The Sea Wolf sailed into White Harbor on the early morning tide, her sail bearing the sigil of House Stark, rippling with every gust of wind. She was one of Lord Manderly's new cogs, designed and paid for by Lord Stark, ready for the war effort in the south. She was freshly painted in grey and her figurehead was that of a snarling white direwolf with red eyes.

They edged towards the walls of White Harbor, which were of whitewashed stone. On the eastern shoreline, The Bite fed the mouth of the White Knife, which flowed into the heart of the north, going so far as Long Lake.

Jon noted, in the two moons since he had last been here, changes had been made to the city's defences, which looked to have been strengthened. The jetty which divided the inner and outer harbours had already been fortified with a white stone wall, about a mile long. He could see towers in the process of being built every few hundred yards. Had Lord Stark instructed Lord Manderly to fortify the city? He wondered.

Jon couldn't help but compare the city to Kings Landing, which was filthy, densely populated and reeked of shit. Here, the houses were built of whitewashed stone, with steep, pitched roofs of dark grey slate. Instead of the stench of excrement, White Harbor's scent was sharp and salty, and a little fishy too. It smelled of the sea, just as a port should.

The Sea Wolf was making its final approach to the outer harbour. Jon noticed seals basking on the broken rocks below. But what stood out the most was the Great Sea Stone. It was a huge grey-green mass, standing fifty feet above the water. On its top was a circle of weathered stones, a ringfort of the First Men that had been abandoned for hundreds of years. It still was, but Jon knew it would not be left for much longer.

Soon the Sea Stone would be in use once more. In his mind's eye, Jon could see scorpions and archers behind the standing stones, and other weapons used to defend the city from the Lannisters, the Others, and even Daenerys.

Jon hated viewing Daenerys as the enemy. However, she had only one goal, and that was the Iron Throne. Her help against the others was a mere ploy to achieve that goal. She had never been a true ally. And as soon as Jon took the Iron Throne, he would become her enemy, thus the strategic placing of weapons to destroy her dragons, was borne out of necessity.

As the Sea Wolf approached the inner harbour, Jon noticed the Sea Wolf was pulling down her sail. Although the outer harbour was larger, the inner Harbor was better to anchor in. It was sheltered by the city wall on one side and the Wolf's Den on another, and now by the jetty wall as well.

Jon wondered if Lord Wyman was building the war galleys Lord Stark had ordered, were behind the jetty wall. It was so large, it could house a score of ships, and none would be the wiser. They could be sat, ready and waiting for the command to be put to sea and sail down to Kings Landing.

As the morning was crisp, and the weather was fine, it was easier to appreciate the sights of White Harbor. From the ship, which was ready to drop its anchor, the New Castle, stood proud and pale upon the hill. Jon could see the domed roof of the Sept of the Snows as well, overshadowed by the tall statues of the Seven, because, unlike the rest of the north, the Manderlys were followers of the Seven.

The docks were brimmed full. Small boats were tied up along the fish market, hauling in their early morning catches. Jon saw three river boats, long and lean, built specifically to navigate the currents and shallows of the White Knife. He hoped to be boarding one of those the following day, for his return to Winterfell couldn't come soon enough.

Once the Sea Wolf was fast to the pilings, the gangplank was lowered and Jon and Oberyn descended to dry land. Once Jon and Oberyn's belongings were offloaded, then the ship would set sail to Eastwatch to deliver the last of the dragonglass to the Wall.

Two customs officers clambered aboard the ship, sparing him and Oberyn odd looks. It was rare to find a noble Dornishman in these parts, Jon realised. But their attention was brief, returning to business. They were there to see the captain and inspect the hold.

A young lad of around four and ten, with dark brown eyes and hair to match, approached them. "Are you Lord Whitestark?" the lad asked.

"Who is asking?" Oberyn wanted to know.

"Jimmel, milords. Lord Manderly sent me. Told me to look for the Sea Wolf. He's waiting for you up in New Castle." he looked at Jon, even though it had been Oberyn who had spoken.

