moonlight10
patreon
GOT : Chapter 177
🕑 Added 2025-01-16 09:00:05 +0000 UTC"But then, I would have to hide her," Jon countered. "What conclusions would they draw once they see me arrive, ahorse, in their camp? Would they not think I'd rather have arrived atop my dragon?"
"After what happened today…" Edmure breathed in, "they would think you are a sane man."
...
Jon did not reply immediately, and instead turned his head towards Lord Karstark. He was loyal to his father, then his brother, and now him. What would he have to say?
"We must try," the grey-bearded lord approved. "We cannot just bend the knee and lose everything. If we are to gain anything at the end of it all, and still fight the Others, without weakening ourselves too much, we need concessions."
"Rickon will have to give up his crown." Jon pointed out, staring blankly at the Karstark.
"The Dornish gave you an offer, did they not?" was the immediate reply..
"Aye, they did. Princes of Winter, the same privileges as Dorne," Jon answered. "An offer you would have, of course, rejected, Lord Karstark."
"Aye, I would have rejected this without a second thought." Karstark leaned back against a tree. "Before the battle, I would have rather laid my life than bend the knee to the sister-fuckers again. But…"
"But?" Lord Edmure asked.
"I'd rather live in my lands, living mine own life, seeing my children grow happy, having grandchildren, in a peaceful realm, even under the overlordship of the dragons, than seeing my keep, fields, children and people turned to ice and dead men." Lord Karstark replied blankly. "I would not bend the knee; I am too old for it. But my children…"
"If anyone is bending any knee, it will be me," Jon interjected. "The blame of this defeat is on me, and I would not have anyone else pay the consequences."
"You have done a great service to the North already, boy." Lord Karstark put a hand on his shoulder. "We are grateful for it, do remember that. King Robb would be proud."
Jon's heart warmed a little at that, but not enough to cheer him up.
In his mind, he has failed, and utterly. Robb had created a Kingdom, and it would end in a matter of years, all because of him.
"And you, Lord Edmure?" Jon asked.
"The Riverlands cannot hold forever," Edmure replied swiftly, as if he had been expecting the question. "With the Vale having switched sides, it is only a matter of time till we are forced to bend the knee, forcefully or not. I say it is better to haggle for all that we can get now."
"My aunt will not forgive what I did easily." Jon lowered his head.
"Which is even more reason to bet on the fact that she knows nothing of your dragon's state," Edmure countered. "Surely, there must be voices of reason in her camp that would not allow her to fight again. The Dornish, in particular, would be less inclined to be as loyal to her with Aegon dead."
Jon took a deep breath and nodded.
"A mummer's face, is that it?" he asked.
"One we have no choice to put on if we wish to save ourselves, our people, and even the world," Edmure said.
"A shame we will not have any battle." Lord Karstark clenched his fists. "I would have paid dearly to see that Arryn boy squashed beneath the hooves of my horse."
"His time will come…if we can get Lord Tully on the Small Council, as Hand, especially." Jason Mallister smiled. "Certainly, it would not be as crushing as a battle, but it would be a blow to the Vale, as Lord Edmure could take slow and delicate revenge, as opposed to one by the way of the sword."
Lord Karstark just grumbled.
In truth, Jon would've also liked to see Harrold burn for this. But he would not get the chance. All he could do now was hope that his upcoming wedding to Arianne would save his head, but what difference did that make? He had slain kin, and he was as good as dead. Mayhaps the war against the dead could give him solace.
"Then, we should send a herald to resume negotiations. Do you think us sending someone will not be taken as a sign of weakness?" Jon asked.
Edmure tilted his head back and forth in thought. "It could be. Or it could be taken as a wish to resolve this peacefully after making a statement. In any case, we need to send someone."
"Then do so, if you must," Jon agreed. "You will find me praying, in my tent."
Edmure nodded at him, leaving Jon to turn heels and walk back towards Winter, giving her a knowing nod, and taking the small pathway through the forest and back to the Northern camp, which had been moved in the night from the river, to the woods north of the city of Tumbleton.
The sword at his hip never felt so heavy, and it was with great pleasure that he finally let go of Longclaw, tossing it on the floor.
