45

Chapter 45 The new face of the Wall

Eddard Stark

Ned watched as Jon followed behind Aemon, the Black Brother and former Lord Commander, Edd gave him a nod gestured forward again.

Benjen came up to Edd and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'll take Ned, you show Robb and Bran to their rooms Edd," he ordered firmly.

Edd nodded, "As you say First Ranger, I'm just a lowly brother, might as well do that," he said mockingly, before walking off towards Robb.

Ned frowned, and opened his mouth to speak, "He's a strange one, that one," he stated evenly.

Benjen nodded with an amused smile, "Dolorous Edd we called him...though he's been far too jolly for us to really call him that since the spell. More insolent too," he finished with an amused shake of his head, "He's a good man and loyal, Ned. And a former Lord Commander. There's more there than he let's on."

Ned nodded thoughtfully, as Benjen started leading him away from Mormont's solar. It was just one more thing for Ned to think about. One of many, these days the Others dominated his thoughts and the securing the North. One eccentric Black Brother wasn't really that important in the grand scheme of things, despite Benjen's words. His new rooms weren't far from the Lord Commander's rooms. Benjen opened the door and motioned Ned in.

They entered and Benjen closed the door behind them.

Ned turned towards his brother and gave him a small smile. It was good to see Benjen hale and alive, especially with how Bran and Jon had described what had happened to him and what the Children of the Forest had done to 'save' him.

Their eyes met and then the next thing he knew was pain, as Benjen's fist met his face. His head rocked back and he lost his balance, falling flat on his ass. He looked up in confusion to see Benjen standing over him, his face contorted red with anger.

"What the hell, Ned?!" screamed Benjen angrily, his eyes blazing with anger.

Ned blinked in surprise from where he sat on the floor, he rubbed his jaw, still not understanding what exactly had happened, or what was happening...

"Why in the name of the Old Gods and the New didn't you ever tell me about him?" he screamed at him.

"I was keeping him safe," Ned stated simply, still working through all that his brother was saying.

Benjen gave him a look of anger and disdain, "And you thought me knowing the truth would endanger him?!" he let out a loud exasperated breath, "Who the fuck did you think I was going to tell?! Did you think I would betray Jon?!," he took a deep breath, growling, "And encouraging him to join the Night's Watch? That was a shitty thing to do Ned!"

Ned stared up at his brother, slowly taking in the words. All since the Tower of Joy, he'd been terrified that the truth of Jon's birth would become known, that a cloth; Lannister red, would be wrapped around him one day. The first years back at Winterfell had been fitful and filled with nightmares of all the things that could have gone wrong.

And he could use none of that to defend his actions.

Ned found he couldn't give his brother a good answer.

Benjen's nostrils flared with anger for a moment before he took a deep breath, calming himself. He held out his hand for Ned to take it. Ned stared at it for a moment before taking it. Benjen pulled him up with a strong pull, even though he was still glaring at Ned. There was a small table with a couple of seats around it, Ned sat down even as Benjen started to silently pace the small room.

He'd never thought what he would say to Benjen in this situation, "I didn't think-" he began.

"No you didn't!" Benjen roared, whirling towards him, "Did you think about how I felt knowing all that you said happened to Lyanna?! Did you think that didn't eat at me? Everything that happened to her. And father. And Brandon?!" his voice was shaking with emotion as he roared the names of their dead family in anguish.

Ned's guilt did not need to grow any larger these days, between everything that had happened after he had died and everything that was happening now...

He shook his head despondently, "I am sorry, brother. That is all I can say after all this time," he stated despondently, as he rubbed his aching chin.

Benjen growled again unhappily, he stared for a moment before rubbing his face in frustration and then taking a seat next to Ned at the table.

They sat in silence. Ned stewing in his guilt and Benjen in his frustration. The silence stretched on and on as the Stark brothers stared at each other.

The silence was broken when a there was a hard knock on the door, "Is everything all right?" came Lord Commander Mormont's voice. His voice was filled with concern, apparently Benjen's shouting had been heard outside.

Benjen and Ned shared a look before Ned cleared his throat, "Yes, Lord Commander, all is well here," he called out.

"Everything is fine here, Lord Commander," added Benjen evenly.

Mormont cleared his throat gruffly, "Hmm...alright then, Lord Stark," his voice was filled with a doubtful tone.

They heard him stomp off after a moment's hesitation.

Benjen let out a tired breath.

"I truly am sorry brother," Ned repeated with a heartfelt sigh.

Benjen took another deep breath before speaking softly, "What's done is done. All that matters is that I know now," Benjen stated with a deep mournful sigh.

Ned made a noncommittal sound, but didn't say anything else.

Benjen drummed his fingers on the table for a moment before snorting wryly, "All things aside, I never realised that you were that good at keeping secrets."

Ned frowned and huffed unhappily in response.

The two brothers sat together in silence, trying to get to grips with their new reality.

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The Three eyed Raven

Bran was flying again.

A lone raven hovered in the air. He was looking down at the Wall now. And he knew why the Wights had been able to cross the Wall. The magic of the Wall had been weakened- not enough to be useless against the Others like the barriers became in the Three eyed Raven's cave, but he could see small cracks in the magic. And he knew what was causing it.

The Night King's mark.

