AN: To the people who continuously ask when Davos will remember that he has a wife and children, I feel the need to remind you that this is based off of the show primarily. In the show, he only has one son, who died in the battle of the Blackwater. His wife might be alive or she might not, I couldn't say considering he never mentions her and continues to linger by Stannis and then Jon's side and later joins Bran's council rather than return to his family. If Davos does still have a living wife, then it is clearly a loveless marriage or else she would have been mentioned at some point.
Jon smiled as Sansa entered his tent to share her life with him for the first time since that disastrous last encounter where she had tried to manipulate him, Jon had snapped at her then went to see Daenerys and sulk only to find out that she somehow knew about his resurrection and who his parents were. That had been an unexpected development, to say the least.
At first, once he was done conversing with his Daenerys he had panicked and sprinted towards the ravenry where he was assured that they were still on lock-down. He had then headed to the Free Folk camps and checked in with his wargs to see if the Boltons or anyone else knew of his heritage but they still did not know- if they had he would have moved immediately, but even now he had heard nothing. Somehow, Varys had found out but no one else knew yet which made little sense given how Meereen was much further from the wall than Winterfell or even King's Landing yet that was somehow the case. Varys had to have sources amongst the Free Folk which was a terrifying thought as it made it all the harder to trust them or anyone really if even they would sell his secrets to the spider. The spider was an impossibility, everyone knew that. He had always had a way of finding out the most secure of secrets and apparently Jon's resurrection was no exception to that. Perhaps it was magic of some sort.
Jon was exceedingly grateful that Lord Varys now served his Daenerys in Meereen and not King Tommen anymore as if the Lannisters were to have found out that early in the game, they would be doomed. Even now they might be doomed after Sansa's impatience had cost them the element of surprise and thrown his previous plan to the wayside. Now they were stuck with a more conventional war strategy and they would probably lose even if they only were fighting the Boltons' northern forces. Or Jon would reveal his trump card if the need arose.
They had sent out letters to all the Lords of the Northern Houses requesting aid but he doubted anyone would show up for him, it was too risky to side with a usurper in a failed rebellion. Most the Houses would refuse to participate and Jon wouldn't bother trying to change their mind, he knew it would be a fruitless endeavor. Even if they did offer to come Jon would have been hesitant to accept their aid and let them into his camps. They were likely all spies and traitors who would only get him killed. He would earn their loyalty when he defeated the Boltons.
Sansa smiled and curtsied. "Your Grace." She chimed sweetly in greeting and then took a seat on the floor beside him.
"You can still call me Jon, you know." Jon replied with a slight smile of his own. In spite of her foolishness, they were still the last of the Starks and Jon didn't want them to be at each other's throats.
Sansa frowned slightly. "I owe you an apology, Jon. I let my desire for revenge get the best of me and screwed up all of your plans."
Jon nodded in agreement. "You did." He then sighed audibly. "That's all in the past now, it does us no good to look back and get lost. Let's just endeavor to do better in the future. We need to be able to trust each other."
"I do want to trust you, Jon, it's just hard after everything."
Jon smiled and placed a hand on her knee. "I completely understand. It's certainly hard to trust anyone after all that's happened since we left Winterfell."
"You said you wanted to hear about what happened at Joffrey's wedding? How I escaped?" Sansa asked after a moment of awkward silence.
Jon nodded. "I did." After a moment he added some false platitudes at the end. "Of course, if you aren't ready to share it then I won't force you."
Sansa shook her head. "I do. It's just hard."
Jon nodded and took her hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.
"I was unknowingly involved in a plot to murder Joffrey orchestrated by Lord Baelish and Lady Olenna Tyrell." Sansa began to explain.
Jon blinked in surprise. Lady Tyrell had not been who he would have suspected of murdering Joffrey, not at his wedding to her granddaughter. That was valuable information they could use to hopefully drive a wedge between the Tyrells and the crown.
"Ser Dontos Hollard showed up drunk to a tourney and was unable to ride as a result. Joffrey wanted him to be drowned in wine for his folly." Sansa said with some disgust. "I plead for his life and instead he was made a fool in the King's Court."
Sansa shook her head and Jon squeezed her hand gently to reassure her. "In my foolishness, I thought that he actually cared for me and wanted to repay me for sparing his life but he was just using me. He gave me a beautiful amethyst necklace that he claimed was a family heirloom and I wore it to Joffrey's wedding."
"One of the Amethysts was a fake, filled with poison. During the wedding, someone removed it from my neck and dropped it in Joffrey's chalice. He died and Lord Tyrion was framed as Ser Dontos ferreted me away in the confusion. The Tyrells wanted Tyrion framed so I could marry Willas and give them control of the north but Littlefinger wanted me to himself."
Sansa heaved a deep shuddering breath and Jon squeezed her hand again. There were tears in the corner of her eyes and she looked to be on the verge of breaking down. A part of Jon wanted to stop her and protect her from all of this but he needed to know so he did nothing. "Littlefinger was in love with my mother," Sansa explained. "After her death, he desired me in her place. He took me to the Vale with him where he had wed my Aunt Lysa and claimed me as his bastard daughter."
She smiled sadly. "At first I had thought he truly cared about me because of my mother. He was sweet and kind and did everything to protect me. I looked up to him and trusted him." Sansa laughed bitterly. "I was a fool. Littlefinger just lusted after me, he kissed me and Aunt Lysa saw."
Sansa sniffled. "Aunt Lysa confronted me and raged at me for stealing her dear sweet Petyr from her just like my mother had. She called me and mother whores and threatened to have me thrown through the moon door for trying to steal Petyr." Jon stiffened at the thought of Sansa falling to her death. "Littlefinger came in and comforted my aunt assuring her that he only ever loved one person and then pushed her through the moon door claiming he only loved my mother. We lied and claimed she committed suicide but I killed her. I killed my aunt." Sansa sobbed.
