This chapter in terms of the show, as you would probably guess, marks us reaching S6E3. We're into the end game now.
WARNING: An extremely gruesome execution takes place in the penultimate scene. I will double line mark it both before and after the scene so you are aware of when it takes place in case you want to skip it. There is an important scene for Robb during that however that I can't really add in a line marker to as it would break up the scene.
I own nothing that's recognisable as the properties of HBO or George R R Martin. The OC's however come from the depths of my mind.
The only sounds that could be heard in Castle Black were of the howling wind battering the Wall, and the staggered, terrified breathing of the nude man sat in the middle of the pyre. Nobody else could will themselves to move, not understanding what had just happened.
Mellaro was the first one to move, taking his black cloak off and wrapping it around the shaking form of Jon. Guiding him to his feet, Jon stumbled the once, but Ygritte rushed towards him to help steady him.
"Wha… what's happening?" Jon gasped.
"You're back." Ygritte replied ecstatically. "It worked."
"Help me get him inside." Mellaro said quietly, and Ygritte nodded, as they aided Jon up to the Lord Commander's chambers, where Gendry, Edd and Grenn met them.
Nobody knew what to say. Jon was sat down in a chair, just trying to calm himself down as everyone bar Mellaro stared at him in awe. Ygritte squatted down at his side, clinging on to his hand as though she was scared that if she let go, he would die again. Eventually the silence was broken by Grenn.
"How is this possible?" He asked. "You died. I saw the wounds. Nobody could survive that… and we burned you! How…"
"The Lord of Light has blessed Jon Snow." Mellaro told them calmly. "His fire has given the Lord Commander the breath of life. This was my purpose at the Wall, and now I'm needed elsewhere." He pressed his hands to his necklace once more, and Ygritte could almost hear the mens jaws drop as Melisandre showed her female self to them all.
"I know you…" Gendry began. "You're the Queen's witch! The one that burnt all those people!
"Come." Melisandre said to the men, narrowing her eyes at Gendry. "I'll explain everything to you, but Lord Snow wishes for us to leave him alone with Ygritte." Jon looked away awkwardly at her words, as the Red Woman shepherded the men out.
Standing properly, Ygritte went and bolted the door shut. "I was dead." She heard Jon say from behind her. Turning around, she saw him shakily pour ale from his desk into a cup and down it. "I was stabbed all over by twenty knives at least. How am I here, unscathed?"
Ygritte didn't understand truly, but she walked over to him, sitting herself on his lap and running her hands up his chest. "Magic, Jon Snow. Fire magic." She whispered.
"I shouldn't be here." Jon whispered back, his voice breaking in raw emotion.
"But you are. You're alive and breathing." Ygritte told him, resting her forehead on his and sensing his worry. "You're no wight, Jon Snow. I can feel your heart." She added, moving her hand to feel his erratic heartbeat.
Jon placed his own hand over hers. "This isn't a dream, is it Ygritte?"
"No." She shook her head.
Jon sighed heavily. "I died."
"But now you're back." She told him firmly. "And those cunts that did it are dead or waiting to die."
Jon reached and had another big gulp of ale. "My own brothers…" He began getting angry. "They know what's coming, they know why I did what I did and they murdered me!"
"And they will pay." Ygritte assured him.
"I've half a mind to leave them for the Night King." Jon spat, but immediately shook his head and sighed once more. "No, I wouldn't. The less men he has the better."
"But they die." Ygritte said firmly. "When your man told us what happened Jon Snow I never felt anything like it in my life. I was just so angry, but so sad at the same time. I slept with your body all night because I didn't want to leave you. I never want to leave you again."
Jon smiled softly for the first time since he had returned. "I wish that were the case, but I swore an oath. I can't…" He trailed off, as he thought about what he was saying. "Night gathers, and now my Watch begins. It shall not end until my death." He quoted.
"You died though." Ygritte said bluntly.
"My Watch has ended…" Jon whispered. "I'm free of my oath. I can leave."
Ygritte looked happy at this, but she soon frowned. "But what about the Walkers?"
Jon looked thoughtful. "Everyone here knows they're coming, but so does Robb. Me going home doesn't mean I'm abandoning the fight."
