12-The Young Wolf's Last Will

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, GoT or ASOIAF.

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Acknowledgements: This chapter was edited by Cataclysmic Moon. I also want to thank my beta-reader, nicknm, for helping me bounce ideas around.

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Maege Mormont

Breaking the siege of Ironrath had been quite easy. They had managed to take Whitehills by surprise right before dawn broke. Unfortunately, on the way to join Jon Snow's host, their scouts reported that his army had almost reached Winterfell. Additionally, Maege and the Glovers were still more than three days away on foot from Winterfell. So, they gathered all their horsemen and rode hard, hoping to join Ned's son in time for the battle. They had about fifty men mounted in total, and realistically they wouldn't be able to change the outcome of a big battle, but one never knew. They pushed their horses hard but were eventually forced to rest for the night, especially if they wanted to have any strength to help in the fighting.

As they rode out of the wolfswood the next day, they saw they had missed the battle. The field was strewn with corpses, and a familiar flag could be seen in the distance. The grey direwolf of House Stark proudly adorned the gates of Winterfell.

"It seems that the lad won the day without our help," Galbart Glover said with a hint of approval.

"King Robb did say he was just as capable as him, if not more," Maege nodded in agreement.

Their approach had not gone unnoticed as a few dozen horsemen exited the gates and headed their way.

Few wore the blue and white chequy heraldry of House Mazin, but the majority wore the Bullmoose of House Hornwood. Soon, Maege was surrounded.

"Larence!? Is that you, my boy?" Galbart shouted in surprise next to her.

"Uncle Galbart! I thought you died at the Twins!" a young man wearing the Hornwood coat of arms happily replied. He was clearly not a boy anymore, as he had already seen battle and taken lives, evident by his bloodied armour and alert posture. Maege vaguely remembered that Larence Snow had been the natural son of Halys Hornwood and had been sent to Deepwood Motte to foster with Galbart. And even now, despite the happy expression on Larence Snow's face, his posture was alert, and he was ready to fight.

"Me, Lady Mormont and her daughters managed to escape the traitorous weasels because King Robb sent us on a task. We're here to find his brother Jon Snow," Lord Glover sombrely spoke.

Larence's face became expressionless.

"And where were you for the last two years, uncle? What do you want with Jon Snow?" The men around him shuffled, and everyone put an arm on their swords.

"King Robb gave us a message to deliver, for Jon Snow's eyes only. And before we could pass into the Neck, we got ambushed by a Frey searching party. We would have died if it wasn't for the crannogmen's timely help. It took us a year and a half to recuperate enough to travel again," Maege explained.

The young man stood silent in contemplation and then eventually nodded.

"Then I'll escort you to Lord Snow myself. Your men will stay here, though. And if you try anything funny, I'll gut you all myself."

"Alright, Larence, we'll do as you say," Galbart agreed after raising an eyebrow in surprise. Clearly, Larence Snow had great loyalty to Jon Snow, which was a very good thing, especially considering what they were carrying. Maege vaguely remembered that Ned's natural son was quite a sullen, closed-off, and quiet boy, but it seemed that these trying times had shaped him into someone the Northerners loyally followed.

They left most of their raiders at the wolfswood and made their way to Winterfell, escorted by the young Hornwood bastard and his men. Maege's gaze wandered around her, and she saw a few swathes of blackened land with half-burnt remains.

"What the fuck happened here?" Her daughter Lyra had noticed the same thing, as she voiced her question while pointing to the burned ground.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Larence replied with a wide grin.

"Try me!" Her daughter instantly rose to the challenge.

The Hornwood boy raised his eyebrow, but at Lyra's determined gaze, he finally spoke. "Dragons. Dragons happened."

"Dragons have been dead for two hundred years. And the Targaryens are all dead now." Her younger daughter, Jorelle, scoffed from her left. "Next, you'll tell us that giants, grumpkins and snarks were here too."