"It wasn't your fault," Jon protested. "Lord Baelish killed your aunt, not you. He kissed you and he pushed her to her death, not you."
Sansa nodded but Jon knew she did not agree with him and blamed herself. Jon hugged her gently and for a moment he held her in silence before she pulled away and resumed her tale. "I was so stupid, I thought that his decision to murder my aunt proved that he loved me and was a hero. I trusted him, looked up to him, and enjoyed being around him." She clenched her hands into fists at her side. "He betrayed me and sold me to the Boltons." She spat venomously.
Jon blinked owlishly in surprise. "Why?" Sansa came him a puzzling look so he elaborated. "What did he gain by doing that? What was his end goal?"
Sansa laughed. "He wants the same thing that all men do. Power and to sit on the Iron Throne with me as his Queen."
Jon laughed. "I can assure you that all men do not want that."
Sansa hit his shoulder playfully. "Every man but you." She amended.
Jon was sure that Baelish did want that but how did selling Sansa accomplish that? He voiced that idea aloud. "How does selling you to the Boltons give him power?
Sansa looked at him as if he was stupid. "Chaos is a ladder, he would always say. By giving me to the Boltons he destroyed their alliance with the crown. He would sow discord in the capital which is an opportunity for him to move up in station. He likely expected me and Ramsay to have a child who no one could contest their claim to the North. When my husband was to mysteriously die, I would rule the north in my sons name. He already basically controls the Vale through young Robyn and ideally, I would have had the North. With two of the largest kingdoms in his grasp and possibly the Riverlands as well through the Tully side of the family, and him being Lord of Harrenhal he would be in a very powerful position. He underestimated Ramsay's cruelty or simply just didn't care about how he would treat me."
Jon's jaw clenched. "What did that bastard do to you?" He growled. He quickly remembered it was a sensitive topic and calmed down. "You don't have to answer if you aren't ready." He reassured her.
Sansa gave him a sad smile. "I know. I want to."
Jon gripped her hand and squeezed it tightly.
"Ramsay was awful from the beginning, the moment I met him I should have known that this was a mistake. He had The-"
She was cut off by Varamyr Sixskins entering the tent. "Crow!" He huffed. "There is urgent news that you need to hear immediately."
Jon frowned. Sansa was finally opening up to him so of course, something would come up now. He was torn between doing his duty as King and dealing with the urgent news or being the brother that his sister needed and that he wanted to be.
Sansa took the decision out of his hands as she squeezed his hand once more and then let go and left the tent, the moment completely gone. Jon knew it would likely be some time before she opened up like that again.
"What is it?" Jon snapped somewhat harsher than he had intended.
"At Last Hearth," Varamyr explains. "They apparently found Rickon Stark."
Jon was on his feet in a moment. "Who heard this?"
"Sulfur. She is the rat right now." Varamyr replied plainly.
Jon did not hesitate to force himself into the rat they had positioned at Last Hearth. There was some struggle to seize control from Sulfur but Jon's will was stronger than hers, she was no dragon.
Jon dashed across the floor to follow the receding footsteps of Lord Smalljon Umber who was walking down the long hallway while conversing with the maester of their house and another man Jon could not easily recognize. With the rat's super-sensitive ears he was able to clearly hear their conversation.
"We should bring the boy with us to Winterfell! Lord Bolton will want to use him as a hostage." The man Jon did not recognize spat.
"But what if this so called Jon Targaryen wins?" The Smalljon argued. "He would never forgive us for turning over his brother to the Boltons. If we do that and he wins it would be the end of our house. He would burn us all."
"What if Roose wins?" The man countered. "If they find out that we have Rickon Stark and do not turn him over to them then we'll be flayed for our treachery. I don't fear Jon Snow-Waters-Targaryen, whatever the fuck the oathbreaking wildling-loving bastard is calling him now. I do fear Ramsay Bolton, if Lord Snow is anything like his uncle then he'll only punish us and not the entire house for our treachery."
"His grandfather is the Mad King and his father is Rhaegar fucking Targaryen. I doubt he is anything like the honorable Ned Stark or even the lovestruck foolish King Robb. He's likely as mad as the rest of the dragons and will burn us alive." The Smalljon argued once more. "If Jon Targaryen wins and we aid him then we could have a chance to rise high in the world, if he claims the throne then we could be offered him a place on his council and a very beneficial marriage for little Ned. This is our chance to move up in the world. So yes I fear his retaliation more than the Boltons, Roose's hold on the North is too fragile to end our house. Jon Targaryen's will not be so loose. If we betray the Starks and give the Boltons his brother he would not hesitate to eliminate us all, both us and our sons. We have more to gain and less to lose by siding with him in this conflict."
The other man in favor of siding with the Boltons just growled lowly in reply.
Jon's heart rate sped up as he struggled to keep pace with the men as they walked through the long hallways. They really had Rickon or at least thought they did, his brother was only a few weeks away from them. They had to strike at Last Hearth and get him back.
There was a blinding pain Jon's head for a moment, not the rat's but his. He missed most of the ensuing conversation that had taken place in the last minute. Before it had soon passed and Jon was still in the rat, free of whatever weird pain that was. He quickly resumed his pursuit of the Umbers and tried to listen in on their conversation.
The Smalljon turned to the Maester. "What would you advise us to do with Rickon Stark? Do you have any wisdom you would like to impart to us?"
The Maester smiled his thin lips curling upwards. "Wait, give him to whoever wins, and don't let anyone find out that you have him until then. If Lord Snow chooses to attack Last Hearth turn him over and then betray them to the Bolton's. If he avoids us then keep him hidden until there is a victor. Gain favor with the winner."
"What if the betrayal fails? What if Lord Snow wises up to your plot, then we're in a worse spot then if we just gave Rickon Stark to the Boltons." The Smalljon snarled.
