Chapter 15: I am His, He is Mine
Summary:
Dany and Jon wed before they fly to Westeros. Eddard Stark gathers the Lords of the North and tells them the truth of Jon's parentage.
With war on the horizon, dragons arrive in Winterfell.
Notes:
Right, so here's the deal:
After the absurd number of negative comments that resulted in the first version of this chapter being taken down, I was beset by an even greater number of people who did their utmost to offer their support to me. I truly appreciate the kind words.
So the chapter is back, with some significant edits, and we will continue the plot I had in mind to begin with in Westeros. Let me clear something up right now.
If I see any of the nonsense I had to deal with beforehand, your comment is going to be deleted. I'm planning on regulating the comments from now on since it's come to this. I allow constructive criticism, but if your sole reason for commenting is to scream obscenities towards something you don't like, then you can politely fuck off and find another story that suits your fancy.
I am not paid to write this story. I do it for my own satisfaction.
Now that that is out of the way, it should be known that I needed some positivity and fluff in my life after all of that madness.
As a result, you're getting some smut. Enjoy, you filthy animals.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Fifteen: I am His, He is Mine
They prepared to leave for Westeros over the course of the next few days. Ser Davos was stockpiling his ship with fresh supplies for the voyage. Dany and Jon's people didn't have much they needed to pack up—they were ready to go whenever the ship was.
There was a problem, however.
"What do you mean you aren't coming?" Dany demanded.
Jorah pursed his lips. "If I go to the North, I will be imprisoned and killed within a week."
"Ser Jaime is carrying the same risk, and he's going," she pointed out. "We would protect you."
"Jaime has a defense for his most criminal action—saving King's Landing. I have none."
Jon frowned. "He's…not wrong, Daenerys. If we take him to Westeros, the Northmen will probably kill him. But we also have no idea how long we'll be there. We'll have no way to support you back here in Essos."
"I can take care of myself as long as need be," Jorah replied. He looked at Dany for a few moments as she contemplated this new conundrum. "Listen, why don't I stay here in Braavos? I can find work in this city easily enough. I'll keep the house for you. It's not much, but I'd still be serving you in my own way. I won't even have to lose my head to do it."
That hit a soft spot in Daenerys, because Jon knew she really, really didn't want to leave the house with the red door behind for just anyone to take over. She glanced at him and he nodded. "It's up to you, Dany."
She considered it for a few more moments before making her decision. "Then I hereby charge you with safeguarding our home here in Braavos, Ser Jorah."
Jorah dipped his head. "As you wish, Princess. It shall be done."
Jon could say that he was slightly more relaxed about leaving Jorah behind in a way because if Barristan was right, then their spy problem was (probably) solved for the time being, although he wasn't so sure about Jorah's motives for holding the house down. Would he set a trap for them here when next they returned?
Thoughts for another time—namely, when they returned to Essos, whenever that might be. For now, they would leave Jorah with a fair bit of coin they'd gotten from selling some of their less-needed gifts. No need to leave their housekeeper with nothing for his services.
Everyone else was coming with them, even Jaime and Barristan despite Ser Davos' hesitance. They would be sailing with him to guard Doreah, Visenya, Irri, and Jhiqui. The trip would take them a month and a half or so, as it had for Davos and Arya to get to Braavos in the first place.
But there was one important thing to do before they left the city.
They stole away to the sept they'd chosen some time ago in the cover of night.
Dany took a deep breath as Arya helped her finish the ties to her dress and stood up, doing a slow twirl in-place. "How do I look?"
"Jon won't know what hit him," Arya grinned. Dany smiled in response. They were in a small room, lit only by candles as the light coming through the windows had long-since faded.
Her heart was pulsing fast beneath her skin. In a matter of minutes, she'd be married. She and Jon had decided to have the wedding now, before they left for Westeros. It was never going to be a particularly grandiose affair—they wished for it to be quiet and personal, so as to avoid unwanted attention. But even so, it was a secret union. They would be bound together as husband in wife in the shadows, guarded by the night and cloaks and daggers.
Daenerys didn't care. As long as they had each other, the when and where ceased to matter.
They'd brought only a few people with them to the sept. Ser Barristan was with Jon at the moment, serving him as he'd served Jon's father, Rhaegar. Arya, of course, was present to watch her brother be married and help Dany with anything she needed done by another woman.
Dany had her own Knight to escort her to her beloved.
She stepped out of the room with Arya behind her and looked up at the blonde man standing by the door. Jaime studied her with unreadable eyes, caught somewhere between pain and happiness.
"You look just like your mother, Princess," he told her quietly. His voice was thick. "She would be proud to see you now."
Such words brought her joy and grief both. Dany's gaze remained upon his. "Ser Jaime. You were once my mother's sworn protector. Will you walk with me?"
Jaime swallowed hard and Dany thought she saw a flash of something wet in his eyes. He dipped his head wordlessly to her and offered his arm. Daenerys took it lightly, and they walked down the corridors to reach the room where she and Jon would be wed.
They reached the hall and she set her eyes on the alter, where Jon stood waiting with Ser Barristan not far from his side. The septon stood in the center, and with a deep breath, Daenerys approached on Jaime's arm to join them.
She released the Knight as she took her place across from Jon, unable to take her eyes away from him. He in-turn could stare at no one save her, eyes wide and full of wonder. Both of them were garbed in the finery of House Targaryen, he in black, she in red, and each with the sigil of their House of the color of their intended.
They joined hands, his left to her right, and turned to face the septon as he came forward with a ribbon of cloth, wrapping it around their clasped hands to symbolize their union. His voice was quiet, yet loud in the silence of the empty sept.
"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls. Binding them as one for eternity," the septon finished tying the ribbon 'round their hands, smiling at the pair of them. He stepped back a moment later. "Look upon one another, and say the words."
She turned with Jon, eyes meeting his and drowning in the dark depths of his gaze. Her own voice sounded very far away.
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days."
There was a short moment where they stood there, staring at each other in frozen time, and then Jon's lips slotted against her and Dany let her eyes close, heart full and warm. She squeezed his hand bound to hers tightly and he returned the pressure.
She heard the septon saying something—no doubt completing the ceremony—but Dany was deaf to his words. Nothing in the world mattered save Jon. Her husband.
The last dragons, intertwined and sealed together until death chose to part them.
They stopped only for a few moments at the red door.
