"I was beginning to worry I'd never see you again!" Robb pulled Jon into a tight embrace, Arya wrapping her arms around both of them.
"Should have known better, brother," Jon teased. "So you've finally decided to come out of hiding."
"Winterfell is ours again," Arya said. "Bolton's corpse has been thrown to the dogs." Her face broke out into a vicious grin.
Most of the servants who had previously served the Starks had little trouble doing so again. Although Bolton did not torture them, provided they did as instructed, there was little of the warmth they had come to take for granted. Howland Reed observed the siblings' reunion, saying nothing.
"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories," Robb smirked.
"Yes, I do, but they'll have to wait. A lot's changed since you marched South." Wildlings and mountain tribesmen traded stories, each trying to out-do the other. To hear them tell it, each of them won the entire battle by themselves, Jon mused.
Arya did nothing to wipe away her tears, not caring who saw them. "I admit, I was hoping to kill Bolton myself," Robb mimed strangling him. "When I saw our house colors, I thought it was a trick at first. Jon. . . happy as I am to see you, there's a certain vow you made to the Night's Watch."
"I would not have gotten involved, except. . . Ramsey tried to kill me and Arys, disguising himself as a recruit." Jon almost wanted to laugh at his swordsmanship. "After that, I decided he violated neutrality first and knew the Boltons wouldn't stop until we were all dead."
"I see we've found ourselves some new allies, My Lord," Reed gave a slight bow to Robb. "A Stark will once again be Warden of the North. I cannot see the King marching his troops so far during winter, unless he is a bigger fool than I imagine."
Jon extended nervous eyes to the Dothraki and Unsullied, staying to themselves in the courtyard. Unused to the cold, they'd taken all the warm-weather gear Winterfell could spare. Daenerys was nowhere to be seen. She was beautiful, possessed a certain charm, but Jon didn't intend to give his trust so easily.
"A please to meet you at last, Lord Reed," Jon held his hand. "My father and Lady Catelyn always spoke highly of you. Please enjoy our hospitality, as I'm sure the journey was exhausting."
"Thank you for your kind offer, My Lord," Howland smiled. Jon widened his eyes, unaccustomed to being addressed as such. "Yes, Jon, you're a lord now. . . whether you like it or not. With your permission, I wish to speak to you once I've had some time to rest and you've had time to reconnect with your family."
"Of course, Lord Reed." Howland departed for the Great Hall, eager for food.
Not long ago, it was everything I'd ever wanted. Since he was old enough to understand what being a bastard meant, his greatest dream was to be considered Robb and Ned's equal. The Night's Watch gave him a place to belong, at least in certain aspects. I freed Winterfell from the Boltons and served as Warden of the North for a short time. He'd never felt comfortable with the role, considering it better suited for Robb.
The trio of siblings walked throughout the castle, reacquainting themselves and speaking of what had happened over the past few years. However joyful the reunion, Jon could not long keep his mind from the developments beyond the Wall. Is Robb even going to believe me? He wouldn't have, if not for the reanimated corpse trying to kill him and Mormont. Arya greeted a few of the servants, though not with the carefree voice she once possessed.
"What can you tell me about our visitors?" Robb wondered. "Never met an Unsullied before, though I've heard tales of the Dothraki."
"They don't like the cold, that's for certain," Jon responded. His voice turning serious, he added: "Most don't speak our language, nor do I know theirs. I'm reliant on Daenerys to translate for me." A handful of Dothraki sized him up. Jon turned to face them, staring them in the eye. No violence had yet broken out, but no Stark intended to look weak in the presence of foreigners.
"I doubt she helped us liberate Winterfell out of kindness," Robb looked around for the dragon queen, but saw nothing of her. Few northerners and foreigners interacted with one another, despite sharing a common enemy.
She wants us to help reclaim the Iron Throne. Jon knew not to judge a child by her father's sins, but he still felt uneasy around Daenerys. Targaryen cruelty had not been forgotten, and he hated the fact she was insistent on marching south despite winter hitting the North in full force. Daenerys attempted to liberate Slaver's Bay, so I at least know she is no monster. With few alive in the cities, slave or free, Jon could not help but wonder how thankful they were.
"No, there's only one reason she assisted us," Jon agreed. "If we do not agree to help her take King's Landing, things could get tense." More than they were already, at any rate.
"I underestimated Joffrey once. I will not do so again. You remember what I told you about his new toys, I assume?"
