[Chapter Size: 3100 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Winterfell, 292 AC, At the same moment.

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Jon sent Ghost to Wolfwoods, and father and son entered the castle. Ned and Jon walked together towards the solar, passing some servants, a familiar space for both, but laden with distinct memories. As they crossed the corridor, Ned watched Jon carefully, noting his confident posture and the way his eyes analyzed every detail around them.

Upon entering the solar, a place filled with stories and decisions of the past, Jon paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping the room that remained unchanged since his last visit. The bookshelves, the large wooden table, and Lord Stark’s chair – all as he remembered. For Jon, however, this place brought back memories of a time when he felt marginalized and uncertain of his place in the world. The last time he had been there, the circumstances had been less than pleasant, marked by difficult conversations and uncomfortable lies, but he no longer cared, this was no longer his home and frankly, did he even care whether the truth about the theft came out or not? Why should he fight for a place in a location he despised, where he did not intend to stay long?

Sitting opposite Ned, Jon cast a serious look. The initial silence was broken by Jon, who did not hesitate to express his intentions. “Father, let’s not waste time, I want two things,” said Jon, his voice showing a maturity and direction that surprised Ned.

Ned, seated in his chair, leaned slightly forward, giving his full attention to his son. He was used to leading, to making decisions, but at that moment, he realized he was facing a young man who had grown far beyond the walls of Winterfell. He had a completely different aura from 2 years ago, he was fierce, fearlessly rebutting those around him now. Jon seemed anything but an 11-year-old child to Ned, not at all comparable to Theon and his heir son, his eyes, though the same shade of green he had witnessed 2 years ago, now seemed much more mature, not to mention they even reflected a certain public disgust for them. Jon had disappeared 2 years ago and returned as a fierce boy, different from the more passive behavior he had at the time, he could even retort his wife’s tongue, whatever had happened beyond the wall with the child, it seems he had not only sharpened his sword. But his tongue and mind seemed to have made him a fierce speaker in any discussion, he basically controlled the situation in the courtyard without fear of punishment even being a child with only 11 namedays. Despite his disgust at how the boy acted, even with his wife despising him, Ned also had a bit of pride, he had to admit.

“Speak, Jon. What do you want?” asked Ned, ready to listen and understand the demands that made his son leave the north of the wall to come here and apparently, this was the main reason for his son’s transformative visit. The courtyard case should be ignored for now.

Jon looked steadily at his father and replied clearly. “I want the Crown of Winter and I want Old Nan and her family.”

Ned’s eyes widened, surprised by the first request. “The Crown of Winter? But that was lost generations ago, long before even Aegon arrived in Westeros.”

“No, father. It’s in the crypt, in one of the chambers. Don’t ask me how I know this, but I’m telling the truth,” Jon replied with unsettling calm.

“And why do you want the Crown of Winter?” asked Ned, still trying to process the information.

“I founded a country called Arctic, beyond the Wall. Lord Commander Mormont must have mentioned it in his letter. As its founder and leader, I’ve taken the role of its king,” Jon explained with surprising calm.

He continued, revealing more about his plans. “I’m building a wall to protect my city and my people. But to complete this task, I need the help of giants. The Crown of Winter, an ancient relic of the Kings of Winter, holds great significance for them. I remembered a tradition, something I saw in the old records about Brandon the Builder. When the giants helped to raise the Wall, the Kings of Winter made a pact with them using this crown. Many may have forgotten, but the giants have not; if they find a worthy bearer, they will follow him, just like the pact between Skagos and the Starks.”

Ned Stark remained silent, trying to absorb the flood of information Jon had just revealed. The idea of Jon founding a country beyond the Wall and proclaiming himself king was something Ned could never have imagined. “Arctica,” a name that sounded as distant and mysterious as the lands it represented.

“You… founded a kingdom beyond the Wall?” Ned finally asked, his voice mixing admiration and disbelief. “And now you are its king?”

Jon nodded with a confidence that seemed to emanate from every word. “Yes, father. And I have a people to care for.”

“Jon… I heard from the Lord Commander’s letter, but it’s still hard to believe…” Ned admitted.

“I know, but I can affirm with my life that it exists.” Jon spoke firmly, and Ned sighed.

“I can’t disagree, Jon… Look at you, you’re the proof of anything you say… I’m proud of you, Jon. I just want to know what you plan regarding the southern kingdoms by building this kingdom?” Ned wanted to ask. Jon could shift the entire political power with a new kingdom beyond the wall, the muster of 500 giants already screamed that.

Jon maintained his firm gaze on Ned, reflecting the seriousness of the subject. “As for the Seven Kingdoms and the south, my position is clear. As long as they don’t interfere or harm Arctica, we will maintain peace. I have no interest in conflicts with the southern kingdoms, as long as mutual respect is upheld,” said Jon, his voice conveying unwavering determination.

Ned nodded slowly, absorbing Jon’s diplomatic but firm stance. “And the wall? The wildling attacks have always been a concern… knowing there’s a kingdom with armored soldiers and giants, it’s going to scare the entire realm.”

