Chapter 158: The Hand's Hidden Shield
Winterfell awakened before sunrise.
News of Eddard Stark's decision had travelled throughout the castle during the night, passing from guards to servants, from servants to merchants, and from merchants to every inn and alehouse in the winter town.
Lord Stark had accepted the king's offer.
He would travel south and become Hand of the King.
But his daughters would remain in Winterfell.
There would be no marriage between Sansa Stark and Prince Joffrey.
To the people of the castle, the two decisions appeared strange when placed beside one another. Some believed Ned had insulted the royal family. Others claimed Robert had never seriously intended the marriage. A few insisted Jon had somehow forced the king to abandon it.
None knew the truth.
Robert had accepted the refusal because he had finally begun to see his son clearly.
Ned had accepted the Handship because he could not abandon the man he still considered a brother.
And Jon had remained silent because the choice belonged to his father.
The servants carrying trunks through Winterfell's halls knew none of that.
They only knew Lord Stark would soon leave.
---------
Vayon Poole stood within the Great Keep surrounded by parchment, opened chests, and three increasingly exhausted servants.
"The king's party required months to reach Winterfell," he said. "We must prepare for a similarly long journey south."
Jory Cassel examined the growing collection of supplies.
"We are accompanying the royal party. Their wagons already carry enough food to feed a small army."
"And when one of those wagons breaks?"
"Another carries the supplies."
"And when that one sinks into the mud?"
"We pull it out."
"With what?"
"Horses."
"And when the horses—"
Jory held up a hand.
"If you continue, Vayon, we shall require enough wagons to carry replacement wagons."
The steward frowned.
"Preparation prevents disaster."
"Too much preparation prevents movement."
A servant entered carrying another wooden chest.
Jory stared at it.
"What is inside that one?"
"Lord Stark's formal cloaks."
"He owns more than one?"
Vayon looked offended.
"The Hand of the King cannot attend every council wearing boiled leather and the same grey cloak."
"He has managed it for years."
"He was not living in the royal court."
Jory glanced toward the stairs.
"King's Landing may prove more dangerous than we feared if changing Ned Stark's clothing is among its expectations."
Vayon ignored him and returned to his list.
Beyond the entrance to the Great Keep, the castle yard had become equally busy.
Northern soldiers carried bundles of spears, shields, tents, and preserved food toward waiting wagons. Stable hands inspected every horse selected for the journey. Blacksmiths checked shoes, buckles, armour, and weapons.
Ned had originally intended to take thirty guards.
Catelyn had demanded fifty.
Jon had agreed with her.
That had ended the argument.
Jory had personally selected every man.
They were not necessarily the strongest soldiers in Winterfell, nor were they the youngest. He chose men who possessed discipline, loyalty, and enough experience to recognise danger before a sword left its sheath.
King's Landing contained thousands of armed men.
Fifty Stark guards could never overpower the capital.
Their purpose was to ensure no one could isolate the Hand of the King without attracting attention.
Jon watched the preparations from the far side of the courtyard.
He did not interfere.
His father would enter King's Landing as Robert's Hand, not as a dependent protected by the army of Winter's Heaven.
Sending his own elite soldiers south would only announce that Jon expected conflict. It would place visible targets around Ned and force Baelish to become more careful.
Ordinary northern guards would be underestimated.
Jon's true protection would never be seen.
Robb approached him from the Great Keep.
He held three rolled parchments beneath one arm, and the discomfort upon his face suggested he would rather have been carrying a sword.
"Mother wants me in the council chamber."
"Then you should go."
"I have already spent the entire morning there."
"It is barely past sunrise."
"That is my point."
Jon looked at the parchments.
"What are they?"
"Grain inventories from Winterfell, Cerwyn, and the northern mountain villages."
"Do they match the expected winter requirements?"
"I do not know."
"Then perhaps that is why Mother wants you in the council chamber."
Robb gave him an unamused look.
"I would rather face the thirty royal guards you fought."
"No, you would not."