Larence started laughing loudly, and the men around them were chuckling along.

"Did I say something funny?" Jorelle angrily asked, and her face began to redden.

"I don't know anything about grumpkins or snarks, but giants were definitely here," the young man pointed to their left. About thirty yards away lay an enormous corpse, easily twice as tall and thick as the biggest of men and far hairier.

Maege, her daughters and Lord Glover were all left gaping at the sight. Even after a few blinks, the large body was still there. This was undeniably a giant, something that had been thought to be long gone.

"When Jon Snow called upon the wildlings to fight for him, three giants that passed the Wall agreed to join. This one got felled by a spear in the eye, but the other two are still alive," Larence finally explained after looking at their surprise in amusement.

"Did Ned's boy really let the wildlings through the Wall?" Maege asked after she managed to rein in her surprise. She had heard of this before but didn't precisely trust the information.

"Aye, they were apparently escaping from something. The cold shadows, they called them," Larence replied with a shudder. "Jon Snow was Lord Commander, and got them to swear to defend the Wall and to keep the peace before passing."

Every answer they received raised more and more questions in Maege's mind. For Jon Snow to be Lord Commander, her brother must have died. And to get the wildlings to swear anything and to follow him voluntarily was no small feat. Giants, too...

"And what happened to my brother Jeor? How was Jon Snow able to leave his post as Lord Commander?"

"I don't know anything about Jeor Mormont or why Jon Snow left the Watch. I heard many things, but none made sense to me. And, truthfully, I don't care. When I received word that he was going to march on the Boltons, I rode hard and fast to join him," the Hornwood bastard explained.

Their group continued in silence. Soon, they entered Winterfell's courtyard.

The first thing Maege saw was the two giants that were nearly thirteen feet tall. They were very hard to miss. Both giants were carefully eyeing their group. Each had a big tree trunk in their arms. Her daughters gasped in surprise while lord Glover kept a cooler head.

In the middle of the courtyard stood Jon Snow. He was quite tall and powerfully built, clad in a bloodstained plate armour to boot. On his right stood a gigantic direwolf covered in gore and mud that was larger than Grey Wind ever was. Maege vaguely remembered that the lad had Stark grey instead of Valyrian purple eyes, but the large direwolf was unmistakable and had Eddard Stark's long face. On his left stood a tall young woman with fiery red hair who could only be Sansa Stark. She looked much like her mother, Catelyn, only much more beautiful.

"Lord Snow, Galbart Glover, Maege Mormont, and her daughters Jorelle and Lyra are looking for you," Larence announced as they were dismounting.

"MOTHER! You're alive!" Before anyone could say anything, a fast blur crashed right into her. Maege immediately recognised her youngest daughter, Lyanna, and enveloped her in a tight hug. Before, she was barely above her waist, and now she was nearly as tall as her. By the gods, she was grown after nearly five years.

Her chest swelled with pride, Maege knew that few battle-ready men were left on Bear Isle, but when a Stark had called, her daughter had answered regardless. Then she realised that they were in the middle of the courtyard, watched by everyone with interest.

"We'll speak later, Lya. Now go to your sisters." She coughed, and her youngest reluctantly let her go and joined her sisters.

The atmosphere around them had relaxed. All the tension was gone with Lyanna's stunt. But Jon Snow was still looking at them impassively with the same icy mask his father used to wear.

"Well, Lady Mormont, Lord Glover. You were looking for me?" Jon Snow asked.

Maege carefully got the decree out of the leather wrap, unfurled it and started reading loudly.

"By the decree of Robb of House Stark, First of His Name, King of the North.

Sansa Stark is hereby completely removed from the succession of Winterfell." Sansa Stark visibly paled next to her brother.

"From this day until his last day, Jon Snow is hereby legitimised as Jon Stark and is released from his vows to the Night's Watch. Jon Stark will be my heir should I fail to sire a living child. Witnessed and signed by:

King Robb Stark, Lady Catelyn Stark, Lord Edmure Tully, Ser Raynald Westerling, Lord Jason Mallister, Lord Jon Umber, Lady Maege Mormont, and Lord Galbart Glover."

