Chapter 148: The King on the Kingsroad
The private dining chamber overlooked the harbour.
Morning sunlight passed through tall windows and fell across a table covered with warm bread, smoked fish, eggs, honey and fruit brought from the south. Beyond the glass, White Harbor had already awakened.
Bells rang along the docks.
Sailors shouted between ships.
Wagons carried supplies toward the encampment beyond the eastern wall, while crowds continued gathering wherever they could glimpse Jon's soldiers, giants or direwolves.
Jon sat opposite Lord Wyman Manderly.
Wylis and Wendel occupied the other side of the table, while Alex sat beside Jon. No guards or servants remained inside the chamber.
Wyman tore a piece of bread but did not eat it.
"By sunset," he said, "every tavern in White Harbor will have a different account of your arrival."
Wendel laughed.
"Some already claim the giants are twenty feet tall."
"They are not far from the truth," Wylis replied.
"I heard one sailor swear that the largest direwolf swallowed a horse whole."
Jon lifted his cup.
"None of them approached the horses."
"That has never prevented sailors from improving a story," Wyman said. "By the time word reaches King's Landing, you will have arrived riding a dragon with an army of a hundred giants behind you."
Alex smiled.
"That sounds more impressive than the truth."
Wyman's expression became serious.
"The truth is already impressive enough."
He looked through the window.
From the height of the chamber, part of Jon's encampment could be seen beyond the city walls. Dark-armoured soldiers moved between orderly rows of tents. Farther away, one of the giants stood while armourers inspected a plate protecting his leg.
Even at that distance, the giant towered above every man around him.
Wyman turned back toward Jon.
"Your arrival will change more than the stories told in taverns."
Jon waited.
"Until yesterday, most of the North knew Winter's Heaven through grain, cement, livestock and rumours. Some believed the tales of your giants. Others dismissed them. A few doubted your kingdom existed at all."
"And now?" Alex asked.
"Now thousands of people have watched ten armoured giants walk through White Harbor."
Wyman rested both hands upon the table.
"The stories will spread across the North before the first snow falls. They will cross the Neck soon afterward. Every lord in Westeros will begin asking the same questions."
"How many giants does Jon Snow command?" Wylis said.
"How many soldiers?" Wendel added.
"What other creatures live within his kingdom?" Wyman continued. "How many ships can cross the sea without sails? How rich is Winter's Heaven? How strong are its walls? And most importantly—what does its king intend to do?"
Jon placed his cup down.
"I have already told you my intentions."
"You have," Wyman said. "The rest of Westeros has not heard them from your mouth."
"They will invent an answer whether I give them one or not."
"They already have."
Wyman leaned back.
"Some Northern lords admire what you have built. They want your grain, your tools and your trade. Others fear you."
"I have made no threat against the North."
"Fear rarely requires a sensible reason."
Wyman's eyes remained upon him.
"You are Ned Stark's son. You command a kingdom beyond the Wall, possess ships unlike anything built in Westeros and have entered the North with a force that many lords could not defeat."
"One thousand soldiers are hardly enough to conquer the North."
Wendel glanced toward the window.
"Most men will stop counting after they see the giants."
Wyman nodded.
"There are lords who wonder whether you might claim Winterfell one day. Others believe Lord Stark invited you because he fears the Iron Throne and wants another king standing behind him."
Alex frowned.
"Ned Stark is Robert Baratheon's closest friend."
"He is," Wyman agreed. "But friendship has never stopped frightened men from discovering conspiracies where none exist."
Jon showed no concern.
"Who has been asking these questions?"
Wyman smiled slightly.
"Now we arrive at the reason I requested this private meal."
Wylis placed a folded piece of parchment upon the table.
"Several men have visited White Harbor during the past few months," he said. "Merchants, travellers and servants seeking employment."
"None remained for long," Wendel added. "They asked about your grain shipments, cement, ships and weapons."
"Spies?" Alex asked.
"Poor ones," Wyman answered. "Or perhaps merely the ones we discovered."
Jon unfolded the parchment.
It contained descriptions of six men. Three were believed to have connections with merchants serving House Bolton. Another had travelled through Barrowton before reaching White Harbor. The final two remained unidentified.
"Roose Bolton," Alex said.
Wyman selected a piece of smoked fish.
"I cannot prove he sent them."
"You believe he did."
"I believe Lord Bolton would sooner grow wings than ignore the sudden appearance of a powerful kingdom beyond the Wall."
Jon read the descriptions once more.
"What did they learn?"
