Jon Stark

Ash.

Ash and a few blackened bones were all that was left of the man that had raised Jon. The man who had protected, stood up for, and ultimately gave his life for Jon. The man who had stained his honor for Jon. Ash and some bones were all that was left of Eddard Stark, the most honorable man in all of Westeros.

The funeral for Jon and Robb's father had been only for a few. Most of the northern lords had been sent for, as had a select few from the Vale and the Riverlands. The last two members of the group, Ser Brynden and Lord Yohn Royce, had already been stationed at the Nightfort.

All the lords that Robb had summoned had been able to make the funeral. Since the Nightfort had been the only castle that had been breached by the Others, there were hardly any losses reported from the other fortress. No one had been lost in battle since none of the defenders in the other castles had been forced to fight the enemy like Robb and his men had.

For Jon, it was odd to see so many men, all of which he knew and had fought with, be so silent. Even men like the Greatjon and Rickard Karstark had been rendered voiceless by the death of a man they loved and respected like few others.

Both Robb and Jon held the torches that had lit the pyre, using oil in place of the dragon fire that had lit the mass pyre that had been burned days earlier. The attendees had stayed until the pyre had caved in on itself before saying one final farewell and returning to the Nightfort to drown their sorrows in several tankards of ale.

Leaving only Jon and Robb behind.

"I don't know how I'm going to be able to face her," Robb said quietly, silver tears dripping from his cheeks and onto his beard. His voice was thick with emotion and close to breaking. Jon nodded, not needing to ask who his brother was referring to.

"This is war, Robb," Jon replied. "She will understand. It will hurt, by all the gods it will hurt, but she will accept it eventually. He fought to protect us, and hopefully, that will give her some peace."

"Maybe," Robb whispered. "But how can I carry his sword back to her knowing that I'm the reason he's dead?"

"Robb, if anyone is to blame, it's me," Jon countered gently. "You injured yourself protecting me. Had you not done what you did, then I would be on the pyre instead of Father."

Robb shook his head but did not argue. Jon took this as a sign that Robb had heard what he said, but it would take some time before he finally accepted the truth as Jon had. Unlike Jon, Robb had to worry about how his mother would react to the news. Jon had already internalized the death of his father, and while he was still grieving, he had accepted what had happened and why.

Robb needed time, and he would have plenty of it since there was much to be done at the Wall before Robb could start marching back south. A decision needed to be made on the fate of the Night's Watch. With the Others destroyed, as confirmed by both Bran and Leaf, and the Wildlings south of the Wall, what was the purpose of the Night's Watch? There were also millions of broken corpses, the remains of the undead army, that littered the land beyond the Wall, all the way from Eastwatch in the east to Westwatch in the west.

Destroying the remains of the wights that had made it into the courtyard of the Nightfort had already been taken care of. While the men of the Nightfort had dug a ditch for the bones and filled it, Jon had tracked down Rhaegal and brought him back to the Nightfort. While the ditch had burned, the men had worked on the pyre for their friends and two smaller pyres. One for Lord Lyonel Corbray and another for Ser Harras Harlaw since both had fallen battling a White Walker. Like before, Rhaegal had lit all three pyres.

Now, the next few months would be dedicated to repairing the damage done to the Wall and destroying the last remains of the Others.

As the flames finally died down to nothing, Jon wrapped his arm around his brother, whose gaze was still fixated on the remains of their father.

"Come on," Jon said. Robb resisted for a second before giving in, allowing Jon to lead him back to the Nightfort.

Line Break

Jon and Robb sat at the head table, receiving several mournful words from those both drunk and sober. The first to speak to the brothers had been Ser Brynden. The old knight didn't look nearly as grim as he had when he had set his brother's boat aflame and showed much more sadness on his weathered features.

"I am sorry, lads," Ser Brynden said quietly, clapping his hands on their shoulders as he stood between their chairs. "Ned was a great man. He will be missed."

"Thank you, Uncle," Robb replied. "Will you be riding with us to Winterfell?"

Ser Brynden nodded. "I and Edmure will be with you. Cat will need all her family when she learns of this."

"Agreed," Jon said.

As Ser Brynden walked away, the Greatjon was the next to walk up, dragging a chair and a pitcher of ale with him. He seated himself across from Jon and Robb before filling both their tankards and his own with ale.

"If anyone needed a drink, it's you two," the giant man grunted, draining nearly his entire drink in one motion. He shook his head and made a bitter face as he put his cup down. "I wish I had brought some proper northern ale with me. It's hard to honor Ned with this shit."

"Just your presence is enough to honor him, my lord," Robb said, taking a small drink of ale. His words, while kind, was said in a practically emotionless voice. "You were one of his greatest friends and staunchest allies. He would have wanted you here, with or without northern ale."

The Greatjon nodded slowly. "It's a damn shame," he sighed before adding. "I remember watching him during the rebellion. He was a right terror with that valyrian greatsword. He never got the acclaim that other swordsmen did, but he truly was a dangerous man. Had a good head on his shoulders and a strong sword arm."

"He went blow for blow with the Night King," Robb said. "I don't think many others could have done that."

