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Chapter Text

‘The last of the Lorathi fleet have been captured or sunk Commander, Saan and his sellsails made fast work of em’ Areo Morvel said his thick Norvoshi accent echoing around the command tent.

‘Aye only after we broke em at Osar’ Torrhen Karstark replied receiving cheers and agreements from all those present.

‘Do we push on to Lorath and end this once and for all’ someone shouted from the back of the tent.

The war between Lorath and Norvos had been raging for more than half a year, starting with the unprovoked attack by the Lorathi navy on the northern Norvoshi port town of Byan. Or what was Byan as nothing had been spared the slaughter the Lorathi had inflicted.

Thousands lay dead before the Norvos council of magisters mustered a company of bearded priests to drive Lorath back. At least that had been the hope; Khal Moro fell upon the priests as they marched butchering hundreds before the rest were able to retreat.

What followed must have been the bloodiest time for Norvos since the Century of Blood. Dothraki roamed free across their Hills attacking as they wished unwilling to take any tribute to stop their slaughter.

From the north came the Lorathi army taking village after village claiming all lands from the river Noyne to the northern tip of Norvos as New Lorath.

What was to be done with the lands to the east and west nothing was said but based on the wealth that Lorath had somehow gathered to finance half a dozen Free Companies he could guess that the lands of Pentos and Qohor would have increased in size.

What would have been doesn’t matter though as after three moons of bloody struggle Norvos had reached out and the Legion had struck a contract.

The Dothraki were the first to fall; Khal Moro and his khalasar had grown too complacent with their successes and were easily led into a trap where they lost two thirds of their strength. The remaining khalasar cut their braids in shame before fleeing east leaving their Khal and Khalakka’s bloodied remains behind.

With the Dothraki thrown back the Norvoshi gathered their strength; five thousand Bearded priests took to the field and acted as the anvil to the Legion of Rose’s hammer.

For two moons they claimed back the Norvoshi lands ending the Gallant Men, the Bright Banners and the Iron Shields to a man before the remaining mercenaries fled abandoning Lorath.

Outnumbered and outmatched the Lorathi army attempted to flee themselves hoping to cross the river Osar and make for the coast to their fleet.

This wasn’t to be however as their river barges had been captured by Gylbert Farwynd the Younger and his men who rained a murderous stream of arrows from the middle of the river for all those who attempted to swim across.

Stuck between the river and an approaching army the Lorathi made their stand. Whatever else could be said about them no one could say they weren’t brave, they fought and bled for two days before the onslaught became too much dying in their thousands.

The Battle of Osar had been over a week ago and with the news of Saan and his sellsails success now known both the Legion and the bearded Priests were hoping to move onto Lorath.

For the Legion it was a chance to gain even more spoils to go with their already overflowing purses of gold and for the Bearded Priests; they believed it would bring an end to their holy war.

‘The Conclave of High Priests have sent word from Norvos; Lorath have surrendered. The council of Princes have been arrested by the Lorathi Magisters who are offering reparations and the Princes for trial. The High Priests have accepted and ask that we standdown’ he said bringing silence to the tent.

Many in the tent including the Norvoshi present didn’t look pleased with this but none raised any serious objections; from there talk turned to breaking camp and everything that goes with it.

The sun had long set before the Legion of Rose’s commander and captains sat together in private discussing their next steps now that their contract had ended.

‘Tyrosh and Myr are at each others throats again and there is talk of Volantis gathering swords to protect against Khal Drogo’ the legion spymaster Marc Rivers said bringing murmurs of interest from a few present.

‘The men have gold and silver to burn and are in need of a rest I’d say break for a moon and see what contracts can be found after’ Hazar Kesh shouted back.

Discussion went on for a while before it stopped abruptly when Asher Forrester came rushing into the tent his face covered with dirt and sweat handing him a piece of paper.

‘The Legion will break for a time, ensure the men are well compensated and they know they will be called back when needed’ he said strongly leaving no room for discussion; his eyes rereading the words that were scribbled on the paper.

Looking up he saw his captains all staring at him waiting for an explanation.

‘I return to Westeros, my family have need of me!’ his eyes once more drawn to the paper.

Bran Stark has fallen ill.
Word from Winterfell is that he may not see another year.