"Home?" Ygritte asked. "That fancy castle you spoke about?"
Jon chuckled. "Aye, Winterfell. With the towers bigger than that windmill. I can't stay here, Ygritte. Not after what happened."
"Then go back to Winterfell." Ygritte told him gently, not trying to hide her disappointment. "See your brother and tell me about your castle when I see you next."
"What are you talking about?" Jon asked. "You're coming with me."
"I am, am I?" Ygritte asked, poking her chest out heartily and putting on a brave face.
"Aye." Jon nodded, a smile forming. "I am yours, and you are mine. I stole you North of the Wall didn't I? So now I have no oath to hold, I can take a wife."
Ygritte couldn't help the grin. "I stole you, you mean." She pushed him on the chest.
"Well I won't let my wife out of my sight ever again." Jon told her, pressing his lips to her own.
The kiss grew more passionate as Ygritte moved to straddle Jon, her nails raking down his pecs. She pulled away for a moment, looking at him quizzically. "So am I your Lady now? Do I get a fancy silk dress?"
Jon shook his head in amusement. "No, I'm still just a bastard. I can't inherit anything. I can ask Robb to have a silk dress made though if you like. I still want to rip one off you."
Laughing at the memory, Ygritte leant in for another kiss, only to bite Jon's lip sultrily. "And I'll still blacken your eye." She whispered, plunging in for more as the two lovers lost themselves in raw passion for one another.
The Throne Room was packed to the rafters as the entire court was waiting intently for Prince Duncan Baratheon was due to be announced to them. Durran was sat on the Iron Throne uncomfortably as Pycelle was addressing the room announcing the new High Septon and a service was announced for the nobles still in the Capital which Durran remembered he was obligated to go to.
He was bored. A feast had been prepared in the Queen's Ballroom in Maegor's Holdfast and he just wanted to duck out of all this ceremony and celebrate his son's birth with those he was closest too. As Pycelle droned on he looked up to the gallery where Myrcella was carrying Elaenor, who was looking around at all the strangers in the room suspiciously.
Finally, Pycelle was finished, and Durran stood up to address the room. "To conclude today, and to finally get to the reason why you're all here…" He began with a sly glance at Pycelle, causing a low laughter from the gathered crowd. "As you are aware within the last few days Queen Daenerys successfully gave birth to a healthy and strong baby boy, Prince Duncan Baratheon. I would like you to all welcome the heir to the Iron Throne to the world and show him the same loyalty throughout his life as you show me now." He called to them as the doors opened.
Dany was flanked by two Kingsguard and she held Duncan up so those closest to the walkway had a good view of the baby. Durran could only grin down at her as she walked towards the Iron Throne and kneeled before the steps.
"The Prince, Your Grace." She said loudly, for all to here.
Durran beckoned her to rise with his hand. "Stand, my love." He told her, and she did as bid before walking up the steps to hand Duncan over to Durran and moving to sit in her own smaller throne by his side. Durran held the baby up for the court to see. "When my Father took the Iron Throne his situation was held strong by the alliance of Houses that fought with him and he had but two heirs. Prince Duncan is the heir to both House Baratheon of King's Landing, and House Targaryen. His place will be to sit on this chair once I am gone, the product of the two Great Houses of the Realm. Long live Prince Duncan!"
"Long live Prince Duncan!" The room cried out. Durran smiled, stroking his son's hair before passing him over to Dany once more.
"Join me in the Queen's Ballroom, where we shall eat and drink to the future King." Durran called out, holding his hand out prominently for Dany to take, and the Royal couple led the room towards the feasting hall.
Taking a sip of lemon water, Durran found himself laughing loudly at the obscenely drunk Mace Tyrell trying to rope Randyll Tarly into a scheme. Dany had taken the children to bed a while back and had gone to feed the three dragons. Seeing Tarly's lack of comfort, Durran nodded to Ser Arys Oakheart to take the Lord of the Reach to his bed and went over to sit by Lord Tarly.
"Thank you, Your Grace." Tarly said unhappily.
Durran grinned. "I don't know how you keep putting up with him." He said informally.
"Lord Tyrell is my Liege Lord." Tarly said gruffly. "I swore oaths."