"Aye, there will never be another Ned Stark," the Greatjon said. "Honorable and as unbending as steel. I remember when I received a letter from him telling me that wildlings had settled on the Gift. He told me to pull my head out of my ass before I did something stupid!" the massive lord laughed. "He told me that he had everything under control. Said the same thing when others challenged his authority during the rebellion when he called his banners. He was practically your age, your grace, when he led us then. There was something there, something we noticed we both of you, that told us that the man meant what he said. We believed him then, and I believed him when he sent me that letter, and he never let us down. Never did."

Jon and Robb watched as the Greatjon retreated deep into his mind, clearly thinking about all the memories he had shared with his late friend. Neither of the young men wanted to interrupt the Greatjon, so they waited patiently until he finally shook himself from his thoughts.

"Aye, there will never be another Ned Stark," he said quietly before clearing his throat and changing the subject. "Your grace, some of the others were wondering…who was his heir? We know that your brother, Bran, is back and all…"

"A question for my mother, my lord," Robb answered easily.

The Greatjon nodded again. "Right."

"We're both glad to see you again, my lord," Jon said. "From your reports, your men had a relatively easy time."

"Easy," the Greatjon chuckled. "Fuckers came damn close to breaking through the last gate before whole scores of them began dropping like flies. It's the same story as all the others. From what ol' Blackfish has told me, a lot of men were saved because of you two and Ned. You're the one who fought their leader and cut the head off the snake."

"We fought him, but Jon destroyed him," Robb said. "He's the one who deserves the glory."

"I don't," Jon replied quickly. "I would have died if Robb hadn't given up his body to protect me."

"No need to bicker," the Greatjon said with a wave of his hand. "Far as any of us care, we're alive because of you three. No point giving away glory. There's enough for all." the giant lord leaned forward. "There is one other thing that the others were wondering about."

"What's that?" Jon asked curiously.

"They said you rode a dragon, Jon," the Greatjon said carefully. "An odd thing for the bastard son of Ned Stark given that the only people who ride dragons are Targaryens…or their bastards."

Jon leaned forward, looking the lord of Last Hearth in the eye. Without hesitation or a stutter, he said:

"I am Jon Stark, legitimized son of Eddard Stark. Whatever else I may or may not be is irrelevant."

The Greatjon held Jon's gaze for a few tense moments before finally nodding, sitting back in his chair.

"Well said, lad," he grunted, pouring himself more ale. "We already see you as Ned's son. No point changing on us now. Besides, the "White Dragon" doesn't have the same ring to it as the "White Wolf"."

Jon leaned back as well. "No, it doesn't."

After the two brothers finished their drink with the Greatjon, they shared quiet toasts and memories of their late father with others in the hall. Edmure Tully, Jason Mallister, Yohn Royce, Rickard Karstark, Galbart Glover, and others. Jon and Robb had heard stories that their father had never told them before regarding his time in the Vale, how he fought and led the men of the North during the Rebellion, and the tough decisions he had made during his tenure as Lord Paramount of the North. In short, the brothers had learned more about their father in a few hours than they had ever learned when he was alive.

None of the stories, however, changed how they viewed him. If anything, all the stories merely emphasized the fact that Ned Stark was truly an honorable man.

The last man to see Jon and Robb was Howland Reed.

"My lord," Jon said kindly, happy to see the wiry lord once again. "It's been some time."

"It has," Howland said, clasping arms with both Robb and Jon. The lord of Greywater Watch took a long look at Jon before turning his gaze on Robb.

"How are you, your grace?" he asked.

"Fine, Lord Howland," Robb said, hiding his true feelings. "How are you? I know our father was a very close friend of yours."

"You don't have to worry about me, my lord," Howland said. "It's you I'm worried about."

"Don't," Robb almost snapped.

"Robb," Jon grunted.

"I can see it in your eyes, your grace," Howland continued, undeterred by Robb's aggression. "It's as clear as day. You're hurting."

"Of course I am," Robb said angrily. "I just lost my bloody father."

"Yes, you did," Howland said. "All of us are, but you and Jon must feel this loss worse than others. I'm not denying that you should not feel pain. What I want to make clear is that your father does not want you to blame yourself for what happened."

"You have no right…" Robb snarled, but Howland calmly cut him off.

"You said I was one of his closest friends, did you not?" he asked. "I said what I said because I knew Ned Stark better than most. If there was any way my friend would have wanted to die, then he would have chosen to sacrifice himself to protect his sons without hesitation. I am confident that he died without fear or worry because he knew that he had raised two great men who will lead the seven kingdoms for decades, gods willing."

Robb glared at the lord of Greywater Watch for a moment before striding out of the room without saying a word. A few noticed his departure and looked towards Jon for an explanation. Jon merely shook his head at the observers before turning back to Howland.

"He knows you're right," Jon said quietly. "He just needs time."

"Aye, time would be nice for us all," Howland nodded. "How is your other brother?"

