Honored Allies and Paths Examined

A/N: Here is the next one, and soon after the last one, as promised. I hope you enjoy it, since its longer than the last few.

Happy reading and have fun with chapter 120!

In the aftermath of the victory at Ironrath, Jon Stark descended the stone walls, leaving behind the weight of his recent conversation with Sansa and the promise of approaching justice. The chill air of the North greeted him, a familiar companion by now to his solitary thoughts. As he navigated the rugged path back to the earth so that he could find the allies he was searching for, the sight of the encampment spread out before him and it caught his attention.

The clearing, once a battlefield, now bore the quiet activity of soldiers, survivors, horses, and prisoners...and of course, the price of their victory. Jon's gaze lingered on an isolated corner where the fallen were gathered, their bodies soon to be claimed by fire per his orders, a final gesture of honor and farewell regardless of the side they fought in this conflict. The pyres, meticulously prepared, awaited the torch, their somber presence a grim reminder of the cost of conflict.

A curse slipped through Jon's lips, a whispered venom for Ramsay Bolton, the bloody architect behind this unnecessary strife. His thoughts briefly spiraled towards the greater threats looming over the North: the dark sails of Euron Greyjoy's Ironfleet on their western horizons, the schemes of Cersei Lannister in the south, and the chilling advance of the White Walkers Beyond the Wall to the far north. And at a time when they should have been working together to prepare against those foreign threats, the usurper's ambition made sure their unity was shattered during the first civil war the North had to endure in centuries.

Jon sighed, his stare unfocused. "And now it falls to me to pick up the pieces, dispense justice, and lead our people as we rebuild our strength to prepare for what's coming for us," He thought. "Hopefully, my new ideas to help improve the North's economy, food stores, and infrastructure will help. Some of them will require some extra thought and planning before I can announce them, though, as they will be hard enough to explain even with magic as an excuse."

He scratched his chin and wondered yet again at the possibility of expanding the inner circle of people around him who actually knew for sure that he had gained some limited but still mighty godly powers, so that they could advise him better. Already, he had promised himself to tell Margaery Tyrell the truth because, as he said the last time he spoke with her, she deserved to know so that she could decide if she truly wanted to marry him, especially given the understanding that, given his newfound nature and that of his powers, she could not be his only wife.

"No," Jon muttered, while shaking his head. "That is not the kind of thing I can just ambush her with during our wedding night."

On the other hand, if Margaery ended up agreeing all the same once she could make an informed decision, that raised the question of whether or not to include other members of House Tyrell in on the secret so that Margaery wouldn't have to lie to her family constantly. And that was a point where he hesitated with all three of them but for different reasons.

Margaery's father simply didn't strike him as an intelligent man, and like Arya said when last they talked about him, Lord Mace seemed to be full of himself without even realizing it, which seemed like a dangerous combination to have where being entrusted with his gigantic secret was concerned, especially given his apparent inability to read people easily.

Loras, on the other hand, had suffered more than enough after being tortured by the Faith Militant and made to feel ashamed of his preference for male lovers day in and day during his time in the cells of King's Landing. In fact, Margaery had even told him in confidence that Loras had later admitted to her on the boat that, before he had arranged for their rescue from that shitpile of a city, he had felt so guilty and afraid of the High Septon and his followers that he was planning to confess all during the public trial that ended up getting interrupted by Cersei Lannister's wildfire massacre, so that he would renounce his claim as heir to Highgarden.

With all of that in mind, Jon wasn't exactly sure how the recently tortured Loras would react to the revelation that his sister's new betrothed was actually a secret god, especially since the young king still wasn't sure if the Seven were actually real or not. He had been tempted to check, but he had also been hesitant to use his powers to glean that kind of knowledge, wary that it could be seen as him stepping into their respective domains of divinity as a trespasser and being met with hostility as a result. But either way, he wasn't sure Loras was currently in a good enough state of mind after his painful ordeal to handle that kind of revelation well.