"All the more reason to prepare for winter at home," Jon reminded. He didn't know how true they were, but with an undead army beyond the Wall, far stranger things had already become fact. "Thanks to Bolton and the Ironborn, we're likely to face at least local famines."
"We've got to save Sansa!" Arya rebuked her brother. "I know how she treated me before, but she's still family! The Gods only know what Joffrey is doing to her and mother!"
"One thing at a time, Arya," Robb gave a small smile. "First, we need to prepare, and yes, I intend to make sure that abomination does not keep his throne. Jon, the way you speak, it sounds like you think she's her father. Even if for selfish reasons, it would have been far harder to take Winterfell without her."
"I've said nothing of the sort, merely that I consider it unwise to march south so soon after a defeat." Worse, it would leave the North undefended should the Wall be breached. He'd told the northern tribesman, as did the surviving free folk, but few believed it. Even those who believed in the Others' existence considered them a long-dead threat.
That Daenerys thought nothing of starting a war during winter did little to endear her to Jon. He'd gently explained to her more than once it was an unwise idea, only to be met by anger and having his loyalty questioned.
"So where are her dragons?" Robb rubbed his chin. "I know the stories are true, but it's still difficult to believe at times they have returned to the world."
"She prefers to keep them outside the walls, telling me a dragon's rightful place is among the skies." Nor had she made any consideration how much food each of her "children" required. "It's going to be a difficult winter with all the extra mouths to feed."
"If you want to see a dragon, follow me!" Arya rushed through the Great Hall, Jon and Robb struggling to keep up with her. All Jon could do was pray nobody heard her words, wanting to keep their secret as long as possible.
She led them to a corridor in disrepair, in front of a wooden door with several large cracks in its structure. Jon looked left and right to make sure no one could see where they were. Everyone's going to figure it out sooner or later. Once Daenerys discovered she wasn't the only person in the world with dragons, Jon hated to think of the consequences.
Before the Starks sat a red dragon, already approaching the size of Ghost. She curled herself on the floor, smoke emanating from her nostrils. Her teeth were already large enough to slash a man's throat, and Jon knew she would grow far bigger.
"By the Gods. . ." Robb flattened himself against the wall. Jon still wasn't entirely used to the idea himself, but knew there could be no doubt.
"Now you understand why we need to keep her secret," Jon spoke. She wouldn't be concealed forever, especially as she grew, but hoped Daenerys would leave Winterfell before she was discovered.
"I named her Lyanna," Arya informed. "We never got to know our Aunt, so this seems a way to honor her."
"How. . . how did this happen?" Robb shook his head in disbelief even after Arya told the story. "Dragons have been gone for one hundred and fifty years, and now we're seeing them everywhere."
"I can't even begin to understand why Lyanna hatched," Jon approached the dragon, licking her lips in anticipated of food. Arya rushed off to feed her, leaving the brothers to themselves. "Maybe it's a sign that magic is returning." Some would think it heralding a return to a golden age, but Jon remembered Val's words: "Magic is like a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it."
"We will not keep her secret long," Robb decided. "This room is far too small for a dragon and it would do nothing but stunt her growth. I would not have her treated that way." Jon expected he was already making plans to use her in battle despite being far too small for it.
It's doubtful she'll bond with him. Lyanna would choose him or Arya, though which was uncertain. She enjoyed both their companies, but blew smoke as a warning to Robb. Even now, Lyanna could inflict severe burns on a human being.
"Dragons take years to grow to fighting size and only accept a single rider," Jon hoped Robb would get the message. "She's still an infant, despite her appearance."
"I'm thinking in the long term. Perhaps the claim only Targaryens could ride a dragon were false." Robb approached Lyanna, who swiped a claw inches away from his face.
"Sansa and Lady Catelyn are still in King's Landing. The longer Daenerys stays at Winterfell, the more danger we put them in. Joffrey has spies up here; I'm certain of it." Jon prayed Robb wouldn't risk everything for revenge.
"I know," Robb ran a hand down his face. "Even if it takes until winter is over, though, none of us can tolerate Joffrey on the throne." He wanted to duplicate the weapons, but didn't have any idea how to do so.
"Daenerys Targaryen, I wish to personally thank you for helping to liberate our home," Robb bowed to her. "If there is any sort of comfort you desire, my servants will be able to fetch it for you."
"The proper term is 'Your Grace'," Missandei rebuked, her head barely coming up to Daenerys' shoulder. She was one of the few who had any understanding of the northern language.
"My translator is quite correct," Daenerys reminded. "I am the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, after all." Jon hid a snort, his opinion of her lowering by the moment.
