[Chapter Size: 3300 Words.]

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Third Person POV

North, 297 AC.

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A few days after the trial, as a group of soldiers assigned to the Wall was organized to take the two men accused to the farthest reaches of the Kingdom of the North, where they would serve the Night’s Watch for the rest of their lives, the castle of Winterfell had already begun to empty out. Every day, a group of servants and soldiers left the castle, relocating elsewhere. Some continued working for the Starks, but outside the castle, while others returned south, seeking another way to survive once the coins given by Lord Stark ran out. He had been generous, after all.

Even Vayon Poole, along with his family, was leaving Winterfell on this day. Lord Stark felt somewhat lost about this, as he needed a new steward.

At that moment, as Lord Stark watched Vayon leaving with a cart from Winterfell’s courtyard, Arya approached him. In the distance, Sansa wept in a corner over the departure of her friend, Jeyne Poole, retreating into the castle as she wiped her tears.

Lord Stark sensed his youngest daughter’s presence as she drew near.

“Father, do you want to leave the responsibility of the castle to me?” Arya asked.

Her father looked at her, surprised, ready to deny the request, but Arya pressed on.

“Father, don’t worry. I know I’m young, but I also know how to manage an entire troop and understand very well how the castle operates. You could leave this to me. It will be too heavy a burden for you to handle your responsibilities as Lord of Winterfell while also managing the castle. Besides, Robb will also need your attention. I’m sure you’ll have to educate him closely when he’s not cleaning the stables and kennels. I can take care of the castle properly. Maester Luwin can be with me and check if I’m doing a good job. At least let me try,” she said in a convincing tone.

Lord Stark remained silent for a moment, listening to his daughter. He had to admit that taking on this role in recent days had been exhausting. Working as Lord of the North and overseeing Winterfell, even with Vayon Poole’s assistance, was draining. And Arya had proven herself very capable and responsible, even helping him with his duties for the North. Perhaps…

“All right, Arya. I’ll trust you with this, but only until we find someone suitable,” he said, entrusting his daughter with the task.

“That’s fine, Father. I’m also sure I can help you this way and maybe even find someone suitable for the role,” she replied confidently. She was certain she could find someone appropriate to manage the castle.

“All right,” he nodded before changing the subject. “One thing—your mother has been trying to talk to you in recent days. It’s becoming a nuisance because of it,” he said cautiously.

Arya shook her head. “It’s no use. I won’t talk to her anymore. After what happened, I prefer to keep my distance. I hope you’ll explain this to her,” she responded firmly.

Her father nodded, deciding not to push the matter further. He couldn’t blame her for that.

Meanwhile, preparations for the journey to the Wall were completed. The prisoners were placed in a cart. The servant continued to weep as, with quiet and efficient work, the men began to leave Winterfell, escorting them north, disappearing from sight.

Lord Stark now turned his attention to Jory, who was also nearby.

“Now we need to organize the transport of Lady Catelyn to the Riverlands. I believe the message I sent should reach Riverrun in a few days. I’m certain Lord Tully will send the Blackfish north to help escort her,” he said to Jory.

“Yes, my lord,” Jory replied, bowing his head.

Ned Stark then returned to his solar, exhausted but determined to keep the North in order as he resumed his duties.

The letters he had sent began to reach all the houses of the North, spreading like a wave from Winterfell.

In White Harbor, the message was received by Maester Theomore, whose expression was as sour as if he had just eaten a lemon. Clearly, he did not like the king beyond the Wall and thought of him as some kind of demon or enemy of the Seven, to the point that when Arya came to the city, they had to keep the maester away from the girl to avoid offending her. His opinion was shaped largely by what Jon had done at the Citadel in Oldtown. The fact that Lord Stark was seeking justice for Jon Arctic for something that had happened many years ago left the maester somewhat frustrated.

Lord Manderly, however, had a different opinion. He stared at the letter, eyebrows raised.

“My gods, what was Lady Catelyn thinking?” he muttered, swallowing hard. The last thing he wanted was a fleet of ships attacking the North in revenge. He had already harbored concerns ever since hearing about the naval power Arctic possessed, especially after the negative rumors about Jon supposedly kidnapping Arya. Now, that seemed minor compared to what was being revealed. After all, the boy had been humiliated and wronged when he was just a child.