Jon glanced at Dany, smiling softly at the overcome expression on her face. This was the closest thing to a home she had ever known. She had grown up here, loved, and laughed. Lived here.
Now she'd been married here. Would spend her wedding night beyond that scarlet door, in the comfort of their home.
He squeezed her hand lightly and she stirred out of her reverie, flashing him a wry smile. They entered the house as one.
Irri and Jhiqui were sitting with Doreah and Ser Jorah by the fireplace, which still nested the dragon eggs in its heat. Visenya was cradled in the arms of the young mother, who smirked at the sight of them.
Ser Jorah dipped his head as they came into the house with the rest of their small entourage behind them. "Your Graces."
Dany let out a short laugh. "Gods, I suppose I'm not a Princess anymore, am I?"
"You are a Queen, Your Grace," Doreah grinned. "And now you must claim your King. We left some food and wine in your room for when two you, ah…take a break."
"Seven hells," Arya made a gagging behind them and Doreah burst out laughing, prompting the Knights to chuckle and the Dothraki handmaidens to giggle. Jon felt his face heat up, but couldn't fight the smile stretching across his face. Dany colored as well, her lips rising.
"The rest of us should retire," Jorah announced, giving the couple some mercy. "Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime, would you join me in my quarters for a drink or five?"
The two Knights nodded, following Jorah to the opposite side of the house while Doreah guided Arya towards her own room with Visenya still in her arms. Irri and Jhiqui retired to their quarters, leaving the Dragon King and Queen alone in the room.
"Well," she glanced at Jon, eyes full of light and gentle mischief. "Shall we?"
He could only nod wordlessly, too afraid of opening his mouth and saying something foolish. Jon let Dany tug him towards her room—their room now. Gods, as if it had ever been anything but their room since they'd come to Braavos for how often he spent the night in her bed, but now they were married. Any need for secrecy, for discretion was gone now.
The only light was from a few candles lit around the room. A tray of food and a pitcher of wine, along with two glasses was on one of the tables away from the bed.
Jon turned away just long enough to bolt the door, giving them some extra assurance that they would not be disturbed. Not that he expected anybody to do so.
When he looked back to Dany, it was just in time to see her crimson dress slip from her body and pool around her feet. A lump rose in his throat as he took her in. He'd seen her bare many times before, but this was different. Now she was his in every way that mattered.
Gods, but she was beautiful. Her skin was fair like porcelain, her hair a silver cascade over one shoulder. Twin amethysts stared out at him above rosy cheeks, exotic and familiar all at once. Her breasts were small, the muscles of her arms, belly, and legs toned from all the training she'd done over the months. Her hips curved sweetly, and her thighs were pale and luscious like the rest of her.
She was delicate, a slender wisp of a girl, yet she glowed like a flower blooming towards the sun.
Dany stepped towards him on silent, light feet until she stood before him. Jon was riveted in place, unable to move or speak.
Her lips curved upwards into a light smirk, as if realizing that he was frozen by the sight of her. Dany leaned up and pressed her mouth to his even as her hands began to work on removing his tunic.
The feeling of her tongue pushing past his teeth finally broke him out of his spell, and then he was lifting his arms to help her remove his clothing. Jon threw it aside and one of his hands cupped her cheek, deepening their kiss. The other found its way to her hip, stroking her bare skin as he guided her back towards the bed. Her breath shuddered into his mouth as they stumbled blindly away from the door.
When the backs of her thighs hit the bed, Jon took her by the shoulders and pushed her down gently, splaying her over the sheets. Dany swallowed as his eyes swept over her, reaching up to bring him down. He kissed her sweet again, then pulled from her lips to kiss her cheek, her throat, and further down. He kissed the swell of her breast and found her nipple, sucking it into his mouth to tease it with tongue and teeth until she whimpered.
He pulled back only when her teat was rosy red and perked from his attentions, then gave its sister the same affection. Dany's body grew hot beneath him. He felt a thin sheen of sweat form on her pale flesh.
Jon's lips finally left her breasts alone, trailing down to her belly. His eyes watched her chest rise and fall in deep breaths, and she watched him in-turn. Her violets were hazy, anxious and excited all at once. She knew what was coming.
His tongue dipped to her bellybutton, feeling the muscles beneath his mouth jump slightly. His hands stroked at her hips. As he kissed her naval, her legs parted for him and her breaths became a little faster.
Jon nipped at the inside of her thigh and Dany inhaled sharply. A primal, focused need built up hot in his belly—he could practically taste her already. The scent of her arousal was heady in the air.
Forgoing his teasing as he often liked to do, Jon was quick to close his mouth over the juncture of her thighs. Daenerys let out a throaty moan as he wrapped a hand around her leg to hold her in place and used the other to help open her up for him.
Her gasps and cries were quiet, but full of urgency and raw desire. His tongue lapped at her like a kitten with cream, and his fingers slipped through her folds to give her something to grip inside of her. One of her hands found purchase in his hair, pulling and tugging on his black locks whenever he did something she really liked. His tongue dabbed at the nub at the apex of her mound and a strangled cry left her.
"Jon," Dany gasped. He watched her teeth sink enticingly into her bottom lip as she twisted her head to the side. Her other hand was clenching the sheets in a death grip.
She looked down at him and her eyes were nearly black, pupils blown out and hungry for him—for everything he was and everything he intended to give her.
He felt her clenching around his fingers and tongue and removed his hand from her slit, instead grasping her legs firmly with both of his arms to keep her in place when she tried to squirm away from him. His tongue delved deeper into her, teeth scraping at her most sensitive bits as he drew out more of the nectar pooling from her folds. A shudder ran through her body and then her back arched, wild and sharp. Her hand left the sheets and clapped over her mouth to stifle her cries as she came undone.
Jon lapped up her wetness, a pleased smile curling the corners of his lips as he felt her quivering beneath his ministrations. She tugged on his hair, but he did not stop—not yet. He wanted her nice and relaxed for what was to come.
Dany's voice lifted again, her thighs shaking and clenching. Her other hand left her mouth and drove down into his hair with the other, making a mess of her tangled black locks as she keened. Jon didn't stop until she was dripping like a freshly split peach and his jaw was soaked in her essence. Only then did he lift his head up, and she quickly tugged him to her mouth.
She hummed into him, still shaking as she tasted herself on his tongue. Valyrian came out of her mouth. "Want you."