Chapter Text

They left at midday the following day Jon and a dozen of his closest friends most of whom like him hadn’t stepped foot in Westeros in years and for a couple never before.

Jon had wanted to leave as soon as Asher handed him the message but he knew he needed to ensure the legion was in order; he had fought and bled with the men of the Rose and he couldn’t just abandon them. With the legion in capable hands and plans in place they left.

They rode for two days and nights before reaching the coast. Salladhor Saan and his fleet still at anchor celebrating their victory.

‘Ah the Snow lord going back to the frozen lands of the North, has the sun finally melted you my friend’ Salla laughed as he passed Jon a glass of the finest Lyseni wine.

‘My family have need of me my friend and I need make haste to my ship in Bravos. I would ask a favour of you’ Jon started before being interrupted by the self proclaimed Prince of the Narrow Sea

‘There will be no favour Jon I still owe you my life after that little misunderstanding in Volantis. You will have my fastest ship ready within the hour’ Saan said more serious than Jon had seen him speak in the three years they knew each other.

True to his word they were at sea within the hour, the Summer Isles Swan Ship gliding through the Shivering Sea.

Less than three days the voyage took before they passed beneath the Titan of Bravos and like so many times before Jon was awestruck at the sheer size and formidability of the giant structure.

Taking him from the memories of the first time Jon had seen the Titan more than six years ago he heard the captain bellowing orders to his crew to prepare to dock.

He didn’t delay when they docked simply reminding his men of their tasks while in the city.

While Jon, Nohi Dimittis and Robar Royce had set off for the Iron Bank Gylbert Farwynd and two others had stayed in Ragman’s Harbor ensuring that the Laughing Wolf one of the half a dozen ships Jon owned was stocked and the crew were ready to depart when ready.

Torrhen Karstark and five others spread out to the Inns and Taverns that Westerosi usually visited to see could they learn any further details of Bran’s illness. Jon hoped that with the amount of Manderly ships in port that someone knew something.

Nyles Rowan and Perwyn Frey headed for the Smiths quarter the latter acting as a guard to the youngest brother of the Lord of Goldengrove. Jon had a number of orders placed with Bravos’s finest smith and hopefully the weapons were ready.

‘Commander Snow it is a great pleasure to see you again, we were very pleased to hear of your Legions success over Lorath’ Bessaro Reyaan one of the Keyholders of the Iron Bank said softly in the luxury meeting room Jon had been brought to upon their arrival to the Bank.

‘Thank you my Lord Reyaan, unfortunately I am not here to today to speak on the Legion but for personal matters’ Jon said in reply before going into detail on the fact that he would need a large sum of gold and silver for his return to Westeros as well as access to his personal vault.

‘Of course that will not be a problem Commander I will see to it that the amount is delivered to your ship before you depart. We had heard that your brother had fallen ill and anticipated that you would wish to be by your families side, as such we gathered some information on his illness. The keyholders also thought that you would appreciate some more information on the Seven Kingdoms at large since it has been several years since you have last been home’ Bessaro said softly passing across a stack of papers.

Jon knew the keyholders didn’t do anything out of the goodness of their hearts. They provided help now because Jon had deposited and invested a vast amount of gold with the bank. He also suspected that they knew some truths that few knew but that didn’t matter for now as Jon’s eyes went straight to the pages on Bran and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the words ‘Bloody Flux’ wrote down.

He left sooner after that stopping only at his personal vault; looking at the chests and artifacts he had gathered over the years he was relieved to see that the small steel box engraved with Valyrian lettering was still where he had left it and its contents undamaged.

Taking the box he made to leave before his eyes were drawn to a large glass jug that depicted a stone man on its top. Remembering something he had heard from a sailer from Driftmark a couple years ago Jon took that as well.

They stayed in Bravos for two nights in total, longer than he had wanted but the weather and the tides couldn’t be controlled.

‘Gods there’s nothing like Northern air’ Torrhen Karstark said with a smile on his face as they docked in one of the new piers of White Harbor.

Despite his reservations about being back in Westeros Jon couldn’t help but agree; there was something about the clean and crisp air of the North that didn’t compare to anywhere else he had been.

