JON

Named the Blood Eagle, it was an ancient tradition of the Old North that predated the arrival of the dragon lords Jon claimed to be descended from. Despite being a brutal and savage form of execution reserved for only the most wild of the Free Folk, Jon believed it was justified given the circumstances. Following the capture of Karhold, Ramsay had attempted to assassinate Jon by sending two attackers, but Jon, aided by his loyal direwolf Ghost, easily defeated them. After extracting information from the assassins, Jon executed them by hanging their bodies from Karhold's heart tree as a ritualistic sacrifice, similar to the customs of the First Men. As Ghost sensed the presence of others nearby, Jon remained vigilant.

"Should I have my men remove the bodies and bury them?"

"No. Leave them there overnight, then burn their bodies and dump their ashes into the river."

Alys Karstark nodded, not revealing her true emotions about the situation. He understood her perspective. She had been practically trapped in her own home and forced into a marriage with her uncle for her claim. When Jon and his army arrived, she could only watch as the rest of House Karstark either died in battle or were executed by Jon himself. He had hoped that Sigorn was still alive, but unfortunately, he was not. Nonetheless, he turned to face the new Lady of Karhold, along with Howland Reed, Davos Seaworth, and Galbart Glover. Lady Mormont was back at Bear Island, safe with her young daughter Lyanna and Rickon. When they had visited Last Hearth, Jon felt a great relief after years of worrying, as he finally reunited with his younger brother. Even when Rickon mistook him for their late father and called him father, Jon didn't let it affect his mood. He had contemplated sending Sansa away, but he needed her in case he had to seek help from the Vale. She was still confined to her room with heavy security, but Jon could sense that she was acting differently. Lord Glover's awkward cough caught his attention, and Jon positioned himself so that he couldn't avoid seeing the bodies behind him.

"Did you have something to say, Lord Grover?"

"Your Grace, I was wondering if we could relocate this meeting."

Jon gave his head a single shake.

"I don't think so. The Forest of the Gods is a sacred place, where the ancient gods curse a man or woman if they lie or break a covenant," he paused for a moment, letting the words wash over the group before continuing. He spoke, his gaze heavy on Lord Galbart, "Your younger brother Robitt has written to me to tell me that Deepwood Moth has been freed from the Ironborn and the Boltons, and that his son Gawain and daughter Erena are safe at home."

The older man's features were crossed by a small smile.

"I've heard about it too, Your Majesty."

"Have you also heard about the numerous losses your House suffered during the recapture of your family home? That Lord Robett sadly informed me that he could only spare eight hundred men instead of the three thousand we spoke of?"

Jon stared directly at the Lord of Deepwood Motte, the silence dominating the room. He observed every detail, from the slight grimace on Galbart's face to the way his eyes looked away from the hanging bodies. After a few moments, his shoulders sagged and he spoke in a defeated tone.

"I am uncertain about the origin of that number, but I believe that with a closer look from my brother, we could assemble a formidable fighting force that reflects the strength of our House."

Jon smiled and relaxed, despite the fact that he requested Ghost to position himself beside him. Although his voice was chilly, it maintained a gentle quality.

"Maybe you could begin your search by looking a few hours east from your house. That is where it is reported that Robett is concealing the additional two thousand two hundred men."

It was almost comical how Lord Glover paled in fear and started mumbling apologies, causing the rest of the group to step back. Jon raised his hand, halting his incoherent speech.

"Lord Glover, you did not lie to me, so I will not blame House Glover for this. As King, I command you to have your younger brother gather all available forces under House Glover, without exception. He will remain in Deepwood Motte until I call for him in Winterfell. Additionally, I order you to bring Larence Snow and Gawen Glover to our camp."

"Your Highness, my nephew is only a young boy of eleven years old. He is not of fighting age."

"I have no intention of young Gawen joining the ranks of the infantry. I would rather he become my steward alongside Ned Umber. Perhaps here he will learn to count better than his father."

Lord Glover reluctantly nodded before walking away to deliver the letter. He hoped that taking Robett's son away and having him live in the war camp for a few months would serve as sufficient punishment. Jon was determined to protect the boy regardless of his father's actions. The rest of the meeting was uneventful, with the other Lords speaking truthfully and to the point. Jon considered holding all his important meetings in a Godswood. Eventually, they all left and Jon arrived at the Lord's solar, only to find his conflicted sister waiting for him. She turned to him as he approached.

"I would like to talk to you about something, but please let me talk inside."

He glanced at his sister, feeling slightly confused, but then nodded slowly.

He entered the room and sat down at his desk. Sansa stood briefly, adjusted her skirt, and then sat down suddenly. She seemed to be affected by something, but before he could inquire, she started speaking rapidly.

"Thanks to that assassin, you could have died today. You could have died when we took back the Last Hearth and Karhold. You're on the front lines in every battle. And at first I was worried about how that would happen. It affected me how I'm going to get my house back when you're gone, but then I realized that you're going to be gone and all I think about is me. I was able to."

Jon remained silent, waiting for her to keep speaking, feeling that it was not the appropriate moment to reply.

