Jon
Jon summons Arya and Tyrion to return and sends one of his men to request that Grey Worm join them. Along with Davos, they will serve for now as his council.
"The first thing we need to do is to look for survivors," Jon says with a glance toward the other four who sit in a semicircle facing him. "The destruction is widespread so we will need to make sure that we cover as much ground as possible without overlapping." He shakes his head at the thought of the task ahead. "I wish we had a map."
Tyrion hops down from his seat and using his finger, begins to draw a loose diagram of the city in the dirt at the center of their circle. Davos hunches forward and helps him to fill in some of the details.
"We are hearing reports that this part of the city was largely spared," Tyrion comments as he points to an area to the north of the Red Keep. "The worst of the damage is here." He sweeps a hand over the sections of the city closest to the western gates, including the heavily populated streets near Visenya's Hill.
"We need to find people who can help with the injured. Ask around for maesters, midwives, healers... anyone who can stitch up a wound or set a broken bone. We need all the help we can get." Jon says. "Lord Tyrion, write to the Citadel. Have them urge maesters from around the kingdoms to travel to Kings Landing with all speed."
"At first glance, it appears that the towers of the Red Keep took the worst of the damage," Davos says. "But some of the lower levels of the palace are in relatively good condition."
"We need to determine what parts of it are habitable so that we can establish space for the wounded and shelter for those whose homes have been destroyed." Jon nods toward Tyrion to make sure he is making notes of all that needs to be done.
"Food may be a problem," Arya comments. "People are going to be hungry," she warns.
Jon nods. "Let's task someone with beginning to assess the city's food stores," Jon says. "Send someone to the granaries. Let's see if any of them survived the fires."
"Hungry people, frightened people are desperate people and capable of just about anything," Tyrion says in quiet warning.
"Set a guard around the granaries," Jon orders. "But once we determine how much food we have, we need to make a plan to distribute it."
"Jaime and I had time to talk when we were at Winterfell," Tyrion notes. "He told me that when his troops captured Highgarden, they took all of the Tyrell gold, emptied the granaries and raided the nearby farms to gather the harvest.
Davos leans forward. "Any idea how much gold they took?" His gaze sharpens. "We'll need it if we're to have any hope of getting this city back on its feet."
Tyrion shakes his head.
"Cersei used the gold to pay off House Lannister's massive debt to the Iron Bank."
"What about the harvest?" Arya asks. "If the city granaries did survive the attack, there might be enough there to tide us over until we can make arrangements to bring in more supplies."
"Jaime said the wagons that carried the stores of Highgarden's granaries did make it back to King's Landing along with a third of the crops harvested. Unfortunately, Daenerys destroyed the lion's share of the wagons hauling the bulk of the yield from the harvest when she attacked the Lannister army on their way back to King's Landing," Tyrion admits.
"Wonderful." Jon pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and tries to think around the headache brewing behind his eyes. "Alright." He pushes himself to his feet. "First things first. We need to focus on survivors, shelter, medical aid and food."
"The population of the city has been decimated," Tyrion comments. "I'm afraid there won't be many survivors among those who were in the dragon's path."
They all pause to absorb the implications of his words. Jon shakes his head violently as if to clear it and then rises to his feet.
"Grey Worm," he turns to the Unsullied leader. "How many of your men speak the common language?"
The other man pauses to consider the surviving members of his officer corps. "Eight," he muses. "Maybe ten. Missendei was teaching them," he says with a sad smile.
"We have fought alongside each other," Jon says slowly, "but we've never worked together. We should integrate our troops. The Northmen will be better able to communicate with the survivors."
Grey Worm nods in agreement.
"Summon your officers," Jon continues. "Davos, do the same with ours. We'll divide the men into an even mix of Northmen and Unsullied." He looks around and sees the others bobbing their heads in agreement.
"The wounded should be brought out of the city through the lion's gate. Another detail will be formed to begin removing the dead from the city and to build funeral pyres."
"Burning the dead is not the way of the people of King's Landing," Tyrion cautions.
"There are too many to bury," Jon counters. If he had his way, he would outlaw burial in all seven kingdoms lest the army of the dead rise again someday in the future. He paces back and forth as he gathers his thoughts. "We will make the people understand that this must be the way for now and those soldiers tasked with removing the dead from within the city must be careful to treat the bodies with respect."
