Shielding Their Realms Forever by GreedofRage, Longclaw_1_6
Chapter 4: Chapter 3
Jon
The growing Stark army had been granted permission by Lady Alys Karstark to camp on her family's lands. She had also called to arms many of her bannermen but they would not be joining in the fight against Ramsay. Instead the lieutenants and other commanders were shown the wight which was put in the Karhold dungeons for now. Each man swore to stay their weapons and their men until a peace could be reached with Harald.
A message had been sent in secret to the Lord of Karhold and a response came back. He refused to meet and ordered that the men gathered were to march to Winterfell to join him. But Alys ordered them to remain and sent another message, pleading with her brother to not fight and see the truth.
Even though a meeting with Lord Karstark failed, Jon's other efforts had proved more successful. He was with Sansa and Smalljon in the command tent of the camp, assessing their current strength.
"The Manderly forces will be standing by at Hornwood." Sansa informed. "Two thousand infantry and five hundred horsemen." With the knowledge of how to do things better, Jon managed to rally several more Houses to his cause than the last time. The Raven had warned Jon that the Glovers were just as stubborn as they were but he still sent a message anyways. As expected, Robett refused even though the bulk of the army was Northmen more than Wildlings.
Getting word to the crannogmen of the swamps would have normally been too difficult and taken too long. There were indeed thousands they could add to the ranks, but time was everything right now. With The Raven's help however, getting a message to the right location was no trouble.
Jon hoped they would answer soon if at all. He wanted to meet with Lord Reed and had much to talk about. He never got the chance to speak to anyone who knew his mother. This would finally be his chance to pursue what he had kept within him for years. Always a bastard that wanted nothing.
No more.
Smalljon nodded in pleasure at the news. "Now we outnumber the bastard by a thousand men."
Jon placed a few makeshift rock tokens by Hornwood and looked over to Moat Cailin. According to The Raven, the Tully army had arrived and met with the Knights of the Vale. Sansa once again kept Littlefinger's offer to herself.
Damn it all to the Seven Hells.
"We'll tell Lord Cerwyn to keep his men at his castle until we are ready to march on Winterfell. I want us gathered at our full strength."
Smalljon tapped his finger directly onto Winterfell. "Then we should march now while the weather is clear. Who knows if another storm will hit us like it did Stannis?"
"No, not yet. We need to stop by another castle before Winterfell."
"Another?" Sansa asked. "We've already amassed enough soldiers."
"I'm not talking about gathering more allies." Jon placed his finger over the map and tapped at the Dreadfort. "With all his men at Winterfell, Ramsay has the Dreadfort undermanned with only three hundred men. We're going to give him nowhere else to go. Smalljon, I want you to gather the other lords and prepare to march in the morning. And Send a raven to the Manderly army to meet us for the attack."
A smirk grew on Smalljon's face. "Bout time we did somethin'. My sword's hungry for a fight." He left promptly leaving Jon alone with Sansa.
"Why the Dreadfort?" Sansa asked. "It's just a delay. We have the numbers and defeating Ramsay will leave them leaderless."
"I have my reasons." One of which was to play his own mind game with Ramsay. "While we're attacking, the Tully army will be marching to meet us."
Sansa brightened at the news. "My uncle is coming?"
Jon straightened up and nodded but kept a stern face. "The Blackfish just crossed through Moat Cailin, along with two thousand men from the Vale."
Her expression immediately changed. She looked like a child that had been caught stealing sweets.
Jon leaned his hands on the table but kept his eyes on her. "I know Littlefinger came to you in Mole's Town." His past anger at her foolishness years ago flared up, but this was a moment he had to keep it buried. He hated her so much, but this was a moment he had to be a genuine brother to her as he used to be.
Sansa looked away from Jon. It was clear that she was too ashamed of herself to look him in the eye. "Did Brienne tell you?"
"I told you, I saw everything in my vision. We had half the men we do now, and the Vale came when we were about to lose. I know they are at Moat Cailin and I knew you wouldn't say anything." He looked away for a moment before resuming his glare. "Sansa, I understand why you didn't want to. But even with the numbers we have, we need every possible man at our side. Every one extra is one fewer life lost on the battlefield."
"He promised I would be safe but he had no idea what Ramsay was like. He thought Winterfell would be safe even with our family's murders living in it. I wouldn't call him for aid unless it was our only chance." She shook her head. "I won't trust him anymore."
Jon raised his brow, silent for the longest time. Disturbing Sansa's secrecy would only do so much for her, and so would taking care of Littlefinger later. Now was the moment that would determine if everyone's fate was inevitable or if there was a chance for something more. Sansa… was still at a crossroads.
"But you trust me, won't you?" he finally said.
"What?" Sansa said, almost shocked that he would ask. "Of course I trust you."
"But not enough to tell me about this?" Jon pressed.
"Jon, I'm sorry. I know how much every man in our army means."
"Then why didn't you? Are you afraid of him?"
"I'm not afraid, I'm angry at him! I could have ran but everything he says corrupts your sense of reason. I don't want to see him do that to you and Rickon! You don't know the kind of man he is."
"So tell me what you know he is. How can I understand so we can protect our family?"
Sansa shook her head and began pacing. "You don't need me to. You've had your visions so you can protect us yourself."
"I can only do so much. We all need to look out for one another."
"But I can't look out for Rickon like you. I'm not a warrior."
"You're his sister. Why are you so certain that you can't protect him?"
