The rest of the meeting was consumed by sombre rites, with the fallen warriors of the battle being named. Conversations then turned to the imminent gathering of the northern council, scheduled to convene within a moon's turn. Soon, the Northern Lords would converge upon Winterfell to pledge their allegiance to Sansa as Lady of the castle, a sentiment shared by Jon. However, amidst the discussions, Jon couldn't shake off his wariness towards the scheming Lord Baelish. The man's ingratiating smile concealed ulterior motives, of that Jon was certain.
Thankfully, there was no mention of the Freefolk, whose arrival wasn't expected for another fortnight. This respite, Jon hoped, would allow him to establish rapport with the lords already ensconced within the castle walls. Jon understood that the burden of ensuring everyone's survival rested on his shoulders, a responsibility that included safeguarding Sansa from the machinations of Littlefinger.
As he rose that morning, Jon had resolved to keep his distance from Sansa, at least until he had vented his frustrations on the training grounds. However, fate had other plans in store. Following their morning repast, Jon found himself detained, subjected to trial, acquitted, and then agreeing to accompany Sansa on a quest to find a rare white gyrfalcon in the wolfswood. With a wry twist of thought, Jon couldn't help but muse: "So much for keeping my distance."
The enormous Wolfswood covered the northwestern expanse of the North. It stretched from Sea Dragon Point in the west to the outskirts of Torrhen's Square in the south. Bound by the Bay of Ice to the north and the rugged lands of the northern mountain clans to the north-east.
To the east, the Wolfswood brushed against the walls of Winterfell. Its dense canopy extending northward and southward from the castle's confines. Nestled within the southeastern corner of the Wolfswood, just south of Winterfell, lay a serene lake, its tranquil waters fed by a tributary of the White Knife.
Throughout the Wolfswood, a rich variety of flora flourished, from sturdy oaks to steadfast evergreens. Sentinels kept their vigil in the shadows, while soldier pines stood alongside hawthorn, beech, ash, chestnuts, ironwoods, firs, and the occasional weirwood. Abundant in resources, the Wolfswood offered timber and stone aplenty to those who dared to venture within its depths.
Yet, it was not only the flora that called the Wolfswood home. Wolves prowled the dim recesses of its glades, their haunting cries echoing through the night. They were not alone, creatures of all kinds roamed: badgers tunnelled beneath the forest floor, bears lumbered through the under-brush, and boars rooted amidst fallen foliage.
Deer darted between the trees, while elks tread along hidden pathways. Fish darted through crystalline streams, foxes darted amongst the undergrowth, rabbits darted beneath the ferns, and tree-cats prowled the branches above, their amber gaze alight with curiosity. In the heart of the Wolfswood, nature reigned supreme, untamed, and wild.
Sansa had long relished the art of falconry, finding both beauty and challenge in the sport. In King's Landing, she had showed her prowess, outperforming Lady Margaery whenever they flew the birds together. However, after her discussion with Jon regarding skin-changing, Sansa couldn't help but wonder if her affinity for falcons hinted at a deeper connection, perhaps even foreshadowing her own potential for such abilities. Thus, once the trial had concluded, Sansa, Jon, and Ghost made plans to venture beyond Hunter's Gate in search of a falcon to call her own.
In the northeastern reaches of the Wolfswood, secluded enclaves devoid of towering trees gave way to tundra-covered cliffs. It was here that another majestic creature found its domain: the greater white gyrfalcon, known as the Wolfswood falcon.
This magnificent predator claimed the title of the largest falcon in the known world, its pristine plumage a breathtaking sight against the rugged landscape. In summer, its pure white feathers stood out in stark contrast, while in winter, they blended with the snow-covered terrain. Adorned with scattered specks of grey upon its back, the Wolfswood falcon exuded an aura of regal grace. Its features were captivating, boasting a pale blue beak and eyes that ranged in hue from golden to obsidian.
A mature female of the species commanded awe with a wingspan stretching up to seven feet and a stature reaching two and a half feet in height. In her prime, this magnificent raptor could tip the scales at around four pounds, a weight that Jon suspected might be too much for Sansa.