That left Olenna, and he had mixed feelings on the matter of including the shadowy Matriarch of Tyrell in his secret. On the one hand, she was clearly one of the most experienced living players at the game of thrones across the Seven Kingdoms and as long as he could deliver on providing increased prosperity and a higher level of status and influence for House Tyrell, he suspected she would be a reliable enough ally. On the other hand, he had no idea how the Queen of Thorns was going to react to the fact that her dear granddaughter was not going to be the only wife of the new king she intended to ally with. That and she had an air of skillful manipulation around her that made him unsure if he could truly trust her with something as big as the secret of his divinity.

Jon sighed then, realizing that, at any rate, he would have to thread the situation with care if Margaery said yes. Especially given that he frankly felt far more tempted to tell Sarella Sand the truth than any of Margaery's family members...

The secret god swallowed before shaking the thought away, deciding that now was not the time to dwell on these issues.

Shifting his focus, Jon's solemn expression gave way to a small smile as his eyes found Snowfyre atop a snow hill. The sight of his recently named Ice Dragon, a creature of legend made flesh, relaxing amidst the cold made his eyes sparkle in wonder yet again, he was sure. Her wings spread casually as she indulged in the snow, tasting it slowly with her long tongue before eating a dragon-sized mouthful of it.

Around her, the soldiers maintained a respectful distance, but he could easily observe that their wariness was belied by a sense of awe. He could certainly understand the feeling. His mighty she-dragon's presence, beautiful, powerful and otherworldly, was certainly a sight to behold.

Jon continued his walk towards Snowfyre, but as he approached, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when he noticed the company his flying companion was keeping.

"Ghost?" Jon asked, mildly surprised when he noticed his dear direwolf laying on the same snow hill, his white fur camouflaging his from well with the frost, but his red eyes gave him away.

His direwolf barked once in acknowledgement but otherwise stayed where he was, cuddling beside his Ice Dragon's huge form. Jon blinked rapidly when he realized that his two favorite animals were actually getting along.

Then he grinned more widely at that and approached them, petting wolf ears and dragon wings with his hands before too long.

"Thank you both. For everything."

The carriage rattled gently along the snow-covered road towards Winterfell, the constant hum of wheels on snow forming a tranquil backdrop to Margaery Tyrell's tumultuous thoughts. She sat quietly, her gaze occasionally flicking to Sarella Sand, who had just finished a heated yet honorable defense against Lady Olenna's probing questions. Ever since, the Golden Rose found herself caught in another rare moment of introspection, pondering the Dornish woman's fierce loyalty and unwavering honesty.

"In another time and place," Margaery mused silently, "challenging my grandmother in such a direct manner might have been considered a foolhardy, even dangerous endeavor."

Yet, here and now, she couldn't suppress the burgeoning respect for Sarella. The bastard of Dorne had shown a remarkable sense of honor, refusing to betray her family despite the muddied waters of her birth and standing firm in her convictions, even when faced with the sharp wit of the Tyrell matriarch. It was not often that Margaery witnessed someone spar with her Lady Olenna in a manner that led to an apology from the Queen of Thorns herself, rather than a further escalation. And with that, she was starting to see yet again, what Jon may have seen in the unusually highly educated woman when he decided to let her join his court.

And yet, her thoughts then drifted to the news of Arianne Martell's continued survival, a revelation that started to unsettle her a bit because of the possible, if unlikely, implications. Implications that she was sure her grandmother was already thinking about.

Margaery sighed while her fingers tracing what was left of the last apple from their supplies gathered back at White Harbor, her gaze feeling as distant as her thoughts.

Then, she considered the strategic value Sarella might represent to her new King in the North and the Trident: a loyal connection to Sunspear in a court far from Dorne's sun-soaked lands. The possibility that Jon might be positioning her as a mediator or even a linchpin in a future alliance with Dorne flickered through her mind. And the notion that such an alliance could be sealed with a marriage, particularly to the famed beauty of Dorne, pricked at Margaery's heart with an unexpected pang of discomfort.

Despite the logical part of her mind understanding that such a union was unlikely at best, the thought of Jon choosing Arianne Martell over her, and after Sansa's heartfelt blessing, no less, unsettled her more than she cared to admit. And it did not escape her that the very idea that she was even contemplating the likelihood of competing affections, where Jon Stark was concerned, spoke volumes of her feelings for the Northern King that had rooted themselves within her, for the thought alone made her grimace.