Her hands let go of his hair and reached down, fumbling for his breeches. Jon kicked off his boots, refusing to leave her mouth for anything. He managed to keep himself propped up with one arm and used the other to help her push away his breeches and smallclothes, leaving his body as bare as hers.
She wrapped an arm around his neck and reached down between them. Jon let out a gasp as she took his hard length in-hand, stroking urgently. His whole body tensed and froze, tight as a coiled spring.
"Dany," her name came out in a broken moan. She squeezed him in response and Jon trembled. Fire blazed in her eyes, purple and black with need.
Jon gasped as she flipped him with a powerful move, switching their positions. Dany straddled his thighs, rubbing her slit up and down the underside of his length as her hands pressed against his belly. His toes curled and his hands came up frantically to hold her hips, desperate to hold onto her. He felt her fingernails scratch at his skin as he grew painfully hard beneath her rocking.
They had never gone this far before, always stopping before the temptation became too much to resist. But there was nothing holding them back now—they were husband and wife.
Dany lifted herself up onto her knees, hovering over Jon, and took the length of him in-hand. Jon's breath came faster and harder as she rubbed the tip of his cock against her slit, coating him with her wetness. His hands kept hold of her hips, squeezing and massaging the soft skin and muscle beneath his touch.
She looked down at him and he swallowed, nodding. His heart was trying to beat itself out of his chest.
Dany caught the tip of his manhood in her folds and then braced her hands against his chest, slowly sinking down onto him. Jon's head fell back and a sound left his throat that he didn't even know he could make, a low whine full of wanton desire. Dany's breath came in shallow pants above him, taking him in inch by inch.
Faster than he expected, he was fully inside of her. Dany was seated again on his hips, trembling and bent over his body. Her whole body quivered and he felt her cunt clenching hot and slick and tight around his cock.
"Fuck," she whimpered. "Jon."
His hand trailed past her hips to grasp and squeeze her arse, guiding her in a gentle rock against him. The slightest slide of his length through her folds made both of them gasp. Everything was too sensitive—the way her skin chafed against his, the scratching of her fingernails on his flesh, the way her hair tickled his belly while her head was bowed over—
He bucked his hips without thinking and she let out a little cry. Jon barely managed to still himself before impulse could seize him again, fearing he'd hurt her, but then she started rocking herself above him, grinding him as deep against the depths of her cunt as his cock could reach and he gave in.
They didn't really have a rhythm—it was frantic rocking and bucking, hasty and urgent. Sweat covered his body, plastered his hair to his forehead. He felt it bead and drip to pool at the base of her spine, and the heat between them was almost unbearable. The sheet beneath them quickly became damp.
New in the act that they were, Jon could tell immediately he wasn't going to last. She felt so fucking good around him and the anticipation building up over the past several months to this moment was just too much for him to handle.
He started to slide one hand back around to rub at her slit, but then Dany rose up and sank back down—barely halfway, but the way he was drawn out and pushed back into her was—
Jon's spine arched and he sucked in a breathless gasp as pleasure raced up and down in spine like a bolt of lightning. He squeezed her hips with bruising force, pulling her fully against him so he reached as deep as he could. Dany gasped as his length clenched, and then he was spilling inside of her, chest heaving and trembling from his release.
He was dazed, limbs like jelly and his mind muddled with the feel of her—of the liquid heat encompassing him in a moment that stretched into a brief eternity.
He came back to himself after a few moments, still weak, but hard enough that Dany was still grinding into him. His throat was dry when he swallowed, reaching for the hood of her cunt and rubbing his fingers against her the way she liked it.
Dany keened, squirming against his touch, but he sat up, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her in-place so he could press and tease her nub. Her hands gripped his shoulders, forehead pressed to his and whimpering, gasping as she worked her hips in frantic jerks against his touch. He murmured nonsense to her, barely coherent until he felt her clenching around his softening cock. A shudder went up and down her spine and she sank her teeth into his neck, muffling a wail of pleasure.
She all but collapsed against him, her breathing ragged. Still weak and boneless himself, Jon wrapped his arms around her and fell back into the bed, panting with her atop his body. She shifted, dismounting him so she could curl up into his side. Jon glanced down and watched his seed dripping out of her folds and onto her thighs.
Dany pressed a kiss to her throat, to the bite mark she'd left that he'd no doubt wear for days to come. Valyrian left her lips without a second thought. "Love you, love you so much..."
"And I you, my sweet," he whispered back, kissing the top of her head. His hand rubbed up and down her hips and belly and ribs, up to her shoulder and back again. She snuggled against him as they caught their breath, leaving lazy kisses upon one another and murmuring sweet nothings.
When they finally regained some coherency, Dany looked up at him, smiling softly. Her cheeks were ruddy and warm, her fingers dancing over his chest like she was trying to feel every inch of him. "Well. That was an experience."
"Aye," he smiled back, but he felt a little anxious. "Were you—"
She lifted a hand to press a finger to his lips. Her voice was rather amused. "I can see you overthinking."
"I just want to be good for you," he replied, kissing her finger.
"And I you," she giggled. Her hand cupped his cheek. "The night is still young. We have plenty of time to learn each other."
"I might need a drink," he admitted. She laughed in response.
"Me too."
Neither of them moved immediately. The moment was too sweet. Curled up close to one another, the pair of young newlyweds were content to just rest and recover from their coupling. There would no doubt be more to come further into the night.
For now, the warmth between them, that sense of wholeness and love was all they needed.
On the day they were to sail out, Jon found Dany in the room that had become theirs. She was lost in her thoughts and memories, and jumped when he came up behind her to hug his lover—his wife. Jon pressed a kiss to the side of her head, taking her hands in his and holding her close.
"We'll come back one day," he promised. "Maybe we can even buy it from the owner permanently next time we're here."
"I know. I'll still miss it," she murmured. Jon turned her in his arms and kissed her sweet.
"There will be many days and nights for us here, yet," he whispered against her lips. Dany hummed agreement and kissed him back. They relished in the quiet peace of their home for a little while longer.
Then they said their farewells to Ser Jorah, the house with the red door, and departed Braavos.
They made their way to the strip of coastline where Jon had introduced Bellegere to Frostfyre. Once there, he, Dany, and Arya were rowed to shore.
He closed his eyes and waited, calling for his sister.