"At least the fight would end quickly."
"That much is true."
Robb sighed and looked across the yard.
Ned stood near the stables speaking with Jory. Every few moments, another servant approached with a question requiring his attention.
"Everything is happening too quickly," Robb said.
"He has not departed yet."
"But he will."
Robb lowered his voice.
"And when he does, everyone will look toward me."
"They already do."
"That does not help."
"It was not intended to."
Robb looked at him.
Jon's expression remained calm, but there was no mockery in it.
"You have been taught to govern since childhood," Jon continued. "You attended Father's councils. You listened when he judged disputes. You watched him receive bannermen, merchants, farmers, and criminals."
"Watching is not the same as deciding."
"No."
"What if I choose incorrectly?"
"Then you correct the mistake."
"And if I cannot?"
"You ask for advice."
"From whom?"
"Your mother. Maester Luwin. Ser Rodrik. The stewards. The men who understand whatever matter stands before you."
Jon looked toward the people working throughout the courtyard.
"A ruler who believes he must personally know everything becomes dangerous. Your responsibility is not to possess every answer. It is to recognise which people understand the problem, listen to them, and then choose."
Robb considered the words.
"Is that how you govern Winter's Heaven?"
"Partly."
"And when your advisers disagree?"
"I make the decision."
"That sounds simple when you say it."
"It is simple."
Jon's gaze moved toward him.
"That does not mean it is easy."
Robb looked down at the parchments beneath his arm.
"What would you do about the grain?"
"Read the reports."
"I meant after that."
"So did I."
Robb laughed despite himself.
Jon rested one hand upon his shoulder.
"You will manage."
"You sound certain."
"I am."
That certainty steadied Robb more than praise would have.
He adjusted the parchments and started toward the Great Keep.
After several steps, he stopped.
"Will you remain at Winterfell after Father leaves?"
"For a short time."
Robb's relief was immediate.
Jon noticed it.
"I will not govern the North for you."
"I did not ask you to."
"You were about to."
Robb smiled.
"Perhaps I was going to ask you to advise me."
"That I will do."
Robb nodded and entered the keep.
Jon remained in the courtyard.
Ned finished speaking with Jory and looked toward him.
Their eyes met.
Jon inclined his head toward one of the covered walkways.
Ned understood and followed him.
-------------
Jon led Ned into an empty chamber away from the busiest sections of the castle.
Dust covered the unused table, and cold air entered through a narrow window overlooking Winterfell's inner wall.
Ned closed the door behind them.
"What is it?"
Jon reached beneath his cloak and removed a small iron disc.
It was narrow enough to fit comfortably within a closed hand. Strange black markings covered one side while the other remained smooth.
Jon held it out.
"Keep this with you."
Ned accepted the disc and examined it.
"What is it?"
"Protection."
"How does it work?"
"If you are in danger, throw it."
Ned looked up.
"Throw it?"
"Yes."
"At what?"
"It does not matter. Throw it through a window, across a room, into a courtyard—anywhere away from the person threatening you."
"And then?"
"I will know."
"How?"
"You do not need to understand."
"I would prefer to."
"I know."
Jon offered nothing more.
Ned did not need to understand the markings or the technique attached to them. He only needed to remember one simple instruction.
Throw the disc.
Jon would handle everything after that.
"If I use this while you are beyond the Wall, you will still know?" Ned asked.
"Yes."
"And you will come?"
"Yes."
"How quickly?"
Jon met his eyes.
"Immediately."
Ned searched his face for exaggeration.
He found none.
"Is it dangerous?"
"Not to you."
"Could another person use it?"
"If another man throws it, I will still know."
"What if someone steals it?"
"Then I will deal with him."
Ned looked down at the small disc again.
He understood almost nothing about it.
Jon clearly intended to keep it that way.
"You enjoy giving me answers which create more questions."
"I enjoy keeping you alive."
"I will have fifty guards."
"Jon Arryn had guards."
"I will be the Hand of the King."
"So was Jon Arryn."