"Only what any merchant in White Harbor could tell them," Wylis replied. "Your kingdom sells grain, cement, horses and sheep. Your ships reach us without sails. Your people are disciplined. Our business with you is profitable."
"And the Titan?" Jon asked.
Wendel shook his head.
"No one from House Bolton approached it. Your vessels made certain of that."
Wyman watched Jon carefully.
"Some of the men may still be inside the city."
Jon returned the parchment.
"Let them watch us leave."
Alex turned toward him.
"You want them to see the soldiers?"
"They already know how many came ashore. Hiding them now would achieve nothing."
Wyman studied him for several seconds.
"You do not appear troubled."
"Roose Bolton may ask whatever questions he wishes. He will receive only the answers I choose to reveal."
"And if he decides those answers frighten him?"
"Then he may continue being frightened."
Wendel grinned.
Wyman laughed quietly.
"You truly were raised by Ned Stark."
Jon's expression remained calm.
"My father would have told him not to be afraid unless he intended treason."
"And you?"
"I would not warn him twice."
The humour faded from Wyman's face.
For a moment, the only sounds came from the harbour beyond the windows.
Then Wyman nodded.
"I will remember that."
He pushed the untouched bread aside.
"There is one more matter. Whatever rumours await you at Winterfell, do not underestimate what your arrival represents."
"I am aware that Robert Baratheon is waiting."
"I do not mean Robert."
Wyman gestured toward the north.
"You may consider yourself Ned Stark's son returning home. The rest of Westeros will see one king entering another lord's castle while the King of the Seven Kingdoms waits inside."
"I came because my father asked me to come."
"I know."
"What they choose to see is their concern."
Wyman smiled.
"That answer will irritate a great many lords."
"Then it may do them some good."
Alex hid his amusement behind his cup.
Wyman shook his head.
"I almost pity the royal court."
"Almost?" Wendel asked.
"Not enough to ruin my breakfast."
The atmosphere around the table lightened.
Jon looked toward the harbour.
"Our trade will continue while I am at Winterfell. Once I have spoken with my father, I want to discuss permanent warehouses and a larger controlled harbour district for goods from Winter's Heaven."
Wylis leaned forward.
"How much larger?"
"Three times our current trade within the next year."
The Manderly brothers stared at him.
Wyman's eyes sharpened with interest.
"You have enough ships for that?"
"Yes."
"And enough grain?"
"Yes."
"What would you require from White Harbor?"
"Storage land, reliable merchants, road access and your continued guarantee that no one enters our ships or inspects sealed cargo without permission."
"That can be arranged."
"I also want a separate office for representatives from Winter's Heaven. They will settle disputes involving our merchants and maintain accurate records of every shipment."
Wyman considered it.
"The city's laws must still apply within White Harbor."
"They will. My representatives will work with your officials, not replace them."
"Then I see no difficulty."
Wyman extended his hand across the table.
Jon clasped it.
"We will discuss the details when you return," Wyman said. "If Robert allows you to escape Winterfell."
"He is not my king."
"That may be the first thing you should avoid telling him."
"I suspect he already knows."
The gates of White Harbor opened shortly before midday.
People crowded the streets, walls, windows and rooftops. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Sailors climbed ships' masts. Children sat upon their fathers' shoulders to see over the gathered adults.
Manderly guards cleared the main road.
Then the soldiers of Winter's Heaven began marching.
They came in ordered ranks beneath dark banners bearing Jon's emblem. Their armour was clean, their steps perfectly measured and their eyes fixed forward.
No man broke formation to acknowledge the crowds.
No officer shouted unnecessary commands.
One thousand soldiers crossed White Harbor with the discipline of a single living creature.
Alex rode beside Jon near the head of the column.
Behind them came the direwolves.
The crowd drew back immediately.
The fifty beasts moved in separate groups among Jon's soldiers. Each stood slightly larger than a warhorse, with thick grey, white or black fur covering powerful bodies.
They wore only leather harnesses.
No chains bound them.
That frightened the people more than armour would have.
A mother holding two children crossed herself as one passed. A butcher hurriedly pulled several hanging carcasses inside his shop. Horses stamped and strained against their reins.
The direwolves ignored everything.
They walked beside Jon's soldiers without growling at the crowd or turning toward the smell of meat.
A little boy pushed between two adults for a better look.
His mother reached for him too late.
The child stumbled into the road.
People screamed.
One of the direwolves turned.
The beast's head alone was nearly level with the boy's chest. Its golden eyes fixed upon him as it stepped away from the formation.
