Chapter 40 - Heading South.
Chapter 40 - Heading South.
[Chapter Size: 3400 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Winterfell, 101 AC.
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It could be said that capturing the bear left the men quite excited that night. When Jon brought the animal back, they quickly cut off its head to make a trophy. This time, Jon placed the head in his room, taking from the storage room the oil he had invented himself and applying it every day to prevent the smell and also help with the petrification process.
He had some difficulty when Snow and the other birds simply wanted to make the bear's head into a perch. Obviously, their claws would have destroyed the trophy before it could petrify. He had to chase them away for some time before making them understand that they were not supposed to go there.
Jon also couldn't stop Walton's mockery that night when he started telling everyone, half drunk, what they had said to him. Jon was irritated by it, obviously, but there was nothing he could do as the men began laughing, looking at him and asking how a child whose name was only ten days old could go around lecturing people about getting married and having children.
Jon was lucky to be saved by Lyarra, who told everyone to shut up and stop mocking the boy. Rickon, however, took advantage of it to mock Jon a little. After all, he needed to vent some of his frustration after losing to him and having to clean the stables starting the next day, which certainly would not be a very pleasant experience.
And he did so over the following days. Jon himself even went there a few times to mock him. Seeing Winterfell's heir cleaning the stables made him laugh, while Rickon only looked at him with fury but could do nothing.
Not even when they were on the training grounds. Jon began growing more and more distant from the others. He was already considered good, but now he was constantly dominating everyone, much to Rickon's frustration.
Even so, he had to endure it for a week, and thus time passed quickly.
Walton's farewell to the Wall was not much of a secret. He said goodbye to everyone in the courtyard a week later before leaving with the guards for the Wall. Lyarra cried with the youngest in her arms, and Jon couldn't say he had seen that woman shed tears many times.
Even a tough woman like her could not help but cry for her children. To her, there had never been anything more important than family.
And so a full moon passed since that day of the hunt...
Jon was at the farm at that moment, having returned to visit his parents and stay for a week. It was already summer, and the harvest would still take several moons to arrive. Planting had quickly begun on the farm since spring...
Jon brought new cloaks and blankets made from the skin of the bear he had captured. He gave them to his parents and uncles, then spent the following days with his family, helping with the planting and making up for the time apart.
Jon was waiting for Ghost, who had not come with him because he was still deep within the Wolfswood.
In fact, Jon had sent Ghost out during that week to look for tracks, but he found nothing. So he began sending him deeper and deeper into the forest, each expedition lasting two or even three weeks.
Ghost had already been inside the Wolfswood for two weeks at that point because they had finally found traces of the direwolves when he stayed there for nearly a moon before...
And once again, Jon had sent him out two weeks ago to follow the scent until he found where their territory was located. This time, he had finally found it, but he did not approach.
Jon needed to go there personally. He just didn't know how to convince Lord Stark to let him enter the deepest parts of the Wolfswood. Obviously, that would be a challenge.
"What are you doing out here, son?" Jon heard his mother approach with a cloth in her hands while cleaning the table after lunch.
His brother had gone to sleep, along with his father, who, incidentally, had already fully recovered from the monstrous bear attack and had returned to hunting without any further problems. Garren was also working in the farm's vegetable garden.
"I'm just waiting for Ghost, he's nearby," Jon replied.
His mother sat down beside him and immediately wrapped him in a hug. He had returned two days ago, yet she still clung to him all the time.
"When are you coming back home?" she asked.
Jon immediately looked away. "I don't know..." he murmured.
He loved his family, but he had no desire to live there, spending his life tending the farm like his father and uncle. He wanted Sam to inherit the farm.
To tell the truth, he didn't even want to stay in Winterfell forever; he wanted to travel. To see the places he saw in his dreams, to explore the world. 1
But how could he tell that to his mother? With each year he spent away, she seemed more anxious and always asked when he would return to stay with them again, dropping hints that Ghost was safe now and no one would hunt him anymore...
