Jon

The first part of the army to reach them were two great shadows travelling on the air. One of the dragons let out an almighty roar, up there in the dark sky, and all the party had to take a strong hold of the reins as their horses jerked and reared, reacting to the dragons passing over them. Jon followed them with his eyes as the two flying beasts circled around the north of Moat Cailin only to descend onto what solid footing they could find on the frozen marshes, a hundred foot to the east of the Kingsroad.

The party was thirty-three in total, having waited a half hour for the first of the army from the south to appear. The front line was Jon and those he expected to be involved in the most important conversation with Jamie Lannister and Daenerys Targaryen, at least in the initial greetings. Behind them, in the next line, were important lords, one lady and Tormund, whose purpose in this initial greeting was to show that Jon had loyal bannermen, that his crown was not that of mummer; though one of the lords among them was not in his service, in fact sworn to Daenerys' service. He more so there to help Jon get his points about the White Walkers across. And behind them were twenty knights & soldiers, loyal to those at the front of the company.

And last of all, though certainly not least, was Ghost, Jon's direwolf and most loyal friend, with his snow-white fur and blood-red eyes, standing in front of them all, the size of a small horse. This was the company Jon had assembled to greet the army of the south which was coming to their aid. It came into sight soon after the dragons landed.

They would have been visible long before now,Jon thought bitterly, but the Long Night is on us, and we must weather it. It happened before they set off for Moat Cailin. Not two days after Jon had married his cousin, had her brother, Bran, the North's only Prince, confirmed that the Wall had been broken open thanks to rocks which had fallen from the sky, having broken off from the moon when the Red Comet crashed into it. The next morning, the Sun had neglected to rise, and the morning following that, a raven scroll from Last Hearth reported an extraordinarily large meteor shower coming down in the northern sky. I fear how long the sun will remain hidden.

The journey south to Moat Cailin had at least been bearable, and even still, all those who'd come from Winterfell were tired of the road by the last few days of travel; Jon spent most of his time with Ghost, Edd, Tormund and Davos. A week they'd been in the fortress which defended the North from any attacking force coming up the Kingsroad, and it had been a welcome week of rest, where the only thing most of them had done was spar with the garrison's men. Jon had wanted to get the shape of the men, and was quite satisfied.

"It was Sandor Clegane's work that started them getting this good," Ser Donald told Jon one night over wine. "You should have brought him with you, my men have missed his lessons."

Jon chuckled. "I'm afraid he's busy with the green boys and girls in Winterfell," Jon replied. "And I fear they need him more than your men do."

"That's a pity. I grew to like him myself."

But Jon's mind was not on training his men as he sat at the head of the party on the Kingsroad. He was running through his head what might be the best way to introduce himself to Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragon Queen – his aunt. He knew he would reveal the fact they were related in the main hall of the Moat, with only the southron army's main leaders present, it was more so getting her to see him as a ruler who deserved respect that Jon was worried about. One word said the wrong way could be the death of that goal. Or the death of me.

He pulled his cloak tight around him, and pushed back the hood so his face could be seen. His long, curly black hair was tied back in a knot, and he'd tidied his beard after waking this morning, He hadn't shaved since when he did it for the wedding, and it had got quite thick since then. It needs to be with this cold. Jon wore thick trousers, fur-lined boots, and a tunic that had been modified in the week following his wedding; now it bore, on the breast, the personal arms shared by himself and his wife: two direwolves howling into the air, standing on their hind legs and supporting each other by pressing together their front paws, the left wolf white, the right wolf red, together on a grey field. With the hood of his cloak now down, he placed his crown atop his head, which had been sitting in his saddlebag: a bronze circlet engraved with runes of the First Men, nine iron spikes sticking out toward the sky.

By the time the army reached them and stopped, Jon had rid himself of all nerves. His voice was confident as he said, "King Jaime, Queen Daenerys, allow me to personally welcome you to the North."

As rehearsed, Davos, who was on Jon's right, followed him by saying, "This is Jon of the House Stark, the White Wolf, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Lord of Winterfell and King of the North, the Trident, the Vale and the Narrow Sea."

