, Sansa wouldn´t have been caught dead trying to speak so civilly to Arya at this age and Arya would have tried to be as hurtful as she possibly could to get her to leave.

“I got tired of fending off any unmarried lord that comes my way and I wanted to speak with my sister.”

Arya didn’t look at her only continued to stare at Lady almost like she didn’t really see her. “Why didn’t any of you tell me before?”

“I made a promise not to tell a soul. The more people who know the truth, the more probable it is that that secret will come out before we are ready and I will not risk Jon´s safety.”

Grey eyes sent her a fierce glare. “But why did you know then? And Robb? Why did father tell the two of you but not me that Jon isn’t our brother?”

“Jon is your brother.” Sansa protested adamantly, before calming herself down, it would not work to get angry. “Jon will always be your brother; it doesn’t matter that he has a different mother and father.”

Tears filled her sister’s eyes but Arya was refusing to let them fall. “But he isn’t my brother.”

“Yes, he is.” Sansa spoke calmly as she tried to assure her sister and grabbed Arya´s hands with one hand and placed the other on her cheek. “He is your brother. Don’t you ever say that he isn’t. I don’t think he would survive the heartbreak if you refused to be his sister.”

“You really think that he will want to be my brother?” Arya´s voice sounded so small and uncertain that Sansa could do nothing but drag her into a hug.

“Of course, he wants to be your brother, who in their right mind wouldn’t want to have you as their sister?” Sansa pretended not to notice her sister quiet sniffle and how she tried to wipe her eyes.

“But why did father tell you and Robb about Jon and not me? Why are you all deciding that Bran and I need to know now?”

“Father didn’t tell Robb and I about Jon, I figured it out and Robb overheard the truth when father was talking to Uncle Benjen.” Sansa stroked her sister´s messy hair, trying to be careful not to pull at it and cause Arya pain. “We didn’t want the two of you to find out with the lords as we might have to tell them soon.”

Arya pulled herself away a little. “How did you find out? And why did father tell Jon?”

Sansa should have expected her sister to question everything. Now that she was no longer blinded by her rage at them for lying to her about her favorite person in the world. “Father didn’t tell Jon, he figured it out when he…” She trailed off, not knowing how much she should tell Arya.

There was not a chance she would be telling her that she, along with her father and Jon had memories of a former life. Where Jon had been forced to learn the truth long after her father had died. Thinking that the secret would never be revealed.

As Arya pulled fully away, Sansa saw her little sister setting her chin stubbornly as she often did when she was particularly determined to find out a truth, giving Sansa an idea. “I will tell you but you must promise not to tell anyone, this is a very dangerous secret.”

Arya nodded slowly as she stared at her with wide eyes. “I promise.”

“Alright,” She took a deep breath as she arranged her thoughts. “I found out the truth a little after Jon, but Jon told me what happened and how he found out.”

Arya sat and stared at her, waiting for her to continue. “When everyone found out how good Jon was with a sword. He went to the crypts of Winterfell, thinking everyone was mad at him for being so good at something.”

“I remember that.” Arya piped up. “I found him there, hiding and being stupid. Why would he think that we could be mad at him for being good with a sword?”

For as smart as Arya was, Jon leaving for Queenscrown when she had been five years old, had spared her a lot of the realities that those who bore the name Snow, were forced to go through.

“Arya, if you remember finding Jon there, you might also remember how mother acted towards him, when he was still living here in Winterfell.”

“Jon isn’t father´s bastard, so why should she hate him?”

“Arya, mother didn’t know about Jon until recently and with our plan to declare for him. She might be afraid that Jon is waiting for the moment to retaliate against her.”

Arya frowned and crossed her arms defiantly. “Jon would never do that.”

“We both know that but mother has spent so much time fearing that one day he will become like Daemon Blackfyre and try and usurp Robb´s place as the heir to Winterfell. I think she will have a hard time seeing him as the person he really is.”

“That is so unfair.” Arya said woefully as she looked down at her hands but Sansa could still see the frown on her face.

“I know.” Sansa let the silence fill the room for a few moments. “Do you want me to continue?”

Arya nodded silently; causing Sansa to resume speaking. “Well after you left, Jon told me that he found the three eggs laid by the dragon Vermax from Mushroom´s testimony which had turned to stone.”

As soon as Sansa mentioned the fabled eggs, Arya looked up, grey eyes staring at her in wonder and surprise. “He found the eggs? The stories were really true?”

Sansa laughed at her excitement. “Yes, they were indeed true. While I don’t know exactly how this happened, I know that Jon told father that he knew, he was Rhaegar´s son and that he planned to hatch the eggs.”

To Sansa´s confusion, Arya looked crestfallen. “Oh, so he didn’t manage to hatch them.”

“Why do you say that?” While Arya´s policy of questioning everything was making it a little trickier for her to explain.

Arya´s untrusting nature made Sansa happy, it would be harder to lie to the younger girl, unlike how Sansa had been, who had believed Cersei´s and Littlefinger´s lies so easily.

“If Jon had hatched dragons, then everyone would know by now, they would have grown too big to hide.”

“I don’t know,” Sansa pretended to look thoughtful as she fought a smile. “When I last saw them, they were the size of destriers but that was five years ago. They must have grown much bigger since then.”

She had never seen Arya stunned into silence before. She supposed that there was a first time for everything.

Sansa was half expecting Arya to denounce her as a liar like she had always been unafraid of doing but it never came. “Jon truly has dragons?”

Arya stared at her, frosty eyes so much like their father´s filled with skepticism but there was also a hint of wonder and excitement lurking there, that she might maybe see real, living and breathing dragons with her own eyes, not just be forced to read about them from the history books.

“Yes, father was there and saw it when Jon hatched them and Robb and I have seen them as well. I am sure that when Jon returns, he will tell you all about them.” Arya looked like she wanted to wallow in her misery at being lied to but it was clear as day that she was excited about hearing more about dragons.

“What are they like?” Arya asked. Her inquisitive nature getting the better of her as she ran her hand through Nymeria´s fur, who had placed her head in Arya´s lap.

“I think that they are rather sweet actually.” Before meeting the dragons that Jon had brought into the world, she would never have thought to describe dragons but as anything else than angry beasts, that left terror and destruction in their wake. However now she was sure that a dragon´s rider had more influence on their mount than anyone really knew. “Especially Illyrion, he loves it when you scratch his nose.”

“Illyrion?”

“Illyrion is the smallest of the three,” Sansa explained to her sister, who seemed now spellbound by her words. “He is also the fastest with pale creams scales as well as golden eyes and horns.”

“What are the others like?” Arya had by now forgotten that she had ever been excluded from knowing the secret about Jon.

“Well, Earendil is green, bronze and sometimes when the light hits him just right, it is like he is covered in emeralds.”

“And the third one?”

“That one is Algernon, he is the biggest of them and his scales are black as a ravens wing but his eyes and horns are as red as blood.”

“Just like Balerion the black dread.” Arya exclaimed excitedly. “Do you think that Jon will ride him?”

“I don’t know.” Sansa answered honestly. “What do you think?”

“Of course, you said that he is the biggest. He is black just like the greatest dragon in history.”

“In the history of Westeros.” Sansa said automatically, causing her sister to send her a confused look. “Well, the Targaryens were dragon lords of Old Valyria but they were by no means the greatest family of the Freehold. They would not possess the greatest dragon ever lived.”

“Well, I suppose.” Arya looked thoughtful before grinning happily. “But Jon´s are the greatest living dragons.”

Sansa smiled at her sister even though her words made the elder Stark sister feel a familiar chill in her belly. “It is easy to have the greatest living dragons, when you have the only living dragons.”

At hearing those words, Arya looked deep in thought. “But it won’t be a problem for Jon to take the throne, since he now has dragons.”

“The dragons certainly are a boon for us but I wouldn’t bet on Robert Baratheon rolling over and give up the throne in favor of Jon.”

“But Jon can just do the same thing as Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters did, burn those who defy him.”

Sansa fought the urge to start a longwinded lecture on how burning people who disagreed with you may not always be the best policy and sometimes building was better than destroying to get people to side with you.

Even though she hadn´t been present when the Dragon Queen had burned the capital to the ground. She had seen the aftermath and how Jon had been haunted by it.

She turned to look at her sister and smiled. There would be time to explain to her that one shouldn’t solve all their problems with violence. “Alright, let’s get you ready to attend the meeting with the lords.”

Arya let out a groan and fell back on her pillows before attempting to burrow herself under the mountain of covers and pelts.

ROBB

Robb bumped his shoulder to Bran´s who was staring ahead of himself with a pout on his face. “Stop it.” His younger brother sent him a glare as his unnamed direwolf mirrored his annoyance.

Robb had known that when Arya and Bran had found out the truth about Jon, that they would be angry and sad. Despite knowing that, he was surprised just how angry they were even though he found himself thinking that he shouldn’t be.

Bran had only been four-years old when Jon had left for Queenscrown and most likely didn’t have any vivid memories of him but the young boy had been writing to Jon with such devotion that it rivaled Arya´s.

Robb leaned in and whispered into Bran´s ear. “He is still your brother. He will always be your brother.” For a moment he was worried that his younger brother hadn´t heard him over the clamoring of the lords that had settled in the great hall. The second youngest Stark glanced at him and he could see the anger on his face receding, if only by a little. “When this meeting is over, you and I will go somewhere and talk, I promise.”

“Even if the lords want to talk to you?”

“I swear it.” Robb glanced at his father, who was talking to the Greatjon and Lord Rickard Karstark. “We will just make sure to sneak away and have them harass father instead.”

Bran let out a small giggle, probably imagining their father in his mind being surrounded by the lords as they all tried to get his attentions.

Robb ruffled his brother´s hair, smiling fondly at him as their mother, granduncle Brynden as well as Rickon came into the hall. The youngest of the Starks made his way to the seat next to Bran as he was followed by the black direwolf. Rickon appeared a little confused and tired as he took a seat next to Bran.

Rickon had not been told that Jon wasn’t their brother by blood. Both their parents thinking, he was a bit too young to keep it a secret. He had been warned that he might be learning something very soon that would be shocking. They all had tried to reassure him that they all loved him and nothing would ever change that.

“Robb.” He turned and looked at his mother, who was sitting on the left side of his father´s chair. “Where are Sansa and Arya?”

“Sansa went to get Arya ready. I am sure that they will be down soon.” The Lady of Winterfell nodded, looking nervous.

Robb turned to his uncle and started up a conversation about the lands around the Dreadfort, hoping to get Bran to ask questions about the lands that he was going to rule when he becomes of age.

It worked like a charm, Bran started to ask their uncle about everything that came to his head even Rickon started to ask questions as well.

As they talked to their uncle, Robb could feel Greywind´s head lean on his calf as he somehow slept, even through the din of the hall.

Then the large wolf suddenly awoke and stared at the door to the hall from under the table.

Robb looked up, he could see what had drawn Greywind´s attention. Sansa and Arya walked side by side into the hall with the other three direwolf pups by their side. Robb was relieved that Arya was looking less melancholy than the day before. When she had been told the truth about Jon.

Sansa had even managed to coerce her into a dress and braid her hair.

As she was sitting down, Sansa looked up and their eyes met. Robb normally had a hard time reading his sister´s face but now, there was a flicker of nervousness in her blue eyes.

Robb shared in that feeling, knowing that the hour of declaring for Jon was rapidly approaching as it might happen while the Northern lords were here in Winterfell.

To him it was the best course of action as his father would have an opportunity to explain everything to them, face to face. It would go better with the lords if they found out the truth without any prompt from his father.

The trouble was that Jon wasn’t here and they didn’t have time to wait for him. Now that the Greatjon had arrived. The lords were getting anxious to begin the meeting.

Finally, their father moved to the head table with a stoic look on his face as he took his seat between Robb and the Lady of Winterfell with Frost laying down by his feet.

“My lords and ladies, thank you all for coming and for your patience. I know that traveling to Winterfell on such short notice could not have been easy. Nevertheless I felt that it was necessary for us to discuss the recent events.”

“You mean the one about Cersei Lannister, fucking her brother the Kingslayer and that the children are all bastards born of incest.” Greatjon Umber roared out with a large grin hiding under his beard, causing laughter inside the hall.

“Aye, that is one of the things that I wanted to talk about, Lord Umber.” His father quieted the hall down. “I received a letter from Robert not long ago, he has ordered me to call my banners and march south to Casterly Rock to help him bring down Tywin Lannister.”

“Who does he think he is?” Rickard Karstark jumped to his feet, his face turning reddish-purple with anger as he shook his fist. “When we asked him for help, he denied us and told us that we were to rebuild the castles of the Wall by ourselves. Now he is demanding that we march south and fight another one of his wars for him.”

His words were met with agreements and hollers, the increasing anger could be felt in the air around them.

“My lords, please.” His father bade them to calm down. “In this letter, Robert also has demanded that I bring my daughter, Sansa with me south, so that he can marry her.”

The reminder of Robert Baratheon demanding his sister´s hand in marriage caused his rage that once had burned like dragon fire to turn to ice in his belly.

Greywind growled beneath the table, responding to his ire and it seemed that their sentiments was shared by lords like Greatjon Umber and Rickard Karstark, they looked offended at Robert´s demand.

He was glad that they were proud. Robb was sure that they felt slighted by the man who had refused to help them with rebuilding the castles on the Wall. The very same man who now demanded the hand of their liege Lord´s daughter.

He was also thankful that his father had taken Sansa´s advice and phrased it this way. The lords of the North didn’t like it when things were demanded of them.

“I have already sent him a letter, stating that we will not be marching south and that I will be marrying my daughter to someone who was raised valuing Northern traditions.”

His father´s words were met with cheers and hollers of approval however he noticed that Lady Dustin was watching everything with a cold look in her eyes, the Lady of Barrowton seemed neither angry nor joyful at anything that was being said.

Sansa had told him that she didn’t trust the woman as far as she could throw her and she knew that she was angry with her father after the rebellion.

There were rumors that she was angry after their father had come back North and had left the body of her husband in the south, while he returned with his sisters’ bones and give her a proper burial.

He could understand that the Lady of Barrowton was angry that her husband´s body had been left in the south, it was by no means unusual for the bodies of the slain to be abandoned but at least his father had buried the bodies before he traveled back home.

The Lord of Winterfell asked the lords to quiet down again after allowing them a few moments to cheer. “I told him that we have concerns about Mance Ryder who has been gathering men around him for some time now and that he might attack the Wall.”

“Aye.” Lord Umber called with a frown on his face. “I have been hearing about him for quite a while now, I am sure that it is only a matter of time before he attacks the Wall.”

“There are Wildlings living in the Gifts, aren’t there?” Lord Ryswell asked. “They will surely want to aid him.”

“I doubt it, even if they did, it is mostly women and children.” Lord Karstark snorted at Lord Ryswell´s words. “If they were warriors, we would still crush them if they were to attack us.”

“They might make it so that Mance Ryder can break through the Wall, it is possible to take Castle Black from the south.” The Lord of the Rills argued.

Lord Umber didn’t seem swayed by those words. “The Wildlings that live on the Gifts aren’t a threat, they follow the laws and those who don’t are punished like anyone else.”

It stuck Robb how calm Lord Umber was about the Wildlings as he had hated them for so long. However in the last five years there had been a few Wildlings living on the Gift and there hadn´t been any real problems between them and the Northerners or not any problems that Jon hadn´t been able to solve.

“No, it is Mance and his army that I am worried about.” The Greatjon finished gravely. The leaders of the mountain clans nodded their agreements.

“Aye.” The Lord of Winterfell agreed with lord Umber. “However not too long ago I received another letter from King´s Landing and again Robert is demanding that we ride south and that I take Sansa with me so that he can marry her at the first opportunity.”

Silence fell over the crowd and the rising anger filled the hall, then like someone had given them a signal, the lords erupted with righteous fury.

He could feel his heart beating faster and it was like he had eaten a plateful of butterflies that were now trying to escape from his belly.

Robb had expected them to be furious of course but their rage seemed to grow stormier than he had expected it.

The Greatjon had jumped to his feet, towering over the others around him as he grabbed their attention. “MY LORDS, ever since Robert Baratheon took the throne, he has done nothing but disrespect us even though it was only because of his friendship with our liege lord that he came to that throne.”

The man turned, looking over the hall, reminding Robb of an angry bear. “Robert Baratheon would never have been seated on the Iron throne if not for the mad King murdering our liege Lord and his son Brandon Stark. After having fought in the two wars and without any acknowledgement or honors, he refused to help us strengthen our defenses to the North so we wouldn’t be attacked by the Wildlings, he is ordering us to abandon our defenses and ride south to defend his throne from Tywin Lannister?”

Robb stared at what was happening before him, he could see that the lords of the North were nodding in agreement and many of them seemed to be swept up by the Greatjon´s speech. “While the Wildlings living in Queenscrown are peaceful and obey our laws and I have uttermost faith in Lord Snow´s abilities to make sure that they keep doing so, we have to be ready to protect ourselves if Mance Ryder plans to attacks.”

He could feel his heart start to beat faster as the Lord of Last Hearth was speaking. Robb´s father made himself likely to try and interrupt the other man, he could see that Sansa leaned a little forward to get his attention and shook her head at him.

Robb watched as their father frowned at her while she mouthed at him to wait. The oldest child of Ned Stark didn’t know why Sansa wanted the Lord of Last Hearth to continue and he could feel a sliver of worry in his chest that maybe, the lords were aiming to declare the North an independent nation, free from the Iron throne.

The Lord of Winterfell gave her a little nod and they both turned to Lord Umber who was still speaking. “It was because of us that Robert Baratheon got the throne and he doesn’t even want to help us protect ourselves?”

The lords made loud noises of an agreement and out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the Lady of Barrowton was no longer with that impassive look on her face, rather there was a glint of excitement in her eyes.

Then like a thunder crashing down from clear skies, Sansa slammed her hands to the table and rose to her full height. Everyone whipped their heads towards her in surprise, the sudden noise had clearly startled Lord Umber, stopping him in his tracks.

“You are absolutely right Lord Umber.” Sansa spoke calmly and Robb thought that he could see a hint of a smile flash across her face. “Robert Baratheon has done nothing for the North in the years that he has sat on the Iron throne, rather he has disrespected the men and women who helped him take it.”

Not even the loud and boisterous Lord Umber looked ready to interrupt her, as everyone continued to stare at her with wide eyes. “For years Robert Baratheon has sat on the Iron throne and played at being a King, when the rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms has been refused his birthright.”

“Lady Sansa,” Lord Manderly spoke up, his shrewd eyes staring at her with uncertainty. “You don’t mean that we should declare for Viserys Targaryen, he is said to be mad as his father.”

“No, of course not.” Sansa denied hurriedly, standing tall, not allowing anything to knock her off her feet. “There is another, with a better claim on the Iron throne, who will rule the Seven Kingdoms and fight for the North.”

“The only one with a better claim than Viserys Targaryen to the Iron throne was Prince Rhaegar and his son Aegon.” Rickard Karstark said as he crossed his arms. “Tywin Lannister murdered the boy as well as his mother and sister.”

Now there was no questioning it, Robb was sure he saw a hint of a smile on her face as his heart hammered in his chest, knowing that the moment was finally here.

“Yes, you are right. The only one with a better claim to the throne would be Rhaegar himself and his son but that is not the son I am talking about.”

Chapter Text

SANSA

She had to discreetly clench her fists to stop them from shaking, both from excitement and fear. Despite everything that Jon had done for them, fear lingered in her heart that the lords might still be too angry at house Targaryen to declare for him.

No, they were not that angry. If they had been, her words would have caused an outrage when she had talked about Rhaegar and his sons, having a better claim on the throne than Robert.

There had been no anger in Lord Manderly´s words when he had thought she was talking about Viserys Targaryen, only disbelief.

The silence in the hall was deafening, Sansa could feel her heart start to beat faster in her chest. The moment was finally here, everything that they had worked for in the last five years would either pay off on this very day or the North would be split.

“My daughter is right.” Her father said, sitting tall in his throne like chair, staring out into the hall almost like he was daring the lords to protest or interrupt. “There is something I have not been telling you, my lords. A secret I had to keep, so that my nephew by my sister, could be safe from Robert Baratheon and his hatred of house Targaryen.”

“Nephew? By Lady Lyanna?” Lord Manderly spoke again, his face pale as his eyes darted between Sansa and her father.

“Aye.” Lord Eddard Stark nodded, his face grim. “I arrived at the Tower of Joy with my companions, only to find that three of the Kingsguard were standing outside and barring us from entering.”

As her father spoke, Sansa sat back down; listening along with everyone else to the tale of what had happened at the Tower, where he had found Lyanna.

“When the Kingsguard refused to allow us entry, we fought. In the end the only ones left were Lord Howland and I. Then Lyanna screamed from within the Tower, so we rushed in and found her lying in bed, in a pool of blood. Dying.” As her father continued his story, Sansa gripped her sister´s hand and squeezed, biting her lip to try and keep her eyes from tearing up.

Their father stopped speaking for a moment. As he tried to find the next words, every soul in the hall was silent while staring at him, waiting to hear what happened next.

Sansa could see the pain in her father´s eyes, as he forced himself to tell them how his sister had died, a subject that he famously avoided; until now. “Lyanna was dying from a birthing fever, having labored for hours to bring her son, Jon Targaryen into the world.”

“Jon Targaryen?!” The Flint of the Mountain clans, breathed out, looking as bewildered as Sansa had felt when she had first heard the truth. “You are speaking about Jon Snow? He is not your bastard son?”

“No, he is not my son.” Eddard Stark confessed. “I hid him as my bastard, never telling anyone the truth for fear that Robert would find out, that Jon is in fact Rhaegar´s and Lyanna´s trueborn son.”

“Trueborn? Lady Lyanna married prince Rhaegar? She was not kidnapped nor raped?” Lady Mormont asked, hope lingering in her words.

“No, Lyanna told me that she had not been taken against her will, that they had said their vows in front of the Hearttrees at the Isle of Faces.” At her father´s words, the lords around the hall seemed a little lost.

“I understand Lord Brandon´s anger at prince Rhaegar for having married his sister without Lord Rickard´s permission.” The Lord of the Rills spoke up, looking troubled as he sat beside his daughter, who was clearly furious at how things were evolving. “However, I don’t understand why he rushed to the capital, demanding Rhaegar´s head if she left with Rhaegar on her own volition?”

“I do not know my lord, my sister had little time to tell me anything else other than that she had married Rhaegar as well as to make me promise to keep her son safe. She did not even have time to give her boy a name.” The Lord of Winterfell sounded so tried and lost as he said that.

Sadness seemed to fall over the occupants of the great hall as her father´s words sunk in and as she glanced at her sister, she could see that the fact that Jon´s mother had not even had time to give him a name, seemed to make Arya even gloomier than before.

“Why should we follow the Mad King´s grandson?” A voice broke the silence that had followed her father´s words, making everyone turned to look at the Lady of Barrowton. “We should rule ourselves, like we did before the dragons came and Torren Stark knelt without a fight.”

Sansa felt the anger boil as she listened to the woman, fingernails bit into the palm of her hand as while trying to keep calm. Lady, who had been lying at her feet tensed and let out a soft, almost inaudible growl though Sansa was the only one to notice the direwolf´s anger.

“I am as eager to see Northern independence as any lord in the North.” Lord Manderly turned to face the Lady of Barrowton.

“However, I can see the benefits of staying a part of the Seven Kingdoms, if we have a good King who will actually fight for our interests.”

“How do we know that this boy will?” The woman asked with her nose turned up to the air. “How do we know that he will not just forget us and care only about the south as the others before him?”

“Jon has done more for the North than most of the Lords of Winterfell combined.” Robb growled out like an angry wolf; face turning red with fury as he spoke for the first time since entering the hall. “Do not forget that it was Jon who made the plans for the castles of the Wall and around the North, it was Jon that has been helping us become one of the richest realms of Westeros, he has been ruling Queenscrown since he was ten-years old and has been making the lands near his, much safer by starting to make peace with the Wildlings.”

The woman looked like Robb had forced a lemon down her throat and a large sneer made its way to her face.

“Lord Robb speaks true.” Lord Manderly stood up from his chair with difficulty to address the other lords. “Jon Sno…” The Lord of White Harbor stopped when he recalled that Snow was not Jon´s actual name. “Jon Targaryen has done more for the North in the last few years than most others. I believe that with him on the Iron throne, the North will prosper even more that it already is.”

The man´s words were met with loud cheers and Sansa could feel a rush of exhilaration run through her body, seeing how the Lord of White Harbor was all for crowing Jon as his King.

“AYE.” Lord Karstark cried out; waving his fist in the air like a mad man. “Lady Sansa has the right of it, Robert Baratheon has done nothing but disrespect us after everything we have done for him, he has only been playing at being a King but Jon Sno…Targaryen has been ruling the lands of the Gifts since he was a boy of ten, while keeping my lands and people safe ever since.”

“It is because of lady Lyanna´s boy that we have not been raided in the last few years and I agree with lady Sansa, we should put our Lord´s nephew on the Iron throne, where he belongs.” The Wull agreed heartily with the Lord of Karhold, causing the other leaders of the mountain clans to let out their own cries of support.

“What if he decides to punish us for the role we played in the rebellion?” Lady Dustin interrupted the men, stopping them in their tracks as they were making themselves likely to declare for Jon. “Perhaps you have forgotten that we fought for the man who killed his father? That we fought against his own grandfather and handed the throne to Robert Baratheon.”

“Jon would never do that.” Arya´s furious voice cut through the air as she stared hatefully at the woman.

Arya´s grey eyes bored into the Lady of Barrowton own,

while Sansa and the rest of the Starks were not surprised with her defense for Jon´s honor, the Lords and Ladies of the North had not been expecting a girl of ten to stand up to the Lady of Barrowton.

“My sister is right.” Robb agreed with Arya, a smile of pride at their sister spread across his face. “Jon would never punish the people of the North for riding to war, to defend their Lord and honor when King Aerys demanded my Lord father´s head for having done nothing wrong.”