Brandon the Builder had built the Wall strong, but the mark on him had found weaknesses in it.

There was nothing he could do about that. It wouldn't get worse but it was flaw in the Wall now. A weakness in the Wall that could be exploited by the Wights at certain points, but not the White Walkers themselves.

He flew off, heading north. Towards the edge of the Haunted Forest, searching for Mance and the Wildlings. Long and hard he flew curving east then westwards, circling around and around, searching for signs of the Wildling camp and Mance.

He flew on and on.

Finally, he saw the Wildlings. He saw Mance's camp as he neared the edge of the Haunted Forest near the Milkwater.

The camp was larger than he had expected, much larger. Mance had gathered many of the remaining Wildlings around him. It was a large and weighty group. Hard to move and slow when it did move.

Why had Mance not split them into smaller groups? The smaller groups could reach the Wall much faster than this single massive group.

He watched and waited, and soon enough an answer was revealed.

On the far outskirts there were a group of Wildlings hacking away at a Wight. They had no dragonglass weapons, just iron and steel weapons. They hacked the Wights apart before spearing each separate piece and setting them alight.

There were under siege. They were standing together for protection.

He continued watching.

The night was coming and fires; bright and strong bonfires in actuality, were being erected around the camp. A barrier to keep the Wights away.

He saw men and women throwing bodies onto the bonfires. Their dead. Some still moved, more Wight pieces to be destroyed. All making the flames higher and brighter in the face of the coming twilight.

The camp, despite its' largeness, was relatively close to the Wall, it should take them but a matter of days to reach the safety of Castle Black. Or at least they should have, if not for the Others. He could feel other eyes around the camp, watching waiting silently for night to fall.

He turned his gaze away from the camp and searched for the area for the waiting danger.

There!

But a stone's throw away, in all his hideous cold blue might was the Night King!

Watching. Wary. Waiting.

The monster turned his eyes skyward, searching; sensing the barest whisper of the Raven's power. The Raven turned away, flying in the opposite direction. He didn't want to attract any attention. Not now. This was an opportunity in the making with the correct planning.

The Raven quickly released his control of the bird and opened his eyes, back in his room in Castle Black.

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Jon Targaryen

He had been intending to rest but after everything with Gilly, he needed a good distraction.

Which is how he found himself standing alone- or at least as alone he could get with Ser Barristan standing watch, looking down at the training yard, just as he had stood before, when he was the Lord Commander. Brooding was always something that came naturally to him, and this was an excellent spot to brood on all the things that had gone wrong.

And all that still could go wrong as well, he thought unhappily.

The White Walkers were on the move and Robert still had to be dealt with, one way or the other...

"It's good to see some things never change," came a familiar voice from behind him, interrupting his brooding..

He turned around and found Ser Barristan looking suspiciously at two Black Brothers that were standing there, switching between looking at the legendary Kingsguard with cautious and awed looks versus amused looks at Jon.

"We supposed to bow or something now?" asked Pyp cheekily.

"I am the King," Jon retorted dryly with a disapproving scowl.

"You sure? Cause you look like a bastard I used to know," Grenn responded with a mocking look.

Ser Barristan glowed at them, "Show some respect boy, this is the King!" he growled sharply.

Jon stepped forward and placed a placating hand on the knight's shoulder. His scowl melted away and he grinned widely, letting his true feeling shine through.

"Grenn! Pyp!" He greeted them happily. He walked towards them and spreading his arms wide.

Grenn smiled widely as they embraced first, thumping each others' backs enthusiastically, as only two long lost friends could. They broke apart after a minute and Grenn looked over Jon's face, "I forgot how young and pretty you used to look without all the scars," he japed happily.

Jon laughed again, accepting the jest in the spirit it was given. He let go of Grenn and turned to Pyp.

Pyp was more restrained in his initial greeting, "We allowed to hug kings?" he asked cheekily.

"I can make an exception," He hugged him as well, he looked to Ser Barristan. The old knight had a small smile on his face, "Ser Barristan, this Grenn and Pypar. Two of my loyal brothers," he declared proudly, "Pyp, Grenn, this is Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of my Kingsguard."

The look of awe was back on the faces of his two old friends as they looked towards the old knight. The weight of everything lessened minutely as he looked at them. He needed this so soon after everything with Gilly.

Ser Barristan nodded at them, "I am always glad to meet loyal men," he extended a hand towards them and Jon's friends slowly shook his hand, one after the other the look of awe never leaving their faces.

Pyp cast a glance at Jon, "Lot's of new friends these days, eh Jon?"

Jon snorted, "Doesn't mean I don't have time for old ones as well." He paused and cast a look at Ser Barristan, "They say nothing truly bonds men together more than battle...but cleaning out privies together- now that truly bonds men together."

Pyp snorted and wrinkled his nose in disgust, "Far too many privies if you ask me," he retorted with a shake of his head.

Jon let out another laugh.

Grenn had an intense look of concentration on his face now, "It's all fucking insane...uh...also...thanks...for bring us back? That just sounds insane doesn't it?"

"-even if it is true," Pyp added quickly.

Jon nodded, "I'm just glad to have you back with us." He looked at Pyp, "Both of you...and the Lord Commander...and whole bunch of others as well," he stated ruefully.

