From White Harbour to Winterfell and Beyond. GoT Season 8 retold

But first, we'll live.

Sunset over White Harbor was salmon pink, and the city came alive with bells the echoed off the silhouettes of it's many towers, as though all the Mermaid warriors at their tops, were about to have an aquatic battle. Jon was on the tallest, the middle turret of New Castle, as it was the best vantage point he could find for a look towards the North. Great crashings and rumblings, they had said, and a tremor running through the wall. If that was true, and he had every obligation to believe it was so, then it was a virtual race to Winterfell. Stopping in this city, even for a night was almost reckless. He knew of course, that moving ground forces quickly was complicated if not impossible. The next few days would be a challenge for anyone, but the cold wild kissed at his cheeks and whispered a warning against his neck.

Jon did not even shiver, but turned from the North and tramped back down the turret. From the higher points of the fortress, the busy town was intriguing, perhaps a place he would have found interesting , if the times were not so dark. But there was no fired smoke in the air, and no comforting hearth in the great hall of the castle, like home. Winterfell awaited, and now Jon was eager to be there. He made his way into the stairwell, ready to be done with the feast and on the road already. Especially since Lord Wyman's daughters were following him around like Arya and Bran.

"Thought you wouldn't come to the feast." the green-haired one was the first person to notice that Jon had returned from his visit outdoors.

"Can you spare the food to have a feast?" he threw back at her, "What with winter settling in."

"We are rich in fresh food, King Jon." said the older sister, who was also in the hall, seemingly waiting for him to emerge. "It is both a blessing and curse. Abundance must not go to waste, when the rest of the country is starving."

Jon stared at the pair of them. They were pretty things, and formidably clever. Either of them would be suitable as the Steward of the Norths wife, and both of them seemed eager for it. To everyone here in White Harbor, it would have been a natural match and Daenerys was still his enemy, in their eyes. But Jon knew that were times different he would have watched Robb and Theon pursue these pretty two, to their beds, and they would never have turned their eyes upon a bastard in the stables. Once he would have been happy with either, now he had no interest in both.

"Then we feast. And I thank you for it." Jon answered and turned to leave.

"The dragon queen-" began the older one, and he turned around to face her. "We proudly offer our abundance to her troops, and company, but she is insisting that we spare food for her savages as well, and-"

Jon scoffed. "The curse of abundance does not weigh too heavily on you, if you cannot extend hospitality to everyone equally."

The green haired girl crossed her arms, "See. I knew he would take my side."

The older scowled and then placed a pleasant look on her face. "It is only that we have already opened our market to them, and they have not been very grateful."

"You cannot expect them to act like trained lords," her sister argued.

Jon looked over his shoulder to the hall below and caught sight of Ser Davos. "Excuse me ladies." he said, very smoothly he felt, "I must ask Ser Davos something."

The feasting had began already, Jon noted on his way down the massive, solid staircase. Several men were loitering with ale and pretty girls along the steps, while music filled the great spaces where the conversation had risen in volume and color. Some danced, some ate, but most had abandoned their chairs to talk or sing, or drink. A feast such as this, Jon was never allowed to attend as a boy, and now as he walked through the great hall, people bowed to him, cheered for him, and drank ale in his name. So strange was it for him that he supposed he'd never grow used to it.