34-Winter is Here

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the Harry Potter and A Song of Ice and Fire universes. All recognisable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of Joanne K. Rowling and George R.R. Martin, respectively. I make no claim to ownership.

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Acknowledgements: This chapter was edited by Void Uzumaki. I also want to thank my beta-readers nicknm and Bub3loka for helping me bounce ideas around.

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If you're feeling generous and want to support me, you can find me on P*T*E*N under the same name for up to three early access chapters(a week before discord).

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Shireen Baratheon

She opened her eyes and stared at the beautiful ceiling. Varnished planks of elm were lined all around the ironwood crossbeams. The bed was now empty-her husband had already woken up and left. Ghost was lying on a bearskin pelt near the hearth, looking lazily at her with his ruby-red eyes. She stretched slowly and rang the bell-only a few moments later, Merya came and quickly helped her get dressed up. Though, for the first time, her handmaid's hands were quite shaky.

"Is something wrong, Merya?" She inquired gently.

"It's… just some things I heard, Yer Grace." Merya's voice wavered. There was even fear in her brown eyes.

"You can tell me."

"The other servants are sayin' that the dragon queen will come back from the south and burn us all," the handmaid spoke shakily. "And that she's stolen or killed King Stark's dragon."

Shireen frowned. Winter was indeed not seen after that day. A fortnight passed since the Targaryen envoy, if it could be even called as such, had arrived to cow them all into submission on dragon back. Ever since then, she flew with Stormstrider every day. The king's dragon had either hidden somewhere or was absent, and Jon Stark had not flown once ever since.

She did not expect such rumours to spread after the Dragon Queen visited Winterfell either. Though her handmaid was not wrong - Daenerys Targaryen had indeed threatened to burn Winterfell to the ground.

"Fret not. The king's dragon is safe," Shireen said far more confidently than she felt, but part of the worry on Merya's face abated. "And he will not allow anyone to threaten the safety of Winterfell or the North."

That seemed to calm down her handmaid somewhat. Shireen now had some questions to ask her husband if she managed to catch him - nowadays, the king could scarcely be found outside the training yard.

She went to the shutter and opened it. The frigid air from outside burned on her skin like a flame, so she stole a glance before closing it. Jon Stark was already sparring outside in the snowy yard like a man possessed, unbothered by the cold.

Shireen threw a thick fur-lined cloak over her shoulders and headed to the Great Hall to break her fast. Outside the Lord's Chambers stood Jyanna, who wordlessly trailed after her together with Ghost. The pleasant smell of roasted meat greeted her as soon as she entered. Myrcella was already waiting for her on the High Table, dressed with thick furs. She sat beside her friend and filled her plate with kidney pie.

"My cousin Lucion is still desperately trying to figure out a way to send news of the King's dragons to Casterly Rock," Myrcella snickered. "The Maester denied him and reported him immediately to Ser Brynden, who now has two men-at-arms shadowing Wolkan. He tried to get one of the red cloaks to return as a messenger, but nobody wanted even to sell them any horses, no matter how much gold they offered, and none of the red cloaks dares to travel in the snow on foot."

"Shouldn't you want him to succeed?" Shireen couldn't help but ask, and her gaze rested on the Lannister envoys. Lucion had large black circles around his eyes and had barely touched his food.

"Mayhaps. But it's still amusing to watch him flounder around in worry, and I'd rather stay here as your Lady in Waiting than return to my mother," her friend replied with a barely noticeable scowl. "Or how cousin Cerenna still tries to moon after the King but is ignored completely. She would probably be out in the yard watching him spar if it wasn't so cold."

Shireen looked towards the lower tables again - the woman in question was looking thoughtfully at her food.

There was a tinge of fear in her chest when the envoys from Casterly Rock arrived. What if the Lannister beauty managed to charm her husband? After all, Cerenna was prettier than her. The lioness looked at the king like a dog looking at a piece of venison, yet Jon paid her no heed. Shireen sighed, but the memory made her feel warm on the inside.

"They say that it's going to get even colder," she uttered with a twitch in her lips. Her friend was far more bothered by the cold than she was.