The boy froze.
His mother tried to rush forward, but a Manderly guard caught her before she ran beneath the marching soldiers.
The direwolf lowered its head.
The boy squeezed his eyes shut.
A wet nose pressed against his shoulder.
The direwolf gently pushed him toward the side of the road.
The child stumbled forward, and his mother pulled him into her arms.
The beast watched them for a moment.
Then it returned to its place beside the soldiers.
The fear along the street slowly changed into astonishment.
The boy looked over his mother's shoulder.
He raised one small hand.
The direwolf did not turn again.
Alex glanced at Jon.
"You commanded it?"
"No."
"It chose to help him?"
"They are intelligent enough to understand that he was not a threat."
Ahead of them, the road widened.
Jon looked back as the first giant passed through the gates.
The crowd fell silent once more.
Dark iron covered the giant from head to foot. Reinforced leather rested beneath overlapping plates, while an enormous spear lay across one shoulder.
Each step landed with a heavy sound against the road.
Nine more giants followed.
People who had doubted the reports from the harbour could doubt them no longer.
The final wagons passed beneath the gates.
Outside the city, Jon turned his horse north.
The journey to Winterfell began.
They moved more slowly than ordinary riders.
The giants could easily match the pace of horses, and Jon's soldiers had been trained to march for many hours without exhaustion. The supply wagons caused most of the delay.
Recent rain had softened the roads.
Wheels sank into mud. Horses strained when the ground rose. At several narrow bridges, the column had to divide before crossing in smaller groups.
The giants proved unexpectedly useful.
When a heavily loaded wagon became trapped during the second afternoon, four horses failed to pull it free. One of the giants walked over, placed both hands behind the wagon and pushed it from the mud as though moving a child's toy.
By the third day, people were waiting along the road.
News of Jon's procession had travelled ahead through Manderly outriders, merchants and ravens sent to the nearby holdfasts.
Farmers stood beside their fields.
Women carried infants from their homes.
Children climbed fences and trees.
Most had never seen a giant. Many had never seen more than twenty armed men gathered in one place.
Now a king passed before them with one thousand soldiers, ten giants and fifty direwolves.
Jon saw wonder upon their faces.
He also saw poverty.
The villages were not starving, but their lives remained harsh.
Homes were constructed from rough timber and stone, with roofs requiring repair before winter. Roads became rivers of mud after a few days of rain. Livestock were small and thin compared to the breeds raised within Winter's Heaven.
Many farmers still used wooden tools.
Several children watched the procession barefoot.
Others wore clothing patched so many times that little of the original cloth remained.
Alex followed Jon's gaze.
"You have been quiet since we left White Harbor."
"I am looking."
"At what?"
"The North."
"Are you disappointed?"
Jon watched an elderly farmer struggle to repair a broken fence.
"No."
Alex waited.
"I am reminded of what it could become."
At the next village, the headman offered bread, salt and two barrels of ale.
Jon accepted the bread and salt.
Then he ordered his quartermaster to pay for everything taken by his people.
The headman shook his head.
"Your Grace, it is our honour."
"Honour does not feed your village through winter."
"We cannot demand coin from Ned Stark's son."
"You are not demanding it. I am paying."
Jon purchased grain, vegetables, meat and fodder for the horses at prices slightly higher than those offered by merchants in White Harbor.
The villagers stared at the silver.
His soldiers carried every barrel and sack themselves. Nothing was seized. No livestock disappeared. No drunken men wandered through the streets.
Before leaving, Jon's engineers repaired the village's damaged well and reinforced the axle of a mill cart that had remained broken for weeks.
It required less than an hour.
By the time the column resumed its march, the entire village stood beside the road.
No one had been ordered to cheer.
They did anyway.
The same events repeated as Jon's force travelled west.
Supplies were purchased.
Damage caused by the wagons was repaired.
The giants lifted fallen trees from the road.
The direwolves ignored sheep, cattle and terrified dogs.
On the fifth afternoon, the procession stopped near a village built beside a shallow river.
An elderly man stood at the edge of the gathered crowd.
He watched Jon pass, then stepped forward.
Manderly guards immediately blocked his path.
"I mean no harm," the man said. "I only wish to ask him something."
Jon raised one hand.
The guards moved aside.
The old man approached carefully.
Grey hair hung around a weathered face. One of his legs dragged slightly as he walked, and his back had bent with age.
He stared at Jon for a long time.
"I saw you once," he finally said.
Jon waited.
