Impactful Echoes

A/N: Hello everyone. First of all, sorry for the longer than usual delay. An unforeseen situation **** me to start moving from my house and well, it has been a slow process. And most importantly when it comes to writing, I ended up needing a new desk and I hadn't been able to get one yet. So, while this chapter is still among the longest ones at nearly 6,000 words (so, just a little over 2,500 words less than the longest one), I actually originally intended to break my record again for this one and finish it with Ramsay's execution I know you are all waiting for. But it has honestly been slow and physically uncomfortable to advance with this chapter over the past month. So, between that and all the requests for me to update soon, I thought that you have probably waited long enough so I decided to split the content of my original plan for the chapter once more. It's still way longer than usual as I said but if your expectations were elsewhere in terms of the content you get, that is why.

Speaking off, since it has been a month, I would recommend everyone to take a moment to head back to the last chapter when you can and reread the prophetic lines, especially those concerning the Light and Melisandre's sacrifice. Because in case not everyone noticed, most of the events foretold by that prophecy took place in that chapter but not all, especially those from the last few sets of lines. And as it hinted, Melisandre's actions, the implications of which will be explored in full over time, have spread far and wide. Beyond Westeros even. We are seeing some fo those effects take place in this chapter and while you may be a bit confused at some of those details and sudden appearances, they are important plotline seeds that will be harvested later for important developments later on.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter and if you do, please remember to review.

Epigraph:

Do not let your faith in this clueless mortal blind you to the point you’ll let disaster consume our world.

About an hour later, after assuring them that he will pass judgment on the treacherous Northerner lords that survived the conflict soon, King Jon excused himself from his talks with the Lords from the North and the Vale that had supported him in the battle, feeling the need to clear his head. He had learned much from the first part of the conflict from them, and the information about the Burning Weirwood that his sister Sansa had discovered after the last time they had a mental conversation left his mind reeling with implications. This was especially so once his beloved sister confided on some of the lines written on the Forrester family diaries that made her suspect their Child of the Forest of an ancestor had actually been driven to the decision to sacrifice his life to awaken his deity after the long-lived being had likely been influenced by the Prophetic Quake from Jon's own godly ascension had been felt in the past as well.

The legitimized Stark sighed as he walked on, unable to shake the feelings of inadequacy that had been growing louder lately, especially after that sorcerer from Yi Ti had successfully managed to break his concentration for much of the battle through magical ambush; his wishes failing to form properly in his mind without enough calm to focus. After all, impressive as that might have been for mere mortal standards, Jon knew for a fact that had become something higher by that point. He should have been more prepared, or at least reacted better under pressure. Alas, he was still also a relatively inexperienced dragonrider and so the dizzying circumstances caught him off-guard.

Sighing, he found himself approaching a spot just outside the walls of Ironrath where the dead were being gathered in two separate areas, distinguishing them depending on the side they had fought. The sight only made him sigh more heavily, despite the fact that those that had fallen from his faction were actually few compared to the bannermen from the Bolton's side of the civil war.

"At least all the wounded from both sides that had survived the battle were fully healed by that...eruption of light," He thought to himself. "Although, even after Davos explained to me what he knew based on Melisandre's last words, I don't know much more than they do, aside from the fact that R'hllor must have had something to do with it. But the scale of power involved was so different from what I have seen or heard yet that I couldn't tell what changed here...which only makes me think I should know better given my new nature, instead of feeling a little overwhelmed."

And yet, the memory of Melisandre's sacrificial exchange wouldn't escape him, nor did the revelations that the former Hand of the King that had known her share with them.

The king shook his head, feeling dismayed. "Poor Shireen," He whispered, feeling his heart going out for the little princess now that he knew for sure what had happened.

Brooding deeply, the secret god found himself examining the bodies of the fallen until he eventually found Melisandre's, carefully placed further away from some of the other corpses. Whether someone had isolated her from the rest because they had become impressed and grateful by her last-ditch magical efforts to heal them all aided them in finishing the battle and thus wanted to honor her, or because word had already spread that she had sacrificed an innocent child for power he did not know. Regardless, her face looked silently at peace, and unlike everyone else that died on the battlefield, she had no visible wounds anywhere that would help someone figure out her course of ****. Yet another reason why her sacrifice was mystical in nature.

