authorsnote: woop woop, chapter 5
the response to this story has been awesome! keep the reviews/comments/guesses coming please!
hope you enjoy this chapter, slightly filler, but the next one is a big one!
songrecs: the archer - taylor swift
When individuals acted the same way for a long time it became normal. When people carried out tasks, performed duties, talked in a certain way, acted in a certain way, responded in the same kind it became ingrained, it became the new normal.
He knew that from his brief tenor as King, he knew that from when he had been a boy, and then just barely a man. He knew people adapted, changed yes, but with those changes came the new behaviour and it often stuck, becoming the new way of things.
As he watched Jon explain the plan to reveal them to the people of Winterfell, Sansa chipping in; nodding her head, her eyes fixed on Jon, his mind was on that.
It should have been on what was to come, revealing such magic to the people of the North. It should have been filled with nerves, the prospect of facing the men and women he had let down. He should have been wrecked with guilt (and he was in a sense), he should have been focused on the imminent announcement and the risks that came with that.
He should have been, but he wasn't.
Instead he was focused on his siblings. On Jon, his brother (regardless of who his Mother was), and Sansa, his little sister (though she was hardly little anymore).
It was the new normal that had sprung between them. As before the Stark pack had fractured, Jon and Sansa had at best tolerated one another. 'Half brother' she called him, and Jon had brooded so often he had ignored the sister who wanted nothing to do with him. Siblings barely, hardly even friends. There had been no overt animosity, just little affection, or regard.
And oh, how that had changed almost as much as the siblings themselves. As when he looked at them, talking and presenting, he first considered how they'd changed as individuals.
He remembered that from battlefield tactics, break it down at the simplest level before becoming more complex.
And so, he started with Jon.
Jon had clearly changed. From a shy, brooding boy he had become a King. He wore the crown heavy, Robb could see that, and he had done the same. However, with a twist of bitterness Robb could see that Jon wore it better. He didn't even wear an actual crown! And that spoke volumes of him as a leader. He put his duty first, it was clear in the way he spoke, clear he put his duties and responsibilities above all else. The weight of the world looked as though it rested on Jon's shoulders.
He was strong, with some new scars. His accent harsher, and he had a weathered look in his eye, he had experienced even more than Robb had, and Robb felt a chill in his bones at that, that Jon who had gone to the Wall and had experienced so much he had come back a King.
Then he turned his gaze to Sansa.
Perhaps the change in his sister was even more profound. He could see Jon retained some of his old qualities, the brooding, the insecurities he hid much, much better now, and the hint towards self-doubt, but with Sansa he could see little of the younger sister he remembered.
Sure, she looked similar, the red hair, the blue eyes so similar to his. She looked like his Mother, a Lady for all purposes. But that was where the similarities to the girl he'd known ended.
She still held her courtesies, but he could see she used them now as a weapon. In a way she charmed and made the servants feel validated, to the way she spoke now, neutral, and calm when discussing something so anxiety inducing. Her courtesies were her armour and he hated himself for allowing this to happen to her, as no doubt Kings Landing had caused it.
She was harder as well. He remembered her as a little girl, terrified of spiders, squealing, and running from the crypts when Jon had pretended to be a ghost, crying when she had a skinned knee. Now her face was impassive, the set of her shoulders determined, and as Jon spoke of what the Northern Lords had endured, she didn't flinch, she didn't turn away, she sat stoic as Jon recounted the horror of the Bolton's and why that had ensured the Northern Lords loyalty for years to come.
"Loyalty to you" His Mother spat out and he resisted the urge to scowl. He saw Jon and Sansa tense at that, and he knew that would be a problem, a big one.
It also made him think of his next observation. Of how Jon and Sansa had changed as individuals, but also how they had changed in their relationship.
Once Sansa had scoffed at Jon, now she offered him a smile she had offered no one else. Once Jon had rolled his eyes at her, now he turned to get her opinion, to take her seriously, to nod as she interjected. Once they had ignored one another, now they sat close, bounced off one another, complimented one another.
He felt a hint of anxiety and concern when it reminded him of his Mother and Father, sat opposite.
They even looked similar! Jon had always taken after their Father the most (as had it pained his Mother), and Sansa took after their Mother in more ways than one. They looked a mirror image if one squinted, and the way they acted was similar.
But then it even went beyond. He was reminded of being in the solar, the way they'd spoken without words, as if it were their own language. A nod, a raised eyebrow, a frown, a shrug, their own way of communicating, there was an intimacy to that.
