Jon Snow The Literal Fire-Breathing Dragon

by Umbrakinetic

Jon Snow was dead, betrayed by his own brothers. Ghost had tried to avenge him but was eventually taken down by the same men. Wargs don't truly die however so Jon finds himself reincarnated in the body of the animal he has the next closest connection to, a dragon he's never met. Specifically Daenerys's dragon, Rhaegal. RLJ

26. Jon IX Edmure I

There was something different about being on Rhaegal's back then from seeing through his eyes as they flew. As a dragon he was biologically enhanced to see just fine through the thin air and have the wind brush off against his scales, even flying at high velocities.

As a human it was different, they couldn't fly at the same speeds or else Jon would be lost to the wind. He had flown slower with Daenerys on his back not wanting to endanger her, and just enjoying her company but he hadn't thought he would have to do the same on his own. The wind beat brutally against his face and Jon had to squint to see at all. His air whipped back and forth into his face and obscured his vision even more, in the future he would have to remember to tie it back before seating himself on Rhaegals back.

Seeing Rhaegal in person and being on Rhaegal's back felt so right. He was Rhaegal and well apart they had been together but actually being together was something different. He could reach out to Rhaegal's mind and caress it just as he could stroke his scales right now. They belonged like this- together.

There was something so empowering about being seated on Rhaegal's back that made him feel like more of a King than he had ever before. When the Free Folk had bowed both when he walked out of the pyre and when they agreed to fight for him; he had not felt this powerful. Even standing atop the walls of the Last Hearth and watching as he made thousands kneel when he ravaged the Boltons as Rhaegal had not felt this empowering.

The power he wielded while on Rhaegal's back was intoxicating. The world was so small beneath him when he looked with his weak human eyes. All it would take to see the world burn was one thought to Rhaegal and the fire would rise up.

Te temptation was there it would be so horrible but so beautiful. He didn't want to see all the innocents die of course, but the flames were beautiful and there was some temptation to let the world burn, and see the flames wreak havoc on the world below. He wouldn't do such a thing, there were better targets at the very least than innocents and he could hardly go around burning everything if he wanted people to see him as more than the Mad King's grandson.

"Soon," Jon whispered to himself. They were on their way to Riverrun now, to gain him his second Kingdom. He would break the Frey's army and return Riverrun to Edmure Tully who was a hostage of the Freys presuming nothing had changed in exchange for their fealty and support. If something had changed then he would negotiate with the Blackfish but that would most likely be considerably more difficult. In a perfect world, he would have Sansa by his side here as their kin but he needed her in the Vale more.

He knew what he was asking of her was cruel and manipulative; she'd likely hate him for being insensitive enough to send her back to Littlefinger but he had to do what was best for his Kingdom. She had told him what Baelish wanted most in the world and by helping Jon claim the throne, he could hypothetically have it. Sure he had technically given her the choice on how to get him the Vale but he knew that she would likely choose the option that assured the Vale siding with him and didn't risk her own life for her part in the murder of Lysa Arryn. Even if that meant doing what she hated the most, and saddling up to Lord Baelish again.

It was odd to be working with someone who he knew was actively plotting his and his Daenerys's assassination but that's what it took to get the twenty-five-thousand swords that the Vale could give him. For the time being, their interests were mutually aligned, and until he claimed the throne; Baelish would be stupid to try anything against him. Their army wouldn't band together behind Sansa like they did him and they would lose the dragons that guaranteed their victory.

He truly hated politics. How had his Daenerys spent a year governing Meereen? He was already sick of it and he had only been doing this for a few months already. He wanted to help people but the games that he had to play were awful and disgusting. All he did these days seemed to be working with people who would conspire to take his place and use him for their own gain. He knew the Umbers had planned to turn his brother over to the Boltons yet he had to praise them for keeping him safe. Lord Baelish would be plotting his murder but he had to thank him for coming to his aid. All of the Northern Lords had considered him useless and lower than dirt when he was just Ned Stark's bastard but now that he was a King, they treated him with the utmost respect and would lick his boots if he asked.

He missed the days when he saw the world in black and white, honorable, and scum. He missed when people were honest with him because he was worth so little, he missed when he could be honest with people. All he did these days was manipulate people, play with their emotions, and use them for his own gain. He knew that he and his Daenerys needed to sit the Iron Throne for them to survive the Winter and he didn't deny that he wanted to be King but he missed when things were so simple. Even Sam he had manipulated, his sister he had never been honest with, Daenerys he hadn't told who he was to, and Davos he had used to hide his heritage. The closest thing he had to someone he could be honest with was Tormund but even then he still had to hide things. He knew he needed to see the world in shades of grey and break bread with his enemies or else he would wind up like his brother and uncle had, dead because they weren't able to play the game by the already established rules.

He had sent Tormund to the wall anyway, so it would be a while until he saw him again. He had given him the task of escorting all of the Lannister prisoners there in order to take the black. He would be gone for at least a few months as they had to move slowly and in multiple cycles, as the soldiers had to be carried in carts to and fro so they didn't have a chance to escape. The Lannisters were almost as numerous as his free folk so they had to make multiple trips to and fro the wall.

He had left Lyanna Mormont in charge of things back at Last Hearth. Ideally, he would have been able to stay and oversee the aftermath of the battle but he needed to strike before the Freys knew he had a dragon and could prepare accordingly. Like with the Lannisters, surprise was his biggest advantage as all their siege towers that could theoretically harm Rhaegal would be facing towards the castle they meant to take and not from behind them where Jon planned to strike from.

Perhaps he could have delayed Sansa's trip to the Vale but he trusted Lyanna Mormont just as much as he trusted her, more so even, she had antagonized him while he was holding the Last Hearth in waiting for Rhaegal's arrival but she hadn't tried to undermine him like Sansa had done, even if she had been better since. Lyanna had argued but not disobeyed. She might not agree with his decision to hold Jamie Lannister as a hostage instead of executing him but she would not disobey his command.

From a political standpoint, it was probably better to leave the Smalljon in charge since everyone believed that he had kept Rickon safe with only the purest of intentions; not to mention that the Last Hearth was his holdfast, one that the Mormonts had no claim to. Jon didn't care, he wouldn't trust the Umbers with Rickon ever again. He had left Osha there to be his keeper but Lyanna did have the ultimate authority, for the time being.

There was also the added benefit that giving Lyanna such an honored position even if only short term, would appeal to Daenerys. He knew that she held some fondness towards Jorah Mormant for some reason he didn't quite understand, he knew that it went beyond the simple he saved her life explanation too. He had betrayed her to Robert Baratheon, how could she forgive him? Lyanna was her kin and he hoped that same fondness would apply. Lyanna was also a women and would show that he was serious about wanting to break the wheel with her. He had named Lyanna because he found her character well suited for the role, in spite of her young age but there were other benefits to be found in the arrangement.

Jon would get the first domino in the Riverlands today, Sansa the largest piece of the Vale and they would hopefully both have returned to Winterfell in three weeks' time to meet with the Lords of the North and he would gain the loyalty of those who hadn't been at the Last Hearth. The Reach, and the Westerlands would still likely outmatch his numbers but they didn't have dragons. Once Daenerys returned to Westeros with the unsullied and the Iron Fleet the numbers would shift in their favor.

He, of course, had to worry about the Stormlands ignoring the obvious fact that Tommen was a bastard and using their military force against him. He hoped that they would refuse to participate in the war and remain neutral since he knew it would be impossible to get them to rally behind him without a Baratheon for them to rally behind. Seeing as how Cersei had killed all of the Baratheon bastards that seemed to be an impossible task.

He had no clue where Dorne would fall in this conflict. On one hand, the Lannisters had murdered his siblings and Elia Martell when they took King's Landing. Robert Baratheon had laughed when presented with the children's bodies. If Jon was anyone else, he was confident they would side with him, if it was just his Daenerys who would be ruling then they would almost certainly side with her without any marriage alliances.

But Jon was the son of the Northern Whore, Lyanna Stark. The one who had shamed Elia Martell at the tourney of Hareenhal when Rhaegar had named her the Queen of Love and Beauty; and again, when Rhaegar had started a war because he fell in love with her- a love that had been mutual and indirectly lead to the death of Elia Martell. With Myrcella Baratheon married to Trystane Martell, the odds of them spurning the Lannisters seemed to be long at best. Sansa was right about his pending marriage to his Daenerys ruining the opportunity to ally with Dorne but he remained adamant that was the best decision, not just the selfish one although it was that too. Daenerys wouldn't step aside and let him have the throne to himself. He knew her better than that and a war with her would destroy Westeros.

Jon could see The Twins below him now and fought the urge to demolish them into ashes. That was where his brother had died when he wrongly tried to proclaim himself a King and repeated the mistakes of Jon's own father. He had allowed himself to love someone he could not love, he had chosen love over his Kingdom and while Robb's actions hadn't caused a war, they had resulted in his, his wife, his mother, and all of his men's death. Robb's actions had also led to Sansa's torture at the hands of Ramsay Bolton. A small part of him hated his brother for his actions, almost as much as he hated his own parents. Even then, he was still angered by his brother's death and desired to avenge him.

The temptation was so strong to destroy them now and avenge his brother but he had to wait. Defeating the Bolton now had been necessary, and a show of power. The Boltons had betrayed the Starks and taken advantage of the Red Wedding. They held Winterfell. Their deaths were something many desired but they hadn't been nearly as personal for the Northern Lords as the Freys were. The Freys were the instigators of the Red Wedding, the ones who had butchered their fathers and brothers. They wanted to get revenge personally, not just hear about them burning at his hands. Perhaps promising revenge on the Freys is what got him the allegiance of the Tullys, he would be a fool to give his vengeance away freely when it was a tool he could use as a bargaining chip.

Riding on Rhaegal was soothing and gave Jon a peace that he hadn't felt since before his death or perhaps more accurately, Ghost's death. He hadn't realized it right away but he felt like a part of himself was missing while Rhaegal was in Meereen but he hadn't reconciled that with himself. Now, here on Rhaegal's back, he felt more complete than ever before. He and Rhaegal were two minds as one who occupied two bodies interchangeably.

Perhaps peace wasn't the right word, he didn't feel like diplomatically negotiating with the Freys for peace or anything of the sort- he still desired vengeance, fire, and blood. More than ever even. Things just felt right within himself, this was who he was meant to be. A Targaryen King, a dragon himself, riding atop a dragon. The only thing that would make this experience better was if he had his Daenerys flying beside him on his Drogon.

He missed them so much, he missed flying with Drogon and Viserion during the days, over the expansive Dothraki Sea. He missed visiting with his Daenerys in the mornings and conversing with her through odd shakes of his head. That would likely never occur again, he had given Jorah a letter that would undoubtedly reveal his connection to Rhaegal- that he was him. The next time they spoke, it would be face to face as humans, hopefully as mates and not enemies.

Jon would confess that he was terrified she would feel betrayed by finding out who Jon was from a source other than himself. He knew she trusted Rhaegal more than any other and would undoubtedly feel hurt that he hadn't shown the same trust in her. Jon had, of course, done his best to express the truth to her through vague gestures and nods but unless she had guessed what he wanted her to ask, how was he supposed to convey that Rhaegal is Prince Jon. He might think that he hadn't lied to her about anything but he was not at all confident that she would see it the same way.

In a perfect world, Jon would be able to tell her in person when she accepted his offer of marriage as equals and explain things to her but that wasn't possible. Varys had discerned the truth of Jon's secret identity as had Sansa and more would soon follow. He had been incredibly foolish, making no endeavors to hide Rhaegal's high intellect. Although to be fair, he hadn't exactly expected to come back from the dead.

Regardless, Jon had little doubt that she would know his identity before coming to Westeros at this point. He would love nothing more than to fly over to Meereen right now and speak with her in person but that was impossible. He had a kingdom to run, a kingdom that he would not be able to keep if he randomly took a two-week sabbatical in the midst of a war.

Had Jorah arrived yet? Did she know that he was Rhaegal? Had she responded to his betrothal offer? Had she said no? That was a fear that had been recurring since he left Meereen, without Rhaegal there, and knowing how she would react and being able to influence her that way he was completely in the dark.

He knew that she would feel at least somewhat betrayed that he had used her fears in explaining the reasons why she should accept his betrothal. He had used what she had told him in confidence against her. He hadn't planned on her knowing who he was at the time, his logical reasons were meant to be just that logical- not emotional manipulation. He still hoped that she would see his reasoning as it was intended; not blatant manipulation and logic and would decide to accept the offer but he was worried. She had every right to be upset with him for that and she almost certainly would be.

Jon yawned. They had ridden through the night and Jon was fatigued from his constant state of alertness. He had not slept since the previous night- even then only for a few hours at a time to fight off his exhaustion. He had expected there to be a mutiny again as the Boltons camped outside their gates and as such had not slept that much. Most of his resting time had been spent warged as a Raven he had in his room, so he could watch for any intruders who planned to kill him while also letting his body recover. Thankfully, none had come.

Controlling a Raven as the only voice was not an easy task, he could control the bird but it did take considerable energy and while his body was recuperating during his time as a bird, his mind had not. Perhaps it would have been smart to rest for the night- he would almost certainly still outpace a raven on it's way to Riverrun even with a quick pit stop for the night. Regardless, it was far too late for that now. He had chosen his path and as long as he never got off of Rhaegal's back until the battle was over, he would do his part just fine even while tired.

He could spot what Jon thought was Riverrun now, he had admittedly never been there so it was theoretically possible he was mistaken. A triangular castle surrounded by waters on all sides. The castle was a reddish color- sandstone walls they were Jon knew from his reading in preparation for this very moment. Camped outside the castle were dozens of tents likely stocked with Frey men. On top of the castle flew unrecognizable flags to Jon's human eyes from such a distance on a windy day like today.

Jon gave Rhaegal a mental command to stop moving forward so he would be at less risk of following off. He then warged into Rhaegal and used the dragon's enhanced eyesight- designed to pierce through the elements. He could see the flag in clear enough notice the red and blue stripes and the blobby grey thing in the middle that he could only assume was the silver trout of House Tully. Satisfied with the results of his investigation, Jon warged back into his human skin. Alongside it was the direwolf banner of House Stark. The Tullys appeared to still hold some loyalty to the Starks, which would likely make his job easier.

He had slid off of Rhaegal's back slightly and was one powerful gust of wind away from falling to his death. Perhaps, he shouldn't try warging into Rhaegal again while on his back- at least not until he had a saddle of some sort to fasten himself in even as his body slacked and went into unconsciousness.

His investigation had proved as fruitful as he had hoped. The Tully's still held Riverrun against the Freys which meant that they would be indebted to him when he broke the siege and his journey wasn't pointless. Between saving their lives and land, along with having Sansa as his hand made the odds of him winning their loyalty almost a certain success.

Jon gave Rhaegal the subconscious order to fly higher, out of sight of their army so they could loop back around and avoid being caught in the crosshairs of the ballistae that the Freys had built for their siege on the castle. Thankfully, there weren't too many of them as they seemed content to simply starve the Tullys out. They were also primarily encircling the western side that was only protected by a moat and not a pair of rivers with strong currents that made crossing difficult. That made things simpler for Jon as he only needed to be wary of enemies in one direction largely. He could

Jon clenched his thighs around Rhaegal's back to hold himself steady and reached into his gambeson for a copper ringlet. It was a different ringlet then the one he had previously worn as that one had already burned through but it's purpose was the same. To complete the look and intimidate his enemies- to let them see that he was who he claimed to be if the dragon didn't already show it. The crown of fire on him proved that magic existed though and that opened up the possibility of other magics like the Others existing to the close-minded.

He pulled out a small vial filled with burning oil and emptied it onto the crown. He then pulled out a dry rag and doused that in oil as well. He had Rhaegal stop moving and removed a piece of flint which he dragged against Rhaegals scales to create sparks that fell onto the oil dosed rag, catching it on fire. Rhaegal whined slightly at the uncomfortable sensation but Jon knew that it had caused him no pain. He then picked up the burning rag, ignoring the pleasant sensations that the flames on his fingertips caused him to experience and draped the rag over the crown. As expected, the crown caught fire as well. Satisfied with the results of that endeavor he placed the crown upon his brow and clenched the rag with one fist until it had been completely burnt through and could be easily discarded.

Rhaegal let out a loud roar that could be heard for miles and it caused, all the onlookers below them to glance up at the sky. Satisfied that he now had their attention, Jon then gave the command to dive down to the ground.

They broke into a dive at much higher velocities than Jon had experienced as just Rhaegal's rider and not Rhaegal himself. His grip tightened around Rhaegal's spinal ridges and his thighs clenched hard around the dragon as he hung on for dear life. Riding a dragon was harder than it looked. Yet, there was something so thrilling about plummeting towards his death that made him want to whoop with glee.

As they neared the ground, Jon ordered Rhaegal to swoop back up, and shot a burst of fire harmlessly into the skies. Intimidation not destruction was the goal here. He gently lowered himself down on the outer edges of the camp and Rhaegal sat raised on his haunches as over a thousand men looked towards them in fear and trepidation.

Jon's breath was short and came in labored huffs after that high-speed dive. His head was pounding and his heart was beating faster than ever before. He needed a moment to re-orient himself before proceeding.

Jon's head no longer felt the flames ticking at his skin. He gingerly reached his hand up to his crown and found it sticky with oil but no longer aflame. It appeared that the harsh winds had blown the fire out on the dive down. His crown would be an accessory only used while on the ground apparently as the wind was too strong to keep the flames alive in the air.

Finally coherent, Jon gave Rhaegal the signal to roar once more, shaking the earth. The dragon then let out an inferno of flames straight into the sky. All eyes around the campground were locked onto him in terror. Even the Tully soldiers were clustered on the walls of Riverrun looking out to see what the commotion was about. Just as he wanted.

The moment Rhaegal fell silent, Jon filled in, in his absence. "I am King Jon of Houses Stark, and Targaryen," He recited. "Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The unburnt, the resurrected one, and the Dragon."

"House Frey has betrayed their oaths of Fealty to Robb Stark, House Targaryen, and House Tully. They have betrayed the Gods themselves- both the old and the new by breaking Guest Right and murdering Robb Stark at the wedding of their Lord Paramount Edmure Tully. The Gods are just and will have their vengeance for the crimes of House Frey."