"I've no idea how the northerners survive the winters here," Myrcella shuddered despite her thick fur clothing and inched closer towards the nearby brazier.

At that moment, her good-sister sat on her other side.

"Some say we have ice in our blood," Sansa piped in. "My kingly brother, most of all. Do you know if His Grace will attend the court today?"

Shireen couldn't answer the princess, so she simply shrugged her shoulders.

Breakfast passed quickly, and the Great Hall was quickly cleared up and rearranged for the following court. The high table was put aside, and Shireen sat on her intricate wooden throne. Ghost quietly trotted to her side and sat down calmly. The King's High Seat was empty; Jon had not attended it since the visit of Daenerys Targaryen. Aside from the yard, the rest of his time was spent inside his work chambers. Even meals were brought there. She only saw him when he came to the chambers to sleep in the evening.

Petitioners quickly filled the Hall. Most of the small legal matters were dealt with by the Justiciar, Lord Glover, but big disputes, executions, and requests were handled by the King and, in his absence, by the Hand and the Queen.

"Yer Grace," a shaggy-looking man bowed in reverence, "Me and me kin would like ta request a… permission to build a home in Winter Town."

"My good man, there should be plenty of free houses there already," Manderly replied.

"Lord Hand, beggin' yer pardon, but all were full yesterday. Barely managed to find a room in the Smokin' Log for me wife 'n sprogs."

Winter Town could house around twenty thousand. A part of the wooden houses was burned during the sack by the Boltons. Were there so many people flooding to spend the Winter under the protection of the Starks?! Shireen frowned and ran her hand through Ghost's soft fur.

"Permission granted, goodman, but before building, the Lord Hand will send a person to approve of the location," she said after a short pause. Shireen still remembered the jumbled streets of King's Landing that smelled fouler than a privy. While she had not visited White Harbour, the town was famous for its wide, straight streets and lack of smell. She turned to the Lord Manderly and whispered. "Lord Hand, find a capable architect to… properly plan out the expansion of Winter Town."

"It shall be done, my Queen," he promised quietly.

The rest of the petitioners were far more trivial, aside from a few lawful disputes that slipped past the bailiffs of Lord Glover.

She was just about to announce the end of the court when a guard quickly ran over to her.

"Your Grace, Karstark banners were spotted from the south," he reported quietly. Harrion Karstark arrived in White Harbour a few days ago. Now It seemed that he was coming to swear fealty in person after being rescued.

Shireen quickly waved over Torrhen Flint from the lower tables.

"Go inform His Grace that Lord Harrion Karstark is coming," she told him and her husband's squire quickly hurried away towards the Great Keep.

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The king did arrive in the Great Hall before Karstark did and accepted his oath of fealty gracefully. As a result, Shireen acquired a second Lady in Waiting in the form of Alys Karstark. Ruling turned out to be far harder than she expected. Shireen would have been far more exhausted at the end of the day if her good-sister had not offered to help her with the running of Winterfell. Even with Sansa's assistance, she felt drained when evening came and crashed on the bed in the Lord's Chambers. Ghost picked one place on the fur-covered floor and lazily curled on it.

The door was opened, and her husband entered, looking far more exhausted than she had ever seen him before. His face was weary, and his usually piercing bright purple eyes looked rather dull. Oddly enough, the sight filled her heart with a small measure of relief. Ever since he claimed he was going south, there was this deep, creeping fear within her that he was going to his death that simply did not go away. But seeing him this tired meant he was doing everything possible to prepare.

"Jon, where is Winter?" She finally let out the question eating at her since the morning. "You haven't flown in a fortnight."

"Do you know why my dragons are so grown, despite being born less than five moons ago?" his purple eyes sharpened at the question.

"I've always wondered, but I felt that asking would be rude," Shireen admitted quietly.

"Dragons don't only subside on flesh to survive, but on fire and magic too. But something happened when mine hatched on the Wall, and they pulled something from it. Not only do Winter, Stormstrider, and Bloodfyre now have some affinity to the cold and ice, but they also have a connection to the Wall and can directly feed on its magic. That's how they grew so fast in the first fortnight. Guess where Winter is now?"