Looking around the northern city Jon was happy to see that the city looked to be prospering greatly with dozens of ships at dock or anchored off the coast, the markets overflowing with goods and construction taking place in what was the Wolfs Den.

‘You sure you don’t want to head to the New Castle and speak with Manderly? He’d only be too happy to send a raven to Winterfell of your arrival and no doubt hold a feast in your honour’ Torrhen said as they walked along the dock.

‘No I don’t want to raise hopes or distract from Bran’ Jon said before saying his goodbyes to Karstark and some of the others.

Jon, Robar, Perwyn and Gregory Wode left immediately for Winterfell while Torrhen would lead the others in a day or so with their carts and supplies after Gylbert Farwynd took the ship south.

They rode north beside the White Knife for three days and nights before cutting north west out of the lands sworn to House Manderly into Cerwyn lands for two days passing forests and vast wilderness before finally entering those lands directly sworn to House Stark.

In total it took eight days from White Harbor before Jon saw the massive granite walls of Winterfell appear in the distance.

For the first time in six years Jon was home!

The Dozen who rode with Jon:
Torrhen Karstark – Youngest son of Lord Rickard Karstark
Ser Robar Royce – second son of Lord Yohn Royce
Gylbert Farwynd(the younger) – second son of Lord Gylbert Farwynd(lord of the Lonely Light – Iron Islands)
Nyles Rowan – younger brother of Lord Mathis Rowan
Ser Perwyn Frey – fifteenth son of Lord Walder Frey
Ser Gregory Wode – first cousin to the main branch of House Wode(landed knights) sworn to House Whent
Alister Storm – bastard of House Selmy
Eldon Sand – Bastard of House Allyrion(brother of Daemon Sand)
Jack One Hand – Crownlands sellsword
Red Moon – Freed Unsullied
Nohi Dimittis – Bravosi sellsword
Garin of Volantis – Former slave from Volantis

Chapter Text

Ned Stark

In all his life Ned had never felt as useless, not when the mad King had killed his father and brother, not when his sister lay dying in his arms and not even when Jon had disappeared.  

He just sat and watched as his little boy wasted away before him. What started as a mild fever four moons ago had led to the bloody flux that was slowly but surely  killing his boy.

Maester Luwin had worked tirelessly those first few days when the fever had first appeared. And despite all his efforts the fever didn’t break in fact in got worse and the other symptoms began.

Bran failed to keep food down first then the rash appeared before finally the cough started.

Bile, phlegm and blood came with each cough rendering his once happy and wild boy a drained weak shadow who was disappearing with each day that passed.

It wasn’t long now Ned knew Maester Luwin and the five other Maesters who had been called to help had all said.

Looking from his dying son Neds eyes went to the others in the room.

Catelyn his once beautiful wife sat broken at Bran’s bedside grey hairs a tangled mess upon her head with dark circles under her eyes.

Robb stood silently in the corner of the room his eyes frozen on Brans unconscious form.

Sansa sat at the foot of the bed her hands and eyes focused on the needlework in front of her.

Rickon was with the Old Nan somewhere else in Winterfell. His youngest unable to sit in Brans presence without crying.

Arya similarly was with Nan but unlike her brother she didn’t cry. She and Sansa couldn’t be in the same room lately without a screaming match occurring.

His girls at least expressed their feelings the same couldn’t be said for everyone else in his family.

For years now there was a tension within the walls of Winterfell all stemming from Jon’s disappearance.

Gods he could still remember that morning when Robb rushed into the Great Hall shouting out that Jon was gone.  

The days and weeks that followed were a blur.  Ned had sent ravens to all corners of the North ordering his bannermen to send search parties out across their lands to search for Jon all of which failed in their task.

Ned himself had ridden for weeks on end searching without success for his lost son.

It had broken his heart to return to Winterfell without Jon.

He had broken his promise and lost Jon just like he had lost so many others he loved.

The months that followed were some of the worst he could remember and for a time Ned believed the darkness would never end, that was until a caravan arrived from White Harbor with news and hope. Jon was alive.

Ned could still remember the small Essosi man who led the group from Bravos. He claimed to represent the shipwrights of the free city and wished to arrange for the purchase of wood from the North for the building of their ships.

