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Howland
As the Great Hall filled with Lords from all over the North and not only, Jon was sitting at the high table with his cousin Sansa Stark, now Lady Harding and with her husband Harry Harding, Lord of the Vale.
The King was wearing his usual unreadable expression, observing everything around him. Northern Lords, Knights and Lords of the Vale, wildlings, even the giant King Wun Wun, they were all there.
Howland was always filled with wonder every time he saw the hairy giant, they lived in special times. Giants, dragons, direwolves, wood witches, The Others, things that lived only in legends for countless years were all back now. He wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or scared that they all decided to come back in his lifetime.
It was Lady Harding who spoke first, although the custom was for the King or the high Lord of the castle to first address the Lords, but King Jon didn’t seem to mind “My Lords, I want to thank you on behalf of House Stark for helping my brother get back the North.”
Huge cheers and ale mugs in the air followed Lady Harding’s words, only Jon’s stony expression did not change. “For House Stark!” one Lord yelled and triggered another round of loud cheers.
“I also want to thank my brother Jon for taking back Winterfell and everything else that belongs to the Starks from the hands of our enemies, and for avenging the wrongs done to my family.” Howland couldn’t help noticing that she said ‘my family’, not ‘our family’. King Jon must have noticed it too because he was looking at Sansa now.
“And Jon ruled well, but it’s time for the North to return to its rightful owner. The Starks.” He could see King Jon’s anger as he was looking at Lady Harding again, but Sansa was determined to only look forward.
It took a moment for everyone to absorb Lady Harding’s words, but when they did everyone started yelling and arguing.
“Freefolk only follow King Crow!” a wildling with a long white beard and a great belly thundered. He couldn’t remember his name, but he remembered that once he was bragging about laying with a bear.
“Nobody cares, wildling!” the plump Lady Cerwyn said. “Lady Sansa is a true Stark, she is the heir to the North!”
Some were shouting their support to Sansa, some to Jon, but most of the people gathered in the Great Hall were just confused.
It was the King who spoke next and the Hall instantly went quiet at the sound of his cold, commanding voice “My Lords, we don’t have time to argue about this. We can decide who’s who after all this is over!”
“There is nothing to decide, boy!” a tall Vale Lord said, earning himself some glares from the Northerners. Judging by the bronze armor he was wearing, he was surely Lord Royce. “You know what you are, the laws of the land say that bastards can’t inherit in front of the trueborn children.”
He found himself uncharacteristically angry on behalf of Jon, on behalf of Lyanna. “Watch your mouth Lord Royce, Northern politics are no concern of yours, or any other Southerner!”
Some Lords agreed with him, some yelled that a bastard should never inherit, you couldn't understand anything from all the shouting.
“My Lord Hand,” Jon spoke over the noise and everybody stopped to listen.
Lord Manderly quickly stood up, with impressive agility for someone his size, “Yes, Your Grace!”
“When is the next ship leaving for Essos from White Harbor?” Jon asked.
“One leaves every other day, Your Grace, we trade heavily for food these days, just like you ordered,” the Hand seemed confused.
“And do you think it’s possible to find an empty cabin?” His Grace said, to everyone’s consternation.
The fat Lord was surprised by the request for a few heartbeats, but then he seemed to snap out of it and answered with a gleam in his eyes. “Of course, anything for my King!”
There were whispers all over the hall, people looking at each other.
“Good, good. I figure I have a few more years until the dead reach Essos. Now that you have someone else to lead you and take over the responsibility, I can finally warm my bones a little and spend the rest of my life under a warm sun,” the King said, in a serious voice, shocking everyone.
The Great Hall went silent as a crypt.
“You mean to leave us?” it was Lady Cerwyn who broke the uncomfortable silence in a shaky voice.
“Why not, what need do you have of a bastard with so many trueborn Lords around? I am sure Lady Harding here and her husband would lead you just as well as I did, maybe even better since they are trueborn,” King Jon said. He didn’t even bother to hide his anger and the sarcasm in his voice.
“Jon, there is no need to get angry,” Lady Sansa said, “by law the North is mine, you have no right...”
“No right?” His Grace yelled angrily, hitting the high table with his fist so hard, that a jug fell, spilling ale all over the floor. “What do you know about my rights?” he spat, then he looked around the hall “I have rights to this castle and to every other cursed castle in this God-forsaken land!”
