AZA
Winterfell wasn't a great beauty like the Red Keep, neither was it ever said to be one either. In actuality, Winterfell had a charm about it that was sorrowful and powerful, and that feeling was solely based from its presence alone than the actual sight of it. She hadn't roamed much about the place, having been kept in a maester's rookery due to her injuries after Sansa led her back from their talk outside the kennels. She wanted to explore the very heart of the place Jon had been raised in, the home that shaped him into that sullen and loving man she knows. Most of all, she should get to know the very castle they nearly lost their lives to take back, shouldn't she? So when the Bear Island's maester left her for her intended rest, and Jon wasn't lecturing her or tucking her forcefully in bed nor was Rickon around to breathe down her neck, Aza left. She left to take a tour of Winterfell by herself. Well, not entirely by herself; Ghost had taken it upon himself to keep her company.
The tips of her fingers had ghosted along the warm and grey wall of centuries old granite, her eyes catching sight of the decorations that hung the walls modestly. House pride was shown, just not boastfully like in New Castle, and it had suited this humble family. The torches had helped guide her path despite it being so early on in the day, but that was to be expected. Winterfell was naturally dark since it was built for colder weather unlike the open, airy place that was the Red Keep or had bright and heavily decorated walls that was New Castle.
After a few steps, Aza had soon noticed that Ghost had suddenly stopped mid trot. She did the same before turning around to see what captured his attention. At a few paces behind them stood Melisandre. It was hardly a good thing when Melisandre personally sought her out. What made it all worse was the way the fire from the torches made her skin aglow and shadowed half her face. Aza's stomach churned sourly within an instant. "I'd like a word with you," she said after having noticed that Aza was aware of her presence.
Wordlessly, she agreed and followed the Red Woman with Ghost at her heels.
They rounded the corner and went down the long stretch of the hall until Melisandre opened a door and slipped quietly in. Aza assumed this was the place she was meant to stay in, considering this was the guest-apartments, if she remembered correctly when she passed here with Sansa earlier. Following her, Ghost quickly barged in first, almost as if to inspect the room before she had so much as taken a foot inside. The direwolf's behavior had been so strange lately and Aza wasn't sure what to make of it. Jon had thought her to be reading too much into things by saying Ghost is just attentive because her feelings have changed towards him. He's more affectionate now that he knows she won't turn him away or bark at him. She supposed he was right, for who would know more about the direwolf than Jon?
Taking a seat, Aza sank herself into it and awaited for whatever it was that Melisandre wanted to talk about. It came as a surprise when the woman had instead took a teapot and poured a cup of tea. Her pale and slender hand had gracefully placed a white teacup on a tea plate, serving it to her as if they were old friends about to have a casual chat. Aza had stared at it for quite some time, not sure what to think of it. She never had pure tea before, never inquired a taste to try it either. Moon tea was enough to make her worry that it might taste foul. More importantly, she was not exactly sure as to why Melisandre gave it to her without at least offering first.
"Drink," Melisandre urged. "It will revitalize you." Aza continued to cautiously stare at the hot drink, watching wisps of steam curl and twist before disappearing before her very eyes. The tea itself was a reddish-orange, making it a little less alluring to her. Anything associated with the color red reminded her too much of the woman sitting before her and that wasn't always a good thing. Red and terrible, the Lady Melisandre was. "I haven't poisoned it," she said, the tone in her voice to suggest she was teasing. Her joke only made Aza twice as wary.
"I didn't think you did until you said that," Aza jested in return although there was some truth in it. She supposed her body needed all the help it can get anyway. She had put it through all Seven hells these past months. Now that she had more than enough time to rest, she should be eager to keep it in a healthy condition. She was freshly twenty and she didn't need to be falling apart so young. After all, a war was coming soon and she needed to be stronger by then. Aza couldn't so much as flip the White Walkers off in the condition she was in now.
Picking up the cup by the handle, Aza brought it to her nose for a sniff. The tea was fragrant, smelling sweetly of raspberries. Despite how carefully she took her first sip, she instantly hissed and grimaced at the burn of the heat on her tongue. The tea itself was sweet in taste and a bit addicting, but not good enough to burn her mouth for a second time.
"Thank you for the tea," Aza said with sincerity. "My body has been through more than I ever thought it could endure." It amazed her just how much years of fighting and training had managed to cultivate her body into the force it was now. Had she been weaker, Aza was sure she would've died years ago.
"Your body isn't yours anymore." Aza suddenly stiffened at the woman's words, eyes widening by a fraction. "Neither does Jon Snow's body belong to him. You both are in the Lord's hands, carrying his favor, and he needs you to protect His children during the Long Night. Jon Snow is the Promised Prince and you are who keeps him from the shadows that linger."
Aza kept her mouth closed, not knowing exactly how to respond to any of that. She still had trouble trying to understand if this R'hllor was real or not. If he wasn't real then who gave Melisandre the power to bring Jon back? Not the Seven. Most certainly not them, she persisted with the thought. Not once could it ever been possible that the Stranger felt so inclined given back what he so rightfully taken. But if R'hllor was real then…
"First you claimed it was Stannis and now it's Jon." Part of her had wanted to believe it was true. She wanted to think that what the woods witch had told her was about Jon. That it was Jon she would devote her life to in destroying the harbinger of chaos midst the Winter. "You really don't know, do you?"
"I truly believed it to be Stannis," the woman replied rather somberly. "When I first began having visions of Azor Ahai, all my visions in the flames revealed to me Dragonstone." The fires showed her Dragonstone and because Stannis was the lord of it, she assumed him to be Azor Ahai? It made some sense, of why Melisandre assumed R'hllor's champion to be Stannis because of that. Her god wouldn't just send her to random places, now would he? Everywhere this woman went had a purpose, Aza realized. "The Lord of Light led me there. He led me on a clear path to Stannis out of all men."
