2

Shielding Their Realms Forever

- Chapter 2 - GreedofRage, Longclaw_1_6

Chapter 2: Chapter 1

Jon

'Wake up, Jon.'

Cold. Everything had suddenly become cold. The warmth of the cave, his clothes, it was all gone. The incantations of the Old Gods chanted by Pebble and the prayers to R'hllor by Kinvara were replaced by the whispering winds blowing through the windows and cracks between the fading mortar holding laid stone.

Jon slowly blinked his eyes open. His vision was a blur, but that was an obvious and expected symptom. What wasn't expected was the sheer weight he felt in his chest. It was like a sword was plunged into the center of his ribs, nailing him to the table.

He found his strength and sat himself up, taking deep breaths and looking around. The familiar scents of Castle Black came rushing into him, the cold wood, the air that froze his nostrils, even the faint scents of smoke from the braziers in the yard. He looked to the side and saw Ser Davos gaping at him in disbelief and Ghost huddling silently. He looked to his chest and saw the scars of his murder, all of them fresh. He nodded subtly once before swinging his legs over the table and slowly standing on his feet.

Ser Davos rushed to him with a cloak and wrapped it around him. "How do you feel?" He asked, still unbelieving of what he was seeing.

"Alive." Jon replied calmly as he rotated his neck to get the cramp out.

Davos looked him hard in the eyes with a shivering jaw. "You're certainly taking this well."

Before Jon could answer, Melisandre entered the room, her expression just aghast as Davos. She rushed over to them both. "What's the last thing you-" Ser Davos began, but Jon cut him off.

"They murdered me. Olly, Thorne, the officers, they all put knives into me."

"Afterwards, after you died," Melisandre began. "Where did you go? What did you see?"

And now, it was time to begin the change. Time to do greater than the first time. He pulled the warmth of the cloak tighter around him as the cold of the Wall crept under his skin. "Everything…" he said evenly. "I saw so many things… I saw King's Landing burn, I saw the dead meet us in battle, I saw us fail. And then I saw how to prevent that."

Davos let out a great breath he had been holding in. He moved to the table and leaned on it to keep himself from falling. "I want to say it's all madness but every fiber of my being would know it can't be." He turned and looked at Jon, almost afraid.

"Believe what you will," Jon told him, "but I know what I must do now to defeat the dead. And we have to act fast."

Davos let out another sigh, uncertain of what to make of all this still. "Where do we start?"

Jon turned back to Melisandre. "I'm going to need some fresh clothes first."

Both Davos and Melisandre didn't hesitate to get what Jon asked. Aside from clothes, Jon felt thirst take over. He kept himself as silent as his direwolf and was glad to have as many familiar faces around as he did.

He still felt a loss of strength just like the first time he woke from death, but not so much that he needed help to walk outside. The men of the Watch and the Free Folk were all gathered and silent just like before. He saw faces that he hadn't seen in years. But as much as he wanted to greet them all again, time was too precious to use lightly right now.

"To the mess hall, now." Jon spoke out in a raspy voice. No one hesitated as they all went to gather and seat themselves. Only Tormund and Edd remained outside for Jon. He made his way down the steps and only gave them both a reassuring nod before leading them into the mess hall.

Everyone was already seated and only a few were whispering amongst others as Jon sat himself at the officer's table. He couldn't deny the good feelings he had seeing his men once again.

He took in a deep breath. "I know there's a lot to be asked and said, but I think first things first. Every man in black has sworn their vows. Vows that do not end until our deaths. I have pledged my life to the Night's Watch and gave it when I was betrayed and murdered." Jon undid the straps of his cloak and removed it. He wrapped it up and set it on the table. "As of today, I am no longer your Lord Commander. My watch has ended. If anyone has any objections, speak now or hold your peace." There was too much silence, but no one was objecting. All of them were still mystified at his living presence.

Edd stood up as Jon expected him to. "What are you going to do then?"

"What do you expect my answer to be?"

"You've declared yourself free of your vows. Most would go somewhere that the sun's actually warm."

"I'm not staying here, Edd."

"You swore a vow. We all swore for all nights to come! You can't leave us. We've seen what's out there!"

"Aye, I pledged to be a shield that guards the realms of men. I will keep doing that but not here. I'm not wearing the black anymore, but if you think that means I'm turning my back on all of you then you're wrong."

Edd looked puzzled like many others did. "Then what are you going to do?"

"Sit down and I'll tell you." Jon told him.

Edd turned sour still but sat down all the same.

"Many of you have questions, most of them can't be answered. I can see the looks in many of you, looks that followers give to their godly idles. I'm not a god. But I have seen things. Terrible things. And I've seen how to prevent them. We don't have any time to waste, do you all understand?" There were many silent nods throughout the hall, enough that Jon didn't need to ask again. "Most of us here have seen the enemy beyond the Wall, but it's not enough. The Night's Watch is not enough to stop them. We need the armies of the south and the only way to convince them to march to the coldest place in the world is to give them proof. We need to capture some of the Night King's soldiers and bring them back."

Many were aghast at such an idea and great murmurs arose.

"Lord Commander!" Marlon in the back stood up from his seat. He was one of the few who was at Hardhome with Jon. "It's impossible! How can we capture one from that entire horde?"

"Those were just the ones at Hardhome," Jon responded calmly to keep order, "There are thousands of others in the lands north of us. Some of them are in small squads marching to regroup with their leader. We can pick them off instead of from the main force."

"How, where?" Hammer asked. "How in fuck's sake can we? We don't even know where to look for one!

Luckily, Jon had the assistance of the one person who knew. "I do. Tonight, I want four squads of rangers gathered. I will direct you where and how to proceed North."

