Catelyn refused to come to dinner that night, as Jaime was present. Whether that was out of dislike, or a reluctance for a former enemy to see what she had become, no one had tried to persuade her otherwise. The remainder of the family - Sansa, Arya, Rickon, Edrick, Aileen, Morganna and Ren - were all in attendance, however, most of them no doubt ready to be as unwelcoming as possible.

Though before the food was even served, Jaime did perhaps the one thing he could to endear himself to - or at least be slightly less hated by - the Stark children.

"It was always part of the treaty to return this," He addressed them all, ignoring the stony faces. "Loreon had to pry this from my father's cold hands and stop him melting it down into two Valyrian steel swords, so I hope you're grateful for his efforts,"

One of his men stepped forward with a long item covered in sackcloth, offering it to the group in general.

Arya, of all of them, stepped forward warily and pulled the heavy cloth away. There was a collective intake of breath from the table, and a murmur grew in the hall as everyone realised what Jaime had brought them.

"Ice," The girl breathed, impressed despite herself.

"Father's sword," Sansa was murmuring to Rickon, not taking her eyes of the Valyrian steel greatsword.

"Rickon's sword, now," Ross said.

The boy had been looking keenly at the sheathed sword and turned to her with wide eyes. "Really? It's bigger than I am! It's bigger than Arya,"

"You'll have it when you're older," She told him. "For now, would you mind if Ren took care of it?"

Whether her son used it in battle as Ned had done or not - he preferred a longsword to a greatsword - they would need someone to wield it for executions and important occasions.

Rickon shook his head; he didn't mind. After that, he was much less likely to copy his siblings' glares at Jaime throughout dinner - and they were much less likely to give them - and Ross saw sneaking curious glances at the knight every now and again.

The rest of the meal was surprisingly... not hostile, if not quite friendly and civil. Obviously Jaime's antics earlier had left no doubt as to where he and Ross stood, and though benches were alive with rumours, few reached the high table.

"So has your sister always been such a vile cow?" Morganna asked Jaime conversationally as the stew was served. "Or was it just me and Sansa who were lucky enough to see that side of her in King's Landing?"

Edrick choked on his mouthful, starting to laugh, as most of the others grinned. Even Sansa's lips twitched, though she cared little for the open impropriety. To everyone's surprise but Ross and Ren's, Jaime laughed too.

"Tyrion and Giana would agree with you," He said. "I would say she's been awful since she married Robert, but will admit they're probably more right than I am," He turned to Ross. "I don't know how or why you ever willingly spent time with her,"

The dislike colouring his tone at even the mention of his sister gave her a vicious satisfaction.

"She was always hateful, but entertaining," Ross said. "Different though you might be, the four of you all have a particular way of speaking, and an ingrained superiority complex from being raised by Tywin Lannister, that never fails to be amusing. Besides, it was better to be Cersei's friend than Cersei's enemy,"

"Ingrained superiority complex?" Jaime sounded out the phrase, grinning. "You cut me to the core, Lady Stark,"

"What else do you call having three children with the female version of yourself?"

Her family snorted at that, and Jaime raised a challenging eyebrow, amused.

"Two - I refuse to acknowledge any association with Joffrey,"

Ross smiled, unkindly. "I hope Cersei feels the pain of his loss as keenly as I did when she let her wretched son murder my brother,"

"I see returning from the dead has not tempered your gentle spirit, my lady," He raised his cup to her mockingly. "You will be pleased to hear that Cersei's got herself in some trouble. Father has sent her back to Casterly Rock under house arrest. All very secret - even I don't know why,"

He did know why, of course, and told her later. After all the others had gone to bed, Jaime joined Ross in her rooms. Not openly, but neither of them were bothering to be particularly discreet about it either. Before dinner, she had made herself look more presentable - worn her hair loose, and put on a nicer dress in deep velvet green - though he outshone her, as always.

"You won't believe this," He started off with before the door had even closed behind him.

