Chapter 57: A King's Quiet Power
The sun sat low behind Winterfell's towers, washing the yard in amber light. The evening air still carried the whispers of the day's excitement—the echoes of the Stark children's laughter as they flew with me through the clouds. The joy lingered, but my mind had shifted to matters far greater than moments of wonder.
Beyond the Wall, my kingdom stretched across untouched valleys and silent forests—land that no southern lord had ever imagined could be tamed. Land that now answered to me.
And it needed to grow.
I stepped inside the solar, where Lord Eddard Stark waited by the window. The firelight caught the edges of his beard, making him look older, sterner, and yet far more human than Warden of the North should ever appear.
"Jon," he greeted softly.
I closed the door behind me. "Father."
He studied me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether he was speaking to the boy he raised… or the king I had become.
"I've been thinking," I began, walking to the table and lowering myself into the chair across from him. My posture remained straight, the way a ruler sits—not the way a son pleads. "I want to speak with you about trade."
His brows rose slightly. "Trade?"
"Yes," I said, folding my hands. "Large quantities. Horses, sheep, pigs, cattle. Enough to feed thousands and breed thousands more. Enough to build what no kingdom in Westeros has—true self-sustainability."
He blinked. "That is no small request."
"I am aware."
There was no apology in my tone. I owed none.
Lord Stark regarded me carefully. "Jon… what you ask would drain the stores of small lords. Even great houses would find this difficult."
"And I," I answered calmly, "am not a small lord. And I do not ask as a boy of your household. I speak as a king."
His eyes widened, though only slightly. "A king?"
"Yes." My voice was steady, unmovable. "My kingdom lies beyond the Wall—vast, rich, and full of people who follow me because I gave them hope when the world offered them nothing. I bow to no crown … and no crown sits above mine."
Ned's breath caught, just for a moment. Not in fear—no Stark fears hard truths—but in the realization that the child he raised had already stepped far beyond the boundaries of his world.
"I do not speak of war or rebellion," I clarified, though my tone remained regal. "I want peace. Trade. Cooperation. Your support. And I will pay for everything I ask. More than fair. More than southern lords would dare offer."
Ned Stark slowly nodded. "What exactly do you need?"
I inhaled gently, though inside my mind raced with thoughts I would never share—not even with the man I trusted most.
The direwolves bound to me through my warging—seventy strong.
The shadowcats—silent predators of the night, sixty-seven.
The bears—massive and fierce, nearly ninety.
All part of my growing army.
And King Ghidorah…
Even thinking the dragon's name sent a cold thrill down my spine. A three-headed titan who needed feeding on a scale that no southern lord had the imagination to grasp.
I could grow forests with a touch. I could make fruit flourish in barren land. But my kingdom could not depend on my power forever. It needed systems, farms, herds, structure.
Stability.
Autonomy.
"My people need livestock," I said aloud. "Enough to establish immense herds. Horses for my riders. Cattle and sheep for food. Pigs for farms. All in numbers large enough to sustain a kingdom for generations."
Ned leaned forward. "And you would pay… how?"
"With gold," I said simply. "Enough gold to make any House feel they've robbed the Lannisters blind."
His eyes flashed with mild amusement. "You sound confident."
"I am. I found a gold mine."
He froze. "A… gold mine?"
I allowed a small smile—not boastful, not arrogant… just honest.
"Yes. And trust me, Father, the vein is deep enough to provide wealth for decades."
And that was only one of the mines under my dominion.
"I see," he murmured, sitting back. "Then this is not simply ambition. This is a plan."
"It is," I agreed. "My kingdom must stand on its own legs. Not on my powers. Not on miracles. On foundation."
Ned Stark exhaled slowly. "Then here is what I can offer. House Stark cannot provide all you ask—not without weakening the North. But we can facilitate. We can buy from the Northern lords. From the Umbers, the Mormonts, the Boltons, the Karstarks… all steady breeders of livestock."
"Good," I said. "Arrange it."
His lips twitched upward at my tone—half amused, half marveling at who I'd become.
"There is something else," I said.
He tilted his head.
"I want you to send a raven to King Robert."
His brows lifted. "And what shall the message say?"
"That you are proud of me," I answered. "That your son has made something extraordinary beyond the Wall. That soon, I will travel to King's Landing—not as a subject, not as a knight, but as a king who wishes to speak of alliances, peace, and cooperation."
Ned stared at me long and hard.
"Robert is a good man," he murmured. "But he is a king. He does not take well to surprises."
"Then prepare him," I replied. My voice was quiet, firm, absolute. "Let him know I come with respect. But I do not kneel."
"You intend to show him your strength."
"I intend to show him the truth," I said. "That there is a new power in the world. One that seeks peace… but bows to no throne."
For a long moment, Lord Eddard Stark said nothing. Then he stood, walked around the table, and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You have grown into something no man could have predicted," he said softly. "Very well, Jon. I will send the raven."
"Thank you, Father."
"You're certain you want to go to King's Landing?" he asked.
"Yes."
The realm must understand what rises beyond their Wall.
What I am building. What follows me.
"I will go," I repeated. "Soon."
Ned nodded. "Then the realm is about to change."
I allowed the faintest of smiles.
"It already has."