"You'll need soldiers in the streets to keep the peace," Arya says pragmatically.
"Aye," Jon agrees reluctantly. "But they are to be instructed to keep their weapons sheathed unless it is absolutely necessary to draw them. The people are rightly traumatized and frightened by the sight of soldiers in their streets," he adds.
"Grey Worm." Jon turns to face the Unsullied leader. "I would like for the two of us to lead one of the groups. It is important that our men see us working together. It is important that the people of King's Landing see us helping to restore the city."
"I will work with you, Jon Snow," the other man responds quietly. "I welcome the opportunity to fix what we have destroyed."
Jon nods and looks to the others.
"Then let's get started."
0o0o0o0
At the break of dawn over the next few mornings, the Northern Army and the Unsullied fan out into the damaged streets of King's Landing. While half the men begin the gruesome task of loading the bodies of the dead onto wagons for transportation out of the city, the other half begin the slow process of looking for survivors. Many who had survived are found wandering – dazed and haunted – through the streets, and they, along with the wounded, are herded toward the shelter provided by the undamaged portions of the Red Keep.
Tyrion's prediction that not many survivors would be found beneath the rubble is heart-breakingly accurate but every once in a while a cry goes up as someone is pulled alive from the wreckage of their homes or shops.
Jon and Grey Worm carefully crawl over the rubble of a collapsed home near the Red Keep, lifting debris and passing it into the waiting hands of the rest of their team. People who were lucky enough to have lived in the portion of the city mostly untouched by Daenerys' ire cautiously begin to venture out of their homes. Arya, having appointed herself as Jon's personal guard stands nearby, alert eyes scanning the small crowd of onlookers who have gathered about to watch the rescue effort.
Jon signals for a break and the men gratefully collapse where they are. He pulls a waterskin from his belt and guzzles from it before passing it to a waiting Grey Worm.
"It has been many, many hours since we have found anyone alive, Jon Snow." The Unsullied leader takes a long drink and hands the skin back.
"I know," Jon replies, pouring some water into his hand and swiping it over his grimy face. "It's been nearly four days since the attack." He glances toward the sky and the growing cloud cover. More snow is on the way. "At this point, I doubt we will find many more who have survived."
"It is good that we were able to move those who were not trapped into shelter," Grey Worm comments as he too looks towards the threatening clouds overhead.
"We'll keep at it until it gets dark," Jon says, capping the skin and hooking it back to his belt. Crawling down from the top of the wreckage, he ties a scrap of fabric to a long stick and jams it into the rubble, signaling to other teams that this location had already been searched.
They move onto the next building and begin the process all over again, cautiously scrambling over the wreckage of a partially collapsed home. Jon heaves up a chunk of stone and hands it to Grey Worm who passes it along the human chain of men.
"Hello," he calls when enough debris has been moved to allow him to see into the damaged remains of the building. "Can anyone hear me?" Everyone quiets at the sound of his voice, ears straining for a response. Again and again he calls out as they work to widen the opening so that someone can crawl inside to take a look around. Ducking down, he peers into the opening and freezes when he catches a shadow of movement.
"Quiet!" he hisses over his shoulder. Carefully lifting another stone out of the way, he cautiously eases his head and shoulders through the opening to find a boy, no more than seven years of age peering out from behind an overturned table.
"Hello," Jon says in a gentle voice. "Please. Don't be frightened, I'm here to help."
The child gives a violent shake of his head. "I'm fine," he tells Jon in a defiant voice. "I don't need your help."
Jon begins to ease his way further through the opening but the boy scrambles back, terror etched across his features. "Is anyone in there with you?" Jon asks, holding up his hands in a non-threatening manner.
"N—no," the child stammers. "I'm alone."
"I'm Jon. Can you tell me your name?"
The child draws his knees up to his chest and hides his face behind them, refusing to answer.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. Won't you please tell me your name?"
Long seconds drag out as the boy continues to refuse any response, and then,
"He's Will," pipes a voice from behind the table and the boy lets out a frustrated groan.
"Rosie," he hisses. "I told you to be quiet."
A tuft of blonde hair appears from behind the table and then a pair of wide, blue eyes blink at him from behind the boy's shoulder.