"We're searching for one less than a year old," Sansa informed Jon as she packed the gauntlets and jesses. "The younger, the better, but we must be cautious. If they're too young, the parents might see us as a threat."
"That's where Ghost comes in handy," Jon replied with a smile as he offered to help Sansa in mounting her horse, a gesture befitting a lady, though he knew she was more than capable on her own.
Sansa grumbled about riding, but her skill in the saddle was undeniable. When it came to pursuits she desired, such as evading the watchful eyes of Littlefinger to seek a falcon, she was prepared to forge ahead.
Sansa chuckled. "You believe Ghost could protect us from the wrath of the fledgling Wolfswood falcon's parents? Even bears would think twice before challenging them."
Memories of Orell's eagle attacking Ghost lingered in Jon's mind, a haunting reminder of the dangers that lurked in the wild. Perhaps it was wise to keep Ghost at a safe distance. "Aye, I reckon you're right," he conceded. "How do you intend to locate one?"
"As long as she's not an adult, we shouldn't have trouble finding her," Sansa assured him.
Jon mounted his horse, curious. "You're certain the falcon is female?"
Sansa nodded, a confident smile gracing her lips. "I know she's out there. She'll come to me."
"How can you be so sure?" Jon asked, puzzled, wondering if Sansa had already formed a bond with a bird but was waiting to find it.
"I've brought some rabbit in my saddlebag. They have a fondness for rabbits," she chuckled.
Jon felt a pang of embarrassment. Sansa possessed more expertise in falconry than he did. "I'll trust your judgment," he replied, as they rode out of the gates and into the woods.
As they ventured into the Wolfswood, the landscape shifted from the pristine white of snow-covered grounds to hardened earth, the dense canopy above blocking most of the snowfall. Jon couldn't help but be reminded of days long past, when he had roamed these woods with his father, Robb, Theon, Jory, and Ser Rodrick. It was a simpler time, now lost to the ravages of war, with most of those companions now lying in graves.
"What's on your mind?" Sansa's voice broke through Jon's reverie.
"I was thinking about the hunts we used to embark on," Jon replied, his tone heavy with nostalgia. "Elk, boar, deer... and the comrades who would join us. Now, only Theon and I remain. And even Theon's identity is uncertain, given his recent transformation."
A wave of sorrow washed over Jon. "I suppose I too could be counted among the fallen. Yet it feels like just yesterday we were all together in these woods. "How did we lose so many in such little time, Sansa?" Tears threatened to spill from Jon's eyes.
"I'm not sure, Jon," Sansa sighed. Since reclaiming Winterfell, she had tried to avoid dwelling on the losses they had endured. Yet Jon's mention of it brought a wave of distress. "But what I know is that they would want us to carry on. To fight with everything we have. That's where my falcon will be useful," she added with a resigned sigh. "It will protect me."
Jon chuckled at her words. "Aye, birds of prey are quite adept at protecting their humans. Want to know how I got this scar?" He gestured towards the scar near his eye.
"What happened?" Sansa asked, intrigued.
"An eagle. Belonged to one of the Free Folk. It caused quite a commotion for Ghost too," Jon explained.
As they continued their journey through the woods, they fell into a companionable silence. Ghost bounded ahead, chasing what appeared to be a woodland hare, while their horses trotted behind, navigating through the trees with ease. The air from their nostrils billowed out in white puffs, like smoke in the cold air.
The forest was almost silent, devoid of the usual buzzing of insects. It felt eerily silent, as if nature itself held its breath. Jon likened it to the sound of winter, which, in truth, it already was. Yet, he pushed aside the thought, unwilling to dwell on what lay beyond the wall. He spotted Ghost sitting patiently in a clearing up ahead, waiting for them, much like Sansa had.
"What's he doing there?" Sansa asked, puzzled.
"I'm not sure," Jon admitted with a shrug, urging his horse forward with Sansa in tow.
When they arrived, Ghost was still in the same spot, patiently waiting for them. The clearing they had stumbled upon was a serene oasis amidst the rugged wilderness. At its centre lay a sizeable pool, its waters reflecting the dim light like liquid obsidian. Encircled by jagged rocks and flanked by a small cliff adorned with a trickling waterfall, the scene was breathtaking. Snow blanketed the ground, its pristine surface sparkling under the soft glow of the winter sun, while delicate icicles formed a crystalline curtain around the waterfall.