Durran nodded. "Well, you're a more tolerable man than I, Lord Tarly."
Tarly appreciated that, and silently snuck a glance at the drink Durran had in his hands. Durran understood the silent question. "It's a feast, Lord Tarly. You can talk to me informally if you like for one night."
"You're not drinking wine." Tarly noted.
"No, I'm not." Durran said. "I'm sure you know better than I of what it turned my Father into."
Tarly let out a rare smile for the briefest of moments. "Yes, I can see why you hesitate."
Durran snorted out a laugh and looked up at his Mother who was laughing with Myrcella about something. "I loved the man as any son loves his Father, but he was cold. Perhaps his love of Lyanna Stark blinded him to his true family, or perhaps ruling killed him long before the boar did I don't know. But what he became was a weak minded man that relied more on wine than breathing. That sight there, of the Queen Mother laughing." He pointed up to her subtly. "I can't remember the last time that happened. Wine turns men into beasts, which is why I drink moderately."
Randyll Tarly could respect that. "A fair stance, Your Grace. Still, I'm not comfortable celebrating when the rumours from the North still haunt me."
Durran took a gulp and nodded. "We feel it's better to keep spirits up now when there is reason to celebrate than to just wallow in a Kingdom of misery. But I promise you, measures are being made. Ser Jonothor is on his way to the Wall to swear his oaths and give us another Valyrian Steel sword at Castle Black, and the Council of Protectors in the Vale sent word that alliances are being made to ensure that the entire nation is united after the civil war we had there recently. Lord Andar has married a member of House Melcolm, Aemma, if I remember rightly."
Randyll looked slightly appeased. "I was sorry to hear of his Father's death. Lord Yohn was a fine man and a terrific commander."
Durran nodded. "We've lost many fine people since my Father died, but many terrible ones too."
"I can drink to that." Randyll said, holding his glass up, letting Durran clink his glass to the Reachlord's.
"We'll likely lose many more." Durran told him quietly. "The way your son made these… these creatures sound. They're like nightmares."
"He always was one to embellish the truth." Randyll said bitterly. Not wanting to bring the mood down, Durran tried to change the subject, but had only opened his mouth before the doors opened, and in streamed a Gold Cloak who swiftly moved towards the Master of Laws, Ser Morton Waynwood. Keeping his eyes on the exchange, he saw Morton look up in surprise and attempt to verify something, before the Small Council member looked up at the high table, before finding Durran. The Valeman made his way towards them.
"Ser Morton." Durran greeted.
"Your Grace… The Goldcloaks…" Morton said, in clear disbelief.
"Spit it out man." Randyll snapped.
Morton gave Tarly a glare before returning his gaze to the King. "Lamentation."
"The Valyrian Steel sword of House Royce?" Durran asked.
"Yes." Morton said, shakily. "We've found it."
Durran wasted no time in gathering a guard and rushing over to the Dragonpit, where he was met with Dany stood beside Rhaellar. The dragon growled at the newcomers, but shook her large head and took to the skies to join her siblings.
"I doubt I'll ever get used to them." Jaime said from behind him. "Still, I'm glad they're on our side…"
"They're agitated." Dany explained, leading Durran towards the steps to the bowels of the pit. "All this digging around in the ruins upsets them."
"If we've truly found it, then we'll stop." Durran said urgently.
"This way." Dany nodded, leading them further underground. "There are tunnels all the way through Rhaenys' hill. Dozens of feet tall with massive rooms for the dragons to be kept locked away. It seems barbaric."
"Dragons didn't understand that the people of the city weren't food." Randyll Tarly said gruffly. "Locking them up kept the Targaryen's in power."
Durran nodded. "Yes, we're lucky that whatever ritual you used to hatch them binds them to you in ways I truly do not understand."
"Perhaps." Dany told them. "Anyway, during the Dance thousands stormed these walls and killed a number of dragons. Many died, and the pit was set aflame, with cave ins killing more dragons." They got to some more steps leading downwards. "Be careful here, the rocks from the cave ins are unstable."
