Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Baldur's Gate, Wyrm's Rock Fortress, Grand Duke's offices,

If you ask Jon Greatwolf what was the worst thing he had to face, the most logical answer would be his kidnapping and semi-ceremorphosis, the horrors of Ethel's Lair, Orin—We don't talk about Orin. But instead, his answer will be:

"Bloody papers," the Hero of Baldur's Gate moaned while signing the latest document. The Grand Duke, in his wisdom, had deemed it fitting for Jon to partake in the official paperwork following the city's restoration. The silver lining? Jon could choose which part to take on.

"And with this," he declared to the empty office, "the distribution of food among the refugees and inhabitants is complete. They should be content for a month or so, until the next harvest." Three hours of his day were dedicated to these infernal documents. "Now, just one more," he muttered, reaching for the final file.

He opened it and read:

'To the Esteemed Grand Duke Ravengard,

Please forgive this request if it appears unduly burdensome or unnecessary. However, I implore you to consider its potential benefits.

Approximately three years ago, a band of survivors and I united to confront an evil that plagues all races: the hags.

I am aware that it may seem improbable that a group of grieving evacuees could overcome ancient and malevolent magical beings such as hags. Yet, it is true. A company of heroes, the very ones who vanquished the Absolute and rescued the girl she had consumed, played their part. Our contribution was the creation of a potion capable of freeing the girl and saving her from a witch's fate.

With your esteemed support, I am more than confident that we can eradicate the blight of hags from this plane forever.

Respectfully,

Mayrina'

A wide smile spread across Jon's face. Mayrina had become the most formidable hag hunter he had ever heard of; even he, a veteran of countless battles, felt less prepared to face such creatures. And Ethel had been one of the weaker ones.

Without hesitation, he signed the approval, compiled the necessary forms to set the request in motion, and then left his office, his mind set on the Elfsong Tavern. But someone was waiting for him.

"I see your work concludes, and you find joy in it," Withers (or Jergal – the memory of getting drunk with an ancient god still felt surreal) said, his tone as monotonous as ever.

"Oh, hello Jergal. Yes, Mayrina sent the official request to establish the Anti-Hag Coalition, and I signed it immediately," Jon replied, his voice bright.

Jergal fixed him with a fifteen-second stare before responding (Jon would vehemently deny that he actually counted). "Her will and determination are a direct consequence of your actions. Had you not intervened, the hag would have simply added another to her coven, nothing remarkable or unique. But now? She will become something greater than a wife or mother, entirely independent of your influence, from this point forward."

The comment stole the words from Jon's mouth, and his eyes widened in comical surprise. "Why do you compliment everyone but me?" he blurted out.

Withers ignored him and continued, "If you are going to the tavern, Shadowheart, Astarion, and... him await you."

"Thanks, but... Can you finally tell me why you never call Minsc by his name? Did he offend you or something?" Jon asked, genuinely confused.

Withers looked at him. "No."

"No, you won't tell me, or no, he didn't offend you?" Jon clarified.

"No."

Jon's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine, then I'll go to the tavern. Just remember that Arabella and Yenna only have vegetables for dinner." With that, he headed towards the Elfsong Tavern.

Elfsong Tavern

"Alright, you fuckers! This will be the final round!" Jon laughed, taking a long pull from his massive beer mug.

"Now Minsc will drink the entire tavern and still stand! Accept your defeat, friend!" the berserker bellowed, tipping back a barrel of Mermaid Whiskey.

Across the table, Astarion and Shadowheart received their drinks from a passing waitress, observing the boisterous scene with amusement.

"You know," Astarion commented, swirling the old wine in his glass, "he's probably the most stable of us, and yet he still thinks he's a dwarf and can outdrink everyone."

"To each their own," Shadowheart replied, taking a sip of her drink. "And hey, maybe he's just a very tall dwarf. I mean, remember how short he was the first time we met him?"

Astarion's smile widened. "How could I forget? A fourteen-year-old boy with a sword taller than him but shorter than his mace, if your moans are anything to go by," he teased, his smile faltering as his hair was suddenly drenched in beer, eliciting a surprised and disgusted groan.

"Well, at least my moans are better than yours," Shadowheart retorted, laughing.

Astarion frowned, glaring at her. "This is imported silk! Do you have any idea how much it costs?!" he exclaimed.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. We both know they're someone else's clothes," she snarked, anticipating his reaction, which didn't disappoint.

She narrowly dodged three thrown knives before Astarion lunged at her. "I'll show you someone else's clothes, you half-bitch!" he snarled, grabbing her neck.

If this was meant to intimidate her, it failed spectacularly. The only thing the pale elf received for his trouble was a sharp knee to the groin.

"UGH!" the vampire spawn choked, but he managed to grab his wine glass and smash it over Shadowheart's head... while it was still full.

"Fuck!" the cleric swore, ready to retaliate with lethal force, when Jon intervened.

"Alright, alright, kids, that's enough. I don't want to pay for reparations for the eighth time," Jon said, grabbing both of them by the collar.

" We pay the reparations; we have a shared bank account!" Shadowheart protested.

"I'll use 'we' the day you don't instigate a brawl in my favorite tavern," he countered.

She was about to argue, but a kiss silenced her, a smile blooming on her face. "Alright, husband, you win."

"As always," Jon replied, releasing them. "Now take a seat. I need you guys," his expression suddenly shifting to serious, causing a ripple of concern among the three.

"Something disturbs you? Because Minsc will slap their butts as I always do, friend!" the rashaman tried to boost morale, but his attempt fell flat.

"I don't think you can do anything this time, Minsc," Jon said with a grave tone.

Shadowheart laid a hand on his arm. "What's wrong? Did something happen to Minthara or Lae'zel? Or Karlach and Wyll?" she asked cautiously.

When Jon had spoken of unifying the cities of Faerûn and creating a world free of discrimination, Minthara, to everyone's surprise, had responded enthusiastically, promising to deliver Menzoberranzan and even prepare a siege of her own. They were still trying to understand her motivations.

The last they had heard from Lae'zel, she was preparing the final assault on Vlaakith with the rebel githyanki and the githzerai alliance... and that had been ten months ago.

"No, no, from what I know, they're all fine; it's about me," he revealed, putting everyone on edge.

"Oookay, now I'm scared. What is it?" Astarion asked. If the man who simply claimed to have done his duty when he saved the world was talking about himself, then it had to be serious.

Jon seemed to take an eternity before speaking. "I met a messenger on my way here, and he gave me this letter." He handed it over.

The three of them unfolded the letter. Apparently, a woman named Arya was imploring Jon to return to visit his family; they noticed she referred to him as 'brother'.

"So, your sister is asking you to visit your old land for your brother's birthday?" Shadowheart asked, oblivious to the underlying tension.

"I left Winterfell for a reason. Lord Stark lied to me for fourteen years, so I decided to leave and never return. And only now do I understand he did it for a good reason, and I was selfish to abandon my family for that," he said, his voice heavy with regret.

But he quickly continued, his tone darkening. "The worst part is that the king is coming, the man who murdered my father and married the daughter of the butcher who killed my sister and my half-mother!" Jon almost shouted, his voice laced with venom.

The companions already knew the story; Jon had told them everything. But he rarely spoke with such raw poison.

"Do you want to go and avenge them?" Astarion asked, his face serious. "I don't even know if I want to go to Westeros; believe me, that place was worse than a latrine, and probably it's now like Menzoberranzan, but with a patriarchate and a feudal system that has lasted for millennia. Almost ten thousand, if I'm not mistaken," he explained, a shudder running through him.

The vampire took another sip of wine, his gaze intense. "It would be a problem if you decide to go there alone. Someone should accompany you," Astarion said, but Shadowheart interjected, "Wait, Jon told us Westeros only has humans as a race. We can't just go there looking like this."

"And I have my duties as the future Grand Duke, and Lae'zel and Minthara report everything to me; I can't just leave. And what about Yenna and Arabella?" Jon added, his brow furrowed with concern.

"You can ask for help from Wyll and Jaheira for that, and before you leave, you can warn Minthara and Lae'zel to report everything to them. And for the children, Jaheira's children will take care of them," Minsc suggested.

Jon considered this for a long moment before nodding. "You're right, but if I need an escort, I need people who look like humans and don't use magic. So Gale, Karlach, and Halsin are out. That leaves only you guys," he said, looking at Astarion and Shadowheart.

"I'm flattered and everything, but I remind you that even if I don't use magic, I can't stand the sunlight without burning. And what about these?" he pointed to his pointed ears.

Jon simply shrugged. "We'll say you're albino and take a potion for the sun. I'm quite sure Rolan and Gale will invent something. As for your ears... They've never seen a faerûnite, so we can pass them off as a characteristic of this continent."

The elf was about to object but quickly closed his mouth. It was a surprisingly sound plan. "Okay, I'm in," he said, a small smile playing on his lips, making Jon grin.

"Minsc is happy, but can't come with you; you said no magic, and Boo is the most magical beast I know," Minsc said guiltily.

"Boo can come, but he has to promise to stay with you always," Jon conceded.

Minsc was so overjoyed that he hugged Jon with bone-crushing force. "THANK YOU, FRIEND! YOU'RE THE THIRD BEST FRIEND EVER!"

"Help," Jon gasped, while Astarion and Shadowheart exchanged amused glances.

Wyrm's Rock Fortress, Jon and Shadowheart's chambers

Jon and Shadowheart lay entwined in their bed, the aftermath of a passionate encounter leaving them content in each other's arms.

"So, when are we leaving?" Shadowheart asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "We can't use magic to teleport, so we need to calculate the travel time, or it will be too late," she reminded him.

Jon scowled, clearly not in the mood for logistics. "In two weeks. Tomorrow, the Grand Duke will publicly approve my proposal, so I need time to set things in motion in my absence. Plus, we have to prepare the ship, find a crew, and gather the equipment," he explained.

His wife gave him a worried look. "Are you sure about this? You'll make many enemies, too many for you to face alone," she warned.

He nodded decisively. "Absolutely. Especially after the Absolute Crisis. I even spoke with Jergal, and he assured me that the only obstacles will be mortal men, not the gods. And most of them will support me once the reasons are explained."

She remained silent for a moment, then rested her head on his shoulder. "I hope you're right."

He kissed her forehead and was drifting off to sleep when something occurred to him. "You know you'll have to use your real name when we arrive in Westeros, don't you?" he asked.

"Fuuuck me," she groaned dramatically.

He simply shrugged. "Who am I to deny it?" And with that, they picked up exactly where they had left off.

The day after

Wyrm's Rock Fortress, Audience hall

Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard sat upon his throne, observing the unfolding court proceedings. Despite his initial reservations, he had come to believe in Jon's cause, and he couldn't deny the validity of his arguments. Jon and his wife stood before him, a palpable anxiety radiating from them as they awaited the announcement. The Grand Duke glanced at Florrick at his side, who offered a reassuring nod.

"Thank you all for your presence," the Grand Duke began, his voice resonating through the hall. "I have convened this court for a specific purpose, and though I have always valued your counsel, this decision is immutable!" His tone, that of the Grand Duke, left no room for dissent.

"We have finally rebuilt our city after the Absolute Crisis of three years past, after the Dead Three callously sought to rob thousands of innocent souls of their rightful place in the afterlife." A murmur of agreement rippled through the courtiers; many had lost loved ones in that terrible time. "And before that, we endured the Spellplague, the Bhaalspawn Crisis, the Time of Troubles, and countless other disasters wrought by malevolent deities. For centuries, many of us have offered them our worship, yet they have spat upon our devotion and sacrifices. Now I ask you, is such fealty truly warranted?" His voice grew heavier with each word.

"NO!" the majority of the court responded in unison.

The Grand Duke rose and gestured for Jon to approach the dais, which he promptly did.

Jon cleared his throat. "Many of you know me as the savior of this city, the one who, alongside my companions, struck down the chosen of the Dead Three. I will not deny my part; I did my duty and thwarted the Absolute, preventing your enslavement. But I remind you that we also played a role in eradicating the Shadow Curse from Moonrise Towers, a blight cast by Shar, the goddess of darkness and loss. We have lost hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children to the sacrifices and calamities orchestrated by these gods, and still they demand our, your, submission. But today, we say 'stop'! Today, we say 'enough'! THIS WILL BE THE DAY WE PUNISH THE GODS FOR THEIR ARROGANCE AND INGRATITUDE!" he exclaimed, his words met with enthusiastic applause and praise.

He raised a hand to quiet the crowd. "I am not so arrogant as to seek the eradication of all evil pantheons; some serve a purpose or do not actively plague our lives. We cannot ignore this reality." A murmur of agreement rippled through the court. "Therefore, the churches of Auril, Beshaba, Umberlee, and Tiamat will be permitted to remain, so long as they do not inflict harm upon innocent people." Some courtiers voiced their disagreement, but others recognized the logic in his words.

"However," Jon continued, his voice gaining intensity, "even if we forbid these cults, it does not guarantee their compliance! We must eradicate this problem at its very root. The Watch, the Flaming Fist, and the Harpers will work in concert to ensure this tumor never regrows! From the depths of the Lower City's sewers to the heights of the High City, there will be a purge that will continue until all our enemies are vanquished!" Jon's impassioned declaration ignited a fervent reaction within the court.

"THIS IS OUR CITY!"

"EVEN IF THEY ARE GODS, THEY HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPIT ON US!"

"WE GAVE THEM EVERYTHING, AND IN RETURN, OUR SUFFERING ONLY MULTIPLIED!"

"YOU HAVE MY SUPPORT, JON GREATWOLF!" one voice called out suddenly.

"MINE TOO!" another echoed.

Then, Florrick stepped forward, speaking for the first time that day.

"IF GREATWOLF HAD NOT INTERVENED, WE WOULD HAVE BEEN ENSLAVED BY THE ABSOLUTE AND THE DEAD THREE! WHAT IS TO PREVENT THE OTHER GODS FROM DOING THE SAME?!"

His words hung in the air, capturing everyone's attention. "WE HAVE ALWAYS TREATED THEM WITH RESPECT AND REVERENCE, AND I SAY WE SHOULD CONTINUE TO DO SO... WE SHOW THEM THE RESPECT THEY TRULY DESERVE!" This was the final straw. If the nobles had merely intended to offer their support before, they now seemed eager to drive out the offending deities with their own hands.

Florrick approached Jon and whispered, "Forgive me, I was carried away. But now we can be certain of your victory."

"Thank you," Jon whispered back. "Now we must act swiftly. You and the Grand Duke need to summon the Flaming Fist and the Watch, while I will contact the Harpers."

And with that, the court was dismissed.

To say Jon was anxious was the understatement of the century. Within a few short hours, they had managed to gather five hundred soldiers from the Flaming Fist, the Watch, and the Harpers. He led them, clad in his formidable Helldusk Armour and Helmet, Nyrulna held firmly in his grasp.

Rion and Jord, Jaheira's children, were positioned near him, alongside Gale, Halsin, Shadowheart, Astarion, and Minsc.

"If my kids come back with even a scratch, I'll rip out your heart and make you eat it, and then I'll make roots grow in your mouth and ass to keep it from coming out. Have. I. Been. Clear?" Jaheira had threatened when he informed her of the ban on the evil cults and the mustering of soldiers. Given that two of her children were members of the Flaming Fist and the Harpers...

Dammit Jaheira, was that really necessary? You know I would protect them! he thought, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple beneath the helmet.

"You know the consequences of this plan if it works, don't you?" Gale asked, his voice cutting through Jon's internal turmoil.

Before Jon could respond, Halsin interjected, "I must agree, Jon. We must respect the balance that, however fragile, underpins our world. If we err and disrupt it, the wrath of the gods will be the least of our concerns."

Jon had anticipated this conversation. Gale and Halsin were his friends, but that didn't mean they would blindly accept everything. They had opposed the siege of Menzoberranzan and only relented when he reminded them of Astarion's siblings in the Underdark, who would be vulnerable to Lolth's cruelty.

"I spoke with Jergal," Jon explained, his voice firm. "He said that the balance would only be truly threatened if a god dies permanently. We are going to kill the idea of these gods, not the godhood itself. There's a pact between gods and mortals: we make offerings, and they grant us favors. If you make offerings to Silvanus and Mystra, do they reward you with curses and sorrow?"

Gale started to reply, "No, but..." but Jon cut him off.

"Exactly, they don't. But Shar, Talos, and Cyric do. So why should we continue to tolerate them? And before you say anything, yes, I have considered their punishments; just wait a few more minutes," he said, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.

After a short while, a winged knight descended before the assembled army. It was Dame Aylin, the daughter of Selûne.

Jon's face broke into a smile as he saw his friend join them. "Good to see you, Aylin; how is Isobel?" he greeted warmly.

The Nightsong returned his smile. "She's well; she decided to remain in my mother's temple." But her smile faded, and her expression turned serious. "Are you certain about this, Jon? Even my mother doesn't know what the ramifications will be."

He nodded, his own face etched with determination. "Yes, I am. Have you spoken with your mother about it?"

"Yes," she confirmed, "you have the blessing of my mother, Lathander, Bahamut, Torm, Tyr, Mielikki, Tempus, and... Sune," she finished, a peculiar expression crossing her face. Jon noticed it immediately.

"Uhm, are you alright?" he asked, confused. The Nightsong leaned closer and whispered, "She asked you for a... night of passion."

That made Jon’s jaw drop. "Does she know I'm married?" he asked incredulously. Aylin nodded. "My mother said the same thing, and Sune, I quote, said, 'The more, the merrier.'"

The Hero of Baldur's Gate sighed heavily, running a hand over his faceplate. "Fffine. BUT. No kids. I promised Shadowheart she'll have my first child, and you know I always keep my promises," he declared firmly.

She almost laughed. "You're probably the first and only man who has ever existed who doesn't want to lie with a goddess." Jon simply rolled his eyes beneath his helmet.

"Why am I the only one who believes in monogamy?" he asked sarcastically.

That was the last straw for Aylin, who burst into laughter, as if her life depended on it.

Talos Temple

"This is your last chance! Leave the temple peacefully, or we will make you leave!" Jon shouted, his voice echoing across the temple grounds.

After a tense silence, a woman with the distinct features of a dark high-elf emerged from the temple's entrance. She fixed them with a venomous glare and spat, "This is the house of Talos! The God of Destruction! How dare you command us to abandon this holy place?!"

"We dare because your god has only ever brought disaster and chaos!" Jon retorted, his grip tightening on Nyrulna. "We dare because his only response to our offerings is the crack of thunder! We have never wronged him, yet we continue to suffer his wrath!" He clenched his fist around the trident. "And today, we say enough!" A resounding roar of agreement erupted from the soldiers behind him.

The elf sneered. "So that's your reasoning? You defile my god simply because he doesn't appease you? That's the most idiotic justification I've ever encountered." Her eyes flared with an electric blue light, and she began to levitate. "You shall pay dearly for this insult!" She clasped her hands together, conjuring a potent LV.6 Thunder Bolt.

The spell unleashed a devastating surge of energy, engulfing the area in a thick cloud of smoke.

The high elf cackled maniacally. "Did you truly believe you could defeat ME?! I am Raloquinal Arevi! The Weathermistress of Baldur's Gate!" Her laughter continued, but it abruptly ceased as the smoke dissipated.

Everyone stood unharmed, protected by the shimmering Globe of Invulnerability conjured by Gale. "What?!" Arevi shrieked, utterly blindsided.

Jon stood directly before her, a grim smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Gale," he said calmly, before vanishing in a blur of motion. Arevi suddenly found herself on the ground, Nyrulna piercing her stomach.

Blood gurgled from her mouth as she looked up into two cold, purple eyes staring down at her. "Did you honestly think I would allow the men and women under my command to perish? That's foolish, even for a follower of Talos," he mocked, his voice devoid of warmth.

His words ignited a furious rage within her. She clawed at Jon's neck, and flames erupted from her hands.

She unleashed a LV.5 Burning Hands spell, fully expecting his head to become instantly charred. But that was not the outcome.

Jon left the trident embedded in Arevi's stomach and seized her hands, crushing them with brutal strength.

"AHHHH!" she screamed in agony, but Jon silenced her with a sharp headbutt, leaving her to bleed out on the temple steps.

He gestured for his troops to enter the temple, but before he could push open the doors, a group of twelve clerics and paladins of various races emerged, fully armored and ready to defend their sanctuary.

Jon stared at them from behind his helmet, withdrawing Nyrulna from Arevi's lifeless body. He pointed the bloody trident at them. "You don't have to fight for a god who only takes from you and never rewards you. If you truly wish to dedicate your lives to his worship, you are free to do so, but not within this city." He attempted to reason with them, but the acolytes brandished their weapons and charged.

He sighed, a flicker of Immolating Gaze erupting from his eyes, instantly incinerating one of the charging figures.

Two more attempted to flank him, attacking from either side, but Jon moved with lightning speed, dodging their blows. He grabbed the one on his left and hurled him into the one on his right. Before they could regain their footing, he flung Nyrulna, impaling them both to the ground. The trident immediately returned to his outstretched hand.

A dwarf paladin tried to hamstring him from behind, but Halsin, in his massive bear form, lunged forward, biting down on the dwarf's head and snapping his neck.

A half-orc cleric began casting an Insect Plague, targeting Jon and Halsin, but Gale swiftly countered the spell with a precise Counterspell.

The half-orc tried to flee, only to be rooted to the spot by Shadowheart's Hold Person spell.

The remaining cleric, desperation etched on her face, began to invoke Talos's aid, leaving Jon and the others with only moments to react to the potential divine intervention.

The cleric woman laughed triumphantly, her eyes fixed on the sky. "Great Talos, Destroyer of Faerûn, Leader of the Gods of Fury, punish this insolent mortal for having profaned this holy place, for seeking to destroy this city—AUGH!" Her triumphant cry was abruptly cut short as Astarion, having used his magic items to become invisible and circle around the battlefield, slit her throat.

"Mmpf, next time, less talk and more action," he quipped, wiping blood from his dagger before turning his charming gaze to the six remaining defenders. "I suggest you surrender if you don't desire an additional hole."

The remaining paladins and clerics, finally realizing the futility of their resistance, wisely dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender.

Once the surviving fighters and prominent figures within the church were subdued and bound, Jon unfurled a scroll. As he read the incantation, a palpable magical aura washed over everyone within a five-foot radius, compelling them to speak only the truth.

"I love Zone of Truth," Jon smirked. "Now, tell us everything about this temple, and if there's anything useful hidden within." A dragonborn paladin spoke first, his voice strained against his will.

"We kept women and children in a room... captured them... and converted them," he confessed, his body trembling.

Jon barely contained his fury. "What do you mean by 'convert'?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low.

The dragonborn shuddered. "We... We hypnotized them... Or tortured them..." In a swift, brutal motion, Jon plunged Nyrulna into the dragonborn's throat. The paladin collapsed the instant the trident was withdrawn.

"Did you know about this?" Jon asked the remaining followers, his voice icy.

"Y-yes... we all participated," another one stammered. "Where are they?" Shadowheart asked urgently. "Secret room... behind Talos's statue."

Jon turned to one of the Watch soldiers. "Chain them and put them on the prison cart. If they so much as breathe wrong, kill them." The soldier nodded grimly and led the bound acolytes towards the waiting cart.

Arriving at the statue of Talos, Jon, Aylin, and Shadowheart were confronted by a large group of men, women, and children, all bearing the signs of severe malnourishment. Every adult bore both fresh and old scars.

Shadowheart was the first to speak, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. "It's alright. Everything is fine now. No one will hurt you," she said gently, trying to soothe their fear.

A small half-orc boy hesitantly asked, "H-have the loud boys gone?"

Jon did his best to offer a reassuring smile. "Yes, forever," he said softly, a simple word that brought the first genuine smile to the boy's face in a long time.

Once all the prisoners were freed, Aylin, Jon, Halsin, and Minsc wrapped a thick rope around the massive statue of Talos. With a combined effort, they heaved and pulled until the stone idol groaned, toppled, and shattered into pieces, a sight that elicited cheers of relief and joy from the rescued captives.

After the fall of the church of Talos, Jon and his forces continued their assault on the other evil-aligned temples. They attacked the church of Malar, where ten members of the Watch were brutally devoured by beasts. At the church of Lolth, half of Jon's soldiers were poisoned, forcing him to make the grim decision to end their suffering. They found more success with the churches of Loviatar and Bane, whose followers surrendered upon seeing Gortash's murderer leading the charge. The same occurred with the Myrkulytes, who wisely recognized the futility of resistance against the destroyer of their god's avatar. Jon arrested those who yielded, executed those who fought back, and demolished every statue that stood in his path.

The worst resistance was encountered at the Temple of Bhaal. The Bhaalists, steeped in the art of murder and deception, melted into the shadows, turned invisible, and employed every vile trick they could conceive to eliminate the invading soldiers. In less than an hour, Jon lost another one hundred and ninety brave warriors, and they exhausted their entire supply of healing potions without even reaching the temple gates! But instead of succumbing to despair, Jon's resolve only hardened, his determination to see the Cult of Bhaal extinguished once and for all intensifying.

At the temple gates, he advanced with Halsin, Aylin, and Astarion, while Shadowheart, Minsc, and Gale remained with the remaining troops to secure the perimeter and prevent any Bhaalists from escaping.

Once inside, Jon sent Ghost to track the last cultists. Halsin accompanied him to cover more ground. "Do you sense anything, Ghost?" the Archdruid asked the direwolf.

The white beast growled. "No, there's too much blood here for my nose to distinguish anything. But you have that scroll of See Invisibility; can you revert to your humanoid form and use it on me?"

"Alright, just alert me if anyone approaches," Halsin replied, shifting back into his human form and retrieving the scroll.

Before he could cast the spell, Ghost lunged forward, not at Halsin, but at a Bhaalist attempting to ambush him from behind, sinking his teeth into the cultist's jugular.

Halsin watched as a dozen more Bhaalists charged them, intent on their deaths. He gritted his teeth, transforming into his bear form with a deafening roar that echoed through the temple, alerting the rest of their party.

Hearing Halsin's roar sent a jolt of adrenaline through Jon. The entire group surged forward to assist. If they even try to touch Ghost, I'll see if Bhaalists scream when I cut them! He sprinted as fast as he could, and upon arriving, he saw Halsin locked in combat with four Bhaalists while Ghost fought two others.

He drew Gontr Mael and aimed at one of the two cultists engaged with Ghost, the arrow piercing his left eye and killing him instantly. "GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY DIREWOLF!" he roared, felling the other cultist with another arrow to the head.

Meanwhile, Astarion and Aylin moved to assist Halsin, Astarion swiftly cutting the throat of one Bhaalist while Aylin beheaded the other two. Halsin finished the last one with a powerful swipe of his claws.

"Be careful! There are at least another half dozen of them!" Halsin bellowed, just as six arrows slammed into Jon's chest. "NO!" Dame Aylin cried out in horror.

But Jon refused to yield. Despite the grievous wounds, he remained standing and propelled himself towards the unseen attackers.

He impaled one with Nyrulna, and when a rogue Bhaalist attempted to stab him in the back, he slammed the rod into the rogue's groin.

With only five assassins remaining, he cast Celestial Haste, a divine speed coursing through him. He spun his trident, a deadly whirlwind, and felled two of them in quick succession. He then hurled a bomb near another cultist and followed it with a fiery arrow, killing him and severely injuring the remaining two.

With mere seconds left of the spell's effect, he executed a swift decapitating strike on both of the injured assassins.

Finally, it's over, he thought, relief washing over him. I made it! I liberated the— "AGH!" His thoughts were abruptly cut short by the delayed consequences of the brutal battle.

As the effects of Celestial Haste wore off, his body succumbed to its injuries. He crashed to the ground, supporting himself on his knees, his heart pounding erratically, and the searing pain of the arrows finally registering.

His friends rushed to his aid, Astarion and Aylin supporting his shoulders and carefully lifting him onto Halsin's back. "Aylin, can you do something for our friend, please?" Astarion asked, his usual flippant tone replaced by clear worry.

She shook her head sadly. "I am a fighter, not a healer. We must get him to Shadowheart, or he will die!"

Without hesitation, Halsin transformed into an air myrmidon, his elemental form shimmering as he took to the air, flying as fast as he could towards their waiting companions.

Shadowheart felt a knot of unease tightening in her stomach. Two hours had passed with no word from Jon, and the agonizing part was her inability to go and assist them. Dammit! She frowned, her footsteps creating a restless rhythm as she paced back and forth.

Gale, sensing her distress, approached her. "Hey, don't worry. We're talking about Jon. He'll be perfectly fine," he offered, attempting to soothe her anxiety.

"He is right! Boo knows Jon is stronger than us! He won't die!" Minsc added with unwavering conviction, but Shadowheart's apprehension lingered.

She sighed, halting her pacing. "I know. But we're talking about Bhaalists. You guys remember what Orin did to him, don't you?" she questioned, her gaze meeting theirs. Both Gale and Minsc averted their eyes, the memory a shared, unpleasant weight.

Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind swept through the air, originating from the direction Jon and the others had gone. Moments later, an air myrmidon materialized in the distance, a figure with familiar armor slung across its shoulders. "JON!" Shadowheart cried, her heart leaping with a mixture of relief and terror as she sprinted towards them.

The myrmidon gently lowered the armored figure to the ground, the elemental form dissipating to reveal Halsin. "He has been struck by six arrows, and he also pushed himself with his version of Haste. Can you heal him?" Halsin asked, his voice laced with concern.

Determination hardened Shadowheart's gaze. "I will." Without hesitation, she swiftly pulled the bloodied arrows from Jon's chest and channeled her divine energy, casting a potent LV.5 Cure Wounds spell upon him.

The torn tissues of his body knit back together, the gaping wounds rapidly closing. But when she placed a hand on his forehead, it was alarmingly hot. "I need to cast Lesser Restoration," she murmured, rising and joining her hands, reciting the necessary incantation.

The grimace of pain etched on Jon's face softened, his body still radiating heat, but less intensely than before. Shadowheart released a shaky breath of relief. "Halsin, would you mind carrying him? And where are Astarion, Aylin, and Ghost?" she asked, her eyes scanning the surroundings.

Halsin carefully lifted Jon. "They are fine. They should be right behind me or checking if we missed any Bhaalists," he explained, and they began their return to the surface.

During their ascent, Astarion, Aylin, and Ghost rejoined them, confirming that every Bhaalist within the temple was dead. The menace of Bhaal, it seemed, was finally over. After a while, Jon stirred, groaning softly as he shifted away from Halsin's arm. "Sorry Halsin, I'm flattered but also very mar—AW!" A sharp slap landed on his cheek.

"If you ever try to die again for those shitty BHAALIST ARROWS, you will be the one being thoroughly penetrated!" Shadowheart threatened, her voice tight with emotion.

"Oh, please! I fought over one hundred cultists for hours! Without interruption! I think anyone here would be as exhausted as I am!" he protested, though his tone lacked genuine anger. He understood Shadowheart's worry, and he knew he had given her ample reason to be furious.

She sighed, her anger softening as she knelt beside him. "You're right, but that doesn't give you the right to die," she scolded gently.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again," he swore, his eyes meeting hers.

She offered a small, relieved smile. "You better."

That night

After erecting a solemn memorial to the fallen, the city finally erupted in joyous celebration of the banishment of the wicked gods. Bards filled the air with lively melodies, and every man and woman danced with unrestrained abandon, as if it were their last day on earth.

Jon sat at a table surrounded by his closest companions: Aylin, Isobel, Halsin, Jaheira, Minsc, Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart. "So, Jaheira," he began, attempting to mask his apprehension, "now that your children are safe, will my heart remain in its rightful place?"

The high-harpist took a slow sip of her wine, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I suppose I can't deny Baldur's Gate its next Grand Duke," she conceded, eliciting a visible sigh of relief from Jon.

"Thank you," he said, raising his tankard in a toast before taking a long drink. Just then, Grand Duke Ravengard and Florrick approached their table. "The heroes of the city! Usually, they crave the spotlight, not the periphery," the Grand Duke quipped, a smile playing on his lips.

Jon grinned, lifting his mug in acknowledgment. "Sorry, your grace. I'm a man of action, not words." But Florrick interjected with a playful sneer, "What about the speech this morning? Or that rousing one before the fight against the Absolute?" Jon's ears flushed crimson. "Do you really have to bring that up every time?" he asked sarcastically before draining his mug. Florrick simply shrugged. "Only nine times out of eight," she replied, sending a wave of laughter through the group.

The Grand Duke turned his attention back to Jon. "Have you made a decision yet? When will you depart?" Jon looked up, murmuring, "In about two weeks. I spoke with Umberlee's priestesses; they've agreed to guide us to Westeros as thanks for not having banished their cult." He paused, a frown creasing his brow. "It still chafes that we need the assistance of a goddess who enjoys watching us be devoured by sharks."

Ravengard sighed. "I can't fault you for that sentiment, but Baldur's Gate is a harbor city; we rely on her protection," he reminded him. Jon offered a wry grin but shifted the subject. "I've spoken with Halsin, Gale, and Jaheira; they will assist you with the city's management while I'm away. And Aylin and Isobel will remain here in case of any conflicts. And if Jergal interven—" His words were cut short by the sudden appearance of a swirling portal nearby.

Karlach and Wyll stepped through, beaming as they approached the group. "Father!" Wyll exclaimed, a wide smile on his face as he and Ravengard embraced warmly. "Wyll! What are you doing here, my son? Are you alright?" Ravengard asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I'm fine, Father. Jon asked us to come here to watch over the city while he's away. Karlach's infernal engine will function for several months, so we shouldn't have any issues," Wyll explained.

"I don't want to leave the city without capable guardians, especially after we've finally rebuilt everything," Jon interjected, turning to greet his friends. But before he could utter a word, Karlach enveloped him in a crushing bear hug. "I missed you so much, Soldier! And now that I'm here, you're leaving?!" she cried, oblivious to the faint cracking sounds emanating from Jon's ribs.

"Wyll, please, tell your wife to release my husband. I don't want to become a widow after only a year of marriage," Shadowheart requested, a teasing smile on her face.

"Oh, sorry, Soldier!" Karlach apologized sheepishly, releasing Jon, while the others erupted in laughter.

Two weeks later

"I need you to explain to me again: you're leaving the greatest city on the Sword Coast, where you will inherit from the Grand Duke himself, and soon after, potentially have the greatest city in the Underdark, to go to a continent that despises your bastard heritage. And if you present yourself as a member of your former dynasty, you need to specify that your mother wasn't raped, but eloped with the crown prince. And if I'm not mistaken, the betrothed of your mother and her brother instigated a rebellion, killing all but three members of your father's family, with you being the fourth, though no one there knows that. And you expect me not to be angry? Jon you should know I've killed for less," Minthara said, her voice laced with barely suppressed fury.

"I concur. That reeks of ch'raith territory. You cannot simply waltz in there and claim anything! Not to mention you are an istik in his native land," Lae'zel added, her usual stoicism replaced by a sharp disapproval.

Jon raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not going there for the crown; I remind you that I didn't even desire to become the next Grand Duke. I'm merely going to celebrate my brother's nameday, stay there for a few weeks at most, and return here. Simple, quick, easy to remember."

The two formidable women exchanged a look, then fixed Jon with a simultaneous question: "Who is accompanying you?"

He offered a proud smile. "Shadowheart, Minsc, and Astarion." Their expressions remained unconvinced.

"I am sending a drow/githyanki squad for assistance," they declared in unison.

"No! Absolutely not! Westeros is populated solely by humans, with only a single dwarf on the entire continent. The ship's crew will consist only of humans, dwarves, halflings, and surface elves and half-elves—only those with a human-like appearance," he explained firmly.

Minthara frowned, her usual severe expression deepening. "And what if someone poisons you? Or stabs you? Or frames you?" she questioned, her voice sharp with concern.

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Firstly, I'll be wearing armor, so stabbing isn't exactly a walk in the park. Secondly, my swordsmanship is second to none, so fights won't be an insurmountable problem. Thirdly, I'm taking a plethora of scrolls, including Zone of Truth. A lot of Zone of Truth. And as for poison, really? Thanks to you, we are practically poison-proof, cook" he retorted with a wry smile.

She considered his points for a moment before nodding grudgingly. "You have a point. But if they attempt anything, especially the royal family, summon us, and we will annex that worthless continent to our territories." Minthara's tone left no room for doubt.

"I'm not going there as a king, but as a bastard. I won't even mention magic or my future role as Grand Duke. They'll likely think I'm insane or, worse, a liar," he protested.

"But you will be a liar if you don't say that," Lae'zel stressed, her githyanki logic unyielding.

He ran a frustrated hand over his face and groaned. "True, but... I just can't. Trust me when I say I simply cannot go there and start killing people. Maybe half a dozen at most," he conceded with a sigh.

They exchanged another look, then nodded in reluctant acceptance before moving on to the next pressing matter. "To whom should we report in your absence?" the drow asked.

"Jaheira," Jon answered simply, and the two women nodded. "You mentioned the ship departs tomorrow. Have you packed everything you and your companions require?" Minthara demanded, her tone brooking no inefficiency.

Jon nodded. "Everything except Robb's present. I commissioned it from Clan Ironhand and the Gondians, plus a special item for—" He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

"Lord Greatwolf, this is Zanner and Barcus. We have completed both of your commissions," the gnome leader of the Church of Gond announced from behind the door.

A wide smile spread across Jon's face. "Excellent! Come in and show them to me." He opened the door, ushering in the two gnomes. He noticed three heavily muscled dwarves bearing the Ironhand insignia were carefully maneuvering a large chest and a smaller, intricately carved box into the room.

The two gnomes bowed their heads respectfully as they entered, their eyes widening slightly as they took in the imposing figures of Lae'zel and Minthara.

"Don't worry. That's their happy face," Jon joked, gesturing towards the two stern women. "So... did you encounter any difficulties at Grymforge?" he asked politely.

They shook their heads in unison. "Not at all. We finished just in time," Barcus replied, moving to open the large chest. It unfolded with a series of intricate clicks and whirs, revealing itself to be a meticulously crafted folding closet, complete with various compartments and hanging rods.

Jon's smile widened at the sight. "What do you think? This is Robb's present!" he exclaimed, his excitement palpable.

The drow watched in stunned silence. "Really?" Minthara finally managed, a hint of amusement in her voice. "When it comes to spending money, you truly operate on an 'all or nothing' principle."

He rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha, ha," he said with exaggerated sarcasm. "What about the other item?" he asked, his anticipation returning.

Zanner gestured to Barcus, who carefully handed him the small box. Zanner opened it, revealing its contents to Jon.

Jon nearly bounced on the balls of his feet like a child on their nameday. He eagerly took the object, inspecting it with fascination. "Awesome! I can fire this six times before reloading, right?" he asked, his eyes gleaming.

Barcus nodded proudly. "Yes, you can. We used lead for the projectiles. They can penetrate any non-magical metal. And we crafted six hundred of them. You'll need smokepowder to use it, but we also designed this to make reloading faster; we call it a speedloader. You load the powder and lead balls into it, then attach it to the weapon, and with a swift motion of your hand, it's loaded and ready to fire. The only drawback is the range; it's most effective within the confines of a room. For long-distance engagements, a bow would be more suitable."

Lae'zel and Minthara examined the unfamiliar object with keen interest. It was smaller than a heavy crossbow but larger than a hand crossbow. Its only similarity to those weapons was the tiller. At the opposite end, six long barrels, each roughly fifteen centimeters long, were clustered together, with a small, intricate piece of metal situated between them.

"A new weapon? Intriguing. What is its designation?" Lae'zel asked, her curiosity evident.

"This... is a pepperbox," Jon announced with a grin.

One day later

"Is everything prepared?" Jon asked the ship's captain, who nodded. "Yes, Lord Greatwolf. We've also brought an Umberlee cleric aboard," he added.

Jon inwardly grimaced, but kept his displeasure hidden. He knew he couldn't interfere with the captain's arrangements. "Good. And what about my friends and my wife?" he inquired.

The captain gestured towards the ship. "On board, my lord. You're the last important passenger," he replied. Jon nodded. "Good, then you are free to sail." With that, he boarded the vessel and joined his wife and companions.

"'The early bird gets the worm' is clearly an unknown proverb to you, isn't it?" Astarion drawled, earning an eye-roll from Jon.

"I won't take lectures from a daylight-allergic twink, Astarion," Jon retorted. "Touché," the vampire spawn murmured.

Jon turned to his wife, a warm smile gracing his lips. "Are you ready, Lady Jenevelle Hallowleaf?" She returned his smile. "Of course, my lord husband. And you?"

He nodded. "Helldusk Armor, Helldusk Helmet, Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength, Amulet of Greater Health, Disintegrating Night Walkers, Arabella's ring, Till Death Do Us Part, Gontr Mael, Nyrulna, the Emperor's sword, five scrolls of spells we might even remotely need, and..." he dramatically produced the Pepperbox. "THIS!"

"Now that is interesting," Astarion commented, his gaze fixed on the new weapon.

"What did you guys bring?" Jon asked, but before anyone could answer, the captain's booming voice announced it was time to cast off.

They shrugged. "Guess we'll tell you in the open sea," Jenevelle said, and everyone unaccustomed to sailing retreated to their cabins.

Only then did Jon feel a wave of anxiety wash over him, more intense than he had anticipated. Please, let nothing bad happen, he silently pleaded to the empty air within his mind. But deep down, he knew better.

Fate was a particular bitch with him.

Especially with him.

Chapter Text

In the open sea, below deck

"I've told you! You can't just kill Catelyn Tully!" Jon repeated for the tenth time, his voice exasperated.

"But why? A drop of Wyvern Toxin and it will look like her heart gave out," Astarion insisted, his tone nonchalant.

Jon held up two fingers. "Okay, first: she's only thirty-eight, so 'her heart gave out' my ass. And second: she's the mother of my siblings; if you kill her, they will be devastated," he explained patiently.

Astarion muttered under his breath, "Fine, can we at least talk back if she insults us?" he asked, a hint of his usual sharpness returning.

"Of course you can. Just wait for a truly egregious insult before throwing knives at her," Jon answered, and a flicker of satisfaction crossed Astarion's face.

After a brief silence, Jon's curiosity piqued. "So, what did you guys bring?"

Shadowheart answered first. "Oh, I brought Grym's Helm, Reaper's Embrace, Boots of Persistence, The Reviving Hands, Killer's Sweetheart, Ring of Regeneration, Amulet of Selûne's Chosen, Least Expected, Selûne's Spear of Night, and..." she frowned, a flash of irritation crossing her features. "That cheap copy of The Blood of Lathander," she finished, glaring pointedly at Jon, who groaned.

"Shadowheart, I repeat for the thousandth time, we owed Lathander when he gave us his blessing during the Purge, when the githyanki left the monastery and that cleric showed up demanding the mace back, what was I supposed to do?" he countered, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation.

"Still, that was the coolest mace ever! I was practically a goddess among the undead! One touch and they crumbled. Now I only have a morningstar that one-shots undead! It's not the same thing," the half-elf protested, her voice tinged with longing.

"Uhm, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt this fascinating debate, but could you perhaps refrain from discussing which weapon is most effective at exterminating my kind?!" Astarion interjected, his voice vaguely agitated.

Shadowheart and Jon's eyes widened; they had momentarily forgotten Astarion's presence. "Eheheh, sorry Astarion," they said in unison, a sheepishness in their tone.

"Ehm, what did you bring with you?" Jon asked, attempting to diffuse the awkwardness.

The pale elf rolled his eyes dramatically but answered nonetheless. "I took with me Shadow of Menzoberranzan, Shade-Slayer Cloak, Elegant Studded Leather, Spacehunt Boots, Knock Knuckle Gloves, Fetish of Callarduran Smoothhands, Djinni Ring, Uncovered Mysteries, The Dead Shot, Bloodthirst, and Crimson Mischief."

Jon smirked. "I'm fairly certain the first thing you'll do when we dock is pilfer anything that isn't bolted to the deck," he teased, eliciting laughter from the entire cabin.

"Oh, please! I would steal the castles anyway," Astarion quipped, and the laughter continued.

Then, Minsc raised his hand enthusiastically. "Now it is Minsc's turn! Minsc brought Sarevok's Horned Helmet and Corpsegrinder! Minsc also took many potions!" he announced proudly.

The other three exchanged confused glances. "And?" Jon prompted, inviting him to elaborate. "And what?" Minsc asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"What else did you bring?" the Westerosi specified.

"Nothing," Minsc replied simply.

"Nothing?" Astarion echoed, equally perplexed.

"Yes! Minsc does not need anything but Boo. But Minsc knows that to kick evil in their butt, you need a weapon! And you also need a weapon to slap evil in their faces!" Minsc explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Shadowheart opened her mouth to comment, but Jon swiftly placed a hand over it. "You're absolutely right, Minsc. Good job!" he said, and the rashaman beamed with pride.

After that, Jon stood up. "We should head up on deck and grab something to eat. I'm starving," he suggested.

Astarion rose as well. "I'll join you. Gods know what edible food one finds on a ship." But before they could reach the door, it swung open on its own.

A flurry of four-legged friends bounded into the cabin, tackling Jon in a joyous heap. "What the—!?" he exclaimed, interrupted by the excited barks and chirps of Scratch and Us.

"Friend!" Us squeaked, their mandibles clicking rapidly. "Us missed you!"

"You can't leave without us!" Scratch barked, tail wagging furiously.

"And Scratch! You're important too!" Us added.

"Wha—!? Us?! Scratch?! What are you doing here?!" Jon almost yelled, a mixture of surprise and exasperation in his voice.

"We're coming with you! Quothe is also here, but he stayed with Ghost," Scratch explained, prompting Jon to look at him sharply. "Wait, what about Owlie?" Jon asked, knowing that where Scratch went, his owlbear cub companion usually followed. An owlbear on a ship, or in Westeros, was a recipe for disaster.

"He hates ships, so he stayed at home," Scratch clarified.

At this news, Jon breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank any benevolent deity for that," he muttered, before a new realization dawned on him. "Wait, what about food? And how did you even get on the ship?" he questioned, his gaze shifting between the two animals.

The dog wagged his tail innocently. "Ghost said I can share his food, and Quothe can eat crumbs. And about how we got here..." He glanced pointedly at Boo, and everyone's attention swiveled to Minsc.

"Do not worry, friend! Minsc did nothing! Boo simply... encouraged them to come aboard!" Minsc declared with a wide, innocent grin.

"And why didn't you tell us anything?" Jon asked, frustration lacing his voice. "Because you asked Minsc what he brought, not Boo!" Minsc replied, as if explaining a simple concept to a child.

Greatwolf mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. "Fine, listen, you two. I'm going with Astarion to get some food. I want you to go find Ghost and stay with him. I'll come see you in an hour," he affirmed, and with that, he headed out on deck with Astarion.

"By the way, did you drink the potion?" Jon asked Astarion as they made their way towards the galley.

Astarion flashed a charming smile and nodded. "Of course, darling. Now the sun can kiss me with all his love," he quipped, and both of them chuckled.

"However," Jon added sincerely, "thank you for accompanying me. It means a lot."

"Oh, please! You're making me blush! And if Shadowheart hears us... the sun would be the first and last of my problems. And yours," Astarion said, a playful shiver running down his spine.

"Good point. Then I suppose you'll have to drink my blood from a glass," Jon suggested with a wry grin. "A sacrifice that must be made," Astarion agreed dramatically.

Arriving at the galley, they encountered the cook. "Excuse me, may we have our rations for the day?" Jon asked politely.

The cook, a burly human with a weathered eye patch, sized them up and nodded. "Aye, milord. Bread, wine, and ham," he grunted, turning to gather their portions.

After a moment, he dropped a heavy burlap bag in front of them. "Here's yours. We'll take care of your wolf," the cook said gruffly before returning to his cooking for the rest of the passengers.

They both nodded their thanks and headed back to their cabin to eat.

Three days later

The group was jolted awake by the ship's alarm bells. "What's happening?!" Shadowheart screamed, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Pirates are attacking us! We must prepare ourselves!" Minsc bellowed, leaping out of bed and scrambling to don his helmet and grab his warhammer.

Jon, Shadowheart, and Astarion followed suit, their movements frantic. But before they could even buckle their armor, the cabin door burst inward, revealing a hulking pirate wielding two axes.

He roared, charging directly at Astarion. But before the pirate could even raise his weapon, Minsc broke his kneels with a horizontal swing and crushed the pirate's skull with a vertical one. "There is no time! Take your weapons and kill every ugly fiend like him!" Minsc roared, charging headfirst into the fray of pirates flooding the corridor.