Davos knew to add the Riverlands because they met Edmure Tully and all the armies of the Riverlands during the journey to Moat Cailin. His shoulder-length, red hair was turning grey, and he wore the trout of his house on his steel chest plate. "My sister told me of you," Edmure said to Jon, "and it was never anything flattering, but Robb had respect for you, loved you as his brother. It might upset Catelyn, though I'm sure she'd rather I swear my sword to you than any Lannister." So, there on the Kingsroad, Edmure Tully knelt in front of Jon and swore his service to the King in the North.

"This is Ser Davos, Lord of Dragonstone and Hand of the King," Jon said after his Hand had introduced him, and immediately Daenerys spoke up.

"That is going to be something we need to discuss," she said. "Dragonstone is my family's home, and will not want it held by anyone other than myself."

"The time will come for that conversation, Your Grace," Jon told her, graceful, "but for now there are more pressing matters."

"Of course," Daenerys replied, not unkindly.

Jon gave her a nod. "To Lord Davos' right is Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch, and one of my chief advisors. To my left is Ser Donald of the Rills, Commander of the Garrison here at Moat Cailin. Seeing as we are passing underneath his roof, I thought he should be here to greet you, and I must say, it is a pleasure to see you all. Left of Ser Donald is Eddison Tollett and Kedge White-Eye, Lieutenant Commander of the Night's Watch and First Ranger respectively. Both have seen the enemy we are going to fight." Jon looked at Jaime Lannnister. "King Jaime, it is good to see you again."

"And the same goes for you, Stark," Jaime replied. Lannister's dark blonde hair was turning grey and had grown longer since last Jon saw him, now hiding his ears from sight. Jaime had also grown a thick beard, and that too was shot with grey hair. Jaime wore all red, save the inside of his cloak, which was cloth-of-gold. No crown sat atop his head. "And I must say, that crown does suit you well."

"Thank you."

"You already know Ser Bronn," Jaime said, gesturing with his golden hand. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater was on Jaime's left, slightly behind him, with his long black hair and rough face. He gave a short nod of greeting. "But you don't know my Hand, Ser Addam Marbrand." Jaime gestured to the man on his right, who had grey hair and a beard of the same colour. On the breast of his brown tunic was a hand pin.

"Greetings, my lord," Jon said politely, nodding his head.

"Your Grace," Ser Addam replied.

Jon then turned to Daenerys. "Now, Queen Daenerys, I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you yet," he said.

"Nor I you, King Jon," she replied. "I must ask if we can reserve the rest of the greetings for inside the fortress. It is deathly cold, I would rather get to know you beside a warm fire and over a cup of wine, if Ser Donald has any in his stores."

"Enough to last my men the winter," Ser Donald stated with a smile.

"Excellent." She offered Jon a smile. "What say you, Your Grace?"

Jon nodded. "Very well. But if I may, is that man beside you Ser Jorah Mormont, son of Jeor Mormont."

The man in question pulled down the hood of his cloak and replied, "I am, Your Grace, and Samwell told me of you." He had an uneasy look to him as he observed those in Jon's party.

"Good." Jon observed them all. "Please, all of you, join me in the main hall for a cup of refreshing mulled wine. It was prepared this morning. Your army is welcome to begin passing through the fortress and establish a camp on the road. I'm afraid there is not much choice for where they may settle down."

"We quickly learnt that lesson when we entered the Neck, Your Grace," Daenerys said with a bit of humour.

Jon ordered his party to turn round and lead the way. The pace was set at a slow canter, and they all dismounted once they entered the fortress' yard. The first person to speak was Lyanna Mormont, wearing a chest plate with her house's bear upon it, her long, black hair running down her back and covered by the cloak she wore. Lyanna went to her cousin Jorah as he dismounted, who was one reason why she'd asked to come to Moat Cailin, having heard of him from Sam.

"Cousin," she said, strong and clear. Jorah looked upon her with a bit of shock. Probably because he didn't expect her to be so upfront.

"My lady," Jorah replied. "You've grown since last I saw you."

"In spirit as well as body because of you. My mother had to take charge after you left, and then go south when Robb Stark called the banners. She died in the during the war, so I had to take her place."

"And I am sorry, Lyanna," Jorha told her sadly. "You needn't berate me, I've paid for my crimes."

"No you haven't," Lord Leyton said. Jon watched him walk over to Jorah. "Where is my daughter, Mormont? Where is Lynesse? I haven't heard from her since you ran off."

"Lord Hightower," Jorah greeted as politely as he could. "I'm sorry, but she left me for another years ago, before I met Queen Daenerys. I couldn't say where she is now."

