Preparations

The North

The Wall, Castle Black

301 AC

"This is madness." says Jon as he paces around the Lord Commander's solar. "You wish for me to believe that you are me? Having experienced another life? A different life?" asks Jon.

"Do you remember father's trip to White Harbour after Robb's 10th nameday?" asks Aemon from his position on the Lord Commander's chair, his legs crossed as he twirls a castle forged dagger in his hand.

"Aye, Robb and I ran into the city and lost ourselves there. Lord Stark was none too pleased with us." replies Jon with a slight frown.

The only people who should know are Lord Stark, Robb, and him. Lord Stark and Robb are both dead and as far as he knows they have never mentioned it to anyone, much less this stranger who admittedly bears a resemblance to him.

"How do you know that?" asks Jon, causing Aemon to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

Feeling stupid, Jon looks away from Aemon before taking a deep breath to center himself.

"Very well. Let us say that I do believe you, why are you and why were your men pointing their swords at the men of the Night's Watch?" asks Jon.

"The White Walkers are bearing down on the North and the Watch is not equipped to protect the realm. As regent to King Rickon it is my duty to deal with any threat to the North." says Aemon.

"Perhaps, but it does not give you the right to command the Watch." says Jon. "The Night's Watch is a neutral entity, it does not involve itself with the goings of the realm nor does it answer to any King."

"Aye, and had the Watch been competent enough to deal with the Free Folk and the White Walkers I would not be here, nor would I be taking command, yet here I am." replies Aemon.

"You cannot simply walk here and command the Night's Watch, it defeats the purpose of the Watch's neutrality." says Jon.

"Does it?" asks Aemon as he stands. "The Watch's sole purpose is to defend the realms of men from the Walkers. Its neutrality is to protect that purpose while serving as the vanguard against that threat so that the realms of men may have time to prepare." explains Aemon. "Is that not so?" he asks

"It is." answers Jon.

"Well let me educate you on the realms of men. The only realm that cares for the Watch's ongoing and the threat beyond the Wall is the Kingdom of the North and the Riverlands." says Aemon as he approaches Jon and sheaths his dagger. "As far as the rest of the realm is concerned the Wall is a penal colony for their murderers, thieves, and rapists. As such, the Watch cannot be the vanguard if the living is to survive. It must be the beginning and the end of the war with the White Walkers. Anything less and the world falls." he says, stopping a few feet from Aemon.

"This will put the Watch's honor into question and the Southern Kingdoms will question whether we plan on allying with the North." says Jon, a fierce glare on his face and defiance in his eyes.

"Honor? The Watch's honor?" questions Aemon with a sarcastic smirk before all humor leaves his face. "Grow the fuck up Jon! The Night's Watch has no honor, the last shred of the Watch's honor can only be found in its purpose and even then the Watch is fucking that up!" screams Aemon. "Look around you, winter is almost upon us and the leaders of the Night's Watch talk of leaving the Free Folk beyond the Wall to die; almost as if they wish to feed the army of the dead. Where is the honor, Jon? Where?" questions Aemon.

"And the south? What will they do when they learn of this?" asks Jon.

"What can they do?" returns Aemon with a raised eyebrow. "Tywin Lannister is dead as far as they know, the House of Lannister is even poorer than House Mormont, House Tully rules the Riverlands once more, and the only houses with the men to even threaten Robb's kingdom will be unwilling to lose the other half of their men." says Aemon.

For a few seconds Jon says nothing before something seems to click into place in his mind.

"And you are responsible for it all no doubt?" Jon rhetorically asks. Yet, despite knowing the answer, something within Jon hopes beyond all measure for Aemon to deny it. He against all odds hoped for Aemon to deny him, for the tactics required to create such outcomes are far from honorable.

"You question the Night's Watch's honor, and yet I find myself questioning yours." says Jon.

"Honor is reserved for friends, allies, and neutral parties; not for our enemies." Aemon whispers harshly.

"We should not pick and choose when to be honorable. Honor should be the default at all times because it is the right thing to do." argues Jon.

"Is it? The right thing to do?" replies Aemon. "If a thief is caught stealing food for his family, what should be his punishment?" asks Aemon.

"The law demands his hand or for him to be sent to the Night's Watch." replies Jon without hesitating.

