Jon and his commander met in the great hall of Eagle's Roost. On his left were the captains of the Company of the Rose, with Derren Stark sitting at Jon's left. On his right was Howland Reed and the rest of the northern lords who had arrived the day before. Now, the northern army was assembled once again, but they wouldn't be for long.
"Lord Glover, what have the scouts reported?" Jon asked.
"The ironborn ships have been destroyed." Glover responded with grim satisfaction. "I reckon there can't be more than a few hundred of the iron fuckers left."
Jon's next step in freeing the North was to retake Deepwood Motte, the last remaining castle in the North still under ironborn control. The scouts found the burning wreckage of the ironborn longships. Now, the remaining invaders were holed up inside the Glover castle with no chance of escaping.
Jon nodded. "There's no point sending the entire army north. Lord Glover, you and the Company of the Rose shall head north and retake your home."
Jon glanced at Derren, who nodded easily. "We're more than happy to assist Lord Glover."
"What about the rest of us?" Lord Umber grumbled.
"We're going after Bolton." Jon replied firmly. "My father should have assembled the mountain clans by now. We'll march west and hopefully meet up with him along the way. Lord Reed, has there been any word from the Dreadfort?"
Howland shook his head. "My friends say that there has been little activity at the Dreadfort since Arnolf's and the bastard's men returned to the castle." the lord of Greywater Watch said. "I suspect Roose means to hold where he is and try to inflict as many casualties as possible."
"How many men does he have?" Roland Hawker asked.
"About four thousand." Howland answered. "He also has the supplies to hold out against a siege. His bastard has looted villages from White Harbor to Last Hearth."
"We'll deal with details when we reach the castle." Jon said. "All we need to know is that Roose has a sizable host and supplies."
The men and women in the room nodded, accepting the facts. Jon looked around the room for a moment before bringing the war council to a close.
"Derren, Lord Glover, you leave on the morrow. The rest of the northern army will do the same." Jon said, standing up. "Once Deepwood Motte has been retaken, march east towards the Dreadfort. That is all for today."
The others nodded and began to leave. Jon caught Howland's eye and motioned for him to follow Jon as they walked out of the hall and out into the courtyard. They walked up the battlements on the western wall that faced the harbor.
Already, the citizens were hard at work repairing their town. Many fishing boats were out in the harbor, finding food for the survivors. Others were helping rebuild homes or care for the wounded. They had hid in their homes through most of the siege, and looked just as thin and gaunt as many of the surviving defenders. Many of their homes had been looted by Ryswell's men, and they had starved just as much as Bowden Hawker and his men.
Roland and his family had all taken part in rebuilding the town. Assisting their people with anything they might need and attending the wounded at least three times a day. It was clear that the Hawker's cared for their people as much as their people cared for them.
"How is Robb?" Jon asked, leaning against the stonework.
"He's well. He's met up with the forces of the Vale and is currently a league outside King's Landing." Howland answered.
"Is there anything I should know?" Jon asked.
"Joffrey is no longer in power." Howland said. "The Targaryens have returned to Westeros."
Jon frowned. "What do you mean they've returned."
Howland shrugged. "Long story, but they have and also have an army of sellswords with them as well as the men of Dorne."
"Have they attacked Robb?"
Howland shook his head. "Not to my knowledge. There are still many unknowns about the Targaryens that my cousin and I are working on finding out. Unfortunately, the Spider is one of their allies, and so getting information from the capitol at the moment is tough."
"Why didn't you let the council know?"
"What's the point?" Howland answered with a shrug. "As I told you before; I give information as it becomes needed. What is the purpose of letting the others know that the Targaryens have arrived when we're still fighting the Boltons." Howland shook his head. "No. King Robb is already at the capitol and will be fine."
"Fine." Jon grumbled. "I hope you're right."
Howland crossed his arms. "Jon, be realistic. We're here and Robb is in the south. It would take us months to reach him. What can we do?"
"Nothing." Jon answered quietly.
"Exactly." Howland agreed. "Do not worry about your brother. He'll be just fine. Right now, we have a Leech Lord to kill. Let's focus on him then we can focus on the crazier half of your family."