In Torrhen’s Square, Lord Helman Tallhart was astonished as he read the letter.

“I’ve never seen this boy in my life,” he thought, though he remembered well the farm in his territory where the boy had once stayed and where his name had emerged for the entire North, besides being known as the bastard of Winterfell. That farm had become the most productive in the North for nearly a decade, since this had happened nine years ago.

Today, that same farm, Icehill, was so prosperous that he had to name the family managing it as a vassal house under his own. The families living there now had their own guards and soldiers, bought more lands nearby, and had built a small village to boost productivity, hiring common folk to help with the harvest. All of it, he mused, seemed almost magical, as if the gods or the boy had done something special during the time he stayed there, for the land produced abundantly regardless of the season.

In Barrowton, Lady Barbrey Dustin received the letter, her expression remaining impassive as she read its contents.

“That southern fish… She was never trustworthy,” she sneered, her tone acidic as she read of Lady Catelyn’s actions and the request for a public apology to Jon Arctic.

She harbored bitter resentment and jealousy toward Catelyn, especially because of Brandon Stark, her first love. It had been a devastating blow to her and her family when Brandon dishonored her, though she had gone along with it willingly, following her father’s instructions. She had truly loved Brandon, but Rickard Stark refused their marriage.

Later, she married Lord Dustin, who died alongside Eddard Stark during Robert’s Rebellion. The fact that Ned brought back only the body of his sister Lyanna, completely ignoring the men who had fought alongside him, deepened Lady Dustin’s hatred for the Starks.

“I don’t care what these Starks do,” she murmured. “Quite the opposite—I’d love to see them destroyed. Maybe this letter will bring me some amusement,” she concluded with a cruel smile, unconcerned about the potential consequences for the North as long as the Starks fought amongst themselves, bastard or not.

In Deepwood Motte, Lord Glover had a different reaction. He remembered the boy who had saved his daughter, Ester Glover, from a group of wildlings many years ago. Now, the boy was being publicly exonerated for something the entire North had known about when Lord Stark sent him to the Wall—a decision many had thought madness.

His daughter, now sixteen namedays, seemed not to have forgotten Jon Arctic’s deed. Whenever rumors about Arctic arose, she would repeat that she would not marry any man but the one who had saved her and become a king beyond the Wall. Lord Glover knew this was impractical and that he would soon need to find a match for the young woman, whether she wanted it or not.

Lord Glover, unlike many, did not judge Jon too harshly for taking Arya Stark beyond the Wall, though he found it strange. By now, Arya’s return was no longer a secret to anyone in the North. Arya was described as something unique in the region: beautiful like a winter flower but sharp as a blade. A living sculpture of the late Lyanna Stark, yet even more intelligent and fierce. Someone who, undoubtedly, would not be easily captured by a mad prince as everyone believed.

The mountain clans also received the letters, but they did not express a significant reaction to the contents. Still, they understood Lord Stark’s intent. To them, it made sense that Ned was seeking justice, even at the cost of removing his own wife from Winterfell. After all, there was a king and a military force on the other side of the Wall that the North could no longer ignore. Arctic was far more dangerous than any group of wildlings they had ever faced.

Lord Stark seemed to be trying to save the North. Many remembered Jon Snow, especially when he returned against all expectations, leading giants and well-armed men while appearing to have been building an army since his eight namedays.

At Last Hearth, the Umbers seemed to hold a meeting regarding the matter. They bore a grudge against Jon Arctic’s name, judging him ever since Arya was taken, as they had a strong disdain for wildling kidnappings.

At the Wall, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch read the letter, seemingly indifferent. However, deep down, the fear of an attack from the North began to disturb his peace of mind. His men, along with 16,000 soldiers sent from the South, had never returned from a mission over a year ago. This left the Watch uneasy, fearing retaliation from the Articans.

“Jon Arctic…” he murmured, recalling the army of giants that had appeared more than seven years ago. He wondered how much that force had grown and how it might become a threat even to a Night’s Watch already in decline.