"You were a little boy riding beside Lord Stark. Could not have been older than five or six. You stopped at our village while travelling east."
Jon remembered little of the journey.
Only fragments remained.
Cold rain.
A warm fire.
Ned's cloak covering his shoulders while he slept.
"You were Jon Snow then," the old man continued.
"I still am."
The man looked toward the armoured soldiers, giants and enormous direwolves.
"Are you?"
The guards stiffened.
Jon did not.
The old man's voice held no insult. Only uncertainty.
"Are you still Jon Snow?"
Jon glanced back at the banner of Winter's Heaven.
"I have carried other titles since then."
His eyes returned to the old man.
"But yes."
The man slowly smiled.
"Lord Stark will be pleased to hear it."
Then he bowed and returned to the crowd.
Alex rode silently beside Jon after they departed.
Nearly a mile passed before he spoke.
"Do you believe that?"
"That I am still Jon Snow?"
"That Ned Stark will be pleased."
Jon looked toward the road ahead.
"I crossed a sea to discover that."
Ravens began arriving at Winterfell before the procession completed its fourth day.
The first came from a Manderly holdfast along the road.
Maester Luwin brought the message into the great hall while Robert ate with Ned, the royal family and the Starks.
"Another report?" Robert asked.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"How far?"
Luwin opened the parchment.
"King Jon's procession passed the holdfast yesterday morning. The message estimates that he remains six or seven days from Winterfell."
Robert groaned.
Ned ignored him.
"What else?"
"His force purchased food and fodder. The commander of the holdfast reports no disorder among the soldiers."
"Anything about the giants?" Bran asked.
Luwin smiled faintly.
"They assisted in moving a wagon from the road."
Bran's eyes widened.
"How large was the wagon?"
"The message does not say."
"Could one lift a horse?"
"I do not know."
"Could I ride one?"
Catelyn turned toward him.
"No."
"But—"
"No."
Robert laughed.
"Let the boy ask them. If the giants refuse, perhaps he can ride one of the wolves."
Catelyn stared at him.
Robert returned to his food.
"Or perhaps not."
The next raven arrived one day later.
Then another.
Each message came from a castle or holdfast along Jon's route.
The reports were remarkably similar.
Jon's soldiers maintained perfect discipline.
His giants obeyed every command.
His direwolves had not attacked people, horses or livestock.
His force paid for every supply it used.
Villagers had begun gathering beside the road hours before the procession arrived.
One letter reported that a direwolf had pushed a child away from the path of the marching column.
Another claimed that a giant had repaired part of a wooden bridge.
A third described Jon's soldiers digging drainage trenches when their wagons damaged a road.
The stories spread through Winterfell.
Servants repeated them in the kitchens.
Guards discussed them upon the walls.
Northern lords who had remained with Robert began debating what kind of army behaved more carefully in foreign lands than many household guards did within their lord's own villages.
Robert became more impatient with every raven.
When the fifth report arrived, he threw down the bone he had been eating.
"I am riding out to meet him."
Ned looked across the table.
"No."
Robert stared at him.
"No?"
"Jon was invited to Winterfell. We will receive him at Winterfell."
"He is three days away."
"Then you can wait three days."
"I have waited months!"
"And three more days will not kill you."
Robert pointed toward the latest parchment.
"He has ten giants, Ned."
"I am aware."
"You are not curious?"
"Of course I am."
"Then why should we sit behind these walls while he marches toward us?"
"Because we invited a king to Winterfell."
Robert leaned back.
"There. You have said it again."
Ned frowned.
"Said what?"
"A king. Every time I speak of the boy, you remind me that he is a king."
"Because you continue speaking as though Jon is still a child you can summon into your hall for amusement."
Robert's expression changed.
The hall gradually quieted.
Ned continued.
"He is my son. But he is also the ruler of another kingdom. His arrival is a family reunion, and it is diplomacy."
Robert looked toward the assembled lords and members of his court.
For perhaps the first time, some of his excitement gave way to understanding.
Jon had not come to Winterfell alone.
He had crossed the sea beneath his own banners. He commanded his own army, ships and people. Whatever affection remained between Jon and the Starks, Robert would not be meeting Ned's bastard.
He would be meeting another king.
Robert lifted his cup. "Fine."
Ned waited suspiciously.
"We receive him here."
"That is all I ask."
"But if those giants remain outside the walls for more than an hour, I am going to them."
Ned sighed.
"I expected nothing less."
The Stark children prepared for Jon's arrival in different ways.
Arya visited the walls every morning, although everyone knew the procession remained days away.
