Ashes of Winter: The Stark Revival and the Game of Thrones

"Isn't it who she asked for in our first bargain?" Rickon smirked. "She could have asked us to bend the knee, to give up the Crown in exchange for her help. Yet she keeps praising Jon and calling me King. She's treating me as her equal when we know damn well that she could make us bend with just her dragons, whereas she asks for the Vale to bend the knee to her in the same letter. Why is that? Because I am Jon's brother. She respects me because she respects him, and so I think it is time to suggest an alliance if we were to survive the War. To give her something or rather someone she wants in exchange for her help and see if she accepts."

"You can't be serious!" Arya said loudly. "You can't give away our brother like that!"

"Actually, this is a rather sensible offer, my Lady, begging your pardon," Ser Davos butted in as Rickon knew he would, as he had suggested a betrothal before. "An alliance by marriage would be beneficial for both parties. This way we are seen as willing to compromise with her, whether she accepts or not, and it will open negotiations even if she doesn't."

"I will not sell my brother, not even for the North!" Arya retorted, her voice trembling with emotion while Sansa looked ready to agree with their sister.

"If we do that, we are no better than what Littlefinger tried to do to Lady Mormont," Bran interjected.

"I am King in the North. It is my duty as King to do what is best for my people. For all of them. And Jon marrying Daenerys Targaryen is the best outcome that could happen for the North." Rickon said and saw it then, the flicker of surprise turning to understanding and then determination in Jon's eyes.

I'm doing it for you, Brother. So you can have the opportunity to be happy… his mind called out and he hoped that Jon could hear him as clearly as if he'd said it with words.

He could see Bran was trying to object, but whatever he was about to say was cut short by Jon's intervention.

"All I have ever done in my life has always been with the North and my family in mind, even when I thought I had lost them all at the Wall. My brother, King Rickon, knows this, and he also would never force me to do anything against my will. If marrying Queen Daenerys is what the North needs me to do, then I would gladly do so. Not only because it will benefit the North, but because it is what I want and so if she would have me then it's what I want to happen."

"You would do it willingly, then?" Lyanna asked, smirking.

"I knew you wanted her!" Tormund exclaimed, making the Lady of Bear Island shake her head and glare at the red-headed man.

"The last thing we wish for is to have a son of Stark blood being forced to leave unwillingly with the dragon." Big Bucket Wull said loudly and Rickon's wince echoed his brother's. "But you say this is what you want, so I ask, are you sure you want it, The Jon?"

"Aye, I do." Jon said without a hint of doubt.

"Then the Wull agrees to the proposal."

"As do I, I think it would be for the best." Lord Manderly nodded.

"You should make him a Stark before suggesting the betrothal, Your Grace" Barbrey said. "Not that I care what your name is, but the Southerners might take offense at a bastard marrying their queen."

"Let them think what they want, Lady Dustin. For I carry no shame about my birth. Queen Daenerys doesn't care about status and birth privileges. She believes in people's true worth. One of her most trusted advisors is a former slave and her Hand is a woman." Jon retorted harshly, maybe a little too harshly for Rickon's taste. He might understand that his brother already had a name, but the way he refused seemed as if he truly loathed the one he had wished him to share with them all.

"What of Tyrion Lannister?" Ser Davos said while the others looked at him in shock.

"He has been demoted because of the wrong council he has given the Queen thus far. Lady Olenna Tyrell is the new Hand of the Queen." Jon said, speaking the woman's name fondly to Rickon's ears.

"Good for her to finally realize how wrong it would be to have a Lannister in a seat of power after kicking Cersei from hers," Arya noted gruffly, only smiling when Nymeria made her presence known.

"The proposal I will make to Queen Daenerys is both on my brother and the North's behalf. This is why I want to make sure that all of you agree to it." Rickon then declared, bringing the attention to him as a chorus of Aye's resonated in the Great Hall. "Good. Now I wanted to thank you all for your work regarding the preparations for the war. I know this winter will be a hard one, and that we all have to make efforts and sacrifices to ensure our people survive. There is a shipment to be received in Sea Dragon Point, sent by the Queen, and I will need volunteers to go collect it, as well as some fierce hunters to follow Nymeria's wolves when they'll leave to bring us more game. These wolves are not to be touched as they were given guest rights. I don't care how fucking hungry they are, if one of your people harms one of them, they will be given NorthernJjustice by me or my sister over there." Rickon said and Sansa chuckled as did Arya when it was she and not Arya he looked to.

After this stern talk and the promise of the Lords and Ladies to obey his orders, most of them volunteered for the mission he had given. Talia Forrester had also offered to bring some ironwood from her keep's Grove to help with the consumption of wood in Winterfell, as it was widely known that Ironwood was nearly impervious to flames and only the Forresters could light it up for as long as they wished.

Looking now at his satisfied Lords, Rickon chanced a glance at his brother and smiled wolfishly at his expressionless face, the shake of the head he received warming his heart more than even Arya or Sansa's smile.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Howland Reed.

He'd waited for far too long to set foot in Winterfell once more, more than two decades had passed since he'd done so and he'd almost begun to give up hope that he ever would. Sending his children rather than himself had been hard but he'd done as the gods had bid him and it had cost him a son and almost a daughter. Meera was only now starting to come back to herself somewhat and that was mainly down to the fact that Rickon Stark lived and not anything to do with him.

Was anyone to ask him, he'd say that his daughter had loved Bran Stark once. That even despite him not having the use of his legs, he would have who she'd have chosen for a match was she given that choice. Whatever had happened between them or whatever feelings she may have had for the boy, was now a thing of the past. Which he was most grateful for, as over time he'd found out that it was not his issues with Ned Stark that had kept him from Winterfell for all these years, nor even his guilt over her son, but fear of a boy who'd become something both powerful and very dangerous. Bran Stark was his reason for staying away and had things remained the same, then he'd have mayhap done so for the rest of his life.

