Disclaimer:
The following is a non-profit fan-based mini-series written for fun and not in any way intended for profit.
A Song of Ice and Fire is owned as the intellectual property of George RR Martin and published by Bantam Books. The HBO Adaptation of Martin's work titled Game of Thrones is owned by George RR Martin, HBO, David Benioff and D. B. Weiss.
Support the official release by buying and reading the A Song of Ice and Fire book series and buying and watching the Game of Thrones official seasons. Personally, I say stick to Seasons 1 through 4 cause it goes downhill after Season 5. But that's just me personally, my point is to support the official owners and creators by watching/buying their stuff.
Okay, on with the show
The Onion Knight
"What do we have?" Davos Seaworth inquired as he stood beside the last surviving children of Eddard Stark. Their moods were as cold and quiet as the weather outside of their tent.
"House Mormont; House Forrester; House Mazin; House Hornwood; House Talhart...and the Free Folk." Jon read off with increasing frustration. "The Fucking Free Folk are truer Northerners than the actual Northerners."
"Our people just went through a war, Jon." Sansa replied, understanding her half-brother's frustrations. "They're depleted and tired, we knew that convincing anyone to help us would be difficult-"
"Our father told us that the Northmen weren't cowards."
"Father was wrong about many things."
"Why couldn't he be right about this." Jon muttered in defeat. For all of their father's honor and justice, it was no secret that those very same attributes were what led to his death. But this truth did nothing to ease Jon's mood. "Why can't there be anyone else in this bloody world who has some honor? Courage? Loyalty? When did these things become bad? Are we so hopeless that our only chance to survive is to become the very monsters that we despise?"
That question struck hard in Sansa's mind. It was a question that suddenly made her uncertain and doubtful and it didn't take long to figure out why.
"Even on the Wall, bastards and outlaws mumbled on how our father's rule allowed a maid to walk freely on the roads without fear." Jon remarked, his fingers soothing his fowled eyebrows. "Does the North remember nothing of that? Of how my family defended the North from the Free Folk? The Andals? The Mad King? That it was Brandon the Builder who built the Wall that guards the realms of men? That was not done by cruel men; by selfish men; scheming men; kinslayers, rapists or murderers."
"Perhaps it is as I feared." Davos apologetically spoke. "The Northmen are men like all others in Westeros. Some fight for honor and some stay for fear."
"And how will that help us against the Long Night?" Jon abruptly stood up and turned to leave the tent. "I'm off to sleep, you have command Lord Davos."
"Ser Davos." The Onion Knight reminded Jon as he exited the tent, leaving Davos alone with a quiet Sansa. "Your brother is not mad at you. He has much on his mind and has been through a lot."
"I know." Sansa had been told of how her brother had been killed and Davos wasn't sure if she truly believed it. Davos didn't fault the girl, there were many things that he still couldn't believe even after seeing them with his own eyes.
Things like the shadow that Melisandre sent to murder Stannis' brother, Renly.
Or the Dire Wolf Ghost, a beast that was supposed to be extinct and yet a white wolf the size of a pony followed Jon like a quiet shadow.
Or seeing a dead man rise back to life thanks to the Red Woman's power.
"Still, we are not completely without hope." Davos stated as he pointed to the board portraying the North. "The Northern Mountain Clans may yet fight for us; The Cannogmen led by Howland Reed have never broken faith-"
"Neither did the Umbers and they gave my baby brother to that monster." Sansa coldly countered, referring to the treachery of Smalljon Umber. "The Karstarks are kin to my house and they have joined the Boltons. Face it, we're alone...the North has forgotten us."
"You defeat yourself with such talk-"
"What does it matter? It's true." Sansa bitterly spat. "Ramsey outnumbers us 3 to 1. He has the Karstarks, the Umbers, Ryswells and Dustins all vouching for him. And even the Freys are sending some men to help Ramsey."
While Davos could not prove that Ramsey killed his father, stepmother and baby brother, the monster's reputation was enough to where the former smuggler did not doubt that Ramsey Bolton is a kinslayer. Especially with rumors on how Ramsey had killed his trueborn brother and Roose's original heir, Domeric. And Sansa was speaking truthfully, Ramsey commanded at lest 6000 men at Winterfell while Eddard Stark's children could barely gather together 2500 men. 2000 of whom were lightly armed wildlings, 62 from Lady Lyanna of House Mormont; 143 from the Landed Knight Ser Mors of House Mazin; 200 men led by Larence Snow, the bastard of Lord Halys Hornwood; 30 men led by Asher Forrester; and 70 men led by Brandon and Beren of House Talhart.
Worst was that without Jon, the animosity between the free folk and northmen would boil over into bloodshed.
But Davos was never one to shy from honest speech. A habit he kept even before becoming Hand to the Late King Stannis Baratheon.
