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

"The Riverlands?" Daenerys asked while looking at Varys.

"Lord Tully lives still, my queen, and given his ties to House Stark may still be best to name as Lord Paramount once he bends the knee." Varys said and while he got no reply, it was perhaps the best idea.

"My arrangement with Lady Greyjoy still stands and so she'll be named as Queen of the Iron Islands in due course. As for Dorne?" Daenerys looked to Ellaria and Tyene who sat nervously "I can accept your counsel Lady Ellaria, but I cannot name you as Princess of Dorne, nor can I name Lady Tyene either. The words that Cersei Lannister spoke regarding her brother ring true for you both as well and while not many may be aware of what happened with Prince Doran, should they find out…"

"Who would you name in my stead, your grace?" Ellaria asked and Olenna was surprised there was no anger or recrimination in her tone, though considering that Daenerys had saved her and her daughter's lives by trading Jaime Lannister, perhaps she should not have been.

"You mentioned another daughter, a Sarella I believe?" Daenerys questioned the name more than anything else Olenna felt.

"I did."

"And she played no part in either Prince Doran or Myrcella Waters' demise?"

"No, your grace, she did not. She's been studying at the Citadel while pretending to be a boy." Ellaria said proudly.

"Then I would name her true, as a Martell and as Princes of Dorne."

"I thank you, your grace. My counsel is yours for as long as you wish it and Dorne's spears are yours to call on should the need arise." Ellaria said and Olenna smiled, the queen proving cleverer here than she'd expected her to be.

They spoke about the West and who could be named Warden, Varys telling them that perhaps Ser Daven Lannister would be best and the queen asking to meet the man first. When the queen suggested naming Aurane Waters as Lord Paramount of the Crownlands and having it formed into a much truer set of lands, she was surprised and yet it made some sense to her. As did her plan to legitimize the man now that he was the last of his house.

"The Vale, your grace?" Varys asked.

"Lord Baelish suggested he could bring the Vale to my side if I agreed to let him marry Lady Sansa Stark when I met him briefly at Winterfell."

"Suggested or made it a condition of, your grace?" she asked and Varys spoke before the queen could.

"Please, Your Grace. Tell me you're not considering doing this to the poor girl. She suffered greatly at the hands of the last husband she was forced to wed. Ramsay Bolton's mistreatment of her was unconscionable. Not to mention that the last thing she would need would be to be wed to another traitor to her family." Varys's worries were clear and ones she'd not ever heard him express for anyone ever before, though perhaps he was doing so now because of who her brother, no cousin, truly was.

"I have no intent of doing such a thing, Lord Varys. I know too well what it's like to be forced into a marriage against your will and not even the Vale would be worth such a price. Nor would our intentions with the North be helped by such." Daenerys said firmly.

"Then Robin Arryn it is to be."

"Is the boy still living, Lord Varys? I would have thought that Littlefinger would have seen him dead by now?" Olenna said looking to the Master of Whisperers.

"He lives, my lady."

"Send word to Lord Arryn, make sure to tell him that his fealty is demanded and not requested, Lord Varys. As for Lord Baelish, do you have evidence of his actions against House Stark? The queen asked.

"It can be found, your grace."

"Then I'm sure Lord Snow would be most appreciative, my lord."

She more than anything wished to speak further about the North and looked to Varys who seemed to wish to do the same, only for the queen to bring up the Stormlands and Lady Melisandre to put forward a name she'd not expected.

"Ser Davos Seaworth, your grace. There is no better or truer man than he to be named as Lord Paramount. He has the respect of the Stormlands for his service to Lord Stannis in both the Rebellion and the War of the Five Kings. That I owe him a debt is only partly my reason for suggesting him, for were my prince here then I have no doubt that he's the name he'd give you." Melisandre said and the queen nodded.

"Lord Varys?"

"Other than a bastard son of Robert Baratheon which may cause its own issues, I know of no better choice and Ser Davos has young sons already that secure his line, your grace."

"Lady Olenna?"

"I have no objection, your grace."

"Very well. I thank you for your counsel Lady Melisandre. I believe we must speak about the North and my potential marriage now." the queen said and Olenna could see that there was some eagerness to do so on the queen's part that had not been there when Tyrion Lannister was still in the room.

"Perhaps we could speak more privately, your grace. Lord Varys and I have some news we'd like to share."

Ellaria and Tyene, along with Missandei and Grey Worm left the room, with Lady Melisandre staying to stand on Jon Snow's behalf. Varys then looked at her as if he was bidding her begin.

"Ever since his counsel saved my life, your grace, Lord Snow and I have spoken much and often, and over time I've come to recognize certain traits in him that I've seen before."

"Jon said he looked much like his father." Daenerys said and Olenna nodded.

"He does, your grace, though not in coloring. Lord Stark is not his father, your grace, Lord Varys and I believe and our inquiries only make it even more likely that Jon Snow is the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen."

"What? How? It can't….you're saying that he's my nephew?`` The queen's shock was clear and as Varys poured her a glass of water, Olenna looked to see that Lady Melisandre seemed less shocked, as if she'd just found an answer to a question that she'd not asked.

Olenna looked to Varys who began to tell the tale of the rebellion and of how three knights of the Kingsguard including Prince Rhaegar's closest and truest friend, Ser Arthur Dayne, died while guarding a tower in Dorne. How Ned Stark brought back the bones of his sister and a babe he'd named as his bastard from Dorne and why no one asked the questions they were asking now. When he told the queen that they believed him trueborn and that because of this as well as what he meant to the North, that a marriage was not only desirable but necessary, the words the queen spoke only made that more clear.

"Rhaegal, that's why he bonded with Rhaegal and why my son has accepted him as his rider." the queen said softly, happily even.

"Jon is a Dragonrider?" Olenna asked, amazed and yet not.

"My prince has flown to Winterfell on the Green Dragon, Lady Olenna. The dragon that her grace named after his father."

"Blood of my blood." the queen said, the smile on her face a true one, and Olenna was sure she'd not have to do much more convincing to see the dragons tied in marriage once again.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Petyr Baelish.

He could feel her slipping away from his grasp. Oh, she thought she had him still wrapped around her finger with her half-smiles and her empty promises. It would take far more than a caress on the cheek to fool a man like him.