"Because it's my fault we all broke apart!" Sansa hitched in her breathing as the tears fell down her cheeks. "I drove us all apart." Her voice had dropped to almost a whisper as she sobbed. "I told Robb to surrender, I pleaded for Joffrey's mercy, I killed Lady and sent Nymeria and Arya away, I hated you just for being born…" She looked at him with red eyes, emotion spreading across her face. Painful emotion. "I was wrong about so much. My dreams, they were the dreams of a silly little girl pretending the world was filled with beauty. It wasn't, as many taught me."
A perfect opening. "Cersei."
Confusion came back on Sansa's face, but her eyes were red. "What?"
"The things you suffered and the ones who made you bear them, Joffrey, Cersei, Ramsay, Littlefinger, you believe you're stronger because of them."
The confusion remained, but it was joined by something else. Anger. "No, how dare you… how dare you think I would appreciate what they all did to me?!" Sansa was right about the reaction her past self would have, although it wasn't far from her initial reaction when they discussed this either.
"But it's just like her, isn't ot? Being rejected and belittled, married to a pig that treated her like a broodmare?" He had no love for Cersei, but there was some sympathy in how Robert treated her. "She let herself wear her pains like a shield, but it merely became a dark path. She didn't trust anyone, and everyone around her just became people in your way."
Sansa's mouth opened to unleash a denial or a defense, but she hesitated.
"And you're the same as her, you think you have to be."
"No…"
Her head was in her hands, and Jon knew she was close to breaking. He pressed forward. "Why?"
"She… she was the strongest woman I knew…"
"But was that real strength?"
Her lips warbled, as if she was close to breaking out into sobs. "No… She was a monster…" His words had deflated her. Sansa no longer even attempted to make his gaze. "I… I did the best I could… I tried to be dutiful, endure being brutalized again…" Sansa trembled. "I can't be defenseless anymore, Jon. I won't let anyone do those things to me again." A sob passed through her like a knife.
It was gone now, all the walls. She looked like the girl she was, the girl she was stripped of all her innocence. An older, beaten down version, one that knew the evils of man without any of the wisdom. False wisdom, with room now to properly heal.
"Jon, I'm so alone."
For the first time in so many years, Jon felt in his heart that Sansa was being true to him and herself. It was enough to make him forget his wrath at her, even though she was far from the fool he suffered from. It was enough for him to come and wrap his arms around her. He let her cry into his shoulder as long as she needed to.
Sansa wormed her face into the crook of his neck, the taller woman squeezing his waist tightly.
Holding each other for nearly a minute, the pair drew back and the relationship began anew. At least, Jon could see Sansa believing it. Now there was less of a chance of her betraying him this time. "We need those men, Jon," she finally remarked, wiping the tears from her eyes.
He put his emotions aside, just as she did. "Do not misunderstand, I want him here just as much as I want the army he has. Your betrayal isn't the only one he has to answer for."
Sansa looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"Haven't you ever wondered who it was that bought the gold cloaks for Joffrey?"
Jon told her everything that really happened the day their father was betrayed, how it was Littlefinger himself who held the dagger to Ned Stark's throat, how it was Littlefinger who sent the assassin after Bran.
Sansa's reaction to it all was well controlled, but her anger was certain as was her determination to go through with his plan.
As a good gesture, Jon had Ghost rest in her tent to keep her company and watch over her. He had to prepare for the battle tomorrow. His armor was ready, his sword sharpened, all was as it needed to be. What came as a surprise to him was that sleep came easy. It never had the nights before the battles he fought before.
The sun rose warm that morning and the attack had begun. When the Dreadfort had realized that an army was going to be at its doorstep, Jon, Smalljon, Tormund, and seventeen other men were able to sneak into the castle through the front gates.
They had dressed themselves in Bolton uniforms they stole from captured scouts and pillagers. With the disguises working perfectly they joined the other men garrisoning the castle as part of the regular guard and no one suspected a thing. When the Stark host came into sight, alarms rang, gates were sealed, and men mobilized. Unfortunately for the Bolton soldiers, someone had set a fire in the rookery, sending all the ravens fleeing so no help could be called for.
Tormund led ten men and set another fire in one of the towers, causing a great chaos to ensue. It sent enough men trying to garrison the outer defenses into a panic and confusion.
Jon and Smalljon led the other eight men, splitting into groups of five to help garrison the gatehouse over the portcullis of the Dreadfort. Little did the Bolton men there expect to feel the ends of swords piercing into their backs and ripping out of their chests without a sound for anyone to hear.
The Stark army was nearly at the gates. It was time for the castle to be taken. Jon and his men barred the doors which were well built to prevent intrusion, and opened the gates of the castle. A great roar of battle erupted as the Dreadfort was invaded. After a minute had passed, Jon and his men shed their tunics bearing the flayed man and left the safety of the gatehouse, joining in the fray of battle and bringing hell to every man in their path.
It was a short battle given the odds and the ambush, but the victory was ever so sweet and glorious when they won it. For the first time in hundreds of years, the Dreadfort was lost to a man of House Stark.
Jon, now the proclaimed Lord of the Dreadfort by his men, ordered that the castle be searched for its valuables and food, the surviving soldiers be made prisoner, the people sent away, and the bodies of the fallen bannermen loyal to House Bolton to be piled up in the center of the courtyard.
By evening, Jon stood on the ramparts with six and a half thousand men cheering for him. At his side was Sansa, Smalljon, and Tormund.
"The castle is yours," Tormund chuckled as he knocked on the stone of the ramparts, "much better than Castle Black."