Ned's mouth tightened.
Jon held his gaze.
"I respected your choice," Jon said. "You chose to accompany Robert despite knowing someone arranged Jon Arryn's death and wants House Stark drawn into conflict with House Lannister."
"I chose to help my oldest friend."
"I know."
"And you still believe it is a mistake."
"Yes."
There was no accusation in the answer.
Only honesty.
Jon continued.
"I will not interfere with your decision. But I will not leave you without protection."
Ned closed his fingers around the disc.
"Will this object allow you to hear my conversations?"
"No."
"To watch me?"
"No."
"Then how will you know when I throw it?"
Jon remained silent.
"That is one of the questions you will not answer," Ned said.
"Yes."
Ned released a tired breath and placed the disc within a secure pocket beneath his cloak.
"Very well."
Jon nodded.
"No soldiers from Winter's Heaven," Ned added.
"I did not offer them."
"You considered it."
"Yes."
"I will enter the capital as Robert's Hand. If I arrive surrounded by your soldiers, every man in court will believe I answer to you."
"They may believe that regardless."
"I will not strengthen the suspicion."
Jon accepted the point.
"Very well."
"No giants."
"I was not planning to send giants."
"No enormous direwolves."
"They would dislike King's Landing."
"And no hidden army following the royal party."
Jon looked at him.
"I will not send an army."
The answer was precise enough for Ned to recognise what had been omitted.
"You already have people in the capital."
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Enough."
Ned sighed.
"One day, you will answer that question with a number."
"Not today."
"You will not use them to interfere with my duties."
"No."
"And you will not make decisions in my name."
"No."
"If you disagree with something I do, you will speak to me before acting."
"If circumstances permit."
"Jon."
"If you are alive and free to make the decision, I will speak to you."
Ned considered that.
It was the best promise Jon would offer.
"I accepted the Handship to help Robert," Ned said. "I cannot do that if I constantly wonder whether you are secretly controlling everything around me."
"I have no intention of governing the Seven Kingdoms through you."
"And if you disagree with me?"
"I will tell you."
"That has never been a difficulty."
"If you still choose differently, I will respect your decision."
"As you did yesterday."
"Yes."
Ned nodded slowly.
That answer mattered more than any promise of protection.
Jon had the strength to force nearly any decision he desired. His willingness not to use that strength against his family was what allowed Ned to accept the strange marked object without further argument.
Ned touched the pocket containing it.
"Throw it, and you will know."
"Yes."
"That is all?"
"That is all you need to remember."
"Very well."
-----------
The first formal council held for Robb began badly.
Not because Robb made a mistake.
Because every adult in the chamber attempted to prevent him from making one.
Catelyn sat to Ned's right. Robb occupied the chair beside her. Maester Luwin stood near the table with several ledgers. Ser Rodrik, Jory Cassel, Vayon Poole, and two senior household officers completed the gathering.
Jon remained near the hearth.
The first matter concerned grain.
Several mountain villages had reported lower harvests than expected. Their stores would survive an ordinary winter, but the North had learned not to assume any winter would be ordinary.
Maester Luwin recommended transporting grain from Winterfell before the kingsroad became difficult.
Vayon objected that the castle's stores had already been reduced by feeding Robert's party.
Jon's army had brought its own supplies, but Robert's household seemed capable of consuming food faster than a small town.
Catelyn proposed purchasing additional grain through White Harbor.
Ser Rodrik warned that moving it into the mountains before the worst snow would require men and wagons currently being prepared for Ned's journey.
Every person turned toward Ned.
He did not answer.
Instead, he looked at Robb.
"What would you do?"
Robb's attention moved around the table.
"Send part of Winterfell's grain now and purchase replacement grain from White Harbor."
Vayon frowned.
"The castle stores—"
"Will be restored before the deepest winter if Lord Manderly transports the replacement grain quickly."
"And the wagons?" Ser Rodrik asked.
"Father does not need every wagon prepared for the southern journey. The royal party already carries most of its own supplies."