"More than that, why? You just renounced your command!"

"I did. If you wish to lead, then please tell us what your idea is on how to prepare for the dead then?"

Hammer didn't say anything, he was too frightened to. "As you say, Lord Snow." He sat back down and remained silent.

He looked over to Tormund. "I would ask that four of the Free Folk volunteer to act as guides, one per squad." His ginger friend silently nodded and no more. He eyed Jon with a look similar to those who looked like they were about to fall on their knees and worship him, only his was less so and Jon could see that there was more of his friend's trust than blind devotion. Jon stood from his seat. "Now prepare nooses for each of the mutineers. Dismissed."

Jon let the commons empty out first. Only Edd, Davos, Tormund, and Melisandre remained. Now that everyone was getting to work, he finally had some time to reunite with his friends properly. He walked down from the table and immediately hugged Tormund. "Sorry to look over you like that, my friend."

"I've never been brought back from the dead before, so you do what you need to get back to yourself, lad." Tormund squeezed Jon in his big arms. "I don't believe that you're a god."

"Is it because my pecker's too small?" Jon asked.

Instead of a laugh, Tormund looked at Jon a bit mystified but managed a grin. "Yah got that right." He finally smiled at him. It was good to see that cheerful gingerly smile of his again. Ever since Winterfell burned and Tormund with it, Jon missed that about him.

Jon turned to Edd. Of all people, Jon had wanted to embrace him the most for having lost him at the first battle of Winterfell. "If I stay here, Edd, it will be just us against all of them."

"Shut it. The less you say the less I have to understand." Edd gave him the same embrace. He took a moment to look at Jon's face like he was studying it. "For a moment I thought you were someone else. You seem very different. Like Lord Commander Mormont."

Fourteen years was enough time to change. Jon certainly had when living north of the Wall in exile with the Free Folk. "Believe me when I say this. No one should wake up after death. It's not right." He let go of his brother and they walked out together into the courtyard.

Edd asked. "Where will you be going first?"

Jon looked at his friend firmly. It would be three days until Sansa arrives from her escape and that would also be the day the Smalljon would begin his ride for Winterfell. "The Last Hearth. Someone's there who needs me. And I won't be going alone." He looked over to Tormund.

"Whatever you're planning, it better be good. We can afford to lose hundreds of fighters in a battle."

"There won't be a battle, and I won't need hundreds. I only need a few good men."

Jon explained his plan to Tormund and he took it rather well. While Tormund left to gather up some of the Free Folk to join them on their separate endeavor, Jon took his leave to the Commander's Tower and spent the next few hours getting everything ready. He wrote probably a dozen letters and raven scrolls that would be going south. Not to lords who had men and supplies to spare, but instead the ones who would be key to the game ahead.

When he was done, Ser Davos and Melisendre met with him in the Commander's solar. He sat across from them at his desk which was covered in scattered parchment and his dry inkwell. "I will not mince words to either of you, I am planning on retaking Winterfell from the Boltons."

"Good to hear," Ser Davos said, "we could use fewer flayed corpses on the roads these days."

Jon snorted dryly at the jape. "I have another task for you, Davos. You'll be going further south. To King's Landing."

"King's Landing?" Davos blinked in confusion. "What for?"

"I need you to smuggle Loras Tyrell out of the Sept of Baelor. You have heard of this, haven't you?"

"I feel I should be surprised that you have but…" Davos eyed him with curiosity. The enigma that was Jon Snow grew deeper by the day. "I have heard talk about it. How does he play into this?"

"Lannisters aren't the only ones that pay their debts. And we'll need the favor of the Tyrells for what I plan next. I've sent word to Eastwatch to chart a ship to White Harbor. Can you get to King's Landing by yourself from there?"

"Easier than getting good men to join the Watch. I'll leave immediately. Better not waste the time we have."

Jon nodded and handed Davos a sealed letter. "When you set sail from Eastwatch, open this and follow the instructions. Once you get him out, we'll meet at the Inn at the Crossroads." Jon and Davos clasped hands as friends do. "Travel safe, my friend."

"You too, Jon." Davos nodded and took his leave. It was only Jon and Melisandre now.

When the door closed, Jon looked coldly at Melisandre. "I've charted another ship to take you to Dragonstone."

"Dragonstone?" Melisandre said, almost aghast.

Jon held out a rolled up parchment containing instructions and a map to the caves under the island. "There's a mountain of dragonglass under the island. I'll be sending men with you there to mine it. You're to oversee its beginnings and when the time comes, welcome Daenerys Targaryen back to Westeros."

Melisandre's brows arched in interest as she unraveled and looked at the paper. "You plan to make an alliance with her?"

Jon didn't say anything at first. His jaw clenched like someone nailed it shut. "We'll see. But for now, you and you alone are going to hear this and keep it to yourself until word breaks out." He breathed deeply. "I'm not Ned Stark's son, I'm his sister Lyanna's son with Rhaegar Targaryen."

For the second time in both lives, Jon saw Melisandre speechless. For a priestess of fire she was utterly frozen.

"My real name is Aegon Targaryen, Rhaegar's trueborn son."

Melisandre blinked. "Is this what you saw in death? You saw the truth about yourself?"

"I saw nothing. I've lived through it already once before."

The Red Priestess shifted, her eyes narrowed and words fumbling in her mouth before recovering them. "What do you mean? Like a dream so real?"

