Flashback
The dreams and the nightmares were too much for him this night. It felt harder than usual, It would be his last night alone in the Marriage bed of Winterfell, he believed. Sometime tomorrow, his wife that he barely knew would see her new home for the first time.
It was a moment he both dreaded and awaited eagerly.
Tomorrow, he would meet his son for the first time, and she would meet the boy.
He would have seen him earlier if Winterfell had not needed a Stark already. The family that he had grown up with no longer lived within these walls. The pack was gone, and the lone wolf would die alone if he did not find his pack, or raise his own.
He left the Great Keep as silent as the night, and walked towards the Godswood.
The heart Tree stood vigilant over the godswood as it had since the beginning of time.
He took a knee before the carved face on the tree.
"Let them grow up close as brothers, with only love between them." He took a deep breath "And let my lady wife, find it in her heart to forgive"
A bonechilling cold suddenly entered the godswood but was gone as soon as it came.
"Let him grow strong with the absense of his mother who lies with the Kings of Winter."
Daenerys
It was winter for Westeros, but for her It could have been spring. Today she was going to retake King's Landing, the city of her ancestors.
The Red Keep that Viserys had told her so much about was getting bigger and bigger. By the standards of palaces in Essos, it was rather modest, but there was no denying the its imposing visage over the land.
As the ships approached the city she could smell the city. It was not a pleasant smell, but it was much more tolerable then Mereen.
"Is it what you expected your grace?" Ser Barristan had told her much about this city and the home of her ancestors.
"Not quite," she replied.
Dany could see the banners hanging from the Red Keep, The gold rose on green of House Tyrell. The Tyrells were loyal supporters of her father, but Tyrion told her that they would be loath to part with the Iron Throne and reluctant to support her cause if Lord Tyrell's only daughter was a hostage. On the other hand she held Ser Loras Tyrell, Mace Tyrell's third son in captivity on Dragonstone.
Would they fight to keep her from her birthright?
She climbed down the rope lader to the boat that would bring her ashore, along with Ser Barristan, Grey Worm and Tyrion as well as Moqorro.
Nearly two dozen boats followed her to the beach by the Iron Gate. The peace banner was unfurled and Dany called for a Parley.
The boats that brought her party ashore shuttled more men between her fleet and the beach three more times, before Lord Tyrell himself attended the parley.
Mace Tyrell was everything she had been told expect and more. Fat, overly ambitious and exeptionally vain, if the excessive amount Tyrell banners were any indication.
"You speak to Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South, and hand of King Tommen." He clearly loved the sound of his own voice.
Tyrion spoke up, "and you to speak to Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen, the rightful queen of Westeros, the Breaker of chains, and the mother of dragons."
Mace Tyrell paled when he noticed him. Tyrion gave a smile that was every bit as ugly he was. Dany did not like Tyrion, but she could not deny his value as a supporter of her cause.
"And doubtless you recall me, the giant of Lannister, Ser Loras most certainly did." Tyrion continued taking special delight in the discomfort of the Reach lords.
Before the Lord of Highgarden could respond, Dany spoke up. "Hear my terms, Lord Tyrell. You will yield King's Landing and the Iron Throne, or I will take them both with fire and blood."
Mace Tyrell was reluctant and looked back at his bannermen who were present to add political weight. It was clear from thier looks that they were hesitant to back up their liege lord. In the end he bent the knee and forsook his hopes and ambitions for a Tyrell on the Iron Throne in the same way that he swore fealty to the usurper without so much as a fight.
The Iron Gate was opened. She entered the city with those who had already landed. She had finally Taken King's Landing, without a single drop of blood. Dany could feel the eyes of the curious smallfolk as her army made its way to the Red Keep.
At long last she entered the throne room. She felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold, she had seen this place before, in the House of the Undying, it was exactly as she remembered.
The Roof had partially collapsed in some places. The cold winter winds ensured that several inches of snow coated the room. She felt faint when she recalled the vison from the house of the undying, this time though she did not hear the cries of young dragons nor did she see a great door beyond the throne that could only be lifted by heavy chains.
She gripped the pommel on one of the many blades melted into the throne, as if to snap out of a dream.
Ser Barristan held out a blanket which she used to brush the snow off from Aegon's great monstrosity of a chair before using the blanket to cushion her from the cold metal. Even so, Dany was chilled to the bone.
She held the Iron Throne, but why did this feel like a hollow victory.
Samwell
Winter had come, but there was no snow to be found in Oldtown. For that, Samwell was grateful. To date, Samwell managed to forge five links of his maester's chain.
