read more inpatreon CaveLeather
"You're forgetting something," Mance said. "The Night's Watch only exists because of His Grace Lynn's mercy and Qhorin's willingness to die for it. And a king only needs to tap a bastard's shoulder with his sword to make him legitimate."
Mance kept pushing. His goal was simple—convince the acting Lord Commander first, then it would be easier to convince Jon Snow himself.
From what he knew of the boy, Jon Snow would rather die than break his Night's Watch oath. Stubborn as any true Stark—honor-bound and straight as an arrow.
"But there's never been a precedent for this among the black brothers," Ser Denys said. His tone had already softened. He knew this fight was lost.
Lynn was in a good mood, so he kept it light.
"Someone always has to be first. Can you guess what the first man to eat a crab was thinking?"
Someone had to go first.
Ser Denys gave in.
Mance didn't give him a chance to change his mind. He went straight to the ice cells and dragged Jon Snow out.
Jon was still stunned by how completely Castle Black had changed, but before he could process it, Mance hauled him into the King's Tower.
The ground level of Castle Black consisted of the King's Tower, the Lord Commander's Tower, the Lance Tower, Hardin's Tower, the Grey Keep, the Shield Hall, and a sprawl of other crumbling, abandoned buildings.
At its peak the castle had housed five thousand fully armed men. Most of those buildings were now ruins, and the Free Folk were already tearing them down and rebuilding.
But the King's Tower still looked the most respectable. After more than a hundred years, it finally had a king again.
"Jon Snow," Lynn said.
"Sit down and have a drink. I've got some bad news for you."
Mance shoved Jon into a chair without ceremony. A large cup of mead was already waiting on the table in front of him.
"Have you met Ser Denys Mallister?" Lynn asked politely.
Ser Denys cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.
"Jon Snow, I'm Ser Denys Mallister, commander of Shadow Tower. For now I'm acting Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
Jon looked both terrified and lost.
"The Night's Watch surrendered?"
"Not exactly," Lynn said, saving Ser Denys from having to answer. "We reached an agreement."
He nodded for Ser Denys to continue.
The old knight explained how the brothers had voted to recognize Lynn Morningstar as king and what terms both sides had accepted. He left out the part about Bowen Marsh.
Jon looked relieved. He'd never really believed the Watch could hold the Wall anyway.
He took a long pull of mead, then said hoarsely,
"Your… Your Grace… my lords… I'm not sure this counts as bad news."
The three men exchanged glances. Lynn spoke first.
"Brace yourself, Jon. This next part is the bad news—Winterfell is gone."
"Gone?"
Jon stared at Lynn's foreign face.
"But my brothers are still in Winterfell! Bran and Rickon…"
"I'm very sorry, Jon. Theon Greyjoy took Winterfell in his father's name and executed your brothers. When your father's bannermen came to retake it, Theon saw he couldn't win, so he burned the castle to the ground.
But your brothers have been avenged. The Bolton bastard claims he killed every last ironborn. They say he flayed Theon Greyjoy inch by inch for what he did."
"I'm sorry, Jon," Lynn said quietly. "We're all sorry."
They waited while Jon fought his way out of the memories, tears running down his face. Lynn almost didn't want to keep going.
But he forced himself. If he wanted to be king, he had to carry the weight.
"There's worse news, Jon. Your brother Robb Stark was betrayed by his own bannermen at the Twins. He's dead. His army is gone.
One of the traitors was Bolton, so I have my doubts the story about Winterfell is as simple as it sounds."
The news hit Jon like a hammer. Mead sloshed onto the floor.
"Your sister Sansa Stark…"
Lynn decided to rip the bandage off fast.
He met Jon's desperate eyes and said,
"She's been accused of murdering King Joffrey. She's facing trial. We don't have more details, but being charged with killing the king…"
Lynn shook his head.
He'd said it all. He let out a long breath.
The room stayed silent for what felt like a full meal before Jon finally spoke, his voice raw.
"My little sister… Arya…"
Lynn shook his head.
"Sorry. No one's heard anything about her."
Jon finally broke. He begged to be sent back to the ice cells.
"The Night's Watch and I already have an agreement. You're free. No need to go back."
Lynn said it gently.
"Please, Your Grace… just let me go back."
He looked pitiful enough to break any girl's heart. Unfortunately, no shy maidens were present.
"I refuse, Jon Snow. Your fight isn't over."
"Winterfell has no heir left. You're the last living blood of Eddard Stark. You need to take responsibility—for the North, and for House Stark.
We have every reason to believe the Lannisters will name Roose Bolton Warden of the North as a reward for betraying your brother. Can you live with that?"
Lynn paused to let it sink in, then kept going.
"Balon Greyjoy is dead. The ironborn are busy killing each other, but they still hold Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square, and most of the Stony Shore.
Your father's lands are bleeding. They need a new, true Lord of Winterfell to bring the North together and deal with these traitors."
The flood of information left Jon dizzy.
"Winterfell is gone. Theon Greyjoy burned it."
"Granite doesn't burn," Lynn said. "Castles can be rebuilt. Lords aren't made of stone—people are.
The North doesn't know me. They have no reason to follow me as king. But you and I have some history, don't we?
In the battles coming—against both the living and the dead—I need their strength.
I need Eddard Stark's son to unite them. Then I'll unite the Free Folk with the North. That's the only way we stand a chance against the Others and the Long Night."
He's going to make me Lord of Winterfell!
Jon felt every emotion hit him at once. His head spun. He wasn't sure if it was the mead or the news.