"He's right. Shadowheart, grab your weapons and wake Ghost! Astarion, with me!" Jon barked, snatching Nyrulna and the Pepperbox from his belongings.

As he moved through the ship's narrow passageways towards the deck, he saw a grim tableau of fallen sailors and pirates. Dammit! How is it possible we didn't spot them before they made contact?! he thought, his anger simmering.

"Jon!" Astarion called out. "We have to split up! I'll handle the ones here; you take the ones on the surface!" Jon nodded in grim agreement.

He reached the deck, having already dispatched three pirates in the confined spaces below. The scene above was chaotic. He spotted Quothe, his crow, ferociously attacking a pirate, claws sunk deep into the man's eyes.

Jon hurled his trident, Nyrulna, and it struck the pirate Quothe was attacking, killing him instantly before magically returning to Jon's hand.

He then saw two more pirates charging him, weapons raised. But before they could reach him, a blur of white fur launched itself at one of them. It was Scratch, biting down on the pirate's neck until he collapsed, bleeding profusely. The second pirate fared no better, his legs pulverized by a swift hammer blow.

Before Jon could even register surprise, Minsc brought his foot down, crushing the pirate's head.

The rashaman looked at Jon, his face grim. "Are you alright?!" Jon nodded curtly. "There should be around fifty of them! How many have you taken down?"

"Four! I also saw five dead as I was coming up!" Jon replied. "How many for you?" he asked in return.

Minsc hefted his hammer onto his shoulder. "Those five were mine, plus that one in our cabin. These two here, and the other two, Boo and Minsc dispatched nine of the foul creatures! Thirty-eight remain! Let us reduce their numbers!" He roared, charging back into the thick of the fighting alongside Jon.

"Ten!" "Five!" "Twelve!" "Eight!" "Fifteen!" "Twelve!" The grim tally continued as Jon and Minsc fought with brutal efficiency, their weapons becoming increasingly hot from the relentless combat.

"Fuck!" Jon roared in pain, dropping Nyrulna as the heat seared his hand. He drew the Pepperbox and fired rapidly at a pirate mage chanting an incantation, the lead shot finding its mark squarely in the mage's head.

He continued to fire at every pirate he could see until the Pepperbox was empty. Then, he resorted to his bare hands, striking and grappling with desperate ferocity. Just as he felt his strength waning, a fierce snarl erupted behind him. It was Ghost, followed closely by Shadowheart.

The direwolf lunged at a pirate, tearing out his throat in a single, savage bite. Meanwhile, Shadowheart moved with deadly grace, her spells and morningstar felling three more pirates in quick succession.

In less than ten minutes, they had eliminated all the pirates on deck. Jon, swaying on his feet, his vision blurring, managed to speak. "We must check if they infiltrated below deck!" But before anyone could respond, Astarion appeared, covered head to toe in blood.

"Done. If you don't count the copious amounts of gore, no one is below deck," the vampire spawn announced, his usual composure replaced by a palpable disgust.

"I adore blood and everything... BUT IN MY MOUTH! NOT ON MY IMPORTED SILK!" he yelled, his dramatic outburst momentarily lightening the tense atmosphere.

Jon couldn't help but crack a weary smile. He approached Astarion and clapped him on the shoulder. "Your sacrifice was not in vain." Then, his expression turned serious. "What are the damages?"

"Supplies. One of them cast Burning Hands and incinerated a good portion of the food stores. We need to stop at the closest pier," Astarion informed him, his voice still tinged with annoyance at the state of his attire.

Jon considered this for a moment before saying, "Go talk to the captain. I'll help Shadowheart with the wounded." Astarion nodded and headed off to find the captain.

One week later 

During that week, Jon remained awake for nearly three days before his exasperated friends finally knocked him unconscious. "Last time we let you stay awake for more than a day, you made a deal with Raphael!" Astarion reminded him, his frustration still palpable.

Now, Jon sat on the ship's bow, Ghost a silent sentinel beside him. A deep unease gnawed at him; their supplies were dwindling, and the vast expanse of the ocean offered no hint of land.

He heard the approach of soft footsteps. "Why that frown?" his wife asked, settling down beside him and Ghost. "It's not a frown. I'm just contemplating how thoroughly we're screwed," Jon insisted, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"That's what I said, frown," she teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips, which he couldn't help but return.

"You know that if we don't reach land within a day, I will devour you in a very different manner, right?" Jon asked, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. "Sure, but then you'll have to cuddle with Ghost instead of me," she retorted, a smirk playing on her face.

Ghost lifted his head, letting out a confused whine. "Wait, what?" he seemed to ask, looking from Jon to Shadowheart. Jon simply rolled his eyes. "Very funny," he said dryly, though a chuckle escaped him, and soon Shadowheart joined in his laughter.

"I still can't believe you grabbed every scroll that crossed your mind, but not the one that conjures food and water," Shadowheart teased, causing Jon's ears to flush a light red, but he was ready for this.

"And I sill can't believe that a cleric of life domain is still not able to cast conjures fod and water" he talked back. She became redder than him.

"You know my situation is different! And since you know it, you should have brought them with you!" she retorted.

"Listen, I... sometimes forget to eat because of my duties! Remember that time we were celebrating with the tieflings? Halsin had to remind me there was food," he defended himself weakly.

"If that's your best excuse, I sincerely hope you never face a tribunal, or you'd be executed for bumping into a lady" she half-joked, a hint of seriousness underlying her words.

Jon pretended not to hear her and picked up Nyrulna. He aimed it at the seemingly empty sea and hurled the trident.

When it returned, each of its prongs skewered three wriggling fish. "My lady wife, I believe I have resolved our food shortage," he announced, turning to Shadowheart with a triumphant smile.

For the next two weeks, Jon diligently provided fresh fish for all the sailors aboard the ship.

When the ship finally docked, Jon and his friends disembarked, their eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings, trying to orient themselves.

"We're already in Braavos? I thought we had another week of travel!" Jon exclaimed, his gaze fixed on the colossal Titan of Braavos that loomed over the harbor.

"Umberlee was very grateful for your allowing her followers to remain in Baldur's Gate, Jon Greatwolf," Alandra Grey, the Umberlee cleric, answered his unspoken question.

Jon looked at her, utterly bewildered. "Umberlee is grateful to me? Haven't I just kicked out half the Gods of Fury?" he asked incredulously.

She offered a knowing smile. "Yes, and now she and Auril are stronger than Malar and as strong as Talos, because you guaranteed their cults the freedom to be worshipped. Furthermore, many cities around Baldur's Gate have followed your example, causing Talos and Malar to lose numerous followers, while Umberlee and Auril thrive as never before," she explained, Jon's eyes widening with each revelation.

The only sound he could manage was a small, disbelieving "Ah."

She smiled and gave a respectful bow. "I will remain on the ship if you require my services, but remember this," her expression turned serious. "The Bitch Queen is not your friend. She aided you, but she will become your most formidable enemy if you provoke her. You don't need to love her, but do not be disrespectful." With that, she turned and walked back towards the ship.

If she had intended to intimidate Jon, she would be sorely disappointed. "As expected. Now, while they resupply our ship, we need to visit the Iron Bank to exchange our currency," he said, gesturing to a woman to hand him a sturdy wooden box. He showed it to his friends and opened the lid, revealing neatly stacked gold bars.

"That's a substantial amount of wealth, but we use gold. What currency do the Westerosi employ?" Jenevelle asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

"The most valuable coin is the golden dragon, followed by the silver stag, copper stars, pennies, half-pennies, and groats. You could live comfortably for the rest of your life with a chest full of golden dragons if you manage your finances wisely. The same holds true for silver stags," Jon instructed, drawing on his surprisingly extensive knowledge.

"Wow, I can't believe you're considered rich with that while we had to ration our food with three chests of gold," Astarion remarked sarcastically.

"Believe me, I was far more annoyed when I first arrived in Faerûn and discovered my savings were utterly worthless," Jon said, the memory still grating.

After a short walk, they arrived at the imposing Iron Bank. They approached the reception desk. "Good morning, my Lords and Lady, how may the Iron Bank assist you today?" the clerk asked with formal courtesy and a polite smile.

Jon stepped forward. "We are here for a currency exchange, into Westerosi denominations." He placed the heavy box on the counter.

The clerk nodded, scribbling something on a piece of parchment. "That will not be a problem, but I trust you have the necessary funds for such a transaction?"

Jon nodded to Minsc, who promptly opened the box, revealing the gleaming gold bars within. "If my calculations are correct, there should be six bars of pure gold in this box, each one equivalent to a thousand of gold dragons. I trust that will suffice?" Jon asked with a confident smile.

The clerk's mouth hung open for a few stunned seconds before he regained his composure. "Of course, my Lord. Please wait here for a moment; I need to consult with my superiors. An exchange of... this magnitude requires their authorization. May I inquire as to your name?" he asked, his tone now tinged with a newfound respect.

Jon's smile widened; he sensed the shift in the clerk's demeanor. "Jon Greatwolf," he replied. The clerk swiftly rose from his chair and disappeared through a nearby door.

They waited for several minutes before a pair of stern-looking guards approached and requested they follow them. They complied without question.

They were led into a large, opulent room where a group of distinguished men sat behind a long table, several empty chairs positioned before it. "Good morning, my Lords and Lady. My name is Tychos Nestoris. My associates and I will personally handle your currency exchange, given that the sum of your request is... quite substantial," Lord Nestoris said, his voice smooth and measured. The group greeted them and took the offered seats.

"Good morning, Lord Nestoris. My name is Jon Greatwolf. I require an exchange of these six gold bars for myself and my companions. Furthermore, if it is possible, I would also like to open a bank account where I can deposit any funds I don't immediately need. My destination is Westeros, but my home is in Faerûn. As you can appreciate, it would be rather inconvenient to perform a currency exchange every time I wish to travel," Jon explained, placing the box on the table before them.

If Nestoris was pleased by this proposition, it was a vast understatement. "Naturally, Lord Greatwolf. I presume your friends would also desire their own bank accounts?" he inquired, glancing at Jon's companions. But Jon raised a hand to dissuade him. "That won't be necessary. They will all have access to this account, with the ability to deposit and withdraw any amount they require," he stated decisively.

If Nestoris was disappointed by this arrangement, he gave no indication. "Very well. Now, if you would permit it, I will need to take your gold bars for the exchange. I will also deduct the associated fee, with your agreement, of course," he said politely. Jon simply nodded his assent.

In less than ten minutes, Nestoris returned with two more bank employees, who were carefully carrying a large, heavy chest.

"The current value of a single gold bar is one thousand golden dragons. Therefore, in theory, you would be entitled to six thousand golden dragons. However, the exchange fee is ten percent, leaving you with nine hundred golden dragons per bar—five thousand and four hundred golden dragons in total."

After a moment of consideration, Jon said, "I will take only two thousand golden dragons in coin for now. Would you be so kind as to deposit the remainder into our bank account?"

"Of course. I simply require your signatures on these documents," Nestoris said, presenting them with several parchments and waiting patiently as they signed where indicated.

"It has been a pleasure conducting business with you. I trust you will rely on the Iron Bank again in the future," Nestoris said, offering a formal smile.

"I certainly will, Lord Nestoris," Jon replied. With that, they left the bank and returned to the ship. Upon inquiring about their departure time, the captain informed them it would be the following day. Consequently, they decided to rent rooms at a nearby inn for the night. Astarion pleaded with Jon for a private room, or at the very least, one that didn't include Minsc. "You're older than all of us combined and still behave like a child," Jon joked, but he relented and rented three comfortable rooms for the night.

A day later

"All aboard! We're casting off!" the captain bellowed, his voice echoing across the deck as the sailors scrambled to hoist the sails.

Jon watched the vibrant hues of Braavos recede into the distance. If he were honest, it was a remarkable city, a place he might consider bringing his entire crew to on a future voyage.

"We're drawing closer to the North with each passing day. Are you ready to face your family?" Jenevelle asked, a note of concern lacing her voice.

He took her hand, his grip firm yet reassuring. "Frankly? Not particularly. I mean, I'm happy at the prospect of seeing them again, but... I don't know. I'm uncertain of what to expect," he confessed, his gaze troubled.

She rested her forehead against his. "I know it's difficult, but remember: they are your family. They won't hurt you. And I navigated the loss of my parents; you possess the strength to handle this, alright? Do it for me," she encouraged, her eyes filled with unwavering support.

A genuine smile touched his lips, and he leaned down to kiss her tenderly. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" he asked, a touch of irony in his voice.

She returned his smile, her eyes sparkling. "Uh, don't dwell on the 'why'; simply be grateful for it." She kissed him again, their embrace a brief respite from the journey ahead.

Their moment was shattered by a panicked cry from a sailor high in the rigging. "Storm ahoy!"

"What?!" Jon exclaimed, as if he hadn't heard correctly over the creaking of the ship and the cries of the crew.

"Storm ahoy!" the sailor repeated, his voice strained. "Everyone to their stations!" the captain roared, his command cutting through the rising wind. "All non-essential personnel below deck! Now!"

A determined expression hardened Jon's features. "We must go!" he urged, and he and his wife hurried below deck to their friends.

"What is happening?!" Minsc asked, his voice laced with worry. "There's a storm! We need to stay down here and let the sailors handle it," Jon explained, his hand instinctively reaching for Shadowheart's.

"That cleric of Umberlee is supposed to shield us from storms and waves! Where is she?!" Astarion shrieked as the ship began to roll violently.

"I'm going to check on the animals! Minsc! Go find the priestess! You guys stay here!" Jon ordered, his voice firm, and they all nodded in agreement.

Without hesitation, Jon navigated the treacherous, swaying corridors towards the animals' cabin. Despite the ship's violent lurches, he managed to reach their quarters.

"Guys! Are you alright?!" Jon called out. Ghost, Scratch, Quothe, and Us were struggling to maintain their footing, their paws scrabbling for purchase on the tilting deck. "What's happening?!" Ghost growled, narrowly avoiding being bowled over by a sliding Scratch.

"There's a storm outside! Listen, I need you to stay here while the cleric takes care of it, alright?" he affirmed, bracing himself against the doorframe.

Ghost grumbled but eventually calmed down and nodded. "Fine."

"Jon! I found the cleric!" Minsc's voice echoed down the corridor. "Thank the gods!" Jon exclaimed, pushing off the doorframe and rushing towards his friend.

He found Minsc kneeling beside the unconscious cleric, blood staining his hands. "What happened?!" Jon asked, his concern evident.

"She must have fallen when the ship rolled. I already gave her a potion, but we need to get her to Shadowheart!" Minsc said urgently, and Jon nodded in agreement.

Arriving back at their cabin, they found Shadowheart and Astarion struggling to remain upright. Shadowheart stumbled, nearly falling, but Jon caught her at the last moment. "You okay?!" he asked, his voice filled with worry. She clung to him, regaining her balance. "Next time, we use teleport. Discretion can go to the hells," she half-joked, her face pale.

"Shadowheart! We need you! The cleric is unconscious!" Minsc shouted, his voice strained over the howling wind and creaking timbers.

Shadowheart saw the fallen cleric and, without a word, immediately cast a powerful LV.6 Cure Wounds spell.

After a tense few moments, Allandra's eyelids fluttered open, albeit slowly. "What happened?" she asked groggily as Minsc helped her sit up.

"There's a storm outside! We need your help!" Jon exclaimed, his urgency clear.

Allandra shook off her disorientation and demanded Jon lead the way.

Reaching the ravaged deck, they saw the mainmast crashing down perilously close to them. "Look out!" Jon yelled, grabbing Allandra and pulling her out of the path of the falling timber. "You okay?" he asked, and Allandra nodded, her eyes wide with shock.

"Alright, call upon Umberlee and tell her to calm this storm, please!" Jon urged, and the cleric immediately began to pray, her voice rising above the tempest's fury.

Jon wasn't exactly an expert on Faerûnian deities, but he was fairly certain that none of them had the head of a mind flayer, the wings of a dragon, and a powerfully built physique. He couldn't suppress a gasp of shock as he saw such a figure materialize amidst the storm clouds, even though its form was largely obscured by shadows.

Suddenly, two piercing red eyes seemed to pass directly through him, as if scrutinizing his very soul. Then, still veiled by the swirling clouds, he saw the silhouette of a woman wielding a trident fiercely attacking the monstrous figure. If Jon remembered correctly, this had to be Umberlee.

The Bitch Queen's voice, laced with bloodlust, echoed across the churning sea. "The sea is my domain! Umberlee! You are but an intruder! Succumb to ME!" She plunged her trident towards the other god.

The monstrous deity remained silent; Jon wasn't even sure if it possessed the ability to speak, but it could certainly roar, and it did so loudly. It lunged at Umberlee, aiming for her throat. The goddess of the deeps conjured more tridents and hurled them at the creature, driving it back into the storm clouds.

The silhouette of Umberlee turned towards Jon. "The debt is paid. If you dare ask for my aid again, you will be the price," she stated, her voice cold and final, before vanishing as abruptly as she had appeared.

The storm immediately began to subside, the wind and waves lessening their violent assault. The sailors were on the verge of celebrating their miraculous survival, and Jon felt a wave of relief wash over him. But then, a retching sound caught his attention. It was Allandra.

She was vomiting blood and seawater, the direct interaction with her goddess clearly having taken a horrific toll. "See? Umberlee always repays her debts, for better... or for worse. My time has come, but remember these words, Jon Greatwolf: in Westeros, the true enemies and the true allies are the gods." She rose unsteadily and walked towards the ship's railing. "Umberlee, my time has come! Accept this faithful servant! Who gave her life for you!" And with that chilling declaration, she threw herself into the raging sea, vanishing beneath the waves before Jon's stunned eyes.

"Land ahoy! Land ahoy!" a cry from a sailor snapped Jon out of his horrified stupor. He saw the crew frantically working to maneuver the ship towards the distant shoreline. Jon would have felt a surge of relief, too, if the approaching land had been the familiar snow of White Harbor

"Jon! You did it! We're going to White Harbor!" Ghost bounded up to him, his tail wagging excitedly, but his enthusiasm quickly faded as he registered his master's ashen expression. "Jon?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. Then, he too saw the grim, grey coastline looming closer. That wasn't White Harbor.

Nonononononononono NO! Jon's mind raced, a frantic whirlwind of disbelief and dread. Of all places... Of all cities... Of all worlds... WHY HERE?!

"Jon!" Jenevelle called out, her voice laced with worry. "Are you alright?! What happened?! Where is Allandra?!" Then, she saw his face, his eyes wide with a dawning horror. "Jon?" Their friends gathered around them, their expressions mirroring her concern as they took in his petrified state.

"Guys," Jon finally managed to croak out, his voice barely a whisper, "that is not White Harbor."

"Really? Then what is it?" Astarion asked, his usual flippancy absent.

"If what my uncle told me is correct," Jon said, his tone a chilling mix of fear and bitter resignation, "then that is Blackwater Bay. We're in the last place we should be. We're in the place where it all began. We're in the place that once was my family's home. We're in King's Landing."

Blackwater Bay, King's Landing

"Father! A ship is approaching! The mainmast is missing and the sails are torn!" Dale Seaworth called out, his voice carrying urgency.

His father, Davos Seaworth, was in conversation with his Lord, Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, Master of Ships, and the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon. Standing nearby were Melisandre, a striking woman with fiery red hair and a matching gown, and several of Stannis's key advisors: Jon Arryn, Lord Paramount of the Vale and Hand of the King, Varys the Spider, the enigmatic Master of Whispers, and two knights clad in pristine white cloaks and gleaming silver armor – Ser Barristan Selmy, renowned as the Bold, and Ser Jaime Lannister, infamously known as the Kingslayer.

"A survivor of that storm? How?" Davos murmured, his brow furrowed in disbelief.

"It would be bloody hard to find out if we stand around gawking. Come on! Dock the ship!" King Robert grunted impatiently.

"Your Grace, they could potentially carry disease. Let us at least ascertain if they are well enough to cross the boarding ramp," Stannis suggested, his tone cautious. The King merely grumbled but ultimately conceded.

Within a short time, a small group of men stood before the battered vessel. A man who appeared to be the captain stepped forward. "We mean no harm. We have simply weathered a terrible storm, and our ship is ruined. Please, do not attack," he pleaded, his exhaustion evident.

"We must ensure you pose no health risk before allowing you to disembark onto our land. Do you possess anything that could harm these people?" Lord Stannis declared, his gaze sharp.

"Only our weapons and ourselves, my Lord. But no sickness," the captain replied.

"If you swear not to use those weapons against us, identify yourselves, and explain your presence here, I promise you and your men will come to no harm. My name is Stannis of House Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, Master of Ships, and brother of King Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men—" "Blast it all, Stannis! You don't need to recite your entire bloody titles every time you speak to someone who isn't your wife! If they're sick and hiding it, we'll kill them. But they just survived a monstrous storm! Give the poor sods bread and salt and let them come ashore!" King Robert interrupted, his irritation palpable, much to his brother's annoyance. Nevertheless, Stannis nodded to his men to comply.

The captain addressed the King. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will bring forth Lord Greatwolf; he is the man of highest rank aboard." As the captain turned to fetch his lord, his words sparked a flurry of speculation amongst the Westerosi. "Lord Stannis, do you know this Lord Greatwolf?" Davos asked, his confusion evident.

Stannis shook his head. "No, Ser Davos, I do not. The name has a Westerosi ring to it, so I would exclude Essos."

"What does their banner depict? Which house does this ship belong to?" Robert inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Varys peered at the heraldic flag, which showed a solitary ship with full sails, sailing serenely across calm blue waters beneath a clear sky. "No house I recognize, my Lords. Perhaps we should inquire directly with this Lord Greatwolf," he suggested, his voice a silken whisper.

They didn't have to wait long. A massive white wolf, followed by a large black crow, a scruffy brown dog, and a sleek black cat, disembarked from the battered ship.

"Bloody hells! I asked for a man, not a menagerie!" Robert began to complain, but his words caught in his throat as he noticed the wolf's unusual fur. "Varys? What color was the direwolf of Ned's bastard?" he asked, his eyes narrowing with a sudden realization.

Varys seemed to grasp the King's train of thought. "White with crimson eyes, Your Grace. And direwolves are the only members of the wolf family known to grow larger than a horse," he answered, his own initial curiosity now tinged with intrigue. Robert's gaze remained fixed on the boarding ramp, a look of disbelief spreading across his features. "It can't be..."

Then, a young man with raven hair, a pale complexion, a short black beard, and an assortment of mismatched armor appeared on the ramp. Most striking was his chest piece, a combination of black and gold, featuring a horned demon's face on the left shoulder strap. He carried a helmet adorned with two long, curving horns under one arm, a sheathed sword at his hip, and a gold longbow slung across his back.

He offered a slight bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, King Robert. My name is Jon Greatwolf. Please pardon our unexpected arrival, but we were caught in a terrible storm, and our ship is far too damaged to sail further. May we have your permission to use your port to make repairs?" the man asked, his smile affable and seemingly genuine.

But inwardly, Jon was desperately hoping the King wouldn't ask any probing questions.

"It's you," Robert said, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Gods, Ned! I've found your son!

Jon's smile faltered slightly. "Excuse me? I don't believe I understand," he stammered, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK!

"You're Ned's son!" Robert exclaimed, pointing a thick finger at Jon.

Jon forced his smile to remain steady, though it felt brittle. He offered a hesitant nod. "Aye, Your Grace, I am. I came here to celebrate my brother's nameday," he answered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

'FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!'

Chapter Text

King's Landing, Blacwater Bay

To say that Robert Baratheon was the happiest man in Westeros at that moment would be a gross understatement. Standing before him was the son of his dearest friend, alive, well, and clad in impressive armor.

I can't believe my eyes! Ned will be so overjoyed when he sees his son alive and strong! he thought, a wide, booming laugh erupting from his chest. He clapped Jon heartily on the shoulder, the force of the blow nearly staggering the younger man. "Your father will be so damn happy, boy! Where in the seven hells have you been?!" Robert boomed.

He noticed a flicker of tension in Jon's posture at his touch. Probably just surprised that the King himself is being so familiar, Robert reasoned, oblivious to the deeper reasons for Jon's discomfort.

"On another continent, Your Grace. You would be astounded by the wonders of Faerûn. I myself could scarcely believe my eyes when I first beheld them," Jon replied, his tone polite but carefully neutral.

Robert's laughter only intensified. "Faerûn, eh? Sounds like you've got a mountain of tales to tell! Excellent! As I said, you and your crew will have bread and salt. The Crown will foot the bill for your ship's repairs," he announced magnanimously, causing Jon's eyes to widen in genuine surprise.

"You truly don't have to, Your Grace. I assure you, we have more than sufficient funds to cover the repair costs ourselves," Jon insisted, attempting to dissuade the King's generosity.

Robert waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense, boy. Any son of Ned is a son of mine. Come with me; you look like you could use a proper bath after braving that storm at sea."

Seeing the futility of further argument, Jon sighed inwardly and conceded. "As you command, Your Grace. Might I extend your kind invitation to my companions? They followed me across Faerûn and chose to accompany me to a continent they didn't even know existed," he asked, hoping to ensure the comfort of his friends. Robert's smile broadened even further. "Your father would be bursting with pride if he were here right now. Come on! Show me these loyal friends of yours!"

Finally, a genuine smile touched Jon's lips as he beckoned his companions forward. In a moment, a towering man with a shaved head and a striking purple tattoo covering half his face, a slender man with stark white hair and piercing red eyes, and a woman with mesmerizing silver eyes stood before the Westerosi dignitaries.

"Your Grace, allow me to introduce you to some of my closest and most loyal friends: Minsc of the Rashemen." "Don't forget Boo! Boo is Minsc's greatest friend!" the bald man, Minsc, interjected enthusiastically, a tiny hamster suddenly appearing on his broad shoulder.

The Westerosi exchanged bewildered glances, but Jon quickly leaned towards Robert and whispered, "He is... somewhat eccentric, Your Grace. Please don't pay him too much mind." Robert chuckled knowingly and nodded; he had certainly encountered his share of simple folk.

"Next is Astarion Ancunín." The white-haired man executed an elegant bow. "It is a distinct pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. Jon has spoken of your many great deeds," he said with a charming smile. However, Robert eyed Astarion with suspicion, leaning closer to Jon. "Are you certain he isn't a Targaryen? I mean, the look and the way he moves... he's not just any man," he murmured.

Luckily, Jon was quick-witted. "He's an albino, Your Grace. Hence the pale skin, white hair, and red eyes. And the sun is quite dangerous for him; fortunately, he's taken a potion that allows him to stand beside us. I know firsthand the unpleasant consequences otherwise," Jon explained smoothly.

Robert sighed in relief, clapping Jon on the shoulder again. "Good, good. I don't want any dragons stirring while I draw breath. I know your family shares that sentiment," he said, and it took all of Jon's considerable willpower to maintain his polite smile.

He then moved to the silver-eyed woman and took her hand with affection. "And this is my wife, Jenevelle Hallowleaf," he said with evident pride, while Jenevelle offered a warm smile. The Westerosi onlookers, however, stared at the scene in stunned silence.

The silence was shattered by Robert's booming laughter, so loud it drew the attention of nearby dockworkers. "I see you've been quite busy during your sojourn in this 'Fey-ran'! It warms my old heart to see you so happy, boy! Come on! Don't just stand there; you're the King's guest!" He descended the ramp, but instead of heading directly towards the Red Keep, he approached Stannis, his jovial expression suddenly turning serious.

He whispered something to his younger brother, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. "I need to discuss some matters with my brother. In the meantime, my Hand will see to your needs," he announced, and with that, the two Baratheon brothers moved away, engaging in a hushed, intense conversation, Ser Barristan Selmy trailing silently behind them.

Before any of the newcomers could inquire about the sudden change in demeanor, Jon Arryn stepped forward, a kindly smile gracing his aged features. "Welcome to King's Landing, Lords and Lady. My name is Jon Arryn, and I am the Hand of the King. If you would follow me, I will direct you to the servants who will show you to your assigned chambers."

Jon returned the old lord's smile and offered a respectful bow. "It is a great honor to meet you, Lord Arryn. Lord Stark has spoken of you to my brother and me since we were mere children." At these words, a brief chuckle escaped Lord Arryn before a strong cough wracked his body. "What mischief did you and your brother get up to that earned you such tedious stories from Ned? Did you perhaps set fire to a stable?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye, and Jon laughed along with him.

His laughter subsided as his gaze fell upon the woman in red. For some inexplicable reason, she evoked a strange familiarity, reminding him of a certain crimson-clad goddess that he and Jenevelle...

"As Lord Hand has stated, you and your companions are most welcome in King's Landing, Lord Greatwolf," the red-clad woman said, offering a graceful smile and a slight bow.

Jon stared at her for a moment, a flicker of unease passing through him, before his wife gently nudged him, whispering with an amused smile, "I'm fairly certain she's not Sune. I mean, everyone here is fully clothed."

That seemed to snap Jon out of his momentary surprise. "Right," he said, returning the woman's smile. "My pleasure, my Lady. May I ask your name?" he inquired politely.

"Melisandre of Asshai, my Lord. Unfortunately, I must depart, but I am certain our paths will cross again in the future." With that, she turned and walked in the same direction as the King and his brother.

They watched her retreating figure as Lord Arryn spoke again. "Pardon me, my Lords and Lady, but I suggest we proceed to your lodgings."

Before they could move, Jon posed a question. "Forgive me, Lord Hand, but what about our animals?" he asked, his concern evident. Lord Arryn's smile returned, warm and reassuring. "You need not worry about them, Lord Greatwolf; we will ensure they are well cared for."

Having said that, the Faerûnians and Ser Jaime followed the Hand of the King, while Ser Davos remained at the dock to oversee the unloading of the damaged ship.

"If I may ask, Lord Hand, when do the King and his retinue plan to depart? We had intended to dock at... White Harbor, but the storm unfortunately diverted our course," Jenevelle inquired formally.

The Warden of the East smiled kindly at her. "You need not fret, my Lady. We had planned to depart in two days. We were merely conducting a final inspection when your ship arrived," his tone gentle, like a grandfather addressing a grandchild.

"That is reassuring to hear. I am quite eager to become acquainted with my husband's family," she replied.

"Oh, I'm sure you will find the honor of House Stark... quite memorable. It is their most defining trait, and arguably their only truly interesting one," Ser Jaime Lannister interjected with a sardonic smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Lord Arryn shot the blond knight a sharp glare. "Watch your tone, Lannister! House Stark is one of the most esteemed in all of Westeros. I will not tolerate any disrespect!" the Hand said, his voice surprisingly cold and firm, even startling Jon. He hadn't expected such strength from a man of his age.

Ser Jaime visibly struggled to suppress a roll of his eyes but remained silent. "As you command, Lord Hand."

Lord Arryn shook his head, but his amiable smile returned shortly thereafter. They were met by several attendants of the Red Keep, and Lord Arryn instructed them to provide three comfortable rooms and a bath for the Faerûnian group, also directing them to collect all their trunks.

"I must take my leave for now. We will meet again soon," Lord Arryn said, but before he could depart, Jon had a pressing question. "Lord Arryn, I apologize for the intrusion, but... do you know how my father fares?"

Lord Arryn's smile softened, a fond look in his eyes as he gazed at the son of the man he had raised as his own. You did well, Ned. "He is well, Lord Greatwolf, and he will be even better when he sees you after all these years." With that, he and Ser Jaime continued towards the Tower of the Hand.

The attendants led the group to their assigned lodgings, informing them that they would return shortly to fill the large plunge baths.

Fortunately, the rooms were situated close to one another. Jon and Jenevelle were given the central chamber, Astarion's room was to the left, and Minsc's to the right.

"Alright, let's take a moment to relax and then we can discuss our next course of action," Jon instructed, a weariness settling upon him despite the strange excitement of their arrival.

"The most sensible plan you've concocted thus far," Astarion quipped, disappearing into his designated room to heed Jon's words. Minsc followed suit. "If Minsc is asleep, ask Boo what to do. Boo often knows the answer."

Jon and his wife found themselves alone in their spacious chamber, the weight of their recent harrowing experiences – surviving the monstrous storm, meeting the man who orchestrated the murder of Jon's father – still hanging in the air. They instinctively gravitated towards the most logical course of action.

"Sex?" Jon asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Jenevelle smiled, a playful spark igniting in her silver gaze. "A lot."

And so, they retreated into the relative privacy of their temporary sanctuary and 'relaxed'.

Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast

"Any notice from Dragonstone?" Robert asked his brother, his expression utterly serious, the usual boisterousness absent, and not a single goblet of wine in sight.

Stannis shook his head. "Nothing of significance, Robert."

Robert snorted, annoyance creasing his features. "I've told you dozens of times, I'm your brother. Family comes before everything; stop with the 'Your Grace' shit!" Many attributed the strained dynamic between the two Baratheon brothers to their contrasting personalities, particularly Robert's jovial nature clashing with Stannis's rigid formality, a habit that had solidified since Robert's ascension to the throne.

Stannis visibly suppressed an eye-roll. "Fine, Robert. Maester Cressen sent only the weekly reports, and he sends his regards to you and Renly. But nothing about that thing," the last two words uttered with such palpable loathing that it momentarily reminded Robert of the period after Stannis's profound loss of faith in the gods.

However, Robert's face softened at the mention of Cressen's regards; the old maester had been a father figure to him and his brothers, alongside Donal Noye, and Robert still resented the circumstances that had separated them. "Good! I'll send him a raven later. I'll also let Renly know. He's training Ser Loras right now," he chuckled, a fond memory surfacing. "They remind me of me and Ned during our time in the Vale."

Stannis stared at him, a flicker of shock in his eyes. He truly doesn't know about...? I assumed it was the drinking! He cleared his throat. "A sort of..."

Robert's laughter faded, his expression turning serious once more. "Listen, I know I'm being insistent, but you really need to listen to me. Ned will take care of Shireen while we deal with that shitty clown! Once we explain the whole situation, he'll help us without a doubt," Robert declared with conviction.

Stannis sighed, it felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. "Robert, she is my only daughter! You cannot expect me to send her to the most distant kingdom, where even the hottest day brings endless blizzards! How would you feel if I asked you to send Tommen and Myrcella far away from you?" he countered, his voice tight with paternal concern.

Robert met his brother's gaze directly. "If it was the best way to protect them, I would send them to the Wall," he answered without hesitation, surprising Stannis. "We're both fathers, Stannis, we're both brothers, we're both sons. Family is the one thing that truly matters in this world for men like us," he continued, his voice gaining intensity. "Bards sing of me as a hero, but let me tell you this: a hero would sacrifice those he loves for the safety of the world. But a villain would sacrifice the world for those he loves. I know what I am, brother." He stood up, his gaze unwavering, the familiar jovial facade gone, revealing a raw intensity. He wasn't the Fat Robert of the tourneys and feasts anymore.

He was the Demon of the Trident.

"Do you?"

One day later

Red Keep

"Listen, I know Westeros is primitive compared to Faerûn, but you can't deny the thermal baths are the best of the world" Jon exclaimed as he and Jenevelle immersed themselves in the bath, it was as big as those ones at Winterfell, and almost hotter than them, but probably it was for the general warmth of the Crowlands,

"You're right" she relaxed into the bath and moaned for the warmth. "Ahhhh, after that hell it was the trip on ship, this is almost better than-" "End that sentence and we will sleep in separate beds" Jon warned,

THAT scared the cleric, and promptly she immersed the body till the nose; she stayed in the wayer for about half an hour. But then she got something,

"Wait, you won't have sex too" she reasoned, but he simply smiled "There're jobs that require hands, and men have many jobs who require them",

"Ah. So do women" she replied, "But not after what I did to you. Your words, not mine" he said back

She rolled the eyes and made some bubbles for the irritation, "Jon 1, Jenevelle 0" he chuckled, but his wife interrupted him with...

"FUCK!!!" he jumped out of the bath when Jenevelle grabbed his stick, he glared at his wife with murdering eyes while she smiled at him "Jon 1, Jenevelle 1" she replied,

"You know I have killed for very little, right?" he asked,

"Maybe, but as you told us, kinslaying is the worst sin for westerosi, so... Do you want to be a kinslayer, my Lord husband?" she blinked repeatedly the eyelids,

He sighed and began to dress "You're the evil incarnate" he commented,

"And I'm proud of it" she joked and came out of the tub, wanting to dress to,

"Alright, let's take Minsc and Astarion and go to ask the King or, ideally, Lord Arryn, if we can travel by ship, so we can avoid the Twins" he said,

"Wait, what's wrong with that?" his wife asked,

He made a disgusted face "If there is a single thing where Tully and I agree, over our love for my family, is our disgust for House Frey. Their only good merit is their bridge, which is the connection between the North and the South but... They are all greedy pieces of shit that no one in whole Westeros respects them. And I'm talking about the noble houses that don't judge them for being just six hundred years old" he explained while they were dressing. After that, they knocked on Minsc's door,

When Minsc opened, he smiled at them like a kid smiled at toys "I can see the city from here! It's bigger than Boo!" he said, and Jon laughed at that,

"If everything goes right, you and Boo will see a lot of castles. I'm going to ask Lord Arryn what the road the road will be for the trip. With a bit of luck, we could visit Eyrie and then the most beautiful castle of all the Seven Kingdoms: Winterfell!" he promised,

Minsc jumped all happy and took Boo from his shoulder, he looked into the hamster's eyes "Did you hear Boo? We can make another journal!" he exclaimed, and Boo squeaked, Jon raised an eyebrow, "Wait, another one? Journal?" he repeated, confused,

Minsc nodded vividly "Yes! A guide to evil monsters and men! Minsc assisted incredible monsters, vicious villains and world-devourers! All of them killed and inspected by Boo! So I have drawn, studied, and eaten them! The monsters, I mean, and put all in a journal for future adventurers!" he told,

"Wait, why I've never heard about it? You're a legend, so your book should be quite famous" Jenevelle asked confusedly,

"And what is a world-devourers? I've never heard about them, and I studied most of the manual of monsters" Jon added,

Minsc waved his hand in a contemptuous way "Blame Cyric, I killed some of his monsters, and now he's doing everything in his power to erase my masterpiece! Or maybe it was Leira? I don't know, but I know Oghma did nothing. I'm quite sure he's still angry for that incident?" he said,

"Wait, what incident?" the married couple asked,

"Nevermind, it happened a long time ago. As for the world-devourer-" his face became serious "Forget it! You cannot handle the truth!" he said,

Jon was to open his mouth "YOU CANNOT. HANDLE. THE. TRUTH" Minsc said with strength, and Jon closed the discussion,

"Okay, as you command. By the way, do you want to join us? We're going to wake up Astarion and then we'll go to the King or his Hand" he asked,

Minsc smiled again and nodded "Of course, friend? Minsc wants to show Boo the castles! And Astarion is Minsc's fourth best friend! Let's go!" and with that. The trio went to Astarion's room, but when they knocked, nothing happened,

Thay looked at each other, Astarion never had heavy sleep, "Astarion? You in?" Jon asked, but nothing again,

Now they were starting to get worried, an elf with developed hearing who doesn't hear people approaching their room is not a good thing at all,

Jon tried to open the door, but it was locked, so he knocked at the door with more force "Astarion! Open the door!", he made a step back, ready to kick the door, while Jenevelle and Minsc got ready,

"Surprise!" Astarion shouted behind them, they screamed and jumped for the fear that Jenevelle's hair almost became white by themselves and Jon was so scared that he punched Minsc in the face,

The pale elf laughed till his chest hurt, "Ahahahahahah! You guys should see your faces! Do you really think I was dead or something!? Ahahahahahah!" he wiped a tear from his eyes, but those tears were going to become of pain when Jon grabbed his head, and started to pinch,

"You guys are curious to know where fuckers go after death?" he asked with a mortal glare to Astarion,

His wife was to use her spells against undeads "Sure, tell me when",

Astarion tried to escape from Jon's grip, "You guys don't have any sense of humor! It was a joke!" he begged,

"I'll give you three seconds to tell me a good reason to spare you, or Ghost and Scratch will eat dead elf meat" Jon promised,

"Waitwaitwaitwait!" Astarion screamed,

"1",

"I'll cook for the next months! You guys love my sauages with wine!" the vampire tried to make a deal with his executioner,

"2",

"Your birthday's close! I will give you the best present ever! Just give time!",

"3",

"NOOO", Astarion cried and closed his eyes, "Wait, the thing's quite fun, why don't keeping him alive as a fool?" Minsc asked, and the married couple smiled at Astarion like Minthara smiles at a man under her care,

Astarion made a blank stare "I prefer becoming your beasts' next meals, thank you" he said, but he was ignored,

They were interrupted by a laugh, it looked like one of an old man,

They turned their heads towards the place of laughter and saw Ser Barristan Selmy laughing, probably had seen the whole scene, "Ser Barristan, we didn't see you coming here" Jon said politely, but he was quite embarrassed by the fact the idol of his youth catched him while he tried to kill his friend,

"I was arriving just before your friend shouted behind you, Lord Greatwolf. Lord Hand asked me to lead you to the Tower of the Hand; he wanted to talk to you" he informed, and Jon left his grip on Astarion, he smiled at the knight and said,

"Perfect! We were going to talk to Lord Hand about the trip for the North. Please lead your way" the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard smiled and waited for the group to get near him before starting to walk for the tower,

"So, Ser Barristan, Jon told us people call you the 'Bold'. May I ask you why?" Astarion talked as they left the hall of their rooms,

Ser Barristan smiled and answered him "It happened after my first tourney, at Blackhaven, I was ten and wanted to enter one of them. I donned dusty armor and with a horse not older than five, demanded a worthy opponent; everyone was laughing, even the royal family, but then Prince Duncan, son of King Aegon V, accepted my challenge and jousted me. I went splat and people laughed at me, incessantly" Most people would tell this story with embarrassment or shame, but he kept smiling, it was obviously a good memory for him, "Prince Duncan ran to me and helped me get up, after helping me stand, he gave me some tips on how to jostrate better. He told me I had done a very bold thing for someone my age and told the crowd to cheer me up as Barristan the Bold. The epithet remained, even when King Aegon gave me my knighthood at ten and six",

They listened to the story very carefully and remained surprised by that "Wow, I expected something like facing an invincible man or ten of them. Jon told us Westeros is quite martial, although not as Faerûn" Jenevelle commented, and Barristan chuckled "I can understand your confusion, Lady Greatwolf, but most men start in little before becoming great, I'm not different".

Jenevelle nodded "You're right. And please, use my surname, I haven't taken Jon's when we married" she said and Barristan looked at her confused,"My apologies my Lady, but I don't understand. Do women not take their husband name after marriage?" he asked, and she nodded,

"If they want, sure. But it's perfectly normal to keep theirs" she answered,

Barristan did his best to hide his surprise from his face, but nooded "I see, so I should call you Lady Hallowleaf, right?" he asked politely and she nodded smiling,

"It would be perfect. Thank you Ser" Barristan smiled and continued the walking.

Arriving at the chambers of Lord Arryn, they saw two guards with the sigil of House Arryn on their armor in front of the door "Ser Barristan, Lord Robert had a relapse and Lord Arryn is with him and the Grand Maester. He said he won't receive anyone until his son heals" one of the guards said, and Ser Barristan frowned,

"I thought the young Lord's conditions got better yesterday" he said with visible confusion on his face,

"He worsened a few minutes ago. Lord Arryn is not happy. At all" the guard responded, then they heard some noises behind the door,

"If my son’s health does not improve by at least a little upon my return, I will hang you with your chain, Pycelle! I swear on the Seven!" Jon Arryn yelled and opened the door. He had the expression of Raphael when Jon and company infiltrated the House of Hope, but he calmed down a little when he saw Ser Barristan and the guests.

"Thank you for having brought them here, Ser Barristan. I'll call you if I need you again" he said and the kingsguard bowed and left,

The Hand of the King turned to Jon "My apologies, Lord Greatwolf, but it seems I had you brought here for nothing. My son is ill and I'm too worried to do anything else" he said with sadness,

"No need to say anything, my Lord. It's your son after all. But my wife is one of the best healers I've ever met; pheraps she could help" he offered, and Lord Arryn looked at her with hope "Can you?" he almost begged,

"First I must know what is wrong with him" she said, "He was born prematurely, weak and sickly. His mother has problems with the uterus and he's our first living baby. One moment he's lively and hyperactive, the other he looks like he ran for the continent" he described, and Jenevelle thought deeply,

"May I see him? Maybe if I pose him how he feels, I'll be able to know more. Of course, you'll be there, Lord Arryn" she asked,

Jon didn't even hesitate before he turned around and went to the door "At this point a paesant is more reliable than Pycelle" he said and opened it.

Pycelle gasped when he heard the door opening, Lord Robert sitting on the table, "Lord Hand! I thought you were going to leave" he said surprised, and he was even more surprised when he saw people behind him,

The Lord of the Eyrie glared at him "Get out of the way Pycelle! This woman will visit my son, and, I hope, cure him" he said, and the eyes of the Grand Maester gaped open in astonishment, "B-But Lord Arryn! I didn't even start to heal him! Please give me a bit more time!" he begged, but he wouldn't hear "You had eight years to help my son get better! And he's only gotten worse! Now leave, or I'll have to ask the Citadel a new Grand Maester" he threatened, Jon didn't know if he meant firing or not,

Pycelle's eyes became even bigger "I can assure you there is no need to disturb the Citadel for such a small matter" he said, and Jon Arryn got even more enraged, "My son's health is a small matter?! This is what you're trying to say?! Know that I've executed knights and Lords for a lot less!" he yelled at the Grand Maester, he then remembered about his son behind Pycelle and tried to stay calm,

Pycelle seemed to understand his error "Of course not! I was just to-" Jon Arryn silenced him in the place, "Quiet, Pycelle! I want you to leave my solar, or I'll make you visit the Vale. From the Moon Door" he said with cold tone,

Pycelle's face became as pale as death and he ran away as fast as he could.

Now that he left, Lord Arryn calmed down and sighed, he turned to Jenevelle "Anything you need, just ask" he said and she nodded,

She approached the kid on the table and bent down to reach his height, with a smile, she greeted him "Hello little one, what's your name?",

The little boy looked at his father, like he was asking if she was okay, he just smiled and nodded, so he looked at her "Lord Robert of House Arryn, heir of the heir, my lady. Who are you?",

"My name is Jenevelle Hallowleaf, I'm here to visit you, may I?" she said, and Robert looked at his father again, which nodded again,

Sweetrobin nodded at her and her smile became bigger, "Great! Now, how are you feeling? Your father says you are lively one day, but very tired the other one" she asked,

"I feel hurt on my chest, and I was coughing for all the day,

Jenevelle thought for a moment, then she looked at him "Can you cough for me, please?" she asked, and he did as told

Robert Arryn couch for a few moments as Jenevelle put her ear on his chest and listened very carefully,

She nodded at the noises and moved away from him, "It seems a simple cough, nothing serious. You could use some herbs for it" she said, but Jon was a bit skeptical.

"It can't be only that; Lord Hand told us he's been sick since he was born" he said, "Yes, but the cough has nothing to do with that, unless..." she turned to the Lord Hand "Lord Arryn, how long does your son play outdoors?",

He thought for a moment, but he gave her an answer "Very few, my Lady. My wife, Lysa, hardly ever lets him go far from her. Why?",

"Because if kids don't stay outside to take the sun and play, their bodies get weak. What about the food? What does eat?" she said,

"Meats, cakes, anything to make him calm. Why? What’s it got to do with this?", Jenevelle looked at him confused "If he does not have a balanced diet his body will suffer. You must make him play outside more often and he must eat vegetables and fruits every day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Cut the cakes away for some weeks and the meat only two times a week. It won't heal him, but his body will get better, and if he reaches manhood, he'll be completely fine."

The young boy protested "Mother says I can't play outside! It's dangerous! And I don't like vegetables!",

She did her best to not laugh "What about stews? Are they disgusting?" she asked,

He looked at her confused "What is a stew?" he asked,

"A secret, but it's very tasty. Why don't you try it?" she answered,

Robert looked at his father "Can I father?" he smiled and nodded, "Of course, Robert" he looked at Jenevelle, "Anything else? Not to offend, but it looks far too simple" he said,

She simply shrugged "It's not illness, you can't control how children are born. My hands are tied like those everyone's healers when we're talking about births. If you follow my instructions, there's a good chance for him to get better. By the way, what medicines do you give him? And what are their side effects?",

Lord Arryn answered a bit titubantly, "Just calming potions and milk of the poppy when his conditions are more serious than usual",

She was confused for the last one "Milk of the poppy? What is it?" she asked, and Jon spoke to her, "It's a westerosi medicine; it's used as anesthetic and a sleeping aid. It's quite strong but shouldn't give any of Lord Robin's disease."

