Jon knelt low, he ensured his legs shifted as little grass as possible. Wrapped in his tan cloak he did his best to blend in with the vegetation around him. He looked down from the hilltop, watching a trio of deer mill around a pond.
"Now watch carefully," Val whispered from beside him.
"I know how to hunt," Jon replied.
"Sure, my vitulf, you know how to hunt like a lordling."
Val's arrow flew straight and fast, slamming straight into the animal's neck, almost going clean through. The buck staggered into the water, took a few frantic steps, then dropped into the pond, shocking the other deer into running off.
Jon frowned, "You're just unnaturally good."
Val dropped a kiss on his cheek then cheerfully trotted toward her prey. Of course as a proper gentleman Jon trussed up the corpse and dragged it back to their camp.
The New Gift was depressing. It took Jon a few days to appreciate the haunting beauty of its abandoned landscape. Abandoned was really the most operative word for the Gift.
After leaving Umber lands, Jon had expected to reach their first village within the week until they found the tower of Queenscrown and its surroundings empty. Unfortunately, when they doubled back the next town (marked on the map he'd received at Last Hearth) was abandoned. The next one was half-burnt. The one after that didn't even exist, Mari found half a shed sunken into the mud; the settlement had been swallowed by some winter storm decades ago. Jon was surprised then, when he spotted six people standing with Mari and Beorn around their horses.
"Jon!" Mari called out.
Ghost and Crag were prowling a ways off, they'd kept themselves sated on nearby rabbits and were circling back.
"Greetings," Jon directed to the newcomers.
They were dressed sparingly in thick furs but the abundance of cloth and wool marked them as Northerners. There were four men and two young women. The two oldest men had thin grey beards and were watching Jon with some mixture of skepticism and amazement. One carried an axe but the other had a weathered sword at his waist.
A younger man leaned forward, "Is that him then?"
The old men glanced at each other and nodded. They might even be twins, Jon thought.
"He's got the look of Lord Rickard, but my memory isn't what it used to be," the one with the sword remarked.
Jon stepped forward drawing himself up (he ignored Val's snickering), "I am Jon Ghostark, son of Lord Eddard Stark," he declared.
That set their visitors chattering. The twin with the sword, the most confident of the group, stepped forward, "My name is Lief, my brother and I are farmers nearby, we noticed your camp yesterday and you obviously aren't a band of wildlings."
Lief threw a quick glance at the mask attached to Jon's waist, "What are you doing so far from the Kingsroad, Lord Ghostark?"
"By order of King Robert, the New Gift is being returned to the ownership of the North. I've been granted these holdings by my father," Jon explained.
Lief's eyes widened, "What does that mean for us?"
"Right now? As far as I can tell, nothing. We don't even know how many people still live in the Gift now," Jon explained.
"Very few. We trade with a few farmsteads and I know there's cattle herders farther east. In our grandfather's time there were still villages, even a good sized town off the road to Last Hearth," Lief told them, "There's not much to be a Lord of, I'm afraid."
"My father and I have plans for that," Jon replied, "the Gift is too important to be left so fallow."
"What about the Wildlings?" Lief's twin asked.
Jon glanced north before asking, "How have the raids been this past year?"
That brought the farmers up short. It was one of the women who spoke up first, "They've been quiet, I think only one in the past 10 moons."
Jon was hesitant to reveal too much, the people of the Gift had a complicated history with the Free Folk.
"Things are changing," he settled on.
They exchanged a few more words. Leif was kind enough to update Jon's map. The younger folk, who he learned were not Leif's grandchildren but a collection of orphans he'd taken in over the years, were able to point out where the most well known ruins in the Gift were. The kind of places that had been seats of power, with grim legends and haunted stories.
Though there were plenty of holdfasts and towers in the Gift, Jon and his group had passed two before leaving the Kingsroad, they simply lacked the proper resources and defenses to build and expand. For a Masterly House, enough space to build their walls, stable and storehouse was perfect. A true Lordly House requires more. The capacity to house their men at arms, to hold large councils, withstand a siege and shelter the people during winter. None of those ruined forts felt equipped for those roles.
Jon took out five silver stags from his pouch, "For your help, Lief, it does not go unappreciated."
The older man took it graciously, "It was no burden, Lord Ghostark. I hope to live long enough to see your banner fly across our fields."
They parted ways a few hours before dusk and continued on. With a concrete direction, Beorn led them west, towards the mountains.
Unlike what the great maps of the Citadel would tell you, the border between Brandon's Gift and the New Gift wasn't well-defined. Maester Luwin realized that according to King Jaehaerys' Royal Decree there was no separation at all, the Gift had just been extended by twenty-five leagues. Meaning King Robert's revoke of the decree had technically given Jon rule over the entire Gift, everything except the Wall itself. A mistake Jon could only infer was caused by Lord Arryn's sudden decline.