Jon sighed heavily, feeling conflicting emotions surging inside him as he stared at her. Soon, however, he heard someone approach and then, he found the comforting presence of his beloved sister beside him.

She was silent for a long moment, taking in the scene before them. Then, she glanced at him, her beautiful red mane moving softly with the cold wind.

"Are you alright?" She asked simply.

Jon took a deep breath and sighed again. "I am not sure how I feel, to be honest. Melisandre was the one who set the stage for my revival, ensuring through her magical connection to R'hllor that I would be a viable candidate to be empowered by the deity that made me ascend. I can't deny I owe her a lot for that. But, as you heard from Davos, she also murdered an innocent girl in an attempt to gain a favorable result from divine intervention. Worse, it seems that she somehow managed to convince Shireen's parents to stand aside and let her do it in an unthinkable act of betrayal. And while I am so relieved that she was somehow able to revive the princess to correct the worst of her mistake, now I can't help but wonder if...well, if someone will ever decide to commit horrible acts of religious **** in my name," He admitted. "The mere idea makes me sick."

"Ah," Sansa said slowly, her tone full of dawning realization. "I can see how that would make you lose sleep at night."

Then she inhaled deeply and held his hand to the side. To him, it felt warm and soothing to the touch, despite the cool air.

"Remember what father told us a few weeks before Robert Baratheon arrived at Winterfell about the limits and duties of men in power?" She finally asked.

Jon had to think about it for a few seconds but before long, he saw Ned Stark in his mind's eye once more, surrounded by his children as they talked about past kings around the hearth.

"He said that even the best of kings have limits and that they can't control everything," The legitimized Stark remembered. "But that what they can do is try their best to do the right thing when their subjects step out of line, even if it cost them. That way they can ensure they stay on the correct side of the judgment of history."

Sansa nodded. "Well, there is your answer. If the time comes that you can't keep your new divine nature a secret from the world, make it abundantly clear that you will not tolerate people using the implications of your godly status as an excuse to commit **** of any kind. And then back it up with your actions if need be. But never forget, that god or not, you don't have to bear your burdens alone. I will stand with you every step of the way."

Jon smiled at her, his eyes melancholic. "I know I was needed elsewhere to finish rallying our forces. But even with the times that we stole together in our private world, I really did miss you. Thank you, Sansa. More and more, I find myself wondering what I would do without you," He confessed.

Sansa beamed back at him, her eyes radiant under the torchlight. Then she glanced briefly to the people in their immediate vicinity and as if making up her mind about something, she turned back to him and sighed. "I love you too, Jon," She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The young god inhaled sharply as he held her gaze for a moment. But then he broke away, remembering that they were still in public and he hadn't found a way to make his future marriage to his sister much easier to swallow for his people. At least not one that he found acceptable since the idea of violating the minds of so many people across the world with his powers still made him uneasy.

So, he tried to distract his thoughts by looking elsewhere. But then, he couldn't help but frown as he focused on Melisandre's necklace and stared flatly.

He must have been quiet for a long moment trying to understand what he was looking at because he almost didn't notice Sansa calling him out.

"...is it?" She asked him.

Jon shook his head as if to clear it before glancing at her. "There is a lot of magical power stored in that necklace. I am just realizing that now because of a wish I made earlier today that allowed me to detect and intuit much from watching different acts of magic at work."

Sansa's eyes widened for a moment before she examined the piece of jewelry herself, lifting her hand to caress her own magical necklace in the process. "And?"

"And it appears that it is a glamor charm design to make Melisandre look younger than she actually is," Jon remarked. "But from what I can tell, it is no longer active now that she is dead and yet she looks the same as before."

Sansa stayed quiet for a long moment after that but then she gasped. "Are you saying...that huge display of R'hllor's light restored her youth before she died, just like it healed the soldiers from their wounds?"