"But now, every time I ask for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, he only shows me Snow." The look in the woman's blue eyes was trying to convey that her words were the truth. There was no deception on her face, at least not what from Aza could tell. The woman was always vague and her smile were almost if not always treacherous, but Melisandre did not smile this time. She seemed absolutely sure in what she was saying.
To be truthful, all of this was headache inducing; prophecies, promised princes, Azor Ahai, woods witches, foreign priestesses, Jon's painful death and then his shocking resurrection. How was she to make sense of any of this? All she wanted was for something to make sense or be normal for just one moment, but life stopped being normal years ago. Perhaps it was never meant to be normal for her once her mother could never tell her who her father was.
The tea cooled down to a kinder temperature, and Aza brought the cup to her lips for another sip. She didn't know raspberries could make one feel nice. It was certainly helping her feel better, her energy was beginning to spike. It would be nice to sit by the hearth, a blanket of fur draped over her shoulders, and Ghost at her side with the cup of tea. She knew Jon was busy, so she couldn't ask him to sit with her and just rest. It would be too demanding of her, especially now when so many Northern lords were arriving and people of the winter town were flocking. The smallfolk were so eager to go into servitude or help out in any way that they can now that the Starks were back in Winterfell.
"The days will be difficult for you," Melisandre ruined the little peace she tried to summon in her mind. Aza sighed, heavily, having felt weighed down all over again. "And not because of the White Walkers but because the North hasn't forgiven its last king nor queen."
The Islander had already been made aware just from all they traveling they did. It was hard to ignore the loud and downright vicious slander of Robb Stark and his queen, Talisa Maegyr. "I know," mumbled Aza, not wanting to really discuss any of this, but who better to talk to than another woman as foreign as she? For all of the bad and morally grey that was Melisandre, she too had suffered from not being Westerosi. "I'm sure the same could be said of you."
"Yes, it could be." Melisandre's mouth curved into a smile, a smile that proved she knew more than what she was letting on and would not say. Aza fought not to frown at the sight of it, knowing very well she should be very much use to such an expression. "But I would advise you thicken your skin anew. Jon Snow needs you now more than ever and you must not falter, not even once."
A warning, Aza took the woman's words as. She hadn't expected smooth sailing from here on out anyway. With a sigh, Aza drunk more of her tea with a quiet promise that she'll start to mentally prepare herself before the gathering of their bannermen.
JON
Everything was nearly coming together. All of what once belonged to the Boltons had been taken down, thrown outside, and made to burn into ashes. Both Jon, Rickon, and Sansa wanted to make sure that there was not a single trace of the Boltons left and steadily work their way into making Winterfell back into the home they knew once again. Although they knew that it will never truly be the same, not after all they had lost, still they were determined. Winterfell may still be broken, for now, but Jon and his siblings will put the work in to make it whole again.
"The Manderlys are here," Rickon's voice was dripping with venom, his eyes low and glazed with anger. "They have the nerve to come here after what they said. After how they let that Frey bas—" His little brother quickly caught himself, his cheeks completely flushing a bright red after nearly letting the word slip. Jon raised a brow, surprised that Rickon was infuriated enough to swear. "Lord, I meant. After they let that Frey lord say what he said about Robb."
Jon poorly attempted to suppress his laugh, but it had let itself loose anyway. It was more humorous than it was surprising, for his brother to curse, though he knew Sansa wouldn't have much liked to hear their baby brother talk like that. "Speak as you like with me, Rickon. You're a man now and you should be free to say how you think and feel." His hand tousled Rickon's wild hair, who scrunched up his face in false aggravation. "Just be careful not to talk like that around Sansa. She won't very much care for it."
"I know, I know…" huffed Rickon. "She still treats me like I'm six."
"She knows you're not six anymore," Jon tried to explain. "You just have to give her some more time. Remember, the last time she saw you was when you were six. She'll think of you as a man now after having seen you fight your first battle, I'm sure." His brother gave an understanding nod although he was still somewhat annoyed. Jon was still full of pride having heard how much of a good bowman his little brother grew to be. He'd have to thank Rowan for that when he saw him again. "You didn't think the Manderlys would come crawling back to us now that Ramsay is dead?" Jon hadn't thought it would be so quick, especially since they were tiptoeing around the Freys. Perhaps Lord Manderly hoped that with the North unified again, he could get his son back with ease.
"He brought a lot of food with him, too." Rickon fixed a look at him and Jon immediately knew that Lord Manderly fixed himself as an option they couldn't turn away from. Their lord father had once made it his top priority about there being enough food in the storage to last them a whole Winter. That was all ruined from King Robert's visit plus the food Robb had taken on his campaign along with the Boltons doing whatever they pleased. The food storage desperately needed to be refilled and quickly now that Winter was here. Jon would just have to hold his tongue, accepting the food they brought with them because he knew that his personal feelings couldn't get the best of him.
"We won't refuse him," Jon made clear. Rickon grounded his teeth, eyes vehemently rolling. "You know we can't, Rickon. No matter how we feel."
"I know," he sighed this time. It would take some time for Rickon to understand responsibility should always be placed on a higher tier than wounded feelings. But for now, Jon wouldn't be so hard on him. He's still young and he has to learn and he won't learn unless he makes mistakes and think for himself. After all, who was to say that Jon would always be around to give him proper advice? Death could take him any day for death didn't care that he had so much more to do. "Now that Winterfell is ours again, do you think Arya will come back home?"
His heart ached just upon hearing his baby sister's name. It's been too long since he last laid eyes on Arya, but she's still so vivid in his memories because he had loved her the most. What would she look like now? The thought would come to mind whenever he was left alone to ponder. Sometimes he wondered if he would even know her, and that pained him more. Arya Underfoot, they used to call her, for her face was always dirty from play. Would she still have that little sword he had gotten Mikken to forge for her? Needle, she had named it, if he remembered right. But all of this is on the assumption that she's even still alive…
"We can only hope," he muttered, having no real conviction to believe that it may be possible. He doesn't want to stir any false hope in Rickon and neither does he want to stir it within himself. Rickon remained quiet, seemingly dropping the topic to display his hurt on his face as well. "I'm going to be sending a raven to Old Town. Sam should know everything that's happened lately instead of being blindsided. Is there something you want me to write to him for you?"