Jon understood her feelings and tried to avoid hurting her, but at the same time, he felt that he could not give in to that.
"Son, I don't want to pressure you, I know you have your dreams..." His mother seemed to perceive the conflict inside him.
Despite the pain growing in her heart, she knew she had no right to keep him there. "...But can you tell me exactly what you want to do? Do you want to stay in Winterfell? You said you like it there..."
Jon shook his head. "No, Mother." He didn't even look at her. He simply kept his eyes on the garden in front of the house, deep in thought. "I want to go south. I want to go north. I want to travel east." He paused briefly.
"I want to see the world, I want to have adventures... Lord Stark is giving me all the tools I need. Knowledge, training, and military skills, things that will help me survive out there." Jon took a deep breath before continuing.
"But I want to spend a few years traveling the world..." It was the first time he had expressed that desire out loud.
His mother remained silent for a few moments, staring at him. Then she sighed and closed her eyes.
"I knew this day would come." She spoke softly, pausing for a moment.
"To tell the truth, I never wanted you to leave, because I knew that the moment you reached Winterfell, you would be one step closer to becoming a free man." She murmured those words while looking away.
"It's not because I came to Winterfell... It's because of my dreams," Jon replied.
She wiped a few tears from her eyes before giving him a sad smile. "Yes... that's true. I just don't want to receive news that my son has died."
Jon hugged her as soon as he saw her crying.
"I fear every day that, in the future, soldiers or knights will come to this farm to report your death. The world is dangerous. You know that very well." She confessed.
"I know. That's why I'm grateful to the Starks for preparing me for whatever may happen to me in the future..."
"But obviously that's not going to happen right now, right?" she asked.
Jon was only ten namedays old. Not even she would allow him to leave so soon, and his father would agree with that.
"In four years, I'll travel south. What do you think?" Jon replied, looking at her while wiping away her tears with the cloth she had been holding after taking it from her.
He would still be young, but much more prepared. In the end, she nodded in agreement.
It was at that moment that a huge white blur came charging along the side of the farm, running at its full two-meter height.
Jon immediately stood up when he saw him appear at the entrance of the house. His mother also rose, following her son's gaze.
Ghost was running toward Jon. After reaching two meters in height, he had practically stopped growing. Even so, Jon always felt small standing beside him, though there wasn't much he could do about his size as a child of ten namedays, after all...
"Ghost! It's good to see you again." Jon hadn't seen him for almost two weeks. In fact, the wolf had been away for nearly three moons.
Ghost approached and rubbed his head against him.
"Well, I'll find something for you to eat before Mary comes bothering me, looking for the sword training I do in Winterfell..." Jon commented.
His mother let out a small laugh.
Jon went to get him something to eat, but five minutes later, once again, something happened.
The sound of horses came from the entrance to the farm. Jon heard it and stepped out from the side of the house, with Ghost still eating meat that his father had stored away, and headed toward the front of the house.
Jon and his mother immediately looked toward the road at the edge of the family's lands, seeing several men approaching while carrying the banners of House Tallhart.
"Jon?" his mother asked curiously.
But he simply shook his head, indicating that he didn't know the reason for the visit either.
Then he approached the entrance, picking up the sword that was leaning beside the door. Ghost followed right behind him.
There were three men on horseback, stopping in front of the gate and looking at Jon.
"Are you Lord Stark's ward, Jon?" one of them asked.
Jon nodded. "That's me."
"There is a message for you. Lord Stark has ordered you to return to Winterfell immediately, and Lord Tallhart asked us to bring you with us."
"Did something happen?" Jon asked curiously.
The men exchanged glances before nodding. "Yes."
"What happened?"
"Something happened in the south."
The knight took a deep breath before continuing. "The heir to the Iron Throne... has died."
Jon's eyes widened. "Baelon Targaryen died?" He fell silent in thought for a moment.