Jon smiled slightly, as if anticipating this question. “My stance will be neutral, but this will change, father. Part of the reason I founded Arctica is to unify the tribes beyond the Wall. With Arctica, the attacks to the south will significantly decrease. I will ensure that. I’m establishing a new order beyond the Wall, where constant conflict gives way to peaceful coexistence. The free people have many tribes with scarce resources, they end up having no choice but to raid the northern kingdom, I’m not validating their actions, raiding is still raiding, but with a kingdom that guarantees this need, many will opt for a peaceful life, and I can deal with anyone who has wrong ideas in my lands.”

Ned observed Jon, surprised and impressed by the maturity and political vision his son displayed. “This… This could change everything, Jon. If you can achieve it, you might bring lasting peace after thousands of years of struggle.”

“That’s the plan, father. Arctica isn’t just a refuge for those beyond the Wall, but a symbol of unity and strength. I want it to be a place where everyone – wildlings, giants, dwarves – can live and prosper together,” Jon explained with a passion that shone in his eyes.

Ned felt a mix of pride and apprehension. “You have my support, Jon. And that of Winterfell too, as long as Arctica’s intentions remain peaceful.”

“Thank you, father. I promise that Arctica will be a loyal ally to the North and the Wall. Together, we can build a safer future for everyone.”

“Yes, now about the pact with the giants you mentioned…”, he said, returning to the extraordinary story his son mentioned earlier.

Jon, sensing Ned’s hesitation, added a crucial detail. “To obtain the Crown of Winter, I offer Winterfell 400,000 golden dragons. And after my death, the crown will return here, where it belongs, with the Starks. Do you think that’s fair?”

Ned shifted from pride to a state of astonishment. Four hundred thousand gold dragons! It was a colossal sum, equivalent to 80% of House Stark’s guarded treasure. “Jon, where did such wealth come from?” Ned asked, his voice trembling with surprise and a hint of paternal concern.

Jon responded with a light but confident smile. “Arctica has its own resources, father. I am a king, and I can say I am as wealthy as a major house in the south, perhaps not as much as the Tyrells or Lannisters, but that will change in a few years,” said Jon. Ned was at a loss for words, his son, a prince of the realm he had hidden to protect, now claiming to be a king beyond the Wall and offering him 400,000 gold coins for a Stark house symbol hidden somewhere amidst spider webs.

Ned remained thoughtful, observing Jon, who displayed an impressive maturity for his age. The question about Old Nan still echoed in his mind when he finally decided to address it. “And why Old Nan, Jon?” he asked, curious about Jon’s choice.

Jon answered with a conviction reflecting his consideration and respect for the old nurse. “Father, Old Nan is more than just a caretaker. She raised grandfather and has a deep knowledge of our northern culture. She’s surrounded by southerners here, and I feel this environment is no longer the best for her or for Hodor. Your wife has wanted to get rid of her for years, so I want to take her to Arctica, where she can have the peace she deserves and help teach our people about the traditions of the North. She will be valued and respected, as she should be.”

Ned, understanding Jon’s logic and respect for the old nurse, nodded slowly, knowing how his wife often complained about the elderly woman. “If she agrees, Jon, you can take her. As for the Crown of Winter, considering we don’t have a king in the North and your initiative in Arctica, I grant it to you without cost.”

Jon, surprised and grateful for his father’s generosity, responded with a gesture of appreciation. “In that case, father, since you are giving me the crown for free, I would like to make a donation to House Stark. I am donating 400,000 gold dragons. Ask the men on the Wall to allow the passage of the shipment I prepared exclusively to come to Winterfell. House Stark can use this gold as they see fit, whether for their own benefit or to help the people of the North.”

Ned looked at Jon, impressed by his generosity and sense of responsibility. A smile of pride and satisfaction lit up his face. “Thank you, Jon. Your generosity will be a great help to the North and our house.”

After the generous agreement, Ned and Jon stood up to visit the crypts of Winterfell, where the Crown of Winter was stored according to Jon. As they walked through the corridors of the castle, the news that they were going to the crypts spread quickly, arousing curiosity and surprise among the Stark family members and castle inhabitants.

Catelyn, hearing the news, felt discontent. “Why is the bastard still in this castle!?” she murmured to herself.

Arya, on the other hand, was excited about the idea of accompanying Jon and Ned to the crypts. “Can I come too, father?” she asked, approaching them in the courtyard after she escaped from the septa, her eyes shining with excitement. But according to Jon, the crown was in a very deep part of the crypt and would not be safe for his youngest daughter.

Bran also appeared, drawn by the adventure. “I want to see too!” he exclaimed, wishing to join them.

“Sorry, children. But where we’re going will be dangerous, it won’t be safe for you, wait for us outside,” Ned spoke firmly, leaving the children sad.

Ned and Jon, with only a torch to light the way, entered the crypts of Winterfell, a place of memory and respect for the ancestors of House Stark. Enveloped by the sacred quiet, they descended the stone stairs, the sound of their steps echoing off the cold, damp walls.

The torchlight cast ghostly shadows over the rows of statues that lined the corridor. Each statue, a representation of a Stark from the past, stared at the living with expressions carved in stone, empty eyes that seemed to follow the two visitors.