"No." Jon stood from his seat. If he hadn't lived it, he'd disbelieve it all himself. "Right now, my real body is asleep in a great Weirwood far north in lands uncharted. Magic of the Old Gods and the Lord of Light sent my consciousness back to when you woke me up. That is all about fourteen years from now. Physically, I'm twenty-one years old, but I'm really thirty-five."

"That… I do not know how it can be possible."

Jon let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders falling, deflating from the weight of it all. "My death was like a bookmark in the pages of history, and I'm the only one who could go back to that point. If Beric Dondarrion had lived then he might have been able to as well. I know much of what is going to happen if things continue as they did before, but once the changes begin then the future will become unknown to me. But I also know things of the past that were told to me. My parentage, the true conspirators in King's Landing." He turned and stared into Melisandre's eyes, scowling. "And I know what you did to Shireen."

Melisandre became afraid and guilty. She opened her mouth to speak but Jon wouldn't let her.

"I've heard your excuses before and they don't change that you burned an innocent little girl alive. I will never forgive you for it nor excuse it. When the time comes, you will face the consequences for what you did. Whether by mine hand, those who deserve it, or your own." His body relaxed and his head cooled. "That is why I won't tell Davos until I see him next. Consider it repaying the help you gave us long ago at Winterfell."

"I've never been to Winter-…" Her silence was that of one realizing his meaning. "So that's where it was decided."

Jon let silence come between them so that she could have some time to think. Maybe what he said was too much right now, but then again he wondered how much of what he and the others planned would be one step in the wrong path. He had to be careful. "You'll leave tomorrow morning with builders from Eastwatch. Commander Pyke will be sending twenty men with you." He walked to the door and opened it for her.

"Is it meaningless to apologize?" Melisandre asked.

Jon felt himself relax. "Never. But I'm not the one who you need to apologize to."

He left Melisandre to her own devices. He had nothing left to say to her for now. She had her job and he had no need of her council for now. He kept his eyes forward as he traversed Castle Black, ignoring the eyes that spared glances at him.

He descended into the lower depths, to the ice cells where none bothered to stand guard. Torch light was dim but enough to see ahead and inside the cells. He stopped in front of the once proud Ser Alliser Thorne. He didn't know why he came down, or why he wanted to see the man he once hated so much.

"So," Ser Alliser growled from the corner of his cell, "the rumors are true. You are back, Snow. But the others? They true too? You are no more the Lord Commander, bastard?"

"You heard right."

Ser Alliser stood and approached the cage with shivers in his steps and cold pale skin. "Is that why you came down here? To thank us for settin' you free?"

"No."

"Oh I see now. Come to gloat. Praise to Lord Snow!" Ser Alliser proclaimed. "The first man to be released from the black of his own free will! How the other men of the Night's Watch must look at you and your Wildlin' friends with envy. He can take a crown, find warmth fuckin' a wife, father children, and win all the glory he wants to now." Ser Alliser shook his head. "You've never wanted them, Snow. The Night's Watch is all you had left when your traitor father lost his head and your traitor brother lost his kingdom."

"I thought that same thing once, a long time ago. I thought this was all I had. I wish it still was. So many of my problems would be fixed if it were. But unfortunately for me, I'm a bastard. My problems don't trump everyone else's."

Ser Alliser huffed a cold breath of chuckling. "Of course they don't. You can go wherever it is you're lookin' to go in this world, where freedom is warm and the Wall's shadow doesn't reach. But you can't hide that urge you've always had, Snow. you won't stop being that hero of the people, fighting White Walkers and befriending your precious Free Folk."

"No, I won't. Because that's who I am. The bastard who fights everyone's else's battles forever." He turned to leave but stopped short of the stairs. "I had thought of hanging you all north of the Wall. Maybe the Night King's magic would bring you back after and we'd have our proof of the monsters for the south to see."

"So why don't you?" Ser Alliser chided.

"Because I'm a bastard, I don't get to have what I want."

Bran

A low howl echoed from the depths of the caves. They did that too often to the point that it wasn't recognized as winds from far away but more as the caves themselves breathing. The sounds used to give Bran the shivers when he heard them. Not anymore. He was used to the gloominess of the caves and the terror of the dead just outside, watching, waiting.

He was lying next to Hodor and Meera eating his moss in silence. Everyone did. There never was much talk anymore. The Children of the Forest were quiet except for Leaf. She and Meera conversed the most but still it was very little. Leaf was out keeping watch on the Dead by herself.

The Three Eyed Raven rarely spoke to anyone else except for Bran and the Children. Stream was feeding him his moss at the time while Pinecone was doing the same for the old man in the tree.

"What happened to Dark Sister?" Bran asked his mentor.

The old man in the tree swallowed his moss and looked coldly to Bran. He wasn't one to tell stories unless it was through the sight and had something to teach him. "The White Walkers cast it into a chasm of ice. Impossible to retrieve and lost forever."

"That's it?" Meera asked.

He narrowed his eyes on her. "It pains all to dwell on our greatest defeats." He told them all.

Indeed it did. If someone asked Bran to regale losing Winterfell to Theon and failing to save Ser Rodrick, he wouldn't treat it like some story Old Nan used to tell. It was a painful memory.

"What about Blackfyre?" Meera asked. "Have you ever looked for it?"

The Three Eyed Raven nodded. "It rests among rubble, hidden where the loyalists to the Black Dragon hid it from the spies of the Red, in Volantis."

Bran made to eat the rest of his moss. But suddenly, a great force like a blast of wind crashed into him, a strange feeling that overcame all of his senses. He gasped deeply and began shivering with this unknown feeling.

"Bran? Bran!" Meera exclaimed. "Bran, are you alright?"