"So it would seem," Jon said, his tone filled with surprise at the implications.

But then he shook his head and knelt down to remove the necklace from her with a tender touch, bowing his head solemnly as he did so. Then he got back up and stared at the magical object from up close, squinting his gaze.

"Anything else?" His sister asked with a curious voice.

"Yes..." He replied, his tone baffled. "Now that I have it this close to my face, I can actually read the magical inscriptions that I can now tell are hidden from ordinary eyes. It's a message, for me."

"Huh," Sansa hummed, pondering. "A last message of sorts from the Red Priestess, maybe?"

"Maybe it's in there," Jon admitted. "But that can't be all."

"Why?"

"Because the message clearly says that it was, "Delivered by the one that came to carry the soul of Melisandre of Asshai into Oribos for the Arbiter's judgment. And before that...Jon Stark's soul, before we got unexpectedly interrupted by that extremely powerful deity. Keep it close and on my honor as an Ascended, you will soon gain some of the answers you seek." Jon recited, his voice growing more baffled with every sentence.

Sansa recovered her own voice first, but she was still gaping at him. "Did you just...did you just get a message from an agent of the afterlife?"

"So it would seem...although based on Beric Dondarrion's memories from his time beyond the veil and when mentioning this mysterious Arbiter, I got the impression that there may actually be plenty of different afterlives, in fact," Jon muttered. "This is the first time I have heard of Oribos though."

"Must be a very important place," His sister said slowly.

Jon nodded almost imperceptibly and sighed.

"There are too many things I don't know about," He remarked, remembering those times when Ygritt had told him that he knew nothing. "It didn't use to bother me so much but now that I am a god, I feel like I need to know more about...well, everything, but things of divine nature especially. Otherwise, how can I know when I am committing mistakes on an enormous scale without realizing it?"

"Well...the one that wrote that magical message promised answers for you," Sansa replied softly. "That may be one place to start. As for everything else...well, I don't really know but as I said, I will be there for you, Jon. And I am here to stay."

Breathing deeply, Jon placed the necklace on the pouch he had tied around his waist before looking back at his sister with gratitude. She gave him a small smile and then they moved back, to rejoin their friends and family.

The middle of the Stepstones: The Narrow Sea

The Red Priest Alester Sarwyck, elder son of the late Lord Raynald Sarwyck from the Westerland town of Riverspring, woke up at the storming sound of footsteps approaching his door through the deck of their hidden stronghold. Frowning, he rose from the bed and tilted his head since his senses suddenly felt off. But then he stood up and moved to open the door to his cabin to see what the noise was about.

And when he spotted his old friend, his jaw dropped...for the warg known as Mors Westford was finally engulfed by the golden Light of his Lord, the hall behind him glimmering with the glow.

The Westerosi Red Priest gasped at the sign long-awaited but before he could speak, the former ranger of the Night's Watch looked at him frantically.

"Is this what you saw in your vision?" Mors demanded to know, his usually gruff voice trembling slightly with his sense of urgency.

Shaking his head in awe at the sight of the portent from his god, Alester nodded firmly. "Among other things but yes. How does it feel?" He couldn't help but ask.

For once, the stern man actually smiled widely at him before long. "Wonderful. My heart feels healed and has started beating for the first time in years. And I feel such vigor flowing through my limbs it seems unreal. I feel like I could take on the very worst monstrous scum that used to serve Tywin Lannister and defeat them all this time around even if the Mountain is also among them."

The highborn from the Westerlands actually smirked at that as certain mental images of righteous retribution entered his head and filled him with satisfaction. But then his eyes widened, as he noticed the particular wording that his old friend had used.

"That "used" to serve Tywin Lannister?" He asked for clarification, his voice growing louder in the process.