They chuckled, and then Pyp asked, "You know? To me, that's not the only crazy thing. I heard some really crazy shit about Sam from Edd...it's not actually true is it?"

Jon smirked, "Aye, if you've heard that Sam's the new Lord of the Reach, that's correct."

"Seven Hells...Sam as Lord of the entire Reach?! Now I know the world is ending," Pyp declared in dismay.

"Gods help us all! We're all really fucked now aren't we?" Grenn lamented with a mournful shake of his head.

They kept the mournful act going for a moment before dissolving into laughter.

Jon laughed with them again, their laughter a balm to the turmoil in his soul, "I'm damn glad to see you both. I missed you both."

Pyp elbowed Grenn playfully, "Hear that Grenn, the King missed us."

Jon laughed again. It felt good to laugh like this again. To feel like the boy he used to be, "How have things been on the Wall with you two?"

Grenn scowled, the laughter seeping out from his face, "Dealing with Traitors; that fucking Thorne..." Grenn growled as he shook his head in disgust.

Jon's mood darkening, that was just one more thing that he'd have to deal with, sooner rather than later.

"...and watching as the Wildlings walk freely through the Wall and into the North- after we died to keep them out," Pyp added as he rubbed the back of his neck ambivalently.

Jon frowned, giving Pyp a concerned look, "You understand why they have to cross over don't you? Both of you?" he cast a look at Grenn as well.

"Don't get me wrong, we're with you Jon. If you say this is what we have to do, then it is. We trust you...it's just...weird. We died and all that, trying to keep them out," he finished gesturing towards Grenn as he nodded along.

"We're still with you no matter what," Grenn declared loyally.

Jon placed one hand on Grenn's shoulder and the other on Pyp's, "I'm glad you're with me, I couldn't do it without either of you." He said it and he meant it.

He thought about their last life and something suddenly occurred to him, "You haven't actually taken your vows yet have you?" Jon asked, "Either of you?"

They frowned at him, confused by the sudden change of topic.

"Of course we've taken the vow. You were there," Grenn replied in confusion.

Pyp didn't answer, he just blinked at Jon.

Jon kept his face blank, "You know as King I just realised that I have no guardsmen directly sworn to me, or House Targaryen- apart from Ser Barristan here, but he's a Kingsguard, and every house needs regular guar-," he didn't get to finish.

One moment Pyp was blinking at him, the next his eyes had widened as he realised just what Jon was saying...and suddenly he was on his knees, "I swear undying loyalty to House Targaryen and you, your Grace!" he almost shouted eagerly, "Is there a special oath or something? Or is that enough?"

Grenn looked down in mystification, as Jon hid his smile at Pyp's sudden enthusiasm and respect.

"What the hell are you doing Pyp? We're men of the Night's Watch!" he declared frowning in confusion, "We can't change that!"

Pyp rolled his eyes at Grenn's thickness, "We were, we died Grenn." He stated as if that explained everything. And in a way it did.

"Grenn," Jon began, squeezing his friends shoulder reassuringly, " Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death, " he paused for a moment, "You died, you fulfilled the oath. And now I'm offering you a different one. "

Grenn blinked. And then blinked again.

Jon sighed, "Kneel and swear yourself to me. You looked good in black, but you're going to look better in red and black. I can use a loyal man like you in my household guard."

Suddenly Grenn's eyes widened, as understanding finally came to him, "Oh...OH...but won't the Lord Commander be mad at us for this?" he asked with a unsure grimace.

Jon couldn't keep himself from smiling this time, he snorted and shook his head, "He'll get over it- Edd's going to be the one really pissed off."

Grenn grimaced again as Pyp snickered and then reached up and pulled him down to his knees, "Just fucking swear yourself to Jon!" he exclaimed in exacerbation.

"Uh...I...swear undying loyalty to House Targaryen," Grenn stated hesitantly.

"Good. I accept both your oaths and I promise to do right by you both...does that sound fair to you Pyp?" he asked his friend pointedly.

"Absolutely, your Grace!" Pyp said with good cheer, and a heartfelt smile.

Slowly Pyp stood but Grenn stayed kneeling, still unsure of himself.

The second part of Jon's idea made him smirk in amusement, "Ser Barristan," he began, "while Grenn is still kneeling, perhaps you could knight him? I think Ser Grenn the Giantslayer sounds good doesn't it?" he stated with a smirk, throwing out that surprise.

Ser Barristan started, "Giantslayer, your Grace?" he asked in surprise, suddenly giving Grenn a closer look.

Grenn gaped in surprise, "What?!"

"You held the gate and killed a giant with just five men, I think that deserves a proper reward...and Ser Grenn the Giantslayer does sound very good," Jon repeated his voice filled with respect, "What do you think Ser Barristan?"

Ser Barristan was looking at Grenn, new found respect gleamed in his eyes, "Indeed your Grace, many men have been knighted for much less...It would be my honor to knight you Grenn," he finished with a nod of his head.

Grenn gaped at the legendary knight, "Uh..."

"What he means is yes, thank you!" Pyp cut in for the stunned Grenn, "He accepts!"

Jon nodded and drew Blackfyre from it's sheath, holding it out to Ser Barristan. The old knight accepted it with a respectful nod as Jon stepped back to make space between them.