"It won't be for long." Jon told them all. "Too much pain and suffering has taken place here. Too much blood is soaked into the foundations. Once we have everything of worth taken, burn it all to the ground."
By nightfall, the entire army watched as the Dreadfort became engulfed in flames and a tower of smoke rose as high as the sky. The next morning, Jon and Ghost walked among the ruins that remained. It was all just smoking rubble now. One of the foundations was able to stay standing but it would collapse with not much effort and a hammer. Jon decided to collect a piece of stone that once was part of it all. It was scorched black and smaller than his fist. A perfect gift for Ramsay.
It was three days later that the Lady Brienne had returned with Podrick and brought with them Ser Brynden the Blackfish Tully.
Jon and his commanders, along with Sansa, stood in the center of the new encampment as they waited to greet their new allies. Sansa beamed when she saw her great uncle and didn't hesitate to rush to his side.
The Blackfish dismounted his horse and met Sansa with a great hug. "My dear girl," he said to her, closing his eyes from the bliss of the moment, "I always hoped I'd get to see you again." He looked over to Jon and approached him.
"Ser Brynden, thank you for coming to our aid. It's an honor to meet you finally" Jon extended his hand to greet his cousins' family.
The Blackfish looked at Jon's hand for a moment and then back to him. It was like being looked at by Lady Stark again. But the man accepted Jon's handshake firmly.
"Is my nephew still safe at Barrowton?"
"He is here with us under Lady Barbrey's protection. She has taken him as her page. And not to mention he has a damn big wolf at his side."
"Good. I remember Greywind's teeth very well. If he were with his king and not the kennels then the Freys' blood would have stained their halls instead." Brynden looked to Smalljon. "Lord Umber."
"Blackfish." Smalljon replied.
"I forgot you two have already met and fought together." Jon stepped in. "Smalljon is serving as one of my lieutenants. I hope you would also act as one when we prepare to retake Winterfell."
"For the sake of my niece's children, certainly. Do you have a plan yet?"
"Aye, one that might even result in a full surrender. And when this is over I will make sure to repay your loyalty by offering my sword to help retake Riverrun."
This was the first time Jon saw any look other than the glare he got from Ser Brynden. "It will be harder than you think. The Freys decided to put watches on the borders after we left. As long as Moat Cailin is garrisoned, it's the furthest we can go south."
"For now. Speaking of Moat Cailin, are the Knights of the Vale close behind?"
"Right behind us. We just kept marching while they had to pack up."
"Perfect. Lord Umber will see to you and your men. And please take some much deserved time with your niece." With open arms, Jon let Brynden lead his men to join their camp. He turned to Brienne and Podrick. "Well done, both of you. I need some time to speak with the two of you and Lord Royce when he arrives."
"About what?" Podrick asked.
"You'll see." Jon waited with the two of them and watched as all of the Tully army rode and marched into the encampment. Many of them were giving cold looks at the Free Folk wherever they were.
After the Rivermen had passed, the mighty force from the Vale was riding in, all fully armed with plate steel armor and fine banners of the Arryn falcon flowing in the cold winds. At the head of the host was the Bronze Yohn Royce riding next to Petyr Baelish.
"My lords," Jon greeted, "you are most welcome allies."
"You are Jon Snow?" Lord Royce inquired.
"I am. It is an honor to meet you finally, my lord. My father spoke most highly of you. And Lord Baelish, I presume?" It took a great amount of willpower to hold back the venom he wanted to add into his words.
Littlefinger nodded in a sort of bow. "I trust that Lady Sansa is still safe under your protection?"
"Absolutely, even more so now that the famed knights of the Vale are with us."
Lord Royce dismounted his horse but Lord Baelish remained. "We are ready to avenge what we can for Ned Stark and make up for our idleness in the war."
"We are just about ready to take back everything stolen from the Boltons. Your forces are the final nail in their coffin." He looked at Littlefinger. "If you continue onward, you will be shown the ground for you and your men to make camp, my lord."
"I would like to see Lady Sansa, if I may. Her safety has been my greatest concern during our journey."
"She's currently spending time with her uncle, the Blackfish. I'm sure that she will have time for you soon. Lord Royce, if I may steal you from your men, I have some important matters to discuss about the battle."
Lord Royce handed the reins of his horse to one of his men and nodded. The procession of the Vale continued onward into the camp led by Petyr Baelish.
"This way, please." Jon led Lord Royce away from his men with Brienne and Podrick, away from unwanted ears. "We're far enough now that I can speak freely. Tonight will be a meeting in which things shall be revealed and explained, certain things that are unbelievable until you see them."
"I figured as much might be the case." Lord Royce replied. "The Blackfish shared a few puzzling things in the letter you sent to him. I treasure Ned and his legacy as if he were a son of mine, but even if you were not a bastard, you are an oathbreaker. What man of the Night's Watch, the Lord Commander no less, allows Wildling invaders south of the Wall and leaves the order with his head still on his shoulders?"
"The Freefolk did not invade, they were invited. As Lord Commander I granted them the lands of the Gift in exchange for peace, something that we needed very much if we are to survive."
"Survive what-" Lord Royce's words were cut off when Wun Wun the giant came walking by, his footsteps shaking the ground, with a bundle of long logs over his shoulder. Wun Wun looked down to the gaping lord and snarled an Old Tongue insult.
"It's rude to stare, especially at giants, my lord. They don't like it."
"G-g-giants. You have giants?"
"Just the one, the last one. The rest died north of the Wall to other monsters. All will be explained tonight, my lord. I promise. But what I need to speak with you now is a matter of justice to a traitor in your ranks. Lord Baelish."