She asked every guard whether anything had appeared upon the eastern road. When they told her no, she descended to the courtyard and sat near Jon's eagle.
Bran gathered every story he could find about giants.
Most contradicted one another.
One book claimed giants ate human flesh. Another said they fed only upon mammoths. Old Nan insisted they mixed blood into their porridge and kept boys inside leather bags until supper.
Bran stopped asking Old Nan after that.
Rickon remembered Jon only through fragments and stories.
He knew Jon was his brother.
He knew Jon had sent the enormous eagle and raven.
He knew giants were coming.
That was enough to make him run through Winterfell shouting that his brother had an army of monsters.
Sansa faced a more difficult problem.
She found Robb in the yard watching men prepare the gates.
"How will you greet him?" she asked.
Robb looked at her.
"With words, I expect."
"I am serious."
"So am I."
"Will you call him Jon?"
Robb's expression became thoughtful.
"What else would I call him?"
"Your Grace."
"He is my brother."
"He is also a king."
Robb looked toward the great hall.
"Is that what you are worried about?"
Sansa lowered her voice.
"What if I say the wrong thing before everyone?"
Robb had no answer.
That evening, he went to Ned's solar.
"Should I call Jon 'Your Grace'?"
Ned put down the letter he had been reading.
"Before the court, yes."
"And when we are alone?"
Ned remained silent for a moment.
"That will be for you and Jon to decide."
Robb looked toward the fire.
"He left when we were children."
"Yes."
"He will remember us, won't he?"
Ned studied his eldest son.
"Jon crossed hundreds of leagues because I asked him to return."
"That is not what I asked."
"No," Ned said quietly. "He has not forgotten you."
Robb nodded, but some uncertainty remained.
Catelyn watched the preparations without comment.
Servants arranged chambers for Jon and Alex. Space was cleared beyond the walls for the soldiers. Blacksmiths strengthened several areas where the giants might stand, while the kitchens calculated how much food ten giants could consume.
Every new task reminded her that Jon was returning.
Not the silent bastard boy who had once lived within Winterfell.
A king.
A man whose friendship could strengthen the North and whose anger could threaten armies.
She did not know how he would greet her.
She did not know how she should greet him.
Most of all, she did not know whether the years had preserved his respect for Ned while sharpening his memories of everyone else.
Cersei ordered new clothing prepared for Joffrey on the morning the final raven arrived.
The prince stood before a mirror while servants adjusted a black-and-gold doublet.
"I will wear my sword," Joffrey said.
"No," Cersei replied.
"I am the crown prince."
"You are receiving a visiting king inside Winterfell, not entering battle."
"He is a bastard pretending to be a king."
Jaime stood near the window.
"Try saying that when his giants are close enough to hear you."
Joffrey glared at him.
"I am not afraid of giants."
"No," Tyrion said from his chair. "You wisely reserve your courage for younger girls carrying wooden swords."
Joffrey reached for the hilt of his weapon.
Jaime caught his wrist.
"Enough."
"He insulted me."
"You make it remarkably easy."
Cersei dismissed the servants.
Once the doors closed, she moved closer to Joffrey.
"You will speak only when necessary. You will address him as Your Grace."
Joffrey stared at her as if she had struck him.
"You want me to honour him?"
"I want you to avoid creating another humiliation before your father."
"I will be king of all Seven Kingdoms."
Tyrion poured more wine.
"Assuming you survive your introductions."
Joffrey pulled his arm from Jaime's grip.
"I will not bow to a bastard."
Jaime's patience disappeared.
"You will be standing before a man guarded by ten giants, fifty wolves and one thousand trained soldiers. For once in your life, silence may be your greatest protection."
Joffrey's face reddened.
Cersei looked toward the courtyard through the narrow window.
Jon's eagle rested below.
Alive.
Watching.
She had considered leaving Winterfell before Jon arrived. The idea had become impossible once his ships reached White Harbor. Departing now would look like flight.
And Cersei Lannister would not flee from Ned Stark's bastard.
Even if the bastard returned as a king.
The final raven reached Winterfell shortly after sunset on the ninth day.
Jon's procession had made better progress after leaving the muddy eastern roads. It had camped near the final holdfast before Winterfell and would arrive the following afternoon.
Winterfell scarcely slept.
Torches burned along the walls throughout the night.
Cooks worked before dawn.
Guards inspected the gates, courtyards and outer grounds. Northern banners were raised beside the direwolf of House Stark, while Robert ordered the crowned stag displayed above the main gate.