As it was, the Old Gods had shown him the path and it led to Winterfell. Howland was both excited to see Rickon Stark in the flesh and equally so to see her boy once more. The guilt he felt about Jon Snow was something he'd carry with him to the grave. Promises that weren't kept, plans that were discarded and a life lived that should not have been. While he truly believed that in the end, it was as the gods had willed it to be, he still felt his own part in things could have been much better. He owed her more than that and should he see her again, he felt she'd not be forgiving.

"The Lords of the Vale, father." Meera called out and Howland nodded, seeing the men some distance in front of them, the sigils of Glover and Cerwyn spread amongst them.

With a nod to his daughter and the men who rode with him, they increased their pace and caught up with the larger group before nightfall. Howland was happy to be among men of the North once more, though it seemed that the horse that Rickon Stark had left in his care was very much not.

"Be at peace. It's to someone far better I take you to." he said softly as he tied off the horses and made sure they were cared for.

Meera had seen that their tents were already set up and so Howland made his way to speak to Robett Glover and Cley Cerwyn, the older of the two looking at him with suspicion while the younger seemed stunned to see him away from the Neck.

"Howland?"

"Robett. I take it you head for Winterfell?" he asked to a nod "And the Knights of the Vale?"

"The king sent a raven, Lord Reed. They've been bid to return." Cley Cerwyn said, still looking at him as if he was a spirit or wraith, something he could understand as few had seen him since the Rebellion.

"I'm surprised to see you, Howland, I'd not thought anything could get you to leave Greywater Watch." Robett said and his suspicion was still noticeable.

"Some things require it of even me, Robett. I'm to swear my oaths and play my part in what's to come."

"I'd have thought you'd have been given leave to protect the Neck, Lord Reed."

"Aye, were I to ask for it Lord Cerwyn, then I'm sure his grace would oblige, but the fight that comes our way requires us all and there are decisions soon to be made that will shape the North for years to come."

Robett looked at him even more curiously now but held his tongue and Howland was glad of it. They ate and spoke some more, Cley Cerwyn eager to tell him as much as he could about the King and Jon Snow as well as the rest of the Starks, while Robett seemed almost angered in hearing the names being spoken. He almost chuckled when mention of the horse was made, Cley naming Unicorn as wild and unruly and Howland replying that mayhap it was the rider and not the horse, something that didn't sit well with Robett.

They rode in silence the next day, he'd tried to speak to the Knights of the Vale and found them to be a prickly bunch. Lord Royce did not look best pleased with being ordered back to Winterfell and complained about it more than once. When he saw the large grey walls come into view he was transported to a time many years earlier. Banners had been called and war was on the horizon, not much had changed if he was being honest with himself. Though seeing the face of Jon Snow when they entered the courtyard and were greeted by all of the Starks soon had him back in the present and not lost in time.

"Lord Reed." Rickon Stark said, smiling at him and at Meera.

"Your Grace."

"We had not expected you, Lord Reed. Though you are most welcome." Sansa Stark said and looking at her was like looking at her mother reborn.

He almost gasped when he saw the other Stark daughter, Arya looked very much like Lyanna once had though she was a little rougher around the edges too. Out of the corner of his eye, he felt Bran Stark's eyes upon him and though the boy wore no expression, there was enough in that gaze to warrant caution. As for Lyanna's son, he said little, and other than a brief greeting, they barely interacted. Instead, it seemed to be Glover, Cerwyn, and the Knights of the Vale who took Jon's attention.

There was some amusement when Rickon Stark saw Unicorn, the boy not acting like a king as he walked away from them and welcomed the horse. The whispers in its ear and the way he closed his eyes as he stroked its head were enough to tell Howland that the bond between them remained strong. There was no sign of the famous Direwolves which disappointed him a little and he was shown to a room far too quickly for his liking. Rickon then bid him and Meera join him in his solar a little later that night.

"His grace wishes to speak to us." he said to the giant blond woman who guarded the door, Howland happy to see that Rickon was taking his safety seriously, though later he was to find out it was Jon Snow who was in charge of seeing that was so.

"I'll see if he's ready for you, Lord Reed." the woman said as she knocked and opened the door, he and Meera bid to enter a moment later.

Later that night they held a feast of sorts, Howland finding his eyes drawn to the Starks and he was happy to see that they looked so united. Rickon, Sansa, and Arya all laughed and japed while Jon Snow played along, though it was clear his heart wasn't truly in it. The Knights of the Vale and Lord Royce in particular looked displeased and given what Rickon had said to him and Meera regarding his sister, he could understand why. Though they'd find no favor in demanding that she pay for doing what any woman in her position should. and Howland smiled as he remembered the words that Rickon had said.

" They may seek to see my sister tried and if they do I wish them good fortune, for they'll find my brother's blade a match for any they can call on and she can or will have no better champion than Jon."

There was a sense of pride about how the Starks seemed to speak about each other now. Meera had told him that Sansa was a much different person than she'd been when she and Bran had arrived and seeing them sitting together so closely, he would name them as what they were always meant to be, a pack. All but the one who sat somewhat distanced from them and whose eyes searched the room even more keenly than his own. Bran Stark seemed a wolf apart, though he wasn't truly a wolf any longer.

Howland soon found his eyes drawn to Lyanna Mormont and she was every inch her mother's child. The She-Bear of Bear Island may be small in stature but she had a presence about her that he remembered Maege having all those years before. It was Meera who brought his attention to Jon Snow when he left the Great Hall, Howland looking from him to the King for permission to follow and upon seeing the small nod that Rickon gave him, he hurried after him. He saw the disappearing form as it entered the crypts, the door left open for him to follow and soon enough he was walking in the footsteps that Jon left behind. He was noticed as soon as he entered the crypts, though he couldn't see the man in front of him.