The courtyard was deathly silent.

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Sansa Stark

Her heart was beating hard after the reading of Robb's decree. Removing her from the succession was an obvious political move because they could have tried to use her to usurp Winterfell through marriage. But it had come late, as she had already been used as a pawn. Winterfell had already been in Bolton's hands before she got married to Ramsay. Still, it hurt, being disinherited in front of the whole north for something she had no control over.

"King Robb might be gone now, killed by those traitorous Freys and Boltons. They all thought that House Stark was dead and done for. But here you stand strong, having retaken Winterfell from the grasping hands of the Flayed Man. You are now King Jon Stark, the Third of His Name!" Maege cried out loudly, breaking the silence and kneeling, followed by everyone in the courtyard except the wildlings.

Ever since she had reunited with Jon, he had been unflappable to almost everything, and this was the first time Sansa had seen him surprised. But even if this decree hadn't made its way north, she had no doubt that Jon would still be declared King. He was strong, strapping, and extremely capable, with Stark blood running through his veins. After losing two Lords of House Stark, a King and three heirs to southern politics and deception, nobody in the North would agree to bow down to the south ever again, especially with all the Houses that supported the Boltons broken in battle.

"Rise." Jon's face was impassive, but there was a slight trace of reluctance in his eyes. Her brother hadn't expected this at all. "My first decree as King is to name my sister, Princess Sansa Stark, my heiress until I have children. I also hereby annul all her marriages, as they were done under duress and without the agreement of the head of House Stark."

The loud words of her brother rang in her ears. She felt tears of happiness pooling in her eyes, but she managed to hold them in. Her brother's first decree as king restored her to the succession and annulled all her marriages. Sansa couldn't help but make comparisons. Robb abandoned her in King's Landing to be tormented and beaten and disinherited her. Jon saved and took care of her and restored her lawful rights.

The next few hours passed in a blur as Winterfell became a hub of activity, and she got her things into her mother's room. Fat Walda had lived there until Ramsay fed her to his dogs. Sansa didn't stop until she burned everything left from the Frey bride. After she was finished, Sansa grabbed the bundle she had been working on and went to find her brother.

After half an hour of searching, she finally found Jon in the Library tower, where he was perusing through a pile of books carefully. He was still wearing her favour, and it was tied around his elbow, visible to all, making her face redden and her heart beat faster. She felt a bit foolish by giving her favour to Jon; what if he took it the wrong way?

'But would that really be the wrong way? You gave him your favour because you are in love with your brother.'

A tiny voice sounding suspiciously like herself whispered in her head, causing her to bristle inwardly.

'I do not like my brother like that!' Sansa told retorted mentally.

'Then what is that favour doing over there, tied to his elbow? The voice responded with a bit more strength.'

'That's...just for luck.' She defended.

'Don't lie to yourself, it's unbecoming. If it was just for luck, why would you be swooning at the sight of your brother every time? Why would you feel such great joy at seeing your favour on his arm?'

Sansa deflated. Was she really in love with her brother? Did she get this … vile inclination from Cersei during her unpleasant stay in King's Landing? No, her love for her brother was not vile!

'Fine, you're right. But I'm not going to be like the Lannisters and ruin things by lusting after my brother!'

'But surely you deserve some happiness after all that has happened to you. You should take it!'

"Sansa, there is no need to stand in the doorway, come sit." Jon's voice startled her out of her heated inner argument.

"Your Grace," Sansa greeted after taking a few deep breaths, before remembering why she was here in the first place. "I have a gift for you."

"Princess Sansa, I'm going to be wroth with you if you do not call me by my name. I am your brother, and there is no need to stand on courtesy with me in private," Jon said with a sigh as he accepted the bundle and opened it. Sansa nodded with a smile in acknowledgement. The kingship suited her brother well, and it did not seem to have changed him at all. He was regal enough on his own, after all.