"Apologies, Your Grace," Robb nodded. He pointed to Jon and Arya. "This is my younger sister Arya, and you've already met my half-brother."
"Unusual to see a bastard acknowledged by his trueborn family," Daenerys flashed a small smile toward Jon. "He must be very unique."
"With his mother dead, my father refused to turn his back on him as so many others do. Jon is no less my brother than Bran and Rickon were, and I hope you will treat him as such." Robb sat down. "Let us be blunt: you want our help to retake the Iron Throne. Unfortunately, my mother and sister are still hostages in King's Landing. Marching south would forfeit their lives."
"I can rescue them, make sure they are in no danger," Daenerys offered.
"Robb, I still do not think starting another war is wise, given winter is beginning," Jon cautioned. "Moreover, Joffrey is not the only enemy we have to face, or even the most dangerous."
"What are you talking about?" Daenerys demanded, still on her feet unlike the Stark siblings.
It's now or never. "I know this sounds impossible to believe, Your Grace, but. . . our real enemy is gathering his forces beyond the Wall. Already we have weakened ourselves badly, with many of our seasoned fighters dead. The Long Night is coming again, and the Others are preparing an assault. If you do not believe me, ask the Free Folk or my black brothers. They have seen them, fought the undead army. It is why the Free Folk are attempting to cross South."
"Jon, where did this come from?" Robb turned his head. "Our ancestors defeated them thousands of years ago, ensuring future generations would not have to do likewise. I have seen no evidence to the contrary."
Robb and Jon argued for over an hour, with Arya occasionally interjecting. Daenerys said little, merely letting the brothers shout at each other. "You dare accuse me of not caring about my sister?" Jon could no longer hold back his temper. "You're the one risking their lives, along with everyone in the North!"
Robb ground his teeth, clenching his fists. If not for Daenerys' presence, Jon expected his brother would have punched him. Turning to the Dragon Queen, he forced his voice calm: "We can't support you officially, which I hope you understand. Be silent." Jon closed his mouth.
"What sort of support can you offer me?" Daenerys asked Robb but her eyes were on Jon.
"It's a northern tradition for older and crippled men to die in battle, or wander into the snow, rather than be a burden on their families when winter comes. As this promises to be the most severe winter in generations, there will be many ready to continue this tradition. While older, they are still capable, and I'd bet on them against any southerner."
"However much I appreciate this, there is still your mother and sister to consider," Daenerys held his hand. "You worry for their welfare, which I understand."
"My half-brother Jon will travel with you, leading our people." Jon grimaced at the comment. It was the first time Robb had ever jabbed him about his bastard status. "I can promise several thousand men, at the very least. Now. . . I will have to denounce you, of course. My brother and everyone who follows him will be considered traitors, words I will send to every corner of the realm. Joffrey won't dare execute my family, because he knows we'll all march south again."
"That is. . . devious of you," Daenerys' eyes glinted.
"It's not a tactic I would use before. Indeed, my father would not approve, but he died in King's Landing. I've learned a few things over the years. Joffrey's new weapons took us by surprise once. They will not do so a second time."
Jon could stand no more and left the room. Robb was going to lead the North to destruction and he couldn't do a damn thing to dissuade him. He doubted the Free Folk and Night's Watch would be able to stand against them alone.
Oh, the North would eventually realize the threat, too late to do anything about it. What does it matter who sits the Iron Throne? Jon remembered Mormont's words in the days he wanted to fight by his brother's side. What he'd seen and heard since erased any doubt. Even the Wall had limits to his strength, with many weak points no one had yet been capable of fixing.
Jon worked out his frustration on a pair of training dummies, his sword swinging faster than it ever had in his life. He imagined them to be wights, or the Others themselves. Perhaps Longclaw could kill them when little else could. They had almost no dragonglass, with no nearby sources available.
Daenerys stood behind him, her arms crossed. Jon turned around and reluctantly lowered his sword, covered in sweat. "How can I help you, Your Grace?"
"I know what you're trying to conceal," Daenerys confronted Jon. "A dragon is difficult to hide." Her face turned red. "You would keep such a majestic creature confined like a dog?"
Seeing the look on her face, Jon didn't bother denying it. "We know little of how to care for dragons, or even how this could have happened. Lyanna would benefit, I'm sure."
"You still see me as an enemy," Daenerys sighed. "Don't lie to me. Perhaps I would feel the same way in your position, despite everything I've done to support your family."