"My mother named you a friend, Lord Reed." the voice called out from the darkness, and Howland was lost for a moment as he sought out the owner of that voice "She saved you from a beating according to her journal and though I know few of the true details of what happened at the Tower of Joy, I know it was your blade that ended The Sword of the Morning." Jon Snow said as he moved from the shadows and lit the candle that illuminated Lyanna's statue.

"I did, Jon." he said softly and shamefully.

"So you knew of me?" Jon asked accusingly.

"I did."

"Yet felt no need to speak to me, no need to tell me a truth I deserved to know." the voice was quiet and yet the anger was clear "Was it an oath to a man who deserved it not that kept you from telling your friend's son who he truly was?" Jon asked bitterly.

"In part, Aye."

"Then mayhap my mother should have let those men finish what they started at Harrenhal."

He reached out to stop him as he walked away, his hand quickly being brushed away and he almost felt as if he was about to be struck or worse.

"I hold you in the same contempt I hold him." Jon said looking at Ned's statue "Between you both you hid the truth of who I am and I care not for your reasons. I deserved to know who my mother was, who my true father was. I deserved to know that the tales I heard about them both were untrue. All my life I believed my father to be a rapist and a kidnapper because of him and you." Jon spat "May the Old Gods forgive you both, for I find I cannot."

"Jon.."

"Is that even my name?" Jon asked and Howland knew not how to answer.

"I know not, it's what your fa…" the glare he got stopped him from naming Ned that way and so he resorted to naming him by name instead "It's what Ned told me your name was, that you were to be called Jon. I believe he named you for Jon Arryn or mayhap even Jon Stark."

"I'm not a fucking falcon or a wolf though am I! All my life I've been afraid of this place. I've felt I didn't belong here and that the shame of my birth meant they wished me gone. The ghosts of the past told me I wasn't welcome here and all my life I knew it to be so. Yet because of Ned Stark and Howland Reed, I knew not why that was." he could see anger and determination in his face as Jon spoke.

"I'm sorry, Jon." he said softly.

"I care not for your apology, Lord Reed and I don't accept it. Keep far from me while you stay here, speak not on me or about me, not even with my family. Do me that service and this is the only time we need speak. My mother named you a friend, Lord Reed, but you were no friend of hers and you're certainly not one of mine."

He watched as Jon walked from the Crypts, the retreating figure looking anything but upset and though he'd not welcomed his anger, he did welcome that at least. Turning to the statue he looked up to see a face that was a poor likeness of the woman she'd been.

"Forgive me, Lyanna." he said softly and as he felt the wind ride and the candle blow out, he felt she would not.

King's Landing 303 AC.

Sarella Martell.

Having her father's name brought her as much pride that hit did guilt. She would rather have him and the rest of their family alive than to be a Martell. To think that they didn't even get her sisters' bodies back, or that they in some way had been desecrated had made her mad at Ellaria for quite some time. She was not a religious person, but she believed in action and consequences, and her mother's action against Doran and Myrcella had cursed her older sisters, almost condemned Ellaria and Tyene, and what for?

They hadn't even avenged her father's death, not if the rumors and her mother's account were to be believed. The Mountain had still been breathing and the forsaken Maester whom Cersei took as her Hand was responsible for that abomination he'd become. If it hadn't been for Jon Snow and the Queen's dragon, then justice for her father wouldn't have been done.

She was glad to see her mother and sister safe and sound. Whatever disagreement they had in the past regarding their actions would never change the love she bore her family and Sarella found herself crying in her mother's arms when she arrived in King's Landing. She was grateful only Tyene and Ned Dayne were present to see her moment of weakness, as it would be unbecoming for the future Princess of Dorne to appear feeble.

"Mama!" she remembered saying before looking her in the eyes as if she was still a child and not a grown woman.

"My sweet, beautiful, child…" Ellaria had gushed, caressing her cheek and smiling brightly. "I didn't think I would see you again."

"Neither did I. I'm so glad I was wrong!"

"The girls? Are they…"

"Guarded in Hellholt. They miss you, Mama, but they are well looked over. Grandfather dotes on them, especially Dorea and Loreza. He refuses them nothing and spoils them way too much." she sighed, making Ellaria and Tyene chuckle.

"Did they give you grief, the Lords? When they heard you would be legitimized?" her sister asked.

"Well, Lord Yronwood put forward a betrothal with his son Cletus. As did Lord Dalt with his brother."

"He'll have you marry Drey?" Tyene gasped and Sarella, knowing of his sister's closeness with the man, gave her a playful smirk.

"Yes, but I told him I would not have my sister's leftovers. I'm not that desperate!" she jested, amused to see her sister glare at her.

She still couldn't believe she would be the one to rule Dorne. She felt unworthy of the task and truly, she didn't want it in the first place. She wanted to keep on studying as an acolyte in the Citadel, but her cover had been blown as soon as her mother sent word to her and she had been forced to leave Oldtown to take care of her younger sisters while Ellaria went on her path to vengeance. The institution frustrated her in more than one aspect. Their unwillingness to share their knowledge with girls or to get involved in the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms as well as their dismissiveness for anything regarding magic, despite the previous reports of occurrences happening in the North and warnings about a possible threat beyond the Wall, got on her nerves. She remembered how they laughed when Qyburn, on behalf of Cersei Lannister, asked for means to eradicate dragons, and she couldn't help but smirk when she saw them fly over her head during Queen Daenerys' coronation.

Who's laughing now, Archmaester Ebrose?

"Shouldn't there be three dragons?" she asked her mother as she stood admiring them.

"Yes, but they do as they please. Queen Daenerys always says that a dragon is not a slave."

"Indeed. Do you think I could have a private audience with her? There are some things I need to discuss with her."

"You can ask Lady Olenna when you'll see her," Ellaria suggested and she nodded, enjoying the festivities until her duties were reminded to her the next day. She went into the Tower of the Hand after breaking her fast with her mother and found Lady Olenna already working.