It somewhat frustrated him that Sansa didn't seem to learn anything he tried to teach her. That she could still not see the bigger picture and was stuck in her belief that being in Winterfell was all she needed to amount to in life. Like her mother, she wasn't aware of her true potential, and like her mother she let her tender heart and her love for her family get the better of her. How could Sansa not see how detrimental the other Starks were to her, to them?

He had a plan and she was aware of it. She was still part of it for now but he was at the end of his patience with her. Sansa kept him at arm's length ever since her bitch of a sister had come back, making their so-called pack complete. He had tried to show her that she could not count on her family by creating a rift between her and Arya, who was so much like the Starks he had grown to hate as a young lad in that she was easy to read. He pitted the wild sister against the poised one and waited, hoping that the rift caused between the sisters would bring Sansa back to his fold, but his protege still resisted much to his dismay.

Where she would not hesitate to listen to his counsel before, she now outright refused it, and it took everything in his self-control not to strike her like he would disobedient whores who thought they knew better than he. He couldn't get rid of Arya Stark. For how can you dispose of a Faceless Man without getting yourself killed? So instead he'd tried to make Sansa knock some sense into the other Stark brat, pointing out how dangerous it was for him to stay close to such a menace. Rather than open King Rickon's eyes though, it seemed to bring him even closer to Arya and push him further from Sansa and so his control.

Fucking Starks. At least this one won't be much of a problem now.

Rickon's physical state had given Petyr an opportunity to create more chaos in the Northern ranks and to show Sansa that she might be the Lady of Winterfell in name, but he was the one in charge of her fate. He had given her the push she needed by calling a meeting in her name. That the cripple had then played into his hands unknowingly by telling Sansa she should be regent was a good and welcome surprise to him. Arya's anger was an added bonus, as he could twist the narrative around the fact that she was jealous of not having been named Regent due to her closeness to the boy. The cripple didn't seem to mind Sansa being in charge for now, which left Petyr just two wild cards to take care of.

Jon Snow would definitely be a problem if he came back from the South. His closeness to the Targaryen girl would make him consider bending the knee, and all of Littlefinger's plans relied on the North staying independent. The Vale and the Riverlands, through their kinship with Sansa, would declare for her when the time would be right, and by then the way to the Iron Throne would be more open to them. As he would make sure to remind the other kingdoms of the sins of the Targaryens and turn them against a possible new tyrant. The dragons were a problem, but a problem he could deal with should he surround himself with the right people. The Citadel may not involve itself in Westeros politics, but their Maesters and Archmaesters could be convinced to help with the right price or the right whores, and had never held love for the dragons either.

He sighed as he finished his letter to his goodson, the other thorn in his side. Daenerys Targaryen's presence changed a lot of things and the Vale had to tread carefully in dealing with her. Something he'd tried to do when she'd arrived in Winterfell a few weeks past, though since she'd not given him a true response, something he wasn't sure how successful he'd been at.

" Queen Daenerys, may I accompany you to your room? Given how angry the Lords of the North seem to be, I feel it unsafe for you to walk there alone," he said, smiling warmly to her after the debacle that had been Jon Snow's announcement.

" I thank you, my Lord?"

" Baelish, Your Grace. I am the regent of Lord Robert Arryn, the Lord Paramount of the Vale."

Her smile tightened and Petyr wondered if he had already heard about him. He didn't know much about her entourage, other than that she had chosen Tyrion Lannister as Hand, which already showed her in a negative light, and that she had the Reach and Dorne on her side. Yet she accepted the arm he offered and walked with him silently at first.

" And what brings the Regent of the Lord Paramount of the Vale so far from his home?"

" Well, Lord Arryn is kin to the King in the North and his trueborn brother and sisters. That is why, in their time of need, he sent me and part of our forces to help them take back their home from the Boltons."

" Wasn't Lady Sansa married to a Bolton? Or was my information false?" Daenerys asked confusedly.

" Unfortunately, she was. A sordid affair, truly. Lord Bolton put her through so much misery that even I cannot imagine how much she suffered. But she is a strong woman, and my heart rejoices to see her free from his hold."

" Your heart, you say?"

" Lady Sansa is very dear to me, Your Grace. I was the one who saved her from King's Landing, where she was held hostage when her father died by King Joffrey's hand. I protected her as best that I could."

" You seem to care a lot for Lady Sansa…"

" I was the Master of Coin under King Tommen's reign and I became a traitor to his cause, just so I could help Sansa get what she deserves. I would do anything to ensure she does."

" And what do you think she deserves now, Lord Baelish?"

" Someone worthy of her, Your Grace. Someone who will take care of her and give her the best."

" You mean a husband? You want Lady Sansa to wed again?"

" She would never… Not after what Ramsay Bolton did to her. If only someone could make her see that she has a chance of happiness with someone who truly cares for her…"

" Perhaps."

" Such a union with the right man may be to your own advantage as well, Your Grace." he said smiling as the queen took in his words.

She never gave him an answer, but the nod she gave him when he reminded her of their discussion before she departed was enough to let him know she hadn't forgotten. Sansa's interactions with Daenerys made her a clear opponent to her view of the North's future. So even if his plans would not come to fruition, he would at least get this consolation prize of widening the gap between them both, while then waiting for his moment to strike.

Since his encounter with the Dragon Queen, he had instructed Robin to keep the remaining Knights of the Vale on high alert, but not to engage in battle should any of the pretending queens ask for his support. His pupil didn't seem to understand why he could just not claim the independence of the Vale, as his cousins had done with the North, so he had to send yet another missive to make him see reason. He was growing tired of catering to entitled children's each and every whims, but he needed to bide his time before Robin's demise so that he could use him to his best advantage and get what he wanted from him.

He chuckled as he thought about the union he had suggested for Robin. Lyanna Mormont was yet another person that he needed to get rid of, and he knew how poorly she would do as the Lady of the Vale. In truth, he had no intention of honoring the betrothal should it happen. Which he doubted it would, judging by the brat's reaction, and he didn't plan for the Defender of the Vale to live long enough to be able to wed either. All of it was just a way to create even more chaos and to test Sansa's loyalty to him. He needed her to do what she must, to do what should be done, for their sake. As nothing else mattered more to him than getting what he had longed for so long.

