JON
The small holdfast of Queenscrown was an empty and lonely place, with only one tower remaining that could potentially be used as a meeting point. The other buildings were all in ruins. He remembered this place, from the time when he had chosen not to kill the farmer and when his direwolves, Summer and Shaggydog, had come to his aid. Jon wondered if the other Jon Snow had experienced the same inner conflict as he had during those moments. He shook his head and allowed the cold to once again consume him, turning to face the other wildlings present, as well as Ghost, Sansa, Davos, and Melisandre. His voice was hushed and icy.
"There is something I must ask of you, and I must have your word that you will listen to me on this matter."
Tormund grunted slightly, but leaned in closer, allowing Jon to keep going.
"In addition to Lord Reed, Lady Maege, and Lord Galbart, there are two other men present, Hother Umber and Mors Umber. Whenever you have conducted raids in these lands, it has primarily been the lands of House Umber that you have targeted, causing destruction to their people and homes. They have a valid reason to be angry with you, but I request that you refrain from initiating violence. If necessary, I will protect you. However, it is important for you to control your anger when they hurl insults and worse at you. Are you capable of doing that?"
The redheaded wildling gazed at him for a long moment before speaking to the others nearby.
"If anyone is inexperienced enough to not disregard the words of a southern milk drinker, please do not attend this meeting. King Crow is correct, we need people with a calm and rational mindset."
Jon smiled and nodded, hoping that the meeting would proceed smoothly despite his limited knowledge of what might occur. However, things did not go as planned. Mors Umber, while introducing the Free Folk, abruptly lunged towards Jon with a dagger. Thankfully, Ghost intervened by positioning himself in front of Jon, preventing any harm. Even when Jon showcased one of their wights to justify his decision to allow the wildlings through the Wall, Mors continued to harbor a hateful glare towards them. Eventually, Jon grew weary of Mors' complaints and confronted him directly, locking eyes with his lone eye.
"Enough, Lord Amber, it's done. I wasn't going to let the Night King create tens of thousands more soldiers, and I wasn't going to abandon innocent people to their fate either. The Free People are now part of the Seven Kingdoms. , they are part of the male sphere. Whine and complain about it all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that it's being done."
"House Umber has been fighting the Wildlings for longer than you have been alive."
Jon interrupted Mors before he could continue speaking.
"Did House Umber always fight the wildlings, my Lord? Then where were they when Mance Rayder attacked the Wall less than a year ago? I remember sending a letter to Last Hearth myself, as only a few of us at the Wall could write, pleading for any aid they could provide. We reached out to all the Northern houses, but none responded. It was Stannis Baratheon, his lords, and Essos sellswords who came to our aid before House Umber did."
Jon watched as the words hit the large man square in the chest, causing him to look down in shame before Jon continued.
"Before I do that, I have something to say to you. I swear to the Elder Gods that if you really hand over my brother Rickon to Ramsay Bolton, I will kill you in this room."
It was Hother Umber who growled loudly.
"We promise that the little prince is safe in Last Hearth. Ramsay discovered him and SmallJon just outside our walls, but our nephew was able to switch the boys before Ramsay took him away."
Jon sighed in relief and sat down at the table, where Lord Reed and the other two had been observing the interaction. The crannogman caught his attention as he produced a familiar letter and a wrapped bundle, prompting Jon to pretend he was unaware of the situation and speak deliberately.
"I am happy to have a small part of my brother that continues to exist and was sent to me, but I am unsure of the reason. You requested my presence here and mentioned discussing topics that would be seen as treason to the Boltons and Lannisters. Why is that?"
"This is the final testament of Robb Stark, in which he frees you from your obligations to the Night's Watch, bestows upon you the Stark name, and declares you as his successor. The document was signed and witnessed by Lord Galbart and Lady Maege, who were en route to the Wall when the Red Wedding took place. Henceforth, you shall be known as Jon Stark, the ruler of the North."
