Chapter 2: Jon

When Sansa had shown up at the Wall, the only family he had left, Jon had known that he would do anything in his power to help her. He was free from his duty to the Night's Watch thanks to his death and subsequent revival, so he had no problem with dropping everything to help his sister fight to regain her family home.

What Jon did have a problem with, was the fact that all the northern lords he and Sansa went to for help seemed to think he was going to be the next King of the North. Jon had politely, but firmly, refused any such claims. As a bastard he had no right to rule and he had no desire to do so anyway. Though he didn't admit it, he couldn't help thinking of Lady Catelyn as well. He knew she had always had a fear, no matter how small, that her husband's bastard would take what was rightfully her children's.

And yet, here he was, being pushed into a position that should rightfully be Sansa's. However, without a leader or at least someone to rally under, the North was crumbling. It had been crumbling ever since the Young Wolf was lost to the Freys. Someone had to unite the banner men and keep them from dispersing or turning to other northern powers such as the Boltons, and like it or not, Jon was the only one to do it. While Sansa was a Stark, and certainly a large help in the more political aspects of things, she had no experience leading men and she hadn't been taught about battle growing up like Robb and Jon had.

And so Jon had lead them, a small group at first, to take back Winterfell from the Boltons. After that, more northerners joined them, and slowly, clumsily at first, the last two Starks won back the north. Being Lord Commander of the Wall was nothing compared to commanding all the Northern armies as well as working with the Tullys.

But it had worked out in the end. Better than either of them could ever have hoped. After they rose the Stark banner over Winterfell once more and the new spread, a wildling woman showed up with Rickon and his wolf. Jon wasn't sure he had ever been as happy, listen to little Rickon tell his tales of adventure, knowing that he and Bran had escaped alive. Just one month later and it was Bran who returned home, and Hodor and the Reeds with him. But as happy as Jon had been to see them, it paled in comparison to seeing Arya for the first time in years. It had been months since Bran had returned and Jon and Sansa both were losing hope that their last sibling was still alive. When she walked through the gates of Winterfell, they hadn't recognized her at first. She had grown, her hair was shorter, and she was wearing dirtied breeches, but it was the way she moved, confidently with a sort of lethal grace, that really threw them off. But when she walked up to Jon and threw her arms around him without the slightest hesitation he knew. He laughed to see the the thin sword tied around her waist.

That was all in the past, though. That's not who Jon was anymore. Howland Reed had sure of that when he told Jon the truth after he came to Winterfell to swear fealty and find his wandering children. Daenerys and Aegon Targaryen had made sure of it when they arrived at Winterfell with three dragons.

'I helped free the North, but look what I've gotten them now." Jon thought, sitting beneath the one weirwood in King's Landing, his direwolf beside him. 'Life, certainly, maybe even some sort of small justice, but not the freedom they had wanted.' The North, however unwillingly, had bent its knees to the Iron Throne once more and Jon was responsible for that. 'Still,' he supposed, 'anything is better than death. At least the war is over.' When they had first met, Jon couldn't help but think that for all he knew, the Targaryen girl could be as mad as her father and brother had been.

Fortunately, Jon now knew that, while stubborn and stern, Daenerys Targaryen was nothing if not caring towards those whom she thought needed her protection. It was just a pity that didn't extend to his own family. But Jon was about to become Warden of the North, he would see that no harm came to them if it was the last thing he did, dragons be damned. Jon smiled wryly. Apparently he was meant to play the part of turncloak. First he had been a Crow turned wildling, then a wildling turned Crow, and now a Stark turned Targaryen.

Jon stood. Daenerys would be expecting him for dinner soon and it wouldn't due to miss her announcing his new position in the North. He might not like it, but for now Jon would do what had to be done to ensure peace. If a young girl from across the sea could learn to play this twisted game then so could he.

In with the new, out with the old. That seemed to be Daenerys Targaryen's aim at the moment. Jon may not have known the men on Robert Baratheon's council, but he was sure none of them were dining with the Targaryens that night. The Queen, for though they had not been wed everyone called her the Queen, sat at the head of the table with Jon to her right and Aegon to her left. Jon still didn't know what to make of the young man. He was well educated and had been raised to rule, but he had also been raised to know what peasant life was like. Sometime, Jon thought the older boy would make the best King out of the three of them, but other times he could be even more volatile than Daenerys.

The Queen herself was deep in conversation with Barristan Selmy, leaving Jon free to gauge the Queen's other followers, many of whom he had not met in person yet. Her Dothraki Queensguard stood behind her, against the far wall of the room. There was a scattering of Unsullied on the other walls and in front of the entryways. Though vastly different, Jon got the same impression from them. Intimidating and deadly, yes, but loyal to a fault. More like sheep, he mused, than sellswords.

The rest of her company, seated around the table, was less impressive. Some wore armor, some dresses, and some were garbed in exotic fabrics from the east, but all chatted merrily while politely picking at the food before them. Aegon's sellswords were notably absent, which was probably for the best. They had become the Targaryens new city watch, of sorts, though some of the old still remained.

"And when is this wedding of yours to be, your Grace?" Jon looked round, startled to see a man clothed entirely in yellow down to his beard looking at him intently.

"My lady wishes to wait until King's Landing is in a better state, Ser." Jon repeated what Daenerys had said to him a day earlier. "She says that the wealthy should not feast while the small folk starve."

The man eyed him and Jon hid his nerves. This man was one of the Queen's and many of them bore no love for Jon. "And when might that be your Grace?" His voice was mocking.

"No more than three or four moons, Daario. I've seen to it that the local lords are helping rebuild farmlands and shipments of supplies are due in from the east. With the help of my Unsullied it shouldn't take longer than that to get the city presentable again." The man, Daario, nodded looking embarrassed at having been overheard by his Queen.

Daenerys stood, waiting for the room to fall silent before speaking. "It is no secret that the North has been posing quite a few problems for us, however, I believe we have found a solution. I am naming Jon Targaryen the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell for the time being. As he is part Stark himself, it is my hope that he will be able to gain the loyalty of both the northern lords as well as keep an eye on the Starks themselves. After our wedding he shall journey north, while Aegon and I remain here in King's Landing. Are there any objections to this course of action?"

There were none, though Jon hadn't expected there to be any. The feast continued on after that. Jon couldn't help but be reminded that at the last feast he had seen he had sulked out in the cold while his family sat inside at the high table. Now Lord and Lady Stark were dead, and Robb as well.

As he looked down at his red and black tunic, his new silver crown weighing heavily on his head, Jon felt like the worst turncloak in history. No amount of reasoning, no amount of telling himself he was doing this to protect his family, could erase the that thought squirming in the back of his mind.