She led them all single file downwards for multiple floors, and Durran saw that the Gold Cloaks had carved walkways into every corridor possible. Further and further down they walked, when a gathering of Gold Cloaks were found standing outside one of the cell like chambers. Pushing their way through the group, Durran's eyes widened in shock. The skeleton of a slender but very large dragon was laid awkwardly on the ground, covering skeletons of many men, a few wearing horribly rusted armour with eroded swords. One sword however, was a two-handed greatsword without a hint of wear and tear on it with a bronze handle that glowed in the torchlight. The hilt and blade were covered in runes that Durran had only ever seen once before on the banner of House Royce.
"This is Dreamfyre." Dany whispered, in awe. She moved her hands along the skull of the dragon. "Slender but mighty, that died in the Storming of the Dragonpit."
"And this is Lamentation." Durran told them, bending down to pick up the sword. Holding the greatsword up in one hand, he ran his thumb along the edge, wincing as his finger was cut. He could only laugh though.
"What's funny?" Dany asked, concerned. She took his hand and kissed his thumb, sucking up some of the blood.
"How long ago was the Storming?" Durran asked.
"175 years, Your Grace." Ser Morton answered.
"175 years." Durran repeated, holding the blade up in utter amazement. "175 years this sword has been down here, hidden. Nobody to take care of it and nobody to use it and the blade is still sharp. It's incredible."
Durran kept his eyes on the blade, bringing the torchlight to show the runes clearer. "What would you have us do, Your Grace?" Jaime asked.
Durran turned to the crowd. He looked at some of the faces under Gold Cloak helmets. "Ser Morton. Is there a man you trust implicitly here?"
Morton looked around and nodded. "Ser Daris Dunstable."
The man stepped forward and fell to his knee in front of Durran. "Your Grace."
"Stand." Durran told him. "I want you to gather three others and sail for Runestone. You are only to speak to Lord Andar, do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Grace." The man bowed his head. "What… what am I to tell him?"
Durran thought for a moment. "That House Baratheon has recovered his family's sword and freely gives it back, and that he is to remember this when I call the Vale to arms." He handed the man the sword and one of his Father's old sigil rings. "Hand this to the harbourmaster and tell him that the King commands him to find you a ship tonight. This sword never leaves your possession until you hand it directly to Lord Andar."
"Of course, Your Grace." Ser Daris bowed again. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Durran grinned and patted the man on the shoulder. "May the Gods grant you speed, Ser."
Daris bowed his head once more and made his way out of the ruins, and Jaime came over to Durran as Dany tied a ribbon around his thumb to stem the bleeding. "So, we have another sword." Jaime whispered.
"Six in our allies possessions." Durran grinned, holding Dany into his chest excitedly. "We might actually stand a chance."
In the North, a couple of ravens required Robb Stark's attention. The first from Last Hearth, requesting that the body of the Smalljon be burned in Winterfell as the Greatjon had no wish to see it. Robb felt bad for his friend and agreed immediately. The second bit of news actually put a wide grin on the solemn Lord's face.
"My Lord?" Luwin asked.
"Balon Greyjoy is dead." Robb said happily. "Slipped from a rope bridge and plunged to his death in a storm." Maester Luwin didn't share the enthusiasm, and Robb noticed. "You disapprove?"
"Forgive me, Lord Stark." Luwin said. "As a Maester I'm sworn to protecting life. Death is one thing I can't find enjoyment in, although I will admit, I will not mourn him, nor what his Ironborn did to the North."
Robb nodded, placing his hand on Luwin's shoulder. "The fact that you survived is incredible. The Gods were truly kind. This changes everything however, with Balon dead the Ironborn will have to ignore the mainland and choose a new ruler. That could take months."
A knock at the door came, and a guard opened it. "Lord Bolton to see you, My Lord."
"Send him in." Robb announced, turning to Luwin once more as Roose walked in. "Send word to Lord Robett to thank him for the news. He will be more delighted than us I can bet."
"My Lord." Luwin bowed, leaving the room. Roose watched the elderly Maester as he went and looked at Robb quizzically.
"Balon Greyjoy is dead." Robb told him, handing Roose the letter. The Bolton Lord read it and nodded.
"That is good news." Roose admitted. "Especially given what I've just been told. My investigation into the bastard has dug up some interesting things."
"Like what?" Roose asked.