Jon did not hesitate or run away this time. That moment had long passed. Instead, a serious expression of responsibility covered his face. He observed as everyone looked at him, anticipating his decision. A part of him desired to accept the letter and crown, and claim everything he desired. He truly wanted Winterfell, just not in the same way Lady Stark had worried about. While Aemon and Daeron were his favorite heroes, Jon had always admired many Kings of Winter. However, Rickon was alive, and Jon couldn't seize his brother's rightful inheritance.
"I am grateful for my brother's trust, but he created his Will without the knowledge that his trueborn sibling Rickon is alive. The crown should rightfully pass to him instead."
Upon the faces of the Northern Lords in front of him, there was a strange look of pride and discomfort. The one who responded was Maege.
"In normal times, we wouldn't have contacted you from the Wall, and we would have headed straight for Rickon. But these are not normal times. These Whites will kill us all if we don't have a strong leader, And Rickon is just a boy. So bear the bloody crown and do your duty."
Just as he had done previously, Howland Reed successfully infiltrated the Twins and snatched Robb's Winter Crown from the Freys. The nine iron spikes and bronze band shimmered in the firelight, and the crown felt weighty as he held it in his hand.
"Very well, although I will wear this when we take Winterfell, but not before. Now is the time to plan. I've been toying with a lot of ideas myself about how to retake the North from Ramsay Bolton and his ilk, but I'm glad. to proposals."
"Many of our houses house Bolton soldiers, making it impossible for us to contribute to your cause," Lord Glover began. Otherwise, capture those castles before you have enough troops to besiege Winterfell. "
"Winterfell is capable of withstanding any siege, regardless of its scale or duration, due to the formidable thickness and height of its walls. Additionally, as long as the true Rickon remains secure at Last Hearth, Ramsay lacks any form of influence or power over us. Consequently, we have the opportunity to strategically capture one castle after another from his control, gradually limiting his options until he is left with only a single alternative."
"And what is it?" asked Morse.
"My sister believes that Ramsay, although intelligent, is also prideful and will feel the need to confront us to save face. Once he hears of our achievements, his troops will doubt him, and he will be forced to take action."
That wasn't the entirety of his true plan to handle the Bolton bastard, but Jon had no intention of revealing that to anyone present. Doing so would destroy any chance of them accepting the falsehood that he possessed the same level of honor as his Uncle. The remainder of the meeting progressed sluggishly as the two factions repeatedly dissected each aspect of the plan, causing Jon to become dizzy. The familiar icy and almost otherworldly coldness of the Wall, despite its distance, kept his mind and senses alert. Eventually, he reclined and examined the group.
"It seems we've discussed this plan to the death at the moment. Once we remove Bolton's supporters at Last Hearth, we will march towards Karhold and take it. From there we will split the armies into two parts. One group will head west and liberate Deepwood Motte and Bear Island, while the others will make their way to Widow's Watch to sail toward White Harbour. The Free Folk will act as scouts and skirmishers, rather than infantry. Ramsay will have to look back and forth "We take back the north from him and prove that the Starks are worth following. Is there anything else you'd like to talk about?"
He noticed that Lord Reed was about to speak, but as he anticipated, Mors Umber spoke before him.
"I still want to talk about the wildlings you brought with you. What are you going to do to make sure they don't raid our land anymore?"
"I have many plans in place to promote peace between our two groups. The first and most important step is ensuring that both sides keep their promises. If they fail to do so, they will be accountable to me. Similarly, if a Northerner harms the Free Folk, they will also be held accountable by me. I understand that not all parties may be satisfied with these measures, so there will be additional aspects to our negotiations, some of which can only take place once the North is secure again."
"Like for example?"
"The free people will live in the lands of the gift, under the jurisdiction of the Night's Watch, and pay their taxes to them. Together with volunteers from all houses, they will rebuild and guard the castles. I also have a plan to ensure peace for many generations, should we all see our children grow up."
Most of the room's attention was captured by that. It was beneficial to occasionally remind them of the threat posed by the White Walkers as it helped maintain their focus. Despite Mors maintaining a scowl directed at Tormund and the others, it was Maege Mormont who decided to speak.
"What kind of plan?"
Jon gestured for Gunmir, one of the chieftains, to respond.