Ned wore dark grey and white.
Catelyn selected clothing of deep blue and silver.
Robb dressed in Stark colours and wore a sword at his side. Sansa changed her gown twice. Arya refused the first dress prepared for her and finally accepted a simple grey one only after Catelyn threatened to confine her to her chamber.
Bran woke before sunrise.
Rickon had to be prevented from climbing the eastern wall alone.
Shortly after midday, the giant eagle rose from the courtyard.
Its wings opened.
Men and horses scattered as a powerful gust swept dust across the stones.
Arya ran into the open.
The eagle launched itself into the sky.
It circled Winterfell once, then turned east.
"Where is it going?" Bran asked.
Arya smiled.
"To Jon."
News spread through the castle.
Everyone moved toward the walls or gathered outside the main gate.
Ned stood at the head of the welcoming party.
Catelyn remained beside him. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon formed a line nearby, with Theon standing slightly behind them.
Robert waited on Ned's other side, wearing black and gold. Cersei, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen stood with him. Jaime and Barristan remained close to the royal family.
Tyrion had found a position from which he could see the road without being trapped behind taller men.
Northern lords and knights filled the remaining space.
An hour passed.
Robert drank from a small flask.
Ned pretended not to notice.
Then a horn sounded from the eastern watchtower.
Every conversation stopped.
A rider appeared upon the road.
Behind him came another.
Manderly banners moved in the wind.
The first ranks of dark-armoured soldiers emerged over the distant rise.
The column seemed to have no end.
Men marched beneath the banner of Winter's Heaven while supply wagons followed along the road. Grey and white shapes moved among them.
Bran leaned forward.
"The wolves."
Even at that distance, the direwolves looked enormous.
Horses among the welcoming party shifted nervously. Several required their riders to calm them.
The giant eagle appeared above the procession.
It circled twice.
Then it descended toward a black horse near the head of the column.
The man riding it raised one arm.
The eagle landed beside the road and lowered its enormous head. The rider leaned from his saddle and placed one hand against its feathers.
Arya's smile widened.
"I knew it."
Sansa looked at her.
"Knew what?"
Arya did not answer.
The column continued forward.
Jon became easier to see.
He wore dark clothing beneath a black cloak. A sword rested at his side, but there was no crown upon his head and no gold decorating his body.
Alex rode beside him.
The soldiers behind them remained in perfect formation.
Then the first giant crossed the hill.
A sound moved through the waiting crowd.
Not a cheer.
Not a scream.
A single breath of disbelief.
The giant wore full iron armour.
Sunlight reflected from the enormous plates protecting his chest, arms and legs. A spear rested against one shoulder, taller than Winterfell's gatehouse.
A second giant appeared.
Then a third.
All ten emerged above the hill.
Robert stared at them with open delight.
"Gods," he whispered.
Even Barristan Selmy looked astonished.
Cersei's face became still.
Joffrey had gone pale despite all his earlier boasts.
Tyrion forgot the cup in his hand.
The procession slowed as it approached Winterfell.
Direwolves moved outward on both sides of the road. None growled, but the Northern horses wanted nothing to do with them.
Jon looked beyond the gathered lords.
Beyond the royal banners.
Beyond the walls and towers.
Winterfell.
He had been six years old when he last passed through those gates.
In his memories, the walls had seemed impossibly high. The towers had touched the sky. Every courtyard had felt large enough to contain the world.
Now, after Winter's Heaven, the castle appeared different.
Older.
Rougher.
Smaller.
Alex watched him.
"Is it as you remember?"
Jon studied the grey walls.
"Smaller."
Then he saw the heart tree rising beyond them.
He saw Robb standing tall beside Catelyn.
Sansa wearing grey.
Bran and Rickon waiting near their sisters.
Arya leaning forward as though she might run into the road at any moment.
Finally, he saw Ned.
Older than Jon remembered.
More grey in his hair.
The same solemn face.
The same eyes.
Jon's expression changed almost too slightly for anyone else to notice.
"And yet," he said, "exactly the same."
The column halted.
One thousand soldiers stopped as one.
The giants stood behind them like iron towers.
The fifty direwolves became silent.
Jon dismounted.
Alex followed.
The eagle walked beside Jon as he crossed the remaining distance alone.
No one in the welcoming party spoke.
Ned watched the boy he had once sent away approach beneath the banners of a kingdom that had not existed when he left.
Jon stopped before him.
For a long moment, father and son simply looked at one another.
End of Chapter 148
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