"So don't betray him then, take all your men with you to Winterfell in order to assist the Bolton's. Leave Last Hearth undefended so it falls easily and Lord Snow gets his brother back. He would be forced to forgive you for siding with the Boltons if he wins because you kept his brother safe. If he loses then you can say that the castellan acted independently and Rickon wasn't found until after you left for Winterfell. If the battle looks to be going in his favor then stab the Boltons in the back. Play both sides"
"It's still too risky." The man Jon did not recognize argued.
"There will always be risk, you just don't want to help the Starks, Mors. This is bigger than just paying back King Robb's stupidity or the Lord Commander's decision to let wildlings settle in the gift and raid our lands. We have to do what is best for our House, not follow stupid revenge schemes to our grave." Lord Smalljon Umber explained. "We will follow the Maesters proposed plan and pray that things work out in our favor."
"If I may Lord Umber, I would like to visit with the boy now and see how he's settling in, he can't think that he is a prisoner here if we are to fool Lord Snow." The Maester asked kindly.
The Smalljon nodded his consent and the Maester split from the other two to turn down a hall. Jon warred with himself for a minute before deciding to follow the Maester instead of the other two. He probably should follow Lord Umber and hear what they were planning but he wanted to see his brother again after so long, he wanted to know if it was truly him before he adjusted his plans.
The moment the Maester opened the door to the room they had Rickon situated in, Jon scampered in behind him. There was no doubt in Jon's mind that the boy they had was indeed Rickon. Like the rest of the Stark children he took after his mother in looks with long shaggy auburn hair and bright blue eyes. His face was rounded but gaunt due to his life on the run without getting proper food most likely. All thanks to Theon chasing him out of Winterfell. He had aged considerably since Jon last saw him three years ago and was now a boy of six name days.
While his looks might have left some doubt as to who he was, the large black direwolf resting at the foot of the bed did not. That was the direwolf that Rickon had named Shaggydog a lifetime ago. His green eyes were open and staring at the corner that Jon was cowering in as he observed the Maester. Jon didn't know how but he knew that the wolf recognized that he was in the rat.
"Am I a prisoner?" He heard Rickon ask calmly.
The Maester shook his head and smiled. "No. You are here to keep you safe from the Boltons until your brother defeats them." The maester lied kindly to Rickon.
"Robb?" Rickon asked excitedly with a bit of boyish hope.
The Maester shook his head once more, likely trying to appear sympathetic. "Robb died, I'm afraid. No, your half-brother Jon or well cousin maybe."
Rickon's brow furrowed in confusion. "The bastard?"
Jon flinched. He knew Rickon was just repeating what his mother had always called Jon but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to hear him say that. He knew Rickon wasn't trying to hurt him or mean anything by it, he likely didn't even know what it meant and he certainly didn't know Jon was listening in. Still, it hurt all the same.
The Maester nodded. "Yes. Your father claimed him as his bastard but apparently he is actually the son of your aunt Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen."
Rickon smiled. "It will be nice to see him again after he abandoned me with the rest of them. When will he be here?" Rickon asked eagerly.
The Maester sighed. "I don't know but we'll keep you safe until then."
"Osha too?" Rickon tried to demand but it sounded more like a question.
"Who?" The Maester asked. "The wildling?"
Rickon stared at him in confusion so he elaborated. "The woman we found with you?"
Rickon nodded. "She is safe as well, I'm afraid you can't see her, however, no one can know you're here yet."
Rickon frowned but didn't protest too much.
"Would you like for someone to bring you food from dinner?" Rickon nodded in reply.
Jon decided that he had seen enough and pulled himself out of the rat and reopened his human eyes. Looming over him was Varamyr who handed him a glass of water the moment he was back in his own body. "Thanks." Jon exhaled as he downed the glass to help his suddenly very dry throat.
"You committed an abominable act," Varamyr said blankly in reply.
Jon blinked owlishly. "A what?" He asked eloquently.
Varamyr laughed. "You don't know?" He scoffed and shook his head. "Of course, you don't know you are a southerner."
Jon frowned at the derogatory tone but wanted to know what he was talking about so he ignored his resentment. "Care to explain it to me?" He asked politely but both of them knew it was a command. They also both knew that Varamyr like most the free folk might choose to ignore his demand, they would fight for him, call him king and even kneel but they would never serve him or listen to everything he told them to do if they didn't want to. He didn't yet have the authority despite his title to force them to do so, even if they didn't want to.
Thankfully Varamyr chose to answer his question. "There are three things that are forbidden for any warg to do as they allow the beast to influence the human's mind but they also vastly enhance a wargs power, some say it strips away their human morals," Varamyr explained calmly. "The first is mating as an animal, the second is consuming human flesh and the third…"
Jon at first wanted to scoff at the notion that his decision to eat the Dothraki scout and the Harpies as Rhaegal had influenced his mind but he thought better of it. He had enjoyed watching people burn a little much since returning to his human body and well he put it off as a part of his whole dying thing, he had been very solitary since returning to his body much like dragons were. He had also enjoyed seeing men grovel before him and felt like it was his right to rule he had pinned it on the Targaryen blood thing but maybe it was Rhaegal influencing his mind. He had been quicker to anger now and his feelings for Daenerys were certainly more possessive then he had ever felt towards anyone ever before.
But did Jon care if it was? He was Rhaegal, there was nothing wrong with being a dragon, with being Targaryen. He was the blood of the dragon, it was only right that he be the dragon he was born to be. The wolf part of him had led to his death, he had to be a dragon now. The world needed a fearsome dragon to defeat the long night not an honorable wolf. He would avoid breaking the rest of these rules just in case but breaking the first one had not been a bad thing and had only benefitted him.
"And the third?" Jon questioned as Varamyr trailed off unwilling to name the third.
"The third is to warg into a human." Varamyr shuddered.
"That's possible?" Jon asked in complete disbelief. Did he have to worry about someone taking over his body? That would be terrifying if it could truly happen.