"Ha, but that is duty, not honor." replies Aemon with a grin that causes Jon to look away. "You say that honor is doing the right thing, but the right thing to do would be to find a way to help this man and his family that does not require theft. Not chopping that man's hand off or sending him to the Night's Watch. Especially if you consider that he is the only member of his family capable enough to earn an income." says Aemon.

With a frown, Jon looks back towards Aemon "You did not say that." he complains.

"And you did not think to ask." replies Aemon. "The fact of the matter is, Jon, that the world does not operate on honor. Your enemies will not always be honorable and even your allies may not be honorable. Only the powerful can afford to be honorable and right now neither the North nor the Night's Watch can afford to be honorable. You need to get over your need to be Eddard Stark and start being Jon Snow. The North has no more need for Eddard Stark and is in need of Jon Snow and his mind." says Aemon as he taps the side of Jon's head.

With an angry scowl on his face Jon bats Aemon's hand away. "And who decided that? Uh?" asks Jon

"This is not your world, these are not your people. You have been here for less than two years, how could you know what the North needs?" Jon adds. "For all you know Eddard Stark may be exactly what the North needs, and—"

"You will never be him." interrupts Aemon. "You will never be him, and there is nothing wrong with that. Eddard Stark is Eddard Stark just like Robb Stark is Robb Stark and Jon Snow should be Jon Snow, not Eddard Stark writ small." says Aemon as he grabs Jon by the face and looks him in the eyes.

"Do you want to know what would have happened to this world had I not intervened?" asks Aemon.

Jon does not answer, but the slight nod is all the answer Aemon needs.

"You would become Lord Commander, save many Free Folk from the Walkers before being assassinated by your brothers." Aemon's words cause Jon to frown and he opens his mouth to deny it before Aemon forcefully closes his jaw. "You will listen until I finish." Aemon says with a glare.

"Bran would lose his humanity to magic, Rickon dies, and Arya becomes a faceless man. And Sansa, our beautiful Sansa full of dreams…" says Aemon with barely contained rage.

"What happens to Sansa?" asks Jon, his voice hoarse and his fists tight by his sides.

"Sansa goes on to be beaten by Joffrey, manipulated by a man with delusions of grandeur before being sold off to Roose's bastard where he would repeatedly rape and torture her every night for his amusement. Winterfell, the one place that should always be safe for any member of House Stark, would become her cage and worst nightmare." says Aemon.

For a few seconds all is quiet in the solar before Jon releases a scream filled with nothing but rage and hurls the Lord Commander's desk into the solar door, breaking the desk and splintering the door.

With an anguished look on his face, Jon slumps to the floor and Aemon exits the room, leaving him to his thoughts.

…

…

…

Aemon had not intended to tell anyone of the original outcome of this world, but he needs Jon to change his way of thinking and the North will need Jon Snow when he leaves. Not the tv show's poor imitation of Jon Snow, but Jon Snow of the books; and if he needs to mold or mentor this Jon Snow in order to become that, then so be it. He has done far worse for the interests of House Stark before his death at the hands of the Others and he regrets none of it.

Before Aemon can further lose himself in his mind, Huginn flies overhead while cawing "Stag! King! Stag! King!"

With narrowed eyes Aemon makes his way to Castle Black's courtyard.

As he descends the stairs the horn blows once and Sihtric approaches with a jog.

"A new force appeared on the horizon, my lord. A crowned black stag's head within a fiery red heart" says Sihtric.

"Stannis Baratheon." replies Aemon as he makes his way towards the tunnel.

"The Kinslayer?" asks Sihtric.

"The very same." answers Aemon before turning to the nearest brother of the Watch "Open the tunnel gate." he commands as they enter the tunnel.

"Should he not be waging war for his iron chair?" asks Sihtric, causing Aemon to smile in amusement.

"Let us find out what he wants." says Aemon as the gate opens and they exit with Huginn circling overhead before landing on Aemon's shoulder.

"King! King! King!" caws the raven.

"Aye, we are to entertain a 'King' this day." Aemon says sarcastically as he stops just beyond the Wall.

Stannis' party quickly approaches and Aemon puts their number at around 1500.

As they reach within a few yards of Aemon, Stannis slows his horse's gallop into a trot before stopping at speaking distance of him.

