"Your Grace, banners have been sighted with the merman of House Manderly."

Jon nodded his head towards Ser Davos who was assisting in answering all the ravens. A lot had happened in a few months, but at the same time, nothing had changed. It surprised him at times, the similarities between ruling and simply being a Lord. Despite not being the latter for very long, the duties were mostly the same. Making sure there was enough food for the people, that everyone was protected, working on ways to deal with outside trouble, and ensuring the coffers weren't too low. So far, all but the last one had been mostly resolved.

With the little there was in the coffers, he had glass gardens commissioned which had been built within a month, food growing plentiful within. This combined with Lord Manderly's offer of lending enough coin to better Wintertown which regularly tripled in population when there were festivals. The more occupants, the more spent. And the more spent, meant the coffers slowly rising. It had been a gamble doing this so early in his reign, but so far it was paying off. Whilst it would take a good couple of years to get Wintertown to a more palatable state, it was on the rise.

In regard to dealing with outside forces had been simple in comparison. After the battle for Winterfell, the Free Folk had stated they could not remain as south as they were. Being a mixture of stuck with kneelers, people who spat on them for what they were, and because they wanted to be closer to the place they called home. Therefore, had all split up and had gone to all of the castles along the Wall. When he was Lord Commander, the number of men at the Watch had shrunk to only one hundred. Yet now, four thousand manned them and were working to restore the other castles to be liveable. The more people they had patrolling the Wall the better, shivering as he remembered the bright blue eyes of the Night King.

Lady Lyanna had ordered the cutting down of numerous trees on Bear Island to begin working on building a fleet to ensure the Stony Shore had some form of defence against the Iron Born, with House Manderly offering their ships to guard the eastern coast. Lastly, Lord Howland Reed had stated the Crannogmen would not allow anyone to cross the Neck. Not that anyone would because said area was known for being impossible to navigate unless guided by someone who knew the swamps well. Whilst Jon was still nervous for what was going to come, the silence from the south being deafening almost, it was enough to mollify his people.

"How long do you think it will be before Lady Wylla throws herself at me?"

Ser Davos snorted at his words.

"It's not something she'll do, at least not for a long time. Not only is her House now incredibly grateful to House Stark because with one move you gave them more lands and another castle to add to their domain, House Manderly always was loyal to House Stark- "

"Yet they did refuse the call- "

"As did many others. Fear has a grip like no other, your Grace."

"Please stop calling me that."

The Knight chuckled at his words. Despite him being crowned King in the North months before, being referred to as King was still strange to him. Remembering the times where he had run around Winterfell with Robb and Arya pretending to be royals.

"In regard to Lady Wylla's father though, that will be another thing entirely. He did not take kindly to you putting an end to his scheming."

That was true. After he had done so and once everyone had left, Sansa had pulled him aside and berated him for doing so. Something which he fought back on but had found out the hard way that as she said it, had shed her dove wings. Sansa had grown fangs, and gods were they sharp. She'd stepped in quickly to mollify the situation during the meeting but had grumbled that it now made it look like they mistrusted said House. Whilst he would not say so aloud, he certainly did to an extent. He mistrusted many people in the North. The only ones he could say with certainty he trusted were Sansa, Ser Davos, Maester Aemon, and Tormund. No one else.

"At least he's not Lord of White Harbour yet and only heir. Meaning his schemes will be overruled by his own father."

"True, but Lord Wyman isn't going to live forever. I'm surprised he hasn't died already considering his size. I've heard what people call him jokingly. Lord Too Fat to Sit a Horse."

Jon snorted lightly, being glad they were in solitude currently. That was a common referral to the man. As Arya used to say, he looked like a giant ball. Lady Catelyn had scolded her youngest daughter for said remark but in secret they all said so.

"I wonder what Daenerys will respond with. Aemon's letter was quite touching, I can't see her not wanting to meet her last family member."

"That will be something you will need to work out separately. The Lord's are wary of Maester Aemon but they somewhat trust him. His great-grandniece not so much. In the little time I've spent in the North it's become obvious you lot don't like outsiders too much."

