The Meeting

The Riverlands

The Twins

When Sansa Stark awakens the first thing she notices is that she is no longer in her assigned chambers in the Red Keep, the second thing that she notices is the cold. It is not a cold that she has ever experienced before. Whereas the cold of the North can be bearable, only requiring a thin cloak during the summer, this cold is much more freezing yet comfortable all the same. It is as if she is receiving a hug from a loved one who has spent much of their time outside, cold yet comfortable.

As she sits up on the bed, she sees a cloaked figure speaking to a familiar yet unknown man outside of the door of the chamber.

The man is dressed in the most beautiful white armor she has ever seen with a red mantle accented in gold hanging from his right shoulder. Had she still believed in songs she would have professed the man as a white knight in shining armor.

Looking to the man's face, Sansa's breath catches in her throat for while she is sure she has never seen this man before his features are clearly that of a Stark's, albeit far more beautiful than her father or Arya. If she still believed in the songs Sansa thinks that this is what the perfect blend of a knight and lord of the north would look like, and if she didn't know any better Sansa would swear that the man before her is—

"Jon?" Sansa says with uncertainty as she pulls the covers from her, bringing the man's attention to her.

As he sees her getting up from the bed, the man gives her a fond smile that makes her want to run into his arms.

"Hello Sansa." he greets her as the cloaked figure slips away unseen. "It's good to see you again sister." he says as he steps into the room.

While his voice is familiar, there are clear differences between it and the one she remembers. For one, his voice is far smoother than any she has heard before and lacks the distinct northern brogue that he should have.

Not only is the voice different, but he looks different than she remembers. She would have remembered if Jon had raven black hair streaked with white, she would have remembered if Jon's eyes alternated between dark gray and dark purple depending on the lighting, and she most certainly would have remembered if Jon was the most beautiful person she has ever seen.

Before she can call him an imposter however, the massive form of a silent white direwolf with gleaming red eyes stalks into the room, startling her.

"Ghost?" Sansa asks, her voice shaking with uncertainty. The last time she had seen the direwolf, he was no bigger than a dog. Now he is the size of a small horse.

With trembling hands, Sansa reaches up to the direwolf's head and gently scratches the fur behind his ears, just like she used to with Lady.

The thought of Lady brings up emotions that she thought she had put past her, and yet she finds herself tearing up as Ghost lays down at her feet to allow her access to his head, making her laugh between the tears.

"How are you?" asks Jon as he sits on the bed behind her.

Looking up from Ghost, Sansa can't help but ask her own questions "Are you really Jon? I don't remember you looking—" she says before stopping and looking at him from head to toe then turning her gaze back to Ghost. "—and Ghost is much bigger than he should be." she adds.

With a smile on his face, Jon reaches down and joins her in petting Ghost.

"You always were a smart one, despite your training as a lady stifling your critical thinking." he says, causing her to slightly frown.

While she understands what he means, she can't help the feeling that he's subtly criticizing their father and her mother.

"You are right in the sense that I am Jon Snow, but I am not your Jon Snow." he says, confusing her further.

"What does that mean?" she asks with a frown as she unconsciously takes a step back.

"I am not the Jon Snow you grew up with within the walls of Winterfell. I am a Jon Snow where some events of our life were different and others were similar." he tries to explain.

"I don't understand." Sansa says, causing him to pause.

"The world is a far larger place than we can even imagine." he says with a sigh. "This world is not the only one in existence. There are countless other worlds beyond our mortal reach where events are different from what we know. Worlds where some that are dead to us did not die and those alive here have died. I come from such a world." he says.

Staring at him, Sansa can't help the incredulous look that she gives him.

"Jon—" Sansa begins before stopping and biting her lip nervously. She does not know how else to say what she wants to say, and so she stays quiet.

"I sound mad, don't I." he tells her with an amused smile before standing from the bed and making his way to the wall and placing his hand on it.

Before she can ask him what he is doing, Sansa's skin becomes filled with goose-flesh, and her breath freezes in the air as the temperature in the room plummets. From Jon's hand ice spreads out until it completely encases the wall. Despite the wintry temperature of the room, Sansa finds that she isn't uncomfortable nor is she freezing, rather something in her blood seems to sing at the frigid temperature.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa can't help but ask him again "How?"

"By the time I had left my world, magic had fully returned to the world and those with magic in their blood had begun to learn to use it." he explains. "That feeling of your blood singing, is the magic within you reveling in its awakening."