At that, Mors looked at him with a supremely pleasing look. "We heard the news less than an hour ago, while you were sleeping. We didn't learn of it sooner because the Corsair King has been focusing on consolidating his forces and ordered the fleet to scatter and lay low around the Stepstones since he returned from the Ruins of Old Valyria. But yes, Tywin Lannister's bloody and arrogant past finally caught up with him. The man that exiled me to the Wall for disobeying his orders to butcher the Targaryen infants has finally died, killed by his own dwarf son after the Old Lion had actually sentenced him to ****; and rumor has it that it was for a crime that the Hand knew that Tyrion Lannister had not actually committed but still wanted to take advantage of the excuse," He explained with a nod of finality.

Then he paused for a moment, before adding more. "I don't normally condone kinslaying but given the circumstances, I am going to consider what his youngest son did to be self-defense."

Alester Sarwyck was silent for a long moment after that, closing his eyes in contemplation as he remembered the crime he was **** to commit during Robert's Rebellion under Tywin's orders that haunted his conscience enough to push him into self-imposed exile from Westeros for years. Eventually, he had found comfort in the Light of R'hllor and chose to train to become a Red Priest. And for a long time, he excelled at some of the more mystical aspects of his faith.

But then everything changed when he had to return back to Westeros for his unfinished business...and was struck by those prophetic visions that quaked across the future.

He looked at the man he released from his oaths to the Night's Watch by getting his permission to slay him and then revive him through R'hllor's grace. "What about Lady Greystone and her son Vaegon?" Have they also...?" He trailed off pointing at his glowing form.

The Westford Knight nodded. "The Light of R'hllor surged through them around the same time as it did me. They are currently with the Corsair King to show him the proof of the visions we had shared with him. We should join them."

Alester was in agreement so adjusted his red cloak and rushed to exit the room. "Any other news I should know about?" He asked.

The revived man turned his brightened head to him as they walked. "Yes. This information came from some of our allies the Corsair King had sent on a long mission to Meereen. And it is from that city that they have learned a most interesting development...to keep his head, Tyrion Lannister ended up making his way to Slaver's Bay and managed to convince the Dragon Queen to accept him into her inner circle."

"Huh," The highborn from the Westerlands said as his eyes widened in surprise. "That's convenient for us...and more than that, I am sure the Corsair King would be pleased to hear that. He always did tell us that Tyrion was always his favorite nephew."

"It does seem like our patience and faith in your omens is about to be rewarded," Mors admitted. "I must confess, as months turned to years in our exile, I had begun to wonder."

Then he placed a hand on his heart and smiled, likely at the sensations of his restored heartbeat. "But now I am convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt. So, let's get ready. It's only a matter of time before we regroup with the rest of the fleet."'

Then he paused as he looked at their companions around the hidden stronghold who were openly gaping as they looked at the golden glow that cascaded across his body. "I just wish I knew what exactly caused this eruption of Light where R'hllor is concerned."

Alester sighed. "That I still don't know although I imagine another Red Priest must have been involved somehow. Again, all I can tell you for certain is that back when I had my original visions on the matter, the action that guaranteed this outcome took place somewhere in the North."

Mors took a deep breath probably taking a moment to think back on his time at the Wall. "Well, whatever it was, it appears we have much work to do.

The Westerosi servant of the Lord of Light nodded in agreement.

"Then let's hope the Dragon Queen takes well to our offer once we get to Meereen."

Ironrath: The North

Jon Stark and his beloved sister made it back to the Great Hall of the Forrester Keep. and once inside, they noticed that some of the Lords and valued supporters that he had been able to talk to earlier because they were busy overseeing the efforts to restrain the captured soldiers had made their way to Ironrath by then; which likely meant they were done for the time being. In particular, he noticed that Lord Baelish was there, speaking with their host, Lord Rodrik, with an openly pleasant demeanor, which made him frown ever so slightly as he was unable to stop himself from wondering how much of that was just politeness and how much was sincere on his part.

Close to him was Lord Royce and that reminded him that he had requested information about the White Walkers directly from him. And it had pleased him to learn that more and more Lords were starting to consider that the possibility of the Army of the Dead's existence should not be just dismissed out of hand. Still, he wasn't looking forward to reporting their new insights about horrible news regarding his youngest son's **** during a ranging beyond the Wall...and what probably came next for him.