True. Northerner's did hate outsiders. Partially the reason the Free Folk had gone to the Wall to help man it again as they were fed up with it. He had ignored it at the time because as much as he hated it, he did have to keep his emotions in check now. But when Tormund had stated that when they took Arnolf Karstark to Eastwatch he would be remaining and the others would scatter throughout, his people had smiled. Especially those from the Vale.

If he mistrusted outsiders, he outright wanted to strangle some of those from the Vale. Petyr Baelish was currently in a dungeon in the castle and they had yet to sort a trial. The only reason they had not done so was because the mans ways had affected those in the south too. As much as he despised Cersei Lannister, he wasn't going to lie that he wanted to see her reaction that he had been stealing from the coffers of the lower six. The Corbray's regularly boasted about how no one dared to challenge them and had stated that it wasn't that the North didn't want to take part in petty squabbles and that they knew they were not going to win. Jon himself stepping in to put an end to that madness much to the Northerner's delight.

Everything was so sheltered at the Wall, it not even crossing his mind once that some of his moves whilst he was there would seep below the Gift. Yet it had, Ramsay Bolton even stating he didn't want to fight him one on one as he was apparently the best swordsman alive. That statement, he found fault with. Whilst he was good with a blade, there was no way he was the best. Lord Hardyng was prancing through the halls like he was the best thing in existence, making it known he was heir to the Vale after his cousin. That did not sit right with Jon, under any circumstances. Family should be just that, family. Not see one another as pieces like those in the south did.

Honestly, the only Lord from the Vale he somewhat liked was Yohn Royce. With them being the only House in the Vale that could say with certainty that they had blood of the First Men in their veins. The man surprisingly admitting once the Free Folk had left that he had grown fond of Tormund. Not a difficult thing to do. Whilst the redhead was annoying and more than a little loud, he was someone that was just likeable. A rare quality in someone clearly. The door opening and looking up to see it was Lord Cerwyn who had a quizzical expression on his face.

"Pardon me, your Grace. Were you expecting the Dornish to come here?"

His face contorted in on itself before standing up, nodding towards Ser Davos to leave.

"I was not, my Lord. How many are there? And have they been spotted or are they actually here?"

He began walking alongside the Lord now, Cley stating there appeared to be a dozen and none had arrived with Dornish banners hence why no one had reported them. Also that they were in the courtyard awaiting an audience right now. He pinched the bridge of his nose at that, not being ready for this at all and being glad he had his crown looped on his arm. He thought it was ridiculous and it was incredibly uncomfortable. But he was a King, as much as he despised it, a King had to look like a King. Placing it atop his head and making sure it was secure and spotting his sister in the hallway who shot him a look, confirming what was happening. Sansa's eyes widening before patting down the wrinkles in her dress and joining them towards the courtyard.

Who could it be? And why had they not sent any correspondence? Were they lowborn or highborn? Questions running through his head at a speed he didn't think was possible. Entering the courtyard not long after and feeling the soft crunch of fresh snow underneath his feet. Like Cley had said, there were eleven he counted. Two women and nine men. It not missing his gaze that all the males were heavily armed.

"We did not receive any word of your arrival. What brings you to Winterfell?"

The men looked to the younger woman who nodded lightly. The tallest of them all stepping forward.

"We would like to apologise for the unexpected arrival, your Grace. I am Daemon Sand, sworn sword to Princess Arianne Martell."

Muttering broke out at these words, but the name surprised him. Realisation swooping over him just who the younger woman was. He'd never met a Martell before, but it was written all had black hair, tanned skin, and brown eyes so dark they may as well be black. The Princess very much embodying that. Wearing a bright red dress with yellow accentuations alongside a black fur cloak she must've purchased somewhere.

"Will you accept guest rights?"