"You stand before King Stannis Baratheon, King of the Andals, The First Men, and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." says a knight as he moves ahead to announce his King.

Not far behind him is a lightly cloaked woman in red, and Aemon immediately identifies her as the Melisandre of this world. In his own, she had been instrumental in combating the fel magic of Euron Greyjoy and the war against the Others; unfortunately that did not happen until after Stannis' death and her arrogance had stopped blinding her.

"You stand before Azor Ahai, the Prince That Was Promised." adds the red woman.

Beside him, Aemon notices Sihtric becomes entranced by the woman and cannot find it within himself to blame him. She has long hair the color of deep burnished copper, unsettling red eyes, and pale, unblemished skin. The priestess is slender, graceful, and taller than most knights. Melisandre has full breasts, a narrow waist, and a heart-shaped face. She has a deep voice which sounds melodic and around her neck is a red gold choker containing a ruby which teems with power; no doubt it is the focus for her magic.

"Do not be fooled by her beauty, laying with her will leave you dry at best and dead at worst." warns Aemon as he elbows Sihtric in the stomach.

"You sound like you speak from experience." observes Sihtric, causing Aemon to look at him with a knowing smirk as his many dalliances with the red woman comes to mind.

While the act itself served only to fuel her magic, the experience was extremely enjoyable, full of pleasure and passion.

Ignoring the indignant look on Sihtric's face, Aemon turns to Stannis and his retinue.

"What brings you to the North, King Stannis?" asks Aemon as he casually rests his hands on his sword's wolf shaped pommel and spreads his feet in the most lazy, yet graceful, of manners. "The Iron Throne is south, I believe; and unless I am mistaken, this cold and stark land is the North." says Aemon as he makes a show of looking at the dreary noonday sky, and the snow covered landscape.

Stannis observes Aemon, his steel gaze taking in many details as he can before answering. "The Night's Watch requested aid and aid I intend to give." says Stannis.

Aemon stares at Stannis, observing everything from the man's posture and voice inflections. Countless scenarios on how to deal with the Baratheon lord appear and are discarded in his mind. He has not the time nor the willingness to deal with Stannis' stubbornness, nor is he willing to hear the man's grumbling over his birthright being stolen. Letting the man live after his inaction led to his father's death is already magnanimous of him.

The thought of Stannis' audacity makes Aemon briefly consider feeding him to Caraxes. The dragon had arrived North sometime during his stay in Winterfell and Aemon can feel his thirst for battle through their bond. All it would take is a single silent call and he would be rid of his Baratheon problem. The only thing stopping him is the fact that now is not the right time for such revelations.

Shaking his thoughts of feeding Stannis to Caraxes, Aemon reaches through their bond and gently caresses the bloodthirst from him.

"Aye, the watch requested aid." says Aemon as he alternates, placing his weight from foot to foot and appearing restless. "However, the Night's Watch is now under the North's command and no longer needs your aid. Return home." Aemon says as his grip on Longclaw's pommel tightens.

"Is the Watch not a neutral organization?" asks Stannis.

"Once upon a time." replies Aemon. "With the White Walkers bearing down upon the North and the Watch's incompetence in dealing with mere men, the Night's Watch has been placed under a more capable leadership." adds Aemon.

"You know of the threat beyond the Wall, and yet you still refuse my aid." comments Stannis.

With an exaggerated turn of his neck, Aemon makes a show of observing Stannis' forces before turning to Sihtric.

"Do you hear that Sihtric, King Stannis comes to strike down demons of ice and snow with castle forged steel and southern cloaks." Aemon says loud enough for even the captured Free Folk and men on the Wall to hear.

The resulting laughter is loud and mocking, and is accompanied by countless jeers from the Free Folk who also find Stannis' bravado despite his lack of preparation ridiculous. For this brief moment of laughter there are no Free Folk, men of the Night's Watch, nor men of the Wolf Pack. They are simply men of the North.

As the laughter winds down, Huginn decides to add his own thoughts on the matter.

"Southern! King! Ridiculous!" caws the raven, renewing the laughter of the northern men.

With a face red from rage, one of Stannis' knights steps forth and screams.

"Silence! You dare laugh at the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms?!" the man exclaims as he unsheaths his sword and points it towards Aemon.