"How did he know I'd be here today?" Jon asked.

"He didn't. Lord Stark wrote him and told him you set off from Kings Landing nigh on a fortnight past. I've been here every day for the last five days, waiting for the Sea Wolf," he handed Jon a letter, which bore the green merman seal of House Manderly. "A letter for you, Lord Whitestark, from Lord Manderly."

Jon opened it and read the contents.

Lord Whitestark

I have sent Jimmel to collect you. He will lead you and your belongings to the Fishfoot Yard, where a carriage will await you.

I look forward to meeting with you once more.

Lord Manderly

Having seen Lord Manderly's writing before, Jon knew this was his penmanship, thus he would have to take the lad's word at face value.

Jon nodded at Oberyn and turned around to the six sailors who had carried his and Oberyn's belongings from the ship. "Follow us to the Seal Gate, then you can make your way back," he instructed.

The sailors nodded and picked up Jon and Oberyn's chests, and followed them with Jimmel leading them along the wharf and through the fish market to the Seal Gate. The market was bustling and noisy, with the cries of the fishwives calling out the day's catch.

Eventually, they reached the Seal Gate, where two spearmen had been posted, wearing the badge of House Manderly upon their breasts. The gate was open, and the portcullis raised. Inside was a cobbled square with a fountain at its centre. A twenty-foot-tall stone merman, named locally as Old Fishfoot, rose from its waters.

The square was named after a dead lord, but everyone called it Fishfoot Yard. Despite the early hour, the Yard was teeming.

Beneath the arches of the peddler's colonnade, the scribes and money changers had set up for business, along with those selling their wares. A man sold apples from a barrow, a woman offered herring, while a girl wandered around selling cockles.

Children, dogs and cats ran around the yard, screaming and laughing. Life thrived here, even for the poorest. Jon knew he needed to remember this. In the heat of battle, when everything felt like a waste, these were the lives he was trying to save. He wanted those children to grow old, have families of their own, and not become blue-eyed monsters. This would be his resolve.

A black carriage, with the image of a merman against a green background on the door, awaited them, to be pulled by two chestnut carriage horses, dressed in matching green harnesses. The driver also wore the colour and sigil of House Manderly. If Jon had questioned the letter before, he did not know, for only the nobility could afford such a grand-looking carriage.

Prince Oberyn climbed aboard, but Jon was interested to know what had happened since they sailed from Gulltown.

"Any news I may have missed at sea, lad?" he asked.

"King Joffrey was murdered by his uncle, the imp. Tommen is King now," Jimmel told him with excitement in his voice.

"I know, I was there," Oberyn's head peeked out from the door.

Jimmel's eyes opened wide. "Is it true his face turned purple, and his eyes started bleeding, and his guts shot out from his stomach?"

Oberyn laughed. "Do not believe everything you hear. Although I admit, most was true. But his guts stayed well within his belly."

"What happened to Lord Tyrion?" Jon asked, hoping the news had already reached this far north.

"He pleaded guilty. Taking the black, so I hear. The Storm Crow will pass through within the sennight. Dropping off some glass for Winterfell, or something like that."

Jon hid his relief. That meant their plan for freeing Tyrion just after Eastwatch could be put in motion. He would need to write to Queenscrown once he arrived at New Castle. "Is there any other news?" he asked.

"Balon Greyjoy is dead as well. The Ironborn are fighting each other," the lad said. Shit, Jon thought. He'd forgotten about that. Jimmel continued. "Myr and Lys and Tyrosh are at war and something about the slaves in the east. They say the slaves are being freed by a woman with three dragons."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Three dragons you say?"

"Aye," the lad was getting eager. "One green, white and one black, like Balerion the Black Dread."

Jon smiled as if he didn't believe him, despite having ridden one of the said dragons in a previous life. "Like Prince Oberyn said, don't believe everything you hear."