"There's much to be done, Princess," Olenna said and she grimaced at the denomination. "You'll get used to it, maybe not to the unwanted attention the title will give you, but to it, you will. How are the preparations for the war in Dorne?"

"We've done as you've asked and a force of twenty thousand men led by Ser Daemon Sand will soon be arriving in King's Landing. We will depart as soon as the Queen is ready to leave."

"We?"

"It is my duty as the Princess of Dorne to lead my forces to battle and to ensure their safety."

"That's something that will endear you to the Lords since your Uncle couldn't do so himself. Have you been trained like the others?"

"I have, but I studied -"

"At the Citadel, I know. I hope you're smarter than the foolish men who remain there."

"You're talking about their unwillingness to send a Grand Maester now that the Queen has been crowned?" she asked curiously.

"You definitely sound more clever. Any idea why they're taking their sweet time to send someone?"

"Stupidity, wariness. Fear. Whoever they send here, watch him carefully and do not trust him without testing him first. They were the ones to send the blueprints for the scorpions requested by Qyburn, while this man had been set aside from the Order. One would wonder why they still comply while the Last Grandmaester was killed and they hadn't sent one to replace Pycelle."

"But you know why, don't you?"

"They didn't believe dragons were back into the world, but they wanted to be prepared in case the reports were true. They do not like having a Targaryen rule the Seven Kingdoms with magical beings around her, especially the Mad King's Daughter. And I don't think they will believe the things I have heard my mother say about the dead men walking." she said shaking her head.

"I have had the unfortunate experience of seeing one of those dead things, believe me, it pains me to say that it's true." Olenna said shivering slightly.

"I know. We received an acolyte from Castle Black, a Samwell Tarly. Nice man, a little unsure of himself and about everything except that the Long Night was coming."

"Tarly, you said? Were you close to him?" Olenna asked, frowning.

"Not really. He was friendly enough but he got frustrated that nobody listened to him and he kept trying to access a forbidden section of the Citadel. Then, one day he just… Disappeared." she said and Olenna looked as if she was about to say something only to change her mind and ask her something else.

"And what is your opinion? About the Long Night?"

"I don't think people like Daenerys Targaryen, my mother, and yourself would lie about seeing the dead walking. I have read things about the Long Night in books and have read about the Last Hero. I just wish we had more time and could find out more ways to defeat the dead if we truly have to fight them."

"I think it's high time for the Citadel to be reminded of their place in the Seven Kingdoms, of who is in charge of it and who they should help." Olenna said firmly.

"I would hate to see books burn, but if I can see the Archmaesters soil themselves, I'm all for it." Sarella chuckled.

"I like you, and the Queen will surely like you too." Olenna's smirking face showed her words to be true.

She felt so filled with pride. Praise from the Queen of Thorns, one of the most prominent players of the Game, was something few alive could boast about. Maybe she could do it, she thought. Maybe she could actually be a good Princess of Dorne and make her father proud.

The Black Cells 303 AC.

Jaime Lannister.

Never in a million years did he think he would end up this way. Stuck in the worst cells of the Keep he had lived so long in, after being captured a third time by the enemy. Yet it was not yet another countless humiliation that got to his head and shattered his mind.

She had left him. She ran away with Euron Gryjeoy, of all the people, and left him here to die without a care.

Why hadn't they killed him? Did they enjoy torturing him by keeping him alive, he who was already dead on the inside? He knew they wouldn't exchange him or keep him alive to ensure Cersei wouldn't try anything against them. Why would they, when she clearly abandoned him without thinking twice?

Damn you, Cersei! Damn you to the Seven Hells!

He could understand her desire to leave King's Landing when she felt the winds change and that she was losing. She had their child to think about and to protect, yet he couldn't get over the fact that she'd left with that Greyjoy fuck. That she didn't tell him to come with her hurt him the most. Instead, she had let him do her dirty work as usual and then had run away with Euron fucking Greyjoy of all people.

I hope you choke and meet your fucking Drowned God!

He could hear people praising Daenerys Targaryen who it seemed was getting crowned that day and it made him despise them all even more. They weren't this cheerful when they ruled King's Landing, but could one of them say they'd suffered more under Joffrey, Tommen, or even Cersei's rule than they had under the Mad King?

Fools, the lot of them. If they knew what Aerys had planned for them during the Sack of King's Landing then they wouldn't dare kiss his daughter's feet. She was no better than her Father, hiding behind dishonorable people to do her bidding and push her enemy to make a mistake so it would seem they were those in the wrong and she who was wronged. These sheep couldn't be expected to stay loyal to someone, for as soon as their opponent lured them with promises of a better life and more food to eat, they would turn their cloaks and stab you in the back.

Fuck them. Fuck them all. I should have let Aerys burn this city into ashes.

He knew he was being unfair. That the people of Flea Bottom were never loyal to his sister, but rather scared by what she could do, just as they were with Aerys, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Anger and hatred were all he felt at that moment towards everyone, his sister included.

She betrayed me. No, she has saved our babe. Get a grip, Jaime, at least she can raise it somewhere safe, away from the Dragon Bitch and all those who wanted to see her dead.

His thoughts threatened to overwhelm him and yet he gave into them all the same, or he was about to.

"You seem conflicted." he jumped as the voice rang from the other side of the cell and frowned as he saw the woman there. How the hell did she manage to enter without him hearing her?

"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked, his voice shakier than he'd have liked.

"To give you some clarity before you face justice. In two days' time, you will have a trial, and my Lord brought me here so you can be prepared."

"Tell Tyrion that I do not wish his help, nor do I need it." he spat.

"I do not come on your brother's behalf." she said and he frowned, looking at her closely before realizing who she was.