While Arya and Robb had silenced Lady Dustin for now, the Lady´s father spoke up but instead of anger, he seemed more cautious and hesitant in his words. “My lords, while I believe our liege Lord, when he says that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen said marriage vows to Lady Lyanna at the Isle of Faces, there is still the issue of Rhaegar having been married to Elia Martell, making the marriage between him and our Lady Lyanna null and void.”

“That is an excellent point, Lord Ryswell.” Her father spoke in an even tone and Sansa could see no sign of displeasure on his face. “I have a journal in my possession, written by the High Septon at the time, clearly stating that Prince Rhaegar set Princess Elia aside on the grounds that she could not give him more children and that the High Septon himself had officiated the marriage.”

“You have that journal here Lord Stark?” The Lord of the Rills seemed shocked and was having a hard time finding the right words.

“Aye, those who want to see it to assure themselves that I am indeed telling the truth, are welcome to when the meeting has concluded.”

A part of her thought that she should be angry or even irritated by the Lord´s doubt of her father´s word but she just couldn’t find it in herself to feel those emotions.

For almost sixteen years, her father had been lying to everyone and even though he had the best reason in the world to do so, it was still a lie.

She would have been more surprised if not one of the lords had the presence of mind to question her father´s words, while everyone thought that Rhaegar Targaryen had still been married to Elia Martell.

“How will we be placing him on the throne?” Lady Dustin was glaring icily at the Warden of the North, not looking happy that the lords were clearly excited by the thought of having a Northern King on the Iron throne, as well as the fact that this would be the most devastating thing to do to Robert Baratheon and his supporters, as his hatred of house Targaryen was famous. “While the North has never been taken by force, how long until the Baratheon brothers and the other Kingdoms manage to be the first?”

The lady of Barrowton stared them all down with her hard, light grey eyes. “Who will protect you then? This boy who has still not arrived to speak with us? This boy who seems too friendly with the savage Wildlings? No, he will not. The Targaryens are only strong when they have dragons under their command and how many does this…Jon Targaryen have?”

Lady Dustin smirked mockingly as she mentioned Jon´s name in the same breath as dragons and it took all of Sansa´s restraint from laughing out loud with glee, as the woman continued her speech.

Arya was having a harder time restraining herself, the gloom that had colored her face gone and the younger girl was forced to bite her lip to keep from laughing, thankfully no one noticed.

The Lady of Barrowton looked at the lords and ladies that now filled the hall. “Have you lost your pride? Where is your desire to be a Sovereign nation again? The dragons are all gone and we should have taken the chance sixteen years ago to declare our independence, as we swore no oaths to house Baratheon when Aegon the Dragon came to take our freedom away from us.”

“Lady Dustin.” the Lord of Winterfell looked as he had been carved out of stone as he stared at the woman urging them to break free from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. “It is to our benefit that we stay apart of the realm, the North is now prospering like it has not been in centuries and with my nephew on the Iron throne, it will grow more prosperous than ever before.”

Eddard Stark´s now cold eyes stared the woman down as he continued speaking. “You know as well as any of us that Robert will not take kindly to it if we declare our independence. If he manages to survive his war with Lord Tywin, he will turn his attentions to us.”

“Who´s fault is it that the North grew weak and poor in the first place?” Lady Dustin hissed as the lords around the hall all stared wide eyed at her daring to speak like this to Lord Eddard Stark. “Was it not house Stark´s duty to see to our wellbeing and our prosperity? Something that your ancestors have clearly been failing in.”

“Three.” Sansa growled out as she felt the rage rumble within her at the woman´s words. The mirth she had found in the other woman´s words of Jon not having dragons was long gone and in its place was only fury.

Lady stalked from under the table, golden eyes staring at the Lady of Barrowton as she showed the woman her teeth while growling ferociously.

Barbrey Dustin stared back at the direwolf in front of her, taking a step back, knowing that the wolf would have no problem in tearing her throat out if she felt like it.

House Stark had a duty to the Lords of the North to protect them, the woman was right about that, however the lords could not expect house Stark to do everything for them and Lady Barbrey could not blame the current Lord of Winterfell for the acts of those who had come before him.

Her father was only responsible for his own action or inactions.

At hearing Sansa´s seemingly random word, interrupting the Lady of Barrowton and Lady snarling at the woman, everyone had turned to look at Sansa and stare at her in bewilderment once more but Sansa did not say anything else, content in staring down the older woman with a cold look on her face, as her beloved direwolf showed Lady Dustin just how angry they were feeling.

Lady Dustin tore her eyes from the wolf, turning her eyes to Sansa.

The woman clearly had her heart set on Northern independence, judging by how fiercely the woman was trying to convince the lords of doing just that.

Though Sansa had once agreed with her, she could not find it in herself to do it now. While being an independent Kingdom had its benefits, the advantages of being a part of the other Kingdoms when a good King was ruling were too much for them to pass up.

Not to mention the fact that they would be hard pressed to fight the Others alone even with Jon´s dragons on their side.

Silence filled the hall, the lords sending each other glances, trying to figure out what had just happened and why Sansa had spoken such a random word.

“What?” Lady Dustin finally broke the silence looking irritated and off balance.

“You asked how many dragons, our cousin, King Jon of house Targaryen has under his command.” Every soul in the hall was staring at her, not really comprehending where she was going with this.  “He has three.”

The silence that hung over the hall was deafening. She could feel the gazes of the lords and ladies around the hall, though none was heavier than that of her father and mother.

She did not need to turn her head to know that her father was wondering why she was announcing the existence of the dragons now, nor did Sansa need to see her mother´s face to know that she would be staring at her, like she had lost her mind.

“That is impossible.” Lady Dustin whispered, the look in her eyes making it clear to Sansa what the woman though of her. “The dragons are all dead.”

“Not anymore.” Sansa forced herself to keep a straight face. It would be a foolish move to smirk at the woman, there was no need to rub salt in her wounds. “Our cousin, King Jon Targaryen hatched three dragon eggs he found here in the castle.”

“My daughter speaks the truth.” The Lord of Winterfell spoke calmly, his deep voice offering her comfort that she had not known she needed. “I saw my nephew hatch them myself.”

“I have seen them as well.” Robb spoke up, rushing to back up their claims of dragons being back in the world. “You shall all see the proof of it when our cousin arrives.”

“Aye.” Their father agreed. “We shall write to my nephew, to ask him to bring his dragons with him when he comes.”

The wonder and disbelief on the faces of the lords and ladies in the hall was clear, as they all started to shout their questions at her father. Everyone was clamoring over one another to get his attentions, though they only succeeded in making sure that no one could be really heard.

Her eyes found Greatjon Umber, who was now sitting down, looking like he just been struck in the head by something heavy.

The dumbfounded look on his face soon turned to something else. A look on contemplation washed over him, then his eyes found hers. 

For a moment, they studied each other as the lords all tried to talk to her father. Then the Greatjon grinned widely at her, showing off his teeth, before he grabbed a mug of ale of the table.

The man stood up so fast that everyone around him backed away in shock, everyone in the hall quieted down, to hear what the large man had to say. “I say we shove our swords up Lord Tywin´s and Robert´s bungholes, then we place our Lord´s nephew on the Iron throne.”

His words were met with cheers and roars of delight, even Lord Ryswell seemed to be liking the idea more and more, now that his liege Lord was promising proof of Rhaegar setting Elia Martell aside.

Sansa watched as the Greatjon incited the lords and ladies to declare for Jon, then her father stood from his chair with a mug of his own in hand, quieting them all down but the air remained charged with excitement and anticipation. “To Jon of house Targaryen, the King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

As the lords all around the hall grabbed their own mugs, some a lot more eager than others, Sansa glanced at the Lady of Barrowton.

Lady Dustin sat down slowly, her face stern. There was nothing she could do at this moment to make the lords of the North agree to break away from the Iron throne. The only thing the Lady of Barrowton could do, was to grab her own mug in a tight grip and rise it along with the other.

Sansa´s hand found her own mug and as she raised it to toast to their new King, she thought that she would need to find a way to truly bring Lady Dustin into the fold.

JAIME

The darkness of the dungeons was in a word, oppressing and he was not sure how much longer he could last down here.

Jaime had thought that the first few weeks or months down there had been horrific, when Cersei and Joffrey had been screaming and cursing, claiming that Lord Tywin Lannister would come and kill their enemies for what they had done.

However, when their screaming had finally stopped and everything had gone completely silent, things grew even worse.

He had not seen another person in weeks and had long since given up trying to demand anything of the person pushing the food and water through the small flap in the cell door.

Jaime was somewhat surprised that they were feeding him at all, having heard that many of those who had been thrown into the black cells had starved to death, their bones forgotten in the dark for years until someone finally decided to toss them out.

He wondered if he would truly die in here, discarded in the corner for years, never receiving a funeral.

A rat scurrying somewhere in the darkness made him jump and sharp pain shot through his ribs and sword hand, causing Jaime to grit his teeth so hard that he was sure that they would break.

The young maester had tried to put him back together again, after the Fat King had taken his anger out on Jaime´s body but the maester had only limited success.

There were times that he was sure that the pain in his hand was going to drive him mad as King Aerys had been during the last hours of his life. If the darkness and silence did not get him first.

Jaime huddled in on himself to keep from shivering from the cold, absently wondering how such a cold place could exist in the normally warm capital.

Sitting there with his back against the cold and damp stone wall, trying to keep some of his warmth in his body, Jaime could hear heavy footsteps echo somewhere beyond the stone walls.

It was too soon for him to get his food, right? Scouring his brain to remember how long it had been since receiving anything to eat or drink, he was not sure if it had been hours or days as hunger and thirst seemed to hang over him since being thrown in here.

Was it Robert coming back to take out his anger once more? A small part of him hoped so, the pain might offer a slight reprieve from the overwhelming darkness that was bearing down on him.

He listened intently to the footsteps as they neared the door and he could feel the hope rise that maybe they were coming for him, so that he might see the light of the jailer’s torch for just a moment.

The footsteps stopped at the entrance of the cell and as the person opening the lock for the first time since the maester had left him to wallow in his pain, his heart leapt to his throat when the door opened.

When it finally creaked opened, a short figure stood in the door frame, however the person had wide shoulders making it clear to Jaime that it was a man. The light of the person´s torch blinded him, forcing him to look away.

“Ser Jaime.” A deep voice, painted with the accent of the West carried over to him, it took a moment to recognize it but when he did, the hope in his heart rose.

“Ser Preston?” It pained him to speak while trying to see where his fellow white cloak was standing. “What are you doing here?”

“I am here to take you back to the Westerlands.” Ser Preston rushed over to his side and knelt by his side. “We have to hurry before the castle awakes.”

Jaime tried to use the wall to help him stand up but his knee was screaming at him to stop and sit back down.

Ser Preston seemed to see his plight even in the darkness of the cell and rushed to help him to his feet while holding the torch in one hand.

“We have to save Cersei.” Jaime gritted out through the pain.

“Of course, Ser Jaime. We will take her and Prince Joffrey with us as well.” Ser Preston assured him while helping Jaime limp to the doors and for the first time since he had been found with Cersei that fateful day, he was out of the cell.

When he dreamed of stepping out his prison, he had expected to feel relieved or liberated but the opposite was true.

He could almost feel the darkness call to him, demand that he returned and stay there.

Jaime thought of his lovely sister and with more strength than he had left in his body, he allowed Ser Preston to help him away from it.

The Lion of Lannister ignored the pain in his body that flared up every time he moved, the only thing important to him now was to get Cersei out of the Black cells and to safety.

A sound close by drew his attention and he could see a large, hooded figure drag another out of a cell. He recognized Joffrey even though his usual immaculate appearance was nowhere to be seen.

Joffrey´s usual golden curls were now as limp and dirty as Jaime was sure his own were, the boy´s normally full cheeks were now gaunt and grey but his green eyes were wild, reminding Jaime of Aerys Targaryen before he had ordered the pyromancers to burn down King´s Landing.

“Who are you? You are not the Hound and how dare you touch me? I am the prince; this will not stand.” Joffrey´s growl was raspy as he sneered at the large figure. The stay in the black cells seemed to have done nothing to humble the young man.

“My prince, we need to be quiet so that we will not be caught.” Ser Preston tried to reason with Joffrey but it was easy to see that it was all in vain.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE.” A raspy voice from the cell facing where Joffrey had been staying, called out and there was a banging on the cell door.

“Please my Queen.” Ser Preston let Jaime´s arm go and hurried over to the cell where Cersei was being held in, forcing Jaime to stand on his own. “You must be quiet; we cannot alert the guards of our presence.”

Even though Jaime could not see his sister, he knew that she must be brisling at Ser Preston´s words. The daughter of Lord Tywin Lannister had never taken it well when she was told to be quiet or ordered around by anyone, much less someone she considered a servant.

Much to his surprise, Cersei did not start shouting at the Greenfield knight in her anger at him.

When Ser Preston opened the door to reveal his sister, Jaime was despite himself, shocked at her appearance.

He had known that her imprisonment would not have been comfortable but seeing his beautiful sister brought so low, shook him to his core.

Her usual golden curls that had tumbled to her waist, were now chopped short in an uneven mess and they had lost all their luster, her skin was much like his own and Joffrey´s, grey and colorless and seemed to stretch across her bones.

However, her eyes were still the same vibrant green they had always been, though now they seemed to shimmer with fury, blazing like wildfire.

As soon as that thought entered his mind, he pushed it aside, his sister had nothing in common with Mad Aerys Targaryen, her eyes were nothing like the Mad King´s weapon of choice.

This was only the righteous fury at Robert Baratheon and how he had thrown them into the black cells like they were common cutthroats.

They were Lannisters of Casterly Rock, if they were going to be imprisoned, they should at least been put in a tower cell.

However, Jaime had to confess himself surprised at Robert´s restraint. Every time when Jaime had thought of Robert finding out the truth of the children´s paternity, he had imagined Robert murdering the Lannister twins on the spot.

“Do not think to command me.” Cersei fixed her furious green eyes on their savior. “I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Cersei.” Jaime said her name softly, hoping to make her realize that she needed to calm down and listen to Ser Preston.

She glanced at her twin and he could see the horror in her eyes as they drank in his ragged appearance.

Jaime wondered what he looked like, after the long stay in the black cells. Jaime knew that his nose was now crooked by Robert breaking it and the hand that had cut down the Mad King was now a mangled mess.

When the young maester had told him that he would never again wield a sword, the first-born son of Tywin Lannister had raged at the sniveling fool and threatened him with such bodily harm that the smaller man had ran from the cell in fear.

He would hold a sword once more, he was the famous Jaime Lannister, the greatest swordsman in Westeros along with Barristan the Bold. He would not let this injury stop him.

“We have to hurry.” Ser Preston moved to Jaime and grabbed his arm and threw it over his shoulder to support him. “We don’t have long, and we must be quiet.”

Both Cersei and Joffrey looked offended at the man, telling them that they needed to be quiet and as Ser Preston assisted Jaime in walking, he could see the tall man grab Joffrey´s arm and pull him along even though Joffrey was protesting at the rough treatment.

“When I am King-.” Joffrey started angerly.

“You will not be King.” The large man interrupted him with a growl. “Unless you keep your mouth shut.”

“How dare you?” Cersei hissed at the man in her anger as she hurriedly followed them. “He is your rightful-.”

“Cersei.” Jaime forced Ser Preston to stop so that he could stare at the woman he loved. “You and Joffrey need to keep your mouths shut, we do not want to alarm the guard of our presence and I do not think I need to tell you what will happen if they catch us.”

While she thankfully kept quiet, her green eyes promised retribution.

They continued walking and every step causing pain to flare in his knee, where Robert had kicked him repeatedly after he had thrown him in the cell.

Jaime could feel Cersei´s glare at the back of his head as they finally made their way out of the dungeons and to a side corridor that was suspiciously empty.

“How did you manage this?” Jaime whispered to his fellow white cloak. “I had thought those loyal to house Lannister were either killed or ran away to the Westerlands.”

Ser Preston grinned but it did not reach his eyes. “Your father has pull Ser Jaime, his gold makes it easier to convince those who claim to be loyal Baratheon men, to be elsewhere when it is needed.”

“A Lannister always pays his debts.” Jaime replied. “Why are you doing this? You are a Kingsguard.”

His sworn brother sent Jaime a look of surprise. “I am a Westerman just like you Ser, I know better than to bet against Lord Tywin Lannister when he goes to war.”

“Have any battles been fought?” Jaime asked the other man eagerly ignoring the pain in his ribs where Ser Preston was holding even though it was making it harder to breath.

“No, I do not think so. I have heard rumors that Ser Gregor Clegane has been spotted in the Reach, I have not heard about any battles being fought yet though.”

If his father had released Ser Gregor to the Reach, then it was only a matter of time until the Warden of the West himself took to the field. “Robert will rue the day he decided to go against my father.”

They continued on their way, Jaime did not even notice where they were going as he was too distracted by pain and curiosity. “What has Robert been planning?”

“He is planning to march to Casterly Rock, to take the castle and execute your father.”

Jaime had to force down a laugh at Ser Preston´s words. “If Robert honestly thinks that he can take Casterly Rock, then he is becoming as mad as Aerys was.”

“I agree, he has commanded Eddard Stark to march south to help him and to bring his daughter with him, so Robert can marry her but Stark refused and is staying in the North.”

Jaime almost stopped walking in his surprise. “He did what?” He had to remember to whisper to Ser Preston so that he would not alert the guards in his shock. “Eddard Stark did not come running like a dog when his friend calls?”

“No and I heard the tantrum Robert threw when he heard the news.” Ser Preston grinned; now it reached his eyes. “I thought that he would bring the castle down on his head.”

“Stark´s messenger must have lost his head when Robert heard.”

“Lord Stark sent him a raven, saying that he was marrying his daughter to a Northerner.” Again, Jaime had to restrain himself from laughing at Robert´s plight.

He could imagine Robert´s face when he had read the letter from Winterfell, the man had probably thought that good old Eddard Stark would have been happy to throw his daughter at his old friend.

“We are here.” The large man growled in a low voice, bring their whispered conversation to a halt. The man gave a soft knock on a door that had been hidden behind an ugly wall tapestry and it was opened to reveal a young man that Jaime had seen before, it was one of the guards that had come from the Westerlands with Tyrion.

The Lannister man let them through the door and lead them further until they came to a small wooden ladder that would allow them through a hatch in the ceiling.

Jaime felt his stomach curl at the thought of trying to climb up that ladder with his severely injured ribs, hand, and knee.

Cersei and Joffrey climbed up first, as Jaime would take a lot long with his injures. When it was his turn, Jaime, with help from the young guard and Ser Preston, made it but not without much pain and humiliation.

As he was nearing the hole in the ceiling, he felt a hand grab the fabric of his now ruined tunic and help pull him up, as the pain in his body made his vision swim with white spots from the effort of climbing up the ladder.

More hands grabbed him, trying to help him through the hole as sweat ran down his brow. Jaime finally made it to the top, hay sticking to his dirty hair and sneaking under his tattered tunic, making his skin itch.

However despite the uncomfortable feelings of having sweat and hay cling to him, he had to lay there on the floor to get his bearings.

Jaime did not know how long he laid on the ground, concentrating on his breathing and hoping to get the infernal pain under control.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his pained haze. “Ser Jaime, you have to change clothing.” Jaime´s green eyes turned to look at Ser Preston, who had found time to put on armor more fit for a sellsword than a Kingsguard.

The smaller man had a concerned look on his face as he helped Jaime to his feet. The blond-haired man had to lean against the stone wall from pain and exhaustion as one of the guards handed him a sack.

Ser Preston gestured for the guard to help Jaime put on the clothes and the older son of Tywin Lannister wanted to snort and refuse, however as he could hardly stand on his own, perhaps it would be better to relent on this one time.

The guards helped him dress as fast as they dared, in clothing that was better suited for a squire than a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Not once in his life had Jaime worn such rough spun apparel and a part of him wanted to throw them away in disgust, however these clothes that he had been handed were leagues better than the ones he was wearing now.

When he finally finished changing, he wanted nothing more than to lay down on the floor again but he forced himself to stay standing. He could not afford to be seen as weak in front of the men.

Jaime´s eyes turned to where Cersei was standing. He almost did a double take at seeing her, they had not looked this alike since they had been five years old, when they had played at switching clothing and pretended to be the other.

His sister was fussing over Joffrey, who was whining and pulling at his attire like an ill-tempered toddler.

As Jaime watched his sister and Joffrey, a horrific thought entered his mind. “Wait.” Jaime started to look around the stable as he noticed there were people missing from their number. “Where are Tyrion, Tommen and Myrcella?”

When he mentioned their children´s names, Cersei seemed to realize it too that their other children were not there with them.

“Where are my children?” Cersei demanded angrily. “I am not leaving without them.”

However, Ser Preston was not looking at her, he was now staring in terror at something in the doorway.

Jaime turned around to see what he was staring at, standing in the doorway was a young boy with his eyes wide in horror of what was happening. Before anyone could move, the child bolted away screaming. “THE KINGSLAYER IS ESCAPING, HELP. HELP. HELP. THE KINGSLAYER.”

He watched as a few guards rushed after the boy, trying to stop him from letting the Baratheon men know of their escape, before the young man that had opened the tapestry for them grabbed Jaime´s arm and dragged him to a horse.

“I can fight.” Jaime insisted, trying to pull away from the boy´s grip, only for pain to flare up in his battered body. “Hand me a sword.”

The boy did not listen and dragged him, protesting to a nervous horse. “My lord you need to get to safety.” The young man tried to force him onto the palfrey but Jaime was not having it.

He reached for the blade that was strapped to the boy´s waist, with pain and difficulty Jaime dragged the sword out of the sheath.

The weight of the weapon, that once would have felt reassuring, almost caused Jaime to lose his grip as the weight of the one-handed blade was almost too much for his injured hand.

The boy called his name but Jaime could barely hear him, to focused on the overwhelming pain in his hand, ribs and knee. His normally steady sword hand was shaking so that the weapon that he had taken from the boy was moving like a blade of gras in the wind.

As the boy tried to take the sword from his shaking hand, Jaime gave him a push before steading his right hand with his left, hoping that the moment he could let it go again, the hand would remember its former strength.

“Ser Jaime.” Ser Preston´s face appeared right in front of him, pale and worried and his eyes wide with fear. “You have to get on the horse, we need to get you to Casterly Rock.”

“Cersei and Joffrey are more important.” Jaime protested as he tried to push the other man away but the pain was causing him to see white spots and grow faint. “You need to get them away from here.”

The sound of clashing swords could be heard and Jaime knew that the noise would rouse the castle.

A crash broke through and Jaime´s head whipped around to see a man clad in Baratheon colors come crashing into the stable, causing horses to jump in fear and Lannister guards to rush forward to fight.

“Ser Preston we have to go.” Cersei commanded regally despite the terror gripping her face. “Joffrey´s safety is paramount.”

Cersei and Joffrey were now mounted on their own horses, waiting for them to do the same but the Greenfield knight did not answer her, rather he grabbed Jaime´s uninjured arm and started to force him to climb on the horse´s back. “Ser Jaime, you have to get on the horse now. We cannot fight them, there are too many.”

Jaime felt fury rise in his chest at Ser Preston´s words. The maester had been wrong, Jaime was not an invalid and he was still the fighter he had always been.

A scream cut short any reply he tried to form and on instinct he turned and raised his sword when the Baratheon man´s weapon came bearing down on them.

The man rushing towards him was enough to startle the already frightened beast, who let out a terrified whinny and bolted away.

The sword clashed with his own and as soon as metal struck metal it was like every bone in his in Jaime´s arm shattered. A strangled screamed escaped his lips as Jaime fell to his knees, clutching his right arm to his chest, as the sword he had taken from the young man was thrown from his hand.

As his knees slammed to the ground, the sound of a blade cutting through the air then biting into flesh echoed through the air. The Baratheon man fell dead to the ground and Ser Preston dragged Jaime to his feet, the longsword used to end the Baratheon´s guard life, dripping blood on the stable floor.

“Guards.” Jaime´s head turned to where Cersei was sitting mounted on her horse. Tall and beautiful despite her imprisonment, her eyes blazing with determination. “You have a duty to your Queen and your prince, protect us and deliver us to my father, Lord Tywin and you shall be richly rewarded. Stay here and die.”

Jaime felt his heart drop as Cersei turned her horse and galloped out of the stable, with terrified Joffrey racing after her.

“Ser Jaime.” Ser Preston grabbed his arm forcing him to tear his eyes from Cersei and look at the smaller man. “You have to-.”

Whatever his sworn brother had to say was cut off by a head of a spear bursting out of his throat, causing his head to jerk back and the longsword in his hand to drop like a stone to the ground.

Jaime could barely feel the hands grasp his arms but the pain that flooded him when someone kicked at the back of his bad knee was more than enough to make him scream out with agony.

Through the pain he could hear neighing of horses as the Lannister guards followed Cersei and Joffrey into the early morning darkness, as Baratheon men shouted and roared for someone to stop them.

Jaime felt a smirk pull at his lips despite the pain, when he heard one of the men exclaim in a panic that the walls of the keep close to the stable was deserted.

“Something funny Kingslayer?” A large man in golden and black plate armor glared down at him with a sneer on his face. The looked transformed into an ugly smirk as he glanced at Jaime on his knees. “Do not worry sisterfucker. We shall find your whore of a sister soon enough and when we do, well I am sure that the King will not mind if she will have a hard time sitting down.”

The threat made Jaime burn with anger but he pushed a smirk on his lips. “I am sure that when Fat Robert finds out that you allowed her to escape, you will have a hard time doing anything without your head.” 

It was not his best insult however it had the desired effect. The large man turned red in the face in anger and the last thing that Jaime saw was a fist, then it was only pain and darkness.

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Dany could feel the excitement flutter in her belly as she watched the sun traveling lower in the sky, setting in the West, beyond the land that she would soon rule.

The anticipation made the pain that still lingered in her foot, fade to the back of her mind. The thought of her beloved children and what was to come was enough for her to be able to tolerate any amount of pain.

If she closed her eyes and concentrated, Dany could still feel the rough, stone like scales of the dragon eggs under her fingertips. It took all her strength to sit there still beside her husband, waiting for the eggs to be brought forward; that she would hatch them the moment they were laid at her feet.