Jon grimaced. During the battle, Bran had been "forcibly removed" from Rhaegal's mind by the Night King's magic. While Bran was a strong warg, perhaps the strongest due to his strong connection to the Old Gods, he did not have the same relationship with Rhaegal that he had with his direwolf Summer or the flock of ravens he had at his disposal. The connection between him and the bronze dragon had been a single thread and it wasn't hard for the Night King to snip.

Thankfully, Rhaegal had experienced nothing but a sore head and Bran was dealing with a killer headache. None had been seriously harmed or damaged in any way.

As it turns out, Bran's actions against the Night King had been a bad move that could have been much worse. The plan originally was for the Others to come through the tunnel, and then for the tunnel to collapse so that they would be without the aid of their minions. The man responsible for blowing the tunnel had been found dead with a massive hole in his chest from a White Walker's blade.

The defenders of the Nightfort that only a giant had made it through the tunnel. Garrett Longley, the commander of the archers during the battle, had improvised on the spot when he noticed Rhaegal's dive and nothing happening in the tunnel. He had dropped the scythe from where it hung on the Wall before releasing the chain and having it drop almost perfectly in front of the entrance to the tunnel, effectively blocking it.

"Bran is fine," Jon said. "He's sore and his head hurts, but that's all."

Howland swished the ale around in his cup. "I can't believe that Rhaegar was right," he said quietly.

Jon nodded slowly and shrugged. "Yeah, but who cares."

Howland chuckled. "Sorry, I forgot I was talking to the man who wants no glory even when it's rightfully his to have." the wiry lord shook his head. "Gods, you're definitely Ned's son….and Lyanna's too."

"Did your daughter accompany you?" Jon asked curiously, remembering that Howland's daughter had been with Bran when he had returned to Castle Black.

"She did," Howland said with a slight smile. "It was the oddest sight, seeing her standing among men twice her age or older, raining arrows down from the top of the Wall. After a few nights, she had earned the respect of everyone in the castle and even had a small company of some of my youngest hunters dedicated to her. I joked and called them "Meera's Men"."

Jon chuckled. "You must be proud of her."

"I am," Howland agreed. "Words would not give the feeling justice."

"White Wolf, where do you head next?" Dacey Mormont called from the center of the hall, drawing all eyes to Jon.

"Once the foul mess outside is cleaned up, my brother and I ride for Winterfell," Jon said, raising his voice so that all could hear him. "My father's funeral may have been here, but he deserves to rest among our ancestors in the crypts under Winterfell."

A low growl of approval spread across the room. To the men and women of the North, family was very important, and Jon had made a very good point. Ned Stark would never truly rest until he was back where he belonged: With all the Starks who came before him, with a direwolf at his side and an iron sword in his hands.

"I will not force you to accompany my brother and me," Jon continued. "I am sure that many of you will want to return to your own families…."

"Fuck that, lad," Lord Glover spat fiercely. "We'll see Ned back home. He would do the same for us! We didn't abandon him in life, and we won't in death!"

"AYE!" the others cried, their drunk fists pounding the tables.

Jon smiled, reminded of one of the many reasons his father loved the men and women of the North. The warriors of the Stormlands were perhaps fiercer in battle, and those of the Westerlands were better equipped. However, when your back was to the wall and you needed someone you could trust to watch it and never flee, the warriors of the North would fight to the last man.

Jon raised his mug. "To Ned Stark!"

"To Ned!"

Line Break

Hey All, 

I feel like I should explain my decisions in the last chapter (I know people will still make their opinions, but here are mine). Also, please read the entire thing. I'm not trying to offend anyone or say that they're wrong. I appreciate ALL comments, good and bad. 

Firstly, Ned dying. One person said that Ned did nothing. I argue that Ned did exactly what he would need to do. The story is meant to be about Robb and Jon (I'm sorry that this particular story is more Robb-oriented, it's just how it turned out). Ned protected his sons, did as he was told, and stood up for his family when needed. Also, there was a suggestion that he (Ned) could wound the Night King. Admittedly, I was going to end Ned's life with him taking the NK with him. The reason why I didn't do either is because A) Ned has a giant sword that kills White Walkers. "Wounding" him would have been hard to explain when he has Ice and a dagger of dragonglass. B) If Ned had killed the NK, then Jon's storyline (again, I have not been great with it. I've said time and again that I'm not a good writer) as the Prince that was Promised, would have been worthless. 

Second, someone suggested that Robb should have been the one to kill the Night King. It's perfectly reasonable to feel like that. He did a lot of the heavy lifting with some assists from yours truly (me). But, as I've said, I wrote the story in a way that set up Jon as the Prince that was Promised. I couldn't make that clear, and then just not stick to it. If you think that my explanation is bullshit…that's fair, but it's all I got. 

Third, I'M SORRY THE FIGHT WAS ANTICLIMACTIC! No, seriously, I wish I had done better but I just didn't know how. 

Anyways, I'm fine with people having their opinions, good or bad. I'm more than ok with people expressing their opinions through comments because then I get a chance to interact with you all who read my stories (I still don't know why you do. I'm not good). 

Anyways, enough rambling. As always, thank you all so, so, so much for the support. It's unreal that I have people who enjoy my writing. Doesn't feel right. 

Stay safe, it's a crazy world.