Chapter 476: The Snow and Winds of the Wall

The month-long snowfall had finally ceased, and by midday, the sun broke through the clouds.

Its rays bathed the Wall in pale blue light, shimmering across its icy expanse.

Eddard Stark stood atop the Wall, gazing down at the Haunted Forest below.

The howling northern wind swept through the treetops, shaking loose the delicate ice crystals clinging to the branches, making them fall like a fluttering icy banner.

But what truly caught his attention was the array of strange and colorful banners waving amidst the trees.

Countless tents, as vibrant as mushrooms, were packed densely in the forest north of the Wall, almost too numerous to count.

Gathered here were the entire Free Folk of the far north.

There were the mountain clans, the seafarers of the Frozen Shore, skinchangers, giants, the cannibals of the Great Glacier, cave dwellers painted in bizarre hues, and the Hardfoot tribes with soles tough as boiled leather.

All these wildly different tribes had been united under one banner, by a man who called himself the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

Even Eddard Stark, once the Warden of the North and Hand of the King, had to admit that rallying such a vast and disorganized force was a monumental feat.

Perhaps there truly was something terrifying driving them south, forcing the Free Folk to unite under one leader.

Could it be the Others, the White Walkers of legend?

Eddard's brow furrowed deeply.

Despite their numbers, the Free Folk faced an almost insurmountable challenge: breaching the Wall.

This man-made barrier was an impenetrable fortress.

For days, the Free Folk had launched countless attacks, but all they had achieved was adding more bodies to the frozen ground.

They had even tried sending small elite climbing parties over the Wall to attack from the southern side.

It was a clever tactic since the Wall was designed to defend against northern threats and was vulnerable from the south.

Thankfully, Jon Snow had returned in time with critical intelligence, thwarting the Free Folk's plan.

Still, Eddard felt no relief.

For Jon had also brought news of something even more alarming: the Others had returned.

The Wall's defenders were divided over this claim.

Many doubted Jon's account, especially since he had previously surrendered to the Free Folk and had even killed his own companion, Qhorin Halfhand, during his infiltration.

Jon insisted it was part of his ruse to infiltrate Mance Rayder's ranks, but many of the Night's Watch found his explanations hard to believe.

Were it not for Eddard Stark's position as Lord Commander and his personal guarantee of Jon's integrity, the boy might have faced a trial.

Even so, Jon's warnings about the Others were largely dismissed.

The creak of the lift's iron cage broke Eddard's thoughts.

Turning around, he saw Jon Snow ascending to the top of the Wall.

"Father," Jon called as he stepped out of the lift, his voice earnest, "a raven has arrived from the Citadel."

"What news does it carry?"

"It carries no message," Jon replied. "It is a white raven."

Eddard immediately understood. White ravens from the Citadel did not bring news; they announced the changing of seasons.

If autumn had ended, then…

"Winter is here," Eddard exhaled, his face tightening with grim resolve.

"The Others will come south," Jon urged. "We must let the Free Folk through the Wall, or else tens of thousands of them will die and become wights!"

Eddard said nothing, unable to make the decision lightly.

Letting so many Free Folk pass south of the Wall would strain the already stretched resources of the North.

Winter was here, and the North barely had enough food to sustain its own people. Adding tens of thousands of mouths to feed would surely lead to chaos, death, and bloodshed.

And yet, Jon was right. If the Free Folk perished beyond the Wall, they would return as wights—a disaster far worse than the current predicament.

Moreover, the Free Folk were still human.

The two men fell silent, their only company the wailing wind.

After a long pause, Jon broke the silence with a different question:

"Father, you once promised me that when we met again, you would tell me who my mother was."

Eddard grew even quieter.

This question, too, weighed heavily on him.

The lift creaked again, and Eddard turned to see Maester Wyndam ascending the Wall.

"Lord Stark," the maester called, handing over a letter, "a message from King's Landing."

Eddard quickly scanned its contents, his expression unreadable.

"Caesar has taken King's Landing," he finally said.

Jon looked startled. "So the Targaryens have been restored?"

"The Baratheon dynasty has indeed fallen, but the new regime… Caesar has not taken the Targaryen name," Eddard replied. Then, turning to Wyndam, he added, "Maester, summon the men. I have an announcement to make. Also, ask Lord Stannis to join us."

"As you wish, Lord Stark."

After the maester left, Eddard turned back to Jon, his face resolute.

"Jon, I believe it's time I told you the truth."

Jon straightened, his eyes full of anticipation. But Eddard's next words shattered his composure.

"You are not my son…" Eddard began, his voice steady but pained. "Your mother was my sister, Lyanna Stark. And your father… was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."

Jon's mouth fell open, his mind reeling. He had only wanted to know who his mother was, but the answer brought with it an entirely new identity.

Eddard placed a hand on Jon's shoulder.

"When your mother died giving birth to you in the Tower of Joy, I swore to protect you. At that time, I had no choice but to conceal your true parentage. Otherwise, Robert Baratheon would have had you killed.

Now the Baratheon dynasty is gone, and the past no longer matters. If you wish to reclaim your true name…"

"No!" Jon interrupted, his voice fierce. "I am not a Targaryen. I am a Snow, your son!"

Eddard sighed. "Snow is not a name of honor."

"But it's the name I know," Jon insisted. "And you are the only father I've ever known."

Eddard's stern demeanor softened. "So be it. You are my son, Jon Snow. And here at the Wall, Targaryen or Snow, it makes no difference."

"Thank you," Jon said, his voice firm.

"Come, we must descend," Eddard said, stepping into the lift. "Caesar has ordered us to let the Free Folk through the Wall. He also promises grain shipments from King's Landing to feed them."

"That's wonderful!" Jon exclaimed, following eagerly.

Back at Castle Black, they were met by Ser Jaime Lannister, who smirked.

"Well, well. Lord Eddard Stark and his noble bastard."

"I am not a bastard!" Jon shot back.

"Oh?" Jaime raised a brow. "Then what are you?"

"I…" Jon faltered, unsure whether to reveal the truth.

Eddard stepped in.

"Jaime, a letter has come from King's Landing. Tommen Baratheon has surrendered to Caesar, and your father, Tywin, is dead."

Jaime's smirk vanished, but he quickly recovered. "I wear the black now. Southern politics are no concern of mine."

Eddard nodded. "Fair enough. But your sister is here as well."

"Cersei?" Jaime asked, his voice tinged with suspicion. "When did the Wall start admitting women?"

"She's not at the Wall. She's in Mole's Town."

Jaime's face turned an ashen gray.

(End of Chapter)