Jon and his father doubted the Night's Watch would be happy with a legal loophole taking away their autonomy. Instead, their compromise was that everything north of Mole's Town would remain under the Watch's authority. It was a sad fact that the Brotherhood did not have the resources or manpower to contest the Starks' decision if they disagreed with it.
Val turned to Mari and asked, "Any sign of a Godswood, Skytongue?"
Mari paused and looked up to the rapidly darkening sky, her eyes turned misty between one blink and the next, "Yes, close by, nestled next to a small river," she declared.
Her birds were faster scouts than any man on horseback. It was rare that Mari missed anything under the open sky.
Beorn adjusted their course to follow the sounds of water rushing over stone. A humble Godswood with no Heart Tree grew from a moist patch of soil layered into a hill. Mari's birds were already there, snacking on berries and worms they'd drudged up. There was thick enough cover for a camp that night.
While the rest of them prepped the elk for dinner, Mari wandered over to the thickest tree trunk and laid down with one hand on the roots.
"Wake me when it's ready," Mari asked as she nodded off.
Beorn rolled his eyes, "I wish she would at least help get the tents setup before dreaming."
Mari was certain that their next clue to finding the Three Eyed Crow would come by communing with the Old Gods. Every night that she could, she would put herself into a trance and reach out for other Greenseers.
Seeking out others was a new concept to Jon. Beorn said it was exceedingly rare. There were few Greenseers who could actively shape their own dreams. Mari was convinced it was a matter of time before she saw their next step clearly.
Val was of the opinion that things were fine as they were. She was under the open sky, got to hunt and travel below-the-wall without being killed, and had her husband to warm the furs at night.
"When you become a Lord, what does that mean for me?" She asked that night by the river.
Jon looked at her, the bright blonde hair he loved so much was washed by the low coals of the campfire.
"Well," he started, "If you're willing, I'd marry you in front of the Heart Tree of Winterfell. I'd put my cloak around your shoulders so that my people will know I chose you, the same way your people know you chose me."
Val smiled wide, "What about these ruins you're looking for? Doesn't that mean your father will build a castle for you?"
"Aye, that's the plan. From my new seat, I'll have to begin settling people here, get the farms and towns built, and figure out customs and taxes. It's going to take a long time, probably my whole life," Jon said.
"Do you think there's a place for a Free Folk spearwife in your kneeler castle?" Val asked.
Jon knew that if Val stayed with him and found life unsatisfying she'd leave. She'd return to her sister without looking back.
"I think that if anyone wants to be the Lady of the Gift they'll have to be prepared for a wild land, with wild people," Jon leaned over and cupped Val's cheek, "She'll need to be strong and able to handle the duties that fall onto her."
Val hesitated, "What if such a woman didn't want such responsibility? Didn't want people to kneel to her?"
"Then a Lord would have to be happy with whatever time his Lady gave him," Jon told her.
Val's eyes widened then she turned over, nestled back into him and promptly went to sleep. Jon rarely made Val speechless, so he took it as a victory.
/
The mountains of The Gift were different from the ones on Skagos. They were larger for one and they began as steady inclines climbing up and up. Beorn's home island was basically one giant peak.
Along the very edge of the Old Mountains, where even the clans had abandoned, was their destination. Beorn looked from the snow-capped peaks down to the ancient walls they were riding towards. Mari's trio of birds circled above while Ghost and Crag kept alert for danger. Val and Jon were following a goat path around the old structure.
"That's it?" Mari snorted.
"That's it," Beorn snidely replies, "I tell you we're about to visit a castle older than White Harbor, with who knows how many artifacts hidden inside, and all you can say is 'that's it'."
"Not all of us spent hours sitting with the elders instead of doing chores," Mari shot back.
Beorn couldn't help but mutter, "Not all of us were allowed to sit at Father's knee instead of doing chores."
Mari glared at him as he urged his horse forward.
The stone cut walls were rough and worn down, without a caretaker the mountain snows buried this place each winter. Still, Beorn could trace the perimeter of a half circle that started at a high cliff and rounded up the north side to a steep craggy hill. There were a few large gaps where the ground had slouched and sunk. Still water ponds fed by a steady rain drop from broken cobblestone dotted the grass and gravel by the foot of the walls. There were a few strong streams a ways south fed from the mountains.
Some features had lived through the storms and sunshine. Behind the walls were stone huts built like domes, only four or five remained standing, and he was stretching the definition for them. A few were narrow and tall, like beehives, and others were wide and squat with grass and moss crawling over them. Beorn had guessed that the landmark was old, nearly everything this far north was. The domes were a surprise though. Their insides were almost barren except for mud caked bronze fixtures attached to the roof and frozen in the ground.