She wasn't convinced "I suggest you cut it away; use erbs instead" she told Lord Arryn, and he nodded,

"I will, my Lady, but now? How are you, Robert?" he asked his son,

He nodded "Yes, father. There’s a lot of sunshine here. It's warm" he answered,

His father sighed in relief "I'll talk with cooks later" he looked at them and smiled "I owe you a lot, my Lords and Lady. What can I do to repay you?",

Jon waved his hand "Nothing, my Lord, we don't ask for payments to help children. But if we can, we wanted to talk you about the trip for Winterfell, pheraps we can talk later?",

"Nosense, Lord Greatwold, you and your wife helped my family in the best way you could. We are going to use the Kingsroad and cross the Twins. Why are you asking?" Jon Arryn asked,

"Our ship has some goods we can't leave unattended, so I was hoping we could go to Winterfell by sea, so we can travel with it" he explained, and Lord Arryn nodded at it,

"I see, but unfortunately, we can't do that. The Queen, the Princes and the Princess in Casterly Rock will meet us at Twins. We can't take a detour" he said,

Jon was calm enough to smile and nod "I understand, Lord Hand. No need to worry about that", but he was really pissed because he had to cross Tully's territory,

"If it can reassure you: I can send Ser Davos with your ship. He's one of the best sailors I've ever had the pleasure to meet, and a man of great honor" he offered and Jon's smile became more honest, "Thank you, Lord Hand; I'll gladly accept".

Not long after

"So, Jenevelle, did you use $\text{Lesser Restoration}$ on that poor child? I don't think you just put an ear on him and said 'He'll be fine with the power of the sun,'" Astarion asked, imitating Jenevelle's voice on the last part.

She put a hand on her chest, gasping with an air of accusation. "Me?! Why would I do that? He was just a boy with cough instead of lungs!" she said.

"When did you use the spell? I haven't seen you casting it," Jon asked.

"Well, when I was hearing him coughing, I put a hand behind him, like I was leaning on the table, and immediately later I cast the spell," she said.

He whistled surprised. "And here I thought Astarion was the stealthy one," he commented, making her smile.

"Hey, I used to be a sharran; the second thing we learn is moving inside the shadows," she boasted.

Whereupon Minsc asked, "And the first one?"

"Just a line: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

Astarion rolled his eyes at those words. "Very poetic. I guess Lady Sharr loves poetry over fuck with her sister," he said, not loving the poetry at all.

"How can you be a dandy and not love poetry and art?" Jon asked.

"I don't reveal my tricks to everyone, darling. Sorry."

The day later, King's Landing gates

The following morning, a string of high-quality horses awaited Jon, Jenevelle, Astarion, Minsc, and Boo, ready for their journey north.

"He reminds me of my old horse, North," Jon said softly, stroking his mount's velvety snout. "Even though I didn't ride often as a child, I spent half my days reading and caring for him." A wistful smile touched his lips at the fond memories.

Jenevelle offered her horse a carrot, her voice gentle. "Really? Then he'll be overjoyed to see you again after all these years."

Jon's smile vanished, replaced by an expression akin to Lae'zel's usual grimace. "He died when I fled Winterfell. A terrible storm wrecked the ship Ghost, North, and I were on. I found his body impaled by the shattered mast right beside me. It was the first thing I saw when I woke up."

The lighthearted mood instantly dissipated. Astarion shot Jenevelle a sharp glare, silently conveying, Must you always open your mouth?

"And the next thing I saw was the nautiloid," Jon finished, his voice flat. At this, Astarion firmly interjected, "Enough with the morbid recollections! We are traveling to celebrate your brother's nameday, so you will focus on happy memories of him!"

Jon held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! As you wish." Then, he muttered under his breath, "Damn it, Astarion. It's genuinely unsettling when you act like an actual parent."

"What was that?" the vampire demanded, his sharp hearing catching the low murmur. "Nothing!" Jon replied quickly, perhaps a little too quickly.

Astarion narrowed his crimson eyes, his gaze seeming to pierce through Jon's very being.

Before Jon could elaborate, a voice cut through the air. "I appreciate your comedic timing, truly, but the King is departing the gates. Would you all be so kind as to be agreeable guests and follow us? Especially considering we are heading towards your former home, Lord Greatwolf?" It was Jaime Lannister, a sardonic smile playing on his lips, reminiscent of his usual amusement at Stark's unwavering sense of honor.

"Pardon us, Ser Jaime. Would you be so kind as to escort us to the King? We are uncertain of his current location," Jon replied smoothly, a practiced smile on his face that anyone with a discerning eye could see was a carefully constructed facade.

The Kingslayer looked down at him, a hint of his usual arrogance returning. "Ordinarily, I would inform you that I am not your personal attendant. However, since the sooner we depart, the sooner we shall return, I shall make an exception. Follow me." With a curt nod, he turned his horse and rode towards the King's retinue, leading their spare horses.

They soon reached the King's party. Robert was in his element, drinking and roaring with laughter alongside his brother Stannis, Lord Arryn, and three other men on horseback. Ser Barristan Selmy kept a watchful eye on the group.

The King spotted them and raised a hand in a boisterous greeting. "Kingslayer! Jon! Come join us and have a drink!"

They mounted their horses and approached the royal party. "Good morning, Your Majesty. I trust you are prepared for our journey. Lord Arryn informed us that we will be meeting the Queen and her children and crossing the Twins," Jon said politely.

Robert let out a booming laugh. "That's right, boy! I initially intended for us to travel by ship. However, we require all available men." His jovial expression abruptly turned serious, a shadow crossing his features. "I do not wish to alarm you, but something is following us. Something terrible and bloody frightening," he stated, leaving the ominous pronouncement hanging in the air.

A sense of unease settled over the four Faerûnians, their senses immediately heightened. But before they could voice their concerns, a young man dressed in crimson, bearing the golden lion of House Lannister on his chest, approached the King. "My King, we are ready to depart. At your command." He then offered Robert a leather wineskin. The King snatched it and took a deep draught, his face flushing crimson as his words slurred slightly.

"About bloody time! What took you so damned long?" he demanded, and the young Lannister stammered, struggling to find a suitable reply. "I-I do not know, Your Grace. I—"

"I don't want excuses, you fool! I simply wish to leave! Hurry yourselves, you imbeciles! I want to reach Winterfell before Ned becomes a grandfather!" he grunted impatiently. A man on horseback sounded a long blast on a hunting horn, and the horses at the forefront of the procession began to move, Robert and his immediate companions following closely behind. The rest of his retinue soon fell in line.

Jon Arryn shook his head, a look of disappointment etched on his aged face. Stannis visibly ground his teeth, while the other two men on horseback uncomfortably averted their gazes. "I am disappointed," one of them began, his voice carrying a familiar timbre, "but not surprised," he finished with a sigh. He possessed the dark hair and piercing blue eyes of the King and Lord Stannis, yet appeared noticeably younger than both.

The other man, whose polished armor was intricately decorated with delicate floral patterns, fought a losing battle against a rising tide of amusement.

Lord Stannis shot them a stern look. "He is your King, Renly. You will not speak of him in such a disrespectful manner." But the younger man, Renly, merely rolled his eyes. "He is also my brother, Stannis. It would hardly be fatal for him to conduct himself with a modicum of decorum." He then turned to Jon and his friends, offering a charming smile. "We haven't formally met yet, have we? My name is Renly of House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. And these are Loras Tyrell, my dearest friend," he said, a peculiar warmth in his gaze as he looked at the flower-adorned knight, who returned the look with equal intensity. "And Ser Beric Dondarrion, Lord of Blackhaven. He is joining our company as a friend."

Jon returned Renly's polite smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Renly. My name is Jon Greatwolf. And these are my companions: Astarion Ancunín, Minsc of Rashemen, and my wife, Jenevelle Hallowleaf."

"He is the son of Lord Eddard Stark," Jon Arryn interjected, "He absconded some five years ago and has now returned to celebrate his brother's nameday." Stannis added his own explanation. "Their vessel was caught in the recent storm, and they somehow managed to make port at Dragonstone."

Lord Beric Dondarrion looked at Jon with genuine surprise. "Lord Stark's son? We have been searching for you for over a year! Where have you been?" Jon was too taken aback to respond, so Lord Arryn answered for him. "On another continent, my Lord. Faerûn, if my memory serves correctly."

"I believe I misheard you, my Lord. We? For over a year?" Jon finally managed to say, his mind reeling. It couldn't be right; why would a southern lord dedicate such resources to finding a northern lord's bastard son?

Lord Beric nodded firmly. "You heard correctly, Lord Greatwolf. Lord Stark is a man held in high regard throughout the Stormlands. As he is in the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Crownlands. When he requested assistance in locating you, a significant number of lords answered his call. Arryn, Baratheon, Royce, Bracken, Blackwood, and even Tarth sent men to aid in the search, but to no avail." After delivering this astonishing news, he offered a warm smile. "I am relieved to know you are well, Lord Stark has not been himself since I last saw him." A pang of guilt twisted in Jon's gut.

"I… Thank you for the assistance you provided Lord Stark, Ser Beric. I truly mean it," Jon said, still reeling from the unexpected revelation.

"By the way, Lord Greatwolf, I had your belongings, your animals, and your crew transferred to another ship. Yours was too severely damaged to be seaworthy again in such a short time," Stannis informed him, and Jon breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Lord Stannis. I had almost forgotten about that."

Stannis nodded curtly. "Ser Davos, Lord Monford Velaryon, and his brother Aurane Waters are in command of the vessel. However, I must ask: why did you not allow your direwolf to remain with the others?"

Ghost, walking beside Jon, seemed to snort disdainfully. "Seriously? I am the sigil of House Stark, and he questions why I walk with someone who has Stark blood?" Jon almost laughed aloud at the direwolf's silent commentary.

"Ghost is a part of me, in a certain way. Where I go, he goes," Jon simply stated. Stannis seemed satisfied with the concise answer, offering no further questions, just a curt nod.

Aside from the usual idle chatter exchanged to pass the time, the remainder of the day's journey was relatively uneventful, leaving Jon to grapple with the unexpected news about his family's efforts to find him. Despite his earlier ambivalence and underlying apprehension about the reunion, a profound sense of unease now settled upon him. He tried to shake it off, telling himself it was just nerves.

After all, Jon Greatwolf mused, a wry, almost fatalistic smile touching his lips, 'what could possibly go wrong?'

Do you think?

Chapter Text

Jaime I

Kingsroad

The further they journeyed from King's Landing, the more the air grew crisp and cold. They had traversed roughly half of the Riverlands, and within a few weeks, they should reach the Twins. Wait for me, Cersei. We are close, Jaime thought, his mind drifting to his twin sister, the most beautiful woman in the world, and his secret lover.

He surveyed their surroundings: guards conversing idly, a line of carriages laden with supplies stretching before him, and, unfortunately, his oafish king of a good brother.

Fat Robert was greedily draining the wineskin, bellowing at Lancel for more. Honestly, had it been anyone other than Lancel, Jaime might have felt a pang of sympathy, but Lancel... a small, involuntary smile tugged at Jaime's lips. Gods have mercy on my uncle, he mused, genuinely. Uncle Kevan and Aunt Dorna had never displayed such profound dimwittedness. But her father… he understood the lineage of the boy's simple mind. At least Willem and Martyn are not suffering such indignities. The absurdity of the scene finally overcame him, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

"Something amusing, Ser Jaime?" Ser Barristan Selmy inquired, his gaze steady. The blonde knight quickly composed himself. "Nothing of consequence, Ser Barristan. Merely thoughts of my family, that is all," he replied smoothly.

The old Lord Commander of the Kingsguard shrugged, seemingly uninterested in further probing. "Ser Preston and Ser Arys are nearing the end of their watch along the perimeter. Soon it will be our turn," he informed Jaime, who nodded in acknowledgment. "Good. And what of our… special wheelhouse? I have not witnessed Lord Stannis and the King so agitated since the siege of Storm's End," Jaime remarked, his gaze fixed on a heavily guarded carriage. It was surrounded by so many soldiers that Jaime wouldn't have been surprised to find half of Dragonstone crammed around it. Lord Stannis himself often walked alongside it, occasionally speaking through the window to young Lady Shireen and the enigmatic red woman.

Ser Barristan's gaze followed Jaime's. "I spoke with Lord Stannis earlier. He has requested a Kingsguard knight be assigned exclusively to Lady Shireen," he revealed, and this piece of information snagged Jaime's attention.

"Truly? Why? She is already the most protected child in the realm; what need does she have for a Kingsguard?" Jaime asked, genuinely perplexed. The situation was becoming increasingly bizarre. First, Lord Stannis transfers a significant portion of Dragonstone's forces to King's Landing, then most of them seem to be clustered around his daughter, and now this?

"From what I gathered, something… untoward occurred on Dragonstone. It involved that fool of House Baratheon. Apparently, he was not the simpleton we believed him to be, and Lady Selyse perished as a result, along with at least a hundred soldiers," Ser Barristan explained, a strange, unsettling light flickering in his eyes. "If His Majesty was uneasy upon Stannis's arrival, he was reportedly terrified by what his brother subsequently relayed."

Jaime stared at him, as if a second head had sprouted from his shoulders. "Our King? Terrorized? What in the seven hells transpired there? And why is this being concealed from us? If this 'fool' is truly so dangerous, surely we should be privy to as much information as possible, shouldn't we?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief and concern.

Ser Barristan nodded in agreement. "I concur with your assessment, but Lord Stannis has stated that Lady Melisandre will deal with this individual should he make an appearance."

This revelation only served to deepen the mystery for Jaime, leaving him with far more questions than answers. He decided to abandon the line of inquiry; his head was already throbbing. "Fine, just inform me when it is my turn to relieve Ser Arys. I wish for this day to end swiftly," he urged his horse forward, distancing himself from Ser Barristan to allow his thoughts to churn in solitude.

Lady Selyse dead. A hundred men dead. All the work of a fool, he snickered derisively. Certainly, and Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are undoubtedly Robert's trueborn children.

Jaime observed the interaction between the corpulent King Robert and Ned Stark's bastard son. Or rather, he watched Robert's boisterous monologue punctuated by his own booming laughter, while the younger man did his utmost to remain at a polite distance. The bastard's wife and companions trailed slightly behind, engaged in their own quiet conversation.

'He's likely the first man in Westeros who actively avoids the King. Even during the reign of the Mad King, people would claw their way to an audience', Jaime mused, a hint of cynical amusement in his thoughts.

"You were such a tiny little thing! When I asked Ned to give you to me, the first thing you did was swat at me with your little hand and try to gnaw on my nose!" Robert roared with laughter, shaking his head at the memory. "Seriously, boy! You were so adorably small, you resembled Tommen and Myrcella! Just with black hair!" Robert declared, oblivious to the subtle tightening of Jaime's jaw at the comparison of his golden-haired children to a bastard. 'Just wait until Cersei hears about this. He'll be begging our father for the Brave Companions', Jaime thought darkly.

"You  held me, Your Grace?" the bastard asked, a genuine shock evident in his voice. Jaime was fairly certain it was the first time the lad had directly addressed the King.

"Of course! I met Ned when he returned to King's Landing with you and your aunt's… spoils. When I asked him to let me hold that little bundle, I swear I thought he'd draw that knife on the table if I so much as breathed the wrong way near you," Robert replied, a wave of nostalgia washing over his features.

Jon Arryn, who had remained a silent observer until that point, chuckled softly. "I recall that day vividly. Ned eyed that dagger on the table with considerable interest as Lord Greatwolf began his… enthusiastic greetings." He and the King then shared another hearty laugh.

Jaime rolled his eyes skyward. Why am I not surprised that the honorable Lord Stark reacted in such a manner? That fucking hypocrite, he thought, the bitter resentment from the Sack of King's Landing still simmering within him.

The mention of Lord Stark's reaction clearly piqued the bastard's interest. He turned to Jon Arryn, his gaze intent. "Lord Stark truly did that?" Jon Arryn nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "They call him the quiet wolf, not the boring wolf. If he trusts you, you've gained a lifetime supply of dry wit."

The bastard paused, a flicker of understanding crossing his features, as if a fundamental truth had just been revealed. But he quickly regained his composure. "I can see that. He used to laugh quite often with his bannermen. Especially Lord Umber and Lord Cassel."

King Robert's laughter boomed anew. "Aye, those two! Especially Lord Umber! That man could hold his liquor!" He took another swig from the wineskin. "It reminds me of those days in the Vale. Me, Ned, and Elbert. Alone we were strong and skilled, but together… oh man, you should have seen us! One day the mountain clans ambushed us; we were returning from a hunt. Just the three of us and a few guards; we were so drunk we could barely remember our own names, but THEN, an ambush! I only had my hammer, Ned had a crossbow, and Elbert… Elbert had the stag's antlers in his hand. Half an hour later, all our guards and the savages were dead. Elbert's reaction? A hearty burp!" At the conclusion of the tale, Lord Arryn and the King shared a brief chuckle before their smiles faded, replaced by expressions of profound sadness and grief.

"Fucking Mad King!" Robert growled, taking another long pull of wine. "Ned always complained about House Bolton and their fondness for flaying, but the Dragons weren't any different. We found Elbert's skin near his corpse; Ned and I had to lead Jon away while the silent sisters prepared his body." He seemed to lose his taste for the wine, abruptly tossing the wineskin to a startled Lancel. Lord Arryn also wore a deeply troubled expression.

Jaime grimaced, the echoes of Elbert Arryn's dying screams still vivid in his memory. That day, he had truly understood why his father had always warned him to fear the North; not all of them were paragons of honor.

His grim thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a small company of horsemen. The leader bore the distinctive colors of House Mallister, while the rest displayed either the Mallister sigil or the leaping trout of House Tully.

The leader bowed respectfully to the King. "My King, it is a great honor to make your acquaintance. My name is Patrek of House Mallister; I have come to escort you to Riverrun."

Despite his earlier inebriation, Robert's response was surprisingly coherent. "Lord Patrek, we appreciate your escort, but we were under the impression that we were heading for the Twins," he said, a hint of confusion in his voice.

Lord Patrek nodded knowingly. "I am aware of your intended destination, Your Majesty, but the Queen and your children had already passed the Golden Tooth, and a raven arrived stating their intention to proceed to Riverrun first, before continuing to the Twins," he explained, clearly hoping not to incur the King's considerable displeasure, Jaime surmised.

The golden knight could hear Robert's frustrated groan. "Dammit, woman! Every time you find a new way to irritate me!" Jaime had to exert every ounce of his self-control to prevent himself to beat the King up.

"This sounds like a private matter; perhaps my companions and I should ride ahead," the bastard suggested, his tone carefully neutral.

If Jaime had been suspicious before, a strong sense of unease now settled within him. 'No man in his right mind goes out of his way to avoid a bloody king. Even if he's a repulsive brute', he thought, his gaze fixed on the black-haired lad.

"Nonsense, Jon! Why would you wish to avoid House Tully? They are kin to House Stark, after all," Robert said, his brow furrowed in confusion.

All eyes turned to 'Lord Greatwolf'. Jaime tried to decipher the emotions flickering across the younger man's face. 'Either he has no desire to meet the Tullys, which is understandable, or he wants to put as much distance as possible between himself and the royal whoremonger, which is also understandable'.

"Well, I am simply eager to be reunited with my family, and given that I have no personal connection to House Tully, I thought I might proceed ahead of your party," he offered, but Jaime could clearly discern the underlying reluctance in his voice.

"We too are eager to reach our destination, Lord Greatwolf. However, we must respect the invitation extended by House Tully and the Queen. It would be highly discourteous of you to disregard her wishes simply because you are in a hurry," Lord Stannis interjected, his tone firm and unwavering. Jaime wasn't surprised; besides Ned Stark, Stannis was the most rigidly moral man he knew.

"I suppose you are correct, my Lord," the bastard conceded, turning to Lord Patrek. "How long will our stay in Riverrun be?" he asked, his voice carrying a strange, almost familiar inflection that pricked at Jaime's memory.

"Merely two days, my Lords. Lord Edmure was prepared to depart immediately and did not wish to delay your journey further," Lord Patrek replied, then hesitated, a question forming on his lips. "May I inquire, my lord, as to your connection with House Stark?"

"He's Ned's son, Lord Patrek. He was on another continent for five years and has returned to celebrate his brother's nameday," Fat Robert blurted out before the bastard could even react. Judging by the look in the younger man's eyes, he was ready to unleash the fury of the Seven Hells upon the King.

"You are Lord Stark's bastard? We all believed you to be dead," Lord Patrek said, his tone more curious than concerned.

"I was not. I was simply in a very distant land," the black-haired lad responded, a hint of irritation lacing his voice. "You mentioned that Lord Edmure was ready to depart. Does that mean he will be attending my brother's nameday?" His eyes conveyed a silent demand for clarification.

Lord Patrek nodded. "Aye, he is. He awaits your arrival at Riverrun and will join the King's retinue for the journey north."

Upon hearing this, Jaime rolled his eyes. 'Do I have to listen to that Tully idiot all the way to Winterfell? Truly? I almost regret killing Aerys'.

He paused, straining his ears to catch the rest of their conversation, but it seemed the discussion had ended, and the entire party finally began to move towards Riverrun.

One of the few redeeming qualities of the Riverlands was the air. Being in close proximity to so many rivers created a refreshing environment, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of King's Landing. Even within the confines of the Red Keep, the pervasive stench of urine and blood was inescapable. Yet, Jaime would always maintain that it was a thousand times preferable to the acrid smell of burned flesh.

'After two bloody days'. This journey is proving even more tiresome than that ill-fated trek to reach the Kingswood Brotherhood, he thought, his annoyance simmering beneath a veneer of forced politeness.

"Not a bad place, this. Is this… the most fertile of the Seven Kingdoms?" the woman with the striking white hair inquired of the bastard.

"The Reach holds that distinction, if my memory serves. The Riverlands are likely second," he replied. "Of course, that only applies to the regions untouched by the incessant wars that plague Westeros. Remember that ruined castle we passed earlier?" His wife nodded. "Yes, of course. Why?"

"That was Harrenhal, the largest castle in Westeros when Aegon the Conqueror initiated his conquest. Harren 'the Black' Hoare refused to bend the knee, and Aegon Targaryen burned the castle with everyone inside. Consider that it remains larger than the Red Keep even in its current state of ruin," he explained to his wife.

"And it was also the place where all the smiles died. Did you know that?" Jaime interjected, a hint of morbid curiosity in his tone.

If the Snow boy was irritated by the unsolicited comment, he didn't betray it. "Indeed, Ser Jaime. I had to inquire with half the servants at Winterfell to learn that; Lord Stark would never speak of it. Too painful for him," he said with a detached air.

"Based on what you've told us, I can hardly fault him. Especially regarding that King Aerys. There's a difference between madness and such blatant disregard for decorum at a public event. As I always say, better a clean slit throat than a badly trimmed coif," the man with the Targaryen-esque appearance commented, and Jaime found himself grudgingly agreeing, though he would never voice such a sentiment aloud.

"I haven't heard you utter that particular gem since we first met," the Snow boy observed.

"I simply haven't had occasion to say it in the past five years; I remind you, I am older than everyone here present," the white-haired man retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jaime raised a skeptical eyebrow. It seemed improbable that the man could be as old as he implied without showing any of the typical signs of aging.

"Or perhaps you just fabricated it to appear intriguing. Forgive me, but it failed," the bastard's wife quipped, a playful smirk on her lips.

The pale man shot her a disdainful look. "I assure you, I have no need to feign coolness. It is an inherent aspect of my being."

"Please refrain from using that word. It sounds… unnatural coming from you," the Snow boy said, his direwolf, Ghost, letting out a low bark in apparent agreement. "I concur with you, Ghost."

The Kingslayer offered a sardonic smile. "Do you converse with animals now? What next? Will you declare yourself a king as well?" he mocked, but instead of anger or offense, the bastard simply laughed.

"Who knows? Perhaps my mother was a queen of some forgotten realm, and my… Lord Stark simply kept it concealed to protect me," he joked, a wry amusement in his eyes.

Frankly, Jaime was growing weary of this enigmatic bastard. He spurred his horse forward, putting distance between himself and the peculiar group.

"You did the right thing when you killed the Mad King, you know," he heard the bastard say from behind him. And for the first time in years, a red haze of fury descended upon Jaime's vision.

He wheeled his horse around, his gaze mirroring the icy fury he had directed at Aerys Targaryen moments before entering Rhaella's chambers. "What does a bastard like you know about what is right?! You were still in your swaddling clothes when I ended that mad dog's reign! Don't you ever lecture me about right or wrong!" he snarled, his voice raw with suppressed emotion. But all he received in return was a blank, unreadable stare. "Tell me, Lord Greatwolf, if you possess such profound insight into morality, what was the most difficult choice you have ever had to make?" he challenged.

"I have had to sacrifice parts of myself to save thousands of lives; I have had to forge alliances with true monsters to free a single man, all to safeguard an entire city; I have had to send two of my dearest friends into a literal hell so that they might live and be free. These are but a fraction of the choices I have made for the greater good, Ser Jaime. I offer you no mockery or disrespect. I was merely being honest," the bastard replied, his voice devoid of inflection, his eyes holding a disturbing lack of light that convinced Jaime of his sincerity.

Realizing he was engaged in a futile battle, Jaime tsked dismissively and spun his horse around, eager to escape their unsettling presence. 'Burn them all! Kingslayer! Oathbreaker! Burn them all! Kingslayer! Oathbreaker! Burn them all! Kingslayer! Oathbreaker! Burn them all! Kingslayer! Oathbreaker! Burn them all! Kingslayer! Oathbreaker! Burn them all! Kingslayer! Oathbreaker!' The venomous whispers seemed to echo in his ears for what felt like an eternity, his chest tightening with a familiar, agonizing pressure. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat a painful reminder of his tarnished reputation. The world around him seemed to recede into a blurry distance.

His breathing grew shallow and rapid, and he was almost certain he was hallucinating. Do not be afraid, Jaime, I am here. His mother's voice, soft and reassuring, a phantom echo from a happier past.

Mother, please! I'm scared! He was on the verge of tears, a vulnerability he hadn't felt since childhood threatening to overwhelm him. His trembling hand instinctively reached for his armor, loosening the collar in a desperate attempt to draw in a deeper breath.

"-ime…"

"-Jaime…"

"Ser Jaime!" He finally registered his name and turned towards the source of the insistent calls. It was Ser Barristan Selmy, his aged face etched with concern.

"Are you alright?! I've been trying to get your attention for the past two minutes!" the old knight said, his voice laced with worry.

The Young Lion forced himself to regain his composure, masking his inner turmoil with a neutral expression. "I am quite well, Ser Barristan. What is amiss?" he said, his tone brooking no further inquiry.

Ser Barristan clearly had more to say, but he respected Jaime's curt dismissal. "I merely wished to inform you that we have arrived at Riverrun. Prepare yourself for our entry." He hesitated, a flicker of unspoken concern in his eyes, before falling silent.

Jaime nodded curtly, urging his horse forward. "Understood. Lead the way."

Finally, the imposing gates of Riverrun came into view, stirring a faint memory in Jaime of his younger days as a guest of Lord Hoster Tully, when a potential betrothal to the trout sigil had been considered by him and his father. Even then, he recalled with a slight shudder, Lysa Tully had possessed a distinct lack of charm.

Before them stood Lord Edmure Tully, flanked by a substantial contingent of Riverlands soldiers. "My King, Riverrun is yours," Lord Edmure declared, bowing low as all the assembled men and women knelt in a display of respect for the monarch, whose primary achievement seemed to be exceeding the combined girth of Viserys I and Aegon IV. In the periphery, Jaime spotted Cersei's ornate wheelhouse, with Tommen and Myrcella playing innocently nearby, while Joffrey observed them with his usual air of disdain. The Hound loomed behind the petulant boy, his posture radiating a clear desire to be anywhere else, a sentiment Jaime wholeheartedly shared. Yet, conspicuously absent was the familiar golden hair of his beloved sister.

His portly good brother dismounted his horse with surprising agility. 'I still marvel at how he manages it', Jaime thought, watching Robert lumber towards the Tully heir. "Lord Edmure, you appear to be in fine form. I trust you have resolved that… unfortunate incident with the swing?" Robert said with a jovial smile, which Edmure eagerly returned. "I have dedicated myself to rigorous training these past ten years, Your Grace. My uncle and the captain of the guard can readily attest to that," Edmure replied with a confident air, though a quick glance at some of the guards suggested his claim might be a slight embellishment.

"When we reach Winterfell, you shall have ample opportunity to demonstrate your progress," Robert said, clapping Edmure heartily on the shoulder before turning his attention to the wheelhouse. "Where in the seven hells is my bloody wife?" he demanded, his tone laced with irritation.

"She is within the wheelhouse, my King. She instructed us not to disturb her until your arrival, so we could inform her when we were ready to depart," the heir of Riverrun answered, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face at the King's crude reference to his queen.

Robert sighed heavily. "Fine. All of you! Prepare yourselves! I wish to reach Winterfell with all possible haste!" he bellowed, his voice booming across the courtyard. 'So, he can manage to act like a king on occasion. I'm almost impressed. Almost. But at least this accursed journey is nearing its end', Jaime thought, only to have his musings interrupted by a familiar, sardonic voice. "Might I implore you to descend from your high horse, Ser Jaime? My neck is experiencing an unprecedented level of pain." Jaime spun around to locate the speaker and saw his younger brother, Tyrion, regarding him with an upturned gaze.

A genuine smile spread across Jaime's face at the sight of his impish sibling. "Finally, my eyes behold something truly agreeable, brother! How fare you?" Tyrion shrugged nonchalantly, but his characteristic smirk remained firmly in place. "I diligently inspected all the brothels in the Westerlands to ascertain any illicit activities, but alas, nothing untoward was discovered. I also thoroughly interrogated and examined the working women there, in great detail, but to no avail," he quipped, and Jaime let out a hearty laugh. His little brother possessed the singular ability to elicit genuine amusement from him, Cersei being the only other, and her smiles were usually reserved for the confines of their bedchamber.

"Come now! Take a horse and ride alongside me! I crave laughter and answers. What brings you to this muddy corner of the realm?" Jaime asked. Tyrion procured a nearby horse and maneuvered it close to his brother. "Two primary motivations: firstly, I harbor a profound desire to urinate upon the Wall, thereby allowing me to claim the distinction of being the tallest man in the world, at least for a fleeting moment. Secondly, have you ever… fraternized with a woman of the North? I insist that my esteemed member become intimately acquainted with the inhabitants of every kingdom before my dwindling finances necessitate its unfortunate severance," he answered with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, eliciting another burst of laughter from Jaime.

"Very well, I propose you a deal: you will endeavor to keep me thoroughly entertained until our arrival at Winterfell, and in return, I will pay for you every woman you bring in your bed. Deal?" Jaime offered, extending his hand. Tyrion clasped it with a knowing grin. "Let us hope you won't break this promis" he quipped.

Jaime gripped his brother's hand firmly. "Never."

"Maybe I misheard you, Tyrion; did you just say you've acquired a squire and a sellsword?" Jaime questioned, his gaze shifting between his brother and the young, somewhat nervous-looking boy, then settling on the bearded man with a weathered face and a wickedly curved knife strapped to his hip.

"Aye, brother. Allow me to introduce you to Podrick of House Payne and Bronn of House…" Tyrion began, gesturing towards each in turn.

"The one with women" the sellsword answered.

"And now the impetus behind your hiring him becomes abundantly clear," Jaime added, half-jokingly. "But a squire? Why the sudden interest in chivalry?"

"Because, dear brother, I require someone literate to handle my… correspondence with potential conquests. I find it rather taxing to engage in amorous pursuits and negotiate terms simultaneously," Tyrion answered with a smile. "That, and Uncle Kevan rather strongly suggested I provide this lad with employment. Squiring for the heir to Casterly Rock seemed a fitting role, even he's quite old for it."

"Let me hazard a guess; Father remains blissfully unaware of this arrangement, does he not?" Jaime inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"He's not a woman, he won't risk anything," Tyrion retorted quickly, but a subtle, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice struck Jaime like a physical blow, dredging up a well of guilt and self-loathing.

You can't even imagine how much I hate myself for what happened to her, but I know with absolute certainty that you would hate m for the rest of our days if I tell you the truth, Jaime thought with a pang of grief, carefully masking his inner turmoil with a reassuring pat on his brother's back and a confident smile. "You're perfectly right. He's not."

Tyrion beamed, then gestured for Podrick to pour him some wine. After taking a generous swallow, his gaze drifted towards the 'Faerûnian' group. "And who are these… exotic individuals? New companions of our esteemed King?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"The brooding lad with the dark hair is Ned Stark's bastard, Jon Snow. Or Jon 'Greatwolf,' as he prefers to be called. The woman with the silver locks is his wife, Jenevelle Hallowleaf. The names of the other two… elude I don't know. Don't care"

"Ned Stark's bastard? He has finally returned? Where in the seven hells has he been hiding? Braavos? Lys? Ah, wait, I have it! The Summer Isles!" Tyrion exclaimed, attempting to guess the prodigal son's whereabouts.

"Nay, nay, and thrice nay. A continent known as… Feerûn. All of his companions hail from that distant land."

"Faerûn," Tyrion corrected, a thoughtful expression on his face. "And it is quite remarkable that a bastard from the rigid North, possessing no resources, managed to reach a continent that has eluded even the most seasoned adventurers and intrepid sailors, few of whom ever return." Jaime detected a subtle note of admiration in his brother's voice.

"You wish to engage him in conversation," Jaime stated, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes, I really want to know the wonders of Faerûn" Tyrion confirmed, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. Jaime knew his brother far too well to mistake that look.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. A brief exchange wouldn't harm anyone. "Fine. Just try to not attempt to fuck his wife, alright" he half-joked.

"Have no worry. Though, purely out of academic curiosity, would you cut me in vertical or horizontal if you were him?" Tyrion quipped, but Jaime was spared the need to formulate a response as his younger brother, accompanied by Bronn and a somewhat bewildered Podrick, immediately strode towards the 'Faerûnian' group.

Jaime watched them go, a genuine smile gracing his features. If not for Tyrion's constant wit and occasional wisdom, he likely would have fallen into depression years ago. Thankfully, his brother was here, and everything was fine.

"BURN THEM ALL!" Everything is fine.

Nothing is fine. Especially not for him.

Chapter Text

Kingsroad

Jon and his wife positioned themselves near the King, engaging in quiet conversation, a subtle buffer against the boisterous pronouncements and courtly exchanges of the Westerosi lords.

"Listen, I know it's an unpopular opinion, but I genuinely believe we could expand our territories. What if we approached Isobel and Aylin regarding the Lands? We give them the ladyship of Moonrise Towers," Jon suggested, his voice low.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. What kind justification would you offer when they inevitably ask as to why you're annexing territories to Baldur's Gate?" Jenevelle countered, her brow furrowed in thought.

"That the Lands have been fractured and cursed by our divisions. I'm not advocating for a sweeping unification of Baldur's Gate with Waterdeep and Neverwinter, but if we're already venturing into the Underdark, why not extend our borders to them? I mean, we did restore it to a paradise," he reasoned.

"Well, yes, but what actual benefits would such an expansion yield? If the core issue was their lack of unity, then establishing robust commercial alliances with essential goods should suffice," she objected pragmatically.

"They had such alliances before, and Ketheric Thorm was a direct consequence," Jon said, his hand instinctively touching the center of his chest, the memory of that fight still vivid. "I simply believe that united, we would be stronger and more resilient."

Jenevelle's gaze softened with sadness as she observed his instinctive gesture. She was about to respond when King Robert's booming voice cut through their quiet exchange.

"Jon! Jenevelle! Come here! We want to hear tales of Foerun!" he bellowed, and Jon had to suppress a wince.

"I'm not certain if this is the opportune moment, Your Grace. Perhaps I should save my tales until we reach Winterfell, where I might have a more… larger audience," Jon attempted to demur.

"Are you refusing a direct command from your King, bastard?" the blonde Prince Joffrey sneered, his lip curling in disdain. "Perhaps a broken leg or two would serve to remind you of your very place." He was about to issue an order to the scarred man lurking nearby when his father's voice thundered, "YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!"

The Prince recoiled, his demeanor shifting abruptly to one of terrified obedience. "But Father! He disobeyed to your direct order!" he cried.

"He just refused to tell a story! And I would never punish someone for this kind of shit!"

"But this bastard defied your command!" Joffrey sputtered, his indignation warring with his fear.

"It was not a command, you insolent whelp! And if I hear you threaten someone else again, I shall curtail your allowances for a month! Now hush,!" Robert roared, effectively silencing his petulant heir, though Joffrey continued to shoot venomous glances at Jon.

"Anyway" the King continued, his tone slightly mollified, "if you think your tales best saved for a later date, very well. But at least grant us a brief glimpse into this… Faerûn."

And now Jon coulnd't refuse the King's request. "If it pleases Your Grace. Faerûn is approximately five times the size of Westeros, and its diverse regions far surpass the variety found here. The largest and most significant city is Baldur's Gate, a bustling port and my home. Its supreme authority is the Grand Duke, currently Ulder Ravengard. A Grand Duke holds a position analogous to a King. However, unlike the latter, the title is not inherited by blood but rather the successor is chosen by the predecessor, without any regard for gender, origin, or social standing. The current Grand Duke was a blacksmith of no noble lineage whatsoever," he explained.

"What, then, are the criteria for such a lofty position if anyone can ascend to become a Grand Duke?" Ser Loras Tyrell questioned, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Merit. The sole means of becoming a Grand Duke is to convince the existing court and, most importantly, the Grand Duke himself, that you possess the same level of competence and worthiness that they exhibited during their tenure."

"So, it is a meritocracy of sorts?" Lord Stannis Baratheon asked, his gaze sharp. If any man in Westeros held the belief that merit should supersede birthright, it was he and Lord Stark.

"In a manner of speaking. It varies depending on the specific office or title. A lordship, for instance, is sometimes hereditary," Jon clarified, and at these words, Lord Stannis nodded, his interest clearly piqued.

Jon glanced at the Lord of Dragonstone, recalling the King's earlier ominous words. "If I may, Lord Stannis, His Majesty mentioned something… disturbing and frightening. Does it perhaps involve the wheelhouse and those guards?"

Stannis visibly clenched his jaw, a struggle evident on his face as he considered his response. "Lord Greatwolf, do you and your companions believe in… monsters and the undead?" he finally asked, his voice low and grave.

"Yes," all four Faerûnians replied in unison, causing a ripple of raised eyebrows among the Westerosi, though no one dared to comment.

"When I was but a boy," Stannis started, "my father and mother embarked on a voyage to Essos. The King before my brother, Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, commanded them to secure a Valyrian bride for Prince Rhaegar"—beside him, Robert let out a low growl at the mention of the Prince's name—"so they prepared a ship and set sail for Volantis. After several moons, we received a missive stating their imminent return, accompanied by a… fool, a man of such extraordinary humor that he would bring laughter to all." His grip on the reins tightened, the painful memories of that time flooding his mind.

"We awaited their arrival on the battlements of Storm's End when a violent storm ravaged their ship; none survived the wreck. Yet, three days later, the guards discovered a man washed ashore, his mind utterly shattered. We have believed him to be the jester my father had written of for years, particularly given his erratic behavior in the days that followed. But we were mistaken. He was a… monster, an ice-breathing monstrosity that cursed my daughter with the Greyscale and murdered my wife. Some weeks past, my daughter remarked that his conduct had become even more peculiar than usual, but I… I foolishly dismissed it. And that has proven to be my gravest error," he concluded, his voice as he cast a sorrowful glance towards the wheelhouse where his daughter resided.

He turned his gaze back to Jon and his companions. "I know this sounds utterly fantastical, but you must believe me; one of the primary reasons we have undertaken this journey is because—" he began, but Jon swiftly interrupted.

"Have you observed any specific weaknesses?"

"What do you mean?" Stannis asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Sunlight? Fire? Divine intervention?" Jon enumerated concisely.

"I… I believe he recoiled when some of our guards accidentally dropped a torch," Stannis said hesitantly, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Jon listened intently, his mind racing. "Would you permit my direwolf to remain near your daughter? He possesses a gentle nature with children, and his senses are far more acute than those of ordinary animals. He would provide an additional layer of protection."

"Why would you make such an offer? And why should I accept? I have entrusted my most loyal guards to her safety, and my own priestess attends to her needs," Stannis countered, his suspicion evident. While he was undeniably grateful for any potential safeguard for Shireen, he needed to ascertain the motivations behind the unusual proposition.

"Firstly, I am not so naive as to believe you would joke about this kind of matter, especially given the considerable resources you are deploying to protect your daughter. Secondly, she is a child; what kind of monster would willingly allow a child to die?! No, do not answer that. I know know who" Jon said.

The royal court raised an eyebrow, but before anyone could voice their questions, the distinct sound of horns echoed through the air, signaling their imminent arrival at the Twins.

"It appears our discussion must be postponed, Lord Greatwolf. However, if your generous offer remains, I would be deeply grateful to have your direwolf near my daughter," Lord Stannis said before spurring his horse forward.

Once the four Faerûnians were momentarily alone, Astarion fixed Jon with a ironic gaze. "Minthara?"

"Minthara," Jon confirmed, his expression changed into a smile.

Twins

"So you're Ned Stark's bastard," a voice drawled, and they turned to see a red-clad dwarf approaching, a cup of wine in one hand and a book tucked under his other arm, the sigil of a golden lion prominent on his doublet.

"What makes you think I am a bastard?" Jon replied, his tone neutral as they paused their meal.

"Lord Stark is your father, Lady Stark is not your mother, and I'm willing to wager that your mother wasn't wed to your father. Ergo, you are a bastard," the dwarf stated matter-of-factly.

Jon lightly frowned. "Fair enough" But his expression soon softened into a polite smile. "And you are Lord…?" he prompted, inviting the dwarf to complete the introduction, though he already suspected his identity.

"Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf of Casterly Rock. You've likely heard tales of my monstrous nature," Tyrion said with a sardonic twist of his lips.

Astarion rolled his eyes. "If being a dwarf equates to being a monster, then at least one-eighth of the Faerûnian population would be deeply offended and prety upset."

"Excuse me?" Tyrion said, likely having misheard the pale elf's remark.

"Dwarves are not monsters; they are simply people of shorter stature," Jenevelle clarified, then hesitated. "No, wait. That's… potentially racist. Help?" she appealed to her companions.

Jon held up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't look at me; I'm still trying to differentiate between dwarves and particularly short children."

"And I am racist. So I would say worst" Astarion added dryly.

"A dwarf is a small person with sturdy limbs, shorter than most humans. They are exceptionally skilled in crafting and forging, and their trust is earned over decades, if not centuries," Minsc explained patiently. He then turned to Boo. "Did I miss anything, Boo?"  

Jon gestured to the seat beside him. "Sit down, Lor Tyrion, just try not to be overly dramatic. Westeros may despise bastards, but legitimate sons usually fare better."

"All dwarves are bastards in their fathers' eyes," Tyrion quipped as he awkwardly moved himself onto the offered seat. "My apologies, but I am unfamiliar with your names," he said to Jon's companions.

Following the introductions, Tyrion turned to Jon with a sly smile. "Ten and nine, and you've managed to marry a woman whose beauty surpasses even that of my sister," he commented, though the visible scar on Jenevelle's face tempered his compliment somewhat.

"Forgive me, but you're not my type," she retorted with a playful smile before taking a sip of her own wine.

"I wouldn't dare anything. I know about my status of half-man, and your husband would happily reduce me to a quarter-man at the slightest inappropriate comment" Tyrion joked.

"Not that impulsive, I assure you. I'm more inclined towards subtle methods. Perhaps a poison, or a visit by Astarion during your sleep," Jon countered with a mock-serious tone.

Tyrion laughed. "At least you possess a commendable sense of humor." But his laughter faded slightly when no one joined him. "That was a joke, wasn't it?" he asked, a hint of genuine uncertainty in his voice.

"Do you want to find it out?" Jenevelle asked back smiling.

"Point taken," Tyrion conceded, and the conversation shifted as Podrick and Bronn finally joined them.

"Lord Tyrion, Ser Jaime was willing to know if you wished speak with him in private," the young squire announced.

Tyrion smiled at Podrick and the message. "Inform him I shall be along presently." He rose from his seat. "My Lords, my Lady, it has been a distinct pleasure. But Jon, allow me to impart a piece of hard-earned wisdom, bastard. Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

Jon offered a small smile and raised his cup in a silent toast. "To all the bastards in this world." He then took a drink.

Tyrion returned the smile and departed to speak with his brother.

As soon as he was out of earshot, a palpable wave of hatred and disgust emanated from Jon and his companions. "How much to let me kill his father?" Astarion asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Not now, my patience is already stretched thin; I don't want to dwell on these thoughts," Jenevelle said, refilling her wine cup with anger.

Jon took his and topped off his own drink. "Wise words indeed. I told you Westeros was a far worse than Faerûn; at least there you die with your soul relatively intact, excluding ceremorphosis ."

"Well, at least we didn't bring Karlach here," Astarion muttered, a shudder running through his pale frame.

A collective shudder rippled through the group. "You are absolutely right. If she were present, the situation would have already escalated to a rather… heated point," Jon quipped, but the blank stares he received from Jenevelle and Astarion indicated his joke had fallen flat. Only Minsc offered a chuckle. "If you spit anoter pun again, I'll tell Yenna of your stealing of her cake" Jenevelle threatened, her eyes narrowing.

Jon's eyes widened in mock horror. "Please, no! I can barely manage the chaotic energy of one demon child; two would surely be my end!" he pleaded dramatically.

"Then, for the love of all that is holy, do us a favor and shut the fuck up," Astarion begged, he was clearly exhausted.

Jon groaned in exasperation. "Fine, I'll try to find other ways of having fun, especially those that do not involve exorbitant bills for property damage."

"You know, I hadn't noticed it before, but without Arabella and Yenna, the atmosphere is much more… tranquil. No unexpected explosions, no spontaneous acts of arson, and, most importantly, NO IMPORTED SILK BEING UTILIZED AS A DOG DRYING TOWEL!" Astarion exclaimed, his voice rising with remembered outrage.

"That was three moons ago, and they apologized profusely a dozen times ! AND I replaced the ruined silks with ten new bolts for you; give them a bloody break!" Jon retorted, his own temper fraying.

"It was silk woven with the very essence of a Yochlol! I paid a king's ransom merely to learn of its existence! Ten bolts of your mundane imported silk wouldn't equal a single button crafted from a dress of it!" Astarion vehemently argued.

"Ugh, fine. They messed up. But they aren't here now, so try to enjoy this peace while it lasts," Jon conceded, pouring more wine into Astarion's cup.

"Pathetic attempts at humor, but surprisingly sounds good. I suppose I can tolerate it," Astarion conceded with a wry smirk.

Faerûn, Baldur's Gate, Wyrm's Rock Fortress

The Faerûnian summer sun shone brightly. In Jon's absence, Jaheira capably managed thedirectives of building, while Wyll dealt with the economy. Though their approaches were different from Jon's, they handled the majority of responsibilities with great efficiency. Jaheira's children also contributed in their own ways: Jord and Rion served as liaisons with the Harpers and the Flaming Fist, respectively, while the younger ones delivered messages to various political figures. Karlach, meanwhile, patrolled the city streets alongside the Watch, her imposing presence proving a significant deterrent to most criminals – at least the intelligent ones; for the less astute, the sight of a flaming giant tiefling holding a dragon-slaying sword on her shoulder was usually enough.

Jord retreated to the quiet sanctuary of his room after a long day, eager to tend to his prized mushroom collection. Finally, he could relax, especially knowing his turn of keeping an eye on the girls was over.

"Oy, Jord, have you seen Arabella and Yenna?" Rion burst into his room, her expression slightly frantic.

He didn't tore his gaze away from the mushroom on his hand. "Uhm, no? Wasn't it your turn to supervise the two miniature terrors?" he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "I know that; I just went to the bathroom while they were studying, and when I returned, poof! Gone."

He sighed, carefully placing the mushroom on the table before rising. "Farewell to my breaktime. Fine, I'll helpyou; let's make this quickly, or mother will be a pain."