"Try me,"

He sat down on the chaise beside her, in front of the fire, taking the wine bottle she wordlessly pushed his way. "Are you not having any?"

In response Ross lifted a whole bottle of her own that had been stood on the floor.

Jaime laughed. "Can you manage all that? I don't think I've ever seen you drink more than a cup of wine,"

"Well we haven't got any cups," She said, kicking off her shoes and tucking her legs underneath her. "And there's no chance I'm calling a servant at this hour to request two,"

"Fair enough," He eyed her, leaning back, amused. "I'd rather see you necking from the bottle like a tavern wench, anyway,"

She rolled her eyes, taking a swig nonetheless and ignoring his grin.

"Go on then. What did your sweet sister do that got her in so much trouble?"

"Yes," He took a long drink from his own bottle. "So Father set guards on her as punishment for orchestrating the Bolton... incident," Anger flashed in his eyes even at the mention and Ross fought to keep the smile from her face. "But after we returned to King's Landing, he seemed to relax that. Foolish of him. Joffrey's death made Cersei paranoid. I know it wasn't an accident, you know it wasn't an accident, but anyone else who doesn't know about Ren would sound mad even suggesting so. She starting accusing everyone around her - Loreon, Tyrion, me, Giana - "

"Why would she accuse you?" Even though the twins were no longer as disgustingly close as they had been years ago, Ross didn't realise Cersei hated Jaime as much as she hated Tyrion and Giana.

"Oh," He grinned then, taking another swig. "I tried to strangle her at a family dinner after Joffrey let slip it was her that told Bolton to kill you,"

Ross' eyes widened, but then she started to laugh. "You didn't," He just nodded. "What did your father do?"

"Called the guards to have her taken away," He shrugged. "He seemed to want to strangle her himself for almost ruining the treaty, so just glared and grumbled at me bit. But I truly would've killed her then, if no one had stopped me,"

The words meant more to Ross than she could say.

"Anyway, no one paid her accusations any mind, obviously," He scoffed. "Joffrey's horse ran into a river, for Gods sakes. But then she went oddly quiet, about everything. Most people were too glad to question it - and they were busy preparing for Loreon's wedding - but I know her better than anyone. She was acting strangely, which was suspicious," He smiled dryly. "I discovered her plotting with Qyburn - remember Bolton's awful maester from Harrenhal? - and some of the pyromancers. She wanted to blow up the Great Sept with wildfire during the wedding,"

Ross was silent for one beat, two.

"Is she completely insane?"

"Well, it wasn't a proud moment when I learned my twin is madder than the King I killed,"

"Are you sure your mother didn't have an affair with Aerys?" She was stunned. "It would explain a lot - about both of you, actually, but particularly Cersei,"

Jaime pulled a face at that, though she wasn't sure if that was at the comparison to the Mad King he had murdered or the reminder that he had once slept with his sister.

"From what I remember of my mother, she'd have ensured any baby formed of such a thing was never born," He said. "She wouldn't have risked it coming out with purple eyes, and everyone says she loved my father besides," He smiled then. "Besides, Aerys would definitely have thrown it in my father's face if he ever slept with his wife. He wouldn't have been able to stop himself,"

"You're not wrong," Ross said. "You've thought that through before,"

"The same idea did cross my mind. I had to convince myself it wasn't true,"

"So, what did you do when you found out your sweet sister was planning to blow up an entire wedding?" She was still incredulous at the idea. "I won't judge if you added kinslayer and queenslayer to your list of titles,"

"I considered it," He snorted. "But no - I dragged Cersei kicking and screaming to Father instead. Brought in Loreon too. She claimed to have been working on delaying Father and her children from arriving, so they wouldn't be killed in the explosion, but made no mention of me, Tyrion or Giana. Nor Loreon, Shireen, and a large proportion of the nobility of the Reach, Stormlands and Crownlands,"

Ross couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Even if she succeeded," She said faintly. "Surely she'd know that there would be repercussions. She would've completely wiped out many ancient houses, and damaged many others. War would be the least of her worries. Did she really think people would follow the Lannisters after that? The entire realm would want her head!"

