Falling Like || Jon Snow

44| 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤

winterfell, the north

— "I WANT EVERY MAESTER TO SCOUR THEIR RECORDS FOR ANY MENTION OF DRAGONGLASS." Nymeria sat at the head table on Jon's right as he addressed the other lords, Sansa on his left and Davos on Nymeria's right. Not wanting to be viewed as a queen, Nymeria asked him to keep their marriage a secret for now.

"I want you beside me up there." He'd said. "No different from when you were my second at the Wall. I trust you the most, and so I need you to have the same authority I do."

"So make me your Hand." She said simply before smiling. "You always said I was smarter than you anyway."

It was a good suggestion, and he'd made it official not two days after the celebration.

"Dragonglass kills White Walkers; it's more valuable to us now than gold." he continued. "We need to find it, we need to mine it, we need to make weapons from it. Everyone aged 10 to 60 will drill daily with spears, pikes, bow and arrow."

"It's about time we teach these boys of summer how to fight." Lord Glover smirked.

"Not just the boys." silence fell like a stone. "We can't defend the North if only half the population is fighting."

He stood now, looking defensive. "You expect me to put a spear in my granddaughter's hand?" Nymeria snorted softly, thinking of her own grandfather, and Lord Glover quickly found anywhere other than her eyes to look.

Lyanna stood suddenly. "I don't plan on knitting by the fire while men fight for me." she snapped. "I might be small, Lord Glover, and I might be a girl, but I am every bit as much a Northerner as you."

"Indeed you are, my lady, no one has questioned-"

"And I don't need your permission to defend the North!" She glanced up at the high table, and Nymeria shot her a tiny smile and nod. "We'll begin training every man, woman, boy and girl on Bear Island."

"Aye!" Many others echoed, pounding on tables.

"While we're preparing for attack, we need to shore up our defences." Jon went on. "The only thing standing between us and the Army of the Dead is the Wall, and the Wall hasn't been properly manned in centuries. I'm not the king of the Free Folk..." he looked over at Tormund. "But if we're gonna survive this winter together..."

The red-haired wildling stood. "You want us to man the castles for you?"

"Aye. Last time we saw the Night King was at Hardhome. The closest castle to Hardhome is Eastwatch-by-the-Sea."

"Then that's where I'll go." He shot the glaring men a smug look. "Looks like we're the Night's Watch now." a few murmurs rose as he sat again.

"If they breach the Wall," Jon said, silencing them. "The first two castles in their path are Last Hearth and Karhold."

Lord Royce stood indignantly and Nymeria suppressed a sigh. Every time he opened his mouth, she knew she wasn't about to hear anything intelligent or even thought-out at all. "The Umbers and the Karstarks betrayed the North! Their castles should be torn down without a stone left standing."

"The castles committed no crimes." Sansa argued. "And we need every fortress we have for the war to come."

"Which is why it's a good thing their former lords are now gone." Nymeria spoke up. "Ancient families who have been symbols of strength and loyalty for over a thousand years will not be eradicated." She and Jon had discussed the treason of the Umbers and Karstarks already. "There are only children left." She'd told him. "And while they may seem weak, it actually works in our favour. Teach them loyalty young, and they will never forget what it means. Fight for them as their Liege Lord and King in their childhood and they will pay it back tenfold when they are grown and strong."

"Ned Umber." Jon called. "Alys Karstark." They must have only been between the ages of ten and fourteen, and both looked incredibly nervous as they rose to stand before the high table. "For centuries, our families fought side-by-side on the battlefield. I ask you to pledge your loyalty once again to House Stark, to serve as our bannermen and come to our aid whenever called upon."

Drawing their swords, they knelt, and Nymeria kept her reaction well-hidden. It had been her suggestion to keep them in place as the Lord of Last Hearth and the Lady of Karhold... but it didn't change what they were. Children caught up in a war they can't begin to understand. She remembered the first time the gates of Castle Black swung open before her, a girl of twelve. History always repeated itself, she supposed, in the ruination of innocent children.

dragonstone

— IN THE THRONE ROOM OF DRAGONSTONE'S KEEP, A RED PRIESTESS AWAITED DAENERYS TARGARYEN. Banished from the North after the Battle of the Bastards for the murder of Princess Shireen Baratheon, it would seem Lady Melisandre had found another worthy ruler to serve. The Mother of Dragons.

The woman bowed as Daenerys came to a stop before her. "Queen Daenerys." She spoke in High Valyrian. "I was a slave once, bought and sold, scourged and branded. It is an honour to meet the Breaker of Chains."

"The Red Priests helped me bring peace to Meereen." Daenerys replied. "You are very welcome here. What is your name?"

"I am called Melisandre."

"She once served another who wanted the Iron Throne." Lord Varys spoke up upon recognising the name. "It didn't end well for Stannis Barathen, did it?"

"No," She admitted. "It didn't."

"You chose an auspicious day to arrive at Dragonstone." Daenerys informed her, looking pointedly at Varys. "We've just decided to pardon those who once served the wrong king." the spymaster bowed, falling silent. "The lord of Light doesn't have many followers in Westeros, does he?"

"Not yet." Lady Melisandre agreed. "But even those who don't worship the Lord can serve his cause."

"What does your Lord expect from me?"

"The Long Night is coming. Only the Prince Who Was Promised can bring the dawn."

"The Prince Who Was Promised will bring the dawn." Daenerys echoed in the common tongue. "I'm afraid I'm not a prince."

"Your Grace, forgive me, but your translation is not quite accurate." Missandei spoke up. "That noun has no gender in High Valyrian, so the proper translation for that Prophecy would be, 'the Prince or Princess Who Was Promised will bring the dawn.'"

"Doesn't really roll off the tongue, does it?" The Hand of the Queen, Tyrion, remarked.

"No, but I like it better." Daenerys decided before turning her attention back to the fire priestess. "And you believe this prophecy refers to me?"

"Prophecies are dangerous things." Lady Melisandre told her. "I believe you have a role to play – as do two others. The King in the North, Jon Snow, and the young woman I can only imagine is now Hand of the King, Nymeria Mormont."

A frown creased Daenerys' brows at the name. "...Mormont?"

Tyrion looked surprised, but spoke up anyways, "Yes... Jorah's daughter." Daenerys' confusion only deepened at that. Jorah had never spoken of a daughter. "I travelled to the Wall with Jon Snow once, which is where we both met her. She served under her grandfather, the Lord Commander."

"And why do you think the Lord of Light has singled out Jon Snow and Nymeria Mormont?" Varys intervened, not sounding so convinced. "Aside from the visions you've seen in the flames, of course."

Melisandre inclined her head slightly, as if acknowledging his scepticism of her religion and brushing it off at the same time. "As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jon Snow allowed the wildlings south of the Wall to protect them from grave danger with the help of Nymeria Mormont. Leading the North, they have both united those wildlings with the northern houses to face their common enemy as one."

Daenerys nodded slowly, though she'd not stopped wondering yet about what must have happened between ser Jorah and Nymeria Mormont for him to never have breathed so much as a word about her. "... I see." She said finally. "They sound like quite the pair."