"Every man who picks up their sword and turns it against anyone over the age of four and ten bearing the name Frey will be pardoned by the crown for their treason against both House Targaryen." The moment Jon said that, people immediately began to move into action. Swords were out and being thrust into the sides of the men who he presumed were Freys. "...King Robb Stark, and House Tully."

"Anyone who chooses to stand with House Frey will be burnt alive by my dragon. Any child who is killed under the age of four and ten; regardless of their name- their killer will join them in death. Anyone who uses this opportunity to kill a man not bearing the name Frey will be charged with murder." He shouted out although the noise of the fighting made him skeptical that he was truly heard.

The Frey's were losing, there might be around three-hundred men Frey men but the majority of the soldiers here were their bannerman who hadn't remained loyal to House Tully. Even if every Frey fought for the Freys. The other men would outnumber them and likely win even if everyone who had the blood of a Frey fought on their behalf and Jon or the men camped within Riverrun didn't join in. He expected neither of those to be the case.

Some of the Freys who had married into other Houses would likely turn on their kin to save their own skins. They would use that house as a shield to protect themselves from a dragon's wrath and hope that by turning on their kin they could be forgiven. Only the men who were actually named Freys would fight for the Freys.

There was a sense of poetic justice in this moment of triumph as he watched a bald man bearing the crest twin towers of House Frey on his gambeson was run through by three separate blades and a stray arrow, likely aimed for the fallen Frey hit one of the aggressors in the arm; a man who wore the mistletoe sigil of House Charlton. House Charlton had long been vassals of House Frey and their current Lady was married to a Frey bastard even but still, they when faced by a dragon, did not hesitate to turn on them.

There was poetic justice for the Freys. They had broken guest right and they were dying in a similar manner; granted vows of Fealty was nowhere near the magnitude of guest right it was still a dishonorable death; being betrayed in a place where they should have felt safe. They were being butchered by their own kin even; distant kin maybe but it was still kinslaying nonetheless. The best part is no one would judge the men who butchered the Freys for murdering their kin. Almost everyone in all the Seven Kingdoms would agree that this is what they deserved.

Jon was hardly familiar with southern religion but even he knew that the Seven-Pointed Star wrote: "And if any wrongdoing follows, then thou shalt give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, foot for foot, and burning for burning. For thou gods always demand justice for sins done against men as if they were done unto the gods, this is the holy decree of the seven. Let every man's crimes be repaid unto them in an equal measure." The Freys had broken guest right, and even kinslaying was less sacred than that. Any method that he used even if he were to break guest right against the Freys would be considered equal measure by the seven and karma by the old gods.

A trumpet sounded and then the drawbridge that barred the gateway to Riverrun began to lower, clearly the sight of his dragon had emboldened the Blackfish to finally join the battle with his few hundred men that had been holed up in the castle.

They charged into the chaos on foot the moment the bridge had dropped. The Blackfish at the front of their charge with flag bearers flying the Trout of House Tully alongside the direwolf of House Stark flanking the sides of their army.

An arrow flew through the air in the direction of his face before Rhaegal lifted his head and blocked the projectile with his hardened scales. The arrow fell uselessly to the ground, unable to cause the dragon even an iota of pain. He looked towards the terrified archer who had fired the arrow in his direction and grinned savagely. He leaned forward and gripped the ridges of Rhaegal's spine in his fists.

"Rhaegal, Ossēnagon." He said quietly and together they leaped onto the form of the archer who had recklessly attacked him.

---

Edmure had been sitting in a dark cell for what he was sure was over a year now, he had lost sense of how long it had been a while ago. He sat in a dark empty cell, alone with only scraps for meals and not even a cot to sleep on ever since his wedding to that accursed Frey girl, Roslin. Every once in a while he would be dragged outside with a knife to his throat and they would boast to his uncle about how they would kill him if he did not surrender the castle to them. Other times, they would torture him for his uncle to watch as they whipped him or beat him.

There was very little love between him and Brynden but it still hurt to see his uncle tell Ser Emmon to kill him each time they marched him out there. Edmure knew that it was the smart decision on his uncle's part to tell them that; they had proven they wouldn't do it and he knew in his head that Ser Emmon Frey would never throw away his leverage like that. Judging by the fact that they hadn't yet attempted to storm the castle, they were clearly weren't willing to damage the building so keeping Edmure alive for the time being was crucial to Ser Emmon.

Yet, seeing his uncle tell them to kill him was painful every time. While Edmure wished he would find the strength to do the same if Brynden was captured. Heck, Brynden would encourage him to do just that but Edmure was uncertain if he would have that same resolve to throw his uncle to the lions like that. Family, Duty, Honor, those were the words of House Tully; in that particular order even. Should not his uncle prioritize his life over his duty to hold the castle against the Freys? Over his honor that wouldn't allow him to surrender? Family was supposed to come first but his uncle seemed to have forgotten that.

All of their words were just a joke now in all fairness. They had forsaken their bonds of family by going on the defensive after the red wedding instead of striking back to rescue him and avenge King Robb. The Freys were even their kin by his god-forsaken marriage but they had forsaken the words of their house the night that they had joined their houses.

They had all forsaken their duty to protect their overlord, to protect their king. They had regened on their duty for selfish gain. Only he seemed to remember his duty to his King but he was trapped in this cell, unable to enact his King's will.

There was a clap of what Edmure could only assume was thunder. Odd considering how he didn't hear any of the patterings of rain along with the thunder but not entirely unwelcome.

He supposed he wasn't the only one who remembered their duty, there was another it seemed. A Frey of all people even; the world had truly had truly gone mad if the only person left with even a smidgeon of honor was a blasted Frey. Olyvar Frey to be precise, a boy of eight and ten before his cursed wedding; probably a year older by now.

Olyvar had been the squire to King Robb before his foolish wedding to the Queen Talisa Maegyr. When he had first brought Edmure food aside from the cursed slop that they fed him every day to make sure he stayed alive, Edmure had thought it poisoned and refused to eat. Olyvar had whispered Long live Robb Stark, the King in the North, each time and left with the tantalizing food, not wanting to risk his loyalty to Robb being exposed by leaving the food with him. He would have to eat it while Olyvar was on guard duty to his cell or Olyvar would die for his treasonous acts at least that's what he claimed; Edmure had thought it a trap.

Then he had been marched outside by Ser Emmon and Brynden had encouraged the Freys to kill him already. The next time that Olyvar came by with a rich smelling bread and some burnt pork with specs of dirt and some sauce he didn't recognize. He knew the food had come from the trash, the waste that wasn't good enough for the Freys to put upon their own plates but it still looked much better then the slop they fed him. Edmure had given in to the temptation and ate it, it had tasted even better than it looked and smelled. If his uncle wanted him dead and would not surrender under any circumstances then he was as good as dead anyway, how was poison any better than the noose?

To his shock and satisfaction, the food had not been poisoned. That time or the hundreds of other times after then. Olyvar truly did appear to be loyal to King Robb and could carry out his will while Edmure could not. Yet Edmure remained suspicious about if this was a trap by another honorless Frey. What if he was only being kind to him to extract this information from him? What if they had figured out that Robb had to have an heir and needed Edmure to tell them who it was since all the other witnesses to his will had been murdered at his wedding?

Besides even if he did tell Olyvar who their King was, what would it change? No one would believe the word of a Frey proclaiming that a bastard was the King's heir and after his death he would be their King. Right now his King was protected from the Lannisters and Freys by his vows to the Night's Watch that Robb had absolved him of. If he left the watch when Olyvar reached him with word of King Robb's will then he would be executed as a deserted to the Night's Watch. He would just be sending both Olyvar and his King to their deaths.

Edmure had to stay alive if he wanted to serve his King; right now his death would mean the end of King Robb's legacy and the end of House Stark. He had to be the King's herald for men to believe that he was truly the heir of King Robb. He couldn't just shout it out to the crowd when he was dragged out as a hostage either, if he did that then the Freys would be waiting at the wall to kill his King once more before he could escape. He would not let his King die because of his actions- not again.

He had not been idle sitting in his cell since that revelation, he had not twidled his thumbs and waited for death to come to him. He might be weaker than usual from the lack of food but he had taken to exercising to pass the time so he retained some of his usual strength. When there was an opening he would escape and race to the wall to inform the King of his predecessors will.

That opening would likely have to come once they finally took Riverrun, and were too drunk to have proper security. Only then would he ask Olyvar to free him and trust him with the knowledge of who King Robb's heir was. Escape might be a longshot but he would die fighting at the very least instead of on his knees.

His duty told him not to give up his castle to the Freys, even temporarily. He would be betraying his family to serve a King that he shared no blood with. He would be dishonorable in his method of escape but he had sworn a vow to his king and he would fulfill his duty to his King.

House Tully would come to an end with his uncle and him, if he did nothing. He wanted his uncle to surrender not just for the sake of his own life but in order to keep his house alive. His uncle would be killed, and he soon after but they would die anyway. The Frey girl might carry his child and the child might share his blood but he wouldn't truly be a Tully despite what his blood might say. He would be named as a Frey, raised by Freys, and be betrothed to a Frey who he would marry when he came of age. He would never learn what their house words meant or who his forefathers were. He would never learn to love his King Robb Stark or have a sense of honor. The boy would be a Frey in every way. He was thinking of the future of his house when he wished to see his uncle surrender.

He would not be doing his duty as the Lord of Riverrun by fleeing the castle but he would be doing his duty as the sole living witness to the will of King Robb. He would be doing his duty to his King and King Robb was family even if his successor wasn't. The Freys would get the amount of honor that they deserved which was exactly none, House Tully was no weakling who would let their honor stop them from repaying in kind to those who dishonored them.

Another roar of thunder wrenched Edmure out of his musings. It was a bestial noise, unlike any thunder he had ever heard before. It sounded impossibly close now, as if the storm was directly overhead. He glanced around expecting to see lightning but his cell was windowless so of course, he saw nothing.

He allowed himself to fantasize about the Gods actually being just and the lightning that was directly overhead would strike Ser Emmon down. After him then Black Walder would fall to the Gods' wrath, followed by Ser Ryman than Ser Aegon and Ser Patrek until soon all the Freys besides the lone good one, Olyvar.

He snorted at the thought as if that would ever happen. The Gods were not just, if they were then King Robb would still live and the Freys would all be dead. More likely, the lightning would strike his uncle and give Ser Emmon Riverrun by fluke chance. That seemed to be who the Gods were these days. Granted, he wanted Ser Emmon to take Riverrun so he might be able to escape but he still didn't want his uncle dead.

He sat in silence ruminating his potential escape and how he would break the news to his King. How would his King react? If he was at all like how Catelyn had described him then he would no doubt jump at the opportunity to claim power. Although the way Robb had spoken of him made him think that Catelyn had been biased and projected her fears of who the bastard could be onto who he was. He would be just like Robb, a good King but wiser than his brother. He would give them their vengeance on the Freys and their independence from the Lannisters.

There were screams coming from outside now; he couldn't hear much but the voices crying out were too numerous for him to not hear anything. Had the Freys finally gone on the offensive against Riverrun? Or had the gods truly been just and struck their camp with lightning and sent their army into a panic? That would be a pleasant surprise but he doubted it was the case. More likely the screams he heard were the sound of his uncle and his men dying. Hopefully, they killed some Freys on their way out at the very least.

"Get up!" A voice barked at him harshly.

Edmure slowly turned towards the voice and took in the sight of the Frey man who had shouted at him. His eyes were frantically scanning the room and he held a dagger in one hand as well as a torch in the other. His skin was weasely and he was as unattractive as any Frey. If Edmure was remembering correctly then he was Ser Ryman.

"I said get up!" He snapped once more at him. Edmure wasn't sure why this was so urgent, perhaps his uncle had gained the upper hand and they were looking to reclaim their position by using him as a hostage. Regardless of why the Frey wanted him to move, if a Frey wanted it then he didn't.

The Frey scowled at him when he refused to move. He stuck the key in the lock and threw the door open in spite of no backup or waiting until he was clearly unable to counterattack. He immediately went over to Edmure with a scowl. "Get up now!" He snapped and thrust the dagger towards him.

Whatever was going on outside had him thinking that he needed Edmure, the screams seemed to indicate that his uncle had done something and they wanted to use him as a hostage to regain control of the situation that had quickly grown chaotic. If there was a battle right now then the chaos could give him the cover he needed to escape. He seemed to be alone with only one Frey in his way. Granted; the Frey had a weapon and Edmure did not but he only had to defeat one opponent to possibly get free and to go tell his King of the will of King Robb. He knew he would not have a better chance than this.

The Frey grabbed onto his sackcloth gown that was the only clothing he had worn during his captivity and Edmure struck. He spun out of the Frey's grip and lashed out with a fist to the Freys nose.

The Frey stumble back and lashed out with a blind swipe of his dagger. The dagger missed him since the Frey had been pushed back away from him.

Edmure lowered his shoulder and charged the Frey guard, tackling him to the ground. That was not his best idea as the Frey's torch that he held in his left fist reflexively flicked towards Edmure's unguarded back as he fell. Edmure let out a small scream as his back was burned and quickly rolled off the Frey.

The Frey dropped the torch and it rolled away into a puddle of water plunging the room back into complete darkness. Edmure could only see the vague outline of his opponent but the Frey seemingly couldn't even see that much as he spun around and blindly lashed out with his dagger away from Edmure.

Edmure once again charged towards the Frey and tackled him to the ground. He landed on top of the semi-armored soldier and slammed his fist into his unprotected face. Or at least, he tried to but he missed the mark and instead hit his neck which was covered in chainmail.

"Fuck," he cursed as he knuckles stung. Still, he wouldn't let himself be distracted by that pain. He slammed his fist down once more a little higher up this time and his fist found purchase on his jaw. He slammed his fists down repeatedly on the Freys' unprotected face; reigning down blow after blow until he felt the Frey go slack underneath him.

Exhausted Edmure rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He laid there unmoving for a while before sighing and groping around for the Freys dagger. He could escape now, he wouldn't waste his chance because he was in pain or needed to rest.

At last, his fingers found what he had been searching for. He tightened his grip around the handle only to let go with a cry of pain. Blood ran down his fingertips sr his right hand was littered with cuts now. It appeared that he had accidentally grabbed the weapon by the blade and not the handle as he had intended.

He tentatively reached out for the dagger again, this time running his hands over the top of the weapon rather than just grabbing as he had before. He felt the smooth part of the blade with his bloody hands and continued onwards, tracing the weapon until he found the cool leather of the handle.

He sighed in relief even as he winced at the pain of using his palm when he gripped the weapon once again and this time did not get injured by it. He pulled his right hand now clutching the dagger back to him and then with only a moment of hesitation he transferred the blade to his left hand. He was not at all experienced in fighting with his left holding the blade but he wasn't sure he could even hold onto the blade if he met any resistance while using his mangled right hand.

Edmure hauled himself to his feet, his blistering back groaning in pain as he did so. He did his best to shut it out and focus on his escape. He exited the cell through the door that the Frey had left open and followed the path down the somewhat familiar hallway of Stone Mill where he had been held captive for the past however long. He had been marched through the hallways on multiple occasions to be trusted up before his uncaring uncle. This was the first time that he made the walk under his own power, by his own choice.

He waded through a dark sticky liquid that judging by the corpses on the ground appeared to be blood. What was going on here that would lead to so many Freys indiscriminately slaughtered? Did it matter what it was if it got him the chance to be free? The Freys deserved what they got and then some.

His vision was flooded with light as he reached the top floor of the building and a windowed room. There were more dead men lying on the ground up there, all bearing the Frey coat of arms. An abundance of holes on their body. He ignored the corpses and exited the building to what could only be described as madness.

There was an actual dragon sitting on the ground outside Riverrrun with a rider on it's back as it chewed on a distinctively human figure. The man had a rugged but handsome face and dark hair, not too unlike that of Eddard Stark before his death. He did not look to be a Targaryen aside from the way that he dressed in Targaryen regalia. King Robb like everyone else had heard the rumors of Daenerys Targaryen across the narrow sea having dragons but had dismissed them as a sailor's tale and complete nonsense. Even if she had been real, the Lannisters were the threat, not the dragons. They would have worried about them once she was in Westeros and not until then.

He didn't see any silver Targaryen hair anywhere but he could only assume that the dragons' rider was Daenerys Targaryen's new husband. Some Essosi noble or perhaps Westerosi traitor with smooth features who had married her to be a King and as her husband rode her dragon into battle and called himself a Targaryen. Things had clearly changed since Edmure had last seen the outside world.

He looked away from the dragon, an admittedly difficult task with how attention-grabbing the thing was. The drawbridge to Riverrun had been lowered and there were Tully and direwolf banners flying high in the sky overhead.

Edmure felt a swell of bride that his brother had not forgotten who his King was even when faced by a Targaryen and their dragon. They took advantage of the Targaryen's arrival without forgetting who their King was. Robb Stark and his heir, Jon Stark were their King and no one else. Not any Baratheon, Lannister, or Targaryen.

The Targaryen King seemed oddly pleased at what was going on in spite of the direwolf banners flying overhead. Did he think they would be loyal to him for this? Or was he like the mad king and simply wanted them all to be burned alive and now that they showed their true colors he could do that?

Edmure shook his head, it didn't matter what his reasoning was. Edmure would use this opportunity he had been given to escape and tell his King of his new title. There was a stable on the outcrops of the Freys encampment, if he could get there, he could steal a horse and escape the Targaryen and Freys and journey to the wall.

Knowing that it was only a matter of time until the Freys spotted him and tried to leverage him like the Frey in his cell had, Edmure broke into a sprint. He hadn't run on uneven ground in far too long, only running in place within his own cell. His back was also blistering from the Freys' torch so it was only natural that he loses his footing after only moving a handful of feet.

He faceplanted in a pile of mud and coughed as he swallowed some of it. The dagger slipped out of his grip and clattered to the ground a few feet away from him. Edmure groaned as he did a pushup to lift himself off the ground. His back screamed in protest but he refused to give in to his body's weakness.