"Starting with my father," Jaime said darkly. "Loreon claimed that his rage at finding out she told Bolton to kill you and young Robb - which apparently was impressive - paled in comparison to this,"

"I'm not surprised. Robert's Rebellion was triggered by Aerys killing two members of my house, but this is on a whole other scale... She's not even Queen... I just - " Words failed her, and she shook Ross head. "At least Aerys was doing it as a last resort, out of pure spite - even that makes more sense than Cersei actually thinking it would benefit her. She's more dangerous than a raving madman because she thinks she's right,"

"Father realised what a threat she is," He said. "She's been sent back to Casterly Rock as a prisoner without the chains. She's not allowed any contact with her children, nor anyone except the few servants allowed to bring her meals and clean her chambers. I don't see that changing anytime soon. With my Uncle Kevan as castellan, she won't get away with anything,"

"I hope not. Gods she's awful,"

"You won't hear me disagreeing. But enough talk of my sister, it's turning my stomach. Tell me how you won back the North. I heard today you took a trip to Skagos, of all places. Were there any close encounters with cannibals?"

"If there were, I never knew about them," She said. "The Skagosi were a little cagey about that, though perhaps that was for the best. I did ride a unicorn though,"

"If you say so," Jaime snorted.

"I did!" She laughed. "They're the size of a sturdy pony and look like shaggy mountain goats, with a huge horn in the middle of their forehead. Our guide laughed when I got mine to arch its neck,"

"So you not only want me to believe that unicorns are real but that you managed to get one on the bit like a well-trained palfrey?"

He was joking, and Ross just shook her head.

"More than you could've done. You wouldn't have lasted the journey - I'm certain the Skagosi would've taken one look at you and decided you'd make a nice stew,"

"Is that your attempt at a compliment, Lady Stark?" He grinned. "No wonder you're unmarried at four-and-thirty,"

Ross threw the cork of her now half-empty wine bottle at him, laughing as it bounced off his head. Without hesitation, he grabbed it and threw the cork back at her. It hit the centre of her chest, hard, right over the place where her husband's knife had pierced her skin. There was no pain, of course - she had woken up with it looking like a years-old scar - but she made a show of wincing, hand flying up to where it had hit.

The look on his face was comical. "Gods, I forgot - " He broke off as she started to laugh, concern fading. "You're hilarious, Stark. Did dying regress you to a ten-year-old child?" The amusement on his face did not match the scathing words.

"I was a very mature ten-year-old, so no,"

"You mean, boring?" At the look on her face, he laughed, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in close. "You should drink more often, it's quite entertaining,"

"That would've been a bad idea," She said, looking up at him. "I wouldn't have been able to get through a feast with Robert Baratheon without throwing a cork at his head. And the moment your sister made one of her nasty little comments about my odd-looking face, I'd have simply told her who was going to join me in my chambers later on,"

He laughed loudly. "Oh that would've been worth all the trouble that came afterwards. Did she really say your face looked odd?"

"She arranged my murder, why are you surprised? Besides, you've said I look strange,"

"I did, didn't I. In all fairness, I was sixteen. Actually no, you were fifteen, and did grow into that face. Now, I'd say you're strikingly beautiful,"

"Charming," Her tone was dry, but that was perhaps the most complimentary thing he'd ever said about her appearance, and his tone rang with a heartbreaking note of honesty. Beautiful was perhaps a strong word, in her opinion, but she supposed she wasn't the one who had to look at herself.

"I thought so," He raised her chin with one finger to look up at him. "I missed you. Everyone in King's Landing can tell you what unpleasant company I've been, since you died. It seemed so... wrong. That we had both broken vows, yet you had been killed for it, your name and body dragged through the mud, whilst I was free to carry on as before,"

"My name was already dragged through the mud, the moment I came home with a bastard after the Rebellion," She said, breath catching in her throat. "As was yours, when you killed a King,"

He kissed her then, softly, as though convinced she still was not quite real. Even after all these years, Ross was struck by the fact that this beautiful man wanted her. Gods, it had been too long. Though she may be reserved by nature - cold, even - she loved deeply and fiercely. To be so sure of the fact that someone else needed her as much as she needed them, was almost overwhelming.