Before Rickon could so much as say another word, they were interrupted by Lord Manderly. "Lord Rickon, Lord Snow." Jon inwardly groaned, not having prepared himself to mentally deal with this man just yet. He felt all out of sorts now. Wyman steadily approached them, his good-daughter walking alongside him, and his granddaughters behind them as they were surrounded by their trident bearing soldiers.
"Lord Manderly," Jon bowed his head politely upon greeting. Rickon had done the same, only much more stiffly. "It's nice to see that you have come to join us. I didn't think you would considering your ties with the Freys." It wouldn't hurt to be a little sharp around the mouth. Apparently, Wyman had expected such, his expression softening to a look of complete understanding.
"If I may, Lord Snow, have a private audience with you?" The request was simple, but it left Jon wary. What excuses was this man going to come up with and did Jon feel like hearing them at the moment? He had cast a glance at Rickon, who rolled his eyes and nodded, somewhat agreeing he should give Manderly his ear. With a small smile, he clapped Rickon's shoulder and looked to Lord Manderly with a neutral expression.
"Of course," he agreed. Wyman had turned to his family, telling them he would only be gone for a short while and that they should get themselves comfortable. Wylla had soon peered over her grandfather's shoulders to look at him.
"Father, may I ask Lord Snow a question?" Wylla pleaded, and Lord Manderly looked none too happy about it. Jon supposed the man was afraid the girl might embarrass him for a second time.
"I…" Wyman then cleared his throat. "If Lord Snow is willing to listen…"
"Aye," Jon shifted his attention from the girl's grandfather and at her. "What is it that you would ask of me, Lady Wylla?"
The girl's older sister kept herself austere like he remembered her being back in New Castle. Strange how Wylla was so full of life while her sister, Wynafryd, was lacking any sort of light in her eyes. He wondered if that's how he appeared standing next to Robb in his youth. "If it isn't too imposing…" She bit her bottom lip, looking almost troubled to say what was on her mind. "Where is your betrothed? I haven't seen her at all since we've arrived."
Wyman then turned around, his blue eyes searching for Aza as well before looking at him. "Ah, yes, the Summer Islander. She made quite the impression in Merman's Court despite saying little." Jon hadn't expected them to inquire after her. After all, the people of New Castle along with their guests made it known how little they cared for foreigners. If Aza made an impact, Jon had to wonder if it was a good or bad one.
"She suffered some injuries from battle," Jon informed them, deciding to be honest since he didn't feel any reason to lie. "She's been made to rest under a maester's orders."
Wylla, shocked as well as openly disappointed, had then took a hesitant step forward. "She's not wounded badly, is she?" It was strange how Wylla seemed so inquisitive and even more strange that Jon thought her worry to actually be sincere. Aza and Wylla had not interacted at all, so why did she seem as if she was inquiring after an old friend? "Many of us had heard she fought alongside you. We…" The green-haired girl then began rubbing her arm. "We think of her brave… Heroic, even. We were curious if she'd regale us of what happened…"
Rickon crossed his arms and slowly shook his head. "She doesn't need to hear any of that. Do you know what this would do to her head? As if it isn't big already…" Of course, Aza was and probably will always be arrogant when it came to her swordplay. She would be more than pleased to hear how she gained a following after this, especially a following made up of mostly women.
"When she's well-rested, I'll be sure to let her know, Lady Wylla." The girl beamed at him, her nod quick yet eager. "Aza would be glad to know you feel that way about her." A little bit of a stretch, though Jon was sure Aza would be somewhat genuinely happy.
"And one more thing, My Lord," Wylla quickly turned around and hurried a few paces towards one of the guards that had a basket in his hands. Jon and Rickon quickly glanced at one another, curious and confused, before Wylla returned and handed a cloth covered basket to her father.
Wyman nodded his thanks before making his way towards Jon and gifting it to him. Jon raised the cloth to get a sight full of ripe and full peaches. The man seriously thought he could worm his way back into his good graces with all the imported harvest he brought. "I'm sure your intended would be pleased to have them, Lord Snow." Jon rose a curious brow, wondering why peaches of all things would be assumed as something Aza would like. "They're summer peaches from the Summer Isles; good and ripe, freshly picked." Schmoozing, that's what Wyman was doing. Jon couldn't actually believe that not only through harvest, Lord Manderly thought to personally bring summer peaches specifically to curry favor with Jon through Aza.
Personally, Jon wasn't even sure if Aza even liked peaches, considering there weren't any fruits to be eaten in the Watch other than apples. Neither of them cared to bother a thought of specific types of food one another enjoyed because they only ate what Hobb could prepare them or the game they hunted in the Land of Always Winter. "Thank you, Lord Manderly," he kept his polite countenance. "I'm sure she'll be… thrilled."
Seemingly pleased, Wyman then gave a dip of his head for Jon to lead the way to where they could speak privately. Jon took them down the opposite end of the hall, leading them directly to his father's old study. Inside, white banners of House Stark's direwolf were draped in every corner of the spacious room. On the desk, made of black brier wood, was a vase with only two red poppies upon Sansa's request. She said it was to represent that they cared and grieved for those who nobly fell in battle, and it would make a good impression upon the lords to know that the dead were not forgotten. Along with the vase were stacks of books and papers, things he had to sort through. In a corner, a bookshelf was bursting with books and scrolls with another stack of papers at its feet. It looked like a busy place despite it being recently refurbished and not yet used.