"Like the capture and mutilation of Theon Greyjoy." Roose told him.
The pair made their way into the dungeons once more, again ignoring the calls of Ramsay Snow and towards the cell that Roose had had Theon put into. Robb took his time in looking through the bars, remembering his friend from before, but also remembering the traitor that had sold him out and had brought an invasion into Robb's own home.
He finally looked up, and what he saw horrified him. Theon was curled up in one of the corners of the cell, rocking himself back and forth whispering to himself. His hair was a mess, his eyes looked haunted, and his bare feet had scarred over holes through them.
"Theon." Robb said firmly. The Greyjoy man looked up at him, terrified.
"No. No, no Theon. Only Reek. I am Reek, it rhymes with freak." Theon babbled. "Reek, Reek, Reek."
"Theon!" Robb roared. Theon stopped talking, tears in his eyes as he looked up at Robb, shaking his head.
"The Bastard had him tortured." Roose explained.
"Yes, I can see that." Robb snapped. "Did you know?"
Roose shook his head. "I swear to you, Lord Stark. I did not."
Robb turned his attention back to his old friend. "Unlock the door." He told a guard, who did as bid. Robb walked into the cell, and Theon just tried to scramble further back into the corner, scraping his back on the stone wall.
"No. No no no no no." Theon mumbled, his voice shaking in sheer terror.
"Listen to me." Robb said gently. "You were my friend. My best friend, and you betrayed me. I sent you because I trusted you, and you stabbed me in the back."
"Sorry. Reek is sorry, sorry sorry." Theon cried.
"Sorry doesn't bring back Ser Rodrik, or Mikken, or any of the Northmen that died because of you." Robb told him. "You know, for years I dreamed of killing you. I imagined it all sorts of ways, from simply beheading you, to letting you rot in a gibbet until the crows devoured your flesh, to opening your belly and hanging your guts on the Weirwood as the Northmen of old did. One dark night I even imagined Lord Bolton flaying you."
Theon openly wept at the mention of flaying. "Not again. No, Reek will be good." He bawled.
"No, I would never." Robb reassured his old friend. "And even if I wanted to, you've had enough." Theon nodded vigorously. Robb sighed, and got a skin of water and handed it to Theon. "I loved you like a brother, Theon."
"Reek." He corrected.
"Theon. That is your name. Theon Greyjoy." Robb said firmly, before continuing. "I loved you like a brother, and I hated you with everything I had because of what I thought you did. Now? Looking at you now I only feel pity."
"He… he hurt me." Theon whispered as quietly as he could go. "My fingers… my toes… my… my…" He couldn't continue, and just pointed at his crotch.
Robb understood, and almost laughed. "He took away your favourite toy." He guessed. Theon nodded, tears staining his cheeks. Robb closed his eyes and pinched his nose, imagining the horror. "You won't be hurt anymore." He swore. "You've been through enough, but you won't ever step foot in the North so long as I live. Go home, Theon Greyjoy. Go to Pyke and hear my warning, because if you ever step foot on the mainland again, I'll have your head." He told Theon menacingly. Robb stood and didn't look back. On his way out, he told the guard to send him on his way to a ship, and Roose Bolton kept pace. "Your bastard needs to die and die horribly for all he put Theon through.
"I agree." Roose told Robb.
"Have him brought to the Weirwood at dawn tomorrow." Robb ordered, and left the Bolton Lord staring at the soles of his boots as Robb stormed off.
WARNING: MATURE EXECUTION SCENE
Not many people were gathered at the Winterfell Weirwood tree. Robb was there with Rickon, Arya, Roose Bolton and a handful of other Stark guards. Ramsay Snow had been gagged and strung up on the Weirwood tree, his chest bare and shivering in the light snowfall. Robb stepped forwards, looking up at the bastard.
"Ramsay Snow. Your crimes are so heinous, so immoral, that a clean death doesn't seem worthy of you." Robb snarled. "Centuries ago, the ancient First Men used to carve open the bellies of their prisoners and feed the Weirwood trees the entrails in order to receive wisdom and appease the Old Gods. Somewhere along the ages that practice was lost with flaying and other vicious forms of killing. You brought that back when you flayed Theon Greyjoy, a useful prisoner, and kept him hidden from us all. For your crimes against Theon, for your crimes against Lady Hornwood and many young girls in Lord Bolton's lands, I sentence you to die, becoming an offering to the Gods."