"Only because you want our help taking the Iron Throne. We also regained Winterfell without your assistance. Wars are rarely fought during winter years for good reason: armies cannot be resupplied and the smallfolk will rebel if forced to starve."
"And allowing the likes of Joffrey a chance to strengthen his position is better?" Daenerys countered. "I've heard the stories of his cruelty. Your bannermen told me what they did in the Riverlands, how they humiliated and tortured your sister, that your father was murdered on a whim. I cannot believe you would be content with such a person on the Iron Throne."
"I'm not. I hate Joffrey as much as anyone in the North, but there are other things to consider beyond revenge." How strong the Others were beyond the Wall, Jon didn't know, but the balance of power was shifting against them. "Half the men we send with you would die of disease before we spotted any Lannisters."
"Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms with a force of 2,000 men. He led Westeros into a new and better age. I don't intend to use my power to brutalize the innocent, as my father did. I want to protect them from those who would."
"Daenerys, many of our experienced fighters are already dead, people who will be sorely missed. Impossible as you might find this to believe, there is another war coming, a much greater one. The Others are gathering strength beyond the Wall, and our defenses are in ruin. I do not believe it would hold against a determined attack. They are my concern, whether you believe my words or nay."
"I believe you," Daenerys spoke.
"You do?" Jon's heart lightened, though he was still wary of deception. "Even my brother and sister do not. For them, the Others are nothing but old tales."
"So are dragons," Daenerys' right lip curled. "They went extinct more than a century ago, but now I have three children of my own. The world is changing, magic is returning, and though you are a stranger to me, you are neither a liar or a madman. Moreover, many of those who lived beyond the Wall told me the same. They're fleeing from something; that much I understood immediately."
Perhaps he'd misjudged her after all. "So long as the Wall holds, we are safe, but I do not know how much longer that will be. Though I know of their existence, nobody has much knowledge of their capabilities. For that reason, I cannot support your decision to march south."
"And what are our chances of defeating them alone?" Daenerys placed her arms around his shoulders, ignoring the stench. "Can your people fight an ancient enemy, with no weapons that can harm them?"
No. Fire would work against the wights, but the Others themselves were close to invincible. Jon did his best not to think about such odds, doubly so because Robb and Arya refused to believe him.
"That is why we must march South, Jon," Daenerys' lips moved next to his ear. "We need a united Westeros. If we cannot pull ourselves together, if they overrun the North, there will be nothing to stop them. For the sake of your people, mine, and all the smallfolk whose fates depend on what we do next, I ask you to fight by my side."
Jon stood for several minutes, considering her words. The Others were a threat to everyone, not just his home. If Daenerys believed him when few others did, she was at least an improvement over Joffrey. He would sit on his throne and laugh, letting the world around him die until it was his turn.
"Aye. I'll march South with you." Jon prayed to the old Gods he was making the correct decision.
XXXXXXXXXX
You'd think an army would be easier to spot, Matthew flew a thousand feet in the air on Trinity, his dragon ready to wipe out his enemies. It was still the one trump card he had, since Aegon managed to copy all his current designs.
"Though I shouldn't consider you a mere weapon, should I?" He laughed. Matthew knew dragons followed their own rules, but otherwise, learning how to be a dragon rider was a trial-and-error process.
Across the land were fields left hallow, with few crops able to grow. Matthew struggled to understand at times how Westeros survived such conditions, expecting many wouldn't, given the scale of the war. According to Pycelle, the population grew during summer and shrunk or stagnated during winter, depending on the length and severity.
This was the third time Matthew had climbed onto Trinity in search for his enemy, based on where his Master of Whisperers claimed their location was. He's proving to be useless. Whatever else Varys was, he knew how to gather information.
His fingers tightened around the chain mail he wore. Based on his experiments, Trinity's flames were only effective within one hundred to one hundred and fifty yards, within range of arrow fire. Matthew swooped lower on occasion, watching the main roads for advancing soldiers.
However, Aegon had evidently decided not to use the main roads, opting for forest cover. Even in winter, many of the trees were still green, providing ample concealment. "And it isn't like I can burn down everything in my path, either." With the current weather, little would catch fire, and Trinity had limits to her capabilities.
Matthew flew low, searching for signs of human life. He'd gotten no reports about destroyed or ransacked villages. Expect they're trying to avoid attention. If they were avoiding direct confrontation, it was likely Aegon had discovered Trinity and took steps to mitigate her effectiveness.