Varamyr frowned. "In theory yes, as far as I know, it's never been done."
Jon let it drop and moved on to the previous topic. "What makes you think I broke one of these rules?
Varamyr sat down on the floor and after a moment of hesitation, Jon followed him to the ground. "When you first were in Mance's camp, when you wanted to turn cloak and pretend to join us on our expedition over the wall, I stole your wolf," Varamyr explained calmly. "You had a strong bond with him but I was stronger and forced you out of him to take him for my own. Unfortunately, Mance made me return him to you."
Jon growled lowly at the idea of Ghost being stolen from him and then turned bitter when he realized that if Ghost had been stolen he would still be alive. Varamyr should have kept him. He was glad to know he was more powerful than even Varamyr who was the most powerful warg amongst the Free Folk so he had no worry that Rhaegal could be stolen from him. That would be absolutely catastrophic and could lead Westeros a ruin, ravaged by flames in a dance of dragons.
"I could overpower the bond between you and your direwolf with pure force but I couldn't force you out of that rat that you had no connection to." Was that what his headache had been? Varamyr trying to force him out? "Your power has increased drastically as a warg since then and the only way it could increase so much in such a short time is by committing an abominable act." Varamyr explained undeniably smug that he had figured it out.
Jon tried to deflect the idea that he had broken one of those rules, that information could be used against him he was sure, it was better that Varamyr thought he was mistaken. "I died." Jon replied bluntly. "Maybe that is why my power increased."
Varamyr smiled far too smug for Jon's liking. "But you didn't really die, did you, your body died but you're a warg. You went to your wolf but then he died and you went to something else until your body came back."
Try as he might Jon couldn't conceal his shock that Varamyr had puzzled it out so easily. "So what if I did?" He snarled in reply, angered at Varamyr's casualness towards the truth.
Varamyr held his hands up defensively. "Calm down, King Crow. I won't tell anyone I just want to know what you went into after you died and which abominable act you committed."
"Then why do you want to know?" Jon snapped suspiciously.
Varamyr smiled. "Because you're the first person I know besides myself to do such a thing and I want to know how the effects manifest in different cases with different animals. I know it can't be your wolf blending over because that was the first one I broke the rules with and you aren't behaving like a wolf."
Jon frowned. He should probably want to know how his breaking of the rules would change him. He didn't trust Varamyr but he was the closest thing to an expert on wargs that there was and Jon needed to know so he would be forced to trust Varamyr for now.
"A lizard," Jon replied quietly with a half-truth. He wouldn't tell anyone besides his Daenerys about him being Rhaegal and he was sure Varamyr wouldn't believe him if he claimed to be a dragon. It was likely that he would figure it out when he called Rhaegal to him but for now, there was no way he would risk that secret getting out yet.
Varamyr nodded. "Interesting. Which act was it?"
Jon frowned knowing how unbelievable his answer would sound but he didn't know if the acts had different repercussions so he had to answer honestly. "The first one."
Varamyr blinked in surprise. "Eating human flesh?" Jon nodded and Varamyr whistled. "Must have been some lizard."
Jon knew Varamyr was expecting him to elaborate on what kind of lizard it was but he said nothing and after a moment Varamyr dropped it.
"As I'm sure you've noticed it is much easier to warg into something now even when already inhabited, your connection to this lizard you frequently warg into is stronger as well I'd presume. You can feel their desires and they can feel yours, you can almost communicate with them even while you two are in the animal's body."
Jon nodded that sounded similar to how he would describe his connection to Rhaegal. He was Rhaegal not just a passenger though, he and Rhaegal for the most part shared desires and the others wants became their own. They were two parts of the same being who happened to inhabit two bodies.
"You should notice some of the animal's personality bleeding into yours with each abominable act you commit and even just as you strengthen your bond. I couldn't tell you exactly what to expect without you elaborating on what kind of lizard it is and even then I'd only be guessing."
Jon nodded. That hadn't really told him anything new but he would go to Varamyr if he had any more questions about warging or these acts which well Jon didn't necessarily consider them a terrible thing, he still was glad to know about them and their consequences before he unknowingly committed another one.
"Thank you for informing me Varamyr. Please inform Sulfur that the rat is once again available and pass on my apologies for forcing her out of it." Jon said respectfully dismissing Varamyr who dipped his head and did as Jon had requested. He could worry about wargs and laws that he had broken later, right now he had to inform everyone of the change in plans to go for the Last Hearth instead of the Dreadfort, without informing them that it was because of Rickon and that he was letting sentiment affect his decisions. The Free Folk wouldn't understand the political value that holding Rickon would provide for them in their campaign for him to take the Iron Throne seeing as they didn't really have any politics North of the Wall nor did they put any stock in family names.
Jon strode out of the tent to go inform everyone of the change in strategy and the new target. The first person he encountered who needed to know was Tormund.
"King Crow." Tormund greeted warmly and made to embrace him but Jon stepped back, this was business right now. "We are no longer marching for the Dreadfort, instead we attack the Last Hearth.
Tormund frowned. "Why?"
The lie came all too easily to Jon. "There were undoubtedly spies at Castle Black that would have told the Boltons of our plans. Now that we're free of any eavesdroppers I can reveal the true plan. Last Hearth is closer so we can get there before any encroaching army. This gives them less time to prepare for combat and us the advantage."
Tormund nodded. "You southerners and your convoluted plans. We Free Folk when we see an enemy simply attack them, nothing too complicated about that."
Jon smiled. "If we had the numbers I would too," Jon lied. "Unfortunately we are outnumbered so we have to be crafty.
"I'll spread the word, King Crow," Tormund swore and parted from Jon.
Jon was accosted by Sansa as he searched for the Magnar of Then. "What's happening Jon? What news was so urgent?" She demanded.
"The Boltons received news that we were heading for the Dreadfort from someone in the Night's Watch. They are sending men to reinforce them there so we'll instead hit Last Hearth while most the Umber men are with the Boltons." Jon lied easily.