The man's action causes all humor to leave Aemon's face as he stares into the man's brown eyes with his own cold gray ones. To point a sword at man is to challenge that man's authority while also being a show of disrespect.

"You dare to point your sword at my Lord?" asks Sihtric as he unsheaths his own sword and points it at the knights.

"So what? He is nothing but a bastard reaching over his station." says the knight, his coat of arms, a red fox in a circle of blue flowers on ermine, places him as a knight of House Florent.

Tightening his hold on the sword's grip, Sihtric takes a step forward. "You slander and disrespect King Rickon's regent." he says with narrowed eyes.

The implication is clearly not lost on the Florent knight for he swallows the first words that come to his mind before quickly glancing towards a stone faced Stannis.

"Enough." commands Stannis with a glare. "I did not come here to antagonize the men of the North." he says, giving the Florent knight a way out without tarnishing his or his King's honor.

Aemon, however, would not have any of it. To question a King's regent is to question the King's power and authority, and Aemon would not have anyone, noble, smallfolk, or King, question Rickon's authority. Letting this knight's actions go unanswered now would invite countless others to question the North and their King's authority later down the line.

"You may not have come here to antagonize the North, but you have not only done so, you have also placed our King's authority into question." says Aemon as he walks past Sihtric with Huginn launching from his shoulders and into the sky.

Understanding that his lord wishes to deal with this situation personally, Sihtric sheaths his sword.

"Ser Axell meant no offense." says Stannis over the sound of his grinding teeth.

"Perhaps not." says Aemon with a shrug "But regardless of his intent, his words and actions were offensive and mocking to the Crown of Winter, and as the representative of the King, I cannot let this stand. As a King yourself, I am sure that you understand." Aemon adds.

Still grinding his teeth against one another, Stannis stares into Aemon's eyes, hoping to see him waver.

Unfortunately for the Baratheon King the only thing he finds within Aemon's eyes is a hard resolve hidden behind the bastard's frozen, gray eyes.

"Very well." relents Stannis after a few seconds of contemplation. "You shall duel Ser Axell and regardless of the outcome this matter shall be put to rest." says Stannis, causing Ser Axell to grin as he bows to Stannis before unsheathing his sword and approaching Aemon.

"My Lord, allow me to deal with this cunt. He isn't worth your attention." says Sihtric.

"Mayhaps not, but as regent his disrespect certainly has earned him it." says Aemon as he extends his hand to Sihtric.

With an understanding nod, Sihtric unsheathes his longsword and places it in Aemon's hand.

"Perhaps I should invest in a more common weapon." comments Aemon as he takes a few practice swings with the sword. "Not every nameless cunt is deserving to die to Longclaw's blade, and to continue making use of another's weapon is unseemly." he adds before approaching Ser Axell.

"I dedicate this victory to King Stannis and his wife, Queen Selyse, Light of the North! To R'hllor, the Lord of Light, may he defend us all! One land, one god, one king!" exclaims Ser Axell as he hoists his blade into the air.

"To King Stannis!" shout Stannis' knights in reply.

"You must be mistaken, ser, but I hold to the Old Gods and King Rickon is my King." says Aemon, causing Ser Axell to tightly clench his sword's grip and to turn red at the face.

While Ser Axell proceeds to emulate a tomato with his face, Aemon takes the opportunity to observe the man's plate armor.

It is castle forged steel and well made, Aemon can tell with a pacing glance, but his experience as a blacksmith and his superhuman eyesight also tells Aemon that he wears no other protection beneath; leaving his throat, wrists, armpits and elbow vulnerable.

"Pray to your heathen gods bastard, for you will be meeting them soon." says Ser Axell.

Without another word the knight lunges for Aemon, his sword aiming for his opponent's throat with a slash. With grace beyond any man Aemon dodges the slash and Ser Axell's following attack. With nothing but elegant and impeccable footwork, Aemon proceeds to dodge every one of Ser Axell's attacks by centimeters; leaving Ser Axell to feel as if he were chasing nothing but a cold wind.

"Is that all you can do, bastard, dodge?" asks Ser Axell as he stabs towards Aemon's heart.

With a raised eyebrow Aemon sidesteps the stab and slashes upwards, cleaving through the wrist openings in the man's gauntlets.

With a scream heard as far as the top of the Wall Ser Axell falls to his knees as he stares at his amputated hand in horror; the only thing holding it in place being his gauntlet.