All nodded as a tray of bread and salt was brought out for all. Once this was done, ordering for everyone to continue doing what they were previously and for the Princess to be brought to a council chamber. Why was she here? Last he had heard Dorne was standing with Daenerys. Had she been send as an emissary of some kind? It was the only thing he could think of. Once all were inside and were seated, he looked around to see exactly who it was that was here. Wondering if he would recognise anyone. Alas, none had familiar faces. Himself, Sansa, Davos, Maester Aemon, Cley Cerwyn, and Harrold Hardyng were seated on their side. Trying his best to ignore the arrogant jerk from the Vale. Especially his lingering gazes towards Sansa as apparently Petyr Baelish had been talking about betrothing them to one another.

"Thank you for taking us in, your Grace."

He had to fight to keep his face still. It was known amongst the Northerner's he hated the title and not many people cared for his distaste of it, but he had to keep up appearances sakes now.

"Winterfell is more than large enough to accommodate a few more guests. But I would like to know why we received no word of your arrival?"

"I would like to apologise for doing so, but I could not let it out I escaped the carnage in Dorne. I am sure you have heard?"

He had. Receiving a raven not long after he'd been named King. Who sent it he knew nought. Of how Oberyn Martell's paramour had turned on Prince Doran and his youngest son. What had happened to the eldest son was a mystery but if anyone would know it would be the Princess who was sitting directly in front of him. Not being subtle at all with her looking him up and down and raising her eyebrows a fraction as if impressed with what she saw.

"I am sorry about your father and your brother, Princess. I know my words will do little to ease the pain in that regard but I understand."

It was silent at these words, because both himself and Sansa did know what it was like. Sansa had watched as their father had been beheaded. From the little words that came from Arianne, she had either been there and managed to get away, or she was not there but close enough to still be a target. Surely she wouldn't have been a target for Ellaria too? But then he thought on it more. The Dornish did not follow the same succession laws as the rest of Westeros, instead going by Rhoynish laws of inheritance. Where the eldest takes over as ruler even if they were a woman. She may as well wear a target on her back currently as not only was she the last Martell if her other brother had perished, she was also the eldest daughter of the last Prince of Dorne. But why had she come to Winterfell?

"I appreciate it, your Grace. Understandably I cannot remain in Dorne anymore because my eldest three cousins- "

"Ignoring me then, are you?"

Maester Aemon spoke with a slight laugh in his voice. Confusion ringing through everyone at this, wondering what he meant with that.

"I'm sorry, Maester, but I do not recognise you- "

"You wouldn't. I've never met you, but we do share blood. Your fourth great-grandfather and my grandmother were siblings. Maron and Myriah Martell- "

"Maester Aemon?"

So she did know who he was, and with a quick glance towards his sister she nodded to confirm that what was said was truth. Warmth filling him at seeing the elderly man reunited with a family member, even if said family member was very distant.

"As my daughter was saying, she cannot remain in Dorne. She's not going to go anywhere under Cersei's control and understandably she isn't going anywhere near Daenerys. I apologise, Maester, but her dragon did burn my eldest son alive and she has taken Ellaria's side. I will not sit back with these things. Whilst I hated Doran near my leaving, he did give me three children. Only one of which is still alive, I will not abandon her."

There was the answer to his question. Prince Quentyn burned alive by a dragon and Prince Tristayne murdered by his cousins. Kinslaying was a horrific act, one that should go against every moral fibre in a person but that was just not the case. Clearly this was Lady Mellario of Norvos, Prince Doran's estranged wife.

"I'm sorry, my Lady, but I must ask. Why did you leave Norvos?"

Sansa's question echoed loudly, everyone turning to the older woman who now he thought about it, did look strikingly alike her daughter. Everything but the face shape which she must've gotten from her father.

"Norvos is much more dangerous than previously. Whilst I will commend your grandniece for what she done in Slaver's Bay; her actions worried the other cities greatly apart from Braavos. Tensions have been rising and many of the Master's are anticipating a slave revolt. I got out of there as soon as whispers of such started only to land in Dorne to find out my husband and son had been murdered by my bitch of a goodsister."

A couple of people snorted at her choice of words, struggling not to crack a smile himself because it was rather amusing.

"What can we expect for allowing you to remain in the North?"

