Chapter IV: The Old Friend

It was strange to wake up inside Winterfell's walls. He had been destined not to return since the day he had left for the Night's Watch with Uncle Benjen. But cruel circumstances had forced him to break his vows which he had made before the Old Gods, and here he was, a King, a status he wouldn't have deemed himself worthy of in the best of his dreams.

The castle was the same. It took a few days for them to fully dispose of everything Bolton from it, but as he looked out into the snow falling over the land, he felt like he still wasn't home. He had Sansa, of course, but his brothers were gone and his Father and Lady Catelyn.

His wild, little nuisance of a sister was gone. Only Gods knew where she was, whether she was alive or not. He and Arya had always been the outcasts of the family and it led to them being the closest of them all. Robb had always been Jon's best friend and confidant but Arya, she had been a breath of fresh air in his life.

Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle, he thought and prayed to whatever Gods resided in the heavens that there was truth in these words he had once told her.

He missed her terribly.

0-0-0-0-0

Sansa looked happier. Maybe it was because she was happy to be back in her home again or because she was finally free of the clutches of those who had trapped her. Nevertheless, Jon felt pride in knowing he had given her what she wanted and though he knew she was far from the Sansa who once sang love ballads and loved listening to the stories of Florian and Jonquil, at certain times he could swear he saw her smile the way she had when they were younger and happier.

"A raven, Your Grace."

Jon tensed immediately when he saw the seal on the top of the scroll. A Lannister had never written anything to him but seeing as he was a King of an independent North now, he could expect the Crown to react. But it surprised him to see the name written at the bottom of the page. A name he hadn't expected to see ever in his life.

Your Grace,

It has been quite a while since I last saw you, Jon. Unfortunately, we never got a chance to be good friends. I hope this finds you in good health. And please offer my regards to my lovely wife, Sansa. You must be astonished I'm alive, but fear not, I'm not writing from beyond the grave.

After escaping from the capital, I ended up in Meeren. But if I start telling you the whole account now, I will surely run out of ink and paper, and there are more important things I must ask of you first.

I am currently in the company of Queen Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the Mother of Dragons. I believe you have heard of her and if you haven't, know that she is the rightful heir to the Throne and if you trust my judgement, a sane and wise ruler than my dear sister could ever be.

I write to tell you Her Grace sails with the Tyrell, Dornish and the Iron Fleet to Westeros. In time, she will take back her birthright, but before that, there are a few things she desires. I know you are now the King in the North, and The North is again free of the Throne's reach.

Swear fealty to Queen Daenerys and she will reward you well. She has no enmity against the Starks other than a few old ones, but they may be overlooked should you kneel before her. Cersei is no friend of mine or yours, and it is time a rightful ruler sits on the Iron Throne.

Think wisely, Jon. She will have the Throne in due time, and it will do the North good to stay on her good side.

Tyrion Lannister

Hand of the Queen Daenerys Targaryen

"Are you alright, Jon?" Sansa asked, looking at him with curiosity. "Who is it from?"

Jon held his head in his hands.

Dragons... Targaryens...

The last Targaryen was killed at the Trident, but he had heard reports of Rhaegar's sister born amidst a ruthless storm. She had married a Khal and that was the last news he had heard of her.

A Targaryen on the Throne.

How could he swear fealty to the daughter of the Mad King who had burned his Uncle Brandon and Grandfather Rickard? How could he support the House his Father once fought against? She was the sister of the man who had kidnapped his Aunt and raped her.

But she had dragons. It struck something in Jon's head and suddenly he was torn in two directions.

He handed the letter to Sansa who took it immediately. He heard her gasp.

"What will you do?" She asked in bewilderment. "We've only just got the North back. If you bend the knee, you will not be a King anymore. It will infuriate the Lords."

"She has dragons, Sansa," he said, his voice a whisper.

He felt her hand on his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter if she does. She comes for the Throne. She can have it. We want nothing of her war."

"Dragons breathe fire," he said like a child in awe. "She could help us in the real war."

"How?"

"Fire burns the dead. No one knows of the White Walkers, but they are a foe far more dangerous. It wouldn't matter who sits on the Throne. We need to defeat the Walkers and dragons... dragons are the only things that can."