Jon

"His Grace, King Robb, is dead." That was all Jon heard Smalljon Umber say. He saw his lips still moving and he saw him pull a sealed letter out of his tunic, but he could hear nothing else. First Father, then Bran and Rickon, now Robb. Jon felt his heart turn to lead in his chest. He was only vaguely aware that he had let out a cry and fallen to his knees. He felt the tears running down his cheeks into his thin beard. His brother was dead. He had loved Robb nearly as much as he had loved Father. He and Robb had been as close as two brothers could be. Despite his status as a bastard, despite the way Lady Stark had treated him, despite everything.

Jon dropped his head into his hands and sobbed quietly. There had been so much death. North of the Wall against the Free Folk, wights and Others. South of the Wall, again against the Free Folk. And south of the Neck as well. His entire family was gone. He had heard that Sansa still lived, but was married to the Lannisters. He had heard multiple versions of what happened to Arya. Everything from "she's a captive sitting in a Black Cell," to "she was found face down in a ditch." What it all amounted to was, his family was dead. Uncle Benjen, Father, Robb, Bran, Rickon, Sansa and Arya. All gone or held hostage. He was the last of his family and he was forbidden from having children. House Stark had ruled the North for eight thousand years. And in just three years, it had been almost entirely wiped out. What gods had they so angered to have caused this?

When Jon looked up from where he had fallen, he saw Smalljon still holding the letter in his hands. Reaching to take the letter, Jon cursed himself for being weak as his hand was shaking. The rush from the fight and the shock of hearing his brother was dead was taking it's toll on him. Taking the letter from Smalljon, he looked down on it and saw that it was secured with the Seal of Winter. The ancient seal of House Stark, last used by Torrhen Stark before he knelt to Aegon Targaryen. Brushing his fingers lightly over the seal, Jon smiled sadly. This was quite possibly the last thing his brother had written.

Standing up, Jon pulled a knife from his belt, slid its blade under the seal and opened the letter. Seeing Robb's handwriting, Jon gave another sad smile. Within the letter addressed to him, were another two documents, likewise sealed with the Seal of Winter. Opening the letter addressed to him first, Jon began to read:

"Dear Jon

Enclosed within this letter you will find two documents. My will and a further letter to Lord Commander Mormont. Please deliver the letter to the Lord Commander after you have read this. This war is not going as well as I had hoped. I've made too many mistakes. I'm winning every battle, but I'm losing the war. When I first called the banners and marched south, I made a deal with Lord Walder Frey of The Twins. I agreed to marry one of his daughters and he agreed to allow my army passage over the Trident and to join our cause.

However, I broke my vow to him. I married Jeyne Westerling after I slept with her following her treating my wounds from a battle outside the walls of her family's castle. I was worried that I may have fathered a child on her and had no wish to destroy her honor. So I traded my honor for hers. And in exchange, I infuriated the Freys who have since abandoned me. I am traveling now to make amends for the insult I gave to House Frey. Uncle Edmure will be taking my place and marrying Roslin Frey. We go now to his wedding at the Twins.

However, I have had news that Sansa has been forced to marry the Imp, Tyrion Lannister. I worry that Lord Tywin Lannister has designs on using her to take Winterfell should I fall in battle. Which brings me to the point of my letter to you. I cannot risk the Lannisters ever having a claim on our home. You are as much Father's son as I. From this day, you are hereby Jon Stark, legitimate son of Eddard Stark and my heir."

Jon felt his entire body go stiff. His fingers grasped the bit of foolscrap the letter had been penned on tightly. His eyes opened wide. The full import of Robb's words to him hit him all at once. He was Jon Stark. The heir to Winterfell. And then a second realization hit just moments latter. Robb was dead. Robb had named him his heir. In one sentence, Jon had gone from being a bastard and Man of the Watch, to King in the North.

Jon slowly looked up from the letter he had yet to finish reading. And as his eyes came above the parchment, he saw Smalljon Umber, Dacey Mormont and Marlon Manderly all drop to one knee before him and bow their heads. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He was in shock. Jon knew he was in shock, but he could do nothing about it. When he was a child, he had dreamed so many times of one day ruling Winterfell. Only now did he realize what those dreams coming true would truly cost.

Ser Marlon raised his head back towards him and said, in a quiet voice, "Your Grace? Perhaps you should finish the letter from your brother."