Nor did he see any sign of his ships. Matthew had the uncomfortable feeling many in his court were working against him, hoping Aegon would be a more pliant king. Executing suspected traitors without evidence would only make the problem worse. Matthew's prostitutes had rooted out a few of them, but he wasn't foolish enough to think it was everyone.
"So have you seen any sign of them?" Matthew asked Trinity, hoping she saw something he didn't. Melisandre couldn't give him more than vague proclamations.
There was only so long he could keep searching for the enemy. Trinity flew lower than originally planned, despite the risk. Matthew expected Aegon's forces would lay siege to King's Landing within weeks, but wanted to weaken them as much as possible before that happened.
Wherever they were, the Golden Company stayed away from farmland, concealing themselves elsewhere. If they're traveling through the forest, it means it'll take more time to get their cannons across. More than anything, Matthew wanted the cannons destroyed. Aegon likely didn't have any siege equipment and if they were taken out, a siege would end in his defeat.
Just as he was about to turn back, Matthew made out those carrying golden banners in the forest. His hands tightened around the riding chains. None realized he'd spotted them, the forest cover working against them as much as for them. Trinity dived down, torching the ground near the main roads, screams of the dying echoing through Matthew's ears.
He turned Trinity around, a second pass burning dozens of people to death. Matthew ignored his conscience, though part of him still trembled at what a dragon was capable of. The Golden Company screamed, their previous formation breaking into a panic. Not one had the courage to stand against them.
Though they had yet to hit back, Matthew refused to take chances. He wouldn't destroy the Golden Company in a single blow, but he could prevent them from assaulting King's Landing in force. They fled between the trees, while he listened to the shouts to run for their lives.
Based on how long he'd been searching, Matthew doubted he had more than fifteen minutes before he had to return. Still, that was more than enough time to devastate his enemy. Trinity launched burst after burst of flame, smoke obstructing Matthew's vision. None of the flames spread far, but it was still enough to force his visor down.
A barrage of scorpion bolts flew up to greet him. Unable to see, Matthew trusted Trinity to avoid being hit. Only one impact her scales, causing no damage. Well, I've found them. Be careful what you wish for, right? Matthew swiftly destroyed the missile batteries, the Golden Company fleeing before he could reach them. No one stayed still for more than a moment.
Still no sign of the cannons. Even the scorpion bolts that hit failed to harm Trinity. Matthew flew upwards, out of effective range, intent on saving his energy. Already Trinity's fire lacked its previous intensity. On the bright side, I finally found these bastards. Time to show them what it means to cross me.
No further scorpions came his way, their operators realizing hitting him from such a height would be futile. Matthew flew down and burned the forest on numerous occasions, ignoring the cold wind flying into his face. He never stayed at treetop height for more than a few seconds, aware of how exhausted Trinity already was.
He flew east, refusing to attack in a direction they anticipated. All Matthew worried about was where the cannons were. Had he been in Aegon's position, he would have designed a few of them to where they could hit dragons, in case Daenerys refused an alliance. Perhaps Aegon hadn't anticipated him having a dragon. "No, if he didn't know, he would have marched on the road. It would have been faster." He prepared for the worst-case scenario.
Two scorpions fired their bolts, piercing Trinity's less protected wing. She screeched in pain and struggled to retreat, but on the bolt was a chain pinning her in pace. Matthew cursed under his breath, his dragon circling around, roaring when the machine lifted on the ground.
Only then did the cannons roar. Three shots rang overhead, one below, but the last slammed into Trinity's stomach, her thick scales providing little protection. Her head slumped, using the last of her strength to burn the chain.
How. . . how is this possible? Matthew refused to die this way. Aegon had set a trap and he flew right into it. Can't believe I was so foolish. The chain weakened and melted, sending the scorpion crashing into a tree.
Three more shots rang out, but Trinity and Matthew were out of range. She gasped, barely able to fly. Large gobs of blood fell to the trees, her crippled wing preventing her from moving faster than a snail's pace. She failed to fly more than a couple hundred feet in the air, well within range of future attacks.
Matthew intended to have her fly an erratic pattern, but she needed no prompting to do so. With the immediate danger over, he considered his next move. All right, they're a more formidable group than I anticipated. He could almost admire the skill involved in their deception. In fact, part of him did. I've been thinking of myself as invincible, thanks to my weapons and Trinity. Best not get too arrogant, given I still have Daenerys to fight.
It wouldn't be long before Aegon and his followers reached King's Landing, and Matthew would have to fight the battle without Trinity's assistance.
XXXXXXXXXX
New tactics and weapons are devastating, at least until someone devises a method of countering them.