Jon took a seat in the armchair behind the desk. The sight of it alone gave a statement of authority, leading Jon to think of it as too ostentatious with its detailing. It was a deep grey, nearly matching the stone walls of Winterfell, but just a lighter shade so it didn't blend in. The wood, of deep mahogany, had been polished to a high shine. It made him uncomfortable to sit in it, knowing it suited Sansa more since she was the Lady of Winterfell now, but he would have to make do with it for now. The basket of fruit had been placed on the empty spot on the desk that wasn't close to the edge or obscuring his view of Lord Manderly, who only sat down after Jon gestured for him to.
With a sigh, Lord Wyman then began to speak; "I have treated you most shamefully, I know. I had my reasons. Only as of a few days ago I've been informed that Wylis, my eldest son and heir, died along with King Robb. When treating with liars, even an honest man must lie. I did not dare defy King's Landing so long as my last living son remained a captive. Lord Tywin Lannister wrote me himself to say that he had Wylis. If I would have him freed unharmed, he told me, I must repent my treason, yield my city, declare my loyalty to the boy king on the Iron Throne… and bend my knee to Roose Bolton, his Warden of the North. Should I refuse, Wylis would die a traitor's death, White Harbor would be stormed and sacked, and my people would suffer the same fate as the Reynes of Castamere."
The Freys were despicable as well as the Lannisters. They fooled a man for years into believing his son was alive and demanded so much more from him. Jon's eyes then caught sight of a flagon of wine along with two wine cups among the mess atop of the desk. He began to wonder if a drink would soothe man some. "Would you like some wine, Lord Manderly?" he offered.
"Yes, of course." Jon pushed the chair back and stood, taking the flagon by the handle and pouring a wine cup to the brim. Wyman took it once Jon handed it towards him and took a sip of the summerwine. Another sigh escaped him, his shoulders relaxing some. "My Wylla, remember how brave she was? Even when I threatened to have her tongue out, she reminded me of the debt White Harbor owes to the Starks of Winterfell, a debt that can never be repaid. Wylla spoke from the heart, as did Lady Leona. Forgive her if you can, My Lord. She is a foolish, frightened woman, and Wylis was her life. Not every man has it in him to be Prince Aemon the Dragonknight or Symeon Star-Eyes, and not every woman can be as brave as my Wylla and her sister Wynafryd… who did know, yet played her own part fearlessly."
If he had known they were all pretending before the Freys, Jon wouldn't have left so quickly and neither would have Sansa. But how could they have known? The Manderlys played their parts far too well. "They watched me, my friends of Frey. Day and night their eyes are on me, noses sniffing for some whiff of treachery. You saw them, the arrogant Ser Jared and his nephew Rhaegar, that smirking worm who wears a dragon's name. Behind them both stands Symond, clinking coins. That one has bought and paid for several of my servants and two of my knights."
"One of his wife's handmaids had found her way into the bed of my own fool. When you and Lady Sansa departed, I wanted to write a letter, but I had dare not even trust my Maester. Theomore is all head and no heart. You heard him in my hall. Maesters are supposed to put aside old loyalties when they don their chains, but I cannot forget that Theomore was born a Lannister of Lannisport and claims some distant kinship to the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. Foes and false friends are all around me, Lord Snow. They infest my city like roaches, and at night I feel them crawling over me."
"Both my sons, Wendel and Wylis, came to the Twins as guests. They ate Lord Walder's bread and salt, and hung their sword upon the wall to feast with friends. And they murdered them. Murdered, I say, and may the Freys choke upon their fables. I drink with Jared, jape with Symond, promise Rhaegar the hand of my own beloved granddaughter… but never think that means I have forgotten. The North remembers. Your lady sister said that to me in spite of me having not forgotten. The North remembers, and the mummer's farce is done. My sons are dead and so is the Bolton bastard."
"I wish there was something I could do for you, Lord Manderly." He hadn't suspected that so much of the North was in turmoil. So many sons and daughters lost due to the hands of the Greyjoys, the Lannisters, and the Freys. There needed to be time for healing, but time wasn't on their side. It never was. "There is nothing I can promise you that is close to the worth of the lives of your sons."
"I'm afraid there is nothing you can do, My Lord." Wyman had stared down into his cup. "And neither do I inquire anything. I have taken vengeance in my own hands hence why my granddaughter remains unmarried." Jon, astonished at the admission, rose both his brows. Wyman's grin was enough to let him know that Rhaegar Frey, Jared, and Symond were all dead. "All I want is for you to know is that House Manderly is loyal. White Harbor is of the Starks and we will never change. We never did."
"I'll never suspect your loyalty again, Lord Manderly." Jon gave a small smile and reached out his hand to which Wyman gave him a firm shake.
"That's all I need to hear." Wyman lurched forward, gathering himself to his feet with the wine cup still in his hands. "Best I go see Lord Glover and the rest of these Northerners. I haven't seen a good lot of these lads in years."
Lord Glover was here as well? Jon hadn't expected him to arrive, especially how he so viciously turned him and Sansa away. At least Lord Manderly was within reason, but him of all men… No, he had to accept it. He couldn't get beside himself. "The hospitality of Winterfell is yours, Lord Manderly."
Taking the basket of peaches off the desk, both Jon and Wyman exited the study in a much lighter mood than when they initially entered. It was a good thing, to know the truth and re-forging centuries old loyalty without a fight. It would've been better had they settled this sooner, but now was better than later and Jon wouldn't forsake it. He would have to do the same with Lord Robett Glover, too. The North had to be put back together again through any means necessary.
"Lord Snow," came a quavering voice from down at the end of the hall. Both Wyman and Jon had turned to look right at the fast approaching Maester Emery, the maester of Bear Island. "Lord Snow, I had gone to the rookery to check on the lady and it seems she has… left."
"Left?" Jon echoed. "What do you mean she left?" It was not his intention to raise his voice, even if it was but a small volume higher.
"She was not there and the bed was cold enough for me to assume she left a good time ago. I warned her to not do any activities but…" But Jon knew what kind of person Aza was. Nothing could make her sit or lie down except extreme injuries. And why did it have to get to the extreme for her to listen? Jon would never know. All that he knew was that he had no idea what to do with her. She'll be the second death of him before she'll be the death of herself.