Robb glanced over at his Father and he knew then, at the tension in his Fathers shoulders that he could see the same. He could see the familiarity and behaviour between Jon and Sansa, that had never been there before. It also wasn't quite sibling affection, it was something else, a deeper understanding.
When Robb looked at them he didn't see a brother and sister conversing, he saw two leaders, ruling.
He saw Jon, the King, and he saw Sansa, for all intents and purposes, the Queen, stood by Jon's side.
'The King in the North!'
He remembered with a headache the moment he had been crowned. Had Jon experienced something similar? Had the Northern Lords shouted for him? He remembered when he had been crowned his Mother had stood by his side fearful, he wondered if Sansa had stood by Jon, and if she had, would she had been fearful?
He glanced at her again as Jon spoke, and he realised, no, she wouldn't have been scared, but proud, just as she looked now.
It was a good thing he didn't want to be King, because he knew as he looked at Jon, head heavy with the weight of the crown, that even if Jon stepped aside, Sansa wouldn't let him.
Again, he glanced at Father who was looking at him now, had noticed his staring, and Robb quickly dropped his gaze. Could Father sense it too? As he turned back to Jon and Sansa, he was sure he could.
"So" Jon spoke then, and Robb tried to focus, he knew what was to come was more important than his concerns about Jon and Sansa, and how much they had changed, and so he tried to pay attention. "That's the plan"
"We'll go first" Sansa said with a nod, and again he struggled to focus on her words, but instead noticed the way Jon turned to her, giving her the complete respect, enthralled in her words, "We'll explain and then when we call you can come in"
Can come in… Robb almost bristled.
He wasn't jealous, he wasn't, he knew he could never be King, not again, not ever, he had failed the North in more ways than one, he knew that. But it was odd, to see Jon stood in that position, to be like a stranger in his own home. He wondered how he would feel when Jon sat in the head seat, where Father had once sat, where he had briefly and would be sitting.
Would he feel jealous or relieved?
As Sansa stood, encouraged them to rest and asked them to be at the hall by 6pm, he felt it would be a mixture of both. But still, he could barely focus on that, as he turned to watch Jon and Sansa leave, their heads bowed, conversing just the two of them, their hands brushing a hint as they made their way out of the door.
He turned back to his Father then who gave him a nod. Ahh, so it wasn't just him. His Mother had gone to Rickon, clearly her anger was blinding her to what was happening, but Father had seen.
Jon was not the Jon he knew, neither was Sansa, but that wasn't what worried him. No, as he thought back to their heads bowed, hands brushing, eyes wide, a nod of the head, he was, and he knew Father was worried. Just what was Jon and Sansa's relationship?
Brother and sister?
Friends?
King and Queen?
He didn't know, and that was most concerning of all.
She felt some nerves in her belly but quickly clamped down on those. There was no time for nerves, not now.
As she stood outside of the main hall (Jon brooding next to her, the rest of her family in the chamber next door), she reasoned with herself that there was no reason for her nerves. She was reasonably confident the Lords of the North would accept their explanation. They were devoted to her as the Eldest daughter of Eddard Stark, they loved the Lady of Winterfell who sewed soldiers clothes, ate broth in the courtyard with them and ruled fairly and justly. And even more so they were loyal to Jon, their King, the one who'd liberated them, risen from the dead, was their defender, their protector.
And so, no reason for her nerves.
And yet they persisted.
"Sansa" Jon shook her out of her own head then, something he was very good at doing. Sometimes she became too lost in her own thoughts, too preoccupied with her scheming and planning. Jon always bought her back to the world, back to Winterfell, and she offered him a soft smile as he held his arm out for her, to escort her into the main hall.
Like a King would a Queen.
She scolded herself a little then, she was no Queen, she hadn't been in Kings Landing, she wasn't here.
No matter how much she wanted.
'I will remember, Your Grace. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me'
Love her they did, but she was no Queen.
With a small smile on her features, a guarded smile, she took Jon's arm and they walked into the hall. The men and women, Lords and Ladies, wildlings, and Northmen, and some from the Vale all rose as they walked in. She sat first but they remained standing, only taking their seats when Jon did.
Their King.
"My Lords" Jon held up a hand before anyone could speak, the Northmen and wildlings were a rowdy bunch and they had both agreed it would be better to get this news out now, right at the start, to then debate, rather than to drop it and leave.
Jon glanced at her and she dipped her head, he looked a little nervous, she hoped the nerves weren't clear on her features, she hoped she looked impassive.