Pyp frowned, "Wait a minute! That's not Longclaw!" he shouted accusingly, "Where in the Seven Hells did you find a second Valyrian steel sword?!"

Ser Barristan glared at him, "As a sworn man of House Targaryen, you're going to have to learn some manners boy," he chastised, "Especially when speaking to the King."

Pyp gulped fearfully even as he glanced back and forth between Jon and the sword, his eyes asking the question silently.

"Maester Aemon had it. This is Blackfyre..."

Pyp's fear was replaced with stunned disbelief as his eyes practically fell out of his head in shock as he gazed back at the legendary Blackfyre.

Meanwhile Grenn was still kneeling and looking like someone had just clubbed him over the head with a mace.

Jon pointed towards the second blade on Ser Barristan's belt, "...and that's Dark Sister..."

Pyp's jaw dropped even more as he swayed in surprise.

"...and yes, before you ask, you can hold both the blades, but later. Both of you can," Jon finished magnanimously. Seeing both his friends so stunned and being able to help them so much was something he was proud to do. Pyp had been wronged in the last life and Grenn had more than proven his worth. So too had Pyp, but he still had work to do. Most important of all, Jon knew just how loyal they both were. True loyalty was something that was rare in King's Landing. As king, he'd need as many truly loyal men as he could find.

Jon nodded sagely at Ser Barristan, "Proceed Ser Barristan," he commanded.

Ser Barristan nodded, there was amusement as he raised Blackfyre above the kneeling Grenn for a moment before, touching his left shoulder first, "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women," with each sentence he touched a different shoulder, as Grenn looked up at Ser Barristan confusion and awe written across his face, "Arise Ser Grenn the Giantslayer, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms," with the final command he stepped back, handing Blackfyre back to Jon.

Grenn on the other hand, just kept kneeling still not understanding what had just happened.

Pyp shook his head in disgust, "For fuck's sake, stand up Grenn!" he grabbed the new knight's arm and dragged him to his feet.

Grenn came out of his stupor and shook Pyp's grip off, "Get off!" he turned to Jon, "I...thank you...I..." his mouth opened and closed several times but no more words came out.

"Maybe Ser Grenn the Wordless would be a better name?" japed Pyp.

Grenn growled and glared at Pyp.

Pyp laughed and turned to Jon, "Why Giantslayer? Why not Ser Grenn Giantsbane?" he asked seriously, "That sounds better."

"Because that would make him the third Giantsbane. And it'd get confusing," Jon decried with an annoyed look.

"Third?" Grenn questioned.

"Aye, there's already Tormund Giantsbane and then the Little Giantsbane; the Lord Command's niece, Lyanna Mormont," Jon explained.

"Little Giantsbane?" Grenn echoed dumbly.

Jon quickly told them about Lyanna Mormont and then watched as Grenn gaped again in response.

To kill a giant you needed Grenn, and five others...or a two and ten year old maiden, Pyp snorted laughing loudly at the way Grenn's face turned red at how he was outdone.

"Good to know that you got outdone by a ten and ten maiden," Pyp laughed almost hysterically as Grenn continued to turn red.

"Lady Lyanna is force to be reckoned with...a number of Lords found that out the hard way," Jon shook his head at the recollection of having so many grown men being humbled by a little girl.

Pyp wiped tears from eyes, "Alright then, well what about me?" he asked.

"What about you?" Jon retorted.

"Can't I be knighted too?" he asked hopefully.

Jon shrugged, "Sure..."

That brought Pyp up short, "Really?" he asked, suddenly puffing up with hope.

"Sure...when you kill a Giant...or more than one Wildling... or learn to duck..."

Pyp deflated with a huff as the newly knighted Ser Grenn the Giantslayer came out his shock and snorted with laughter at the expression on Pyp's face.

It's good to have my friends back...

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The lightness of his recruitment of Grenn and Pyp didn't last. It shone as a light in his mind, a reminder of the good he could do for those that deserved it, but many duties still lay heavily upon his shoulders.

One of which was staring at him though the bars of one of the Watch's ice cells.

Ser Alliser Thorne looked like he was trying to swallow his tongue, his eyes held an empty blank look in them as they kept darting back and forth between Jon's face and the Targaryen sigil on Jon's chest.

Thorne had hated him from the moment he'd laid eyes on Jon. A Targaryen Loyalist from the Rebellion, he'd refused to bend the knee to Robert Baratheon, and chosen the joining the Night's Watch instead of death.

He'd served faithfully for a long time, till he found himself serving the bastard son of Ned Stark. The mutiny had come next, old prejudices against Jon and against the Free Folk, had proven too much for Thorne to overcome.

Jon remembered Thorne with a rope around his neck, defeated but accepting of the consequences of his actions. Almost at peace, yet refusing to see the Free Folk as no threat to the Seven Kingdoms, the Others were the true threat to anyone still breathing.

Only now, to his undying horror, Throne found out that he'd mutinied against House Targaryen, and slain Rhaegar Targaryen's last remaining son.

Despite everything, Jon pitied the man for the nightmarish situation he now found himself in. Trapped in a pit of guilt of his own making, over his true loyalties.

Jon looked at the other cells. The other occupants here were special, the other lead conspirators of Thorne's mutiny. Bowen Marsh, the First Steward and Othell Yarwyck, the First Builder.