Before they could even begin their search, Karlach stormed into the room, her fiery aura radiating palpable anxiety. "Hey kids, have you seen Arabella and Yenna?" she demanded, her voice tight with worry.

"We were just about to look for them; is something wrong?" Rion asked. Suddenly, the door where Karlach lied her hand on got four stripes from her nails. 

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that you lost them?" Karlach's voice rose in alarm.

"I left them for a ten minutes to use the bathroom; we'll find them. I mean, they're what? Fourteen? It's hardly a catastrophe," Rion said with confidence, but Karlach's claws scraped against the wooden doorframe again, destroying it.

"You two just allowed two destructive gremlins to walk around unwatched! Arabella and Yenna could be anywhere by now, wreaking everything without the eyes of at least ten adults!"

"Okay, they might be a bit… chaoutic, but to label them 'destructive' is a slight over-" Rion's protest was abruptly cut short by tendrils of flame erupting from Karlach's tiefling hair.

"WYLL! ARABELLA AND YENNA HAVE GONE!" she bellowed, her voice echoing through the room, causing the siblings to jump back in startled fear.

"Is it really that bad?" Jord asked in a hushed tone, his expression confused.

They watched as Karlach barked orders at the terrified servants, directing them to search every corner of the castle. Scorched footprints marked her frantic passage across the stone floor.

"Nah, I think she's just being overly protective. Maybe Arabella can be a little… unsettling with her magic and those weird monk moves, but come on, they're just kids. We'll be fine," Rion insisted, though her voice lacked its earlier conviction.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN OWLIE HAS GONE TOO!?!?" Karlach shrieked, her voice laced with utter panic.

Kingsroad

"Alright guys, be careful here; we've passed the Neck and are now in the territory of House Reed," Jon instructed his companions.

"It wouldn't be a problem for you since the North loves bastards, wouldn't it?" Edmure Tully interjected sarcastically.

Jon groaned in exasperation. "Are you Tullys naturally inclined to be assholes, or you and your sister are the exceptions?" he retorted, his own sarcasm dripping.

"Haven't you been taught to respect your superiors? Don't you dare speak to me in that manner," Edmure snapped, his face reddening.

"I wasn't aware that loud-mouthed trouts held a superior position to those who know how to cook them!" Jon shot back.

"Behave yourselves! Both of you! You are both Lords; act of consequence," Jon Arryn interjected sternly.

Lord Edmure promptly clamped his mouth shut, though he continued to glare daggers at Jon, who just tsked and moved ahead, followed by his wife and friends.

"How dare he address me in such a way? He's a bastard; he should know his place!" Edmure muttered indignantly.

"Lord Edmure!" Jon Arryn's tone held a note of warning.

"Am I wrong, Lord Arryn? I am a Lord; he is not. He shouldn't behave as if he can aspire to something greater."

"He is the son of your goodbrother, bastard or not. And you initiated this exchange with your provocation. What did he do to deserve your behavior?" Jon Arryn reminded him patiently.

"His existence is an insult to my sister! What kind of brother would allow this kind of disrespect to stand?!" Edmure exclaimed, his voice rising.

"He bears no responsibility for his birth; he didn't ask to be born," Jon Arryn pointed out gently.

"And yet Lord Stark persisted in raising him alongside his legitimate children, the children of my sister," Edmure said with a visible shudder of disgust.

Jon Arryn sighed; it was clear this would be a protracted and likely fruitless discussion.

"Permission to kill him?" Astarion had already mentally thought three distinct methods of cooking the Tully lord and making it look an heroic act.

"Not... yet. Just give him a mild poison to make him shit at no-stop. I want him to experience the delightful sensation of drinking wine and spit it from the other extremity; eating fish and… well, you get the idea. Wait, that last part is bordering on cannibalism," Jon mused.

"Does he need to be aware of our involvement?" Astarion inquired.

"Yes, but ensure he is sufficiently terrified to divulge our little intervention to anyone," Jon instructed.

"Has it always been like this?" Minsc asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

Jon frowned, unpleasant memories surfacing. "Only when Tully or her septas were present, especially Mordane. Once they managed to corner me, they would launch into lectures about the sinfulness of my existence and how I should be eternally grateful for the opportunity to serve others. Thank the gods, Lord Stark came in and had a... particular choice of words to express his displeasure," he recounted, a hint of lingering bitterness in his voice.

Silence for a brief moment, they listened what he said before... 

"I am going to kill those fuckingbitches. And if you attempt to dissuade me, I will inform Arabella that you were the one who stole her Giant Eagle egg," Jenevelle declared, her voice carrying the same chilling intensity Jon had only witnessed when she was contemplating the demise of Lae'zel.

"I am telling you this one last time! SHE. IS. THE. MOTHER. OF. MY. SIBLINGS. They care deeply for her. So please, stop this vengeful thoughts. I don't want to cause my family further pain," Jon pleaded, his voice strained.

Jenevelle and Astarion sighed at the same time. "Very well, we won't do anything until your family still cares about her" she conceded, and Jon suddenly realized the implication of his words.

"You know what? Fine. I only know that if this continues, my hair will turn prematurely white," he said, a sigh escaping his lips.

Suddenly, an arrow whistled past Jon and Jenevelle, embedding itself in a nearby tree. A few dozen small, shadowy figures emerged from the dense undergrowth.

Jenevelle and Astarion instinctively drew Least Expected and Dead Shot, but Jon stepped protectively in front of them. "NO!"

"What the-? Jon, what are you doing?!" Jenevelle demanded, her eyes wide with surprise and alarm.

"They're crannogmen; this is their standard greeting for anyone traversing the Neck," Jon explained, turning towards the diminutive warriors. "We are not enemies! We travel with King Robert Baratheon!" he announced.

One of the crannogmen stepped forward cautiously. "Can you provide proof of this claim?"

"He's right behind us. Give it a moment, and he will arrive," Jon assured them. True to his word, a contingent of horsemen soon crested a small rise, the banner of House Baratheon of King's Landing fluttering prominently in the breeze. "Clear the path for Robert of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!" one of the riders announced. The crannogmen immediately lowered their weapons and knelt respectfully.

They waited for the King's lumbering arrival so they could continue their journey under his protection.

"Where in the seven hells were you going?" the King mumbled, his speech clearly slurred with drink.

"Our apologies, Your Grace. We were… distracted and inadvertently strayed too far ahead," Jon explained.

"The company of the King is so insignificant that you attempt to flee, bastard?" Prince Joffrey sneered.

"Can you just be quiet!? Why is everything coming from your mouth shit!?" King Robert snapped at Joffrey, his patience seemingly at its breaking point. He looked as though he might strike his son, and perhaps for that reason, the boy finally fell silent.

Lord Stannis stepped forward and addressed the crannogman closest to Jon. "Are you the leader of this group?"

The man raised his head and nodded. "Gareth, my Lord. We have been awaiting your arrival since we received word that you had successfully crossed the Neck."

"How could you possibly know the precise moment of our crossing? There are days of travel between here and the Neck, and an immeasurable expanse of marsh!" Lord Edmure exclaimed incredulously.

Jon rolled his eyes. "They know this land better than anyone else present. Besides, I spotted one of their scouts a day ago, so I took the precaution of being prepared"

"If you were aware of their presence, why did you remain silent?" Edmure demanded.

"Because scouting is precisely the job of a scout. And there is likely no man in House Reed who understands the meaning of betrayal. They are not our enemies; we are safe."

Lord Stannis nodded thoughtfully and addressed Gareth. "What are your instructions?"

"To guide the King and his retinue to Moat Cailin, where they will meet Lord Manderly before proceeding to Winterfell."

"Very well, lead the way."

The Heroes of the Gate gathered near the King (though maintaining a respectful distance), and the royal procession resumed its march.

"What is this Lord Manderly like?" Jenevelle asked Jon.

"Two feats: fat and kind. Most of the Northern lords were exceedingly kind to me, and Lord Manderly wasn't an exception. Be polite, and he'll be of his own," Jon answered.

"Boo just reminded me that you always spoke fondly of the northmen," Minsc added.

"Of course, I do! They are the best of the best! I've also told you about the friends I had before I left Winterfell, like Smalljon Umber or Jojen Reed, and my brother Robb," Jon said, a genuine warmth entering his voice.

Astarion, ever observant, noticed the shift in Jon's demeanor and offered a rare, genuine smile. "So, you can smile when we're in Westeros. For a moment, I thought we had lost our eternally man child."

"Oh, so you do see me as a son! Thank you, Father!" Jon retorted with a smirk.

"Watch your insolent tongue, boy! I am the eldest here! Show some respect!" Astarion exclaimed dramatically, eliciting laughter from the rest of their group.

Meanwhile, Robert and Jon Arryn had been listening to their exchange with growing concern. "What in the seven hells happened to make Ned's son flee his own home?" Robert asked worriedly.

"I honestly don't know, Robert. We should certainly talk with Ned upon our arrival. However, I am more troubled by the ease with which he refers to Lord Astarion as 'father,' even as a joke," Jon Arryn replied, his brow furrowed.

The Demon of the Trident sighed heavily. "I can only hope that he and Ned can find peace. Ned was dying of pain and worry when his son left".

Moat Cailin

"My King," Lord Wyman Manderly began, kneeling alongside the rest of the assembled Northmen, "House Manderly pledges its unwavering loyalty in all the wars to come."

"The first Northern face I've seen in years! Lord Manderly! In the flesh!" Robert boomed jovially, eliciting laughter from all the Lords present (with the exception of Stannis), even Lord Manderly himself.

"And my heart overflows with joy at the honor of seeing Your Grace again," Lord Manderly replied, rising. His eyes then widened considerably as they fell upon Jon. "Is that…?"

Robert followed Lord Manderly's gaze. "Uh? Ah! Yes! Come here, Jon!" The young man complied, approaching Lord Manderly with his companions in tow. Upon reaching him, Jon offered a warm smile. "It gladdens me to see you well, Lord Manderly." He then turned to the two younger men standing beside him. "Lord Wylis, Lord Wendel, it is a great pleasure to see you both again."

They returned his smile and bowed their heads. "The sentiment is mutual, Jon."

"Now he's a Lord! Lord Jon Greatwolf from that continent called… uh… what in the seven hells was its name again?" Robert chuckled.

"Faerûn, Your Grace. I resided there for five years. Allow me to introduce my friends: Astarion, Minsc, and…" he took Jenevelle's hand, his gaze softening, "my wife, Jenevelle Hallowleaf."

The six eyes of the Manderly men nearly popped from their sockets, while Robert roared with laughter. "I had a similar reaction when I first laid eyes on her! Scars aside, she's a true gem!"

Lord Manderly regained his composure and offered Jenevelle a gracious smile. "What a delightful surprise, Lady Jenevelle! My name is Lord Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor. And these are my two sons, Wylis and Wendel." They were still visibly taken aback by her beauty, but a sharp, pointed cough from Jon snapped them back to attention. "A pleasure, my Lady," they stammered in unison.

"The pleasure is all mine!" she replied, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Let's make haste! We have but a week to reach Winterfell before Ned's son's nameday! No one here wishes to miss the occasion, do they?" Robert bellowed, his enthusiasm infectious.

Soon after, they mounted their horses and resumed their journey towards Winterfell.

A week passed, and Jon and Jenevelle found themselves in conversation with Lord Manderly.

"So, it is perfectly normal for women in Faerûn to travel clad in armor and bearing weapons?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Indeed. Imagine it as a larger version of Dorne and Bear Island, but with much more violence," Jon explained.

Lord Manderly stared at them, visibly shocked. "It hardly sounds like a safe place to reside," he commented.

"Oh, trust me, it is a paradise once you are used to it."

"Jon, you're frightening him," Ghost materialized beside Jon, his voice a low rumble.

"Ghost! What are you doing here? You were meant to be with Lady Shireen," Jon said, surprised by the direwolf's sudden appearance.

"Is this your direwolf?! It's as large as a warhorse!" Lord Manderly exclaimed, a note of concern in his voice.

"The direwolves in our histories have never been described as being so... big!" Wendel added, equally astonished.

"I honestly couldn't say. Perhaps it's the diet or the environment," Jon offered lamely.

"By the way, the red woman instructed me to return as we are nearing our destination. She mentioned something about her god and you. Didn't understand, didn't care," Ghost informed him dismissively.

"In any case, thank you again for overseeing the transport of our belongings, Lord Manderly. Robb's gift was among our possessions," Jon said, pointedly ignoring Ghost's cryptic message while giving the direwolf a knowing look.

"Oh, please! When the King's men arrived with your goods, all I could do was comply," the Lord of White Harbor chuckled.

"I cannot wait to see Lord Stark's reaction when he'll see you alive. And with a wife!" Wylis exclaimed, prompting Jenevelle to raise a questioning eyebrow.

"What are you talking about? Jon informed him via letter that…" she trailed off, her gaze snapping to Jon, who was quietly humming the tune of 'Hell's Coming With Me'.

"Jon?" she began, her voice deceptively calm.

"Yes?" he replied, feigning innocence.

"Does Lord Stark know about me? After all, you sent that letter the day after our wedding," she stated, her tone dangerously level.

"Oh, well... heheheh... there is a very, very slight possibility that I may have forgotten to mention you at all in the letter. So, your presence might come as a bit of a... surprise for him." He didn't even have time to finish his sentence before he had to frantically dodge Jenevelle's incoming mace. "WAIT! LET'S DISCUSS THIS RATIONALLY BEFORE YOU DO SOMETHING WE'LL BOTH REGRET!" he pleaded, scrambling to evade her renewed assault.

"I'm about to meet your family for the first time, and you didn't even mention me?! YOU ARE A FUCKING MORON!" she roared, spurring her horse into a gallop, Jon following suit in a desperate attempt to escape her wrath, all under the bewildered gazes of the assembled company.

"See? I told you he was an idiot," Astarion remarked to Minsc, a smug look on his face.

"Minsc and Boo wholeheartedly concur with your assessment, Astarion," the ranger replied.

"Women are permitted to have such... spirited marital disputes in Faerûn?" Lord Beric Dondarrion asked, genuinely surprised.

"Ha! At least Jon doesn't have a wife like mine!" Robert bellowed, taking a large swig of wine. "Come on! I don't want them to arrive before us!" he urged his horse forward, and the rest of the company followed suit.

Meanwhile, Jenevelle was relentlessly pursuing Jon, the mace whistling menacingly through the air.

"We both know you can't hit me! Why don't you just yield?" Jon taunted, momentarily forgetting the volatile nature of his wife's temper. The instant he saw her predatory smile, he knew he had made a grave error.

With a swift, practiced motion, she produced a 'Hold Monster' scroll and cast the spell, instantly immobilizing Jon's horse.

The sudden stop sent Jon flying through the air. "DAMMIT!"

"OW!" The impact of the fall wasn't catastrophic, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. Okay, I deserved that. But at least it couldn't get worse, he thought, groaning in discomfort.

"Hey! Are you alright?!" a voice called out, laced with concern.

"Yes. Just give me a few minutes," Jon grunted, trying to catch his breath.

"That voice... JON!?" the voice screamed, a mixture of disbelief and elation. Jon finally opened his eyes, his vision swimming slightly.

Standing over him, his face a mask of shock and overwhelming emotion, was Ned Stark.

'Why can't I ever just keep my godsdamn mouth shut?!'

Chapter Text

Ned POV I

Eddard Stark, Head of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, was observing the view from the walls of Winterfell. He, as the rest of his family and banners, was waiting for Lord Manderly and Robert. They were supposed to arrive in a few hours.

Although he loved Robert's company, he really didn't think he was able to put up with his foolishness, especially when he heard about the next winter. Luwin told him that the next winter may last over ten years; even with all the kingdoms put together, at least a tenth of the population will die.

'It doesn't matter how you see it. The winters can be even worse than wars', over that, he also had to handle the costs for Robb's nameday, and even if Ned will never say he won't give his elder son a great party, the costs that Catelyn suggested almost killed him. 'With this party we can help Robb to find a proper bride, and with the arrival of the King you can discuss with him about the next winter. There will be my brother and many other high-ranking lords. You can talk to them all together with the rest of the northern lords. And you can make alliances using marriages! Think about Sansa! She and the crown Prince are the same age' she told him. It was a good plan, true, but he is damned if he will force his children into marriage covenants. He also needed to consider the opinion of the other northern Lords; he remembered far too well the rumors about a southern Lady of Winterfell when his father announced the betrothal of Catelyn and Brandon; a second Lady of Winterfell who doesn't worship the Ancient Gods would be too problematic. A northwoman as Queen may be acceptable, but a southwoman wife of the Warden of the North? Twice? No. And then the costs; it stopped his heart to beat when he read the total amount. 'I swear, sometimes I think barter is better' he ironically thought.

He got distracted from his thoughts when Arya and Rickon were next to him, with the little one followed by his direwolf, Shaggydog, "Father, when will the King arrive?" she asked, all excited.

"Sooner or later. When will you get ready for him?" he asked with a bit of fun; she wasn't dirty or something, but she was wearing breeches and a shirt, not something apt to welcome the King.

She frowned and stomped her foot, "I am ready!" she exclaimed, and Rickon giggled, "Sure, and I am the King beyond the Wall" Ned joked, but it didn't stop Rickon from believing it.

"Really?"

"No"

"Awww!" the kid fell dramatically on his direwolf, which held Rickon up like he was really falling. 'I wouldn't be surprised; Shaggydog is probably the most protective of all the direwolves. Thinking it over, I have to pay attention to him when Robert arrives'.

Ned and Arya chuckled at him. "Go to prepare yourselves; I want my children all well dressed and cleaned in an hour" he said. Arya sighed but did as said while Rickon followed her.

Behind them, Ned was smiling. He thanked the gods every day for the gifts they gave him, but soon his smile turned into a sad face. Despite all his attempts, Jon didn't come back to Winterfell, and he could blame only himself for that. "I'm a total idiot. He writes us and says he's fine and happy, and what do you tell him? 'Come back; this is the place you belong'?!" he said angrily to imself. 'If you really don't care about my happiness, then you don't need me at Winterfell, Lord Stark' those words were worse than the Bolton treatment, 'I ruined everything, Lya; I'm so sorry' he thought, tears threatened to fall.

"You're probably the only Stark who is incapable of smiling for ten seconds straight!" a voice screamed behind him; Ned rolled his eyes and turned on the man who spoke to him with such disrespect.

"And you're probably the only Umber who doesn't care to meet his giant kinfolk, Greatjon" that was probably meant as a (not serious) threat, but for the Lord of Last Heart it was the funniest joke he ever heard.

"No, but thank you. I wonder if my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great... Uhhhh, great-grandfather is still alive" he came closer and observed the view, "Still thinking about Jon" it wasn't a question.

"Yes. I ruined everything. I failed Lya, my father, my brother, and that idiotic prince" he answered, with a drop of poison on the last one.

Greatjon smirked "You will never let it down, won't?", that made Ned avert his gaze from the view and look at him, "He made kill his wife, his children, and my family, Jon. Mad father or not, he sacrificed thousands of people in a useless war, all because he did not have the stones to go to my father and ask for her hand".

"You've got a point, but we weren't talking about this. You have to try again; this time don't tell him to come back; just tell him you love him. Trust me, for a son, those words are worth more than a crown" he said.

Ned looked at him "I... *sigh* you're right. After Robb's nameday, I'll write him again", Greatjon offered his beer, and Ned accepted it.

He almost spat it out for its taste, "What is this!?", Greatjon laughed like a baby, "Beer and bear milk!" he drank it again, "Maege brought it from Bear Island! My son and Domeric just tasted it; they vomited their souls and even more!", he kept laughing while he finished all of it.

"How can you drink it? It burns more than wildfire!" Ned questioned concerned.

"I've bought casks of this since the Greyjoy lad came here. I say it with pride! It's better than sex!" he made sure every inhabitant of Winterfell could hear it.

Ned's laughs joined his, "Between you and Robert, I can't say who drinks more"

It was in these moments that Ned thanked the gods; despite all he lost, he was able to remain strong, especially when Jon ran away.

"We'll figure it out later! Come on now! William and Barbrey have been a pain in the arse since they arrived! Tell them to shut up!"

"What? Too hard for you, old friend?" Ned joked. The head of House Umber gave him an amused look, "You're one to talk. How many times did you almost kill your good brother?"

"Don't start with that. Edmure is probably the dumbest Lord I ever met. And you know what my family did" Ned groaned, gaining a laugh from Greatjon. "Speaking of Tullys, how's your marriage going?" he asked, and Ned did really want him to be quiet. After Jon fled, the relationship between Ned and Catelyn deteriorated to the point they had to sleep in different rooms. While he was doing everything in his power to find Jon and, later, to bring him home, Catelyn took the occasion to turn their children against their brother. Clearly, she gravely underestimated the love of them for Jon, because Arya and Robb came to Ned and told him what was happening while Bran took Rickon and barred his room with the two of them inside (he has been grounded for a fortnight for that, but Ned found it really hilarious). The only one who listened to her predictions about the wickedness of bastards was Sansa, and still she always thought Jon was the exception. Ned won't lie; when he knew about that, he was about to do something he would later regret, but he managed to be rational and stayed in his solar for a few hours and took the necessary time to calm down (he discovered that smashing things is excellent for his stress but awful for his finances) and yelled to Catelyn for an entire hour; he then banned the word 'bastard' from being said in Winterfell.

They haven't spoken to each other for months since that day. "They're going" he said, nodding.

"Going?" Greatjon raised his eyebrow.

"Yes. Going", how was it possible for Ned to lie about Jon's parents for more than a day?

"Going south maybe" Greatjon said sarcastically.

"Can we change the argument? It's my son's nameday next week; I don't want to stay upset for the rest of the day" he burst out. "Well, if it makes you feel better, there are casks of beer waiting for us!" his friend laughed.

"Glad to know that your giant blood is not running in your head" he patted Greatjon's shoulder, and then they walked the main hall, where the Lords from every house gathered inside to protect themselves from the cold, since the snow falls even in summer. Most of the Lords and Ladies were wearing cloaks of fur, though some of them weren't thanks to the general warmth in Winterfell chambers.

"Ned!" a voice called him from somewhere; feeling an arm surrounding his neck, it was Howland Reed, the only one Ned could call best friend after Robert, "How can you be the host and be late?" he joked while he passed him a beer horn.

Ned grabbed it with pleasure "I just want peace for my head. You know I never liked great parties," he drank the horn just to spit it out right after "If I drink another Mormont mixture, I'll give all of them to the Wildlings!" he screamed, and Greatjon and Howland laughed.

Before he could throw the horn on their snouts, two big hands with red gloves took it behind his underarms and lifted him up, "NED! Finally you're here!" a familiar voice said loudly, Ned really wanted to strangle his friends, "Ethan!" Ned shouted the name of the Lord of Deepwood Motte while said lord let him go and hugged him, "When will you stop being a lone wolf? You have us! You should be partying every night!" he exclaimed with a smile.

"I think it's because he has us that he stays alone" William and his wife Barbrey approached them with a smile, next to them there was her brother, Mark, heir of the Rills.

"William, Barbrey, Mark! I'm happy to see you made it" he smiled and linked arms with his two friends and kissed her hand. "Where are our boys, Ned?" Mark asked.

"Our boys, Mark. You can't take a woman to a heart tree even to save your life" Lady Dustin rolled her eyes at her brother, "Speaking of our sons, they are with Lord Cassel and Lord Wull in the courtyard. Roderick and Cregan told us they were training until they couldn't lift a leaf"

They chuckled and passed the next moments chatting and drinking when three knights arrived.

"Lord Stark" the leader started. For most of them, he looked like one of the rare knights in the North, but for the men there, the look of irritation and anger in his eyes was abundantly clear, "Two men on horseback were seen heading towards Winterfell"

The leader was big, very big. He was as tall as Greatjon and large as Robert at his peak. He was also very old, with silver-colored hair and a thick beard; the same color was on his light armor, despite the few knights in the North who wore black or other darker colors. The second knight was shorter than his leader, but still imposing; a brown, short beard invaded the parts between his ears, but on his hair were visible gray strands as much as his brown ones; if his leader was wearing silver armor, this one was completely black, like he was a Black brother. The third one had dark skin, like he had been under the sun for his entire life, while his long black hair was quite distinctive; it covered his purple eyes, which included the experience that lasted decades. 

Ned made his usual stoic face and nodded, "Very well. Ser Denys, Ser Daryn, Ser Donal. Bring us to the gates, Ethan; go to Martyn and Theo and meet us there. Lady Dustin, may I ask you to help my Lady wife prepare the Lords for the King?" he exclaimed, with the Lords and the Lady who nodded.

A few minutes later, Eddard Stark, Martyn Cassel, Greatjon Umber, Mark Ryswell, William Dustin, Howland Reed, Ethan Glover and Theo Wull, Ser Denys, Ser Daryn and Ser Donal were waiting for the two horsemen at the gates. Ned was quite agitated because Robert never sends men before his retinue unless something happened; they had their horses prepared for them so they could reach him in case of emergency.

The two on the horses seemed to be talking to each other till one of them flew from his horse, which stopped without any reason.

That worried them, and they leaped onto their horses, riding to the fallen man while the second one was coming closer but slowly.

Ned got off the horse and reached the man; he was wearing a black dress with golden decorations; his hair was coordinating with it.

"Hey! Are you alright!?" Ned asked him, the man, who looked too young to be a man of the King, who was groaning in pain when he raised his hand in a way to say 'I'm fine'.

"Yes. Just give me a few minutes" at that voice, Ned felt all the air leaving his lungs; he looked at the rest of his men to see their faces, and they had the same feeling too.

"That voice..." he was too scared to end that sentence; he was sure his heart couldn't make it if he was wrong.

The boy rolled on the ground towards them, revealing his face to all of them.

"JON!?"

It was him, his son, his nephew, the boy he failed, is finally back! He was sure he heard William exclaiming "By the gods..." but he didn't matter now; what mattered was that his son was finally here right now!

He lifted his son and checked if he was alright; he looked to be well. His shoulders were large and strong; he grew a few centimeters, and a beard blacker than night was on his face, but also a scar on his left eye. Ned's blood ran cold when he saw it, the image of his son getting hurt...

He shook his head, 'He's here, safe and alive. Only this matters', he hugged Jon with all his strength, tears finally coming out, "You're here, son".

He felt Jon sniffening, but soon he returned the hug, even if awkwardly.

"Thank you fat- Lord Stark".

The use of his title stabbed Ned's heart; he knew that Jon was probably still angry about the last letter (and for a good reason), but he thought that the distance between them got shorter after one year.

"Fucking brat! Where have you been for all these years?!" Greatjon put a hand on Jon's shoulder violently, but despite his tone, he was wearing a radiant smile.

"Lord Umber!" he looked around him and saw all the knights Lords at the Tower of Joy, "I'm... happy to see you well... all of you" he said, with a happier tone than that he used with him.

'This is a good thing, in a way. He hates just me' Ned thought bitterly, trying to keep a face between the neutral and happy.

"How's my family? Robb, Arya, Bran, Sansa, Rickon and Theon?" his son asked, smiling.

Ned reordered his thoughts and looked at him, "You'll see for yourself, but now that I think about it... We were waiting for King's retinue and..." Jon raised a hand "He's behind me. I came with him. I was planning to dock at White Harbor, but a storm destroyed our ship and sent us to Blackwater Bay" he explained.

"The storm did what?!" Mark exclaimed before Ned, but the sentiment was the same: Lord Manderly reported to Ned that the strorm destroyed half of the port of White Harbor and all the not-war ships, they haven't rebuilt the most yet.

Jon shivered visibly, "I talked with Lord Stannis, the brother of the King. He said it was the biggest storm seen in centuries. We were the only ship to survive in open sea. In the whole south. Even those at the dock have been destroyed" he told them.

"Then all the more reason to thank the gods for having spared you" Ned affirmed. There was something in Jon's eyes when he said that, but he couldn't understand what.

"Anyway, we should go to the King; he must be closer to us now and- Oh! I forgot!" Jon looked at the man... Woman! on horse, "Jenevelle! Come here!", the woman dismounted from her horse. She was wearing a two-piece purple dress, those you usually see on a man. The most notable part of her was her silver hair, which was tied in a long, elegant ponytail. She came closer to Jon and grabbed his hand while an embarrassed smile appeared on her face.

"My Lords, this is Jenevelle Hallowleaf... My wife" Jon said with the biggest smile Ned has ever seen.

...

...

...

"Come again?" Theo asked; he was the only one who recovered from that information.

"Lady Jenevelle Hallowleaf, my wife" Jon repeated, his smile still on his face. No one opened their mouth for a long time; only after a minute, Lady Jenevelle made one step toward Ned, and her smile became even more embarrassed, "It's an honor to meet you, goodfather," she extended her hand to shake his, which Ned obliged.

Usually Ned would kiss a Lady's hand, but he was so shocked about having a good daughter that he completely forgot the good manners, "The honor is mine".

An awkward silence formed around them, but it has been broken by Greatjon's laugh, "You've been very busy while you were away".

He kept laughing for a while, but he stopped when he realized that no one joined him "What? I'm just happy he found a woman!".

They rolled their eyes, but Jon chuckled "I'm glad to see not everything has changed while I was gone, Lord Umber".

"Call me Greatjon, boy. Now you're a man!".

"Other Lords might be jealous of this favoritism".

"Let them talk! Most of them are pussies!" Greatjon shouted, looking at Mark and Ethan, thing that they noticed.

"Why are you staring at us, fatty?" Ethan provoked.

Greatjon frowned and stepped forward "You are you calling fatty, handjob?".

"The King is behind us. Do you really want him to see you fighting in the middle of the road?" Ser G... Denys reminded them.

That seemed to stop them, but Ned was sure they would have fought that evening or the day after. Meanwhile, Jon looked like he bit a lemon, "Right, probably we should keep going; I'm sure you would talk to the King personally. If you meet a white-haired pale man and a bald one, they're our friends. Tell them we continued for Winterfell" he bowed his head to them and went for his horse, but Lady Jenevelle (his good daughter) grabbed him by the collar, making him almost trip, "Do you really think it's wise to leave them both with your father?" she said with a raised eyebrow, and his shoulders slumped in realization "Ffffine" he snarled.

Ned didn't understand what she meant, but he trusted that since he didn't know any of them, he didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with them. "Lord Stark" Jon called with his title again, "Would you rather lead us?" he offered.

"Yes" Ned answered, numb. He mounted his horse, like the rest of them did, and went to meet Robert.

"Soo, how are you sons, my Lords?" Jon tried to make small talk.

"Smalljon is fine! He became almost as big as me at his age! And you should see him fighting with a sword! Or better, with his bare hands!" Greatjon answered.

"Please! He wouldn't last a minute against Roderick and Cregan! I gave them the family axes a year ago! You should see how they rotate!" William intervened.

"Do I have to remind you who is training to be a knight?" Jory is easily one of the most skilled swordsmen in the North! He can beat even me" Martyn bragged.

"Not that it takes long" Theo mocked, and Martyn glared at him.

"What does that mean?".

"You are so weak that even the little Rickon can defeat you. And your brother is still training him about how to hold a sword".

"At least I have a son! You're so ugly that even if you were the Lord of Winterfell, women would rather direwoulves".

They argued the whole day; meanwhile, Howland went closer to Jon, "Jojen and Meera are fine; they and Bran became very good friends".

"Good to know. Is Meera still good with the bow?" Jon asked.

"More like she's the second-best archer in Winterfell" Howland said with pride.

A smile appeared on Ned's face; the matches between Meera and Theon with the bows lasted entire days, at which point Ned had to put a time limit on them.

"Wait. If she's your daughter, why did she live in Winterfell?" Lady Jenevelle asked. Curious, it seems that in... he forgot to ask where he has been for all these years. What an idiot!

"Well, Lady Jenevelle, sometimes Lords take sons or daughters of other Lords as wards; it establishes friendships and alliances. I gave Lord Stark my son and my daughter, Jojen and Meera, as wards. Lord Umber, Lord Dustin, and Lord Bolton, who is not here, did the same with their sons Jon, Roderick, Cregan, and Domeric. There is also another one as Lord Stark's ward, but..." Howland hissed in disconfort, "He's more like a hostage. His name is Theon Greyjoy, and he is the son of Balon Greyjoy, who rebelled against the Iron Throne"

"Do you not have fosterage in... Apologize, I've never asked for the name of your land, Lady Jenevelle" Ned intervened, trying to be on good terms with her.

"Faerûn, Lord Stark. And no, it doesn't happen there. Usually the alliances between nobles are more of a commercial type. We don't need about marriages, especially because there are no scandals or taboos if a noble marries a—how do you call peasants here?".

"Smallfolk" Jon said.

"That, especially when our nobility is meritocratic" she instructed.

Meritocratic? Ned was going to ask for more, but he was interrupted by horses' hooves.

Gold bannermen were riding in twos, a red deer on gold on their flags. They slowed down when they saw them while Ned and his friends were getting off their horses, preparing to kneel when the King came to them.

It didn't take much time to see the Kingsguard (only two of them were worth Ned's time, Ser Barristan and Ser Arys, at least according Jon's letter) and othe familiar faces, Ser Beric Dondarrion, his friend Thoros of Myr, there is also a boy with Dayne colors next to them, Ned's goodbrother Edmure Tully, Ser Loras Tyrell, Lord Renly Baratheon,Lord Monford Velaryon, his brother Aurane Waters, Ser Davos Seaworth and Lord Stannis Baratheon, Tyrion Lannister, with two other man behind him, one looked very young boy, probably younger than Robb, and a dangerous-looking man dressed in rags, and two man who match with the description Jon gave him, a white-hair pale man and a bald man, whose head displayed a purple tatoo.

Finally, Jon Arryn and Robert arrived on their horses, and Ned and the rest of the northmen knelt. Ned was also able to see the one who was supposed to be Robert firstborn, Prince Joffrey Baratheon. He was accompained by a huge man, slightly shorter than Greatjon, with a dog-shape elm.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms and his Hand got off their horses and came closer to them. When Robert was in front of Ned, he did a sign with his hand to tell him to stand up, which Ned obeyed; the rest of his Lords followed his example.

"Your Grace" Ned spoke.

Robert and Jon were giving them a firm and serious look; they said nothing for a long period before Robert opened his mouth, "You've got fat" he just said.

'You're so fat that you could feed the Seven Kingdoms for the next century, and you call me fat?' he thought but didn't say; instead, he talked with his eyes, looking at the belly of the King, then at the King himself.

He noticed it and started laughing. Ned and Jon Arryn followed him, then Robert and Ned hugged. When they interrupted it, Robert started talking "Five years! I haven't seen you; where the hells have you been?" he asked, smiling.

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace" 'And keeping my son away from you and your lions'.

"Don't you greet the relic who has raised you since you were eight?" Jon asked ironically, opening his arms.

"Jon!" Ned laughed and hugged the one who has known as a father.

Robert smiled at that scene, then he looked at Jon and wide opened his eyes "I totally forgot!" he took Jon and brought him next to Ned, "Look what I found!"

Ned interrupted the hug and looked at them embarrassed 'Robert travelled with him for weeks, and he seems to think nothing about kinship. Good' he thought, but he hasn't calmed down yet. Robert could be very smart when he wanted to.

And still, he had to be moved by him bringing Jon home, which Ned actually was. "I will never thank you enough for this, Robert" he put a hand on his King- No, his friend.

Robert waved his hand "Bullshits! If one of my sons disappeared, I know you would do the same! Now! I know you probably want to stay with your son, but I have a present with your eldest son's name written on top! Plus" his face became begging, his eyes watery "I need to see her Ned. I need to" he begged, talking about Lyanna; after twenty years, he still can't overcome his death. 'But then again, am I so different from him?'

"Of course, Robert. Give us the time to mount, and we will lead the way for you" Ned said when Jon stepped forward, "I apologize, Your Majesty, but may I ask Lord Stannis if now my direwolf can come out from the wheelhouse of Lady Shereen?"

'Right, Ghost. I can't believe I forgot!' Ned though, despite him keeping saying he missed his son, he forgot a lot of things about him.

"Oh, yes, of course!" Robert looked at his brother "Stannis! Do something and free that beast! Probably it's suffering for staying in that cage!" he shouted. His brother ground his teeth, but did as commanded.

Soon, a giant white wolf jumped all the men between it and Jon; this one in particular got jumped and licked in every part of the face, making Jon chuckle "Ghost stop it!"

"It's really an honor to meet the man who raised Jon! The Guardian of the North himself!" the pale man said after having reached Ned on horseback.

Ned looked at him, "And you're his companion, Lord...?"

He theatrically covered his mouth with the hand "I forgot my manners at home!" he smiled with what Ned thought was condescension. "Apologies. Let me present: my name is Astarion Ancunìn. I've known Jon since he landed on the Sword Coast. Or rather, stranded"

All the hairs on the back of his neck stood up "Jon stranded!?" he said a bit too loudly.

"Astarion!"

"Oopsie!" he apologized, but judging by his sneering smile, he wasn't honest.

Jon rolled his eyes, "You really love being an ass, don't you?" his son said, irritated.

"What?! Of course not! I just love having fun!" he replied.

"Really? Then you won't mind if I give Yenna and Arabella the permission to play with your imported silk" Jon talked back.

The grin on the face of the pale man turned into a growl "If I miss one of my high-quality silks, I will personally feed you with meat in needles!"

"Maybe you meant needles in meat" his good daughter spoke.

"Did I stutter?"

Jon, his wife, and the other man laughed at that. It seemed to be a frequent event, even if Ned didn't fully understand how a man could find clothes so precious if they weren't protective like fur.

That one with the tattoo realized something and looked in Ned's direction, "Minsc forgot to present himself and Boo!" he pulled out a rodent from the pocket of his shirt and leaned it on his shoulder.

He opened his hands dramatically and gestured to the... hamster? 

"This, is Boo! The greatest miniature giant space hamster ever existed! And I am Minsc of Rashemi! Jon saved Boo and Minsc when they were in a dangerous danger! And Jaheira is Jon's friend! So Minsc is Jon's friend too!"

That... was something. Ned had already familiarity with fools since Walder became Hodor, and compared to him, Minsc was a genius.

"Did Ghost ever try to eat it?" Mark joked, but Ned feared for his life when that giant glared at him.

"Boo is not to eat! And Ghost has always been educated! Don't insult him by saying he's a murderer!" he burst out.

He caught the attention of other nobles, who turned their heads to them.

"Easy, easy, man. Lord Mark was joking" Jon calmed him. He then smiled awkwardly to them, "Please excuse him. He's quite overprotective towards Boo. Kind of like my family and I are with our direwolves" he tried to justify.

"No need for excuses; I was joking. Sorry for that" Mark said.

That finally seemed to calm the... Rashemi, if Ned remembered well. He has never considered himself someone who hates fools and cripples, but he knew they could be easily calmed and easily provoked.

"Accepted, just don't do it anymore"

After that, Jon clapped once and smiled "Now that we are calmed, why don't you tell me something new about North and Winterfell? Is Theon still an ass?" he asked.

'Finally something we can talk about,' Ned thought, hoping he can find a way to reconcile.

"I realized I'd mistreated him after you left. We spoke, and he's a Stark now, blood be damned.

At that, Jon seemed to smile; the Warden of the North could see surprise in his eyes, but before he could talk, an incredibly annoying voice arrived behind them.

"So you have replaced a bastard with a Greyjoy? I know you northmen lack good sense, but here you have really touched the bottom. Although I can understand why" Prince Joffrey sneered, gaining a glare from most of the Lord present there, "Better a filthy squidd than a bastard"

Now, Ned never considered himself an angry man, although the departure of his son has put him to the test. He always remained calm and rational, except the episode with Catelyn, of course.

But now, in front of all these people, in front of his surrogate father, his best friends, and his son, he wanted nothing but to bite the throat of that brat.

"I can assure you, Prince Joffrey, I had wanted to return on my steps with Theon before Jon left; I just acknowledge my mistake in not doing it before. I have two daughters and five sons. Not four" Ned gritted his teeth and said.

"I don't see why you should have done it. My father gave you the order to kill him if his family rebels again. Am I right, my regal father?" he asked, looking at Robert, but instead of smiles and encouraging words, Robert was giving one of the most scariest frowns Ned has ever seen.

"Joffrey..." he started camly. Ned was nervous now; Robert's deadly calm was meaning something pissed him off badly.

"Y-Yes?" at least the Prince had enough survival instinct to understand he was screwed.

"If you do not shut your fucking mouth for the next month, behave like a good Prince and treat everyone, and I mean everyone, with respect, I will personally beat the shit out of you until you lose your memories. So I will finally get rid of a USELESS SON LIKE YOU!" he said the last part with so much fury that even Ghost, who stayed calm all the time, was now on alert. 'What happened to make Robert so furious?! It can't be only for this...'. He took a look around; all the conversation ended, and all the Lords were staring at the scene, waiting for the next part. The only ones who weren't having their eyes wide open were Jon's friends and the sworn shield of the Prince, who was smiling behind him. 'I guess this isn't the first time the Prince pushed Robert to his limit.'.

"I... Father, why are you...?!"

"SILENCE! I'm sick of your bullshit for today. I am a man of my word, Joffrey; I warned you one time. I won't do it again" he exclaimed and drank all the wineskin. He murmured something about Lyanna and children, but Ned didn't hear it well.

The Prince seemed like he was about to cry, but soon the tears in his eyes went away, and in their place was a look of rage. He growled for a while, and then he marched in front of them.

"Jon" the pale one, Astarion, called.

"Yes?"

"Two things. One: Thanks for bringing me here; it's better than a circus. And two: If you feel you have daddy issues, remember this time" he said with a smile.

Ned was concerned; he had just assisted in a fight between a King and a Crown Prince, and he found it amusing?! And Jon didn't even seem that worried; he only rolled his eyes and commented "Fuck off, you twinky ass. When will you stop being a sociopath?"

"The day you will stop having that martyr complex" he said back.

The bald one, Minsc, whispered at Jon Arryn in a bid to not be heard, but he was so loud. Ned thought he was going to attract animals "Then Astarion will never take care of anyone"

"Minsc!" Jon screamed.

"What? You know Minsc is right"

"Wh- Gh- Jenevelle, please say something?" he begged.

She was comically trying to find the right words "Asatrion sociopathy is very fun" she said.

He stayed there staring at her for a minute, then he looked at Ghost "You're my only hope. Please Ghost"

Ghost emitted a 'Bau' and Jon almost fell from his horse. "Oh come on!"

It was very refreshing seeing his usually grim and solemn son being happier and more open, at the point that a laugh came out from Ned's mouth. But soon he was hit by a realization like a bolt out of the blue, 'He became so away from me, not because of my teachings or my care', he thought bitterly.

Jon Arryn seemed to recognize his pain and took him apart so they could talk alone, "Something is wrong, Ned?"

Ned shook his head and looked ahead "It's nothing, Jon. I was just thinking"

"Ahhh, a very troubled action. I knew thinking was difficult, but not that it could make people's faces like yours" he commented sarcastically.

Ned gave him his best 'seriously?' look. "Ned I'm older than you and Robert combined. I know when something is wrong"

.

.

.

"Is it about your son?"

"Robb and my other sons are fine" Ned said bluntly. He didn't want to be rude with him, but he also didn't want this conversation.

"I wasn't talking about them, but good, they are fine. No, I was talking about Lord Greatwolf" Jon Arryn stated.

It seemed to awaken Ned to his torpor, "Greatwolf?"

"It's the name of Jon's house. Apparently he threw his identity as a bastard away. Good for him; Westeros is far too antiquated to accept natural sons as true nobles" he agreed, but Ned had other thoughts.

'He changed his name, and he didn't tell any of us' he didn't know he was speaking because Jon answered him, "What on Seven Kingdoms happened between you and him? And don't tell me you failed as a father because he said nothing but good things about you!"

He smiled ironically "How? I ruined everything, Jon. I've been far too possessive with him, and my guilt stopped me from doing something with him and Catelyn. I don't know if he fled because of her or something else, but it remains that I should have done better"

"If it was about his bastardy, you could have asked me o Robert; in fact, I’m pretty sure we had proposed it to you"

Ned bit the inside of his cheek; Jon was right, but he had to say no because there would have been too many questions about a Lord of a Great House who legit his bastard at birth. He also didn't want to antagonize Tullys even more than before. Now he wonders if it was the right decision.

"And I've told both of you I didn't want to offend my wife further. I was bringing a bastard with me, a legitimated one, with the same age as Robb; it was like a spit on all House Tully" he talked back.

He sighed "You're right. But we weren't talking about this. Ned, what happened?"

"If you're asking why he fled, I don't know. I only know I ruined everything when I wrote him to leave whatever was in... Faerûn and to come back here because 'it's the place he belongs'. As you can guess, he didn't take it well" he revealed, watching his son and his good daughter laughing at something that the Rashemi giant said.

"It... was wrong of you to say. I don't deny it. But you recognized your error; now you must make amends, and, most importantly, you must let him go" Jon Arryn instructed.

"Let- Let him go?! You can't ask me to abandon my son!" Ned almost yelled.

"And you can't ask him to stay in a place where he's not happy. He obviously made a name in that land. He's someone there. Who is he here? The bastard of Winterfell? The one stain on the honor of Ned Stark?" he demanded.

Ned didn't talk; he remained silent for the whole journey, thinking about what Jon Arryn told him. He was the wisest man he knew; he needed to think about it.

When he arrived, he saw the Lords led by Robb and Catelyn kneeling. There were all his children, all properly dressed; even Arya and Rickon listened to him.

"You must be Robb! Finally I can give a face to the name! You've got the shoulders of your old man in his glory days, you knew that?" Robert saluted after he ordered them to rise up.

Robb smiled and bowed his head "So I have been told, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours, now and forever," he pronounced with decision, and Ned felt a bit proud at watching his son behaving like a true heir.

Robert walked up to Catelyn and hugged her like she was an old friend, although she was rather embarrassed by that.

He then patted Rickon on his head but didn't say anything (Ned was also relieved because Rickon convinced Shaggydog to stay with the rest of the direwolves).

Robert walked to Sansa and smiled at her "Aren't you a pretty one?". She smiled flattered. He looked at Arya with an interrogative air "Your name is...?"

"Arya" she was so silent that Ned struggled to hear her.

"Show your muscles!" Ned and Robert smiled when Bran flexed his arm.

Ned dismounted and came closer to Robert, but he returned to Robb "I haven't forgotten your nameday! Next week! But accept this for a start!"

Ned frowned at first, then he realized what he meant, and he was undecided between punching him and laughing "Come here, boy!"

After he said that, the direwolves broke their cages and ran for the gates, gaining the attention of everyone.

Meanwhile, the people of Winterfell started to scream "By the gods! What is that thing!" Ned heard, and a fist of guards was preparing to attack. Luckily, they were stopped by Jon Arryn "Don't do anything! It is not dangerous!"

Shortly after, Ghost came out from the crowd and played with his brothers and sisters. Arya broke the line and approached "Ghost!? What...?! Wait!"

"You hug Ghost but not me? You hurt my feelings, Arya!"  Jon got off his horse and came closer; the rest of his friends did the same.

"JON!" all his children ran to hug him, except Sansa and Rickon, but she walked fast, smiling, and his youngest son was trying to figure out who he was. It wasn't a surprise; Rickon was two when Jon was gone.

Jon knelt and hugged Arya with all her strength, "You received my letter!" she kissed him so many times that Ned lost count.

'Wait, letter? Dammit! I should have asked her to write it before! He can't say no to her!' Ned really wanted to hit himself.

It was Bran and Robb's turn, but where Bran was hugging him and crying, Robb punched him in the stomach and gave him a head, but it didn't stop him from crying, "If you dare do something like this again, I will fucking kill you", he proceeded to give him a Mormont hug.

Ned went near to Rickon and picked him up, ignoring the glares Catelyn was giving him "Come here, little one. You have to meet your brother!" he said happily.

When they arrived, Jon was finally free to see Rickon and Ned approaching. "Hello little one! Remember me?" Jon asked. Rickon was staring at him deeply, trying to remember anything of him, "Did you make the statue of Shaggydog for me?"

They all laughed at him "The only one who could! Who else can do something of that beautiful? Bran?" he asked, gaining a fist from his brother.

Rickon finally recognized him and jumped on him "Jon!". Everyone smiled at it; Jon picked him up and kissed him on the ear "I was afraid you forgot me!"