He was forcibly hauled the rest of the way up to his feet and a blade was pressed against his throat. Edmure caught the sight of a Frey in his peripheral vision, Ser Ryman perhaps. He thought that he had killed him in the cell but clearly he was mistaken about who it was one of those times. Bloody Freys all looked the same.

"Lord Edmure," Ser Ryman said with a wide grin. "So glad you ran into me, you'll be the perfect hostage to force the bastard to let me go home free."

Edmure froze knowing that any twitch would mean the end of his life as the Frey would slit his throat and the secret of who King Robb had named as his heir would join him in the grave. He had to be the willing hostage, again, he would be a powerless prisoner.

"Walk," the Frey snarled gesturing in the direction of the stables where Edmure had already been planning to head without the Freys influence. He took a hesitant step forward as the Frey did the same and the blade remained in front of his throat.

They continued slowly progressing that way as the Frey made sure that everyone who looked their way could see the valuable cargo that he carried and gave him a wide berth as a result. The blade never left his throat for more than a second and for the most part they were largely ignored by the chaotic crowd that was too busy murdering the Freys to notice the one that was holding their liege lord.

Edmure took a small step forward but the Frey did not follow behind him. A sword appeared next to his ear and the sword that had been pressed to his neck fell away. He turned to see what had happened and found the pleasant sight of a dead Frey with a sword point protruding from where his nose had been.

The limp body fell to the ground as gravity pulled the Frey down to the ground and the sword cut through the top of his skull. The sight of a grim-faced Olyvar Frey greeted him. Olyvar had slain his own kin to protect Edmure. He knew that there was no love between him and his family but he had never expected him to go to such lengths for him. Perhaps he could afford to trust Olyvar Frey, he had proven where his loyalty stood time and time again.

"Thank you, Olyvar," He said quietly.

Olyvar only nodded. "The King wants all the Freys dead-" Olyvar was cut off as a spear was thrust into his back. He slumped to the ground quickly losing blood and grunted in pain.

"My Lord Edmure, are you alright?" A man bearing the Keath coat of arms asked as he removed his spear from Olyvars back.

Edmure wasn't sure why he was calling the Targaryen the King but it didn't matter, he had saved Edmure's life. The foolish Keath would be given the same treatment if Olyvar didn't survive.

"Find Olyvar medical assistance right now!" He barked.

"My Lord?" The Keath who had stabbed him asked in confusion. "The King told us to kill all the Freys for their part in the red wedding."

"Olyvar just saved my life you imbecile!" Edmure screeched. "He's loyal to his King, unlike you!"

"M'Lord," another man intervened. "We-:

"I don't care," Edmure cut him off. "The only King I know is the one in the North whose name is Stark." He was drowned out by the sound of the dragon roaring, loud enough that his ears were ringing.

The men who had been arguing with immediately fell silent and looked towards the Targaryen with clear fear. Edmure was terrified as well but they're fear was going to cause Olyvar to bleed out. Tradition would mandate that he repaid his life debt to his closest kin, another Frey and he wouldn't be able to honor that without sparing someone who murdered his King. He would not do that. "I am your Liege Lord and I ordered you to get Olyvar medical assistance! If he dies on your watch then you will join him in death!" He shrieked.

He was far too loud and too many eyes turned towards him when he shouted that out. Two of those being the beady bronze eyes of the dragon. He gulped nervously as the dragon leaped into the air with the Targaryen on his back and flew towards him. Part of him wanted to try to run but he had attracted the attention of a dragon, there was no outrunning it. He should have just let Olyvar die then he could still flee to the North and tell his King who he was. Now, he would be forced to face a dragon head-on.

The dragon flapped its wings overhead and the crowd quickly dispersed to clear a space for him to land but Edmure stood rooted in place, he had sworn he would never again kneel to a dragon and he planned on keeping that promise.

The Targaryen dismounted from his dragon and stood on the ground directly across from Edmure himself. He turned towards the crowd that had flocked around them. "You!" He shouted pointing at a man bearing the Shawney coat of arms. "Take the boy to a maester as your Liege Lord ordered."

The Shawney man bowed, "Yes, Your Grace." He replied dutifully before hoisting Olyvar up into his arms.

With Olyvar taken care of, no doubt a tactic to try to endear Edmure to him, the Targaryen turned to Edmure. "Lord Edmure Tully, I presume." The King greeted him with a slight dip of his head to show respect.

"I am," Edmure said without giving any ground. He did not kneel as one usually did before a King nor did he even dip his head to show respect to a false King with no claim to the Riverlands.

The King's stance hardened at the lack of respect he was shown. "If you kneel and reaffirm your vows of fealty to me and my houses then I will raise you up once again as the rightful Lord of Riverrun." He promised with some steel in his voice.

Edmure did not flinch at the tone nor did he kneel in spite of easy it would be to do so. Family, Duty, and Honor were the words of his house and he would live by them. "House Tully knows no King except the King in the North whose name is Stark. I will not betray my King." He knew that he would die here for his refusal to kneel but he would die with his honor intact and be loyal unto the end.

The King's fists clenched at his sides. "House Stark has knelt to me, Sansa Stark serves as my hand even. If you are loyal to House Stark then you would also kneel to me. You will be given back your position as Lord Paramount as well." He added the last part in what seemed to be desperation.

It appeared that Robb had been right to disinherit Sansa, and name Jon Snow as his heir. His sister was as untrustworthy as he had feared. "Sansa No Name is no Stark. King Robb disinherited her before his passing."

The Targaryen frowned at that revelation as the crowd gasped, likely knowing that it would cost him the North's loyalty and hopefully Edmure's uncle's as well. "Rickon Stark, has bent the knee to me as well." He hissed through gritted teeth.

"Rickon Stark is dead. Whatever imposter you've trusted up is of no interest to me. He is not King Robb's heir and I owe him no loyalty."

"Then who is?" The King demanded losing his temper slightly. "Every living Stark has bent the knee to me. Yet you remain as obstinate as your sister about how I am no King and a good for nothing-" He cut himself off and reigned in his anger. "So you choose death then?" He asked quietly. "You would rather die than kneel?"

Edmure's resolve was hardened by the fact that Lysa had refused to kneel as well. He was saddened by her passing but it only strengthened his loyalty and refusal to kneel. He now knew that his uncle would refuse to kneel as well if even his sister had the courage to do the same. The Targaryen would never claim Riverrun. "I would." He said with more bravery then he felt.

He turned back to his dragon and stroked the top of the beast's scales. "Have you any last words?" He asked with clear anger.

Edmure hesitated if he died here so would King Robb's will, no one would ever inform Jon Snow of his position. He claimed that Sansa Stark was his hand, that meant he had or at least wanted the North to kneel to him. If Jon Snow was revealed as Robb's heir and he killed Jon Snow he would lose the North. If he shouted it for all to hear then he wouldn't be able to stop the information from spreading. He would have to leave Jon Snow alive to pacify the North and they would plot to put Jon Snow on the throne in place of this Targaryen with the revelation of Robb's will. Regardless, of how he acted this information would damage the Targaryen's cause and he might wind up with Jon Snow ruling the North.

He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted for all the world to hear. "The only King I recognize is the heir of King Robb and legitimized son of Lord Eddard Stark, Jon Stark!" He closed his eyes and waited for the dragon's fire to consume him and take him to the next life as the Targaryen would no doubt snarl the command for the dragon to kill him right away as Edmure deconstructed his plans.

Instead of fire, he heard laughter. He hesitantly opened his eyes and found the Targaryen leaning against his dragon holding his side as he laughed at his last declaration. He glanced around the clearing and saw all of his men laughing as well, even his uncle was chuckling at him. Heck, even the dragon snorted at him.

Was loyalty so rare these days that they found his amusing? Was it the idea of a bastard being a King that they found so laughable? He had been against it when Robb has suggested it but it was his decision and he was bound to follow his King. He had to be dreaming, his uncle wasn't particularly fond of him but he would not laugh at his death. He pinched his arm but did not wake up from any dream.

"What is so fucking funny?" Edmure snarled. That only prompted the crowd to laugh even more at his expense.

The Targaryen righted himself and smiled at Edmure, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I never did introduce myself, did I? I'm King Jon, the son of Lyanna Stark."

Oh.

---

He had thought when Edmure Tully refused to bend the knee that he was refusing because he was not one of Catelyn Tully's sons, that he was only a cousin to Robb. He had thought that he like, his sister refused to see Jon as anyone of value. He thought that Edmure had been poisoned by Catelyn Tully's lies about who he was. He had never imagined that his obstinance and refusal to bow was not due to a refusal to acknowledge Jon's claim but out of loyalty to Jon. He had just presumed that like everyone else, Edmure Tully would be aware of who he was and his heritage. It had never crossed Jon's mind that Edmure wouldn't have learned that while in captivity. He had never dreamed a man would refuse to bow to him out of loyalty to Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell- or well apparently legitimized bastard, Jon Stark. King Jon Stark, the heir of King Robb Stark.

In another life, Jon would have been thrilled beyond all measure that Robb had thought to legitimize him as a Stark and had named him his heir. Before his death, he had wanted nothing more than to be a Stark. If he hadn't been chosen as Lord Commander, he likely would have accepted Stannis's offer of legitimization if he bent the knee. That had been his dream to be a trueborn Stark, to be Lord of Winterfell. If he had learned of Robb's will he would have happily donned the crown and been Jon Stark, the King in the North. He would have continued his brother's fight for Northern Independence.

His death had opened his eyes to who he was though, he had learned that he was not just a Stark but a Targaryen. He no longer needed to be Stark to belong because he had another family of dragons. He had a great uncle who accepted him in spite of his bastard status. He had his Daenerys who he would rule beside. He still was a Stark but he was more of a dragon than a wolf now.

Robb's actions as kindhearted and well-intentioned as him legitimizing Jon and disinheriting Sansa probably was, complicated things. He had planned on framing the marriage pact that would result in him sharing his power equally with his Daenerys as legitimizing his claim to the throne. His uncle had refused to claim the crown because he had no claim and Jon would echo his uncle in that behavioral pattern. He would reinforce the North's idea that he was an honorable Stark and not a mad Targaryen by doing so, as much as they would grumble about his decision to do so.

That option was no longer available to him. If he tried to frame his marriage to his Daenerys as legitimizing his claim then he would be refusing to acknowledge his brother's authority as King. That would turn the North against him, and apparently the Riverlands as well. He had to acknowledge his brother as being their former King to keep his Kingdoms.

Sansa was an even more complicated issue, Robb had disinherited her to stop Tyrion Lannister from becoming Lord of Winterfell; a decision that Jon would have made in his place if he didn't know who Tyrion Lannister truly was, that he was the black sheep of the Lannisters. Jon had planned on giving her Winterfell, in accordance with the laws of inheritance that they wanted to implement in their new world. As the eldest child of Eddard Stark, it was her birthright.

Except it no longer was hers by rights. Robb had disinherited Sansa and it would now fall to the next eldest child; the missing Arya Stark or Bran if he somehow had survived beyond the wall. Rickon if all else failed. Sansa would view it as his favoritism causing him to give Winterfell to Arya who wouldn't even want it and he needed to keep Sansa loyal to him with the position and power he had given to her. He had to keep her happy and stripping her of her name would have the opposite effect. Yet, once again if he showed any disregard for Robb's actions and authority as King, he would risk losing the North and the Riverlands. If he lost those two Kingdoms then the Vale would likely follow. As much as Baelish might care for Sansa and want to be King, he wouldn't back Jon as King if there was no chance of victory.

A redfaced Lord Edmure Tully had fallen to his knees the moment he had realized that the Targaryen who he had defied was the Stark who he had called his King. He had sworn House Tully and Riverrun to him and proclaimed Jon Stark the trueborn King and rightful heir to the Iron Throne. He had promised to gather together all of the Riverlords at Riverrun within six weeks to reaffirm their vows of fealty to him.

Words were wind, as he had learned in his time with the Night's Watch. A vow would not stop them from acting against him. They might call him their King but if he were to disrespect Robb in any way, he had no doubt that he would lose the loyalty of the Tully's and their armed forces just as easily as he would lose the North.

Sansa had sent word saying she had gotten Lord Robyn Arryn to call the Lords of the Vale to the Eyrie to swear fealty to Jon. Baelish would inform him when the Lords were there and he needed to fly to the Vale with Sansa. He estimated that it would be in a moon's turn. Sansa was on her way back to Winterfell now and would return shortly before he met with the Northern Lords; presuming, of course, that the winds were kind to her. All it had taken for Robyn Arryn to give him a Kingdom was a promise to be made Jon's squire and an unnamed spot on his council given to Baelish. Sansa had suggested making him the Master of Coin, or Master of whispers but those spots were reserved for Tyrion and Varys when they along with his Daenerys joined him in Westeros. Officially, at least, unofficially Baelish was undoubtedly won over by the fact that for the time being, Sansa was his heir.

He had returned to Winterfell after only one night in Riverrun. When he had arrived on the back of a dragon, the last remnants of the Boltons household guard had bent the knee to him. He had claimed the largest guest quarters, intent on leaving the Lord's chambers available to Sansa as she would probably serve as the Lady of Winterfell, or perhaps they would go to Arya or even Rickon. He still had to figure out how to deal with that conundrum that Robb had left for him.

Jon hoped that Arya would arrive in Winterfell soon, the Boltons were gone and he was a King now. She would want to be here, especially once she heard he had a dragon, she had always wanted to meet one and she would have the opportunity to do so. He kept on glancing outside his window, expecting to see Arya riding into Winterfell, to be reunited with him again. She had yet to come, the last he knew of her location was when Brienne had apparently fought the Hound for custody of Arya at the Gates of the Moon. If only Arya had acquiesced and gone with Brienne. He wasn't entirely fond of Sansa's sworn sword but she would have been able to bring Arya back to him.

He glanced out the window once more and once again did not see his wayward sister- not that he really expected to. Where could she be that would keep her from returning home? What had happened to her that would stop her from traveling to be with Jon? She had hated leaving him behind in Winterfell when she went south. He was positive that if she was able, she would have journeyed to him by now. So what was keeping her? What had happened to her?

He shook his head. He wouldn't think that way, he couldn't think that way. He couldn't think that she was hurt or dead somewh-." He snarled audibly and shook his head once more. He wasn't going there.

He sat at his desk and turned his thoughts back to more important matters. The meeting with the Northern Lords and how he would handle the news of Robb's will. How would he get them to accept his Daenerys as his wife and equal in power?

Perhaps he could simply be blunt and lie saying that his Daenerys had been the one to send Rhaegal; a lie he had already told. He could take it a step further and claim that Rhaegal was only on their side because his Daenerys had decreed it so. He could say that Rhaegal was hers which was true but he was also his and it would hurt him and Rhaegal both for him to publicly reject him as his own as he would have to for him to sell the lie when they saw her interact with Rhaegal. She might have been close to him but Jon is Rhaegal.

He could be blunt about her having three dragons and try to frame it as having no choice but to share power or lose it all but that might go over even worse than rejecting Robb's authority as a King. He would be making her out as a dictator which was exactly what his Daenerys wanted to avoid. She wanted to be known as more than the Mad King's daughter and by framing their marriage that way she never would be.

He also wasn't confident that the Lords wouldn't try to argue that with such an advantage in the numbers of their grounded troops, they could defeat her in battle. He was certain that they wouldn't be wrong in that assumption. Even after he had patched things over between his Daenerys and her other children, he still was fairly certain that he could at the very least get Viserion to side with them. Rhaegal might even be able to persuade Drogon to turn his Daenerys over to them on the assurances that she would not be hurt. Even if he couldn't turn the dragons, if he had all the forces of the North, Riverlands, and the Vale then he would likely prevail even with her holding the advantage in quantity of dragons. He wasn't entirely certain but the odds were good enough that victory was certain and even if it wasn't his Daenerys he would be fighting he would likely sue for peace in that instance but he had the advantage there.

He drummed his fingers on his desk as he brainstormed. He could make up some lie about how when he had been told his heritage by Maester Aemon; he had sworn in front of a weirwood tree that he would not be like the Blackfyres and try to claim what belonged to the trueborn heirs. The North would grumble about it but they would accept his reasoning. They all understood how sacred it was to swear in front of a weirwood tree. He would be affirming that he was his uncle's son and not his birth fathers if he did so. That would be the ideal solution to deal with the North but he wasn't just King in the North but King of all seven kingdoms and he had to win over the Riverlands and Vale on his marriage as well. Those Lords would not follow the Old Gods and would rebel at him letting his pagan religion dictate his decision making.

So what did he do? How did he frame it as anything but what it was? Him wanting to marry his Daenerys and share power with her as his equal as they were meant to be. How did he explain knowing that she was good without revealing that he was a warg, something that he wanted to avoid at any and all costs?

He was jarred out of his thoughts by the sound of a bird crowing. He looked up and standing on the windowsill was a raven, it's eyes staring emptily past him and at the wall. Jon rose from his seat and approached the bird, it did not react at all to his movements.

The bird was clearly well trained. He spotted the scroll tied to its leg and picked up the bird. The bird still did not react at all. If Jon hadn't heard it caw a moment earlier he might have mistaken it for being dead.

He removed the scroll that was sealed with a plain blue seal that could have come from anyone, it did not bear the coat of arms from anyone he recognized at all. He gave in to his curiosity and broke the seal. A silver coin clattered to the floor as he unrolled the scroll.

Break the bird, and send it back. We have much more to discuss. We'll meet at 6 AM your time every morning.

-A trusted source

The letter was simple and to the point but it made one thing abundantly clear to Jon, whoever had sent this not only knew that he was a warg but had intimate knowledge of how they work. That was a terrifying thought that one of his enemies could know who he was and what he could do. He didn't want to do what the note said but if he didn't send the bird back then would his "trusted source" blab about his abilities?

Jon had to know who had sent it before he could act on it. There had been coin in the scroll that surely was meant to be a hint or at the very least misdirection of some kind by the sender and a clue as to who the sender was or at least the location of the sender. He bent down to pick up the coin and turned it over in his palm. It was a Meereenese honor.