He gave Lyn Corbray the letter for his liege and went in search of Sansa, already knowing where she would be should he not find her in her rooms. For a moment, he felt a pang in his heart while watching the woman he loved caring for her brother. Flashes of the past, of a time when he was the one abed and Catelyn, was the one watching over him. Images of her professing her love for him and thanking him for trying to defend her honor, came to him. No matter how many times Lysa had lied to him, stating that she was the only one who cared for him after his infamous duel with Brandon Stark, Petyr had always cherished that memory. As much as he cherished the time that Catelyn gave herself to him and gave him the only thing that neither of the Stark brothers would ever get: her innocence. Now looking at her daughter, his one regret about handing her to the Bolton's was that he'd missed out on being the one to take her maidenhead, just as he had her mother's.

"What are you doing here, Lord Baelish," Sansa's voice brought him back and he internally cringed, hating how much her formal stance got on his nerves.

One day, he thought, one day you'll be mine and I'll make you scream my name…

"Lord Baelish," she insisted. "Is something the matter?"

"I'm afraid there is, My Love." he answered solemnly. "Someone brought to my attention that the Lords of the North are to be gathered and are intending to have a meeting as we speak."

"I do not see what is wrong with that, my Lord."

"I fear they wish to question your rule, Sansa. The council has been most vocal about their opinions, were they to manage to convince the other Lords…"

"Would it truly be a bad thing?" she asked doubtfully and he almost glared at her, almost.

"This is not the Sansa Stark I know. What is the matter with you?"

"I am well."

"Yet you don't seem to be worried about the Lords uniting against you." he frowned. "Did you know about this meeting?"

"I am tired, my Lord." she sighed loudly. "I am tired of fighting constantly against my family and the rest of my people. If they want to give the regency away, then so be it."

" I thought you were against the idea of people deciding your fate without your input, my dear. What if they decide to chase you from your home?"

"They wouldn't." she said, her voice unsure and he welcomed that doubt, relished hearing it in her voice

"Are you willing to take that risk?" he said, before going in for the kill" For If I knew you would not care about what could happen to you, then I wouldn't have refused Daenerys Targaryen's proposal. I had thought you were strong, that you would take control of things, and so I refused to force your hand on the matter. Yet I must say that I am truly disappointed right now Sansa."

"What are you talking about, my Lord? What proposal?" Sansa asked, confused.

"She had asked for my help against Cersei in exchange for your hand in marriage."

"How… Why… What did you answer?"

The look of horror on her face should have hurt him, yet he found it did not. Instead, it was the knowledge that he had her, that his words had hit home and she was once again ready to do his bidding, that he concentrated on. If only he had known before now that this would be her biggest fear, he would have used this sooner.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Wyman Manderly.

A few days ago.

Wyman was not a morning person, especially during winter. He enjoyed staying under his covers and relished the warmth of the room. Winterfell however was well known for its hot springs and warmed walls and he was glad it was there and not in White Harbor that the Northern Lords had gathered. Not that he didn't miss his home, but they would probably have gone through half of their wood stores by now. Every single one of them could feel that the cold was taking an even firmer grip on the North. More so as the days had passed since they'd received the White Raven. Winter was no longer coming, it was here.

The day ahead was to be a special one, so Wyman set aside his dislike for rising early and giddily got ready to meet the others in the Great Hall. He had waited for this moment to happen for too long. For the true men and women of the North to truly unite and voice their opinions as one. At first, he had thought they'd done so when they had named Rickon their King, but he had later learned through conversations that some Lords had followed his lead out of cowardice and not faith. After he had dressed and made his way to the Great Hall, he pondered on things before the meeting truly began, even forgoing the breaking of his fast as he sat there lost in thought.

Wyman and his family were followers of the Seven, they were amongst the few in the North who did so along with seemingly Sansa Stark, and yet he loathed to think of her as a woman of faith. So seeing Rickon Stark being brought back from the dead by a priestess of R'hllor had shaken his beliefs to their very core. Had he not heard the tales and seen the evidence himself of the Battle of the Bastards and the boy's death, then he would have named it a mummery orchestrated to rally the North behind a Stark instead of a Snow. Yet in truth, had his king not been brought back from the dead and had simply survived the battle, then Wyman would have chosen Jon Snow to rule the North instead of Rickon. Even with some of the Lords naming him a deserter of the Watch and calling for his head.

War was a terrible thing and Jon Snow had lived it thrice. Once against the wildlings, once against the dead, and once amidst men who had broken faith with his family. Despite this, each time after he fought, he had then set aside his differences with his enemies for the greater good. It was a sign of a good commander and a good leader, and honor and oaths be damned, that was what the North needed now more than ever.

Rickon Stark was even more formidable than his older brother in that regard, much to Wyman's great surprise. He had taken in his brother's teachings and example and in a short time had proved himself to be a worthy king. The boy heeded his people's counsel while always staying true to what he believed. His ruthlessness and no-nonsense attitude were refreshing for a lot of people, especially after a period of political and practical nightmares for the North. Most of the Lords had been completely against the Boltons' rule but had lost too much to risk voicing their disagreements. Which had in turn led to much hypocrisy and unease.

That he had been named into the Northern Council at King Rickon's behest had taken him by surprise. Wyman would have served the new King as truly as any man regardless, but he had been proud to be acknowledged by Rickon for his expertise and this had prompted him to give his all to the task he had been given.

He had worked tirelessly with Ser Davos Seaworth to assess the North's assets. Coin, food, goods, and the best way to use what they had to withstand winter and the upcoming war. The Northern Lord's coffers were almost empty, and even with the addition of the Boltons' ones, they were far from having enough to feed their people. Then came the problem of hosting the Free Folk and the people from Bear Island, the Mountain Clans, Karhold, Last Hearth, and Deepwoote Motte in Winterfell and Wintertown.

It had been agreed with King Rickon that the people unable to fight that resided south of Hornwood would be hosted in White Harbor and that all the food from Hornwood, Ramsgate, Widow's Watch, and Oldcastle would be directed there. Wyman had already sent out some ships with Ser Davos's help to gather more food in Essos and had appointed his son Wylis to watch over the settlement of their new inhabitants. Some of the Free Folk offered their help in bringing furs and game to them, and they soon found a rhythm in collaborating that Wyman would never have dreamed of. He was now more than certain that the North wouldn't have survived if Jon Snow had not allowed them to cross the Wall.