There was no use in waiting and when the Dothraki would see her bring dragons back to life after a hundred and fifty years of being gone from this world, they would kneel before her again, to swear themselves to her like they had done before, when the truth had been revealed to them in her last life.

The Dothraki would be hers again, like they had never been Drogo´s.

Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered it like it had been yesterday. How they had looked at her when the fires had died down and found her with her three children, the looks of wonder and admiration.

As she sat there, beside her husband, Dany pulled the memory of how the Dothraki had looked at her when they had seen her emerge from Khal Drogo´s pyre to the forefront of her mind. Feeling the warmth of their gazes they had sent her, made her heart beat faster with excitement.

However, the expressions of wonder and awe turned hard and cold in her mind, transporting her to Winterfell, where everyone looked at her with mistrust and disgust.

The way they had looked at her made hatred bubble through her veins; they had no right to send her those looks. She was Daenerys Targaryen, the breaker of chains and the mother of Dragons. She deserved nothing less than their respect and adoration.

Dany despised the way that the Northerners had looked at Jon Snow; they should have looked at her that way, with admiration and respect.

It had been Daenerys Targaryen who had been the one to bring dragons back into the world, she had defied the odds and freed the slaves from centuries of oppression, not Jon Snow.

The only reason they had won the great war was because of her and the people of Westeros had still refused her, still denied Dany the birthright that belonged to her.

Soon, she thought to herself as the wrath of the dragon surged through her blood. Soon Dany would wake her dragons from stone and her children would avenge her, with fire and blood.

Starting with Sansa Stark.

Clenching her small fist so that her nails bit into the palm of her hands in fury, Dany could not wait for the moment when that harlot would pay for her crimes against the Dragon Queen.

It had been the red headed girl´s fault that Jon had turned away from the woman he loved and when Dany had her dragons back by her side, she would make the Stark girl pay.

A sense of justice filled her when she thought about how the harlot would beg and plead the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms for mercy.

A mercy Dany would not give her.

Dany forcefully pushed those thoughts away; her dragons would be back by her side in a few moments and Drogo would be convinced to invade the Seven Kingdoms in Daenerys´s name and place her on the Iron throne. Then she would get her vengeance.

The excitement made it hard to sit still beside her husband, who was watching two Dothraki screamers, fight over a woman. Dany had not had one conversation with Drogo in this life and she wanted to surprise him with her fluent Dothraki, as well as her knowledge of their culture.

Now seemed to be the perfect time. “This is the third death, is it not?” Speaking in his mother’s tongue, caused him to whip his head around to stare at her in wonder. “I think that our wedding will not be considered dull.”

“You speak Dothraki.” Khal Drogo´s words were a statement, not a question and she could see how impressed he was.

“Of course.” Daenerys sat taller and looked him in the eye like the Queen she was. “I speak the common tongue and High Valyrian as well.”

Drogo did not seem as impressed with her knowledge of the common tongue and High Valyrian as he was with her speaking his mother´s tongue, though she did not let that bother her.

“I did not think that you would speak my language.”

“I am full of surprises.” She smiled coyly at him, as she batted her eyelashes, knowing he liked it when she did that. Dany could see how struck he was by her.

Dany smiled brilliantly at her husband, happy how impressed he was with her knowledge of the Dothraki. The man had clearly been expecting a simpering little girl and not a woman like herself. Dany was not that girl anymore. “But you have to wait for a few moments.”

“What do you have planned?” Her husband´s smoldering dark eyes were firmly fixed on her as he spoke and she could see the lust hiding in the dark depths.

“You will have to wait and see, like everyone else.”

Dany barely noticed yet another man placing gifts for them at their feet where they were sitting, her attentions were drawn by another fight breaking out over another woman, this one a lot more violent that the one before it.

Dany remembered it well when she had sat here in her last life, terrified of everything before her. She had been so foolish and frightened then.

She had not understood how important this was in the Dothraki culture, that it was necessary for the horse lords to show how strong they were, as well as to make sure that the weak ones were defeated.

Weakness had no place with the Dothraki.

It was why they had been so loyal and devoted to her because she was strong like them. She was the stallion who mounted the world, not her son.

Rhaego would be powerful and great, that she was sure of. However, he would not be like her. Dany knew now that the old crones at Vaes Dothrak were wrong, they must have been confused as in the prophecy about the one who would unite all the Khalasars of the world, was always referred to as a stallion but it was about Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen.

It was like the prophecy about the prince that was promised, people had just assumed it was a man that would save the world, when it had been about her, the Dragon Queen all along.

Her attention was drawn to where Viserys was sitting between Magister Illyrio and lord Baelish. The small dark-haired man was whispering into her brother´s ear, making the silver haired man laugh at what the newcomer had said. Baelish had been acting like Viserys´s shadow ever since he had arrived, whispering secrets and flattering the fool at every turn.

Dany did not trust the man; she had been betrayed too many times to trust easily but that did not mean that he would not be useful to her.

Watching silently as lord Baelish continued to whisper in his ear, she felt disgust grow within her as Viserys practically screamed with laughter at what the slight man had said.

Why was he here? Lord Baelish had not been at her wedding in her former life, so why was he courting favor with her weak brother now? Something had to have changed when she had returned to her body but what?

Did someone else have memories like she did?

No, she assured herself, it just was not possible. How could anyone else have any memories of what had happened before?

Suddenly the image of Jon Snow forced itself to the forefront of her mind, feeling ice settle in her belly, she forced his handsome, traitorous image away.

Jon Snow did not remember anything, it was not possible. As she tried to assure herself that he did not remember their past lives, the memory of how easily he controlled Rhaegal clawed at her mind.

No. Dany shook her head of the thought, Jon Snow had not woken dragons from stone, he was not the prince that was promised and he could not remember anything.

Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, she repeated those facts in her mind, over and over again and watched the fight in front of her.

Dany looked on as the weaker man was defeated and disemboweled while the winner went off with two women, neither of whom had been the one the men had started the fight over.

As the winner walked off with the new women, a familiar face came up to Daenerys and her husband out of the crowd, Ser Jorah Mormont.

She almost smiled at him, happy to see her faithful knight who had been so cruelly taken from her in the battle against the Northern ice monsters.

Wearing tattered and colorless clothing and holding a few books in his hands, the knight and her husband greeted each other with familiarity and respect.

Her faithful knight walked up to her. “A small gift for the new Khaleesi,” He handed her the books, which she took as she fought back tears at seeing him again. “Songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms.”

She thanked him while studying his face. “You are from my country.” She stated with certainty as she held his gifts close to her chest.

“Ser Jorah Mormont, from Bear Island.” He stated proudly and held his head a bit higher. “I served your father for many years; gods be good I hope to always serve the rightful King.”

She did not like how he looked at her brother as he said the rightful King, the irritation swelled within her but she forced it down. Dany knew that soon; he would see that she was the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms as he had done in his last life.

A servant came to take the books she had gotten from her faithful knight and the excitement rose in her again when Magister Illyrio gestured for his servants to come forward with a large and familiar chest.

The fluttering returned with vengeance and her heart started to beat so hard that she was sure that it was going to break her ribs and burst out of her body.

She leaned closer as the servants placed the chest on the ground before her, it was getting harder for her to breath from all the excitement she was feeling, now she would have her children again. She would take back what had been stolen from her and burn her enemies to the ground.

It was the only way to stop those who opposed her from revolting, she had learned her lesson in the Bay of Dragons. She should never have listened to the traitor Tyrion Lannister; she should have mounted Drogon and burnt Yunkai and Astapor to the ground before ever setting sail for Westeros.

That would have shown the lords of the Seven Kingdoms the cost of rebellion and she could have avoided burning King´s Landing.

Dany knew that if the Mad Queen had heard about how she had made the masters of the slave cities pay in fire and blood, she would never have tried to withhold her throne from the rightful Queen and Dany would not have lost Rhaegal and Viserion.

Dany should never have paid attention to Jon Snow when he had spoken to her on the beach of Dragonstone, when he had spouted something about not burning castles to the ground.

He was wrong, Aegon the Conqueror had burnt Harrenhall when the man who had held it, dared to defy him and people hailed him as the greatest King that ever lived.

Jon Snow´s words only proved how unsuited he was to rule and she should never have listened to him.

Dany pulled herself from her thoughts, she could not afford to be distracted now, not on the moment of her triumph. As the servants reached for the lid of the chest, Dany could feel her body almost shake from anticipation.

When servants opened the familiar chest, her heart froze in her ribcage as violet eyes stared into it, not sure what they were seeing was true.

Magister Illyrio was saying something but she did not really hear it. The only thing she could do was stare, hoping that her eyes were betraying her.

The chest was filled with fabrics of varying colors and on top of them was a silver crown with large sapphires embedded into it.

With a shaking hand, she reached for the tiara and stared at it as she felt fear and fury bubble in her.

“I see you remember it princess.” The magister said happily as he placed his hands on his girthy belly.

Her brother was staring at the circlet in her hand with his lilac eyes filled with madness. Dany did not care about her mad brother or this stupid crown in her hands, she cared about her children.

She placed it on the ground and felt every eye on her as she moved to kneel before the chest. As she rummaged through the fabrics, looking for the eggs she vaguely noticed that the sound of music had stopped but it did not deter her search.

It felt like hours passed her by as her search grew more frantic and the beautiful fabric were hurled into the air. It was not until she had reached the bottom of the chest when the reality finally settled like a stone in her. 

She turned her violet eyes to the magister. The man staring at her was bewildered as Daenerys looked him straight in the eyes as the feeling the fury of the dragon burned brightly in her. “Where. Are. My. DRAGONS?”

ELDON

The new master of Whispers rushed through the halls of the Red Keep, servants and guards hurried all around him as he almost tripped over his own feet in the hurry to reach the solar of lord Renly.

The lord of Greenstone felt his face turn red with both embarrassment at his clumsiness and the bewilderment he was feeling over what had just happened. Eldon could only hope that no one had noticed his stumble.

The rude awakening that the servant had given Eldon Estermont when delivering the terrible news had left him shocked and disturbed.

To think that the Kingslayer, his sister and their son born of incest had broken out of the Black cells was almost unthinkable. At least the guards had managed to capture Jaime Lannister, though the boy and Cersei Lannister were on the loose and certainly heading to the lord of Casterly Rock.

Eldon shuddered at the thought of lord Tywin declaring Joffrey Waters as the new King, while trying to rule the Seven Kingdoms through the boy.

Eldon picked up his pace so that he might reached the solar faster, the need to talk to Renly and get answers from the younger man drove him forward. The lord paramount of the Stormlands had to know what was going on and would have answers.

With his heart in his throat from worry, Eldon knocked on the door of lord Renly´s solar, he finally arrived as the cold sweat of fear ran down his spine.

“Come in.” Renly´s irritated voice carried through the heavy oak door.

The master of Whispers slipped into the room, only to stare wide eyed at the scene before him. His nephew was standing behind the desk, leaning forward, resting his knuckles on the warm colored wood, as the commander of the garrison was mimicking a statue before him.

The commander was pale of face and still as marble as he stared at the Master of laws like he was turning into a wild beast that would tear him into pieces if he did or said anything wrong.

Lord Renly was looking more like Robert Baratheon at the time of the rebellion than the King himself nowadays. The youngest Baratheon brother was red faced and his blue-green eyes blazed with such fury that Eldon wanted to exit the room with all haste.

“Uncle, how can I help you?” The young lord of Storm´s End asked, gritting his teeth like Stannis so often did as he stared at the commander.

“I heard the news.” Eldon was hesitant to speak, not wanting to anger the younger man further.

Renly looked at him, the young man´s handsome face still with fury before looking at the other commander of the guards. “You have a fortnight to fix this blunder, do not come back until you have located the whore and her bastard.”

The commander looked both enraged and terrified, before reluctantly accepting his fate with a nod and scurrying out the door.

Awkward silence fell over them as Renly stared at the door, the emotions bubbling all over his face.

Eldon let his nephew gather his thoughts for a moment, looking around the solar and studying the décor. The furniture was all made with sturdy oak that matched the door, they were all decorated with painstakingly detailed carvings of majestic stags and playful does running through woodlands and fields of roses.

While the beautifully carved stags and does were pleasing to the eye, the sight of them was soured by the roses and the Tyrell green of the banners, that surrounded the leaping stag that hung on the walls all over the solar was anything but.

Even though the urge to lecture the young man reared its head, the lord of Greenstone decided that it would be best for him to keep his mouth shut about the inappropriate colors. With the flight of Cersei Lannister and her son, they had bigger problems than the color scheme of his liege lord´s solar.

“What happened exactly?” Eldon broke the silence in a gentle tone, hoping that his nephew would refrain from his older brother´s display of temper.

Renly was silent, looking like he was biting back words of anger for a moment, before he responded in a strangled voice. “The Kingslayer almost managed to flee but the guards stopped him, however Cersei and her whelp are still in the wind.”

“They cannot have gone far.” Eldon argued, keeping his voice calm. “Every lord and knight in the vicinity are looking for them, we will find them.”

Eldon´s reassurances fell on deaf ears as the younger man shook his head. “The guards let them slip away and the Gold Cloaks have yet to locate them, with every moment that passes it becomes more improbable that we catch them alive.”

“Has the King been told?” Eldon asked, dreading the answer.

“No, Robert is still sleeping off the wine and Dragonwater he was chugging down last night with a few whores.” The disgust on the young man´s face was clear but the lord of Greenstone could see a hint of fear underneath.

“Cersei Lannister´s flight is not your fault.” Eldon insisted. “We still have the Kingslayer in the Black cells.”

“We have the Kingslayer.” Renly confirmed. “But Robert will want someone to blame and he will not care that I bare no responsibility for this travesty.”

“He cannot blame you for this.” He protested Renly´s words. “You had nothing to do with this blunder.”

“He is the King; Robert can do what he wants.”

Eldon blinked at the other man, sure that the disbelieve was clear on his face. “Surely the King would not rush to place the blame on your shoulders? You are his brother.”

The lord of Storm´s End snorted and sat down in his chair. “All the more reason to blame me. Stannis and I are not the brothers that he wanted, you know that.”

Silence hung over them like a dark cloud which Eldon did not know how to dispel and before he could find the right words, Renly continued. “Even now with lord Eddard denying him his daughter´s hand in marriage, Robert would rather have him as his brother than us, his real kin.”

“Renly-.”

“I do not blame lord Eddard for this.” The young lord interrupted him, the word tumbling out of his mouth with urgency. “Lord Stark is a good man and it is not his fault how our brother acts.”

Renly fell silence again and Eldon used the moment to study his nephew. Ever since the lord of Greenstone had arrived in the capital, he had noticed that the younger man was not his usual charming and jolly self. Rather he was looking more troubled and weary by the day.

A hesitant knock broke them out of their thoughts and Eldon turned around, seeing a servant man poke his head in the door when Renly bade him to enter. “The King is awake and is requesting your presence in the throne room.”

The servant was pale as milk with fright and hurried away when Renly waved his hand to dismiss the man.

A shiver ran down Eldon´s spine, the memory of King Robert´s reaction forced itself to the forefront of his mind. King Robert´s rage would be greater when he found out that his unfaithful wife and her bastard son had escaped, than when lord Eddard had denied him his daughter’s hand in marriage; and that fury had left the small council chambers in ruins.

“Someone must have told him.” Eldon muttered to himself, trying to figure out who had been mad enough to tell the King of the catastrophe that had just transpired.

“Yes, someone must have but we cannot keep the King waiting.” Renly stood up from his chair and they made their way out the door.

As they hurried to the throne room, Renly resembled a man walking to the noose. The young man´s words echoed in Eldon´s mind and he had to wonder if they were really true. Would the King blame Renly for something that was not his fault?

Eldon´s blue eyes glanced out of one of the corridor windows, the sun was starting it ascent in the sky while the stars were now hiding from its rays.

Someone must have awoken the King to tell him of the news, Robert Baratheon had not risen this early ever since the lord of Greenstone had come to the capital.

They made it to the doors of the throne room, which were opened for them by guards clad in colors of house Baratheon.

The silence in the throne room was choking as lord Renly and Eldon made their way to the King, who was sitting on the Iron throne.

Robert Baratheon´s face was red spotted, either with fury or last night´s drinking while the crown on his head looked like small stag´s antlers growing through his black hair.

Both Renly and Eldon knelt before the King of the Seven Kingdoms but as Eldon glanced at his liege lord, the older man could see the barely concealed anger on lord Renly´s face. The youngest Baratheon had clearly not gotten over the fact that his brother had ordered him to stay in the capital, while Robert commanded the Stormlanders.

As he kneeled before the King, Eldon´s eyes looked to the side, where lords and ladies were staring at him and his nephew. Few of the gathered nobles were looking at him and the lord of Storm´s End with pity in their eyes, though most of them were staring at them with glee, hoping that they could use Cersei Lannister´s flight to their advantage.

Before the two men could rise to their feet, King Robert roared in anger at them. “WHERE IS THE WHORE?” Eldon felt glued to the floor of the throne room and his eyes snapped to the carpet that stretched from the door to the foot of the Iron throne.

Lord Estermont dared to glance at his Kingly nephew and for a moment he was worried that the King would catch on fire with how red he was growing. The man´s blue eyes contrasted dangerously against the red face and the black hair, making Eldon feel like the man was seeing into his soul.

“Your grace-.” Eldon began but the King slammed his fist into the throne made of blades, making everyone in the hall jump.

“SILENCE.” The lord of Greenstone nearly swallowed his tongue in his rush to stop speaking, seeing his King´s rage. “I WILL DEAL WITH YOU LATER, LORD ESTERMONT.” Eldon´s heart dropped, hearing Robert address him by his title.

His failure of learning about the plans that the Lannisters and their allies had hatched, stung at him. The master of Whispers should have heard about this plan long before it was ever set in motion. Eldon knew that this would not go unpunished and that the lords would be circling around his family, searching for weakness.

The King turned his furious eyes at his youngest brother and the lord of Storm´s End met them; however Eldon could see a glint of fear shimmering in the blue-green depths.

The doors of the hall being opened again made Eldon jump and look back to see Ser Meryn Trant run to his side before dropping to his knees before the King. “Your grace-.”

“QUIET.” Robert Baratheon roared again, slamming his fist again into the throne. “You will speak when spoken to.”

The King turned his eyes back to his brother and Eldon felt his insides contract in dread. The lord of Greenstone watched as blood dripped from King Robert´s hand onto the Iron throne.

The old superstition of the smallfolk rang in his ears like the bells of the Sept of Baelor as he prayed that no one would notice. However, those hopes were dashed as he heard murmuring of the nobles crash around him, like waves against the island that he called home.

His nephew, the King did not take any notice of the whispers in the throne room, he was still staring furiously at his younger brother. “Why was I not informed the moment it became known that the Kingslayer, the Whore and their bastard broke out of the Black cells?”

“I thought that it would be-.” Renly spoke, gritting his teeth but he was interrupted by King Robert.

“THOUGHT? YOU THOUGHT?” The King slammed his fist into the throne of blades, causing more blood to flow from his hand. “THE WHORE AND THE WHELP ESCAPED, AND YOU THOUGHT?”

Even the mutterings of the lords and ladies observing had gone silent as the brothers stared at one another. Eldon could see the effort it took for the youngest Baratheon to keep silent as the man´s older brother bellowed at him, in front of all the lords and ladies gathered.

If the two men had been his sons, Eldon would have been furious of how King Robert was shaming his brother before the entire court. While it was his right as King and the man´s older brother, this travesty was by no means Renly´s fault and would only serve to undermine him in the eyes of his lords.

Eldon glanced to his side, where the new lord commander of the Kingsguard was kneeling. If anyone should have known what plans had been brewing, it had should been Meryn Trant and the garrison commander, who Renly had taken to task in his solar.

The brother´s stared at one another for a few more moments, before Robert Baratheon turned his fiery glare at his new lord commander of the Kingsguard. “AND YOU? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS YOUR EXCUSE?”

The Whitecloak beside Eldon seemed indignant how the King was addressing him but Ser Meryn seemed to swallow the bitter emotions, as it was Robert Baratheon´s right to speak to them how he pleased.

“I had no idea that Preston Greenfield was a traitor.” Ser Meryn defended himself, his face pale as the cloak around his shoulders. “I could not have known-.”

“You are the lord commander of the Kingsguard.” King Robert interrupted the other man, his blue eyes piercing and furious. “If there is a traitor in your ranks, you are to weed them out.”

“Your grace-.” Ser Meryn tried to speak but King Robert had enough.

The lord of the Seven Kingdoms slammed his fist yet again into the throne, blood droplets flying from the wounds. “I AM HOLDING YOU RESPONSIBLE FOR GREENFIELD´S TREASON.”

The hunting trophies that the King had replaced the dragon skulls with, were all staring at the three men kneeling before the Iron throne, as the lords and ladies were as silent as the grave; as if they thought the King would turn his rage to them if they made a sound.

“If you fail me like this again, Ser Meryn you will take the next ship North to the Wall, where you can freeze your balls off while fighting savages in furs next to thieves and shepherd boys.”

Then the King turned his furious blue eyes to Eldon, who felt like an icy hand had grabbed his insides in a tight grip as he waited for the King´s wrath to turn on him.

Eldon Estermont resisted the urge to say anything, knowing that it would be better to allow the King to have the first word and take his time to gather his thoughts.

Time trickled by slowly as the King stared at Eldon and for the first time, the lord of Greenstone felt like he was the nephew and not the uncle. The tension in the throne room rose as both King Robert and Eldon remained silent but eventually the larger man broke the quiet.

“You were brought to the capital because I thought that you would be up to the task of serving as the master of Whispers, uncle. Was I wrong?” King Robert growled like a wild animal, even though he seemed a bit calmer than when he was speaking to Ser Meryn.

“No, your grace.” Eldon struggled to keep his voice steady. “I will not fail you again.”

“You better not, my lord. I would hate to have to find myself a new master of Whispers.” Even though he knew he was being threatened with a swift dismissal, the King´s words felt more like a death sentence to the older man, feeling his heart beat faster in his chest.

However, as the lord of the Seven Kingdoms turned to look at Renly, who was staring at the bigger man without any visible emotion on his face, Eldon felt relief flood him at the gentle scolding he had received from the King. “You are to find the Whore and her bastard; do you hear me? I want them found.”

“As you command, brother.” Eldon could hear the lord paramount of the Stormlands hold back his anger as his words were gritted out between his teeth, much like Stannis would have. “I will find them and drag them back to the Black cells, where they belong.”

Robert Baratheon stared at his brother, before giving him a stiff nod. “You leave today and you better find them.”

The King´s words making it clear that there would be severe consequences should lord Renly return empty handed.

Chapter Text

MARGAERY

The harsh jolting of the wheelhouse as it went over a hole in the road, pulled Margaery´s eyes from the city that loomed over them, forcing her to suppress a grunt of irritation. It made the brunette wish now more than ever that she was traveling on horseback.

Her grandmother, on the other hand felt no need to hide her displeasure at the driver. “Be careful you fool; I do not pay you to try and kill me.”

Olenna Tyrell slammed her wooden walking stick into the roof of their wheelhouse in her anger. Even though Marge heard the driver call out his apologies for their discomfort, she knew that it did little to lessen the Queen of Thorns’ annoyance at the man.

“Grandmother, please.” Marge halfheartedly tried to calm the older woman down, knowing that it would do no good. “It is not his fault.”

“Do not tell me what to do young lady.” Her grandmother said in her stern, no nonsense tone of voice that she had used so often when Loras had been causing trouble when they had been children. “If I am paying the man to do a job and he does not do it properly then I am well within my rights to scold him.”

Margaery felt irritated at her grandmother’s tone of voice when she spoke to her. Marge hated that lady Olenna was speaking to her like a child as she was being carted off to the capital to be married.

Marge would have been ecstatic if at the end of the journey, she would have been marrying the King. Instead, she was being dragged off to marry his little brother, Lord Renly. A man that was more attracted to Loras then the Rose of Highgarden.

The insult burned at her, the anger and frustration build in her body at the thought that she was being made to marry Renly Baratheon. Margaery liked Renly well enough, however she did not want to be the Lady of Storm´s End.

It was her dream to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Marge had worked towards being that goal for her entire life and now all that hard work was being thrown away.

“Sulking will get you nowhere darling.” Olenna Tyrell said much softer than before and sent the younger woman a careful look. “You need to make the best of the situation.” The words only served to irritate Margaery even further.

The sting of failure cut at the young woman. Lady Olenna had trained her from the moment Margaery took her first steps to take up the role of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

All that effort on her grandmother’s part was wasted, years and years of helping Marge to achieve perfection, to play the role she had been born to do, for nothing.

“Make the best of the situation?” Marge said in a low disbelieving tone, trying her best to keep her voice from cracking with the disappointment and anger at the injustice. “I thought the plan was making me a Queen, not the wife of a Lord Paramount?”

When the news traveled to them, that Cersei Lannister had been imprisoned for adultery and incest, she had practically floated around Highgarden in her happiness that finally the title was in Marge´s grasp. 

Then the letter had arrived, one that made it clear that Marge was not the King´s first choice. Rather he wanted to marry Sansa Stark, the daughter of his old friend.

“I cannot believe that King Robert is picking a child over me.” Tearing her eyes from her grandmother to turn to look out the window, watching the city, feeling the dread build in her belly as the pungent stench assaulted her nose.

If Margaery could not be Queen, she would rather not leave Highgarden. It was her home and the most beautiful place in the Seven Kingdoms.

Olenna snorted crudely, making Margaery turn to stare at her with wide brown eyes. “I think he is being uncharacteristically smart, especially when one takes into account his blunder with the Northern lords.”

Marge opened and closed her mouth at her grandmother in surprise and horror. “What in the name of the Seven are you talking about? He could have children that had blood ties into the Reach, which happens to be the second richest Kingdom, after the Westerlands. Instead, he chose some child from that frozen wasteland in the North.”

Margaery knew that she was letting the anger and frustration getting the better of her, the North was quickly growing in power and riches and was quickly closing the gap between themselves and the Reach.

“Do not be a fool Margaery, it does not suit you.” Olenna gave her a hard stare. “If Robert had not asked for you to marry his brother, I would have wanted a betrothal between you and the Stark heir; since King Robert is insisting on marrying the Stark girl.”