He didn't know what this was. Could it be what Jojen went through for using the sight? Was this the start of a painful sickness? No, there wasn't any pain, just strange shivers and the feeling of a thousand ants scuttling under his skin.

"Hodor?" Said Hodor terrified.

Bran's eyes caught with the Three Eyed Raven's. Whatever this feeling was, they both shared it.

"What was that?" Bran asked immediately.

For the first time since meeting him, the Three Eyed Raven had no answer. He looked just as confused and scared as Bran was. It was the longest minute waiting for something to be said. "I've never felt a force like this before. This is something older than I have ever looked back." He looked to Leaf. "Is this familiar?"

"Yes… and no. This is forgotten magic and something different. Two powers in one spell." Leaf and the other Children shut their eyes and grasped the roots of the weirwood. "There is a song echoing through the trees, one not yet sung. A song of time and death."

Bran crawled over to beneath the Three Eyed Raven. "What do we do? What does it mean?"

The Old Man breathed deeply before answering, contemplating the choices. "It means we continue as we have. We look back and learn. But now we must go farther."

Jon

Jon met with the four squads in the commons and they had a map brought to them of the recorded lands North. With guidance, Jon pointed out each location and each set of instructions that had to be followed to the letter if each team was going to succeed. Then Jon showed Edd the location of the Three Eyed Raven's Cave. The route Edd would have to take would be a long one but it would be safe given that many wights were watching over the place.

The sun was nearly setting before Jon had dressed out of all of his black and into some new clothes. Although calling them new was a bit too kind of a term. They were worn extensively but they were warm and made him look like a commoner.

The Free Folk Tormund gathered did the same and dressed out of their furs and into southern clothing. They took their leave of the castle and headed south to the home of the Umbers and Ser Davos left for East Watch by the Sea. They all blended right in with the Northerners in the villages they passed through once they were out of the Gift. No one suspected who they were and why should they? Sometimes a deserting Brother would go in disguise but it wouldn't help when he was being tracked by rangers who knew his face.

They rode hard on horses for two days and straight through the nights as well. They only rested for a couple of hours during the journey and only when they could afford to.

When they arrived at the Last Hearth, they waited for nightfall to give them the cover of darkness. As if the luck of the gods was with them, the night was moonless, giving them more cover of shadow.

The Freefolk took the lead as they moved to the castle. The rocky hills surrounding the Last Hearth made it possible to move unseen.

When they came to a rise of stone a hundred feet from the back of the castle, they found the entrance of a secret passage that was built for escape. It had not been used for centuries and was forgotten to time. The lock on the inside was rusted and broke off with one hard push into the rotting wood.

As the Wildlings went through the passage one by one, Tormund whispered to Jon. "How did you know this was here? I dont think even the fuckin' Umbers know it's here."

"I told you, death showed me many things." He didn't like to lie to his friend, but the truth would have been far more unbelievable. How was he supposed to explain that the Three Eyed Raven was showing him what to do and everything else?

The passageway quickly turned from a small cave into a secret hallway of the castle. They came to a ladder that led up to a trap door. Jon went first and climbed up. He made to open it.

'Wait, not yet.' The Raven instructed.

Jon did as he was told through his thoughts.

"What is it?" Tormund whispered.

"I hear someone." Jon waited for his cousin to tell him when it would be safe. Had it just been him, he might have failed already.

'It's clear.'

Jon slowly pushed the door open and felt it heavy from the weight of being underneath a carpet. He pushed it all aside and finally got into the Last Hearth.

Half of the group remained in the passageway while Jon and Tormund led the rest through the dark hallways of the castle. There were hardly any patrols tonight which made things much easier. They crept deeper, finally coming to the dungeons. The guard on duty was sitting at a table, passed out with a half empty horn of ale next to him.

Tormund drew a bone dagger and raised it up but Jon grabbed his arm to stop him.

"No, just gag and bind him. If we kill him then the Smalljon will come for blood."

"He's going to anyway."

"I know, but better to not give him more reason to have it. If you kill him then it's proving him right."

Tormund kept his gaze on Jon as he sheathed his knife. "Fine. Bring the ropes!" He quietly called out to his other men.

They knocked the man over the head for good measure before tying him up. They put a blindfold over his eyes and gagged his mouth.

Jon retrieved the keys to the cages and proceeded into the dungeons. At the cells, he found who he was looking for. This time, he wouldn't fail. This time, he would save him and the others. He carefully opened the cell as quietly as he could. The loose hinges creaked and moaned but the sounds did not echo.

It was enough to wake the boy sleeping in the one Jon opened. Before Rickon could say anything, Jon held a finger to his lips, silencing his brother. Rickon nodded but sprang to his brother and held him tightly. Jon didn't stop him from having this moment. Seventeen years. Seventeen fucking years since he held his baby brother. "We're getting you out of here." Jon pulled Rickon to his feet and moved onto the other cell. He never met Rickon's guardian but knew it was her since she was the only other prisoner.

The wildling woman was waking up by the time Jon was unlocking her cell. She scurried to the bars when she saw Rickon out.

"What about Shaggy?" Rickon asked.

Jon paused to his brother's question. Unfortunately, Shaggydog was in the kennels, muzzled and tied down. It was too much in the open and the black wolf would cause too much of a ruckus. The consequence of being the wildest of the litter.

"I'm sorry, Rickon. We can't get to him."

"But I heard them talking! Lord Umber is going to kill him."

"If we try, we get caught. I'm sorry." He opened the cell door but Osha scuffled to the back corner.

"Who're you?" She asked.

"Jon Snow. Ned Stark's bastard."

"He's my big brother, Osha." Rickon said.