"That is no excuse for giving up." Davos admonished the girl, who merely listened to him speak. "Aye, I won't tell you to ignore the reality of our odds. I won't tell you that we're not running low on supplies and that we may have no help coming. I won't lie and say that Ramsey's numbers mean nothing. But I will not let you defeat yourself with such talk of hopelessness. That is worst than having the enemy defeat you, believe me. There is nothing foolish about hope."
"Did hope save my father and brother?" Sansa countered as if a shadow were on her form. "Did it whisk me away from Joffrey or Ramsey-"
"I never said that hope would save you. But hope is part of being a human being." Davos stated. "I imagine that you've been through much hardship yourself. Watching your father die, not knowing where your sister is, being tormented by the Lannisters and Boltons...not sure if you'll be allowed to see another daybreak. But you cannot let that darken your soul, Sansa Stark. You cannot let it chill you of all care and love. Don't let it block you from having hope even when things seem hopeless."
Sansa did not speak, she merely looked down at the map. Davos could tell that silent tears were forming in her beautiful blue eyes.
"I'll leave you to your thoughts, my lady." Davos stated with a small bow and turned to leave. "But one more word. You have been hurt by monsters just like your brother has been. Don't let what they did to you, turn you into one of them."
"What if they already have?" Sansa asked without looking upon the saddened Onion Knight. "What if they've already torn away everything from me and turned me into a monster like them?"
"Then take back what they took from you." Davos answered. "You will always be Sansa Stark as long as hold onto that which makes you Sansa. Your father died for you, not for the monster you think you are." As Davos left the tent, he heard Lady Sansa sob and immediately regretted his words.
While it is popularly known that Eddard Stark died declaring the Late King Stannis as Robert's Rightful Heir to the throne, the truth was more complicated as Davos himself discovered. He had heard the tale from fishers, merchants and sailors who'd witnessed Lord Stark's execution on the Steps of Baelor's Sept and was surprised to learn that Eddard had actually declared Joffrey as the rightful king.
Stannis was not surprised.
"There were few things that Lord Stark held above honor." Stannis had told Davos years ago when he'd learned the news from Davos. "If Robert's to be believed, Ned would sacrifice anything for his family. He even took in his bastard despite how it would infuriate his wife and besmirch his honor."
"Perhaps Robert could have learned from Lord Stark, your grace." Davos replied as Stannis inclined his head, waiting for the Onion Knight to speak further. "A king's will can unmake a bastard and Robert had many of them. If he'd even taken in one of them and acknowledged them as his child as Ned did with Jon...perhaps this coming war could have been prevented."
Stannis's hard expression shifted little as he held a miniature of the Baratheon Stag. "Assuming that he'd keep track of them. Robert only told me of a few...Mya, a pretty girl in the Vale now wed to Eddard's friend, Lord Silverfyre; Edric, died while young...I believe poisoned by the Queen or Renly; twins in the west whom the Queen had killed; and the babe Barra...murdered in her mother's arms. Jon Arryn wrote to me of another bastard, a blacksmith who looked just like Robert as a youth, as tall as him as well. But he's likely dead at Joffrey's hands as well."
"If Robert were more responsible, a great many things would be better." Stannis coldly lamented. "But what's done is done, the Queen and the bastard Joffrey are ensuring that no true bastard of Robert's will challenge them and the realm is tearing itself apart. I am now the rightful king and I will bring order to the Realm. Those who do not bend the knee will be destroyed, Ser Davos. All of them."
Yet, Stannis was now dead and the Realm still bled.
A monstrous rapist and kinslayer now ruled in the North; Euron Greyjoy now held the Seastone Throne; The Faith, Lannisters and Tyrells were clawing at each other over the false boy king; Dorne was in the midst of a Civil War between Oberyn Martell's bastards and Doran Martell's last surviving child, Princess Arianne; the Vale was being held back by a sickly and weak child; the Riverlands were bloodied and fraught with civil conflict; and the Stormlands now held no official liege with House Baratheon rendered extinct.
Davos himself was barely holding onto to hope.
All his children died for naught in Blackwater Bay. His lands and keep in the Rainwood were seized from him by the Crown with his wife and children executed at Joffrey's command. Any knights and men-at-arms that he could have contributed to the cause of the Stark Children were slain at Winterfell or remain missing and likely frozen under the Northern Snow.
But he would hold.
If Westeros was to be restored and prepared for the Coming Winter and those who came with it, hope had to be kindled somewhere.
The North would have to do.
Snow of Winterfell
"Snow." Jon sat on a log and put his hands up to the blazing fire. Tormund Giantsbane roasted a squirrel on a stick beside him. Tormund was now the effective leader of the Free Folk after the massacre of Hardhome caused the deaths of many other chieftains and leaders. He was also a fierce friend of Jon's, ironic as a short while ago, they were trying to kill each other when Tormund led a sortie against the Night's Watch and Jon fought against him.
"Tall-talker." The Wildling laughed and slapped Jon's shoulder.