"Do you have any last words?" asks Aemon as he approaches Ser Axell, the knight's blood coating the sword and dripping onto the fresh snow and tainting it red.

"I may be felled by a bastard like you, but remember this, R'hllor will purge you and your heathen gods from this world. He will not stand for this, King Stannis will not stand for this!" shouts Ser Axell.

Tilting his head in wonder, Aemon regards Ser Axell with a smirk "Do you wish to know a secret?" asks Aemon as he raises the sword and looks at the blade's edge.

Before Ser Axell can answer an inferno erupts from the sword's guard and shoots upwards through the blade and into the sky before quickly coming under control and enveloping the blade.

"My name is Aemon, but I was born Jon Snow. I am the Song of Ice and Fire, and the Prince That Was Promised." says Aemon low enough for only Ser Axell to hear before removing his head from his shoulder with a single swing of the sword.

As Ser Axell's head rolls on the snow covered ground and the fire surrounding the blade is extinguished, Aemon looks towards Stannis and his entourage.

Seeing their bewildered and uncertain reactions, he gives them a self-satisfied smirk before walking to Sihtric and returning his sword to him.

"Was that wise my Lord, to flaunt your magic before them so?" asks Sihtric.

"It will create division within Stannis' troops between the true believers and those who pay him lip service. Melisandre will question her every decisions now and her already questionable effectiveness will place her in a precarious position." explains Aemon before turning to face Stannis.

"The North may not bow to you, King Stannis, but we are willing to come to terms in order to deal with the White Walker threat." says Aemon.

Glaring at Aemon and grinding his teeth together, Stannis gives no reply before turning his horse around and riding away from him.

…

…

…

The following days are filled with tension as the Lords of the North begin to arrive and a discourse is opened between the two camps, the men of the North and King Stannis. Many of the northern Lords call for Stannis' head for his inaction and others agree simply due to his trespassing into the North. That he camps north of Wall, in the lands of the Free Folk, does not matter to them; for with King Robb's declaration many view the lands north of the Trident and even beyond the Wall as part of the Northern Kingdom.

It is only due to Aemon's skills in diplomacy and the respect he has earned from the Lords that keep them in line, for not only has he avenged the Red Wedding but word has also reached them from the south of House Lannister's plight and most can only feel more respect for the bastard's actions despite the dishonor in them. As long as he comports himself with honor when dealing with them and any friend of the North they care not for his actions against the Lannisters.

Through the entire sennight of negotiations Bran, Sihtric and Jon have essentially become his shadows, listening, observing and learning from Aemon's every interactions with the Lords of the North and King Stannis. They practice with him in the yard and learn the art of leading men through his interactions with the Wolf Pack and the men of the Night's Watch. They learn of tactics as he voices his thoughts on the war against the White Walkers, the actions that Robb could have taken against the Lannisters and even his opinions on historical battles such as the Battle of the Trident.

Through it all Jon cannot help but feel anything but awe and finds himself questioning whether or not Aemon is truly him from another life.

Aemon is a better warrior, politician, and commander than him. He is more charismatic, charming, cunning, and much more assured of himself as opposed to Jon himself. He is everything Jon imagines himself as were he trueborn.

Yet, despite his doubts, Jon can see the similarities as clearly as he can see the differences. Ghost is the most glaring similarity, for despite clearly being older Aemon's direwolf cannot be any other direwolf. The second most obvious similarity can be found in his treatment of Bran. He japes, plays, and trains with Bran in the same vein that Jon he could have were he trueborn. His advices to Bran are sound and Jon can easily trace their origins to experiences he himself has had growing up in Winterfell and his experiences beyond the Wall.

The most striking similarity between them however is one Jon doesn't believe that anyone but he and Aemon has noticed. Their ambition. It resides in the deepest, darkest pits of their psyche and is something that they both struggle with.

Growing up, Jon has always wanted Winterfell, but the only plausible way for him to become it Lord would require his father and all his brothers and sisters to die. Winterfell is not worth their deaths

Still, just the feeling of wanting it filled him with guilt as a boy and made him fear proving Lady Catelyn and her faith correct in their thoughts on bastards. It is one of the reasons why he reluctantly stayed to swear his vows despite seeing the truth of the Watch. Here, on the Wall, he could rise high as Lord Commander without being a threat to Robb. Two birds, one stone; as Aemon sometimes says.