Before anyone could say anything, he got up, his giant wolf made himself seen from under the table too. “Listen and listen well! You make your choice. And If you decide to choose me, I am warning you that this is the last time I accept anyone challenging me! You will do what I say or you will suffer the consequences! We have countless enemies as it is, we can’t afford to argue between ourselves too! And at the end of the day, unity is more important than a couple of swords!” He looked straight at him and said: “Lord Reed, it’s time for you to tell your story.”
With that, he turned back and left the hall without a single glance back at the shocked Lords, with Ghost following silently behind him.
If the people gathered in the Great Hall were shocked at King Jon’s outburst, that was nothing to their reaction to his story. There wasn’t an eye smaller than a saucer in the room.
“So, he’s a trueborn Targaryen?” Lord Manderly asked shocked.
“Indeed, My Lord Hand.”
“We can’t follow a Targaryen, we fought to dethrone them 20 years ago!” someone screamed from the back, he wasn’t sure who. A Northern Lord, judging by his accent for sure.
“Freefolk only follow King Crow,” the bear fucking wildling said again firmly, “no matter what his name is!” The wildlings behind him gave a choir of ‘Ayes’
“Snow” the hairy giant growled.
“We should follow Lady Sansa, she’s a true Northern woman, a Stark, not a fucking Targaryen,” Bradon Tallhart, heir to Torrhen’s Square declared, earning himself a few 'Ayes' and a lot of glares.
But most of the Lords were still shocked by the revelation.
“I thank you, My Lord,” Lady Harding spoke, “I am indeed a true Northern Lady and a true Stark, and Winterfell is rightfully mine.”
Alys Kastark of House Thenn got up, speaking for the first time “A true Northern Lady?” she snorted. “I remember you, Lady Harding,” she spat. “When you were young you spent all your time with your Septa, and the only thing you talked about was how you wished to go South and meet some gallant Kight or some perfumed Lord and marry there! And now suddenly you are a true Northern woman? Do you even keep the Old Gods?”
“I follow both the Old Gods and the Seven,” Lady Sansa said warily.
“Of course you do.” Lady Kastark continued. “And while you were South, King Jon was at the Wall, fighting wildlings and the dead, being made one of the youngest Lord Commanders in history.” She took a deep breath “And in the hour of my greatest need, he helped me, even if he didn’t have to. For that, I and my house will stand behind him as long as I draw breath.”
He got up too “House Reed will follow Lady Lyanna’s son,” he said in a calm and concise tone.
Lord Manderly got on his feet next “My Lords, King Jon saved my son’s life. I just got him back when he decided to go with His Grace beyond the Wall, I tried to convince him not to go, but that son of mine is stubborn and fierce as a mastiff.” He smiled at the obvious pride in the White Harbor Lord’s voice.
“If it wasn’t for His Grace, my son would be taken from me, and this time for good,” his voice turned emotional now. “Not only he saved my son and everybody else there, but he also killed one of the Others, how many men can say that? I’ll tell you how many! None!” Loud cheers were heard this time.
“Wylis tells me that when you see the Others you can't stop from pissing yourself in fear, and it’s so cold that the piss freezes in your pants before it can even go down your legs to warm you a little." Loud laughs were heard around the Hall. "Do you think these Southern summer boys,” he said making a dismissive gesture towards the Vale Lords with his hand “can fight them?”
"In their wet dreams!" some Northern Lord who probably had too much ale shouted, making everyone laugh again.
“Lady Harding,” it was Lady Maege Mormont the one speaking now, “I was there when your brother Robb made his will, he knew you were still alive yet he still made King Jon his heir.” Lady Sansa’s face fell. “It makes no difference if he’s a bastard or not.”
She looked around the room, at the gathered men “I was also there when His Grace slain the Other. There were many hardened warriors there and all of us froze in fear. It was only King Jon that kept his wits, and it’s only because of him that all of us that were there didn't come back with blue eyes. My people will follow him, Snow, Targaryen, Stark, whatever his name is.”
He found Jon on the high bridge looking at the frozen courtyard.
“What did you decide?” he heard the King ask in an emotionless voice, without even looking his way. But he could fell his nervousness, his posture was stiff, his whole body was tight as a bowstring.
“We decided to follow our King,” he said simply. Jon released a huge breath, his shoulders sagged in relief. “You did well to show them that they shouldn’t take you for granted,” he continued.
“Thank you, Lord Reed. For your support and for all your advice.” Jon’s voice was much warmer now.
He squeezed Jon’s shoulder “That's the least I can do for her. She would be proud of you, Jon. Very proud indeed.”