To make matters even worse the Knights of the Vale, led by that fucking opportunist Littlefinger, had decided to intervene and do all they could to mess up their alliances. Most of the lords he talked with were convinced they had a hand with what ailed their king and had done so to further their plan of placing Sansa Stark on the Throne of Winter. The fact that the girl, who kept opposing both her brother's views from the beginning, objected so lightly to the request and forced it on them, had incensed all those present in the assembly. Brandon Stark's condoning this invasion into the Northern affairs under the guise of needing the Vale forces to fight against the dead had only made things worse. Upon hearing the raised voices, he shook his head and tried to instead concentrate on what was being said in front of him.

"Fucking Starks! That family is seriously messed up! And as for this so-called Brandon, what a fucking shame he is to his namesake!" Barbrey Dustin raged. "Someone should send for Jon Snow to come back. I won't hesitate to follow him rather than this replica of Catelyn Tully! I swear to the gods, if these southern women hadn't thought themselves better than everyone else, then nothing bad would have ever happened in the North."

"You cannot say that Barbrey." he tried to calm her down.

"Oh, you think so? Who sent both of her daughters South so that one could become Queen when it only needed one of them to leave? We all heard of Lady Stark's contempt over little Underfoot choosing to follow the bastard that her mother hated so much and who has since ended up being a blessing for the North! I wouldn't even be surprised if he had been sent to the Wall because of her. That poor lad. He has the strong mind of Brandon and the ruthlessness of Lyanna. He looks nothing like that Weak Quiet Wolf who let his woman start a war that we all suffered from."

"Your anger towards Catelyn Stark is misplaced, Barbrey, and it will not help us solve this problem." Lyanna Mormont said reproachfully.

"Yet Lady Dustin is right, Lady Lyanna," he was surprised to hear Arya Stark say. "My family has a lot to atone for. Especially towards the North because of the way the War of the Five Kings started. Those responsible for the bad decisions that led the Boltons into power are all dead, and we, as the children of Ned Stark, have to be better than those who came before us. Rickon and Jon, I believe they are, and I will defend their rights as long as I draw breath."

"Even against the interests of your sister or your other brother? Both of them seem so convinced that they are on the right path." he asked.

"Then we will have to show them that they are on the wrong one!" Arya answered emphatically.

"Will you take the regency should we push for it, my Lady?" Lyanna Mormont asked warily and a little curiously he felt too as if the lady was judging another Stark and comparing her to her sister.

"I will never usurp my brother. Jon is Rickon's regent and it is our duty as his people to ensure that his will is respected. If Sansa does not work for the interests of the North, then she is working against Rickon and Jon, and I for one will not tolerate that."

"What do we do now?" he asked, looking at the two ladies and to Barbrey Dustin as well as the others who were present.

"We keep preparing according to Rickon's, Jon's, and your own plans. The next step after securing Moat Cailin is sending all non-fighting forces there, aye?"

"Aye, my Lady."

"Do you think we can trust Glover to put in place a shelter for both the Free Folk and our people?" Arya asked.

"I do not think so."

"They will be welcome in Barrowtown, my Lady," Barbrey surprised them both and Arya nodded.

"How much food would be required for the journey and the reserves?" Lyessa Flint asked ever practically as always.

"If we gather those unable to fight from Deepwood Motte, Sea Dragon Point, the Rylls and Barrowtown as well as the grain and food reserves from those keeps, then we should alleviate the burdens of feeding and housing all the men and women we have here and give them a chance to flee to the Moat should anything happen." Ser Davos said.

"Then it's settled. I trust you Lord Manderly, Ser Davos, and Lady Lyanna to do everything you deem necessary. Do not hesitate to involve whoever you find that you believe are Leal and True to King Rickon and the North. Do not keep us in the dark and pray that our King or his regent can counter whatever plans my sister and her friends from the Vale have concocted." With a nod to the still shocked Wyman, Arya walked away, certainly to go back to the King's side.

"What the fuck has just happened?" he asked as Arya was walking from the room.

"You, my dear friend, have just been promoted!" Barbrey chuckled before looking longingly at Arya's retreating form. "I like this one. She has Wolf's Blood for sure, as do at least two of her brothers. She reminds me of Lyanna sometimes."

"You were close to Lyanna Stark, my Lady?" Lyanna Mormont asked keenly as if she wished to learn more about her namesake.

"Close? Not at all, but I saw her often when she visited her brother in the Rylls. A free spirit, with a strong will. Not at all the defenseless flower that some from the South love to depict her as. The King is as wild as Brandon was and just impulsive. As for Jon Snow… I actually am almost certain that he is Brandon's bastard and not Ned Stark's."

"Truly?" Wyman gasped, surprised by this turn of events. Long had he thought about the origins of Jon Snow, but since Ned Stark had never revealed the lad's mother's identity, he was content to just accept that he had Stark blood.

"He has something about him… He is definitely a Stark, there is no denying this, but… I have never bought Ned Stark laying with another woman. That was always more likely something that Brandon would do. Your sons went to war with him. So did my brother and my late husband. Didn't it surprise any of them to see him with a child when he never once strayed in the camp as others like Robert Baratheon did?" Barbrey asked, almost spitting out Robert Baratheon's name.

"I… Never thought of that…" he admitted with some shame, he'd never truly considered a bastard's origins or much of Jon Snow truly until he'd taken back Winterfell.

"Of course you didn't. For the word of Ned Stark was law when he became Warden of the North. Yet he betrayed his word as well did he not? And instead of bringing my husband's bones to me, he brought back his sister's along with a bastard babe and the steed I offered him. What care did I have for a living steed? Why did he find it more important than Willam's bones?" Barbrey said, raising her voice.

"The past is dead, my lady. Best leave those stones unturned lest we find things underneath them that we'd rather not." Ser Davos said and Wyman saw Barbrey's nod of her head and felt it was the best time to end the meeting and their discussion, for now. There was much work to be done after all.

Today.

Life was never simple, though given they would soon have to face an army of dead men, mayhaps that was a given. He'd believed they'd put things right at their last meeting, only to find that they'd been outmaneuvered and that Sansa Stark, or more likely Littlefinger, was a better player of the game than even he. No, that wasn't true, it was that he held no true power or right and the so-called promotion that Barbrey had said he'd been given, was more a curse than a blessing.