"Hello, Rosie." Jon shifts so that he is sitting on the ground, his legs curled comfortably before him. "I'm Jon. Are you Will's sister?"
The little girl nods and plops onto the floor next to her brother and stuffs dirty fingers into her mouth.
"How old are you?" Jon asks, smiling when she pulls four slimy fingers from her mouth and holds them up.
"Four?" His voice instinctively takes on the sing-song tone he used with his younger siblings when they were very little. "I have two little sisters," he says in a confidential voice. "Would you like to meet one of them?"
He twists his torso and calls out for Arya who quickly scrambles into place at his side. She props her chin on his shoulder and peers into the dim interior of the home.
"Who are your friends?" she asks as she waggles her fingers in a greeting to the two children.
"This is Will and his sister, Rosie."
"Hello, Will. Hello Rosie. I'm Arya." She settles on the ground and tucks herself under Jon's arm. "It's going to snow soon," she says. "Don't you want to go somewhere warm?"
"No," Will says, glaring at them suspiciously. "We'll be fine here."
"Will," Jon turns a serious gaze toward the boy. "I know it's your job to protect your sister. But it's not safe for her to stay here."
"Will, you need to listen to Jon," Arya tells him. "He's my older brother and he would never let me stay somewhere that wasn't safe. You have to do the same for Rosie."
Tears of indecision rising in his eyes, Will curls a protective arm around his sister, unconsciously mimicking Jon and Arya.
"We have food," Jon tells him. "And a warm, safe place for you to sleep."
A loose stone shifts along the wall near where Jon and Arya sit and a small shower of debris falls to the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust. Everyone holds their breath for several long seconds and then Jon stretches out a hand.
"Please come out," he implores.
"Mama is hurt," the boy finally whispers.
"Where is she?" Arya asks.
The children shift to one side and Jon and Arya can see a woman's body on the floor behind the overturned table. Jon carefully pushes his way into the house and crawls across the floor to where the children are huddled over their unconscious mother. He touches his fingers to the pulse in her throat and twists his head toward Arya.
"She's alive."
He hears Arya call for help.
"We're going to get all of you out of here," he promises as he leads the children toward the opening in the wall. He lifts Rosie through the opening into Arya's waiting arms and then crawling out himself, he hefts Will out. They wait, and as the children's mother is brought out and placed on a litter, a cheer erupts from the soldiers and the small crowd gathered around.
0o0o0o
The young king grasps the boy's hand in his own and offers a reassuring smile to him and to the little girl perched on his sister's hip. He slings one arm around his sister's shoulder and as they set off to follow the stretcher carrying the children's mother to the infirmary, a number of people who had lived through the last Targaryen reign remember Rhaegar and all the hope and promise the realm had seen in the silver prince. Though Jon Snow bears the striking dark features of the Starks, those who remember Rhaegar see glimpses of him in his son's melancholy smile and gentle manner.
And so the whispers begin.
TBC
A/N: A little dull maybe with the chore of starting to set things to right in Kings Landing, but it seems to me that if Jon is going to be a good king, he needs to be seen tending to his people. And Jon being Jon, well, it strikes me that the he's going to be highly motivated by a sense of guilt for what he sees as his own part in the destruction of the city. I simply cannot imagine him sitting upon a throne somewhere giving orders and not getting his own hands dirty.
R+L=J was set up to be such an important thread in GOT and this story is partially an attempt to bring the promise of Jon's heritage into play and to give it the significance that fizzled away to nothing by the end of the series.
Ned Stark obviously was the person most responsible for molding Jon into the man he became. Jon has Ned's qualities – good and bad – in abundance. Outwardly, he is all Stark in looks, as well as his sense of honor and duty. But if anyone was going to see hints of Rhaegar in Jon, it would be the people of King's Landing who had been alive when Rhaegar was the crown prince and who would remember him, as I understand it, as gentle and somewhat melancholy.
Thanks, as always, to everyone who is reading this, bookmarking it, commenting on it or leaving kudos. I have enjoyed reading what you have to say. Writing is a fun hobby but it's nice to know that my scribbles aren't going out into a vacuum and disappearing from existence.
I actually have roughed out the very last scene of this story – but could not begin to say how many chapters will be written between now and then. I tend to jot things down as they come to mind so I have many scenes written – some just scraps of words, others more fully fleshed out.