Jon ruffled Jimmel's hair and climbed aboard the carriage, fully packed with his and Oberyn's belongings. Oberyn tapped twice on the carriage roof, and it moved on. Jon waved at the lad, who looked disappointed at the news of no dragons.

"Why did you lie about the dragons?" Oberyn queried as the carriage bounced along the cobblestoned road of White Harbor.

"I didn't want to get his hopes up, just in case he never sees her dragons," Jon shrugged

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

Oberyn shivered as the cold wind gusted, making the carriage rock. It had grown colder since Jon was last in the North. However, the winter winds had not yet arrived. He remembered his time at the Wall and how the wind would scream off it at night, cold enough to freeze a man's blood in his veins, even with the warmest cloak. But that was nothing compared to the Long Night.

By comparison, White Harbor was warmer than Kings Landing had gotten during the build-up to the long night. However, Oberyn was a Dornishman and used to the hot, sunny climes of the south. This was all new to him.

"Are you cold, Prince Oberyn?" Jon asked, a smirk on his face.

"I think my balls will freeze and drop off at any moment," Oberyn replied through chattering teeth.

Jon laughed. "You think this is cold? Wait until you travel to the Wall. That is, if you're still interested."

"How much colder?" Oberyn asked.

"If you leave your cock out too long, it will freeze and drop off. Lord Tyrion pissed off the edge of the Wall, but that was in summer. If you travel north, by the time you get there, you wouldn't want to get your cock out longer than needed."

"How do the Northerners have children?" Oberyn asked.

"We put it in the warmest place we can find," Jon japed. Although not his usual style of humour, Oberyn had a filthy mind, so Jon jested as Tormund would. It seemed to work. "The Freefolk fuck outdoors in the snow. It keeps them warm."

"I think I might like these... Freefolk," Oberyn laughed.

They continued up the hill to New Castle. Along the way, they passed marble mermaids, with bowls of burning whale oil cradled in their arms. After about half an hour, they reached the top. Jon and Oberyn disembarked the carriage, and Jon turned around to look behind him.

From such a height, he could see down into both harbours. Behind the jetty wall, the inner harbour was filled with newly built war galleys. From where he stood, Jon counted five and twenty. All belonging to him.

"Lord Manderly looks to be preparing for war," observed Oberyn. He turned to Jon. "Or is he fulfilling an order for another, I wonder."

Jon shrugged, but a sly smile graced his lips. "Who knows."

The gates of New Castle were closed, but a postern opened and a rotund guard with a bald head and a bushy moustache emerged from the doorway. "What do you want?" he asked.

"My name is Lord Whitestark. I need to see Lord Manderly at once," Jon said. "My business is with him. I believe he is expecting me."

"And who's your friend?" the guard eyed Oberyn warily.

"Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne," Oberyn replied, flashing a wide smile and showing off his perfect white teeth.

"Yeah, right. And I'm Rhaegar Targaryen," the guard said sarcastically as he let them in.

Oberyn examined the man up and down. "You look nothing like my late good-brother."

Before an argument could ensue, Jon intervened. "Please lead the way."

The guard looked behind them and clicked his fingers twice. Jon turned to see four servants scuttling in the background.

"Take Lord Whitestark's belongings to his rooms. And have chambers next to his set up for our other esteemed guest."

With those words and the way the servants behaved, Jon suspected this was no ordinary guard. "May I know your name, Ser?" Jon asked.

"Ser Wylis Manderly," he replied.

Jon tried to remember what happened to Lord Manderly's son, Ser Wylis in his last life. He suspected he might have died at the Red Wedding, as so many northerners did. But Jon couldn't be certain. Not that it mattered now, for the Red Wedding had been averted.

"I am honoured to be escorted by the son of Lord Wyman," Jon acknowledged.

"Follow me," Wylis instructed. "I'll take you to his solar. He's been expecting you, Lord Whitestark."