With Rickon's information, Osha didn't hesitate to join him outside of the cell. The wildlings brought the guard into her cell and locked him inside. The moment she saw Tormund, she became a bit more relaxed. "I'd recognize that beautiful beard anywhere. Never thought you'd ally with southerners, Giantsbane."

"Me neither. But here we are, making friends where we go." Tormund looked at Jon. "They'll find him by morning."

"That's more than enough time. Now let's get out of here."

They snuck back the way they came to the secret exit. It hadn't even been a full hour since they entered the way they came. They left the Last Hearth behind and broke for the cover of the hills.

All through the rest of the night Jon and his men raced their horses but Rickon slept like a baby being free of a cage. By morning they reached a small village. Finally in the clear to rest for a while.

The moment Rickon was off the horse, Jon swarmed his brother and embraced him tightly, collapsing to his knees and breaking into tears. Having his brother back with him, saving him from such a horrible fate, it was the first true joy he felt in so long.

All his emotions he had been holding back in the night came rushing all at once. The pain of watching Rickon die, the anger, despair, regret. Tears rolled down his face knowing that his brother was safe in his arms now. He had so much he wanted to say that wouldn't make sense to anyone but himself. So instead, he kept things easy. "I've got you, Rickon. I've got you."

Rickon wrapped his arms around Jon and began to weep with him as a child waking from a nightmare. But to Jon, it felt like the start of a good dream. And he was going to fight as hard as he could to make it stay that way if it was the last thing he ever did.

He looked to those watching. Tormund smiled sympathetically and nodded at him, showing his faithful support for familial love.

Jon patted Rickon's back and lifted them both up. "Come on. Let's get something decent to eat. I'm sure what you had on the run is better than whatever Smalljon gave you."

Listening to Rickon laugh gave Jon all the relief he needed to break his worries for now. He hoped that were there an afterlife that Ned, Robb, and even Catelyn, were happy that he saved Rickon's life.

Jon approached the wildling woman, Osha. "My name's Jon Snow. Thank you for everything you've done for my family."

Osha only nodded and followed them all to find some food.

The village they were in was small, but they managed to trade for food and better clothes for Rickon and Osha. The rabbit furs they wore wouldn't suit the coming winter and certainly not the freezing cold of the Wall. The food wasn't enough to fill everyone's bellies but it was enough to satisfy. Tormund and the other Free Folk thought the stew they had was a banquet compared to what they had lived off for their entire lives.

While the men fed the horses at a water trow, Jon was at the edge of the village with Rickon. They finally had a chance to talk. They were sitting down together, looking south.

Jon told his brother, "I want to say that I never believed you were dead. But I did. I never knew the details when I got back from my range. I was just told that Robb was dead, you and Bran burned in Winterfell. I wanted to leave and see for myself and know the truth. But damn my oaths and the things I saw."

"At least yeh came back," Rickon told him, "First fatheh and Sansa and Arya, then Motheh, then Robb, and then Bran. All of them left me behind. But ya came back." He shifted uncomfortably. "Why didn't the othehs come back?"

Jon couldn't help but be amused at the accent of Rickon's words. Perhaps once Winterfell was theirs again and Rickon had time returning to his place in the House. "I don't know. They did what they thought was right. Everything just fell apart on us. We never could have known the horribleness you all went through."

Rickon sighed, upset that it was something that couldn't have an exact answer to. "Is Ghost still with yeh?" Rickon asked.

"Aye. He's waiting for me at Castle Black. He's probably looking after Sansa right now."

Rickon brightened when he heard his sister's name. "Sansa? She's in the North?"

"Aye. She got there just after I left and is waiting for us to return. But she doesn't know I'm bringing you with me. I can't imagine how happy she'll be when she sees you."

Rickon smiled up at him but it quickly changed into a frown. "Do yeh still think she's all ladylike 'n prissy?"

"She wouldn't be Sansa if she weren't." Jon joked. "But I know she'll be different than before. A good different." At least until she was done using him. Then she'll be back to being a player in the game. He thought she would be different back then but she merely became another Littlefinger. Thankfully they all planned for that too. "I wasn't able to protect you, Rickon. But I am here now. I'll do everything I can for you, I promise."

It took a day longer to return to Castle Black. But by then everyone let themselves be at ease. They slowed their horses to a walking pace when the castle came into sight.

"Don't really look like a castle." Rickon said as he looked at the black structure.

"You'd be surprised at some of the keeps near White Harbor. Smaller places than this still get the title. But you're right. It's more of a fort, really. The only better days it's seen are its first."

Before they reached the gates, one of the men atop the portcullis blew the horn. The gates opened for them and they had returned to the shelter and safety of Castle Black.

There were drills going on for the green recruits, but everyone had come to a full stop in their chores and doings when Jon returned. They all watched him silently.

Jon dismounted and pulled Rickon off after him. For once, he didn't need The Raven's guidance to know where to look to find someone. He turned his gaze up to the balconies and saw her standing there with Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne behind her. The tables were turned. She was in his place watching him ride through the gates this time.

He could see that his cousin was overjoyed to see him and absolutely surprised that Rickon was standing next to him. But he didn't feel the same as the first time. Disappointment, betrayal, rage, and so many more feelings that face and red hair instilled in him.

No, he couldn't let that cloud his actions in the past. He had to try. The things he went through were their own separate place and the people just as foreign. Things were going to be different, much more different.

Jon nudged Rickon forward who ran to his big sister. Sansa rushed down the steps and met him in joyful tears at the bottom.

While Jon watched, The Raven spoke to him. 'With Rickon alive, Winterfell will have a male heir now. Sansa won't have the right to take control of the North anymore.'