"It's beautiful," Sansa gasped, her eyes wide with wonder. "We could have our picnic here," she suggested, her voice filled with excitement.
"Aye, I suppose so," Jon agreed, taking in the tranquil surroundings.
He couldn't help but reminisce about his past visits to this clearing, when he had roamed these woods with Robb during the carefree days of summer. Back then, the air had been alive with the melodies of birds and the hum of insects, lending an enchanting quality to the forest. But now, in the hushed stillness of winter, the clearing took on an ethereal charm of its own. As long as they remained undisturbed by any unwelcome visitors, it was indeed the perfect spot for a picnic.
Jon dismounted his horse first, ensuring it was securely tied to a nearby tree, before assisting Sansa down from her own dapple-grey palfrey. Once both feet were firmly planted on the ground, Sansa set about finding a suitable spot for their picnic.
Once the horses were tied up, Jon set about gathering some wood from the dry ground to build a fire. To his surprise, the fallen branches provided ample fuel, making the task easier than expected. Meanwhile, Sansa discovered a ledge nestled beneath the cliff, offering a dry and smooth surface perfect for sitting and tending to the fire.
As Sansa laid out a blanket, Jon busied himself with the task of building the fire. Despite the solemnity of the morning's trial, both were lost in their own thoughts, burdened by unspoken concerns they could not share. Jon's mind wandered to the unsettling dreams about Sansa, that had plagued him, hinting at a heritage of indecent familiarity and lustful relations, traits associated with Targaryen lineage. The realization stirred a question within him.
"Do you think anyone knows who my mother is?" Jon ventured, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "Perhaps he was with someone when he took me from her."
"We know you weren't born in King's Landing, because you're not old enough," Sansa reasoned, her brow furrowed with concentration. "And Father lifted the siege of Storm's End without you, so you weren't born there either."
Jon coaxed some smoke from a piece of kindling, a minor victory in the task of starting the fire. "So, I'm not from King's Landing," he mused with relief, having heard enough tales to know he wouldn't have wanted that origin.
"Which means you were born somewhere between Dorne and the Riverlands," Sansa concluded, piecing together the clues.
"Well, that narrows it down," Jon quipped, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, while arranging the twigs to ignite the flames. As the fire began to crackle and grow, he placed larger logs on the blaze.
"Why do you want to know?" Sansa inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"Because Littlefinger is going to find any way to discredit me," Jon explained, his tone grave with concern. "It will be enough if he finds out about my potential links to the Targaryens. He'll try to turn the northern Lords against me."
Sansa racked her brain, trying to recall the scant information their father had shared with them. "Who was with Father when he lifted the siege? Is there anyone still alive?" she inquired, deftly unpacking bread, meat, cheese, and two skins of wine from the saddlebags.
Jon shrugged thoughtfully. "Wasn't that when he brought Aunt Lyanna's bones back from Dorne?" he speculated, taking a bite of bread.
"I heard Lady Dustin wasn't pleased with Father because he didn't bring back Lord Dustin's bones," Sansa added, her brow furrowing with thought.
"Perhaps she would be the best person to ask," Jon suggested, his mind racing with possibilities.
Sansa was puzzled. While there may have been many descendants of dragonseeds, she saw no shame in it. "Why are you worried about Littlefinger discovering that your mother was a descendant of a dragonseed?" she pressed, seeking clarity.
Jon took a swig of wine from the skin, fortifying himself for the revelation he was about to share. "Because Lady Melisandre said my blood burns brighter than Stannis's. Which, I believe, suggests I have more Targaryen blood than he does. His great-grandmother was a Targaryen, which means it was, either my mother or grandfather," Jon explained, watching as Sansa pieced together his meaning. It didn't take her long to grasp the implications.
"Seven hells, Jon," Sansa exclaimed, her eyes widening with shock. "You think your grandfather was the Mad King, don't you?"
"I do," Jon confirmed solemnly, his appetite gone as he picked at the bread in his hand. "But there's more."