Abruptly, she was reminded of her House words, and it suddenly felt like they were echoing back to mock her training and upbringing.

"Growing strong," Margaery thought as she swallowed. "Just as my feelings for Jon had unexpectedly grown stronger and faster than I had expected. Argh, I can't wait to reunite with Sansa so I can speak with her again. Gods know I can't talk about THIS with my grandmother..."

Shaking her head as if to dispel these intrusive thoughts, Margaery decided it was time to confront the emotions swirling within her. She reached for the letter Jon had sent, a missive she had been saving for a quieter moment in their journey, but now, after that moment of introspection, it seemed like the most appropriate time to seek solace in his words. The wax seal felt cool under her fingers, a tangible connection to the man who occupied her thoughts with increasing frequency.

And so, as she carefully broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, Margaery started to read.

My Dearest Lady Margaery,

I trust this letter finds you well and in high spirits. As I write to you from Ironrath, I am filled with a sense of cautious optimism for the future, anchored by the recent victory we have achieved. Though I refrain from delving into the specifics of our triumph, know that on my flight from White Harbor, I thought much on our last conversations and the memory of it all made me smile fondly as the battlefield grew ever closer. And so, I wanted to take a moment to thank you for brightening my day in your own way, especially considering the danger I was knowingly heading into.

Looking ahead, I am acutely aware of the pressing concerns that this new winter will set upon us. The arrival of the cold season brings with it a myriad of challenges, not least of which is the strain it shall places on our food supplies. As such, the importance of our growing alliance with the Reach in this regard cannot be overstated.

Thus, as we navigate the harsh realities of Winter together, I am reminded of my late father's words – that the Starks have long found their true friends on the battlefield. And indeed, the battlefields of Winter, and the subsequent struggle for survival, are no exception. So, allow me to say that I am deeply grateful for the contributions of House Tyrell has committed to our cause, particularly in bolstering our food supplies in the face of adversity.

Still, while it is true that our interactions and discussions of alliance may have begun with both our Houses seeking something from each other and that without the enemies we have in common it may not have come about, I want to emphasize my belief that more and more, I think this could be the start of a very fruitful partnership, and in more ways than one too.

On a more personal note, I must express my gratitude for your continued friendship with Sansa. Her own letter to you, the contents of which she was open with me about, made me smile, I must admit. She also expressed to me that she was so glad I was able to arrange from you and your family's rescue from King's Landing before you could have been caught in the Wildfire trap that Cersei Lannister was about to sprung. More and more, I find myself sharing her relief at that timely decision.

In closing, I eagerly anticipate your arrival at Winterfell, where I envision fruitful discussions that will shape the destiny of our lands. And come what may, I am hopeful for the pivotal role you will play in the North's future.

With warm regards,

King Jon Stark, Ruler of the North and the Trident

P.S. I must relay to you the regards of Lady Mira Forrester, who was with me when I penned this letter alongside her half-brother, Josera Snow, and made the delivery of the raven to your location possible. Mira wanted me to tell you that regardless of how you two parted ways last, she sends her regards and expresses her satisfaction that her House and yours can now focus on a future where they are on the same side of the coming conflicts. And I must say, I wholeheartedly agree with her sentiment there.

As Jon's fingers lingered in the thick fur of Ghost and over the icy scales of Snowfyre, the sheer frost of the Northern landscape around him felt less desolate, warmed by the presence of his faithful companions.

"Thank you for watching over Sansa while I was away," Jon said softly as he petted Ghost's head. "I appreciate that. And I hope you enjoyed spending time with Lady again, now that you were able to reunite with your own sister as well."

The direwolf remained quiet, as usual, but he was breathing rapidly through his mouth, his tongue moving excitedly as if tasting the snow in the air while the king caressed his magnificent white fur.

He then turned to look at his winged friend and moved his hand to massage her skyblue cheeks. She let out a soft rumble in response before stretching her neck and he could have sworn she had purred in contentment for a moment there.

The dragonrider smiled. "And thank you for all the invaluable help you have given me since we meet. For the battles we fought and won, for helping me reach Braavos fast enough to save my sister and of course, for showing me first hand what a wonderous privilege it is to fly. Thank you, Snowfyre, for choosing me as your rider."