Still unable to speak, Jon nodded his head and turned his eyes back to the letter his brother had sent him:

"I know this must be a great shock for you, and I had intended to tell you personally when I arrive at Castle Black in a few months. But some gods damned voice in the back of my head is warning me that I should tell you now. I thought for long hours on this, and as I'm sure you can guess, my Mother is completely opposed to the idea. But Mother has made mistakes as well. Among them the way she treated you when we were boys growing up in Winterfell. Recently however, she released the Kingslayer from captivity. She says that he swore an oath to return Sansa and Arya to her. But you and I know what his word is worth. He is an oathbreaker, and therefore not to be trusted. And as Father once told us, words are wind.

I cannot forgive Mother for this treason, nor can I punish her harshly for it. Love, grief and despair caused her to act as she did. However, I can use her actions to force her into agreeing with me. And that is what I have done. She has agreed to accept you as my heir over Sansa and Arya until such time as Jeyne bears me children.

In my enclosed will, is the official decree legitimizing you and naming you my heir. Also within, is a proclamation from me releasing you from your Night's Watch vows. I need all the Starks I can get around me now Jon. Father always told us, 'The lone wolf dies, while the pack survives.' It is long past time that you and I stopped being lone wolves.

I urge you brother, head to Winterfell immediately. Though our home has been burned by that treasonous cunt Theon, I beg you, go there. Rebuild our halls and our walls. Rule the North in my name until I return. I will meet you there once I've retaken Moat Cailin. Then together, we will free the North from the Ironborn who have invaded it.

Your loving brother,

Robb"

Jon had tears in his eyes again as he finished reading the letter. Gods but he missed his brother. And now he would never see him again. Blinking his eyes clear, he saw that Marlon, Dacey and Smalljon were all still on their knees, though all were now looking up at him.

"Stand up, all of you. You and your men just saved all our lives. The Thenns had us well and truly fucked if you hadn't shown up when you did."

"Yes, Your Grace," said Smalljon.

Hearing Smalljon, hells, hearing anyone call him "Your Grace" came as a shock to Jon. He didn't want this. Not in a hundred years would he have ever wanted to take Robb's place as King in the North. But this was what Robb wanted. It had been his brother's last wish. And he would honor it. He may not have wanted it, but he would put his soul into ruling the North well.

As the three Lords rose, Jon said, "We have much to do. We need to clear the Castle yard and above all, we need to burn these bodies."

Speaking for the first time, Dacey said, "Your Grace, why not just fling the bodies back over the Wall? Let the wildlings have em. Show those cunts why they don't fuck with the North."

"No. We burn them. Tonight. Why is a long tale that we don't have time for tonight. But I'll explain it all in the morning."

Nodding his head, Smalljon said, "Yes, Your Grace."

Having said that, Smalljon turned to the men that had stormed the gates with him, and the bowmen who had since made their way to the castle and shouted out, "Right you lazy fucks! Gather the dead wildlings outside the gates, the fallen Black Brothers inside them! Strip their arms and armor! Get to it!"

Marlon nodded his head sharply and added his own voice to those shouting orders saying, "You, you and you!" As he pointed at three men in Manderly colors. "Get a pyre built for those wildlings!"

As the Northmen and the Men of the Watch began going about their grisly task, Jon began searching among the wildlings for Ygritte. He knew she would be here somewhere. And he knew, in his heart, that she would be dead. It was yet one more sorrow he had to bear. But it was one he would have to bear silently. He wasn't a nameless bastard anymore who could love a spearwife without fear. He was King in the North now. And his bannermen would never understand nor accept their King loving a wildling.

When Jon found her, she was laying on her side. One hand still held her weirwood bow, while the other lay across the knife in her chest. Jon brushed his hand across her face, pushing her hair back from her cheek. Looking around, he saw no one watching, and leaned down over her and gave her a last kiss before closing her eyes with his hand and pulling the knife from her chest. She deserved better than a mass funeral pyre. She belonged to the North, the true North as the rest of the Free Folk would say. But with Mance's army camped outside their gates, he couldn't bring her there.

While he knelt by Ygritte's body, Ghost padded up to him on silent paws and nudged Jon with his massive head. The white direwolf always seemed to know what Jon was feeling and thinking. Reaching out his hand, Jon ruffled the fur around Ghost's neck and scratched behind his ears.

Looking at his direwolf, Jon saw Ghost's red eyes staring back at him. He whispered to him, "Thank you, boy."

Standing back on his feet, Jon walked to where the Northern Lords were waiting and where Donal Noye stood with them. Jon walked to the old one armed blacksmith and clasped his arm while looking into his eyes and nodding.

"I understand that you're to be leaving us, Jon?"

Nodding his head, Jon replied, "Aye. My brother named me his heir and released me from my vows. And with his death..." Jon trailed off, unable to finish as a profound sense of loss once again intruded on him.