It took a few minutes. She'd been farther away this time than before. But she heralded her arrival with a roar, causing Arya's eyes to shoot skyward and grow wide. He could hear Davos' men yelling in panic on the ship.
Frostfyre flew over the trees from the east, slowing her descent as she approached and landing heavily. She shook her neck and let out a loose growl before regarding her Rider and his companions.
Jon smiled and turned to Ser Davos and the men who had helped row them to shore. They were pale, barely daring to breathe.
"I know my uncle trusted you with bringing Arya to us," Jon said, regaining their attention. "And I thank you for that. But this is the part where I warn you that if your men betray us and bring any harm to my people, then you get to deal with her."
Frostfyre leered at them, snapping her jaws threateningly. Davos nodded slowly. "They'll be perfectly safe with my crew, Your Grace. No worries to be had."
"Good. Forgive me—I have to be a little threatening," he shrugged, smirking. Jon glanced at Dany and Arya. "You two are flying with me. It'll take us five days to get to Winterfell. Maybe six."
Arya gaped. "Five days? That's it?"
"Frostfyre flies fast. She might be a bit slower with three people on her, but she's grown a lot since last I flew her across the Narrow Sea," Jon admitted. "We'll be fine."
He strode up to the dragon and lay his hand on her snout as she lowered her head to meet him. Frostfyre rumbled, purple eyes staring into his greys. Jon stroked her scales lovingly. "We're going back to Westeros for a while, sister. You remember, don't you?"
The dragon blinked at him slowly, letting out a soft growl. Jon gestured for Dany and Arya to come closer. Dany, of course, was accepted quickly. Frostfyre took a bit longer to inspect Arya, but she was one of the smallest humans the dragon had ever encountered, and clearly didn't garner much interest.
Arya was vibrating with energy as Jon guided her hand to rest upon Frostfyre's scales. "I'm touching a dragon. Jon, you are my favorite brother forever."
He smirked and inclined his head towards the dragon's wing. "You haven't even flown yet."
Jon looked past them to their escort. "Ser Davos, we'll be fine from here. Fair winds and good tides to your journey."
"And fair winds to you, Your Grace," Davos nodded, then motioned for his men to get back in the rowboat.
Jon moved to Frostfyre's wing with Dany and Arya, and the dragon knelt. He helped them onto her back with a bit of maneuvering. They had Jon in the center with Arya in front since she was smaller, and Daenerys holding onto Jon from the back.
"Everybody ready?" Jon prompted. Dany squeezed his waist in response and Arya nodded so fast Jon briefly feared her head might fly off.
He reached around Arya and clasped Frostfyre's spines with their hands. Jon intended to show his sister—she might have been his cousin by blood, but she was Jon's sister as much as Frostfyre—what it meant to fly a dragon.
"Sōves!"
Frostfyre roared, took three steps along the beach, and launched herself into the air with a powerful thunderclap of wind. Arya shrieked, half-frightened, half-gleeful as they climbed into the sky. Frostfyre's body began to rise and fall in powerful waves as Jon helped Arya guide the dragon west, towards the peninsula just south of the Fingers. A straight shot across the Narrow Sea.
Jon felt excitement rushing through his blood. The sun at their backs in the morning light, they flew for Westeros.
Eddard Stark sat in the Great Hall of Winterfell, now filled with the Lords of the North—all of whom had answered his summons. They'd arrived one by one, some before him, some afterwards.
Only House Tallhart was not present—Ned had ordered Ser Helman Tallhart to remain in Torrhen's Square, to fortify their defenses since the Iron Fleet was headed his way. He swore help would soon be coming, but he would not pull the man from his lands when they were under threat.
The raven he'd received in return had been grateful for Ned's understanding of the situation, and the Tallharts swore to follow whatever course of action the Warden of the North decided would best defend their home.
And with luck, his nephew would be here in the coming days, as well.
With his Lords now gathered in the Great Hall, Ned rose from his seat at the high table to speak. Robb was at his left, Catelyn his right. Sansa and Bran were present as well, though Rickon was in his room with Maester Luwin—he was still too young for a war counsel. Lying on the stones in front of the table were six dire wolves, each seated before their masters.
Grey Wind, Ghost, Nymeria, Lady, Summer, and the huge, dark-furred male that had become Ned's partner—Blackfreeze.
As Ned stood, Blackfreeze—by far the largest of the wolves—let out a thunderous howl, silencing the hall in an instant. The Lords stopped speaking amongst themselves and turned to face the Warden of the North.
"My Lords," Ned began. "Thank you for answering the call to arms. Not since the Mad King's reign have we faced such a threat to our lands. To our families, our honor, and our integrity. We face great threats that have come to us swift and sudden, and we must be unified if we are to keep our people safe."
There was a great cheer in response. The loudest always made themselves well-known. Jon "Greatjon" Umber and Rickard Karstark chief among them. Others were quieter—Roose Bolton never made a sound.
"In the southern lands, a false King sits on the Iron Throne. In my time at King's Landing, I grew suspicious of Robert's three children. I investigated and I learned a terrible truth: Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen Baratheon are not his true born offspring at all. They are bastards born of incest between the Queen regent, Cersei Lannister, and her brother, the Kingslayer. It was for this discover that I was declared a traitor to the crown. It was for this reason that I was forced to retreat back to my pack here in the North, lest I be executed for false accusations and see my daughters taken as hostages of the Lannisters."
There were shouts of uproar and anger towards the southerners. None of the Lords had really believed that their Warden was a traitor, and to hear that Ned, Arya, and Sansa's lives had been put at risk by the Lannisters only served to infuriate them. Never mind that Ned had been forced to slip away from King's Landing—they didn't call him a coward for that.
"I expect Tywin Lannister will not sit idly by while I am still called Warden of the North. But the lions are not the only threat we face. In the seas to our west, Euron Greyjoy has murdered his brother, Balon, and declared himself to be King of the Isles and the North," Ned emphasized, and even Roose Bolton made a sound of anger at this. "He has risen up in rebellion against Westeros and means to claim the Iron Throne."
Dacey Mormont scowled. "The traitorous squid thinks us so weak he can claim our lands and the Iron Throne? He is even madder than I thought!"
There were many cries of agreement, but Ned's face became grim.
"I wish I could agree with you," he admitted, and the hall fell silent. His bannermen frowned at their Warden's words. "But Euron Greyjoy has chosen this moment to strike for a reason: in the east, as you all have heard by now, a dragon has appeared. The spies in King's Landing informed me that Euron possesses a Dragonbinder Horn from the ruins of Old Valyria, which could control that dragon. He could wrest it from the young Targaryen King across the sea and use it against us."