‘I came across a very interesting young man several moons ago at a difficult time for my guild. Despite his age he was very persuasive and i believed his word thus here I am’ the Bravosi said with a slight accent before handing a roll or parchment which detailed their needs and the price they would pay.

The deal would see gold and silver flow into not only House Stark and Manderly coffers but several other houses of the north who had vast swathes of untouched forests that the Bravosi were eager to access.

That wasn't the only thing the Bravosi handed over; two letters no more than a page each with his name on one and Robb's the other.

Lord Stark

I know the truth!

I left to find my path.

Do not search for me!

Jon

He read the words a dozen times before they truly sunk in and his mind raced. How did Jon find out? Did he truly know or was it some jape? Who else knows? Does Jon hate him? Do I send parties east to try and find Jon despite what he says?

Remembering the other letter he opened it despite it being for Robb. This letter at least was more detailed Jon spoke of how he left to find his own path and Robb, Sansa, Arya and Bran would always be his family. He promised that he would return eventually and when he did he hoped to spar as they had always done as brothers.

Jon had sent a few more letters in the years that followed to his brothers and sisters; none to Ned. Those letters were brief and rarely spoke about what Jon was doing they mostly asked how each of his siblings were. The last letter had been two years ago and in that time the tensions of Winterfell had grown and grown.

Despite the silence Jon’s presence was felt and not just in Winterfell. Throughout the years trade had bloomed within the North; the Bravosi  shipwright was merely the first of many.

The North now had trade of some kind with Tyrosh, Volantis, Pentos, Myr, Qohor and even Ibben. His lords were happy as they had gold and silver and their larders were full for a long winter.

In fact the only one who wasn’t happy with all the trade was Catelyn who feared that Jon meant to buy the Lords of the North to his side to take Winterfell from Robb. Ned knew this wasn’t the case but his wife wouldn’t listen to reason and only stopped mentioning it when Bran became ill.

Taking him from his thoughts Heward one of his guards was calling out his name and banging on the door to Bran’s room.

‘Enter’ he shouted out relieved for the disturbance.

Heward all but crashed into the room out of breath his face red. ‘My Lord, your son Jon is at the south gate’ the man said his voice deafening the already quiet room.

Without thinking Ned jumped to his feet and rushed from the room, Robb at his heels and Heward not far behind. Running from the keep he stopped dead in his tracks when there stood in the courtyard was Jon. He had grown tall, gained muscle and a scar down the left side of his face but it was Jon.

Speechless he stood there and watched as Robb pushed himself forward and hugged his brother with a smile upon his face

Robb Stark

Gods he couldn’t believe it; Jon was home! His solemn, quiet brother had returned and for the first time in years Robb felt like a weight had been lifted.

Robb could still remember that morning walking into his brothers room only to find the room empty, the bed unslept in and a note upon the table detailing that Jon loved them but had to leave promising he would return.

For a time Robb had thought that Jon wasn’t going to fulfil his promise as the last letter they had received had been more than two years ago but Robb had never been more relieved to be wrong.

‘I’ve missed you Stark’ he heard Jon say softly causing Robb to laugh and breaking their hug.

‘Aye you too Snow’ Robb replied still in a haze that his brother was home.

‘How’s Bran? Am I too late’ Jon said with hope in his voice bringing Robb back to reality with the fact he has his brother back but was going to lose another.

‘He still lives but it won’t be long now Luwin thinks’ Robb said in reply before Jon turned to his horse taking a box from a saddle bag.

His voice still hopeful Jon said that he needed to see Bran now.

Nodding unable to trash Jon’s hope Robb turned to see men who rode with Jon all standing  to the side. ‘Ser Rodrik, see that my brothers companions are given chambers in the guest house and they want for nothing’ Robb shouted out to the Master of Arms before leading Jon to Bran’s room their father tailing them still not saying a word.

They all but ran to Bran’s room Robb knowing as soon as Jon saw Bran whatever hope he had would be lost.

For a moment when they entered Robb saw a shadow of doubt pass Jon’s face but it was soon replaced with a look of determination.

‘Has his blood turned Black yet’ Jon said turning to Maester Luwin and Beldon one of the Maesters who had come from Oldtown at fathers request.

He was confused for a moment before remembering the final stages of the Bloody Flux saw the infected’ s blood turn black.