“You would have me married to a Northern barbarian?”

“A rich Northern barbarian, who has ties to the Vale and if Brynden and Edmure Tully die without children, will inherit the Riverlands.” Her grandmother took a victorious bite of the fig in her hand and smiled smugly. “I suspect that Robert is more interested in entering the throne into that alliance rather than marrying some girl who cannot be older than thirteen, it is also likely some ploy to calm the Northern lords.”

Yes, she remembered her grandmother had been stunned at the King´s stupidity when he had denied Eddard Stark the funds of the Wall around five years ago, if she remembered correctly her grandmother had predicted that it would push the Northern lords into a rebellion against Robert.

However, nothing had happened.

“You also thought that they would rebel grandmother, yet they did not.” Margaery held back the smugness of her tone as she reminded Olenna Tyrell of the prediction that did not come true.

A rarity for her grandmother but still, it could happen.

“There is still time.”

The words made Marge frown. “If they were going to rebel, they have done so by now.”

“Not if they were waiting for the right moment.” The old woman countered, still nibbling on her fig.

“The right moment? King Robert denied them funds of the Wall after he did not honor them after either rebellion. I think that the moment has passed them by, after King Robert turned a blind eye to them not paying taxes and has offered Lord Stark´s daughter his hand in marriage.”

Her grandmother let out a shrill laugh. “Robert had no choice but to turn a blind eye to the Northern lords not paying taxes, if he had not, Lord Stark would not have another choice but to rebel. His lords could have turned against him if they thought he was siding with Robert and against them.”

Marge could see the reason in her grandmother´s words. According to everything she had heard, the Northern lords had always been unruly and hard to control, even with a strong and faithful warden of the North.

“And I doubt that Lord Stark would have wanted to side with Robert anyway.” Margaery frowned as her grandmother threw the fig on the rose stamped plate, while daintily using a rose embroidered handkerchief to wash away any fig juice on her lips before she continued.

“Furthermore, the North owes Robert little and less, so why on earth would they want anything to do with him? I am sure that the only reason they have not declared themselves free and independent nation is Eddard Stark´s and King Robert´s friendship.”

Margaery scowled at her grandmother’s words. “Robert avenged the killing of Brandon and Rickard Stark when he went to war to get Lyanna Stark back. They owe him for that.”

She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth as her grandmother send her a look that she usually reserved only for her son, Mace.

“Have you been listing to those damned singers again Margaery? I thought better of you.” Olenna´s words made her cheeks burn with humiliation, as she was the matriarch’s favorite, Marge was not used to being scolded by her grandmother.

Opening her mouth to defend herself, Margaery was silenced with one look from Lady Olenna. “It was Jon Arryn, not Robert Baratheon that raised his banners in rebellion first and that was because Aerys demanded Eddard Stark´s and King Robert´s heads. If anyone avenged Lord Rickard´s and his son´s death it was Jaime Lannister when he killed the Mad King.”

“Robert went to war to get lady Lyanna back.” She tried to argue.

“Do not be a fool Margaery, Robert Baratheon went to war to claim the Iron throne and to sooth his own wounded pride, I highly doubt that if they had managed to rescue Lyanna Stark that the man would have wanted her back as the girl was soiled goods by then.”

Margaery had enough of this conversation. “It does not matter; I should be Queen.” She had worked harder than anyone for the crown, she had worked with orphans and poor people from all over the Reach, made sure that they did not go hungry and that they were taken care of. She deserved to be Queen.

“Silly girl.” Her grandmother reached out and tucked a lock of her brown hair behind her ear. “You will be Queen and I believe sooner than you think.”

Marge frowned but said nothing, waiting for the older woman to explain herself. “Robert Baratheon is an old fat man, that is about to throw himself into a war with Tywin Lannister. I think we can all agree that his days are rather limited.”

“Then Stannis will become King.” Marge said rather sullenly, making Olenna Tyrell cackle.

“As I said, the Baratheon brothers will soon be entering into battle against Tywin Lannister and men die all the time in a war. Robert and Stannis will most likely both head off to the battlefield, leaving Renly at King´s Landing to rule the realms, as the gods know that the man is useless when it comes to battle. Leaving you ample time to get him to put a babe in your belly.”

Marge almost smiled at the thought of having the lords and ladies of Westeros declare her husband as King and her as his Queen but that fantasy was dashed when another thought entered her mind. “Grandmother, King Robert and lord Stannis are both capable military commanders, not to mention that the King is one of the greatest warriors of the age. I highly doubt that he will fall.”

Lady Olenna sniffed loudly before sending her an annoyed look. “Margaery, think. King Robert is an old drunk that has not fought a war since the Greyjoy Rebellion. The man has done nothing but drink, eat and whore himself into oblivion since then, how do you expect a man like that to survive against Tywin Lannister?”

Margaery wanted to ask the older woman if it was not just rumors but thought better of it. “I am not sure I want to put my destiny up to chance.”

Her grandmother looked at her for a moment, before nodding with approval. “Good.”

Silence fell over them, Margaery using the time to stare out the window to study the city she was to live in for the foreseeable future.

There was not as much squalor in the streets of King´s Landing as she had been led to believe. Marge had been told for years that the capital was on the very best of days a pit of filth, not even fit for pigs, but seeing it now, it was not as bad as she had imagined.

However, the stink still crawled into the wheelhouse, through the wood and every crevice that it could find.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marge could see her grandmother pull out a handkerchief and place it over her nose.

Despite the churning of her stomach, Marge did not do the same. It would not be a good first impression for the nobles at court and the people of the city to see her hiding her face at the smell.

No, they would see a smiling, lively young woman. A woman who charmed everyone she met; someone they would be proud to call Queen.

Lady Olenna Tyrell was right, despite that King Robert wanted to marry the Stark girl, it did not mean that Margaery would not wear the crown in the end. Whether she would be Robert´s Queen or Renly´s, in the end the title would be hers.

JON

Waking with a gasp, it took Jon a moment to realize that he was not running for his life in King´s Landing, with Drogon burning the city around him. Taking a few breaths to calm his racing heart, Jon forced his sweat covered body to move as the terror receded.

Despite realizing that he was safe in his bed, Jon was sure that he could taste ash and smell blood as the faint light from the dying embers in the hearth cast a hazy glow around the room.

Turning his head to the window, he observed stars that were still lingering in the darkness but he knew that dawn was still an hour or two away. Deciding that he would get no more sleep tonight, Jon slowly rose from the bed, every movement sluggish as he lumbered to the basin to wash away the cold sweat from the nightmare.

Jon glanced at the small looking glass that hung on the wall over the basin, almost recoiling when catching a glimpse of his appearance. His skin was almost grey, making his already dark eyes nearly black and the bags under them purple, like he had been awake for a week.

It made the healing cut that split his right eyebrow and traveled down his cheek even more noticeable than it had been before he went to bed.

Jon tore his eyes away from the image in the looking glass and splashed cold water on his face, hoping that he would feel better in a few hours, when they would be on their way south to Winterfell.

Jon tried focusing on the impending journey, however the dream clawed at his mind, demanding his attentions.

Work, he thought to himself. He should get dressed and head to the solar, to finish up the last of the letters that needed to be sent before leaving Queenscrown. Not only would it serve to distract him from the memories; it would also lessen the paperwork waiting for him at his return.

Hours later, when finishing a letter to a Braavosi trader, a small hand landed on his shoulder. Jumping at the touch, his head snapped to the person who had pulled him away from the letter.

Gilly was standing there, with a knowing look on her face. “You have to eat.” She pushed the letters on his desk and put a plate before him.

“Is it that time already?” Jon asked her, rubbing his forehead again, silently cursing himself for having forgotten to go down to the hall, so that he could break his fast with the others.

Gilly nodded at him. “Your uncle and Tormund Giantsbane wondered where you were, though I assured them that you likely only forgot to eat as you had a few letters to reply, before you leave again.” After a moment Gilly grinned, showing off her overbite as she added cheekily. “Milord.”

Jon snorted, glad that her confidence in herself was growing more with every day that passed.

Gilly placed her hand in the pocket of her dress and pulled out a bundle of letters. “These came for you this morning.”

Staring at the letters, he let out a sigh. Jon had hoped that he would have been able to leave Queenscrown without having one unanswered letter, although now he could see that it was unlikely to happen.

After quickly finishing the meal, Gilly grabbed the plate, leaving him to go through the letters.

He did not intend to answer most of them right now, only to see if any of them were of great importance and could not wait.

One by one, Jon started to set the letters to the side, until his eyes landed on a letter that had come from Winterfell. The handwriting was so recognizable to him, that he knew it at once.

His stomach leapt and his heart beat faster as he stared at the neat and flowing script. However, unlike every other letter that he had received from Sansa before, this one was only addressed to the Lord of Queenscrown, not Jon Snow.

Staring at it, his brows pulled together, wondering why she had addressed him by his title and not by the name he hid under as she had always done.

Slowly he turned the letter around, seeing the snarling direwolf on the back, as the possibilities tumbled around in his mind trying to figure out why she had suddenly referred to him by his title.

Breaking the seal, he began to read its contents.

Every word filled him with more dread than the next. By the time he finished, all he wanted to do was go back to his bedchamber and crawl under the covers; pretending that this day had not happened.

The neatly written words made him feel like someone was squeezing his heart and his throat threatened to close.

After having read the missive three more times, Jon placed it face down on the desk before rubbing his eyes, trying to force the feeling of exhaustion away but the attempt was in vain.

Giving up, Jon glanced at the glass decanter on the desk that was filled with Dragonwater, the desire to have a drink was hard to push down but not only was it too early, he needed to keep a clear head now that the time had come.

Jon closed his eyes again and concentrated, focusing on the familiar connections in his mind. With practiced ease, he connected with the three dragons, letting them know what he wanted of them.

Their excitement rushed through his bones, pushing away the dark feelings that had been clouding his mind. Now that he needed to take the Iron throne from Robert Baratheon, Jon would soon be seeing his family again. He would be reunited with Ghost again.

Happiness flooded him at the thought of seeing the faithful direwolf once more. While warging into Ghost from this distance soothed the ache he felt at not having the white direwolf by his side, it was not enough. Jon needed to see his trusted friend in person again.

Without meaning to, Jon found himself linking his mind to Ghost´s. Feeling the direwolf´s excitement, knowing that he would be coming home sooner than he thought, made Jon want to smile and laugh.

The honesty of dragons and direwolves was always something he admired and found endearing. They never pretended to be anything else than what they were.

A knock on the door broke through his thoughts, pulling Jon back completely to his own mind.

Called for the person to enter, Jon was not surprised to see Gilly poking her head into the room again. “Jon, your uncle and Tormund Giantsbane are here to see you.”

“Thank you, I will see them now.” Gilly nodded and allowed the two men into the solar. While Tormund swaggered in, Jon´s uncle looked as troubled as he had been ever since he had seen the Other.

Tormund planted himself in a chair in front of Jon´s desk with a large grin on his face. “Are you still hiding? The spearwives have all been wondering when they are going to see your pretty face.”

Jon fought to keep his face impassive, sending his now grinning uncle an irritated look. “I am not hiding. I have been trying to make sure that I do not have urgent unanswered letters before we leave.”

Tormund snorted and reached for the decanter and poured himself a glass of Dragonwater. “If you say so.”

Benjen coughed; his cheeks turned red with effort of keeping his laugh to himself. Jon was starting to regret that the two men had gotten to know each other, as they seemed to bond over their shared enjoyment of taking the piss out of him.

Even though the two men were japing at his expense, hearing them joke so easily made Jon feel a little better, knowing that Tormund would not be likely to change his behavior towards him even now that the Northern lords knew the truth.

Jon picked up the missive from Sansa and handed it to his uncle so that the man could read it. Tormund glanced at it, then at Jon and back again before realization washed over his face.

As Benjen continued to read, he looked more worried with every word. “They know.” He seemed stuck with surprise; his eyes still firmly locked on the letter in his hands.

“Who knows what?” Tormund was grinning from ear to ear. Thankfully he managed to hide his beaming from the black brother, who was too distracted to even notice the wide smile on large man´s face.

“They know that Jon is…” Jon watched as his uncle trailed off, looking uncertain.

“It is fine, Uncle Benjen. There is no harm in telling Tormund.” Jon had to bite the inside of his cheek when said man stared at Benjen with an excited look on his face. “It is probably for the best that he finds out now.”

Tormund was looking at Benjen, barely managing to hide the excited glint in his blue eyes while waiting for the man to tell him what was in the letter.  As Jon´s uncle explained to Tormund everything he already knew, the Freefolk leader seemed to fight hard not to show his excitement.

“So, this Raggar Taggaryan is your father?” Tormund asked, a feigned look of surprise made Jon want to roll his eyes and glance at his uncle, who was looking at the red head with suspicion.

“Rhaegar Targaryen.” Benjen corrected, blue-grey eyes studying the Freefolk leader.

Tormund waved him of. “So, this makes you the King of the Kneelers?”

Jon opened his mouth to respond but Benjen was quicker. “That makes him the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.” The First Ranger had a deep frown on his face for being called a kneeler.

“And this would make it possible for you to rally more warriors against the Others?”

“If we take the Iron throne and manage to get most of the lords on our side.” Jon rubbed his bearded cheek, grey eyes darting to where the sword Blackfyre had stayed hidden for years. “It will be hard to convince the lords of Westeros that the Others are returning without proof.”

“Aye, I would imagine.” Tormund nodded thoughtfully. “It is not something one wants to believe.”

“Lord Commander Mormont is probably already working on providing proof.” Uncle Benjen spoke confidently. “Jeor will not rest, with those…things out there and we will need all the help we can get.”

Then Jon felt the familiar scratching in his mind, letting him know that it was time for them to go.

Jon stood up and walked to the bookcase on the right side of the room, putting a halt to any conversation between the other two men. Reaching behind it, Jon grabbed the cloth covered sword.

Making his way back to the desk, Jon unwrapped the cloth from the black sheath that held the sword of Aegon the Conqueror. It was not until he had unveiled the hilt that Benjen seemed to recognize it. “Is that…?”

His mother´s brother stood up, blue-grey eyes firmly fixed on the blade, while Tormund looked a little confused, not understanding the significance of the bastard sword in Jon´s hands.

“Aye, it is Blackfyre.” Jon pulled the weapon out of its sheath to show the men it was really valyrian steel attached to the ink black hilt that was adorned with a ruby, the size of a hen´s egg and the two roaring dragons.

“It has been lost since…” Uncle Benjen breathed, hardly believing what he was seeing, making Jon smile faintly.

“Since the death of Bittersteel.” Jon finished, handing his uncle the blade so that the man could study it closer.

“How did you find it? Where was it?” His uncle hurriedly asked, eyes still on the sword.

“I have my ways.” Jon said with a half a smile on his face as Benjen turned his eyes on him.

“You have your ways?” The First Ranger did not sound like he believed him at all. “Countless number of people have been searching for this sword ever since it was lost, including princes and Kings and yet here it is, in your hands?”

The man stared at him with such intensity that Jon thought that he was trying to read his mind, thankfully, Tormund decided to speak up. “I don´t think that finding one sword is much trouble for him, not after having killed an Other singlehandedly.”

“Not really the same thing, now is it?” Benjen sent the other man an irritated look.

“Uncle, do not worry how I got it.” Jon tried to reassure his uncle.

The First Ranger stared at him, still holding the sword of the Targaryen Kings in his hand. “It is my job to worry about you, Jon. I will always worry about you, no matter how old you get or what titles you hold.”

They all stayed silent for a moment, Jon feeling his heart swell at the thought of how much his uncle cared.

His mother´s brother looked back at the sword in his hands. “I never thought that I would see this sword with my own eyes.” Benjen spoke quietly, his eyes drifting from the egg sized ruby to the steel that had been folded in on itself a thousand times and forged with Valyrian spells. “Your mother and I used to play pretend, that I was Aegon the Conqueror, while she was Lord Torren.”

“Torren and Aegon never fought.” Jon stated, wanting to hear more about his mother.

“Aye.” Benjen handed him back the bastard sword. “It did not matter to us; we were never attentive students of history.”

As his uncle spoke, Jon strapped Blackfyre to his hips, mirroring Darksister. He felt a sort of completion, having both ancestral swords of his father´s family, finally united, after such a long time apart. “We should head out; I think that it is time for us to leave for Winterfell.” Jon spoke, feeling excitement at the thought of seeing his family again and dread, at the thought of having to head to war.

“Aye, we should head to the stables, I am sure your people have everything ready for the journey south.” Benjen spoke as Jon finished attaching Blackfyre to his person.

“That will not be necessary.” Jon said, looking at his uncle´s bewildered face.

Benjen Stark opened and closed his mouth with a frown on his face. “What do you…?” He trailed off, seemingly realizing what Jon had planned.

As Jon lead the other two men out of the tower keep, he heard Tormund mumble lowly under his breath, a few words managed to reach Jon´s ears. Words like: Not again. He isn’t really? Do I have to…?

“Do not worry Tormund.” Jon smiled at his friend over his shoulder. “You will be perfectly safe.”

Tormund sent him a dark look as they made their way into the late morning sun. Jon ignored his red headed friend and called one of the guards to him.

As Jon was giving the man his orders, the guard stared at him with wide eyes, clearly not believing what he was hearing. The guard stood there, rooted to the ground but when Jon urged him to carry out the orders, he rushed away, but not without glancing at Jon over his shoulder, befuddled look on his face.

It took some time for all the guards to coordinate and make sure that the people around the settlement were warned not to take up arms, no matter how frightened they might be in the next few moments.

The warnings seemed to have piqued the curiosity of the people of Queenscrown, as it seemed that everyone was halting their work to come to where Jon and the others were standing to see what was going to happen.

His heart was beating hard in his chest as his palms started to sweat at the worry that filled him at the thought of how the people might react.

Jon´s hands moved from his sides to his belt, to the hilts of his swords. Standing still seemed almost impossible as his nerves seemed to burn with anticipation. However, the closer they came, the nervousness was overshadowed by the excitement he felt.

Staring at the sky to the West of the small town and feeling his muscles relax as they made their way closer, Jon could hear the people whisper amongst themselves, puzzled over what was happening.

Turning to the guards, he told them yet again to keep everyone calm and the people would see the truth of his words very soon.

Everyone stared at him, until every living soul heard it.

The deafening roar that came from the West, echoed off stones and water before the white and gold dragon appeared from the clouds.

Despite the warnings he had issued, people still started to panic. Jon rushed to order the guards to calm the people and assure them that they were in no danger. As the frightened guards hurried to do as he told them, Jon closed his eyes and concentrated.

Jon opened his eyes as the emerald-green dragon emerged with a shrieking roar, filled with what he knew was joy.

As the guards managed to calm the people, Jon could see everyone look to the sky with awe and fear on their faces.

“Good people of Queenscrown.” Jon called, getting the people´s attention despite the dragons flying in the sky. “They will not hurt you; I give you my word that they are not here to cause you any harm.” Him speaking directly to the inhabitants of the small town seemed to have quelled their fears a little but he knew that it would not take much for the terror to overtake them.

Another roar broke through, this one heralding the arrival of Algernon, the largest of the three.

Now seeing that the dragons were making no move to attack, many seemed to grow more courageous as they start to point to the sky.

Taking a deep breath, Jon started to make his way out of the gates of the town. It only took a few moments before the presence of his uncle and Tormund, rushing after him, was felt.

“Why are they not landing in the town?” Tormund asked, sending him a quizzical look.

“I did not want the people to panic, they are frightened enough as it is.” Jon countered, remembering how everyone in the North had looked at Rhaegal and Drogon with fear and hate in their eyes.

Making their way in silence out of the gates, Jon glanced back, he could see that people had started to edge their way out on the walls of the town.

No sooner than he had turned his head again, a voice called. “My lord.”

The three men all halted and turned, watching as Ser Allyn ran to them. “My lord, wait please.”

“Ser Allyn, what are you doing here?”

The knight reached them, his face pale and eyes wide. “My lord, I am sworn to protect you, from all harm. Even though…” He trailed off as his eyes wandered to the sky above, where the dragons were flying.

While this delay on his road to greet the dragons was making him irritated, Jon found himself smiling a bit at the man´s devotion to his mission to see him safe. Gesturing for Ser Allyn to follow them, Jon continued a bit further out from the gate.

Turning his attention from the men following him, Jon felt the anticipation rush through his veins, making him walk faster.

“Stay here.” Jon turned to the three men who had followed him out of the town. Only Tormund did not look like he wanted to protest.

“Jon-.”

“My lord-.”

“I will be fine.” Jon insisted. “They will not hurt me.” Benjen and Ser Allyn did not look like they believed him but the two men seemed to have realized that it was a lost cause.

Jon turned again and walked a little further away.

His heart soared as he glanced at the three dragons and after he had walked a short distance, they refused to wait any longer.

With a roar, Illyrion swooped downward. Jon smiled at the pale dragon´s eagerness that he felt as his own, along with the those of Earendil´s and Algernon´s.

As the white dragon landed, Jon found himself in awe of his sheer size. Even though Illyrion was still the smallest of the three and would likely always be, he was still larger now than Drogon had been at the time of the burning of King´s Landing.

Illyrion let out a soft cooing sound and shoved his gigantic nose towards Jon, begging for a rub. Letting out a laugh, Jon indulged the pale dragon, who´s golden eyes closed in enjoyment of the treat.

No sooner than Jon had started to pet the smallest of the dragons, another roar could be heard as Earendil descended from the sky´s. Gasps and whispers could be heard from the walls of the town as the emerald dragon landed and started to demand Jon´s attention for himself.

The even larger green nose bumped into Jon´s side, making a smile spread across his face. The two dragons stood shoulder to shoulder, ignoring everyone staring at them in favor of his attentions.

Then, Jon felt Algernon´s patience wearing thin as the largest of the three dived for the ground. The black dragon landed, causing the earth to shake. Making his way directly towards them, Algernon used his larger bulk to push the other two so that he could move in between them.

Earendil huffed in annoyance, letting black smoke out of his nostrils, while the pale dragon hissed angerly at the black dragon. However, Algernon ignored them, more interested in getting a nose rub the others had been reveling in.

The two smaller dragons quickly let go of their irritation at their bigger sibling and started to beg for rubs on the nose again. The happiness Jon could feel emanate off the three dragons made a memory pull itself to the forefront of his mind.

It was the memory of when he had first taken flight on a dragon´s back, or more accurately, only moments before he had gracelessly climbed on Rhaegal´s back. When Daenerys had told him that Rhaegal and Drogon did not like the North.

However, here Algernon, Earendil and Illyrion were happy, healthy and growing bigger every day, the three dragons were not suffering from whatever had been ailing Rhaegal and Drogon.

Over the last few years, it had been on his mind when he saw the dragons when he went on his midnight flights. Now, seeing them in the sunlight outside the walls of Queenscrown, his theory seemed truer than ever before.

Jon was now sure that Daenerys had been wrong and that Drogon and Rhaegal had not disliked the North, rather they were grieving the death of their sibling.

After spending years warging into the mind of the three dragons and spending every possible moment he could spare with them, he realized that dragons had rich social lives and needed to connect with others.

“Jon?” He turned to look at his uncle, who was staring at the three dragons with awe and a bit of fear in his eyes.

“It is alright.” Jon assured his uncle. “They will not hurt anyone.”

Benjen did not look comforted but started to inch forward where Jon was standing with the three dragons. Tormund, who had seen dragons before, did look a little green but he clearly was not as afraid as Benjen.

Perhaps the memories of having been forced to flee on Drogon´s back when running for their lives during that foolish expedition North of the Wall.

“They are much bigger than I thought.” Benjen breathed out, his eyes landing on one dragon only to fly to another rapidly. “I imagined that they were just large enough to ride, not…”

“My lord…” Ser Allyn´s eyes were on Jon, then they flew to the dragons and back to Jon again, the realization dawned on his face. “You are…? Are you the…?”

As the knight struggled to find his words, Benjen seemed to regain his composure and spoke. “My nephew is indeed the son of my sister, Lyanna Stark and her husband, prince Rhaegar Targaryen and the true King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

The older knight stared at Jon for a moment, before dropping down on one knee. “Your grace.”

It was at that moment, Jon noticed a group of people gathering outside the wooden gates, trying to get a better view of the dragons. However, now they were all staring at Ser Allyn, who was kneeling in front of Jon.

“Rise, my friend.” Jon took a few steps forward and helped the man back to his feet. “We have important matter to attend to. I am sorry that I did not tell you, only a few people knew the truth but now it is time to stop hiding.”

“You intend to take the throne.” Ser Allyn stated rather than asking, eyes determined. “I should go with you, your grace. To guard you and help to take back the throne of your ancestors.”

“Ser Allyn, I need you to stay here and lead the people while I am away.” Jon placed his hand on the other man´s shoulder. “Our people need someone to guard and guide them, someone they trust, just like we planned.”

Glancing back at the three dragons, Jon added. “And I need you to continue to tell people what you saw on the other side of the Wall, about the dead and how they can be killed with fire.”

The knight nodded slowly, looking torn between relief and disappointment. “I will do as you ask my King. Queenscrown will be waiting for your return.”

Jon thanked the man, knowing that the knight would make sure his people were safe while Jon was away at war and would make sure that everyone understood their need for dragons to fight against the dead.

With that, Jon turned to his uncle Benjen and his friend. “Are you ready to leave for Winterfell?” When seeing the grin on Jon´s face, the large man groaned, knowing that he would have to climb on the back of a dragon again.

Chapter Text

TYRION

The sudden stop caused Tyrion to slam his head against the hard wooden wall, making him see stars for the first time since he had been locked in his own personal hell. The pain flaring through his skull made him suck in a breath, which Tyrion dearly wished he had not done.

The smell made his eyes water and the foul stench that he had been cursed to live in for weeks now burned on his tongue. Nothing but darkness and the ever-worsening reek of himself was threating to drive him mad.

Only the occasional visit from Ser Barristan allowed Tyrion to cling to his sanity.

The knight would come and tell him how his niece and nephew were safe and doing well and tell him to stay strong until they reached their destination.

It was hard to believe that Barristan the Bold would suffer a man to be locked in a crate, no matter how dire the situation was. However, with Varys the spider whispering in the man´s ear, everything was made that much harder for Tyrion to predict.