"We'll be sad to see you go. The Watch needs more men like you. Honest men that can keep the rouges in line. Don't forget about the Watch lad. Nor what's coming."

"I won't. You have my word. Besides, they have you. That's all they need to keep them honoring their vows."

Nodding sharply, Donal Noye strode off to finish preparations to burn the bodies of his brothers. After Donal strode off, Ser Marlon coughed gently and said,

"Your Grace? My cousin bade me give you this letter once you had read the one from your brother. He pledges all of House Manderly to your cause and within has included some few suggestions on how best to proceed to secure the loyalty of the other Lords, sire."

Having said, that, Marlon handed Jon the letter who nodded his thanks and tucked it into the pouch at his waist. Jon then finally asked the question that had been burning inside him since learning of Robb's death.

"How did my brother die?"

Dacey and Smalljon looked down at their feet for a moment before both looked Jon in the eye. And in their eyes was pain, rage and humiliation. Those emotions were as plain as the sky above.

Dacey replied to her King, "He was betrayed, Your Grace. He was led into a trap at the Twins by the Freys. Lord Edmure Tully was to wed one of Walder Frey's daughters and during the wedding, the fucking Frey's broke guest rights and murdered your brother and all his men. With the help of the fucking Boltons. Rumor has it that Roose Bolton himself killed King Robb. While we were at White Harbor, Lord Manderly received a raven from King's Landing. Declaring Roose Bolton the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell and ordering Lord Manderly to bend the knee."

While hearing this, Jon's anger kept growing hotter and hotter, until his rage was burning like a white hot flame inside him, hotter than Donal Noye's forge. The wolf's blood in him screamed to be released, to seek vengeance on his enemies. His hands had slowly contracted into fists while listening to Dacey, his knuckles were white and his face was red with barely contained rage. Struggling mightily, Jon forced himself to think with his head, and not his heart. For his heart sought vengeance and retribution. His head sought that as well, but his head also cautioned him that he would have to plan his actions carefully, and not rush into things as he often did.

Through clenched teeth, Jon said, "They will pay. The Boltons. The Freys. Anyone who had a hand in the murder of my brother will pay. The Boltons will be wiped from memory. This I swear by the Old Gods."

At hearing his words, Dacey, Smalljon and Marlon nodded their heads and wore anticipatory grins. They would look forward to this.

Later, as the bodies of all those who fought and died at Castle Black burned, Jon Stark stood beside his Black Brothers one last time. To his left stood Maester Aemon. To his right stood Donal Noye. Behind him was Samwell Tarly. And all around were the few remnants of the Watch that remained at the Castle. Along with his brothers, Jon said the words that released the dead from their vows as they burned, "And now their watch is ended."

Brynden

He had to choke down the bile again. Every time he looked back over his shoulder, it made the gorge rise in his throat. He was running. And he hated running. He had no choice in the matter, but it still galled him to run. He didn't have the men to hold Riverrun. His idiot nephew had taken all but one hundred men with him to the Twins, leaving the castle woefully undefended.

He looked again. He shouldn't have, but he did. This time, he wasn't able to choke the bile down and vomited on the side of the road. He could still see his childhood home and the sight made him sick. For as he looked on, the Leaping Trout banners of his house were cut down and the Twin Towers of House Frey rose above the battlements and towers. He wished that he'd given in to his impulse to put the castle to the torch. But at the last moment, he couldn't bring himself to set the oil soaked rags alight and let his home burn. So instead he now tortured himself by seeing the fucking Freys sacking Riverrun. It was a sight that he made sure to burn into his memory. Today was a day that would not be forgotten. And after today, he would not run again.

But what choice did he have now? He had his nephew's wife in his care. Lady (Queen?) Jeyne Stark. Or was it Westerling again now that Robb was dead? Gods he didn't know. Truth be told, he didn't care. Robb had charged him with her safety and he'd be damned if he didn't keep her safe. His nephew thought she might be with child. They had certainly been trying enough. They had kept half the castle awake it seemed. Gods, his mind kept wandering off. He needed to concentrate or he'd lead everyone with him straight to their deaths.

He had ordered the evacuation of Riverrun. Not a soul was left inside the castle. After the initial panic of their flight, Brynden decided where they would go. They were headed to Raventree Hall. The Blackwoods had been the only house in the Riverlands to enthusiastically embrace the rule of the Starks. They'd also likely be the last house to submit to the Iron Throne. From there, they could possibly make their way to Oldstones or Seaguard, hire, buy or hijack a ship and get to the North. Cat had told him what Robb was planning on doing before his death. While he didn't know for sure whether he actually had, the rumors he had heard strongly suggested that Robb had legitimized his bastard half-brother Jon and named him his heir.