Her ears perked up slightly at that and she turned one large sapphire-blue eye at him, her stare taking him in. Then, her jaw widened in a toothy grin, and she fired up a single blast of pale-blue frostflame at an empty patch of snow nearby, making it bigger and much colder.

Around the clearing, men stopped and stared at the abrupt action and the sudden roar that accompanied it, but Jon just chuckled as his fingers traced down her side. "Yes, Snowfyre. Exactly like that. I will take that and your excited roar as a sign of approval. I am glad you liked it."

A few moments later, she directed another grin in his direction, before settling back down into her mound of snow. Ghost approached her after folding her wings and curled himself into a neat white ball next to her. The sight brought unexpected comfort to his heart.

Soon, however, the crunching of snow underfoot announced the approach of others, drawing his attention away from the tranquil moment. He turned back and saw a smiling Princess Val, her braided blonde hair a lovely contrast against the snow.

As she approached, she was accompanied by the formidable figure that was Chieftess Magash Char, leader of the Giants that had pledged loyalty to Jon, towering beside her; her heavy steps reverberating across the short distance. Their presence, commanding and unwavering, caused silence to reemerge across the clearing, and it reminded Jon of the unusual and powerful allies his cause had drawn.

"Princess Val, Chieftess Magash," Jon greeted, his voice imbued with genuine respect and warmth. "I see that you received Tormund's message. Thank you for coming to me. Your support has been invaluable, and on my honor as a Stark, I will see it repaid."

The two leaders exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them before they turned their attention back to Jon. Magash's expression softened, a rare occurrence, as the fierce giant acknowledged Jon's gratitude with a solemn nod, her massive hand thumping against her chest in a gesture of respect.

Val's lips curled into a bold smirk, her gaze sharp and knowing. "King Jon, you certainly know how to flirt with a leader of the Free Folk," She said, her tone teasing yet laced with intrigue. "You have my attention."

Jon couldn't help but chuckle, the tension of the moment easing under Val's light-hearted jab. "I'm glad to hear it," He replied, his expression turning serious once again. "Soon, we will discuss more about the lands to settle that I promised you both and when the time comes, I would like your advice about whether or not you would think it wise to keep most of the Free Folk tribes in the same region or to split them around the North in their own domains granted by House Stark. But while that negotiation is important, I've called you here because, first, there's a matter of justice that needs attention. The execution of Ramsay Bolton is set, and it would be a great honor to have you both by my side, ensuring his crimes to both your peoples and mine are answered for. House Stark has long found it's true friends on the battlefield, like my father used to say, and yesterday, you both proved you were true friends of my House."

The currents seemed to shift with his words, as the weight of his request hung heavy in the air for Freefolk and Bannerman alike, who were close enough to hear and pay attention. Val and Magash shared another look, this time with understanding and determination reflected in their eyes. Right then, the secret god could tell that they knew the significance of what he was asking, the symbolic act of unity it represented among their diverse forces, and a way to further cement the bonds of friendship they had been forging since the past moon's turn in the flames of battle and solidarity.

Magash, her voice deep and resonant, broke the silence. "King Jon, as long as you honor our requests, your enemies are our enemies," The Giantess told him slowly and methodically, and in the Old Tongue that he had made himself understand. "My tribe stands with you, as we have stood since you proved your worth." She bowed her head low, a gesture of profound respect among her people.

Val nodded, her expression resolute. "And the Free Folk remember those who fight for us, who see us as equals. As long as that holds, we'll stand with you, King Jon, for our own sake, for the protection of the North, and to ensure we are protected from our mutual enemies."

Jon was silent at that while he felt a surge of gratitude and pride. In this gathering of leaders, he saw the possibilities of a new future for the North—a future where they could finally live in peace and prospere together. The members of the Free Folk tribes may have been born on the worst side of the Wall. But as it was with the giants, the Children of the Forest, and the various tribes of men during the time of the Battle for the Dawn back in the distant days of the last Long Night, alliances that were previously thought impossible due to the taint of old grudges and the mistakes of the past were now far more likely.