She glanced over at Lord Baelish then, who was stood against the wall, away from the Northmen, he raised an eyebrow at her, both concern and a little suspicion on his features, though it was barely noticeable, damn, so she had betrayed something.
She tried to smooth her features out, like ice, as she looked to Jon, as he stood, as he spoke.
"Something has happened, a gift from the gods perhaps" He said, and then he glanced at her, and she nodded. Her strength was his strength, and his to hers. She missed the look Ser Davos gave them; she missed the smirk Tormund had. She was just focused on Jon.
"I was praying" Jon said, and the men nodded, religion was an odd thing in the North, no pomp and ceremony of the South, but a deep devotion to the Old Gods was part of the Northern way of life, it was in their blood, in their souls.
They were zealots in that regard, you didn't grow up in the North and not take the faith of the Old Gods.
She once had turned her back on them, and what a mistake that had been. The Old Gods were the only to look over her, even if they often didn't interfere.
'Your Father doesn't believe in the gods?' She had asked the Queen, eyes wide, aghast.
'He believes in them he just doesn't like them very much' She had rolled her eyes.
Perhaps that was where Sansa was. Did she like the gods? They had abandoned her in her time of need, but then she'd turned her back on them. Now they'd returned to help, she supposed she had to be indebted to them, loyal, for what they'd returned.
'I'm done with all of that' She'd said.
Perhaps she wasn't.
"And the Old Gods have decided to aid our fight" Jon said, as she snapped back to look at him, and then the mumbles started.
He looked at her again, and she nodded her head once more, as he did back. They'd agreed; words wouldn't be proof enough, and so Jon yelled.
"Come through"
For a moment there was silence, complete silence as in walked first her Father, then her Mother, then Robb, then Rickon, the direwolfs at heel. She registered then for the first time, the direwolfs remained the same size as they had been, Ghost dwarfed them now, more than he had even before.
Perhaps she focused on that, something small, easy, as the hall erupted.
Littlefinger spluttered, the Lords of the North spoke loudly, the wildlings were confused, Jon didn't even try to speak over the yelling, and yet Sansa reached over squeezed his hand, they needed to regain control, and now.
"My Lords!" Jon's voice boomed over the yelling, and silence fell again. It was odd, to go with the odd turn of events she supposed, silence, yelling, silence. She felt she might have whiplash, and she steadied herself as Jon spoke.
"This is a gift from the gods" He said, and she saw then, Jon knew exactly what to say, as the Lords seemed to calm, the wildlings nodded, the men of the Vale seemed skeptical but didn't say anything further. In fact, those who didn't believe what Jon had said were likely too shocked, but those who did, they seemed to immediately accept it.
Northern Faith, it made things much, much easier.
"Wine and ale" Sansa said, as the servants hurried into the hall, the surprise clear on their faces too, but not enough to deter them from their work.
Every individual in the hall seemed to slurp down at least two cups of drink, which she had anticipated, and thankful she'd planned. She knew for some a hard drink helped the process of news, and Jon smiled at her then, as their family took seats either side of them.
"How?" It was Lord Manderley that spoke first, and Jon nodded.
"I don't know" At least he was honest, but the Lords who'd accepted that their King had risen from the dead could more accept the 'I don't know' to how four more had risen.
She was suddenly thankful how many odd turns of events they'd experienced, it made even more strange news easily digestible.
"Why?" It was Lord Glover then.
"To aid our fight I'm sure" Jon said, but couldn't explain further than that, she knew Jon was wondering himself 'why', as did she, but they couldn't express any doubts, not now, not in the face of the men and women who trusted them.
That was something she'd learnt, never show doubt in front of subjects.
Would the next Queen know that?
"But you're still our King?" It was asked as a question, of course by little Lady Mormont, and as Jon seemed to pause, it was Sansa who spoke.
"Of course" She said, and she felt a sense of relief when the Northern Lords nodded and too looked relieved. "I am overjoyed to have my family back" She paused, smiled at them, for she was, truly, but that didn't change who her King was, nothing could do that. "But Jon is our King, no matter if Brandon the Builder himself emerges"
Laughter then and Jon smiled at her, she knew the right thing to say too.
Would the next Queen?
"Jon is my King" Her Father stood then, and she'd never felt more thankful for his honour, "He earned that place, I am just glad to assist by his side" Again she noticed her Mothers grimace.
But that was it then, the men nodded, any doubters settled. They all respected and trusted Lord Stark, and his word ensured no dissent, she doubted there would have been any, anyway, but it was good to have that clear.