He noticed Maw and Ghost sniffing around the tall mound nestled into the back of the grounds, gripped tight to the cliff face. There was a thick carpet of vegetation growing over it. It was peculiar, the hill would have been reserved for the Lord's hall but there was not a single wall or stone left there, simply plants. Beorn went out through a gap in the wall to find his companions.
Val had wandered farther uphill to investigate a trio of smaller stone structures. Cones, large enough for a person to sit inside. There were no visible openings, only a set of runes carved into the sides. Beorn only made out the inscription after walking closer.
"Hold on, Val," Beorn warns, "read the rune."
"It says 'Keep Safe'" She remarked, "I thought it was some kind of grave."
"It's probably something valuable, but those extra marks along the top and bottom alter the meaning. 'Keep Safe from Others' becomes 'Keep Safe for Others'" Beorn explains, "It's used for warning about dangerous things. A Shepherd built these."
"You think whatever is buried in these things is cursed?" Val asked.
"Perhaps," Beorn said.
He went back to his horse and pulled a wrap of boiled linen out and wrapped it across his mouth and nose and pulled a small kit out of his camping supplies. When he returned, Jon and Mari had joined Val in examining the cairns.
"Let's see what kind of curse we've found," Beorn said.
Carefully gripping one of the flat rock sheets, he pulled it out of the wall, waiting to see if the whole structure collapsed. Beorn lit a small candle and held it up to the opening, "No bad air."
He then peered into the opening and noticed the sunlight behind him reflected something.
"Let's open this up," Beorn told them.
Inside wasn't a skeleton as Beorn suspected, but a small pile of rotten clothes, jewelry and a helmet laid overtop a buried urn. The others were the same, all seemingly common items made of bronze, some silver and the occasional gemstone. It was strange.
"Why would these be cursed?" Mari wondered.
"Could be any reason," Jon said while he poked through another cache. "The Mountain Clans are more superstitious than most."
Val made a sound of surprise and reached into her own treasure trove.
Everyone turned to see the Spearwife hold up a tin case with a thistle engraving. She pulled off the lid and inside was a large bundle of wilted, crumbling herbs. Val took a quick sniff and frowned, "Juniper, I think"
Beorn is the first to catch on, "Illness?"
He rechecked and found a similar case underneath the helmet.
Juniper was a remedy for a number of illnesses, Honey Urine especially. If these were funeral cairns and every single one of the people buried here had carried juniper, then they must have been surrounded by the sick. Maybe the ones who buried them were worried the sickness had been carried by their bones and belongings too.
"Plague," Beorn concluded.
Jon looked up terrified, "Are we in danger?"
Val shook her head, "Not if Crag and Ghost are willing to be here. Whatever sickness took these people died with them."
"Also, whoever survived returned later," Beorn added.
Mira raised her eyebrows, "How do you figure that?"
Beorn gestured towards the barren hill peaking over the walls, "They came back and dismantled the hall. Probably used the wood and mortar to construct their new home."
"What do you think, Jon? Is this the future seat of House Ghostark?" Mari asked.
Jon scratched his chin in tandem with Ghost, "I'm not sure. It's a good candidate. I think those paths lead farther into the mountains, I wouldn't be surprised if there's some mineable rock there. I could probably negotiate a trade for lumber with the Night's Watch and work out a trade deal with the closest Clans." He took a moment to take in the wide fields around them, "It's a straight shot to the Kingsroad and that means an easy route to the Umbers."
Beorn smiled. There was Jon talking about his land without hesitation, without shame. The boy who had tagged along down into Wintertown. The boy who wanted more but was afraid to reach for it. The boy who would become the Lord of the Gift.
Regardless of his dreamless sleep, Beorn felt a shiver in his soul. Jon's land, no matter where the man settled, was important. He frowned, back on Skagos the two of them had talked over the fire about Jon's future. The times Val had convinced her husband to indulge in Skagosi ale, his cousin had talked about having a castle, being someone Eddard Stark could be proud of. They would make drunken speculations about where Jon would settle, who he would rule. For some reason Beorn had always felt that Jon didn't belong in the south, nor the east, nor the west. The Whitewolf belonged in the north. As far north as he could go.
Beorn shook his head. Whipping the thoughts away as he listened to Mari give directions to the next Godswood.
Their map showed a cluster of ruins on the coast of the Bay of Seals. They'd give Mari a few more days of dreaming and then head east. Time was passing and the cold was creeping into every breath.
/
Hello! It's been almost a year! Thanks to everyone who has sent me messages and reviews. I am back in the saddle and writing. We have returned with Jon and Co. in the North. We'll be following them as they scope out the Gift and maybe further than that. Who knows when the Three-Eyed Crow will come calling?
I have two ideas for where Jon's keep should be and the second location will be shown off in the next chapter. Let me know if you have any ideas for a cool House Seat and maybe an interesting resource or feature!