Lord Leyton huffed, then turned to Daenerys. "Your Grace, I am sworn to you through the Tyrells of Highgarden. I want this man punished for selling poachers into slavery, which is why he was in exile."

"I am aware of his crime, Lord Hightower," Daenerys answered, not unkindly. "He has made up for it in my eyes. So please, do not press on the matter. I'm sorry to hear your daughter has not contacted you in the years since she left Ser Jorah, but that is something I cannot fix. And if you'll allow me to ask, will you please explain why you are beside another ruler, not in Oldtown where I believe Lady Olenna asked you to stay?"

"I am here because of the enemy you have come to help fight against," Lord Hightower said. "I could not stand by ideally while the realm faced certain demise."

"And who told you of this threat?"

"Samwell Tarly, a young man training to be a maester. He is also who told me of Ser Jorah's being at your side. I wish I had known of him when he was in the Citadel." Hightower gave Mormont a dirty look, eyes making clear what would have happened, had that been the case.

"And did he tell you it so you could come to berate your old goodson?"

"No, Samwell was telling me of all he'd done in the Citadel while we made the journey to Winterfell, and Ser Jorah came up, as I'm sure you've heard of what Samwell did for him."

"I have. And I shall be expecting to thank Samwell in person. But now I must ask that we head inside. I must speak with King Jon."

Before they all went inside the Gatehouse tower, where the Moat's main hall was, Jon noticed Jaime staying put with his men.

"King Jaime," Jon called, "why do you linger?"

"I'm waiting. There's a young lord you'll want to meet and a young lady as well," Jaime told him. A young lady. There's only one person that could be.

"Very well, you remember the way to the main hall?"

"Of course"

Through the old stone corridors they walked, Jon and Ser Donald leading the way to the main hall. Ghost was curious, inspecting Queen Daenerys, Ser Jorah and the young woman with brown skin and black curly hair who walked with them. She stopped in her tracks when Ghost began sniffing her, letting out a little gasp, then a chuckle. Everyone stopped to watch.

"His name is Ghost, my lady," Jon told her. "He won't hurt you. Pet him if you like." Slowly, she reached out a hand and placed it on Ghost's head. "What is your name, my lady?"

"Missandei," she answered, "I am Her Grace's attendant and translator."

"And it seems Ghost likes you." The direwolf was leaning into Missandei's hand, and she obliged him by rubbing his fur more confidently.

"He's awfully big for a wolf, as I am aware of them, Your Grace," she stated.

"He's a direwolf, they're bigger. We found him and his brother & sisters after their mother was killed. There were six pups in total, and the other five went to my brothers and sisters. Though only one of his littermates have survived up to now, and she is in Winterfell."

"I would like to meet her."

"I'm sure you will." Jon sent out a sharp whistle through his lips. "Come, Ghost, you can give her your attention in the hall." And so they continued the rest of the way. Daenerys came to Jon's side to comment that they both have their animal companions, and all of them had not survived. "The raven scroll I received made mention of that. I'm sorry for your loss, Queen Daenerys, I truly am. I don't know what I'd do without Ghost, I've been with him so long now, nearly five years. Gods, I was sixteen, it seems like yesterday."

"So you are twenty-one now?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall be catching up with you very soon, Your Grace."

Entering the main hall, they did not bother going to the high table. Jon sat himself down at the centre of one of the low tables, and all those from the front of his company joined him, save Lord Hightower, who joined Queen Daenerys. Ghost was occupied with Missandei, who stood so she could interact with him. The mulled wine was poured and everyone sitting took a goblet, all except Tormund, who couldn't stand the stuff.

"Now," Jon began, "to introduce you to everyone else, the young lady who spoke to Ser Jorah, is his cousin, Lyanna Mormont, Lady of Bear Island. The large man with the white hair and beard is Lord Wyman Manderly, the most powerful of my bannermen in the North. The other man with white hair, is Lord Yohn Royce, of Runestone, and Lord Protector of the Vale until Lord Robin comes of age. Last of all, the man with the great ginger beard is Tormund Giantsbane, a man of many titles, who is respected among the Free Folk, the people you will know as the wildlings from beyond the Wall."