Now many of their faces were pale. Greyjoy rebels they could handle—they'd crushed Ironborn rebellions before. The southern Lords as well could be bested with a good commander, which Ned Stark certainly was.
But the North had bent the knee to dragons long ago, for so long as they lived.
"We must crush Euron Greyjoy before he can take the dragon," Ned told them. "I dare not rely on the south to do this for us."
"Best we do the job right ourselves!" Lord Glover declared.
"That is my thinking, as well. But we have no navy to take the fight to the Iron Islands," he pointed out. "And we might not be able to capture enough ships from the Ironborn when we drive them out of our lands. They are superior seamen to any and all of us, much as I dislike admitting it."
"Then what are we to do?" Lady Mormont demanded.
Ned took a deep breath and glanced at Catelyn. His wife nodded slowly.
This was the moment.
"I have a plan," Ned announced. "And it is already in play. But before I explain it to you, I must tell all of you a story."
He looked out over the Great Hall, across the Lords and Ladies whom he had summoned.
"In all my life, I have told only one significant lie. I told it to my family, I told it to the men who followed me. I told this lie to the King himself."
Robb frowned and turned his head towards his father, as did the rest of his children. His bannermen stared at him in bewilderment.
"This all starts nearly sixteen years ago. My family received word that the Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped my sister, Lyanna Stark, and disappeared with her somewhere in Dorne. You all know what happened next. Lord Arryn called the banners after my father and brother were murdered by the Mad King. We rode for vengeance. We rode to reclaim my sister from the dragon who had stolen her."
There were growls and mutters of agreement. Some of these men had fought in those very battles alongside Ned.
Ned rapped his knuckles on the table to silence them. He took another breath. "But Lyanna Stark was never stolen from us."
Now the silence was palpable. He pushed on. "Oh, I believed she had been. All of us did. When we rode to war, we did it because we believed my family had been taken and killed by the dragons of the south. My brother and father were murdered by Aerys Targaryen, aye. But not Lyanna.
"When the war neared its end, I rode to Dorne and I found my sister in the Tower of Joy, guarded by three Kingsguard. Those men were not there to keep a woman hostage. They were there to guard royalty."
Ned swallowed. "My sister died in a bed of her own blood as she gave birth to Rhaegar's last child."
"So she was raped, as we feared," the Greatjon scowled.
"No," Ned shook his head. "She told me she had married the Prince. Rhaegar never stole her. They ran away together like star-crossed lovers."
The faces of his men were pale, disbelieving, and stunned.
"Lyanna died and I came back to the North as the Lord of Winterfell. I came home with her bones and her baby boy in my arms…whom I claimed as my bastard son."
He heard a strangled gasp from Sansa to the side before his men let out cries of shock. Blackfreeze snarled, silencing them again when they proved too rowdy to quiet down themselves.
"I never betrayed my wife," Ned confessed. "I took my sister's son as my own. Because I promised her I would keep the babe safe."
"You hid a Targaryen child in your keep!" Roose Bolton stared at him with something like disgust. "You lied to your King, the man you grew up with in Jon Arryn's care."
"Aye, I lied to him. I lied to him after I saw Robert Baratheon smile as Tywin Lannister brought in the remains of two little children, even younger than my Rickon," Ned growled. "I saw Aegon Targaryen's head caved in—a babe whose face was nothing more than a mess of blood and brains. I saw Rhaeneys Targaryen's body stabbed full of holes. I saw Elia Martell nearly cut in half after the Mountain raped her. Say I was wrong not to tell those men about my nephew, Lord Bolton."
The silence that answered his demand was enough.
"I named the boy Jon Snow," Ned continued. "I raised him here, with my children, in the ways of the North. But he was not alone when I found him with Lyanna. Rhaegar had left something behind in the Tower of Joy meant for his son: a dragon egg in the flames of the fireplace. As my sister died, the dragon hatched."
More uproar, and this time Blackfreeze had to loose another thunderous howl before the men quieted, though they kept speaking in hushed whispers. Ned pressed on before things could get away from him. "The dragon I sent beyond the Wall, where it could do no harm to our lands. When Jon was old enough, I started sending him to Castle Black and beyond to tame the beast, should ever he have needed it. As you no doubt have heard, he did, in fact, need it."
"He fled the North!" Protested the Greatjon. "He left us for the lands across the sea! For the other dragonspawn! He abandoned his kin!"
"He rode to save his kin!" Ned bellowed. "Jon took the dragon and flew across the sea to prevent Daenerys Targaryen from being sold to a Dothraki Horse Lord. Imagine a girl barely any older than my Sansa, sold to be a whore-bride for a barbarian, so her mad brother could get an army of savages. Would you have let such a thing happen to your family? Even those you'd never met? Do you doubt that I would ride to save your families, even if I did not know them? Is that not my duty as Warden of the North?"
"He is not the Warden of the North, My Lord," Lord Bolton pointed out. "It is not the same."
"He is the Head of House Targaryen," Ned said flatly. "It was his duty to keep that girl from being sold into slavery. I am only proud that he had the courage to leave Westeros on his own to do that duty—a boy of ten-and-four! A boy of ten-and-four flew across the sea to lands he'd never seen before, to protect someone he had never met, and fought a war on his own to safeguard his House! Tell me what that is if not courage?"
Ned sat down hard in his chair, half-glaring over the masses. "Aye, he left the North. He left to save what remains of his father's side of his family. But he is also half Stark. He is more his mother's son than you can imagine. Lyanna Stark's blood runs strong in him."
"Then where is he, if he is so loyal a Stark?" Lord Karstark demanded.
"He is coming here."
The Lords and Ladies of the North froze as Ned answered the question further. "When I sent out my ravens, I also sent my daughter, Arya Stark, across the sea to Braavos. Jon is currently living there with Daenerys Targaryen. Arya will find him, and I believe fully that he will return to us—that he will fly here with Daenerys and his dragon to answer the call to arms."
"That is treason!" Lord Glover shouted. "We have no need for dragons in the North!"
Many of the other Lords began to agree and Ned felt his heart sink. He was trying to think, trying to decide what else he could tell them to convince them of his decision, when Robb stood up at his side and roared above the din.