There was only one person in Meereen who knew who Jon was and of his talents as a warg, Lord Varys. He knew Rhaegal was gone and wanted to have a way to inform Jon of the happenings of Meereen and any crucial information like the Whitehills planned betrayal.

Jon looked towards the bird intent on breaking it, to regain some knowledge of how his Daenerys was doing and how her city was doing without him there to protect it. He froze as the bird continued to stare at the wall, completely unmoving. It was as if the bird was already broken…

Things slid into place, that was how Varys had known about Jon's resurrection and heritage in spite of the blockade that had been in place. That was how Varys had learned of the Whitehills betrayal. That was how Varys always knew things so quickly. His little birds were literal birds. Varys knew Jon was a warg because he was one.

In hindsight perhaps it should have been obvious. Why had he been so arrogant to assume that he was the only one who thought to use wargs as a spy network? Varys was literally called the spider and he called all his sources, little birds yet he had never even considered the idea that the names were literal. He had assumed that only Northerners could be wargs, almost entirely just the wildlings but that was either wrong or Varys had some Northern blood of his own.

He had overlooked the most powerful ability of wargs despite using it to his advantage repeatedly. Wargs weren't just spies limited to what they overheard while they were being possessed. They were an instant messaging system with almost no risk of the message being intercepted. He had learned stuff from his Daenerys in Meereen and used it to his benefit. Varys had passed him a message and it had saved his life. If he had just sent a raven it never would have arrived in time.

Jon knew that one couldn't warg into dozens of animals at once and spy on people but Varys never needed to do that. He had informants positioned all across the known world and scheduled times where they would tell a bird in the privacy of their own homes the weekly or daily news. Varys simply had to warg at the right time and he would learn all that he needed to know. Just as he had planned on setting up with Jon as a little bird of his own.

The spider's web truly was expansive and almost foolproof. His sources would be considered insane if they admitted that they were paid to blab secrets to a bird on a regular basis so they would never reveal what he was. He had no comparable risk of his sources being caught because they were speaking to an animal with no risk of betrayal or need to meet publicly, and any prescheduled meeting, all he had to do was know about it beforehand and he could personally overhear all of it. He doubted that his informants even knew who the information they were providing was going too.

Jon would forever be grateful for Varys being on their side and not Cersei's. His plans would have completely unraveled if he worked for King Tommen still. He didn't trust Varys but he had no choice but to do so. If Varys didn't want Jon and Daenerys to rule then he had the information to stop them and they could have done nothing to stop it. All it would have took to cause Jon to fail in his endeavors at Last Hearth was a note to the Boltons tipping them off to Rhaegal, ditto for his plans at Riverrun. Varys at least for now was on their side and getting information from the spider himself was too big of a boon to pass up.

He sat down and scrawled out a quick letter and sealed it with the royal seal of House Targaryen before tying the note to the raven. He forced his way into the birds mind and commanded it. Go back to where you've come from and deliver this message to the man who sent you. Don't forget to eat and sleep along the way.

The bird was broken and would follow his orders to the letter, it would have died of starvation without that command. The thing had no will of its own and the thoughts that Jon had implanted would be it's only thoughts. He watched as the bird took to the skies, en route back to Meereen and the Varys.

Perhaps, he would be able to see his Daenerys again even if he couldn't communicate with her. At the very least, Varys was sure to tell him of her reaction to his proposal when Jorah returned to Meereen. He would not be blind there at the very least like he would have been to his Daenerys's actions without Rhaegal by her side.

---

Jon sat in his chair at the front of the room as nearly a hundred of the Northern Lords sat on the other side of the room spread out among various tables across from him. Sansa was seated to his right and Rickon to her right. Technically, it was actually Jon at her left as her guest of honor and Rickon to her right as her family. since she was Lady of Winterfell but everyone knew that it Jon at the head of this.

He was pleased to see that almost every single Northern house had shown up, all of the Noble Houses at least. The Sakgosi clans were unsurprisingly no shows, and Houses Harclay and Knott had failed to come from the mountains although with the treacherous terrain and rough weather it was possible they just hadn't been able to get here in time. The only exceptions were the now-extinct Houses of Bolton and Hornwood. The latter had Ramsay as their Lord after he had forced Lady Donella into marriage before killing her. Every new thing that he heard about Ramsay made him wish that he had drawn out the monster's suffering.

Sansa stood from her chair to begin the meeting. "Thank you all for heeding the summons to Winterfell. As I'm sure you are all aware, my brother, Jon Snow has been revealed to be the son of Lyanna Stark and not the bastard of Lord Eddard like we previously believed. As he is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he has a claim to the Iron Throne and he has asked us to gather here today to renew our oaths of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen. To reaffirm our loyalty to the crown. He has delivered us from the Boltons and returned the North to its rightful overlords."

"I ask that we all rise and welcome King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen. Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The unburnt, the resurrected one, and the Father of Dragons."

Jon had grumbled about doctoring his last title to mirror that of his Daenerys so closely at first but Sansa had sold him on it eventually. She had pointed out that calling himself the dragon, while accurate did not sound entirely sane. That by calling himself a dragon he was copying the Mad King and it would cast him in that same negative light. She had also helpfully pointed out that it was a hint to him being a warg of Rhaegal. She had agreed that they needed to have a title referencing his dragons and this had been her solution. This made him out as an equal to his Daenerys in just about every way. If he was just the rider of dragons he would be beneath her in that title. If he was just the dragon and she was the mother of dragons then he would be above her. They had to be on equal footing in all things for this sharing power thing to work. This also didn't look insane since he would be married to his Daenerys and would become their good-father at the very least and Rhaegal did consider him his father, and his best friend and literally him but in human form. Their bond was too complicated to explain easily.

Sansa retook her seat beside Jon as he and everyone else in the room stood up. Jon stepped up to the center of the room and gestured for everyone to sit. "I am King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, the last living male Targaryen. I have called all of you here today to back my claim to the Iron Throne, and ask that you will fight on my behalf in the wars to come."

"I realize that when you swore yourself to my brother, King Robb you swore never to kneel to any southerner again. No stag, lion or dragon. You would only call a Stark your King from now on. I am not a Stark but a Snow, a bastard raised in the North. I have no claim to my brother's throne. He was your King, not I. By rights, it should be Sansa that is your Queen. My brother fought for Northern Independence and died for it. He fought so a Stark would rule the North. I was not a Stark."

"When the Boltons murdered my brother and his Queen at the Red Wedding, they stole his crown and killed all of the Lords who were present. Only one Lord survived, Lord Edmure Tully who until recently had been a captive of the Freys. He tells me that right before the Red Wedding, fearing what would happen to the North if he were to die in battle before his child could be born, he left a will. The document fell into the hands of the Boltons after the Red Wedding who destroyed it and all evidence of its existence. The seals of all the Lords witnessing his will can no longer prove what it said. All we know of his last will and testament is from the testimony of Lord Edmure Tully. I have brought him here now to tell us what he knows."

There were serious perks to having a dragon. He could bring Lord Edmure down to Winterfell from Riverrun and he would only be missed a few days. If he had to ride a horse down here then he wouldn't have been able to make it in time and he definitely wouldn't have returned by the time that Jon wanted to meet with the Riverlords to get their oaths as well. Rhaegal hadn't liked having Edmure on his back and Jon wouldn't make him do it more than strictly necessary but Jon legitimizing himself and claiming that was Robb's will would be a disaster. Edmure was needed here so with Jon there to calm him, he had consented and let a terrified Edmure ride in a carriage that he carried with shackles around his feet. Jon wasn't about to trust Edmure to ride behind him where one push could send Jon falling to his death. Also, Rhaegal didn't want to be any closer to Edmure's tainted blood than necessary.

Edmure stepped into the room and walked to the center of it with his head held high. "I spent the eight months as a captive of the Freys after the Red Wedding until King Jon freed me when his dragon ended the siege on my home. I swore my loyalty to King Robb and was there when he gave his last will and testament. I realize that as the sole living witness but to the last will and testament of King Robb, the first of his name, I have no evidence that what I say is the truth but I swear it on the grave of my sister, the Lady Stark that all that I say here today is true."

"King Robb was concerned that if he were to fall in battle, the Kingdom would fall with him. After his decision to marry the Queen Talisa Maegyr he knew he was losing the war. He refused to allow that to happen so he set a will for who would rule after him, at least until his possible heir came of age. The King was under the impression that Bran, Rickon, and Arya Stark were dead when he made his decree."

"King Robb declared his will in front of Lord Jon Umber, the elder, Lord Galbart Glover, Lord Jason Mallister, Lady Maege Mormont, Lady Catelyn Tully and myself, Lord Edmure Tully. We all heard his decree and all of us but my sister fixed out seals to his decree."

"King Robb asked that in the event of his untimely death the following to be carried out," Edmure took a deep breath and glanced over at Sansa. "King Robb declared that Sansa Stark was to be stricken from all claims belonging to her and be cast out as a Stark."

There was always going to be grumbling about that part and he was unsurprised when people began to quietly mutter to themselves and each other. They all looked at Sansa differently and were wondering why she was seated at the head of the table as Lady of Winterfell now. As they would continue to do so.

"Furthermore, King Robb declared that in the event of his untimely death, before he had an heir of his own that he hereby freed the bastard Jon Snow from his vows to the Night's Watch and legitimized him as Jon Stark. He declared that he was to be his heir and the King in the North after him."

Jon immediately stood up as Edmure took a seat to the right of Rickon. The crowd was muttering loudly now and no doubt thought this was a conspiracy on his part. He sent Rhaegal a mental request to roar and he did just that, his screeches shaking the earth. Everyone immediately fell silent at the tone. Jon smiled, there were perks to being a dragon. Rhaegal watching through Jon's eyes, was laughing at how easily he could silence the grumblers. Jon couldn't stop himself from grinning at the dragon's amusement.

"I know what Edmure has said today sounds too convenient to be true. I know there is no evidence supporting the will's existence. To the best of my knowledge, it is true, but I can not prove that fact to any of you."

"I will not expect you or anyone else to follow through on Robb's will since it was made under false pretenses. Robb believed that Rickon, and Arya Stark were dead when that was clearly not the case. Robb at the time when he gave his will, still believed me to be the bastard of our father. He believed that I was his brother by blood; as much as I wish that I was, I am not a Stark. Robb legitimized the bastard son of our father, not the bastard son of Rhaegar Targaryen. I cannot claim that he would have done the same had he known who my sire was."

Jon bit his lip to hide his smile as Lord Robett Glover rose to his feet. He was beaten to whatever he planned to say when the young and fierce Lyanna Mormont spoke first. "I can't claim to know why King Robb named you as his heir but he did. He wasn't the only one either, my Uncle Jeor chose you to carry the Mormont family sword on your hip, you didn't have his blood but he still chose you to succeed him as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"I don't care if Jon Stark was born a bastard of Lord Eddard Stark or Lady Lyanna Stark. He has the blood of the Stark and the character of a Stark. My Uncle and King Robb did not name Jon as their heir because of his blood. They did it because they believed in who he was. They believed that he was a good man like his father. When the Boltons killed King Robb and took over the North it was Jon Stark who killed them and gave the north back to the Starks. If he used a dragon to do it, so what? House Mormont remembers what Jon Stark did for the North in its hour of need when no one else would answer the call. I don't care whose blood flows through his veins. Jon Stark is my King until his last day."

Lord Glover stood once more but this time it was Howland Reed who spoke first. "I was there with your father when you were born, Your Grace, I and your father were the only survivors of our conflict against the Kingsguard who were holding Lady Lyanna captive. Your father, emerged from the tower with you in his arms and swore me to secrecy on who your true parents were. He said that Lyanna had begged him to protect you even though you were born of Rhaegar's seed. Ned loved you as a son, and raised you as his own bastard to protect you from Robert. He wanted you to have an inheritance and the best for you even if he couldn't be the one to give it to you. Lyanna wanted the same. I can't say how your brother would have reacted if he knew who your true parents were but I can say that if Ned was still alive he would gladly bend the knee to you, and call you his King. House Reed will follow in his footsteps and proclaim Jon Stark as their King."

Lord Glover was once again beaten to the punch as this time it was Lord Ethan Marsh who stood first. "My uncle participated in the mutiny that left you grievously injured, Your Grace, I can only ask your forgiveness for the crimes of my House and accept any punishment that you wish to extract upon us." He apologized. " Regardless of what you decide, House Marsh stood with Robb Stark and we will continue to do so. We stand with his heir, Jon Stark, and are proud to call him our King."

Jon forced a smile. "There is nothing to forgive. You were not the one to kill me, I do not hold sons accountable for the sins of their fathers nor do I hold you accountable for your uncle's crimes."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Lord Marsh said with a bow before retaking his seat.

Lord Robett Glover shot out of his chair to his feet but was again beaten to the punch by the Smalljon this time. He angrily sat back down banging his fist on the table as he did so.

"The Umbers remained loyal to the Starks when everyone else forgot who their King was. We kept Rickon safe at Last Hearth even well we marched in their army with the intent of betraying them and installing Rickon Stark as King in the North. I have no doubt that Rickon Stark would make a great King but he's not the heir my King chose. My King chose Jon Stark as his heir. My father was the first to hail Robb Stark as King in the North and I will do the same to his heir. House Umber Hails Jon Stark, The King in the North!" He thrust his sword up into the air and dropped to his knees before Jon.

The rest of the room was quick to echo his sentiments, probably encouraged by Rhaegal's conveniently timed roar. This was how things were meant to be, the sheep bowed before a dragon. He was King and they would treat him as he was. His eyes narrowed when he spotted the one figure not yet kneeling.

Lord Robett Glover didn't kneel but instead climbed up on the table. "Fuck That!" He screamed out. "Jon Snow is not the son of Lord Eddard Stark. Jon Snow is the son of a fucking Targaryen. He is the byproduct of the rape of Lyanna Stark at the hands of Rhaegar Fucking Targaryen. King Robb Stark did not legitimize Rhaegar's bastard as King in the North. He is not the King in the North!"

Had they underestimated Lord Glover? He couldn't interrupt him not without looking weak and insecure, he couldn't arrest or kill him here either. He was protected by guests right so he had to let him speak freely. It was his choice whether to side with or against Jon, not Jon's. How many would Lord Glover sway away from his cause?

"He is the King of all of fucking Westeros!" He roared with a laugh. "King Robb legitimized Jon Snow and made him a trueborn son. King Robb made Jon fucking Snow legitimately Jon Targaryen, and the rightful King of all the Seven Kingdoms!" He declared with a stomp of his feet, and Jon smiled in relief at the change in direction. He knew that when the Smalljon had proclaimed him as King so empathetically, it was not just of the North and they really meant King from the North but if Lord Glover was allowing him to be a Targaryen in fulness, then he would not deny him that.

"Rhaegar Targaryen thought that when he raped Lyanna Stark, he was stealing the greatest beauty in the whole world from the North. He thought that he had won. All he was doing was handing the North the Iron Throne!" Cheers of agreement rung out around the room at his statement.

"I say we make Lyanna's sacrifice worth something! I say that we give Rhaegar Targaryen one last fuck you from beyond the grave. The blood of the Starks flows through the veins of Jon Snow. He might have the blood of the dragon but his mother was a Stark. He was raised as a Stark. He is not Rhaegar Targaryen! We swore to never bow down to any southerner again but Jon Snow is of the North. House Glover says fuck Rhaegar Targaryen and hails Jon Targaryen, a Stark and King of the Seven Kingdoms!" He thrust his sword up in the air with a shout.

The rest of the room mirrored his actions once more and this time truly everyone was screaming out; "Jon Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms," in unison. Jon allowed himself to smile. One Kingdom was his, and they had played things exactly as he wanted. They had chosen to call him a Targaryen and not him, now it wouldn't look like he was rejecting his Stark side when he referred to himself as a Targaryen because they had approved of him being a Targaryen in such a public manner. He knew he couldn't claim the Iron Throne as just a Stark. Even if his Daenerys would be okay with it he would not be able to rise a wolf up to be an equal to a dragon.

He let them chant for a moment longer before asking Rhaegal to roar once more and held his hands out asking for silence. It took another moment but soon every voice had died out and was looking to him for further direction.

"Before you crown me as your King, I must inform you that I do not plan on leaving the world as it is. I want to build a new and better world where everyone is truly free. A world where we are no longer bound by the abhorrent traditions of the south. I plan on building a world where men and women are equal in all things. I plan to build a world where women from this day forth have a place in the line of succession equal to that of a man. I plan on building a world where women are no longer sold into abusive marriages like my sister was sold to Ramsay Bolton." Jon declared knowing that this was inevitable and would not be an easy thing for them to hear. Breaking the wheel was never going to be easy but it would happen.

Some of the men began to grumble but Jon ignored them. "I do not plan on usurping the positions of any existing Lords in favor of their elder sister. Only the succession crises that occurs from this day forth. I understand that men do not want to give their lands over to other houses and I sympathize with them in that regard and will not force them to do so. Any noble-women who chooses to marry a noble-born husband must agree to give up any claim to the lands of their house when they do so, or their husband must agree that they and their children will take the woman's name or else they will be removed from the line of succession."

"Deepwood Motte will stay as the land of the Glovers, in spite of Lady Erena being the heir now, regardless of who she marries. Oldcastle will remain the land of the Lockes, in spite of Lady Taria now being at the front of the succession line. No woman will be forced into a marriage against her will by anyone to take her claim from her. She will only marry when she chooses to do so."

"With all due respect, this is madness, Your Grace," Lord Serf Lightfoot protested. "A woman is not fit to govern a household. A woman is not capable of properly choosing her own husband. Women are empty-headed and their decisions are too often ill-made based on their girlish feelings." Many men around the room were nodding in agreement with his statements.

Jon would have replied with a scathing rebuke but he was beaten to the punch by a number of women. Lyanna Mormont was once again the first to respond. "House Mormont has been ruled by a woman for the last twenty years and we still stand strong and were among the first to pledge ourselves to call King Jon our King. We have proven that a woman is just as capable as any man and more capable than some men even, when it comes to ruling a household. I stand with my King in this, let women have their place."

