Chapter 61: Severance

The ground was softer here, perhaps a result of the soil. Jon didn't really know, but he did know that this might not encourage the Reachmen to attack. If they did indeed fall for the bait.

Robb was convinced that Renly would send someone to inspect whether he truly had gone for a progress. But Jon wasn't sure. The man's actions so far suggested Renly was having far more fun pretending to be King than actually trying to take the throne. If the reports he'd heard were true-and he had no reason to doubt that they were-then Renly Baratheon was preferring to hold tourneys where his supposed lover could win all the glory.

He couldn't understand such a thing. If you were going to claim the crown, at least act like a King. Renly was wasting time, being a flippant idiot, whilst Robb had taken King's Landing and was ruling. Robb was what a King should be, Renly seemed to be what everyone thought a King was.

That was why Robb would win in the end, at least according to Jon. He exhaled and pushed that thought to one side. He was a Kingsguard, not a politician. It was not for him to be concerned with what the game of thrones did or did not do.

"Ser Jon?" A voice asked, pulling him from his musing.

"Hmmm?" Jon replied, he turned and saw Ser Richard Horpe, newly raised to the Kingsguard, looking at him.

"I had a question about the strategy we're employing here." The man said.

Jon bit down frustration. He had to remind himself that Horpe was slightly older than him, used to commanding in Stannis Baratheon's army, and no doubt thought that Jon as a sixteen-year-old, was not someone who should be leading this mission. And yet, Robb had trusted him with this. Still, he would hear what the man had to say.

"I am listening."

Horpe cleared his throat and said. "I know that His Grace wants to bait Renly Baratheon into making a mistake and attempting to attack us. But we have only four hundred men with us. Not enough to be considered a clear target, and surely not enough to be considered a genuine party accompanying the King on a Royal Progress."

"You think Renly will easily see through this?" Jon asked.

"Yes, I know that Renly is perhaps not as clever as the King and Queen, nor is he as ruthless. But he is not a complete fool. He will know, or at least he will suspect that this is a ruse. After all, during his brother's time, the Royal Party was never less than 1,000 people." Ser Richard pointed out.

"A fair point, but you forget that that was during peace, and this is war. The King cannot travel with 1,000 people without drawing unwanted eyes and attention. Here at least, the party is movable and can act as a defensive force should the need arise." Jon replied. He then nodded to the figure in the centre of all this, a northman who was of a similar build to Robb but had the darkish hair and long face more associated with House Stark-some distant cousin perhaps-who was serving as the decoy. "Besides, we've got our fake King and we've got two Kingsguard here."

Ser Richard conceded the point, but what he had said had got Jon intrigued. "How well did you know Renly?" He asked.

Horpe blinked, as if taken aback by the question, but when he did reply, his answer was detailed. "I knew him well enough. I know that he likes the finer things in life, that he was very good at playing the game. But that as a fighter, he was second-rate. I know that whoever is advising him has perhaps started getting tired of the games and that he will soon feel the need to act."

Jon nodded and was about to say something when he felt rather than heard Ghost whine. He turned, and with the benefit of their combined sight, he saw a gathering of men in the distance. He saw that the man at their head was old and careworn, and that he bore the Sigil of House Rowan on his banner.

Jon waited, the man talked with his men, and then they turned and rode off. He blinked and smiled before turning to Horpe and saying. "We've got company."

"So, you're telling me that you found this book in the back of the library and it specifically states that the visions that he saw happened?" Sansa asked, holding the book that Bran had found, in her hands.

"Yes." Bran replied. "And I found another journal buried with Brandon the Shipwright in which he speaks of the visions he had of his journey and the knowledge that he would go missing."

Sansa put the one book down and held her hand out for the other. Bran handed it to her and watched as she flicked through the pages. When she got to the end, she scanned through it, her eyes widening. She put that book down and then looked at him. "What do you want to do?"