"Exactly. And all the houses of the North, as well as every house in all the kingdoms, have been summoned to a Great Council." The men spoke with seriousness.
Even though they were standing before a boy of ten namedays, they already showed a grasp of political matters, and Jon reacted thoughtfully, unlike a child. Jon understood the political situation of Westeros very well.
Even though he had never left Winterfell or his village, much less traveled south, he had already studied the political landscape alongside Maester Lorren.
"This could be bad... But the outcome is already guaranteed..." Jon murmured.
There was the daughter of Aemon Targaryen, the eldest son of Jaehaerys and former heir to the throne, until he died and the succession passed to Baelon... Naturally, it should pass to the eldest son's child, but he had only Rhaenys as his daughter... Now both of them were dead. Baelon also had his sons, which placed Westeros in a rather fragile position regarding who should succeed: the daughter of the first heir, who was a woman, or the sons of the second heir, Viserys and Daemon...
Jon was certain that Viserys should be the natural successor... However, if they were calling a Great Council, it meant that many people were also defending Rhaenys's claim to the throne...
"So the claimants are Viserys on one side and Rhaenys on the other..." Jon reflected to himself in front of those men.
The men heard that and merely exchanged glances. They didn't fully understand the names or the details of the succession; they only knew that the situation was complicated. But it was somewhat amusing to see a boy seem as concerned with the political situation as the King's Hand himself...
"All right. I understand. I'm returning to Winterfell." Jon made his decision immediately.
The men simply nodded; they would wait for him outside the village. They said their farewells and headed back in the direction from which they had come, while his mother watched everything with concern.
Even Garren, Roman, and the rest of the family came to see what was happening, but they only arrived as Jon was saying goodbye to the guards.
"What happened, Jon?" his father immediately asked.
Jon sighed. They certainly would not understand the full situation without an explanation. So he began talking about the politics of Westeros.
He knew everything at that moment: the names of every member of the royal family, living and dead. The names of their dragons. The strongholds, the regions, the alliances. Everything.
He could already visualize the entirety of Westeros in his mind and see every political position that the great lords might take.
It was strange, but there was a certain clarity to it. He could do it better than the maester himself.
Even Lord Stark had been surprised several times by his opinions during conversations at the table. Jon was beginning to speak like someone far older than his years.
Jon also knew that Benjen Stark deeply hated the Targaryens, as did many people in the North. Every dead Targaryen was a cause for celebration, as the North still harbored resentment for what Alysanne, the Good Queen, had done with the Gift, taking it from the North and giving it to the Night's Watch.
Even so, the matter was far too serious to be treated that way.
"A Great Council seems to be being called in the south. I still don't have many details, since those men didn't say anything more." Jon paused before continuing.
"But if I have to return to Winterfell immediately, it means Lord Stark probably intends to take me."
That was his opinion, even without being certain. It seemed quite likely.
"You're going south?" Mary seemed excited, while Jon sighed.
"I don't think it's that simple. The south is full of dangers," he replied honestly.
His parents watched him with concern. Jon, however, gave them a small reassuring smile. "It seems I'll be going south sooner than I imagined. Or at least, that's what I believe. Lord Stark may very well decide not to take me as well. That is his right."
He paused briefly before continuing. "In any case, I'm returning to Winterfell. I'll see what's happening and send a letter."
"Will you be alright?" Rowena asked, deeply worried.
"If I go, I promise I'll take care of myself. And if I don't, I'll stay in Winterfell or try to come back here. Since the castle will be a little boring without everyone around." Jon gave an amused smile.
After that, he quickly said goodbye to each of his relatives.
"Jon, you still haven't taught me how to fight!" Sam complained beside him.
Jon gave a small smile. "Don't worry, brother. I'll teach you the next time we meet." He paused. "And if I go south, I'll bring back stories for you. I've heard there are marvelous castles and songs about great heroes. At a gathering like the Great Council, there should be a tournament as well." Jon couldn't help feeling excited; he still hoped Lord Stark would take him.