Lord Royce sighed heavily. "When has he not committed treason of every kind? His tongue is not silver, but gold. He has gained my Lord Arryn's favor and is by right the Protector of the Vale."
"By strange circumstances which seems to be the reason for many who rise in power these days."
"Indeed. But, Lady Arryn's mental health was too far gone. Had he not protected Lady Sansa, then I believe both her and Lysa would have fallen into the Moondoor."
"That was a lie that Sansa will speak the truth too."
"What?"
"She had no choice but to play along with his game to keep his favor. If she knew he would sell her to the Boltons, I don't think she would have ever trusted him in those moments."
"He sold her?" Lord Royce was growing mightily angry now, so much that Podrick was keeping his distance from him. "He told me… of course it was a lie. How could I have been so foolish?"
"He has made fools of many, but his greatest crime to all of us happened years ago in King's Landing, when he betrayed my father."
Lord Royce blinked. Staring at Jon, almost frightened by what he had to say. "What are you talking about?"
In contrast to Sansa's reaction, Lord Royce was enraged when he heard the truths of what happened so many years ago, almost to the point of drawing his sword and marching away to find Baelish. But after a strong arm and a quick tongue, Jon was able to keep the honorable Lord under control and explain his plan to him. Without a second guess, the Lord of Runestone agreed to it, putting the last piece in place that Jon needed.
The Rivermen and Knights of the Vale antiquated themselves well with the rest of the army, but they too kept their distance for the Free Folk throughout the day until nightfall.
At last, they were ready to begin the battles for the North. There was only one last thing to do at the gathering that night.
With all present except for the Cerwyns, the commanders of the Stark forces met together in the center of the camp. They used benches and chairs taken from the Dreadfort to form a ring. Jon sat next to Sansa and Rickon with Ghost at his side and a hand resting on Longclaw. Shaggydog was next to Rickon as always.
Jon stood from his seat and raised his hands, silencing the conversing among the lords. "Welcome everyone. Yesterday marked our first real victory against those that betrayed and murdered our families and friends at the Red Wedding."
Many cheered for such a victory. It would be one of many to come, hopefully.
"And now, we welcome two additional forces to join us retaking Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton. The Blackfish and his Rivermen and Lord Petyr Baelish with the fierce Knights of the Vale." Jon let the men and women cheer for the additional forces and let his gaze wander to both the men he named. "I grew up on stories that the Blackfish is a legendary fighter. I cannot wait to see him in a battle."
"Prepare to be disappointed. I'll be looking like a bloody fool." Ser Brynden shrugged, causing some laughter.
"And Lord Baelish, I'm afraid we have never met before but I have heard about you. There were some men I served with at Castle Black who knew you."
The familiar smirk grew on Littlefinger's face. "I wouldn't imagine what they could have said, except their longing for my brothel perhaps."
Jon gave a smirk of his own and kept his gaze on the man. "There was one man in particular though, one man I had to execute for disobeying orders, and later I found out that he helped arrest my father in King's Landing. I think you knew him as well. Lord Janos Slynt." Littlefinger's smirk twitched before it dropped and many eyes fell upon him. "He always liked to talk about his friends in King's Landing. Care to guess what he had to say about you to save his head?" Not a damn thing, but it was enough of a bluff that it would work.
Lord Baelish cleared his throat and stood while keeping his regality. "I knew him, yes. I attempted to use my influence to sway him to your father's side but he remained loyal to Joffrey. I would have been arrested myself had I not bargained with Cersei for it not to be. I felt I owed it to Lady Catelyn to watch over her daughter where she could not."
"Do you expect me to believe such horseshit?" Jon asked and a great stillness fell over everyone. "You lied to my father with a false promise of loyalty. His men were slaughtered and you yourself held a dagger to his throat. You told him, 'I did warn you not to trust me.'" Ghost began to growl and bear his teeth at Lord Baelish, Shaggydog doing the same second. "Before you murdered Lysa Arryn, you had her send a letter to my father and Lady Catelyn telling them it was the Lannisters that murdered Jon Arryn when it was actually you who orchestrated it. The conflicts between the two families started because of you."
The Blackfish stood from his seat with his hand on the hilt of his sword. "You killed my niece?" He said to Littlefinger. "Lysa and Catelyn are dead because of you!?"
"My lord-"
"An assassin was sent to murder my brother, Bran, and you told Catelyn Stark the dagger he had used belonged to Tyrion Lannister but it never did. It was always yours. Your treachery to my family brought the death of my father and started a war claiming thousands of lives, including my brother, King Robb Stark."
Littlefinger was starting to shake. "And what proof do you have that any of this is true?" He exclaimed. "The word of a cowardly man of the Night's Watch? If you wish to look for justice, find a mirror first. For what man abandons the Night's Watch with his head still on his shoulders?"
There were some who murmured in agreement with Petyr but it would matter as Jon undid the straps of his cloak and removed it. He then started undoing his shirt.
"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. And it shall not end until my death." He lifted his shirt over his shoulder and revealed his chest and the scars of the knives. Those who hadn't seen them before gasped and were scared at such a sight. "I pledged my life and gave it. My oath is fulfilled."
"Ha!" Littlfinger laughed. "This is just all a lie! A desperate trick… no, an excuse to leave the Night's Watch!"
Jon looked around. "This is no trick. If you wish to see it, come forward."
Everyone was dead silent, sitting quietly and unsure in their seats.