Gwyn Whitehill, who he had appointed as Lady of the House when he executed her elder brother stood and spoke next. "I was one of those women who did not have the freedom to choose who their husband was. I tried to choose Asher Forrester and he was banished by his father for it. My elder brother tried to sell me off to horrible men as nothing more than a whore to give him more power. King Jon killed my brother for his attempts to betray him and named me as head of House Whitehill. If King Jon wants to stop other women from suffering as I have, to stop other men from being punished for loving the wrong person then I will support him wholeheartedly."

"You can not say that my lackwitted daughter has a right to inherit the lands that will go to my son!" Lord Rickard Fenn shouted in outrage. "My House stands to grow by marrying my daughter to another Lord. You are taking the lands we could have gotten away from us. I choose to do what benefits my house the most as it's Lord as all the Lords have done before me, and I will continue to do so. That is my lawful right as Lord of House Fenn, I choose what my daughter does not her."

Jon's hands clenched into fists at his side as men nodded and murmured their agreement. He had to remain calm and in control. "Maester Wolkan, can you tell me what the definition of a slave is according to the citadel?" He asked the kind new Maester who had replaced Marwyn after he was murded by Theon Turncloak.

The Maester was slightly taken aback by the request out of the blue but answered anyways. "Of course, Your Grace, the citadel defines slavery as a person who is lawful property of another, and that person is forced to obey them..." His response slowed as he realized Jon's angle but he gave the answer Jon wanted anyway.

Jon grinned ferally. "Tell me, Lord Fenn did you just confess to having slaves? Slavery was outlawed in Westeros long ago, yet I can't help but find the way you described your relationship with your daughter sounding very similar to what the citadel defines as slavery. I would tread very carefully, my lord, slavery is punishable by death or the Wall in Westeros and you just confessed to having a slave. Perhaps, you would like to recant your statement about controlling your daughter?"

Lord Fenn flustered. "O-of course, Your Grace, I misspoke I only meant to say that shouldn't it be my right to decide who inherits my house?"

"The laws of Westeros have never worked that way," Sansa answered for him. "If that was the case it would be a Blackfyre who had been King for the last a hundred years. If that was the case than Rhaenrya Targaryen would have been Queen. If that was the case, Brynden Tully would be Lord of Riverrun. Joffrey Baratheon would have never become King. Lands have always gone to the eldest son, if we are to make men and women equal, then the eldest should always inherit unless they voluntarily abdicate their claims to the lands."

Sansa standing with him was the final nail in the coffin to their stupid arguments. "Westeros claims to not have any slaves, we claim to be better than Essos and truly a free land. We are only lying to ourselves so we can feel morally surperior. While I was married to Ramsay Bolton, I was his slave. He controlled everything I did and I had no choice of my own. I was forced into that marriage and raped repeatedly by him. He didn't let me tell him no, he wouldn't let me leave my room, he wouldn't let me eat some nights and other times would make me eat and sleep with his dogs. I was his slave. I had no choice but to be married to him and because of that, the Boltons gained control of Winterfell."

"Robb was right to disinherit me to stop the North from falling into the wrong hands but he shouldn't have needed to do that. He shouldn't have needed to worry about my husband stealing Winterfell because I never should have been able to be forced into such a position. Jon wants to make women equal but ending arranged marriages is something that should be done regardless or else our lands can easily be stolen from us when you're the one on the wrong end of the arrangement. The practice is barbaric slavery that only hurts everyone involved." She said with a well-practiced grace.

This time no one had anyone to say in response, it was only when Jon stood to move onto the next item on the docket that the Smalljon leaped to his feet. "What Lady Sansa is saying makes sense, there was a time when forced weddings benefitted us all but that time has passed. The Red Wedding happened because King Robb was forced into a marriage agreement, the Boltons took the North because of an arranged marriage agreement. All these forced marriages have done for the North in recent times was hurt us. I say it is time for the North to move past this southern tradition and follow King Jon into the new world. Lady Sansa has proven an apt Hand of the King and perhaps Northern women are truly cut out to lead. Let the North usher in a new era for Westeros! A Free world! An equal world!"

Rhaegal let out a roar in agreement overhead. His Daenerys was a better leader then every man. He knew it was just the Smalljon being opportunistic and trying to curry favor with him but his few words did more for his goal than anything the women had said as he himself was a man. No one said anything more in protest after that statement although there were very few nods of agreement. He wondered how much the lack of protest had to do with fear of the very vocal dragon. Probably most of it, regardless he would take what he had been given.

"I thank you all for your support and willingness to be pioneers in the new world." He intentionally neglected to mention that Dorne had women as equal in the line of inheritance for generations. The Northern Lords were a prideful bunch and they would want to boast about this, that they were the first to do so even if they hated it.

"Before we proceed onto the southern matters we must first deal with the North. My brother and predecessor, King Robb disinherited Sansa Stark on the false assumption that she was married to Tyrion Lannister. As both of them refused to consummate their marriage, the marriage was not legally binding and was mutually agreed that it would be annulled."

"I am of the opinion that since the reasoning behind her being disinherited is not valid, the decree should be considered invalid but it would be unfair for me to make the decision on this matter on my own. This decision does not affect Sansa's position as my hand but as she would be Warden of the North if she is to remain a Stark, my sister and I both insist that it should be up to the Lords of the North to decide if Sansa is too remain a Stark or if Robb's will should be followed to the letter and Arya be named as Lady of Winterfell."

Surprisingly enough, the decision to leave the verdict on Sansa's status up to the Northern Lords had been proposed by Sansa herself when she learned of Robb's will. The Boltons hadn't given the North any choice but to comply with their demands so by offering them that freedom she was providing them with the certainty that they would have a say in the affairs of the North; something they all desired and Jon had no problem giving them. The illusion of choice was a powerful tool as Jon very well knew.

"I am for Lady Sansa remaining a Stark, she has proven herself loyal to her family and the North. If King Robb was still alive, he would gladly welcome her back into his family." Lord Glover declared.

The Smalljon was unsurprisingly the next one to speak up. "If my King thinks that Sansa Stark is the right choice to be his hand then I will trust his judgment and proudly call her a Stark. King Robb thought that she had been married to the imp and acted on that knowledge but his knowledge was faulty. I am all for naming Sansa Stark as the Warden of the North." Jon resisted the urge to openly laugh at Lord Glover and the Smalljons constant need to one-up each other as his most loyal vassal.

Lord Dillon Overton threw his support behind Sansa as well, as did Lady Beth Cassell with a chuckle about how Arya would have begged them to make Sansa be the lady in her place.

"I think we have all come to an accord here," Jon said with a small smile. "Since we are in agreement, I would like to turn things back over to the Lady of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, Sansa Stark to deal with the rest of the business strictly relevant to the North before we address the matters that are relevant to all of the Seven Kingdoms."

Jon retook his seat and Sansa rose to her own feet. "On behalf of the entire North, I extend our warmest gratitude to King Jon for coming to our aid in our time of troubles." Jon flushed as there was some light applause for him.

"I would also like to honor House Umber for keeping the young Lord Rickon Stark safe in their own home until we could retrieve him." Once again there was some applause and cheers of agreement with that statement. "The North also recognizes and honors House Slate, Mormont, and the new Lady of House Whitehill for being the only ones to answer the call to arms in our darkest hour and stand with our King and House Stark against the Boltons." The cheers were loudest at that remark although some of the Lords glowered at being called out for their cowardice.

"With the death of Lord Harald Karstak during the Massacre at Last Hearth, the Karkhold is currently without a Lord. As the only living child of the former Lord, by rights, Lady Alys Karstak is named as Lady of the Karkhold." Sansa declared.

"Why should the Karstaks keep their land? They are all a bunch of traitors who chose to side with the Boltons, their lands should be given to those who remained loyal to their King, to those who answered the call." The Smalljon grumbled and received shouts in agreement.

"My brother and I both agree that we will not hold a child accountable for their father's sins. If we did that then rather than crowning King Jon we would be executing him for the crimes of Rhaegar Targaryen and Aerys Targaryen. Moreover, we both agree that ignorance is not a sin. We have forgiven every other Lord who stood with the Boltons against Jon, unknowing of his heritage and Robb's will. Alys Karstak did not choose to back the Boltons, that was her father. The Karstaks have served the Starks faithfully for hundreds of years and we would not erase all the good will we have built up over the years of service because one Lord was a fool. Lady Alys Karstak will be the Lady of the Karkhold from this day until the end of her days or the day she once again breaks faith with House Stark."

Sansa cleared her throat and moved on. "With the eradication of House Bolton, and the death of all it's members both trueborn and natural the Dreadfort is now without a clear claimant who should inherit the lands that once belonged to their house. Under the old rules of inheritance, there are a number of possible claimants to the Boltons lands."

"Lady Barbrey Dustin as the eldest sister to the first wife of Lord Roose Bolton, and mother to the Lord of House Boltons firstborn son has a claim to the lands belonging to the former Lord of the Dreadfort. However, my brother and I while we will forgive, we refuse to award treachery and House Dustin stood with House Bolton against King Jon so she will not inherit the lands. As his most recent wife, Lady Walda Frey has a claim to the lands but due to the actions of her and her house in the Red Wedding, they will not be allowed to inherit any lands in the North ever again."

"As the wife of the former heir, I would have a claim to the Boltons lands as well. However, I have a responsibility as both Hand of the King and the Lady of Winterfell that would make me an ineffective ruler if I tried to add more duties to my plate. I would rather the Boltons land goes to someone who can show the dedication required to rule such a large household."

"I propose that we give the lands to Ser Marlon Manderly. The Manderlys have long been one of House Stark's most loyal supporters, and they refused to march with the Boltons against King Jon. My father often spoke highly of the Manderlys and they were among his most trusted bannerman. They had as many losses as anyone else at the Red Wedding and Lady Donella Manderly was tortured and killed by Ramsay Bolton. They are owed reparations from the Boltons and they will have it in the form of the Bolton lands."

That had been almost entirely Sansa's idea to give the Dreadfort to the Manderlys. Initially, Sansa had wanted to give the Dreadfort to the Glovers and the Hornwood to the Manderlys to secure the loyalty of the two most powerful Northern Houses to their cause but Jon had put his foot down. A son of Lord Halys Hornwood still lived, even if it was a bastard. Jon knew they couldn't make bastards equal in the line of succession until after the Long Night had ended and he and his Daenerys were seated on the Iron Throne, but he would be dammed if he let the wife's House inherit before the bastard of the Lord who the land belonged too. Sansa had decided that they would give the Dreadfort to whichever of Glover and Manderly was less supportive of him to get their loyalty and gratitude, likely the latter but the former was in theory, an option, depending on how the meeting had played out. Lord Manderly was the obvious choice at this point in the meeting.

"Why should the Manderlys inherit the Dreadfort?" Lord Rickard Ironsmith grumbled. "My father and brother also died at the Red Wedding and we refused to answer the Boltons call to arms. The Manderlys already hold White Harbor, give the Dreadfort to us. We are just as loyal as they are to the Starks, more so even."

There were nods and shouts in agreement with those who felt that they were being unfair by giving the Dreadfort to the Manderlys and they were right to feel that way. It was unfair and wrong that the Manderlys be given more land just because they were more powerful but Jon needed their support and this was an easy way to secure it. He wanted to break the wheel but the wheel wouldn't stop spinning just because he told it too. If he had given the lands to the Mormonts as he wanted to then he might have slowed the wheel but slowing something didn't break it. The wheel would break it because he spun it hard enough that it fell apart. He just had to use the wheel to break it. That meant giving the powerful more power for the time being.

Sansa easily quelled the crowd. "My Lords, House Manderly has been loyal to the Starks for a thousand years and has served them in perpetuity. House Ironsmith stayed loyal against the Boltons, yes, but they have not served the Starks for even a quarter of that length. We are not rewarding the Manderlys for their short term loyalty to us against the Boltons but for a thousand years of support to my father, King Robb, King Jon, and all of their ancestors. Loyalty is only rewarded when it is proven true through multiple storms, not one troublesome incident where they answered the call. House Manderly has weathered every storm and still remained loyal even when Torrhen Stark chose to kneel to Aegon Targaryen. They stood with the Starks in both victory and defeat. That is the kind of loyalty that garners reward, the kind that lasts thousands of years and still rings true to this day. Loyalty is not showing up for one battle, but for being there when House Stark needed them for hundreds of years."

There was no vocal protest after Sansa's passionate speech on behalf of Lord Wyman Manderly who puffed at her statement with pride. "House Manderly is honored by your kind words, Lady Stark. I thank you on behalf of my cousin for our new lands, and House Manderly promises to stand with House Stark, for another thousand years."

Sansa nodded. "We thank you for that, Lord Manderly. Ramsay Bolton was the Lord of the Hornwood after he raped, married and murdered Lady Donella Hornwood. The Lord before Ramsay Bolton was a good man and loyal to the Starks. Lord Halys Hornwood died in service to my brother at the battle of the Green Fork, and his heir, Daryn Hornwood died at the hands of the Kingslayer in the battle of the Whispering Wood while serving in King Robb's personal guard."

"House Hornwood does not deserve to have their house end with Ramsay Bolton as the head of their line. Halys Hornwood should not have his loyal service to the Starks rewarded with his house being given away to someone who he shares no blood with. He died for the Starks and it would be an unforgivable betrayal if we gave his land away for his sacrifice. King Jon has agreed to legitimize the bastard of Halys Hornwoods seed, Larence Snow as Larence Hornwood, Lord of the Hornwood provided that he swears fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen. Halys Hornwood was a good honorable man and his house should live on beyond him."

"I agree!" Lord Glover was quick to shout out. "Halys and Daryn served their King faithfully until the very end and they would not want to have their name die. Larence is just as honorable as his father and brother and will do them proud as Lord of the Hornwood." They had expected Lord Glover to support that decision, hence why it was the Manderlys who were their first choice to inherit the Dreadfort. Galbart Glover had fostered Larence Snow at Deepwood Motte and Lord Robett was close friends with Larence Snow. He had even journeyed with Lord Glover here today to the summit that Jon had called, likely expecting or at least hoping for this exact scenario.

"My cousin was never fond of her husband's bastard, but she loved her husband and House Hornwood. She wouldn't want her house to die with his death. I think that given the circumstances, she would want to legitimize Larence Snow as Lord Hornwood." Wyman Manderly added. It was a wad of codswallop or else Robb would have named him Lord of the Hornwood when Daryn first died but this is what Jon and Sansa had been hoping for. Giving the Dreadfort to the Manderlys meant that they had no problems with giving up the smaller land that belonged to the Hornwoods. Without the promise of the Dreadfort, Donella having been the Lady Hornwood and a Manderly would have made Lord Wyman contest the claim of Larence Snow to the Hornwood, wanting it for himself. He had been given something better and he wouldn't push his luck by demanding more, instead opting to support them in what they decided to remind them of his loyalty.

After they had the Manderlys backing on the decision to name Larence Snow as Lord of the Hornwood, there was bound to be no protest to the matter. The Manderlys had the best claim outside of Larence and had chosen to support Larence, no one else could have a chance in gaining the lands for themselves.

Sansa realizing there was no one who was going to say anything more, looked to Jon and nodded who rose to stand beside her. It was time to hear the wind blow.

"Now, I ask you this, Lord Amber, will you renew your oaths of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen? Will you swear to remain loyal to Houses Stark and Targaryen in perpetuity, observe your homage to both houses in all matters, and swear to never seek to do any member of either house harm without just cause?" Jon asked.

Lord Amber nodded and rose before stepping forward to take Jon's hands as tradition mandated. "I swear it," He vowed.

Jon forced a smile. "Then as a head of House Targaryen, and King of the Seven Kingdoms, I promise that I will protect you, govern you fairly, and never seek to do your house harm without just cause." He squeezed his hands and then let go with Lord Amber moving down the line to Sansa who was standing beside him and gripped her hands.

"As the head of House Stark, I promise that I will protect you, govern you fairly, and never seek to do your house harm without just cause." Sansa echoed. She let go of Lord Ambers hands and he retook his seat at a table.

"Lord Ashwood, will you renew your oaths of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen? Will you swear to remain loyal to Houses Stark and Targaryen in perpetuity, observe your homage to both houses in all matters, and swear to never seek to do any member of either house harm without just cause?" He asked once more and on and on the ceremony went with each and every Lord present, agreeing to swear fealty to both of Jon's houses in perpetuity. It was tedious but it was necessary that they all swear it individually. Words were just wind but words sworn in public were some deterrent to breaking them, being branded as a liar and an oathbreaker was not something any Lord wanted to be named as.

At last, all their oaths were dealt with, including those of the new Lord Hornwood. Now Jon had to move onto what was sure to be the most complicated items on their list for the day. Typically, oaths of fealty were the final step in a meeting but Jon had needed to have their fealty first before he shared more important news. Namely, the marriage agreement that had him sharing power equally with his Daenerys Targaryen. He was sure they'd all jump with joy at that news. Oh and the fact that he wanted them to accept the wildlings settling on this side of the wall. After that, he only had to convince them all that the others were real and they needed to be prepared to fight a monster from a children's book. He definitely expected no difficulty explaining that to them. Perhaps, he should do the last part first since it would in part explain his reasoning for those decisions.

Sansa retook her seat and Jon stepped forward once again. "I'm afraid now that the more pleasant matters are out of the way, we must move onto the war. We must discuss our true enemy."

"The Lannisters!" Someone yelled out from the crowd. "The Freys!" Another voice cried out. A roar from Rhaegal silenced them.

Jon shook his head sadly. "The Lannisters aren't our ally, nor are the Freys but they are not the true enemy. The true enemy lies north of the wall. The Others are stirring, and the army of the dead vastly outnumbers our own."

"Your Grace, I fear your time at the wall has you seeing ghosts. The Others are a fairy tale made up to scare children. The army of the dead isn't real, the dead stay dead." Lord Long said quietly and received many nods in agreement to Jon's anger.

Jon scowled and cut him off. "Look outside." He snapped. "There is a dragon flying over your head, and you dare to lecture me on what is real?" He scoffed and walked over to the fireplace sticking his hand in and pulling out a lump of coal. He clenched the coal in his fist and held it up to their inspection. "I can not be hurt by fire but you try to claim that magic doesn't exist?"