"At the Wall, growing bigger, " she uttered with equal parts amazement and relief.

"Aye, but the magic of the Wall is finite. If my dragons pull too much from it, it might very well collapse, and we would be forced to face the White Walkers in an open field. Not to mention that while dragons are intelligent, they need time to grow up mentally."

That night she fell asleep far easier.

*

Jon Stark, Two Weeks Later

He woke up feeling a rather pleasant warmth. He looked down only to see that Shireen had draped herself over him, and her head was resting atop his chest. His wife had her own chambers but had stubbornly decided to keep sleeping in his bed. He didn't have the heart to consider chasing her away seriously.

Her sleeping face was peaceful, unmarred by the worry of him going south to what was probably a high chance of death in her mind. Despite any assurances Jon had given, he could not make the worry in her blue eyes abate fully. He carefully attempted to slip out without waking her, but she immediately stirred.

"Is it mornin' yet?" Shireen mumbled and hugged him tightly, refusing to let go.

"Aye."

"Are you going to practise again today?" she asked and rubbed her eyes drowsily.

After the declaration of going south, the last month was spent pushing himself to the utmost limits of his magic and body. Training your magic to just a step before magical exhaustion was dangerous. Doing so multiple times a day, even more so. He did a similar thing with his body, but instead of waiting for his muscles and joints to recover, he simply healed them. The amount of food he ate per day increased manifold. During this month, most of his duties took a step back, and he let Shireen and Lord Manderly deal with them. Things were a bit shaky initially, but they did an admirable job.

At least, in the end, his hard work paid off! His reserves had increased substantially, his control of fire had reached a limit, and even magic itself had become slightly denser, and he could feel it boiling underneath his skin, eager to be unleashed. Jon was even stronger and faster than before, but the gains in that department had started to slow down considerably. If his body was normal, it would not have endured the punishment it had endured for the last month. Even now, he felt sluggish despite the feeling of euphoria that his magic was giving him. But this was nothing that would not be fine after a few days of rest.

Yesterday, Winter had already started flying back, and he would be here by the end of the day. All the weapons, armour, and enchanted items he would need were long ready. Initially, he only had a degree of confidence about his trip to the south, but after a month of relentless training, any doubts in his mind were utterly vanquished.

"No, aside from the council meeting, I will spend the rest of the day with you, Sansa, and Arya." Her face lit up at his words for a moment.

His wife reluctantly released him from her embrace. Jon quickly got up, hopped over Ghost, who was sprawled on the floor next to the bed, and quickly donned a silken tunic and breeches from the drawer.

Thirty minutes later, Shireen, Jon, and Ghost were already in the Solar, waiting for his sisters. The desk was covered in food instead of quills, parchments, and scrolls.

"The king has requested our presence?" Sansa asked with her most haughty voice and a comically arrogant expression.

At that moment, Ghost decided to rush towards her and slobber all over her face with his tongue, making Jon snicker and Arya howl with laughter.

Shireen also cracked a smile at the sight of the redhead trying to push away the affections of the enormous direwolf furiously.

"Ghost, that's enough," Jon called his companion off after half a minute.

The white direwolf reluctantly stopped and sadly returned and laid down on the floor next to him, leaving an annoyed redhead at the door.

Jon quickly called for a servant to fetch a wet towel, and after Sansa grumpily cleared her face, they finally sat down around the table.

"Winter will be back today, and I will be heading south," he said as he started devouring a juicy piece of steak as fast as good manners allowed him.

"Do you truly have to go?" Arya asked with a pout and gave him her most sad and pleading look, making her look akin to a cute puppy.

Her grey eyes would have melted his heart if not for the fact that his youngest sister had been using this trick on him ever since she could walk.

"Sadly, yes," a forlorn sigh tore from his lips. "No matter their outwardly peaceful intention, they want to conquer and dominate, and having a second House with dragons is a threat to the Targaryens. Even if we bend the knee, we would simply be at their dubious mercy."