"As for my people," Daenerys followed him, "most of my main advisors and leaders are on the sea, and should be arriving in White Harbour soon, if the winds have been good to them. That includes my Hand, Lord Tyrion Lannister, who you've met."

"I have, and I'll meet the rest when we reach Winterfell."

"I should think you will. I have the leaders of my Dothraki warriors with me and the leader of my Unsullied, Grey Worm."

Jon frowned. "What sort of a name is that?"

"I offered him to change it, but he said it was the name he had when I freed him from slavery, so he decided to keep it. His name in valyrian is Torgo Nuhdo, if you'd prefer to say that."

"I think I will. But for now, allow me to say that you and all your leaders will be given chambers in Winterfell, but your armies will need to join those who have been arriving before you in a growing city of tents south of Wintertown, which we will pass on the way to the castle."

"Those are acceptable arrangements."

Jon looked at Jorah. "Ser, what did Samwell tell you of me?"

"Everything, Your Grace, and he made sure I knew my father took you as his steward."

"And gave me this." Jon pulled Longclaw from its scabbard and placed the bastard sword on the table, the handle in front of Jorah. "I am offering it to you, Ser, much to Lady Lyanna's annoyance, but I feel I owe it to your father."

Jorah observed the sword as if touching it might hurt him. He picked it up and turned it round, so the handle was facing Jon. "He gave it to you. I lost any right to this sword when I dishonoured myself." He smiled weakly. "Besides, I'd have to get that pommel replaced."

Jon sheathed the bastard sword. "That's a shame, but I still cannot have you without valyrian steel. I have another sword at Winterfell, called Dark Sister. I was planning to use it myself, once I gave you Longclaw, but it seems I'll be giving it to you instead." Jon shrugged. "I guess that makes more sense, however, you'll be defending your Targaryen queen with Targaryen steel."

"I remember," Daenerys said. "My brother told me that sword went missing when Brynden Rivers joined the Night's Watch. How did you get it? Did you find it at Castle Black?"

"No, actually," Jon replied. "My brother and his wife brought it with them from beyond the Wall, but that is a story to tell later. For now, the only one I have left to tell you must wait for when King Jaime is here."

"Well, if you'll allow me to broach the subject in order to fill the time. I do want to talk about what will happen once the White Walkers are dealt with. King Jaime and I have made some agreements on the road."

Jon leaned back in his chair. "What's your pitch? Because as far as I'm concerned, the North will remain independent so long as I and my children and their children live."

Daenerys raised her index finger and touched an imaginary object with it, as if the subject of conversation were physically there on the table. "You see, one of the first conversations I had with my Hand, when we first arrived in Westeros, was regarding what we were going to do about the North's position in the realm. We had learned that you declared yourself independent, and Lord Tyrion advised I do not demand fealty of you, and instead negotiate and become allies with you. His immediate suggestion was marriage, between the two of us." That made Jon's eyebrows perk, but Daenerys wasn't finished, so he let her continue. "And having given the idea much thought on the journey north, and talked about it with Ser Jorah and King Jamie, I have come to the decision to formally propose a marriage to you, Your Grace. We can do it whenever you please and however you please, as I'm aware you worship different gods than the Seven. King Jaime has agreed to swear fealty to us if we give him a place as one of our chief advisors. And while you and I live in King's Landing, your sister Sansa shall be allowed to take your place as ruler of the North, holding the title of Queen. The North and the South will be partners, tied together first by marriage and then by blood when we have children."

"Is that your pitch?" Jon asked. Daenerys nodded. Jon looked a Davos beside him, who was just as shocked as he was. "Forgive me, Your Grace," almost laughing, "but I haven't told you yet. It was going to be part of my speech to you and King Jaime, once he got here, but I guess I must tell you now. I married a week before setting off to meet you here."

Her face immediately fell. "Oh."

"I'm sorry, I really am," he said. "I wasn't expecting you to meet me with a marriage proposal. Events took place in the North which led to me taking a wife."

"Who is she?"

Jon could not say anything before Ghost let out a bark and ran to the entrance of the hall, where Jaime, Bronn, Ser Addam, a lad of sixteen or seventeen years, a woman with short, blonde hair and a teenage girl with brown hair, grey eyes and long face were walking in. Jon could not contain himself. He stood and ran to the girl, who Ghost was rubbing his body against. She couldn't get a word in before Jon's arms were around her, lifting her into the air. She was so light to carry.