“Lady Catelyn accused a child of a crime… And now that child is the greatest threat of all,” he said softly to himself, pondering how complex it all had become.

In any case, the Lord Commander rose from his chair in his solar, leaving the maester who had delivered the letter behind, and went to speak with Steward Benjen Stark. He was sure Benjen would appreciate the news about House Stark and his nephew beyond the Wall.

The Karstarks, for their part, were a particularly vocal voice against Jon Arctic, blaming him for misfortunes. When Jon took Arya to Arctic, they grew restless and publicly insulted him. Being near the coast, the ships that had appeared in recent years frightened them greatly. Many suggested sending men along with other southern houses during the attack of 16,000 men to better understand the threat Arctic posed. No one had clear information about the kingdom beyond the Wall, which was concerning. The only thing known was that they had built a powerful fleet.

The other noble houses in the eastern North also received the letters, and their reactions varied. The predominant feeling was fear. Many hoped that Lord Stark would resolve the situation before the army of the “wronged boy” marched south of the Wall.

The Boltons reacted differently. Roose Bolton was somewhat frustrated when he read Lord Stark’s letter a few days earlier, which had requested that he investigate reports of people being captured and brought to his territory. Roose was well aware of the issue, as it was part of a scheme orchestrated by his own bastard. Ramsay liked to capture people, especially women, along the main road to satisfy his hunting games in the forests. For this purpose, he paid others to bring him new victims for his games.

Of course, Roose would not comply with Lord Stark’s request. With a cold smile, he resolved to protect Ramsay, merely instructing him to keep a low profile. After all, even as a bastard, Ramsay was the only direct successor to his house and needed to stay alive to ensure its continuity. Unlike his brother, Domeric Bolton, Ramsay adhered to a more meticulous and torturous approach to his actions, much in line with the Bolton traditions.

Roose, however, saw an opportunity, calculating how he could use the situation to destroy the Starks and further his own ambitions. After all, Roose Bolton had great aspirations of becoming Warden of the North. The Starks and the Boltons had a long-standing rivalry dating back millennia, to a time before the Starks became Kings in the North. When the Boltons were subdued by the Starks and forced to bend the knee, they became reluctant vassals. The Starks ruled the North until Aegon the Conqueror compelled them to kneel.

“If I can turn Arctic against the Starks, we might have a chance,” Roose mused. The absence of open wars made it possible to rely on political schemes to achieve his goals. With that in mind, he began planning his next moves.

Meanwhile, more houses received Lord Stark’s letter. At Greywater Watch, Lord Howland Reed also received the message as he sat in his solar, his cane resting beside him. Since being wounded by Arthur Dayne at the Tower of Joy, he had never regained full use of his legs. His days were confined to the swamps, unable to travel beyond his lands.

As he read the letter, Lord Reed appeared visibly saddened. He knew very well who Jon Snow was and, more importantly, whose son he truly was. He vividly remembered the day Lord Stark emerged from the Tower of Joy with a baby in his arms, alongside the servants and the body of his sister, Lyanna. That day, Ned had asked him to swear never to reveal the truth to anyone, promising to raise the boy as his own son.

Howland Reed had tried to convince Ned to leave the baby in his care.

“Let me raise him. He deserves a proper upbringing, one that he’s entitled to,” he had argued.

But Ned insisted that the boy would be safer in Winterfell, raised as his bastard. Reed had reluctantly agreed. Years later, when rumors surfaced about how Jon was treated by Lady Catelyn, Reed wrote numerous letters pleading with Ned to allow the boy to live with him.

Year after year, Ned’s response was the same:

“He is safer in Winterfell, even if Catelyn’s harsh treatment is a form of protecting him.”

Howland had never accepted this. When he learned that Jon had been sent to the Wall and later disappeared entirely, his fury grew. He even sent a letter demanding an explanation, but Ned was discreet, fearing the letters might fall into the wrong hands. No one could know that the boy was, in fact, Lyanna’s son.

Time passed, and Howland began hearing rumors about Jon. Fantastic stories claimed that he had been blessed by the old gods, displaying near-magical abilities and astonishing the entire North. Songs and tales recounted unbelievable feats for a boy of only eight or nine years. Howland was especially shocked to learn that Jon had crossed the Wall leading giants.