In the five years Tyrion had spent in King´s Landing, he had never been able to figure out what the man was planning or what the eunuch wanted.

A knock on the crate made Tyrion jump as the familiar voice of the fabled knight carried to him. “Lord Tyrion, please move to the other side. I am going to let you out.”

Almost as soon as Tyrion had made it away from where the knight´s voice came from, something slammed into the top of the crate, forcing it apart as the nails holding it together shrieked in protest.

Crawling out into the light, a small voice cried out and he could feel someone small kneel beside him. “Uncle Tyrion, are you alright?”

“Yes, I am fine, sweetling.” His voice raspy with disuse as the pain in his body after weeks in the cursed crate wracked through him. However, despite the agony Tyrion smiled at his niece.  “I will be as right as rain in a few moments.” Or when I finally get some good wine in my belly.

Myrcella´s small hands gripped his arms in a tightly before throwing her arms around him, tactfully ignoring the stench that clung to Tyrion.

Hugging his niece close to him, Tyrion´s mismatched eyes looked over her shoulder, searching for little Tommen. Tyrion spotted the boy quickly, standing by Ser Barristan´s legs while clutching his little kitten close to his chest. The boy´s large emerald eyes looked teary and he looked like he had lost a lot of his roundness that he had spotted ever since Tyrion had known him.

Pulling out of the hug, Tyrion held Myrcella at arm´s length. Thankful that the light was rather dim in the building they were in as his eyes were used to the darkness of his prison, Tyrion could see that someone had cut Myrcella´s lovely golden curls short and dyed them dull, muddy brown.

“Are the two of you well?” A frown made its way to Tyrion´s face, seeing how pale and tried both children looked.

Tommen stayed silent, hiding his face in the kitten´s fur, leaving his older sister to answer. “Do not worry about us uncle, lord Varys and Ser Barristan have done their best by us.” The way she spoke and carried herself reminded Tyrion so much of Jaime, before Aerys Targaryen had placed the white cloak on his shoulders, causing a sharp pain in his chest, not knowing what had become of his brother.

Either he had died fighting in King´s Landing or he had managed to escape the capital. Ser Jaime Lannister would not go down without a fight.

Taking his eyes of the children, Tyrion allowed himself a quick look around, noticing the high ceilings of the building and few windows that allowed the orange rays of the sun to enter. However, his few was blocked by high walls of even more crates, many of which were branded with the familiar sigil of house Stark, snarling ferociously.

A sneaking suspicion entered his heart as he directed his words to the two men in the room. “Where are we?”

“We are in White Harbor, lord Tyrion.” Ser Barristan answered calmly, standing tall and Tyrion thought he could see a glint of excitement in his blue eyes.

“What?” Staring at the tall man, hoping that he had misheard the man, but when the Kingsguard only repeated that they were indeed in the largest city of the North, Tyrion had to steady himself on that hated crate.

“Why in the seven hells are we in the North?” He bellowed, his fury rising in his gut. “I thought that you were taking us somewhere safe?”

“Right now, the North is the safest place for us to be.” Varys tittered as he handed Tyrion new clothing to change into to replace the formerly red and golden clothing he had been wearing when they had left the capital. “And do keep your voice down, we do not want to alert the guards to our presence.”

Taking the clothing, hardly realizing what he was doing, Tyrion made his way behind the crate so that he could change in relative privacy. Thoughts fluttered around in his mind at such speed that he could barely finish one before another had pushed its way to the forefront.

“How on earth is the North the safest place for us to be?” He asked the spy master as he took off his jerkin. “I think that I will be rather noticeable here in the North, as the only dwarf for miles around and with my unique looks.”

While Myrcella and Tommen could pass for Northerners with their dyed hair, Tyrion was harder to explain.

“I do not think that many will think to look for us here, my lord.” Varys said with a smile that made Tyrion think that the Spider knew something that he did not.

The more Tyrion thought about it, he could see the truth in his words. He doubted that anyone would think that they had gone North, when these lands were ruled by Robert´s best and dearest friend, Lord Eddard Stark.

“And where will we go now? Somewhere into the wilderness and hope and pray for my father to win against all odds so that we may return to the capital?” Tyrion growled out, as he laced up his new plain woolen pants.

“No, of course not.” Varys said with an even wider smile on his face. “We are going to Winterfell.”

The eunuch´s words made Tyrion stop what he was doing and stare at the man.

“Have you lost your mind?”

The eunuch only stared at him with a simpering smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. “No, I have not lost my mind but seeking refuge with lord Stark is the best option for us all.”

Tyrion continued to stare at the man before him with his fingers still tangled in the laces of the breeches. “How in the world is seeking refuge with Robert Baratheon´s best friend a good idea?”

Tyrion knew well that the friendship between Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark were not as smooth as it had been but the lord of Winterfell´s honor and loyalty was renowned throughout all of Westeros.

He was sure that if they showed up at lord Eddard Stark´s doorstep, the man was honor bound to keep true to his vows of fealty to his friend and King.

“Come now my lord.” Varys said calmly. “You of all people know the stories of how Eddard Stark was angered when your father presented the bodies of Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen before Robert Baratheon. You know that if Lyanna Stark had not been killed, they might never have reconciled.”

Tyrion frowned at the Essosi man before him. While everything the man was saying was true and very much public knowledge, there was like something was scratching at his mind, like Varys´s wording was somehow peculiar and deliberate.

“And you truly think that Eddard Stark will not hand us all to Robert?” Tyrion asked as he continued to dress himself in the scratchy woolen clothing that he had been given.

“Yes, I am sure that he will not harm us nor give us to Robert Baratheon.” There it was again, the scratching in his brain, however he chose to ignore it. For now.

“Lord Tyrion,” Ser Barristan spoke up. “Lord Varys and I are in the same boat now as you, if Robert Baratheon catches any of us, our lives are forfeit; and you have my word that I will not allow any harm come to young Myrcella and Tommen while I still draw breath.”

Tyrion´s eyebrows rose high on his forehead in astonishment. Then the surprise diminished. Of course, they would be hunted by Robert as well as they were now here in the North and not in King´s Landing serving Robert, instead they were helping Myrcella, Tommen and Tyrion himself to hide from the King´s wrath.

The King would most likely not take kindly to his master of Whispers and the lord commander of his Kingsguard taking the children of Cersei and Jaime without his leave and trying to keep them safe from his fury.

When Tyrion finished dressing, Varys gestured for them to follow him to a table in the corner of the warehouse that was miraculously empty of any workers.

“Where are all the workers?” Tyrion asked the master of Whispers as he took a seat by the table, in between little Tommen and sweet Myrcella.

The spider smiled softly at him. “Oh, the warehouse master and his men are taking a long lunch break today, I believe someone is getting married or just had a child.”

Tyrion was sure that the man before him knew exactly why the warehouse was empty and the very reason they had it now, all for themselves.

“So, how are we going to get to Winterfell? Fly?” Tyrion asked in a snide tone while running his eyes over the table hoping to spot a bottle of wine; only to be disappointed.

Feeling a small but sharp elbow in his side at his words, he looked to where Myrcella was staring at her with her wide green eyes. “Uncle Tyrion, please lord Varys is only trying to help us.”

While the little girl before him looked just like his sister, the way she behaved could not have been more different and Tyrion was happy that she had inherited Jaime´s better nature.

Not many people knew how kind and gentle Jaime could be, they only saw the Kingslayer because it was what they wanted to see.

Tyrion was not sure that the honorable Eddard Stark would be happy to open his home to the dwarf brother and the bastard children of Jaime Lannister that had been born of incest.

Lord Stark´s dislike of Tyrion´s brother was famous throughout the whole of Westeros. Tyrion also knew that the fact that Lord Eddard had judged Jaime guilty immediately when he saw him, irked the golden lion of Lannister like a rash that just would not go away.

Tyrion glanced at little Tommen, who was silently hugging his little kitten close, staring at him as well but with much less displeasure and more uncertainty.

Though as much as Tyrion was certain that Eddard Stark disliked Jaime and house Lannister, he was sure that the man would never deliver innocent children, bastards born of incest or not, to King Robert to be killed.

Glancing back to the two children, the thought of waiting for the right moment and whisking them away to try and make it to the Westerlands on their own entered his mind, only to be pushed aside quickly. Tyrion doubted that he could lead them all the way from White Harbor to the eastern most holds sworn to his father, much less Casterly Rock. Likely they would never even make it past the Neck.

A soft knock that tapped out a playful rhythm could be heard not far away, causing Varys to stand up without a word and glide away. Watching the spy master go towards the noise, Tyrion used the opportunity to speak to the knight.

“What has been happening while I was stuck in that hateful box?” The older man looked uncomfortable under his mismatched gaze but kept himself as tall and proud as if he was draped in the pure white of the Kingsguard instead of the dull grey and brown leathers and wool that would have been at home on a common sellsword.

“War is now a certainty between Robert and your father.” The man´s blue eyes flicked to the children. “But we should talk about it later.”

He wanted to keep pressuring the man to answer his questions but glancing at little Tommen made him hold his tongue. The young boy seemed on the brink of tears as he clung to his kitten and leaned against the knight.

“How are we getting to Winterfell?”

“Lord Varys has arranged a wagon for us, and we will be leaving as soon as it is ready.” The knight put his arm around the frightened boy. “If we are lucky, we will be there in two weeks’ time.”

“Everything is ready, it is time to leave.” Tyrion jumped at hearing the Spider´s voice. The man was standing there holding cloaks in his arms that he handed out and ordered for them to put their hoods up.

Tyrion slid of the chair, his legs paining him as he followed the others to the doors. Having been locked in a small box for weeks had racked havoc on his body, cementing the belief in his mind that he would not be making his way to the West on his own, with two children to protect.

Despite the pain, Tyrion was glad to be walking. However as soon as they made it outside, he had to shield his eyes from the sun. Even the evening sun´s rays were too harsh on his eyes after weeks in the box, when he did not have the shadows of the warehouse to hide in.

Walking through the streets of White Harbor, Tyrion was struck by the noise and hassle of the city. Despite knowing that it was the largest Northern city, he had always imagined it much smaller than it really was.

As his eyes slowly got used to the light, he noticed that a lot of the buildings looked new and even if the streets were filled with people rushing around, they looked clean and the air smelled of the sea rather than the shit and filth of the capital.

However, it was far colder, causing Tyrion to tug the cloak tighter around him to keep the chilly air away from his pained body as the desire for a jug of wine grew stronger.

At this moment he would have given his right arm for a drop of Arbor gold, Dornish red or even Dragonwater. Perhaps now that he was in the North, it would be easier for him to get his hands on a barrel of it.

There was little time to ponder more on the desired liquid as he had to rush to keep up with the other four. As much as he wanted to indulge in his vices, Tyrion had no intention of letting his niece and nephew out of his sight.

Varys led them to a large inn, where an older man was standing by a wagon filled with barrels, that two large draft horses had been hitched too. The Spider handed the man a bag that sounded like it was filled with coin, which the seller accepted and fled, almost knocking Tyrion to the ground in his hurry to get away.

Wordlessly the bald man gestured for them to climb on to the wagon and when Tyrion had settled beside Myrcella and Tommen amongst the containers, he noticed the smell that lingered in the air around them.

The stench of fish was sure to latch itself on to his clothing and body before they had even left the city. However, the smell of fish was preferable to the stench that was even now still clinging to him after a change of clothing. What he would not do for a bath and a mug of wine at this very moment.

As soon as Varys and Ser Barristan had sat down, the spy master grabbed the reins and urged the horses to walk.

Rubbing his aching legs, Tyrion glanced up at the buildings all around him. Despite all the mermen of house Manderly decorating what he was sure was every available space, the ruling house of White Harbor still made sure that the white and grey banner of their liege lord was proudly displayed.

Looking at the snarling grey direwolf of house Stark, Tyrion wondered if they would be shown the same hostility as their sigil seemed to be displaying as it flew over the city of house Manderly.

JON ARRYN

With a heavy heart the lord of the Vale watched his little girl and wife make the long and dangerous climb to the Eyre. Listening to Alys´s cries from her septa´s arms as the mules carried them to Stone, cut through him like hot daggers and turning away was the hardest thing he had ever done in his long and eventful life.

“My lord, they will be safe up there. The Eyrie has never been taken by force.” Bronze Yohn gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“I know but it is still hard to say goodbye.” They made their way back to the castle as guards in sky blue cloaks followed them like pale shadows.

In his heart, he knew that this was for the best. Alys, Lysa and their unborn child would be safer in the Eyrie than anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms.

No armies had ever managed to take the seat of house Arryn and unless someone managed to hatch dragons and ride them to the top, it would remain unconquered.

As they made their way to the gates of the Moon, Jon could still hear the faint cries of his daughter, his old and weathered heart clenching at the sound. Focusing his attention on the castle before his eyes, Jon tried to block out Alys´s weeping by reminding himself that he needed all his strength and patience for what lay ahead.

He dreaded having to meet the lords, to see if any of them had been swept away by Harry Hardyng and his charms.

Jon had met the lad twice before, once when Lady Anya had brought him with her to the capital and when he had stopped on the way back from the North five years ago. Jon had not been impressed by Ser Harry then but now Jon could feel such hatred for the lord of house Hardyng that it was like his blood was on fire.

Yohn had told him more about Harry Hardyng on their journey. According to the lord of Runestone, the young knight was looking more like Jon himself with every passing day when the lord of the Eyre had been a young man and that Ser Harry was skilled with a sword and lance.

Yohn had also told him that this was where any similarities between them ended.

It seemed that even though the young man looked like Jon when he had been a strapping youth, lord Harry had a lot more in common with Robert than he ever did with his maternal uncle.

“You will not have to be separated from your wife and daughter for long, Jon. We will put this thing with Hardyng to bed and when the war with Lord Tywin has been won, you will be reunited with your family.” Yohn tried to assure him but Jon could hear that there was doubt in the other man´s eyes.

If there was one of his lords, he knew that could be absolutely trusted with anything, it was Bronze Yohn Royce. “I may not live long enough to see the end of the war.”

This was the first time he had said these words out loud; he was so afraid that he would die and leave Alys, Lysa and their unborn babe alone in this world.

The Lord of Runestone frowned. “Yes, I suppose that is always a possibility but I think that all the lords of the Vale would be not only understanding if you lead from the back, I think that they would prefer it.”

Jon snorted at the suggestion. “And give Hardyng more reason to call me weak?”

“Jon, you have shown yourself to be a capable warrior not only in the rebellion but also in the war of the Five Penny Kings. No one can say that you have not been anything but a great lord and an even better friend.” Despite the other man trying to reassure him, Jon was having a hard time believing those words.

In his youth, Jon had been a warrior but those days had long since passed. Jon had not even entered the training yard for twenty years and he was sure that if he picked up a sword now, he would be easily bested by anyone who was in the least bit competent with a blade in their hands.

“If the lords are calling me weak, then I have to prove them wrong, you know that I cannot do that if I am hiding behind them like a child.”

Jon knew that if the lords were to respect Alys´s right to inherit his lordship if Lysa lost their child nor it was born a girl, then they would have to respect him and his wishes.

“Lord Tywin leads from the back and no one calls him weak. So, why should you be called weak for doing the same.”

“Maybe they should.” Jon did not realize he had said those words until it was too late.

“What do you mean?” The man asked him but Jon only shook his head.

“It does not matter.” Jon was not an admirer of the Lord of Casterly Rock and his deeds, he could still remember the look on Tywin´s and Robert´s faces when the children of Rhaegar Targaryen had been brought forth and shown to the new King.

The horror he had felt when Robert called the innocent babes dragonspawn and how the man did not seem to care at all that they had been murdered in cold blood, was carved into his mind.

As was the day when he had learned what Tywin Lannister had drowned all the inhabitants of the castle in the mines where they had sought refuge.

Even though the man had committed such atrocities, no King, not Jaehaerys the second, Aerys the Mad nor Robert had sought to punish the man for brutally murdering the women and children who had no part in Lord Reyne´s treason against Lord Tytos. Mad King Aerys had even named Tywin hand of the King a year after he had ended both house Reyne and house Tarbeck.

And Jon himself had urged Robert to take the man´s daughter as his new wife and Queen. Oh, how the shame burned at him.

At the time it had been a good political match, the new King marrying the daughter of the richest man in Westeros but how much of a man´s honor and sense of justice could be sacrificed for the sake of politics?

Now when he thought about the terrors that Tywin Lannister had wrought, he could see sweet, innocent, little Alys among the dead children.

He turned to look at his friend again. “I have to make sure that the lords of the Vale are behind me when I ride for war.” It filled him with sorrow that he would likely be spending his last years fighting another war when all he wanted to do was to stay here in the Vale.

If he lived through this war, then he would resign as hand of the King and spend the rest of his life in the Vale with his wife and daughter and hopefully his and Lysa´s unborn child.

Jon knew that Robert would be furious if he resigned his office but he knew that the man would get over it; eventually.

Robert might claim that he had to stay on as hand of the King and help him rule the Seven Kingdoms but Jon could not do anything to help him if the man did not listen.

They walked in silence to the gates of the Moon, despite the uncertainty he felt at the situation regarding the lords of the Vale, Jon felt better meeting them in his own castle, surrounded by the faithful Arryn guards.

Jon and Yohn met the castellan at the entrance that led to the winding path to the Eyre. “All the lords have assembled in the hall my lord; will you be needing to change attire and take a bath?”

While new clothing and a bath was something he greatly desired, he did not want to make the lords wait for too long. “No, have the lords been given bread and salt as ordered?”

“Yes, my Lord.” The castellan led them into the castle and Jon fell once again in step with Yohn. “I am glad that your brother and his daughter are with Lysa and Alys, I am sure that Lord Nestor will keep them safe.”

“It is quite an honor to be trusted with such an important task, I am sure that he will do everything in his power to keep them safe, for as long as needed.” Yohn smiled at him, with pride shining in his eyes.

“Yes, I am sure that he will prove equal to this task just like any other I have asked of him.” Lord Nestor was a capable man and had served him well for a long time. “I will have to reward him for his services soon.”

When they entered the hall, everyone fell silent.

He could see banners from every corner of the Vale but his eyes immediately sought out the man who was responsible for his ire, Lord Harry Hardyng. The young man was sitting beside Ser Lyn Corbrey, who was smirking at something that the younger man was saying while he sent his older brother, the Lord of Heart´s Home a satisfied look.

It did not surprise Jon that the young Lord was friends with Ser Lyn, both men likely bonding over the fact that they were waiting for their kin to die so that they claim their Lordships.

Jon took his seat at the head table, wanting to get this over and done with.

“My lords, thank you all for coming.” He looked over the hall, trying his hardest not to stare angerly at Harry Hardyng. “I know that the travel must have been uncomfortable and most of us would like to be at home with our families.”

A few chuckles could be heard but many of the lords remained stone-faced, glaring at one another as if trying to determine which of the lords favored Hardyng and who was loyal to the lord of the Vale.

Now sitting there in front of the lords, Jon had to wonder which ones could be trusted and who were backing young Harry. His blue eyes turned to lady Anya Waynwood, who was sitting stiffed back and stern faced. The lady of Waynwood had been his friend for many long years but would it be enough for her to stand against her nephew, the young man she had raised?

“I know that many of us have our disagreements but I think that we can all agree that Lord Tywin cannot be allowed to ravage the Seven Kingdoms in an attempt to seize the Iron throne.” Lords like Yohn Royce, Horton Redfort and Arlyn Ruthermont were nodding at his words but the tension in the air seemed to grow even more.

“Yet another war for King Robert Baratheon.” Old lord Dutton spoke, his gnarly hands gripping the handle of his walking stick. “It seems strange to me that there have been more wars in his reign than in the years that the mad King Aerys sat on the Iron throne.”

It was like a huge bolder had been dropped into his belly at the older man´s words.

“The mad King burned people alive for his own amusement.” Lady Anya looked offended at the very mention of the last Targaryen King, much to Jon´s relief. “I do not think that the two are comparable.”

“Perhaps.” Lord Dutton leaned forward, his grey eyes on the dignified woman. “Perhaps not but you cannot deny that I am right.”

Straight-backed and proud, Anya Waynwood did not back down. “Be that as it may, I hardly think that King Robert can be blamed for the Greyjoy rebellion and it was his duty to put it down, nor is it his fault that Jaime and Cersei Lannister were having indecent relations.”

“Can he not be blamed?” Ser Lyn Corbrey snorted with a grin on his handsome face. “I say that it is his fault. The man could not even keep his wife in line, how can he manage the Seven Kingdoms?”

Jon felt the blood drain from his face as the tensions rose in the hall. He knew that many of the lords were angry at him for not having sent Lysa to the silent sisters and taken a new proper wife, preferably one of their own daughters. However, he had never thought that anyone had the gall to insult him to his face; in his own hall none the less.

“We are not here to discuss the differences between King Robert and Aerys Targaryen.” Casting his shock at the young knight´s brazen insults aside, for now; the lord of the Eyre tried to steer the conversation back to where he wanted. “What we need to do is get ready for war against lord Tywin.”

“Why?” Lord Alesandor Torrent spoke in his loud tone, his thin frame turning to look at the lords gathered in the room. “Why should we ride to fight another of Robert Baratheon´s wars?” A few agreements were heard around the hall as Jon looked at Lord Sunderland, the man´s liege lord.

Despite having spent years on the King´s small council, Jon could not force the frown from his face at the man´s non reaction at his vassal´s words.

“That is treason.” Lord Belmore gasped as his reddish grey beard shook with the force of his words. “You would go against the lord of the Seven Kingdoms?”

“Why ever not?” Lord Torrent leapt to his feet, staring intently at the large lord who had spoken. “From what I hear, lords of the North are staying in the North, not rushing to aid house Baratheon. So, why should we?”

The thin man turned to look at the lords; his thick lips pulled in a furious expression. “We are closer to the Northerners than we have ever been to the Stormlords, so we should follow their example and stay out of this war. We have enough trouble with the Mountain Clans as it is, we do not need to-.”

“Enough.” With a sharp pain in his hips, Jon rose fast to his feet and slammed his fist on the table in anger, causing the lords to look at him in surprise. “Lord Belmore has the right of it, your words are that of treason.”

Alesandor Torrent´s face turned red, with anger or shame, Jon did not know and the lord of the Eyre knew better than to give the man a chance to speak. “If King Robert was here to hear them, he would have had you executed.”

Letting the words linger on everyone´s mind for a moment, Jon continued as he sat back down, his hips burning and his hands shaking with anger. “I shall hear no more of this, we are the men of the Vale and shall conduct ourselves with honor and defend the throne against Lord Tywin as we have sworn to do.”

Watching as lord Torrent sneered as he sat back down, Jon felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him. The longing to have gone with his wife and child to the Eyre was growing stronger by the moment.

Perhaps the lords were right and he was getting too old to govern the Vale.

No, he was not too old. Steeling himself, the Warden of the East started to lay out his plans for the knights of the Vale to rally at the Bloody Gates and from there they would go to Riverrun, where they would meet the army of the Riverlords. 

Hours later, when it had turned dark outside the walls of the castle, he finally ended the meeting and was met with grumbles and halfhearted nods as the lords rose to leave the hall.

Leaving the great hall and making his way to the darkened hall, Jon felt the weariness creep into his old bones. The lords had been too skittish for his liking, never in his life had he seen them like this; not even when he had ordered them to ride against Aerys Targaryen had they been so unnerved, when even some had rebelled against him in favor of the Mad King.

Jon made his way to the lord´s bedchamber, leaving the sword Lysa had given him by the door and sat down on his warm and comfortable bed. Candles around the room had been lit, bathing it in an orange glow that made it look almost foreboding as his thoughts.

Staring at his hands in the low light of the candles, Jon felt like he was on a rowboat on the Narrow Sea during an autumn storm with no land in sight. These hands had not wielded a sword since the Rebellion against the Mad King and even then, it had mostly been for show.

He was no longer the warrior that he used to be.

Letting out a sigh, he kicked off his boots and laid down on the soft bed, hoping that he would at least get some sleep before they had to leave for the Bloody Gate.

The noise startled him, forcing his blue eyes wide open but he could see nothing. But that could not be, Jon had only just closed his eyes and he had not blown out the candles.

Jon did not have time to reach for the boots on the floor when a young man, clad in fine doublet with five broken lances on a yellow field on his breast burst into his bedchamber.

The young man did not give Jon a chance to speak. “My lord, you much make the climb up the Eyre.”

“Make the climb…? Are you mad? It has turned dark; it would be too dangerous to try and leave for the Eyre now.”

“My lord it is suicide for you to stay here.” The young man said, his eyes wild. It took Jon a moment to recognize the heir of lord Wydman; Ser Aerion Wydman, who had served as Lyn Corbrey´s squire in the Rebellion.

“What in the name-.”

“They mean to kill you, my lord.” Ser Aerion spoke, his face pale and his voice shaking.  “We must get you to safety.”

Rising from his bed, Jon grabbed his boots. “Who means to kill me? What on earth is happening?” The young knight looked around the bedchamber as Jon pulled on his boots.

Ser Aerion grabbed the sword Jon had taken of his person what he felt like was only a few moments ago and held it out for the older man.

Taking the sword from Ser Aerion´s hand, Jon hurriedly strapped it around his hips but before he had even finished attaching it, the young knight grabbed his arm and started to drag him out of the bedchamber.

Outside the bedchamber, a few Arryn guards were waiting for them with blood on their pale blue and white armor.

“This way, my lord.” The young heir to house Wydman dragged Jon forward by the arm, heading to the gate that led to Stone. Normally Jon would never consent to being dragged around by one of his vassals or their heirs like an errant child however, the confusion and the noise only seemed to enhance the need to follow the young man.

Rushing through the dimly lit corridors, they ran into a few guards wearing the soaring falcon on their breast and lord Yohn, all the men were covered in blood and dirt and their wide eyes were flooded with relief when they spotted him.

“Jon, we have to go, now, they have breached the gate.” Yohn walked forward, his determination bleeding into his steps and posture. “Is there a secret passage out of the castle we can use?”

“Yes, there is. One that leads into the mountains.” Jon said, his words as faint as a whisper. “But what about Alys and Lysa? Who is attacking? Have the waycastles been warned?”