"I will be putting together my war counsel this week" Jon said, and she was almost amazed at how quickly everyone settled, how quickly things were accepted and to move on.
More than once she'd felt a deep respect for the people of the North, but she'd never felt it stronger than that moment.
"I'll announce it at court this weeks end, but speak to individuals throughout this week. I'll also name some new Lordships" Jon said, and she noticed him glance at Robb, who smiled, and stood himself then.
"Jon is my King too" She felt a pang for Robb as he looked clearly guilty, "I'm sure he'll do better than I ever did" The right thing to say again, as some men smiled, some nodded, and the guilt in Robb's expression eased a touch, that matter put to bed too.
It couldn't have gone more perfectly. As food was served, as she took Jon's hand and smiled, as Littlefinger even excused himself (that was the imperfect part she knew), they'd jumped over one hurdle.
Only a thousand or so more to go.
She knew there'd be more questions, and many of the people of the North remained in shock, and would likely have stuff to ask once they recovered from it, but for now it was settled. She knew Jon as King was secure, and the explanation had been simple but believable – wasn't it the truth?
There would be questions and problems, but for now she breathed a sigh of relief, one problem managed, more to come yes, but one done.
Would the next Queen be able to manage more problems by Jon's side? She hoped not, she didn't want any Queen at Jon's side. He squeezed her hand again before releasing her to eat and she felt oddly cold. Which Queen would sit by his side and squeeze his hand next?
Why couldn't it be her?
The Wall loomed overhead, tall, like crystal, ice. It was powerful, a mark of strength, a mark of division, a mark of their past.
'If the Wall should ever fall, all the fires will go out'
'This wall is made o' blood'
'We walk beneath one of the hinges of the world'
"Bran?" Meera spoke, her voice gentle. She still grieved, he did not, grief was waning, grief was leaving him, so was everything else.
He could still feel some of himself, some element of Brandon Stark, but it was long fading. As the Three Eyed Crow had slipped from this realm, so was Brandon Stark.
He felt an urge to hold on, hold on to Brandon Stark, son of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Stark, brother of Robb, Jon, Sansa, Arya, Rickon, Prince of Winterfell. He felt the need to grasp, to hold onto that crippled boy, to not let go.
'Every flight begins with a fall'
'You will never walk again, Bran, but you will fly'
Would Brandon Stark fly? Or the Three Eyed Crow?
He was starting to wonder if they were the same thing.
"Bran" Meera spoke again, it was hard to pay attention, to get out of his own head but he nodded at her, he knew he needed to stay present, at least for the moment, at least for now.
"We're here" She said, and he nodded again, she seemed reassured he was responding, but he knew she was worried about him, knew she still hurt, still mourned.
He felt very little.
They had arrived at the Weirwood, in the shadow of the Wall, it was beautiful, red leaves vibrant against the snow, dripping sap making the face of the tree, the long strong branches. Strong, standing, powerful.
He wondered if the Others would harm it on their way past it, when they inevitably reached the Wall. Would they leave it unharmed? Or was there enough in them to want to destroy it? He didn't know, not yet.
He would.
For now though he had other things to find, other memories, other people. Jon. With a nod, he placed his hand to the Weirwood tree, the all-powerful conduit, his eyes rolled, and darkness came, before colour splashed back across his vision, the burnt gold of the sun, the yellow of the sand, the beige of the bricks of the tower.
The Tower of Joy.
Jon.
Soon he'd be home to tell the tale, as he finally managed to climb the tower steps, as he heard a babe's cry, saw a wet nurse with tears on her cheeks, blood, winter roses, Ice, 'Lyanna'.
Jon.
He'd need to tell the tale, and soon, the Others came, the Wall called, and Jon would need to know.
soo thoughts?
I know people will inevitably ask why the 'reveal' was so short - well, these northern ppl know jon rose from the dead, they know the others are coming, resurrection of other dead starks ain't as shocking as you'd think, and besides the fact it is so shocking makes sense for it to be short - more questions will come, and the next chapter is actually proving fun to write because there will be heavy northern lord/lady involvement, but for now they're processing and accepting. you believe in ice spiders, the dead rising ain't so shocking!
also, for people asking about pairings, who'd you like to see? tho I think you can guess the main one...
as always I do hope you enjoyed, the next chapter is proving beefy, and things will start picking up action wise soon, war comes after all! follow/fav for updates, and please do let me know your thoughts!
speak soon