Jory concealed a smile.
Vayon did not.
"The Hand of the King cannot travel without an appropriate household."
"He will have one," Robb said. "But he does not require three wagons of clothing."
Everyone looked toward Vayon.
The steward appeared wounded.
Ned's expression remained perfectly serious.
Jon saw the approval in his eyes.
Robb continued.
"Send twelve wagons toward the mountain villages tomorrow. Use six from Winterfell and hire the others from the winter town. White Harbor can replace the grain before the next heavy snowfall."
Catelyn asked, "And if Lord Manderly increases his price because he knows we require it?"
Robb hesitated.
He looked toward Jon.
Jon offered no answer.
Robb thought for several moments.
"Then we agree upon the price before sending our grain away."
Maester Luwin smiled.
"A sensible precaution."
Ned nodded.
"Write to Lord Manderly today."
Robb released the breath he had been holding.
The matter was settled.
There were no cheers.
No declarations that he had become a great lord.
The council simply moved to the next problem.
A boundary dispute between two minor landed families.
Then a damaged bridge.
Then complaints from merchants about royal soldiers avoiding payment in the winter town.
By the time the meeting ended, Robb appeared more exhausted than he had after hours in the training yard.
But he had made decisions.
Some required correction.
Others were accepted.
None had destroyed the North.
It was an important lesson.
Leadership rarely arrived as a single glorious moment.
Most of it came through grain reports, damaged bridges, angry farmers, stubborn merchants, and choices no song would ever remember.
-----------
Robert entered the council chamber shortly after the northern officers departed.
He carried a rolled parchment in one hand and a cup of wine in the other.
Ned looked at the cup.
"It is not yet midday."
Robert took a drink.
"I am king at every hour. Therefore, every hour is suitable for royal drinking."
"That is not how duty works."
"It has worked adequately for seventeen years."
Jon looked at him.
Robert scowled.
"Yes, yes. Poorly. I understood the look."
"I said nothing."
"You and Ned possess the same cursed silence."
Robert threw the parchment upon the table.
"The treaty."
Jon did not touch it.
"You had it prepared quickly."
"I brought scribes north."
"You brought half of King's Landing north."
"And still left the useful half behind."
Robert sat down heavily.
Ned opened the parchment.
The document recognised Winter's Heaven as a sovereign kingdom beyond the authority of the Iron Throne. It promised peaceful trade, protection for merchants, recognition of each kingdom's coinage, and mutual assistance during war.
Jon read over Ned's shoulder.
"The military terms are too broad."
Robert groaned.
"You have not held the parchment for half a minute."
"I did not require longer."
"If a foreign enemy attacks the Seven Kingdoms, you provide military assistance."
"No."
Robert stared at him.
"That is the purpose of an alliance."
"That is the purpose of a badly written alliance."
Jon pointed toward the relevant section.
"This wording would allow any conflict involving a foreign kingdom to become my responsibility. If you attack one of the Free Cities and they retaliate, you could claim the Seven Kingdoms had been attacked."
"I am not planning to invade the Free Cities."
"Then changing the words will cost you nothing."
Robert recognised his own earlier argument and disliked hearing it returned.
Ned concealed the beginning of a smile.
Jon continued.
"Winter's Heaven will consider requests for military assistance against an unprovoked foreign invasion."
"Consider?"
"Yes."
"I want certainty."
"So do I. That is why I will not promise my army before knowing the enemy, cause, or circumstances."
Robert leaned back in his chair.
"And what protection does the Iron Throne receive in exchange for recognising your kingdom?"
"Trade."
"That is not protection."
"It will strengthen your treasury, provide grain during poor harvests, introduce improved construction materials, and give your merchants access to goods unavailable anywhere else."
Robert glanced toward Ned.
"He makes profit sound like generosity."
"It is mutually beneficial," Ned said.
"That means profit spoken in a solemn voice."
Jon ignored him.
"I will also agree that Winter's Heaven will not aid a foreign power attacking the Seven Kingdoms."