‘Not yet Jon but it won’t be long’ Luwin said sorrowfully.

‘Then I’m not too late’ Jon said before he opened the steal box he carried with him revealing three vials of red liquid handing one of the vials to Luwin asking him to give it Bran to drink.

Both maesters looked confused at the vial and no doubt were going to ask what it was before Robb’s mother spoke up here voice laced with hatred  ‘You will not poison my boy Bastard’

Robb turned to Jon expecting his brother to cower or retreat after being spoken too like that but his brother’s face didn’t’ change and merely looked to Luwin speaking strongly.

‘What you have in your hand is a tonic from Old Valyria, if what I have read is true it could be a cure.’

Bedlam soon erupted with question after question being asked of Jon from the two maesters, each trying to talk over the other.

Without getting to answer any of the questions a voice rang out silencing the others ‘will it work?’ his mother asked her face showing something other than sadness and hopelessness.

‘If Bran takes the tonic now and the other two doses over the next two days he will be cured’ Jon said not a hint of doubt as he spoke.

Maester Beldon all but shouted that Jon was lying that there was no cure for the Bloody Flux at this stage but his mother ignored the healer and ordered Luwin to give the cure to Bran her eyes remaining on Jon as she spoke.

Chapter Text

Jon knew he shouldn’t have promised the cure would have worked. Especially as if it didn’t then his family would hate him. He  just couldn’t take the risk that Lady Stark would refuse. It was Brans best chance so he made the promise.

After the tonic had been given Jon sat and waited knowing the cure wouldn’t be immediate.

It was during this time that Arya and Rickon had made an appearance. His youngest sister throwing open the door and rushing in locking eyes with Jon for a brief moment before looking him up and down before smiling and running into his arms for a hug. 

The wild little girl he knew before he left had turned into a wild young women. 

Rickon unlike Arya didn’t give him a hug but walked up to him hesitantly asking who he was, a question that hurt more than Jon would admit. 

The next few hours were spent sitting at Bran’s bedside; his siblings asking countless questions about where Jon had been and done these last few years. 

He gave them some details but left much unsaid. Lord Stark sat in silence throughout the entire day only speaking when it had grown late and he ordered his children to bed. 

Jon didn’t leave however he sat in silence where he was in a chair opposite Lady Stark on either side of Bran’s bed while different maesters came and went. 

The days that followed were pretty much a repeat of that first day. Bran received the final two doses of the tonic and to the great surprise of the Maesters his condition didn’t get any worse.

In fact Bran remained the same for four more days before he began to improve. It started slowly his breathing becoming less laboured, his coughing less frequent and the broth that was fed to Brans unconscious form kept down.  

The mood in the room had improved considerably with each hour that passed only to be soured by Septa Mordane. 

‘My lord Ser Robar requests Jon’s presence’ Jory Cassel said from Brans now open door. 

‘Send him in’ Lord Stark said before Jon had a chance to reply. 

The Vale knight walked into the room silently nodding his head slightly to Lord and Lady Stark. 

‘Does Jon serve as your squire Ser Robar’ Sansa said softly hoping to get more information from the knight than Jon had revealed. 

Robar couldn’t help but laugh at that before speaking ‘Ser Jon has long since earned his spurs my lady and it is I who serve him’

‘You would shame your lord father by serving a bastard Ser Robar’ Septa Mordane spat out silencing the room. 

Even though Robar was one of the most composed of his men Jon could see that he was close to anger. 

‘You asked to speak Robar, is there an issue’ Jon said distracting the man. 

Whatever the man had wanted to say to the spiteful septa he didn’t say it but instead turned to Jon and spoke. ‘Commander, Ser Eldon has rode ahead the rest of the men they have passed Cerwyn and should be here by nightfall’

Relieved that the rest of his companions were close Jon thanked the man and asked him to speak to Vayon Poole about where they could store the half dozen carts of supplies they had brought with them from Essos and White Harbor and promising him he’d be out shortly. 

Those present no doubt had a hundred questions about how Jon got his knighthood or why Ser Robar called him Commander but none were asked. Robar hadn’t been gone a moment before Lord Stark turned to the Septa and all but screamed at the women to return to her room and not to leave or risk banishment from Winterfell.