Sighing, he turned his eyes to the other armored Knight of the Vale that was near the current regent of the Eyrie. He was a wide man with thick arms and shoulders, although he wasn't particularly tall for his robust frame. His hair was a dirty blond mop and even from the entrance of the Great Hall, Jon could notice that he had a booming voice even as he was being chivalrous to Lady Lyanna when he bowed to her in greeting. His cloak blazoned his family's sigil, which was a burning tower in yellow, within a black pile, upon flaming red.

Jon blinked a bit, feeling that he should recognize the coat of arms but after all the events of the day, he simply couldn't remember.

Before long, the Lords and Ladies noticed their arrival and the conversations stopped, with all of them, even the highborn from the Vale, rushing to bow immediately. But their hot took it a step further and approached before kneeling before him.

"It's my honor to welcome you to Ironrath, my King," Lord Rodrik said in greeting, his tone grateful. "I never did get the chance to thank you for completely turning the tide against the Whitehill army before needing to fly to Riverrun and now your aid proved invaluable for the defense of Ironrath during the last battle. On behalf of House Forrester, allow me to express our undying gratitude."

Then he pointed his unsheathed blade at the Ironwood floor and bowed his head once more. "Back then, I told the exceptional Lady Sansa that I was proud to renew my oaths of loyalty to House Stark from that day until my last day. But now, I say it to you," He declared with conviction. "Hail Jon Stark, King of the North!"

Cheers erupted all across the hall and Jon took a lone moment to bask in their enthusiasm and expressions of loyalty but out of the corner of his he saw Rickon chanting as well and the sight made him freeze momentarily...and abruptly, the realization that he was technically usurping Rickon's place in the line of succession hit him with full ****.

"As I understand it, Robb only legitimized me after Rickon and Bran were presumed dead," He remembered. "He did end up explicitly disinheriting Sansa to avoid the Lannisters claiming the North through her if he fell. But he also declared his intentions to specifically name me his heir so that I could lead the North through war and crisis more capably if it came to that. So, what would take lawful precedence in such a will? The realization that my trueborn half-brother was not actually dead at the time the testament was made or the urgency in the circumstances that made Robb name me his direct heir?" He wondered silently.

Suddenly, Jon realized he honestly didn't know. But regardless, he was going to need to have a long conversation with Rickon and his other siblings as soon as possible.

For the time being, however, he managed to outwardly smile at his new loyal subjects and nodded at them in respect.

"I am honored that House Stark was able to count House Forrester among its closest and most valuable bannermen during our time of need, Lord Rodrik," Jon responded. "And as my father used to say, we meet our true friends on the battlefield. Today especially, you have proved him right and for that as well, I thank you. Rise, friend, and now that your aid will not go unrewarded. I swear it on my honor and on father's grave."

With that, the Ruler of Ironrath rose to his feet and they shook hands, their firm grip denoting their respect for each other. then, Jon turned his gaze.

"How is the situation with the prisoners?" He asked as he addressed the Lord Protector of the Vale.

Littlefinger took a step forward before addressing him. "The bulk of our knights are guarding them, now that they are completely disarmed and most of their resistant has been scared out of them by the recent...display of magical might," Littlefinger said slowly. "We are still making a full headcount and the scouting parties are retuning with some stragglers that tried to escape every hour but there are over 3, 200 survivors by the last report I heard. If that figure doesn't rise much before long, then it would mean that the battle ended with a little over half of the Bolton army dead on the field."

Jon took a moment to incline his head at the loss of life of his fellow Northerners and he couldn't help but feel that it was such a waste. Ramsay's actions truly damaged the already weakened North at a time when they should have been rallying together instead of fighting each other.

Hopefully, the sadist's soon-to-come execution will put most of this dark chapter in Northerner history behind them and allow them to begin nursing their wounds.

"It is a shame that so many had to die before the rest were convinced to surrender," Jon admitted. "But it is what it is. And with any luck, our show of **** will help prevent another civil war in the long term."