Robert considered it.
"And if someone attacks your kingdom?"
"I destroy them."
"That was not the question."
"I do not require military assistance."
Robert's pride was visibly offended.
"The Seven Kingdoms can provide soldiers."
"Against whom?"
Robert opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
He had seen Jon's ordinary soldiers.
He had seen giants covered in iron, enormous direwolves, and the Winter's Titan.
He possessed no convincing answer.
"A treaty normally offers something to both sides," Robert complained.
"It does. You receive trade, recognition of borders, peaceful relations with a powerful neighbour, and assurance that I will not support your enemies."
"And you?"
"I receive recognition of what already belongs to me and laws preventing your lords from interfering with my merchants."
Robert looked toward Ned.
"Is he always this difficult during negotiations?"
"I have never negotiated a treaty with him before."
"He is your son. Surely you can order him to become reasonable."
Ned gave Robert a level look.
Robert sighed.
"Aye. Foolish suggestion."
The discussion continued for nearly an hour.
By its conclusion, they had agreed upon the foundation of a treaty.
Winter's Heaven and the Seven Kingdoms would formally recognise one another.
Merchants would receive protection beneath the laws of whichever kingdom they entered.
Neither realm would shelter criminals fleeing justice in the other, though extradition would require evidence.
Southern lords would possess no claim upon land in Winter's Heaven.
Jon would not provide automatic military assistance, but he would consider aiding the Seven Kingdoms against an unprovoked foreign invasion.
The treaty would remain valid during Robert's reign.
After Robert's death, his successor would be required to renew it.
Robert disliked the final condition most of all.
"You truly possess no faith in Joffrey."
"This treaty concerns kingdoms, not faith."
"That is another way of saying no."
"Yes."
Robert drank the remainder of his wine.
"Fine. The scribes will prepare another draft."
He stood and pointed toward Jon.
"But when some foreign monster attacks your kingdom, I expect you to remember that I offered assistance."
"I will."
"And?"
"I will remember it fondly."
Robert muttered something about ungrateful nephews and left the chamber.
Ned watched him go.
"He accepted more easily than expected."
"He understands the imbalance between our kingdoms."
"He dislikes understanding it."
"That does not make it less useful."
Ned rolled the parchment again.
"A treaty may prevent conflict after Robert's death."
"It may delay conflict."
"You expect Joffrey to challenge it?"
"If Joffrey remains unchanged and inherits the throne, he will eventually challenge anything which reminds him that his authority has limits."
Ned looked toward the closed door.
"Robert has begun correcting him."
"One punishment cannot repair years of indulgence."
"No. But it is a beginning."
Jon said nothing.
He did not believe Joffrey would change easily.
But this world had already changed in countless ways.
Robert had listened when Jon confronted him.
Sansa had rejected Joffrey.
Ned would travel south without his daughters.
Jon would not dismiss possibilities merely because another history had followed a different path.
He would prepare for the worst.
And observe what came.
________________________________________
Prince Joffrey's day began without a sword.
It became worse from there.
Barristan Selmy awakened him at sunrise and ordered him into the training yard.
Joffrey demanded breakfast.
Barristan informed him that training came first.
Joffrey ordered a servant to bring food anyway.
The servant looked toward Barristan.
The old knight shook his head.
For the first time in Joffrey's life, a servant ignored his command while standing directly before him.
The prince's face turned purple with rage.
Barristan then made him carry a wooden shield around the training yard until his arms trembled.
Whenever Joffrey complained, Barristan added another circuit.
Whenever he insulted a servant, guard, or stable hand, the count began again.
By midday, Joffrey hated the old knight almost as much as he hated Jon.
Cersei found her son sitting inside her chambers with both hands submerged in warm water.
Blisters had formed across his palms.
"This is his doing," Joffrey said.
Cersei dismissed her servants.
"Whose?"
"Jon's."
"Barristan supervised your training."
"Father ordered it because Jon told him I was weak."