After a few seconds of silence, Sansa makes her way to the ice covered wall and, believing that it would be freezing to the touch, slowly, carefully, places her hands on it. Yet contrary to her expectations the ice is no colder than snow on a mild summer in the North.

Looking at Jon with eyes wide in wonder, Sansa can't help the small giggle that escapes.

"Aye, I had that same reaction when I first experienced it." Jon says with a smile.

"I don't completely understand what you explained, but I believe you." Sansa tells him as she returns his smile. "You may not be the Jon I know, but you are Jon regardless. Still, what are you doing here?" she asks. "Why did you leave your world?"

Hearing Sansa's question, Jon's smile becomes despondent and he turns away from her, giving her all the answer she needs.

"You're the last Stark." Sansa says, for that is the only answer she can think of.

"Aye, humanity lost the War for Dawn." he answers, causing a chill to go down her spine as Old Nan's stories of the Long Night come to her mind.

"How? The Long Night was thousands of years before our time and the war was won." Sansa answers.

"Then there was a second Long Night, and between the War of Five Kings, the winter, and Euron Greyjoy sowing chaos and destruction using eldritch abominations and magic, humanity stood no chance. Of that world, I am the last remnant of humanity." he explains through gritted teeth and burning eyes. Around them Sansa can feel the temperature rise and see parts of the ice wall melt at a visible pace.

Pulling away from Jon, Sansa can feel something within her recoil from the heat emanating from him.

Noticing her discomfort, Jon takes a deep breath before slowly exhaling, returning the room to its previous cool temperature.

"Sorry, I still don't have complete control of my magic." he tells her and Sansa nods in understanding.

"Is that why you came back? To stop the Long Night?" she asks.

"That and to help House Stark. I had hoped to arrive before the Red Wedding, but as you no doubt know I was too late." he says, causing Sansa's mood to sour.

"When I saw you I hoped that the tales of the Red Wedding were simply false gossip." Sansa tells him as tears fall down her face.

With eyes filled with sadness, Jon reaches out to Sansa and pulls her into a hug.

After spending a few moments in her brother's comfort, Sansa wipes her eyes and gives him a smile "Thank you for saving me." she says, causing Jon to snort at the ridiculousness of her statement.

"Come, let's get you some food. I want to leave this accursed keep and return to Winterfell as soon as possible." Jon says before looking at her state of dress. "Your current clothes will have to do until we find a trustworthy keep for you to change." he says, and for the first time since waking Sansa notices that she is not in a sleeping gown or a dress, rather she is wearing trousers, boots, and a tunic.

"Were you the one to dress me?" she asks with a viscous blush on her face.

"Of course not." replies Jon with a roll of his eyes as he steps out of the room, Ghost following behind in silence. "I had a woman do it." he tells her as she falls into step next to him in the empty corridor.

"Oh. Thank you then." she says before asking, "How did you get me out of King's Landing?"

At her question, Jon turn's to look at her incredulously, seemingly wondering whether or not he should tell her.

"I did not retrieve you personally. A vassal of mine who possesses abilities particularly suited towards such actions did the deed." Jon says as he comes to a decision.

"When I arrived in this world, it was here at the Twins while the Boltons and Freys were in the midst of their celebration. Between my magic and their drunkenness, killing those responsible was a simple matter. Following which, my vassal appeared before Tywin with the bodies of Roose and Walder Frey before killing their way out of the Red Keep. In the chaos, you were secreted out of King's Landing and brought here." he explains as they make their way into a hall filled with people talking and eating.

As the people notice their entrance, the conversations stop and many observe them. Looking around Sansa notices quite a few Lords and heirs who are mostly recovered from injuries they no doubt received during the Frey and Bolton's treachery.

Before the silence can become stifling a booming voice calls out "To Jon Snow, the White Wolf, and Avenger of the Red Wedding."

In agreement with the voice, calls of the "White Wolf" and "Avenger" are made as all those present raise their drinks before chugging them down.

"Greatjon, I see that you continue to ignore the healer's advice of extended bed rest." says Jon to the massive man who had called for the cheer as he leads her to the open seats at the head of the hall.

"Bah, I don't have anything against your healers boy but I know when I'm good enough to get out of bed. Besides, staying in this keep is driving me mad. The stench of Frey is clogging my nose." replies Greatjon Umber.

"Hear, hear." calls out Smalljon and many of the others.

"Be that as it may, until you are all healed and we have a feasible plan of action it would be best to remain here." answers Jon before nodding in thanks to a servant girl as she places a plate filled with food before them and fills their cup with water.

