AU:
Thank you for taking the time to read our first chapter. We are two long time friends with endearing love for a Song of Ice and Fire. However the Final season left us with a bitter taste in our mouth to say the least. We felt there were too many questions and loose ends left unanswered. Long story short, we came up with this story to help us answer those long time burning questions. The biggest one we felt- "What was the point of it all?". We hope our version of the story reflects in this answer and captivates those asking the same questions.
We wanted to thank our Beta Readers MerlinOfTheShire and others for reading through our drafts. All the insight you provided benefited us greatly.
We will be publishing the chapters on a bi-weekly basis starting out. If there are any updates to this schedule, we'll let you know! We'll try to release it every other Monday 7-8 pm (Pacific Standard Time).
Please let us know what you think of the story, as we value any feedback given.
Sent with love,
PricelessBread
Gidget
Jon
Jon stood on the bank of the Frozen Shore, the pier that a handful of wildlings are constructing is the last brick in the foundation of all his and Tormund's work, it was nostalgic to say the least. fifteen years have passed since Jon had accepted his punishment for murdering the woman he had fallen in love with his queen, for the sake of the Seven Kingdoms; now Six Kingdoms with Sansa sitting as Queen of the North in Winterfell.
He's aged as all Stark men do, gray around the edges but body still lean and strong. He was built to withstand the harsh winters, and being in the land Over the Wall; he has withstood too many to count. The years he has spent with the Wildlings have been fruitful. Tormund and himself work together with his sister to set up a trading route that stretched from the Wall all the way to Hardhome. The success of their trade posts has been surprising.
He could still picture their pitiful bearings they praised once as protection against the unforgiving winter. What had started off as a handful of tattered, thread-barren tents and decaying wood shacks- tactfully used for holding cured meats, and furs, has since developed into compact stone strongholds with tent villages surrounding their stone fortress. Freefolk men and women were often eager to fill their bellies, and stock up their supplies, however they lacked the necessary materials to barter. They were instead willing to labor for trade. Which helped their trading posts to become stronger and better fortified.
Hardhome is regarded as being the largest with the most settlers. But the Wildlings still had the blood of the first men, this ancient nomadic tradition wouldn't be easily broken. Jon estimated it would take years before they would even consider settling down, but like a wild mare being guided, it was possible for them to succumb to the idea. Many had warmed to the thought of setting up permanent residence, but the majority looked to expand and explore the lands beyond the Frostfang Mountains. Where it was once forbidden by the existence of the Others and the Night King.
So Jon felt compelled to expand their posts to the far coast in the Far North-into the Land of Always Winter. There a dock is being built so Stark ships can bring the supply of food, building materials and goods to make sturdy, reliable weapons and tools.
The dock sits on the inner part of the South Eastern coast along the Frozen Shore, where once Freefolk would take squalid rafts, neglected with time, to attack Bear Island; Now this port city will stand as what him and Sansa call Bear's Reach. It may not be as versatile as King's Landing or even White Harbour, however it would be a direct route to trade with Winterfell and most other major townships in the North. This port laid slightly inward within the peninsula of the Sea of Ice. Bear Island lay southwest, however it was too far to even be seen as a speck. Since the demise of the Night King, it's been a farce to still consider the shores of this land still frozen. Ice had given way to slow warmth that crept up from the south. Where once you could walk on the sea with no worries; now it's waves crashed against the land, proving that the Others threat of existence was no more. It's name still stood however as a reminder to all what previously lurked in the shadows beyond the wall.
It's hard to believe everything he and Tormund had accomplished-but they were creating a better life for the Wildlings, or so he hoped. Many had graciously accepted aid from the south, however not all the Freefolk were on board. Some still saw it as welfare, and felt as if they were betraying their ancestors. They'd rather raid for crumbs, than accept the size and weight of an entire share of mutton, or bend the knee to a southern ruler. Jon understood their concerns, but knew his family better; Sansa has no intentions of ever forcing the wildlings to join the fold of her kingdom. She only wants to help aid those who survived the Long Night and saved humanity, also Bran saw no reason to bring the six kingdoms this far North, not in our lifetimes anyway. He and Tormund had expected this, further, they were wary of backlash to the east. Tormund's return with a report on the other posts would hopefully bring good news and crucial information.
"Father?"
Jon felt a tugging at his fur cloak, as if throwing himself back into present time-he broke his trance of the wooden pier being constructed. Looking down his eyes met with the wide, dark amethyst gaze of his daughter Astrin. She has his looks- the Stark near black hair wildly coiled around her long-slim face. Beside her Ghost loomed, his red eyes shifting watching all movement around them. Although the years and land have been kinder on Ghost since Jon's exile, this did not hinder Ghosts protective nature to his pack. No matter where Jon or Astrin went, Ghost would lurk, and if the two went separate ways Ghost would instinctively be instep with his daughter.
"Is it time to go yet? You promised we would go hunting hours ago!"
Jon smiled at her impatience, he couldn't help but remember when Arya would beg, and plead for him to take her hunting with Robb and himself. It pained his heart to think any harm came to her while travelling west of Westeros. However all the Stark's seemed to be cut from a different cloth compared to others. Even those of the North and True North. Gods does Astrin remind Jon of her though. Besides their shared coloring, his daughter couldn't break her yearning to be something more than a lady. Albeit he was in part to blame, as he kept her close by his side in the wilderness. Even after the passing of her mother, Tyenne. Sansa had offered to take her in as her own, to raise alongside her own son. However he couldn't endure the thought of his only child being left both motherless, and bearing an absent father.