Sansa frowned. "Why? We could still beat them there and take the castle, we'll have to face them in the field at some point why put it off. We can take the Dreadfort and hit them where it hurts, they won't care about Last Hearth."
Jon frowned as well. He had forgotten that this was Sansa, he had to divulge the true reason or else she might get it in her head that she would be helping him by sending a letter to the Bolton's informing them they were attacking Last Hearth so he would be forced to turn his gaze back to the Dreafort. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back inside his tent for some measure of privacy.
"Sorry." He apologized. "Trusting is still hard for me. The Umbers found Rickon." Jon whispered. "They have him at Last Hearth right now."
Sansa stepped back in shock. "You're sure?" She asked in astonishment.
Jon only nodded. "It might be a trap," She protested. "They might be claiming some other boy as Rickon."
Jon shook his head. "He has a direwolf with him."
"Your source might be lying," Sansa argued trying not to become too hopeful.
Jon shook his head once more and grabbed one of Sansa's hands in his own. "I won't divulge my source but I trust them as much as I would if I had seen him myself." He would not risk the secrets of wargs existing getting out as they were too valuable of an asset and he still wasn't confident he could fully trust Sansa, he just knew not trusting her had proven to be more of a liability so far, so he would give her this little bit.
"What about Bran?" Sansa asked after a moment. "Do they have him too? They were supposed to be together according to Theon."
Jon felt slightly guilty for forgetting about Bran in his jubilance at finding Rickon, if the Umbers had found only Rickon and this Osha woman then that likely meant Bran was dead. Hopefully, he just escaped from the Umbers but Jon doubted it, or Rickon likely would have mentioned him.
"They don't have him, I have no clue where he could be," Jon said remorsefully.
Sansa frowned but then smiled. "At least we'll have Rickon back."
Jon nodded in agreement. "Keep the news that the Umbers have Rickon secret, we don't want people thinking that I'm letting my heart ruin our strategies."
Sansa nodded then frowned. "Aren't you?"
Jon shook his head. "My plan will work regardless of what castle we reside in."
Sansa raised an eyebrow but Jon refused to elaborate. Secrecy was key if they were to win this war, and well Jon wanted to trust Sansa he would never tell anyone his plan as if word of it leaked out then it could possibly fail and cause catastrophic damage to his efforts and the chances of the living winning the great war.
Jon was almost disappointed by how easy it had been to take Last Hearth from the Umbers. He knew they were only putting up a token defense to make it look like they were loyal to the Boltons but Jon had still expected more. They had closed the gates and had archers on the wall but that was it. There were not even a hundred men guarding the castle.
Wun Wun had knocked down the gates and they had stormed in within minutes taking the castle without any major casualties. Jon had almost wanted the fight and the fact that he hadn't even needed to unsheathe his sword bothered him. The dragon demanded blood and he knew that the Umbers were only doing this for their own benefit not any loyalty to the Starks. A part of him wanted to take all of the Umber's heads instead of playing this mummery but he couldn't let rumors spread that he was like his grandfather. He hated politics but he had to play the game so his kingdom could be united when the Long Night came.
They had burst through the gates with Jon at the front of the charge and immediately the old Hother Umber dropped to his knee, prostrating himself before Jon, pretending that he was loyal to him and House Stark.
"Your Grace," Hother proclaimed. "Last Hearth is yours. We have long awaited the day that the Starks came to reclaim the North from the Bolton bastards. House Umber knows no King except the King whose name is Stark."
Jon forced himself to take a deep breath and not take the coward's head for his lies. "Surely, you've heard the rumors of my parentage. I am no Stark." He said cooly. He didn't know why they even bothered pretending that he wasn't a Targaryen or that they didn't know. Maybe they thought he would deny the accusations and didn't want to risk false accusations. He really should take Sansa's suggestion and wear a crown of pure fire. His coloring was all Stark and it would quiet any arguments that he wasn't who he claimed.
Hother's lip curled with thinly veiled disgust. "We have heard the rumors, Your Grace. It doesn't matter if your father happened to be a dragon, you still have the blood of a Stark. If that bastard being your father allows a Stark to finally sit the Iron Throne then so be it."
Jon nodded half-heartedly. "Indeed." He wanted to correct Hother's opinion on his father but it's not like he had any proof of his Daenerys's claims that Rhaegar and Lyanna had loved each other. He had to pick his battles and for now not defending his father was what he needed to do. His father didn't deserve to be defended anyways, nor did his mother. Their selfishness had let thousands die and ended the Targaryen dynasty. He would never repeat their mistakes.
He turned away from the castellan he would, unfortunately, have to work with until he defeated the Boltons and towards Tormund who was standing only a few paces behind him trying not to laugh at Hother's behavior. "Go into the crypts and bring all of the bodies to be burnt." He ordered and Tormund and a group of wildlings cheered as they went to do so.
He knew this might sour the Umbers and the rest of the Northern Houses against him but he had to prioritize stopping the Long Night. The Great Other could not be allowed to add more men into his armies especially if they were to be residing here for the near future. He would not sleep until he was sure there were no dead men waiting to kill him when he closed his eyes.
Hother finally grew some backbone at that command. "Your Grace," he flustered. "I know the Targaryens have always burnt their dead but the North does things differently. We bury and respect our dead here. You can not just enforce your foreign policies on the North!" He snapped at him as he rose to his feet.
Jon quelled him with a harsh glare as he dismounted from his horse. "You will burn your dead from now on," Jon replied sharply. "That is an order from your King."
Hother, unfortunately, did not rebuke his claim to being his king so Jon could not take the conniving snakes head but he did argue back all the same. "Why?" He demanded with a roar that defied his advanced age. "They are dead, why defile their graves? The North will not support someone who shows such blatant disrespect towards their fallen."