"You… You were with the Dragon Bitch too. You're the Red priestess who came with the bastard. Stannis former's whore. If you're here for a quick fuck, you will be disappointed." he said snarkily.

"I am Melisandre of Asshai and your insults will not hurt me. I have heard and endured much more than to be upset by the likes of you."

"Why are you here?" he repeated, annoyed by her presence.

"To tell you some truths that you need to hear. Because you are needed in the battle to come. The Long Night is coming and the Dead come with it. You saw it, saw what we must defeat"

Jaime shook his head, remembering the dead thing that had attacked Cersei on that fateful day that she left him.

"Not my problem. Though I do wish you good fortune and all." he said smirking at the non-amused woman.

"You were willing to fight against it. I saw your face when it was attacking your sister. Wouldn't you want to protect her still?"

"You all want her dead anyway, so spare me your manipulation."

"Her, mayhaps, but not the child she bears."

"How… How do you…" he stuttered.

"My Lord shows me a lot of things, Jaime Lannister. He showed me your purpose is not done yet. There are many answers you seek, about your role, your place in the world, and things that were said to you by a Prince before he headed to face his end at the Trident. About a song that would be heard and your sword answering its call." she answered with a soft smile.

Jaime's confusion deepened and he shivered at Melisandre's words. He would have named her a liar had she not talked about Rhaegar and his last words to him. He had never said them to anyone, not even Cersei, so how would she know about them if it wasn't through her God?

"Let me leave with you, my Prince. I can be useful. I can fight, you know I can!"

"One day your sword will be needed, far more needed than it is today. There is a song to be sung and I fear for the realm should it not be. On that day it would bring me comfort to know the singer has the White Lion to call upon, but that day is not today, Jaime."

"It can't be…" Jaime whispered, lost now in the reminiscence of a past that still hurt him deeply.

"You always wondered what he meant, didn't you? The answer to your question lies North, where the wind blows and the wolves howl, and a song needs to be heard for the Dawn to rise."

"Why can't you just simply tell me already?" he asked, frustrated by yet more mystery.

"It would not be as fulfilling as finding out by yourself, trust me. Go North, fight for the living, find your purpose, for your Prince asked it of you and you owe him as much."

She left as she'd arrived, with him being too overwhelmed to notice her movements. He shook his head as he tried to decipher the meaning behind her words and yet couldn't forget them. As much as he hated it, she had found a way inside his head by speaking of Rhaegar Targaryen, the only man that he had admired as much if not more than Ser Arthur Dayne, before the whole ordeal with the Stark girl had occurred. He'd never once thought that the Prince had held her against her will and that someone like the Sword of the Morning would condone such behavior from any man, even one he'd named his truest friend. Even though he did so with Aerys when it came to Queen Rhaella, he knew that he was as disgusted as Jaime was because of it and that he would refuse to guard the King's door, instead keeping to his duty around Viserys or Rhaegar's children when they were present in the Red Keep.

Why now? Why would she make him think about a past that he had decided to bury as soon as Cersei had married Robert Baratheon? Why did she care about a dead man's wishes, and why did he feel that he still cared so much now that he thought about it?

Jaime was still in a daze a few days later.

Tyrion pleading his case during the trial that his crimes committed against House Targaryen were for the greater good had been met with skepticism, and Jaime had almost laughed at how much his brother had fallen from grace. Daenerys Targaryen was clearly holding him in contempt and while Jaime didn't understand why, he couldn't bring himself to care either. The last thing he needed was to owe that monster his life after he tore it apart with his machinations and desperate attempts to be seen as something other than what he truly was.

When the Red Lady had stood up and taken up his defense, much to the surprise of everyone, and when Daenerys then agreed to send him North, so the Starks who had suffered as much from his cruelty could decide on his fate, he felt like a sacrificial lamb. Yet the smile of the red priestess never left her face, not even when she accompanied him on the ship heading North, her words promising him that he would not regret the journey.

He hoped for her and for his own sake that she was right.

Beyond the Wall 303 AC.

Benjen Stark.

He was glad he could no longer feel the cold and that he didn't need to sleep. The dead were everywhere when you knew how to look for them and the Night King was getting frustrated while waiting to grow his ranks. The ranging from the members of the Night's Watch had stopped and he was glad for it, fearing that the Night King would use one of his former brothers to cross the Wall without much trouble. Not that the Night King would have much trouble with crossing it soon.

He could feel it. The magical protection of the Wall had been getting weaker ever since Bran crossed over to the other side of it. He now believed the mark of the Night King on his arm had had an effect over the Wall itself and so he blamed himself for going against his instincts and making Bran leave with his friend. Benjen prayed that they at least had listened to his warnings and had prepared accordingly. For it would be the North, and his former home, that would be attacked first by the forces of the Night King when they finally broke through it.

Thinking about his nephew made him shiver. The Bran he had known in his former life was so different from the one he'd met in this one and it had broken his heart. That his nephew was supposed to be the next Three-Eyed Raven had filled him with pride and sadness, as he knew from the one who had saved him what such a thing truly entailed. A life of solitude and seclusion was not what he desired for Bran, but that he would stay alive and grow old, older than what he could imagine until he found a replacement to share his wisdom with, was something Benjen appreciated, especially given the short span of the Starks' life expectancy in recent years.

He was worried for Bran, though. His coldness and the fact he couldn't feel any connection with him, contrary to what he'd felt with Bloodraven ever since he'd been saved, made him uneasy. It was the Three-Eyed Raven's presence that prevented him from becoming a White Walker, and Benjen had to struggle every minute since his disappearance to resist the influence of the Night King's magic. He could feel the enemy's powers growing and he found himself drawn to him more than once.

Come with us.

You don't belong to the living.

Help me. Help me fulfill my purpose.

Cross the Wall and bring him to me.

Bring me to him…

They will die. All those you care about.

They died because of him and the rest will join me soon.