An unlikely pair of co-conspirators for Thorne, but then everything had been changing those days. Enemies were becoming friends, and friends became enemies.

Marsh had the same stunned expression on his face from when Jon had hung him. His eyes were seeing Jon as if he was some sort of mystical creature that only existed in the books of the Maesters. He refused to meet Jon's eyes.

Jon ignored him, stopping in front of Yarwyck, unlike Marsh, Yarwyck looked ashamed, more ashamed then Jon had ever seen him before. He refused to meet Jon's eyes as well, though for a different reason than Marsh. This was a man who's shame was eating him alive.

Jon turned away from the cells and looked back at Lord Commander Mormont and Edd. The former was gruffly staring in disgust at the three traitors. Ser Barristan stood stiffly by the door glowering at the three traitors.

Edd, on the other hand, was smiling nastily at Thorne.

"You fucking stabbed your own King," Edd haughtily taunted the imprisoned knight, he turned to Jon, "Telling him that never gets old!"

Thorne's jaw clenched and unclenched in response to Edd, his eyes looking even more blank and empty than before.

Mormont rolled his eyes and commanded, "Enough Edd." He turned his eyes towards Jon, "So your Grace, what should we do with these traitors?"

"I know what I want to do them!" exclaimed Edd nastily, undaunted by Mormont's rebuke, "It'd do me a world of good to see them all swinging in the breeze again!"

Mormont glared at Edd, then scowled at the three imprisoned black brothers, "Aye, treason deserves a harsh punishment."

Jon looked back to Mormont and Edd. Mormont had an evaluating look on his face, while Edd had a gleefully happy look that was at odds with the Edd he knew from before. Dolorous Edd was starting to be be an unsuitable nickname for his old friend.

Jon didn't answer. He turned back and looked back at the three condemned men, once they'd been loyal to Mormont, once they'd been loyal to Jon – or at least somewhat in Thorne's case...but they'd never actually gone out and betrayed the Watch. Not like the traitors that had killed Mormont at Crastor's Keep. They had been grossly misguided, but they'd done what they'd thought best for the Watch, not for themselves. It was a very thin line, but it was a thin line they hadn't crossed...

Jon grimaced, kill them and be done with it a part of him was crying out. But there were other factors at work here.

More importantly, there was one question that had been haunting him since before they turned back time...how much is enough? How many could they stand to lose without jeopardizing everything? As much as he hoped not, they were already going to lose many dealing with Robert Baratheon.

Could three men make a difference? Would they?

Marsh and Yarwyck had been dependable men once upon a time. Thorne...was unpleasant to say the least, but a stubborn fighter. And his Targaryen loyalties were not in question. He taken the Black to spit in the face of Robert Baratheon after the Rebellion.

Jon stood there at a loss of what to do. Mormont had given him the choice, but...

He sighed deeply knowing it would be an unpopular decision, hopefully it wouldn't bite him in the ass later, "We need every sword we can get," he glared at each man separately for a long moment, "I executed you three once for your crimes. Technically...you've already been punished," he stated coolly, even as he scowled at them.

He heard Edd's sharp intake of surprise, even as the traitors suddenly looked at Jon in stunned disbelief.

"...but...it's all up to you, Lord Commander. This is your decision, in the end," finished Jon evenly.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Edd declared in disbelief, "The fuckers murdered you!"

Jon winced at Edd's comment, "I still executed them, Edd."

Edd let out a wordless breath of disgust.

Jon looked at Mormont, he stood there rubbing his beard thoughtfully, even as he glared at the traitors. After a moment of contemplation, he gave Jon a hard look and stated, "This is not something to be done lightly, your Grace."

Jon nodded and turned back to the traitors, he cast a glare at Yarwyck, "Maybe this time you can make your mother proud."

Yarwyck started nodding hopefully in response, "Your..Grace...is merciful," he stuttered breathlessly.

"Gods Jon! Really?!" Edd sputtered dubiously, disgust and distrust written all across his face as he glared at the traitors.

"I do not suggest this lightly- but we all now know who the real enemy is now," he scowled deeply, giving each of the traitors a long meaningful look, "I'm not suggesting they should be absolved completely, or restored to their previous rank...chains for the foreseeable future would not be out of place..." Jon focused his gaze on Thorne and grinned evilly at him, "...and what with all the extra men at the Wall now, there's going to be lot's of latrines to be dug now...and even more to be cleaned..."

"Ha!" Mormont snorted in amusement.

Jon looked back at Edd, his face still held a look of disgust. He shook his head mournfully, "I still say we should execute them...but I can live without having to dig or clean another latrine," he huffed in grudging acceptance.

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Jon didn't manage to get much rest after dealing with Thorne, and reassuring Edd. When he made his way back to his room, he found Bran waiting at his door with more bad news. Mance's situation was dire and they had to act quickly. Between them and Ser Barristan they had pulled a plan together. Though there hadn't been enough time to fill in Mormont or father.

Now, Jon was tense as one of the stewards led him to the main hall, where Mormont had assembled all the Lords of the North and the Free Folk leaders. Ser Barristan followed him as diligently as a shadow.

As he neared, he saw Uncle Benjen, Robb and Father waiting for him by the door.