The Vale now had representation on a council they had no right to and once again it was down to Brandon Stark's words that had seen to that. As much if not more than it was down to Littlefinger and Yohn Royce's moves and Sansa Stark's acceptance of them. Wyman was beginning to wonder if the girl even realized how much she was being manipulated. Or was she instead playing on sympathies that she was quickly running out of, just to make him and others consider her less guilty than they did those around her?

If he was Regent, then he'd have the power to countermand certain orders and it was overhearing the Knights of the Vale that had given him the idea which he was now on his way to see be realized. He'd heard some mentions of a Lord Declarant and of taking the role that Littlefinger had as acting Defender of the Vale and regent of Lord Arryn away from him. Though that plan had in the end been thwarted by the Mockingbird's words some years earlier. His words wouldn't work today, no man or woman of the North would listen to him and as for Brandon Stark, he would do well to keep his own to himself as well.

Entering the Great Hall of Winterfell, he looked to the Throne of Winter and wished there was someone else sitting there other than Sansa Stark. For the last few days, they'd concentrated on readying the North for what they had to face and hoping that either their King would wake or Jon Snow would return to put things right. With the Free Folk gathering their things and getting ready to leave, they could wait no longer. The time had come for them to act and in the interests of the North, they would do so.

"Lord Manderly." Sansa Stark said stiffly and Wyman offered her a polite bow of his head as he took his seat.

Beside her sat Littlefinger and a seat down sat Lord Royce. Arya Stark, Lyanna Mormont, and Barbrey Dustin along with himself and Ser Davos rounded out those who sat at the High Table and the Lords and Ladies of the North had come out in force. To their left and sitting in the corner wearing that same self look he always wore, was Brandon Stark. He frowned that there was no one representing the Free Folk here and that Tormund had refused his or Ser Davos's request to come and speak on their behalf.

" We'll not stay where we're not wanted, Merman. And I curse that woman and those fucking kneelers she surrounds herself with for making me break an oath to Jon Snow." Tormund said, his anger clear.

He sighed when Sansa rose to her feet and called the meeting to order. The room then quieted down when it was Littlefinger and not the so-called acting regent who spoke.

"My Lords and Ladies of the North. For why has this meeting been called?" Littlefinger asked.

"For why, I'll tell you for fucking why." Barbrey said rising to her feet and Wyman sighed, he'd not wished for anger to be how they started to make their case, only mayhap how they ended it with " What right do you or your fucking Knights of the Vale have to send the Free Folk away? By claiming victory in a battle that you only turned up at when it was near the end? Fucking Cravens, the lot of you. Where were you when we marched South? Or when Jon Snow was seeking allies to remove the Boltons from his family's home? Where were you when our king lay dying in a hall in the Twins or when his heir lay dying in a field no more than a mile from here?"

"The Knights of the Vale won the battle, Lady Dustin. Had we not come then it would have been lost." Yohn Royce said haughtily.

"Aye, but lately it was when you came. Mayhaps we should rename you a Frey, Lord Royce." Lyessa Flint said to much laughter.

"The Knights of the Vale deserve to be respected, Lady Flint. Lord Royce is right, if it were not for them we'd not be sitting here today. You should keep that in mind when you speak so disrespectfully." Littlefinger said with a sneer.

"And you should do the same, my lord." Lyanna Mormont said while glaring at Littlefinger and Wyman noticed how the lord looked at Sansa Stark.

"No sword today, Lady Mormont?" Littlefinger asked with a smirk on his face.

"I need no sword to put a mockingbird in its place, Lord Baelish. Care to test me?"

"Lord Baelish has made a formal complaint against you, Lady Mormont. He claims you broke Guest Right and threatened him. Is this so?" Sansa asked.

"Aye. He's lucky I didn't gut him, but Aye, I threatened him. After that foolishness that he suggested about deciding who I am to wed. You're damn right I fucking threatened him."

"From her own lips." Littlefinger said looking to the other lords "Between Lady Mormont's threats and the way the Free Folk look and act around any of us from the Vale, surely you can see why we feel no safety here? We come only to offer our aid to Lady Sansa and the North and yet are treated with suspicion and doubt and dare I say scorn." Littlefinger appealed to the Lord and Ladies, none of whom seemed to be listening and so Wyman felt now was his chance to speak.

"We're here because decisions are being made which we feel are detrimental to the North. Lady Lyanna speaks of a marriage alliance, one that was not discussed with the council or even with the lady herself, or so I'm led to believe. Lady Sansa, the actions suggested in regards to the Free Folk, Lady Lyanna's betrothal and others have led us to question whether or not you're the…."

"My sister is the only one who can best protect the North's interest, Lord Manderly." Brandon Stark interrupted in his monotone voice.

"Oh, please! Do shut up, you bird of ill omen, for nothing you've said or done so far has helped protect the North interests!" Lyanna Mormont exploded. "My life is on the line, my free will, and you Lady Sansa looked me in the eye and told me you would not force it on me. Now look at me and tell me, whose side are you really on. Do you serve the Vale or the North?"

"Aye, I would be interested in hearing your response, dear sister," Arya Stark added, her furious gaze seemingly daring her to take the worst decision.

"Perhaps we can ask the King's Regent how we should best proceed." Sansa Stark said, relievedly he believed and he and the rest of those present all turned to see Jon Snow walking towards them with Ghost by his side, Wyman smiling as he took his seat and waited to hear what words were spoken by the white wolf.

Winterfell 303 AC.

Jon.

He had thought that flying on a dragon around the island of Dragonstone to be an experience like no other and in a way it was. The island, the keep itself, all of it had to be seen from upon a dragon's back to truly understand what it was Targaryens had accomplished in building the keep and why it was that island that called out to them so much. Yet as majestic as it had been, flying over the lands and seeing how quickly Rhaegal could cover the distance, that truly showed the power of the dragons. More so than even their flames did to his mind.

Before he'd even known it they'd hit the mainland and were flying over the Crownlands. Something that would take days to do by ship and horse, Rhaegal managed in mere hours and he could feel the dragon's joy at the awe that Jon felt regarding him. It was night when they landed and it took him some time to realize where he was. At first, he'd thought it was Harrenhal or even the God's Eye but looking to the ruined Weirwood stumps and the hill that lay ahead of him, Jon knew he was in High Heart.