"Just as planned." Jon whispered.

It was Sansa's stubbornness and pride that rallied many of the Northern Lords with her to despise Daenerys even when she lost half her forces for the North. Eleven fucking years it took her to finally answer the damn question.

'We would have died, Jon.'

But she turned out to be right. Daenerys became her father. The people that drove the Targaryens out had won the argument the day King's Landing burned by Dragonfire.

Sansa looked over to Jon and looked happy at him. "Come here," she told him.

Jon gave her his best smile and joined his cousins in the warm embrace of each other. But he was devoid of any feelings for Sansa. He couldn't bring himself to feel anything for her yet. The feelings he had for her future, his past, were too strong and too recent. Sansa was his blood, but she was not his family. Neither was Arya, not when they betrayed the beliefs their father taught them.

The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If one cannot find it within yourself to do that then perhaps they do not deserve to die. The daughters of House Stark passed the sentence, but forced him to swing the sword and become a kinslayer. The lives he took that day with a push of his dagger… he would never forgive them, never.

That evening, the Stark children and Jon went to the Lord's Chambers and privately had supper there.

Rickon had dug into his meal with his bare hands at first before Sansa forced him to use a spoon. The sight made Jon laugh a little as he watched.

"Wild just like a wolf." Jon said.

"I'm sick of roots and beetles." Rickon told him. "Haven't had any good meat since the snow appeared. Shaggy kept on hogging it all."

"I think I might prefer them to what's for breakfast."

Rickon looked up from his food. "What's for breakfast?" He asked.

"Hobb's cooking the last of a stag that was caught last week. He always saves the worst for last. So we'll be eating its balls."

Sansa grimaced while Rickon was unfazed. "I wonder if they'll taste like rabbit balls."

Jon couldn't help but laugh. Life outside a castle certainly changed Rickon. He was just like a Wildling.

Sansa pushed her soup aside. "Jon. I want to ask you something." There was a pregnant silence. "When you were gone, some of the men and the red woman kept saying things about you. They spoke of… well… they kept talking about how you were brought back from death."

Jon never spoke to her much about his death the first time. This time he would though. "Less than a fortnight ago, my officers mutinied against me. They lured me into the courtyard and each stabbed a knife into my chest."

Sansa was silent, obviously confused, and almost insulted. But before she could ask further, Jon stood from his seat and pulled his shirt off. His chest was naked and revealed the scars of the knives. They never healed all the way the first time. They probably wouldn't the second time.

"My watch ended that night. The Red Priestess used her magic to bring me back from death." He let his shirt fall and sat back down. "This is the first of many unbelievable things you're about to learn. When we leave to meet with the Free Folk leaders, you're both going to see the last Giant. And after that you'll both see what made me let them all through the Wall."

There was another silence but Jon just continued to eat his soup.

"Why are you going to meet with the Wildlin's?" Rickon asked.

"They have two thousand strong that can fight. We'll need them if we're going to take back our home from the Boltons."

Hope flickered up in Sansa and Rickon. "We're goin' to go home?" Rickon asked.

"Aye. And we're going to bring winter with us." But before they could leave, they had to wait for their unexpected guests to arrive. "There's one more thing, but… it can wait until the time's right." The truth of his birth didn't need to get in the way of the reunion.

The next day, Jon was always at work. He spent his time doing nothing but writing down everything that needed to be done and everything Edd needed to know when he returned with Bran. He sent several messages out to the other castles along the Wall informing them of what had transpired. He sent a letter to the Shadow Tower requesting that Ser Dennis Mallister come to Castle Black to be Acting Lord Commander until Edd returned.

Not while everything was key on what happened next. He would spend his free time training in the yard, trying to get his reflexes to what he had before he came back. His body was catching up quickly to his mind. After three straight days of practice, Jon knew he would be ready.

Early one afternoon one of the stewards burst through his door as Jon was trying to rest after many days of work. "Lord Comman- Lord Snow, the Umbers are here."

"How many?" Jon asked.

"Probably five hundred."

Perfect. Jon got out of his seat and retrieved Longclaw. He made his way to the top of the gates and looked out to the hills beyond. Indeed there were five hundred men. None of whom lived long enough the first time to fight at Winterfell against the dead. This time, it would be different.

'Remember, Smalljon pledged to Ramsay because he saw him as someone stronger than Roose and you. He will follow strength.'

"I know," Jon whispered. "I won't fail."

There was a lone group of riders bearing the banner of peace approaching the gates and leading them was Smalljon. "Open the gates!" Jon ordered. The Umber party was let inside and all of them kept their hands on the pommels of their swords, ready to draw and fight if it came to that.

Jon went down and stood across from the Smalljon. "Lord Umber."

"Bastard." Smalljon casually greeted. "You took something of mine."

"That I did. Didn't belong to you, anyways. That's quite the escort you brought with you. I thought you'd be bringing it to Winterfell to kiss Ramsay's ass like you're planning to." Even though Jon wasn't one to spout such insults as he was, it was the only way to get the reaction and attention of the proud Lord Umber.

Smalljon chuckled at Jon's boldness. "I thought I might as well kill you and your goat fuckers now instead of later."

"The Wildlings are under the protection of the Night's Watch. The Gift is theirs to settle. By bringing your army here, you are declaring war on the order. The other lords might consider it a great dishonor and shameful act if you do."

Glaring at him, Smalljon pursed his lips. "I'm merely here to carry out justice. You abandoned your post and trespassed on my lands. Your life is forfeit, Lord Commander."