These thoughts, rather than convincing Benjen, made him resist even more. He knew thanks to Bran that Arya, Sansa, and Jon were alive, and the last thing he wanted was for the last remnants of his family to become slaves to the Night King's will.

Yet he would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by the Night King's insistence. Who was the person he wanted so much to reach? Why did he want him to go to them? He needed to know more and so he had prayed to the Old Gods for more answers.

It was when he was kneeling in front of one of the few heart trees that had not been desecrated by the Army of the Dead that he felt it. The compelling need to travel North. The thought was a warm one, not like those he had shared with his enemy since Bloodraven had died, so he knew it wasn't another trap concocted by the former and decided to trust his instincts.

He encountered many dangers and had needed to kill many foot soldiers to arrive at his destination, and he could feel in his mind that he was being followed. The Night King used dead animals as lookouts to warn him of his presence and the presence of any of the still mortal ones. Benjen soon found himself in a place he knew well and he was surprised to see the Raven's Heart Tree, where everything had started for him once more.

Why was he here? Would he find the answers he sought? Had Bloodraven left a clue, knowing what was to happen next?

It was strange to feel the magic surrounding the tree once more. It was weak, but definitely there, and he hesitated before trying to cross it, as he couldn't before unless one of the Children was with him.

He felt a tug at his heart when he went through the barrier while thinking about that fateful night and all those lives lost. The last cry for help that Bloodraven had sent him before disappearing completely from his mind.

Benjen… Your nephew… Help…

He had mourned them all. The Children of the Forest were gone and he now remembered the wonder he'd felt when he'd realized that Old Nan's tales were anything but. That a few of them had remained until then and now that all of them were gone broke his heart, but not as much as poor Hodor's fate had.

He'd known Wylis for as long as he could remember. Had grown with him and remembered a time where he spoke and trained with Lyanna, Ned, and him. Wylis had been a part of his previous life and his loss affected Benjen's cold heart as much as Ned's did. He sincerely hoped he didn't suffer much, for he was a gentle man with giant's blood who didn't deserve the fate he had been given.

The cave was surprisingly neat, with no sign of the massacre that had taken place there. Only the remains of the man still tied up in the roots stood out, the cold having preserved Bloodraven's body and if it wasn't for the gash he could see in his torso, he would say he was simply sleeping. It made him wonder how come the Night King hadn't raised him back?

"Because he was useless at this point." Benjen instantly put his sickle out to protect himself from a potential enemy and gasped as he saw the one who had talked to him.

"Welcome, Benjen Stark. I have been waiting for you."

Winterfell 303 AC.

Jon.

He found her kneeling down and speaking to Nymeria, his sister's voice not carrying in the wind or the distance between them. Though he didn't need to hear the words she said nor to imagine what they were and so he called Ghost to him and the white wolf was soon by his side. With no true words spoken between them and with Jon just kneeling and looking into those all-knowing red eyes, he reached out and stroked Ghost under the chin and then rose back to his feet. When she saw him Arya smiled and together they watched both wolves as they gathered the pack that Nymeria was the leader of and walked out the gates. Eyes closed, he was soon in Ghost as they ran across the field, their destination far ahead of them and their mission one that he knew they would see done.

"We should go back inside, Little Sister, it's getting cold." he said when Arya walked over to him, the shiver she made as she did so was enough to show him that she'd been out here some time.

"Aye, we should." Arya said before taking a last look at the gate and following him back into the keep.

They strolled through the keep together, Jon eager to go to his room and read more of his mother's journal, and Arya he knew would stop off and speak to Sansa before doing whatever it was she did when she was alone. She was still a mystery to him in that regard, guarding her privacy as truly as she did their brother and sister and he wondered did even Bran know what it was she got up to at times. Jon knew he could find out if he wished or that Rickon could, as his brother's gift for warging was far superior to his own and he'd even begun teaching Arya how to do so. Neither of them would seek her out without her consent though, she like them, deserved things that were for her and her alone.

"Is it what you truly want, Jon?" she asked him when they reached his room, the same question she'd asked him more than once since Rickon had surprised them all in the Great Hall.

"You know it is, Arya. More than anything I've ever wanted I believe, If she'll have me then Aye, I want to marry her." he said and saw her nod.

"Of course she'll have you, why wouldn't she." Arya said firmly and he embraced her before kissing her forehead.

When they were children she was the only one he could ever truly do that with. He and Robb were boys and of an age, both of them thinking themselves older and less in need of such things than they truly were. His time with Rickon and Bran was limited and should Lady Stark ever see him embracing one of them then it would not have gone down well. As for Sansa, his other sister had begun pulling away from him as soon as she was old enough to know what a bastard was, and before that she'd always been the apple in Lady Stark's eye, his time with her was because of it the most limited of all. It had been him and Arya, the two of them taking comfort in each other and he the one she sought out first and foremost in that regard.

"You'll go to Sansa?" he asked when he let her go, Arya nodding and then looking up to him with questioning eyes "I'll consider it." he said as he answered her unspoken question.

After bidding her goodbye, for now, he entered the room and moved to where he'd hidden his mother's journal and what he now knew was truly her maiden cloak. He'd not truly understood what it had meant when he'd held it in his arms before, content instead to just feel something close to his skin that she'd worn even once. It was really reading in the journal that proved the truth to words spoken by Bran and even by Rhaegal. His mother and father had loved each other, they'd wed and he was the result of that love. He had been wanted, wished for, welcomed, and though the gods had seen fit to deny him a mother's presence or a father's guidance, they'd at least seen fit to gift him that. The words he now read as he lay on his bed were proof enough for him.

He sang to him tonight, a song I'd not heard before and one that brought tears to my eyes not just because of its melody but because he sang it to our babe.

I wake up at night and find my husband speaking to our son, telling him of his brother and sister and the world they'll build together. The hope he has in his heart for all that he'll become is one I share and one I dream of when I close my eyes.