Brynden had to be honest with himself. He had never really cared for Jon. He'd met him once or twice. Seemed bright, the beginnings of a good fighter maybe. But that was it. Everything else he knew about him had been via Cat's letters to the Eryie when he was Knight of the Bloody Gate there. And those letters were decidedly unflattering. But the boy would have no love of the Lannisters. Or the Freys. And according to Robb, Jon dearly loved his family. So North they would go. It was exile of a sort, but an exile that he fully intended to return from.

While he doubted that anyone in the Riverlands would accept Jon as King, maybe he could persuade the King in the North to help return Riverrun to his House. After all, Jon must want bloody vengeance against the Freys at least as much as he did. He didn't have to like the bastard, but as long as their goals were aligned, he'd lend his support to him. And hopefully get support in return.

Nearly a week later, his tired, cold, wet and hungry group rode dejectedly into the courtyard at Raventree Hall. The woods and hills were crawling with Freys and men from the Reach. It wouldn't take long for even a dullard like Walder Fucking Frey to figure out where they went after abandoning Riverrun. They couldn't afford to tarry here for long. But they all needed rest and food. And the Blackwoods were loyal to the Tullys.

Lord Tytos Blackwood himself met them in the courtyard, despite the cold rain falling from the leaden skies. As the two men clasped hands, Tytos quickly offered Guest Right. This earned a bitter smile from Brynden. Lot of fat good Guest Right did for his nephew. Still, it was appreciated. While the hostlers rushed about getting their horses into the stables and getting them fed and dried, Brynden and his party made their way into the Great Hall. Once inside, they warmed themselves in front of the blazing fire in the massive hearth while gratefully sipping from mugs of hot mulled cider.

Sitting across from Brynden, Lord Blackwood sighed heavily and looked deep into Brynden's eyes.

"A black day at the end of a black week, My Lord," Tytos said.

Oh, it was a black week alright. His own name seemed to haunt him now. The Blackfish. Well, the name still suited his mood, which was decided black at the moment. But instead of saying all that, Brynden just grunted in response.

Pulling a Raven Scroll from his sleeve, Tytos said, "This came just yesterday. From King's Landing."

Taking the offered scroll, Brynden began to read.

"To all the Noble Houses of the Riverlands,

The insurrection known as the War of the Five Kings is at an end. Robb Stark, the so-called King in the North, is dead. Lord Edmure Tully has been stripped of his titles and attainted. Lord Emmon Frey is hereby named Lord of Riverrun. Lord Petyr Baelish, Lord of Harrenhall is hereby named Lord Paramount of the Trident. Submit to the Iron Throne, swear fealty to the King and to Lord Baelish or suffer the fate of all traitors.

Tywin Lannister

Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Hand of the King"

Brynden had to read the message twice. His House had been stripped of their lands and titles. And that fucking weasel Baelish was appointed Lord Paramount! For the first time since his brother died, he was actually glad he was dead. Because this message would not only have killed him, it would have broken his heart.

As Brynden looked up at Blackwood, he heard the man say, "Fuck the Iron Throne. Fuck the Freys. Fuck Baelish. And fuck Tywin Fucking Lannister. We owe our allegiance to House Tully and to House Stark. As far as we're concerned, the Iron Throne has no authority here."

"Tytos, you can't stand against the Iron Throne alone. Robb's army is broken and scattered to the winds. You'll be crushed."

"I know. That's why I want you to take Brynden, Lucas, Hoster, Bethany and Robert with you. I know you've got some plan in mind to get King Robb's wife to safety. Take my children with you, keep em safe, and then return them to me when you come back with an army."

"And what will you do?"

"Stay here and publicly submit to the Iron Throne. Like you said, what choice do I have? If I don't I'll be killed almost out of hand. But feign submission, and I can build my strength to support you when you return. And in the meantime, I can plead to anyone who will listen how the Blackfish took five of my children as hostages and how that prevents me from actually doing anything in support of the Crown."

Shaking his head, Brynden told him, "You're a wilier man than you look Blackwood. All right. I'll take your children under my care. You want to know where we're going?"

"I'm guessing it starts with 'Winter' and ends with 'fell.' But no, I don't want to know. It's less I can tell anyone should the worst happen."

"All right. Well, in that case, I can definitely tell you that we're heading to Essos. Try to recruit some of the sellsword companies."

With a glint in his eye, Tytos nodded. "A wise choice, My Lord."

"I thought so."

"By the way, I've got a small ship squirrelled away up on the coast. Safer than going to Oldstones or Seaguard. Randall Tarly has men there looking for you."

"Perfect. We'll leave at first light then."