"SILENCE!"
The bannermen faltered and stared at Ned's son. Robb took heavy breaths, turning to stare at his father for several moments before he spoke again.
"I didn't know about this. All my life, I thought Jon was my brother. This all sounds completely fucking mad to me," Robb exclaimed viciously. "I have thousands of questions and I need them to be answered."
He jerked his gaze out over the bannermen. "But even if he isn't really my brother, I grew up with Jon Snow. The blood of the North runs through him maybe deeper than me. He looks more Stark than I do—I've heard that many times, and it never bothered me. Maybe he has dragon blood in his veins, but he is also a wolf! He has always been a wolf of Winterfell!"
Robb sounded completely and utterly infuriated, even if he wasn't sure who he was angrier at right then. "My brother grew up here with us. As one of us. You think he chose to be born as the son of a Targaryen Prince? You want to cast him aside for something he had no control over? Tell me, My Lords and Ladies, does my Tully blood make me less of a Stark?"
He glared across the hall when no one said anything. If anything, it only made him angrier. "ANSWER ME!"
Still, there was silence.
"If my father sent out the call to Jon, he will answer," Robb snapped. "And when he gets here, then you can hear him speak. You can hear out his reasons for leaving. You can hear out why he came back to help us. I promise that you will find the answer is the same as for any of you: he left to defend his family, and he came back to defend his family.
"And tell me this: when my brother comes back with a dragon who will fight for us, are you actually going to turn him away? My brother took on an entire Dothraki horde with that beast if the stories are true! What chance do the likes of Euron Greyjoy and Tywin Lannister have against the men of the North with a dragon behind us? King Joffrey will piss and shit himself like the coward he is!"
Roose Bolten again responded with disdain. "And what do you think is going to happen after we clear out all your brother's enemies for him, boy? He'll claim the Iron Throne for himself, put the dragons back in power."
"If you said that knowing Jon, My Lord, I'd laugh in your face," Robb retorted, causing the Lord of the Dreadfort to scowl deeply. "But you don't know Jon. Not yet. Here is what I tell you, men and women of the North! Wait for my brother to get here, speak to him yourself, and see if you can still make yourselves believe that his love for the House that raised him is false."
Robb sat back down, drumming his fingers on the table. He still looked half-furious, but his vitriol had settled with his impassioned spiel.
Ned looked out over the gathering of his bannermen. "If I've guessed right, Jon will be here with his dragon anytime within the coming weeks. It flies faster than any beast the sky has seen. When he reaches us, I ask you to listen to my nephew. See for yourselves if he is Stark enough for you to ride into battle with."
He stood up then. "That is all for now. Dismissed."
Robb was still reeling when he joined his family in the Godswood some hours after the meeting in the Great Hall. None of their bannermen had chosen to leave Winterfell after learning about Jon, but he could tell the likes of Roose Bolton and a few others were thinking about it.
Jon. Gods, Robb couldn't believe what he'd heard in there. His brother was a true born Targaryen son, not a Stark bastard. He was, for all intents and purposes, the rightful Heir to the Iron Throne.
Eddard joined them, bringing along with him Theon. The Greyjoy Heir had been in a state of fury ever since he'd learned that Euron had murdered his father, but finding out about Jon's true parentage had managed to shock him out of his rage for the first time in weeks.
Sansa stood up from her seat on the Heart Tree's roots when her father approached, rushing up to him. "Is it true? Everything you said?"
"Aye," Ned admitted quietly. "All of it."
"Why didn't you tell us?!" His daughter was distraught. "I treated Jon like—"
"Like a bastard?" Robb snapped, making Sansa flinch. "As if you should have treated him any differently in the first place."
"Robb—"
"No," he cut his mother off angrily. "That damned Septa of yours has spewed enough nonsense to fill my ears for a lifetime. To hell with that. Jon was my brother when I thought he was a bastard, and he's still my brother now that he's some long-lost Targaryen Prince."
"He's right," Theon agreed quietly, but Robb's scowl quickly twisted to the Greyjoy Heir. Though Theon was ten-and-eight, three years Robb's senior, he was undaunted by the older boy in any way.
"Oh, now you think so? All you used to call him was bastard this, bastard that," the boy snarled.
"Robb, that's enough," Ned said firmly, pushing on before his son could keep going. "The blame lies with me. I kept the truth from all of you. You couldn't have known."
"That doesn't make the way they treated Jon right."
"No, it doesn't. And they'll have to make that up to him however they can when next they see him," Ned agreed. "Let that be a lesson. Jon didn't choose the circumstances of his birth any more than you did—any of you."
Sansa bit her lip and nodded jerkily, eyes wet. Theon just looked like he was trying to shrink into himself under the weight of Robb's fury.
"Tell us the truth," Ned's eldest son demanded. "All of it, right from the start."
The Lord of Winterfell nodded, took a breath, and told them everything he could.
When he fell silent, the children needed some time to wrap their heads around everything. He waited patiently for them to do so.
Theon shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. "This is all absolutely mad."
"Is it mad?" Sansa asked. "Jon flew off to rescue Daenerys from a barbarian. It sounds noble to me."
"I meant everything about this in general was mad, but I suppose that's slightly less mad," he admitted. "He's still crazy for flying across the bloody ocean to save a girl he'd met in his dreams of all things."
"That's romantic!"
Theon just glanced at Robb helplessly. The eldest Stark son shook his head. "You think he'll bring Daenerys here?"
"I know he will," Ned admitted. "Even before he flew off to help her, Jon was attached to her. What I heard from the spies in the Red Keep—well, they're getting closer fast."
"Isn't she his aunt?" Theon pointed out.
"Aye, but even our family has wed uncles to nieces and other such matches in the past," Ned told him. "And beyond that, they're Targaryens—even if only half of Jon is the blood of the dragon, loving his aunt is tame by their standards."
"It's still a little queer."
"You tell that to someone who is in love, see where it gets you."
Robb pursed his lips. "When will he get here?"
"Soon," Ned told him. "He'll come. I know he will."
"…I'm still furious with you, but I'm glad you told us the truth, at least," Robb said grudgingly. "But no more secrets, father. None like this, ever again."
"I only did it because I had to keep my sister's son safe," Ned replied. "You have my word that I'll never keep such a thing secret from any of you ever again."
"Good," the boy began to stride out of the Godswood. "Then I'd best inform the servants to prepare a room for our guests before they get here."
