It had been a few days since Jon and Sam had left Winterfell and had recently passed through Moat Cailin, the ancient ruin that served almost like a gateway from the south into the North. The stronghold sat on the only safe passage through the Neck, making it an extremely important castle for the North.
There was a reason the Moat was so important, because it was the only way, besides sailing, to reach the North. No one was foolish enough to try and tempt fate and death by going through the swamps of the Neck. dark, damp, and foreboding were the swamps of the Neck, filled with numerous creatures and plants that could kill a man in mere moments. While the Wall and the Lands of Always Winter were quite dangerous, the Bastard of Winterfell was willing to bet that the Neck was even more so.
A lizard-lion will kill a man quicker than frost will.
Jon looked around at the land, keeping one firm hand on the reins of his horse and another on his sword. His new sword, that is.
During the journey to Winterfell, Jon hadn't been sure what to do with the sword, which he and Sam had figured to be Dark Sister, the ancient sword of the Targaryens. Given Maester Aemon's lineage and the sword type, it only made sense that Jon now possessed the sword that once belonged to Visenya Targaryen, sister-wife to the Conqueror.
What didn't make sense was how Maester Aemon had come into possession of the sword.
Jon wasn't sure how others would react to him having a Targaryen heirloom, he had brought the sword to Mikken, the master blacksmith of Winterfell. He had not told the smith where he had gotten the blade, nor its name, only that was in need of a new hilt, crossguard, and pommel. All needed by the next morning.
The blacksmith had performed phenomenally in the short time he had been given to work, adding a larger hilt to better fit a man's hand as well as a steel crossguard and pommel. When Jon had picked up the blade the next morning before he and Sam had set off, the smith, red-eyed and ragged, had said nothing about the fact that the sword was valyrian steel. Only wishing Jon luck on his journey.
Jon now felt comfortable wearing the sword at his side while on the road.
"Have you ever seen a lizard-lion?" Sam asked, breaking Jon from his thoughts. His larger friend was trying not to sound fearful, but his intention fell well short of the mark.
Jon shook his head. "No, and I hope not to see one for a long time," he answered comfortably.
Sam laughed anxiously at his friend's words, but it was a forced action. "I've read that the Neck contains all sorts of poisonous plants and predators…." he said, becoming more nervous with every word. Jon laughed
"Sam, you're going to scare yourself if you keep talking like that." He chuckled. "We're perfectly safe here on the Kingsroad."
"But you have to wonder. Why did people choose to settle on the Neck? You know the story. The Children of the Forest brought the hammer of the Seas down on the Neck, and not all of it returned." Sam said, paraphrasing what he had read about the Neck when he was younger.
Jon nodded. "Fair point. But you can't deny that they've adapted well to it."
"That we have, Jon Snow." A voice said suddenly, startling both men.
Jon turned in his saddle, half drawing his sword when he saw the man who had spoken. He was below average height, garbed in boiled leather armor under a mottled green and grey cloak. Around his waist sat an assortment of knives, while in his hands he leaned on a three-prong frog spear. The man's face was mostly covered by his hood, but what Jon could see was a thin, pointed chin covered with dark stubble and an amused smile on his face.
Neither Sam nor Jon had seen the man appear. It was as if he had risen from the ground like an apparition.
Jon didn't sheath his sword. "Who are you?" He demanded.
"Lord Reed wishes to see you." the man said, not answering Jon's question. "I suggest you dismount and walk your horses."
"Who are you?" Jon demanded again.
The man's amused smile seemed to grow with Jon's annoyance. "A friend, Jon Snow, that is all you need to know."
After a moment, Jon looked at Sam, nodding to him as he slipped down from his saddle. His friend did the same, stumbling slightly as he hit the ground. The anxiety Sam was feeling combined with the sudden appearance of the man had put the large youth on edge.
"So are we just going to believe him?" Sam whispered to Jon as he grabbed the lead reins of his horse.
Jon glanced at the man, who was waiting patiently for them. "I think we can. The crannogmen have always been loyal to House Stark. And if he had wanted to kill us, I don't think he would have made himself known to us."
"You're right," the crannogman called over his shoulder as he began walking into the marsh. Jon raised an eyebrow and began to follow the man. After taking a few steps, his foot slipped through a patch of grass and into the water.
"Ah!" Jon shouted, pulling his foot out.
"Watch your step." the man called, walking calmly up to the two. "Step exactly where I step and keep a strong grip on your horses. Lizard-lions rarely get a meal as magnificent as those brutes of yours."
Jon nodded quickly, walking with exaggerated care as he and Sam followed the man, who was walking with annoying ease through the marsh. When they entered the swamp more, a white noise surrounded the trio. The sounds of bugs, random splashes, and other unknown things continued to startle the two young men.
"Gods, this place is off-putting," Sam muttered, looking around.
Jon could only nod. The swamp around them seemed like a blanket of differing shades of greens, browns, and greys. Short, stubby trees grey close together, denying the sun from shining down on the land, creating an awkward scattering of shadows. Jon felt increasingly uncomfortable the further they traveled into the swamp. The land by far the most dangerous place Jon had ever been, even more so than the biting cold at the Wall. But to add further discomfort, Jon always felt like he was being watched by a dozen eyes, and not all seemed friendly.
"We are close." the man called over his shoulder. "Do not worry."