It was Lady Lyanna Mormont who stood up from her seat and came forward. She removed a leather glove and reached up to Jon's lowest scar below his ribs. Her fingers lightly touched and felt the wound. Jon had never seen her aghast in both lifetimes until now. She looked at him as if he were a wight.
Lyanna turned to everyone watching. "They're real."
Almost immediately, Lady Barbrey and Lord Royce and several others came forward to see his scars of death. All of them feeling, believing.
"How is this possible?" Barbrey asked.
"A priestess of the Lord of Light used her god's blessing to bring me back. Were it not for her prayers, I would still be dead."
Jon looked over to Brienne and nodded to her. Both She and Podrick walked forward and seized Littlefinger before he could make some clever retort or say something to try and barter for his life.
Lord Baelish glanced over to the Vale leaders and pleaded for them. "Stop this! I am Lord Protector of the Vale! You are sworn to me!"
Lord Royce looked at Littlefinger with a hard gaze. "I am sworn to the House of Arryn which you are not a member of, traitor."
A block was brought by a Northman and Littlefinger was forced to kneel at it. His head was dangling over the block as Jon stepped forward with a great fury in him that was present the days he beheaded Lord Janos and Robett Glover.
"If you have anything left to say, now's the time." Jon said as he gripped Longclaw with both hands.
Littlefinger looked over to Sansa. "Sansa, say something! I protected you in King's Landing! I protected you from Cersei and Lysa!"
Sansa stared at him coldly. "Thank you for all that you have done for me, Lord Baelish, but I'm not a Lannister with a debt to pay." She looked at Jon and gave a slight nod.
Jon raised his sword over his shoulders and swung the blade down. It only took one swing for Longclaw to cut through Littlefinger's neck. The man's head fell to the ground and his body jerked and twitched for a few seconds before it stopped moving.
"Good riddance," Lord Mazin growled and many nodded and agreed.
Jon, still without his shirt, pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped Longclaw clean of blood. Two of Smalljon's men came forward to dispose of the body and took the block away but they kept their distance from Jon. In fact everyone was absolutely silent and still.
"My lords, my ladies," Jon began, "I have shown many of you the horrors of what truly comes for us from beyond the Wall. But there are still many who need to see them."
"See what, lad?" Ser Brynden asked. "Because this is getting a bit much to handle for just one night."
"I'm afraid we're only getting started, my lord." Jon gestured his hand to a group of Free Folk men hauling one of the four crates they had. The crate was brought to the center, locks undone, and restraints held tightly. The lid was kicked open and a wight burst forth, screaming terribly as it tried to move for any kill it could get.
"Ah!"
"Seven Hells!"
"It can't be…"
Those laying their eyes on the wight for the first time were scared beyond their belief. Some men jumped from their seats and backed away.
"Look at it! This is just one of many that are coming for us all!" Jon told everyone in a thundering voice. "Just one soldier made by the magic of the Night King and his White Walkers! If we do not put aside all of our pride and enmity, our spite and grudges we have, then we will all die at the hands of these demons!" Jon drew his dagger and walked up to the beast, stabbing it right in the head but the wight didn't show any pain or crippling to it. "They feel no fear, have no will, and no desire except that of their master which is to kill every last man, woman, and child that breathes. But we can beat them! The wights are weakest to fire, dragonglass, and Valyrian Steel! The White Walkers and the Night King are unphased and unharmed by fire, but not the other two. I've fought one and defeated it with my sword." He held Longclaw up, showing the rippled pattern in the blade. "When I died, I saw a great many things, so much that it pains me to remember what they are, but I saw how we can win. We have only one chance and to seize it we need to start by reclaiming Winterfell and the North from the Boltons!"
"Fuck the Boltons!" a knight of the Vale cheered and many cheered after him.
"Winterfell!"
"Slay them all!"
Jon let them have their moment of glory as the wight was put back in its box and sealed shut. Now it was time to risk everything in hopes that they might have a better future.
"There is one more thing, I saw, everyone. I didn't just learn things of the future, but of the past as well, of a great lie that started a war that defined Westeros today." Jon turned to his cousins, looking frightened for their reaction. Would Sansa be the same, or would she change? "Many of you fought in Robert's Rebellion to overthrow the Mad King and it was believed that Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped Lyanna Stark and raped her, leading to a chain of events that led to the war. But that was a lie." Everyone began looking among themselves as to what he could mean. "Lyanna was not kidnapped, she left of her own free will with Prince Rhaegar. The Prince had his marriage to Elia Martell annulled so that he and Lyanna could marry in secret in Dorne."
Many gasped, many looked like they were unsure what to believe.
"Is there any proof of this?" Lord Manderly asked. "How can you be certain?"
"Because the Septon who wed them kept a journal of the marriage. I have a contact retrieving that journal from the Citadel as we speak." Jon almost failed to continue. He was so terrified right now. "But what the journal does not contain is the knowledge that Lyanna Stark became pregnant before Rhaegar went off to war. When Ned Stark came to rescue her from the Tower of Joy, he found her in a bed of blood from childbirth. In order to protect Lyanna's baby, he claimed the child as his own bastard son."
The realization hit everyone in a great wave of the ocean crashing down.
"My name… my real name is Aegon Targaryen."
No one said anything, not a damn word. Jon began thinking that perhaps Arya was right in that these things should have been told one at a time. First the dead and then Ned Stark's greatest secret. Eventually though, they roused from their shock. "Are you sure?" Sansa asked, breaking the great silence. "Are you absolutely sure your vision was true and maybe not something else?"