His brother was coming back. For all of Robb's fury towards his father and the idiotic behavior of their bannermen, he was thrilled by the prospect of seeing Jon again.
Cousin by blood, yes. But brother in everything that mattered.
Dany winced as she sat down next to Jon by the fire he'd started, rubbing at her sore legs.
They'd flown long and hard the past three days. She was thrilled to see Westeros from the sky, even if the territory they'd covered belonged almost entirely to the Vale. Only today had they crossed into the North. The problem was that riding Frostfyre as hard as they had was rough on the travelers. Her abdominal and leg muscles burned. Arya had nearly fallen off of the dragon by the end of that first day when they crossed the Narrow Sea.
They were currently camped just a bit north of Moat Cailin according to Jon, and a bit west of White Harbor. Being back in Westeros seemed to invigorate the boy, who knew and understood the wilds of these lands.
Arya was already curled up in a blanket, dead to the world once she'd eaten and drank a little. They couldn't exactly bring a lot of supplies on dragonback, save for a couple of packs Daenerys and Jon had carried with them. Thankfully, they'd gotten some extra food from Frostfyre—at least, whenever she deigned to bring the remnants of her kills back to them.
Today they'd been lucky. She'd found a herd of deer and consumed several of them, but brought back the remnants of a half-eaten doe. The dragon lazily granted them the last half of her kill once she was satisfied that her enormous gut was full.
Jon wrapped an arm around Dany's shoulder, rubbing her arm as he leaned his head against hers. "How are you?"
"Exhausted," she admitted. "Sore."
"Me too," he murmured.
Dany closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her nose scrunched up. "We need a bath."
Jon snorted. "Aye, that we do. I'll introduce you to the hot springs beneath Winterfell."
"Hot springs?"
"Have you ever seen such springs before?"
"I have not."
"You will love it," he told her. "The water is wonderfully hot. It melts away the tension in your muscles and bones, and it banishes the cold."
"It sounds lovely."
Jon hummed. He was quiet for a bit longer, but then he sighed. "We need to plan what we'll say to the Northern Lords. My uncle can only say so much to convince them."
"You don't think they'll obey their Warden?"
"I don't know. They're hard sons of bitches who don't forget a slight easily. 'The North remembers', as the saying goes. They're not going to just forget about what House Targaryen has done to them in the past two decades. What I do know for certain is that they are men and women of action. Perhaps we can find a way to prove we're on their side before they decide to let my uncle fight the Greyjoys alone."
Dany considered the conundrum for some time. Jon had told her about the people of the North many times before. She'd wanted to know as much about his home as she could—the lands, the people, their culture and history…It was enlightening to hear about the faraway Kingdom of ice and snow.
Given everything Jon had told her over the past several months—and sometimes Jorah, since he'd also grown up in the North—Dany knew more about the North than any other Kingdom in Westeros.
They were a hardened, stubborn people, as set in their ways as the unthawing ice that made up the Wall deep in the North. Until her ancestors came to Westeros, they had been ferociously independent and unwilling to give the southern Kingdoms any sort of dominance over them.
"We'll think of something," she murmured, taking Jon's hand and squeezing it tight. "We should talk to your family and decide on what to do. If we make any big decisions without the Warden of the North's approval, they might see us as would-be conquerers. That will only push them further away from us, don't you think?"
"Aye," he admitted. "You're right. I just worry…"
Dany twisted her head and kissed him sweet. "We'll be fine, my love."
Jon returned the affection, humming against her mouth before they nestled close together. Once they were as comfortably settled in as they could manage, sleep found them quickly.
Ned was in the courtyard of Winterfell some days after he'd told the North the truth of Jon Snow, dealing with some of his bannermen who continued to pester him with questions about his nephew.
He couldn't really blame them, even if they were driving him mad. He'd turned the heads of every soul in his Kingdom. Robert's Rebellion had been built on a lie, even if none of them had known it until the bloodshed was already over.
Of course, the questions about Jon weren't his only issues. Tyrion Lannister was still in his castle since Robb and Catelyn had suspicions that the dwarf was involved in Bran's accident somehow. Though Ned was more certain by now that Tyrion had nothing to do with it—especially since the "evidence" was a note from Peter Baelish to Catelyn, which Ned distrusted deeply.
That being said, he could hardly let Tyrion go home right now. Not with Joffrey and Cersei calling for his head, and Tywin's forces stirring according to reports from the south. More than that, it would be seen as a sign of weakness to his bannermen, who were already on-edge after Ned's declaration of Jon's true parentage. So it was that the dwarf was an unofficial hostage for the time being.
Now Theon followed Ned at his side, a scowl on his face. "Please, Lord Stark! Asha will side with us, I know she will! She'll choose us over Euron if you give her a chance!"
"I told you, I'll think about it," he answered. "It's been a long time since you've seen your sister, Theon. I won't judge her until I meet her, but right now she's in Euron's ranks."
"Why should we trust a squid in Euron's fleet?" Greatjon demanded, causing Theon to sneer at the huge man. "She's probably kissing his feet like the rest of them!"
"Don't talk about my sister like that!" Theon snarled. "Our uncle is a madman! For all I know, she's a prisoner on Pyke!"
"Or maybe she's fighting for your uncle like a good little Ironborn," Lord Bolton said mockingly. "Spreading her legs for whoever—"
"Shut up," Robb snapped.
Bolton's eyes flashed. "You aren't the Warden of the North, boy! You give me another order—"
"SHUT UP!" Robb roared, causing the whole courtyard to quiet and turn towards him, staring. But he wasn't fixated on the Lord of the Dreadfort. He held a hand up when Lord Bolton made to spit back a biting retort, pointing to his ear. "Listen!"
Ned stopped walking and cocked his head, mirroring his son. He heard the faint bustle of people around Winterfell, the wind blowing through the keep…but there was a strange series of thuds far and away, steadily growing louder…
"What is that?" Theon asked, frowning. "What's that noise?"
The quiet was suddenly shattered by a roar unlike anything Ned had heard before. His eyes jerked upwards, growing wide.
From the blanket of clouds above Winterfell, a great shape descended in the light of the sun, now falling past its zenith. The wings spread vast lengths, further than he could have imagined. It began to circle above the castle as it came lower to the ground, loosing another bellow to declare its return to the North.