As they progressed, they reached the first part of the crypt where the statues of Brandon, Rickard, and Lyanna Stark stood solemn and imposing. Ned stopped before them, the torchlight flickering over the stone features, bringing a sense of closeness to the past.

He looked at the statue of his brother Brandon with a look of reverence. “My brother Brandon,” Ned said softly, “he was destined for great things, but his life was cruelly cut short.”

Next to Brandon stood the statue of his father, Rickard Stark. The expression on the sculpted face conveyed strength and dignity, a reminder of the legacy he had left for his family and the North.

And then, there was Lyanna. Her statue had a serene, almost melancholic beauty. Ned sighed, his eyes lingering on her. “Lyanna…” he murmured, “a beloved sister, whose death still weighs heavily on my heart.”

Jon observed each statue, absorbing the history and the weight of the Stark lineage that ran in his veins. “All of them were lost in the fall of the Targaryens, weren’t they?” Jon asked curiously.

“Yes…” Ned spoke with sadness in his memories of the war that occurred more than 10 years ago.

Jon approached the statue of Lyanna, his aunt, a figure always shrouded in mystery and sadness. “Aunt Lyanna,” he spoke, his voice low, “I always wondered what it would have been like to know her.”

For a moment, Ned was nervous about this. Unsure of what to say with Jon in front of his true mother. Jon noticed his father’s nervousness, but he attributed it to painful memories; he couldn’t see the green dream because it was blocked, but the stories only told of death or the rise of Robert Baratheon.

“Shall we continue, Jon?” His father spoke, and Jon took his eyes off the woman who so captivated his attention, as if she wanted to say something to him, and turned back to his father.

“Let’s move on,” Jon said.

Then, resuming their purpose, they went deeper into the crypts. Jon now led the way, moving as if he had been in that place hundreds of times. They arrived at the section where the Kings of Winter began, all staring with firm eyes.

“They have been here for thousands of years…” Jon commented.

“It’s not a bad thing for a Stark, we’ve always had this tradition since the beginning of our family,” Ned commented as they continued to descend and the path became even more ancient.

“We are quite deep down, I’ve never been here, are you sure about the way, Jon?” Ned asked a bit cautiously, as they were quite deep below at this point.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s this way, don’t worry,” Jon said, his voice echoing off the cold walls.

After a silent and reflective journey through the crypts, Jon and Ned arrived in front of an imposing statue of a King of Winter who lived more than five thousand years ago. The atmosphere around the statue was almost reverent, charged with a sense of antiquity and long-forgotten secrets.

“This is Edrick Stark, known in his time as Edrick Snowbeard.” Jon began. This king was an enigmatic figure in the lost history of the Starks, whose reign had been marked by controversial decisions and a complex legacy. “He ruled during a tumultuous time and made many decisions that deeply affected the North thousands of years ago. One of them was hiding the Crown of Winter.”

Ned, curious, asked, “Why would he do that, Jon? Hide such an important symbol of our history?”

Jon looked at the statue, his eyes reflecting disdain. “He was known to be quite selfish and fearful. The legend says that Edrick feared the Crown of Winter falling into the wrong hands or being used for power claims he disagreed with. Instead of trusting his heirs and the wisdom of future Kings of Winter, he decided to hide the crown, believing that only a truly worthy king could find it.”

“So, he distrusted even his own blood…” Ned murmured, contemplative.

“Yes. Edrick hid the crown in the place where he would be buried, claiming it was stolen, leading the North into turmoil, as they believed it was the Andals trying to dominate the North and sending thieves,” Jon concluded.

Jon, without hesitation, unsheathed his Valyrian steel sword, its blade reflecting the faint torchlight. The sword, a gift from the Targaryens, was a rare and powerful relic, and Ned couldn’t help but admire its beauty and the way Jon wielded it with confidence and respect.

“Jon, that sword…” Ned began, surprised, already recognizing which sword it was.

“It’s Valyrian steel, Dark Sister, a gift I received,” Jon interrupted, focused on his task. He positioned himself next to a large stone, which seemed to be a hidden entrance beside the statue. With a surprising effort, displaying almost superhuman strength, Jon began to move the stone. Ned watched, astonished by his son’s strength and determination.

With one final push, Jon managed to remove the stone, revealing a secret space behind the statue. Inside, on a stone pedestal, rested the Crown of Winter, as legendary as it was forgotten. The crown appeared to be made of sculpted ice, with each detail shimmering under the faint light, like eternal ice crystals reflecting in the only light they had in that darkness.

Ned approached, his expression a mix of admiration and disbelief. “The Crown of Winter… I never imagined it actually existed beneath us all this time…”

Jon looked at the crown with an almost sacred gaze. “It exists, father. And it’s a symbol of the power of the Kings of Winter, a link to our past.”

Ned looked at Jon, “You really found it, I really want to know how you know all this, even about the king who hid it, but I’m sure I won’t like the answer.” Ned said.

“Greenseeing.” Jon shrugged.

[This photo doesn’t really match the characters’ ages at that moment, but I included it because I thought it was cool.]

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