Jon nodded silently. "The only person left alive who can support this is Howland Reed of Greywater Watch. I've sent word for him to come but I have heard no response."
'He's dealing with Frey's trying to pillage the Neck.' The Raven told him. 'He will come once Arya's done with them and Winterfell is taken.'
Jon looked around with all eyes on him. He started to get cold without his shirt but they needed to see his scars still. "I know you all must be very confused right now." He kept a wary eye on Sansa, knowing what was undoubtedly going through her mind at the moment. For the longest time, he felt only hate for her, but he understood… Jon hoped to save Daenerys from her fate, and perhaps he could save Sansa from hers.
"That's the biggest understatement to be said," Lord Hornwood said. "If this is actually true then you're the fucking grandson of the Mad King!"
Jon raised his empty hand and his eyes became transfixed on the flesh descended from Aerys Targaryen. "Yes… the very same blood flows through my veins." He clenched it tightly. "Does that mean that madness flows in them too?" In truth, he wasn't too sure of that himself. What kind of sane man would abandon the one he loves? What kind of man would stab her in the heart?
"The fuck's it matter?" Tormund said. "Everyone here has sworn to fight for him and the Starks."
Lord Hornwood scoffed at Tormund and the rest of the Free Folk Elders. "Wildling savages would not understand this matter. You do not understand the way things work south of the wall!"
"We understand enough and the Freefolk don't go back on our word like you southern fuckers do!" Tormund argued and stood up. "We're all here to kill those shits in Winterfell but now you're having second thoughts because his name might be different?" He pointed directly to Jon. "That man has done more for all of us than any of you have done for anyone else in your fucking lives! He risked his life for us, fought for us, he got murdered for helping us, and now he's ready to avenge your kin that you lost and stand against the dead for you! And all you care about is his fucking name?"
The tension in the air was hanging by a thread. Jon's hold over Longclaw tightened as he felt the twitching alert that a fight could break out. 'Bran, what do I do?'
"No," Barbrey said, all eyes on her. "I don't care about his name. Snow, Stark, Targaryen, they don't matter. What does matter is that we're here, all of us, for the same reason, because this man made us realize how cowardly we have all been for not doing what we should have the moment Roose Bolton stepped back into the North." She looked Jon dead in the eye. "I don't care who you are, I don't care if you've been killed and brought back to life, and I don't care about your name. I care about what you do, and damn any man or woman who says you are not worthy to lead us into war. If avenging my nephew means fighting alongside Wildlings in battle with a Targaryen leading us, I will gladly do so. House Dustin is loyal."
"As is House Umber," Smalljon added.
"And House Mormont." Lyanna was the shortest one there, yet she cast just as large a shadow as the others.
"The Freefolk are always with you," Tormund and the other chieftains nodded.
"House Tully is not running again," the Blackfish said.
House after House, many continued their loyalty save a few that remained silent and uneasy. One of them, Lord Mazin, spoke his mind. "Say we win, say we take back Winterfell, what do you plan to do after?"
"I plan to keep my promise to House Tully and help retake Riverrun. This is not a command to join and march to the Riverlands. I am going on my own accord and oath."
"But after that? What then?" It was clear to what his questions were leading and expected.
"I'll do what I have to do to gain more allies and strengthen our chance of winning the war that matters. If we fight just by ourselves, we will fail. Right now I'm fighting for my home, for my family, for the North."
Saying that somehow made him relax. He wasn't stricken with the fright anymore. He knew he had nothing to fear as long as he knew his path was the right one.
"Aye, for the North!" Lord Manderly drew his sword and raised it high in the air, cheering loudly. The other Lords and Ladies did the same, drawing their swords and cheering for House Stark and the North.
"For the North! For the North! For the North!"
The meet ended and everyone dispersed. Even though they were all in the mindset to continue the fight, there was still the unease of everything that happened tonight. The finest examples were Rickon and Sansa. Both of them joined Jon in his tent so they could talk privately with him. It would be the first of many private conversations no doubt given how many approached him and asked for some time when he had it.
Rickon sat in an oak chair, it was the only one in the tent, while Sansa stood awkwardly with her hands folded. Jon was doing a deeper clean of Longclaw, making sure he got every trace of Littlefinger's blood off of it. It also calmed him down, something he would always do the last few years traveling with the Free Folk. Hells, even when his sword wasn't dirty he cleaned it.
"Jon," Rickon began, "if yeh're a Targaryen then don't it mean that yeh… well… yeh're the real King of Westeros?"
"I'm not a king of anything, Rickon." Jon said with a final swipe of the cloth. A few years ago… a few years ago in the first time, Jon had managed to get the entire blade to a mirror polish. Now to see it with a shade of dullness upset him that years of work was about to be restarted. Valyrian steel was not an easy thing to shine.
Sansa looked over to them. "The only King here is you."
Jon's fists clenched tight over the rag and Longclaw's handle. Even without too much of Baelish's influence she still had such foolishness and plotting in her. He set Longclaw back in the scabbard in case he accidentally did something stupid.
"Huh?"
"You're Robb's heir, the rightful King in the North."
"And I've been livin' like a Wildin' for most of me life. Yeh really think I can be a King? What are King's even supposed to do besides telling others to do what they say? How's that any different from being what father was?"
"Because our father was still beholden to others." Sansa sounded firm, steely… as if as she spoke she still fought with her mind to keep composure. Unlike the flighty Sansa Jon knew before, this time she succeeded. Just as last time. The thought worried him. "Robert was able to bring him south and turn him into just another Lord playing the game of thrones at court."