"Anyone else joining us Lord Snow?" On Jon's left was Larence Snow, the bastard of the Late Lord Halys Hornwood and a ward of House Glover before he left to join Jon and rally what he could of his father's house. The young man was a year or so younger than Jon and was very bright despite his buff and muscular appearance. However, Jon had no doubt of the boy's courage.
"Not yet, that just means more glory for the rest of us." Jon jested, though the laugh died in his throat. Too much was at stake to joke of their odds. "Still, it seems that the bloody wildlings are truer northmen than the actual northmen."
"We are the true northmen." Tormund countered and ripped off a piece of the squirrel. He offered it to Larence who accepted as he caught the thrown leg in his hand. "You'll are the southerners."
"Better us than the men south of the Neck, right?" Larence made no secret of his dislike for the gods of the South or the Andal traditions of the kingdoms south of the Marsh where the cannogmen held sway. "Least we share the same gods, that's got to count for something, no?"
"Fair point, boy." Tormund agreed. Unlike most other lords and knights, Larence held no animosity towards Tormund or the free folk. Furthermore, Jon saw a small friendship growing between the wildling raider and the Hornwood bastard. Or perhaps Larence saw something in Tormund that Lord Halys had denied his son. "Snow. Shouldn't you be sleepin?"
"I tried." Jon admitted, his white direwolf Ghost laid beside Jon's log and chewed on a deer bone. "I keep dreaming of the daggers." He still bore the scars both on his body and his mind. He still remembered the faces of the men he'd called brothers as they stabbed him in the gut. Even his own squire, Olly, they'd betrayed him and left him as a corpse upon the snow.
"What daggers?" Larence inquired.
"The daggers of them wights at Hardhome." Tormund answered, covering for Jon as the truth of his resurrection was only known to a few. Officially, Jon was released from his vows on the authority of King Robert Baratheon as a last decree that had been late to arrive at the Wall. It was a long shot, but it was the only option and King Robert was the only king whose word would be honored without question. After all, no one would believe that Jon was released from his vows by dying and being resurrected by the Red Priestess.
Still, the lad was convinced. "Can we beat them?"
Jon looked at Larence. "They can be killed. Fire kills the wights and the Walkers can be slain by dragon glass and valyrian steel." Jon had tested the later personally when he used the ancestral sword of House Mormont, Longclaw, to cut down a White Walker at Hardhome. "But first, we need to retake the North."
"Till then, you need a woman." Tormund suggested with a laugh, Jon blushed and looked to the snow. "You ain't a crow no more, you can stick that member o'yours to a nice pretty gal now! I'd offer my Munda for you to steal, but the bastard's already gotten her."
This surprised Jon as Larence's face turned red. "I...I intend...to...to..marry her-"
"Don't apologize to me boy! You got my daughter fair and square, she's your woman now." Tormund laughed and brought out a knife to cut out the squirrel's skull. "They say you've got wit and courage, but Munda thinks you've got a bigger cock than you've got sense. Tell ya what though boy, you treat me girl well or I'll rip off your member and beat you bloody with it." Tormund kept laughing as Larence's face turned pale now.
"You're scaring the boy." Jon admonished and then said to Larence. "But he's not lying, don't give him reason to go through on that threat."
"If he's scared of me, then he'll shit himself against what we've seen." Tormund said with a more grave voice. "Winter is coming, ain't it?"
"Aye." Jon agreed and looked into the fire. "Winter is Coming." Those words always chilled Jon when his father Eddard had said them. All of the great, strong, lesser and minor houses all had their mottos. Declarations of strength, warnings against enemies, oaths of friendship, or something to the like. But the Stark words alone were a warning. Not against the might of the Lords of Winterfell, but against winter itself. It was a warning that winter would come and those who were not prepared for it were doomed. The North remembered that warning, for winter always hit the North harder than any other region and father had always wanted to ensure that his lands were prepared with stored supplies and shelter for those did not have any of their own.
But there was a second meaning that even the Starks had forgotten.
For when Winter comes, the dead would come with it. Raised by the cold magic of the White Walkers who would return upon the winds of winters.
Now had come the Winter of their Discontent.
And the North was unprepared.
For the North had forgotten.
Author's Notes:
This short series will essentially be my middle-finger to HBO for fucking up the North.
To make a really long rant-worthy story short, this short series is basically a "How the North Arc in Season 6 should have been" AU. And despite the bleak nature of the first chapter, thinks will pick up in terms of hope and so on as I bring the North closer in character to what it was in the books. Characters from the books will be included along with some other things of my own imagination.
It will also feature "take-thats" to the show and several aspects of Season 6 including its portrayal of Sansa as a "strong empowered heroine" even though she basically manipulates her brother and is content to let him die while withholding vital need-to-know information.
If that's not your cup of tea or you actually liked the North Arc in Season 6, then feel free to discontinue reading and there won't be any hard feelings.
And now, I'm off to bed.
Later.