"DRAGON!" One of his men yelled on the wall. Shouts and screams filled the air.
Ned's mouth fell open as he took in the sheer size of the beast, now flying so closely to Winterfell's highest tower that it darkened the ground beneath it. Old Gods save him, the dragon was over a hundred feet long, and its wings were twice that length from tip to tip. Its jaws were nearly large enough to nearly swallow a horse from what Ned could tell. When it roared, it drowned out all other sounds, and its wingbeats pounded the air like distant thunder.
Suddenly, the stories of Jon taking on an entire Dothraki khalasar with this creature alone were a lot more believable.
Frostfyre wheeled around Winterfell several times as Ned shouted for his bannermen to join him outside the south gate—he could see the dragon slowly descending there.
He stopped with Robb and Theon at his flanks, and Catelyn just behind him with Sansa, Bran—carried by Hodor—and Rickon. Their wolves joined them, the younger ones whining nervously until Blackfreeze silenced them with a snarl. At their backs stood the Lords of the North and their men, who watched the dragon with wary, fearful eyes as she lowered herself to the frozen earth.
She was just as Ned remembered, he reflected. The beast's scales were the color of freshly fallen snow, with grey frills along her neck like clouds filled with frozen bounty. Her claws were black as pitch, the eyes piercing, royal violets.
Frostfyre flapped her wings more rapidly as she neared the ground, kicking up her own miniature blizzard before she simply dropped down onto her back legs with a heavy impact. The wings folded up so the beast could stand on her clawed joints, and the dragon lifted her head high to roar once again.
Blackfreeze howled in response at Ned's side, thunderous and loud, though even his cry did not drown out the world as the dragon's did. Even so, Frostfyre tilted her head at the wolf, eyes gleaming with unsettling intelligence.
Then the dragon…knelt, for lack of a better word. She held her body close to the ground, and Ned's breath caught.
He saw the shapes on the dragon's back shifting. Jon slowly helped Arya down Frostfyre's wing first, and then a girl with silver hair who could only be Daenerys Targaryen.
He didn't approach—the dragon was passive for now, but her lips were curled back into a sneer that exposed massive fangs, sharper than swords. Anxious as he was to see his daughter and nephew again, he was not stupid enough to approach Frostfyre.
She was not so little he could put her into a cage again.
Daenerys slipped her hand into Jon's, and then they were approaching Ned with Arya on Jon's other side. The dragon lifted herself back up, but she continued to watch them all from above. Though she was not as tall as the eighty-foot high outer walls of the castle, she was an imposing presence nonetheless.
Arya was quick to rush up to him, leaping into Ned's arms and hugging him tight. "Father!"
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Welcome home, little wolf."
She pulled back, grinning widely, and he could see in her gleaming eyes that Arya had seen things she'd once only dreamt of. What must it have been like, Ned wondered, for her to ride a dragon just like Visenya Targaryen of old, the warrior Dragon Queen she'd so long admired?
He looked up as Jon approached, smiling large at the sight of his family. Even so, he dipped his head somewhat nervously. "Lord Stark."
"Gods, none of that, Jon," Ned ordered, releasing Arya so he could wrap Jon up in his arms and hug him tight. Jon was quick to return the affection, squeezing with strength he didn't have when he left Winterfell.
And taller—Lyanna's boy was almost as tall as Ned was now. He was coming into the impressive height Rhaegar's blood had passed onto him. There was a new scar on his face, just below his left eye, and he wondered what had caused it.
Jon pulled back and then glanced at his companion, who seemed somewhat anxious. "Uncle, this is my Queen, Daenerys Targaryen."
The title was significant—by naming her his Queen, Ned realized the two of them had married. He was only briefly startled by the revelation, but not at all surprised.
"My Lord," she curtsied, offering him a smile. Ned took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, returning a smile of his own.
"I'm glad to see you doing well, Your Grace," he murmured. "Welcome to Winterfell."
"I've longed to see this place for many years now," she told him. "Jon has told me so much about the North and his home."
She sounded excited, even if she still looked a bit nervous. Ned couldn't blame her for that, but he relaxed upon hearing her words. She wasn't here reluctantly. He watched as her eyes flickered to the dire wolves, and he saw no fear—simply curiosity.
Jon was fascinated, as well. "Dire wolves?"
"Aye. Found them not long after you left to go save Daenerys."
"They're beautiful," Dany exclaimed. "What are their names?"
Ned already liked her. "This one here is mine. Blackfreeze. He's the father of the pups. Robb's is Grey Wind, Sansa's is Lady, Bran's is Summer, Rickon's is Shaggy Dog, and Arya's is—"
"Nymeria!" Arya exclaimed, leaping for a wolf standing close to Sansa and Lady. She knelt as the dire wolf jumped for her, bowling the girl over and covering her face in licks.
Jon looked at the white wolf seated next to Blackfreeze. "And who is this?"
"Ghost," Ned answered. "He was the runt of the litter, a bit quieter than the others. He stayed with me for a time before Blackfreeze joined us."
Dany knelt and held her hand out to the white wolf, whistling to encourage him. "Come on, little one. I will not hurt you."
Ghost's tail wagged as he approached her, first sniffing, then licking her hand. Dany laughed, moving to pet him. "He's so soft!"
Jon was smiling down at her fondly and Ned could see that the boy was a goner. Daenerys had his heart in her hand, no questions asked.
His nephew turned briefly towards the dragon. "This is Frostfyre. She doesn't like strangers much, but she won't harm you unless you deserve it."
The dragon snorted out a cloud of frozen air, making a low rumble in her throat. Jon watched her for a few moments longer, and then Frostfyre turned in-place so she was facing away from Winterfell. Ned watched as the dragon took several steps before launching herself back into the sky with a shriek. She wheeled around in the air, turning northward, and flew off out of sight beyond Winterfell.
"Where's she going?" Arya asked.
"Off to hunt," Jon answered. "She's hungry from the flight, and she likes her peace and quiet. She won't threaten our people, you have my word."
Ned nodded. His nephew knew the dragon well, and he trusted Jon's judgement. "Very well. Let's get you three inside, shall we? You look like you need some warmer clothes, and we have much to speak about."
"Thank you," Jon smiled at him. Dany stood up, pulling away from Ghost, and took Jon's hand again as they followed the Warden of the North into Winterfell with his family and bannermen.
Notes:
Woohoo, let's try this again. Look forward to the next chapter.