Little more than a year had passed since he began forging his chain at the Citadel. For months now, Oldtown had been under pressure from the Ironmen. First, they had taken the Arbor from the Redwynes, then they destroyed Paxter Redwyne's fleet on the straights named for his family. Brightwater Keep on the Honeywine fell next as the forces occupying the shield islands moved inland. Thankfully Gilly was safe at Horn Hill, which had so far resisted all Ironborn incursions. Samwell still wondered how his father reacted to the idea of him having a bastard.
Now, the Greyjoys had three separate forces beseiging Oldtown, two by land on both sides of the Honeywine, and one by sea blockading the city over the whispering Sound. The city had been completely cut off from the world for nearly a fortnight. So far the City Watch of Oldtown had repulsed three assualts at a high cost.
Now, the bulk of Euron Greyjoy's forces were here, and this time, Oldtown would be hit from all sides.
Samwell looked south towards the Hightower from a window in the the black tower which was flashing a warning beacon. He picked up a Myrish eye to get a closer look.
Out of the fog, he saw a line of longships approaching. In the center of the formation was a ship with a red hull and an iron prow, Silence they called it. Samwell could almost feel his bowels turn to water.
Much to Samwell's surprise, they did not stop to land on the Hightower, but kept going up the river. They're coming for the Citadel. The Citadel had something Euron Crow's Eye wanted and Samwell had a suspicion that he knew what it was. The order of the Maester's for all of emphasis on secular knowledge had a surprising wealth of the arcane.
"Mother. Have. Mercy." Samwell could hear himself mutter nervously under his breath.
He left his spot in the tower and descened to the castle yard on the Isle of Ravens.
"Slayer you're back," drawled Alleras. Mollander tossed him a bow, which he caught barely.
"He's here. He wants something." Samwell said in a low voice, they all knew who he was taking about. He looked for a filled quiver which he found near a slit in the wall.
Sam was already wearing a thick leather jerkin and settled for a cap of boiled leather, that he found on a nearby table. He also wore a dagger on his belt.
"To the library," one of Marwyn's pupils shouted. He could see a dozen nods in agreement. Leo Tyrell wore a shirt of mail and a half-helm as he came into view. "Slayer, Sphinx, and Mollander come with me."Leo looked around for a moment, "You too Pate, get your arse over here." The pig boy cautiously moved towards them.
The five of them rushed across the old drawbridge and then slowed when they were out of ironborn sight. Aside from Alleras none of his comrades were particularly fast as they moved though the labyrinth that was the Citadel. They could hear the drums of the Ironmen grow progressively louder as time went on.
As they were travelling down one wynd, Alleras motioned for them to hide. Six Ironmen were advancing towards them, though they had yet to see the acolytes. Sam could feel fear welling up inside him, the last time someone was out to get me I was north of the wall. Before any of them could see the students, something that looked like a cask of ale came from a second floor window and burst into flames upon kissing the cobblestones. The screams of the burning enemies made him sick as Alleras lept out of hiding and felled a survivor with her Goldenheart bow.
They passed the carnage after the flames burned out. Samwell stopped to retch upon smelling the burned flesh.
Another bridge came into view, this time the Ironmen were barely downstream. Once again they crossed the bridge but this time, a few wild arrows passed them in greeting.
Mollander stopped to rest his bad foot. At that moment Sam realized where they were. The library was only a turn to the right from here.
A savage war cry pierced the air as a longship docked near the bridge they just passed.
Two armed men in maester's robes passed them by "regroup at the library" they said for all to listen.
The four acolytes followed suit. At the library, they saw a rag tag assortment of maesters, students, and members of the city watch. The library was a large stately building whose entance was guarded by Griffins much like the statues at the main Citadel Entrance.
They fought off the ironborn for what seemed to be lifetime but could have been no more than half an hour.
Finally, a ram came to the main door and began to batter it down, and in six ominous swings, the door was broken down.
You killed an other, what is a mortal man. Sam drew his bow and fired from his cover near a shelf, he felt surprise as the arrow struck true and hit a man in his thigh.
He nocked another arrow, and fired on a man whose surcoat featured a bone hand on red. The arrow missed, but he went down before Samwell could draw his bow again.
He dropped his bow and drew his dagger. A reaver was coming for him. The man slashed down at him with his longaxe, but Samwell managed to back away in time taking only a graze on the knee.
Suddenly he found himself cornered and in panic he threw himself at the reaver putting his dagger past the man's boiled leather and into his chest before he bring the axe back over Sam's head.