Jon sighed and glared at Hother once more. "The Long Night is coming, the Others are real and are marching on the Wall with their army of the dead. The Great Other can bring back the dead to fight by his side. All the dead must burn and we will all perish." He said bluntly. There was no avoiding telling the Lords why he did this and he had to do this for the wildlings to fight for him, he couldn't put this off until after he had the throne. He couldn't risk the Others coming before he had the throne either, this had to be done now.
Unsurprisingly Lord Hother Umber laughed at his claims. "The Others?" He scoffed. "An army of the dead? They are nothing but a children's tale. I thought the Stark blood would out but it appears you have inherited the Targaryen madness from your father."
Jon again wanted to take his head but he couldn't let them think he was as mad as his grandfather, this would be the popular reaction to that particular claim. The dead were dead, there was no changing that, everyone believed that. Luckily, he was walking proof that that was not true. "If I offer you proof that the dead can live again will you permit your dead to be burned?" Jon asked with a fake smile.
Hother likely knew it was a trap because Jon wouldn't have offered if he didn't have proof but Hother acquiesced all the same, likely due to his curiosity about how he would prove it. He might have heard the claims of Jon's resurrection but he doubted that very many people actually believed that part of the story, he might not even believe that Jon was a Targaryen but the Umbers were just using his claim to move up in the world and seat a northerner on the throne. That was fine with Jon, they could believe what they did as long as they supported him and his Daenerys believed him which he knew that she did. "I will if you can prove such a thing," Hother grumbled reluctantly.
Jon sighed once more. "Dryn!" Jon called out. "Help me out of my armor." Dryn was not Jon's official squire and he would no doubt soon be replaced when Jon offered that position to secure the loyalty of some Lord and their armies. It was a small concession but not one that he could just give out freely. Tormunds youngest son was eager enough and served fine in the role until he needed to give it away and unlike any of the northerners would not be offended if he gave the role to someone else.
It only took a moment for him to get out of his breastplate and soon after he was clad in just his gambeson for protection. He knew that any of the men still stationed on the walls could easily take him out with one well placed shot and he knew that the Lannisters and Boltons would both heap riches on them if they survived afterward. Jon's eyes scanned the walls frantically looking for anyone who might attack him and saw no one foolish enough to be caught doing so yet.
His fingers hesitated as he gripped the top button of his gambeson. He had to trust that the fear of the two-thousand Free Folk that Jon had with him would keep anyone from being bold and trying to kill him, this was an unavoidable need to expose himself and a risk that he would have to take multiple times. He really should start wearing that crown to intimidate others in situations like this. It was likely only a small deterrent but anything that discouraged making attempts on his life would be welcome and it would be good to remind them that he was a dragon and not a wolf who would just roll over and die.
Jon sighed once more and shrugged off his gambeson leaving his naked chest open to Lord Hother's gaze. He knew it was unsightly, the deep red gashes that marred his usually pale skin. Five deep gashes in his body that had never healed over from when his brothers' had killed him. The hole over his heart deep enough you could even see bone. There would be no denying that he had died when one looked at his heavily wounded chest.
Hother was gaping at him like a fish as were the other Umber men here when they starred at his chest. "The rumors are true…" He muttered quietly to himself.
"Is that sufficient proof, My Lord?" Jon said politely.
Hother dropped back to his old and feeble knees. "I-It will suffice, Your Grace." Jon knew that Lord Hother most likely still doubted his tales of the Others but the fact that Jon had clearly beaten death had scared him into submission at the very least. He doubted he would face many assassination attempts when they believed him to be immortal. The lack of fight had certainly made it easy to hide that he could still be hurt like any man. He needed them to believe that was the case as long as possible.
Jon nodded and smiled. "Good. See to it that all of the dead are burned from now on, Lord Hother. Anyone who buries their dead will be punished as if they were the wight that rose up themselves." He nodded towards the wildlings behind him and some of them wordlessly went to follow Tormund into the crypts. He pulled his gambeson back on and re-buttoned it although he decided not to bother with the armor, for now, the leather would be apt enough protection for the time being.
Jon looked away from Hother and at the rest of the occupants of the keep. "You all have to make a choice. Bend the knee and re-affirm your pledges of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen or journey to the wall and take the black." Jon didn't bother giving a flowery speech to the small folk on what he planned to do as king or why they should re-pledge fealty. He doubted that most of them really cared and were just carrying out their liege lords orders. He wanted to hear the small folk but flowery words wouldn't win them over, they had had too much of those. They needed decisive actions. He had to prove he was different than their previous rulers, he couldn't just claim he was. They would give their loyalty out of fear and habit to submit to their overlords.
As Jon had expected all of them dropped to a knee. He turned back towards Hother after giving them leave to rise again. "You'll have chambers prepared for me and my sister as well as food and board for all of my army."
Hother seemed to relax after moving away from the uncomfortable subject of Jon's death and the Others. "Your Grace, we found your brother err-cousin. We have been keeping him safe here at Last Hearth until the Starks could reclaim the North."
Jon did his best to fake his surprise at them having Rickon, even if he had already known they had him. "Bran?" He asked excitedly. "You found Bran?" He internally winced as he lied there, he knew Bran was still missing and likely dead but he had to pretend he didn't know they had Rickon and it was easier to sell that lie with the wrong brother.
Hother ate it up like it was the sweetest honey. "I'm afraid not, Your Grace." He apologized. "We found the youngest boy, Rickon."
Jon forced himself to frown. "How do I know this boy you have is Rickon?" He asked with false skepticism. "How do I know you haven't trussed up some imposter to curry favor with your King?"
Hother shook his head quickly. "No, Your Grace, the Umbers would never do such a thing. We are loyal to the Starks." Jon only stared at him resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his insistence of the Umbers honor binding them. "He has a direwolf, Your Grace. He calls it Shaggydog I believe."
Jon faked shock. "You will take me and my sister to him to suss out the truth for ourselves."