If he played his cards right and didn't screw it all up, that is...

"Thank you," He finally said, his voice carrying the weight of his appreciation. "Let's return to Ironrath. There's much to discuss, and I believe our united front will send a powerful message to all who watch."

They nodded in agreement. And with that, the Free Folk Princess, the Giant Chieftainess, and the King of the North turned back towards the stronghold of House Forrester.

Together.

Margaery sat in the comfortable interior of the carriage as the gentle sway of the carriage and the sound of hoofbeats against the road provided a soothing backdrop to her thoughts. So it was that when she caressed the parchment and read Jon's words yet again, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mingled with curiosity.

"My Dearest Lady Margaery..." Jon's letter had began, and it was then that Margaery couldn't help but smile from the start. She had read on as he expressed his cautious optimism for the future, his words echoing the warmth she had felt during their last conversation in White Harbor. She recalled the subtle glances, the shared smiles, and the unspoken understanding that had passed between them, both before nd after their sudden kiss, and she couldn't help but sigh in contentment the memory.

"On my flight from White Harbor, I thought much on our last conversations..." Jon's words continued, and Margaery's smile widened at the thought. The idea that Jon had been thinking of her during his journey filled her with a sense even as it eased some of her lingering concerns, especially given the dangers he had known he was flying into head-on.

"Looking ahead, I am acutely aware of the pressing concerns that this new winter will set upon us..." He had written, and Margaery nodded in agreement. The challenges of this winter were indeed formidable, and the strain it placed on their food supplies was going to be a matter of grave concern, especially given all the damage the War of the Five Kings and its subsequent conflicts have already caused, to say nothing of the wars to come before Winter was done. So, she appreciated Jon's acknowledgment of the importance of their alliance with the Reach, that he recognized the mutual benefit it brought to both their Houses.

"Still, while it is true that our interactions and discussions of alliance may have begun with both our Houses seeking something from each other and that without the enemies we have in common, it may not have come about..." Jon's letter continued, and Margaery's brow furrowed slightly as she pondered his words. She understood the necessity of political alliances, especially in times of uncertainty and with Cersei Lannister now openly seeking House Tyrell destruction, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more between her House and his, something that transcended mere convenience. Or at least, that there could very well be in due time. She sighed, hoping against hope that that was not just her wishful thinking speaking, before her eyes traced the words further down the piece of paper.

"On a more personal note...", as Jon expressed his gratitude for her friendship with Sansa, and Margaery smiled at the mention of her dear friend. Sansa's safety and happiness had long been of import to her, and knowing that he also valued their friendship was a relief to be sure.

"In closing..." Jon wrote, and Margaery's gaze softened as she read his final words. What's more, she had to admit, the anticipation of their future discussions and his hope for a united front against the challenges that lay ahead filled her with a sense of purpose she had seldom felt during her time as queen back in King's Landing. Thus, in the end, she felt a surge of gratitude towards Jon, not only for his leadership but for the sincerity and warmth with which he had penned his letter.

The final note from Mira Forrester gave her mixed feelings, however, since it reminded her of how she had failed her loyal handmaiden due to her House connection to the Starks.

"I will have to make it up to her somehow," She thought to herself. "It's only right, especially now that we are on the same side again. And besides, it has come to my attention that my new king values honor deeply. So, mayhaps it would do me some good to look at things from his perspective more profoundly."

Finally, with a sigh, Margaery carefully folded the parchment and tucked it away, her mind abuzz with thoughts of Jon and the future that awaited them both. But more than that, as the carriage rolled on towards Winterfell, the Golden Rose couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for the journey that lay ahead.

For while she may not know what her future holds, recent events have left her filled with far more optimism and wonder than she anticipated. And she had a growing feeling that if she followed her own heart and was able to marry King Jon, just like Sansa hoped she would, it would not only be good for her family or for her lingering desires to be queen. But more than that, she was starting to believe that one way or another, it would make her happy in ways none of her other marriages ever had.

And she soon realized that, after becoming a childless widow three times already, that possibility appealed to her deep down her soul.