He ripped open his vest, exposing his naked chest to their gaze prompting gasps as they spied the marks that marred his upper body for the first time, with the exception of the ones who had already seen his scars. "I died. I have a hole in my heart but you try to claim that the dead can't live. I walked out of my funeral pyre, alive and unharmed but the dead can not live. Just because you want it to be true, does not mean that it is true, the dead live and they are coming for us all. Magic exists in the world again, and there is no denying that. If magic can bring me back to life then the Others can re-animate corpses for their army."

"I saw the Others and their army of the dead with my own eyes at Hardhome. I killed an Other with the Mormont family sword. The Others are real and more numerous than all the forces in the North. If we do not have unity with the south when they arrive, we will all die."

"When I first learned of my heritage, I had no intention of claiming the throne for myself." He had planned on claiming it for his Daenerys as a dragon in her employ. "It was only once I saw the Others at Hardhome with their army of at least two-hundred thousand wights, that I realized the Seven Kingdoms needed to be united to stand against them." That part wasn't a lie either, even if the order he said things implied that he knew about his heritage before he saw the Others.

"As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I let the Free Folk move south of the wall and settle in the gift. Not because of the love I had for the Free Folk, or because I wanted an army but because I understood that the real threat was the Others. I moved them south of the wall, because if I had left them beyond the wall, they would have just been more soldiers in the Great Other's army, and our odds of victory would have been that much slimmer."

"It doesn't matter that the Free Folk have been at odds with the North for generations, we have to band together to survive. I will never forgive the Lannisters for executing my father and for murdering my siblings. I will never forgive the Freys for the Red Wedding. I could have murdered every Lannister at Last Hearth but they are not my enemy, they should be punished for their crimes but every man I kill is one less on our side when the Long Night comes."

"I'm asking you to kneel to a Targaryen, in spite, of what Rhaegar did to my mother, and, in spite, of what the Mad King did to Brandon and Rickard. If we are not united we will all die when winter comes. If we do not have control of the south when winter arrives, we will lose in the great war. Make no mistake, our choices are to band together with both the Free Folk and the South and live, or stand-alone and die. To stand alone and watch our families die out because we were too prideful to accept that we needed help."

"It won't be easy to defeat an army that so vastly outnumbers us, even with the help of dragons. We probably will lose regardless of what we do, but we can give them a damn good fight if we all work together. I'm not asking you to fight the Others as your King. I'm asking you to fight them as a fellow Northerner who just wants to live."

"Whether you choose to believe in them or not, they do exist. Whether you want to put me on the throne and unite all of Westeros under the Targaryen banner so that you can claim a Northerner sits on the Iron Throne and secretly think I'm as mad as my grandfather, if you fight for me for vengeance, or if you believe in the Others, I don't care why you support me. All I care about is that you choose to fight for me both now, and when the time comes that we all need to fight for life itself."

"Your Grace," Lord Woolfield spoke up. "The Wall has repelled the others for hundreds of thousands of years, surely you can't expect it to fall now. What the Others do north of the wall is none of our concern. Let the Night's Watch deal with the Others as they always have. The North should focus on the Lannisters and Freys."

Jon walked over to Lord Woolfield and looked him directly in the eye. "How do you expect five hundred men of the Night's Watch to stand against two-hundred thousand? The Wall has held them back in the past, aye, but times are changing. Dragons have returned to the world, Targaryens no longer burn, and dead men can live again. I alone can prove all of those things, and I'm sure if you looked you could find other impossible things in the world. Myths are no longer myths but a reality. The Others slumbered for eons but now they are awake and active, they will move on the wall and I am almost completely certain that the wall will fall at some point in the not so distant future. The Others aren't mindless slaves but intelligent beings who can strategize. They will find a way through the wall, and if we are not properly prepared then they will kill us all."

He took a step back from Lord Woolfield and addressed the rest of the hall. "If there is even a small chance that the wall falls, are we willing to gamble all of our lives on that chance? I'm not willing to risk the end of us all by ignoring the greatest threat to the North. There is a chance that they never come. I might be written about in the history books as a Mad King who believed in myths and legends, who prepared for a war that would never come but at least that would mean there would be history books. I am not willing to risk all of our lives by refusing to believe and do everything in my power, and then some to stop this possible cataclysmic threat. If there's a chance that I'm right, and we refuse to act then we are dooming us all. I won't do that, regardless of the personal cost. We must do everything in our power to stop this threat."

"My Uncle died because he believed in the Others, that there was a greater threat to the North than the wildlings. I believe in my King and if he claims that there are truly ice monsters lurking beyond the wall, I'll believe him. House Mormont swore to stand with King Jon from this day until his last day. This is no exception, House Mormont will stand with our King in the war against death and will fight for life, no matter the cost." Lyanna Mormont declared in support of Jon. Jon grinned, her support was truly highly valued, even when he had yet to offer her anything in return.

"Aye, House Manderly also swore fealty to King Jon and will not break that vow today or ever. If there is even a chance that the King speaks true then we must be prepared. House Manderly will fight not for the North, but for the living." Lord Manderly pledged.

"I say fuck the dead! Let's send them back beneath the ground where they belong. Let's show them why they don't come south of the wall. Let's make those icy bastards run back over the wall, desperate to escape our King who has a fucking dragon. Let them slumber for another hundred thousand years in fear of the North! I say we fight for life and show those pale fuckers who owns the North!" Lord Glover shouted and got many cheers in agreement.

"Your Grace," Lord Quagg called out over the shouting Lord Glover had started with his passionate declaration of war on the Others. "In the legends, the Others are unkillable by blade or steel, you claimed that you killed one. How? Are the legends wrong?"

"There are two known methods to kill an Other and a third method that can kill their dead men, wights. The first method is to use dragonglass, the Maesters tend to refer to it as obsidian. I don't know where we can find larger quantities of it but we found a small stash buried at the fist of the first men. One of the brothers of the Night Watch used it to slay an Other."

"The second method is Valyrian Steel which I discovered by complete happenstance when I used to slay an Other at Hardhome. Normal blades shatter when they come into contact with and Other but Valyrian Steel and dragonglass will instead cause them to shatter. Fire can also kill the wights but has no effect on the Others."

"Then it's a good thing we have a dragon," The Smalljon laughed.

"I won't lie and claim that the battle will be easy but I thank you for standing with me as we face impossible odds. I thank you for listening to reason and agreeing that we must do whatever it takes to defeat the Others."

"What must be done will not be pleasant, but it is necessary. As your King, I hereby decree that every deadman will have their bodies burned from this day until the day the Great Other is defeated." Murmurs broke out protesting his decision but another perfectly and coincidentally well-timed roar from Rhaegal silenced them.

"I know the North likes to bury their dead and honor them by visiting their graves but that is no longer an option. Any dead man buried in our homes is one more soldier that the Great Other has in his army and if we choose to give him extra hundred-thousand men out of respect to the dead then we will all join them as dead and there will be no one left to respect us. I am not asking you to forget your dead, you can still remember them without their bones. I am telling you that you will burn all of your dead or else your house will pay for any damage done by your dead as if it was done by yourself. Anyone who is found burying their dead will be guilty of conspiring to commit treason and will be punished accordingly. This is not a request but an order."

"On a brighter note, I must inform you all that I have agreed to a marriage agreement to Daenerys Targaryen to legitimize my claim and to share the Throne with her in exchange for her army and dragons in the wars to come."

"Have you lost your mind?" Lord Robett Glover shouted. "She's the Mad King's daughter! You cannot give her power!" Many other voices echoed similar sentiments but that was the one that Jon locked onto.

Jon asked Rhaegal to roar once more to take some of the wind out of the crowd and he did as asked with a laugh. "Was it not you, Lord Glover, who claimed that I was not Rhaegar Targaryen? She is not her father either. Her father was dead before she was ever born, she was raised by Ser Willem Darry, an honorable man by all accounts for most of her youth. She is not her father nor is she her brother just like I'm not my sire." Jon explained perfectly calm.

"She was married to a savage Dothraki horse lord in Essos, Your Grace. She sold her body for an army, surely you don't want to marry a foreign whore." Lord Mollen said quietly.

Jon couldn't contain his rage at his insult. "My Daenerys-" He cut himself off and forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself before he said or did something he would regret. "Tell me, Lord Mollen, is my sister a whore?"

Lord Mollen blinked owlishly at the complete change of topic. "N-no, Your Grace,"

"Then Daenerys is not one either. She was forced to marry the Dothraki Khal by her brother who was very much her father's son. She did not choose to sell herself for an army but was forced to marry against her will like my sister was. If you think that being raped makes her a whore then you are also insulting the Lady Stark."

Lord Mollen did not have a response to that.

"Why marry her, Your Grace? It seems completely unnecessary." Lord Wyman Manderly asked.

"She offers me a legitimate claim to the Iron Throne-" Jon tried to explain,

"Your Grace, your brother legitimized you. You no longer need a marriage to her to be King." Lord Manderly tried to reason with him.

Jon hid his internal grin behind a scowl, he had taken the bait he had offered without any prompting. "You would have me break a marriage agreement after what happened when my brother broke his? And you dare to say I am the one who has lost my mind? My brother lost his Kingdom when he chose to back out on a betrothal he had agreed to. Yet you ask me to repeat his mistakes. It is you who have lost your mind."

"Daenerys is not the Freys but she also has two dragons at her disposal. Why should I risk her wrath and back out on our agreement? Daenerys Targaryen is the one who sent my dragon to me, that gave us victory at Last Hearth. If she was not to be trusted, she would have chained Rhaegal and let me die. She understands that the real threat lies beyond the wall. Our visions for the world align, we both want a free world, an equal world. She has ended slavery in Meereen and put all of their other barbaric practices to rest. She has got her Dothraki that follow her to do the same. She is not her father who does not care about the common folk or anyone but himself. She is good and has a heart for the weak and powerless. She is not the Mad Queen."

"We agreed to share power as equals, in part because we understand that the world will not survive another dance of the dragons right now. Another part of it was because our visions for the world aligned. The primary reason, however, was that we agreed that power should never again only rest with one man." The last one was a blatant lie but he needed them to understand that not sharing power wasn't an option he would consider. She hadn't even agreed to anything yet as far as Jon knew.

"The Mad King was such a threat to the realm because no man could challenge his power and authority. He committed unforgivable sins but as the ultimate power, no one could punish him for what he had done. Robert Baratheon might not have murdered innocents, but with no one to tell him no, he plunged the crown ten million dragons in debt."

"Ten million dragons!" Lord Rodrik Ryswell exclaimed in disbelief. "Surely you jest?"

"It is no jest, my Lords. Lord Petyr Baelish served as Master of Coin under Robert Baratheon and Lord Tyrion Lannister served in the position after him. Both of them report the debt being that large." Sansa interjected with a sad shake of her head.

"Joffrey Waters was able to execute Ned Stark because no one had the authority to tell him no. Tommen Waters likewise gave the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven, the power to militarize because no one could tell him no. Now because of that decision, they have the authority to persecute those who keep the Old Gods for not following their gods. Both I and Queen Daenerys agree that unchecked power will only lead to disaster, and will not abide by it any longer, even when it is one of us who holds that power. If either one of us goes the way of our forefathers then we will not be able to destroy the Kingdom."

"I agree that sharing power is sensible, Your Grace, but surely it would be wiser to only take Daenerys Targaryen as your wife, and share the throne with your sister or someone else who is not mad. A Targaryen can not be trusted." Lord Holt argued rationally and to Jon's annoyance got nods in agreement.

Jon forced himself to remain calm at the insult to his Daenerys. "You forget that I am also a Targaryen, Lord Holt. My Da-throthed is not mad, while Aerys II was mad and Rhaegar Targaryen was mad; the vast majority of Targaryens were not. Aemon Targaryen was the uncle to the Mad King and he served as the Maester of the Night's Watch for almost a hundred years. Ask any brother of the Night's Watch and they would all say he showed no signs of madness. There have been plenty of good Targaryens who showed no sign of madness over the years. Daenerys Targaryen is not mad just like our great uncle and I. She is good."

"Your Grace," Lady Flint called out sweetly. "At Widow's Watch, we've received reports of Daenerys Targaryen's cruelty in Essos. She crucified 200 men when she took the city and burned Astapor to the ground. They say her dragon ripped men apart in the streets. Does that not sound like she is mad? Are you sure you aren't letting her beauty distract you from her true nature?"

"I've never even seen her in person, we've exchanged letters but I've never met her. How on earth would I be distracted by her beauty when for all I know, she is the ugliest woman alive?" Jon raged at their simple-mindedness. "It was my dragon who was the one who ripped apart criminals when they tried to commit a crime. He'll do the same here if you try to murder or rape innocents. She crucified two hundred men when she took Meereen, Aye, and I killed a thousand in an even worse fashion when I defeated the Boltons."

"Those were the Boltons, Your Grace," Lord Fenn argued. "They were evil men, they deserved such treatment."

Jon lost it when he saw people nodding along with that blatant hypocrisy. "My Daenerys killed evil men just as I did, worse men even. She crucified slavers who beat and tortured innocent children for sport. Men who liked to watch other men fight to the death for their own amusement. She killed rapists and murderers, not innocents. She crucified the men who crucified children to send a message to her. She burned Astapor to the ground after she freed all the slaves and the innocents were free from the aftermath. Her actions were entirely justified and in her shoes, I would have done the same if not worse. She is not evil or mad but good and just."

"Your Grace-" Lord Wells tried to protest but Jon wasn't having it.

"Enough!" Jon shouted. "You all swore fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen! Whether you like it or not, she is a member of House Targaryen and as such you owe your fealty to her as much as you owe it to me. She will be your Queen and you will treat her with the respect that her position deserves. I will hear no more of this treasonous talk." Rhaegal roared in agreement with Jon putting the foot down from outside.

"She offers us two more dragons, one of which dwarfs the size of Rhaegal as well as ten thousand men. Our chances of winning the war with both the south and the dead increase tenfold with her on our side. She has proven herself a good ruler and desires to build a better world than the world of southern Kings. You said you would never bow to a southerner again, and I understand that desire but she is not a southerner. She had never been south of the Neck, she does not follow the traditions of the south nor does she worship their gods. I've spoken with her on multiple occasions and can confirm that she had the North's best interests at heart. You will bow to your King and Queen or you will be burned alive for your treason. Do we have an accord?"

The Smalljon stood and for a short moment, Jon thought it was in defiance. "I may not like your choice in Queen, just like I did not approve of King Robb's choice but it is your choice, not ours. If you choose her as Queen then I will bow down and call her my Queen as I did with Queen Talisa, and treat her with the same respect I treat you, as is my duty as the vassal of the King. I will hail Daenerys Targaryen as my Queen." He swallowed nervously. "I hail Daenerys Targaryen as an equal to the King."

Lord Glover stood up once more."I won't try to hide the fact that I fucking hated the Mad Prince and the Mad King but if my King says that she is different, then I will trust his judgment. King Jon proves that sane Targaryens do exist, mayhaps she is also one of those of such a rare breed. King Jon has already proven himself wiser than every other King before him, so if he claims that Daenerys Targaryen is good then it must be so. His vision for the world is a beautiful one that I want to see become a reality. In this too, I trust him and will reluctantly hail Daenerys Targaryen as my Queen."

"I don't like that King Jon agreed to a marriage with Daenerys Targaryen that gave her half his power but I can respect it. He agreed to a marriage under false pretenses because he is as honorable as his true father. The fact that he has learned from his brother's mistakes and will keep his word to Daenerys Targaryen and marry her anyway only proves further that he is the right choice to be our King. If my King will keep his promise to Daenerys Targaryen, then I will as well and hail her as Queen and equal to the King." Lord Manderly said quietly but with the deathly silence that had fallen over the room, everyone heard him loud and clear.

"I hailed King Jon as King before he defeated the Boltons," Lady Lyanna Mormont boasted loudly. "In our darkest hour, I thought that it was King Jon who was there for us and avenged the Red Wedding. King Jon may have been the one who commanded the dragon that day to destroy the Boltons but it was Queen Daenerys who hatched it and sent him to the King. We owe her for our freedom, just as much as we do King Jon. If she will willingly share power with King Jon then she's already proven to me that she is not her father or her brother. I will proudly hail Daenerys Targaryen as the first ruling Queen and the equal to King Jon!" She shouted.

Jon smiled at her unshaken childlike understanding of things, she didn't care about family history. She just cared about the North and her House. He had claimed that his Daenerys had stood for both those so she was all for Daenerys being Queen since she had proven she cared for the North from her perception.

The whole room agreed to hail his Daenerys as their Queen eventually, after a few more well-timed roars from Rhaegal who was all too happy to help. Lyanna Mormont was the only one who was enthusiastic about his Daenerys being Queen but they all did agree to hail her as Queen so there was at least some wind in the sails. He only had one Kingdom sworn to the both of them at this point, but soon two more would follow. Things were finally coming into place. Now, all he needed was for Jorah to return to Meereen and his Daenerys to accept his offer when she learned that he was her favorite dragon. That was if Varys hadn't told her already, of course, which was far from a guarantee.

Rhaegal roared once more to regain control of the crowd so he could finally call this painstakingly long meeting to a close and go stretch his wings. "I thank you all for your support and faith in both me and my Queen. If anyone has any questions, now is the final chance to ask them, or else we can call this meeting to a close."

"Your Grace, what do you plan to do with the Kingslayer?" Lord Fisher called out. "He killed my son, and should die for that." He got many cheers and nods in agreement.

"I agree that the Kingslayer deserves death, but he is too valuable of a hostage to kill. He is the father of the bastard who currently sits on my throne and is Lord of the Westerlands. I too desire vengeance for all of his sins against the North and my house but I can not take it. We have to prioritize saving as many lives as possible. Without his hand, the Kingslayer is not a threat to the North but he is an extremely valuable hostage. Make no mistake, he will not be given the chance to escape again and whoever chooses to free him, be it my sister or some random steward, they will be executed for the crime."