He almost collapsed, then, still hearing the words in his head.
Jon. Jon. Jon.
Tears rolled down his cheeks freely now.
"Jon!"
This time, his head sprang up. This was no voice of his own.
"What's wrong?"
He raised his head, to see Arianne's curly hair staring at him. In such a pitiful state, too.
"So, so much." Jon could barely look at her, he tried to avoid her gaze, looking down.
Arianne sat down next to him, bringing a hand over his, while the other grabbed his cheek and forced him to look back at her.
She wiped his tears from his face, putting her soothing hand over his face, closing the distance between them.
"Tell me," she almost whispered.
"I am cursed, Ari," Jon almost immediately let out. "I am a kinslayer."
Arianne said nothing, looking him up and down.
"That makes two of us." She rubbed his shoulder.
"This is different, Ari," Jon replied. "I killed him. I killed Aegon."
"Some soldiers say they saw horses approach the green dragon and carry a man ahorse towards the Dornish camp," Arianne said. "They say the man looked alive to them, though they could not tell."
"Impossible." Jon shook his head. "The fall…it would have been almost impossible for one to survive it."
"Almost." Arianne interjected. "Until you learn of Aegon's death, he is not dead, do you hear me?"
"And if he is?" Jon asked, eyes watering.
"Then, I still love you." Arianne shrugged. "I know that you had to do this. To protect your people, your men, your armies and your oaths. I will not wish you ill for battling my cousin. It is war, Jon. People die in wars, and, unlike me, you struck him down, not out of ambition or cruelty, but out of concern and care."
"I still struck him down," Jon cried. "I struck him down, and I have doomed the North to bend the knee for it."
"And in a hundred years, they might thank you for it." Arianne smiled at him. "When the Others are defeated, and the full might of the Seven Kingdoms has been brought onto them, they'll remember you as the one who made it happen."
"By sacrificing a kingdom."
"Sacrificing one now, to build one later. You may not live to see it, but the North has gotten a taste of freedom, and, one day or another, be it in ten or a thousand years, it may yet be free once more."
"I…will be a Targaryen, Arianne." Jon shook his head. "I will be a traitor."
"Then be one. If it saves your people, be one." She kissed him on the cheek. "Will you accept Dragonstone, then?"
"No." Jon shook his head. "Your brother offered Summerhall."
Arianne wondered for a moment, then chuckled. "No doubt, he did. I would have been surprised otherwise. A fine choice…if it is restored to its former glory."
"You approve of it?" Jon asked.
"I'd have approved of Dragonstone if it meant I'd be with you." Arianne beamed. "But Summerhall…is a beautiful prize, but…your family?"
"Summerhall is close to Stonehelm, travel by ship to White Harbor will only take a few days, and flying even less so. I do not mind the distance, especially not in lands as fertile as those of Summerhall," Jon answered frankly.
"Then, go, make peace with them, and then we shall celebrate or mourn." Arianne gazed at him, pursing her lips. "The North still needs you."
"One last time…" Jon nodded as he saw one of Edmure's men approach the tent from afar. "I will be back, and when I shall, I fear it will not be as Jon Stark, but as Daeron Targaryen…"
"You will always be Jon Stark to me." Arianne gave him one last smile. "Now go."
Jon nodded at her, wiped the tears from his face, took his sword, and left the tent. Outside, the herald told him that the Targaryens had agreed to another meeting, only if the number of attendees would be reduced.
Thus, only he, Edmure, Jason Mallister and Rickard Karstark would attend, and, this time, no dragons would be present, something the Targaryens requested, as they could start fighting if they saw each other.
None of them saw any objections to this, thankfully.
Thus, Jon strutted forward, ready to play one last mummer's farce before the lords.
The golden tent this time was positioned in the middle of a field, with no one standing near it except for a few Dornish and Unsullied, with the rest being cleared out.
No dragons were indeed in sight, which made Jon both relieved and nervous.
Before entering, they were offered bread and salt again, and ushered into the tent.
There, only four people were waiting for them. Queen Daenerys sat in the center, with Prince Quentyn at her right, and Jon Connington at her left, with Lord Velaryon beside the Stormlander. Not a Valeman to be seen.