Rickon shrugged. "So?"
She looked affronted. "So? He got killed for it, simply because he was beholden to Robert Baratheon. Had he never had to deal with the whims of southern rulers, then we'd still have Winterfell. We'd still be happy."
"So what do yeh want me to do?"
Before Sansa could answer, Jon did for her. "You learn. Like our father before us, you will rise to take charge and learn to lead your people. But you can't be just like him, you need to be better, we all do." He glanced over to Sansa who showed no rejection to his words, almost subtly nodding at him.
"But first," she added, "we need to take our home back. First, we rid our home of the monsters in it. And when we do your birthright will be uncontested. Only a Stark can claim the throne of winter and thus we'll be able to approach the games of the south by a position of strength. One where we don't make the same mistakes that Robb made."
Jon's fists clenched. This was to be expected. Tyrion and Sansa told him dozens of times that even with the changes he's done to this point, they wouldn't be enough to lead Sansa's ambition away from independence. But still, it angered him.
"Before the North has hopes and wants of independence, we need allies." There was a silence between them. Sansa's face hinted flustered emotion behind it while Rickon was just as confused as he was about being a lord in general.
Jon decided to step outside. He needed some air. He could not find it in him to rest. His mind was so scattered, so unfocused. Thousands of thoughts racing back and forth and not one would stop to linger.
He walked silently among the many tents, the guards, nothing but the crunching of the snow beneath his boots and Ghost's paws made noise.
Did they choose right in deciding to reveal his identity? Was telling the truth like that right or would he just be cast out like before? Would doing the right thing be overshadowed by pride once more?
"Bran?" Jon whispered
'Yes?' The Three Eyed Raven replied.
"Um…" he hadn't thought of what to ask, only that he had to talk to someone other than those around him. "Is everything well right now?"
'Categorically. The Night King has taken Volantis and now moves to take the Bay of Dragons.'
Damn. Volantis was supposed to be the greatest opposition. But no more. "Anything in this time? How is Edd?"
'He's at the cave with the others. The dead are still waiting for an opening. Benjen is keeping the escape clear when the time is right.'
"What about our enemies? Euron's still building his fleet?"
'The Ironborn are making fast progress. You need to hurry if you want to beat him to King's Landing.'
"I know." What they didn't know is what Euron would do once that happened. Not even Yara's knowledge of her uncle could predict how he would respond to their plans. Euron Greyjoy was too much of a wild piece in the game. Their best guess was that he might try to sway Daenerys to his side if the circumstances were right. Or perhaps he would try conquering some other country to start his campaign. They didn't know.
Jon found himself wandering to a clearing in the camp, a place where snow covered piles of charcoal littering the grounds. He knelt down to the one in the center and shifted through the pieces of burnt wood until he found the half burn toy stag that once belonged to Shireen Baratheon.
He never held it before, but holding it now broke his heart, especially since he had yet to give it and tell Davos about this. Davos lost his son and a daughter for Stannis's war, the rest and his wife to the dead, and yet he kept soldiering on. He never understood it well enough until a few years into his exile, because dying was just too much trouble than just staying alive. But it wasn't living, simply surviving. Who wanted to just die after facing horrors like what they did, especially when one knew that there was nothing after death?
Or was that only because he wasn't ever intended to die? Jon would rather not figure out the answer, not while he still had to live for his task.
Light broke over the horizon as the sun peeked over. A horn blew, sounding the wake up call. It was time to meet Ramsay.
Rickon remained in the camp while all selected to come with Jon mounted up and rode out for Winterfell.
Ramsay was waiting for them when they got to the fields just outside the castle. Harald Karstark was with him like before, but Smalljon was remaining at the camps with the majority of the commanders.
A slick smirk graced Ramsay's lips when they were all face to face. "Ah, my beloved wife." Ramsay spoke coolly. "Thank you all for bringing her back to me. I have missed her-"
"Ramsay Snow," Jon interrupted, earning a sneer from the bastard, "surrender Winterfell, your army, and you will be given a quick death. Refuse and you will be given the same mercy you've given to any who've met you." In Ramsay's case, even a painful death would be a mercy for him.
Ramsay chuckled as did a few of his men. "Come now, bastard. You should not try making terms you cannot hope to meet. You do not have the numbers, you do not have Winterfell. I have over five thousand men. What do you have, barely half that? Fewer horses? Scraps of armor and weapons? You can't win."
The leaked information had proven to work effectively. As long as Ramsay believed that the battle was in his favor, he wouldn't shy from meeting them on the field. If he knew the true numbers and quality of the army, then he would definitely hide in Winterfell.
"Battles have been won at worse odds. Consider the gift I brought to always remind you of that. Jon reached into a satchel hanging on his saddle and pulled out the stone he took from the Dreadfort. He tossed it over to Ramsay who looked at it humorously. "You burned my home and slaughtered my people. Consider us even." Jon let Ramsay realize what he meant first and enjoyed watching him look at the scorched rock again and his vicious grin die. "Now get off you horse and surrender. Or stay on it, run back to Winterfell and die tomorrow."
Ramsay looked angry, terribly so, as he dropped the rock aside and grew another grin. It was an obvious facade to try and play with his enemies. "You think yourself a conqueror, bastard? I won't kill you tomorrow, I'll make you live. And every night I spend with my wife, you'll be there to watch over us."
Jon gave no retort to that remark. He kept himself calm and composed. "Lord Karstark, please see reason. You are my kin and I do not wish to fight you."