He winced slightly at having to call anyone other than himself a bastard verbally, even the usurper who claimed his throne as his own. Bastard had become such a hateful and derogatory term in Westeros that implied lesser. Bastards were not any lower or different from trueborn sons. They were just people, like all of the prideful Lords gathered before him. It was necessary to use the term himself, as loathe as he was because he couldn't give any signs of his plans to legitimize all bastards, and remove that barrier or he would lose all the support he had just garnered."

Lord Fisher didn't look pleased but he nodded in agreement with Jon's explanation.

"Is there anything else, or may we finally call this meeting to a close?" Jon asked once more. No one said anything in reply this time. "In that case I thank you-"

"You forgot one thing brother," Sansa called out.

Jon eyed her with complete bafflement. They had discussed how they wanted this to go in excruciating detail, Jon was positive that he had done all that he had planned. "And what is that?"

She grinned at him and her eyes twinkled just like how Arya's did when she had just pranked Sansa. What did she have planned? Was she planning to undermine him again? To usurp him already? "Your Coronation, brother. You have just been crowned both King in the North and King of the Seven Kingdoms. No man is a King before he is coronated." She said mischievously and nodded towards Maester Wolkan.

Maester Wolkan stepped outside and Brienne came in carrying a large wooden chair- or perhaps it was meant to be a throne, stained black with a dragon head on the right armrest, and a wolf head on the left. The chair was padded with red cushions that had silver wolfs and dragons embroidered on them. She sat the chair in the center of the room, directly behind Jon.

Maester Wolkan re-entered the room carrying a rich purple pillow with a dark grey metal that was almost dark enough to be considered black crown resting on the top of it. The crown was both beautiful and terrifying to look at, it was thick and twisted but it was twisted in a beautiful way. The metal was molded in the shape of dragons that formed three peaks across the crown, the wings flapped up as if in flights and sticking up to form points on the crown. There were three of them, large and beautiful creatures wrought our of the metal. Interlocking the dragons, there were six smaller spikes, two between each dragon. As Jon looked closer, he realized that they were in the shape of direwolves howling at the moon with their snouts jutting up to form the points on the crown. "One for each of the Starks," Sansa whispered in his ear.

Jon felt tears prickling in his eyes as Sansa took the crown from Maester Wolkan and stepped onto a stool behind Jon so she could hold the crown over his head. This was truly incredible, and the kindest thing Sansa had probably ever done for him. She truly considered him a Stark, and not just a Stark but a Targaryen as well. She had made sure that the crown represented both sides of him in equal measure. It was perfect.

"Will you Jon, of Houses Stark and Targaryen, solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of all the seven kingdoms and their dominions thereto belonging according to the statues set by Aegon Targaryen, the first of his name, and the laws and customs agreed upon by the Kings who came before you, and the Lords who govern their regions?" Sansa asked him as tradition mandated.

"I do so solemnly swear it," Jon replied, his mouth suddenly very dry.

"Will you Jon, of Houses Stark and Targaryen, solemnly promise and swear to use your power to execute law and justice with mercy and wrath when the crime warrants it in all of your judgments?" She queried.

"I do so solemnly swear it," Jon said once more. He was going too be a true King now. Not a self-proclaimed one, but a corronated King in the eyes of both Gods and men.

"Will you Jon, of Houses Stark and Targaryen, solemnly promise and swear to respect the religion of the seven followed by those in the south as well as those who choose to follow the Old Gods in the north and not interfere in their religious practices nor will you govern the church and appoint leaders for them but allow them to operate freely under your rule?" She asked the final question.

Jon hesitated before answering this one, he would be lying if he said yes, he would not allow the church to continue some of their more barbaric practices. Their blatant hatred of women who chose to engage in sex outside of marital relations and that being punishable by the wall for men who slept with a noblewoman with consent and death in some cases even was not something he would tolerate in his Kingdoms. He also would not allow the faith militant to continue to operate outside of the law. "I do so solemnly swear that as long as the church abides by the laws of the crown and judges all people fairly, I will not interfere in their governing or practicioning of their faith."

There was an awkward moment of silence there, after Jon gave a completely unorthodox response to what was the standard questions posed to any new monarch since Aegon the first was crowned by the faith. He would break the wheel, and breaking the wheel meant not giving the faith ultimate power. They were just as guilty as anyone for trampling innocent men and women underfoot. He would not allow it to persist.

Finally, Sansa decided that his response was satisfactory enough and moved on with the ceremony. "May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead. May the Old Gods watch over him and give him direction in all his endeavors. In the light of the Seven, and before the Old Gods, I now proclaim Jon of the House Targaryen, First of His Name. Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign!" Sansa exclaimed.

"Long May he reign!" The entire room echoed as Sansa set the crown upon his head and Jon grunted as it fell upon his brow and he was made to carry the heavy crown on his scalp. He saw Rickkon standing on his left and felt his head get suddenly extremely warm as he took his seat on the makeshift throne that had been prepared for him.

Rickon held out a mirror so Jon could observe his own reflection and was awed when he noticed that the crown was on fire. The flames licked at his head but did not burn and the crown showed no signs of decay as it burned, unlike the copper one.

"It's Tungsten," Sansa explained to him. "It is highly flammable but doesn't melt easily so it should be able to be burned regularly without the use of oil or needing to replace it. The material is too brittle to be used in weapons and is too garish and heavy to be used in jewelry most of the time so it's pretty cheap and easy to acquire. Lord Baelish had this made for you on my request."

Jon was reluctant to thank Lord Baelish for anything and would never feel gratitude of any kind towards him for what he did to Sansa but he would admit that the crown was perfect. He truly looked and felt like a Targaryen King now, not some pretender who was just copying his Daenerys or Robb but a true Targaryen and Stark King. It was exhilarating. Rhaegal roared happily from outside and Jon smiled as he looked out on his loyal subjects.

---

Jon and Sansa were due to leave on Rhaegal for the Vale in only a few short hours to meet with the Lords of the Vale and gain their support. Jon was restless with anticipation, and fear. He knew that Sansa said Baelish had an expansive spy network, that was comparable to that of the spider. Jon doubted the last part, since Baelish probably wasn't a warg but he did worry. What if Baelish knew that his Daenerys hadn't actually agreed to share power with him- possibly? Or what if she had been hurt or killed in his absence and he only learned of it now? That Baelish had known it before him because he was flying blind in Meereen. What if by saving his life and gaining the North he had doomed her and traded one of his lives for her own? He had missed his Daenerys and would continue to do so until he saw her again.

His head hurt from all the information on the different cultures of the Vale and their mountain clans that he would have to precariously balance simultaneously to get all of their support. He had a pretty straightforward approach to get the loyalty of most clans but there was still some uncertainty and anything could go wrong. He was quickly discovering that the hardest part of the ruling was respecting the religions and cultures of every one of his subjects on equal footing without angering anyone from a different culture. How had his Daenerys even kind of balanced it all? This was much harder than he had given her credit for, breaking the wheel required breaking traditions unless you walked the line perfectly. Breaking traditions meant causing a rebellion, and causing rebellion meant they would not be united when the Long Night came. He had no choice but to walk that line perfectly, or give up on bettering the life of the common man. The North was a comparatively easy Kingdom to the Vale since he had grown up there and knew the culture well but the Vale he had very limited exposure to, only knowing what he did through books and the scarce handful of Valemen who had joined the watch. He lacked the practical experience to appeal to them in the most optimal manner. That hardly meant he wouldn't try though. Most of what he did with the North was easily repeatable and shouldn't offend the Valeman too much from what Jon knew. the mountain clans he had to have unique plans for each one to fit what he knew of their culture.

His bird should be arriving in Meereen soon, today even if Jon was correct, perhaps before sending the bird to Varys he could personally check on his Daenerys and make sure for himself, that she was alright. He needed to see her again, after so long apart. He needed the assurance before he trusted the word of the spider and made plans and claims involving her based on his word her rationalized to himself.

It was tactical, not personal that he needed to see her. He forced his way into the bird, shuddering involuntarily at how wrong it felt to be the bird. He was in luck. They were in Meereen now, he recognized the Temple of the Graces very easily from all the times that Rhaegal had seen it while in Meereen. From there, it was only a few turns and maybe an hour of flight, to the temple that had housed his Daenerys, and to their balcony. He flew eagerly in the wrong skin en route towards their balcony.

He dove in the bird's tiny body through the open doors that Rhaegal had always been too big to get anything more than his head through. His Daenerys was not in her room. Had something happened to her? Had she died because he left her here? If Jon wasn't mistaken on the time, she should still be here, this had been their time in the mornings and she had rarely left her room that early ever. He was almost certain that it was too early for her to have begun seeing petitioners for the day. Something must have happened to her and it was his fault.

Jon shook his head. He had to be mistaken, there had to be some other reason she wasn't in her room. Perhaps, they had had another emergency council meeting this morning. Where were those exactly? He had never been able to follow as just a dragon when she did have them. Wherever, she was, Jon would find her and make sure that she was safe.

He exited through her door that was open just a crack and flew through the scarily empty halls at a breakneck pace, his sensitive ears perked up and listening to everything, in search of her voice. He came to the stairs and warred with himself before deciding that downstairs was the way to go. He knew the throne room was there so he could at least check to see if she had chosen to start seeing petitioners early, even if the lack of people, waiting outside made that possibility terrifyingly unlucky.

He followed the stairs all the way to the ground floor and heard murmurings of conversations taking place in a myriad of rooms as he flew past them in High Valyrian that he only understood small fragments of from his self-taught lessons and he heard the sound of boiling water as he flew past the kitchens. All the sounds that he heard, none of them matched his Daenerys, and Jon was getting worried now.

He flew further down the hall and past the throne room when he heard nothing coming from there, something must have happened to her. He had left her and she had died because of it. He had prioritized being a human again, and being a King at that to protecting his Daenerys from her enemies.

He was jarred from his spiral of doubt and self-hatred when he heard an all too familiar beautiful musical glorious laugh. That was his Daenerys! Or at least it sounded like her, he followed the bird's ears down the hall and to the noise as a familiar voice that Jon could not place spoke to her in the common tongue.

"He looked absolutely ridiculous after he tried to paint his face brown with mud so he could try to leave with them-" Jon tuned the other voice out as he stared at the closed door, that his Daenerys might be barred behind. He couldn't be sure that it was her, he had to see her with his own eyes first. For her safety, of course, no other reason.

The door was closed but there were windows outside and they rarely were closed. He could check on her from there. Jon swerved into the nearest open room and flew out through the open window. He immediately spun towards the room where he had heard his Daenerys laugh from behind the closed door. The window was open but the curtains were drawn. He would likely have to be content with just hearing her, jostling the curtains would draw attention that he didn't want.

"He really wanted to leave so badly? He really felt so unwanted that he tried to sneak away with the Dornish because they treated them with more respect then half his family?" His Daenerys's voice asked quietly.

"That's what Jon let everyone think." The other very familiar voice responded. "It was only when I confronted him about it, upset and angry that Jon had wanted to abandon us that Jon told me the real reason behind his uh escape attempt."

They were speaking about him, but who knew anything about him in Meereen beside Theon? Who had he spoken with that they would have such an oddly personal story about him? The voice very distinctly was not the same as Theon's from when he had nearly eaten him, and it wasn't Varys or Tyrion either. Whoever it was, had to be lying to his Daenerys to make him look bad.

"Jon hadn't actually wanted to leave us, he had enjoyed the Dornish's carefree attitude and how they didn't care that he was a bastard but he hadn't wanted to leave. Sansa had been heartbroken when she found out that her darling Prince Quentyn would be leaving and she wouldn't get to marry him. She had been inconsolable and moping about it constantly. She hated Jon but Jon still cared for her in spite of her rudeness towards him. Jon had wanted her to be happy again, and to no longer mope about her beloved prince."

"So he covered his face in mud, and tried to sneak away in the Dornish retinue. There was nothing that Sansa loved more than making fun of Jon. His plan worked to perfection, Sansa laughed so hard when he was caught in their company and forgot all about her precious Prince. She spent the next few months, calling Jon mud face at every possible opportunity and would tease him whenever she saw him, but she did stop moping about her prince to be mean towards Jon instead." The very familiar and feminine voice said.

Jon remembered that incident all too well when Lord Anders Yronwood had visited Winterfell with his ward, Quentyn Martell, a Prince of Dorne, to discuss the renewal of a trade agreement between their houses. There had never been a chance of a betrothal between Sansa and Prince Quentyn. The bad blood between Dorne and the Stark's after the actions of his parents had made that impossible. There was also, the fact that Prince Quentyn had not appreciated the affections of Sansa and had actively avoided her whenever possible as Sansa obsessively stalked him. Even if, Quentyn and Sansa had been the best of friends, a marriage agreement could never have happened then between the two since Lord Yronwood was not the Prince's father and did not have the authority to agree to a contract for Quentyn.

Jon's heart thudded painfully in his chest. There was only one person that he had told his reasoning for his plot to, Arya. There was no chance that was actually her, she couldn't be here. There was no way that she had actually arrived in Meereen in the short months since he had left.

Jon couldn't stop himself from poking his head through the curtains, he had to see if it was Arya for himself. He had to know if she was actually here with his Daenerys. That she was truly still alive, and Brienne hadn't been mistaken when she saw her with the Hound.

His Daenerys was still as beautiful as ever, her curled silver hair framing her smooth face and her violet eyes shined brightly, and her thin eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Her face was slightly pinched, upset with something from Arya's tale apparently. He had missed the sight of her.

All he could see of what Jon thought might be Arya was a mop of stringy dark hair and bruises on her neck and shoulders, the ones around her neck in the clear shape of a handprint. What had happened to her? If this was actually Arya, how had she suffered so?

He had to see her face, to know for certain that this was her, to know that Arya was still alive. He knew it was foolish but he flew the rest of the way in the room and around to the wall closest to the door, so he could see her face again.

"Why then would he name Sansa of all people as his hand if she was cruel to him?"

There was no doubting that it was Arya Stark now that he could lay his beady black eyes on her. Her face was haggard, bruised, and her complexion was paler than he remembered. Still, there was no mistaking her long face, and grey eyes so similar in looks to those of his uncle. They sparkled with the same joy and rebelliousness that they always had in Winterfell, in spite, of her subpar condition. He couldn't help but let out a squawk in his elation at Arya being alive and with his Daenerys.

His squawk drew the attention of both the women in the room with him, and Daenerys reached out for him, no doubt seeing the scroll that he had tied to his leg. Jon dove away from her grip, instinctively. She didn't know that he was a warg and would likely take the note, stating that Varys had been communicating with him rather poorly and possibly execute his source. It was better that she didn't know that Jon was in communications with Varys yet. She would think it was just an odd bird and nothing more. In a few days, his Daenerys and Arya would have both forgotten about his visit.

He had avoided his Daenerys's prying hands and was almost home free when a small hand wrapped around the bird's torso. He had forgotten about how quick Arya's reflexes were. He flapped his wings rapidly, trying to break free but her grip was like iron and would not loosen.

"Good reflexes, Arya," His Daenerys said appreciatively.

Arya frowned slightly. "They're well-honed from when I had to catch birds with my hands and snap their necks to have food to eat."

His Daenerys pursed her lips and sighed. "You don't have to do that anymore." Jon was even more horrified by what she had to endure during their time apart. She had been so desperate for food she was eating random birds that she caught with her bare hands to survive? What else had happened to her in his absence?

He watched in horror as Arya removed the scroll from his leg and noticed the Targaryen sigil. Using such a distinguished seal had been a mistake. He hadn't been thinking when he reflexively grabbed his seal off the desk. "I think it might be from Jon, or at least someone pretending to be him," She said as she held out the scroll to his Daenerys.

He stopped struggling in Arya's vice-like grip and watched in both horror and fascination as his Daenerys unfurled the scroll. Her brows furrowed as she read it, before she handed it over to Arya.

"Is this from Jon?" She asked. "I don't understand what exactly this is about. I presume it is for Varys but the meaning for it is lost on me. Perhaps you'll understand it, since you actually have heard him speak before." He wasn't surprised that she had no clue what it spoke of, only someone who knew about wargs would be able to understand what he was hinting at.

Arya let go of Jon but at this point, it was too late to escape with the scroll since his Daenerys had already read it. He would have to try to soothe things over as a bird who could only nod his head and somehow manage to get taken to Varys who could explain who and what he was. He sat himself down on Arya's soldier as she read the scroll aloud to herself. They needed to know that he was more intelligent than a normal bird. His Daenerys would have to know that he was a warg before the day was out. It was unavoidable. Hopefully, she didn't take it too horribly.

Spider,

This little bird is broken. I appreciate you offering one to me. I think it's only fair that I return the favor, I'll happily serve as a little bird myself, in case she needs to learn anything from my domain urgently. Six AM your time is when I'll serve as the bird but I'll leave the time when you'll be the bird up to you.

-The Crow

Arya frowned as she finished reading it. "It's Jon's handwriting, making sense of this is more difficult." She reached up and absentmindedly stroked Jon's feathers from where he sat on her shoulder. "I'd presume the she that he speaks of is you, Daenerys. His domain is likely the North as well. The rest of it is nonsense."

Jon bobbed his head up and down to try to show them that they were right.

His Daenerys and Arya didn't seem to notice his visual clues. "Perhaps he is just offering to be an informant to Varys and Varys offered to be the same for him? He calls his sources little birds so perhaps it is just code to avoid the risk of things being intercepted." His Daenerys speculated.

Jon did not take kindly to being ignored last time he told them they were right and this time let out a short trill to get their attention before bobbing his head up and down repeatedly.

Daenerys and Arya both glanced his way this time. "Is it nodding?" Arya asked quietly.

Jon stopped bobbing his head and then nodded once more.

"Rhaegal?" Daenerys said in complete shock.

Jon froze. How had she put that together so quickly? Had Varys broken his promise and told her that he was a warg? Had Jorah returned to Meereen already? The winds had been blowing westward recently so he was more than a little shocked if he had. Still, it didn't matter how it was that she knew his truth, only that she did. He wouldn't lie to her. So he bobbed his head again in confirmation.

Daenerys held out her hand to him in a daze but froze before her soft hands came in contact with him. Jon closed the distance between them and fluttered onto her outstretched finger using it as a makeshift perch.