Shortly afterward, he saddled his horse and mounted it. Before leaving, he cast one last look at his family, and then he and his wolf departed.
As he passed through the village, Jon also said goodbye to all the residents. He was still very well known there. He also made a habit of visiting everyone he knew whenever he stayed at his parents' farm.
Then the two of them left the village. Obviously, Jon would not travel to Winterfell alone. The same men who had delivered the message were waiting for him.
Jon had only asked for about half an hour to say goodbye to everyone before catching up with them outside the village.
Then they departed northward. A few days later, they arrived at Winterfell.
The castle seemed quite busy. As soon as he entered, Rickon ran toward him.
"Jon! You finally arrived!" Rickon seemed extremely excited. "Get ready! We're going south!"
He continued with an arrogant grin. "We'll show those southerners what the Starks are capable of."
Jon merely sighed. "I still need to speak with your father..." he said.
In any case, Jon took his horse to the stables along with the horses of the other men who had accompanied him.
Shortly afterward, they were received by the castle steward, who had been sent by Lord Stark as soon as he learned of their arrival to deal with the Tallhart men.
Jon immediately headed for the keep. Upon entering, he found Lord Stark, who promptly began a meeting with him.
"What do you think of all this?"
It was strange to see Lord Stark asking such a question to a boy. But it was not the first time those two had spoken about the south.
Jon had already demonstrated countless times that he thought far beyond his age.
"Well, it seems the king wants to officially declare who his successor will be in order to avoid any future disputes." Jon remained thoughtful for a few moments.
"I don't think Rhaenys has much of a chance. Most likely, it will be Viserys," he added.
"If I'm not mistaken, he had a daughter a few years ago, right? After so many miscarriages..."
"Yes, Princess Rhaenyra. She is four namedays old now..." Jon said. "Viserys will be chosen. Jaehaerys called this council because they simply don't want it to turn into a civil war."
"I'm saying that because there wouldn't be any need for a council otherwise, but House Velaryon is probably applying a great deal of pressure. Being the richest house in Westeros, they obviously have some influence. But they can't compete against the majority of Westeros's great lords."
Jon sighed. "So the outcome seems obvious. This is merely a ceremony to prevent a future war and calm the Velaryons' tempers."
Lord Stark listened to all of that in silence before nodding. He understood the points the boy was making.
"Well then, it seems we're going south." Lord Stark rested his arms on the table. "You'll need to inform your parents."
Jon couldn't help but smile. "Excellent. I already informed them that I would possibly accompany Lord Stark ever since I was urgently summoned by you, my lord." Jon said. "I intend to write another letter now."
"Excellent," Lord Stark said.
"Even so, thank you for taking me, even though I'm only..." Jon said. Politically, it made little sense for him to be taken, even to the council, but Lord Stark was willing to place him alongside his own son...
"You know." The man interrupted Jon. "You are part of this family."
The response came without the slightest hesitation.
"And honestly, there is no one here who thinks better than you. I intend to take only my wife, Lyarra, you, and Rickon."
This time, Jon was genuinely surprised. The rest of House Stark would remain in the North.
"I understand..." he murmured.
"You may go. Take the opportunity to see whether Rickon is organizing things properly. I'm afraid he'll do something foolish..." Lord Stark said, and Jon nodded.
With that, Jon left the keep.
As he walked through the corridors of Winterfell, Jon's mind was filled with thoughts. For the first time in his life, he would truly leave the North and see the south with his own eyes.
Lord Stark, in the hall, could not help but sigh. He reached into one of the drawers and took out the letter bearing the royal seal.
There was the summons, and there was something more...
'The king has his eye on the boy...' Those words, spoken through Lord Manderly's voice amid the rumors surrounding the council, had proven to be true...
Because at the end of the letter, there was something specific addressed to House Stark.
[Bring the boy with the wolf. The king wishes to see him personally.]
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