"You can take your shite and stick it up your bastard arse," Harald replied. "Whatever lies you told to my sister, they won't work on me."
'He won't switch, no matter what you say.' The Raven said.
"Then I'll simply say that should you change your mind tomorrow, I will still accept your surrender."
Ramsay began chuckling. "You are full of optimism, aren't you, bastard? We'll see how it fairs on the battlefield."
"Aye, we will. Rest well tonight, Ramsay."
Olenna
It wasn't right. None of this was bloody right. The Queen of Thorns should not run from her family when they needed her guidance most. Not when that blasted High Sparrow had his claws in the King and control over the city.
But Margaery had them played and under control for now at least. She would make it inescapable for Cersei to avoid her trial. Not even that mindless brute guarding her will be able to stop any of it.
Hopefully once Cersei was dead, King's Landing would become Margaery's again as would Tommen. Gods, she was strong to endure all this madness and stupidity. If her King had any marrow in his bloody spine he might've actually done something at the start.
No. Tommen will always be the cub of Cersei and Jaime's incest. No doubt once his mother was dead that the boy's father, his real father, would take her place but not use the poor boy for his own misgivings. The Kingslayer might of course wreak vengeance on the Sparrows if he had his way on them.
Still, it was all battles to be fought later. All Olenna could do now was plan for the next move as she made her way home. She found that she couldn't rest well in the wheelhouse and didn't feel at all safe even when she had fifty sworn knights escorting her. Until the Lioness of Casterly Rock was dead, she wouldn't feel at ease.
Aside from the troubles in King's landing, her spies in Dorne have reported quite the interesting news. Eliara Sand and the Sand Snakes now controlled the Kingdoms with many of the Dornish lords backing them. And then there was the news of messages going east. Elliara seeks out allies in Essos.
It didn't take three guesses to know who. If dragons were returning to Westeros then Olenna had to figure out how to save her family from burning. Daenerys Targaryen was a conqueror and negotiations wouldn't be easy with someone like her. Hopefully she would prove to be sane at least.
Suddenly, the wheelhouse slowed to a stop and there was a knock on the door. "Oh for gods' sake, what is it?" Olenna barked.
The servant spoke through. "A man of the Night's Watch, my lady. He says he has a message for you and you alone from the former Lord Commander, Jon Snow."
The Night's Watch? Normally she would suspect that it was another request for men and supplies had the message come by raven at Highgarden, but a lone rider with a personal letter wasn't normal. Since when did the Night's Watch pursue nobles when they're on the road? Olenna slid the panel of her window open and looked outside. Indeed, there was quite the rugged man in black leathers still atop his horse outside her wheelhouse. She slammed the panel closed and opened the door. She scoffed as she stepped out. "This is highly informal-" she didn't have time to say anything as the man held out a letter to her. She was going to give him a retort but once she took it, the man of the Watch turned his horse and was on his way as quick as he came. "Impudent…" Olenna sighed and climbed back into her wheelhouse. "Continue onward." she ordered.
She had half a mind to throw the letter into the road but the other half was too curious as to what it said given the circumstances of the delivery. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, reading silently what it said.
Olenna Tyrell
My name is Jon Snow, the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. I cannot explain in this letter how I know, only that you must act now if you wish to save your family. Cersei Lannister will not let herself be tried and punished by the Faith and will see ruin brought to them all and your family first. She has discovered a cache of Wildfire underneath the Sept of Baelor and plans to ignite it the day of her trial. I've already made the arrangements to get your grandson Loras to safety the night before the trial, but that is all I can do. Your son and granddaughter are out of my reach of help but not yours. If you wish to save them, you must act NOW.
"Stop!" Olenna barked and the driver brought the wheelhouse to a sudden halt.
She didn't know what to make of this. Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard, how on earth did he know any of this? It had to be a trick of some sort, something to bring her back to King's Landing. It couldn't be true, wildfire under the Sept, could it?
She scanned the letter's contents again, taking in every detail with her full attention. A cache of Wildfire? She heard rumors that Aerys Targaryen had dozens of them underneath the city but never thought them to be true.
And what on earth was this about former Lord Commander? How can there be a former? Was he voted out of the position? Do they even do that? This was all so confusing and yet very straight forward.
This Jon Snow… smuggling Loras out of the city. No, it couldn't be true. It had to be a desperate farce… And yet it did not feel that way. It felt genuine that it went against Olenna's better judgement.
She felt her mind slip from focus and a horrifying image of the Great Sept erupting in green flames flashed before her eyes, devastating and destroying everything and everyone in its path, her son and grandchildren included. Her heart felt heavy with pain, pain that only comes with experiencing and shouldn't with imagination.
If there was Wildfire under the Sept, Cersei would never ignite it. Not when Tommen would be present… unless he wasn't. Then of course she would. She would kill anyone to avoid justice. Olenna just never imagined that she would go that far.
"Captain!" Olenna burst out of her wheelhouse and met with the captain of her entourage.
"Yes, Lady Olenna?"
"The order I give will be obeyed no matter what. Do you understand? Take your men and ride back to King's Landing. Make sure my son and granddaughter never set foot in that sept and if they already are, I don't care who you have to cut down to get them out, you do it."
Without second guessing or questioning, The captain nodded and rallied his men to him. "Back to King's Landing! Back to the Queen!"
She turned to her driver. "Get me home as fast as you can. I have ravens to send out." No more putting up with Cersei's plots, no more being at the whim of a stupid boy king.
Without Tywin to protect his family, the Lannisters were going to die swiftly, every last one of them.