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

Lord Manderly's solar was just as Jon remembered it from his previous visit. The chamber was warm and richly adorned, reflecting the lord's wealth and status. Seated in a chair was Lord Wyman Manderly, dressed in a velvet doublet of soft blue-green, embroidered with golden thread along the sleeves and collar. His customary ermine cloak was pinned with a golden trident.

Lord Manderly rose to greet them. Jon extended his hand. "Lord Manderly."

The large man smiled warmly and took Jon's hand. "Lord Whitestark, good to see you." He then turned to Prince Oberyn and frowned. "Do my eyes deceive me in my advancing years? Prince Oberyn?"

Oberyn nodded. "Lord Manderly, good to see you once again. How long has it been?" he asked as the two men shook hands.

"Your sister's wedding," Wyman replied, shaking his head with a sigh. Oberyn glanced towards Jon, who suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"A long time ago. We were young men back then," Oberyn said with a smile. "But you are only as old as you feel."

"Then I'm feeling old," Lord Manderly sighed, turning back to Jon. "Please, sit." The three of them took their seats. "Are you hungry?"

"No, my Lord," Jon replied. "We ate just before we anchored."

"There is wine if you are thirsty."

"It is a little early for me, Lord Manderly. Although I will indulge in watered-down ale if you have any."

"Of course I do. I remembered your preference for ale," Lord Manderly said, then turned to Prince Oberyn. "And yourself, my Prince? We have Dornish red if you are so inclined."

"It is never too early for Dornish red," Oberyn laughed.

A young lad poured Lord Manderly and Prince Oberyn a goblet of wine and then poured Jon a tankard of watered-down ale. He placed them on a silver tray, along with the carafe of wine and the pitcher of ale, and brought them over to the table, setting them down in front of the guests.

"Be gone," Lord Manderly waved his hand, ushering the boy from the solar. He waited for the door to close before relaxing.

"One can never be too careful about who is listening," Lord Manderly warned. "I have no trust in my Maester."

Jon frowned at that comment, but Lord Manderly continued. "Maesters are supposed to set aside their old loyalties. But Maester Theomore was born a Lannister of Lannisport and... well, need I say more? It is most fortunate your uncle knows this. It is why he sent a rider bearing news of the northern council. Are you aware of your uncle's decision?" he asked.

Jon nodded. "I am, Lord Manderly."

"Do you know what it is all about?"

"Aye, I do, but I'm afraid I cannot disclose that information right now," Jon apologised.

Lord Manderly gave Oberyn a suspicious look. "Do you know what it's all about?" he asked.

"I have an idea. It is why I am here," Oberyn smiled. "Do not worry. Lord Whitestark did not tell me anything. But it will be a good thing if it's what I think it is. Especially for the North."

"Why would he not want my Maester to know about a northern council?" Lord Manderly asked.

Jon could tell Lord Manderly was fishing for information, so he needed to come up with something. His time in King's Landing and what he had learned from Arya provided enough to satisfy the Lord of White Harbor.

Jon rolled his eyes as if giving in to some sort of defeat. "We have learned the Lannisters are trying to tie the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale to the crown by marriage. Their original plan was to wed Jaime to my wife, Queen Cersei to Edmure Tully, and Lord Tyrion to Lysa Arryn."

Lord Manderly broke into a hearty laugh. "I take it their plans went awry when Lord Tyrion killed King Joffrey."

Jon nodded. "I believe their plans have changed somewhat, but I know not how. Of course, the match with Lysa Arryn will not go ahead. My spies tell me Lord Baelish will fulfil that role."

Wyman frowned. "The man is a weasel. He has no loyalty to anyone but himself and gold."

"I agree," Oberyn nodded. "Although his whorehouse lives up to its reputation."

"I don't doubt it," Wyman turned to Jon. "What say you?"

"He stayed there and didn't touch a woman, no matter how much they threw themselves at him," Oberyn laughed. "Claims he isn't interested. Being married to the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros has spoiled him. Or so he says."