As Jon neared, he paused and looked at the new bruise developing on father's jaw, "Do I want to know?" he asked carefully, taken aback.

"I had an issue with Ned...it's settled now," Benjen stated evenly, answering for father.

"Aye," agreed father with a grave nod. They shared a look but remained silent.

Jon looked between both of them before saying, "As you say..." whatever had happened, it seemed over, and he had a room full of Northern Lords and Free Folk glaring at each other to deal with first before he could figure out what was going on between his uncles.

He cast a questioning look to Robb, you just shrugged, as in the dark as Jon.

Jon put on a polite smile and nodded, gesturing them forward. Uncle Benjen nodded back and then turned, pushing the door open, entering first, father followed, then Robb.

With a deep hearty breath, Jon steadied himself and then entered. The murmuring of the assembled people ground to a halt as he entered. All eyes turned to him, as he walked, Mormont sat at the dais of the hall, gesturing them forward.

"Welcome your Grace, join me up here," he gestured towards the empty chairs on the dais.

Jon nodded and strode forward, holding his head high as he surveyed all those in the hall.

It was as he'd expected, the Free Folk had gathered on one side opposite the Lords of the North.

For the Lords of the North, he saw Galbart and Robett Glover sitting together. Both had identical suspicious expressions on their faces. Behind them sat men in Forrester livery, Jon saw two men that bore a great resemblance to Asher, the elder was most likely Lord Gregor Forrester and the younger, Rodrik. Gared Tuttle sat with them as well, his former black brother gave him a welcoming smile and small wave.

Lord Karstark and his children sat together, Harrion and Alys sat on either side of their father, holding onto him as the Lord glared daggers at the Free Folk sitting on the opposite side of the room.

The leaders of the Hill tribes sat after Karstark. Their eyes never leaving the Free Folk except when they glanced towards Jon and when each one smiled gruffly and nodded respectfully at his father.

Lady Maege Mormont sat with her daughter Dacey, both smiling proudly, they nodded respectfully at Jon as he passed them.

Lord Umber sat with Lord Reed nearest to the dais. The Greatjon was casting suspicious looks at the Free Folk, but surprisingly enough there was little hostility in his gaze. On the other hand, Lord Reed sat stiffly, his face frozen in a respectful, supportive expression, even if Jon could see the tightness around his eyes. Jojen's death was still too fresh.

There were other northerners as well, many that he didn't know. lesser Lords and masters of minor houses scattered around the hall.

The Free Folk sat on the other side of the hall, he was surprised to see he knew a number of them.

He saw Karsi sitting next to Dim Dalba, surrounded by the greatest number of supporters. Karsi, of all things, had a look of respect and welcome directed at him. Dim even smiled at him as he passed. There where other clan leaders by the look of them, though Jon didn't know them by name.

And off to the side, separated from everyone, gathered a group of Thenns. At the head of them was Styr, standing and glaring at everything around him. Including Jon. Especially Jon.

Jon returned the hostile glare not budging an inch as he passed to reach the foot of the dais. He put Styr out of his mind there was nothing to be done about him, though the apparent hostility clashed with how helpful the reports were saying the Thenns were being.

A small group of Black Brothers sat in the middle, almost like a barrier between the Lords and the Free Folk. Edd was there casting concerned glances between the two groups.

The dais was crowded, Jeor Mormont sat in the middle, with maester Aemon to his right, uncle Benjen walked quickly and took the seat to his left. Father took the next seat next to him. Robb took a seat among the Black Brothers, next to the dais.

Bran was already seated at the end of the table, staring and studying all that was around him.

Jon didn't take a seat on the dais, he stood in front of it and turned to face all the assembled Lords and Free Folk, even as Ser Barristan took up a place diligently by his side.

"You all know why we're here. You all know what is coming for us," Jon declared loudly, not mincing words, "Together we stand a chance. Apart we die...again. It's that simple."

Mumbles and disgruntled tones mixed with nods and cries of agreement met his bold statement.

Dim Dalba stood up, "I stood with you once and didn't regret it. We stand together!" he roared courageously and without hesitation or fear. "Apart we all die." He turned to look at Karsi.

She stood up and gave him a once over, she gave him a respectful and grateful smile, "You did right by us, Crow. You did right, by my daughters. You kept your oath. We'll follow you."

One by one, the rest of other Free Folk leaders stood up in support of him lifting a load of his shoulders. They were less quarrelsome today than he had expected.

The last one to speak was Styr, the Magnar of the Thenns, he seemed to grow more intimidating as he stepped forward. Jon remembered him from the battle for Castle Black, he hadn't been intimidated then, he wasn't now...the same couldn't be said for some of the Northerners here, Jon saw a number of them flinch as the Thenn turned and glared at them, before turning to lock eyes with Jon himself.

Jon met and matched his glare without backing down or flinching. The height difference was more apparent now than it had been during the Battle of Castle Black. Jon still had some more growing to do in this life.

He growled insolently, "You look small. Weak. These Southerners all think you're weak," he gestured dismissively toward the assembled Northerners.

The Lords of the North bristled at the insult, many of them jumping to their feet and shouting obscenities at Styr.

"Who the fuck are you calling a Southerner, you fucking animal!" The Greatjon was glaring daggers at Styr, even as Howland Reed clamped an arm around him to keep him from doing anything rash. The Greatjon looked like he was just a hair's breath away from violence.