Hother nodded eagerly. "Of course, Your Grace, if you would follow me?"
Jon nodded and followed him down the halls, his sword hand never leaving the wolf head pommel on Longclaw. He heard Sansa's quiet footsteps padding behind him and knew she was also following without bothering to look back to see.
Rickon was still in the same room that he had spied him in as a rat. The Maester was reading a book to him as he sat on his bed petting Shaggydog who appeared to be napping. On the foot of the bed. Jon eagerly overtook Hother and rushed past him slamming the door open.
Shaggydog's head shot up as the door crashed into the wall and jolted him awake. The Maester fell silent at the sudden intrusion as both him and Rickon turned to look at Jon standing in the doorway.
"Rickon." Jon exhaled in relief at seeing his brother safe and unharmed.
Shaddydog leaped up and bounded for Jon with unbridled enthusiasm, Rickon was only a step behind him as he stumbled on his way out of bed but also ran towards him.
Jon crouched down and rubbed behind the black direwolf's ears. "Thank you for keeping Rickon safe." He muttered quietly as the wolf purred in contentment.
He was soon knocked away from the last direwolf as Rickon barreled into his chest knocking him backward and onto his back. "Jon!" He squealed excitedly as he clung to his neck.
Sansa chose that moment to step into the room as well. "Rickon," she said softly her voice thick with emotion.
Rickon looked to her and after only a moment of hesitation crawled off of Jon's chest and leapt into her arms. "Mother!" He cried happily. "You finally came back!"
Jon and Sansa both flinched at that form of address. Rickon had been so little when he last saw them and Sansa did look remarkably similar to the late Lady Stark. He likely only recognized Jon because he knew that Jon was coming and the Umbers wanted Rickon to be excited to see him so their mummery would be as effective as possible. Still, it no doubt stung Sansa to hear that Rickon did not recognize her.
"That's not your mother Rickon," Jon said gently as he rose to his feet and put a hand on Rickons shoulder. "That is your sister, Sansa."
Rickon blushed. "Sorry Sansa, I thought you were mother." He smiled up at her. "I'm glad to see you again sister."
Sansa smiled through her tears. "Me too, Rickon. Me too."
"Why are you crying? Are you sad?" Rickon asked with an innocence that only a child could.
Sansa laughed. "I'm crying because I'm happy Rickon. I really missed you." She clutched him tighter to her chest.
After a moment Rickon sprung away from Sansa and to the Maester. "Now that Jon is here, can I see Osha?" He begged tugging on the Maesters arm.
The maester chuckled. "You stay here with the King and your sister, Lord Hother will go get her." '
Rickon cheered. "Stay here with Sansa," Jon told Rickon after only a moment of hesitation. "I'll go with Lord Hother to find her."
Sansa gave him a look in askance to what he was doing but Jon ignored her. He wanted to see the likely deplorable conditions they likely had the member of the Free Folk in for himself. He wanted to see how they were treating the woman his brother clearly cared about so much before they spiffed her up and pretended like she was living in luxury the whole time. He also wanted to speak to her about where Bran was and didn't want to bring up what was likely a sensitive subject in front of Rickon.
"Your Grace, that's hardly necessary." Lord Hother protested feebly.
Jon forced himself to smile. "I insist. I should be the first one to thank the woman who kept my brother safe for so long."
Lord Hother sighed wearily. "If you would follow me, Your Grace." He said resigned to the fact that Jon would see how she was likely imprisoned.
Jon was unsurprised when the maester took him into the dungeons where Osha was no doubt being held. He doubted that they would treat a member of the Free Folk with any regard with all the hostilities between them over the years. They would have to set their grievances aside and work together to stop the Long Night.
Jon followed in silence until they were at a cell holding who Jon could only assume was Osha. She was tall and lean with a hard face that was crisscrossed with a number of scars. She had long shaggy brown hair that was unevenly cut all around. She was dressed in the home-made furs that all of the Free Folk typically dressed themselves in.
Lord Hother fumbled with the keys to the cell. "Y-Your Grace, you have to understand we had to keep her here so people would not suspect that we had Rickon."
Jon gave Lord Hother another false smile. "Of course, all is forgiven now that Rickon is safe."
The cell swept open and Jon stepped inside. "I've been told you've been with Rickon for the last two years and kept him safe."
She looked at him with obvious suspicion. "So what if I did?" She asked defensively.
Jon gave an actually genuine smile. "I'm sorry I should have introduced myself. "I'm King Jon Targaryen, Rickon's brother." He held out his hand to her in a peace offering.
She eyed his hand but did not take it. "Rickon is a Stark. How can you be his brother if you're a Targeeyin or whatever?" She asked in suspicion.
Jon sighed and pulled back his hand. "That was poorly phrased. Rickon is my cousin, I grew up believing I was his half brother." She did not relax her posture at all at Jon's clarification still worried that this was some trap to hurt Rickon.
Jon pretended he did not notice her tense state. "I owe you a debt for keeping Rickon safe while no one else could, if there is anything I can do for you in return don't hesitate to ask."
She very clearly did not trust him still but she responded all the same. "You said you were some sort of King?"
Jon nodded. "I am, King of the Seven Kingdoms" he confirmed.
"I plead of you then, save my people. Allow us to settle south of the wall before winter comes and we all die." Osha pleaded her desperation coming through strong at the end.
Jon couldn't help himself, he laughed. He knew it was the wrong way to react but she wanted something he had already done before he was even the King. Judging by her glare she was clearly affronted at his reaction.
"When I was Lord Commander of The Night's Watch, I allowed the Free Folk south of the wall and to settle in the gift." Jon flinched at the reminder of what came of that decision. "I personally went to Hardhome to lead all of the people there." Jon sighed. "The Great Other attacked while we were boarding the ships to travel south of the wall. I'm sorry to say that only 10,000 of the Free Folk survived."