"One can hope," Lord Baleish allowed. "But if you allow me, King Jon, there is someone I would like you to meet," He said as he pointed to the blonde warrior with the sigil he didn't recognize. "One of the most powerful lords of the Vale in fact. This is Lord Gerold of House Grafton, ruler of Gulltown, the biggest port and only major city in the Vale of Arryn."

Jon's eyes widened slightly at that. Gulltown was one of the only 5 major cities in Westeros as while still smaller than King's Landing, Oldtown, and Lannisport, it was still bigger than White Harbor. That would make Gerold Grafton one of the most powerful lords in all of Westeros that does not come from one of the regional Great Houses and a member of an exclusive company of highborn due to the urban domains he held. The fact that he choose to personally come to his aid, especially considering that his family had sided with the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion and therefore against the Starks at the time must speak volumes about his dissatisfaction with the Iron Throne.

"It's an honor, Lord Grafton," Jon said with a diplomatic tone. "I am grateful for your aid during the battle."

The blonde warrior actually chuckled, his laughter booming across the hall. "It wasn't actually much of a battle for us," He admitted. "We only managed to arrive in time to fight against those that had already retreated south and start rounding up prisoners."

"Mayhaps, but all the same, we value our allies here," Jon remarked. "They don't say the North remembers for nothing. Your forces' contributions are still important to keep the area pacified after our army exhausted itself in combat. So, do not for one second think that your aid is not appreciated. And do not think I take your commitment to riding to our aid lightly, especially given the Iron Throne opposition on the matter."

The ruler of Gulltown nodded slowly at that, his expression clearly in deep thought at that moment. But then he snorted.

"We are sick and tired of bowing to the Lannisters," He proclaimed. "And while it's unbecoming to speak ill of the dead, Lady Lysa proved herself to be a cold and disloyal daughter by staying completely neutral and allowing her maiden family's homeland to burn under the Old Lion's orders, while her father withered away and died of illness. We should have taken the chance to join forces with your brother Robb when she had the chance, especially after it became more and more clear that Joffrey had no rightful claim. But while what's done is done, the future is still an open road. Hopefully, there is still time to build a better one in our lifetimes."

The secret god looked at him for a moment longer as he analyzed his words and realized that he couldn't argue with his logic or with his sentiment. So, he offered him his hand. The Lord of the biggest city in the Vale smiled and shook it.

"I actually have a lot of projects in mind to develop the North further," Jon revealed. "Several of which involves expanding our fleets, both for military and mercantile purposes. We should talk one of these days and discuss how White Harbor and Gulltown could benefit from all of that. And I am sure Lord Wyman would love to be invited to those talks."

At that, Lord Gerold smiled even wider. "I am looking forward to hearing all about your plans my Lord. If half the things I have heard about you are as true as what I have seen today, then I am sure it could be the beginning of a profitable alliance."

Jon smiled back at that, once more pondering the implications that his "Weirwood Web Transportation System" could have on trade if he developed the idea much further. But that was a conversation for another time, as Princess Val reminded him when she spoke.

"King Jon, what do you intend to do with the Lords we captured."

Everyone turned to him directly at that moment, clearly curious as well. Jon cleared his throat and steeled his gaze. "Ramsay is getting executed, plain and simple," He began, his voice not wavering in the slightest. "That monster has too much to answer for."

Then he paused for a moment to finish gathering his thoughts on the matter. "As for Lords Karstark and Umber...aside from listening to your reports after the battle, I went to speak with them to see if they had anything to say for themselves. Their responses...did not inspire much confidence," The young king stated flatly, remembering Harald trying to lunge at him with contempt before being restrained by guards and Smalljon ranting that his Stark ancestors would spit on him for breaking bread with wildlings. "For a time, I had considered giving them the option to take the Black but honestly, recent events have left me warier at the idea of sending rebelling oathbreakers to the Wall. Undermanned as the Night's Watch at the moment, the risk of them breaking those oaths again does not seem worth it."