Inside was a hand-sewn hooded cloak made of blackened linen. She made it completely by herself and had also stitched a white direwolf on the back, courtesy of Ghost, and a few small white direwolf heads around the collar and the front. Sansa had begun making it after the army left Castle Black, and had been working on it as a distraction from her worries on the way to Winterfell. It had been completed the previous night, as she could scarcely get a wink of sleep before the battle.

"Thank you, sweet sister. It's great!" Her brother's face lit up, and he immediately donned the cloak, making her smile.

"What are you doing in the dusty library, Jon? I don't remember you being particularly enthusiastic about reading before," Sansa idly asked.

"Well, I thought that I should refresh my memory on the topic of laws, Northern Houses, and history," Jon replied with a shrug. "Sansa, do you want to accompany me to the dungeons? I have a few questions to ask one Hother Umber and one Barbrey Dustin."

"It would be my pleasure, Jon," she agreed sombrely. Hother Umber was the one who had handed over Rickon to Ramsay Bolton.

"What will you do now that you're king, brother?" Sansa quietly asked as they were making their way to the dungeons.

"I've already called all the lords in the North to swear loyalty. Whoever doesn't come in a moon will be considered a traitor and will have to be brought to heel." Jon sighed and ran a hand through his curly hair. "Soon, I'll send a force to take control of the Dreadfort and appoint a castellan there. If whoever is holding the seat of House Bolton resists, they will do so at their peril. Moat Cailin will also have to be manned, and masons will be sent to begin repairs."

Sansa was pleasantly surprised. She knew her brother had been Lord Commander and had experience in leading, but seeing him have a good plan brought no small measure of joy to her. Many Andal Kings broke their armies at Moat Cailin if they even survived crossing most of the swamps in the neck. With the Moat garrisoned, the North would be secure against any threat from the south.

"Did you know King's Landing had been burned down in a wildfire?" Jon suddenly asked.

Brienne, who was silently shadowing behind her, gasped loudly.

"How?" Sansa asked in horror. There had been half a million souls in King's Landing. And while she hated the place, killing so many people...

"I only got to read the messages from the ravens. Nobody truly knows. Only those in the Red Keep survived and somehow sneaked out after the fires died out. Amongst them are Cersei Lannister and Tommen Baratheon. The Queen Regent blames it on someone named Aegon Targaryen, and has called the Bolton banners to help deal with the pretender," he explained with some amusement.

"Aegon Targaryen? Elia's son is dead, though. Everyone knows that the Mountain bashed his skull in the wall twenty years ago during the sack of King's Landing," Sansa pointed out.

"Aye, but this Aegon proclaimed himself the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. I've got a letter from him, calling upon House Bolton's loyalty. Apparently, Varys had swapped the babe beforehand, and Aegon conquered the Stormlands with the Golden Company at his back. The Dornish have joined them, and they march against Jaime Lannister, who is leading Tommen's armies."

Sansa hummed in thought. On the one hand, this sounded like a Blackfyre plot, especially with the Golden Company in the picture. But on the other hand, the Blackfyres were long dead. Not to mention that the Dornish joined Aegon, and they would have the greatest chance to know if he was truly the son of Elia Martell.

"But what of the Reach? They easily have double the men Dorne, and the Golden Company can field combined. House Tyrell would never let their precious queen's throne be threatened," Sansa asked curiously.

"Aye, but it seems that their queen is no more. Loras, Margaery and Mace Tyrell were among the victims of the fires in King's Landing. A good part of the Reach's nobility was present in the capital, including nearly thirty thousand swords. All perished in the fires. Now they have no female relatives left to tie into the southern Throne, and the shores of the Reach are under attack from the Ironborn. Euron Greyjoy is harrying their shores hard, so they are probably reluctant to send any help to Cersei. Hells, it's not even sure that most of their bannermen would follow them anymore. After all, House Tyrell lost a good amount of knights and troops in King's Landing," Jon said with a shrug.