"I have always put myself before others, but you are different. You are fierce and merciless to your enemies, yet kind and loyal to those who support you. Watching people follow you has shown me that you are the right leader to follow. I apologize for doubting and not trusting you. I want to make it up to you. I'm sorry, brother."

John was shocked and almost silent, unable for a moment to understand what she was saying. He gave a short nod, which was the only thing he could say now, and Sansa nodded as well. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke carefully.

"I have something that I could use your advice on, specifically regarding your time spent in King's Landing."

"What is your opinion on this matter?How was the city when the Lannisters and Tyrells were in power?"

She gave a nearly instantaneous response.

"Cersei despised them, particularly Margaery, as she believed they possessed an unpredictable and explosive nature, similar to a cache of wildfire. She believed that her family's authority was being usurped by them. I am certain that she continues to harbor these sentiments, possibly even more so, considering all that has transpired."

"You said you wrote with Willas Tyrell for a while before you married Tyrion. How was he?"

"According to those acquainted with him and his correspondence, he appeared to be a decent or at least a compassionate individual. What is the reason behind your inquiry?"

Jon leaned back, only relaxing a little.

"Despite some Lords disagreeing, we cannot overlook or avoid the South. Maintaining a food supply for the castles during winter is extremely challenging, even with the limited glasshouses we once had. Trade with the South and Essos is crucial, especially with the threat of the Walkers approaching and winter nearing. Forming an alliance with the South is necessary, and the Tyrells are the best option due to their abundance of food."

Sansa pressed her lips together, feeling uncomfortable in her posture.

"Am I going to be your path to an alliance? A marriage between me and Willas?"

The answer given by Jon was immediate.

"No, absolutely not. You were forced into marriage, with no choice, and I'll be damned if I force you to marry again. No matter what, if you want to get married, it's to the man of your choice, whether it's Willas Or anyone else. I will see you happy, sister, no matter what good it may or may not bring. "

Jon witnessed a few tears of relief cascade down his sister's face, yet she swiftly regained control and proceeded with a perplexed tone.

"Thanks, Jon, but how else are we going to get the Tyrells to join us?"

Jon smiled coldly.

"My intention is for Cersei to hand them over to us."

Sansa sat there with her mouth open and eyes wide in shock at Jon's words. After a minute of silence, he handed her a cup of mead which she quickly drank before speaking.

"So how in the name of the Seven would you do something like that? You know Tommen is married to Margaery, right?"

"Tommen is a boy who may not be able to consummate the marriage. According to you, Cersei dislikes you and feels threatened by the Tyrells. How do you think she would respond if she were to find out that you and Willas have been secretly talking and planning to reclaim your family's home, and possibly continue to fight and kill the Lannisters?"

Sansa raised her eyebrows in shock.

"No matter the consequences, she would lash out at the nearest possible enemy.Cersei will force the Tyrells to align with us in order to survive, as they will have no other option once she drives them away.If she were to wipe them out entirely, what would we do?"

Jon thought that conquering the Reach would be much easier, but he did not say it.

"We can try to form a new alliance with those who take Highgarden. In any case, the Tyrell-Lannister alliance will fail. As a result, we will be able to deal with Ramsay without assistance from the South. 'Could you please write these letters so I can send them to the South?' "

"Of course, brother. Cersei will remember my handwriting," she paused as she held up the parchment, "exactly how will you be sure that these letters fall into Cersei's hands?"

"I will sail them south and anchor at Lannisport, where someone will no doubt read all the letters coming from the north and inform the Queen Regent. While this is happening, I will keep you in secret. I will send you to Bear Island. When Cersei finds out about these letters, she will try to send assassins after you, and I don't want her to know where you are. You are leaving tonight. "

Sansa remained silent for once and shared a nod with Jon before walking away. He was surprised by her confession but relieved that she had finally come to her senses. Sending her to Bear Island with Rickon was a wise move, as the Mormonts were loyal to the Starks and Jon himself. He had originally planned for them to watch over Sansa, but now he questioned his decision. The only concern he had was when Sansa would encounter the prisoner on Bear Island, whom he had sent there weeks ago. The information they had gathered from him had been valuable, and Jon had left a letter for Sansa explaining his actions. If she sided with Baelish in any way, they would both end up in the cells.

While preparing for bed, Jon's thoughts turned to the topic of marriage, which was something he had never considered before. As a Stark and King, it was expected of him to find a wife and heir. Although he had accepted the idea of not having children or finding love, he now realized the importance of forming alliances through marriage. He considered potential matches such as Alys Karstark and the Manderly granddaughters, but his thoughts ultimately turned to the possibility of marrying Daenerys Targaryen to prevent her from seeing him as a threat. This idea of marriage seemed like the best solution to him as he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of silver hair and violet eyes.