Jon managed a small smile. "I liked you better when you were the strong and silent type."
"Your father said the same thing to me." Howland grunted. "Ah well, too late to go back now."
Line Break
As Jon approached the small camp, his eyes were locked on Winterfell, the ruins of his former home. It tore at his heart to see the stronghold in such a state, but even in ruins, it still remained the beating heart of the North. For the first time, Jon felt that the ironborn phrase rang true. What is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger. Winterfell would be returned to its former glory in time.
But at the moment, Jon wanted nothing more than to see Roose Bolton and his bastard pay for their crimes.
There was a man waiting for Jon and his companions at the edge of the clansmen camp. He was slightly built, but there was an innate slyness to the man, reminding Jon oddly of a fox. The younger man next to him looked to be his son, as the two men shared many similarities.
The shield carried by the younger man bore green thistles on a field of yellow.
"Jon Snow." the old man greeted. "We have been waiting for you."
Jon nodded to the man. "Thank you, Lord…"
"Norrey. Brandon Norrey." the old man answered. "This is my son Brandon the Younger."
Jon nodded to the younger men. "Thank you for meeting us."
Jon was accompanied by the members of Robb's battle guard and his commanders. They all dismounted as men came forward to take their mounts. It was obvious that Lord Norrey and his son meant to lead Jon and the others to his father.
"My cousin Owen rode with the Young Wolf." Brandon the Younger said as the group walked through the camp. "I do not see him among you."
Jon glanced behind, seeing the same regretful expression that he now wore. "Owen died at Moat Cailin." he explained. "He was a great man and warrior."
"He died fighting." Brandon the Younger said. "That is good."
Jon raised an eyebrow, but decided to leave the topic alone. It was most likely a superstition or honor held by the mountain clansmen. But Owen had died honorably, fighting shoulder to shoulder with his friends. There were worse ways to go out.
The group finally made it to the large tent in the center of the camp. It was guarded by two big, hairy men who were garbed in leather and fur armor, each holding spears and shields. The banner outside the tent was the grey direwolf of House Stark.
"The Ned is right inside." Lord Norrey said. "He is anxious to see you."
"As is the girl." Brandon the Younger added.
Jon nodded, not enjoying the tight knot in his stomach. It was weird that he was anxious about seeing his father again. He should have been overjoyed.
"Thank you, my lord." Jon said.
The two men nodded and left without another word.
Jon marched towards the tent, preparing himself as he ducked in, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darker lighting. There was a cot off to one side, but the center of the tent was dominated by a table that held a map of the North. There were two people inside. A girl sitting on the cot and an older man leaning over the table.
As soon as Jon stepped inside, the girl raced across the tent and practically threw herself at Jon, throwing her arms around him.
"Jon!" Arya cried.
Jon held his youngest sister, trying not to let tears escape. He crouched slightly so that they were at the same height. Neither of them wanted to release each other, and no one wanted to break up the moment between brother and sister.
Finally, and almost painfully, Jon pulled back so that he could look at Arya. her eyes were red-rimmed, as his probably were. She looked taller and more fit than the last time he had seen her, but she still had that proud, energetic look in her eye and wore a smile brighter than the sun. She was dressed in leather breeches and a jerkin over a white woolen shirt. She also wore a short fur cape. Lady Stark would have been outraged about how Arya wasn't dressed 'like a lady', but to Jon she looked amazing.
She looked like Arya, if there was ever a way to put it.
At her side was a thin, needle-like sword that Jon recognized instantly.
"You've grown." Jon said softly, his words full of love and wonder. "You still have the sword."
Arya laughed and pulled out the sword, holding it in both hands. "I still have it." she said happily.
Neither of them truly had the words to express how they were feeling, so they settled for simply staring at each other and smiling like lunatics. Besides Robb, Arya was the other sibling Jon was close with. She always treated him like one of the family, regardless of what her mother thought. And unlike her mother, Jon had encouraged her wild side to an extent. That's why he had given her Needle.
"I'm so glad you're alive." Arya said quietly, hugging Jon once more. "I'm glad you're fighting for your family."