Half a million people dead – just like that. She felt a bit sad about the death of Margaery. But the rose of Highgarden wasn't much different than Cersei, only more pleasant.

Sansa, however, couldn't help but feel a sliver of vindictive pleasure. The Tyrells that had tipped the war against her family by joining the Lannisters now suffered for it. Their carefully built power over generations had crumbled in a single day, and were now invaded by the Ironborn. It felt similar to the North's downfall after the Red Wedding, but at least the roses still had control of Highgarden, if nothing else.

They finally arrived in the dungeons. After passing a small oaken door guarded by two mountain clansmen, Jon found his first target – a gaunt old man chained to the wall. He had a hard face and a long white beard and looked tired.

"I can see you have questions for me, boy. Ask them," the prisoner said with a raspy voice.

"Hother Umber, why did you join House Bolton and hand over Rickon Stark to them?" Her brother got straight to the point.

"I reckon that would be the thing you wanted to ask." The old man coughed hard. "I joined because I didn't want my nephew, Greatjon Umber, to get executed by the Freys when my brother Mors joined Stannis. After Stannis fell, Roose had somehow found out we had The Rickon and ordered me to bring him over. Greatjon took almost all the men south with him. What could I do when Last Hearth barely had a handful of greybeards left to wield a weapon? Let my nephew die in the Twins, and my grandnephew perish under the flaying knife for a dead House?" Hother recalled with a resigned shrug.

"Your trial will be in two days at dawn," Jon said evenly after half a minute of silence. The old man just nodded mutely in acceptance.

Sansa felt torn. She hated the man for handing over Rickon, but on the other hand, she could understand his desire to preserve his own family. After Roose defeated Stannis, he could have easily subdued the rest of the North, given enough time.

They left the cell, and half a minute later, they entered another. Inside was an ageing woman draped in fur blankets. She wasn't chained like the previous prisoner they visited. Her brown hair had streaks of grey and was still done in a top knot bun. She had a mocking expression on her face even now. Sansa had seen Barbrey Dustin during her second wedding feast and had remembered the gloating expression on her face as the old widow was looking at her.

"I expected one of you to come along," Barbrey spoke, and Sansa found her tone annoyingly carefree. "Are you here to force yourself on me, bastard?"

Sansa squinted her eyes in distaste. Her brother would never do anything like that, and hearing the old bitch insulting him so pissed her off.

"If I wanted to fuck someone, it definitely wouldn't be a bitter and ugly old crone like you," Jon replied with a snort.

Barbrey lost her stoic expression and scowled. Truthfully, the Dustin widow was still comely even now after she was past her childbearing age, meaning that she was quite the beauty in her youth.

"Then why are you here, bastard?" she asked rudely.

"Why did you side with Roose and Ramsay Bolton?"

"Many in my place would say that monster coerced me to stand against House Stark. Some might think I did it to win favour with the southern crown or even that I was bewitched by sorcery. But in truth, I simply hate your House," Barbrey finished with a cruel chuckle.

"What has our family done to ignite such hatred in your heart?" Sansa couldn't help but ask.

Barbrey Dustin must have had great grievances against House Stark to be so bitter and hateful. The old woman, however, looked greatly amused by the question as if it was a jape.

"Did you know I was your uncle Brandon's lover once?" Lady Dustin smiled genuinely for the first time. "I see the surprise on your faces. Brandon was a gifted rider, fostered with the Dustins of Barrowtown, and often rode to the Rills. My father happily welcomed his future liege lord in his halls and even encouraged me to seduce your uncle in hopes of becoming Lady Stark, not that he needed to. I willingly gave Brandon my maidenhead, and we enjoyed each other's company for a long time until your grandfather made his southern ambitions known. Despite his reluctance on the matter, Catelyn Tully was to wed the Stark heir."