Jon can see the traces of ambition in Aemon's dark gaze. It is the same look his eyes would have when looking into his reflection while thinking of Winterfell. The proof of it can even be seen in his actions.

Becoming Rickon's regent is rooted in ambition as much as it is in pragmatism, and the same can be said for the Wolf Pack and their complete loyalty to him. Aemon stinks of ambition but has found ways to make use of it to benefit House Stark and the North, and for that Jon cannot help but respect him.

"You're brooding." says Bran, shaking Jon from his thoughts.

"It's not brooding. I am contemplating." Jon says at the same time as Aemon, causing them to look one another in the eye with a raised eyebrow.

"If only Arya could see this." says Bran with a laugh that Sihtric soon joins.

"I hate to say this, my lord, but you were brooding." says Sihtric.

"I was not brooding. I was thinking on the differences between Jon and I." says Aemon, causing Bran, and Sihtric to give him looks of confusion.

"I have been wondering the same." admits Jon. "How do you look…" says Jon as he waves towards Aemon, pointing at his counterpart's more beautiful features.

"Magic." replies Aemon before nodding at Bran. "Did you not notice Bran looking much more beautiful than even Jaime Lannister?" he asks, causing said boy to blush to his fiery roots.

"Aye, I noticed." says Jon. "Was it the same ritual that gave him back the use of his legs?" asks Jon.

"It is." admits Aemon as he observes Jon's expression before an amused smile grows on his face as he understands the thoughts that pass through Jon's head.

"Don't worry, you will go through the ritual yourself." says Aemon as he pats Jon on the shoulder. "The ritual requires King's blood and I know just where to take some." explains Aemon.

"Stannis?" asks Bran with a frown.

"No. His is not powerful enough. The one I have in mind is of both Valyrian and First Men descent ironically." says Aemon, causing Bran, Sihtric and Jon to send him looks filled with confusion.

Before Aemon can elaborate, someone knocks on the door and Olly enters the room.

"King Stannis is here." reports Olly.

"Thank you Olly." says Jon as they stand as one and exit the Lord Commander's solar.

"How have you been?" asks Jon as they make their way down to the courtyard.

"Well, my Lord." replies the boy.

"Good. Come to me if you need anything." says Jon as he ruffles the boy's hair.

"Do you plan on making him one of your Housecarls?" asks Aemon, and Jon can see Olly stiffen beside him as he waits for the answer.

"If he wishes, but he still has much to learn." replies Jon as he winks at Olly.

"I won't let you down my Lord." says Olly excitedly.

"I know you won't." reassures Jon, completely missing the look of suspicion that Aemon sends the boy.

Bran however notices and cannot help but silently question Aemon with a raised eyebrow. Aemon waves off his concern with a shake of his head and increases his pace as they reach the courtyard, both versions of Ghost and Summer falling into step with their partners as they make for the Shield Hall.

Their entrance into the Shield Hall causes all those present to fall silent as they observe the group make their way to the raised dais where the Northern Lords, Stannis and his advisors, and the Clan Leaders of the Free Folk surround a map of the Lands Beyond the Wall.

"Tis a mad plan, King Crow, to offensively wage war against those cold terrors." says Tormund as he notices their approach.

"Is it?" questions Aemon as the Lords of the North silently make room for him around the map. "We have the men, and we have the weapons. What is there to fear?" asks Aemon.

"Everything." says Mance. "These are not men, but demons of ice and snow. They bring the storm and the dead with them wherever they tread."

"Mayhaps, but like men they die all the same. It may be dragonglass and not steel that kills them, but they can be killed all the same." says Jon.

"Do we even know how many of these so-called White Walkers there are?" asks one of Stannis' knights.

Before anyone can answer, Huginn flies into the hall with a caw of "Thirteen! Thirteen! Thirteen!"

The raven circles the hall thirteen times as if to prove a point before perching himself upon Aemon's left shoulder.

"Is that number reliable?" asks Stannis after a brief moment of heavy silence.

"Aye, I personally scouted the army of the dead through Huginn's eyes?" responds Aemon.

"Through the raven's eyes?" asks Lord Ryswell with a frown.