It felt wrong to ask that question, basically demanding something in response. Politics were still new to him and something he was still learning. The Princess looking to her sworn sword- Daemon- before turning to him.

"We bring five Dornish House's who will support your claim to the North. We will help with food resources and in turn you will allow them shelter in the North should the need arise- "

"You dare make demands of a King? - "

"Lord Hardyng, allow Princess Arianne to speak."

Harrold's lips tightened, clearly heavily insulted by her demands. How did some people have egos so weak they got offended over someone demanding something? He was the ruler of the North, she was the ruler of Dorne, she had every right to make demands of him.

"Which House's, Princess?"

"Those who are loyal to me under House Martell. Aside from mine own House, House Allyrion, House Dayne, House Wyl, House Jordayne, and House Qorgyle."

His eyes widened slightly at that, noticing a couple of people on his side of the table did so too. He'd wholly expected lower tier House's, but neither of those were. Boyish wonder rippling through him at hearing House Dayne. Maester Aemon's mother had been a Dayne, and he spotted a small smile on his face that he may meet more distant kin through this.

"We will provide shelter if the need arises. I'd assume in us doing so you expect something of us. Please confirm if I am correct."

The Princess smirked a little at his words, clearly enjoying him being blunt with her and hearing Sansa let out a sigh of relief. His sister obviously preparing to step in if the situation needed to be deescalated like the very public fall out with Lord Wylis.

"When the time comes, you will assist me in getting revenge for my father and brother- "

"You would kill your own kin?"

Grumbling echoed on his side again and it didn't miss his gaze that Aemon was twiddling his thumbs nervously. With being a member of a House which had a history of killing their own family members for whatever reason.

"With all due respect, my Lord, Ellaria Sand is not kin to me. Her children are though, and it is only the eldest three who are in support of her actions. My uncles other daughters are not in favour and have opted to remain neutral. That is why it took me so long to travel here. I first travelled through Dorne to rally support to overthrow Ellaria. Sarella wants nothing to do with petty politics, she's literally studying at the Citadel- "

"A woman at the Citadel?!"

"Lord Hardyng, if you cannot keep your retorts to yourself you will be escorted from this room and will not be permitted into any more council meetings. Am I clear?"

His face soured more, confirmed when there was a loud screech as he deliberately pushed the chair back slowly before leaving the room. He could feel anger radiating from his sister but he knew this time it wasn't anger towards him.

"I was aware your cousin was at the Citadel; she has made good friends with Samwell Tarly who is currently studying to be Maester Aemon's replacement at the Wall. He figured it out rather quickly. I assume your other cousins are remaining neutral because they don't want to be seen as traitors to their mother?"

She nodded in confirmation of this. The talks carried on for only a little while longer before someone confirmed that Lady Wylla would be arriving within a matter of minutes. Ordering a few servants to ready rooms for their new guests to meet his final guest of the day. Unless there was going to be another surprise. Whispering to Sansa under his breath so no one else could hear.

"What crawled up Harrold Hardyng's arse and died?"

She chuckled a little.

"A healthy dose of spoiled milk."

He had to fight the bark of laughter that was about to leave his mouth, instead tightening his lips to prevent any smile from bubbling to the surface. That was certainly one way to put it. Just thinking Sansa was almost betrothed to the man when she was in the Eyrie made him feel like he had gnats crawling all over him.

"He'll not be welcomed to any other meetings after that little show he put on."

"I'd be surprised if you did. You gave him the choice yet he decided to act like a petulant little boy. In order to keep the Vale on our side, I'd suggest either Lady Anya or Lord Yohn- "

"Wouldn't Lady Anya stand by her own kin though?"

Sansa made a strange face at this, confirming she did not like him and only tolerated him because he was kin.

"She won't act against him in any way, but if you assign her to the position he had she'll be able to keep him in line somewhat."