Cersei crossed the chamber and examined his hands.
"You are not weak."
Joffrey looked toward her.
"But you allowed them to see weakness," she continued.
His expression changed.
Cersei sat beside him.
"Your father can be influenced by whichever man spoke to him last. Jon embarrassed him, so Robert is attempting to prove he can control his own household."
"He took my sword."
"Then endure until he returns it."
Joffrey stared into the water.
"I want Jon dead."
Cersei's fingers tightened around his wrist.
"Never say that aloud again."
"He insulted me."
"And he commands men who defeated your uncle, Ser Barristan, and the Hound before you could count to fifty."
Her voice became colder.
"He arrived with giants, monsters, and a thousand soldiers stronger than any knights your father possesses. If you threaten him openly, you will not frighten him. You will only reveal yourself."
Joffrey looked toward her.
"What should I do?"
"Learn."
The answer surprised him.
Cersei wiped the water from his hand.
"You do not defeat a stronger enemy by striking the moment he looks away. You smile. You listen. You discover what he wants and what he fears."
"Jon fears nothing."
"Every man fears something."
Cersei thought of the way Jon looked at Ned.
The affection he carried for the Stark children.
The responsibility he felt toward his distant kingdom.
And the desire she had seen whenever his eyes descended toward her body.
Jon possessed weaknesses.
He merely understood them better than most men.
"Your father will eventually tire of supervising you," Cersei said. "Barristan will return your sword. The court will find another humiliation to discuss."
"And Sansa?"
"The marriage is finished."
Joffrey's expression darkened.
"She rejected me."
"Yes."
"No one rejects the crown prince."
"She did."
Cersei forced him to meet her eyes.
"Remember the insult if you must. But do not allow it to make you foolish."
Joffrey said nothing.
Cersei knew he had heard her.
She did not know whether he had understood.
________________________________________
Far to the south, Petyr Baelish received the news inside his brothel.
The message had travelled through three couriers and arrived hidden inside the false bottom of a wine crate.
Baelish broke the small wax seal and unfolded the parchment.
Robert Baratheon had convinced Eddard Stark to become Hand of the King.
Petyr smiled.
For all the unexpected events surrounding Jon's arrival, the most important piece had moved exactly where it belonged.
Eddard Stark was coming south.
Honourable, predictable, and incapable of ignoring a mystery once it stood before him.
Ned would investigate Jon Arryn's death.
He would discover the truth of Cersei's children.
And when he did, Stark honour and Lannister pride would tear the realm apart.
Petyr continued reading.
His smile slowly faded.
The proposed marriage between Sansa Stark and Joffrey Baratheon had been rejected.
Robert had accepted the refusal.
Sansa would remain at Winterfell.
So would Arya, Bran, and Rickon.
Catelyn would remain in the North beside Robb.
Only Eddard Stark and fifty trusted guards would travel with the royal party.
Petyr read the message twice.
Then a third time.
The Handship remained a victory.
But the board no longer looked as he had arranged it.
Sansa was supposed to bind Stark ambition to the crown while becoming a weakness that could be exploited.
Arya's recklessness would create tension.
Catelyn's fear for her daughters would make her easier to direct.
Instead, Ned would enter King's Landing without his family.
His daughters would remain beyond Petyr's reach.
His wife would remain in the North.
And Jon would remain close to all of them.
Petyr placed the report upon his desk.
"Who convinced Stark to leave his children behind?" he asked.
The courier standing across from him lowered his head.
"The decision was announced after Lord Stark met privately with the king, Lady Stark, and King Jon."
"Was Jon present when Stark accepted?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Did he argue against it?"
"Not according to anyone inside the chamber."
That interested Petyr.
Jon had every reason to prevent Ned from becoming Hand.
Yet he had allowed it.
Allowed was a strange word to use for a young man who possessed no formal authority over Eddard Stark.
But after the reports from Winterfell, Petyr no longer considered formal authority especially important.
Jon commanded giants.
Direwolves larger than horses.