"The Ice River Clans refer to it as Swimming the River. Prior to becoming chief, a man must reside with every tribe during his childhood in order to acquire knowledge about their customs and traditions."
The majority of the people in the room comprehended the man's intention, and it was Sansa who expressed it in a surprised tone.
"Adopted child? Is that true?"
"Of course, why not? It creates bonds of friendship between children in the next age, so that they can remember their friends when they grow up. Moreover, our father grew up in the Vale, and now the Knights of the Vale are waiting for him to come to our aid outside of Moat Cailin."
The room started to nod in agreement, causing Jon to relax slightly. He observed as the two Umbers separated and engaged in a heated conversation before Mors threw up his hands in frustration and returned to the table. Jon noticed the intense hatred in Mors' gaze, making him wonder if he could melt the Wall with it. His attention then shifted to the wight, which was still impaled by a sword.
"Although I hope the Old Gods punish the Night King and the Boltons with a rusty spear for forcing me to say this, I reluctantly agree with the King. I will never have faith in you all or forgive you for separating me from my daughter, but the true adversary is that entity in the distance. House Umber supports you."
After that, he walked away and the meeting naturally ended. Jon glanced at Howland, who signaled for him to follow, and then proceeded to climb the stairs. Jon summoned Ghost to accompany him, and together they ascended as well. The diminutive individual remained silent as he gazed out the window at the starry sky.
Lord Reed, do you remember everything like I do?
"Only when I came to visit you the other day. Where did you go next?"
"The island of Faces."
Reed nodded, his thoughtful expression evident.
He paused before continuing, stating that keeping your heritage a secret is a wise decision.
Jon scowled and a cold feeling drifted over his veins as he turned to face the crannogman, with Ghost giving a low growl too.
"Why do you think so?"
Despite being thankfully shorter than him, Reed faced him head-on and looked him in the eye.
"I know your father never wanted you to continue down that unwise path."
"I didn't know you knew Crown Prince Rhaegar."
Lord Reed stared at him with confusion, but then his eyes squinted.
"I am not referring to your biological father, but the man who brought you up."
"Ned Stark, my uncle? " John interrupted. " This man could barely look at me. He made me live like a bastard, a source of shame, and lied to me my whole life. Yes, he protected me from Robert and the Lannisters, and for that I'll be forever grateful, but I won't forgive him. And if taking the Iron Throne is something he won't approve of, then that gives me even more reason to do it But rest assured, Lord Reed, I have no intention of doing so. I will take no action in the South just yet, for the North is my goal. I will reclaim my home and sit on the Winter Throne, and then decide whether I want Iron Throne or not. If I don't, then maybe I'll help my aunt take it back from the Lannisters as a welcome home gift."
Lord Reed took a step forward and observed him closely for an extended period of time. Eventually, he let out a sigh and nodded.
"If that is your intention, then let it be. Although I do not agree, I will remain faithful to you regardless. I owe your mother that level of commitment."
With that, he walked away, leaving Ghost and Jon alone at the top of the tower. Jon frowned in frustration. He had not intended to reveal his ambitions for the Throne so soon, but he couldn't help but react when Lord Reed mentioned his Uncle. Just the mention of him brought up conflicting emotions within him. His Uncle had risked everything to raise him and had taught him morals, yet he had also kept a major secret from him. Did Ned Stark expect Jon to pledge his loyalty immediately upon learning about his mother? Jon had considered fleeing to the Wall or Essos to avoid endangering his family, but now he felt compelled to take action. Part of him wanted to stay in the North and rule as Jon Stark, but the looming threat of the White Walkers reminded him of his duty. He knew his Aunt had a strong following and dragons in Essos, but her whereabouts were unknown. Jon hoped to someday reunite with her and change her lonely situation.
While he gazed into the distance towards Winterfell, his gaze hardened and his thoughts grew colder. Ghost stood silently beside him, acting as a sentinel.
"Winter is coming Ramsay Bolton," he murmured under his breath. "Pray to any god that you may die soon on the battlefield and not at my hands."