"Why don't you just let me go south and take care of them?" Arya abruptly stabbed her fork into the sausage in front of her.

"Because using the skills of the faceless men influences your mind heavily, and even I'm not sure if I can fix it," he replied drily. This was not the first time they had had this conversation.

When she had shown him the changing of faces, it had chilled him to the bone. Donning a new face not only changed Arya's magical signature while wearing it, but he felt cold darkness slowly seep into it. The magic, if it could even be called that, felt vaguely familiar to the one of the Hallows, which did not bode well either. Death always gets its due, one way or another. He had attempted to replicate what she did, but with no success. It seemed that the ability was not trained but granted in the House of Black and White. He warned her heavily against using face-changing outside of dire circumstances. It seemed that just the sorcery that a faceless man used quite possibly changed the person at their very core, eerily similar to how the vilest of magics in his previous world did.

"Jon, are you going to be fine fighting against them?" Sansa asked cautiously. Her food was untouched.

His brows furrowed in confusion for a few moments. His redhead sister was sneaking glances towards Shireen, who was looking bewildered. Then it hit him - he had not told his wife of his true parentage yet. Though not out of a lack of trust. Jon did not doubt that Shireen could keep a secret but that he simply forgot. It was not a topic he had dwelled on for quite some time.

Eddard Stark raised and cared for him as his son when he did not have to. He still vividly remembered his first childhood with the uncle and aunt that did not want him, and the difference was simply jarring. Though, Catelyn did not want him either. But Eddard Stark made all the difference. His true sire meant little to him beyond a name. What kind of person abandons his wife and two children to elope or kidnap a fourteen-year-old maiden? And not any man, but the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, who also had various other duties left unattended while the realm burned in rebellion because of his actions.

"I highly doubt Aegon is my half-brother, despite whatever this Varys character claims. And Daenerys might be my aunt by blood, but is nought but a stranger who came to threaten me in my own home with fire and blood." Shireen's eyes widened at his statement, and he turned towards her. "Aye, I do have a Targaryen as a parent. But contrary to what rumours claim, it is not Rhaella but Rhaegar, and my mother was Lyanna."

His wife was stunned at his words.

"But Jon, wouldn't you be a kinslayer if you fight and kill them?" Arya inquired.

"Only if I truly kill them. I have a few ideas on how to deal with the situation, but as you know by now, things rarely go according to plan. In the end, you three are my family, and there is little I wouldn't do to protect you," he said heavily, and heartfelt smiles blossomed on his sisters' faces.

"Didn't Rhaegar kidnap Lyanna?" Shireen finally recovered from her stupor and asked cautiously.

"Nobody alive knows anymore," he sighed. "Whether she eloped with the Silver Prince, was taken by force, or even something else is anyone's guess. When my uncle and Howland Reed found Lyanna in the Tower of Joy, she was already at death's door. Before passing away from childbirth fever, my mother barely had the strength to request Eddard Stark to take care of me. But this is not something we want to spread, so best keep quiet about it."

After a short moment, Shireen nodded thoughtfully.

"Aren't you angry at father for hiding all of this from you, Jon?" Sansa asked curiously. "I know I would be if I were in your boots."

"Aye, I was indeed angry when I found out. But after a few days, I realised that Lord Stark had his reasons not to let me know. I was barely four and ten and would do something extremely foolish had I found out then. Not to mention the danger if Robert Baratheon had gotten wind of any of it. After all, I was foolish enough to go and join the Night's Watch out of my volition. I could have backed out when I saw that the place had nothing to do with the glorious tales anymore, but I stubbornly remained anyway and said the vows. It still feels… bitter when I think about it, but I can see that he kept the truth out of concern for me rather than something else, and I appreciate it."

Sansa accepted his explanation with a nod and finally started eating her food. A few minutes passed as they silently enjoyed the breakfast, and Jon quickly focused on devouring as much meat as possible. The extreme training had rekindled his appetite in full force.

"Jon, are you truly planning to ally with the Lannisters?" Arya chewed through the last word.

"Only if they fulfil my terms," he simply explained.

