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

Howland Reed

Sunset was fast approaching, adding to the darkness that was already growing in Jon's eyes. The small company of Ser Jorah, Jharro, Davos and Tyrion held behind him mostly as they rode down the wide and obvious trail left by the Golden Company and leading south towards Moat Cailin. There had been debate over who would join the search, and who would lead the armies on to Winterfell. The second in command of the Unsullied was called Strong Ben, and a handful of Khals to lead the screamers. Missandei rode with Greyworm as fast as they could ahead, and the rest kept up their march North. The rest refused to stay behind and so Jon led them, and bore down on the trampled ground, ignoring the armies, the call of his home, and the companions behind him. Ignoring everything but her.
They'd rode all afternoon, hard on the Company's heels. Jon considered them pompous and dirty fighters. Everyone he'd brought down was done so by the man's own pride. Furthermore they were overtly bold to attack such a force in the broad light of day and steal away their queen. The force that pressed suddenly in on them, sent the middle of the convoy into chaos, and it was within this time Jon was led slightly away from her, just enough for them to snatch her. Chiding himself was the lightest of terms for what had been going on within him. Worse still was when the supposed leader of the Golden Company rode close to them, after the discovery that Daenerys had been taken.
"The Queen sends you her regards," he had called, merry of tone. "She shall where the bitch's silver hair before two nights have passed." Then, horse lunging, he bled into the fight and dissipated, and soon all were retreating and the attack was slowly dying down. The riders had been a successful enough distraction, and the few that were left saw the vengeful edge of Jon's blade. But no matter how many he killed, she was still gone.
The marshlands in the Neck were harsh and cold, colder to Jon than the Wall. The sort that crept inside your bones and made them ache. The trees were strange too, like gnarled hands of the dead thrust up to the sky. One such tree stopped them, along their path, as from it's largest bow there hung several golden armoured foreigners, their riches and ring almost completely stripped. The search party looked around them at the craggy landscape and shivered.
"This is hostile land," said Ser Jorah.
"The Neck," Jon answered, "They have their own rules."
"The crannogmen?" Tyrion remarked. He'd chanced a flighty horse, who'd have rather kept moving. "Are they actually real?"
Jon glanced his way, "Not afraid?"
"I'm just more inclined to believe in the impossible, now. And yes, maybe a little."
"Then you are wise." Jon spat on the ground and watched the warriors dangle, "The crannogmen have powers like the Children of the Forest. I suppose we all believe in things now."
They rode on, but at a slower pace until a voice slowed Jon to a stop. "Jon Snow," it called out, "Last word was that you'd died."
The party glanced this and that way, and Jhorro pulled his curved blade out from behind him, but Jon raised his hand to stop him. The voice was not threatening, and whoever it was knew about him already. "Greetings to you and the House Reed." he called back.
"I am the House Reed!" and a thin man emerged from the odd trees, closer then Jon realized. He held a bow taller then himself, and his clothes were dark as the forest and mud splattered. His face was thin, beard grey and short, and his eyes were on Jon at once. "I am Howland, and I knew Ned Stark well. I knew all the Starks well."
Jon glanced slightly around to see if any more deeply clothed hunters were around, not that he'd be able to spot them anyway. "I have heard your name before."
"Aye," Howland answered and leapt down to a fallen log new them. He had to be sprinting out of middle age, but the man was as spry as Jon remembered Bran to be. "My foolhardy offspring ran off to aid the Starks. They never returned."
"I've heard tell of a girl...a Reed girl, escorted my brother Brandon beyond the wall, and brought him home again," Jon paused. The look on Reed's face was not a good one, and Jon recalled then that there had been no mention of Hodor in the raven either.
"These times are truly dark," Reed said quietly, "I did not think I would outlive my boy..."
Jon swallowed the great lump in his throat, "We follow the Golden Company, they carry something we desperately seek."
Howland Reed glanced over the group and nodded, "I've seen the Company sure enough but the thing you seek... does it happen to be a little, silver-haired queen we've heard has come to Westeros?" Jon nodded, his breath shallow. "She was carried off to the east, with only a few of those braggarts. They were making for the sea."
"You're certain of this?" Jon pressed.
"Aye, and the bastard who had her thrown across his horse was neither a sell-sword, OR a Northman, but a salt covered, iron born piece of shit, with a mouth on him. Bragged the length of the forest."
"Sounds like Greyjoy." Tyrion glanced warily at Jon.
"I should have cut his throat and saved the girl, but for being alone." Howland went on, "There are two large men with him and another, strange one... Foreign and with strange magic we do not know."
"Greyjoy would be carrying her to his ships," Jon spun his eager horse.
"Do we know we can trust him?" Jorah rode in close and asked Jon. His eyes flickered over Howalnd Reed, "What if he is delaying us?"
Jon knew the houses Mormont and Reed could not be any different than each other, or farther apart. But for the Starks and the Reeds there was a bond that stretched back for centuries. His father never had an ill word for them. "We can" he decided, "And I thank you Ser Howland."
"I will guide you through the Eastern parts of the marshes," Howland offered, "There are things, King Jon, that I think you should know.
HR elected to join them, producing a well-tempered mule as a ride and ut was down obvious why, as the sure footedness of the thing was far better suited to the marsh landscape than their own chargers. The pace was compromised by the roots and slews and Jon's own wits stretched thin with each hour that passed. Each set back was another she might be killed during, each pause a lifetime.