Today I felt him kick for the first time, my little wolf who is a dragon.

I fear for him, for my son. My dreams are filled with nightmares of what happened to his brother and sister. The thoughts that anyone could do that to such a sweet girl as Rhaenys and to the babe in the crib that Aegon was are ones that I find myself thinking about far too often. I would gladly accept poor Elia's fate if the gods would guarantee me that my son would not suffer his sibling's, but there is no Weirwood here and I fear my prayers may go unanswered.

I know now that I'll not see him grow or watch him become the man he is meant to be. My time draws close to an end and now I only have two prayers left in me. Let him be safe, protect him from those that will do him harm, and give him a life, a good life even if it was not the one he should have lived. Let me see him and hold him even but once, let me kiss my son and then take me if you must.

As always he ended the night with tears in his eyes and unable to read anymore. The earlier pages were filled with hope and happiness and yet those too brought him only sadness. Jon finding the knowledge that the promise those early pages were filled with was never to be realized to be just as tragic as the despairing words his mother wrote in the later ones. He tried to place himself at the Tower of Joy, to put himself in her shoes, and found he could not. Instead, as he dreamt that night it was to another place and another time he was taken, and when he woke the next morning it was his father's words that were on his lips.

"Lyanna." he said softly, the last words he believed his father ever uttered as he lay dying at the Trident, and long after he broke his fast and sparred, he did so hating that Robert Baratheon had been welcomed so fondly by his uncle into these halls.

The supplies had arrived from the Stoney Shore and Jon was not alone in welcoming them. Just seeing how much Olenna had sent from the Reach and knowing that she and Dany would be looked at differently because of it, was a bright spot in an otherwise dark day. He left it to Sansa to see to their storage, the food not for them but for the armies to come and once it was in the process of being put away, he then made his way to see to the defenses of the keep.

Later that night he stormed out from the Crypts and made his way to the Godswood, only stopping when he got there to make sure that Bran was not there and happy to find he was not. He'd had mixed feelings all day about Howland Reed's arrival, more so than he had about the arrival of the Lords of the Vale and so he'd been glad enough to not need to speak to one of those at least. As for the other, they'd behaved just as he'd expected. Lord Royce angrily demanded justice for a man who deserved none.

" How are we to know that the tale you tell is the true one." Lord Royce shouted loudly.

" You name my sister a liar?" Arya asked angrily and Royce was lucky that he didn't answer that particular question.

" My sister was kidnapped, Lord Royce, I need no other words than her own to name it so, but my brother who was the one to bring her back here can answer more to it should her word not be enough for you." Rickon said firmly.

" A sister and brother who may have had their own motives is no proof, your grace." one of the knights called out.

" Then what is?" he asked.

" A trial needs to be held, Lord Snow, one to judge Lady Sansa's guilt or innocence." Lord Royce demanded and Jon nodded to Sansa who stood up and looked to the Lord of Runestone and the Knights of the Vale.

" I demand Trial by Combat and name my brother Jon as my champion." Sansa said firmly and as he looked out at the faces of the Knights of the Vale he needed not to study them too closely to know that not one of them would stand against him.

Yet now as he stood looking up at the great Weirwood it was not the idiots from the Vale he was thinking of, it was the man from the Neck, Howland Reed. It was the conversation if you could name it such that they'd had, that Jon was now reconsidering. He'd been harsh, very harsh, and probably too harsh if he really thought about it. The man getting more than his fair share of the blame for what his uncle's lie of omission had meant to Jon's life than mayhap he deserved.

Rickon's words rang out in his head and the conversation he'd had with his brother about Howland Reed helping him when he'd warged and ran desperately to make sure Jon was safe was something he should have brought up with the man. He owed him thanks for that and for sending his son and daughter to Winterfell all those years ago and yet he'd led with his own grievances and placed many that were not on Howland's part at his door regardless. After resolving to speak to the man on the morrow, Jon made his way back to the keep and again to his room, his night's routine about to begin again as he lit the candle and took out the book before laying down on his bed.

Fate stole his apology from him the next morning, or to be more precisely the urge to go and speak to Rhaegal who had landed in the Wolfswood, did. So after breaking his fast and making sure that all those present knew of their own tasks, he told a white lie and with a look to his brother to show that Rickon had understood it and a smile to Sansa to let her know all was well after the night before, he made his way out from the keep and walked alone to the Wolfswood. The solitary nature of his walk allowed him even more time to think and he knew he'd need to tell Sansa soon. He'd put it off for too long already and though he believed she was on their side now, he'd used that as an excuse for why he'd not spoken when in truth it was not the reason. He felt she'd think politically and while he needed someone to do so, he was not ready for that to be how people saw his truth just yet. For now, he had someone else to speak to and he smiled when he saw the Green Dragon waiting for him.

"You've been well, eaten?" he said softly and heard the dragon's trill as he stroked its head "Aye we'll fly soon, tonight when it's dark." he said to an even louder trill from Rhaegal as he then leaned his head against his own.

He stood with the Green Dragon for some time and then with a last look he bid him Farewell, the final words he spoke to Rhaegal bringing out the biggest trill of all.

"Īlon'll ūndegon aōha muña se lēkias aderī. Pār īlon'll mirre sōvegon hēnkirī, nyke kivio." (We'll see your mother and brothers soon. Then we'll all fly together, I promise.).

How he knew how to speak the language of dragons was a mystery to him. He believed it was because of the bond that he and Rhaegal shared, that the warging that he knew now he'd been experiencing with the Green Dragon, had tapped into something deep inside and allowed the words to come from his lips as if he had spoken Valyrian all his life. True, he spoke it with a Northern burr and until he said the words themselves he knew not what they meant, but it had made him consider whether or not he'd be able to only speak them with Rhaegal or could he do so with Dany too.