The breath Jon expelled was heavy and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose out of pure frustration. "Thank you for informing me right away, Maester Emery." It was all he could say considering there was nothing more the man could do. His advice was already ignored, so what could Jon ask of him now? "I'll trouble you no further."
"There was no trouble at all, My Lord. The Lady Lyanna worries for the woman's health as well. Any service that rids the worries of my lady is a service worth doing," Emery explained. "But I'll leave the matter in your hands lest you need me again." The old man bowed his head before taking his leave, allowing Jon to momentarily gather his thoughts.
"Summer Islanders are said to be spirited people, or so I've heard." Jon forced his hand away from his face to take a gander at Wyman's friendly expression. "Surely you can attest to that."
"She's the only Summer Islander I've met, Lord Manderly, though I see that it holds true." Spirited, yes. That word had fit her all too well. She did what she wanted and went as she pleased, and Jon had always known that about her. She hasn't changed much at all since they've first met.
Wyman only laughed before taking his leave, allowing Jon to contemplate where Aza could've run off to. His feet began leading him to his chambers. Chambers that once belonged to Robb, that is. Jon couldn't find it in himself to step into his old room because he feared all the memories would sweep over him like a tidal wave. Memories that would claw into him with only the intention to wound and have him crumpling to the floor like a broken boy. He thought he was strong enough to endure anything, that he could face demons of the past, but he wasn't ready yet. Just like he wasn't ready to step into the crypts that felt like they were in his ears, whispering his name.
As soon as he opened the door, his eyes lifted up from the floor and up at Aza. She was sitting on the snow bear rug by the hearth alongside Ghost, dressed in only her night-rail. The flimsy gown was fitting to her form, the fabric shimmery and silver-pale as if it was spun by threads made of moonlight. He's sure that it's relatively modest, that the hemline reached her knees, but it's ruck up high since her knees are pressed to her chest and blessing him a view of the full and fleshy curve up her bottom. It seemed as though that no matter what she wore or if she wore anything at all, Jon's breath is sometimes if not always caught in his throat.
He smiled as soon as their eyes met. "I have something for you." Jon raised the basket for her eyes to see. "They're summer peaches."
"Summer peaches?" There's excitement in her voice and it takes a physical shape when she quickly scrambled to her feet, and practically ran towards him as he set the basket on the closest table. "Seven hells, I haven't had peaches from the Isles in years!" Her hands are quick to grab one and it only takes a blink of an eye before she sinks her teeth into the ripe and succulent fruit. Jon breathed out a chuckle at how easily she's making a mess and used his thumb to wipe away the juice of the fruit that trailed down the corner of her mouth. "Gods, it's good. Just like I remember."
She ate it until nothing but the pit was left before she grabbed another. Relieved to see her eating and happy, he watched as she ate at least three more before looking up at him with full cheeks. "You like them that much?" Her mouth is too full to answer him vocally and so she gave him an enthusiastic nod. "Make well with Lord Manderly's gift then." Jon's mouth twisted into a smirk as all her happiness slowly turned into firm aggravation as he envisioned it would. The quarter eaten peach in her hand was roughly placed on the table as if it were rotten. She even glared at the rest of them rather disdainfully.
"That bastard is here, huh? Crawling himself in with his tail tucked between his legs, yeah?" Aza kept her nose wrinkled as she chewed and swallowed what was left. He knew for a fact that Aza wouldn't be so ready to accept him. "The nerve of him…"
"We were wrong about him," Jon began to explain before sitting down in the closest chair. "Lord Manderly was always loyal to us, he just had to pretend that he wasn't. The Freys and the Lannisters lied to him, told him that his son was still alive when he wasn't. They even threatened White Harbor and the rest of his family, and so he had no other choice but to openly deny us before the Freys."
Aza's current expression told him that she was still skeptical. He didn't blame her, seeing as she did not witness all the hurt in Wyman's eyes or hear it in his voice for herself. She only had to take Jon's word for it and surely his word was good enough for her. "I see," Aza grumbled before shooting look at at the peach, possibly debating if she wanted to finish it or abandon it. She picked up the mostly eaten fruit and clawed out the pit and set it down with the others before turning to Ghost and offering the peach to him.
The wolf stared at the fruit quizzically and sniffed it first before slowly letting his head fall into a curious tilt. After a minute of observing it, he ate it all in just a few short and choppy bites. Aza raised her hand, patting and then scratching the top of his head as if to give him praise for eating what she nearly wasted. "How are you feeling?" he asked, curious to know if she was still in pain. The swelling of her cheek was gone and it was by the grace of the gods she didn't break the re-break the very same rib she had broken years ago. It was only bruised.
"Better," she answered him before standing upright again. "Lady Melisandre poured me some tea and it made me feel much better than that bitter mess Maester Emery gave me." He remembered the sour look on her face as Emery practically force-fed her. Rickon wouldn't stop laughing the entire time as she mumbled her curses. But now that Jon knew about Melisandre was involved, he had no idea what to make of this 'special' tea she brewed for Aza. The Red Woman gave him back his life, yes, and for that he would always be grateful. He was even beginning to hold a good level of trust for her yet still he was wary.
Better she claimed but it only took a second for him to see a bit of wobbliness in her stride. She needs more rest, and Jon could care less if she began to fuss. Rising from the chair, he marched over to her and eased his arm around her back, the other underneath her knees, and lifted her. Aza hadn't struggled nor uttered a word, all she did was heave out a sigh as he crossed them over to the bed and laid her on top of the furs. "Rest." It was an order, not a suggestion. "For once, listen to me and rest."
"No," Jon withheld a growl, beyond frustrated that she yet again had to make things difficult. "There is a meeting of the bannermen and I can't miss it. I have to be there."