"Plan of action for what?" asks Smalljon.

"Harvest season is here and winter will be upon us soon. Yet our crops still remain in the fields, our army is broken, the north was ravaged by the Ironborn cunts, and on the other side of the Wall is a threat we must prepare for." Jon says, silencing them and souring the mood in the hall.

From her position by his side, Sansa can see many of the lords scowl at their drinks and clench their fists in anger.

Before any of them can say something however, Jon continues "Our situation is not completely lost however. Sansa and Arya are returned to us, the traitorous Boltons have been permanently removed from the North, the Freys will never hold power again, the Ironborn are being taken care of as we speak, and with the Night Watch's efforts we should have two or three more years to prepare for the threat beyond the Wall."

"What about the Lannisters?" asks a lord that Sansa can't name, but she recognises him as a Glover by the silver gauntleted fist on scarlet coat of arms on his jerkin.

"What about the Lannisters?" returns Jon with a raised eyebrow.

"You can't let them get away with this. You'll let the men who murdered your brother get away with it? They orchestrated the Red Wedding. Are you craven?" replies the Lord as he furiously stands, throwing his chair to the floor.

Rather than verbally answer, Jon raises his other eyebrow questioningly, and at that moment Sansa could swear that Jon's chair turned into a throne carved with snarling direwolves and Jon himself changed. His features become more fair, his hair turning completely white, his dark eyes become icy blue and shine like the Ice Dragon's blue eye, and an inhuman grace and majesty seems to befall him, denoting him King and commanding all to obey.

With the blink of an eye, the apparition disappears and Sansa momentarily thinks that she had imagined it all before she sees the Glover look stricken with fear, while a young man wearing Blackwood livery looks at her brother with reverence and a small number those present look at him questioningly, as if trying to puzzle something out.

"I am not craven my lord, I am being reasonable." replies Jon as he invites the Glover lord to sit back down. "With our current situation, we cannot afford to think of vengeance, at least not yet. When the threat beyond the Wall is dealt with I am willing to return to this conversation. Until then, let us focus on the woes that plague our home."

With nods of agreement from the lords, the topic is momentarily forgotten.

"My lord." calls out the young Blackwood. "You keep mentioning this threat beyond the Wall, yet I don't think that you speak of the Wildlings. What is it?" he asks, causing the other lords to bob their heads in agreement. They too wish to know what that threat is.

"Aye, Stark. You keep harping about this threat but refuse to name it. So what the fuck is it?" asks Greatjon.

"I'm not a Stark." replies Jon, his voice lacking their brooding nature that they usually hold when his status as a Stark is mentioned.

Scoffing, Greatjon takes a chug from his drink before slamming it on the table and proclaiming, "If it looks like a Stark, came from a Stark, was raised by a Stark, and acts like a Stark, then it's a fucking Stark."

"Hear! Hear!" cheer the other northern lords and the young Blackwood.

"My…My lord, is this why you were brought here, to our world?" asks the young Blackwood hesitantly as he looks around the room with an uncertainty that had not been there before.

As Sansa watches the men fidget in their seats, she comes to the realization that while most are excited by the presence of this version of her brother, many more have no idea what to make of it, and some either do not believe her brother's tale or are uncomfortable with its implications.

After all, what could possibly warrant the Gods, Old or New, to believe that a magically powerful member of House Stark is needed to save them.

"Aye, it is why I was brought here. To help defeat the threat beyond the Wall." Jon says, seemingly ignoring the unease that some of the lords show.

"The threat beyond Wall is not a false threat that I have made up to scare you, nor is it some jape that I thought up to see your reactions. The threat beyond the Wall cares not for our woes or aspirations, our nobility or political power, nor does it care for our social statuses. It does not care for our thoughts or emotions, nor does it care for our plans. It does not come with the winter storms, it causes them, nor does it come with the Long Night for it is its perpetuator." says Jon, his voice becoming more and more somber as he goes on, and at the end of his speech all can tell that the topic brings him painful memories, memories that when he briefly glances at her she can see a single tear drop from his eyes.

"You speak of the Others." says a northern lord, his voice barely a whisper yet for reasons unknown to Sansa seem to sound as if he had yelled the words.

"Nonsense!" screams a riverlord as he stands violently, his face panic stricken with sweat on his brow despite the cool temperature of the room. "The…the Others are only a story, a tale to make children shiver. If they ever lived at all, they are gone eight thousand years." he says while frantically looking around the room for support.