"So Jon is a warg of this bird?" Arya asked.

Jon bobbed his head once more in confirmation.

"So the little bird is broken is code for being able to warg into it?" Arya asked once more.

Jon bobbed his head again. That was sort of the gist of it at least.

"Are you suggesting that Varys is also a warg?" His Daenerys asked. "That his little birds who inform him of things are just people speaking to a warg?"

Jon nodded and puffed with pride that his Daenerys had come to the same conclusions as him.

"It appears that I need to have a conversation with Varys about what it means to serve me," His Daenerys murmured to herself. She looked away from Jon and ignored that he was perched on her finger.

"It's not your fault," Arya said softly with a small smile after an awkward moment of silence.

Jon tilted his head with confusion and eyed Arya, expecting an explanation.

He heard his Daenerys sigh, and turned back towards her. "I owe you an apology Rhaegal- err Jon," She said awkwardly even as she refused to look at him.

Jon trilled and shook his head but she continued to ignore him.

"I should have trusted your judgment when it came to Daario, you were right not to trust him."

Jon was even more confused now, he had attacked Daario because he had tried to steal his Daenerys and because he was jealous, nothing more. Arya thankfully understood Jon's reasoning. "He was just jealous," Arya muttered.

Jon bobbed his head up and down to try to agree with Arya but his Daenerys chose that moment to look at him and took it the wrong way.

"I know, I'm sorry. I don't know why I trusted him instead of you." She apologized again as she looked away again with tears springing up in the corners of her eyes.

Jon rapidly shook his head trying to convey that wasn't what he meant and Arya laughed. "He was agreeing with me not you, he doesn't blame you and was just jealous of Daario."

Jon nodded in agreement with Arya once more.

His Daenerys deflated but finally looked at him. "You won't think the same in a moment. There's no easy way to say this…" She trailed off unable to admit to him whatever Daario had done.

Arya had no such qualms. "Daario raped me and left me for dead in an alley, if Daenerys hadn't stumbled across me I would have died." She said bluntly.

Jon flinched violently at that statement and his claws tightened their grip on his Daenerys's finger, drawing blood, she hissed in pain but Jon hardly heard her. How had Arya suffered so much without him there to protect her? This was his fault. Daario had never done anything while Rhaegal was there, he had obviously feared Rhaegal too much to do anything that might anger him. He had left Meereen and she had suffered because Rhaegal had no longer been a deterrent to Daario's abhorrent behavior. He should have found another way to defeat the Boltons so Arya was safe. She wouldn't have been raped if he had been there and not selfishly called Rhaegal to himself.

"If I had just listened to you, she would have never been hurt." His Daenerys said quietly.

Jon shook his head rapidly. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't known what Daario would do and Jon hadn't either. Jon wished that he had killed him but that didn't mean that it would have been the right decision. If he killed every person he didn't like then Westeros would be naught but ashes. His mistake had been intentionally avoiding Daario whenever possible, not wanting to think about the man who occupied his Daenerys's bed. If he hadn't he might have been tipped off to his despicable behavior and been able to stop it before he did anything to his sister.

He would fly over to Meereen on Rhaegal immediately and kill the man who had dared to touch his little sister. He would rip the monster apart while he screamed for mercy as Ramsay had but there would be none. He would not let his suffering end no matter how much the monster who had attempted to steal the two most important people from him plead for death. He would suffer for the rest of eternity. The Vale could wait, his sister was more important than a Kingdom. Actually she wasn't when the fate of the world depended on him being King but he wanted it more.

"Thank you for not hating me, for refusing to listen to you. I need to go speak with Varys about… this. I'll speak to you again tomorrow, at six AM I guess. It was good speaking to you again Rha- Jon. Keep him caged in here, Arya." His Daenerys said quietly, in a bit of a rush.

Jon trilled sadly as she stood up and dislodged himself from her hand before exiting the room without a backward glance.

He resettled himself on Arya's shoulder once more as she sighed. "I owe you an apology as well Jon, I sold needle."

Jon would be lying if he said that didn't hurt him. He had saved up money for many moons to have it made for her, and she had sold it. He had spent so much time and effort into having it perfectly fitted for her because he knew she wanted to have a sword so badly and she had gotten rid of it.

"I was broken after the Red Wedding, after showing up at the Vale, and hearing my aunt was dead, that even Sansa was a fugitive. I had nowhere left to go, the only person I wanted to see was at the wall, which was the one place I couldn't go because as much as I might have wished otherwise, I was born a Lady. When the Lannister soldier killed Sandor, and wanted to take me with her, I panicked and fled. I booked passage to Bravos with the coin I had looted off of Sandor's corpse."

"When I got there, I tried to forget who I once was, I was hurting with what I thought was the loss of my entire family, even if I now know better. When I heard of Daenerys Targaryen, in Meereen with real dragons, I needed to see it for myself. I needed to know that the impossible could happen, that dreams could come true. I wanted to start over, in a better world where I could leave behind Arya Stark."

"So I sold needle, to afford passage to Meereen so I could see the dragons for myself. I foolishly went into the city defenseless. Needle had saved my life countless times since escaping King's Landing but I foolishly sold it thinking Meereen was some utopian fantasy land where dreams came true. On the first night in Meereen, I paid for that mistake."

"I was beaten and robbed my first day in the city. I was homeless and defenseless with no mythical dragon to defend me. Only a few days later, Daario raped me and Daenerys found me. She saved my life and allowed me to kill Daario."

"She told me that you had died, and came back through foul blood magic. She said that you were a Targaryen, and her kin, she offered me a place by her side and promised to return me home to you when she returned to Westeros. She said that Bran, and Rickon weren't actually killed by Theon. She told me that Sansa was with you, and you were going to die at the hands of the Boltons."

"I had never been so glad as when I heard that Rhaegal had saved you. I was shocked and didn't believe it, when Tyrion revealed to us his suspicion that you were Rhaegal. I thought that there was no way that my favorite brother wouldn't protect me when I needed him most. That he would have left just before I needed him. I-I when Varys confirmed Tyrion's suspicions as the truth, I had never felt so betrayed. I know that you didn't mean to leave exactly when I showed up, that it was just a coincidence but you weren't even my brother- you weren't there for me when I needed you the most and it hurt."

"Daenerys has been so good to me, I can't wait to have her as a good-sister. She's a great queen who understands me and can protect me. She'll be a great wife to you, she can be there for me when you can't. She does what you can't and will compliment your many weaknesses perfectly. I'm glad that your found her. I don't blame you for what happened to me, of course, but I'm glad that you found her and that she'll be your wife. It'll be good to have family who will always be there for me when I need it most."

"I-I can't do this right now, I'm sorry I just can't speak of this to you-." She cut herself off as she sobbed and ran out of the room without a backward glance towards the bird that Jon was inhabiting."

Do not leave this room, no matter what. Jon imprinted on the bird's mind before slipping back into his own skin. There were tears running down his cheeks the instant he was in his human body again.

It was all his fault that Arya had suffered so. If he had been there for her, she would never have been raped. He knew his Daenerys had blamed herself but even Arya had blamed him, even if she claimed otherwise. That much had been apparent. He had failed her as her brother, he had failed to protect her, opting instead to protect himself. He was responsible for her rape, and he couldn't even be there to comfort her when she needed him most. Even if he tried, she had said he couldn't do that for her. That she didn't want him to comfort her because she didn't feel like she could trust him.

This should have been the best day of his life, he had found out he was marrying his Daenerys. He had found Arya, alive, not healthy but alive. His two favorite humans in the entire world got along great and were apparently the best of friends. His Daenerys still cared for him, the same way, in spite of knowing that he was Jon, and not just Rhaegal. Arya was alive, and with his Daenerys. They would both join him in Westeros soon.

The weight of his own failure made it impossible to find any joy in the news that the day had brought so far. He had failed her, not as a Stark where he failed many times before today, but he had failed her as a Targaryen. He had failed her because he was Rhaegal, if he hadn't been Rhaegal she might have not been raped if Rhaegal had been there to protect her.

The worst part was even if it saved Arya from Daario, he would not give up this connection to Rhaegal or his Daenerys to stop it from happening. What kind of monster did that make him that he would choose his dragon and his Daenerys over his sister? That he would choose having his love over her not suffering? Ned Stark would be disgusted with him. He had risked his family to keep Jon safe and Jon had let his family suffer because of him- because he was a Targaryen. He was selfish. Perhaps, he truly was Rhaegar's son.

---

Jon does have dark urges, he's a warg of a dragon and dragons are not inherently nice creatures. They are vicious weapons of war that rain fire down on their enemies. That does not mean that Jon is mad. Everyone has dark urges or thinks of doing terrible things but it is the decision to act on them that defines who you are. Thinking something is not the same as wanting that although not all characters will understand that. Jon is aware of the consequences of what giving in to his urges would be, and he has the impulse control to stop himself. He has very unhealthy habits but that does not make him mad, he just isn't perfect.

The scripture verse from the Seven-Pointed Star is a slightly doctored version of Exodus 21 taken out of context like how all scripture in any religion often is. The context does matter and in the bible it is talking about how one should treat their slaves fairly and if they hurt their slaves they too should be hurt in equal measure. It's a verse proclaiming that even slaves have rights, not that revenge is righteous or good. The New Gods are heavily based off of the real-life catholic church so its likely the scriptures in the Seven Pointed Star will often mirror those of the bible. I do not mean any offense to Christians or other religions by taking influence from their religion to insert into the story but the church/religion is a critical element of all societies especially in this time period so religion has a pretty key role in this story. The Seven are not the same thing as the God of the bible and their words and actions are in no way meant to reflect on that God negatively. This is just fanfiction and fictional religions with real life influences, that is not meant to say anything about my own religion.

The Edmure scene was a lot of fun to write once I realized that he might not know Jon is a Targaryen. The show loves to bash on Edmure and make him seem incompetent and stupid for some reason. He's not the most capable character but that doesn't change who he is. He is a Tully and believes in their families' words. Family, Duty, and Honor. He lowers the drawbridge to Riverrun in the books and gives the Freys access when Jamie threatens his unborn child who will grow up as a Frey. Even if he cared for his blood solely for being blood, it was likely an empty threat and he was condemning his brothers death by doing so if he did as Jamie wanted. I'm of the opinion that the real reason he surrendered the castle was so he could share Robb's will with his brother so the news could reach Robb's heir. It makes Edmures sacrifice play a sacrifice play, instead of him just being weak and unable to stand his ground against threats. Edmure isn't the most capable fighter and I'll admit I had a lot of things go wrong for him purely for comedic value as I tried to keep with that side of his character from the show but rather than him being comedic because everyone slams him its more due to Murphy's law. I'm not actually entirely convinced Jon is Robb's heir in the books, it feels like a huge red herring but I haven't the foggiest who else it could be so for the sake of this story he is.

Olyvar is one of three named Freys not present for the Red Wedding, and it's suggested that his loyalty to Robb which we see is still intact after Robb's marriage is the reason why he is not present. His jumping up to Kinslaying is a big step but his family butchered his King who he squired to, revenge is a natural desire even against ones own family. Not having the Freys become extinct is also an interesting dynamic for later. Olyvar does survive and comes b

Edmure's thought process is jumbled and incoherent. That is intentional as solitary confinement fucks the mind more than just about anything in the world. He stands strong and refuses to kneel to some random King who he believes is Daenerys's husband out of loyalty to Robb and his heir Jon. Jon misinterprets his refusal of believing Catelyn's opinion of him to be fact and gets mad and lashes out. Edmure realizing Robb's will would die with him sees no choice but to use his King to stop the north from kneeling to a Targaryen. The joke was on him the entire time. Jon overreacts to Robb's will in his paranoia and exaggerates the issues it will cause him.

Varys being a warg was something I had planned from the start. I didn't read the books until after the entirety of the show was done not wanting spoilers, so I was completely unaware of the possible Blackfyre theory. From the very first time wargs were mentioned by the wildlings, I thought Varys was one. It seemed so obvious, he called his spies little birds because they were literal birds. I don't actually think that is the case after reading the books and learning of his tongue-less spies but there are a lot of comparisons between Varys and Bloodraven. There is also this part of the Dance With Dragons prologue that might not just be a coincidence; "Get out, get out!" he heard her own mouth shouting. Her body staggered, fell, and rose again, her hands flailed, her legs jerked this way and that in some grotesque dance as his spirit and her own fought for the flesh. She sucked down a mouthful of the frigid air, and Varamyr had half a heartbeat to glory in the taste of it and the strength of this young body before her teeth snapped together and filled his mouth with blood. She raised her hands to his face. He tried to push them down again, but the hands would not obey, and she was clawing at his eyes. Abomination, he remembered, drowning in blood and pain and madness. When he tried to scream, she spat their tongue out."

Regardless, of if it is cannon or not, in this story it is the reality. In all the Game of Thrones/ASOIAF fanfics I've read I've yet to see one use wargs in the most useful manner. I won't pretend I've read to many of them but all the ones that have wargs play a key role use them as spies to eavesdrop. The real advantage of a warg is the ability to get information across vast distances in a very short amount of time. This is something Jon took advantage of as Rhaegal but never thought to use for himself outside of that. You don't even need a warg on both ends to do this. Varys could have a scheduled time with all his sources where they talk at a bird and report what they learned to the open air. They could even do it in the solace of their homes free from any lurkers. Alternatively, and more likely considering the mute children, Varys could simply have his sources write letters and leave them, hidden in a pre-determined position. He simply flies by each morning, unravels any new letters and reads over them before disposing of the letter. The risk of interception is much lower than usual and Varys gets the information at speeds that leave his enemies unable to react and drives them paranoid and has them tear up their own army as they suspect all of their men having betrayed them and eagerly at that with how soon he knows stuff.

We know that in canon, Varys claims to hate magic after he was euphonized. That does not mean he actually hates magic. He is very capable of lying, and does so quite often. If you don't want anyone to suspect you have magic, then pretending to hate all forms of it is a good way to go about doing that. I'm sure people will claim that Varys has no blood of the first men so he can't be a warg but canonically he does not have any known Blackfyre blood yet most the fandom believes he is one anyways. Mathematically, the odds are much higher that he has some diluted First Men blood which entails hundreds of families for generations then that he has the blood of the lone Blackfyre line still maybe not extinct. I realize that having Varys as an all-powerful warg spymaster on their side seems a bit overpowered but Varys is way too much of a morally grey character. and too interfering for it to necessarily be such. Not all is as good as it seems.

The meeting with the Northern Lords went better than it probably should have but the meeting was carefully puppeteered by Jon. He knows how to appeal to the North having grown up a Northerner. He knows what to say that will get them to fall in line. He frames his goals as undoing southern things even if that's not strictly true. He frames things as wanting to show the south the right way of life- the Northern way of life. He prays on the dark moments of the Red Wedding and the Boltons rule and uses those to support his ideals. The other lands will not be so easy as Jon isn't one of them and they have less incentive to want him on the throne. The Northerners have also seen what his dragon can do first hand, and that makes the fear element more present than ever. Rhaegal really is the ultimate crowd control.

If the strongest houses follow him, the weakest ones will to which is why Jon prioritizes securing the Manderlys and Glover. In a perfect world, he would give the Mormonts or the Slates the Dreadfort, or perhaps even Rickon as repayment for their loyalty but that would be stupid. The ones who are already loyal to him he doesn't need to bribe, it's the one who are not loyal who are rewarded because you fear their betrayal otherwise. That is the ugly side of politics, good men are not rewarded and evil men are. He gives land to the Manderlys, and land to the ward of the Glovers to secure their loyalty before he goes into the truly controversial stuff. He also demands fealty to House Targaryen before even mentioning Daenerys so they think it is just him and his descendants he is talking about. As Northerners are proud and stubborn men who don't like breaking oaths having that fealty means something.

The coronation vows are slightly doctored versions of the vows in the Coronation Oath Act of 1688 as we never actually see a full coronation in cannon. We see the end anointing when Tommen is crowned and the High Septon gives his blessing but that's all. Cersei's coronation is literally her being proclaimed and then everyone saying long may she reign. I took some creative liberties with the ceremony for this.

Tungsten is easily the most fascinating metal in the world. It has the highest tensile strength of any metal and the highest melting point but it doesn't have any impact strength and is extremely dense so it doesn't have much practical use in this time period. The metal doesn't lose its shape when heated, and surprisingly is extremely flammable making it the perfect material for a reusable crown of fire. Baelish and Sansa had it designed for him to throw a surprise coronation there.

Jon visits with Daenerys again as the bird that went to Meereen to have Varys spy for him. He finds Arya and learns a little of what she went through. Daenerys isn't guessing that the bird is Jon when she calls him Rhaegal she is just noting the similarities in their behavior, and remarking on it, She only realizes its Jon when he nodds to her calling him Rhaegal. She apologizes to him, Jon blames himself instead of her, and Arya encourages that blame by lying to the bird. There is gonna be an internal struggle about him not wanting to follow in his father and brothers legacy of love over duty so the fact that he would still rather have Rhagal who is his other half, and the woman he loves than protect his sister is going to tear him in two.

In a more general note, I believe in showing a characters emotions as they understand them not as they actually are. Internal justifications they tell themselves are absolutely not always one hundred percent accurate even when that justification is about themselves. If a character is not in tune with their emotions they will not internally process it accurately to how they really feel. Characters will also make internal assumptions that are outright false at times. Not everything you read is actually true. People thoughts will change at the drop of a dime because they are not committed to believing that thing yet and the theory they follow just flipped. That does not make them mad, or have a mental disorder. That is just how humans work. We don't commit to one belief and stay firm in it when we were only briefly committed to it. Humans are complex and many layered creatures that often time don't even understand their own thoughts. Daenerys going back and forth on Jon so many times is natural and not a sign of madness. She believes Arya so easily because as Petyr Baelish says in Feast of Crows; "Men see what they want to see." She doesn't want to believe that Jon is evil and Rhaegal betrayed her so when she is offered some evidence to the contrary she takes it.

Next chapter is another Daenerys one where she has a conversation with Varys and Jorah finally returns to Meereen. That should be up next Friday as always.