Sansa gritted her teeth in frustration. This was a poor excuse for treason. Next to her, Jon was as still as a statue, and his face was like a mask made of ice, devoid of any emotions.

"I was to be passed off to the second son instead, but Rickard Stark decided that I was not good enough for Eddard either. When I was finally married off to Willam Dustin, your father took him away south in the Rebellion. The war started by your whorish aunt Lyanna. When..." BAM! A loud smashing sound interrupted whatever she was going to say.

Sansa spun around, only to see that Jon had struck the wall with such force that he had created a crack in the stone. His face was still an icy mask, but his purple eyes were practically glowing with fury. Across her, Barbrey paled at the sight. Sansa was surprised at her brother's temper. He had always been calm; why would insulting their aunt anger him so?

"Your Grace?" The guards outside rushed in to see what was happening.

Her brother took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Just a simple accident. Beryl, Daryn, there is nothing to worry about; return to your posts." Seeing that the king knew them by name, the guardsmen swelled with pride and quickly obeyed the order, leaving them alone in the cell again.

"Lady Dustin, if you want to die cleanly, you should mind your tongue. One more word like this, and I guarantee your death will be as slow and painful as I can make it. And in the end, I will gut you and hang you with your own innards on the branches of the Heart Tree." Her brother's voice was soft and quiet, but even Sansa felt a chill at his promise, and Barbrey became as white as chalk and began shaking in fear. "But please, do continue your story. I want to hear what happened next," Jon finished evenly with a slight tilt of his head.

Lady Dustin gulped heavily and took a few breaths to regain her composure. She no longer had that defiant and vitriolic look to her anymore. She just looked old and tired.

"When...ah...when your father returned north, he had brought his sister's bones and you in his arms." She nodded her head towards Jon. "Eddard Stark brought his sister's bones for burial, and not only did he get my husband killed in his service, but he didn't deign to bring his bones back north with him. All I got was Willem's horse, the one I had gifted him before he went south. House Stark took everything from me. My maidenhead, my love, my dreams and even my Lord husband," Barbrey finished quietly.

Sansa frowned. Her father had avoided speaking about the rebellion, even with her brothers. Anything that they had learned about that time was from maester Luwin's history lessons or whispers among the servants. But in hindsight, she shouldn't have been surprised at this. Even at their grown age, her mother and father had both made big political missteps, and if she described was true, Eddard Stark had given Barbrey Dustin a grave insult.

It was widely known that her father went out of his way to return the greatsword Dawn to House Dayne, despite being his enemy and complicit in the kidnapping of her aunt. If he truly left the bones of the loyal lords that died for him down in Dorne…

Even fifteen years after the Rebellion, her parents did not do any better. Her mother, Catelyn, had abducted Tyrion Lannister without any proof, forcing Tywin Lannister to prepare directly for war and invade the Riverlands, leaving her husband and children vulnerable in the capital. Not to mention giving two betrothals to House Frey and fostering multiple children and squirings. All that in exchange for a paltry sum of four thousand men. And by making this idiotic promise, her mother closed any possible future alliances Robb could have made.

Her father had been completely played in King's Landing by almost everyone, and it was no surprise that he lost his life. His desire to blindly help the drunkard king out of a misguided sense of friendship doomed their House to a bloody conflict, killing most of their family in the process.

Sansa wondered why her grandfather had been against Brandon's marriage with Barbrey. By having her uncle marry her, it would neutralise any help the Flayed Man could gather from the Rills after marrying a Ryswell. Instead, House Stark insulted the Ryswells and, subsequently, the Dustins.

While Sansa was thinking hard, Barbrey Dustin gazed intently at her brother and muttered under her nose.

"I see now. It all makes sense." The widow started cackling. "Eddard Stark had us all fooled with his precious honour when he brought you from the south with his sister's bones. You're Lyanna's, aren't you? Purple eyes and dragons!" Barbrey exploded in hysterical laughter.