Robb turned back to Rickon. "Don't look away." He whispered. "It will be horrible, but we must do horrible things to protect ourselves."
"I understand." Rickon nodded, but he held his hand out for Arya to take hold of. Robb ruffled his hair and turned back to the heart tree, taking out his dagger. He could see Ramsay's eyes widen in fear, as he tried unsuccessfully to wriggle free of his bindings. Robb stopped for a moment in front of his prisoner, before plunging the dagger deep into Ramsay's belly and wrenching it to the side.
The Bolton bastard's guts all handily fell out, as his blood gushed out like a waterfall onto the roots of the Weirwood. Robb wrapped his gloved fingers around Ramsay's guts and pulled them free, ignoring the muffled screams. Like a rope, he threw the larger gut over one branch, and the thinner one over another. Stepping back, he watched with steely eyes as Ramsay twitched horribly a number of times, his movements shaking more of his blood from his body and staining the white Weirwood roots red. Moments later, and the body stopped moving, with blood dripping down.
"Cut him free, burn him." Robb ordered the guards. They did as bid and took the body away. "Leave me." He then said to the others, and soon Robb was left alone in the Godswood, bitter and angry at what he had felt the need to do. Walking forwards, he stepped over the bloodied roots and ducked between the dripping organs and placed his hand on the face of the Weirwood tree.
Immediately, he gasped as he felt himself thrown backwards. Getting to his feet, he noticed two people arguing by the tree.
"I told you to leave me!" He shouted over at them, but they acted as if they didn't hear him. Getting annoyed, Robb made his way over, and could soon hear the words.
"You have to tell Father! What if he notices you're gone?" The young boy said.
"If I tell Father he'll have me under lock and key like he tried to after Mother died and he wouldn't let me train with a sword." The girl argued. "He can rot in the ground before I tell him. I won't be gone for long anyway, everybody will be too enamoured over the wedding to notice."
"Lyanna." The boy groaned, and Robb's eyes snapped to the girl. It was his aunt, Lyanna Stark. So the boy must have been either his father, or…
"No, Ben!" Lyanna Stark exclaimed. "Brandon will wed his southern maiden and all eyes will be on him. I just want to see him again, that's all. I'll be back before we leave again for the North. He's the crown prince, he can cover for me."
"He's also married!" Benjen cried harshly.
"I'm not going to fuck him!" Lyanna snapped. "He's not like that. We challenge one another with our minds."
Benjen shook his head, turning away. "You're making a grave mistake, Lyanna. You're betrothed, he's married. You've already caused enough trouble to Princess Elia by him naming you Queen of Love and Beauty, don't antagonise her anymore. I beg you."
Lyanna shook her head and grinned. "I have to see him again, you don't understand. You don't know love." She walked away then, leaving Benjen all alone by the Weirwood tree.
"I fear you don't either." Benjen whispered.
Robb was thrown backwards again, lying in the exact same spot as he had been in before. Getting up again, he saw the entrails of Ramsay were still atop the tree, but the blood stains had disappeared. Entranced in what had just happened he sat himself down by the tree.
"Uncle Benjen knew." He told himself. "And she always expected to come back. Why then? Why did she go with him? Why did she marry him and stay in Dorne?" The diary hadn't given him enough answers it seemed, and he vowed to comb through every word that his aunt had written to try and understand it all.
END OF MATURE SCENE
Twenty men had been hung. Twenty men that Jon had once called Brothers ad swung from their necks until dead by his command. Jon didn't hang around to see them squirm their last, instead handing the Lord Commander's cloak to Edd Tollett and walking away, saying the words that helped him breathe easier. "My Watch has Ended."
Stannis Baratheon had arrived back at Castle Black the day before but Jon hadn't had the time to speak to him yet. Jon didn't have much time though, as almost as soon as he shut the door to begin packing his things with Ygritte, the door opened.
"Lord Stannis." Jon said, undoing his black armour. "Forgive me for stripping, I need to get out of this armour."