Yohn grabbed his shoulder and stared into his eyes. “The waycastles have been warned, I have sent ravens and riders up to warn them, now you need to lead us to the passage into the mountains if we are to escape, they cannot catch you.”

Jon nodded and forced his pained body to rush forward with the others following in his steps. The lord of the Vale had never used the passage before, he had only seen it when his father had shown him the escape route when he had been a child, yet the way was clear in his mind, the fear of having to ever use them always been in the back of his mind.

“Who are attacking?” Jon asked as they rushed through the castle. “It cannot be the Mountain -Clans.”

The thought of the Mountain Clans managing to breach the castle was absurd but the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, anyone else having the nerve to attack Gates of the Moon was unthinkable.

“It was Harry Hardyng and his dogs.” Lord Yohn spat out, the righteous fury plain on his face.

Jon had known that Ser Harry wanted to become the lord of the Vale but to attack the Gates of the Moon when he had been offered guest rights was something that Jon had never imagined him capable of doing.

“But Ser Harry ate the salt and bread, even a man as ambitious as he would not dare after accepting guest rights.”

Yohn snorted as they entered the cellars. “The boy and his supporters made a show of leaving the castle after you left the hall. I suspect that they left some of their own men behind so that they could be let back in so no one could accuse them of dishonoring guest rights.”

“That will never work, lord.” Ser Aerion growled, anger shining brightly in his eyes. “It is a low trick that every lord in the Vale will see through.”

They arrived at door to the deep cellars, where large barrels the size of three large men standing on each other’s shoulders were kept.

Jon led the men to the end of the row on the right, where he pulled at tap and twisted it, revealing the front of the barrel to be a door. As they entered, Jon made his way to the wall on the left and grabbed an unlit torch that had hung there for an unknown number of years.

One of the guards stepped forward and lit the torch in Jon´s hand as he turned to the last men entering the dark tunnels. “Close the door behind you, with luck they may not figure out how we escaped.”

They walked in silence as the torches created dancing shadows on the walls that almost seemed to mock Jon for his flight out of his own castle.

“I am sorry Jon.” Came the rumbling voice of Yohn Royce. “I should have known that Hardyng was planning something like this.”

“How could you have known?” Jon countered, turning slightly to look at his long-time friend. “You could never have guessed that the boy would have taken such drastic measures to usurp me and my heirs.”

“Still, I should have-.”

“No, Yohn.” Jon interrupted, turning to look the man in the eye. “You could not have known what the boy was planning, unless of course you have gained the ability to know what other people think. I owe you my life, you and the others here risked your lives for house Arryn and I will never forget it.”

Sending lord Royce a small smile, hoping to reassure him that he was not to blame, Jon turned again and continued to walked into the darkness.

Chapter Text

ARYA

The boredom was killing her, of that Arya Stark was sure. Watching as the other young ladies of the North listened to lady Wynafred Manderly tell them about her visit to Braavos, made Arya want nothing more than to be with her brothers, who had at least been allowed to have fun.

Instead, Arya had been forced into the large lofty solar along with the others and made to listen to lady Wynafred report on how lovely and enchanting the ball the Sealord had held in lord Wylis´ honour while staying there.

Who cared about balls and dances? They were all stupid and pointless anyway.

Sneaking a look towards Sansa, who was sitting beside her, Arya wanted nothing more than to interrogate her more about Jon´s dragons.

Just the thought of dragons being back in the world made Arya shake of the lethargy and start fidgeting on her chair in anticipation.

Trying to hide the excitement from the other inhabitants of the room, Arya steadied her hand in Nymeria´s fur as her direwolf sat beside her, looking as bored as Arya had been only moments before, while her other hand clenched the fabric she had been using for practice and the hated dress she was forced to wear.

Would Jon take her flying with him?

As lady Wynafred Manderly blathered on about the ball she had attended at the Sealord´s palace, Arya tried to imagine what it would be like to fly on a back of a dragon. Every time she imagined it, Arya wondered if it would be akin to going horseback riding but with a much better view.

But it could not be like that, could it? Horses and dragons were nothing alike so it had to be different. Right?

They must be too big to be anything like horses by now. Sansa had told her that they had been the size of destriers when they had left for Queenscrown, so by they must be enormous.

After the announcement of Jon having hatched three dragon eggs five years ago to the lords of the North, Arya and Jorelle had rushed to the library to try and find out anything they could about the Targaryen dragons, to figure out how big they would be when they arrived with Jon.

Yet no matter how much time they spent in the library, they did not get a clear answer to their questions. Not with what Sansa had told them.

Sansa had told Arya that they had been six months old when they had been the size of war horses and according to the texts, that should be impossible.

Which meant that Jon´s dragons were growing much faster than the dragons of the Targaryen´s of old. Leaving the texts almost useless to her.

A small sigh escaped her mouth, she would have to wait until Jon came back home to find out. Feeling a hand on her knee, Arya looked at her sister, who sent her a small smile of assurance and Arya realized that her leg was bouncing as it always did when excitement was taking hold of her.

“Sorry.” Arya whispered to her sister, who only grinned back at her.

“Do not worry.” Sansa leaned a little closer and spoke quietly, bright red hair laying over her shoulder in a Northern braid. “Jon will be here soon.”

“But when?” Arya asked as Lady let out a yawn at Sansa´s feet and laid her large grey head on Ghost´s back. The white wolf did not even bother moving, rather seemed content to lay there on his side, his red eyes half closed as the light from the tall windows streamed into the room.

“I don’t know but Jon will arrive before you know it.”

As her sister took her hand of her knee and started to work on the shirt in her lap again, Arya leaned back in her chair and groaned. “That is not soon enough.”

How much longer much she wait until her brother arrived in Winterfell? Arya remembered when her brother had left for his own lordly seat and had promised to write to her and that she would be sick of him within a half a year.

While he had kept his promise to write to her, she was a long way off from being sick of him. No if anything, she needed his letters to her. Jon always replied quickly as if the letters from her were as important to him as any of the high lords and ladies of the North.

He was always there for her, even when he was leagues away. Ready with advice, an insight for her lessons or just to read about her day.

Which made it all the more harder for her as the details of his face were slowly slipping from her memory. Oh, she knew that Jon shared her Stark features and that he looked like thei…her father and yet the more she tried to remember the details, they seemed further away from her than before.

Sighing, Arya picked up the piece of fabric in her lap and continued to repeat the same stitch over and over again as neatly as she could. Irritation reared its ugly head as Arya was forced to redo at least ten stitches when Sansa quietly pointed out how they were wrong.

“What are you working on, lady Arya.” Lady Eddara Karstark spoke up, her light grey eyes meeting Arya´s. 

The anger of having to redo her work made Arya want to hiss out that it was none of her business yet she managed to keep her temper in check. She was almost a woman grown and no matter how much she wanted to, Arya could not be purposely rude to the other ladies without cause.

Or her mother would be enraged.

“Maester Lewin says that I need to work on my stitches. So, I am working on them.”

“You are sewing…for the maester?” Lord Arnolf Karstark´s daughter looked puzzled and stared at her, hands stopping in mid motion.  

“Aye, he says that they need to be much better before I can start practising with him.” Arya gritted out as she continued redoing the damned things.

“You are studying healing then, lady Arya.” Meera Reed leaned forward with an interested glint in her moss green eyes as she worked on her fishing net.

Nodding at the small sixteen-year-old, Arya found herself smiling at her. “Aye, father says that it is good for me to learn, even if it is just the very foundation of the art.”

“That is very wise of him.” Lady Eddara Karstark injected glancing at Sansa.

“I have heard that you are a rather fine water dancer, lady Arya.” Lady Wynafred Manderly smiling at her as she changed the subject.

“An understatement to be sure.” Sansa injected; a proud smile lit her face. “Master Syrio says that she is the most talented student he has ever taught.”

Arya felt her chest swell with pride at her sister words as a wide grin broke out on her face.

“Well, in that case, I do hope you will give me some advice lady Arya.” Lady Wylla flipped her green hair from her face, looking excited. “I simply must get better.”

“You can’t get any worse.” Lady Wynafred said to her sister looking rather smug. “I cannot remember the last time you beat me in the sparring ring.”

“Then your old age is showing sister.” Wylla Manderly spat as her blond eyebrows were pulled together. “I remember besting you just before we left for Winterfell.”

“I am not old, I am sixteen.” Lady Wynafred seemed rather offended and crossed her arms over her chest.

As the older Manderly girl started to berate her sister, Arya leaned over to Sansa and whispered so no one else could hear. “Were we ever like that?”

“No, we were worse.” At Sansa´s words Arya resisted the urge to snort. It could not be that they had ever been that bad.

Arya had memories of disliking Sansa and of them fighting like cats and dogs. However, to Arya it seemed like that time was so far away as the good memories with her sister seemed to overshadow every single bad one.

Ghost suddenly jumped up, startling everyone in the room, especially Lady who had been napping on him. The white wolf turned and ran to the heavy oak door and started to scratch at it, begging to be let out.

Standing from her chair and tossing her work where she had been sitting, Arya waved off the two servant girls who seemed torn between trying to help the direwolf and running for the hills in fright. “It´s fine, I will get it.”

When the door had been opened for him, Ghost bolted out of the room as if being chased. “I am sorry my lady.” One of the servant girls, Hilde said as she wrung her hands together while Arya waved her off again, trying to assure her that everything was fine.

Taking her seat again, the conversation started up again.

“Those direwolves of yours are remarkable.” Eddara Tallhart, a girl Arya´s age squeaked with her grey eyes shining excitedly. “Is it true that you found them on your way home from an execution?”

“Lord Stark truly takes you with him to executions?” Jonelle Cerwyn asked, looking rather out of place amongst the much younger ladies of the room.

Arya did not understand why she was even here. Even she knew that the only reason that the lords had dragged their daughters along with them to Winterfell was to try and marry them off to Robb and lady Jonelle was past thirty years of age, much too old for him. At least that what Sansa and her mother said.

Not to mention, Jonelle Cerwyn was as dull as dirt. The woman never did or said anything interesting and if someone did, she was more likely to turn her nose up at them. Much too boring for Robb.

Arya hoped that Robb would marry one of the Mormont girls, like Dacey. The heir to Bear Island was a fierce warrior and could beat a man bloody with her Morningstar.

“Of course.” Sansa said amiably as she continued sewing. “Our father wants us to be prepared for anything, which means to be prepared to preform executions.”

Lady Jonelle blinked at Arya´s sister, horror filling her eyes. “You cannot possibly mean…That lord Stark expects his own daughters…”

As the older lady seemed to trail off and try to speak again, Lady Wynafred grew tired of her. “I will one day be the lady of New Castle and White Harbor and therefore be expected to carry out justice.” Her blue eyes cold with fury as she stared at lord Cerwyn´s daughter. “Is there something wrong with that, lady Jonelle?”

“Surely your husband will be taking up that duty for you.” Lady Eddara Karstark said calmly, trying to ease the tension.

“Shall I marry an executioner?” Lady Wynafred looked offended as a blush crept up her face. “I am as much a Northerner as anyone here and my ways are the way of the North.”

“I do believe that lady Wynafred is right.” Sansa spoke up, ever calm and gentle in her manner. “We must learn everything we can so that we might serve the North well. And soon the men will be heading to war and we cannot rely on what is not here.”

“It shall not be a long war.” Lady Jonelle stared at Sansa with a glint in her eyes that Arya could not read. “Not with…the King having dragons under his command.”

The hesitance in calling Jon, the King made Arya´s blood boil in fury as Nymeria fixed her amber eyes on the older girl.

Biting her tongue from yelling at lady Eddara, Arya´s attention was dragged away by Lady as she rushed to her feet and barked loudly as she wagged her tail happily, completely at odds with how the atmosphere had been turning.

The unexpected action had the other ladies jump in their chair while Arya and Sansa looked at the direwolf. As Lady started to yowl happily, Nymeria seemed to grow infected by her sister´s mood.

Feeling the joy rush over her through her bond with Nymeria, Arya felt a smile spread over her face but she did not understand why. Looking at Sansa, who was staring at her own direwolf, Arya saw that she was as affected by Lady as Arya was by Nymeria.  

“Lady wants us to follow her.” Sansa finally said, standing up and placing her work on her chair as Lady bounced over to the door with Nymeria on her heels.

Jumping from her own chair, the material she had been working on falling to the floor, Arya fell in beside her sister as they walked after the direwolves as the other ladies hurried to follow them.

“What is going on?” Arya whispered to her sister, her grey eyes wide with curiosity.

A smile stretched across Sansa´s face. “Come on, we should hurry.”

Sansa grabbed her hand and started to drag her through the halls of Winterfell as Arya felt more confused with every step they took, only half hearing the ladies rush after them.

They arrived in the courtyard of Winterfell, with Ghost having sat down in what seemed to be the middle of it as if waiting for something.

His red eyes stared unblinking as Nymeria and Lady rushed to his side. Nymeria trying to goad her siblings into playing with her, while Lady sat beside the white wolf as calmly and daintily as ever.

Arya´s eyes found the south gate facing them, closed with a few guards walking on the walls while sending them curious looks. Sansa tugged on her hand and lead her to where the direwolves were waiting, clearly her sister knew what was going on.

“Sansa what is happening?” Hissing quietly at the red head as she followed, taking a place beside Sansa and urging Nymeria to sit beside her.

“Jon is coming home.” Sansa whispered, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness as they heard Robb call out to them as he and Bran lead the heirs of the North out of the Godswood with Greywind and Bran´s unnamed direwolf ahead of them.

They had no chance to answer Robb´s questions as their father came rushing out of the great hall, with Frost and Shaggydog leading the charge and the lords of the North following. Arya even spotted her mother clutching Rickon in her arms with Ser Brynden by her side, both adults looking as bewildered as anyone in the courtyard.

“Father.” Sansa called and their father hurriedly made his way to where they were standing. As soon as he reached them Sansa continued. “You must command everyone to stand down and not to reach for their weapons.”

“What? Why?” Lord Eddard Stark asked, his normally stoic face pulled into a puzzled frown.

“Jon is coming.”

Staring at his elder daughter, the lord of Winterfell blinked slowly. “How do you know?”

Glancing at Ghost and then back at their father, Sansa communicated with him in some silent manner that Arya was not privy too.

After a moment, their father nodded and started to give out orders to the guards and the lords that no matter what happened, they should not reach for their weapons. Turning her eyes back to Sansa, Arya frowned. “Sansa how do you know?”

“I will tell you later but right now-.” Her words were drowned out by a strange unearthly noise.

SANSA

The roar carried over the courtyard, seemingly far away as the lords of the North held their breath. Their faces pale as they searched the sky above Winterfell. Sansa could see lady Dustin look around wildly, her skin grey and her eyes almost distraught.

After having heard the news that Jon was Rhaegar´s son and heir and had dragons under his command, the woman had at first been stunned silent, however after the news had settled in, the lady of Barrowton had made no secret that she thought Sansa had been desperately lying about the dragons so the lords would be more likely to declare for Jon.

How wrong lady Dustin had been.

Another roar echoed the first one, closer now, both coming from the North. Turning, Sansa sought out any hint of winged shapes above them, barely able to hide her excitement from seeing Jon again.

The beating of her heart was reminiscent of a horse charging at a full gallop as the smile on her face was starting to hurt.

A guard that Sansa could not see started shouting and soon the courtyard was filled with yells from the Stark men who were stationed on the walls of the castle. Her father bellowed out his orders for the men to remain calm just as the thundering of leather wings could be heard.

Another roar, this one much closer to them, caused the ground to shudder, just before an enormous shape of Illyrion shot over the castle.

The white and golden dragon flew low, his scales glittering like jewels in the sun light and as he turned, his left wing coming closer to the ground as the right one turned upward and Sansa had to contain a gasp of surprise. She had known that the dragons would have been a lot bigger than when she had last seen them but the size of Illyrion was hard to believe, even now that he flew right before her eyes.

Illyrion let out another roar, the playful sound echoing all around them as the pale dragon started to climb higher in the air above the castle.

“Sansa, Sansa look at how-.” Arya´s words were drowned out by yet another roar as Earendil chased after his brother, flying higher than the white dragons had done.

The lords started to murmur among themselves as Earendil and Illyrion flew higher, roaring and shrieking as they played and danced in the sky.

“They are real.” Sansa heard her uncle, Ser Brynden breath as she continued to stare at the dragons.

As soon as her grand uncle had breathed out those words, a great shadow passed over Winterfell.

For a moment, Algernon blotted out the sun over the castle as he passed over from a much greater height than his brothers as he let out a faint trilling sound that seemed both out of place coming from such a large creature and at the same time, very fitting.

Feeling a hand placed on her shoulder, Sansa looked up at her father, who had taken up stance beside her. “They certainly have grown.” The lord of Winterfell spoke without pulling his eyes from the sky, his pale grey eyes lit with wonder.

The three dragons circled the sky twice before Algernon started to descend slowly, as if trying to give them all enough time to process the fact that dragons were back in the world. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted the figures on the black dragon´s back.

She was not sure how she felt knowing that Jon had chosen Algernon as his mount, not when in the other life, he had served Daenerys Targaryen.

The black dragon circled down, going in the same direction as the sun moved, never once roaring like the other two had done and as he descended, he was turned over the castle, the tips of his wings almost touching the highest towers of the castle.

Landing just beyond the south gate, Algernon was only just hidden behind the eighty feet high walls of Winterfell and they could all hear his massive form move and she was not sure if it was her imagination or not that the tips of the tallest spikes along his back could be seen. How long until they would be able to see Jon on his back from this angle?

Then she could hear a faint sound of a voice that was etched into her very soul. Sansa could not make out what that voice was saying but one of the guards that had been stationed on the wall replied to Jon and bowed deeply before vaulting to where the guards by the gate house were standing as fast as his feet would take him.

As the south gate was opened, Ghost bolted out of courtyard and surely straight to Jon´s side.

A tense silence fell over the people of the courtyard when the white direwolf had disappeared. They stood in absolute silence that was broken by a shriek from Algernon that had the lords flinching, before the black dragon launched himself back into the sky to join his siblings.

Watching as the enormous black dragon took to the skies again, Sansa was sure that he must be bigger than he had been in his former life.

“JON.” Arya´s excited shout dragged Sansa´s attention back to earth as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms walked through the gates without ceremony, with Ghost stuck to his side as Benjen Stark and Tormund Giantsbane followed him.

Letting go of Sansa´s hand, Arya raced to Jon who smiled at his younger sister, the fondness in his eyes shining. Noticing the angry red scar across his right eyes, Sansa felt the horror pool in her belly as her eyes trailed the straight line that split his brow and ran to the middle of his cheek bone.

The wound caused Sansa to suck in a breath of her own, terrified that someone had come so close to killing Jon or taking out his eye.

Watching as Arya threw herself into Jon´s arms, Sansa could hear her mother hiss out her younger daughter´s name, mortified that she would show such little regard for decorum in front of the lords.

However, Arya paid their mother little heed as she laughed while Jon spun her around before setting her back on her feet and ruffling her hair. Glancing around the courtyard, Sansa noticed that the lords and ladies seemed amused at Arya´s antics rather than appalled from the lack of lady like manners.

“Don´t I get a hug.” Uncle Benjen asked his brows raised high on his forehead, making the lord of Winterfell chuckle beside Sansa.

Dislodging herself from Jon, Arya moved to hug their uncle, allowing Jon to make his way to where lord Eddard Stark was waiting for him with Ghost sticking to him, looking pleased with himself for having Jon by his side.

However, before Jon could even make it halfway to them, they all knelt, with her father leading by an example. Keeping her eyes lowered as custom dictated, Sansa could hear Jon almost hesitate as he walked over to them, as she hid the smile that wanted to grace her lips.

Black boots entered her vision as Jon´s voice rushed over her, causing her to shiver. “Please, rise uncle.”

Her father rose to his feet again, allowing everyone else to do so as well, Sansa almost staggered back when she straightened.

Sansa had not realized it before but now Jon stood at a height with her father. Jon had never been a tall man and Sansa had stood taller than the rightful King in their last life, so seeing him now almost made her suck in a breath of shock.

The two men hugged each other tightly and when they pulled apart, Arya was back by Jon´s side wrapping her arms around his side.

“It is good to see you again, your grace.” Her father said with a wide smile on his face.

“It is good to be back.” Jon replied and turned to face Sansa´s mother. Holding her breath, Sansa watched as Jon held out his hand for the lady of Winterfell to take and time seemed to halt as her mother stared at the aforementioned hand before her.

Then slowly as if she was about to touch an open flame, lady Catelyn Stark reached forward and lightly placed her hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell, your grace.”

The words were so faint that Sansa almost did not hear them but when they passed her mother´s lips, she let out a breath of relief.

“Thank you, lady Stark. I am glad that I find you in good health.” Bowing slightly over her hand then righting himself again, both Jon and her mother quickly let their arms drop to their sides, both looking relieved that greeting one another was over.

“It is good to see you again, cousin.” Robb injected, not allowing any sort of awkwardness to settle over them as he pulled Jon as well as Arya who was still gripping Jon´s waist tightly into a hug.

Only allowing Robb to hug Jon for a moment, Arya pushed her older brother away with a pout on her face. “Stop squishing me.”

Laughing at his sister´s annoyance Robb grinned happily at her and pulled her to his side as Arya protested loudly.

Then Jon turned to face her and Sansa felt her heart beat that much faster again. She wanted nothing more than to hug him close to her and tell him how much she had missed him yet, Sansa managed to restrain herself.

Contenting herself with curtsying, Sansa found herself unable to supress the wide smile that spread across her face. “Your grace.”

“My lady.” Bowing in return, Sansa was sure that she could spy a hint of a blush on his cheeks that made her belly flutter. His appearance reminded Sansa of how he had been just before she had travelled to King´s landing the first time yet, he seemed so different at the same time.

It was something that Sansa was having a hard time placing her finger on. It was like he was somehow more although not yet fully grown into himself.

Her father cleared his throat, making Sansa jump and her face turning red. They had been standing there saying nothing and staring at one another in silence while the people in the courtyard had just looked on.

As the lord of Winterfell lead Jon away to greet the lords of the North, Sansa tried to look anywhere else but at her sister who was narrowing her eyes at her, suspicion painting her face. “What was that?” Arya hissed as she continued to stare at Sansa.

“What?” For the first time in years, Sansa was having a hard time masking her emotions as she felt her face heat up under Arya´s stare.

“You two.” Arya had now come to stand by Sansa´s side and whispered as her eyes darted around, trying to see if anyone was listening in on them. “Staring at each other like your brain is falling out of your ears.”

“We did not…” Glancing to where Robb was looking particularly gleeful at her, Sansa frowned. “Was it really like that?”

With a snort, Arya crossed her arms. “Well, for you at any rate.” A slight smirk pulled on her lips. “You are going to tell me what that was all about.”

Sighing, Sansa´s eyes looked from her sister and quickly found Jon and her father as they greeted lord Howland Reed as Brandon and Rickon followed them like little puppies.

 “Well, I think father’s proposal will go over rather well.” Robb grinned at her, having closed the distance between them, unnervingly silent in his approach.

“What proposal?” Arya demanded, looking rapidly between her older siblings.

Sansa bit her lip, glancing quickly at Jon again and then back to Robb. “Do you think that he will ask today?”

“He better,” Robb shrugged, his own eyes traveling over the gathered lords and ladies. “unless he wants Jon to become swamped before he can even get a word in edgewise.”

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” Arya piped up with a pout on her face. “What proposal?”

The two eldest children of lord Eddard Stark looked at their sister, before Sansa nodded. “I will tell you later today. You should hear it from me.”

Arya stared at her with a frown on her face before she nodded with a rather grumpy look on her face. “Fine, you better tell me.”

As Sansa nodded, she looked from her sister and to where Jon was introducing Tormund to the lords of the North. She could not make out what he was saying to them yet Sansa noticed that the lords looked puzzled and rather worried at his words.

They stood there, waiting for the formalities to be over and done with and Sansa finally allowed herself to truly watch Jon as he interacted with the lords and ladies.

As was his way, Jon did not smile and laugh, rather he listened to the lords and held himself in the same reserved manner that she had come to associate with him. Even his clothing served to underline that fact, being made in the functional Northern style and in muted black, grey and brown colours.

The only thing about his appearance that was in any way not understated were the two swords that had been attached to the belt around his waist. The longer one was a bastard sword that she recognized as Blackfyre, even though it´s hilt and pommel were wrapped in plain brown leather. The other one was short, smaller and unfamiliar to her, it´s hilt and pommel also hidden.

Sansa had never known Jon to carry more than one sword. So, why was he now with two swords instead of one? She would have to ask when she had the chance.

After having greeted the lords and introduced them to Tormund, Jon turned to her father and she felt his smooth voice carry over her like a warm breeze. “Lord uncle, would you be so kind to allow me to pay my respects to my mother, grandfather and uncle and perhaps accompany me?”

Sansa watched a slow smile spread over her father’s face. “Of course, your grace. I would be honoured.”

The lord of Winterfell and the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms walked to the crypts of the castle, followed by their faithful direwolves and when the two men left the courtyard, everyone started to speak loudly to one another and most of the lords were excitedly pointing and watching the three dragons in the sky.

Picking up her skirt, Sansa rushed to her mother, knowing that she would need help with organising a feast fit for a King in only a afternoon.

Chapter Text

NED

The low light in the crypts of Winterfell cast a shadow over his nephew´s face, making his stern and serious expression turn dark and haunted. His grey eyes looked black as he stared ahead as they walked past the former lords and kings of winter, the scar making him look over than the almost sixteen years he pretended to be.

The dead of house Stark gazed with unseeing eyes into the darkness, rusted blades on their laps and with direwolves curled at feet made of stone as they continued their eternal vigil, their grim faces daring anyone to disturb their rest.

Jon glanced over his shoulder as they made their way deeper into the crypts, and Ned´s eyes flickered to the scar that split his right brow. The cut was clean and thin, made with something terribly sharp and very recently. “What happened?”

The king looked at him, a question in his dark eyes as Ned gestured at the scar. “An Other and his minions attack us when we were at Craster´s, meeting with Tormund and his peoples. We managed to defeat them but regrettably we could not bring with us a dead man to prove our words.”