"More?" Sansa's voice was filled with disbelief and apprehension.
Jon felt foolish and anxious about his next revelation. "When I died and saw Torrhen Stark in the crypts, he called me 'Your Grace.' The other Kings of Winter shouted 'Long live the King.' Torrhen said I had the blood of Old Valyria," he explained, deciding to omit the part about legitimisation for now.
Sansa furrowed her brow, shaking her head in confusion. "Jon, it makes no sense. Father was fighting against the Targaryens. Why in the seven hells would he..." She trailed off, unable to finish her thought.
"Sansa, Father bedding another woman aside from your mother makes little sense, but we know he did, for I am here," Jon pointed out. "Do I look like a Targaryen?" he asked, seeking reassurance. Sansa shook her head. "Then mayhap my mother didn't have the Targaryen look either," Jon pondered aloud.
Sansa cocked her head, searching for the right words. "Don't take this the wrong way, Jon. But aside from your hair and eyes, nobody knows. You have a..." She struggled to articulate her thoughts. "You have something about you. You are different from anyone I have ever known. You were made Lord Commander of the Night's Watch in four years, almost unheard of. The wildlings follow you. People are drawn to you. I know they said that people were like that with the Targaryens of old."
"And Prince Rhaegar," Jon acknowledged.
"They loved him, until he kidnapped Aunt Lyanna," Sansa agreed.
"You don't..." Jon began, but then he heard something—a small rock rolling in the cavern behind the ledge. "Did you hear that?" he whispered, instinctively reaching for Longclaw.
Sansa nodded, her eyes scanning their surroundings. She noticed Ghost sleeping peacefully beside them. "Ghost isn't worried..." she started, but then they heard more stones moving. "You don't think there's going to be a rockfall?" she asked, her gaze fixed on Ghost, who lifted his head at the noise but remained somewhat unperturbed. Sansa peered into the tiny opening where the sound had originated, but all she saw was darkness. "There's nothing there."
Another couple of stones rolled from the small opening, this time much closer. Jon withdrew Longclaw, ready for whatever might emerge. Then, out waddled a white ball of fluff. It took a few steps, then tumbled over, causing pebbles to scatter around.
"What in the seven hells is that clumsy-looking thing?" Jon asked, perplexed by the sight before him. The expression on Sansa's face, however, provided him with all the information he needed.
"Clumsy now, but when she's fully grown, she'll be the most graceful bird in the skies," Sansa remarked with a grin, turning her attention to the bird. "Come here, Grace." She beckoned with a piece of ham, and the baby bird approached without fear.
"How do you know it's a female?" Jon inquired, curious about Sansa's intuition.
Sansa shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't. But when we set out this morning, I just knew the falcon that would find me would be a female."
The bird, in Jon's estimation, was simultaneously cute, fluffy, and incredibly unattractive. Yet, he recognized the potential of this creature. "I wonder where its parents are," Jon wondered out loud.
"I don't know," Sansa looked worried. "But I don't wish to be here to find out."
They packed their belongings, while the little bird waddled over to Ghost, who, to their surprise, drew closer to protect it.
"Don't hurt it, Ghost," Jon cautioned, but Ghost shot him a look as if Jon were foolish, allowing the bird to nestle into his fur without harm.
Once everything was packed away, with the horses loaded, they prepared to retrieve the fledgling. However, Ghost approached them, his mouth wide open, holding the baby bird inside, a sight so tender it seemed unbelievable unless witnessed first-hand.
Sansa retrieved the box she had prepared for the bird and eased Grace out from Ghost's mouth. She secured a jess around Grace's leg and placed the eyas into the box, sealing the lid.
"I think we need to leave before the parents return," Sansa said.
"You don't need to tell me twice," Jon agreed, hastening to help Sansa mount her horse.
Moments later, Jon was astride his own chestnut palfrey, and they were riding back to Winterfell through the Wolfswood, just in the nick of time. The screeching sounds of returning falcons behind them told Jon they had made it out just as the parents were about to discover the missing chick.
By the time the parents would come looking, Jon, Sansa, Ghost and the baby falcon, would be long gone.