“At the time, I didn’t know what to think. But now I am certain that Lyanna’s son had a special destiny. The gods blessed him,” Reed murmured, deep in thought.

His mind drifted to the past, recalling Lyanna. She had always been an extraordinary woman who fought for justice. He would never forget the day she defended him from a group of squires who were beating him. She revealed her true self, and they all fled, but that wasn’t enough for her—she couldn’t allow the honor of a vassal to be tarnished like that.

Lyanna confronted their knights without hesitation, like a true Stark. Wearing armor, she presented herself as the Knight of the Laughing Tree at the Harrenhal tourney. She defeated each of the knights who had insulted Reed and forced them to apologize publicly.

“She was extraordinary,” Howland said to himself, his eyes welling with tears.

Now, he wondered if he saw Lyanna’s reflection in Jon. The boy born as a bastard with a secret past had grown to become a king beyond the Wall. His stories seemed surreal. Jon Snow, the bastard of Ned Stark, had become a military and political power while traversing the world.

“The world would never believe it if there weren’t witnesses. The boy who left the Tower of Joy now rules as Jon Arctic, Lyanna’s son,” concluded Howland, gazing out the solar window as the wind swept over the swamps of the North.

“I wonder what you would think of your son, Lyanna…” murmured Howland Reed, reflecting on his old friend. He was certain Lyanna would be proud to see what Jon had become: a boy who put all Seven Kingdoms on alert at such a young age and grew into a king. A name that scholars would remember for the rest of history.

“Perhaps some will call him the Maegor of Winter, referring to Maegor the Cruel before Jaehaerys I. Others might call him Jaehaerys himself, after all, he turned the wildlings into a military force,” he continued thoughtfully. “Or maybe they’ll call him the Blessed.” He wasn’t sure.

Howland knew that many in the North saw Jon as a special figure, perhaps even touched by the old gods. Even in the rumors that Arya had been kidnapped, Jon’s name always carried an air of mystique.

“Come in.”

His daughter entered with a worried expression.

“Is something wrong?” he asked Meera.

“Father, Jojen had a vision at the Weirwood. He’s asked for you to meet him urgently. He seems worried but didn’t give me details,” she said, visibly tense.

Howland felt a chill run down his spine at the news. He stood with the help of his cane, both curious and concerned. He believed in Jojen’s gift as a greenseer, but until now, Jojen had never shown such urgency. Something serious must have happened.

With his daughter’s help, Howland left the castle. Along the way, his wife appeared with a curious look, asking what was going on.

“Stay in the castle,” he said. “I’m going to see Jojen at the Weirwood.”

When they arrived, Jojen was seated before the sacred tree, his face pale, as if he bore a heavy burden. He seemed so focused that he didn’t even rise at his father’s arrival.

“Jojen, is something wrong? Are you all right?” asked Howland, approaching with concern.

A few guards were present, offering assistance, but Jojen refused the water one of them brought. He looked directly at his father.

“Father, we need to talk. Can you send the guards away?” Jojen asked, visibly exhausted.

Howland nodded, dismissing the men. Once everyone had left, Jojen turned back to his father, his expression grave.

“Father, I had a premonition. Something I’ve never seen before.”

“What was it?” Howland asked, his tone more serious now. “You’ve said your visions have been blurry for years.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Jojen agreed. “But this one was different, Father. It was so… vivid. Please, listen.”

Howland remained silent, waiting for his son to continue.

“I saw a dragon… A huge, white dragon coming to our home,” Jojen said, his voice laden with worry. “But I don’t know what happens next.”

He looked terrified as he described the massive creature landing in the swamps. Howland watched him carefully, turning over his son’s words in his mind. He didn’t doubt Jojen, but the vision deeply troubled him. Dragons had been extinct for centuries.

“Why would a dragon come here?” Howland whispered, more to himself than to Jojen. He didn’t have the answer, but he knew his son’s vision could not be ignored.

————-Nexts Chapters —————-

Chapter 229 – The Glow of Artica.

Chapter 234 – The She-Wolf of the North 04.

Chapter 244 – The Mountain Trial.

Chapter 253 – Free Folk vs Dead Army 02.

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