Jon choked up slightly. He held her tight for a few more moments before letting her go and getting up, locking eyes with his father. The older man had a mixture of emotions on his face, but none stood out more than pride. He looked proud of Jon, more so than he ever had.
"Father." Jon said, covering the distance between them in a few short steps. His father moved forward as well and soon the two men embraced happily in the middle of the tent.
Jon was now struggling to keep the tears from his face, but he managed. After a few more moments, the two men took a step back and regarded one another, just as Jon had done with Arya. They were closer to the same height, but Father looked a little different. His hair was still worn long, and his beard was closely trimmed, but there was a certain gleam in his grey eyes that were as dark as stone. It was a look that Jon had seen whenever father dealt with criminals who had committed heinous crimes.
He was dressed for war in plaited leather and steel-plate, looking every inch as fearsome as Robb had when Jon had been reunited with him at Riverrun. Over one shoulder, Jon noticed the hilt of Ice, the valyrian steel greatsword that had been used by the head of House Stark for generations.
To put it plainly, Jon's father looked ready for war.
"Words can not express…." Father began before glancing over Jon's shoulder and looking at the others. "We will talk soon. I promise."
Jon nodded, knowing that his father, like Arya, wasn't great with words. They would talk later, and they had a lot to talk about, but now his father had to be Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, not Eddard Stark the father.
Jon let go of his father, who was immediately crushed by a bear hug from the Greatjon, then another from Maege Mormont. He then endured a few firm hand shakes and quick embraces from Rickard Karstark and Roland Hawker before coming face to face with Howland Reed. The two men gazed at each other before father eventually smiled and clasped arms with his long time friend.
"Gods above Ned!" the Greatjon laughed. "You gave us a fucking fright."
Father smiled. "I heard that Cersei faked my death. I am sorry that you all thought I was dead for so long."
"You're alive, and Roose must be shitting himself." Lord Karstark chuckled. "Your boy here, and the king as well, has been doing you proud."
Jon locked eyes with his father, and was rewarded again with a look of fierce pride. Jon blushed slightly and looked away. He felt a hand take his, and he found Arya at his side, looking at him with the same look their father had given him.
"I am beyond proud of both Jon and Robb." Father answered. "They've achieved more than I have ever dreamed of."
"I honestly didn't think the sellswords were telling the truth." Maege admitted. "But I'm happy to be wrong for the first time."
Father grinned and looked over at the group of young nobles who stood in the entrance of the tent. They looked a little uncomfortable, but all had grins on their faces as they watched their parents reunite with Lord Stark.
"Eddard Karstark, is that you?" Father asked, picking out Lord Rickard's son.
Eddard bowed slightly. "My lord, it's amazing to see you again.
Father continued to greet every one of Jon's friends. Daryn, Brandon, Eyan, Ser Wendel. They all responded with 'my lord' and beaming smiles as they were recognized by their liege lord. The last to be greeted was Rodrick Forrester.
"Rodrick, how's your father, Gregor?" Father asked.
Rodrick looked a little surprised that he had been remembered. He nodded quickly. "My father is doing great, my lord. He's currently in the south leading the northmen under the king."
"I hope to see Gregor again." Father said. "He's a great man."
"He is, my lord." Rodrick agreed, a giant smile on his face.
"I am happy to see you all." Father said, addressing everyone in the tent now. "Tonight, we will feast and celebrate like friends should, but right now I would like nothing more than a moment alone with my son."
The others all nodded and filed out of the tent, with the Greatjon bringing up the rear. "He's definitely your son Ned." he said before leaving.
When they were alone, Jon turned back to his father, not sure what to say. There was so much running through his mind that he wasn't sure where to start. Before he could say anything, his father held up a hand to stop him.
"Arya, how about you go be with Syrio." Father said, looking at his daughter. "Jon and I must talk alone."
"But I want to talk with him too." Arya said sadly.
"We'll talk tonight." Jon said. "I promise."
Arya glanced between her father and brother before nodding. She gave Jon a final hug as she left. When she was gone, Father poured two tankards of what looked like ale, gesturing for Jon to take one.
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions." Father started. "But I think there is a conversation that I have to have with you that's long overdue."