"Aye my lord, so they are." replies her brother, causing the lord and many of his peers to slightly sigh in relief while the northern lords hold their breath, for like her, they too know that Jon is not finished speaking.

"However, my lord, we live in interesting times. The Dawn Age come again I say. Ironborns rape and reave with impunity, a realm torn between five kings, dragons hatch under their Valyrian masters as a comet flies overhead, and Starks once more walk with direwolves as the magic in their blood awakens. Does that not sound like the Dawn Age, my lord?" asks her brother and the northern lords nod their heads in agreement.

Indeed if the events of the past few years are put into this perspective it does sound like the Dawn Age, and Sansa isn't sure how to feel about it. Observing the grim countenance of the lords in the hall she can see that the lords of Riverland do not like this development. For them, the Dawn Age and the many centuries that followed were years of strife and constant bloodshed. Wars were waged at a near constant pace as kings conquered before eventually being overthrown by another king. If the Dawn Age does repeat itself, the Riverlands will see most of the bloodshed.

Unlike their counterparts, the northern lords seem to be boiling in excitement, and why wouldn't they. Once the first Long Night was beaten and House Stark had officially established itself, allies of the Starks faced years upon years of prosperity while their enemies were put to sword until they were forgotten to the anals of history. To the northern lords this may as well be a boon from the Old Gods themselves. Magic returning to the land, and a second Long Night heralding the beginning of another Dawn Age, an age of success for allies of House Stark and extinction for their enemies. And leading them into this tumultuous age is a powerful House Stark.

Yes, Eddard Stark, his wife, and his heir, their king, were unjustly murdered; but Lord Stark's daughters were rescued from the grasp of their enemies, his bastard son is currently part of Night's Watch fighting the beginnings of another Long Night, and his remaining sons have evaded death at the hands of Theon Turncloak and roam the north contrary to their previous beliefs. In the meanwhile, an older, more experienced, and more powerful version of his bastard son has been sent to them by the Old Gods in order to help set things right.

It may have begun in tragedy, but the coming age holds much potential for the North.

Unseen by all, the Blackfish stands right outside the hall listening to the conversation. He had arrived earlier but elected to stay outside to listen in private to hopefully get the bearing of Ned Stark's bastard. The moons he had spent around the boy as the lords recovered and plans were made had not yielded satisfactory results. The boy possesses many of the qualities needed for a leader but seems to shy away from it at times. He gives advice and guidelines but stops at giving direct orders. The only thing he seems adamant about is the Northern lords and forces returning home for harvest and licking their wounds before amassing once again at the Wall to face this threat. A threat that Brynden is now sure he is the sole survivor of judging by the anguish in his voice.

As far as he can see, Catelyn was right to fear the boy's potential, but for the wrong reasons. As far as Brynden can tell, the boy is completely loyal to his trueborn brothers and sisters. His first acts after arriving, from what he was able to puzzle out, was to slay those responsible for the Red Wedding while sending out his "shadows" to retrieve his sisters from the Lannisters and protect his brothers from the north, a feat that the Blackfish still can't wrap his head around due to all those talks of magic.

No, Catelyn should not have feared his potential due to his ambition or disloyalty, but due to the possibility of their enemies getting their hands on him. She should have fostered a brotherhood between them and made him undyingly loyal to Robb instead of trying to push him out. Had the boy been of a treacherous nature he would have gone south instead of to the Night's Watch, and all it would have taken for him to betray Robb would be someone playing on her mistreatment of him and promising him vengeance and riches. And while Brynden would like to state otherwise, he isn't sure if Robb could have beaten him on or off the battlefield.

The Blackfish has spoken to the boy about military tactics for the past few moons as well as politics, and the boy's mind is full of dangerous and treacherous ideas that he would rather never face, and if their Jon Snow, the Jon Snow currently at the Wall, is anything like him their defeat would not have been this disastrous or it would not have come at all. The boy would have been a voice of reason that Robb would have been more willing to listen to.

Sighing, the Blackfish shakes his head of such thoughts. The past is written and the ink is dry, there is no point torturing himself with what ifs. Now he has things to think about and plans to make. If the boy is right about the second Dawn Age, House Tully must be prepared. He will need to have a talk with Edmure.

…

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AN: Told you it wasn't abandoned. Next week I'm updating my Sith/Avatar story. Anyway tell me what you guys think about the chapter, or ask me questions and what you think will happen next. Discussions are like fuel to me.