"Little sister," he said, almost crying. Her arms went around his neck.

"Jon," Arya said in return. Ghost was rubbing up against her legs, which were dangling above the ground. Jon set Arya down, only to pull her head into his chest and kiss the top of her head. She put her arms around his torso.

"Why didn't you come home?" he asked, tears falling down his cheek. "Why didn't you? Clegane could have brought you. He would've kept you safe."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should have. I really should've."

"But you're with us now, that's all that matters. You're safe now." Jon held her there for a few moments more, before letting her withdraw a bit, allowing him to look down into her eyes. "And you're a woman grown. Gods, you've got big."

"Almost a woman grown. Still fifteen."

"Bah. A woman grown in my eyes." His smiled dropped. I can be her king at a different time, now there is another matter at hand. He looked round at Daenerys. Everyone had got to their feet. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I haven't seen my little sister for some years." Jon bit is lip. "And I fear that isn't the correct way to address her anymore." He looked down at Arya, and she was frowning.

"I had just asked you who have married," Daenerys reminded.

"Married?" Arya said.

"Married are you, Stark?" Jaime said. "I wasn't expecting that news. Who's the lucky woman?"

"Lord Howland," Jon simply said. The Lord of Greywater Watch walked up to the high table.

"My lords and ladies, King Jaime, Queen Daenerys," he rasied his voice to fill the hall, "if I may have your attention." Everyone in the room looked at him, and by the time he had finished, everyone was looking at Jon, all save Daenerys, who was speaking to Ser Jorah quietly. A woman laughed, an awful sound. Jon looked round and saw it was the woman with short, blonde hair.

"Is something funny, my lady?" Jon asked.

"You can't seriously expect us all to believe that nonsense," she said.

"I wouldn't have it told if it wasn't true, I gain nothing from this information being known," Jon said. "I don't want the Iron Throne, only for the truth of this to be revealed. Everyone it affects has the right to know, and first of all had been my bannermen, whom had the right to reconsider their decision to make me their king with it."

"You're not our brother," Arya said, her voice breathless from shock.

He looked down at her. "I am in everywhere way that matters, don't you worry." Jon then felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Daenerys.

"So you are truly my nephew?" Daenerys asked calmly.

"Yes, and I give you my word, Your Grace, I have no interest in the Iron Throne. If the gods are good, I will never see that damn chair. It has brought my family too much misery."

"Then allow me to apologise, for Rhaegar's actions. I wouldn't wish this revelation on anyone, to find out you are the product of rape."

"Thank you," Jon replied, softly.

"Now, who is it that you married? I've been waiting for that answer, and I assume you revealling you're my nephew has something to do with it."

Jon bit his lip, looked down at Arya, who had now withdrawn from their embrace and was about two feet away. Returning to Daenerys, "My cousin, Sansa."

"WHAT!" Arya let out.

Bronn immediately burst out laughing, falling to his knees.

"Why?" Daenerys asked, calmly. "Why not a daughter or granddaughter of one of your bannermen? Surely it would be awkward for you to marry someone you believed to be your sister until recently."

"Selfish reasons, Your Grace," Jon said. "She has been through some awful hardships in recent years, and she'd expressed she had no desire to open up to a man who did not know them already."

"That I can sympathise with entirely," Daenerys said.

Jon looked back at Arya. Her face was one of utter disgust. "She's your sister," she managed.

"Was, Arya. Was."

"What about me?" Her voice turned angry. "Would you have married me if I'd been in Winterfell when you learnt we were cousins?"

"No, of course not."

She backed up, looking down at the floor. "I feel like I'm going to vomit. I haven't seen you for five years, and the first time I see you, I learn that you're actually my cousin and have married Sansa." I knew this would be heavy on her. She looked up. "She never even gave you the time of day. Why would care about her enough to marry her?"

"That is why I was able to do it, Arya," Jon told her bluntly. "Had I been as close to Sansa as I was to you, then I never would have gone through with it, never even considered it." It was just now dawning on him that this display would've been better made more in private. Too late to change that now. Slowly, he approached, kneeling in front of her and offering a hand. "Please tell me what you're feeling? How can I make it better?"

She looked deep into his eyes. "You can't." Arya ran off, leaving the main hall.