"We've seen great change since the winter came. Strange changes." HR rode next to Jon mostly, "The children came to warn our scouts in the Northwest."
"Cheeldren" Jhorro repeated HR.
"Children." Said Tyrion, "Of the forest?"
"What means this?" Jhorro demanded.
Jorah Mormont snorted in reply, "A story for young ones."
"Westeros is foolish to think so." Howland turned to face him, "We shall need their help, before this is through, you mark my words."
Jon watched See Howland, "And so you know first hand what is coming for us. For all of us."
"Aye. But I've also seen great beasts flying over head and am told they've come, this time, to protect us. That'll be your queen's pets, then?"
Jorah shifted on his horse, "Rather different then Aegon the conqueror."
Howland Reed wound in and our of the trees, "It appears that way, but there are others who are spreading a different message."
"What others?" Tyrion asked.
"The travellerss. Singers and merchants from King's Landing passing through. They speak the lowest of tidings, that a barbarian queen has come, a conqueror worse than her ancestor bent on chaos and destruction."
"You believe these reports?" It was Jon that asked him.
See Howland glanced at him steadily, with a somber face. "When pressed, these tellers cannot admit to a source. It has made the crannogmen suspicious especially when we've heard other reports, through the old ways. These reports are of a beauty the world has never seen, with a saviours heart and a mothers love for her people. One who stole the allegiance of a king."
Jon blushed. "The old ways?"
Howland nodded, "These ways we akin to trust."
"Our women carry tales upon their tongues and pass them around as a duty. It is known."
"We never say that in Westeros. Even if it might be true." Tyrion remarked.
"Is that a true Dothraki screamer?" Holland asked of Jon. "These a strange times. Strange times. I never thought I would be riding next to you, Jon Snow."
"You told me there were things I should know." Jon mentioned.
"Yes it..it was of a time you should know more about, a time before Ned Stark had his own sons." And they rode on, Jon listening calmly to a tale of incredible feats and mysterious hero's, woven around a tournament he'd heard about as a youth. THE tournament that had brought about the kidnap of his aunt, and the beginning of Roberts rebellion. A dark and almost mythical knight coming to win back the Reed's honour peppered throughout. It was a great story, and he wondered at the way his aunt sounded, like Arya, fierce and strong, but perhaps with Sansa's beauty. Then, the story shifted. Howland drew much closer to Jon and began to speak in hushed tones. He told of a long journey, and desperate search with Ned Stark, through a dry and dangerous land. Of a monstrous fight against Sea Arthur Dane, the Sword of the Morning, where many fell, and nearly himself. Then he said, "Ned Stark went up into that tower and came back with a baby."
"What?" Jon gasped. "He said...he said that my aunt-"
"Not your Aunt, son."
Jon swallowed. "Lyanna is my mother." A thousand truths and lies were crashing in on him, "But that means...."
Howland sighed, "That means the same villain who carried her off was your father, and not Ned Stark, yes."
Jon pulled his horse to a stop. "I'm... I'm Targaryen." "You're Stark. The truest of all of them I feel, with your mother the she-wolf of Winterfell."
"But why would father- I , I mean Ned... why would he hide this from me?"
"Ned hid you from the world, all your life. He hid you from yourself also. How many out there would want to kill Rhaegars son, even if he was a bastard?" Howland looked ahead as he rode, "And Robert the most of all."
"Robert had killed Rhaegar already, what could he have done."
"Robert hated that man, and all Targaryens. We'd heard the Dornish growing restless when word came that he'd seen that the Mountain dashed Rhaegars children against the stone floors of the Throne room. The same would have been done to you. But you mother mean to keep you safe above all. She loved you no matter who's you were and protected you until her last breather, and Ned Stark right after her."
Jon breathed as steadily as he could, considering what had just gone on inside of him. He nodded to Howland Reed. "I am glad to know the truth at last, Set Howland."
"He meant to tell you, I know. He wrote to me that you had joined the Nights Watch." Reed added. "I thought it a great pity. There was an angel once, named Lyanna, who would have wanted so much more for you. And now, King Jon, I believe you are finally becoming something she would have agreed with."
Ser Jorah stopped abruptly. "I see a ship there, just through the trees. Wait here, Jhorro and I will scout it." He spoke in guttural Dothraki and they both rode away together.
Davos approached Jon's right hand side. "Your Grace. Do you believe what he tells you?"
"You were listening?"
Davos scoffed, "I consider it my job to bare at least what you must."
Jon's mind was tumbling of course. Son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. A true Stark, as he'd wanted, and a Targaryen... The seven knew what he was meant to think about all of it. Jon wasn't sure how he felt knowing he was conceive in violence, either. But since there was a greater problem at hand, he allowed himself to shove the news aside, "I'll have to think on it later I suppose."
Soon Jhorro and See Jorah were back, and with them another. The night had fallen completely, and it wasn't until they rode right up to the group that Jon knew him to be Then Greyjoy. "What the hell are you lot doing here?" he said riding up.
"Euron has taken the queen, he means to steal her off to my sister this night." Tyrion told him.
Theon gasped, "My sister is on his ship as well, we've tracked them to this inlet. He has been hiding here for hours, and we were wondering why... Now I see he was plotting and scheming. Even in that Dragonpit. This will not stand, the fate of the Ironborn and the seven kingdoms is in that ship." His tone had grown strong again, strong but not proud like it used to be.
Jon scowled and glared at the ships lantern lights through the trees. "Not for long."