Ned was smiling when he saw, with the corner of his eye, Theon walking slowly towards him; he had an uncertain expression on his face, like he didn't think he deserved to stay there. 'It doesn't surprise me. They never got along'. Jon seemed to feel it too and laid Rickon on the ground. "Theon! I see you well!" he greeted, a smile never leaving his face.

The heir of Pyke nodded "You too... Jon"

.

.

.

"You guys want to meet my wife?" he asked after a long silence.

They stared at him like a second head was grown on him, then Sansa, among all, spoke first "Come again?"

He chuckled and waved Lady Jenevelle and their friends to approach them.

They arrived, and she talked first "Hello there. You must be my... Good siblings! My name is Jenevelle Hallowleaf; nice to meet you!"

They remained silent for so much time that Ned thought they became ice. Arya was looking at her like she was a White Walker, and Robb wide opened his mouth and pointed at her while he was looking at Theon, who was shocked too.

Sansa awakened from her torpor; she smiled radiantly and hugged her. After a while, she looked at her eyes "Welcome to the family, good sister!"

Lady Jenevelle clearly didn't expect that, since she had to look at Jon to understand what to do; he just gave a thumbs-up and nodded with his eyes closed.

"Uhm... Thank you"

Ned felt a strong hand on his shoulder; it was Robert.

"I really love watching your family rebuild Ned, but," his eyes were getting wet, "I need to see her. Please!"

"We have been riding for a month, my love. Sure, the dead can await," the Queen Cersei Lannister, said, next to his wife, who was glaring at Jon. The most frightening thing was that he was returning it, and his wife was with him.

'Robert I need to extinguish a fire; please listen to your wife!' he thought, but Robert was too stupid to understand the air.

"Let's go, Ned"

He gave a supplicant look at Robb and Jon Arryn to handle the thing.

“Did you have to bury her in a place like this? She should be on a hill somewhere with the sun and the clouds above her. Lyanna loved the wind blowing through her hair when she went on rides. There is no wind here; she can’t be happy.” There was a slight quiver in Robert’s voice as he stared longingly at the carved face of what he believed to be his lost love. The stonemason hadn’t managed to do her justice; he captured her features well enough, but the statue could never convey her inner strength or the willfulness in her eyes. The king placed a single white feather in the statue’s hand, stepping on some blue flower petals that Ned hadn’t noticed before.

“She was my sister, and she was a Stark. This is where she belongs, with family.”

"She never deserved that!" Robert growled "She deserved to get old surrounded by our sons, our daughters, and our grandchildren and ME! That fucking dragon destroyed so many lives! I tried to count them once. I wanted to do something different from drinking, hunting, and fucking. I lost the count" he said at the verge of tears.

‘She never loved you, Robert. Not in this life, nor in the next’ Ned didn’t say that, of course. He could never hurt his friend in that way, so instead, he turned away, “It’s done, Your Grace. The Targaryens are gone.”

“Not all of them,” came the bitter reply. Ned shivered, ‘No, not all of them. There is one close by, and I pray you never set eyes on him.’

“Tell me about Dragonstone; you mention in your letter that you wanted to speak about the events there.”

Robert sighed, settling his weight against a boulder and dragging a hand down his face. “Not here, Ned. Your family doesn't need to be disturbed by monsters. Just know that something beyond the human killed half of the people there, including my good sister. And now it hunts Shereen”

What? "What?"

He raised a hand, "As I said, not now"

Ned wanted to ask for more, but he nodded anyway.

"I'm also making a tournament for Jon. Soon it'll be twenty years he's been my Hand. I want you to come" Robert changed the argument.

"It would be an honor, Your Grace, but-" Robert stopped him "Stop with that shit! You're my brother as much as Stannis and Renly. It's already a pain trying to stop them calling me 'Your Grace' and 'My King' in private"

"Fine, Robert. It would be an honor, but I need to stay here and check the preparations for the winter. You should do this too"

"More reason to come. You can convince those arses to be useful for once!" he laughed, but Ned gave him a blank stare.

"Who are you, and what did you do to Robert?"

Robert stopped laughing and looked at him confused "What do you mean?"

"Robert would never be so smart to invent this plan!" Ned accused.

"Fuck you!" they both laughed; they needed that.

"If you say so, then I'll do my duty" Ned said after a while.

“Nothing but duty and honor, are you, Ned? It doesn’t matter; it will be good to have you by my side—even if it is only for a short time. We were meant to stand together; I’ve always said that, ever since we were boys. If your sister had lived, we would have been bound by blood. It’s not too late, though. Your eldest girl, she’s certainly flowered by now. I have a son; you have a daughter. We’ll join our Houses and make a kingdom that lasts three times longer than the Targaryens ever did.”

The proposal wasn’t unexpected, but Ned still wasn’t prepared for it. “My king… Robert, the offer is generous-”

“No, it’s not; it's selfish. If your girl weds my son, then you’ll probably visit more often; it’s mostly for my benefit. Besides, while my heir is useless, he is still my heir and therefore the best match in the kingdom. So say yes, and we can go get drunk.”

‘It would definitely please Catelyn, and Robert’s right about Joffrey being the best match in the realm, but I know nothing about the boy.’ So instead of an absolute agreement or refusal, Ned offered a compromise: “I’m not refusing the match. But I won’t accept without speaking to my wife first or seeing how they get along. So, I will bring Sansa along when we travel south—it might do her well to experience life at court—and if I think she and the prince would be happy together, then I will agree. However, I must insist that such a plan not be made public yet; I don’t want there to be any pressure on them.”

“That sounds damned complicated, but alright—it's a deal.” Robert slapped Ned on the back and grinned broadly, “Go to your family! I'll see if the northwomen are beautiful like your brother told me!"

"Where did you take all these animals!?" Bran asked when he saw a white dog, a rose cat, and a raven. Sure thing was that Jon's love for animals didn't disappear during his missing.

They were all in the solarium of the Lord, just the Stark family and Jon's animals, with the exception of Ghost since he was with her other family. Lady Jenevelle was with them while Jon's friends were giving a look around the castle. Ned was timid, but Jon guaranteed for them.

Lady Jenevelle chuckled and answered in his place "This little boy here" she patted the dog "is Scratch. We found him next to his former master, so we decided to adopt him.

Jon, who was feeding the raven with a piece of meat, spoke next "This is Quothe. I found him during one of our travels and never left us", he then looked at the cat and picked it up "And last but not least, Us!" 

"Miao!"

There was something wrong about that cat, name aside, but Ned couldn't find what, so he let it slide.

"You called a cat 'Us'?" Sansa asked confused,

Jon had the decency to giggle nervously "Don't ask, please"

But Arya was too curious "But we want-" Jon stopped with a little long box, which made her hush and grab it. She opened it and revealed a necklace made of bronze. Arya kept her smile, but it was clearly forced. "Cute" she said hesitantly.

Jon hugged her and whispered something in her ear, probably so Catelyn wouldn't hear anything about it.

His thoughts were right when Arya made one of her smiles 'If I don't have to pay for the damages, then it's fine'

"Now Bran" he gave him a biobject wrapped in fur. When Bran took it off, it was an axe made for one or two hands; the decorations on the blade were something never seen before "If you become strong enough, it will rotate like the blades of a windmill" Jon said, and Bran thanked him and hugged his brother.

Lady Jenevelle passed Jon a box, and he looked around confused "I brought this for Rickon, but I don't see him. Where is he? he joked.

His younger son made a cute frown and stuck out the tongue "Meanie! I'm here!". Everyone chuckled, and later Jon gave him the box. They were figures of animals, and one caught Ned's curiosity "What is this one?" he took a beast who looked like a bear but had the head of an owl.

"It's an owlbear! No one knows where they came from, but they're very dangerous and very carnivor," Jon informed "But they're also the cutest thing in the world!" he said immediately after.

"Whoaaaa" Rickon was admiring the figures so much that he forgot them "Rickon..." Ned started "What do you say when someone gives you a gift?"

He obeyed and hugged Jon, whispering a little and cute 'Thank you'.

Jon kissed the top of the head and took the next gift, "Sansa"

His daughter was staring fascinated at that bracelet with the gemset; there were seven of them: "They're Amethyst, Emerald, Sapphire, Topaz, Belijuril, and Ruby"

She stared at him, amazed, "Really!?"

He nodded; it was really funny for Ned and probably Jon seeing the usually distant and regal Sansa acting like a baby.

He took the bracelet from her, which almost made her cry, "If you don't like it, I can always give you some money so you can buy something by-" Sansa grabbed the bracelet from him and held it protectively. "Mine!"

Ned and Jon raised an eyebrow while the rest of her siblings, plus Lady Jenevelle, chuckled, and her mother gave her a disappointed look. "I mean, I keep this, brother. Thank you" she said stoically, but it was obvious she was really grateful.

"Theon" he passed him a box containing a bow and two hand axes. "What are these?" he asked.

Jon seemed like he was waiting for that "Well, my dear Theon, that is a bow. You put an arrow along the cord, you charge the shot, and release the cord to it. As for the axes instead-" "I know what a bow and an axe are, you moron" Theon rolled his eyes "I mean, what are these materials? I've never seen them before"

"Ohhh. Well, this is infernal iron. It's a rare material. Not easy to find. And even less easy to find a smith who can work it" Jon explained.

Theon looked like he figured out Jon's mother "Did you just give me rare weapons!?" he asked.

He simply shrugged "Yes, why are you asking?"

"Uhm... Nothing, just wanted to be sure" Theon said and returned to examining them.

'Looks like Jon wanted a bit of revenge against Theon' Ned thought; he couldn't really blame him. They never got along, and surely Ned had to do better with both of them.

With the next gift, Jon looked very irritated but kept a polite face. "Lady Catelyn," he gave her a box made of wood.

She was so halting that Ned thought she would have taken the whole night. 'It will not explode, and it's not poison. Jon is not that petty' Ned thought (and hoped).

Inside the box there was a simple amulet with a seven-pointed star "I know you're very religious, so I thought that an amulet of your gods was the ideal gift for you" he said.

She didn't say anything; she was examining the amulet. After a minute, she looked at him and nodded to him. It was probably the best Jon would have from her.

He ignored her and took a chest and gave it to Ned, he was smiling "This is the useful" successively, he took a big rectangle wrapped in protection "And this is the pleasant".

Ned started opening the chest. Inside, there were various scrolls, each containing various projects. "What are those? Projects for machines?"

Jon nodded "Better windmills, plows, dams and constructions tecniques for fortesses and castles. You shoul rebuil Moat Cailin, Wolf's Den and the others much easier; and they also cost less. There're also bags with various seeds. They can grow up even in the most cold climates"

Ned observed them marveled, with these the North will be strong again. Now time for the pleasant. He unwrapped the rectangle and observed It.

It was a painting of a pack of wolves, a large pack of wolves. The leader was on a rock observing the world around him. The rest of wolves had brown or white fur but this one was pitch-black.

"My gods... It the best painting I've ever seen" Ned commented. Jon smiled, he seemed very happy that he liked his gift.

"I know a very good artist. After I talked about you to him. He painted this"

Ned looked at Jon pruodly "Thank you, son. I love it". Jon nodded and passed to the next.

After Ned, Jon took a big and long scroll and gave it to Robb "Before you act like a spoiled brat, the present for your nameday is here" he added.

"Very funny. But be sure I'm not that kind of guy who complains about presents." he opened the scroll, and his eyes almost came out from the skull.

He stared at Jon, then the scroll, then Jon "Is this...?"

He smiled and shrugged. "Just an idea; if you don't like it, you can always just hang it on the wall"

"What is that?" Ned asked and went to Robb; when he saw it, he understood why.

On the scroll was sewn a head of a silver wolf with a crown in front of a giant snowflake. All of that on a black background.

"It's incredible!" he exclaimed, and the rest of the family came to look and shared the same feeling.

"Hope you can use it as inspiration for your personal sigil since you like it so much"

"This is my personal sigil!" Robb exclaimed, all excited.

"Really?" Jon asked; he hadn't had the time to say anything else because Robb hugged with all his strength. "Thanks" he freed Jon and looked into his eyes "But the true gift is you, brother."

Ned put a hand on their shoulder "Your brother is right; you made us very surprised," he smiled at Jon. But despite he smiled back, Ned could see it was forced.

'Tomorrow I must make amends,' he swore to himself.

Jon moved it away and clapped his hands "Very well. It was fun and all, but now we have to leave. The camp doesn't set up by itself," he said, and he and Lady Jenevelle prepared to leave the room.
"Camp? What do you mean?" Ned questioned.

"Oh, when we're not at home we set up camps. You know, tents, fire camps, open-air" Jon explained.

Catelyn stood up and walked to Ned "Looks like they have already made their plans. Maybe you should-"

"Insist on making them stay? Excellent idea, Catelyn" he interrupted her and looked at them.

Jon waved his hand "No need for that, Lord Stark. We've everything we need. Seriously, we're fine" he said.

"There won't be discussion. You traveled from another continent; you deserve it"

Jon gazed into his eyes for a while, then he sighed, "You won't give up, will you?" he said defeated.

Ned just smiled. "You know me" he sounded a handbell and summoned Vayon Poole.

"Lord Stark?"

"Give Jon and Jenevelle and their two friends rooms and prepare a bathtub exclusively for the two of them" he ordered.

Vayon, in all his competence, nodded, and his eyes fixed on the two of them, "Please, my Lord and Lady, follow me."

After that, Catelyn sent their children to sleep and went to sleep herself. Ned followed her example and went into his room, where he slept in the last years.

The day after, Ned was awakened by Robert and Hreatjon for a beer. Already irritated, he decided to take revenge by giving Robert the best drinks in the North. "Here. It's a special drink from Bear Island"

Robert took it gladly and drank it whole in a sip "Mhm, very tasty" he said. He took another horn and drank it even more.

Ned stared at it, purely shocked. "How?" he whispered.

"Because, Lord Stark. You're a lightweight. It's a miracle if you can drink a beer without getting drunk" Greatjon joked and enjoyed his own horn.

Soon, Jon Arryn and Lord Stannis arrived and sat at the table "Your Highness," Lord Stannis greeted, at which Robert rolled his eyes, "Is it so hard for you to say Robert or brother?"

Lord Stannis seemed to sigh but did as 'asked': "Fine, Robert, Lord Stark, Lord Umber. Good morning to all of you.

"Thank you, gods. Now come here and drink with us; we'll talk about that later" Robert handed him a horn of beer, and, surprisingly, Lord Stannis accepted it. Ned raised an eyebrow; the few times he met Lord Stannis, he never drank and never seemed to like beer, but Ned dismissed it. Probably he's just very stressed.

Lord Stannis did the same thing Ned did when he tasted the Mormont mixture; he almost spat on Robert "What...?!".

Greatjon laughed again. "Bear milk and beer, Lord Stannis. My favorite"

"How can you Norsemen drink this poison!?" the Lord of Dragonstone demanded.

Greatjon gave Ned an amused look. "Not all the northmen"

"I think Smalljon is ready to be Lord of Last Heart, and the Watch needs a new member. What do you think about it, Lord Umber?" Ned threatened.

The Lord of Last Heart raised his horn and smiled "My sword is ready for the wildlings!"

Ned could just cup his face in his hands while the rest of them, Lord Stannis apart, were laughing, "Don't we have business about Dragonstone?"

Robert stopped laughing and became serious. He nodded to Stannis and Jon Arryn, "Lord Umber, stay here. This is a private matter"

The Lord of Last Heart could do nothing but nod while the three Lords and the King went to Ned's solar.

'How the hell is this possible? It seems like a tale of the Old Nan!' Ned thought after he went out in his solar, he was going to get some air when he saw that giant who accompanied Jon from Faerûn. He was writing down something in a diary while he was talking with... Walder?

"Walder!" Ned called, and the giant looked at him smiling as he hugged Minsc with a arm. "Hodor!"

"Your friend here is a very interesting conversator. Minsc rarely met someone like him!" he said, smiling.

"You can say that. Walder experienced an incident when we were young boys. Now all he can say is 'hodor,'" Ned recounted.

"What do you mean? He can talk like everyone else here. Minsc was talking with him before you came"

What? A confused expression appeared on Ned's face, and the giant of Rashemi gave him his diary to show him "Look here"

Ned took the diary and read; he almost dropped it when he saw the content. "Impossible," he exclaimed. He stared at Hodor "Is that true, Walder?" he interrogated.

The (un)fool smiled and nodded "Hodor!" What?

"How can you understand him?!" Ned stared at Minsc, who looked very confused, "Understand what? He's talking our language," he answered.

"I..." he was for asking more, but Vayon arrived and interrupted him. "Lord Stark! Lord Minsc! The lunch is ready! The guests are waiting for you" he informed.

'Oh right. I forgot what time it is,' Ned thought.

The rashemi man looked surprised. "Minsc and Boo are invited too?" he asked.

Vayon nodded, "Lord Stark invited Lord Jon and Lady Jenevelle, but they wanted you and your other friend to have lunch with them."

It was a hazard, but Robert would get suspicious if the people he traveled with missed the banquet.

Minsc looked radiant and took his hamster. "Did you hear Boo? We have been invited to eat for free!"

At least he's happy.

"May you tell us how you met Lord Snow, Lady Gazelle?" the Queen asked with an acid smile. Ned wasn't impressed at all by her behavior.

They hadn't had the time to take a seat, that the Queen glared at her without any reason, like her mere presence was an insult to her family. It goes without saying that Ned didn't find it very funny, but he could do nothing until the Queen does something outrageous.

Lady Jenevelle was taking a chicken leg when the Queen made her that request "Oh, sure, Your Highness!" to her credit, she was managing the situation better than most of the women Ned knew.

"We met when a ship of slavers kidnapped us. They caged me into a box; it was so small I thought it was a coffin. I was trying to break it and flee when I saw two people enter the room where I was. A boy and a woman, he couldn't be more than fourteen. Anyway, the woman, Lae'zel, tells him to ignore me because I will be just a weight, but he lost time they could use to flee for freeing me. We arrive at the helm chamber, and the slavers, we call them Mind Flayers in Faerûn, were fighting against soldiers of the land they were navigating. Initially we helped the slavers to kill them because it was either them or us"

Everyone was listening to her carefully, "The leader of the soldiers who attacked us, Zhalk, was fighting with the leader of the slavers. Finding his name didn't take worth our time, and it took all our efforts to kill him. He was so strong that he had broken Jon's longsword with a hand!" She made the movement to grab something with the hand and break it; the children were gasping at it.

"After he broke it, he kicked Jon far from us; he killed the commander of the ship and charged both of us. We are going to be defeated when suddenly, a broken sword comes out from Zhalk's chest. Behind him there's Jon with half of his face covered in blood and an injured leg. With the commander dead, the only problems remaining were his soldier and the ship, so while I and Lae'zel were holding them, Jon went to pilot the ship, but he was so lame that he made us crash the ship against the mainland. The moment after I was unconscious and when I woke, I saw his boyish face next to me.

When she ended her tale, Ned was having a heart attack. He looked at the rest of the Lords, and they all had an expression of wonder.

"So what? It was love at first sight?" Theon asked, but Jenevelle made a disgusted face.

"What? No! He was a minor!" she exclaimed, and it confused Ned.
"A what?" he asked.

She gave him a weird look before she opened them completely in what he thought was realization "Oh right! Things are different here! In Faerûn there's a law where boys and girls can't marry or have children before eighteen years" she explained, and everyone looked at them like second heads grown on them.

"I guess it's not a problem, since you can always arrange marriages for that age," Lord Bolton commented next to his wife Bethany and his son Domeric.

"Actually, Lord Bolton" Jon spoke this time "They're illegal in Faerûn" he said.

The Queen now focused all her attention on him "Pardon me?"

Jon shrugged. "They're illegal, at least in big cities like Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter, and Waterdeep. I was informed that some tribes make them to generate strong children, but they're exceptions, not rules"

"Then what about alliances? And how do they keep the name alive?" Lord Renly asked with a piece of meat in the mouth, although he was covering it with the hand.

"For alliances they made deals through oaths. Those are sacred and cannot be broken. Regarding the name, they are not as importants as here. They care more about the blood than the name who has it"

"To sum up, as long as there is blood, many houses keep marrying anyone they want" Lady Jenevelle resumed.

'So they can marry people without concern for lineage,' he thought, as the rest of the people did, judging by their expression.

"Truly, you Faerûnian people have no qualms about marrying peasants and whores? From the way Lord Greatwolf speaks of it, I expected to find a holy place, but instead, it's just a place where peasants can hold their heads high with such arrogance" the Queen commented, gaining glares from Ned and most of the Lords in the room, but, curiously, Jon and Lady Jenevelle were looking at her with indifference.

"Well, it is a way to say that, but it is more like people have to earn what they want instead of pretending it only because of the family in which they were born" Jon explained like you would explain it to a child.

"You mentioned it as a meritocracy, Lord Greatwolf" Lord Stannis said in his defense.

Jon nodded at him "That's right; while some families and some titles are hereditary, the only true way to live in Faerûn is to work and sweat. That is how most of the Grand Dukes got their title" he instructed.

"Then what is the point if even a mere peasant can become sovereign of your city?" the Prince asked sarcastically.

"Because in this way the nobility has more reasons to keep working. They can't lose their privileges if they show they deserve them"

Robert slapped the table; he was so happy that he forgot the women seated at his table, "Now THIS is interesting! You don't have lazy fuckers there!" he laughed along with some of the other Lords.

After the laughs ended, Lord Beric spoke directly to Jon: "It seems a place very different from here; I guess it was hard for you to get used to it.".

"Actually, I've seen my first city after one year. I landed on Faerûn, and I spent my first year with the friends I made there to find a cure. Remember the slavers my wife was speaking of? They infected us with a disease that destroys our will and deform our bodies. It took two years to get rid of it" he answered. The four of them shivered at that memory.

"Such a disease exists? I find that hard to believe" Ser Loras commented after he looked away from Lord Renly, Ned has never been the type of man who judges for the... inclination, but there's a time and a place for everything.

Jon nodded darkly, "Unfortunately yes, and we've been one of the lucky ones to be cured"

The Queen smirked and sipped from her glass of wine "It's all cute and all; your great adventures appear to have come out from a book or bard song. Pardon me, but I find it really hard to believe"

"Are you shut up?! Just because you didn't see things it didn't mean they are not real! Did you trade your brain for your pettiness or something?!" Robert yelled at her. She gave him a look that Ned saw few times in his life.

"It's not my fault if I think that a bastard is lying just to impress his superior! He comes with three foreigners and expects us to believe everything he says like it came out from the Seven-Pointed Star! Plus, no one in Westeros has ever seen that land, so it's easy for him to say that it is the complete opposite of our home" she talked back.

"Actually, if I'm correct, the only kingdom that is remotely similar to Westeros is Menzoberranzan. But it's also the most different one" the pale one, Astarion entered into the conversation.

"What do you mean?" Lord Stannis asked.

"Our beautiful city has a gender considered inferior, but instead of woman... is the man"  Astarion waited until everyone assimilated that information with entertainment in his eyes.

"Interesting. How does it work? You said it is very similar to Westeros, so it has our lordship system or something similar?" Lord Monford Velaryon asked.

"Well, as I said, the roles are swapped, so instead of women, the ones used as reproductive slaves are men, while the women can do anything they want" At that, some of the Lords raised their voices in outrage.

"We don't do this in the North!"

"What the hell did you tell them, boy!?"

"Don't you fucking dare say that again!"

"I never" he started, half irritated and half amused by their reaction "Never said North do that; in fact, Jon told me that here and in... Down, women are treated differently than the rest of the Nine Kingdoms."

Jon raised his head and looked at him oddly. "It's Seven Kingdoms, and the other one is Dorne, not Dawn."

Astarion was confused too and started counting on his fingers. "North, Vale, Riverland, Iron Island, Westerlands, Crownlands, Reach, Stormlands, and Dorne. It's nine. Why do you call them the Seven Kingdoms?"

"Because the Targaryens didn't count the Crownlands, and Dorne wasn't part of it at the time. I don't know why they kept it 'Seven,' though," Robb answered.

"Stop doing math and let's talk about something more important. How good are you with a sword, boy?" Robert asked Jon.

But before he was able to answer, Vayon entered from the main door all sweaty.

"Don't you see we're all eating?! What the hell is happening?!" Robert asked, irritated.

Vayon never interrupted a feast once in his life. If something was so important to come to interrupt the lunch, it got all the attention of Ned. Vayon bowed formally and answered, "Pardon me, Your Grace, but two young girls appeared from nothing and demanded to see Jon- Lord Greatwolf. They are accompanied by a beast I've never seen before!"

Two girls? What? Who were they?

Ned looked to Jon, who in turn stared at Jenevelle with eyes wide open; he did the same with Astarion. The two of them replicated his same action while Minsc was eating carelessly together with his hamster.

"Oh no!"

"Oh no!"

"Oh no!"

"What's happening, Jon?" Ned asked, but he got no answer when the three of them, plus Minsc after he got slapped on the nape by Jenevelle, stood up and ran out of the room to reach the gate. Ned decided to follow them, just like all his children but Rickon, who was so tired that he fell asleep, Theon, their friends, and the men who were at the Tower of Joy.

Since he was far too curious, Robert decided to follow them, "Fuck it! I'm too bored!" he stood up and went away, followed by Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan.

Arrived at the gates, Ned saw Jon and Lady Jenevelle covering their faces with their hands for the frustration and the stress. Astarion was behind them, using his friends as shields, while Minsc was there, standing and smiling next to Hodor.

"Oi! Let us pass! We must see our father!" A voice arrived behind the guards.

'Father?!' Ned thought shocked; he looked at the other Westerosi and saw that they had the same feeling too.

Jon walked and moved Jory and Hallis, revealing two girls who couldn't be older than three and ten. One of them had red, short, and messy hair and blue eyes with many freckles that went from a cheek to the other; she was wearing simple brown clothes but also a silver necklace with half of a circle that seemed very expensive.

The other one instead had long brown hair tied in a ponytail and two tiny braids framing her face. Brown were also her eyes. For some reason, her ears were sharper than usual. She was wearing clothes used for training, but the thing that stood out most was the two forearm protectors. Maybe it was for the sunlight, but Ned was sure they were glowing. She was wearing a necklace with the other half that before.

When they saw Jon, they smiled and raised their hand to wave him, "Hey, dad!".

'Dad?!' Ned must have heard bad; that's it!

"Jon. Who are they? Robb asked with a face that looked like that of a fish.

Jon coughed two times to catch their attention, but it was useless since all the eyes were on him. "Everyone, they're Arabella and Yenna Greatwolf... My daughters," he pointed to the brownhead and the redhead, respectively. 

'WHAT!?' WHAT!?

They waved at them, "Hello everyone!" The brown-haired one, Arabella!, saluted.

From that moment, Ned felt a strong dizziness... and fell on the ground.

Chapter Text

To say that Jon thought his life was cursed by the gods for their amusement was an understatement.

First, he saw Lord Stark without any preparation time, feeling like a fish out of water amidst all the tragedy. At least nothing serious happened. Still, Jon found it amusing that he could easily converse with the other Lords but struggled with his own uncle.

Then, he had to endure the King's presence again, despite his best efforts to avoid him. But the worst was the Prince; Jon had met hundreds of arrogant men, and they all seemed humble and respectable compared to him. "Seriously, how could a lad be like him at that age? I know Westeros has its problems, but I didn't think they were this severe," he thought. After their first encounter, Jon avoided the Prince completely; he wasn't worth the trouble.

At least there were good things. Lord Stark seemed to accept Jenevelle with surprising ease, merely stunned, which was understandable. (Jon was grateful that Lord Stark and the other Lords didn't ask how he fell or why he was running, and he was also relieved that the southern Lords didn't mention Jenevelle attempting to hit him with a mace.)

The second good thing was that his family was happy to see him; even Sansa was pleased. How? He didn't know; he was just happy that none of his family seemed to hate him, though Robb's punch was quite strong.

He was delighted that Rickon recognized him despite the years; he was only two when Jon left, so there was little chance he would remember. He was gladly proven wrong.

The most embarrassing part was his meeting with Theon. Despite his uncle's assurances that Theon had changed, the atmosphere was still awkward, but not beyond repair. He had to suppress a laugh when he saw their faces at Jenevelle's introduction; she was nervous, and he was amused.

The expressions on Robb's and Theon's faces were priceless, especially Theon's, who had mocked him for being a lone wolf. Now, he was married with daughters.

He was surprised when Arya looked at Jenevelle as if she were a White Walker, but he was even more surprised when Sansa hugged her and smiled. What in the seven hells had happened while he was gone?!

While the King was beside his uncle, Lady Tully glared at him as if he were her sworn enemy. Previously, he would have shrunk away from that gaze, thinking it the scariest thing around. Now, it just seemed pathetic and ridiculous.

He returned the glare, alongside his wife, while Lord Stark walked away with the King.

They didn't know how long the standoff lasted, but he knew he wouldn't yield before her.

"What's happening?" Rickon whispered to Theon. "They are..." 'How could I explain this?' "looking at each other," he answered.

Bran and Arya looked at him unimpressed. "Really?" she said.

"You want to explain it to him?" Theon retorted.

Robb and Jon Arryn received a pleading look from Ned, understanding what to do. "My Lords, you must all be tired from the long journey. And although you may not know House Stark well, know that our hospitality is second to none. Please, follow our servants. They will take your baggage and lead you to your rooms," Robb said firmly.

Lord Arryn added, "Lord Robb is right. The first thing is to rest for the next day. The journey has been long and exhausting."

This seemed to rouse his mother, as she abandoned the contest of hateful stares and went to deal with the Queen and her children.

Jon and Jenevelle watched her leave. "Is she the Lady of Winterfell? I'm unimpressed," Astarion said, approaching with Minsc.

Jon waved his hand dismissively. "She's always been all bark and no bite. I wish I'd realized that sooner," he said. They walked over to Ser Davos, Lord Monford, and Aurane Waters, who were watching the servants unload the cages from the wagons. "My Lords, my friends and I owe you our sincere thanks for taking care of our pets," Jon smiled.

Ser Davos replied courteously, "No need to worry, milord. We just did as ordered. And Lord Monford and Lord Aurane did most of the work," he explained, but Lord Aurane seemed to disagree. "You're too modest, Ser Onion. Just accept a 'thank you' sometimes." He looked at Jon. "They told me you're the bastard of Eddard Stark. Is it true?" he asked. There was no disrespect in his voice or eyes, just curiosity.

Jon shrugged and gave a brief answer. "They call me that here. Why do you ask?"

"Because my brother and I heard from our father about your disappearance and how Ned Stark was never the same after it," he scrutinized Jon. "For being just what? Nineteen? Twenty? You look quite strong." He shifted his gaze to Jenevelle. "And fascinating, if this pearl is with you," he smiled.

He received a slap on the neck from his brother. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"We haven't been here an hour, and you're already trying to get into the ladies' skirts. Mother told you to grow up and act like a knight," his brother answered.

"Knight, not septon. I can admire a siren when I see her," Lord Aurane protested, earning a giggle from Jenevelle.

He gave a winning smile. "See? She knows how to appreciate." He bowed dramatically and extended his hand. "Aurane Waters, my Lady. Son of Lucerys Velaryon." He looked at Monford, smiling. "And this is my steward, Monford." He received another slap on the neck for that.

"Fuck you too, brother."

Jenevelle grinned and shook his hand. "A pleasure, my Lord. My name is Jenevelle Hallowleaf, wife of Lord Jon Greatwolf, present."

Aurane froze and slowly looked at Jon.

Jon looked back with a neutral expression.

"Maybe it's best if I leave you to your pets. My Lords, my Lady," he said, walking away so quickly that Jon thought he was about to run.

Lord Monford sighed. "Apologies for my brother. He's a fine man, just an idiot. Now, excuse me, but I need to go to my chambers. I need a bed."

Now there were only Ser Davos and them. Ser Davos helped them open the cages. "Forgive me for the question, milord, but why did you take a second dog when you have a direwolf?"

"Do you really need a reason to stay with this puppy here?" Jon patted Scratch with both hands. "Hahahaha! Stop it! I'm not a puppy anymore!"

Ser Davos smiled before remembering to introduce himself. "My name is Davos Seaworth. You must be the second son of Ned Stark. I met him a few times, a man worthy of respect and honor."

Jon smiled ironically. "True. But changing the subject, I saw you with Lord Stannis when we docked at Blackwater Bay. Are you one of his men?"

Davos nodded proudly. "Yes, milord. I've been under him since Robert's Rebellion. He gave me everything for some fingers!"

Their heads snapped towards him. "What?" they asked in unison.

He took off a glove and showed his left hand; the first joints were missing. "I was a smuggler for King's Landing and a savior for Storm's End. Titles and lands for Storm's End, and the first parts of my fingers for King's Landing. I accepted the trade when Lord Stannis agreed to cut them off himself. No man is more righteous than he."

"Did you really trade your fingers for a piece of land?" Jenevelle asked, concerned.

"Aye, milady. The best trade I ever made."

"You know you could just make some money, stay hidden, and buy a castle in Essos, don't you?" Jon asked carefully, at which Davos chuckled.

"You don't need to worry, milord. I knew I was bringing it on myself, but now my sons can walk without fear of knives in the streets, and my wife doesn't have to wear rags. What's more, the only good place in Essos is Braavos. And I may or may not have robbed the Iron Bank in the past," he said.

...

...

...

"We never had this conversation, got it?" Jon affirmed.

"Got it," his group responded.

They released their pets, Scratch and Quothe. The former licked Jon and ran around the wagons. Ghost arrived and licked him. "Why did you take so long?" the direwolf asked.

"Yeah, yeah, your son comes first," Jon joked. "Anyway, how are your brothers and sister?" he asked.

Ghost reflected, thinking about what had happened a few minutes ago. "Well..."

"Where on earth have you been?!" Nymeria beat Ghost repeatedly with her paw, although she didn't mean to hurt him; Ghost faced much worse to flinch for that.

"With Jon" Ghost said.

"I didn't ask 'with who', I asked where!" she kept hitting him.

Ghost sighed like an elder brother despite being the youngest one, "In a new continent, our ship passed through a storm when we were going to Essos. We were castaways on this place called Faerûn. Jon and I got separated, and I was taken by some druids, explain later, I met Jon when goblins invaded the place I was in ,again, later, and we got together, and I ate all those I killed" he explained.

"Is that the reason you became so big?" Summer asked. He was right; when they were pups, Ghost was not bigger than Greywind. Now he is easily bigger than a horse, while his siblings are as big as one.

Ghost thought about it for a while and answered, "Maybe, or maybe it's for the magic. Faerûn has more magic than Westeros, but I can't be sure why I became so big"

"Don't care about that! Fight me! Come on!" Shaggydog shouted, jumping around Ghost and ramming his head against him.

Lady rolled her eyes and moved Shaggs away from him, then she moved her head against Ghost "At least you're here. How is Jon?"

Ghost shrugged "Well, I guess. I won't speak for him, but... things have happened there. Very bad things"

"How bad?" Greywind looked at him intensely.

Ghost made a serious muzzle "Bad enough to give him nightmares for months"

A cute atmosphere fell on them. Their humans were the most important thing for them; hearing that something bad happened put them on guard.

Seeing how the mood was getting worse, Ghost thought of a way to distract them.

"Hey Shaggy, do you want to fight?" 

Apparently it was the right thing to say because Shaggy reanimated, jumping and wiggling his tail "Come on! Fight me! Fight me! I said! Fight--!" he was interrupted by Ghost's paw, which sent him away, knocked out.

"Oops" Ghost hissed.

"Don't worry. We always do that to him. Look, Rickon is going to him" Greywind said.

"Oh, Shaggy!" Rickon said in exasperation when he arrived.

"Why does he keep doing that? Like, didn't you win any time you fought?"

"Yes, but..." Lady started.

"Shags is the dumbest of us" Nymeria finished for her.

"Why am I not surprised?" he shook his head. "Anyway, how are your humans?"

They didn't answer; instead, they looked away from him.

"How can it be that bad?" Ghost asked concerned.

"Maybe because you and your human have been missing for FIVE years?" Nymeria burst out.

Now it was Ghost's turn to look away "Fair point. Sorry" he said.

She sighed and came closer "Look, it just... It's a long time, and many things have changed, but not for the better. Especially with that stupid fish. By Arya, did you see how she glared at your human? Literally, he crosses the gates, and he has to face a trout with a big mouth"

Ghost rolled his eyes "And here I thought I was the only one who hated her"

She laughed "Trust me, you don't"

"We started well" he said.

Jon nodded "Good, the last thing I want is you and your siblings to fight" he patted Ghost, and then they both saw how the direwolves were staring at Scratch like an exotic animal.

"Never seen a dog before?" Ghost asked ironically, making them look at him. "Who is this?" Summer asked.

"Hello! My name is Scratch! I'm Jon's dog!" he greeted joyfully.

Shaggydog tsked, "What are you? A cheap version of Ghost? I bet you can't even kill a man with a bite" he mocked, gaining a paw on his head by Ghost.

"Remember, he might be weaker, but I'm stronger"

"Guys, come on. No fighting. And Shaggydog, don't insult Scratch" Jon intervened while he was releasing Us.

Their heads snapped at him; did they really hear him speak to them?!

"Wait, he can understand us?!" Summer screamed.

"Yep!"

"How!?" they said at the same moment.

"Magic" Ghost simply said.

Us came out from their cage. Lady and Summer jumped back while Nymeria, Greywind, and Shaggydog growled at them.

Before something bad could happen, Ghost moved between them "Calm down. They're friends"

Greywind wasn't convinced. "What. Is. That. Thing?" he demanded.

Ghost looked at him, then he nodded at Us "Everyone, I present you Us. Us, my brothers, and my sisters. Greywind, Lady, Nymeria, Summer and Shaggydog. Basically the grey one, the little one, the big one, the silver one, and the ugly one"

"Your mother is ugly!" Shaggydog said back. Ghost looked at him with a blank muzzle "You know we have the same mother, don't you?"

But Shaggs didn't give him an answer; instead, Us spoke to them "Hello friends! We're Us! You already met Scratch, and this is Quothe!" they indicated at the raven, who looked at them from Jon's shoulder but didn't talk.

"He's a raven of few words" Us commented.

"But WHAT are you?!" Greywind demanded once again.

"We're intellect devourer. Jon describes us like human brains with legs!"

Nymeria couldn't believe her eyes. Nothing like that was able to exist; it was just impossible. She looked at Jon and his friends; she could smell Jon on the human female. It was obvious she was his mate. The man without fur on his head was something she couldn't explain, but she would be damned if that thing on his shoulder was not terrifying. But the weirdest one was the slim man. The direwolves had such a good nose that they could smell the water. And still, this man had no scent.

"Who are you?" she said so quietly that Jon couldn't hear her, but Greywind caught her talking "Did you say something?" he asked.

Nymeria kept her gaze fixed on Astarion, "Do you smell anything on him?" she asked, gaining their attention.

They tried to sniff anything on the pale elf, but nothing; it was like he wasn't there. They looked at Ghost for explenation, "I'll explain later; we have company" he answered.

Jon looked at the figure who approached them and smiled, "I wondered where you were!" he said and hugged him.

"Hodor" the giant hugged him back. Jon retired and looked at them "Guys, this is Hodor. Hodor, there are my wife Jenevlle, Astarion, and Minsc"

Jenevelle came closer and smiled at him "Hi! My name is Jenevelle Hallowleaf! Who are you, big guy?"

"Hodor!" he said. He looked at Astarion and went to hug him. "Ahahahahah! No!" he stepped back at any step of Hodor; luckily, Minsc saved him.

"Hodor!" Minsc laughed and shook his hand "Good morning, my good man! I am Minsc of Rashemi, and this is Boo, the greatest being on this plane!"

Hodor took Boo and looked at him fascinated, "Hodor!". Boo seemed pleased too because he licked Hodor's face, indicating he liked him.

"Boo recognizes you as worthy to hold him! Be honored!" they walked away.

"Who is he? And why does he look dumber than Karlach?" Astarion questioned.

Jon started explaining who Hodor was, that he was the great-grandson of Old Nan and a stableboy, when suddenly he had an attack, and now he was able to say only 'Hodor,' and from that day, people started calling him so.

"I'm not sure I can heal him with my magic" Jenevelle said sadly. Jon shook his head "I'm not sure we can do anything for him. At least Minsc his being friendly. Come on now, we have to prepare supplies for the campsite. I let the big to you, Astarion. Jenevelle and I are going to give the gifts to my family and Lady Tully. When Minsc comes back, ask him for help" he ordered.

The vampire waved his hand "Don't worry. All I ask is to camp in the south. I've had a bad feeling about this place since we arrived. The more we go to the more that feeling increases" he said.

Jon frowned for a while, trying to understand what was going on, but he shook his head since he didn't have time "We'll talk about this later. For now, go to the south of Wintertown. It should be fine"

He nodded and took his horse, leaving Jon, Jenevelle, and the animals with them.. "Ready to meet my family in private?" he asked.

She smiled gracefully "Lead the way"

Jon gazed into his eyes for a while, then he sighed, "You won't give up, will you?" he said defeated.

Ned just smiled. "You know me" he sounded a handbell and summoned Vayon Poole.

"Lord Stark?"

"Give Jon and Jenevelle and their two friends rooms and prepare a bathtub exclusively for the two of them" he ordered.

Vayon, in all his competence, nodded, and his eyes fixed on the two of them, "Please, my Lord and Lady, follow me."

After they left the room, Vayon started talking "I am really happy to see you here, Lord Jon. House Stark and Winterfell in its entirety have never been the same since you begone" 

Jon grimaced at that; his departure really messed up this place "I didn't know you all would be so upset. Actually I didn't think about that; I just... felt I had to go away from here" he admitted.

"Oh please, Lord Jon. I have known you for almost twenty years. You do not have the obligation to find a justification" he said, his expression turned into one of apologies "At most, I have to apologize for my daughter's behavior against you. If I had known about it earlier, I would have taken action far before your departure"

Jon waved his hand "Nonsense. Don't think I left this place because of your daughter. I never bore her a grudge"

"I still had a duty as a father, and I failed her" Lord Vayon insisted.

But Jon laughed like he heard the best joke in his life "Oh, trust me, Lord Vayon, I've met far worse. And if you took action, then Jeyne became a wonderful Lady"

"Here you are. How did things go with your family and the rotten fish?" Astarion was waiting for them in the hallway with Minsc. He had an annoyed look, probably because of Minsc.

"Rotten fish?" Lord Vayon repeated, confused.

Jon simply rolled his eyes, "Tully"

"Lord Jon, please don't tell me you have spoken ill of House Stark with your companions!" he said, outraged, it was safe to say he wouldn't expect this behavior from Jon.

"Of course not! I love all my siblings, and I'm very grateful to Lord Stark for what he did for me" Jon said, offended.

"Then why...?" Vayon started, but Jon interrupted him, "You said 'House Stark'. She's a Tully. And before you say something, she doesn't like me, and I don't like her. This will never change"

He tried to say something, but he knew it was a losing battle, so he nodded. "To answer your question, Astarion, I have good news and bad news"

"Darling, we had bad news since we sailed from Baldur's Gate. Now what? There's an army of creatures of the night that are trying to exterminate the living world, and we're its only hope?" he responded sarcastically.

"No, but there's a story about that; maybe I'll ask Old Nan to tell it to you. I saw her this morning. Anyway, the good news is it went well: I gave the gift, and my family was really happy to see me and Jenevelle. The bad news is Lord Stark is inviting us to stay here"

"Lord Jon!" Vayon called.

"Not in that way! I sent him to find a place to camp; he wasted time for nothing! That and sleeping in the same castle with Tully is worse than riding with her brother!"

"Wha---! Please stop with this bad behavior! I'm obliged to refer to Lord Stark if you insist!" he begged.

He sighed but gave in, "Just because it's you"

"For the record, my Lord, I'm not mad because I wasted my time searching for a place to camp. Just give us room next to each other, and we will be very, very happy" Astarion said dramatically.

"It was in Lord Stark's plans, Lord Astarion. He gave me the order to give rooms to all of you and prepare a bathtub for Lady Jenevelle and Lord Jon. Only a word, and I will prepare two for you too."

Astarion made his usual cunning smile "Gladly, but at the cost of looking picky, I'd rather have a bathtub exclusively for me. The two spouses love privacy"

"O-Of course, my Lord!" he said. He led them to the rooms, then he commanded the servants to prepare baths for all of them.

"Boo and I made a wonderful friend here! So wonderful that he is too tired to talk to you even just for a minute! Goodnight to all my friends from Minsc and Boo" he said going to his room.

"I'm afraid I have to leave you. We know you like doing things with everyone but us" Astarion said too, and went to his room.

There were only Jon and Jenevelle, alone, stressed, and willing of relief. They looked at each other "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Jenevelle asked.

"Well, I didn't use the scroll of Detect Thoughts, but I have this instinct that says yes" he smiled and kissed her. They were still making out when they entered and closed the door behind them.

The next day

Jon slowly opened his eyes; his wife was still sleeping next to him with her arm around his neck. He gently moved it and got up to prepare himself. He put on his pants, shirt, gloves, boots, and cloak before waking up Jenevelle "Jenevelle, wake up". She moaned and turned away from the other side. He didn't yield and shook her gently "I know you're tired, but you have to get up. This or I eat your breakfast"

She slowly got up and started dressing "It wouldn't be the first time you eat something of mine" she replied, gaining a chuckle from her husband.

"You never seem to hate it when I do it" he said. She just rolled her eyes and muttered, "You're lucky you're a god in that"

When they were ready, they opened the door of their room, but they walked for just a few steps before Jon was attacked and jumped by seven people. A big one tried to tackle him, but Jon saw it coming, and when his aggressor put his arms around his waist, he gave him an elbow and kicked him away.

Two boys with the same look jumped on his back, but he was strong enough to get rid of them with a simple movement of his arms. He was surprised, though, when an arm was set around his neck and a girl blocked his legs; the two boys recovered and took an arm for each other.

"For once in your lives you did good; I'm almost impressed" he said, smiling. He gave a look to Jenevelle, meaning they were okay.

"You sack of shit! We block you in every possible way, and the best you can say is 'I'm almost impressed'?" the big yelled, but there was also fun in his voice.

"Can you please free him? He can't see the half of you" Robb, who was behind him all the time, said.

They did as said and freed him; now Jon was able to see all his friends: Smalljon Umber, the twins Cregan and Roderick Dustin, their cousin Domeric Bolton, and Meera and Jojen Reed. Next to Robb were Theon and Jory Cassel. "It's been five years since I left, and yet none of you got prettier" he joked. Domeric and Meera answered with a slap on his head and a punch on his arm, respectively.

After that, they all laughed and embraced each other, "Damn you in the hells! Where have you been?!" Smalljon asked.

"In a place far from here. Why do you ask?" Jon said, Domeric hit him harder this time "Because you, dumb idiot, thought it was a good idea abandon us to go to shitland!"

Jon moved it away and laughed embarrassed, "Fair enough, you're angry. Sorry" he got another slap from all of them "Now explain it was a good idea to leave the North! We all thought you were dead!" Cregan yelled.

"But you didn't, did you? I can see in your eyes you changed. Or I better say, Faerûn changed you" Jojen said, shocking Jenevelle. "How do you know how-"

"He knows everything but math. Instead of that, why do you keep following these morons?" Jon asked, annoyed and amused. In response, Smalljon and the twins punched him, "Before you touch me again, I know I'm beautiful, but keep your hands close; I need to present you a person" he moved next to his wife.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this Lady here is my wife, Jenevelle Hallowleaf"

They were looking at her like she was a White Walker, with the exception of Robb, Theon, and Jojen. Smalljon was about to pass out, and Domeric approached like she was an exotic animal. He touched her face with the finger and retired when it made contact "She's real" he said, stunned.

Jon assisted at it completely shocked "Did cold make you dumb or something!? Of course she's real!"

"You have a wife!" Cregan exclaimed.

"You're considered a functional human despite your low intellect" he said back.

"Okay, okay. Stop" Jory said before it escalated. "Listen we just came here to see you and take you with us to break the fast. Do you want to join us?"

Jon shrugged "For me, it's good. Jenevelle?" she nodded too "Alright, make us call Asarion and Minsc, and we reach you at the same place?"

"Your friend with the hamster had already broken his fast with Hodor and Old Nan, but the other one I haven't seen anywhere" Theon answered.

"Probably he's around to steal something. He can't help it" Jon said, not worried at all. "Wait, what?" Roob said concerned.

"Don't worry, he knows what is stealable and what is not. Probably he's not even stealing anything and is just scouting the place. Before we go, why don't you introduce yourselves?" he said. They realized they were too shocked to give their presentation.