There were fewer places more sacred to the Children of the Forest than here. Jon remembered the tales that Old Nan would weave about them and he felt the tears fall down his cheek as he remembered who it was that he would be with when she spun those tales. Wiping his eyes he moved to thank Rhaegal and found the dragon to be resting, so he began to look for wood to start a fire and a place for himself to rest for the night too. Whether it was that that drew him to the top of the hill, curiosity, or something else, he knew not, but he found himself there regardless and he almost yelped like a green boy when he heard the voice behind him.

"Long have I waited for you to come here, boy, long have I lived and dreamed of such."

He turned to see a woman who was even smaller than Tyrion. She had the palest flesh he'd ever seen on anyone before and her hair almost shone in the light of the moon. In her hand, she carried a gnarled black cane and her red eyes and long white hair put her in mind of Ghost, something that for some reason made him relax and made her laugh out loud.

"You're not far off, boy. For I too am a Ghost of sorts." the old woman said and Jon looked at her and shook his head.

"How could you? How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Who says I did? Now come, the night is young, still, I hope you brought wine with you in that pack of yours." she said moving away from him.

He looked at the strange woman before following up the hill and to some stones set up as a seating area of sorts. A fire was already burning in the middle of the circle of Weirwood stumps and he wondered how he'd not seen its light or its smoke when they'd landed. Taking some food and the pouch of wine he'd brought with him from his pack, he handed both to the small old woman who accepted them gratefully. So much did she seem to be enjoying the wine that when she offered it back to him, he shook his head and watched as she drank the rest of it.

"A song, boy, sing me a song." the old woman said and Jon chuckled.

"I can't sing, my lady." he said, shaking his head and she laughed.

"I've not been a lady in many a year, but sing you can for was not your father a bard himself."

He looked at her confused, never had he heard his father named as such, and was he thinking more clearly, then he may have asked her how she knew his father. Instead, he for some reason began to sign.

High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found

And the ones who had loved her the most

The ones who'd been gone for so very long

She couldn't remember their names

They spun her around on the damp old stones

Spun away all her sorrow and pain

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

They danced through the day

And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall

From winter to summer then winter again

'Til the walls did crumble and fall

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found

And the ones

Who had loved her the most

He heard the sniffles of the old woman and he looked to see her wiping the tears from her eyes. Why he had sung or why he had sung that particular song, was beyond him. Yet as the old woman looked at him, her eyes still glistening from the tears that had fallen, she wore a smile that was as true as any he'd ever seen before. Rarely if ever had seen such a peaceful look on someone's face as he did right then and as he was about to speak, she did.

"Just like your father, you are. Never have I heard the song sung so well. My Jenny thanks you, young dragon. Though this is not the song you're supposed to sing." she said and before he knew it she was standing in front of him and he felt the powder as she blew it into his eyes.

As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard her speak and tried to make out the words.

"Song of Ice. Song of Fire. It's time for your song to be sung."

He was in a desert of sorts, the sand blowing in his eyes, and then it was gone and he could see. Ahead of him lay a tower and there were some men and horses in front of it and Jon found himself running to see who they were and to hear what they said.

" I looked for you on the Trident," His father said to three men in white cloaks who stood outside the tower.

" We were not there," Ser Gerold Hightower answered.

" Woe to the Usurper if we had been," said Ser Oswell Whent.

" When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were."

" Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells."

" I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," His father told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."

" Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne.

" Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him."

" Ser Willem is a good man and true," said Ser Oswell.

" But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out.

" The Kingsguard does not flee." "Then or now," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

" We swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold. His uncle's companions moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were now seven against three.

" And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

" No," His uncle said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends."

Seven fought three until one against two remained. Ser Arthur Dayne was facing off against his father and the match was as uneven as any he'd ever seen before. It was not his father's blade that struck down the Sword of the Morning. The dubious honor of ending the greatest knight that ever lived instead fell to the small Crannogman who backstabbed him.

" I would not be here were it not for Howland Reed." his father's voice called out in the ether.

Jon hurried after his father as he ran up the steps and as he made his way into the Tower, the screams of the woman made him take them two at a time. Entering the room he saw the bloodstains on the sheets that covered the woman, the pained look in her eyes that brightened upon seeing his father and he knew as he'd known before, that this woman was his aunt Lyanna. Her statue didn't even come close to capturing how she looked and he felt as if he was staring at his sister and not his aunt as his father moved to the bed. Arya was his aunt reborn, people had said over the years, and looking at her he could now see why that was so.

" Ned?" his aunt asked softly.

" Lyanna."

" Is that you? Is that really you?" You're not a dream?" her voice hopeful.

" No, I'm not a dream. I'm here. Right here." his father replied.

" I missed you, big brother."

" I missed you, too."

" I want to be brave."

" Shh, you are.

" I'm not. I don't want to die."

" You're not going to die. Get her some Water!" his father cried out.

" No, no water. "

" Is there a Maester?"

" Please. Listen to me, Ned." his aunt said grabbing his father's hand "If Robert finds out he'll kill him, you know he will. You have to protect him. Promise me, Ned, Promise me."

He looked at the baby in the crib at the same time that his father did, the thoughts whirling around his mind and as he moved to the crib he heard his aunt call out, not to his father but to him.

" Promise me, Promise me."

Torn between the crib and the bed, Jon moved to the bed and looked down at the woman lying there. Her eyes were unfocused and then they seemed to become clear as she smiled up at him and as his father moved slightly towards the crib, Jon heard her speak softly.

" My son." she said looking directly at him "His name… His name is…"

Jon woke up curled up against the Green Dragon's scales. Jumping to his feet he moved away before he felt the contents of his stomach emptying as he threw up on the grass. He looked around and then ran to the top of the hill, hoping and praying that the old woman was still there, only to find she was not. Through tear-filled eyes, he looked around to see if there was any sign that it had been a dream, that it was all one terrible dream and yet he could see embers of the fire in the middle of the hill and the stones that he'd sat on. To one side lay his empty pouch, the wine had been drunk and his pack still lay by the stone he'd sat on.

"It can't….I'm not….he wouldn't…."

The words were jumbled and the cry he let out was an agonized one as he fell to his knees. All his life he'd believed the words his father….his uncle had told him. All of it was a lie, from his killing of Ser Arthur Dayne to naming him as his bastard. He almost laughed at the thoughts that he'd actually believed it had been his mother who bore the blood of the dragon, that it was through her that he had been able to bond with Rhaegal when it had been his father all along.