BLOODRAVEN

Brynden nodded with satisfaction, then removed himself from his distant relative's mind. The coldness of his magic still filled the room. He returned to his throne in the Weirwood roots, surrounded by silence except for the satisfying sound of the injured wolf crying below him. Brynden used to feel hope towards Brandon Stark, believing that he could pass on his cursed mantle and join his family in peace. However, that hope turned to despair when he saw the terrible actions his heir would commit in the future. Shocked by this vision, Brynden took immediate action. He subdued and moved the boy's companions deeper into the cave to prevent them from interfering with his new plan. Brynden captured the Stark boy and used his powerful blood to alter the past and bring a better version of his distant relative into this world. The version he had been observing had also disappointed him, as he held onto honor too tightly. The boy's pleas did not move Brynden, although he did listen to his words with his one eye.

"I don't understand," the boy cried weakly, "You said I was going to fly."

"You should have just focus on the world and not interfere. I thought losing your legs would soften your childhood urges, but apparently I was wrong. Either way, you will have served a purpose, even if it's no longer as mine Heir."

If the boy had the ability to scream, he would have done so while Brynden forcefully inserted the roots deeper into his veins, extracting the powerful magical blood of the First Men. Brynden needed this blood for his spells in order to stay one step ahead of the Others, pushing them back into their icy chambers where they had been resting for the past eight thousand years. However, the boy was frail and nearing death. Brynden required more time to return both of his kinsmen to their rightful place. These two individuals were the only ones capable of truly defeating his sworn enemy and rival. The Stark girl had only managed to eliminate his physical form in that particular timeline, which Brynden refused to allow to happen again. He had remained in that world long enough to witness the Night King's revival beyond the Wall and witness his unstoppable conquest. Although Brynden wished to curse the foolishness of the Silver Prince, he had at least forged Lightbringer correctly. It was astonishing to think that people had misinterpreted the ancient prophecy as referring to an actual sword rather than the wielder themselves. Even Dark Sister, resting below him in the cave, could not rise from the ground to slay an adversary. It had to be wielded. Suddenly, a thought entered Brynden's mind, and he summoned the one other person who could hear him no matter where she was. Immediately, her familiar voice and presence filled the room, although her face remained concealed beneath the red lacquer mask.

"What happened to defeating the Others, whatever the cost?"

"I will not allow our family, Shiera, to suffer. I have made numerous sacrifices for them, and it would be unjust for them to fail due to the actions of the unsophisticated Andals and First Men."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Brynden? The last time you tried to intervene, you helped break the mind of the prince's grandfather."

Brynden shrugged, his guilt was nowhere to be seen because he did not have any.

"Aerys was already partially insane due to his torture and upbringing, and I had an opportunity to ready Westeros for the danger I had recently discovered. Being inexperienced with this power, I dedicated my time to improve. The Prince, who is from another realm, only experiences a cold chill that he attributes to the Wall."

"So it looks like you understand everything."

He scowled with his one eye at her, still annoyed by the tone in her voice, but grateful that she could still evoke emotions in him.

"Westeros and the North are my domain, but the Shadowbinders and Red Priests have affected the magical currents in Essos, leaving me unable to reach and advise our other kin there, although you can."

"The Mother of Dragons thinks I am untrustworthy. How can I possibly give her advice?"

If the tree had not grown into and passed through his arms, he would have raised them in frustration. Shiera always had a knack for pushing him to the brink of insanity with her inquiries.

"Someone must do it. Her only advisors are a deceitful Lyseni spy whose loyalty shifts quickly, and a drunken pimp whose focus is solely on the power he can obtain. We require her presence, Shiera, and we require them to work together. Throughout all of our visions of the future, their partnership is the only thing preventing the world from descending into darkness. We must intervene."

Brynden had been patient as his once great love remained silent for a long time. Being patient was all he could do. He had spent many years waiting and observing, deteriorating on this cursed tree, only surviving because of the magic of the Children. It felt like hours had passed when Shiera finally nodded briefly, her voice filled with seriousness for once.

"I will do my best to assist her and hopefully accompany her when she embarks on her journey back home."

Brynden nodded and offered a small smile.

"Thank you, Shiera. Please take Visenya's sword and give it to her as a gesture to earn her trust."

She glanced at the sword lying almost forgotten on the ground and smirked.

"I wondered where it had gone and how many other spells you had placed upon the blade."

Her question was met with silence, causing her to pout in disappointment. He could envision her sly smile as she looked into the nearby pool, watching the surface ripple without any wind.

"I see you did give the prince very sweet dreams. Was this a boat trip they took together? Where is he in the real world?"

He gave a single nod.

"If I had not intervened, the Prince may have made a foolish decision and committed himself to someone else, ultimately leading to the downfall of the Targaryen lineage. They are the only ones capable of producing offspring together, and they will do so. Currently, he is making plans to sail to the Reach to rescue the exiles by liberating their city from the Twins."

Brynden Rivers had given up too much for his family to let it diminish without taking action. He had killed and betrayed his own relatives for the sake of his House, relinquished his morality for the powers of magic, and even put his own physical well-being on the line to protect House Targaryen, all to ensure their success. He was determined to persist in these efforts, regardless of any obstacles. His family, and only his family, held true significance in his eyes.