That was something he hadn't thought of, nor was it something he would've thought of. At times he wished it were Sansa who was given the crown and not himself. Alas, Robb's will forbade such. A part of Jon wanted to reinstate her of what he had removed from her name, but that would likely backfire on him. So far as Sansa is considered not a true Lady of the North, she was safe. Was not as big a pawn as she would be if he were to do so. He'd sworn to protect her at all costs after he had heard everything that had happened to her since he had left for the Wall so many years before. He'd left behind a girl of three-and-ten who had her head in the clouds and filled with songs and stories and had reunited with a woman of nine-and-ten who had grown not only fangs but claws as well which she was not afraid to show.

"I hope you reconsider your stance on marriage, brother. I know you don't want to and as much as you state your reasons I can see there's something else that stops you from doing so. Whether you like it or not, you are all that is left of House Stark, the only one that can carry on the name."

Now, he rolled his eyes. Not this again. Preparing to speak his reasonings but stopping as they entered the courtyard once more just as a few horses rode in. Eyes immediately latching on the woman with bright green hair. If he was being honest, it looked utterly ridiculous. But it didn't cause any harm and according to her father made her happy. Was she aware of what her father had attempted to do? From the single glare she gave him he had a feeling she did. But plastering a smile on her face as she walked over to kneel in front of him in fealty.

"Arise, my Lady. I welcome you to Winterfell."

She stood up again at this and it didn't miss his sight that she deliberately blinked in a way to flutter her eyelashes, obviously trying to make him reconsider.

"I am glad to be here, your Grace. I brought you a list of everything my grandfather is willing to fund if we can discuss this in private?"

Well, she wasn't subtle. He had to give her that.

"We may discuss. Lord Wylis, Ser Davos, Maester Aemon, meet us in my solar once Lady Wylla has freshened up."

Two could play at this game, feeling pride enter him a little as she had not expected him to order such. Accepting guest rights and being escorted inside the castle whilst he also made his way to his own room to change into more appropriate clothing. Something which sounded stupid to him but Ser Davos did state alongside Sansa that if he didn't look like a King he wouldn't always be considered a King. Robb had made a stupid mistake, one that if he were there would've talked him out of even if it lost him a hand for talking back. His brother had grown too used to Theon and never saw him as the arse he was. It was one thing he shared with Lady Catelyn, herself having never trusted the Greyjoy. Yet now? He wasn't sure what he felt towards him. He'd been tortured mercilessly for years and he had saved Sansa. Something he would forever be grateful for, but could he be grateful when his own turning cloak lost House Stark the North? The very Kingdom they'd held dominion over for thousands of years?

The King who lost the North.

Those words were spoken in hushed voices around Winterfell not long after he'd been crowned. A few words and an albino direwolf putting an end to that. But he wasn't as stupid as he used to be, not as naïve. He knew those words were still being spoken around his Kingdom but not in the open anymore. Ghost lifted his head when he entered his chamber, trotting over and wasting no time in scratching the wolf's ears. Even now, the wolf had never made a sound, which led to some amusing encounters when he was behind someone only for said person to turn around and yelp. Many had come to expect it, but the few who were still caught off guard was always funny.

"I don't know if I can do it Ghost. Marry that is. Not with what happened to her."

Despite knowing that the wolf could not speak back to him, it was comforting just being able to say it as is. Still remembering Ygritte's sharp gasp of breath as the arrow pierced her heart from behind. Whispering how she wished they had never left that cave beyond the Wall. When they were the only people around for miles with no responsibilities or a care in this shit world. She didn't deserve to die, not the way she had at least. He hadn't even told Sansa yet. She knew there was a woman, she did not know the extent of it. Out of all the Free Folk he had managed to save, Tormund was the only one who knew her personally. Remembering him pulling him aside and saying he knew she loved him because all she talked about was how much she wanted to kill him. There were times where he wondered what would have happened had she survived. Would she be standing here in Winterfell? Would she have convinced him to leave the Wall before Sansa had arrived? Would he have left the Watch to head further north and live in that cave for the rest of their lives in blissful ignorance? It was questions he was never going to get answers to, as much as he hated it. Sighing loudly before leaving for his solar to await on everyone arriving for a talk that was not going to be pleasant even slightly.