Soldiers capable of humiliating the greatest knights in the realm.
A fleet unlike anything constructed in Westeros.
And some unknown means of gathering information across impossible distances.
If Jon had truly wished to prevent Ned from travelling south, Robert would likely have failed.
Yet Ned was still coming.
Petyr leaned back.
"Perhaps the young king believes his father will be safe."
The courier wisely offered no opinion.
"Or perhaps," Petyr murmured, "he wants Lord Stark inside King's Landing for reasons of his own."
That possibility was more dangerous.
Petyr had spent years arranging men across the board without them realising they were pieces.
Jon did not behave like a piece.
He watched too carefully.
Spoke too little.
And revealed strength only when doing so produced a specific result.
The young king had exposed his ordinary soldiers but not the true number of his army.
He had revealed giants but not how many existed beyond the Wall.
He had brought the Titan to White Harbor but allowed no southern visitor inside it without supervision.
Every revelation created more questions than answers.
Petyr held the parchment above a candle.
Flame consumed one corner.
"Tell our people to avoid the agents connected to Winter's Heaven."
The courier hesitated.
"All of them?"
"All we have identified."
"Yes, my lord."
"And do not attempt to discover the rest."
That surprised the man.
Petyr watched the fire spread.
"Men become easier to find when they believe no one is searching."
The parchment curled into black ash.
Petyr smiled again.
Eddard Stark was still coming south.
The game remained alive.
It had simply acquired another player.
"For now," Petyr said softly, "let the young king believe his intervention succeeded."
He released the final piece of burning parchment into a metal bowl.
What Petyr did not know was that several of the agents he had identified had been deliberately exposed.
The men he now intended to avoid were paths Jon had placed before him.
And by stepping away from them, Baelish would reveal which paths truly mattered.
For the first time since Jon Arryn's death, Petyr Baelish understood that he might not be the only man in Westeros arranging the board.
He found the thought exhilarating.
He had yet to understand that Jon was not playing for the Iron Throne.
Jon was hunting the man who believed he controlled it.
________________________________________
That night, Jon stood alone within the godswood.
The heart tree watched him with its carved red eyes.
Moonlight passed through the branches, scattering pale light across the black pool. Snow rested upon the roots of the ancient weirwood.
Jon closed his eyes.
The godswood disappeared.
For an instant, there was only darkness.
Then the world returned through different eyes.
A small black bird perched upon a rooftop in King's Landing.
Warm southern wind passed beneath its feathers. Below, men stumbled through the Street of Silk while music, laughter, and drunken arguments escaped from crowded buildings.
Jon guided the bird higher.
The Red Keep rose above the city.
Torchlight burned along its walls. Gold cloaks patrolled the gates. Servants crossed courtyards carrying food, wine, messages, and secrets.
The bird circled once.
Then twice.
No one knew Jon watched through its eyes.
No one knew how many animals across the realm had carried his awareness.
That secret belonged to him alone.
Through the bird's eyes, he observed one of Baelish's couriers leaving the rear entrance of a brothel.
The man walked three streets east, entered a tavern, and sat beside a merchant wearing a green cloak.
The exchange lasted less than a minute.
No parchment passed between them.
Only a coin.
Jon remembered the merchant's face.
Another path had revealed itself.
He released the bird.
Cold returned.
The heart tree stood before him once more.
Jon opened his eyes.
Baelish had received the news.
His network had begun moving.
Everything continued as expected.
________________________________________
Jon left Winterfell through the outer gate later that night.
He did not bring guards.
He did not require them.
The road descending from the castle toward the winter town remained crowded despite the late hour. Robert's arrival had filled every inn, stable, tavern, and empty room within walking distance of Winterfell.
Merchants shouted over one another.
Drunken soldiers staggered through the mud.
Music escaped through opened doors.
Women laughed from windows and balconies while inviting men inside establishments whose services required no signboard.
Jon had come to inspect the effect Robert's enormous travelling court had produced upon the settlement.