"No one would blame you for being absent, Aza. You have been in fight after fight over a span of three moons. Let yourself rest." It took everything not to yell. Shouldn't he? Maybe his words wouldn't go in one ear and out the other if he showed her how angry he was at her lack of care for her health. "Seven hells, what will it take? Will you only listen until you fall apart?!"
"It's not about whether or not I will be at fault for being absent!" she argued. She forced herself to sit up in efforts to level their their gaze. "I'm to be your wife, my presence is necessary as it is expected." As much as he hated to admit it, she posed a good point. His wife and an unarguably, a part of his council. Her, Tormund, Sansa, Davos, and Rickon were all the strings that just about held him and almost everything else together. He needed no one else but them.
To be fair, Jon could do without her being at the meeting, mainly because he didn't know if he had the willpower to control himself should someone speak one ill word of her. Not all of the North lords accepted her just yet, and he supposed they never will until they were forced to once the two of them were married. "Do you have the patience to ignore them this evening? Many of them still haven't learned to control their tongues."
"I could care less what they say and think of me, Jon." Aza raised her chin up haughtily. "And you shouldn't either. Men and women alike will always have somethin' to say about someone."
"You may not care but I do," stated Jon. "You are to be my wife and I expect them to respect you. I won't allow anyone to say what they will of you."
"What will you do, Jon? Strike them?" Aza had strove to sound serious, and it ended up failing miserably due to her grin. "Will you roll some heads? Then I'll truly be known as the Summer wench that seduced you and drove you mad."
"You mean to say you didn't seduce me?" Jon laughed before dropping his head onto her shoulder, his lips moving against the curve of her neck. "You have driven me mad. Dressed as you are now, it's a battle not to bend you over and take you right now." He littered her neck with kisses and descended down to her shoulder. When he reached the sharp edge of her collar bone, he gave it a teasing nip.
"Don't," she pleaded after filling his ears with a sharp mewl. Her hands had grasped tightly at the sleeves of his biceps, and Jon couldn't determine if her intentions were to keep him right where he was or push him away. "The meeting is within the hour."
"It won't take long." The smile he gave her as he raised his head is a lopsided one, but it doesn't make his words any less true. "But I don't care if we do make them wait."
Her head tilted back as she laughed, the sound bright and colorful like a pale shade of yellow. Sometimes he had to wonder if it makes any sense for him feel completely at peace over her happiness. It only serves makes it more painful to imagine a life without the sound or sight of it. "I love you," Aza said breathlessly.
That was all he needed to lay his hands atop of her shoulders and bend to seal his mouth over hers. Despite how starved he felt, the kiss was soft and languid as if they had no care in the world for time. "I love you, too." The words left him in a murmur against her mouth as his touch glided down her shoulders to gently cup the fullness of her breasts to steadily inch his way towards the ribbon of her night-rail.
"Jon?"
He was so close to pulling the ribbon loose. "Hm?" he hummed instead, far too enraptured at how the thin material would part in a matter of seconds with just a quick pull.
"I'm not fucking you with the wolf in the room."
AZA
The shadows cloaked her well, and it was all she could want. Her mind was far too suspicious to even entertain the idea of joining Jon, Sansa, and Rickon at the high table in the Great Hall. There was solace to be felt standing close to the wall with Flyssa across her back. They were meant to trust these people; lords and such of the North, the Vale, and Wildlings. When she entrusted Jon's safety to others before, he had been murdered. At least here she could watch any strange movements in quiet, though she surmised that people still noticed her either way and probably had something to say of why she chose to be distant. It was better for them to speculate if her and Jon got into a fight than to pick up on her paranoia and lack of trust.
"You can't expect Knights of the Vale to side with Wildling invaders," said one man, his silver armor shining under the little sunlight that peered in from the windows.
Tormund, offended—and rightfully so, in Aza's opinion—shot back; "We didn't invade. We were invited."
"Not by me," said the Arryn knight before sitting back down at the bench.
It was such a petty thing, for the Vale knight to be concerned about the Wildlings out of all things. It should've been a long time coming, really, considering how most Westerosi felt about people North of the Wall. She had been so absorbed about the casual insults about her being foreign that she had completely forgotten that the Wildlings also dealt with discrimination of nearly the same level.
Jon stood from his seat, keeping his calm as he always miraculously managed to do. "The Free Folk, the Northerners, and and the Knights of the Vale fought bravely, fought together, and we won. My father used to say we find our true friends on the battlefield."
His words, unfortunately, weren't all too well received despite them being the truth. "The Boltons are defeated," said one young man. "The war is over. Winter has come. If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms."
If only it were that simple, Aza thought bitterly. The man had no idea what was to come and Aza somewhat wished she was just as blissfully ignorant. How sweet it would have been to only worry about a storm and nothing else. The poor lad had no idea what was on the other side of the Wall; the sinister, frightening mass army that brought death, cold, and nightmares in their wake for the ages.
"The war is not over. And I promise you, friend, the true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm." Jon's words were ominous for sure. Too ominous for their liking, too. A bunch of whispers and murmurs began, and she could faintly hear a few of them asking one another of what Jon truly meant by that aside from the small few like Lady Mormont. Lyanna had already been informed of the White Walkers and believed it as well. Aza didn't expect for the others to do so in the same quickness or at all to be fair. Honestly, who would believe them unless they had seen the White Walkers for themselves?
Speaking of Lyanna, the young lady had stood from the bench she occupied and immediately drew the attention of every lord sitting here. "Your sons were butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly, but you refused the call." Hitching a bow, Aza's eyes slew to the Lord of White Harbor, who shifted awkwardly in his seat. Jon claimed the man had good reasons to refuse them, but it still didn't heal the sting of his favor of the Freys they had been forced to salve in Merman's Court. "You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call. But House Mormont remembers. The North remembers."