Ned felt his heart freeze with fear and worry at the thought of his nephew and king fighting against the dead and their masters. “How did you escape?” His voice was soft and low, as he tried to keep his worry for Jon hidden away deep inside him.

“We killed the Walker.”

Ned frowned as they stopped before the statues of lord Rickard, Bran and Lyanna. “How? I thought that you needed Valyrian steel? Or Dragonglass to kill the Others.”

Jon unhooked the slimmer and shorter sword from his belt and handed it to Ned, as the white wolf leaned against his legs, like it was the hundredth time doing so. “Tormund found her beyond the Wall.”

Taking the sword in his hands, Ned pulled it partly from it´s scabbard and he was stunned to see a familiar rippled patterns running through the blade itself. “Where? How?”

“Take the leather of the hilt.” Jon prompted, with an almost joyful tone.

As Ned did as his king bade, the shock only grew. The golden flames of the pommel and cross guard and the black hilt making the weapon unmistakable. “How did Tormund find Darksister beyond the Wall?”

“Tormund went to the cave that Bloodraven called home and killed him, then he took the sword and gave it to me during our meeting.” Jon smiled as he spoke, the low light flickering over his face, making his eyes appear black. “Rivers will never be able to hurt Bran again.”

The relief that Brandon would not be the man´s puppet again, almost made Ned fall to his knees and weep, yet he held his feelings on a tight rein. “I must thank him.” Ned handed Jon the sword back. “And it will be good to have at least two Valyrian steel swords in the fight to come.”

“Four.” Jon said, now a smile on his face as he fastened Darksister to his belt again, this time without the leather that had hidden its identity. The king unsheathed the other one, revealing the rippled steel in the low light. “Lord Commander Mormont still owns Longclaw and then there is this.”

As Jon let the leather strips fall on the stone floor of the crypts, Ned almost swallowed his tongue from the shock of seeing Blackfyre. “Did Tormund find this one with Rivers as well?”

Letting out a little laugh, Jon put the legendary sword of Aegon the Conqueror back into its scabbard as the ruby on its pommel glinting in the torch light. “No, it was given to me when I returned.”

At seeing the two Targaryen swords in the hands of their rightful owner, Ned felt the hope in his chest rise to even greater hights. Three dragons and the swords of king Aegon and queen Visenya on his side, the people would flock to him when they found out.

“Are you going to tell the lords about the Others tonight?” Ned asked; however, Jon only shook his head.

“No, I don’t think that it would be wise.”

“Jon, they need to know.”

“Aye, however, I have no proof.” Jon´s eyes seemed as hard as steel; his mind made up. “I cannot have them think that I am Aerys come again. I will not.”

Ned sighed and rubbed his chin. Jon had the right of it. Without proof, most would think them mad. “Will lord commander Mormont try and send out scouting parties?”

“Aye, in the meantime I want to start strengthening the Watch even more than we have been doing.” Ned frowned heavily at his words.

“The Night´s Watch is stronger than it has been in centuries. Excluding the Nightfort, all the castles on the Wall have been manned and are being repaired.”

“We need Dragonglass.” Jon stared at the statue of Lyanna; his eyes seemed far away. “We need to take Dragonstone and start shipping it to White Harbor and East Watch, so that it can be turned into weapons.”

“Holding Dragonstone will also give you a chokehold on Kings Landing.”  

“Aye.” Silence followed Jon´s agreement with him as they looked at Lyanna´s likeness. “What happened? Why did Sansa suddenly send the letter, calling me to Winterfell with the dragons?”

Frost laid down by Ned´s feet, yawning and placing her large head on her front paws. “Robert discovered that Cersei´s bastards are not his.”

“Is it known who told him?”

“No, not that I am aware. Robert then imprisoned Cersei and the Kingslayer as well as Joffrey.” Ned had to admit that he did not weep for those three, knowing who they were and the pain and suffering they were capable of inflicting. “However, it is not known what he did with the younger two children.”

It was Myrcella and little Tommen that he was more concerned about, from what he knew, those two were innocent and nothing like their monster of a brother. He just hoped that Robert had not killed them.

The deep frown on Jon´s face was made even more severe by the low light flickering from the torches on the walls. “Tywin Lannister will not take that well.”

“No and neither did Robert, he is calling his banners and planning to march against Casterly Rock.”

Raising a brow, the King looked thoughtful. “Robert Baratheon is a capable military commander however I think that without any inside help, he will find it a rather impossible task to take the Rock.”

“Aye, the Rock would be hard for him to crack however I do not think that he will need to.” Ned rubbed his brow as Jon stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “Tywin will view this as an insult of the highest order, an insult that he will need to answer with strength.”

The King nodded. “As with lord Tyrion but worse.”

“Aye however there is something else that you need to see.” Reaching into the inner pocket of his brown leather doublet, Ned pulled forth the two letters that Robert had sent him.

Handing the first letter to Jon, the King took the letter and started to read it. Ned watched as his face became cold and impassive, the anger rolling off the King like waves. “He is demanding Sansa´s hand in marriage?”

“Aye.” Ned studied the younger man´s face before he handed Jon the other letter as he continued. “And he sent me this when I refused him.”

The air in the crypt seemed to grow even colder than before. “And what did you send back to him?” Jon´s voice came out as more like a growl that belonged to one of the direwolves as the King seemed to restrain his anger the best he could.

“I did repeat what I had sent him before. That I will not be marrying my daughter to him.” The memory of how Robert had insisted that Sansa marry Joffrey in very same place in another lifetime swam across his mind.

“Jon, speaking about marriages, I have something to talk to you about.”

Handing him the letters, Jon seemed rather resigned. “You wish to speak to me about who I will marry.”

“Aye.”

Jon looked back at the statue of his mother with a faraway look in his eyes. “I never thought that I would get married when I was younger. I always thought that I would go North to the Wall and take the Black.”

The lord of Winterfell felt the guilt bubble in his gut.

The guilt must have been clear on his face as Jon quickly spoke again. “I am sorry uncle. I did not mean it like that.”

“There is nothing you need to be sorry for.” Ned insisted waving the younger man off. “While you may have been safe from Robert and the Lannisters…Well I…You were never happy and I…” Not really knowing what to say to justify his decision, Ned trailed off letting the words fade into the darkness.

“I was often happy.” Jon´s voice had a trace of sadness to it. “I had Robb and Arya…and later Bran and Sansa and even Rickon. And I was alive and not being used like a puppet to further this or that lord´s dreams of ambition.”

Ned felt a bitter smile stretch across his face but he could not find it in himself to say anything more on the matter. The wounds of his mistakes went too deep.

“Did you have anyone in mind?” Jon asked.

“What?”

“For marriage, I mean…for me to marry.” A faint blush crept up Jon´s face as he stared at the statue in front of him as if it held the answer to all of life´s mysteries.

Smiling affectionately at his nephew as the look on his face reminded Ned of when Jon and Robb were younger and would do something they were not supposed to do and were trying to hide it from him.

Looking at the vacant stare of his sister´s statue, he found it difficult to look at her. Despite how unlike the statue was to his sister, Ned felt like she was gazing at him scornfully at not having told Jon the truth before he had gone to the Night´s Watch in their lives before.

Turning his eyes away to where his father´s likeness was sitting beside Brandon´s grave. Stern faced and silent with an iron sword in his lap and a direwolf that he had never had in life lying at his feet.

The old man would have approved, Ned thought to himself. He would have liked having both a grandson on the Iron throne and a granddaughter hopefully promised to the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

However, in the end, it did not really matter what lord Rickard Stark would have liked or what he did not. The man was dead, and Ned had to think of his own children and nephew before he could be concerned by the approval or disapproval of his father.

“Aye. I had hoped that you would take Sansa´s hand in marriage.”

DAENERYS

Silver snorted from under her as Dany stared at the Dothraki hoard slowly marching further east without really seeing anything.

The anger that filled her was overwhelming and all consuming.

Her dragons had been taken away from her. Stolen before she had been able to hatch them back into the world and take back her mantle as the mother of dragons and the Unburnt.

Fury coursed through her veins like Drogon´s fires and her limbs shook with the effort of keeping it contained. Whoever had stolen her children from her would know the meaning of Fire and Blood.

Her violet eyes found lord Baelish was speaking with her deplorable brother.

Was it him who had stolen her dragons?

Staring at the little man, Dany watched as he said something that clearly amused her brother, judging by the fact he grinned like a small child at whatever Baelish said to him.

“Princess.” Ser Jorah´s voice interrupted her thoughts. The man neared her, his horse walking calmly to her side and standing beside her Silver. “Are you well?”

Unlike in her other life, the knight did not hand her a piece of dried horse meat, however there was the same concerned glint in his eyes. The sense of disquiet that filled her when the knight did not do the very same thing as he had done in her other life made Dany frown.

Every time she noticed a change in someone´s actions from her last life, Dany felt the cold shiver of fear crawl down her back. Someone was changing things; someone was working against her.

Was it that harlot, Sansa Stark?

No, it could not be. The Gods were not that cruel, surely. Or was it the Sons of the Harpy? The names and faces of her enemies twirled across her mind, each more suspicious than the last. Yet every time she tried to figure out who it was that was hindering her, Sansa Stark´s hateful visage reared its detestable head.

It could not be her. Could it?

No, the red headed chit would not be able to have memories from their last life like Dany.

Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen was the last hope for her family and the only person who could wake dragons from stone.

The Stark girl was not special and would never be able to retain any memories from their past life.

“Princess?” The knight asked again, reaching for her shoulder with his large, weathered hand.  A swell of affection pushed aside her fear at seeing her bear care so for her.

“I am alright, Ser Jorah.” Dany tried to assure the man, however the look in his eyes told her that it had not work.

Dany looked from her bear to where her foolish brother was still riding beside lord Baelish. The rightful Queen was not sure how the small man did it but somehow, he had managed to worm his way into the good graces of her brother. “Tell me Ser, what do you know about lord Baelish.”

The large man looked over to where Viserys was speaking with the slight lord of Baelish keep. “Truthfully, I do not know much about him. I know that his father was friends with lord Hoster Tully, and he was fostered in Riverrun until he was sent back to the Vale prematurely. He also served on Robert Baratheon´s small council as the master of coin.”

Dany kept the frown of her face. “Lord Baelish has ties to the Tully´s of Riverrun?” The red rush of anger swelled in Dany again. “Is he close to the Starks then?”

Ser Jorah snorted and shook his head. “No, princess. As the stories tell it, lord Baelish fought Brandon Stark in a duel for lady Catelyn´s hand.” There was a slight smile on Jorah´s face as he turned his eyes to Dany. “Lord Baelish lost rather badly from what I hear.”

Another Stark. The very name made her silently seethe yet she hid it well from her Bear. “So, Baelish is feeling wronged because this lady Catelyn married Brandon Stark?”

 “No, princess.” Ser Jorah frowned at her and fixed his eyes on her. “Brandon Stark died before he could marry lord Hoster´s daughter. Instead, she married his younger brother, Lord Eddard Stark.”

Staring at the knight, Dany bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snarling in anger. So, Baelish did have ties to that little harlot.

Had the Stark girl managed to convince the little man to steal Dany´s dragons for her? No, it could not be, the Harpy could not have gotten any memories, it was impossible.

Dany took a deep breath. She was Daenerys Stormborn, the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror and the Stark girl was no one.

The fact that Dany had her memories was proof that the Gods did not want her to fail.

“It is likely that Baelish shares my dislike for the man.” Ser Jorah said after a moment´s silence.

“You think so?”

“Aye, not only did he marry the woman Baelish had designs on, but lord Stark is also a friend of Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn.” At hearing the name Jon, Dany´s heart skipped a beat and there was a tingling in her belly as the image of the dark grey eyes was pulled to the forefront of her mind.

“I thought that the Usurper had offended his dog?” Dany spat as Silver tossed her head and snorted.

“Lord Eddard will not be angry at Baratheon for long. He is if nothing else a creature of duty.” 

“And where was his duty to his King when the Usurper took my father´s throne?” Dany countered, her eyes blazing. “Stark is a traitor to house Targaryen and just as guilty as the Usurper of stealing the Iron throne.”

“I apologize princess, I did not mean to upset you.” Watching the large knight beg her forgiveness soothed her anger and Dany took another deep breath.

“Tell me Ser, when in Magister Illyrio´s palace, did you see dragon eggs there?” Dany asked as she turned her Silver and urged her forward.

Ser Jorah commanded his horse to follow the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms as his mount grabbed the top of the tall grass to eat. “No, I did not, princess.”

Staring at the knight, Dany narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure Ser? There would have been three eggs, one black and red, another emerald and bronze and the third pale cream and golden.”

“No, princess. I did not see any dragon eggs in his palace.” Ser Jorah frowned at her and shook his head. “Although I could imagine the Magister wealthy enough to buy dragon eggs and I am surprised how specific you are in detailing these eggs.”

“They are mine.”

The man stared at her, wide eyed in his surprise. “Princess, you own dragon eggs?”

“Yes and they were stolen from me.” Dany felt the anger rise in her again.

“I can understand your anger now, princess.” The man looked struck as he spoke, hardly bothering to guide his horse, rather letting his mount follow Silver calmy. “With three eggs, you would live out the rest of your life a wealthy woman in one of the Free cities.”

“I have no interest of living a life of luxury in the Free cities, Ser knight.” Dany held her head high as a Dothraki warrior rode past them. Glancing at her knight, Dany wondered if she should tell him how she planned to hatch the eggs when they were returned to her possession.

Then she remembered how worried he had been when she had stepped into the pyre with her husband, and she decided against it. It would not do him any harm to wait and see her become the mother of dragons once again along with everyone else.

The looks of awe flooded her mind when she recalled her knight and her Dothraki finding her in ashes of the pyre, with three dragons clinging to her.

Would she ever have that feeling again? Now that her dragons had been stolen from her.

Magister Illyrio had sworn to Khal Drogo that he owned no dragon eggs but Dany knew better. However, that begged the question why would the cheesemonger hide the eggs from her when he had so easily given them to her before?

Did Magister Illyrio…No, he had behaved just as before until he did not give her the eggs.

Staring at Silvers flowing mane, Dany frowned deeply. Who could have stolen her eggs and where were they hidden?

Dany and Ser Jorah rode in silence as she thought on all the differences leading up to her wedding in both her lives, it was then when Dany remembered what the cheesemonger had told her when he had given her the eggs in her first life. “Ser Jorah, have you gone to the Shadowlands beyond Asshai?”

“No, I cannot say that I have.” The knight studied her for a moment before continuing. “Why do you ask, if I may?”

“My eggs came from there.” If she could not have the eggs from her last life, Dany needed to find other eggs to hatch. Yet the very thought of not riding Drogon again did not sit well with Dany. He was the black dread come again, a fitting mount for her who was Aegon the Conqueror reborn.

“I am not surprised that they were.” Ser Jorah patted his horse´s neck as a soft breeze came from the west, cooling them slightly. “They say that in Asshai by the Shadow you can find the greatest amount of Dragonlore in the Known world.”

“Truly?” Feeling the rush of excitement, Dany´s mind raced with possibilities. “I could find dragon eggs there.”

“Aye, although if it is dragon eggs that you want, I think that if you are daring enough then you would have better luck in Old Valyria, princess.” Ser Jorah laughed, his weathered face crinkling around the eyes and mouth.

At the mention of Old Valyria, a longing filled her. The ancestral home of her people, of her house. If there was any place with dragon eggs left in the world, it was the stronghold of the Dragonlords of old. “I think that you might be right, Ser.”

“Princess, I think that Khal Drogo would not be pleased if you rode off to Old Valyria.” There was an almost nervous tone in the knight’s voice as he spoke that made Dany raise a brow.

“I am sure that my husband can find some volunteers to travel on my behalf.”

“Oh, I am sure that Khal Drogo is very eager to get you anything you ask for as it seems that he is very taken with you, princess.” Dany was helpless against the smile that broke out on her face, it had taken so little for her to charm her husband and he had seen her righteous anger of the theft of her dragon eggs as the strength it truly was. “However, I think that he would be hard pressed to find any Dothraki willing to travel to Valyria.”

“Why? He is the Khal and I am his Khaleesi.”

“Aye but the Dothraki are afraid of it as they should be.” The knight said quietly. “The doom still rules Old Valyria.”

Her cheeks felt hot, and her nostrils flared yet she kept her temper in cheek. “And you Ser? Are you afraid of old ruins and stonemen?”

“Any man would be wise to fear the stonemen.” As the knight spoke, Dany felt a sliver of guilt gnaw at her, remembering how the man had gotten stone sickness when he had travelled through the ruins with the traitor Tyrion Lannister. “There are said to be darker things hiding there.”

“Like what?” Dany would not deny that she was growing more curious about what had become of her ancestral homeland.

The knight seemed to suppress a shiver. “Creatures that I would not wish upon my worst enemy.”

“What creatures?” Another soft breeze rushed through the tall grass and this time, instead of relief from the heat, a shiver ran down her spine as the leathers stuck to her skin from sweat.

“You have not heard the tale of Aerea Targaryen, princess?”

As she shook her head, Ser Jorah began to speak. “Aerea Targaryen was the daughter of Rhaena Targaryen and Aegon the Uncrowned. She was wild and wilful and one day, the princess decided to claim Balerion the black dread for her own and disappeared. A year later she returned yet she was almost unrecognizable, thin and wracked with fever.”

The man fell silent, gathering his thoughts no doubt. “The maester did everything he could to safe her and he said that it was like she was being cooked from within. When the maester tried to lower her fever with a cold bath, unspeakable things crawled from under her skin and died in the cold water.”

“Surely that tale is just that, a tale.” Dany said softly.

However, the knight shook his head. “No, princess. It is not, even Balerion was affected by what happened. They say he carried great scars that he had not had before their voyage to the Doom.”

“Asshai it is then.” Dany said in a lighter tone than she thought she could.

“I think convincing the Dothraki to travel Beyond the Shadow is not going to be an easy task princess. After all they do not travel where their horses cannot run.”

“Surly there is someone who can travel there on my behalf.”

Chapter Text

SANSA

Drawing in a breath as she was shaken out of her sleep, Sansa looked around the room with wide eyes. Terror ran down her spine and for the briefest of moments Sansa was certain that she was still under the thrall of Ramsay Snow, stuck in her childhood home while tortured her.

She fought to draw in a breath, dreading to see Ramsay’s grinning face looking down at her, yet thankfully he was nowhere in sight.

He was dead, Sansa reminded herself. His head had been taken off by her own father years ago. He could no longer hurt her.

As she got her breathing under control and pushed away the terrors that had visited her in the night, Sansa was greeted by a much more welcome face.

Arya grinned down at her, as she held out Sansa’s riding leathers as she practically vibrated in excitement, “Sansa hurry, we have to go.” Her little sister dangled Sansa’s clothing in front of her, while Nymeria had decided to sit on Lady’s exasperated form who had been happily dozing off by Sansa’s feet.

Sansa’s long suffering direwolf let out a huff and stared into Sansa’s eyes from underneath her sister, begging her to hurry up so that the two disturbers of sleep might leave their chambers. “What is going on? What time is it?” Sansa asked, still feeling ruffled by the night terrors.  

“It is the hour of the thrush.” Arya announced as she crossed her legs as she took up a seat next to her direwolf on Sansa’s bed and gave Nymeria a slight push, half-heartedly trying to make her stop harassing her sister. “We have to hurry so that they don’t leave without us.”

Pulling the covers off, Sansa started to dress even though she wanted to climb back into bed and huddle under the warm covers. It was normal for her to wake up early, yet the night before had been a late one. Even though the feast had been hastily thrown, it seemed that it had gone well with the lords and ladies of the North, who had enthusiastically declared Jon the one true king of the Seven Kingdoms and made their vows to place him on the Iron throne.

Well with one exception. Although Lady Dustin had kept her silence and followed the other lords and ladies in toasting to Jon, and naming him their king, Sansa could see that it had not sat well with the woman to have to name the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen as their rightful king.

“Who are leaving? And where are we going?” Yanking up the trousers, Sansa glanced at Arya, wondering if the Lady of Barrowton was slinking away to her seat of power. She would not have thought that Lady Dustin would have been so foolish as to run away during the hour of the thrush, yet thinks of madder nature had happened.

Yet judging by Arya’s excitement gave her a pause.

“Jon is going to show us the dragons. We have to hurry.”

Sansa felt her brows rise. “Can it not wait for a few hours?”

Arya glowered at her teasing tone, as she crossed her arms over her chest. “No. You and Robb have seen them thousands of times, and I want to see them too.”

Rolling her eyes at the extraction, Sansa finished dressing and grabbed her brush and smiled at her sister as she slowly brushed her hair.

“Really?” Arya asked as if Sansa had declared that she would need an hour more to dress. “Hurry up, or I will go and tell them that you are intending to sleep in.” Sansa almost laughed at the smirk that appeared in Arya’s face.

“Fine, fine.” Sansa rushed to brush her hair and braided it so that it would not end up in a tangle before she even walked out of the gates of Winterfell.

As soon as she was done, Arya jumped from the bed and grabbed her hand, to pull her out of the room. Even though her eyes still itched from sleep, Sansa laughed at her sister’s enthusiasm to see the dragons.

Halfway through the busting halls of Winterfell that were filled with servants getting ready for the day, Arya almost broke out into a run, dragging Sansa after her like she was a banner. “Arya, slow down. You might run into someone.”

Sansa’s words were ignored, as the younger Stark girl followed Nymeria, who had taken up the lead. As they made it out of the castle, Arya let her go and rushed into the middle of the courtyard, where Robb and Bran were standing with the true king of the Seven Kingdoms.

She was still having a hard time believe that Jon was now as tall her father and she could feel her heart flutter as she watched a slow smile spread across his handsome face as Ghost leaned against his legs, relishing having him back by his side.

Jon let out a laugh as Arya ran into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Sansa is almost here; can we go now?”

It was then, Sansa realized that she had come to a stop and was standing where Arya had left her. Sansa felt a flush rush over her face, as Lady bumped into her, urging her to move forward. “Wait for me.”

A few stands of red her flew across her face as she ran over to them. “You could have waited, you know.” Directing her words to Arya, Sansa could feel Jon’s eyes on her, and she had to force down, the flush that wanted to creep up her cheeks.

Would she ever be able to be normal around Jon again? Would she ever be able to look at him without her blushing and having the urge to stare at him?

Arya shrugged her shoulders with a grin on her face as she let Jon go. “You should move faster.”

“Can we go now?” Bran piped up, sounding annoyed at their bickering. Bran turned to look at Jon. “They are always like this. They keep arguing about nothing.”

Jon let out a sound that could have been a snort. “Bran is right, we should go.” Sansa watched him, daring Jon to say something as he glanced at her, trying to keep the grin of his face.

Walking towards the gate, Sansa wrapped her hand around Jon’s elbow and smiled up at him. “I am glad you are back.” All through the feast, Sansa had not had the opportunity to speak with him, as the lords had fluttered around their king, all wanting to speak with him, about either the war that they were heading into, or sing praises of the virtue of their daughters.

She would not lie, it bothered her. Watching the daughters of the lords bat their lashes at him made her belly coil with jealousy.

Behind them, she could hear Arya and Bran bicker as Robb tried his best to get them under control.

“So am I, even though it is just for a little while.” His smile made her heart flutter again, and even with the scar that ran across his right eye, she was sure that he was the most handsome man in the world as the growing light of the sun caressed his face, making his dark eyes look like they were coals.

Her eyes flickered back to the scar on his face. “What happened?”

Jon seemed to understand what she was asking him immediately. “I will tell you later.” His smile turned tight, clearly holding back emotion.

Something was wrong.

Holding back her questions, Sansa nodded as she looked up at a hilltop that Jon’s dragons had claimed for their own. As they walked, she felt the hilt of one of his swords bump into her, causing her eyes to dart down to them. When Jon and her father had arrived back from the crypts, she had noticed that the leather coverings that he had wrapped around the hilts and pommels had been taken off, revealing the sword’s identities to the world.

Yet with the shock of having seen three large, living dragons back in the world seemed to have Blackfyre and Darksister invisible to the lords of the North.

Sansa could not wait for the moment when the lords that had now sworn themselves to Jon, found out that their king had reclaimed the swords of his ancestors, along with having hatched three dragons back into the world.

They walked in silence, feeling the brisk air of the North dance around them as they listened to Arya and Bran bicker while Robb tried to calm them down, and Sansa could feel a sense of home that she had not felt in a long time.

Nearing the hill top, Sansa found herself staring up at the three dragon in wonder and she was having a hard time believing her own eyes. It seemed impossible that they were the same creatures that Jon had hatched only five years ago. “They have grown so much.” Sansa breathed out, hearing the amazement filling her own voice as she watched Algernon raise his head, the blood red horns on his head gleaming in the light of the rising sun as he lay with his siblings in their nest.

“Aye, they have.” Jon agreed, as Illyrion shrieked in excitement at seeing Jon walk towards them, likely walking up every living soul in both Winterfell and Wintertown.

Bran and Arya’s bickering finally fell silent, and as she sneaked a look over her shoulder, she could see her younger siblings gaze up at the dragons, with wide eyes and opened mouths. As she turned to look away from her siblings, she could feel a hot breath on her skin and disturb the few locks that had escaped her braid.

Illyrion’s hopeful golden eyes were on Jon as the dragon sniffed the air as he offered his master his nose, begging for a scratch.

Jon let out a laugh and indulged Illyrion, as Arya piped up. “Can I touch him?” The glint in her eyes could only be described as possessed as she seemed to flitter from one leg to the other, hardly able to contain the excitement.

“Of course.” Jon gestured for Arya to come forward, while Bran clutched at Robb’s hand, a lot more cautious around the large creatures, and as Arya rushed forward, he remained by beside Robb.

Watching as Arya reached where they were standing, Sansa found herself admiring her little sister’s bravery as there was only the slightest hesitation in her movements, as she reached out and touched Illyrion’s pale scales.

The dragon cooed as she gave him a scratched, Arya let out a laugh. “He is so warm.”