"I don't doubt it," Lord Manderly smiled. "Lady Sansa was most beautiful when I last cast eyes on her. If her beauty has not diminished, I do not doubt Lord Whitestark's claim."

"She grows more beautiful by the day, Lord Manderly," Jon grinned. "Both inside and out. But that is not the purpose of our meeting."

"Of course not," Lord Manderly drank his wine down in one gulp and refilled his goblet. "Why were you with Lord Baelish? Is he planning to betray the Lannisters?"

"Not to my knowledge," Jon replied. "I was using him for business needs. He has access to the glass merchants of Myr. I am trying to negotiate lower prices so we can build as many glass gardens for the North. Winter is coming, and it promises to be a long one if the maesters are to be believed."

"Aye, so they say," Lord Manderly agreed.

"Back to the Lannisters," Jon reminded them. "To wed Sansa, the initial plan was to make her a widow by me having an accident. However, it required Ser Jaime to relinquish his white cloak and ride north as soon as Joffrey's wedding was over."

"And the brat was murdered. Couldn't have happened to a nicer lad, or so I hear," Lord Manderly's laughter boomed around the room.

"I concur, my Lord," Oberyn joined in. "Couldn't have happened to a worse piece of shit than that Lannister bastard."

Jon continued his tale. "Ser Jaime was to ride north, but he refused to hand in his cloak until Lord Tyrion's trial was over. By then, the relevant people knew of the Lannisters' intentions. Now I hear Lord Jaime will take Casterly Rock and is hoping to find a worthy northern bride. You have two granddaughters, do you not, Lord Manderly?"

Lord Manderly pressed his lips into a thin line. "You think Lord Tywin will propose a match between the Kingslayer and one of my granddaughters?" He looked offended.

"Aye, it would make sense. You are the second most powerful house in the North, considering the wealth of White Harbor. It would put two ports in the hands of the Lannisters, controlling the trade. And with the Reach in the hands of the Tyrells, and if the rumours are true, Lady Margaery is to wed King Tommen, then all the ports will be directly controlled by the Lannisters. They will be able to set tariffs without needing to consult the crown."

"Is this the reason for the northern council?" Lord Manderly asked.

"Part of it," Jon nodded.

"And why are you here?" Wyman asked Oberyn.

"Sunspear would be the only port outside of Lannister control. Although I wouldn't be surprised if they try to wed Myrcella to one of my nephews, Quentyn or Trystane." Oberyn sipped his wine.

"That leaves the Stormlands and possibly the Vale not under Lannister control," surmised Lord Manderly.

"And the Iron Islands," Jon added.

"I take it you've heard about Lord Greyjoy," Manderly said.

"Aye," Jon replied. "Lord Stark was expecting the likelihood of his death for some time."

"Is Lord Theon contesting the Seastone Chair?"

Jon shook his head. "He wouldn't win. Lady Asha is the heir to Lord Balon. Although if my spies serve me correctly, Euron Greyjoy is behind all of this."

"So it is said," Wyman confirmed what Jon already knew.

"The Ironborn respect strength. Theon has been landlocked for too many years. They would never accept him over Asha or Euron, and he knows this. He has... other plans," Jon smiled.

"Aye, I've heard about those plans," Lord Manderly laughed. "Marrying a wildling," he shook his head. "Madness, if you ask me."

"I would not worry so much about the match, Lord Manderly. I know of the woman in question. She is feisty but will be an excellent match for him. The Freefolk know how to fight, and should we need them, integrating them by marriage may secure their loyalty when the time comes."

"What are you not telling me, lad?" Wyman narrowed his eyes.

"Should the Ironborn try raiding the North, I doubt the Lannisters will be of help. Not without a price. One which I doubt any Northman will pay. Thus, we need fighting men. Men who need no training. Euron is not a man I wish to fight without a powerful army behind me. Word is he deals with dark magic," Jon said.

"Is that the reason for the naval force?" Lord Manderly asked.