Styr ignored them and grinned at Jon suddenly, giving him a toothy smile, showing sharpened teeth, "But you aren't. You killed me," he stated, grudging respect filling his tone, he paused for a moment before continuing, "I never saw what you killed me with?" he questioned.

"Blacksmith hammer," Jon replied stoically.

"Heh. HEH...we Thenns follow strength, we'll follow you," Styr went down to his knees. "Magnar."

The rest of the Thenns followed suit.

The Lords of the North went quiet while Karsi and Dim looked stunned that Styr and the Thenns chose to kneel to Jon. Not that Jon was any less stunned at the outcome.

"Stand up, I accept your fealty," Jon stated regally, trying to emulate Dany at her most imperious. He must have pulled it off, as Styr gave him another look of respect and stood, before taking their seats among the rest of then Free Folk, "No eating people, there's enough meat for everyone," he commanded. Cannibalism was not something the Lords would except under any circumstances.

Styr and the Thenns growled, "Yes, Magnar," he growled obediently, as the Lords shuffled uncomfortably, reminded of just what Thenns were famous for.

Jon then cast a look at Ser Barristan, as the knight prepared himself for his small part in the plan.

Jon turned back to look at the quietening Lords, "I have spoken to many of you. Most of you know me, or have heard my words from others. Let me be as clear as possible to you all, I am Jon of the Houses Targaryen and Stark, the trueborn son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, rightful King of the Seven kingdoms," he took a deep breath before unsheathing Blackfyre and placing it point downwards in front of him, his hands on the crossguard, "Stand with me and I swear to you on all the Gods, I will stand by you all in the coming darkness. There are plans, I have plans, we were weak before but together we will drive them back for all eternity this time!"

The Free Folk nodded and murmured, cheering in acceptance of his oath, even as the Lords stared at the valyrian steel blade, blinking in surprise, which only deepened as he saw real recognition appear in their eyes.

"Is that...Blackfyre?!" exclaimed Galbart Glover in stunned disbelief, once the Free Folk had settled down marginally.

"Yes," was Jon's succinct smug reply.

Whispers and excited murmurs exploded among the Lords. As they all recognized the blade now.

"Where in the Seven Hells did you find that?!" demanded one of the Manderly knights. His companions glared at him and elbowed him pointedly at his impertinent tone, even as the knight blanched red in embarrassment because of his rude outburst.

Jon let it pass and gestured behind him, "My Uncle was hiding it."

He stifled a guffaw and kept a serious expression on his face as the Lords turned stunned faces towards Ned Stark.

"Wrong, Uncle."

This time he couldn't contain a snort of laughter as they turned to give stunned looks towards Benjen.

"My Great Uncle," explained Jon, this time pointing at Maester Aemon.

A large number of the Lords looked at Aemon and blinked in confusion while a small number of others sat up in sudden recognition of exactly who the blind old maester was.

Jon rolled his eyes at the disbelief he saw in their eyes, "My great great great great uncle, Aemon Targaryen, brother to Aegon the Unlikely..." he turned towards his uncle, "I believe that's the correct number of greats, uncle?" he asked idly.

Aemon nodded sagely, "Indeed nephew," he replied simply.

Jon nodded, he hid a smile as he prepared his next surprise, turning back to the Lords, he explained simply, "He has held our House's heirlooms in secret here since Brynden Rivers gave them to him."

The Lords of the North nodded in understanding now.

"Wait...Heirlooms? What do you mean Heirlooms?!" questioned the Greatjon loudly recognizing the significance of Jon's words.

Jon nodded again and gestured Ser Barristan forward. The knight unsheathed Dark Sister and held it up for the Lords to see it.

They exploded as they saw the second legendary sword.

After several moments, Ser Barristan mutely sheathed the sword and handed it to Jon. Jon held it in one hand before calling, "Robb."

Robb looked at him in confusion for a moment as Jon stepped up to him, holding the blade up and out towards him. He stared for a moment before inhaling sharply in surprise.

Robb's hands were shaking as he gingerly took the blade, awe written all over his face.

"Use it wisely, brother..." Jon declared for all the hall to hear, smiling widely at his dear brother.

Robb looked up and nodded gravely, "It will be my honor, brother."

Jon kept his face unchanged as he quietly whispered, "...until Arya is tall enough to wield it..."

Jon managed not to laugh as Robb's face fell.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Robb Stark

Robb watched as Jon dealt with the Lords of the North and the Wildlings. Now, more than ever, the changes in his brother were more apparent. The dour, shy brother he'd known all his life wasn't here. He was nowhere in sight.

This confident man here was someone else. Someone that Robb was only now starting to get to know.

This was the King. Jon Targaryen, the First of his name. The confident, assured, certain man that had a kingdom to consolidate while an ancient evil gathered it's strength to murder them all.

So much was changed. Father wasn't the only one that was having trouble accepting all the changes. So much has been tipped on its head. The faces were the same but the actions didn't match the faces of the people he knew.