"Father!" she stamped her foot for good measure snow falling from her dark curls.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting little wolf, we can go now."
The light that shone through those eyes has always made his heart melt.
"I've got your hunting gear, so that you cannot have my bow, and arrows that Elva helped me make!"
She pulled the rough wood bow and handmade arrows awkwardly around so he could see, not good enough to take a man down but would suffice for hunting small prey.
"Your arrows have improved, Elva must be teaching you a great deal."
Jon picked out an arrow from her cache and balanced it on two fingers,
"Very well balanced you should be able to catch something this time."
He put the arrow back in her cache and started walking towards the tree line that lead into a dense forest area about 50 leagues from the pier. Astrin beamed from the compliment.
"Aye father! The spear wives say that I'm a natural, they say I should learn how to wield a sword, or a spear! Or maybe a giant blade like Tormund!"
Jon laughed at that proclamation,
"You little one have eyes bigger than your size, if you are to learn how to wield a weapon, never forget you must be able to hold it."
Astrin looked to Longclaw- closely holstered to Jon's side and then down at her gloved hands, most likely pondering how long it would take before she was strong enough to heft it's heavy weight.
"But what if one day I grow up to be able to wield a big sword like that, then no one would dare cross me!"
Jon bristled, he never wanted Astrin to grow up to be solely a fighter, he wanted her life to be more than just fighting to survive, he wanted her to know peace as he had wished for. That's why he started this. He allowed her the notion of learning to fight and hunt as an assurance that she could defend herself if the worst happened, Gods help him if it came to that.
"And why would you need to do that?"
Astrin's brows furrowed "Because father one day when I leave the posts I have to protect myself, like everyone else does."
Jon contemplated her response carefully, he didn't want her to live outside of the trade posts, he didn't see a need for her to trek across the frozen wastelands that once held the great tribes of the free folk, the very same tribes that the Night King made sure of their extinction for his senseless cause.
He needed her here, to lead after Tormund and himself were gone, to continue the survival of their people who were almost completely wiped out between his own war as well as the battle of the Long Night. If Jon was being honest with himself, he'd rather she went back to Winterfell now that she's older. It would benefit her to be taught by the maester there, and god's be kind, take some of the wildness from her veins.
His father who raised him, Lord Eddard Stark, often described this wildness as being 'the Wolf's Blood'. It was what Jon's grandfather would say to describe some of his children, including his true mother. Jon would often muse this to being a gift passed down from her early grave to him, however more often than not- it's become a curse when raising Astrin. He'd predicted it would be a pointless battle, one that he'd eventually lose. No matter where she would go, the true North would live on within her veins. Even Jon couldn't shake the hold that the free North held when he went back to Winterfell for those short years.
They had walked deeper into the woods, the pier now completely out of sight, all that surrounded them was the resilient oaks and pines, these trees served as history to this land, where the written word had no weight. They stood long before Jon was brought into this world and would remain after he's left again. The smell of earth, with the freshly fallen snow filled the air.
Jon placed a firm hand on Astrin's shoulder, holding her in place as he kneeled before her, his Dark eyes connecting with her rare Valerian purple. He remembered a time when war was all that mattered to Westeros, lives were lost to those whose pride wouldn't allow them to kneel. Those who became bloodthirsty for vengeance forfeit their duty and livelihood all on a whim for a new King and reigning family. As well as those who feared that their newfound titles would be stripped from them by older families. He weighed his words carefully before saying them, hoping they would reach Astrins ears.
"There is more to life than fighting my little wolf. War and bloodshed only benefit those in power, never those who sacrificed their lives for it, Tormund and I have seen what happens to those who glorify death; that is why we have fought so hard to teach the wildlings how to exist in peace, to work together to accomplish survival. One day when we die we need you to carry on this legacy, they need a strong but kind leader, one who cares about every living being here, do you understand?"
A stubborn light flared in her eyes,
"But father! I want to explore, to see what is beyond the wall! I want to travel to Westeros, and see Winterfell, and Aunt Sansa, to see the land of the south beyond that!"
Jon rose to his full height looking down at the girl who he watched come into this world, this may be her thirteenth year, but she was still young and vulnerable.
If she journeyed past the North Kingdom of Westeros he knew her fate. After what Daenerys' had done, they would no longer forgive a Targaryen; and Astrin's Stark features are betrayed by her eyes. A cruel reminder of his other diminished family legacy. The only reason he survived was his Stark coloring. As well his brother and sister's mercy with his exile, never to return.
"You know you cannot do that Astrin, you and I must stay here with our people."
"But Father-"
"No Astrin!"
Jon rarely ever raised his voice at his child, almost never, but to see a future where they hung, or tortured, or imprisoned his child because of ancient strife was something he would never let happen.
"One day I will explain to you why we must remain here, but for now you must trust me Astrin, our place is in the North."
He could tell he'd shaken her with his sternness, he didn't want to dissuade her curious nature but it would be best to nip it out now while she was young, before she realized her independence she would grow into with time. By then it would be too late to change her mind.
"Come along Astrin, it's best to leave before midday if we'd like to make it back before dusk."
He started walking deeper into the forest, sensing both his loyal direwolf companion and daughter shadowing behind him.