Lord Manderly furrowed his brow. "Much has changed since it was announced you were Lord Brandon's son, and Ned giving you Queenscrown. You've contributed much to the changes yourself."

"I thank you for your kind words, Lord Manderly. But I must speak true. My wonderful wife has played a key part in every decision. She is the clever one."

"Then we should raise a toast," Lord Manderly raised his goblet. Jon and Oberyn followed suit. "To Lady Sansa."

"To Lady Sansa," Jon and Oberyn echoed together.

"I look forward to meeting this clever beauty," Oberyn smiled.

"And soon you shall," Jon reassured his travelling companion.

"Speaking of which, how long do you plan to stay at White Harbor? I should ensure there is a suitable riverboat readied for your journey to Winterfell," Lord Manderly asked.

"As much as I am grateful for your warm hospitality, Lord Manderly, I should like to return to Winterfell as soon as possible. I have been away from my wife too long," Jon sighed.

Prince Oberyn wiggled his eyebrows. "Cannot wait to dip his wick," he laughed. "How long has it been?"

"Three moons," Jon grimaced.

"Well, we best get you going as soon as possible," Lord Manderly smiled. "A riverboat can be readied for this afternoon."

Jon's stomach flipped. The thought of returning to Winterfell gave him a sense of peace. Even if Sansa hadn't arrived by the time he was there, at least he would be surrounded by family.

"I would be most grateful. As long as Prince Oberyn does not mind travelling on a boat so soon after leaving the ship."

"Is Winterfell warm?" Oberyn asked.

"The hot springs run through its walls. It is the warmest castle in the North," Jon replied.

"Then why aren't we there yet?" Oberyn japed.

"Will you be joining us, Lord Manderly?" Jon asked.

"My boat will set sail in two days. I have affairs here to settle before I leave. Ought I bring my granddaughters?" he asked.

Jon could tell the old man had been itching to find out why a fleet of warships had been commissioned.

"Lord Stark has wished for a fleet of ships for many years. Since the Freefolk moved south, more coin has flowed into the northern coffers. It has allowed him to realize that dream. Of course, these ships can easily be converted to merchant vessels, allowing the North to further grow in wealth," Jon explained with a glint in his eye.

"Well, I never took Ned Stark for a man to have such foresight," Manderly shook his head. "But it appears he has the right advisors. I first thought this wildling business was madness. Now I see the sense in it. They have caused no trouble, and the North grows richer. Even the Night's Watch is looking a better prospect for those who have little. Word has it, men are flocking in daily. Soon, more castles will be needed to house the volume of those wishing to take their vows."

"It sounds like much has changed since I was last here," Jon smiled. "And for the good."

"I doubt any marriages will be proposed during the northern council," Jon told the old man. "With the northern lords congregating in the castle, it would be wise to leave them here. If you wish to make a match with another lord, then feel free to bring them. However, I should warn you, I doubt my cousin will be under consideration for now," Jon said, knowing Lord Manderly was looking to tie one of his granddaughters to Robb.

"I'll take that into consideration, Lord Whitestark," Lord Manderly said, looking disappointed. "Well, it is best you get going. I will have a message sent to ready the boat."

Lord Manderly picked up a silver bell and rang it. Moments later, the young lad who had served their drinks arrived. "Let the men know to ready the riverboat for Lord Whitestark and Prince Oberyn. Tell the groom to tack up the carriage once more," he instructed the lad. "Make haste, boy. Take a mule for yourself if need be."

"Yes, milord," the boy bowed his head and ran off.

The three men rose from their seats.

"It has been most wonderful to meet with you again, Lord Whitestark," Lord Manderly smiled.

"And you too, Lord Manderly," Jon replied.

"A pleasant surprise seeing you here, Prince Oberyn. I'm glad to see you are siding with the northerners for a change."

"Dorne sides with those who share a common interest," Prince Oberyn smiled. "It has been wonderful to see you once more, Lord Manderly."

Once they said their goodbyes, Jon and Oberyn departed and prepared to leave for Winterfell.