Jon, Sansa, Arya and the creature that was wearing Bran's face. Sansa was the same poised lady she had always been, but there was a stillness to her gaze that was unsettling. Arya...the facade of the girl she a was, was terrifying, knowing the brutality that lay hidden beneath it all. Bran; no, the Three Eyed Raven held no similarity to the energetic boy or the dour cripple he had once been. He loved them all but they'd all changed so much.

Robb watched as the Jon dominating the meeting from the moment he opened his mouth, then he watched in disbelief as the Wildlings more or less swore unconditional fealty to Jon.

He bristled, but remained seated, controlling himself, as the massive Thenn leader insulted all the Northerners in the room. The Thenn was tall and intimidating, not an easy foe to face and yet Jon had killed him with a Blacksmith's hammer. And still the damn Thenn had actually bent the knee, something Jon had told them Wildlings refused to do.

Jon had never been this charismatic when they were growing up, and yet...here he stood binding Wildlings to himself. Robb remembered when he was King, he managed to inspire the men, even with the mistakes he'd later made.

And now Jon was unsheathing his sword and...

Robb froze and stared at the Valyrian steel blade that was suddenly in Jon's hands, he cast a look at father who was suddenly staring just as intensely now.

The red jewel in the hilt and the dragon heads on the crossguard...he'd seen illustrations of the blade in maester Luwin's books growing up, they'd all pretended to wield the blade when playing in the yard in Winterfell...

Blackfyre.

Jon was holding Blackfyre!

How? Where?! Where did Jon find Blackfyre?!

Jon was giving an oath to them now, and only after he was finished, did any of the Lords find their tongues to question the legendary sword's presence.

Jon explained and then Robb snickered as they looked to father and then Uncle Benjen, before finally getting it right as Jon corrected them twice.

The old maester was sitting there proud and smug as he answered Jon's simple question.

Robb shook his head, marveling at Jon's luck. A king and a king's blade.

"Wait...Heirlooms? What do you mean Heirlooms?!" questioned the Greatjon loudly, his booming voice bringing Robb back from his reverie.

Robb frowned, even as his dour brother seemed to develop a knowing smirk. Wait, Jon did say heirlooms didn't he?!

Barristan the Bold stepped forward and drew a sword, holding it up for all to see and Robb rocked backwards in his chair as he laid eyes on a second valyrian steel blade.

Slender grip, with a ruby in the center of the crossguard. He knew this sword as well.

Dark Sister .

Barristan the Bold sheathed the blade and handed it to Jon.

Robb, along with the rest of the Lords, was still staring in stunned silence as Jon called his name.

"Robb."

He looked at Jon in confusion for a moment as his brother stepped up to him, holding the blade up and out towards him. He stared for a moment longer before inhaling sharply in surprise.

Jon was giving him Dark Sister?

Jon was staring at him, his face composed and stoic, even as his eyes danced with a mischief that was completely at odds with his dour nature.

Robb shook himself and stood reaching out to take the blade. His hands were shaking as he gingerly took the blade, awed to be holding Dark Sister in his hands.

"Use it wisely, brother..." Jon declared for all the hall to hear, smiling widely at his dear brother.

Robb looked up, their eyes meeting, as he fought off and nodded gravely, "It will be my honor, brother," he promised breathlessly.

"...until Arya is tall enough to wield it..." his brother continued in a very quiet whisper.

Robb couldn't help it at all as his face fell, that he was Jon's second choice after their little sister. Jon was teasing him as a good brother should. He felt the warmth of of the gesture even as he felt disappointed that he'd only have the sword for short time.

Robb held on tightly to the legendary blade that Jon had given him. A thousand dreams running through his mind, of so many times they'd pretended to wield this sword, that was suddenly his to actually wield in life.

He sat down clutching at Dark Sister, as Jon continued the meeting.

Jon's plan seemed to be working, the Lords of the North seemed awed and cowed, those that hadn't met him before were swearing fealty to him now. Promising to stand with him against the Long Night.

Things moved swiftly and smoothly, even as Jon and then Bran outlined Mance Rayder's predicament. They would need to ride out and save the fleeing Wildlings.

He saw some of the Lords balk at the thought of risking their lives for Wildlings, but Jon reminded them that everyone breathing was the same side now.

The Greatjon was up on his feet and shouting in support of Jon now, shaming the hesitant lords, Lady Maege Mormont was hot on his heels as was Lord Reed.

"This is a chance to see the enemy with your own eyes!" Jon passionately declared. "Many of you have been told what's coming...but it is not the same as seeing it yourself," he took a deep breath, "Come see what hunts us! Let us hunt them now!"

"If we do nothing, Mance and all those with him will come at us as Wights," added Barristan the Bold, his sharp gaze catching the hesitant lords and daring them to disagree.

Robb rose to his feet, "Let us show them what true Northern courage looks like!" he shouted fiercely, adding his voice to Jon's.

It was like an avalanche, as each lord found his courage, rising to declare their assent. To shout out their defiance of the Others and their walking dead minions.

The Wildlings were more subdued, they knew what they being asked to face, but they rallied and promised their support as well.

"At dawn we will ride!" Jon declared, his words ringing with a finality that had all the hall cheering him.

On the morrow, they would cross the Wall and seek out Mance Rayder. Soon, he would find himself crossing swords with Wights and White Walkers!

He squeezed Dark Sister in it's scabbard. Whatever came he wouldn't disappoint Jon!

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