"Rhaegar." he said as he felt the bile rise in his mouth and he threw up again, he was a child born of rape, as if being a bastard had not been enough of a stain to bear.

" Not rape, love." The voice said in his head and he looked behind him to see Rhaegal staring at him, the dragon's bronze eyes staring deep into his own.

"How could you know? How could anyone know?" he shouted to the dragon, to no one, to himself and the world.

" You know. A dragon knows."

He climbed up onto Rhaegal's back. Answers! he needed answers and he wanted so very much to believe that the Green Dragon was right. His fa… uncle had never spoken of Rhaegar Targaryen as harshly as others had, something that Jon now wondered about. As he did the other things that Ned Stark would say to him from time to time. His uncle's way with words was now something that he pondered on.

" You may not have my name, but you have my blood?"

" The finest knight I ever saw was Ser Arthur Dayne, who fought with a blade called Dawn, forged from the heart of a fallen star. They called him the Sword of the Morning, and he would have killed me but for Howland Reed."

" The next time we see each other, we'll speak about your mother, hmmm."

Half-truths so that his uncle didn't besmirch his precious honor. Lies in all but name and as he gripped the horn in front of him tightly, he felt his anger begin to rise. He'd not been the only one that had been lied to, his cou… his brother and sisters had been lied to as well, as had Lady Stark and he wondered if the truth had been known to them, would things have been different. Would he have been treated differently by Robb and Sansa, by Arya and Bran? Would Rickon have still named him a brother had he known? Would he still?

How would Lady Stark have been with him were she to know the truth? Would it have made a difference or would she have hated him just as much? Would she have simply found another reason to despise his presence and wish him gone from her sight? Yet more than even those thoughts it was thoughts of his fa… uncle, of the man he'd believed to be his father and whose honor he now questioned that Jon found himself concentrating on. Why hadn't he told him? Why couldn't he have let him know the truth? What did he fear he'd do with such knowledge? How could he not tell him that his mother was buried mere yards from where he slept?

The last thought soon had him willing Rhaegal to fly faster. His mother's bones lay in the Crypts, her statue was there and though for years he'd dreamt terrible dreams of that place, it was where he needed to go. To his brother and to the crypts, to his family, and to the truth.

They landed in the Wolfswood and how he had resisted the urge to not land outside the gates, he knew not. A part of him wished to shout it out as loudly as he could, to tell the world the truth of who he was and landing on a dragon in front of the gates of Winterfell would more than achieve that. It was Rhaegal who told him that he wasn't ready for such, that now was not the time. The Green Dragon knew almost instinctively that Jon still had to process and deal with the revelation himself before he was ready to deal with how others would react to the news.

"Ipradagon, ēdrugon, kesan ūndegon ao aderī. Kirimvose, ñuha raqiros." (Eat, sleep, I will see you soon. Thank you, my friend.) he said as he stroked the Green Dragon's head, Rhaagal looking at him with those eyes that seemed to understand so very much and trilling under his touch "Kesi sōvegon hēnkirī arlī aderī, nyke kivio." (We will fly together again soon, I promise.).

He looked on as the Green Dragon flew towards the coast, eager for a whale or something else that would be enough to fill his belly. Jon felt it though as he went, the link between them was as strong as if he was still stroking Rhaegal's head and it calmed his fury a little, though not by much. The day had dawned by the time Rhaegal had left him and as he walked to the Keep, he was surprised by just how far away from it the Green Dragon had landed. It took him hours to reach it and the anger he felt had been joined by a multitude of other emotions. Sadness, regret, worry and concern, and a slight bit of fear too.

What it was he was fearful of, he wasn't sure, but it was there all the same. When he reached the outskirts of the ground of Winterfell, he did his best to fight down all these emotions and nodded to the guards as he made his way in through the gates. He barely heard their surprise and shock at his return and had it not been for the loud booming voice of Tormund Giantsbane, then he'd not have noticed that the Free Folk seemed to be in the middle of packing up their things and readying to leave.

"My little crow." Tormund shouted out happily and Jon wished for nothing more than to greet him as friendly as he was being greeted, but the sight of Free Folk families packing their things had taken precedence for now.

"What the fuck is going on, Tormund?" he asked, as Tormund glared at him before noticing where he'd been looking.

"The Free Folk aren't welcome here any longer, Jon. Those fuckers from the Vale wish us gone and my people won't stay where they're not wanted."

"This is the North, Tormund, not the fucking Vale. If they want you gone then they can go fuck themselves. I invited you here, I want you to stay. Tell your people that they have a home here for as long as they wish it. Tell them that they bled with me. Tell them that the North and Jon Snow Remembers." he said to a slap on the back from Tormund.

"It's good you've returned King Crow." Tormund said, smiling broadly as he moved to speak to the Free Folk who'd by now had noticed his arrival as well.

It took him no time at all to find out a meeting had been called and was in the process of being held. Jon looked to the crypts and then to the window of his brother's room and sighed as he instead made his way to the Great Hall where said meeting was taking place. As he entered he was immediately met by Ghost who licked his hand and it took a few moments for those there to notice his arrival. During that time he'd heard enough to bring his temper to the boil as mentions of a marriage between Lyanna Mormont and Robin Arryn and talk of the Free Folk being made to leave had reached his ears.

"Perhaps we can ask the King's Regent his thoughts." Sansa said, looking almost relieved to see him there.

"Lord Snow." Littlefinger coughed looking anything but.

"Jon." Davos said smiling at him and Jon looked to see that the Lords of the North seemed most pleased to see him, while those from the Vale did not.

"What have I missed?" he asked, almost growling and then he listened to all the voices rising at once to speak to him, Jon closing his eyes before opening them again and then speaking loudly.

"Enough! One voice and one voice only. Sansa, would you care to explain the reasons for this meeting?" he asked and saw Sansa take a breath before she went on to tell him what had been going on.