"I don't understand, Lord Snow." Stannis told him. "I arrive back and twenty men are being executed, Ser Alliser Thorne is dead and the men of the Watch and the Wildlings are terrified of you."
"Free Folk." Ygritte growled, holding out a set of Stark leather armour for Jon to put on when he was ready.
"My apologies." Stannis said insincerely. "But the fact remains. What in all of the Gods names happened?"
"I was killed, Lord Stannis." Jon said shortly, his temper at the memory flaring. He took off an undershirt to reveal his injuries. "Those that have died were traitors, they murdered me in the courtyard there. Stabbing me over and over."
Stannis was horrified at the level of stab wounds that adorned Jon's body. "Impossible…" He gasped.
"The Queen's Red Woman brought me back, some magic from her God." Jon shrugged. "I don't know exactly what happened. All I do know is that my oath has been fulfilled. I gave my life to the Watch and now I'm free to go home."
Stannis nodded, having to sit down at the information being thrown at him. "The Red Woman is here? She is wanted down in King's Landing for crimes beyond counting."
"She said her vows while masquerading as a man." Jon shook his head. "Her life belongs to the Watch now and I'm no longer the one to set her free."
Gritting his teeth, Stannis didn't argue the point. Jon went around a corner to fully get himself changed into Stark armour, helped by Ygritte as he was still sore from his wounds. A few minutes later and Jon appeared once more, his hair tied back in a Northern fashion, and Stannis found his mind being transported back over 20 years to the sight of the Northern army marching down on Storm's End to break the Tyrell siege, and a Ned Stark looking as formidable as a young man could be. "You look exactly like your Father." Stannis told him.
Jon appreciated that. "What will you do now?" He asked the Baratheon.
"I'll head back to King's Landing today and report back to King Durran on the state of the Watch and petition for more men to be sent up here early to fill the garrisons of all the castles." Stannis explained. "What about you?"
"I'll wait here a few days, let Edd or whoever get comfortable in the role before I head back to Winterfell." Jon said. "It will be good to see them all once again."
Stannis nodded his agreement, standing up and holding his hand out for Jon to shake. "Very well then, Jon Snow. I shall make my preparations and then head back to the Capital. I expect I shall see you again very soon."
Jon took Stannis' hand and shook firmly. "Aye, Lord Hand. Have a speedy trip back."
Stannis nodded his head towards Ygritte before leaving, and the two lovers were left alone to continue their packing.
So there we are, Jon is back from the dead and has decided to leave the Wall and Stannis is on route back to the Capital. They will see each other soon for sure. He's also decided that now he can take a wife, his and Ygritte's past is similar to a 'wildling marriage' where the woman is stolen, so the arguably the heir to the throne has married a wildling.
Elsewhere in the North Robb has met his old friend again and feels only pity at the creature that Theon has become, sending him back to the Iron Islands. Theon was till his friend though, so his extreme anger at Ramsay was lashed out in the most gruesome of ways.
Duncan is presented to court as well. I wasn't sure how they did things like that when the father is the King, so I hope that this makes sense. The important thing about King's Landing however is that the Valyrian Steel sword of House Royce has been found!
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I shall see you soon for the next one, the last before a bit of a time jump. Let me know what you thought!
Reviews:
ZabuzasGirl: Thorne was already dead, but the rest of them are still out of the Throne's jurisdiction, meaning it has to be the Night's Watch to sentence them.
Many Faced Mage: Named after Duncan Targaryen actually, but he was named after Duncan the Tall so I guess it works.
BBryant: Personally I like Dany and Jon, but that wouldn't have happened if Ygritte was still here… damnit now I want the two to meet in the show!
Lightningscar: Bran's storyline won't change, so he'll still arrive at Winterfell at the same time as canon, but Winterfell is different here obviously! No sequel plans for this story, I have the bare bones of an outline for a sequel to my Arryn story though. There is an epilogue however set in 320AC (currently in 305AC) I get that opinion of Jon, but I see his resurrection as his becoming 'Aegon Targaryen' or whatever he'll be called in the books. This is necessary, but I'm not promising that he won't die again… this is Game of Thrones after all, nobody is truly safe.