Whatever intervention the Septa hoped to receive from Lady Stark or anyone else wasn’t to come as the entire rooms attention was quickly on a small voice calling out for water. Bran had awoken.

The next few days passed by in a haze Jon welcomed the rest of his men, sparred with Robb and Arya, told Rickon as many stories as he could and spent hours by Bran’s besides talking to him and the rest of his siblings. He also had to deal with the many Maesters who still stayed within Winterfell, each of whom had countless questions about the tonic and anything else Jon might have or know. They only stopped the pestering when he promised he would deliver some tomes to Oldtown by years end.

‘Can I still be a knight Jon’ Bran asked the fifth day after he woke when all their siblings had gone to get some food. It was only the two of them present besides Lady Stark who sat in the corner doing needle work. Despite Bran’s improvements she still spent much of her day within the room.

Jon knew that Bran had lost much of his already smaller frame over the length of his illness and his brother feared what it would be mean.

‘You will be the finest knight the realm has ever seen; you just need to build your strength and that starts with leaving this room.’ Jon said knowing that up to now Bran had yet to walk beyond the confines of the room.

Whatever complaints Bran was going to spout stopped in his mouth when Jon mentioned that he and their siblings would not receive any gifts until Bran walked himself into the Great Hall to receive it.

Whether it was a desire to get a gift or desire to begin gaining back his strength Bran walked the following night from his sickbed to the high table in Winterfell’s Great Hall.

He didn’t want to make a big spectacle of it but that couldn’t be helped as Bran had told everyone who had visited him who in turn told many others. The Great Hall was far from packed but there was many more present that usual after a meal.

He handed Bran three tomes which contained the exploits of many famous warriors and knights from both sides of the Narrow Sea. His brother grasped the books eagerly thanking Jon as he opened the first book.

‘Reading about adventures is one thing Bran but you also need to prepare to have your own and to do that you need to be prepared. This blade once belonged to Aerian Balaryn; his exploits are one of those mentioned in the tomes before you. He was the second son of the one of the forty families of Old Valyria. It was said he once fought off a dozen assassins with this blade saving his family.’

Bran looked at the blade his eyes wide at the story behind it and having received his very own Valyrian steel blade however small.  There was a very shocked faces throughout the room at Jon giving away valyrian steel but no one said anything to his relief.

He gave Rickon a large number of hand carved Goldenheart toys from the Summer Isles, hopefully they would last longer then the other broken toys Jon had seen Rickon with.

Jon turned next to Sansa who still kept a distance to Jon her years of tutoring under the Septa and her mother unforgotten.  ‘Sansa you are a true Northern beauty and deserve to be clothed as such’ he said before Garin opened the large chest he had brought into the room. Inside was a score of different rolls of fabrics and laces of many colors he hoped his sister would like.

‘I have also a gift for you and Arya both’ he said unwrapping two silver necklaces with a large direwolf pendant on each. Sansa’s had red and blue gems for eyes and Arya’s black opal.

‘Even in Essos I heard stories of the wild she wolf of Winterfell. As such I feel it only fitting that a wolf has a bone to play with’ he said with a smile before handing over a Dragonbone bow. He knew Arya would be unstoppable with it especially after seeing her practice with a normal bow the last few days.

Pleased to see his sisters so happy with their gifts Jon soon turned to Robb.

‘I’m afraid to say I only have one gift for you brother I hope you can forgive me’ he said with a smirk on his face.

He took the scabbard from Robar and slowly drew the blade he had refitted in Bravos handing it over to Robb. ‘This sword doesn’t have the storied history as Bran’s but no doubt you will make it famous brother. Lord Stark may have Ice but you and every future heir of House Stark will have Frost’

Jon could hear audible gasps throughout the room as Robb held the valyrian steel long sword in his hand with a look of shock on his face. He couldn’t really blame him rarely if ever had a valyrian steel sword been gifted since the fall of Valyria. In the space of an evening House Stark now held three blades of valyrian steel.

‘Jon I can’t take this, this is too much. You should wield it’ Robb said after regaining his composure.

Smiling Jon’s hands went to the two swords he had at his waist before replying. ‘I have my own swords brother’ bringing yet more gasps and many whispers to erupt throughout the hall.