His assailant let out a blood curdling scream and Sam felt faint as he looked down at his hands that were warm with another man's blood.
Sam found himself over a window seat retching once more, when a distant arrow took him in the shoulder. Compared to seeing blood, Samwell Tarly felt strangely calm at the notion that he just been shot.
Soon, he collapsed on the window seat delirious with pain and blood loss. His vision began to blur as heard the thunder of hoofbeats he saw the many banners they carried, but he could not completely make them out.
"A Griffin, a Griffin," was the last the last thing he heard as the passed out from the pain.
The Stark in Winterfell
A small party entered Winterfell through the East gate. At it's head was Rickon Stark, it had been nearly four long years since he last saw Rickon. Even without his Direwolf, There was no mistaking his identity. His long flowing auburn hair reminded Jon of Robb, but now he was almost as old as Bran was when he left for the wall. He saw a man wearing the white gauntlet on red of House Glover, in the forefront, and a handfull of his retainers. Jon noticed a woman in the party that reminded him very much of a spearwife. One of the men helped Rickon from his horse.
"Jon?" He wondered if Rickon took him for father. In that moment Jon was no longer the exiled lord commander of the Night's Watch, In fact he was no longer a man grown. Rickon was just a lost boy who had found a remainder of his family. Jon bent down to embrace little Rickon as he came running to Jon. It was a tearful reunion for Rickon, and even more so for Jon to have a reunion with a brother he thought long dead.
He ordered a pair of Manderly guardsmen who had been left in Winterfell by Stannis to lead Lord Rickon to his new chambers.
Only now did Jon notice a man who had been in the back of the crowd hidden from view as the party began to disperse. "My Lord," he called out. He was a slight man who wore a long hooded cloak that concealed most of its features. "I am Howland Reed, lord of Greywater Watch." He walked closer to Jon, "We need talk in private, I would suggest the crypts."
Howland Reed Jon remembered, was one of father's best fighters during Robert's Rebellion. Lord Eddard had not seen Lord Reed since the rebellion he knew. They exchanged no words as they made their way to the crypts of Winterfell.
At long last, they entered the crypts; this was the one place in Winterfell that Jon had not yet visited upon his return. He had nearly every night since returning to Winterfell, any most of them seemed to come here. Jon did not deign to refuse Lord Howland's request, he could tell from the way the Crannogman walked that there was a reason it had to be the crypts.
As he descended into the crypts of his forefathers, he could feel every nightmare he had about this place return. He could see the statues of past lords of Winterfell, You don't belong here they seemed to whisper. He felt a pang of sadness as he saw the stern face of Lord Eddard Stark. He saw the grave meant for Robb. So far no statue had been made for Robb whose grave was empty.
Howland Reed made an abrupt stop at the grave of Lyanna Stark, the only woman to be buried in the crypts. Jon had a bad feeling about this, but could not grasp what Howand Reed was thinking.
"It's time we talked about your mother, and for that matter, your father." Lord Reed finally spoke.
"You know who she was?" Jon blurted.
"Yes, I was there when you were born."
"Is she still alive?" Deep down Jon knew the answer; it was bad omen that they were discussing this in the crypts.
"No, she died giving birth to you. Lord Stark took you as an orphan."
"But Lord Eddard was my father." Jon was confused.
"You know nothing Jon Snow, Lord Eddard was your uncle." Jon was at a loss for breath. Lord Reed gestured towards to grave of Lyanna Stark. "She was your mother."
Howland was holding a metal bar for which he used to pry open Lyanna Stark's tomb. Within were the skeletal remains of the mother he never knew. But there was something else in there, a bundled cloak, that was quite tattered.
The direwolf of Stark was emblazoned on the cloak, though it was no longer easy to recognize. Jon could not explain what possessed him to pick up the bundle, but before he knew it, he was unwrapping the cloak. This was no ordinary cloak, Jon noticed, but a maiden's cloak. Inside, he found a harp. The harp was a small thing made of weirwood, with a carving of three dragons on its top and silver strings well tarnished. There was something else; Jon heard a small metallic object hit the floor as he got a closer look at the harp. He laid the harp at the foot of her statue, and found the object; it was a signet ring, used to identify royalty. Targaryen royalty, he realized as the three-headed dragon stared back at him. I know who you are, It seemed to say. He starred at it in stunned silence.
"And your real father-" Howland broke the silence.
"-Was Rhaegar Targaryen," Jon heard himself finish the sentence for Lord Reed.
Suddenly, Jon understood everything.
Tyrion, and Arianne, Jon Connigton.
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