"What if they try something during the negotiations?" She asked suspiciously. "I bet Cersei would love to get her hands on you."

"I'm not afraid of their tricks. And who said I'm going to go as Jon Stark?" he grinned slyly and turned to Sansa. "Do you have the surcoat ready?"

"Yes, I finished it yesterday," the redhead nodded and brought out green-grey clothing with a black lizard lion stitched at the centre. "But even if you go under an alias, your looks are quite distinctive."

"Arya is not the only one who can change her appearance," he said, focusing his magic carefully.

His hair became the same shade of auburn as his sister's, and if he did not screw it up, his eyes should have been his original green colour. Though for some reason, his eyes heavily resisted the change in colour and required far more concentration and magic to keep them that way. His face and body remained the same. Any other Transfiguration aside from the animagus transformation was nearly impossible without a wand. He did not dare to even think of experimenting or practising on his own body with it. On the other hand, changing the colour of his eyes or hair simply required a charm, which was far more manageable with his current capabilities. It just was not something he had reason to do before.

Jon took his time and admired the flabbergasted looks he received. Arya had a piece of meat that comically hung from her surprised mouth.

"How?" Arya coughed and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Magic," he replied with a smirk, only to receive a deadpan look from his little sister.

"Could you teach me?" she eagerly asked.

Magic was already challenging to learn, even with able teachers and a matched wand in hand. Without the latter, and with the volatile ambient magic that resisted nearly every attempt at casting, it was almost impossible to learn, even if one had the capability.

"Let's see if you have the talent. But don't get your expectations up. I have not seen anyone else with it yet. Give me your hand."

He grasped her outstretched arm and gently probed with his magic. Just like Shireen and Sansa, Arya only had dormant potential. Quite similar to a squib. If they had begun practising at the age of eleven, they would have been able to become witches, albeit weak, or at least the local equivalent. But with outward manifestations of magic nearly impossible, and without developing it, it had atrophied and gone dormant. That begged another question - was what faceless men did even magic?

He eventually shook his head and received a disappointed sigh from Arya in return.

*

"Ravens arrived from Lords Umber and Wull. They have finally arrived in the new Gift with our relief force," Manderly reported.

Good, at least something was going according to plan. The Greatjon and the old Wull were in charge of the men sent to bolster the Watch. Both led two thousand men each, and it took them little more than two months to get to the Gift, just as he predicted. About a thousand more were still on their way from the various houses from the southern parts of his kingdom.

"Lord Commander Tollett agreed to lend them some of the unused castles along the Wall, along with some of the builders, to assist in repairs," Glover nodded.

"I'm afraid we will soon be unable to bolster the Watch so easily again," Lord Manderly wiped some sweat off his brow. "Snow has started to pile up, and according to Lord Wull, the roads will soon be unpassable without bear-paws and sleds."

"The white raven arrived from the Citadel yesterday. Winter is here," Shireen added quietly, and the mood around the room became sombre. His wife had taken the duties of Lady of Winterfell with trepidation at the start, but it seemed that she managed well on her own.

"Can't we always use the fleet to ferry men and supplies by sea?" Sansa asked curiously. As his declared heir in case Shireen was childless, Jon had invited her to join the meetings. His eldest sister did not look charmed by the prospect but attended without a complaint.

"The Shivering Sea is too stormy to risk it during winter. And the further north you go, the more chunks of ice you encounter on the way," Wyman explained with a sigh. "The only ones that can fully assist the Watch now are the northernmost mountain clans, the Skagosi Lords, the King and the Queen with their dragons."

"What terms do you plan to offer House Lannister, Your Grace?" Glover asked cautiously.

"In return for House Stark's help against the Targaryens, Tommen's regency will acknowledge the North's sovereignty and immediately return the other half of House Stark's ancestral sword, Ice. Tommen's sister will be returned come spring, and hopefully, a general trade agreement about the customs on the ports of both sides."

"What if they decline?" Manderly asked and took a sip of wine from his goblet.