Jory went "My apologies, my Lady. My name is Jory Cassel. I'm the captain of the household guard at Winterfell. In training to be a knight"

"I'm Jon Umber! Heir of House Umber, but you can call me Smalljon"

"We are Cregan" one of them started, but Jon recognized him as Roderick "And we are Roderick"

"One of us is the heir of Barrowtown!" they said at the same time.

"Enchanted to meet you, my Lady" Domeric raised his hand to take her hand; she was kind enough to accept his kiss "My name is Domeric Bolton. Heir of Dreadfort and of House Bolton, the second biggest house in the North"

It was Meera and Jojen's turn, but, in the Reed style, as Jon and Robb always called it, they were very minimalist "Meera Reed, the heiress" "My name is Jojen. Nice to meet you"

Jenevelle smiled at them "My name is Jenevelle Hallowleaf. I'm enthusiastic to meet the best friends of my husband," she said happily.

Jon smiled and stepped into the conversation "Now, I think it's time to break our fast. What do you think?"

They reached the Great Hall and took a seat, plates full of meat pies and cakes. "They still do it?" Jon said after seeing the meat pies and took a large slice.

"You have all this meat for breakfast?" Jenevelle asked, surprised.

"Yes, it keeps us warm. With this cold, the only thing you can do is be warm in and out. I suppose breakfast is how you do call fasting, am I right?" Robb explained.

She took some sausages and oatcake "Yes, you are. And I understand why you use it, but shouldn't it be better to have a more balanced one?" she started eating the oatcake.

"True, but the North is too cold for that; we can grow just some vegetables. and we keep in form with training and work. The North is hard; only the strong survive" Smalljon joined the conversation.

"So you're what? Stronger than most of the people in the continent?" she asked.

"Of course we are! We are northmen!" Cregan shouted and raised his horn beer; the rest of them followed his example, except Jon, Jenevelle, and Theon.

"How did the two of you meet, Lady Hallowleaf?" Meera asked.

"Please just call me Jenevelle. And about that, let me tell it later. It's a very long story, and probably you want to do many other things instead of listening to the 'How I Met Your Mother stuff'" she deviated to answer.

"Fair point. Talking of stuff, it's been weeks since I sparred. Why don't we fight?" Jon poposed. Their eyes lit up at the prospect, with Smalljon laughing. "And here I thought you lost your stones!" he gave him a strong pat on the shoulder, "Come on! Let's take armors and swords! The training camp will be a war camp!" he screamed.

All of them went to their room to take their weapons. Jon convinced them to fight only with weapons without wearing armor. "I'll explain at Robb's nameday. Until then, I beat your asses without protection". It was enough to make them crash into their rooms and take everything they needed to fight.

"Why do you not want to fight?" Jon asked her.

"I'm not in the humor today. Maybe in these days" she answered as she helped him to equip himself.

He took Gontr Mael and the Sword of the Emperor. He also kept a sussur dagger on him for good measure.

He has been staring at the sword since he took it; the feeling of betrayal was fresh even three years after his death. Jenevelle seemed to understand and put a hand on his shoulder, sitting next to him "It's not your fault, you know? He made his choice alone"

He sighed but agreed, "You're right, but I can't believe he has thrown away two years of friendship to stand for the Elder Brain. I must have done something that pushed him over the edge", It was still painful; he remembered that fight like it was yesterday.

Three years ago

Jon was keeping Nyrulna in both his hands; the air was full of fire and blood; the screams below them were choosing between making him deaf or crazy. But the most frustrating part was the Emperor, the man Jon could call a sort of mentor, friend, was on the opposite side of the battlefield.

"It's not too late! We can still do it! Please, Balduran! Don't make me kill you!" he said, his Helldusk armor was no longer silver; instead, it was a scarlet red due to all the people he killed.

"Do you think with all your heart Orpheus will not kill you for existing? It is in his nature to kill Mind Flayers, as it is in mine to do all the necessary survive" he responded. He then cast Evard's Black Tentacles on him, but Jon simply flew and struck him with his trident.

The mind flayer moved aside and cast Mind Blast. He knew Jon's willpower was too strong to be stunned, but it would disorient him enough to give the Emperor time to hit him with his staff.

The Helldusk Armor was probably one of the most powerful artifacts in the Material Plane and in Baator. A simple strike with a staff was useless, but the Emperor was aiming to propel him away from him. 

The Emperor's strength was... impressive, but useless because Jon was stronger and definitely more resistant than him. When he was propelled, Jon recovered immediately and hurled Nyrulna engulfed in flames. The trident of the incarnation of wind, empowered with the flames of the Nine Hells, had so much power that it destroyed half of the platform where they were fighting. The Dream Guardians fell into the sea, and a mind flayer was carbonized, becoming totally black.

Jon called the trident back and flew against the Emperor, who was casting Slow and Telekinesis to slow him down. Jon was still faster than most of the people in the world, but it gave a solid advantage to the Emperor.

He saw it coming and dodged it, grabbing Jon's leg and smashing him on the ground. The impact was so strong that it cracked while Jon was coughing blood because a rib was broken and it pierced one of his lungs. Nyrulna slipped from his hands. "I thought I saw something different in you. But in the end, you're a fool just like the rest of the mortals of this plane." he grabbed Jon's head with the tentacles, ready to eat his brain. He immobilized his hand with his "Any last words?" he asked after he removed the Helldusk helmet.

Jon looked at him resigned, but not for the reason the Emperor thought "Would you do anything to survive? Then why did you decide to fight me?" with a movement of his hand, Nyrulna levitated and flew throught Emperor's back, trapassing his heart.

Jon took the dagger of sussur, and with a clean cut, his head fell from the rest of his body "We were given the power to save this world. For years I have always thought those with power were always in the right. Faerûn showed me how much I was wrong, but you put the final nail in the coffin" he burned his corpse with Immolating Gates and dispersed his ashes with Zephyr Break.

"Farewell, Emperor"

Present

He was staring at the sword like in a trance, continuing to remember the fight until Jenevelle wrapped her arm around his neck "I'm here, you know that" she said softly.

He smiled and kissed her "How could I forget?"

*KNOCK* KNOCK

"Jon, Lady Jenevelle. We are ready, and we are waiting for you" Jojen said behind the door.

Jon sighed disappointed  "I forgot that part" he sheathed his sword, fastening it to his belt. He opened the door to see Jojen; curiously, he didn't have any weapon on him. "Don't you train?" he asked, at which Jojen shook his head "The battlefield is not my place. You know it"

"Your choice; I'm not anyone to judge. Lead us the way"

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Domeric screamed when Jon threw him away like a ragdoll. Cregan and Roderick tried to attack him both ways, but Jon stepped back at the last second; their axes clashed, disorienting them. Luckily for them, they recovered quickly and decided to attack from two different angles. Cregan was aiming for his head while Roderick was aiming for the leg. Jon kicked Roderick's axe as he parried the swing with the sword. Roderick fell to the ground from the power of Jon's disarm, with Cregan reaching him shortly after.

Jon stuck the sword in the ground and grabbed the twins from the feet. He spun for a while and, when it was fast enough, threw them in the same place of Domeric, who was still down. They went on his back, and he could just groan for the pain.

Smalljon decided to play the all for all and charged Jon with his longsword. He was bigger and stronger physically than Jon; he was in the lead. Or so it seemed to him.

Jon sidestepped all his swings with a smile; they were like in slow motion to him. Every missed hit pissed Smalljon off; he struck harder, faster, and more recklessly, falling into Jon's trap. He sidestepped one last time and tripped Smalljon when the sword was close to the ground, but instead of falling, the heir of House Umber got his face grabbed by Jon, who slammed him to the ground.

Before Smalljon could even think to hold Jon's hand, the second rotated like he did with the Dustin twins and threw over the three of them.

"Are you two fine?" Cregan asked in pain.

"Depends. Do we have 24 or 26 ribs? Because 25 of them hurt" Roderick answered.

"Well, dear cousin, I really would like to know how I am if YOU GET THE HELL OFF ME!" Domeric yelled, but his words fell in the void since none of them was able to stand up. They raised their eyes when they heard a scream and begged the old gods for salvation because they were certain that a falling Smalljon was their death.

"Fuck", Roderick.

"My", Cregan.

"Life", Domeric.

Smalljon fell on them like a meteor; sure, they weren't dead, but they would wish for it.

Jon knew it wasn't over because Theon and Meera attacked him in the back. Theon was using the axes Jon gave him; Meera, instead, was using a dagger with a lizard-lion carved on the guard. The leader of the Heroes of the Gate had to be very careful about them; the axes were smaller than those Cregan and Roderick wielded, and Meera was her father's daughter.

Jon's memory went back to the past, when he and Meera were training at the same training camp where they were now. He has never been defeated in training camp except when they were throwing hands.

Meera ended up with her butt on the ground for the umpteenth time that day. Jon offered her a hand to get up, which she accepted. "How can you be so good with a sword and how can I be so bad with it?" she asked.

"Maybe because you're a woman and should stay with Sansa and Arya embroidering," Theon sneered, being kicked by Robb.

"If you keep blowing your mouth, we eat squid for dinner!" Meera warned, but Theon's smile grew bigger.

"Lady Reed wants a piece of me! I feel very honored!" he came closer, putting his hand on her cheek.

"My sweet lizard, what do you desire?" he asked, trying to be charming like Robb and failing.

"Do not try anything with my sister!" Jojen marched; a hand was put on his shoulder. It was Smalljon, who put a finger in front of his mouth, telling him to do nothing and watching the show.

"What do I desire?" Meera smiled. Theon was very close to her—precisely, close to her legs. "Well there's something I actually want to do since we've met," she played along.

His smile became even bigger "What?"

"This" Meera gave him a knee on his stones. He fell down like a broken tower while the rest of them were laughing madly.

"Don't ever change, guys, please!" Domeric had tears for the fun.

"Bitch," Theon managed to say after a while. Her foot went closer to his face, and he protected it with his hands. "What was that?" he said nothing, "That's what I thought". She turned towards Jon "Let's try again" she said, picking the sword up, but Jon took it before her and broke it with his knee, shocking them. Not the sword was much shorter.

"Motherfuck- What was that for?!" she yelled. He gave her the broken sword and put on position. "Try gain"

She observed the sword, then him, "You can't be serious"

He stayed on his position, guard up, "Try again" he repeated.

She sighed and rushed for him; she was much faster than she was with a sword; in fact, Jon dodged her swing instead of parrying it as he usually did. Meera's attacks were so fast and precise that they kept Jon on the defensive for a while.

"If a broken sword or a knife is what it takes to kill you, Jon, next time I'll call the skinner!" Roderick yelled. "This is a promise: if you lose, you pay for the sword you had broken!" 

Jon was too focused on avoiding her attacks to listen to Rodrick; he was really going to lose his title of best swordsman in Winterfell. Then he got an idea.

Meera was radiant; she finally was getting the edge of a fight for the first time in her life. She would kick herself later for not figuring out how swords were not for her, but now she had to take Jon's title.

But suddenly, Jon dove on the ground like a ragdoll, overbalancing Meera because of her broken concentration during her last swing. When Jon fell, he rolled against Meera and made her drop; it was a bit sloppy but gave its fruits. Meera fell down and dropped the broken sword.

Jon quickly stood over her with the blade at her throat "Yield" he said. She slammed her fist on the ground "Dammit!" but she could do nothing.

She sighed and gave him a pat on the shoulder "Yield"

He stood up and held out his hand again, which she accepted. "Finally we found out something good for you" he said. She smiled and played with the broken sword to get used to it "Hey, Ser Rodrik. May I use daggers next time?" she asked.

He examined it and nodded "I will tell Mikken to forge a smaller training sword for you, Lady Meera."

She smiled when the rest of her friends and his brother came. "How did you do that?! You were much faster than you've ever been!" Robb exclaimed.

She didn't have a good answer, so she shrugged "I guess it's luck"

Domeirc raised an eyebrow "If that is just luck, then my family has always been made up of pacifists," he joked.

"I knew you would make it!" Jojen said jumping around her. She laughed and ruffled his hair. She looked at Jon, who was smiling proud "If you want a thanks, then wait until I have won your title" she challenged, but he just giggled "In your dreams"

He was so lost in his memories that he almost got hit by Theon's axes; he parried them, but it left him exposed to Meera's attack. He dodged it at the last second, albeit his shirt has been cut by her dagger. He regained his composure and disarmed Theon of one of the axes, but his luck was running out because Robb and Jory joined them; now Jon had to fight four opponents who were giving their best. Usually it wouldn't be a problem since he does it every day, but this time he was really holding back!

He drew his sussur dagger, having the blade on the same verse of his sword, and kept resisting to find an opening; he was stepping back at every one of their attacks till he disarmed Theon. Seeing the opening he was looking for, he attacked him and divided Meera from Robb and Jory. He stunned Theon with the pommel of the sword on his shoulder blade and kicked Meera away from them. Now it was a one-versus-two situation, but Jon faced worse and won.

He started to attack the captain of the guard with the sword while Robb had to fight against the dagger; now it was time for his reprise.

He overturned his dagger and sliced the workout clothes of Robb; he observed shocked, but the best he could do was keep defending himself with the sword. Jon then hurled the dagger at Jory's sword, who fell from the force of the impact. Jon created distance between him and Robb to concentrate his efforts on Jory; when he was standing up, Jon assaulted him till the captain of the guard wasn't exhausted at parrying Jon with his sword. In that way, Jon could kick Jory's sword away and punch him, leaving him unconscious. It was Robb's turn now. For the last dance, Jon overturned his sword and used it like a hammer; he aimed at his legs and knocked him with a kick when he fell.

Jon fought against eight opponents and won.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead; his wife came closer and threw him a sack of water. He gladly drank it.

"At least I'll die in peace knowing you trained when you were gone" a voice spoke behind them; it was Ser Rodrick Cassel, who assisted at the whole fight and smiled at Jon's victory.

Jon returned the smile "It's a pleasure to see you, Ser Roderick" He offered his hand, which he accepted. The knight looked at Jenevelle "Are you the woman who stole his heart?" he asked.

She covered her mouth and started laughing "I plead guilty, Ser. My name is Jenevelle Hallowleaf" he nodded at her hand to kiss it, but the situation became slightly awkward when she didn't show signs of moving her hand.

He decided to bow his head and smile politely "Ser Roderick Cassel, master-at-arms of Winterfell and trainer of your husband and of THIS BUNCH OF WEAKLING FOOLISH PRIVILEGED DISGRACES!" he yelled the last part.

"We love you too, uncle" Jory moaned, still suffering on the ground. Ser Rodrik seemed to remember something "Oh, and I am the uncle of Jory Cassel"

"So you're the one who made my husband so skilled with weapons" she declared. Ser Rodrik giggled, showing theets "Only in part; he has always been a prodigy with any weapon I threw him. The finest swordsman in the training field at only eight years old, Jory excluded him because he was much older than him"

She howled in amazement and looked at Jon "So you were serious about that. I thought you were just trying to impress me"

His smile became forced "I had the impression I refuted it on the battlefield. Why did you say that?"

She smiled knowingly, "Because I love the face you make every time I raise the subject". Jon wanted to say more, but the dragging voice of Smalljon interrupted them, "Would you mind helping us? I can't stand up"

Robb and Jory were in better condition and tried to stand up, even if it took a while to stay on foot. Meanwhile, Jojen was already helping his sister, who accepted the help.

"Yeah, yeah. Jenevelle, help me with Robb and the others; these four can wait" Jon said, trying to hold back a smile. "What?! I trained with you, ate with you, and this is the respect I get!?" he yelled.

"Next time try to not lose first," he joked and helped Theon to stand up. Smalljon made a vulgar gesture. "Fuck off, Snow! I'm older than you! Show some respect!"

Robb and Jenevelle went to them and helped him and Cregan "It's Greatwolf now; Jon is no longer a bastard", he said when he reached him and lifted him up as Jenevelle helped Cregan.

Ser Rodrik heard that and smiled "Good. Does this mean you're finally going to shake off the gloom and bitterness that's been hanging over you for the past 5 years?" he asked half-sarcastically.

Jon had the decency to look embarrassed "I wasn't always gloomy. It was usually my happy face" he talked back. They stared at him, then they started laughing. Meera was on the verge of crying. Ser Rodrik was smiling as if Rickon told him something about Shaggydog he did last day.

Domeric, who was groaning at every laugh and bowing for the pain, thought it was a good idea to talk "If... if it was your smiling face—Ahahahaha!—gods help us if you cry one of these days!". That increased the volume of the laughter.

Jon, being the kind and tender boy he was, took a little rock and threw it at Domeric's forehead. He fell like a statue of Rickon when he played with Bran. Jon looked at them with an irritated look, playing with another rock in his hand. "Someone else wants to joke?"

They wisely looked away, except for Jenevelle and Ser Rodrik, but they didn't say anything. He came back to smile, "Good. Now, I usually would say to train more, but since I kicked your harses so hard that now you look like you have rubbed it over the whole North, I propose to prepare for lunch. Jenevelle," she looked at him "Find Astarion and Minsc; we'll decide whether to eat at the tavern or camp out here" he said. He sheathed his sword and went to take Ghost and the rest of their pets, but Robb approached him "What do you mean with 'to eat at the tavern or camp out here'? You have lunch with us. Listen, I know you and my mother don't like each other-"

"More like she despises my own existence, and the feeling is mutual" he grumbled. "But this is not a good reason to leave us" he said.

Seeing it wasn't working, Robb tried another apporach "If you don't want to do it for me, at least do it for Bran, Rickon, Sansa, Arya, and Father," he said.

Jon moaned "Robb..."

"If you say no, I call Arya" he threatened.

"If my wife and my friends say yes, I come. I go where they go" he said. "I'm okay with it. It'll be a good way to know your home better" Jenevelle intervened; Jon gave her the 'of all the moments right now!?' look.

"Fine, let's just call Astarion; he will definitely say no" Jon was confident, but a voice behind him destroyed his hopes. "If the food is safe to eat, why not?". An annoying fact is his furtiveness because he was the only being Jon wasn't able to perceive.

"Oh, come on!" Jon screamed.

Robb wasn't impressed. "Tell me you're not serious"

Jon rolled his eyes but gave up "Fine. I guess it would be a good way to stay with the family" he coudn't but smile. Robb patted his shoulder "I knew it!" he left and went to prepare himself; the wards of the North followed his example.

"Tell Vayon to look for Minsc! If everything goes well, he's with Hodor" Jon said loudly.

"Sure thing!" Robb answered from a distance.

After Ser Rodrik left too, it remained Jon, Jenevelle, and Astarion "Okay, first: where have you been? And second: why the hells did you agree? I thought you wanted to stay far from the North as much as possible" he asked Astarion.

The vampire-spawn smiled in his usual way "Aw, darling. You know I'm a curious type; you told me this castle is thousands of years old, and I couldn't resist. But I had to say I only could look around the cripts..."

"What!?"

"But I stopped after seeing the hour" 

He gave him an angry look but didn't say anything.

"About why I wanted to stay here," he got closer and whispered "If I can stay nearby our Lady Salmon, I may find a way to, let's say, complicate her life further" for all the time, he smiled.

Jon thought for a moment but didn't insist more "Very well, just be sure to not do anything mortal or dangerous. I don't want her children worrying because you overdosed with poison. And no lethal poison" he warned.

Astarion bowed theatrically. "Not as funny as I hoped, but as you wish. I'll be very gentle"

"One of these days we have to take care of that Septa Moron or whatever shitty name she has" Jenevelle spoke.

"Trust me, darling" he made an evil laugh. "I didn't forget her"

"Can you guys not plotting for murderers or harassment for more than two days?!" Jon burst out. He looked at Jenevelle "And you're supposed to be a cleric. Shouldn't you turn the other cheek?"

"I'm a cleric of Selûne, not Ilmater. Violence is not discouraged in my church" she responded. A sadist smile appeared on her "And then, if there is severe damage and injuries, I can always heal them"

Her husband opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't when he found out he had nothing to say "You know what? Fine, just don't traumatize the kids. Now let's go to prepare ourselves. We'll be having lunch soon" they went in their room and wore clothes suited to a meal with nobles.

Jon was going to kill that fucking Queen!

He could handle the Tully siblings with no problems; they're stupid, predictable, easy to wrath, and when you piss them off enough, you can take whatever they give you.

But a Queen with a complex of superiority as big as an ancient dragon that you can't kill due to politics and because Jon was not that crazy and selfish to bring chaos to the kingdom? Impossible.

It wouldn't be a big deal for him to ignore her; he met worse, and he had to stop his crew from killing them, but letting her insult his city, his people, and his wife!? They should thank the gods for not being a barbarian.

He calmed down. It was still manageable; it was clear as the day she wanted to get under his skin; he faced Raphael, Ethel, and Viconia. A human queen can be annoying, but not something that would enrage him, no matter the insults.

His wife was also taking all her verbal jabs with a calm he'd see in Gale.

He looked somewhere else to calm down; he saw the King talking with Lord Hand about something. When he was with Lord Stark and Lord Arryn, Robert Baratheon could talk very softly.

Lord Tyrion was drinking as much as possible. Jon heard he was the son of two humans, but his abilities in drinking were equal to the abilities of a Faerunian dwarf.

Rickon was next to Bran, and they were talking about Shaggydog and Summer. Apparently Shaggy had provoked Bran's direwolf for a fight, and Shaggy slept on the very bed he made.

He saw Sansa talking to the Prince. She was wearing the bracelet he gave her for the occasion; Jon would lie if he said he didn't appreciate it. It was good to know only one person here was hating him. The Prince there present was sitting between her and Robb, and judging by his face, he was really considering the Wall. The last time it happened was when Septa Mordane had been giving him a sermon about the practice of marriage and how feeling pleasure was a sin to the gods. It was the first time Jon was happy that Theon was around talking about the whores of Winterfell.

The blondie was also pretending to listen to Sansa, but Jon knew the look on his face; his mind was on another world.

Arya was sitting next to him and was eating her meal, but her eyes were on Jenevelle. Thank the gods it wasn't a stare of hatred. Instead, she was observing her like she was an exotic animal, which wasn't too far, since his wife was a half-elf.

Sometimes Lord Stark watched Jon; despite everything, he was still in conflict with him. Yes, he lied to him for fourteen years. Yes, he never did much to defend him from Tully. But Jon couldn't even ignore all he did for him. He's gone too far with that letter, even if Lord Stark has gone too far with his.

'One of these days I have to talk to him. Maybe in the crypts or the godswood, I could also talk about Arabella and Yenna. His reaction would be a fine compensation' he thought.

But the main course is Lady Tully and her brother. Edmure has never talked to them since Astarion poisoned his food with that diarrhea poison. Excessive? Maybe. A wonderful melody that helped him to sleep? Oddly, yes.

The Lady of Winterfell has continued to glare at him since he came, and judging by the stern look of Robb about it, he told her about their talk on the training camp, and she didn't agree at all. He didn't lose the opportunity to savor the food in the most visible way possible. Maybe the food of the Wyrm's Rock, but it still was delicious as he remembered. He may have eaten very little when he was a boy, especially when he won against Robb, but Lord Poole and the head chef were so kind to pass him the larder key.

About her glares, Jon could resist Fear, he was fine. Now he only needs to give them back when no one is watching.

"May you tell us how you met Lord Snow, Lady Gazelle?" the Queen asked.

'Seriously? Gazelle? What are you? Ten?' He mocked in his mind; he wanted to laugh at her immaturity if only he knew why she's so pissed off at her.

Jenevelle told them how they killed Zhalk and how he was so lame with the nautiloid 'Will she never let it down? It's been five years!' he groaned in his mind; he could only hope she didn't talk about that time he tried to use the Zurkhwood Skiff; he wouldn't survive that.

They talked with various lords about Faerûn; strange how they could be so confused about the absence of betrothals. But since it was present on two continents, it would seem almost impossible to imagine a culture that not only doesn't use them but also banishes them... Jon was astonished too when he came to know.

When he talked about the meritocracy, many Lords were intrigued, thought the Queen and the Prince sneered at it, but the King's agreement prevented anyone from agreeing with them. But while most of this was easy to describe and tell, none of them could say anything about the Ceremorphosis; he still had nightmares about it without counting the rest. He didn't really need that, but words came out alone, probably because it was good to say it to people who do know nothing about it.

They kept talking and eating until King Robert asked about his ability with a sword; he was about to answer, but Vayon opened the doors like he was possessed...

...And Jon really wanted it to be so.

'How in the plane did those two and Owlie manage to arrive here?! It couldn't be Gale because he's not so stupid to send two agents of Chaos to an unknown continent! So were Elminster and any other wizard I know! Please don't tell me Ari learned the teleportation spells!' he screamed in his mind; this was one of the worst scenarios to come to mind, and his friends were thinking the same thing if their faces were a thing.

They got up instantly and went outside to see if their fears were justified. Lord Stark called him, asking him what was going on, but Jon didn't answer; he was too taken aback to say something. He heard the moving of chairs, so there were people who were curious too.

Arrived at the gates, they saw a crowd surrounding two guards, who were Jory and Hallis, and someone else. It gave Jon some hope, but an indistinguishable roar broke them like eggs. An owlbear roar.

He and Jenevelle ran a hand over their faces. "Would you mind if I stay behind you? I mean, it's not like I'm afraid or something, but we're talking about your daughters, so..."

Jon didn't have time for this "Shut it, Astarion."

He passed his hand for some minutes before Arabella spoke "Oi! Let us pass! We must see our father!". It was his signal to take them.

He approached Jory and Hallis and met his daughters. Arabella was using Disguise Self to mask her tiefling look; now her horns were missing, her sclera was now white, and her skin was no longer purple but white. She was also wearing the Gloves of Soul Catching. 'Why did she bring them with her? Or better, why is she wearing them?' he thought after seeing the two chests that Owlie was carrying on his sides; they were big and heavy but nothing for him. Even if he was relatively young for an owlbear. Jon also saw Grub on Owlie's back.

When they saw him, Arabella and Yenna raised their hands to wave at him, "Hey dad!" Arabella greeted.

He looked at them with a stern look, despite being happy to see them. It was always like that; Jon was having some affair, Arabella and Yenna appeared, and something exploded or someone got killed and cut if they weren't humanoids. And this is when they stay at home, because sometimes they travel to find out ruins, spells, creatures, magic objects, and anything else that comes to mind, leaving Jon worried each time they do it.

"Jon" it was Robb's voice, "Who are they?". Jon knew they would have arrived at this, and he was prepared.

'Okay, here's the plan: presentation, finding a private room, hugging them, scolding them, hugging them again, and deciding if sending them at Baldur's Gate or making them stay here with us... I'm more prone to the first because Winterfell is a very nice place, and I don't want it to blow up like the lair of Ansuur'

He coughed a few times "Everyone, they're Arabella and Yenna Greatwolf... my daughters"

He didn't know if they were joking or trying to be polite, but the two of them waved at all the people who came to see what was happening 'Wonderful, there's even the King' "Hello everyone!" Arabella exclaimed.

...And Lord Stark fainted.

Being a father is the best gift and the worst curse at the same time, and you would do anything to make it endure forever.

"Father!" Robb rushed to him and got down on his knees to check if he was fine. Meanwhile, the King was laughing "Really?! Two girls and you fall like a ragdoll, Ned!?" 

Minsc came and hugged both of them, lifting the girls up "Nice to see you girls! There was too much calm here for my tastes!"

"Hello uncle Minsc! Hi Boo!" Arabella and Yenna said at the same time. Yenna took Boo from Minsc's shoulder to pet him.

They looked at Astarion "Hi granpa Astarion! How's life?" Arabella greeted. Astarion laughed sarcastically, "Very funny, sweetie. Very funny". Despite that, he decided to stay back Jon and Jenevelle. Yenna saw her and realized they forgot to greet her.

"Hey mom! Happy to see us?" she asked, smiling. Jenevelle was still running her hand over her face when she asked it; when she took it away, it revealed a tired and unimpressed look, just like Jon. "Yes, in some way".

"See? We are still loved" Yenna told Arabella, laughing at her mother's expression.

Beside the King, their expressions were totally opposite from each other.

Sansa, Arya, and Bran were both worried for Lord Stark and shocked by the reveal he had two daughters. His friends were on the same wavelength; Domeric and Smalljon were staring at him, then Arabella and Yenna, and they kept doing it for a very long time. Theon, Meera, and the twins were looking at them, and that's all; they were like in a trance. Jojen was the only one indifferent, probably because he saw that coming.

'Seriously, is he Jergal undercover or something?' he thought ironically; he was going to explain better, but the sound of paws hitting the ground at high speed blocked him from doing it.

Ghost dove towards Arabella and Yenna; they fell on the ground with the white direwolf licking both of them with his giant tongue. They laughed and hugged him "Hi Ghost! Long time no see!" Yenna joked. Soon Scratch and Us also arrived; Quothe flew on his shoulder. This time he had something to say "You have a scroll with Fabricate to repair damages, haven't you?" he commented nonchalantly.

Jon kept his eyes fixed on them but answered Quothe, "I've brought all the scrolls that came to mind. I can handle it"

Sansa looked at Jon with eyes opened like gates "Jon. Did we hear properly? They are you daughters?" she asked. Jon took a piece of meat from his sack and fed Quothe with it "Yes, you did, and they are" he told her.

"But how!?" Arya screamed. Arabella spoke this time after she and Yenna got up, "Well, have you ever heard about bees and birds?"

Jon looked at her "Arabella. NO" he said firmly.

"What? She asked how" she defended herself. Jon didn't buy it "We both know she didn't mean that 'how'"

She laughed and raised her hand in defeat, "Fine, fine" she looked at Arya smiling, "Okay, whoever you are, we're adopted. It means we have no blood in common, but we still consider ourselves a family. Got it?" she said it in her usual blunt manner.

Arya frowned at how Arabella called her "Yes, I did. And my name is Arya" she told her angrily.

That name rang a huge bell for the two girls "Arya? Arya Stark?" Yenna asked.

"Yes?" now she was confused. They looked at each other and went to hug Arya "Aunt! Ahah! Finally we meet! Dad talked a lot about you!"

Now instead of confusion, there was surprise in her eyes "He did?"

"Of course! Every time we ask him about something in Westeros, he talks about you first," Yenna exclaimed.

She looked at Jon "You did?!" 

The man in question shrugged "I talked about every member of my family. Now that I think about it, I should do a presentation. You met Arya"

He pointed Sansa "She's Sansa" she smiled, very embarrassed, not ready for this.

"Bran" he looked at them weirdly, but at last he said a little 'hello'.

"The ugly one is Robb" he pointed at the boy next to Lord Stark. He heard him and looked at him angrily. "Are you serious?" he told him.

"And the fainted one is Eddard Stark", Arabella and Yenna looked at Lord Stark with an absent look. Arabella took a vial from her pocket, and once open, she brought it to his nose. The smell woke him up slowly, "Ugh, what happened?" he looked at his daughter, who was smiling "Sup grandpa?" Yenna greeted. Ned almost fainted again, but Robb helped him.

"What? You're..." he looked at Jon "Are they...?"

He nodded, smiling embarrassed. "They decided to make a small surprise" he looked at them like he was saying, 'We need to talk'.

Arabella lifted her chin "You're my granpa, huh? Name's Arabella" she offered her hand, which he accepted with some reluctance. "Hello... granddaughter"

The King laughed at the scene; Jon was curious and examined the two knights. Ser Jaime was between amusement and surprise, while Ser Barristan was surprised but managed to control himself.

"THIS is a fine view! We've been here for just a day, and already I'm having fun!" he laughed like a baby, and Arabella and Yenna followed him.

He noticed, and with still his smile, he asked "Why are you laughing?"

Arabella stopped for a moment "Do you need a reason to laugh?" and rejoined her sister, the King resumed from where he had stopped.

"You're Jon's daughters? I am Robert Baratheon! King of the Seven Kingdoms". Arabella was entertained to see the King of Westeros "Nice to meet you! Hope we get along" she said.

King Robert luaghed even more "Where did you hide them, Jon? They're too funny!"

Jenevelle stepped next to her husband and talked loudly so Yenna and Arabella could hear her "Okay, why don't we come in and continue to eat? We won't get anywhere if we stay here in the cold"

The King stopped laughing and looked at her "Well said, Jenevelle! Come on, idiots! I'm starving already!"

"What about Owlie?" Arabella asked, pointing at the owlbear in question, which was gaining a scold look from Ghost.

"Owlie?" Robb repeated, confused.

She nodded enthusiastically "Yes! Owlie! Our Owlbear! He needs to eat too!" she grabbed his muzzle; she rubbed her face against his "You need to eat, huh? Don't you?" she said with a voice that a mother would say to her baby when they're playing.

Jon passed a hand on his hair, frustrated. "She's right. How many death row inmates have you got?" Jon asked.

That question made all the heads turn toward him "What?" Lord Stark asked. "How many death row inmates have you got? Owlie needs meat. A lot of meat. And since you can't use animals because of the winter... you only have death rows as option" he explained.

"You can't let this beast eat alive men! Even if their sentence is death!" Lord Stark protested.

Jon was offended "What kind of animal do you think I am?! I was talking about their corpses! Kill them, then you give the bodies to Owlie"

At least he had the decency to recognize his error "We will see what to do. For now, we should go to eat" he proclaimed. He turned to Lord Poole "Vayon"

The steward walked until he was close to him "My Lord?"

"Give two rooms to the Ladies Greatwolf and find a place for... Owlie. I want their baggage unloaded in the sunset. In the interim, prepare a sit for the two of them. They will eat at my table with Jon" he commanded.

Lord Vayon nodded "As you command, Lord Stark". He turned toward Owlie with a scared face. Before he could do anything, Arabelle put a hand in front of him "Let us do it. Owlie doesn't like strangers" they took a chest for each with ease, surprising the Westerosi because they didn't imagine two young girls being so strong.

They handed them to the servants "Here, and give us just a room. My sister and I sleep together" Yenna told him.

Vayon, with some hesitation, nodded and ordered a group of servants to take the luggage. He went to find a room for the two of them.

"Can we go now?! My belly needs food!" the King grumbled. Arabella and Yenna raised their hands simultaneously "Same"

Jon could do nothing but sigh "Fine. Let's go and eat, then we will talk for a long time". With that, they left the inner courtyard to go back to the Great Hall.

When Jon and his daughters came in, they were welcomed by looks of curiosity and surprise at the sight of two girls. When Lord Stark arrived, Lady Tully came closer with her brother behind and asked, "Ned, who are these girls?"

Jon made a look more serious than he had before and advanced, with his daughters behind for protection. In hindsight, Jon knew it was useless because her daughter could kill all the people in the room (Jon was a witness to it when he saw Arabella in Baldur's Gate for the first time), but it was his instinct to react.

Lord Stark pretended to ignore that and talked to Lady Tully "These are Arabella and Yenna Greatwolf. They are Jon's daughters".  The announcement generated rumors from all the invitees. Most of the Lords who knew Jon during their visits at Winterfell looked at them astonished.

'Daughters?! But he's been away for only five years! How can he have two girls already?"

'Why do we meet them just now? Did he want to hide them?'

'For what? And why are you asking me instead of asking him?'

'I already don't like my coming home' Jon thought, frustrated. They returned to their seats; Arabella and Yenna sat next to him and Jenevelle, unaware, or better, regardless of the eyes of the Lords. "Okay, before you get mad and disappointed in us for coming here. We can make amends" Arabella said happily, taking out letters with different open sigils.

'What are...? Oh no' he thought, "Ari, wait!"

She ignored him and opened a letter: "'To the future Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate, Jon Greatwolf. My illustrious Lord, my apologies if this letter has arrived with no advance notice, but I hope the information about the discovery of new diamonds in the mines under the Emerald Grove may give quite a bit of relief. Our best gemologists say it's worth at least twice the price of a common diamond. We are still reflecting about a name, but the most voted is 'Wolfrite'. In honor of the savior of the city! As instructed by your person, we will share a third of the profits with the people of the Emerald Grove, and another third will be given to the city treasury. Obviously we did not forget you, my Lord. When the official price is announced, you will receive a quarter of the profits, as written in the contract of the foundation of our guild. Your loyal head miner, Alvyn 'rockwrecker' Zook'. See? And this is just one" she gave Yenna a second letter. The Lords were staring at him after Arabella related his main mine. Lord Stark had his eyes popping out of his head; Lady Stark was looking at him like he invented it to make an impression.

Jon laughed, embarrassed "The imagination of young girls these days!"

Yenna opened her letter "My turn. For the record, we shuffled the letters for the mystery. We don't even remember if there are threatening letters. ~Nanana. Oh, it says you're invited to a Harpist celebration after their restoration. Because, you know, you helped them to return to being a secret service organization after Gortash killed most of them when he tried to conquer the city from the inside. Anyway, you're the main guest together with all the 'Heroes of the Gate'. By the way, you have to warn aunt Minthara and aunt Lae'zel of this; I don't think they can send a letter to two conquerors in war, especially when aunt Minth is doing it for you" she shivered, "I can't even imagine how hard it must be to besiege a city as big as Menzoberranzan. Oh well, good for us when she'll hand it over to you" the red-haired girl summed up.

If the first letter was shocking, people must invent a new word for the second because their faces were something new.  Jon would laugh if this wasn't a formal reception with a king. "Probably another Jon Greatwolf. They must have sent it by mistake"

"Dad, are you alright? You're alternating from red to white" Arabella commented. Jon, Jenevelle, and Astarion made a sign to cut it, but again, they ignored it.

"Hun. Probably they're shy because we're reading the letters for them" Yenna waved it. She handed the third letter to Arabella.

She showed eight sigils that were on the letter, each one showing the symbol of the Clan Ironhand. "Let's see... 'Good morning, Lord Greatwolf. Sorry for the letter, but I and the rest of the Clan Ironhand and Gondians decided to invite you and the rest of the Heroes of the Gate to celebrate the opening of the temples of Gaedral Ironhand and Gond in the city of Baldur's Gate, benefiting from the fact that your purge of the evil gods killed most of their high clerics and destroyed all their temples. We know you're traveling to your birthplace when we write this letter, so we wait for your return. Good day, Barcus Wroot and Zanner Toobin'. Eh, nice. There are nine other letters, but since this is lunchtime, I guess you want to read them after eating, don't you?"

They weren't even looking at the hall anymore. They were covering their faces with their hands for all the reading, and when it ended, Jon looked at the Lords, knowing they had at least a million questions for each other.

'If I survive this but a single hair of mine becomes white, you two are grounded for the rest of your lives.'

Chapter Text

'Uh! Now this is what I call entertainment... If I'm not involved in the crossfire,' Astarion commented, observing the scene between Jon and the Lords. It only took three letters to make their eyes bulge. Jon still wore an embarrassed smile.

"Before you start with questions: I can explain," he began. Jenevelle and Astarion facepalmed; it was the last thing he should have said if he wanted to avoid a barrage of questions.

Robert spoke first, "You're the King of Fortrun!?"

"Are you the richest man in Faerûn?" Renly followed.

"Why did you keep it hidden?" Robb asked third.

"You're a hero there?!" Arya posed the final question.

"Wait, you didn't tell them anything? I thought you wrote to them," Arabella said, confused. He glanced at them.

"I just told them I was alive and fine. Do you really believe I'd boast to my family?" he asked.

She shrugged nonchalantly, "I mean, what's the big deal? And I thought they knew you were a big deal since, you know, all those gifts and Uncle Robb's..." Jon placed a hand over her mouth to silence her. "It's not his nameday yet," he stopped her. Gods, you couldn't tell Arabella a secret that the entire Material Plane didn't already know.

"Would you mind explaining the contents of those letters, Lord Snow? You can see we're all dying to know how you became so powerful and rich in just what? Five or six years?" Cersei asked with a falsely polite smile, her eyes betraying her hatred for the bastard who dared to rise above his station.

While Jon didn't mind his name being used, Arabella and Yenna did, giving Cersei side-eyes when she wasn't looking. They wanted to do more, but she was the Queen, and their father had warned them of the consequences of such actions.

"Well, you all have questions; why don't you ask one at a time, and I'll answer?" he suggested. Clearly, he couldn't escape this situation, so the best he could do was calm them down and appease them.

Lord Stannis asked before anyone else, "The King asked the right question: Are you the future... Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate?"

Jon nodded, 'Okay, a big question, but simple enough.' "Aye, Lord Stannis. I never intended to be Grand Duke. I decided to stay in Baldur's Gate to help the people after the battle. Apparently, I gained the favor of the nobility and the common citizens without even realizing it. I was just helping with the restructuring and bureaucracy where I could. The son of Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, Wyll, a member of my crew and one of my best friends, refused to be the next one and recommended me instead. I refused so many times I lost count," he chuckled at those memories. "I wasn't looking for titles or recognition; I just wanted to help. So Lord Ravengard told me, and I quote: 'They created that chair for people who want to help, not for those who want to be famous. Once you sit there, Baldur's Gate will follow you because they want to, not because they have to. You are a leader; you go with your people, not in front of your people.' And I couldn't refuse. He taught me everything he knew. He and Florrick, his and my right hand."

'A man of honor. At least Jon could trust someone there. But it wasn't me,' Ned thought bitterly. Maybe that was why he wrote that letter so harshly. Maybe he decided Ned wasn't enough. Maybe—

"As you explained, being a Grand Duke is like being a King. Why would you refuse it? You would be the most powerful man in Faerûn, especially since you said Baldur's Gate is the biggest city there," Lord Renly said, confused.

"I never had the ambition to aspire to be a great man. I just want to help. Being Grand Duke is a means, not an end," his son answered.

Arabella chuckled, "And still, you're literally the richest, most loved, charismatic, and clever guy there. Just by being a good man. If you ask me, it would take years to achieve just one of those qualities." She and Yenna laughed.

"Second strongest warrior? Bold of you to presume. Is Lord Snow so skilled with a sword at just nine and ten?" the Queen asked with her acid smile, but this time, even men like Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy were intrigued.

Jon shrugged as if it were nothing important. "Not a sword, actually. I mean, I'm good with it, but it's not my usual weapon." His friends stared at him. Smalljon spoke first, "So you defeated eight of us with a weapon you don't use? So what? Your favorite weapon is a trident?"

"Yes," Jon smiled. "Wait, what?"

"Talking about your rank, if you're the second, who is stronger than you, Lord Greatwolf? One of your masters?" Jaime Lannister asked, finally intrigued.

"Aye, Dame Aylin. I've never seen anyone like her before," he said. Their eyes widened when he used the pronoun.

"Her? A woman? A woman is the most renowned swordsman in the world according to you Faerûnians? Your standards must be really low if a whore can defeat a bastard and the rest of the peasants of your land," Prince Joffrey smirked. Robert slammed his fist on the table and yelled at him, "I told you to shut your useless mouth, Joffrey! Don't make me come over there!" He looked at Jon, this time more gently, "Tell us about this woman, Lord Greatwolf."

He nodded and began talking. It was difficult to tell them about Aylin without mentioning her mother or her lover, or how they met. But somehow, he managed.

"So she was the second until four years ago?" Ser Barristan asked. Jon nodded enthusiastically, clearly happy to talk to the legendary knight. "The strongest one before her, Ketheric Torm," some could perceive something in his voice when he said that name, but they couldn't identify what. "Was Lord of Moonrise Towers and one of the leaders of the cult of the Absolute. It's a long story. The point is: it took nine of us and Aylin to kill him, and we were nearly killed many times."

Again, there was something in his voice, but neither Ned nor Robert nor anyone else could say what.

They were distracted by Cersei's clap. "For a moment, I almost believed you. A woman for a knight, a bastard for a Grand Duke; you really invented a wonderful story. But why don't you tell us the truth? Why don't you just admit you wanted to impress us? Tell us, is your Lady wife a whore or an actress? How much did you pay her to follow you?"

Once again, Robert slammed his fist on the table, this time cracking it. "Of all the women I could marry, I chose the most stupid in the world! Do you really think a boy would invent all of this, write false letters, invent false sigils, just to impress people he met maybe once in his life?! Are you really so stupid? Then what? Her daughters waited for his signals to come and deliver them?!"

"I do not want to disagree with you, Your Highness, but how did they arrive here? Faerûn is weeks away, and Lord Stannis said there was just one ship. How exactly did they arrive here without anyone noticing?" Edmure asked. It actually worried them because he was right. Arabella and Yenna probably used a teleportation spell without considering how they'd explain their arrival at Winterfell. But Jon didn't recall Arabella knowing a spell capable of moving two people from one continent to another.

"They probably took a ship and arrived at White Harbor, Lord Edmure. Lord Greatwolf and his group were meant to dock there, but the storm forced them to Blackwater Bay," Lord Arryn intervened.

"Oh."

"No one has proven me wrong yet. Why are they here? Let's pretend Lord Snow didn't know his daughters were coming; why would they sail to another continent they've never seen before?" Cersei asked. Robert was so angry that Ned was certain he was ready to hit her. Jon Arryn agreed, apparently, because he stood to interpose himself between the two monarchs.

Yenna rolled her eyes, unseen, and stood up. "The reason is very complex, Lady Queen. My sister and I didn't want to say anything because we didn't want to bother anyone, but if our silence does, we'll talk," she said, pretending to be sad. Arabella understood her plan and joined her. "My sister is right; the reason we came here is very important. Something we wouldn't say in public because we were too afraid to be judged."

They caught everyone's attention. The Queen looked satisfied and regarded them with a triumphant expression. "Tell us, girls. Why did you come here?"

They looked at each other and nodded, then turned their gaze back to Cersei.

Yenna spoke first, "We..."

Arabella followed, "Were..."

"Bored," they said in unison.

...

...

...

"Eh. Ahah. Ahahahahahah!" Jon's laughter echoed through the great hall of Winterfell. Those two truly knew how to make him laugh. Soon, Jenevelle joined him, and so did Robert.

Cersei saw red. How dare those lowborn brats mock her?! "Guards! Take them to the prisons! NOW!"

The laughter ceased abruptly. Everyone was so shocked that even the guards hesitated, except for Ser Meryn and Ser Boros. Cersei, however, continued to smile. Jon, Astarion, and Minsc rose to their feet, but before they could act, Robert hurled his goblet at Meryn Trant. The white-cloaked knight fell from the impact, and Ser Boros looked to the King, clearly uncertain.

"If anyone, and I mean anyone, even thinks about touching these two girls or any other innocent boy or girl, I will CRUSH HIS GODDAMNED SKULL WITH MY BARE HANDS!" He was no longer drunk, only furious. He turned his gaze to Cersei. "AND YOU! I CURSE THE DAY I CLIMBED THE STAIRS OF THE SEPT TO MARRY YOU! IF WE WERE IN KING'S LANDING, I WOULD HAVE DEALT WITH YOU AS I DID WITH RHAEGAR! BUT I WON'T DISHONOR NED'S HOME BY STRIKING A CUNT LIKE YOU! Ser Barristan! Kingslayer!"

They stepped forward, Jaime relieved that Robert hadn't physically harmed his sister, but still concerned about what he planned for her.

"The Queen is no longer hungry! Escort her to her chambers and ensure she doesn't leave!" he ordered.

The glass shattered on the floor, breaking into a thousand pieces. "You drunken pig! I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! How dare you treat me like this!?"

He laughed harshly. "I dare because I am the King! Your King! We are not in Faerûn! Here, you obey me!" He looked at the two Kingsguard. "I gave you an order. Follow it."

They nodded and approached Cersei, who, on the verge of tears, followed them without further protest.

After they left the room, Robert sank back into his chair, his head in his hands. "Of all the women you could have chosen, she, Jon?" he groaned. His Hand looked away, but Robert didn't seem to notice. Instead, he looked at Arabella and Yenna. "You did nothing wrong. If she or anyone else tries anything, come to me, Lord Hand, or Ned." He nodded to both of them.

They sat back down and nodded. "No problem, Lord King. Thanks," Arabella said. They acted as if nothing had happened, or rather, as if it had happened and they simply didn't care.

They finished the rest of the meal with less conversation than before. Only a few Lords spoke amongst themselves, but that was all.

After lunch, Jon took his daughters, his wife, and his friends to his rooms to talk. They sat on the bed or chairs, while the two "gremlins" remained standing.

Jon rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "Explain, now. And you better give me a better explanation than the one you gave the Queen. Or I won't hesitate to tie Arabella with sussur ropes for a year and keep Yenna away from kitchens or food except during breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

Yenna had her hands behind her head, while Arabella raised a hand to calm him down. "Okay, okay, we'll talk."