"I'm not the Lord Commander anymore. I'm not a brother of the Watch either. My vows have been fulfilled." Jon pulled his shirt over revealing the scar over his heart. Smalljon and his escort were stupefied when they saw it. For a brief moment, Smalljon's prowess broke. "I know you haven't come here to leave without spilling blood. If you want to settle this with blood, then let's settle this the Old Way. You against me."

Shrugging, Smalljon dismounted from his horse and walked up to Jon standing more than a head taller. "You really think you can beat me just cause you have a fancy looking sword and some scars?"

"Valyrian steel cuts perfectly and I have already acquainted myself with death. You are only the Smalljon. If I were fighting Greatjon then I'd be nervous." That definitely tweaked a nerve. Jon could hear Smalljon's leather glove scrunch as he tightened his fist.

"Tomorrow at dawn, bastard." Smalljon turned around and returned to his horse. They rode off back to his army and Jon returned to Castle Black.

When the gates closed, Sansa and Rickon met him in the courtyard. "He's come to get us, hasn't he?" Sansa said.

"He doesn't know you're here, Sansa. He wants Rickon and my head. But tomorrow, we're going to fight one on one. If I win, then he will answer to me."

"But if he wins-"

"Then we're fucked." Jon told them. "But it won't happen. I've fought men mightier than he and creatures stronger. Don't worry. I'm not leaving you just after we got back together." He looked down to Rickon. "Come on, it's about time you had your first real lesson in sword fighting." And just like that, Jon continued the day as if Smalljon had never arrived at all.

By morning the next day, Jon was dressed out of his regular black and into a boiled leather brigandine cuirass his family's bannermen wear. He didn't tie his sword belt around him, instead he had Rickon carry Longclaw like a squire would.

Finally ready, Jon and Rickon were joined by Tormund, three other Wildlings and a couple men of the Night's Watch. They left through the gates to the fields outside. The Umber army had made a rough camp and many gathered at the 'dueling grounds.'

Smalljon stood across from Jon. His men formed a ring that no one could escape from if they chose to flee.

"I'm glad you showed-" Lord Umber began but Rickon cut him off.

"Where's Shaggydog? Where's my direwolf?" Rickon demanded.

Smalljon smirked down at Rickon. "Don't worry, Lord Stark. I am not gonna kill the beast until you can be there to watch."

Both men removed their cloaks and drew their swords. Rickon, Tormund, and the other men backed away and nervously joined the onlookers.

Jon gripped Longclaw with one hand and let Smalljon take the advance. They approached each other and when Smalljon raised his sword, Jon did not raise his to meet it. Instead he stepped to the side and dodged the blade. He lifted Longclaw and lightly poked Smalljon's side.

"Dead." Jon said. "Try again."

This angered Smalljon and he came faster. Jon had to parry with Longclaw this time. The strength of Smalljon's strikes were great, but he was too easy to read.

Jon countered a parry and slipped Longclaw's edge just by Smalljon's neck, barely missing the skin intentionally. "Dead again."

The Smalljon began yelling out as he attacked Jon but with no avail of landing any hits.

Jon decided that he riled up the great Lord Umber enough and switched tactics. He slipped by the Smalljon and brought the pommel of his sword up the Smalljon's head, bashing the man hard in his right temple. As Smalljon fell back, Jon went on the offensive and attacked him. The defense was firm, but it wasn't good enough. Jon slipped his blade and sliced at Smalljon's arms and legs. It was nothing mortally wounding but it showed. He then hit him in the face with the pommel again and then slapped it with the flat of the blade.

The fight continued on like that. Smalljon kept getting injury after injury while Jon was unscathed. The Umber men were cheering at the beginning of the fight but now they were dead silent as they watched their lord get humiliated.

Finally, Jon knocked Smalljon's sword away and bashed him square in the stomach.

Smalljon groaned out and looked ready to vomit. He fell to his knees and tried to get back up. His face dripped blood from his mouth, nose, and the cuts he bore. Bruises marked his skin wherever visible and concealed.

"Would you like to try again tomorrow?" Jon asked, still well energized and ready. He was grateful that he still possessed his ability from his first life. If he hadn't, he might have lost to Smalljon.

Suddenly, the horn atop the wall echoed throughout the valley. All eyes went up to Castle Black and awaited for any more blasts, but there were none. The rangers were back.

"We're done for today." Jon went to Rickon and sheathed his sword. "Rest as well as you can, Lord Umber. Because tomorrow, I have something I want to show you. Then we'll see where your loyalties are. With pride or with survival." The Umber men parted ways for Jon, none of them looked like they had the nerve to dare to try and stop him.

Smalljon nearly collapsed into the cold mud as Jon and the others returned to Castle Black. His men rushed to his side.

Back inside the walls of the castle, Jon was met by Ghost and Sansa. Sansa looked utterly relieved at their return and unexpectedly hugged onto Jon tightly.

"I can't believe you beat him." Sansa said.

Rickon scoffed. "I can't believe how one sided it was. But Jon didn't kill him yet."

"What?" Sansas mood quickly changed. "He's still alive?"

Jon nodded lightly as she backed away. "Trust me, he won't be on his feet for at least a day. Now both of you wait here. I have to check something." He walked past the two of them and did his sword belt around his waist. He called out to a trio of Builders he assigned a special task to. "Bring one of the crates!"

As Jon and a few others walked into the darkness of the tunnel, Tormund came next to Jon. "Youre fuckin' mad, you know that? I wouldn't bring one of those fuckers with me if you offered the biggest fuckin' castle you southerners have."

"Do you have a better idea to convince people that it's just White Walkers and not Grumpkins and Snarks as well?"