Osha looked heartbroken and understandably so. "I heard that rumor but I thought it was false, the crows would never make peace with us." She swallowed nervously. "My sister, Nara. Did she make it?"
Jon ran a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid I can't answer that question. I don't know her personally if she did. You would have to ask Tormund or someone else who might know. He's just outside, I can take you to him if you would like."
Osha furiously wiped away her tears and shook her head. "Can I see the Little Lord first?"
"Rickon?" Jon asked already sure of the answer. Sure enough, she nodded in confirmation.
"Lord Hother," Jon addressed the cowardly castellan who had given him the castle on the orders of his Liege Lord. "Would you lead us back to the room where Rickon is staying in?"
Hother bowed once more. "Of course, Your Grace."
As they followed Hother, Jon turned back to Osha. "I hate to ask this but I need to know, what happened to Bran?" He hesitated and then voiced his fear. "Is he dead?"
Osha frowned but shook her head. "He went with Hodor and the Reed children North of The Wall. They said he needed to become the Three-Eyed Raven."
Jon pinched his brow and marveled at his crippled brother's stupidity. Rangers often died going beyond the wall and he went there with a lackwit, and two children? There was almost no chance that Bran hadn't already died and joined the Great Other's army. What ever possessed Bran to make him think that going North of The Wall was a good idea? And what was a Three-Eyed Raven?
He could ask Davos to have the Night's Watch keep an eye out for Bran on their rangings but it wasn't something that either he or the Night's Watch could afford to commit too many resources to when he was likely just a wight.
Jon said nothing more to Osha as they walked back to Rickon's room in a companionable silence. They arrived back at his room to see Sansa and him curled up together on his bed while Shaggydog lied across their laps. They were talking quietly to each other as they snuggled.
The moment Rickon saw Jon and Osha standing in the doorway, he sprung up with an equally, excitable Shaggydog sprinting behind him. "Osha!" He squealed excitedly as he forgot about his siblings in favor of his protector. "I missed you so so so much." He cried as they embraced.
"I missed you too, Little Lord," Osha whispered tenderly to him.
A part of Jon was jealous that his littlest brother preferred Osha to him or his sister but Jon was just more happy that Rickon was alive and safe now. It was only understandable that he grew to care for the one human companion he had for the last two years even more than he loved his family. All that mattered is that they were together again and they would not be torn apart ever again. Not by the Boltons, Lannisters, or even the Others. He would not lose them all again.
Jon and Sansa are finally connecting, sort of, at least. The uphill climb to a somewhat functioning normalish relationship will be a gradual one. She's finally opening up and learning that she needs to trust Jon now- at least kind of. Jon is likewise learning that he has to trust her and not trusting her is more dangerous than doing so.
I assume by selling Sansa to Ramsay, he was attempting to gain control of the North. You can debate if that was actually needed but her child would have the indisputable claim and she would be their regent. It's the only way that the decision makes any sense from Baelish who claims to care about Sansa. Chaos is a ladder is one of my favorite quotes from the show, in spite of the awful context it was used in. That logic makes his decision to just give Sansa away make more sense, if he wants the Kingdoms divided and chaos to reign then breaking the alliance between the North and the Crown is a logical step. He needs the realm divided if he's to be King like he wants with no noble blood.
I actually really wanted the Boltons to capture Rickon but it being the Umbers who turned him over to them and the fact that Jon would have to be an idiot to not spy on the Last Hearth; made this outcome inevitable.
Why did the Umber side with the Boltons? I'd presume that they either thought Jon couldn't win even with them which seems like a stretch or they were still angry about Robb renegading on his vows and causing the Red Wedding that killed the Greatjon? I went with the latter option. Of course, like all men in the world, the Umbers are going to primarily care about their own interests and they'd be a fool to not use Rickon to try to get an in with a claimant to the Iron Throne.
The Dance with Dragons Prologue is so good. There are three events that we learn are considered abominations by wargs there. To eat human flesh, to mate with wolf as wolf, and to warg a human. We know Varamyr thinks those limitations made him weaker and implies that you become stronger by breaking the rules. We know that Bran becomes stronger as a wary after warning Hodor for the first time, and after eating the Jojen paste, among other things that are less clear cut.
So what are those negatives that made them be considered abominations? If they had no negatives to them then everyone would do them and they wouldn't be forbidden. The likely answer is they cause you to lose your morals, as we see very clearly with Bran in the books and even more so in the show where he's left an emotionless shell. That being said I'm not writing Jon as a complete psychopath who doesn't feel emotions so I'm saying they take on more and more of the animal's personalities with each act they commit. For Ravens that might be distant, closed off, and emotionless but for Dragons that is more angry, possessive, prideful and solitary. There is still fewer morals due to the acts but more of a shift than a lack of morals.
Poor Jon accidentally broke the first rule in the second chapter, completely unknowing of the consequences. He is forced to turn to Varamyr for answers about the consequences of that act, in spite of not trusting him due to how little knowledge he has on the subject and the lack of other avenues to find that knowledge. He needed to know so he confides in Varamyr.
Jon is mostly just being paranoid at the Free Folk deciding to not follow him because he changed targets to Last Hearth at the news of Rickon being there. He was just murdered by people he trusted for doing what was right in his heart rather than the popular choice that was considered tactically wise.
Jon is quickly learning how terribly slimy politics are and that sometimes he has to play nice with people who want him dead or play to the tune of their manipulations in order to keep his crown.
Shockingly, Jon remembers that the ultimate enemy is the dead and that they need to be burned to stop them from coming back. Crazy concept I know.
Unfortunately, I'm going back to weekly updates. With the quickly increasing chapter lengths and the return to the real world as the quarantine comes to an end, I can no longer commit to writing two chapters a week. Next Friday, will be the next chapter and it'll be the first one told from Tyrion's POV.
Thanks for reading, make sure to follow so you don't miss the next chapter.