Prices had risen.
Food disappeared quickly.
Ale moved even faster.
The royal soldiers had brought silver, but they had also brought disputes, drunkenness, and the belief that northern laws mattered less when the offenders served the king.
Three men wearing Baratheon colours stood outside a tavern arguing with its owner about payment.
Jon stopped.
The soldiers noticed him.
Their argument ended immediately.
Coins appeared upon the table.
Jon continued walking without speaking.
Fear occasionally accomplished what honour should have done first.
The largest brothel in the winter town stood near the end of the street.
Warm golden light escaped through its windows. Music and laughter came from inside. Several horses had been tied near the entrance, while men moved constantly through the open door.
Jon would have passed without interest.
Then he saw her.
A red-haired woman stood upon the brothel's small wooden balcony.
Ros.
Jon recognised her from the television story he remembered.
She was the prostitute from the winter town who would eventually leave the North and travel to King's Landing.
But none of that had happened yet.
For now, she remained here.
Alive.
And extraordinarily beautiful.
Her long red hair fell freely across her shoulders, vivid against her pale skin. A thin dark-green gown embraced her generous figure, its low neckline displaying the upper curves of her breasts.
She was speaking to another woman when she noticed Jon below.
Her words stopped.
Ros had undoubtedly seen handsome men before.
Knights, young lords, wealthy merchants, and soldiers passed through the winter town regularly.
But none of them resembled the man standing in the street.
Jon was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark clothing unable to conceal the powerful body beneath it. He carried no crown, yet the road seemed to bend around his presence. People stepped aside without being ordered.
Ros recognised him.
Everyone near Winterfell knew the king who had arrived with giants, enormous direwolves, and a thousand terrifying soldiers.
Stories about Jon had spread through the winter town from the moment his army appeared.
Ros's eyes travelled openly over him.
Jon noticed.
His gaze rose toward the balcony.
Their eyes met.
Ros smiled.
It was not the polite smile given to passing merchants.
Nor the false warmth offered to drunken soldiers carrying a few silver coins.
She looked at Jon with unmistakable interest.
Then she deliberately leaned forward against the balcony railing.
The movement loosened the already low neckline of her gown.
The soft, round curves of her large breasts pressed together and became clearly visible through her deep cleavage.
Ros knew precisely what she was doing.
Her eyes remained fixed upon Jon while she offered him the view.
It was an invitation without words.
Jon's gaze descended.
Ros's smile widened triumphantly.
She expected surprise, embarrassment, or the hungry expression most men wore when she displayed herself.
Jon gave her none of those.
He looked openly, appreciated what she offered, and then returned his eyes to her face.
Ros held his gaze.
Jon understood the invitation.
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Ros's smile deepened.
Jon continued along the road.
But for the first time that night, his thoughts had moved away from Baelish, treaties, armies, and the dangers awaiting his father in King's Landing.
The beautiful red-haired prostitute watched him until he disappeared into the darkness.
End of Chapter 158
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Author's Note
Thank you everyone for reading and supporting my stories! ❤️
A quick Patreon update:
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The Legendary tier has now been available for about a month, and thank you so much to everyone supporting me through it!
🔥 Naruto: The God List Exposed My City
Some older readers may recognize this story. This is an old fanfiction of mine that I had stopped writing, but I have finally restarted it and will be taking it seriously again.
Patreon: Up to Chapter 38 available now!
Current Patreon Chapters
📖 Reborn as Jon Snow with God System — Up to Chapter 188
🏰 GOT Kingdom Building System — Up to Chapter 121
🍥 Naruto: The God List Exposed My City — Up to Chapter 38
And more is coming!
🎬 I've also released a Reborn as Jon Snow with God System Auidobook upto chapters 31–60 video with improved visuals on my YouTube channel: Epicpensaga.
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Thank you for all the support!
🍥 Naruto: The God List Exposed My City — Up to Chapter 8 -- on here on webnovel, please go and read, and from now on there will be continuous update for this fiction.
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