"Did you think that the tale of the Barrow King's subjugation was a myth?" asks Aemon with a raised eyebrow. "Our direwolves are not merely for show, my Lord." says Aemon as he caresses Ghost's white fur.

Lord Rodrick Ryswell licks his lips as he nervously glances between Ghost, Ghost, and Summer.

The tension in the hall increases many-fold as the men realize that nothing said in the presence of the direwolves and the raven is secret. Lord Ryswell in particular cannot help fidgeting for he had not made his dislike of Aemon and Jon a secret when in presence of the raven or the direwolves.

"There is nothing to worry over, my Lord." says Aemon with a smile that appears reassuring to the Lords, but is clearly malicious and threatening in nature to Bran, Sihtric, and Jon's eyes.

The rest of the planning session is more productive as the Lords of the North, the Free Folk, and Stannis come to an agreement on their role in the war against the White Walkers.

The children and non-combatant women of the Free Folk are to cross the Wall and settle the New Gift under the protection and watchful eyes of Cregan and 10,000 men of the Wolf Pack. Anyone, Free Folk or otherwise, caught breaking Northern law will face the King's justice.

The combatants themselves are separated into three categories, Hunters, Vanguard, and Defense.

The hunters, consisting of Free Folk and northmen, are to hunt all animals beyonds the Wall in the areas where the White Walks have not ventured to yet. Those animals are to be salted before being transported to Hardhome so as to deprive the Walkers of direwolves, shadow cats, bears, and other animals that could easily kill a man. They are to be led by Lord Medger Cerwyn and a host of other Northern Lords.

The Vanguard, consisting of the rest of the Free Folk combatants, the Night's Watch, the remaining men of the North, and 5,000 men of the Wolf Pack are to assault the smaller groups of wights, and if possible kill the White Walker in charge. In total the Vanguard numbers around 25,000 men in total and their primary mission is to slowly chip away at the White Walkers' army while leading them towards Hardhome, where the final battle is to take place. They fall under Aemon's command.

The final group, Defense, is made entirely of Stannis' men, the last of the giants, and 10,000 men of the Wolf Pack. Their sole purpose is to prepare Hardhome for the final battle by fortifying the town and setting traps on any path leading to there. Stannis is the one made in charge of the group.

"Any questions?" asks Aemon as he observes the men around the war table.

From the nervous glances the Free Folk leaders send Mance, Aemon can tell that most are none too pleased about taking the war to the White Walkers. They had amassed in force in the hopes of leading their people south of the Wall to escape the Walkers. Now their warriors are being made to stay north of the Wall to fight the Walkers while their women and children are to be south of the Wall, away from their protectors, in the territory of the people they have waged war against for thousands of years.

Yet, despite their misgivings, they say nothing for they had seen King Crow in combat and none are confident that they can so much as touch the man, much less defeat him in a duel. Besides, the head of the last Clan Leader to disobey and threaten violence still hangs from the King's Tower. In addition many of them would rather die on their feet, fighting the Walkers as opposed to cowering behind the Wall. With their women and children protected they can do so.

Seeing no one stepping forward with questions, Aemon nods in satisfaction.

"We leave in a fortnight. Make peace with your loved ones for you may never see them again, and this war is for them. If we fail it will be our corpses that the White Walkers use to slaughter them." says Aemon before turning and leaving the Shield Hall.

Despite the White Walkers being less dangerous than the Others, Aemon can feel the pressure mounting and fear make itself known in the recesses of his mind. Failure is not an option, not this time.

He failed once and it cost him everything, Robb, Sansa, Rickon, Bran, and Daenerys. He lost them and much more to the Others and Euron's eldritch magic.

This time, however, there is no Euron and his eldritch magic, no Night's King, no Others, and no broken pacts. This time there is only war with ice zombies that can be killed. If there is anything that Aemon knows as well as he knows himself it is war and killing. He is good at those things, and as a magical super-soldier he is perhaps the best in the entirety of Westeros and Essos.

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Author's Note: Sorry for the late chapter, I was quite sick for the past week and a half. This chapter was originally going to be much longer, but I decided to end it here to do the last battle between mankind and the White Walkers justice. The war will obviously end at Hardhome and hopefully the chapter won't disappoint.

Tell me what you guys think of this chapter and don't be shy to have conversations about it or give suggestions, I love your inputs.