Rickon rose from his seat as well, the chair screeching as it slid back from his sudden movements. Aza's brows furrowed curiously, her confusion more than just apparent. Even Jon was surprised, having looked to his right at his little brother, who was currently sharing a look with Lyanna across the room. The both of them gave each other what Aza assumed to be an encouraging nod. Just what in Seven hells were they up to and why did Aza suddenly feel dread over such an exchange? "When the North needed someone to lead them after my father's wrongful arrest, my brother Robb became that leader. He became what the North needed; courage, hope, and strength all in one." Rickon, not so much of a boy but a small man, surveyed the Great Hall once before gazing up at Jon as he spoke. "The North did not heal after Robb's death, it fell apart instead, but it was Jon that became what the North needed once more and brought it back together again."
"I say we keep our independence, remain a kingdom of our own, for the Southerners do not know us. They killed our king and lord for their Iron Throne when we didn't want it at all. As Ser Davos Seaworth once said, 'King Robb has fallen, but his war still goes on' and he's right. Robb's war isn't over, it's just the beginning and Winter is here, and it will take a King of Winter to see us through it."
Dumbfounded, that's what she could correctly describe the feeling that coursed through her. Her face had fallen, eyes as wide as she could stretch them, and her mouth hung open with her lips slightly parted. Her head couldn't process for a single second of what Rickon just proclaimed because she was completely, utterly, and foolishly dumbfounded. "I declare my brother Jon Snow as a King of Winter; the King in the North."
"We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark. I don't care if he's a bastard. Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king from this day until his last day," Lyanna agreed.
Voices of various tones and volumes murmured collectively yet again. Aza couldn't hear them, though. No, her heart was beating so loud as if it was pounding right in the middle of her head and ringing out of her ears. "Lord Rickon is right," said Lord Manderly as he made himself stand. "As well as Lady Mormont, who speaks harshly and truly. My sons died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I didn't think we'd find another king in my lifetime. I didn't commit my men to your cause 'cause I didn't want more Manderlys dying, but I was wrong. Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding. He is the White Wolf. The King in the North."
No, she whispered inside her head. No, she wanted to say and stop all of this from happening. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh and her body practically jumped at the familiar sound of a sword leaving its sheath. She did not need to see Wyman place the pointed end of his sword on the ground to know he was kneeling, pledging his allegiance entirely. "I did not fight beside you on the field and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness." Her gums were practically singing at how hard she locked her jaw, heat rolling off her in waves as Lord Glover only now felt remorse for what he had said and done. He was here because they were the winners, it mattered not to him who was wrong or right before.
"There's nothing to forgive, My Lord." She knew good and well Jon still harbored resentment towards him. It just made her loathe even more how much of a good man he was. How he could easily find the will to accept the foolish man's weak words of forgiveness now that the battle was done. After so many lives were lost.
"There will be more fights to come. House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousands years. And I will stand behind Jon Snow… the King in the North!" Lord Glover was all the other men needed to draw their blades and proclaim Jon as king. "The King in the North!"
Every lord, knight, and Wildling had stood with their blades drawn, all of them raised high in their air as they chanted over and over; "The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!"
Fear was in her chest yet there was none in her heart. Inside her heart and head, Aza did not want Jon to be king, not because she felt him undeserving but because she knew what being king would entail. She saw it when he was Lord Commander and now she had no other choice but to stand there and watch it again with him as king. There were so many responsibilities already on his shoulders and now poured a thousand more, and it wasn't fair. It was not fair at all for he was only one man.
Aza could help lift the burdens, take a few for herself and share as many as she could with him, but it would never be enough. Nothing would ever be enough now, especially for the glaring fact that a curse just about had a hold on this Stark family. Every Stark man she had heard of that tried to do the right thing ended up slain for it. Jon's father and his brother both met their ends that way. It even went as far back to his uncle and grandfather. Now here she was again, having to pray that Jon didn't meet his end for a second time in the same manner.
"The King in the North," a familiar voice whispered in her ear and it made her blood curdle. Her eyes slowly flickered left, meeting the eyes of a man she hadn't seen in years. She had been made aware that he was here, though what his connection to the North, but Sansa most of all, had not been explained to her. "You must be proud."
"I never recalled us ever being close enough for casual conversation, Baelish." Aza made certain to not appear distressed. She didn't need Petyr doing his best to seize her up, searching for weakness and grasping it by the tail to slide it in his back pocket for later use.
"And here I thought we were old friends." He was just as sly as she remembered him. They ran into each other frequently back in King's Landing, and sometimes it wasn't just meetings but for an exchange of information and coins. Out of the many things she had regret, meeting Peytr Baelish was one of them. "I see the both of us have climbed up very high in life since we saw each other last—you more than me. Tell me, how does it feel from being a skilled sellsword, a man of the Watch, and now the North's new queen."
Queen.
Seven hells, Aza hadn't even thought of that. Her? A queen? The Queen in the North.
From the walls, to the people, and all things surrounding her was becoming stifling. Aza could feel the thumping of her heart against her chest, her mind replaying the men's chanting in a furious loop. She was about ready to fall apart right then and there from the overwhelming fact that all of this was unfortunately real. Her hands trembled as they pressed themselves to the wall to keep her standing, her stomach continuously heaved as she tried to keep herself from breathing so rapidly. Maybe Jon was right after all. She should've just stayed in bed, at least she might've been prepared to learn all of this than to deal with it all at once.
"You look rather pale," Petyr commented. "Is the child stressing you?"
"W-What?" Aza squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, a cold sweat glistening and sitting atop of her brow. "What are you goin' on about, Baelish?"
"I've been surrounded by women all my life," he clarified. "I can spot a woman with child from leagues away, no matter how many moons she is. That's one thing that cannot be hidden from me." An icy chill crept over her as blood drained from her face. Her expression was of an incredulous, unblinking stare as her brain tried to scramble to make sense of it all. She couldn't be. There was no way in this world that she, in this very moment, was with child and she had no inkling about it. "You had no idea at all, did you?" Her fingers curled into fists, nailing digging at the palm of her hands. "And neither does Jon Snow. Tell me, Aza, have you been unaware all this time or is this a secret you mean to keep from him?"