"More to the point, it's not just them siding with the Boltons that was the biggest part of their crimes as far as I am concerned," Jon remarked. "To a point, I could have understood their initial actions even if I didn't agree with them. After all, after the disaster that was the Red Wedding, my family lost control of the North and there were no Starks to rally behind for a long time. And even after Sansa and I started rallying an army, not everyone had heard that I was actually revived at the time and so had reason to think I had a valid reason to leave the Night's Watch so the Karstarks and Umbers could have been forgiven for thinking I was a deserter at the time. And while I have many reasons that led me to the conclusion that making peace with the Free Folk is the right move, especially with the horrors beyond the Wall gathering strength, I never made them clear to Smalljon," Thye King allowed. "And I can't deny that the Umbers and the Free Folk have a long and bloody history of raids and counter-attacks so it is understandable that they were concerned at my unprecedented decision to allow your people passage south of the Wall back when I was Lord Commander," He added, while looking at Princess Val. "Especially given that the Last Hearth is much closer to the Wall than most of the other Northerner Lords."

"However...that was before the news and copies of my brother Robb's will started spreading far and wide," He added, his tone firm. "They had ample opportunity to learn that I was legitimized and chosen as my brother's heir and make they chose and they still chose to remain on the side of the Boltons. And as if that wasn't enough, they betrayed my youngest brother's trust handed Rickon to the bloody torturer that was desecrating our ancestral home with his presence; and killed his own direwolf protector no less. And that, that I cannot let stand," Jon proclaimed.

And so, he took a deep breath. "My duty demands I make an example of them. So, to the chopping block, they go."

The gathered Lords were quiet for a long moment, clearly contemplating the situation I have been pondering as I laid it out for them. In the end, no one objected and more than one nod was seen across the Great Hall.

Before they could ask for anything else, however, one of the guards opened the doors and addressed him.

"Forgive the intrusion, my king, but there is a man here that begs an audience with you. He claims to have given an early warning to Rickon Stark that ensured he was ready to move when Brienne of Tarth came to rescue him," He reported.

Jon tilted his head and looked at Rickon, who stood straighter at the information. "That must be Skrel of House Magnar!" His brother replied, excitedly. "He used a Glass Candle while I was imprisoned to send a message directly into my mind while I was imprisoned. That's why I knew to expect Brienne when she came and we escaped fast from the tent."

Whispers started circling at yet another mention of magic being used that day. On his part, however, Jon narrowed his eyes as he understood that this meant he was probably another of those strange wizards from Skagos.

The island that R'hllor himself had asked him to visit as soon as he could. And after a bright display of power on the battlefield that night, the secret god didn't think he could afford to wait much longer for that state visit.

"Let him in," The Stark King commanded. "I have many questions for my new bannermen from that isolated island. And it is past time they give me some straight answers."

A/N: Well, that's it for now. Hopefully, the whole move will be done soon enough for me to post another chapter this week. And again, sorry for the long wait but without a desk to work with, writing this chapter was honestly slow and uncomfortable.

Also, if you are wondering, those characters we saw on the Stepstones are characters from the Game of Thrones 2012 RPG game that starts about 4 months before S1 and ends shortly after Ned Stark's beheading. The story is actually pretty good and the lore was actually more based on the books even if a few actors from the show reprised their roles there, like Varys and Commander Mormont for example. Heck, George RR. Martin himself has a cameo.

But regardless, at the risk of being spoilery, because of the choice-based endings for the game, depending on how you played and what options you picked, certain major characters from the game like Mors and Alester could die, and then you would follow the other one until the end. But well, over here, let's just say for now that the Prophetic Quake that was felt in the past strongly affected Alester, the Red Priest from the Lannister lands, and that...altered things significantly for him and those immediately around him. More explanations on that front after they get to Meereen. Along with everything that will entail regarding Corsair King from the books that I mentioned there and the specific theory I subscribed to about his identity.

Anyway, hope you liked the scenes you read and as always, reviews are always appreciated so I hope to hear from you soon!