Apparently, with Rickon unable to perform his duties as King and him not being here, Sansa had been put in charge. Whether that was by her own maneuvering or not, he couldn't quite be sure. Given how the Lords and Ladies of the North looked at Littlefinger and the Knights of the Vale, and how Arya glared at Sansa, he'd say they'd played a part. The Vale now had a voice in the Northern Council which did not sit well with the North and a match between Lyanna Mormont and Robin Arryn was being discussed, something the lady was not best pleased about. When Sansa got to the part about the Free Folk being sent away and that the Knights of the Vale wished it so, Jon had enough.

"NO!." he said loudly before he moved to the High Table, a nod to Lyanna Mormont as he did so "There will be no wedding alliance between Lady Lyanna and Lord Robert." he said before Littlefinger interrupted.

"Lord Snow, such a match would be most beneficial and would…."

"Is there a part of the word no that you don't understand, Lord Baelish?" he said glaring at the man and seeing the smirk on Lyanna's face when he turned to look at her "As for the Free Folk, whose bright idea was it to send them away?" he asked looking to Sansa only for Lord Royce to speak up.

"The Knights of the Vale won't ride with savages, Lord Snow." Yohn said and Jon nodded.

"Then the Knights of the Vale can go fuck themselves, Lord Royce. I've just come from King's Landing, my lords, my ladies. The South has been called to kneel to Her Grace Queen Daenerys, the Lannister army is no more and the war in the South is over. Word has been sent to Lord Arryn to come and bend the knee, that is not a request, my lord, not a suggestion, it's a bloody order. Soon enough the Vale will have knelt or been brought to its knees if it's stupid enough to think it more capable of facing dragons than Cersei Lannister was. Her grace has agreed to live up to her agreement with our king to bring her armies and allies to the North to deal with the threat we all face."

"I've not knelt." Lord Royce spat.

"Then feel free to take your knights and ride and should you do so then know this. I promised her grace to help her win the war in the South, should you make me need to fight one more battle there then when next I face you, It'll end in your death. Do not test me on this, Lord Royce, for you'll find that I too can be a savage when provoked." he said and he heard the chuckles of the Northman and women present "Now, by all means, if you wish to leave, leave, I'll not stop you, no one will. But I will name you craven for doing so."

He turned to those in the room, not bothering to see how his words had been received by Lord Royce. Looking to them, he could see that most had been pleased by what he'd said, those from the North especially so, and that Tormund had arrived with some of the Free Folk who it seemed had heard every single word he'd uttered.

"The Free Folk fought side by side with us at the Battle of the Bastards, they bled with me, mourned with me and they better than any know what it is we are to face. Lord Stark used to say we find our true friends on the battlefield, I name them as mine and your true friends. The Knights of the Vale rode to our aid and we are most welcome that they did so. But this is the North, not the Vale, something which in my absence seems to have been forgotten. That ends now. I bid our friends from the Vale good fortune in the wars to come should they decide to leave and more so should they stay. I swore an oath to Her Grace Queen Daenerys that I would help her win both those wars and I keep to my oaths." he said loudly only for Littlefinger to decide then was the time to speak.

"Do you, Lord Snow? Did you not swear an oath to the Night's Watch too?"

"Aye, I did and then my watch was ended." he said looking around the room "Some of you have heard tale of me. Those who were there at the Wall, such as Ser Davos and Tormund have no doubt spoken of it. I was betrayed by men I'd named as brothers for doing what was right. Men who stabbed me rather than face the truth of what was to come. My heart stopped beating and I was as dead as dead can be and yet I stand here in front of you all, ready to do the right thing once more." he said as he moved to stand in front of Littlefinger and Lord Royce.

The gambeson came off first and then he pulled his shirt from his britches before pulling it over his head. Jon felt the cool air on his chest and heard the gasps of those in the room as they finally saw the wounds he bore. He turned in a complete circle so that each person there could see and saw the tears in both his sisters' eyes as the truth was finally revealed to them and to others. Then grabbing his shirt and gambeson, he walked from the Great Hall and made his way to his brother's room. It was only when he reached it that he redressed himself and as he nodded to the guards and entered, he saw Rickon laying there. His brother looked as if he was sleeping peacefully and Jon brushed his hand over Rickon's forehead before leaning down and placing a kiss upon it.

"Wake up, brother. For there is much we must speak about and I miss you so." he said softly before turning to walk from the room.

He and Ghost walked past the guards, the Lords, and Ladies of the North, and the Knights of the Vale who'd left the Great Hall and perhaps had come in search of him. Walking into the crypts he heard the voices he'd heard for most of his life, the whispered words no longer causing him to fear them as once he had.

" Out"

" You don't belong here.

" You are not a Stark."

The Kings of Winter held no power over him any longer, for he too had the blood of kings in his veins. Blood that came from both sides of his parents and as he passed his grandfather's and both his uncles' statues, he looked at none of them. Instead, it was the statue of the woman that he found himself standing in front of and he looked at it through tear-filled eyes. This was the woman he'd sought for all his life, the woman he'd wished to know about since he was old enough to wish for anything at all. She'd been denied to him by his uncle and he hated him for that, yet now was not a time for hate and so instead it was love that his heart led with.

"I wish I'd known." he said softly as he looked at the face of the woman who'd brought him into the world "I wish I'd known you."

He stood facing the statue for hours. Speaking to his mother in his head and telling her the things he'd longed to tell her for so very long. Words he'd longed to speak to her, finally were said, and even after doing so, he felt there was so much more he needed to say to her. Had it not been for the sound of the footsteps that moved his way then he'd perhaps have stood there for the rest of the night. Jon turned to see Arya look at him with a worried frown on her face.

"Aunt Lyanna?" She asked, raising an eyebrow and Jon nodded "Are you well, Jon?" she quickly added concernedly.

"Aye."

"I… I didn't know….I…." he felt her arms wrap around him and heard what sounded to be sobbing coming from her as his arms did the same to her, Jon holding her tightly against him as he told her that he was well, that all was well.

He decided it was for the best if they didn't have whatever conversation they were to have in the crypts and so they walked out together. Ghost for some reason stayed behind and was Jon not so keen to offer Arya the comfort she'd sought in coming to him, then he'd have noticed that the white wolf was digging up the ground beneath his mother's statue. Instead, he walked out from the crypts holding his sister's hand in his own and as he closed the door behind him, it was to the sound of Ser Davos calling his name.

"Jon, Jon….It's your brother, Rickon, he's awake." Davos called out and Jon took a deep breath and together with Arya hurried to his brother's room.