Arya ascended the stone steps of the fortified gate, her boots clanking against the cold stone. She scanned the courtyard, searching for any sign of Sansa. But to her disappointment, her sister was nowhere to be found. Arya huffed in frustration, realizing she must have missed her.

"Always so busy," Arya thought with a hum, "dealing with lords and their endless demands. Good thing she excels at that sort of thing, though, as I would hate to have to volunteer for that, especially for so long."

Before long, however, the approaching footsteps of Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne echoed against the walls. Arya turned to see them escorting her younger brother, a smile tugging at her lips. "Rickon!" Arya called out, still pleased that not only had she made it in time for her reunion with her family members at Ironrath, unlike at the Red Wedding, but that the aftermath had not turned bloody and unjust either. "Good to see you are up and about."

Rickon returned her smile, his mood excited if a bit fierce. "Well, it is a good time to celebrate. I am free, most of our family is back together again and that monstrous cunt will get what's coming to him soon. Why shouldn't I be up and about in a good mood?" He asked with a grin.

Arya chuckled, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Hard to argue with that." She glanced at Brienne and Podrick. "Have you seen Sansa?"

Brienne nodded. "She went back to the Great Hall. Jon has an announcement to make, and she wanted to prepare with the other lords and allies at our host's keep."

Arya nodded slowly, recalling the sight of Jon marching toward the meeting with Princess Val and the giant chieftain of the Free Folk. "Right. I saw them earlier."

She also recalled the warrior princess giving Arya a nod of respect and wide smirk as she passed, just as she recalled the slight blush that had crossed her cheeks right then.

"Stop it," Arya chided herself in silence again. "Just because your eyes have been open in exciting new ways when it comes to beautiful and strong women doesn't mean you are not with Bellegere right now."

Trying to distract herself from the memory of the admirable and absurdly pretty warrior princess, she turned back to Brienne. "Why aren't you with Sansa?" She asked.

Brienne's steely gaze softened. "Your sister wanted some time alone before the meeting. Something about waiting time to reflect on her path to this moment now that she has faced her old tormentor, so she only wanted her direwolf for company for a time. Still, she sent me to guard Rickon and to find you."

Arya's worry eased at the mention of Lady watching over her sister. But a pang of longing struck her heart as she thought of Nymeria.

"I miss her, Arya thought with a sigh, her mind drifting to her wolf companion she had been **** to scare off to protect. "Although, come to think of it, Jon could probably use his powers to find her."

That was, however, when her thoughts drifted to another, less pleasant topic of conversation that was coming with Rickon, a knot forming in her stomach as she suppressed a wince.

"He doesn't know yet about Jon's...transformation into the God of ****." She thought as she nearly groaned in distaste. "I better make myself scarce for the beginning of THAT conversation."

She shook her head, hoping that would throw off her sudden sense of awkwardness, and Arya decided to set aside that conversation for later. But before she could suggest they head to the Great Hall for the meeting, Podrick Payne's sharp gaze caught her attention. He peered beyond the walls, his expression tense.

"There's a company of riders approaching," Podrick announced, his voice low with concern.

Arya followed his gaze, her heart quickening as she saw the distant figures drawing nearer. Reinforcements? Or something else?

As literally hundreds of riders came into view, Arya squinted at the sigil they bore. It took her a moment to place it, but when she did, her eyes widened in recognition. Memories of her time pretending to be a smallfolk in Harrenhal flooded her mind, and she blinked rapidly, remembering her old conversation with Tywin Lannister.

"Two crossed longaxes, beneath a black crown over a yellow field," Arya murmured to herself, her mind racing. "The colors of Barrowton and of House Dustin. But what are they doing here? And why now?"

Her gaze shifted to the figure leading the procession, a woman mounted on a powerful steed, as beautiful and pale white as the winter snow. Recognition dawned on Arya as she studied the rider, she figured out the only person that could be. "Lady Barbrey," She whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind, as she remembered old tales about the Northern Lady's deep grievances against her late-father. "What is she doing her?"

A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. And to those that did not recognize the woman's name at the end, she is a book character from the North that...had good reasons to have a grudge against Ned Stark. More on that next time.

Until then. Thanks for the continued support guys and gals and as always, please remember to review.