"I will decide according to the situation. Cersei is the Lady of Casterly Rock, and as the eldest living child, Myrcella is legally her heir," Jon said slowly. "We have no aspiration for ruling anything south, but my wife here has a good claim on Dragonstone and Storm's end, so we have some aces up our sleeves. Anything else?"

"Some people have expressed worry that Daenerys Targaryen will swoop from the South and start setting things on fire," Edwyle Locke spoke up. "I've even heard rumours that Your Grace's dragon has joined her, and that is why it has not been seen for a whole moon."

"Those rumours will be quelled soon enough," he said simply.

"But what if the Targaryens fly up and attack Winterfell while you're gone, Your Grace?" Manderly rubbed his triple chin thoughtfully. "After all, nothing is stopping them from doing so."

"If Aegon and Daenerys wanted to attack the North, they would have done so already. I suspect they want to deal with the Lannisters before looking our way. We're not even officially at war yet, and they might attempt to negotiate again. It would take them at least two moons to move their armies from the Red Fork to the Neck. And we've been building scorpions for the last moon for that exact purpose, Lord Hand," Jon replied with a heavy sigh. Scorpions would not truly be able to pierce a grown dragon's scales from afar, but a lucky shot through the eye could easily take one down. "Daenerys' dragons are far from grown enough to be able to melt stone. And guardsmen and archers were already instructed to aim for the leathery wings. They are far more vulnerable than the scales. Once dragons cannot fly anymore, it is far easier to deal with them."

It pained Jon to voice out the obvious tactic for killing dragons. After all, this was his main advantage aside from magic now. But there were scant few protections that could stop or deal away with a grown dragon, and he could not perform them with the impaired magic here or without a proper wand. Just putting this information out there, it was far too likely that it could have been used against him or his future descendants. But the risk of Daenerys swooping in and freely causing death and destruction in Winterfell while he was not here was far too big for him to take. Those thoughts only fed his fury. He showed none of it outwardly, but he hated being cornered with a burning passion.

His council looked thoughtful at his words. He waited a minute for anyone else to raise another topic, but none came. "Council dismissed."

The rest of the day flew away quickly in his family's company in the Great Keep. As the sun slowly crawled towards the western horizon, he finally sensed Winter approaching.

"It is time," he sighed and headed towards the courtyard. When they arrived, only a handful of guards could be seen outside in the cold.

At that moment, a monstrous roar tore through the air, and the heavy sound of dragon wings was heard. Winter, significantly bigger than before, landed heavily in the yard, right in front of him. Size was far from everything, but now his foolish aunt no longer had that advantage either. Just the memory of her gall to threaten him in his own home made his blood boil with fury. His familiar sensed his turmoil, reared up, and belched a thick, fiery streak of dark-blue flames in the air.

Jon turned around to embrace both of his sisters tightly.

"Arya, listen to your sister while I'm gone," he murmured. "And both of you help Shireen in any way you can. I will be back before you know it."

His younger sister took it stoically, but Sansa barely held in her tears.

"Jon, promise me not to trust anyone in the south." Her voice was so cold and spiteful that he was stunned for half a moment.

"I promise," he said solemnly and looked at Shireen, whose otherwise clear blue eyes were filled with worry.

She carefully took out a piece of dark-grey silk from within the sleeves of her gown. On it was intricately embroidered a fierce white direwolf with red eyes and a small black doe circling each other.

"For luck."

He carefully took the favour, tied it on his right wrist, and pulled her into a gentle hug.

"No matter what happens, Ghost will protect you," he whispered, only to be embraced harder.

"Just make sure you come back," she muttered.

"I will, no matter the cost," Jon promised quietly and finally broke the embrace. He carefully wiped the tears pooling in her sky-blue eyes, kissed her gently and, after a short moment of hesitation, reached for the bronze dagger on his belt and placed it in her hands. "Always keep this on you, just in case. If you don't know how to use it, ask Jyanna or Arya to teach you."

He had forgotten how much he hated saying goodbyes. With a sigh, he carefully secured the saddle on top of Winter, which thankfully still fit, albeit with some difficulties. He mounted his familiar and took to the skies.