"Then please tell me why and how you arrived here! I told you to stay in Baldur's Gate for a reason! And how did you avoid Jord and Rion? I hired them as your babysitters because you get along with them enough to not leave the city for a while," Jon almost shouted.

Arabella took some herbs and potions from her bag and started working as she began to explain.

"It all started when Yenna was reading a new cookbook and I was reading Karsus's Folly for the tenth time. Rion was crafting new arrows when she went to the toilet. After she left, Jergal and this guy, Helm—for the record, I know he's a god, I simply don't care—" The eyes of the group, except Minsc's, widened when she said Helm was with Jergal. "And they told us to come to you due to something about 'the alterations of the world's balance' and told us to pack and be ready. So we took our books, our bags, and went to your office and read your letters so we could bring you up to date on the news in Baldur's Gate. We thought we were ready, but then I remembered you committed an unforgivable sin! You took all our pets but Owlie just because he was uncomfortable on a ship!" She pointed at him accusingly.

"Hey! It was their idea! I only took Ghost with us! They decided to come!" Jon defended himself.

"Say what you need to sleep at night; we know you're a cruel monster who tortures animals!" Yenna jokingly frowned.

He rolled his eyes and waved her to continue.

"Anyway, after we took Owlie with us, Jergal and Helm opened a portal and sent us here. End of the story."

Jon reflected on what she told him. Why would Jergal and Helm, who is supposed to be really pissed off at Jergal for creating the Dead Three, to the point of locking him in a sarcophagus, do this? When he asked Arabella, she said they didn't say much and remained cryptic throughout their conversation.

"Maybe it's because of the purge? I mean, they saw the mortals being really pissed at the gods and they thought it was time for a more direct approach," Jenevelle assumed.

Astarion didn't believe it, and while he was cleaning one of his knives, he said, "After almost two months? I don't think they would take all this time just to send these two here. It was probably Jergal and Helm's agenda. It cannot be anything else."

"I hope you're wrong. Because the last time a neutral god like Jergal intervened, the Dead Three tried to take over the Material Plane with an Elder Brain," Jon confessed, earning a tsk from his wife and Astarion.

After Jon said this, Arabella and Yenna opened their chests. "Dad, can you give me your Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength and your Disintegrating Night Walkers? We completed our training with the githzerais, but I have nothing to use with it," Yenna asked.

"Okay, but let me get other boots and gauntlets. I can't wear my armor without them," he said, getting up to retrieve them. Yenna stopped him, throwing another pair of handwear and boots at him. His eyes widened when he recognized them. "The Helldusk Gloves and Boots? You brought the rest of my Helldusk set?" he asked, surprised.

"Not only yours. This is for Mom." Arabella handed her Viconia's shield. She took it to examine it. "Thanks, but..."

"Ugh. No, I didn't take the Blood of Lathander. I steal from evil gods," Arabella answered before she could finish the sentence.

She sighed and sat on the bed. "Fine. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Grandpa Astarion," she shifted her gaze to him. "I need those Bhaalist weapons. I want to search for Bhaal's essence on them."

"What!?" Jon exclaimed, getting up, anger visible in his eyes. The adults were concerned, but the girls weren't. "Yeah, I discovered it when I was checking your armory for fun. Stillmaker, that dagger with Bhaal's portrait, had something bad on it. When I cast my spell of revealing magic traces, I saw divine essence there," she answered indifferently.

Jenevelle had to calm her husband, who was between panic and rage. Their daughters watched the scene, upset. "What's happening!?" Yenna said, hugging her father. Arabella did the same.

Fortunately, the young Dragonwolf recovered and got up, pacing the room. "Ari, Yenna. I want you to examine everything about them, and if there's even a gram of that psychotic god's essence, I want it destroyed, erased from this plane, and the rest of them. Take your time, just get it done, got it?" He looked at them to see if they were listening, but instead, they were doing something with the blades, which were glowing red. After a while, Arabella snapped her fingers, and the energy surrounding Bloodthirst and Crimson Mischief shattered. "Done."

They couldn't believe their eyes. Wasn't that the essence of a god? "How did you...?" Jenevelle started.

"It was easy, really. God magic is still magic. All I had to do was use a Level 9 Counterspell and Level 9 Bless with Twinned Spell, Heightened Spell, and Quickened Spell to separate Bhaal's power from the weapon and, at the same time, destroy it since 'good' spells like Bless are poison to him," she explained. If that was easy, they didn't want to know what was difficult for her. She threw them plus other two daggers to Astarion, Dolor Amarus and Sword of Life Stealing, "They're clean, so have fun"

He took them as they were still on air with grace and hid them on himself " Thank you sincerly darling. I really needed other two knives" he said.

But Jon was just happy they removed the power of the God of Murder from the blades. He smiled proudly and patted his daughters. "I'm proud of you, girls."

They smiled broadly and hugged him. It lasted a few minutes before they withdrew. "We also brought these." They took two musical instruments from their bags: the Lute Alfira gifted them and the Spider's Lyre Jon took from Minthara when he knocked her out.

They looked at the instruments confused, but Jon was more amused than anything. "Really? Do you really like my songs that much?" he asked. They nodded vigorously.

He chuckled and laid them on the bed. "Fine, I'll play something for you this evening. Now I just want to go for a walk alone." He kissed both their foreheads and went to the door. "You can go wherever you want, but if you cause trouble, I'll make you work in the stables for a week."

"Wait, take this." Arabella threw him a book. After he caught it, he rotated it and saw a dragon with gems set on its scales. "What is it?" he asked.

"The Tale of Sardior. We went with Uncle Gale last year to an ancient temple to find relics or artifacts. But there was only that book on an altar," Arabella answered.

"Okay, but why did you give it to me?" he asked, starting to browse it.

Her only answer was a shrug. "Why not? I mean, you're the one related to drag—" "Shhhhh!" Jon hushed her. "No one knows it here except Lord Stark and some of his men!" he said in a very low voice.

The tiefling rolled her eyes and took a book about the adventures of Elminster. "Whatever. Jeez, sometimes I think you're more scared of your family than a hag."

He copied her action and hid the book under his clothes. "I love you too, Ari. Bye."

He walked through the castle until he reached his old room. He was surprised to find it locked. He took his dagger and stuck it in the lock. A few movements later, it was open. "Personal note: Thank Astarion for the lock-picking lessons," he smiled and entered. 'Does it count as trespassing? I mean, for anyone who's not a Tully,' he wondered, but let the thought fade.

He examined his old room. Even for a bastard, it was very small. Lord Stark had wanted to move him to a larger, closer room, but he had always insisted on staying here. Partly because he knew Lady Tully would have tormented him even more, and partly because he never knew what to do with all that space.

He looked around, noticing how everything was in perfect condition. Way too perfect. He was interrupted by Arya's footsteps.

"We asked Father to keep it clean," she said, her voice very low. He turned to see her expression; there was sadness in those eyes once full of life.

He sat on the old bed and invited her to sit. Once she had, he hugged her with one arm, keeping her close. "Why did you do that?"

She laid her head on his shoulder, her mind drifting back to the past. "We hoped that if everything was clean, you would have come back. Robb and I practically destroyed it searching for any trace of you or a message. We all cried when we found nothing," she confessed.

His heart almost stopped as he listened to her. He hadn't imagined things would go so badly after his departure. "Didn't you try to move on?" he asked, and she answered him with a glare. "You talk like Mother now!" she said.

"Okay, I'll take it back. Gods," he said, worried. The absolute last thing he wanted was to be like her.

She smiled briefly, but her frown returned. "Mother and Father fought about your disappearance. She wanted us to light a candle in her sept and forget about you. Robb and I yelled at her and went to tell Father everything. He yelled at her for a whole hour and forbade the word 'bastard' to be said in Winterfell."

"Ah," was all he said. That was... unexpected. "I guess she didn't take it well, did she?"

"Actually, she said nothing. About me..." she blushed.

'WHERE IS MY BROTHER?! WHERE IS HE?! WHERE?!'

She hit him as hard as she could, though it wasn't very effective. "Why did you leave us!?" she yelled, on the verge of tears.

He sighed and hugged her. "I'm sorry for that. I didn't want to hurt any of you."

She returned the hug. "You did anyway."

"And I will never stop saying sorry," he kissed her head.

"Changing the subject, how is your gift?"

She smiled and pulled out a dagger with a guard that surrounded her entire hand—Cold Snap. Jon still smiled when he thought about that idiot who insulted his wife. He had made sure Astarion left him naked at dawn.

"I love it! Thank you!"

He laughed and showed her his sussur dagger. Her eyes lit up at the sight of it. "It's so weird!" she delicately touched the blade. "What material is it?" she asked, wonderstruck.

"Sussur. Well, sussur is the name of the wood. It's made by casting a dagger with a piece of sussur wood. It's never failed me."

"Whoa," was all she could say.

They stayed in peaceful silence until she broke it. "You have a wife." She never took her eyes off the dagger.

"Yes."

"And daughters."

"Also yes."

"And soon you will become a king or whatever they have there."

"Again, yes."

She looked at him, saddened. "Why didn't you bring Arabella and Yenna with you?" she asked.

"That's... a good question. I'd say because I didn't want to shock you too much. I mean, I saw how you looked at Jenevelle. You know she isn't a monster from Old Nan's tales, right?" he said, smiling at the last part.

She flushed and looked away. "I do, but... Is she why you don't want to stay?"

He blinked once, then twice. "No, of course not!" he responded quickly.

"Then why? You could stay here all with us! And Mother will never try anything with you! Father will guarantee it! I promise!" she was desperate.

"Arya, I..." he sighed again. "I want to stay with you. Really. But I have friends, duties, a family in Faerûn. I can't leave them," he tried to explain.

Arya looked down. "Like you left us?"

He frowned and grabbed her shoulders, making her look at him. "Don't say that, even as a joke, alright? You're my family, and that will never change. I'd never change it for anything in this world. I will come back to visit you many times; this is just the first," he assured her.

Tears threatened to spill from Arya's eyes. "Promise?"

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Promise."

They hugged and stayed like that for minutes. "And if you're good, I might train you with Arabella and Yenna when no one is looking."

Her grip on him tightened. "That's what I thought. Why don't you tell me what happened in these five years?"

And they started talking for a very long time.

Here's a revised version of the text, focusing on clarity, flow, and grammatical accuracy:

He and Arya shared a final hug in front of his old room. "I'm very proud of you and Sansa," he congratulated her.

She rolled her eyes. "That's the seventh time you've said it."

His smile didn't waver. "Then your mother would be pleased I did something seven times." He joked, and they both laughed.

"Father said we'll have dinner in our own rooms. But he wants us to dine in the Great Hall, like we used to," she informed him.

"If he agrees, we'll happily join him."

She rolled her eyes again. "Of course you are, dummy."

He chuckled and patted her shoulder. "Stay out of trouble for the next few hours." He turned and walked away.

"I make no promises!" she called after him.

He shook his head. "Luckily, some things never change."

He walked for a while until he encountered the red-haired woman he'd met at Blackwater Bay and a little girl with half her face covered in stone. The younger one looked so scared that Jon was certain she feared her own shadow.

The woman in red recognized him and approached him with the girl. She wore no fur or cloak against the cold, which struck Jon as odd.

"Lord Greatwolf. Finally, we meet again," she said, then turned to the young girl. "Lady Shireen, this is Jon Greatwolf, the owner of the direwolf who kept us company during our journey."

'Ah, Stannis Baratheon's daughter. Interesting,' he thought. He smiled politely and knelt before the girl. "My pleasure, Lady Shireen. Jon Greatwolf, at your service."

She blushed but offered a brief smile. "The pleasure is mine, Lord Greatwolf. I owe you thanks for the companionship of your direwolf."

Jon waved his hand dismissively. "No thanks are needed. I did it because Lord Stannis told me about that fool. I don't leave children unprotected if I can help it, and trust me, I often can."

She looked at him, startled. "Did my father tell you about Patchface?"

He nodded. "He did. And if you'll listen to an old man, stay close to the fire. Apparently, he's afraid of it," he recommended.

Melisandre replied, "We appreciate your help, Lord Greatwolf. And you don't need to worry. I've already asked Lord Stannis to have a fire placed in Lady Shireen's room, so the Lord of Light may watch over her."

He nodded, though he remained doubtful. Questioning the existence of gods seemed strange after living in Faerûn, where their actions were visible. Here? Not so much. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me or one of my friends. Winterfell was once my home. I won't let any monster invade it and go unpunished."

The little Lady was touched. She curtsied gracefully and smiled warmly. "Thank you, my Lord. House Baratheon won't forget this, I promise. Now, if you'll excuse me," she said and left Jon to his thoughts.

'I almost forgot about that monster. I need to talk to Jenevelle and the others later to prepare. Wait, didn't Old Nan tell us something about those monsters being vulnerable to fire?' he thought. Perhaps it was time to check the library.

On his way there, he met a familiar dwarf. "Lord Tyrion," Jon greeted.

The Imp smiled and approached Jon, his squire, and his bodyguard. "We meet again. How was your return home?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Better than expected. All my family was happy to see me."

"And here I thought we were similar," Tyrion commented sarcastically. He gestured to his squire. "I forgot to introduce you to my best men. You have the honor of meeting Podrick of House Payne and Bronn of..."

"The one with the women. Wait, didn't we do this with your brother?" Bronn interrupted.

"If it's funny, why not do it again?" Tyrion replied. Bronn shrugged and remained quiet.

Jon's chuckle confirmed Tyrion's point. "See? He gets it. Anyway, how are you? We haven't spoken since our first meeting, especially when your daughters made that surprise appearance with that... creature."

"Aside from the constant fear of my hair turning white because of them? Not bad," Jon said. "And I strongly suggest you avoid calling Owlie a 'creature' around them. They're very protective and sensitive about him."

"How... protective and sensitive are we talking about?" Tyrion asked. 'Damn. This is a conversation for wine, not a hallway,' he thought, feeling thirsty.

"You really don't want to know. And it's not something to discuss in a hallway," Jon answered.

Understanding he wouldn't get more information, Tyrion decided to gracefully retreat. "Oh, well. I hope we find a more suitable place for this conversation. Just one last question, then I'll leave you in peace." He leaned in. "How are the wo—?"

"Dominant," Jon said bluntly.

"Seriously?"

"Oh, trust me! Nothing tires you out more than a Baldurian in bed, or a Baldurian in general. Well, that's what my friends tell me. I've never had that problem," he boasted.

Tyrion stared at his feet, unsure what to say. He quickly recovered and smiled. "I must leave now. You've given me much to think about. See you soon, Lord Greatwolf." They walked away.

"See you soon." Jon watched them turn the corner and disappear.

'Alright. Let's see how many people missed me. Arya said half of Winterfell volunteered to look for me,' he thought. He already knew who he wanted to talk to first.

Jon arrived at Old Nan's room. A smile on his face, he knocked on the door.

When the door opened, he saw a small, very old woman with eyes clouded by age. "Damn," he thought, "Now I'm wondering if Astarion is even older than her."

The old lady smiled and stepped aside, gesturing him into her room. "Jon! I feared you wouldn't come! Do come in!" she said, leaving him stunned.

"How in the hells did you know it was me?" he asked. She chuckled, her gaze fixed on his eyes despite her blindness. "I'm old, sweetie. I've met men far more experienced than you! Now come in, I've prepared your favorite tea!"

He obeyed without question. Though the room was small, it was remarkably comfortable. Lord Stark had told him his grandfather and then his father had tried to give her a larger room, but she always refused. When asked why, she simply said, "This room is too important for me to leave. Unless commanded otherwise, I will remain here until my death." They gave up and provided her with some new furniture to replace the old.

"Sit down while I pour you some tea! I want to hear everything about Faerûn!" she said, her voice filled with excitement.

"I see rumors travel fast," he smiled.

"Like your life! You're barely nine and ten and already married! With daughters! Vayon hasn't stopped complaining about that giant beast you brought with you."

They chuckled and sipped their tea. "Arabella and Yenna are my joy. But I'd be damned if they aren't also my tormentors," he joked.

"That's what happens when you're a good parent. Joy and pain! Pain and joy!" she affirmed. "Now, tell me about your adventures! I'm running out of stories, and Lord Robb and Lady Sansa are telling all mine to Rickon! That boy will be ten soon, and I refuse to let the next three years be boring!"

Jon chuckled and took another sip of his tea. "As you command, Lady Nan."

For an hour, he recounted his travels across the continent. He omitted the magical elements and the most gruesome details of his encounters with Ketheric and Orin. If she noticed, she didn't show it.

At the end of his tale, Old Nan was as animated as a child. "Unbelievable! Did you really do all that? Don't tell me you made it up!" she exclaimed.

Jon shrugged. "What can I say? I was in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time. Depends on your perspective."

"Come here, I want to feel the man you've become!"

He obeyed, letting her hands explore his face. She nodded, satisfied. "Now I understand why your wife married you! You remind me of two of my lovers from my youth!"

Jon raised an eyebrow at the word 'lovers' and not 'husband'. "I thought you were always married," he said.

She laughed. "True. But I wasn't born married. And I'm not a noble lady, so my integrity wasn't as important as your sisters'."

He paused, then shrugged. "Fair enough. But at least tell me who I resemble."

Given the decades that had passed, she needed a moment to recall each of them. "The first was handsome. Taller even than Walder. Actually, he's his great-grandfather. Don't tell anyone, only my first husband knew," she confided.

Jon gasped in surprise. "So tall? Who was he?" he asked, intrigued.

She pondered for a long moment. "Let's see. Very tall, very strong, he traveled with an annoying bald boy. He kept interrupting when we were trying to talk. Eventually, I got tired of him and whacked his backside with a branch from a nearby tree," she laughed. "Those were good times."

Jon's laughter joined hers until a detail caught his attention. "Tall with a bald boy?" he repeated.

"A very annoying bald boy. Not even his son, just a squire. I don't know how he was so patient with him!" she muttered, finishing her tea.

"Old Nan," Jon said, his voice hushed.

"Hmm?"

"His name was Duncan."

She gasped, her mouth forming an "O." "Ohh. So that was his name! What kind of woman am I? 120 years and I forgot my first man!"

"Do you realize your first man was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard under Aegon V?" he asked, incredulous. He had heard rumors of another Aegon at Winterfell, but dismissed them.

If Old Nan's eyes had still been functional, she would have rolled them. "And many women's first times are with lords. As it always has been. Who cares if he was a knight or not?"

"That's not the point!" he retorted.

She waved his concern away and refilled her cup. "Oh, please! I know he was a Kingsguard and that brat was Aegon V. I didn't care at all."

"How? Why?" he burst out.

"Don't be so loud! I'm blind, not deaf," she complained.

"Sorry, but how can you not be worried about hitting a prince?" he asked, concerned.

"Because I didn't know he was a prince, and he was very annoying. Do you know what Dunk said when I hit him with that branch? 'Why are you so gentle with him?'"

...

...

"Honestly, they sounded more like brothers," Jon commented.

"It's a matter of perspective," she replied.

"Can we change the subject before I have an aneurysm? Who was your second lover? Surely he can't be worse than Ser Duncan the Tall," he said casually.

"Brynden Rivers, called Bloodraven," she said bluntly, her face expressionless.

"Oh, come on! Now you're just messing with me!" Jon groaned in frustration.

Her only answer was a smile, which confirmed she was serious. "Now I'm sure you tried to go to King's Landing to meet Aegon IV," he said sarcastically.

"Don't be silly! I was too young for that!" she replied.

"How does this help me exactly?"

"Who said it should?"

He rolled his eyes and finished his tea. "Now I need a bath."

She seized the opportunity to traumatize him further. "Want me to help?"

"Does the Night's Watch accept volunteers?" he asked sarcastically.

She laughed like a young girl. "Luckily, you haven't changed while you were away." She rose and reached under her bed, pulling out a chest. "I met Brynden when Aegon sent him to the Night's Watch for killing that Blackfyre boy. I don't remember why, but he said it was the only way. I lost my husband shortly before his arrival. We found comfort in each other. He visited me during his free weeks, and on his last visit, he left me this," she asked Jon to help her place the chest on the bed. "I cried when I heard that annoying boy and Dunk died at Summerhall, and in the same year, I lost Brynden. The only reason I kept going was to give this to 'a man who traveled in both our worlds and born of ice from the fire.' I don't know what it means, and he never told me, but he told me to trust my instinct, and it says to give it to you."

She opened the chest, revealing something the world, including Jon, believed lost forever.

"Dark Sister..." Jon murmured, his eyes wide. He touched the blade that had belonged to Visenya, Maegor the Cruel, Jaehaerys the Wise, Baelon the Brave, Daemon the Rogue Prince, Aemon the Dragonknight, and Brynden Bloodraven, and now...

"He practiced sorcery in his life. Do you really think he was talking about me?" he asked. "Because if he knew about me, he knew about my parents. So why didn't he do anything to prevent the Rebellion?"

"I don't know. I'm just a storyteller. Nothing else. As I told you, my instinct told me to trust you, and I did."

He took the sword and tested its weight, making a few practice swings. 'It's similar to the sword created by Arabella's ring. Good'.

He looked at her, more serious than ever. "You must know I won't stay here forever. I came for Robb's nameday, and then I leave for Faerûn."

She smiled gently and nodded. "I know. As I know that wherever you go, you do good." She patted his head like a grandmother. "My duty is done. Yours has begun."

He hid the sword in a cloth and left the room. He needed to think about what had happened. Deeply. Very deeply.

"I'm starting to think coming here was a mistake," Jon commented in his room, surrounded by his friends and daughters.

"Speak for yourself! I've never seen this metal before. You said they don't know how to forge it, right?" Arabella asked, examining the sword with Yenna.

"Maybe one in a thousand knows how to melt and work it. But literally no one in Westeros, Essos, or Faerûn," he said. They gave him odd looks at the mention of Faerûn. "What? Am I wrong?"

Yenna rolled her eyes. "For the sake of peace, we'll pretend you didn't say the obvious. Anyway, what do you think, Ari?"

Arabella scrutinized the sword closely. "The metal looks common. Steel or titanium. Or maybe another alloy with similar properties. I'd have to ask Dammon, Barcus, or Zanner. The only thing I recognize is the presence of magic. You said dragons were the core of their magic? Or was the magic the reason they had dragons?"

"Beats me. The best I can tell is they practiced blood magic and other dark arts. They controlled volcanoes and created chimeras by merging beasts and men. The only Valyrians with magic in their blood left are the Targaryens. They were minor lords to the Lords of Valyria, like Houses Dustin and Ryswell are to House Stark," he explained.

"Wait. You're saying the average Valyrian lord rode dragons? How? Who was their god?" Arabella asked, her voice rising in excitement.

"The best I can tell, their god of death was called Balerion," he answered.

Arabella clicked her tongue. "I'll look into it. Give me some time," she said, returning her focus to the sword.

He placed a hand on her shoulder to encourage her. "Take all the time you need. But remember, it mustn't leave this room, and no one must know about it."

Yenna placed a hand over her heart, while Arabella, still absorbed in the sword, simply nodded. They both replied in unison, "Done."

"Good. Because now you need to put on your best dresses," he said.

The girls looked at him, puzzled. "What? Another feast? Doesn't your King have better things to do?" Yenna asked, annoyed.

Jon frowned. "Okay, first, he's not my King. I might have been born in Westeros, but my home is Faerûn. And second, no, it's a dinner with my family, and you, your mother, and I are invited."

Hearing that they were invited by their grandfather made them jump with excitement. "Hell yeah! If it's not a skirt, I'll wear anything!" Yenna exclaimed.

"Just make sure you're not covered in mud, and we'll be fine," Jenevelle added.

Astarion snapped his fingers to get their attention. "Um, what about us?" he asked, nodding towards Minsc and Boo.

"I can give you my blood before leaving, and we can ask the servants for room service," Jon suggested.

"If Boo agrees, I agree," Minsc consulted Boo and smiled. "Minsc agrees. And also agrees to have dinner with Astarion."

"What? I didn't sign up for that!" the vampire spawn protested.

"Come on, Grandpa, you need company!" Arabella teased.

"True. Lonely is for ugly losers," Yenna grinned, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

"Who's ugly?! Ugh! FINE! I'll have dinner with you two, but! I won't share," he relented.

"Yes! You're Minsc's fourth best friend!" Minsc hugged Astarion tightly, and everyone laughed.

A few hours later

"Alright, girls. Let's review the rules before we go," Jon exclaimed as they were all ready, walking towards the dining room.

Yenna and Arabella exchanged an eye-roll, but complied. "Fine. First: no talking about magic, we can mention the magic of Faerûn, but nothing too explicit. Second: no starting brawls or joining them unless it's self-defense. Third: if someone insults you—"

"Start with passive-aggressive. Come on, Dad! We don't need an excuse to use it on that old woman," Arabella interrupted.

Jon looked confused. "Old woman?"

"Duh! The one with the fish flag," Yenna answered.

"Your mother is nearly twice her age, and you call her old?" he said, smiling.

"Well, she has the personality of a zealous cleric of Sune who completely missed the point of her goddess's teachings," Arabella retorted.

"More like a drow cleric. Or like Aunt Minthara when the rest of the world is Uncle Gale," Yenna corrected.

"Ha ha, girls. Don't insult your aunt. She doesn't deserve it," Jenevelle scolded them.

"Sorry, Mom," Arabella apologized.

"Watch out, we're here," Jon warned as he saw Jory, Alyn, and a group of guards at the door. "Jon. You and your family are the last ones," Jory said, his gaze lingering on Arabella and Yenna, still surprised.

"Thank you, Jory. Alyn," Jon nodded and entered.

"Lord Stark, Jon and his family have arrived," the captain of the guards announced.

At the table, besides Lord Stark and his family, were Theon, Lord Martyn Cassel, and Ser Denys, Ser Daryn, and Ser Donal, the knights who accompanied his uncle after Robert's Rebellion. He also noticed Lady Catelyn's brother, though Jon paid him little attention.

"Finally, Jon," Lord Stark said, rising with a smile. The knights and Lord Martyn followed suit.

Jon smiled and bowed his head. "Sorry for the delay. I thought we were on time."

"You are. Don't worry," Lord Martyn replied.

They took their seats as Jon greeted his younger brothers and sisters. Edmure ignored them, but his sister glared, believing her icy stares were still as effective as they were five years ago.

"We didn't have much time to talk at lunch, but how did you two meet Jon?" Lord Stark asked politely.

The sisters exchanged glances, deciding who would speak first. Arabella began, "I'll go first. I met Dad when my first parents and I were refugees in a grove with the rest of our people after our city was invaded. It's the Emerald Grove, the one we mentioned in the letter. Anyway, while the archdruid, Halsin, gave us refuge, his second-in-command, Kagha, disagreed. So, while Uncle Halsin—he's one of Dad's crew, by the way—was kidnapped during a mission to investigate the Mind Flayers, Kagha took command and tried to expel us. She even tried to do it while my people were defending the Grove as payment for the refuge. The tension escalated until I overheard some druids planning to expel us after a ritual with an idol. Being a bright nine-year-old, I thought stealing it would prevent them from kicking us out. As you can imagine, it didn't go well, and that... not very kind person, Kagha, tried to kill me with her viper." Gasps filled the room, even Edmure seemed shocked. Only Catelyn remained impassive.

"If Dad hadn't arrived just in time, I'd be plant fertilizer. He saved the Grove from an invasion and opened the gates to thank him and his friends," she finished.

"What was the viper like?" Arya asked.

"Arya!" Sansa hissed.

"What? I've never seen one!" Arya protested.

"Would you believe I still dream about it?" Arabella asked.

Arya looked flabbergasted. "Really? Was it that scary?"

"Anything trying to kill you when you're helpless is scary," she said emotionlessly as they were served fillets of trout with white wine and truffle sauce. Jon wanted to laugh at the irony but maintained his etiquette.

His daughters, however, struggled to contain their quiet laughter.

"May I know what's so funny?" Lady Catelyn asked, her voice sharp.

"Oh, nothing important. Just a pack of wolves eating fish. I don't know why I laughed," Yenna sneered and started eating.

"Yenna, the highest-ranking lord eats first, and then the rest of the table follows," Jon gently scolded.

"Oh, right. Sorry, Grandpa," she said, looking at Lord Stark.

He smiled, trying to hide his inner conflict. "It's fine, don't worry." They began eating, except for Lady Stark.

"It seems you weren't raised properly if you don't know basic etiquette," she said disrespectfully. Her family stared, shocked.

'I wonder if I can summon Nyrulna from here,' Jon thought, continuing to eat.

'I hope this justifies a Flame Strike for Selûne,' Jenevelle thought, glaring at her.

Arabella wondered if Catelyn's internal organs were any different from anyone else's.

"More like it's a new concept. You know, in Baldur's Gate, power isn't displayed in such a... fragile way. Especially with family. Bonds are real there," Arabella smirked, taking a drink. "This isn't wine, is it?"

Catelyn's nostrils flared, ready to put the insolent girl in her place, but her husband intervened.

"They matter here too, Yenna. We follow etiquette to respect the head of the family," Ned explained gently.

"Uh, makes sense," she said, returning to her meal. "Not bad. Who cooked the trout? The truffle sauce is good, though I'd have used less garlic and more pepper."

"I'll tell Gage you liked it," Ned smiled.

"Do you like eating?" Theon asked.

"Eating and cooking. My first mom taught me everything. I can make amazing dishes with just bread and vegetables," she boasted.

"What about your father?" Sansa asked innocently.

She shrugged. "Never met him. Maybe dead, maybe not. Don't care," she said, taking another bite of trout. "Damn, this is fantastic!"

Her uncles, aunts, and grandfather looked worried. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Robb said.

Yenna looked confused. "Thanks, but why all of a sudden?" Jon and Jenevelle glared at Robb.

He chuckled, blushing. "Oh, well, you're my nieces. I'd be a poor uncle if I didn't help." His siblings gave him a warning look and returned to their meals. Theon found it amusing.

Catelyn interrupted, "Or maybe your father left because he didn't want the dishonor of having a—"

"I suggest you choose your next words carefully, Catelyn. Remember what we discussed," Ned said in a low voice. While he was angry, Jon's grip on his knife worried him more.

Catelyn's lips thinned, but she obeyed. Edmure glared at Ned. "How can you speak to your own wife like that?"

"I set rules in this house. I expect everyone under my roof to respect them as they respect themselves" Ned said stoically.

Silence fell, the atmosphere thick. They finished their plates, and the second course was served: roasted wild boar leg with new potatoes. Yenna's mouth watered. "Grandpa, be quick at taking the first bite! My stomach is a black hole!" she begged.

Ned, unsure what a black hole was, complied. The others followed.

"So? How is it?" Jon asked.

"First, I must kiss the cook. Second, I must kiss whoever hunted this boar," she replied.

"Lord Martyn would be pleased to know his efforts made a fine dinner," Robb said, gesturing to the lord on Ned's right.

Lord Martyn puffed out his chest. "Well, the boar was distracted by Greatjon's burping, so I'm not sure he deserves all the credit," Ned joked.

Martyn's face fell, and everyone laughed. He muttered something Rickon shouldn't hear and returned to his boar.

Arabella, confused about his presence, asked, "No offense, but why are you here? Are you related to the Starks?"

"No offense taken. I'm Lord Stark's bodyguard. Wherever he goes, I go," Martyn said proudly.

"So that's why I saw you going into my father's bathroom last week?" Robb joked, making everyone laugh except the Tully siblings.

Dinner continued until they finished. As they prepared to retire, Ned said, "Jon, may I speak with you? In private," he added, looking at Jenevelle.

'I hoped for tomorrow after breakfast,' Jon thought. "No problem. Your solar?"

Ned nodded and led his son there.

"So... is there a reason why you brought me here, Lord Stark?" Jon asked neutrally. They sat on opposite sides of Ned's desk.

"I'm sorry," Ned began.

Even though Jon suspected Ned was sorry, he was still surprised. He didn't know what Ned was apologizing for, so he played along. "Go on."

The Lord of Winterfell took a deep breath and continued, "I shouldn't have written those words in my letter. I didn't mean to hurt you, nor make you feel confined to Winterfell. And I know I hurt you so deeply that you didn't want to talk about your wife or daughters to us."

Jon gazed at him, unsure why. He stared for a full minute before smiling. "Apologies accepted. I've also been petty, hiding my family because of a foolish letter."

Ned's heart swelled. "Thank you, son. You don't know how much this means to me."

Moments passed in silence. Finally, Jon broke the ice. "What did you think of giving Robb for his nameday?"

"I asked Ser Rodrik to train him harder than last year, and I did the same with Ser Denys, Ser Daryn, and Ser Donal. I've also requested the King to knight him in front of everyone in the Great Hall on his nameday," Ned said.

Jon's smile widened, and he chuckled. "What's so funny?"

Jon leaned closer to Ned's ear and whispered something. Ned looked shocked. "That must have cost a fortune!"

Jon grinned. "I have the right contacts," he replied.

Ned raised an eyebrow. "He'll feel indebted to you for three generations, at least."

"Hey! I'm his brother. If I can turn the best day of his life into the most annoying one, I've done my job," Jon defended himself.

They both chuckled.

"At least that land didn't make you forget your family," Ned said.

Jon waved his hand. "Your wife didn't. Nothing will."

Ned's smile faded. Why am I surprised? he wondered. He knew Jon was no longer a passive boy. He could see it in the way Jon interacted with his siblings. And Catelyn wasn't helping, especially with her planned stunt at dinner.

"Jon, I know Catelyn is—" Ned began, but Jon interrupted him.

"Save it. She's not my friend, nor will she ever be. I just want to tell you: if she tries anything like that again, I won't wait for you to de-escalate the situation," Jon stated.

"There won't be any need. I forbade that kind of talk in Winterfell when you... when you left. She will listen to me. You have my word," Ned assured him.

But Jon looked at him intensely. "I don't seek your word. But if she behaves like a proper southern lady and stays quiet when my daughters are mentioned, I won't say or do anything."

"Jon..."

"No. Don't start. I don't care what your wife says about me. But if she tries anything with anyone else, I'll show you how much I've changed."

"You're already showing me by saying this! Can't you see you've changed for the worse? The boy I raised would never say such things! What happened there to make you behave like a wildling?" Ned exclaimed.

Jon bit his lip so hard Ned feared it would bleed. "Look, I... I just won't tolerate anything from her. Especially if Ari and Yenna are involved. Especially after what Arya told me."

The confused look on Ned's face prompted Jon to continue, "She told me how Tully wanted them to light a candle in her sept, how she nearly slapped Bran for saying he missed me, and how she was disappointed in Sansa for not erasing me from her memories. Oh, and let's not forget how she protested when you suggested a betrothal between her and Domeric," Jon listed.

Ned groaned and rubbed his hand across his face in frustration. "Don't say that, please. Just thinking about that night makes me want a lot of beer."

Jon sighed, looking away. "I've told you what I wanted to. Anything else?"

Ned sighed too and agreed to change the subject. "How long do you plan to stay here? And how can I convince you to stay longer?" he asked.

"One week after the feast. And about the second question, I'll think about it. No promises, though. I have responsibilities too," Jon answered.

Ned was radiant. "I promise, you won't regret it!" he said.

Jon rolled his eyes but said nothing. He smiled briefly, getting up to go to his family. "I have to go now. If I don't check on Arabella and Yenna every two hours, they risk destroying this place," he said.

"Okay, now Arya looks like an angel compared to them," Ned said.

They laughed heartily. Finally, a bond between them had been restored since Jon's return. But suddenly, they stopped. "Wait, what if they try something together?" they said at the same time.

Chapter Text

The next day

"Jon and Jenevelle were chatting with Ghost and the rest of their pets after breaking their fast. "How do you like it here? Are people good to you?" Jon asked them.

Ghost ate a piece of meat and answered, "Pretty fine. My brothers and sisters don't leave me out when they go around. They even welcomed Scratch when I invited him."

The dog in question nodded eagerly, "Ghost's family is the best! They're all so kind! Even Shaggydog. He's very nice once you get to know him!" he said, wagging his tail.

The married couple petted him. "Glad to hear we don't have to worry," Jenevelle said. They walked around Winterfell to give the pets some exercise when Ghost recognized someone. "Uh. It's that poor guy again," he said sadly. They looked at a plump young man with a sad and resigned expression, carrying two books under his arm.

"Do you know him?" Jon asked. Given his clothes, he must be a noble, but he had no sigil on him. And judging by the way he was shivering, he wasn't from the North, but Jon had never seen him during his trip with the King.

"I met him during my walks; he was in the library tower reading a book, trying not to cry. When he saw me, I got closer, and he petted me. His name is Samuel, but I don't know what his House is," the direwolf answered.

"Has he told you why he was crying?" Jon asked.

"I think because he's going to join the Watch, but he doesn't want to," Ghost answered.

Hearing those words, Jon frowned. He checked if he had what he needed on him and then went to talk to him. "Okay, guys. Continue your walk while I see what's happening," he said and left them.

Samuel was trying to hold back his tears with all his strength. Tomorrow was the day he would leave for the Night's Watch and wouldn't see his family anymore. This was his last chance to read these books before he had to pack his things. 'This is all my fault! If I had been a true man like Father said, I would be with my sister and my brother! Now I won't even be invited to their weddings!' Any attempt to stop his tears from falling failed.

"Hey sir, are you alright?" a voice behind him interrupted his thoughts. He dried his tears and turned around. It was a tall young man with black hair and a beard, with a scar on his left eye. He was wearing a worried expression as if he genuinely cared about him. But Sam knew it wasn't true. His father had told him many times that no one would love him for being too fat and weak.

"Uhm. I... My apologies, I didn't mean to disturb you in any way," Samuel said, shivering.

"You didn't disturb me at all. I'm just worried about you. Is everything alright?" he asked again.

Samuel smiled ironically. "I'm sorry, my Lord, but if you ask me if I'm alright, then you should know I'm not alright."

The stranger smiled back. "Good point." He held out his hand. "Jon Greatwolf."

He didn't know why, maybe out of politeness, but Samuel shook it. "Samuel Tarly. From Horn Hill," he introduced himself shyly.

"From the Reach?"

"Aye, my Lord. I'm going to join the Night's Watch and take the black," Samuel answered.

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I might sound offensive, but you don't seem the kind of guy who would join it."

"Because I'm fat?" Samuel said defensively.

"More like you'd rather have a book in your hand instead of a sword," Jon replied. The man from Horn Hill blushed; he knew Jon was right.

"Well, true. I don't really want to join, but it's my duty," he half-lied.

"Huh. Uhm, I'm nobody to you, so I don't expect you to accept, but would you mind joining me for a beer?" Jon offered.

Before saying anything, Samuel studied him intently. Why would a stranger offer him something? Maybe he wanted the favor of a man of House Tarly.

'Is it for that? Maybe he thinks my father or my brother would help him for being my friend,' he thought. But without him knowing, Jon heard it with Detect Thoughts.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think it's a good-" Samuel started but was interrupted.

"If you think I want to talk to you for your family's favor, you're wrong. I didn't even know your family existed until you told me," Jon claimed.

"What?" Samuel was shocked. 'How does he know?!'

"Listen, I'll be frank. The only reason I even noticed you is because you just passed in front of me and my wife two seconds ago, and your expression worried us. I want to help you, but only if you want it too," Jon declared firmly.

It breached Samuel's defenses and, after a long time, he finally replied, "Does it have to be beer, or can it be something else?"

And with that, Jon smiled again

Half hour later

"Listen, I'll soon join the Night's Watch; I don't need this money. Let me pay!" Samuel insisted. Jon took the most isolated table and ordered everyone not to approach unless asked.

"Are you—! It's not a tavern! We're still in Winterfell!" Jon exclaimed.

"But we're not even Northmen! Why would they serve us?" Samuel retorted, taking some silver stags from his bag.

"Okay, first: it's their job to serve us drinks and food. Second: only you aren't a Northman; I am," Jon explained.

Samuel raised his head and looked at him. "Oh, really?" he asked, slightly surprised.

"Yes, really," he answered, amused. Their beers arrived. Jon looked at the woman who served them and smiled. "Thanks, Ayla."

She tousled his hair, smiling. "You already thanked me by coming back, Jon." She greeted them and walked away.

Samuel looked at the scene, confused. "Wait, she knows you? You live here in Winterfell?"

"I lived here in Winterfell. I left five years ago. I came back for my brother's nameday," Jon corrected. He began to drink his hornbeer with pleasure. It still tasted as good as it did five years ago.

Samuel connected the dots and realized who the person sitting in front of him was. "You're Jon Snow. The fugitive son of Eddard Stark."

The 'fugitive' in question raised his horn. "The one and only, though 'fugitive' is probably the wrong word to describe me."

"Well, Lord Stark searched everywhere in the Seven Kingdoms just to find you. Maybe it's not the right word, but your disappearance certainly had an impact on your family," Samuel replied. Jon rolled his eyes but said nothing; it was the thousandth time he'd heard it.

"Yeah, yeah, I messed up. But we're not here to talk about my idiotic decisions, but yours. Why do you want to join an order where ice forms inside your lungs?" Jon asked. Then, stealthily, he took a scroll from his bag and opened it under the table. It was a Zone of Truth, and now Samuel had no choice but to tell the truth.

"I don't want to. My father always hated me because I'm fat, I'm not a warrior, and I prefer books to swords. He did everything he could think of to 'transform me into a man,' like beating me, starving me, abandoning me in the forest so I had to find my way home, but nothing worked. My younger brother instead, Dickon, is my father's favorite. He excels with a sword, a bow, any weapon he gave him; he was the best in the family. He wanted Dickon as his heir, but he couldn't disinherit me without a good reason. So, after telling me he wouldn't send me to the Citadel because 'an order of readers' wasn't worth his time, he ordered me to take the black." Samuel stopped talking and realized what he had said.

"How...?"

"Why did you not refuse?" Jon asked. On the surface, he held such a stoic facade that Lord Stark himself would have been impressed, yet within, he was boiling with a fury that only the likes of Wulbren, Ethel, Lorrokan, and Esther had ever provoked in him.

"Because he said if I didn't go to the Night's Watch, I would have died in a hunting accident. Or at least that's what he would have told my mother," Samuel said. He still didn't understand why he was saying all of this, but he was too busy thinking about that night to concentrate.

Jon had to put his horn on the table, or he would have smashed it. "Lord Samuel...," he started, but this time Samuel interrupted him.

"Call me Sam. If I told you this, and I don't know why I did it, then it's right you call me Sam," he said.

Jon nodded rigidly and continued, "Sam. I don't care what you think. You won't go to the Night's Watch. You will come with me to seek an audience with the King, or better, Lord Arryn and/or Lord Stark. We will tell them your situation, and they will arrest Lord Tarly for kinslaying threats," he declared.

"But the King has better things to do than—" "The 'better things' of the King are whores and wine. And Lord Arryn and Lord Stark are respectively his Hand and his best friend and the two most honorable men in Westeros. Justice will be done."

Sam could do nothing but cry, this time for joy, but something was drilling in his mind. "W-what about my brother? If I don't join the Night's Watch, I'm still the heir."

His new friend waved it off in disrespect. "Don't worry about that. Let Lord Stark and Lord Arryn decide that."

This time Sam was crying openly. "Thank you."

Jon smiled kindly and looked at him like an elder brother would do to his younger brothers. "It's just common decency." Before he could say something else, Robb and their friends came inside.

"There you were, Jon!" Robb smiled, then he saw Sam. "Lord Samuel, good morning," he greeted.

Sam bowed his head shyly. "Good morning to you too, Lord Robb." He looked between the two of them. "I'll leave you. It seems you two want privacy." Having said that, he got up and left.

"Is he alright? Looks like he was crying before," Meera demanded.

"Something between him and me. Don't worry, I have everything under control," Jon reassured and got up. They walked for a while until Jon posed a question, "So, why were you guys looking for me?"

Theon was the one who answered, "Today we train with bows. And since you've always been a wimp with that, I decided to invite you."

"Are you sure?" Jon questioned, smiling.

"Pretty sure. Why? Did they finally teach you how to hold a bow in Faerûn?" Theon smiled back.

"That and even more. It'll be a pleasure taking away your only good quality," Jon boasted.

"Ah. We'll see, Greatwolf."

At the training camp

There were nine targets in line on the training camp, each for every one of them.

Smalljon and Domeric weren't even able to hit the blue part of the target. Jojen, Cregan, and Roderick at least hit it, as well as the red. Robb managed to aim for the yellow, but it didn't matter how many times he tried, the center wasn't hit by his arrows.

Meera and Theon were the finest among the archers. Every one of Meera's arrows broke the previous one because they were between her and her target: the center. And where Meera's arrows hit the target, all of Theon's arrows plunged into it every time.

"Hey, Greatwolf. You haven't fired since we arrived. What? Too afraid to fail?" Theon taunted. The bow Jon gave him was easily one of the best in the Seven Kingdoms with any arrow he would use. But Jon's bow was something completely different from his. He told them he got it after a fight against the forces of a man who was trying to usurp Baldur's Gate, and from that moment he never used any bows but that one.

The dragonwolf smiled and, without looking at the target, shot an arrow at its very center. Not only did the arrow pierce the center, but it destroyed the target itself.

"What do you think?" he asked innocently. They stared at him, their jaws dropped. What the hells did he do there to become so skilled with swords and bows!?

"You... How... Why..." Theon was speechless. He knew Jon was the most skilled in the training camp since they were boys, but this was totally absurd.

'I hate being a show-off, but their faces are worth it,' Jon thought. He usually spars with his wife and Minsc, but they have never been good with bows and arrows, especially his wife. So it was a joy for him finally having people at his level.

"Please tell me your present for me is bow training," Robb begged.

"Yeah-No. It's something much better," Jon answered.

"How!?" he questioned.

"Trust me, you'll see," he reassured. They talked for a while until Arabella and Yenna arrived. "Nice job, Dad. You went easy on them," Yenna said as Arabella was moving three targets closer. Yenna was already wearing the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength.

"Very funny, Yenna. Where have you two been?" her father asked.

The red-haired girl shrugged while she adjusted her gauntlets. "Training, of course. That, and we took care of Owlie, naturally."

Arabella arrived and joined their conversation. "We're his guardians, of course our main duty is feeding him, washing him, and so on. Well, him and Scratch, but he was with you and Mom." She looked at Yenna. "Everything ready, sis?"

Yenna smiled and started cracking her joints. "Perfect."

"What are you girls doing?" Robb asked, confused.

"Well, we watched your archery competition, and we couldn't think anything but you being such amateurs," she said.

"Oh really? You expect me to believe that you’re better than us when I’ve never seen you hold a bow?" Jon interrogated, raising an eyebrow.

His elder daughter raised her chin, grinning. "Obviously." She grabbed Arabella and threw her against the targets.

"GERONIMO!" the tiefling girl screamed. She destroyed all three targets upon impact. A thumbs up told them she was fine.

"See? One shot, three targets," Yenna smiled.

"I have to give it to you. Quite impressive," Jon admitted, although he was also exasperated. He turned to his friends. "What do you guys think about it?"

They didn't answer, too busy processing what just happened. He got a response from a tiny voice that sounded like it belonged to a child. "Is she okay?"

Jon looked down and saw Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella, with Ser Jaime and Ser Arys behind them. The two royal kids were worried when they saw Arabella being thrown against the targets.

Being the friend of all children he is, Jon smiled at them. "Good morning, Prince Tommen, Princess Myrcella. Don't worry, they've done worse and come out with nothing."

The youngest member of the royal family stared at the two girls, with his kitten in his very small hands. "Why do they do that?"

"Do you want the truth?" Jon asked.

"Yes," they nodded.

"All the truth?" he insisted.

"Yes!" they said louder.

"Fun. Pure and simple fun," he said bluntly.

Jaime burst out laughing for a second before regaining composure. Jon smiled, satisfied. "Thanks for the appreciation."

"Do they really have fun in this way?" Myrcella asked, confused.

"Well, they have other ways, but you're too young to hear them," he replied.

"Confirmed. No offense, but you two look like you just came out of kindergarten," Arabella said after having arrived.

"Well, I am ten and my brother is eight!" Myrcella pulled a very cute pout, and Jon and his daughters were affected by it.

'Damn. Too cute for this world,' they thought at the same time.

Arabella yielded and gave her the victory. "Got it, got it. By the way, why are you here? You don't seem like you want to train."

This time Tommen answered. He timidly stepped forward and looked at Yenna. "Can I see your cats please? Ser Pounce wishes to make new friends." He showed her his small black cat. It meowed adorably.