"You mean who my mother is?" Jon said slowly.
Father nodded. "You have a right to know and I'm not sure what might happen in the coming weeks. There's no certainty in war and the last thing I want to do is….leave without telling you the truth."
Jon knew that by 'leave' his father meant 'die'.
"It's ok." Jon said. "Lord Reed already told me."
Jon's father rarely looked surprised, but this was one of the times that he was. It was a subtle look that was only noticeable because his eyebrow raised a little higher than normal.
"Did he?" Father said. "I suppose it makes sense. I was disposed and Howland always thought you had a right to know."
Jon nodded slowly. "That was his reasoning. You were a prisoner of the Lannisters and I was passing through the Neck on my way to be with Robb. He told me the whole story of how my….real parents met, what my father did, and who I really am. He also told me why you never told me and the implications of what might happen if others knew."
Father looked almost sad. "How do you feel?"
Jon sighed. "I didn't know what to feel at first. There's no way to prepare to hear something like that. I have accepted that….I know who my parents are, but I do not acknowledge them as my parents."
Father's head snapped to attention. "What do you mean?"
"I do not hate who my parents really are, but they didn't raise me." Jon explained. "You're my father. That's not going to change. I don't care if I'm still acknowledged as your bastard or not. I'd rather be your bastard than the son of Rhaegar Targaryen."
Father gave Jon a sad, but proud smile. "You won't be a bastard for long, Jon. If I know Robb like I think I do, he'll make you a Stark. I'm surprised he hasn't already."
"He technically has." Jon said. "I had a will drawn up before he marched off to face Tywin. If he were to die, I would become Jon Stark and take up his crown."
"But you continue to go as Jon Snow." Father noted.
Jon nodded. "It seemed simpler that way. I'm not sure why, but it just is."
Father nodded. "Who else knows?"
"Besides you, myself, and Lord Reed, just Samwell and Robb." Jon answered. "Samwell Tarly traveled with me when I left the Wall and was there when Lord Reed told me the news. He's my friend and he would never betray me. I told Robb when I met him at Riverrun."
"Did Howland give you anything else?"
Jon nodded and pulled the sheathed sword from his side, placing it on the table and pulling the blade slightly from his scabbard. "He told me that this was found at the tower."
"Blackfyre." Father said. "I'm still wondering why Rhaegar never used it against Robert."
"It's not the only valyrian steel sword I had." Jon said. "The maester at Castle Black, once Aemon Targaryen, gave me Dark Sister. I didn't know why at the time. Now it makes a little more sense."
"And where is it now?" Father asked.
"Robb wields it. But it's called Claw now. This is Frost." Jon said. "We didn't think it was smart to call them by their actual names."
"Aye, that's true." Father said. "Jon, I am sorry that you've had to live your life as a bastard. Howland's told me time and again that you had no right to go to the Wall. As for how Cat treated you…."
"I don't hate Lady Catelyn, Father." Jon said. "I know why she was the way that she was and I know why you behaved like you did. I know how King Robert felt about Targaryens and your sister. You don't have to explain anything to me."
Father smiled slightly and moved forward, clapping Jon on the shoulder. "Cat asked me years ago to send you away, but I couldn't. You look so much like Lyanna….you were all I had left of her. Yet you're so much like Rhaegar at the same time. I meant what I said earlier. You and Robb, words cannot explain just how proud I am of both of you, the men you've grown to be. I made a lot of mistakes that led to this bloody mess, and I am sorry that you've been the ones who have had to be the ones to fix it."
Jon struggled to find anything after his father's honesty. It was so unusual to have a parent admit to their child that they were wrong and it made Jon feel awkward. He knew that he had to say something.
"You did what you thought was best, Father." Jon said finally. "That is the first thing you taught Robb, me, and the others. You don't have to apologize to us."
"I have to, Jon." Father continued. "I have much to make up for, but first, the Boltons must be dealt with."
Father picked up Frost, weighing it in his hands. "So, White Wolf, would you mind fighting beside an old man?"
Jon smiled and placed one hand on the hilt of the sword. "I will always fight beside my family."
Father matched Jon's smile. "Then let us show the Boltons that Winter is Coming."