Was the fact that he had now accepted who he was partly the reason too? Or was it the gods at work in their own mysterious ways? They were questions that may never be answered and so for now he just accepted it and as he watched Rhaegal fly off, he turned to walk back to the keep. His arrival was expected or anticipated or perhaps just waited on. Jon saw Davos standing as if he was seeking him out and when he saw him walk into the courtyard, the knight came running towards him, or as close to running as Davos now did.

"A raven Jon, from Queen Daenerys." Davos said holding said raven's scroll in his hand and Jon looked at it and the man curiously.

"Has my brother read this?" he asked to a nod from the older man.

"Aye. He bid me find you and give it to you and you alone, Jon."

He took the scroll when offered and opened it up to read, the words that were written there bringing a smile and then a frown to his face.

To the King in the North,

My armies and I are set to depart on the morrow and should arrive in White Harbor before the week is done. We stand ready to fight by the side of the North in the wars to come and ask for leave for Lord Snow to be named as Commander of both your own and our own forces as he is a man that mine own will gladly accept their orders from. We have much to discuss King Rickon, many things we need resolved and I bring with me an offer that I hope you will accept. I look forward to seeing the North again, to speaking to you and your sisters. I hope that you and your family are well and I pray that your brother has managed to keep out of harm's way. For I have much to discuss with the commander too and many questions that only he can answer.

Queen Daenerys Targaryen,

Queen in the South.

His first thought was that she was coming and that he'd see her soon and then his thoughts were on the offer that Rickon and the North had for her and the offer that she said she was bringing to them. He wondered if they were the same and If not, then what was she to offer them. Quickly though he felt his nervousness rise and his worries threaten to overwhelm him. How would she react to his truth? What it would mean for what had been growing between them and whether or not she'd accept or reject the thoughts of being wed to someone like him all fighting for prominence in his thoughts.

"Relax lad, if the letter worries you so then remember we're about to fight an army of dead men and we're all probably fucked." Davos said before bursting out laughing, Jon joining in and reaching out to pat the man on the back.

"Aye, you have the right of it. Come, we've to make sure we're prepared to welcome a queen and the largest army the North has ever seen." he said and as he walked with Davos into the keep, he did so without noticing the look on the face of Bran as he sat watching them do so.

The North 303 AC.

Nymeria.

It had been just as he'd said, her bonded was who she had once been and the joy she felt at finally seeing her again after all these years was one that was shared. Seeing her brother again only made that even more so and despite his quietness, he'd made it clear that he felt the same too. Both of them shared in their grief and finally mourned together for those they'd lost while at the same time being joyful at what they'd found.

He'd shared with her how his own bond had finally been fulfilled and that hers too would be formed truly in time. Something that had begun to happen far more quickly than she'd expected. It was just the beginnings of it, the first reaching out of it and it was far from what her brother shared with his own bonded or what she'd shared with her wild brother's bonded just briefly. Yet it was the promise of it, the idea of it that she welcomed and the time she'd spent with her bonded that she had longed for which made her feel fulfilled.

Her pack was well cared for, left to do as they must, and though some of the two foots were wary of them, none gave them any issue and so she took no issue with those around her. Some of the younger ones were wary about being so close to the den full of two foots but they welcomed the warmth of the old tower and being out of the wind, as well as the food that they were given when they had not been hunting.

It was her quiet brother who came to her first, long before her bonded did. His bond with his own bonded was enough to show him what her bonded would wish to do. She'd argued with him, told him they should not and had been shown images of their soft sister and how were she here, she'd not be soft in this regard. So when her bonded came to her and told her what she wished for her to do, she received no argument or doubt and soon enough she was moving south once more.

Her quiet brother had joined her and she welcomed his presence and the comfort of not being alone in doing what needed to be done. She shared with him the worries she had about her pack and he showed her how to protect them, his cunning, something that they'd need if they were to do as they were bid and do so without losing any of those with them. Were it just her quiet brother and herself, then she was sure they could do so without any true danger, but they needed her pack and so it was them she worried about.

They reached the camp at nightfall and the smell of two foots was overpowering. She comforted those who knew these two foots were not the same as the ones they'd left behind and showed the others this was true while her quiet brother did what he did best and snuck unnoticed into the camp. It was at his call that she and the pack came and they arrived to find none awake. The pack moved quietly to each of the two foots before she howled loudly and the slaughter began. Their steel arms lay unused as necks were torn apart and the smell of their blood filled the air. Some who had woken and ran soon found no respite in the darkness of the night.

It was the one though, the one who'd laid hands on her soft sister's bonded, the one who had managed to find his steel arm and who she feared would harm her pack that she moved to. She watched as he raised the steel arm in warning and as her pack growled menacingly at him. One of them almost threatened to break ranks and attack and it took all she had to hold him back. Her worry for him was not unfounded as even she'd have trouble getting past the steel arm the man held.

Again it was the quiet brother who offered her comfort. His silent steps allowed him to come up on the two-foot from behind. With a look to her and then a leap he was on the two-foot and the steel arm had fallen to the ground. She moved quickly to join him and then bid the pack do likewise, all of them finding some piece of the two-foot to sink their teeth in and she and her quiet brother leading them to do what they'd come here for. This two-foot had tried to harm her other pack, so now she, her quiet brother, and her pack would see he harmed no one else. His screams soon grew silent and were replaced by her howls and the howls of the pack she ran with. Her quiet brother looked on almost proudly and then she watched as he picked up the two foot's metal arm and moved it to a different place far from the two-foot, the look in his eyes enough to tell her that their work here was done.

North, back to the North, back to her bonded, and back where she belonged. Her old pack was smaller than it was meant to be. Wolves of both sorts were no longer here, but the pack she'd gathered, the pack that remained would be as strong as it was before, stronger her quiet brother said, and as she felt another piece of the bond grow between her and her bonded, who was she to disagree.