Yenna, with a blank face, looked at the cat, then at Tommen. "Did you really name a cat 'Ser Pounce'?" she interrogated.

He nodded innocently, which exasperated Yenna, and she facepalmed. "Gods, you're really too cute for this world." She brought her head back and called, "Grub. Us. Meet your new friend." She called them.

After a moment, a red-haired and a white-haired cat arrived. The red-haired one jumped to Yenna's shoulder while the white-haired one came closer to Tommen, but it scared Ser Pounce, who tried his best to escape from Tommen's arms. "Ser Pounce, what are you doing?!" the little prince said.

Subtly, Jon cast Animal Friendship to calm the cat down before it could claw Tommen.

Jaime rushed to Tommen with a cloth. "Tommen! Are you alright?" He checked his nephew's face for scratches and blood, but luckily he wasn't wounded.

"Yes, Uncle. Ser Pounce didn't touch me. But I don't know what happened; it never did this," Tommen answered, worried.

Jon grabbed Us and gave him to Arabella. "Don't worry, Prince Tommen, Us has this effect on many animals," he reassured.

Tommen let go of Ser Pounce and carefully moved closer to Us. He gently petted him, and the 'cat' accepted the caresses with joy. "Why does it scare other pets?" the little prince asked.

"It's very hard to explain," Jon lied. "It does it to all animals but ours. So the best we do is keep them away from Us," he explained.

"Oh." Tommen kept petting Us for a while before he looked at Yenna. "May I pet your cat?"

The teen girl shrugged and knelt to put Grub, who was on her owner. "It's her choice. Not mine."

Tommen gently rested a hand on the cat's head, which, after a brief hesitation, willingly accepted the touch.

Tommen smiled and stroked her chin. "She's so cute!"

Yenna joined the caresses. "Grub likes you, apparently."

Meanwhile, Myrcella started to talk with Arabella. "Do you and your sister have fun throwing each other?" she asked.

Arabella shrugged with nonchalance. "Sort of. We do it because we like it. If we get bored, we change."

The princess looked curiously. "Is there anything you have never been bored by?" she interrogated.

The older girl put her hand behind her head. "Sure, we usually explore ruins, caverns, and old castles. And when we see a new creature, we—"

"Perhaps that will be enough, Ari. Remember she's only ten," Jon intervened.

She realized what she was about to say and went silent immediately. "Listen, forget this conversation and let's talk about something else. Pick your lane; I'll follow," she stated.

"Uhm..." Myrcella looked at her uncle and Ser Arys, both of whom didn't know what to say.

"How about dolls, songs, or stories?" Jaime suggested.

She animated and nodded vigorously at her uncle.

"What kind of ballads and songs do you listen to?" she asked her.

A grin formed on Arabella's face. "Now we're really talking."

Seeing they didn't need him anymore, Jon nodded to his friends and kissed both his daughters on their foreheads, preparing to leave. "We leave you girls."

"Goodbye, Dad," they said.

"Ser Jaime, Ser Arys," he said politely.

"Lord Greatwolf," Ser Jaime said abruptly, even if Jon felt some respect in his tone. Ser Arys didn't say anything but nodded politely.

"Princess Myrcella, Prince Tommen. Have a nice day," he greeted them lastly.

"You too, Lord Greatwolf," Myrcella said happily. Tommen moved Ser Pounce's paw to wave at him.

After they moved away from them, Jon turned to his friends. "Okay, guys, I've humiliated you enough. Now I need a bath before lunch. Who's stinking?"

"We all need a bath. Luwin says men of our age stink more than the rest of them," Robb answered.

"Ah! That's why it's better being a woman," Meera spoke.

"He also said women are more lunatic at this age," Smalljon intervened. As expected, the smile on her face collapsed. "I forgot that part."

"Well, try to look on the bright side of being a woman," Domeric said.

"And what is it?" Meera asked.

"I don't know; that's why I asked you to look for it," he replied. They laughed at the joke, but they laughed even more when Meera punched Domeric in the stomach for revenge.

Shortly after, Winterfell baths

Jon entered the communal baths where his friends, except Meera, were waiting for him. "Sorry I'm late, guys."

"Finally! I thought it was an excuse to—WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS HAPPENED TO YOUR ARM AND YOUR CHEST!?" Robb shouted when he saw his brother's body. Theon and Smalljon stared at him with their mouths open while Domeric and the twins' eyes were so wide they looked like they might fall from their skulls. Even Jojen was surprised by it.

His body was covered in scars head to toe, each from a battle. His right arm was adorned by three scars he received from a worg when he and his companions were reaching the Goblin Camp. On his leg, there was a bite he got from the first gnoll he fought, though it was subtle enough not to be noticed instantly. On his back, he was hit by Viconia during the fight at the House of Grief.

But the most prominent and worst were the circle on the center of his chest and the extensive scar tissue on his left arm. He had to thank Ketheric and Orin for those.

Jon looked at his arm emotionless. "These? A memento of my first two years in Faerûn." That was all he said. He really didn't want to recollect those times.

Being the heir of a family of flayers, Domeric had enough experience to recognize flayed skin. And that arm was the work of someone his father would consider an expert. So he decided not to look into it further. "Leave him be, guys," he said.

Robb looked at him, shocked. "Haven't you seen what he has on his body?!"

"That's why I'm saying it," Domeric replied seriously.

"B-But—"

"If I say I don't want to talk about it, what would you do?" Jon asked him.

Robb turned to his brother, realizing what they were talking about, and promptly turned back. "You're right. Sorry."

Jon waved his hand to mean he shouldn't worry about it. "Don't worry about it. Let's just have this bath before lunch." He glared directly at the heir of House Bolton. "Speaking of, Domeric, would you mind telling me about this hypothetical betrothal between you and Sansa?" he said with a dangerous tone.

The man in question took his time to find the words. "Oh, you know, House Stark and House Bolton are the most ancient and powerful Houses in the North. And considering our centenarian feud, it's really the best way," he laughed, feeling danger.

"Mhm, very interesting. Don't worry, I'm not that kind of brother who wants his sister pure and unmarried for life. Actually, I'm quite fine if it is you," Jon said, washing his arms.

Domeric stared at him, hopeful. "You approve? I mean, we've been practically a family since Lord Stark welcomed me, right?"

Jon nodded with a particular smile. "Right, I know you practically like I know Robb. That's why I can easily say I approve, knowing my opinion is irrelevant anyway."

Domeric was radiant. "Really? Oh, thank you, Jon! You don't know how much I—"

"However," Jon interrupted him, with a dangerous look, "I still have to do my duty as an elder brother. Which means I have to show you a fraction of what I will do if you hurt her in any way," he declared, getting close to the side of the baths.

Domeric came out of the pool and ran to the wall. "Wait, wait, wait! You don't really want to do this! Jon, don't! Wait!"

Out of the baths, people could hear Domeric's screams of pain and their friends' attempts to stop Jon.

A few minutes later...

Jon and his friends emerged from the baths. Domeric was openly displaying pure concern for his own person after what Jon had done to him.

"Ahhh, nothing better than a bath to rest your soul! Come on, guys, I'm starving!" Jon said, smiling. They followed him hesitantly, having just witnessed his actions toward Domeric. Meera was the only one unaware, as she had been in the other baths.

From that day forward, Domeric would be reminded of Jon every time he was afraid of doing something wrong with Sansa.

'What a wonderful day!' Jon thought.

That day, at lunch

"Lord Greatwolf, yesterday your daughter mentioned something about a purge of evil gods. Would you mind telling us about it? I think it's a rather interesting topic," Lord Arryn asked after Jon and Sam arrived. Some at the table were confused to see the heir of Horn Hill in the North, especially Ser Loras, but they didn't give him much importance. They were more concentrated on Lord Arryn's question. At the table were the invited Northmen, the King's retinue, the King himself, but not the Queen or Prince Tommen or Princess Myrcella. Even Arabella and Yenna weren't there. Jon was seated between his wife and Arya.

"Ah, yes. Some moons ago, before I sailed for Westeros, the Grand Duke authorized a project of mine, which consisted of banishing the churches of evil gods from Baldur's Gate. They obviously thought to do it decades before my arrival, but recent events gave them the push needed to finally approve it. And it still took weeks because a fundamental principle of the city is freedom of religion," Jon explained. The nobles listened to him with attention.

"What recent events?" Lord Stannis asked.

Jon cut his meat with decision and anger, thinking about those days. "Do you remember when my wife and I told you about the cult of the Absolute?" At their nods, he continued, "Good. So it was just a facade to hide the true artificers, that is to say, the chosen of the Three Dead. The chosen are the most important figures of every church. It's said the gods themselves choose them to give these people power and lead the cult," he explained.

"Like Hugor of the Hill? He was chosen by the Seven to lead the Andals of Andalos," Jon Arryn offered as an example.

Jon gestured with the fork, which had a piece of meat on top. "I guess it's a good example. I'm not familiar with the history of Andals or the Faith of the Seven, so I can't really say if it's good or not. But the way you said it makes me think it's right." He was about to continue, but the door opened wide to reveal the Prince and Princess with his daughters.

"Sorry we're late, time slipped away from us," Arabella explained.

Robert slapped the maid on her backside to send her away and smiled at his children. "Finally, kids! Where have you been?" he asked.

Tommen was the one to answer, a huge smile on his face. "We were with Lady Yenna and Lady Arabella! It's been so fun staying with them!"

Cersei glared at Arabella and Yenna with hate. "And exactly, when did you receive permission to stay close to the Prince and the Princess?" she asked.

They sat at the table next to their parents. "When they arrived and wanted to chat with us at the training camp, Lady Queen," Yenna answered. They were served as soon as they arrived. Most nobles noted they thanked the servants who served them, just like Jon, Jenevelle, and his companions.

"Why might two ladies find themselves at a training camp?" Catelyn asked, saying 'ladies' with false courtesy.

"Mere fun. We wanted to try archery, and we did it," Arabella answered. "I mean, if you enjoy doing something, why shouldn't you do it?"

Her behavior was amusing to Robert. "That's the spirit! People should look at what they like! Not what they're forced to have!" He stared at Jenevelle's chest. "And most of the time, they're just under your eyes."

"And sometimes you should just be content with what you have." Jon upended the food from his plate and brought the plate to Jenevelle's chest, covering it. He glanced at Robert as if he wanted to use Immolating Gaze, with what Jenevelle loved to call his 'bitch face.' It appears when he's not angry enough to kill someone, but enough to let them know.

Robert was laughing awkwardly as he looked away from Jon's glare. He looked at Ned, but he was glaring at him as well. "Uhm... Well... What were you saying about this purge, Lord Greatwolf?" he diverted the attention.

Jon decided to go along with it and resumed speaking. "Well then, as I was saying, the three leaders of the takeover were also the leaders of the slavers who captured us. They plotted that one of them would assault the city with their army from the outside, the second would cause disorder and chaos internally, and the third, after becoming Grand Duke, would defeat all of them so the citizens would follow him and see him as the city's savior. After that, they were supposed to enslave them to become soldiers and attack the rest of the Sword Coast and, successively, the world. Initially, we didn't even know who they were. We found out the plan when we arrived at the Moonrise Towers, the seat of Ketheric Thorm, one of the leaders of the Cult of the Absolute. They called it that to mask their plan as a mere religious sect. We were just eight when we arrived and were waiting for an escort to take us to Ketheric's palace to infiltrate and find a cure when the Harpers ambushed our retinue.

Seeing one of my friends join them made me decide to break our cover and slay the followers of the cult. We followed and met their leader, Jaheira, our new ninth member; she explained Ketheric's plan and his allies' plan to conquer the continent, so we joined them to stop that madness. We decided to infiltrate again, this time to find information on their plans. We also brought a member of the cult, Minthara, to our side. We followed their missions for a while until we met Dame Aylin, the key to our victory. We attacked the palace with the rest of the Harpers. I won't lie, it was a massacre on both sides. The battle lasted so long that of the tens we were, just a dozen of us survived. Given we couldn't free the place and kill Ketheric at the same time, I took my crew and Aylin and went to kill Ketheric. It was there we discovered the scope of their plans. He was talking with the other two leaders, Enver Gortash and... Orin the Red.

We waited for them to leave to kill Ketheric alone since there were too many soldiers. After that, the battle started, so did the bloodshed. Thorm was the strongest warrior at that time; we had a chance to win because Aylin, the second strongest warrior, was on our side. The battle lasted even longer than the previous, and only Aylin, Minthara, and I were still standing. Minthara and I distracted Thorm as long as it took to let Aylin wound him so all three of us could kill him." When Jon ended the tale, he saw how everyone was so captivated by it that they forgot everything else around. Even the guards and some servants were listening.

It was now Greatjon's turn to talk. "Wait, so they planned to enslave the whole world?! Are they insane!?"

"'Were' insane. And only Gortash was actually following the plan. Thorm was just a man in pain for the death of his daughter who wanted to vent his pain on everyone around, while Orin was a degenerated being whose only intentions were killing and torturing as many people as possible," Jon replied. His hate for her had no rivals.

"And when you killed them, your idea came to mind?" Tyrion guessed, sipping his wine.

"Aye, Lord Tyrion. People were already panicked by the invasion of mind flayers. But when their plot was revealed, the anti-god sentiment exploded. Not against the churches of good or neutral gods, of course, but the evil ones were fair game. A law against these religions had yet to be enacted, but it didn't stop them from attacking them personally. Eventually, after three years, we decided to declare war against them. Five hundred men and women, plus me and some of my most trusted friends, attacked all the evil churches in Baldur's Gate. In a day, all the temples were destroyed, the clerics were arrested or killed, and the statues were demolished," Jon recounted with a hint of pride.

They listened, absorbed by his tale. This was a story on par with the stories they knew.

"Good, neutral, and evil. What are the criteria for a god to be one of these? I mean, good and evil are quite self-explanatory, but neutral?" Lord Dondarrion asked.

"A neutral god is a god whose portfolio consists of things that don't side with anyone. Technically, it applies also to good and evil gods, but there it's more complicated. Neutral portfolios are, for example, knowledge, war, music, and death. They can't harm or help anyone without the hand of whoever is using them," Jon explained.

"And what are the portfolios of good and evil gods instead?" Ned asked. 'I just hope Jon didn't renounce the Old Gods. He's been there for five years, but I still hope he kept his faith.'

This time, his good-daughter answered. "Actually, while good and evil gods sometimes have portfolios like justice or murder, they also have ones like light, sea, and nature. With the gods who stay at the opposite of the morality scale, their behavior is what defines them. For example, my goddess, Selûne, has as her portfolio the moon, and her sister Shar has night. But where Selûne is kind, maternal, and merciful, Shar is selfish, cold, and ruthless."

"And there's no conflict among these good gods? I mean, wouldn't they fight to have more followers?" Ned asked.

Arabella raised her hand to answer. "Not actually, they don't really care about that, especially because they are all friends or allies. They'd do anything to have more followers, but it's against their principles to sabotage other gods and their churches, unless they're evil. In that case, nine gods out of ten would say: 'Good job, man! You killed those morons who tried to sacrifice the village. Now you have my favor.' Most of them fight for justice or the good of mortals but can't act directly because of the rules they have."

"And don't you think this purge you have done might worry them?" Lord Stannis asked.

Jon's gaze remained fixed on his plate as he replied, "I hope so. Maybe next time they'll actually do something instead of leaving mortals to do everything."

"And here's your misotheism! I thought you lost it!" Arabella laughed.

Her father looked at her with an annoyed expression. "Very funny, Ari." But the kids were confused by that word. "What does 'misotheist' mean?" Sansa asked. Yenna finished her meal to answer her.

"Someone who hates the gods. Bad."

Ned was concerned by that revelation. "Did you abandon the Old Gods?"

The Northmen stared at him, concerned and outraged, but Jon answered rapidly. "I didn't abandon them at all. They just said that as a joke. I only attack the evil gods, like a normal person."

"But Lord Snow, if you still follow them, how did you marry your wife, who just said she worships this moon goddess?" Cersei intervened.

"We were married according to the customs of her faith, but given that in Faerûn religious tolerance is a pillar of their society, I didn't have any problem maintaining my faith in the Old Gods, on condition that I don't force or harass anyone to follow them," Jon answered.

Her smile was so acidic that Jon was surprised not to see anything getting corroded by it. "So you preferred to marry in foreign soil than coming back here and staying with your family. Tell us, what compelling reason could have possibly kept you away from your family for this considerable length of time?"

His siblings all looked at him, as did his friends, while Ned, who wanted to know it more than anyone else, had to remind himself not to yell at the Queen for molesting his son.

Jon, looking at nothing, answered, "I just... felt I had to go."

The Queen looked at him, clearly expecting more. "And?"

He simply looked at her. "Nothing. I felt I couldn't call this place home anymore and left with my direwolf."

The answer was rewarded by a 'tsk' from Cersei. "At least I must congratulate you for deciding not to dishonor your father anymore with your presence. I'm sure Lady Stark rejoiced when you left, and the last sign of your whore moth—"

"SILENCE!" Robert broke his glass in his hand. A storm was in his eyes. "Are you capable of not being a cunt for more than five minutes!? He did literally nothing to piss you off! And yet you dare humiliating him in front of his family!" he yelled.

Robb looked at his nieces to see if they were upset, but his eyes were focused on the table under their hands; cracks were very visible, and he could tell they were holding back.

In response to her husband's protests, Cersei sneered, "I don't really understand why you're angry for a bastard. The fact he's the son of a friend you haven't seen for years is not enough to treat him better than your own son! Why don't you treat Joffrey just like him instead of drinking and hunting?"

It was Robert's turn to talk back. "Maybe if you stopped teaching your son to be useless like you, I'd stay with him more! And you're one to talk because you mentioned Joffrey but not Myrcella and Tommen! And they are much better than this freak that came out of that abyss I'm forced to call a cunt!"

Ned could hear a 'damn' from Jon's table.

She was so outraged and furious that she threw her glass of wine in his face, to the shock of everyone in the hall. "Who do you think you are, useless pig!? You are just a good-for-nothing whoremonger who became King by killing his own prince!"

In that moment, Yenna whispered to Arabella, "Do some trick; he's gonna beat the living and dead shit out of her."

The tiefling wasn't motivated enough. "And why should we care? She's been a bitch the whole time and tried to arrest us."

"Yeah, but Kingy there is funny; I don't want him beating his wife in front of everyone," she debated.

Arabella sighed but ceded. "Fine. Let me also guess, no permanent damages?"

"Yep."

She groaned and snapped her fingers. Time suddenly stopped.

Arabella got up, going to the two happily married individuals. "Let's see... Teleporting you to two different places or giving you a better look?" she pondered. "Wait, teleporting is harder to explain; better painting something on her face. About you," she looked at Robert. She cast Calm Emotions to prevent any bad reaction.

She returned to the Queen. "Nine times out of ten, it's nothing personal. You're that one." She pocketed some phials and smeared their contents on Cersei's face.

A red nose, blue eyelids, and yellow on her cheeks. "Now, about your hair." She cast Telekinesis to move multiple locks simultaneously. "Hope you like the lion-style I chose for you," she mocked.

But she turned immediately serious and grabbed Cersei's chin. "I know you can't hear me, but I'll take this opportunity to say this: the next time you try to say something to my father or do anything against me or my sister, I'll rip your hair out until your head isn't covered by red, and then I'll hang you with them."

She walked away before seeing Myrcella and Tommen. She thought about it for a moment before making a decision. "I'm not so cruel as to let you see your mother in this state." She used Twinned Spell to cast Sleep not only on them but on all the children in the room, which included Arya, Bran, and Rickon.

She returned to her seat and snapped her fingers to allow time to run again. "May the show now start."

Everyone stared at Cersei's look, and while most of them were trying to understand what happened or why Tommen and Myrcella were sleeping, Robert, who was now calmer than he'd ever been in decades, burst out laughing like a baby. He laughed so much he forgot she threw wine at him. "You know, you're much prettier now!" And he kept laughing.

Cersei was confused for a moment and looked at Jaime to try to understand. The horrified look on his face worried her even more. "Someone get me a mirror! Now!" she ordered. While the servants rushed to bring it to her, she had to deal with Robert's laughs and everyone else's stares. "Stop laughing, useless pig!" she cried, but was ignored.

When the servant arrived with the mirror, she ripped it from his hands. She really wished she hadn't. The mirror dropped from Cersei's hands and fell to the ground. A scream of terror came from the Queen's mouth. The makeup was already awful, but the lion-shaped hair? Terrible.

Everyone was staring at her, but Ned noticed how Jon was talking exasperatedly to his two daughters. 'I know he doesn't like her, but why is he not even surprised by this?' he thought, suspicious.

The Queen got up and rushed to her rooms, with her handmaids behind her. "I don't know who prayed to the gods for this, but he has all my respect," Robert exclaimed, once Cersei was no longer in the room.

With a snap of Arabella's fingers, the kids woke up from their sleep. Myrcella rubbed her eyes and spoke to her father. "Father, where is Mother?"

Despite the question being directed at Robert, Jaime spoke in his place with zero hesitation. "She didn't feel well, so she decided to go to her rooms," he said, daring anyone to contradict him.

She looked worried. 'How in the hells did someone like the Queen give birth to a girl like her?' Jenevelle wondered. "Is she fine?" the princess asked worried.

"Don't worry, Myrcella. Give your mother some time for herself, and she will be fine," Robert calmed her down. He turned to the bards. "Where are the songs?! We can't eat without music!"

Hearing music, Myrcella and Tommen brightened up. "May Lord Greatwolf play? Lady Arabella told us he's a great bard!" she asked.

"Okay, for the record, I'm not a bard. I'm a musician. An amateur, I would say," Jon intervened, but Minsc had his say. "But you say you like composing songs when you're not training or working."

"Minsc," Jon hissed.

"Something that didn't change at all. He used to sing even when we were green. Do you remember when Sansa and Arya couldn't sleep when they were little?" Robb added. He hadn't heard his brother's voice for years, and he wanted to take the opportunity to hear him again.

Jon Arryn looked at Jon. "What instrument can you play, Lord Greatwolf?"

The lord in question was quite embarrassed but managed to answer, "Lute and lyre, Lord Hand. Depends on the song."

A knowing smile appeared on Arabella's face, and she pulled his lute out of thin air. "For 'depends on the songs,' he means those with a lyre are tear-jerking, while those with the lute are perfect for a feast."

Sansa was radiant when she saw the lute. "Can you sing, Jon? It has been years since I heard you singing," she begged.

If Jon was hesitant when he saw Sansa's eyes, he totally gave up when he saw Arya's. "Please," she begged too.

He groaned and grabbed the lute. "Fine." He got up and took his place at the center of the hall. He was lucky he had sung before, because the decades of lords and ladies would have made any beginner nervous (which he was, despite what his friends said).

He took a deep breath and thought about what song was good for this situation. 'Mhmm. Maybe this one will be good,' he thought.

He started stringing lute strings, playing a melanconic melody. Then, he sang:

♪♪ They all laughed as he turned around slow,

They said 'You ain't welcome around here anymore. You just might as well go'.

He wiped the blood from his face, as he slowly came to his knees,

He says 'I'll be back when you least expect it'.

And hells're coming with me.

Hell's are coming with me.  ♪♪

He kept playing for a while before shifting to a more lively tune:

♪♪ There is a hill at the bottom of the valley,

Where all the poor souls go when they die.

And if you listen very close

You can hear'em like a ghost,

Saying you're never gonna make it out alive.

There's a town at the bottom of that hill,

They got a secret that

They keep like a slave.

They got a black magic preacher,

We do well to let him teach her

You'll be heading up that hill to the grave.

And it is well,

With my soul,

You line for your pocket full of money 

That you steal from the poor

And on your way down the hill,

You hear me ring that bell

I'd pay the devil twice as

Much to keep your soul. ♪♪

Jon looked at his public, his companions were moving the heads at rythm, and his siblings and the lords where listening very closely, they seemed to like it.

He didn't lost concentration, continuing to play:

♪♪ There was a drifter passing

Though that little valley,

See he had promised he was coming back to town ♪♪

(Coming back to town) Arabella and Yenna said in chorus in the background.

♪♪ They didn't know him by his face,

Or by the weapon around his waist

But he come back to burn

That town to the ground.

First there was fire,

Then there was smoke,

Then that preacher man was hangin' by a rope.

Then they all fell to their knees and begged that

Drifter, begged him please,

As he raised his fist before he spoke:

♪♪

Arabella and Yenna followed the example of the man in the song, going to say the same words,

♪♪ 'I AM THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GODS' ♪♪ Jon sang,

♪♪AND I AM THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT' ♪♪ Jon couldn't help but smile proudly.

♪♪ 'And I told you one day you see,

That I'll be back I guarantee.

And that Hells're coming, Hells're coming.

Hells, Hells're coming with me' ♪♪

He stopped singing and proceeded to play a lively solo. They were now captivated by the music, Robb, Sansa and Arya totally forgot how good their brother could sing, and this was the first time they could hear him play. Meanwhile Bran and Rickon could finally hear Jon's voice after years since they were babies.

About their parents, Catelyn was hating the song, feelinng it was blasphemous and offensive to the gods.

While Ned was hoping everyine who came from the South didn't connect Jon's singing to Rhaegar's.

He looked subyely at Robert, who was too attracted by the song to think of the father of thee singer.

And Jon Arryn was enjoying it too, but something in his eyes where scaring Ned to the bones.

'Please let him not have noticed' he begged. He looked at the three knights, whose attention was concentrated on the southorns like him, they exchanged a worried look with him, having the same bad feeling.

But even worse, Ser Barristan and Jaime Lannister were looking at Jon very closely, albeit Jaime Lannister wasn't giving him much attention, it seemed just curiosity.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jon, who resumed singing after ending his solo.

♪♪ And it is well, with my soul.

You line your pockets full

Of money that you steal from the poor,

And o your way down the hill,

You hear me ring that bell

And I said, 'HELLS'RE COMING WITH ME' ♪♪

(HELLS'RE COMING WITH ME) the two sisters joined again.

And with a final solo, Jon concluded the song. Everyone rose and applauded him. The singer, smiling shyly, bowed his head.

"Gods, Ned! Your son is the best singer I've ever heard! And he says he's not a master yet!" Robert congratulated.

Ned smiled and agreed. Jon truly was the best singer he'd ever met; only Rhaegar was able to sing better than him.

'Some things cannot be changed. It doesn't matter how much you want it,' he thought. Although he never forbade Jon from singing, he never encouraged him, always trying to direct him towards activities like swordsmanship or hunting. And while he marginally succeeded, it was useless because Jon was born to sing.

'So was he born to rule,' a voice infiltrated his head, but he promptly ignored it.

After a few hours, people were dismissed. Jon was stopped by Arabella, who gave him something very precious to their family: the Astral Prism. "Time to visit an old friend," she said.

So he decided to go to an isolated place, making sure no one followed him, and used the prism to open a portal to the Astral Plane.

Astral Plane

Jon stepped through the portal between the two planes, and as he did every month, he was struck by the sheer beauty of the Astral Plane. No wonder the Gith were so attached to this place.

The prism had sent him to a different part of the Astral Plane now, no longer Orpheus's prison. Gale had changed it when they decided the prison was no longer a good place to stay.

He walked past piles of books, a globe of a planet, and various armors on display stands with weapon racks. Whoever lived here was clearly both a collector and a recluse.

He bypassed all of this to find a mind flayer building a statue. "Lae'zel told me how you Gith lose interest very quickly, but you're different," Jon remarked.

The mind flayer paused its work and looked at him. "I just want to see what I prefer most. It is not a crime to find a hobby."

Jon chuckled and shook hands with the mind flayer. "Good to see you, Orpheus."

Orpheus gave him the closest thing to a smile. "Good to see you too, Jon. If I may ask, why did you not come last month?"

"I came back to my land, and I couldn't use the prism without drawing attention. No Westerosi knows about magic, let alone mind flayers," Jon answered.

"Very well, you chose wisely," Orpheus praised. "How are Lae'zel and Voss?" he asked.

Jon answered, "I managed to contact Lae'zel before my leaving. She's fine, and I was informed Voss is the same. Looks like Vlaakith's tyranny is coming to an end."

Due to the mental connection between them, Jon could feel Orpheus's relief and satisfaction. "Finally, my mother will rest in peace. I only regret I will not be able to bear her legacy."

"I'm sorry it happened. Really," Jon said, trying to comfort him.

The mind flayer looked Jon intensely in the eyes. "You say this every time you come. Your sense of guilt cannot consume you."

Jon looked away from Orpheus, pacing around the lair. "I still had to make a sacrifice, but I was egoistic and decided not to. Then I stopped Karlach from becoming a mind flayer, and because of this, your life is ruined."

Orpheus crossed his arms, looking at him. "It was still my decision. We could have found a volunteer who would have become a mind flayer and still stopped the Elder Brain. But we both know it was impossible. And regret will not change anything," he said.

The sigh that came from Jon was his way of saying, 'You're right.' They remained in silence for a while until Jon posed a question. "You know, for being a prince, I'm surprised you haven't produced an heir. Are you sure there's no one still alive? Maybe some of your loyalists hid them."

Orpheus didn't answer. That question was not only unexpected but also terrifying for him. "I... I don't know. There was a time, but it was when I was young, before my mother went to Tiamat. If it is as you say, then even Voss knows nothing about it. But... Should I ask him? Should I have this false hope? That the lineage of my mother does still exist? It was still an egg when the war started," he wondered.

The biting of Jon's lips meant he didn't know either. "I don't know. If they're actually dead, then you should give them a memorial or a proper burial, but if they're alive, then your people can have a leader to follow," he admitted.

They both looked at the ground, uncertain of what to say. In the end, the Prince spoke again. "I will. Thank you, Jon," he said from the heart.

The human in question merely smiled. "It's the least I could do." They shook hands again and said their polite goodbyes.

"One last thing," Orpheus stopped him. Jon turned to see him. "If Arabella and Yenna come to train again, tell them not to break their bones again. Even with healing spells, the amount of wounds they inflict on each other is disturbing."

A huge groan came from Jon. "And I even told them to stop with that. Thank you." And with that, he crossed the portal.

Four days later

Jenevelle and Astarion watched Minsc tell stories about his adventures to a group of rapt children. Among them were Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella, utterly amazed. Even Shireen Baratheon, the little girl a monster had once pursued, was there with her father and the woman in red. They were all on a balcony overlooking the scene.

Jon leaned against a wall, observing Minsc below. The children's smiles warmed his heart as he focused on Minsc's tales.

"Are you sure Minsc has never mentioned a world-devourer before?" Jenevelle asked the vampire. "I find it hard to believe it never came up in all these years."

"Uhh, trust me, Princess," Astarion replied. "He may talk about anything, from the seeds Boo eats to the gods above us. But I never, ever heard him speak about this monster. Maybe we should ask your little gremlins to interrogate him."

She chuckled at his suggestion. "At this point, it'd be kinder to send him to Minthara. Or better yet, why don't we use Zone of Truth to deal with it?"

Astarion smiled and raised two fingers. "Because it wouldn't be very fun, right? And I'm sure that keeping those little ones busy is better than letting them destroy the training camp every time they train."

He earned a groan from Jenevelle. "Don't start with that. Even when they don't use magic, they manage to appear inhuman in people's eyes."

Just yesterday, while most people were having breakfast, Arabella and Yenna had come into the hall, eating abnormally fast and then started training. And while it was unusual for a woman to train there, they went on to run around the castle as a warm-up, moving Owlie (while he was asleep) for ten minutes in turns, and then engaged in a spectacular, yet unbelievable, fight that lasted an entire hour and cracked the ground. That day, Jon had to keep an eye out for possible surprise 'training sessions' until dinner time.

Luckily, most people looked more amazed than scared, except for Catelyn Tully, but Jenevelle hardly cared for her opinion. The King, in particular, was laughing the whole time and jokingly asked if they could train Joffrey and Tommen in fighting. Though the Crown Prince's answer made Jenevelle want to cast Create Water on his head.

"And this is the reason I don't want to have children," Astarion commented.

She just smirked. "Really? I thought it was because of your imported silk."

"Also that." His smile dropped as he extracted a dagger, holding it flat against his palm—a habit he had when someone was behind him and he didn't want them to know he was aware of their presence. He grimaced and showed her who was behind them.

Catelyn Tully.

"What in the hells does she want from us?!" Jenevelle whispered.

Astarion didn't answer, but he had an idea. He slowly reached for a scroll and opened it without Catelyn knowing. It was a scroll of Rary's Telepathic Bond. He cast it, forging a link between himself, Jenevelle, and Jon.

'Jon, do you hear us?' Astarion asked.

'What?' Jon said in his mind. Outwardly, it looked like a bug was bothering him.

'Lady Fish is behind us. We'll inform you about what she says,' Jenevelle told him.

Jon didn't like that Lady Tully wanted to talk with his wife and his best friend at all, but he trusted them, so he gave them free rein. 'Okay, just try not to kill her.'

'See what we can do,' Astarion joked.

'Just don't turn around, wait until she calls you,' Jon said.

'Got it,' they said at the same time.

They waited until she cleared her throat once. Then again. And again.

In the end, Catelyn lost patience and spoke. "I know you can hear me. Turn around," she said, irritated.

They did as 'commanded' and turned to look at her with innocent smiles. "Uh, Lady Tully! I didn't realize you were there! How can we help you?" Jenevelle spoke.

The Lady of Winterfell looked at her, irritated for not using her husband's family name. "It's Lady Stark." She shook her head. "Today is the nameday of my son, Robb."

Jenevelle feigned counting to four on her fingers. "Yes, you're right. But you don't have to worry, Jon has his present ready."

"This is exactly why I am here. I don't want any of you at my son's nameday. I already have to deal with his presence for an entire week; he will not ruin the most important day of my son," Catelyn said.

'The nerve of this bitch!' Jenevelle yelled to them in their minds.

'I'm not surprised at all,' Jon said. 'Say exactly this to her.' he instructed.

"Curious, because I swear I've heard Robb willing to have his brother at the feast. Not to mention his father, whom I remind you, my husband's departure almost killed him, and the King never showed any sign of hating Jon or wanting him to be absent today. Tell me, do they know you're here, instead of taking care of the preparations?" Jenevelle kept a smile on her face, but in her eyes, there was only hatred.

Catelyn's nostrils flared with anger at her talking back. "I assure you, I don't need your advice to take care of my family. As much as my family doesn't need that bastard here."

It was Astarion's turn to talk. "Oh! But we're not talking about needs, because we all know House Stark can survive the worst this world can give. We're talking about wants. I'm pretty sure if I ask your husband or one of your children, they will all say they want him here, they would all say 'yes.'"

"I will not let the bastard dishonor me and my family once again!" she replied, ignoring what he said.

'I still have to decide if she is delirious, jealous, or stupid,' Jon wondered in their minds.

'Why not a combination of the three?' Astarion asked.

'You wouldn't be wrong,' Jon granted.

"'The bastard.' Curious how you treat him not like the proof your husband preferred another woman, probably better—"

"What!?"

"—but instead, he's more like some demon came out of a fantasy book," she laughed in her face. "Honestly, I find it quite pathetic that you are scared of someone twenty years younger than you since he was born."

Catelyn was now red in the face. "You dare to talk to me in this way?! In my house!? You are just a filthy whore who is joining him to steal the castle that my husband and sons own by right!"

Silence. They remained silent for a few minutes while Catelyn regained her breath.

"Ahahaha!" They both burst out laughing. Catelyn could only stare at them as they laughed.

'Okay, now I got it; she's definitely stupid,' Jon said in their minds.

'How did we not understand it before?' Astarion asked, amused.

'It's like trying to answer the question, 'If there's nothing faster than light, how does darkness arrive first?' You try it and get a nosebleed for how idiotic she is,' Jon answered.

'True, but to answer your question, it's because...' Jenevelle tried.

'Not now,' Jon interrupted.

"What are you laughing at!?" Catelyn demanded.

Astarion pretended to be horrified for laughing at her. "My apologies, Lady Tully, we were just laughing at your stupidity because only an idiot would think not only Jon would willingly hurt his own family, but also he would be interested in this old, decadent castle. He's going to be the next Grand Duke of the most important and powerful city in all of Faerûn. Do you really think he would rather stay here than be a King?"

'Well, I don't really want to be...' he started.

'Not now,' he was interrupted by both of them.

"I do not care what is in that land forgotten by the gods! You faithless peasants are not welcomed here! My husband opened his door to you just because of the Guest Right!"

"Very, very strange, because I was sure it was because he found his long-lost son. Again, you're the only one who doesn't want him. Even the King himself wants the, how do you call him again? bastard at his table. So why should we listen to you? What would happen if we show up?" Shadowheart asked. She took a step forward, and Catelyn instinctively took one back.

"Would you like to know what I see when I look at you?" she asked, another step forward, another back.

"I see a stupid, idiotic, delirious, jealous, sanctimonious bitch who didn't even bother to learn something about the kingdom she has the duty to rule." The disgust was audible in her voice. While most companions would just find Catelyn's behavior irritating, it reminded Jenevelle too much of her past as a Sharran.

Despite her fear, Catelyn didn't mean to hold back. "W-Watch your tone! You forget I am the Lady of Winterfell!"

'Sorry to be repetitive, but don't kill her,' Jon reminded.

'Don't worry. I've planned everything,' she reassured.

'In this case, kill her.'

She rolled her eyes and kept walking towards her, a predatory smile adorning her face. "Since you like talking so much about titles, let me say this: if I hear you insult my husband or my daughters again, you'll be known as 'Catelyn the Screamer' for what I'll do to you." The distance between the two of them was covered so quickly that Jenevelle was now looking Catelyn straight in the eyes in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, Catelyn's knees started feeling weak.

"Now go, before I change my mind and kill you right now," she ordered. Catelyn did as told and left.

"Are you sure she won't tell anyone about this?" Astarion asked.

She shrugged and looked over the balcony, where Jon was looking at them, seemingly worried. "Have you seen her expression? She was like that tiefling we met at the Emerald Grove. The one Lae'zel psychologically tortured, you know? And in my defense, I was quite pissed," she defended herself.

'No way! I thought you switched bodies with Minthara before our departure!' Jon exclaimed ironically.

'If she were Minthara, she would have already acted,' Astarion spoke.

'Oh, right.'

They decided to abandon the conversation and continued watching the show. They didn't hear the last part, but the kids looked really excited.

"And this is how Minsc, Boo, Jaheira, and Volo slapped the butts of those deep rothé, and saved the day!" he told eagerly.

All the children clapped in enthusiasm; some of them even ran to hug Minsc. The huge man returned their embraces with joy. "Thank you all, little people! I hope you learned the moral of the story: Never, and I say never, refuse to eat vegetables! They are essential for your body!"

Jon chuckled at this, but his attention shifted to three people in particular: Lord Stannis, his daughter Shireen, and the red-haired cleric.

'From how Lord Stannis talked and how Lady Shireen behaved, I thought they decided to limit her outings,' Jon told them.

'Maybe they realized they can't not let a girl out sometimes,' Jenevelle said.

'True, but I expected some guards at least. Instead, there's just that cleric who's watching me,' he replied.

'Heh, I'm quite jealous,' Jenevelle commented.

'Do you really think I'd cheat on you?' he raised an eyebrow.

'I meant I'm jealous of you,' she replied.

In the corner of their minds, Astarion was laughing heartily.

Their conversation was interrupted by Vayon, who called them to inform them of the feast's beginning.

'Okay, you guys inform Arabella and Yenna they're bringing the present to Robb in the Great Hall,' Jon told them.

'Why not you? What will keep you so busy that you won't be able to tell them in person?' Astarion asked.

'I need to keep them distracted until their arrival. Plus, it looks better than just arriving with it already,' Jon responded.

'If you say so,' he said and left with Jenevelle.

They interrupted the link and went to their destinations.

Great Hall

Slowly, the hall began to fill with people. Jon and Minsc arrived and greeted all his siblings before taking their seats, waiting for Robb's arrival.

The King soon arrived with his children and the Queen, who wore an acidic expression, followed by the Kingsguard.

When Robb entered, he was followed by Theon and their friends. The celebrated Robb was wearing a new cloak adorned with the sigil Jon had given him, which quickly drew attention.

"What a surprise, Lord Robb! Why did you not tell us about your new sigil? Were you afraid of our reaction?" Cersei asked before anyone else could.

Robb bowed his head and shook it. "Not at all, my Queen. My tailor finished it right before the feast. I took the opportunity to show how much I appreciate the gift my brother gave me," he explained.

Sansa seized the opportunity to speak. "It's true! When Jon arrived, he brought presents for all of us!" she said. She wore the bracelet her brother had given her from that day.

Joffrey sneered at the bracelet. "The gems look so small. For some reason, I thought he would have given you better ones."

"They're as big as my gems! They actually look bigger!" Myrcella intervened.

"We are not talking about the gems, Myrcella. We are talking about the crown on that sigil. I could have sworn House Stark was loyal to the Iron Throne. Maybe I was wrong," Cersei said, sipping her wine.

"There are many houses that have crowns in their sigils, Your Majesty. And Robb Stark never showed signs of treason. It would be extremely offensive to insinuate it in the middle of his nameday, especially while we are under Guest Right," Lord Stannis intervened.

"Well said, brother! Congratulations on your personal sigil, boy! It honors you!" Robert drank his wine and pulled a maid onto his knees. "Where's the music?! This is a feast! Not a funeral!" And they listened to him.

Soon, Jenevelle and Astarion arrived and informed Jon everything was ready.

The bards were singing their best songs while people danced in the hall. Robb danced with Jeyne, Sansa, and Jenevelle, while Jon danced with Arya, Myrcella, and Shireen. They were surprised by his dancing skills because the last time Sansa tried to teach him how to move his feet, he hurt her.

Robert and Greatjon were having a drinking game while Ned tried to stop them. Jon Arryn and the Northmen observed, while Cersei looked on in disgust. Tyrion simply watched with his own wine, as he drank for pleasure, not for sport.

Minsc was having an arm-wrestling contest with the she-bears of House Mormont. He won every time, which only seemed to make them thirstier for him.

Surprisingly for Jon, Astarion was conversing with Roose Bolton, though he didn't know about what.

The party had been going for two hours and continued for another before Ned stood up and made an announcement. "My dearest Lords and Ladies," he looked at the royal family, "and our distinguished sovereigns. Thank you all for coming here to celebrate the nameday of my elder son, Robb Stark." Applause filled the room at his name.

"I think it's time to celebrate his most important day this year with the only thing men of his age find more attractive than a woman: gifts," he joked.

Barrels of beer, hawks for the hunt, books, and more. Robb received all of this from his father's bannermen.

His uncle gave him a book on the complete history of House Tully and the Riverlands. "To make sure you will always remember your other half, nephew!"

"I'm proud of myself when I say we have made the best present until now! My good-brother Mark, my splendid wife Barbrey, and I gave him ours weeks in advance, but with the new red stallion Lord Robb received, he'll be like a male version of his aunt Lyanna!" Lord William shouted.

"A new horse? Now I've found someone to bet my money on!" Robert exclaimed happily.

Robb smiled and looked at the lords and ladies. "I am glad to thank you for the magnificent horse. Rarely, if ever, have I seen a beast like that before in my life. Only your horse can be compared to it, Lord Dustin."

Applause came from all the Northmen and Southrons. It was now House Bolton's turn.

Domeric smiled and gave his present to Robb. "And it is with pleasure I give you this gift from all the members of House Bolton," he said.

He handed him a long dagger with a bronze guard and a direwolf on the pommel, signifying its connection to House Stark. Robb drew it, examined it carefully, and swung it to see how good it was. Needless to say, it was one of the best daggers he had ever seen.

He and Domeric shook each other's forearms. "Thank you, my friend." Domeric smiled and sat next to Sansa, earning a glance from Joffrey.

It was now Robert's turn. He got up and, despite the paunch he'd gained in twenty years, he managed to assume an imposing figure.

"Ned told me about you many times, boy. He said you grew up to become a man of honor, courage, endurance, and ability. These are just a few of the virtues that a knight should demonstrate to earn this title, and you did it in only twenty years," he smiled proudly, as if Robb were his own nephew. "I can't wait to see what awaits you in the future. But now, Ser Barristan!" he called.

The legendary knight stood up and handed his sword to Robert. He came to them and took his place in front of Robb. "On your knees, Lord Robb," he ordered.

Robb and everyone in the room were so shocked they said nothing. He just did as told and listened to the King's words.

"Robb of House Stark, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your King, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?" he pronounced the words.

"I swear," Robb said.

"Then rise up, Ser Robb of House Stark, knight of the Seven Kingdoms!" Robert praised, and applause started again. They lasted much longer than before.

When they ended, Jon got up and came closer to Robb, putting his arm around his neck. "Now, Ser Robb, are you ready for my humble present, or are you fine with just being a knight?" he asked.

The eldest brother laughed and put his arm around Jon's neck too. "Of course I want you spending money for me! You're the little brother who supports his superior, charming, and perfect brother."

Jon's smile widened. "Remember these words." He turned to the door. "Come inside, girls!"

The door opened wide. Arabella and Yenna were transporting a huge chest, each holding it with a single hand. "Clear the way, people! Best present ever incoming!" the tiefling yelled. The nobles did as told and created a passage for them to walk and reach Robb.

They placed the chest on the ground and made space for their father. He grabbed the chest by the handles and lifted it up. The contents in the chest lifted up too, turning into a kind of closet.

They stared at it, astonished. Jon wanted to laugh at their faces. "Now, since you always said a good brother should take care of his own sibling, I made sure you would stay protected even when I'm not around and, with this, you could have a chance to beat me in the training camp. If I'm naked, obviously." He gave a small hit to the chest/closet, and the walls fell down. Everyone gasped when they saw it.

It revealed a complete set of armor. It was shining blue medium armor with a chest piece, boots, and vambraces. Blue veins ran along the set. There was also a blue shield, rectangular on top and round on the bottom. In its center was a sky-blue circle. The weapons, instead, were a longsword with a blade the same color as the armor, and a mace with a sky-blue bar at the top that glowed.

But the most significant part of the armor was the helm. It was a blue wolf-shaped helm with eyes as openings. It gave the impression it could be worn only by the best of men.

"Pure mithral. Maybe the rarest material in Faerûn or the whole world. It never gets rusty, and the weapons never become dull. As for the armor, a group of archers shot at someone wearing armor like this, and the arrows broke like glass. The number of weapons that can pierce this metal can be counted on one hand, maybe two. And my companions and I have most of them with us; plus one confined to an armory accessible only to certain people," he explained, thinking about Ketheric's hammer.

Arabella stepped forward. "A little demonstration." She grabbed a chair and smashed it against the armor. The chair broke while the armor remained intact.

"As you can see, I really care about my brother," Jon said with a smile.

Robb was moved to tears. He looked at his brother and asked, "Did you do this for me?"

Jon shrugged but kept his smile. "More like I commissioned it. I'm not a blacksmith, but I have the best people on my payroll," he answered.

Robb couldn't hold back anymore and hugged Jon with all his strength. "Thank you, brother."

While the two sisters were observing the scene, Yenna was too curious not to ask her sister, "What are those runes?" she whispered.

"Resistance to fire, lightning, thunder, cold, and force; magic resistance. Then we have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing. Pretty sure someone in that armor might be a challenge for the two of us if they're skilled," Arabella instructed.

"Uh. Can you cast them on our equipment?" Yenna asked.

"Wait, weren't you resistant to most elementals?" her sister questioned.

"Well, yes, but what if we meet a spellcaster who can breach our natural defenses?" Yenna replied.

"Good point. But—" she stopped when she felt something. "Do you feel it too?"

Yenna frowned and prepared to fight.

The candles went out on their own. The hall turned dark, to the preoccupation of most of the people.

"F-Father. It's like that night," Shireen cried.

Stannis hugged his daughter with one arm and drew his sword with the other. "PATCHFACE!!!"

The only thing they could hear was laughter that didn't belong to this world, nor anywhere else.

Chapter Text

Good morning/evening everyone! I'm happy to announce my playtrhought of Baldur's Gate 3 patch 8 is finally over! And I'll have terminated my last exam the 2nd of July! From that day, I'll start with the new chapter.

Now here's the updates:

Minthara is now a Paladin oath of the Crown;

Lae'zel is now an Eldritch knight;

Karlach is now a Barbarian path of the Giant;

Jaheira is now a Druid Circle of Stars;

Obviously I didn't made a run identical to the last one but since nothing of what I wrote before has changed, there's no need to modify the last chapter.