Aza never felt more afraid in her entire life than she had right now. She couldn't breathe for it felt like someone had their hands wrapped around her throat to choke the life out of her. She had to leave, she had to search for Maester Emery and confirm if Baelish's words were true.
A/N: I would say this is a calm before the storm chapter, but there's already a storm at the end of it. Let the chaos ensue, I say! And by chaos, I mean you guys telling me how you all feel through reviews. I never get tired of hearing how you all feel.
So, apparently, Wylis Manderly died in the tv show... I didn't know that until I re-read Lyanna's speech and because I have no idea what to do with him if he were alive... I decided to go with the show's route. It almost makes Wyman a bit more sympathetic.
Ashies: Thank you! I love writing them, you just don't understand. Jon Snow deserved to be fiercely, unconditionally loved. This man is so wounded and deprived. You know I have to torture him. Having him struggle with all those knots will be fun.
Vulcran: That battle was so much fun.
xoxo: You've been thinking right. I've been throwing hints that she's been pregnant for a while. That's going to come into play, but whether or not the outcome is what you expect it to be is what I'm going to keep quiet about. c:
lilnightmare17: Thank you c:
lovinurbuks: ksdjfhlhknals! That makes me so happy. Ghost definitely knew, and knew for a while and I'm glad someone caught onto that. Thank you! And ha, I probably won't write a chapter that long again unless it's a battle because I always take it to another level when it comes to writing fighting scenes. And yes, I've heard of the rumored name and whether or not it'll be apart of this story, only time will tell. Thanks for telling me about that video because it gave me some more insight.
PorcelainPuppetLady: You and I are on the same wavelength. I like the idea of Rickon and Lyanna, and if they ever married there will be another Lyanna Stark. I have so many feelings about this and I think Shireen is just a little too mature for him.
LadyDV011: Thank you!
1MoreInMe1: It makes me so happy to read that. Thank you so much, and I definitely plan to finish this fic to completion. I couldn't abandon it even if I wanted to.
Psychosae: Thank you!
Amelia: Sansa deserves all the comfort in the world. She's been through too much.
sltsky96: I'm taking special care how I go about Sansa and Aza's relationship because I feel they are naturally incompatible people who are only compatible due the extreme changes in their lives, if it makes sense. It's not so black and white between them as it originally could have been if they met much earlier. Ohh, I love hearing that: "Solidified her place as a Stark" and she'll be an official one in many ways now.
Gina-B-ookworm: Thank you. I hope I can top it. I extremely doubt it, though.
Guest: I will never give up on this story, I promise. And me? A genius? You flatter me too much! I'm glad it made you happy and you love it.
kate langdon: Thank youuu! I love long chapters myself but holy hell, I didn't think I was going to take it that far. I have to give you all the cute so that you guys don't hate me too much later. I'm Momma Karin now, I'm giving all the life. That's... That's gonna be a while as you can see, but Rickon helped him be king. I honestly just can't see why Rickon wouldn't want Jon to be king, I can see this so clearly in my head of that little baby being a super proud little brother.
Serenity10116: It's here! I've updated much more quickly than I thought I would.
htennis: Perhaps your guess is right. You'll definitely find out in the next chapter. c:
A. Alice-LaCasse : I just can't find it in my soul to kill Rickon and I'm pretty cruel at times. Like, insanely cruel, but I just can't see the reasoning for this baby wolf to die. Not on my watch! I'm afraid with the way you all are telling me how you love how healthy their relationship is. Have you guys been reading some toxic stuff? Lol. I'm glad, though. The last thing I want is to put Jon in ANOTHER toxic relationship. Don't get me wrong, his romance with Ygritte was one for the books, but it was not healthy. I wish the show would give me that and I always give what the show doesn't. I canly hope Sansa gets a moment like that with Arya. It probably won't happen, so I'm projecting my wishes on this story. Sansa deserves to rest her little weary heart.
You'll know in the next chapter, so I'm gonna stay quiet about that. Sullen Jon Snow Jr is my favorite phrase now. Can you imagine Tormund, "Look at 'im. Looks as sullen as is pa, don't he?" Because Tormund is an ass that loves to make fun of Jon and I can just see this in my head.
Guest 2: Nothing makes me laugh harder than someone being like "I fucking love this story" because it's so intense and I feel it. I can feel the love.
Guest 3: kjdfjskljdLJS I hope this chapter didn't blow your mind too with the ending because how can you come back from that?
Anavy Jacobs: c: Back at it again with the update.
Lt-SporK89: I bet you didn't think the wait was going to amount to this.
Guest 4: Woop! Woop! I have updated.
Guest 5: Thank you and here it is. Here. It. Is.
Kelly: Wow! It has been so long and don't worry! I definitely know how you feel because wow, I just started reading other fiction again because I either had to write my own or was too busy ( and sick as a while ago ). I am glad your free. You're now free as the free folk. I send you all the good vibes because job searching is hard and being an adult is even harder. I'm trying to make this fanfiction brighter than my future rn lol.
I can't believe it myself that I just about caught up just in time. I didn't think it would happen, but here I am. I'm practically on the journey with everyone with this fanfic and it's going to be a hell of a ride, that's for sure. I bet you and I share the same theories because I had this theory for a long time coming who gonna get under the furs with our favorite Snow. I wish she could randomly appear and just take him away, but alas, that show would've killed her a long time ago.
Most definitely. Things have been insanely good as of late. I'm free of sickness and now I have a new season to dissect, write, and look forward to and probably cry in anguish about.
Guest 6: I'm dying at bipity bopity back the fuck up. I think I know who this reviewer is and I am so happy to see you back again! That's true. Ramsay having them is worse than threatening. But you still don't know who it is or even considered him important, so that means I did well with the allure of mystery.