"Yes. Not bringing one of those fuckers south." Tormund drew his blade as they all reached the gate.

Jon waved the torch up high and the gate began to open. Once it was about halfway open, the rangers and wildling guide Jon sent were in view and with them was a wight bound and gagged.

"Well done," Jon told them with sincere gratitude. "Bring the box."

The Builders hauled the crate over to the rangers but kept their distance from the wight. The rangers required help from some of the others to get the monster into the box as it struggled greatly not to go. With the efforts of five men, the wight was secured and the crate sealed by an iron hinge.

"Let's head back. You four earned a damn good meal and some rest." Jon let the ranging party go ahead while he and everyone else tugged at ropes to pull the box through the tunnel as the gate closed behind them all. One down, three to go.

Returned to the south side, the men pulled the box into the center of the training yard. Brothers of the watch and wildlings gathered around to see. Rickon and Sansa were off to the side with Ghost who was on edge when he saw the crate.

"I was wrong," Jon told his cousins, "you get to see the monster before the giant."

Jon himself undid the hinges and pulled off the lid. The wight sprang up and gave out a muffled screech that shocked all who had never heard nor seen such a creature.

Rickon hid behind the protection of a snarling Ghost and Sansa didn't hesitate to do the same. The Night's Watch who never saw proof of the dead before now all began chattering fearfully. Most importantly, they saw it and they all believed it.

Jon closed the lid and sealed it. "Bring it to the cold cells. I want four men watching over it with dragonglass. Should it break free, do everything you can to secure it unless you have no choice but to kill it. This is proof of what the Night's Watch stands against. The lords of the south have neglected this order for too long. But once they see this, they better wake the hell up to reality."

The crate was dragged away and Jon went over to his cousins. They were both silent as the grave. Jon took a deep breath to calm himself down. "The White Walkers are real. The Night King is real. The legends are all real."

No one slept easy that night. In fact, only a few could find rest. Sansa and Rickon shared Jon's bed together while Jon decided to lay on the floor next to Ghost.

He didn't dream. Instead, he had conversations.

'So far everything is working as we planned.' The Raven said.

"Aye, so far. But how long until things change too much that they become out of our control? I wish we had more time to plan. How is everyone else doing so far?"

'Sansa's starting to finally like the taste of moss and she's spending quite a lot of time with Tyrion. He's trying to conceive of a way to make beer from the moss or anything at this point.'

"Of course he would. What about Arya?"

'Still practicing her Waterdancing. She's teaching some of the women how to do it as well.'

"And you? How are you doing so far?"

'I'm holding on. My strength is still with me. But give or take a few months and I will start to be fading away. The more I use my power the more I shorten the time I have left. But what choice do I have? We can't let him find us here, not so soon.'

"I'll work as fast as I can. Just keep holding on."

'I will. Now sleep. You need your rest.' When The Raven's words finished, Jon was instantly drawn to sleep.

By dawn, Smalljon Umber was on his feet at the gates with thirty of his men. Their weapons were drawn and they all looked angry.

'He wants to finish what you started. He's ordered his men to kill you if you walk away again.'

Jon looked down at them from the top of the portcullis. "Are you ready to try again?"

"You are truly a bastard." Smalljon spat. "How dare you dishonor me. You had me and you just fucking left!"

It almost sounded like a lover's quarrel. "Did you hear the horn yesterday, my lord? Do you know what it means?"

Smalljon remained silent and furious.

"It means the rangers came back and they brought something with them. Something I want to show you and your men." He turned to one of the rangers next to him. "Have the crate brought back up."

"Yes, Lord Snow." The ranger rushed off.

"Let them in. Open the gates!" Jon ordered.

Some of the Umber bannermen looked surprised that there wasn't much resistance or argument. Regardless, they followed their lord through the gates of Castle Black.

Jon met them in the training yard and many of the Wildlings armed themselves at the sight of drawn steel.

Smalljon gripped his sword in both hands and stood at the ready to fight Jon again. But as he was now, any skilled fighter could beat him. Smalljon had a slight limp in his left leg from a gash that was bound, he was huffing for breath and his left eye had nearly swollen shut.

"Before we begin, my lord, might I ask you something?" His only response was a grunt. "Do you believe in the old legends? The tales of the White Walkers and the Long Night."

Jon was surprised to receive a rather honest answer. "I did once. But then I became a man and put aside ghost stories and legends."

Jon nodded. "Very well." Jon raised his hand and waved for the rangers carrying the crate to step forward. "If you say you still don't believe after this, then I will give you the death you seek."

The rangers undid the latches and before they could grab a hold of the restrained ropes a rotting hand burst out of the box and a great scream followed. The gag had been severed by the gnashing of teeth and the beast managed to get an arm loose. The four rangers tackled the beast as it began climbing out as to restrain it once more.

Many of the Smalljon's men gasped and stepped back at the mere sight of the wight. Smalljon himself was wide eyed and he also stepped back out of fear.

The creature struggled greatly and screamed out loud enough that it echoed beyond the walls of the castle.

When the rangers finally wrestled the wight back into the box and sealed it, the Smalljon and his men were all gaping at what they witnessed. To anyone south of the Neck, they might have called it witchcraft or dark magic. But these were men of the North, they knew the truth of what it was.

"So tell me, Smalljon. Do you think a crazy bastard like Ramsay would really stand with you when more than a hundred thousand of those things come to meet us?"

Smalljon was actually shaking. For a man as mighty and strong as he, he certainly knew when to be afraid. His sword slipped from his fingers and fell into the dirt and snow. He looked Jon straight in the eye before getting down on one knee. "House Umber is yours, Jon Snow."