Jon punched himself on the thigh, looking up at the ceiling. His crown fell off his head, onto the floor. The metal rang out for a brief moment. He heard Jaime say, "Go after her Dickon, make sure she doesn't get into trouble."

"Yes, Your Grace," a lad's voice replied.

Jon looked in that direction and saw the lad who'd walked in with Arya go after her, and Ghost followed him. Jon looked into his lap. "For fuck's sake," he said under his breath.

The next thing he felt was someone kneeling beside him, only to stand back up. It was Jaime. He'd picked up the bronze and iron crown, holding it out for Jon to take. It went back on top of his head. Jaime offered Jon his good hand. "Come on, Stark. She'll come around."

"I'm not sure she will, Jaime," Jon told him bluntly. "I think telling her with all you was the worst choice I could've made. I at least had the privacy of five people, three of which already knew."

"The horse has bolted, now you must catch it."

Jon took the hand, together they pulled him off his knees. "Allow me to introduce my sister," Jaime said, in a sarcastic tone, gesturing to the blond, short haired woman. "Cersei Lannister."

Jon managed a sarcastic smile, and held out his hand. "Jon Stark. Good to finally meet you."

She only eyed him. "I don't need your false pleasantries, bastard. My brother is torment enough, and should he make me see your sister-wife, as free a dove as any in the wild, that will be the worst thing he can inflict on me. How I will desire to strike her across the face with the back of my hand."

Jaime got the reply in before Jon: "Do that and I'll let him do what he likes with you, sister," he said, angrily. "The only thing I will allow you to exchange with Sansa Stark is insults and sharp words, nothing more." Jaime returned his attention to Jon. "Forgive my sister, she hasn't been in the best mood since I removed her from the throne."

"I can imagine," Jon said.

"All because of you, bastard," Cersei spat. "What poison did you pour into my brother's ear to make him turn against me?"

"The truth."

"Ha. Telling the truth is what got your father killed. I should think you should learn from his mistakes."

"Telling the truth is not a weakness, my lady. Only a snake of the southern court would say such a thing, where holding the truth under lock and key, showing it only to the people you want to, helps you climb the slippery pole. In the North, it will give you no such victory, a lesson Lord Petyr Baelish learned."

She eyed him. "My brother told me of that. 'Good riddance,' is all I can say. He should have known better than to side with you northern traitors."

"I am no traitor, my lady, I fill only the role which the lords and ladies of the North chose me for. And that is a more honourable way of obtaining a crown than murdering one's own husband so her bastard son can take his place."

"How do you know about that?" Cersei snapped.

"My brother can see the past, present and future."

"Brother, which one? And why call him brother, or the little wolf-bitch your sister? You called the she-wolf which you married your cousin. Why only her? I think you're lying about being Rhaegar's bastard. You've spun this story to give yourself an excuse to wed and bed your sister, and you have the audacity to berate me for Joffrey."

"I call Arya 'sister,' and Bran 'brother,' because it feels alien to refer to them otherwise, and also because they are those relations to me by adoption. Sansa I call 'cousin' to reassure myself I have done nothing wrong by wedding and bedding her." Throughout it all, Jon never raised his voice. "I should think I will ask Ser Jaime to have you seated near the high table, if only to force you to see my wife in a position you've so coveted, doing it better than you ever could. That is the least punishment you deserve."

Cersei chuckled. "That girl couldn't run a kingdom if it were only the size of her bed chamber."

"You'd be surprised."

"Your Grace," Daenerys said from behind him. Jon turned to face her. "As much as it is entertaining to see you spar words with this woman, I'm sure myself and King Jaime would quite like to know where we will be staying while we rest here."

"Of course, Your Grace. My apologies. I allowed myself to get absorbed. You'll forgive me, please. I had my own honour and my wife's honour to defend."

"Of course."

"If you see Ser Donald, he will take the two of you to the quarters we prepared for you. I helped him choose them, so please tell me personally if they're to your liking."

"We certainly will," Jaime said, patted Jon on the shoulder. "And while we're here, I would like to get you in the yard with Bronn, if only to see how well you use that sword."

Jon offered him a smile. "I think I would like that too." Jaime and Daenerys left the hall. Cersei and every one of their closest advisors went with them. Jon walked up to Howland and simply said to him, "That could have gone better."

"And it could have gone a lot worse," Howland said, trying to be optimistic. "At least be thankful you are still alive."

"Aye. I am."