“Aye.” Jon laughed as Earendil sniffed and cooed at Sansa and begged her for attention. “Dragons usually are.” Quickly giving into the emerald dragon’s adorable begging, Sansa released Jon’s elbow, immediately feeling the loss of his warm form.

As she petted Earendil, she watched as Jon walked over to where Bran and Robb were still standing. Jon took Bran’s hand in his and slowly he led Bran closer to the dragons. “Come on, they will not hurt you. I promise.”

Bran looked up at Jon before nodding, letting go of Robb and allowing Jon to lead him to Arya and Illyrion. Sansa felt another smile appear on her face as she watched Jon with Bran and Arya. “For all their size, they are very gentle.” Jon told them as the smallest dragon, who still loomed over them, large enough to for a full-grown man to walk down his gullet, turned his large golden eyes towards him.

There was still a hint of fear in Bran’s eyes as he watched Illyrion looking so hopefully at him, hoping that he would join in on scratching his chin, and it seemed that Jon had caught on to it as well. “Illyrion, down.”

The command was clear, and the pale dragon was quick to follow, lying flat on the ground, his chest, neck and head all touching the grass. Bran’s mouth was opened at seeing the dragon listen so easily to the command, the fear in his eyes lessening. “See, he won’t hurt you.”

Bran reached out one hand still clutching Jon’s, and Sansa could see the happy smile light up his face as his hand touched the white dragon’s snout.

“You know,” Robb’s voice whispered in her ear, her elder brother having closed the distance between them without her having even noticed, with a smirk on his face. “I used to think that you were impossible to read, yet it seems that just having Jon here is countering the issue nicely.”

Sansa sent him an unimpressed look. “I have no idea what you mean.” Turning her attention to scratching Earendil, Sansa intended to ignore the teasing of her brother.

“Of course you don’t.” Robb said, the sarcasm dripping of his voice. He opened his mouth to say more, only to close it as the emerald dragon huffed out smoke from his nostrils right at Robb, causing Sansa to giggle at the bewildered look that appeared on his face.

“Who is a good dragon?” Sansa asked Earendil who let out another coo as Jon, Arya and Bran all laughed at seeing Robb’s expression.

“What happened?” Arya asked as she ran over to them, grinning ear to ear as she reached up to Earendil.

“Oh, nothing really.” Sansa smiled at Robb who was now nodding and sending the dragon a suspicious look. They spent a few more moments petting the emerald dragon, before Sansa could see Arya’s eyes flicker to Algernon, who was sniffing at Ghost.

“Come on, lets greet Algernon before he gets lonely.” Sansa and Arya left Robb with Earendil, who now turned his attention to the heir to Winterfell, demanding that he shower him with pets and scratches.

Algernon spotted them, and quickly lowered his gigantic head with a soft coo escaping him. “Vow,” Arya exclaimed as she looked at Sansa, who had to agree with her sister. Algernon had certainly grown from the last time Sansa had seen him in the grove in the Wolfswood. The black dragon had gone from being the size of a war horse to almost be the size to swallow one in a single bite. “I knew Jon would choose him to be his mount. I knew it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa could see Jon stiffen for a moment. He glanced at Sansa, before he looked away, to where a tall figure was walking up the hill.

Recognizing her father, Sansa turned to look at Jon once again. He did not think that she was afraid or angry that he now rode the same dragon that the Dragon queen had chosen, did he?

She hoped that he didn’t. Sansa hadn’t been sure how to feel at first when she had seen that Jon had chosen Algernon to be his mount when he had arrived at Winterfell, yet after a few hours, she had come to understand his choice.

While both Earendil and Illyrion were both fearsome in their own right, the lords would expect Jon to chose the largest of the three, and the one who bore such striking resemblance to Balerion the Black Dread.

She would have to talk to him and assure him that she could never think that he was anything like Daenerys Targaryen. That just because he now rode the same dragon as the Dragon queen had once done, she knew that he was nothing like his father’s sister.

“Father look.” Arya called to the lord of Winterfell as soon as he made the climb up the hill as Arya’s grin lit up her face as the sun cast its rays on them, making the dragon’s scales shine and glitter like precious stones. “They like us.”

“I am sure they do, sweetling.” Ned Stark walked closer, followed by his direwolf, who seemed a little weary of something so big near her pups, mirroring the look the lord of Winterfell was sending the dragons. He then turned his eyes to Bran, who had lost his fear and was now gigging as he scratched Illyrion, and then their lord father turned his eyes to Robb who looked torn between bafflement and amusement as Earendil was continuing to demand pets from him.

“Can we go flying Jon?” Arya turned her attention to the king, her eyes wide with excitement and hope as her hand stilled on Algernon’s snout. “Oh, please, please, please.”

A strangled sound came from their father, causing Sansa to fight against a snort of laugher at the undignified sound.

“You are going to have to ask your lord father.” Jon looked like he wanted to smile at Arya.

Arya’s eyes widened again, and she rushed over to lord Stark and grabbed his hand firmly, shaking it as she begged him to allow her to go flying.

Robb was snickering while their father sighed.  “I am not sure that it is safe.”

Now Bran joined Arya in their begging. “But father, Uncle Benjen was allowed, as was the large hairy man. Why can’t we?”

Sansa had to force down a cackle of laughter that wanted to escape him at Bran’s way to describe Tormund.

“Benjen and Tormund are men grown.” Lord Eddard said firmly sending Bran a reprimanding look for his accurate description of the Freefolk clan leader. “And Jon’s dragon does not have a saddle.”

“Men grown?” Arya looked affronted, her face twisting in disgust. “Rhaenyra Targaryen rode Syrax when she was seven.” Arya pointed out, holding herself tall, hands on her hips as if that was everything their father needed to hear to be convinced.

“Princess Rhaenyra was a dragonrider herself, and she had a saddle. Or so maester Luwin claims.” The lord of Winterfell said firmly. He looked up at Jon, as if looking for him to say anything to help to let Arya down gently. However, it seemed that Jon was in no mood to do so.

“Uncle, it would be fine if I take either Arya or Bran up one at a time.” Sansa watched as their faces brightened at his words and she found herself smiling along with them. “That way I can have them in front of me and make sure that they are alright.”

Lord Eddard Stark looked troubled and looked ready to say something, and Sansa felt herself compelled to intervene. “Oh, can I go as well? I have always wanted to see what it is like.”

“Of course.” Jon spoke without a beat, a huge grin on his face and his dark eyes shining.

Another sigh from her father reached her ears. “Fine, Arya you can go with Sansa, and Bran you can go with Robb.”

Arya shrieked with happiness and hugged her father around his waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Then she whipped around and slammed into Jon. “Let’s go.”

“Hey I want to go first.” Bran said with a pout on his lips.

“I am older.”

“Robb is oldest, so I should go first.” Crossing his arms he sent her a sour look.

Robb grabbed Bran’s shoulder. “Ladies first.” As Bran pouted again, Robb winked up at Jon with a huge smirk on his face making Sansa wanted to drag him back to Winterfell by his ear and scold him like the child he was behaving as.

Sansa could see a lot of teasing and japing at her expense in the foreseeable future.

“Can we go now?” Arya asked, her impatience showing clearly in her tone.

“Arya.” Their father spoke sternly. “You are to listen to everything Jon tells you. Do you understand?”

Arya sent her father a look that only she could get away with. “Of course, now can we go?” she whirled around and looked at Jon with a huge smile on her face. “I want to go fast; can we go fast?”

A slow smile spread over Jon’s face. “Aye we can go fast.” There was a lightness in him now, and Sansa could almost feel like something was going to happen.

A shriek echoed though the morning air as Earendil stopped hounding Robb for a  scratch, and turned gracefully away from them, moving a little further down the hill before he roared and charged forward and hurled himself into the air.

Watching the emerald dragon take to the sky, Sansa felt herself filled with wonder at the sight. The rising sun made his horns shine prettily like they were made of beaten bronze as they watched him fly above the seat of house Stark.

Dragging her eyes of the dragon and back down again, Sansa sucked in a breath of shock at the sight that greeted her.

Her eyes were wide, and Sansa was sure that her jaw had hit the ground as she watched Jon climb onto Illyrion’s back as if it was a completely normal thing to do. Her shock was so great that she hardly even noticed Algernon take off with a roar of his own, as she watched Jon settle on to the pale dragon’s back.

“Come on then.” He smiled at their confused and stunned faces, as Algernon and Earendil rose higher into the skies.

“But I thought-.” Arya called out loudly, gesturing for Algernon, who was now high in the air chasing after Earendil.

“I thought you said you wanted to go fast?” Jon called back, a huge grin on his lips as gestured for her and Sansa to climb on after him.

Sansa could only blink up at him as Arya rushed forward, not needing to be told again. She started to climb up Illyrion’s back, the dragon waiting patiently as Arya eagerly made her way up. Still staring at Jon, Sansa walked as if spellbound to them, finally managing to close her mouth as the shock of what she was seeing still lingering over her, like a raincloud.

Illyrion cooed softly as Sansa reached his side, his golden eyes staring at her as he kept his shoulder lowered to the ground. Not wanting the dragon to have to stay in what Sansa was sure was an uncomfortable position, she grabbed at the nearest scale and started to haul herself up.

It was a difficult climb, and she wasn’t sure how Jon made it look so easy. Then a hand came into her vision, and she looked up to see Jon’s face. Grasping the offered hand, Sansa was grateful that he pulled her up, allowing her to sit behind him. “You are enjoying this aren’t you?” She asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling the warmth radiate off him even though his black leather jerkin.

Jon said nothing, only continued to grin at her over his shoulder, making her stomach flip and flutter once again.

“Let’s go.” Arya yelled from in front of Jon, as she grabbed one of the spikes that rose up from Illyrion’s back. Clutching Jon even harder around his waist as the pale dragon shrieked in excitement that he shared with Arya, and Sansa was sure that her grip was making it harder for Jon to breath, yet he said nothing.

Without a word of command or any hint of an order from Jon, Illyrion pulled back before he pushed himself of the ground, creating a thundering sound with the spreading of his wings and for a half a heartbeat, Sansa felt as if she were weightless.

In an instance, her father and brothers grew small as they stared after them on the ground, alongside the direwolves. Pushing herself flush against Jon’s back, Sansa placed her cheek against his shoulder as the cold wind carried Arya’s excited breath of a laughter.

Illyrion quicky reached his siblings and took the lead as they headed away from Winterfell. To the west, the sun was painting the sky pink and purple, and Sansa let out a breath of wonder. “Oh, wow that is beautiful.”

The sun was casting its rays on the pine trees of the Wolfswood to the North, and the vast fields that had been cultivated in the last five years to the west and south. To the east, she could see herds of woolly cattle, grazing further away from the castle, being guarded by the black and tan dogs that lord Flint liked to breed to guard life stock.

Just behind them, Algernon and Earendil flanked their sides, like a dedicated guard, while Arya laughed and smiled happily as if all her dreams had just come true.

Illyrion’s wings carried them further away from Winterfell, and soon they reached the eastern headwaters of the White knife. The river below them ran wild and grey from north to south, raging towards the currents as it headed to the Bite.

The pale dragon turned gracefully, changing their direction from east to north, and quickly the ground changed from almost flat plains to a rockier surface and the banks of the river rose to create cliffs and gorges.

“Hold on.” Jon called before Illyrion shrieked and tucked his wings close to his body.

As Illyrion shot downwards, Sansa could barely hear Arya’s breath shouts of excitement over the wind and rushing of blood in her ears. Quickly approaching the raging river, Sansa felt her belly jump to her throat as the dragon righted himself, no longer aiming right at the waters below them.

Sansa let out a laugh as she clung to Jon, as the pale dragon twisted and turned over the river. Turning to look behind them, Sansa could see that Earendil and Algernon were hot on their heels as they chased the smaller brother through the gorge.

With a few flaps of his wings, Illyrion rose higher in the sky, soaring over where the river cut itself through the lands of the North.

Not too far away, Sansa could see a huge lake, surrounded by trees. The sun made the waters sparkle and shimmer as Illyrion slowed down and lowered his flight, before he landed gently on the shore.

The pale dragon lowered himself to the ground, allowing them to make their way of his back. Arya was all smiles as petted Illyrion’s nose while Jon helped Sansa back to the ground.

“Hey, Arya could you watched Illyrion for me for a few moments? I need to talk to Sansa.” Jon asked.

Arya nodded eagerly and quickly turned her attention back to Illyrion, who indulged in well-earned scratches on the chin.

Sansa placed her small hand on his elbow again, her face flushed from the flight as they walked a little further upriver. “How? I thought that-.” She cut herself off, trying to search for words. “How did you get…”

She looked up at the two dragons still in the air trying to gather her thoughts into a coherent speech. “You arrived on Algernon.”

“Aye.” Jon smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as they walked a little further away from Arya and Illyrion.

“Jon.” Sansa stared at him; how could he be so calm about this? This was a completely unheard of in the history of the Targaryens. Not one of Jon’s ancestors had ridden more than one dragon. Hells, even Viserys I and his son Aegon II had both lost their dragons and never claimed another. “How?”

“I don’t know.” He answered with a shrug, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Jon, there has never been a Targaryen in Westerosi history to have more than one dragon to ride.”

“I know.” They walked slowly up the shore, making sure to stay in visual range to Illyrion and Arya. “Uncle Aemon and I talked about it when I met him five years ago at the Wall. I honestly don’t know why I can ride them all, I just can.”

Sansa felt her mind start to rush trying to think of any and all the possibilities that this new revelation held for Jon. “So, you can ride them all?”

“Aye.” Jon nodded.

Sansa shook her head at him, only Jon could act so nonchalantly about something so mindboggling, instead of revelling in the fact that he was the first Targaryen that ride more than one dragon.

“Sansa, I wanted to speak with you about something.” Jon said before she could start analysing why he could ride all three dragons any further. “Last night, your father spoke to me about a betrothal between us.”

“Did he show you the letter?” She asked as she felt a rush of cold gather under her skin. Fear, she realized. Was he about to reject the offer? Let her down gently as was his way.

Pushing those thoughts away the best she could, she watched as Jon swallowed hard as he nodded. “Aye,” Sansa saw the burning rage in his eyes. “He did.”

Sansa’s hand travelled down his arm until it reached his hand. “Jon, I understand if you don’t want to marry me. After everything that has happened, I understand.” She stared intently at their joined hands as if they held the secrets to all of life’s mysteries. Sansa could understand that after everything they had gone through in their last lives that he would not want to marry her. “I will tell father that it was my idea to back out-.”

“Sansa.” Jon gave her hand a light squeeze. “I told him that I wanted to talk to you before I gave him an answer. I wanted to make sure that this was something that you wanted and was not something that you are being forced into. I don’t want you to be forced into yet another marriage that you don’t want.”

A slow smile appeared on her face as she looked right into his eyes. “Thank you, Jon. However, I asked father to present you with the betrothal.”

Jon blinked, looking stunned. “What?”

As she repeated her statement, Jon asked. “Why?”

“Because you would never force me to do something that I would not want to do.” She glanced back at their hands for a half a heartbeat before looking back up, gathering all her courage before she spoke, knowing that she needed to do this. Jon deserved to know the truth. She owed it to him. “And because I…because I love you.”

Jon blinked at her, his eyes wide with shock and he looked like his head had been invaded by very loud bees that had taken up buzzing around between his ears. Then ever so slowly, he leaned closer to her as Sansa’s heart leapt in her throat.

He was so close that she could count the lashes of his eyes and just as their lips were about to touch.

“Are you done? Can we go flying again? I want to go back up.” Arya’s voice made them jolt apart as if they had just been doused by freezing water. Sansa wanted to be annoyed with her little sister but when he heard Jon let out a huff of a laugh, she found herself giggling along.

“In a moment.” Jon called back, sending Arya a smile as she stood with hands on her hips while Illyrion looked at them with a curious look.

“What will you be telling father?” Sansa asked, her voice faltering a little.

“That I would be honoured to marry you.” Jon rubbed a small circle with his thumb on the back of her hand. “If you will have me.”

Sansa smiled and nodded, feeling the overwhelming happiness flood over her. “I will have you, Jon Targaryen.”

KEVAN

The seat of house Oakheart rose against the clear blue skies of the Reach, towering over the trimmed oaks the castle was named after. It´s grey stone towers rising high would likely be impressive to lesser lords, however to Kevan they seemed rather lacklustre compared to the Rock.

The second son of Tytos Lannister gripped the reins of his horse tighter in his hand as he rode through the encampment of his brother, with his own contingent surrounding him. Everywhere he looked the red and golden banner of house Lannister surrounded him, the proud lion roaring in fury at their enemies.

Riding into the courtyard of Old Oak, Kevan was greeted by a young man clad in a fine red doublet, perfectly matching the banners of house Lannister, covering every available surface.

“Ser Kevan, lord Tywin is waiting for you in the lord´s solar.” The boy bowed deeply as Kevan dismounted from his horse. “He has instructed me to direct you there at once.”

Nodding, Kevan glanced around the courtyard. His brother´s men littered the castle walls and young boys cleaned weapons and brushed down destriers. Among the Lannister red, a few other colours could be seen, black and grey of house Banefort, the brown and black of house Crakehall and the pretentious purple unicorn of lord Brax were all there.

As he followed the young man, out of the corner of his eyes he caught a flash of blue, however it was gone as soon as he saw it.

Putting it from his mind, Kevan trod on, determined not to make his lord and brother wait for him.

Quickly, Kevan was led through the corridors that were covered with tapestries telling the story of house Oakheart. It was a surprise to Kevan that his brother had not had them all torn down after taking the castle and had them replaced with the lion banners. His brother was never a man for half measures.

The boy knocked on the door, and Kevan could hear his brother´s voice through the door, calling for them to enter.

His brother was seated behind the desk, quill in hand as he wrote a letter. Kevan barely got a glance in his direction before when Tywin spoke, he was quick to recognize the pleased undertone in the older man´s voice. “Good, you are here. We have much to discuss.”

Tywin gestured for him to take a seat, then without ceremony, continued to write his letter, allowing silence to fall between them.

Sitting in the chair as straight as he could, Kevan waited wordlessly for the lord of Casterly Rock to finish.

When the Warden of the West placed the quill down on the desk and turned his green and golden eyes on him, Kevan kept his tongue still, waiting for the older man to speak.

“I take it your excursion to Red Lake was profitable.” The firm stare of his brother bored into Kevan´s own green eyes and not for the first time, he felt like Tywin was reading his mind.

“It was.” Kevan confirmed fighting a smile of contentment. “The castle is now in our hands, and I took the liberty of raiding their resources and adding to our own and lady Crane is being escorted back to the Rock by my son, Lancel, along with her sisters and mother.”

Tywin nodded; the movement so small that it was barely noticeable. “Clegane has reached the borders of Highgarden lands and I have instructed him to raid every town and hovel he can find.”

The anger in Tywin´s glare made his eyes look like wildfire. “If the Tyrell´s think that they can take the Iron throne, then they are mistaken.”

Nodding his agreement, Kevan almost felt pity for Mace Tyrell. “Has there been any word from the capital?”

Tywin halted his writing for a heartbeat. His green and golden eyes were hard and unyielding. “I have heard that Cersei and Joffrey have escaped the Red Keep, yet Jaime is still being held captive.”

Kevan stared at his brother, feeling relief that Cersei and her boy were at least not in the hands of the oaf Robert Baratheon any longer, yet dread at the thought that poor Jaime was still in the man´s grasp. “Robert will take his anger out on Jaime.”

Tywin´s nostrils flared with rage. “He already has if you recall. That fool Robert has already mangled my son´s hand.” At his brother´s words, Kevan was sure he could hear the faint sound of the Rains of Castamere ring in his ears. Whatever Tywin had in store for Robert and house Baratheon would make the fate of house Reyne and Tarbeck pale in comparison.

“We will get him back.” Kevan said, allowing his confidence to shine through in his words. If Tywin wanted something done, then it would done. “And place your grandson on the throne before long.”

A serving man entered the room and bowed deeply before Tywin. “My lord, Ser Desmond is here as you requested.”

“Good, show him in.”

Ser Desmond Redwyne strode into the room, a handsome blue and dark red cloak around his shoulders and a belt wrapped around his now portly belly. “Lord Tywin, Ser Kevan, it is good to see you both again in good health.” Despite the war ravaging his homeland, the knight of house Redwyne seemed more than a little jubilant as he gave the brothers a bow.

“And you, Ser Desmond.” Kevan greeted as his brother remined seated and silent behind his desk. As they took their seats, Ser Desmond directed his words at Tywin.

“My cousin has agreed to your terms, lord Tywin, and house Redwyne is most happy to throw in its strength with yours.” The pleased glint in Tywin´s eyes as he nodded at the knight.

“Good, I am sure that lord Paxter has already called his banners and sails.”

“Of course, of course.” Ser Desmond nodded. “My cousin is as good as his word and I have received word from lord Mathis Rowan, and he has sworn his sword and banners to our cause.”

“What about the lords of the Sheild Islands?” Kevan asked Ser Desmond. “Have you heard from them?” Having the lords of the four isles would be a great boon to house Lannister, especially now that they had the Redwyne fleet well in hand.

“I have not heard from them.” Ser Desmond admitted hesitantly. “But they shall not be hard to convince, I am sure. Poor lords, the lot of them, offer them gold and protection from the Ironborn and they shall be eating out of your hand in less time than it takes Mace Tyrell to sit down at a feast and start stuffing his mouth.” Kevan knew that his brother would have little trouble with the lords of the Shield Islands, if they would not come back into the fold with promises of gold and titles, they would be brought low by lord Tywin of house Lannister.

Kevan looked at his brother, who remained quiet as a stone, until. “Thank you, Ser Desmond, that will be all for now. I shall send for you later.”

When the man was gone from the room, Tywin spoke quietly and calmly to his brother. “I have thought of a suitable match for your daughter, Janei.”

Kevan felt his heart beat in his chest as excitement rushed through him. Finally, he would be rewarded for his years long service to his brother by a good match for one of his children. The names of suitable candidates floated around in his head.

Would his brother promise Janei the Arbor or Highgarden? Or perhaps Tywin had hoped to wait and marry his own niece to Robb Stark, the future lord of the North when the time came to bring house Stark back into the fold.

While Kevan would not like having his only daughter so far away from him, having his daughter as the future lady of Winterfell was nothing to scoff at.

“I have decided to promise your daughter to Arthor Oakheart.” Kevan blinked owlishly at his brother.

“Arthor Oakheart?” He asked as the excitement fled. He could understand Tywin´s decision to marry Genna´s son, Cleos Frey to the Derry girl. Cleos was a halfwit like his father and his marriage gave him a claim on the now much less impressive Darry lands, and it would keep him and his grandfather happy.

Janei on the other hand was a true Lannister, born and bred to be a great lady. She deserved to be married to an heir to one of the great houses.

“Yes.” Tywin stared at him, his eyes hard and unyielding. “He is the heir to house Oakheart and the future lord of his castle. He shall leave for the Rock under guard, where he shall wed your daughter. And when your son returns to the Reach after having secured lady Crane and her kin in the Rock, he is to marry lord Rowan´s daughter and heir.”

Goldengrove and Old oak. Those were to be the holding of Lancel and Janei? Kevan could see Tywin´s reasoning. Who better to guard your borders than blood?

Nodding, Kevan resigned himself to his brother’s commands. “What about Red Lake and lady Crane?”

Tywin studied Kevan for a moment. “She shall be betrothed to your son Willem when the time comes. This way we can be assured that our borders are save.”

Just like that. Three of Kevan´s children had been promised to heirs and heiresses, yet Kevan felt a bitter taste in his mouth. These matches were good. There would be no arguing with that, and they were important to the war effort.

Yet they were not as good as Kevan had envisioned.

However, he would do as his older brother and lord commanded. “I am honoured brother.”

Tywin let of a soft hum. “Lord Paxter will be sailing to secure Oldtown and the Hightower. That will keep a lot of the Reach forces occupied while we secure our position here.”

Kevan raised a brow. Lord Paxter Redwyne, while ambitious, was no fool. “And what did you promise lord Redwyne to sail to Oldtown and seize the city?”

“Myrcella and Cersei will marry lord Paxter´s sons. While Jaime will take the man´s daughter for wife when we free him.” Kevan bit his tongue. He loved his niece, he did. Yet he could not help but to find it odd that lord Paxter would desire that one of his sons marry a woman who had already had three children of her own, when a maiden as pure as the gold under the Rock was available for his own son and heir.

It is her crown. Kevan thought. The man wants her only for her status as the Queen mother and her Lannister name.

“I want you to ride to Brightwater Keep at first light.” Tywin spoke as he grabbed his quill again and started to write something down. “I need you to take the castle and raid it. Before sending the hostages back to the Rock.”

“Of course, brother.” Kevan nodded. “Will you be sending Clegane up the Roseroad?”

Tywin stopped his scribbling and looked up at him. “No. He shall stay in Highgarden lands, as I said.”

“When Robert hears of our stay in the Reach, he will rush to do battle with us. And he will likely take the Roseroad.”

Tywin nodded and turned his eyes back to the letter he was writing again. “I am confident that he will. And he will be harried the moment he passes through the borders of the Reach.”

Kevan frowned at his brother. “Has the younger Clegane brother finally shown himself and volunteered?”

“No. The Hound has yet to surface. However, it seems that I have finally found use for our father´s folly in marrying Genna into house Frey.” Tywin grabbed a map of the Reach and placed it in front of Kevan and pointed at Bitterbridge. “Lord Frey´s bastard grandson, Aemon Rivers has left the Twins and will arrive shortly with his men. They are to harass the Baratheon men.”

“You trust a Frey with something so important brother?” Kevan felt the disbelief crawl up his throat.

Tywin only scoffed. “The bastard will be of more use to me here than hiding under his mother´s skirts. And even if he manages to kill a few Baratheon men, then he will have been more useful than Genna´s husband.”

A young serving man entered the room quietly and placed a bundle of letters on the table before he was ordered out by Tywin, who grasped the first letter in the pile and opened it.

As he read, Kevan could see a satisfied glint in the man´s green and golden eyes. “What is it brother?”

“News from Longtable. It seems that Robert´s greed in the Rebellion has been rather fortunate for us. Lord Orton has raised his banners in support of King Joffrey and is riding against Bitterbridge.”