Jon didn't say anything, continuing to focus more on where he was stepping than responding to the man.
After a few more minutes in the swamp, the dense tree cover gave away to a large clearing of swampy ground, small bridges intersecting over the treacherous ground. Small huts dotted the land where more cloaked figures went about their business. At the center of the web of bridges was a two-story building, a large hunting hall compared to the dominating castles Jon and Sam had passed.
Outside the entrance to the hall, two men stood at attention, both wearing scale armor under dark green tabards that bore the black lizard-lion of House Reed. Each had a short bow and a quiver of arrows over one shoulder and a short spear in hand. They did not seem like the most intimidating of guards, but given the situation, they seemed quite fearsome in their own right.
Jon knew in an instant that they had arrived at Greywater Watch, the home of House Reed, lords of the Neck. As far as the young man knew, not even his father had ever been to the hidden village. It was said that Greywater moved, but from Jon saw, he would say that it's simply incredibly hard to find. A man, nay, and army could easily lose its sense marching through the swamp. It seems highly unlikely anyone could simply stumble across the village. Not without being seen and heard.
Or killed.
"Jon Snow, Samwell Tarly, welcome to Greywater Watch," the man said, finally removing his hood and pushing his cloak back behind his shoulders.
The man had a wiry build, even with the bronze scale armor that covered his shoulders. He had shaggy, mousy brown hair that hung over dark green eyes. All in all, the man didn't cut an intimidating figure. But the way he held himself and handled the frog-spear, Jon could tell that the man was very comfortable with the weapons of his trade.
And he was armed with way more than a frog spear and knives. There was an arsenal of weapons on the man. Another two daggers, one in each boot, a length of thin cord and wood hung at his side, and there was a reed pipe sticking out over his cloak.
"Are you finally going to tell us who you are?" Jon asked again.
The man smiled slyly. "Ah, I guess I should be honest. Although, it has been fun confusing the two of you. I am Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch," he answered.
Jon and Sam immediately went to drop into a bow, but Howland put a hand on both their shoulders. "Please, don't," he said firmly. "We don't do that here."
Jon straightened, looking down at the man. Jon was not the tallest of men, but even Howland Reed was smaller than the Bastard of Winterfell. When Jon had seen Lord Howland visit Winterfell, which were rare occasions, he looked much more lordly than he did now.
Now, he looked no better than a common scout, with an unmarked cloak and rough, worn armor. Now that Jon was getting a proper look at the man, he realized that the cloak had been turned inside out, hiding the lizard lion from view so as to not give away the man's identity.
"Why did you bring us here?" Jon asked finally.
Howland shrugged, motioning for them to follow him. "When my scouts reported that two young men were riding south from Moat Cailin, I had already heard reports that you had left the Wall," he said, waving and nodding to his people as he walked. "I had a feeling it would be you two."
Jon noticed that they showed their lord the utmost respect, stopping whatever they were doing to wave and call greetings. They did not bow and scrape as he went by, but even still, their love for him was evident.
"How did you know we left? The Wall is on the other side of the North." Sam asked.
Howland glanced back at the large youth. "I have friends," he said mysteriously. "Besides, I am glad you decided to come south. If I am correct, Ned promised to tell you of your mother, is that right Jon?"
Jon was surprised that the wiry lord knew that. That was a conversation between him and his father when their parties separated months ago. His father's group went south with the King and Jon went north with his uncle towards the Wall. How had Lord Reed known that?
"He did say that," Jon replied.
"With him now imprisoned in King's Landing, I feel it is my duty to inform you of the truth of your birth," Howland said as they entered his hall, gesturing to his guards to take care of the horses. "I must apologize, but my children have set out for Winterfell yesterday."
"Why Winterfell?" Jon asked.
"My boy, Jojen, has had dreams of late about Brandon Stark," Howland said casually. "He and his sister Meera have gone off to determine what to make of his visions."
Jon glanced at Sam, who looked just as confused as his friend. To them, dreams were just that: dreams. Why the children of Lord Reed were taking theirs so seriously was none of Sam's or Jon's concerns.
"You said you had something to say about my mother," Jon said, bringing the conversation back to the point. "What is it?"
Howland ushered them into a side room, locking the door behind him. "Sorry," he apologized. "The Spider has been trying for decades to place his little birds in places they do not belong, and the kind he keeps certainly do not belong in the Neck. Even still, one can never be too careful."
When the door was locked, the small lord grabbed the small plate on his desk and offered it to the two younger men. It contained some bread and a container of salt.
"I offer you both the guest right."
Jon and Sam accepted the offering, taking some of the bread and sprinkling salt on it, completing the guest right. When that was done, Jon asked his question again.
"My mother?"
Lord Reed nodded, sinking behind his desk, leaning his spear against the wall. "Right, right," he said quietly, gesturing to the chairs. "Please, sit. I must warn you both, this story can get thousands of people killed, and indeed shake Westeros to its core if it were to get out. So what I am about to say can only be told to those who are trustworthy enough to know, and only those who should know." he said, looking sternly at Sam.
"Are you sure you want Master Tarly here for this?" Lord Reed asked.
Jon nodded firmly. "Sam would never betray my trust," he said confidently. "Whatever is said here can be said in front of him."
"As you wish." Lord Reed conceded as the two men leaned forward, eager to hear the story. "It all started twenty years ago…."