"I thought we should talk to Maester Luwin." Arya said. "He might know more about this, after all, they study this sort of stuff at the Citadel don't they?"

Bran was about to give his reasons for why they shouldn't when Sansa spoke up surprising him. "Maester Luwin won't have an answer for this. He'll say it's some sort of coincidence. Remember what he said when the direwolves were found?"

Arya nodded, and Bran had to acknowledge the point. Maester Luwin had not taken the sign of the direwolf and the stag to mean anything. He still didn't, despite everything that had happened since then.

"So, where do we go?" Arya asked. "We can't go to Mother, she's too busy ruling Winterfell and the North, and we can't go to Maester Luwin."

"If Uncle Benjen were still here, we could've asked him." Bran said. He didn't know where Uncle Benjen was, he was supposed to come for a visit a few moons ago but had never showed up. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch didn't know where he was either.

"Would he have been able to help?" Arya asked. "As far as we know, neither he nor father experienced these dreams, and they certainly didn't have a direwolf. He was incredibly surprised when he saw the direwolves."

"True." Bran conceded. "But he has served in the Night's Watch for a long time and he has seen beyond the wall, he might have met someone who could explain this."

"Perhaps." Sansa said. "Or he might have had no answers."

Bran nodded in acknowledgement. "So, that just leaves one possible place we can go to."

"Old Nan?" Arya asked.

Bran nodded. "Old Nan."

Jon called a halt to the march and ordered that camp be set up. The Rowan men had dispersed, but he wanted to see whether they would return. He ordered men to guard the camp in shifts, and placed the fake King's tent in the centre, the royal banner flying high in the air.

As he was getting ready to move to his own tent, Ser Richard called out to him. "Ser Jon, I think you're going to want to see this."

Jon frowned and walked over to where Ser Richard was. He was standing in front of a tree, next to a small wizened old woman whose eyes were closed. Jon frowned. "Was this woman here when the camp was set up?" He asked.

"Yes," Ser Richard replied. "The men tried to get her to move, but they couldn't wake her."

Jon felt his frown deepen. This wasn't good. He moved toward the woman and gave her a gentle shake. Nothing. He shook her again, still nothing. "My lady." He said, his voice firm.

That seemed to do the trick for the woman opened her eyes. One eye was green, the other was a pale violet. The woman looked at him and blinked. "So, you have come. I have waited for you, many a year."

Jon took a step back. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"You are Jon Snow, son of Eddard Stark?" The woman asked.

"Yes." Jon replied.

"Then you must listen to what I have to say for it will inform your next decision." The woman said.

Jon glanced at Ser Richard who shrugged. Jon looked back at the woman and said. "Speak then."

The woman smiled. "I am the Woodswitch of Oldstones, Jenny of Oldstones was my child. I ensured she met Prince Duncan, I ensured that he fell in love with her. I ensured that he wanted her and nobody else. I ensured that Lord Lyonel Baratheon was defeated, and then I ensured that Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Shaera married. I then ensured that The Rat, The Hawk and the Pig returned."

Jon raised an eyebrow, what did this have to do with him?

"I did all of this because it would lead to this very moment. Because it would ensure that we had this conversation." The Woodswitch said.

"Why?" Jon asked.

The woodswitch's eyes changed then, turning into pools of fire, her voice deepened. "The time is coming for you to decide, do you want to ensure the sacrifices of Summerhall were not in vain? Do you wish to stand with your family and bring the world into the light? Or do you want the dark to triumph? The Age of Fire is being challenged, the forces of ice are emerging and only the Prince Who Was Promised can defeat them. Will you stand with fire or with ice? Where you will you go? Oh son of the night and the light?"

The woman's eyes closed then and she slumped forward.

Jon blinked completely uncertain of what he'd just heard. Ser Richard leaned down and touched her neck. "She's dead." The man said.

Jon blinked again and looked at his fellow Kingsguard. "Bury her." He commanded, he turned and walked back to his tent. He had no idea what he'd just heard.