The kiss did not stay soft for long. Before long, she was in his lap, her hands tangled in his hair. She could feel that he had regained a great deal of muscle since wasting away in Riverrun's dungeons for over a year; his arms were once again impossibly strong, and she could no longer feel his ribs, unlike when she had seen him in King's Landing. Sooner or later, by necessity, Ross had to get up from the chaise, so as to get out of the elaborate green gown.

"Why on earth did you wear this?" Jaime said, impatient as he helped her with the intricate laces; he was better at it than she was.

"Because I'd greeted you earlier stinking of ale and looking a mess," She had to laugh, as the heavy outer garment finally slipped from her shoulders onto the floor, leaving her in a thin white chemise.

"As if I was going to notice! Last time I thought I saw you, you were a mutilated corpse," He paused. "Saying that, you did look lovely tonight. It suits you, not hiding your skin," His finger traced the old scars on her shoulders and neck.

Once both of them were wearing considerably less clothing, entwined on her bed, she heard Jaime hiss slightly, fingers running over the ugly scar on her chest where Roose Bolton had stabbed her in the heart and twisted the blade.

"How in the seven hells did you survive that?"

For a moment she considered telling him, about the red priest, the baby, everything. But now wasn't the time, it would be hard enough explaining things sober, and now she would only sound mad. Perhaps it was selfish but she didn't know how he would react even if he did believe her.

"I don't know,"

*

Jaime waited at Winterfell until it was time to set off to meet Loreon and the armies of the south at the Wall. Those two weeks were surreal for Ross; they had never had a time like this, to do as they pleased. She was busy with her work, of course, which he did observe on occasion; Loreon had actually sent him to check on the state of the North, and would be expecting a report. Jaime also offered Ren advice on preparing the Northern armies. Her son was doing an excellent job, but had never done it single-handedly before.

Aside from that, however, their time was their own.

"Must you flaunt your... affair in front of the children, Rosennis?" Catelyn said. "I cannot stop you doing as you please, but am sure your sons and daughters would appreciate not knowing about it,"

Ross had just come in flushed from the cold, having been out riding, showing Jaime the Wolfswood (and showing him up on horseback, as ever). The day had been so enjoyable, she could not find it in her to be angry at the woman.

"I will take your words as something to be glad of, as it means your health is improving," She said to her goodsister. "And they are well aware already, none of which was my doing. Having returned from the dead, I don't intend to waste any more effort trying to hide what is obvious,"

Catelyn's lips pursed together, disapproving. "You may have forgotten that, despite Jaime Lannister's pretty face, he was our enemy not so long ago. His actions led to Ned becoming crippled in King's Landing. His son cut off your brother's head,"

So this was less about propriety, and more about bitterness. Ross could understand that well enough, and respected it more, which was why she did not say something cutting.

"I have known that man since I was five-and-ten," She said instead, in a neutral tone. "Before he was your enemy, he was my friend, and always has been. The sins of Cersei, Joffrey and Tywin are not his own,"

"Did you not loathe Rhaegar Targaryen, for his relation to Aerys?" Catelyn's voice grew more strained.

"I loathed Rhaegar Targaryen because he did unspeakable things to my sister," Ross said, cold now. "Though fair enough, I suppose - I hated Viserys and Rhaella, and they had done very little to me. I don't expect you to like Jaime - I'd be a hypocrite if I did - but I won't change a thing. Cersei is rotting under a lifelong house arrest, and Joffrey is dead. So is Roose Bolton and his vile son, not to mention Theon Greyjoy, whose Ironmen were slaughtered on the western shores,"

Catelyn seemed to deflate before her eyes. "That's almost worse," She said. "There is no one left to hate,"

"I understand," Ross said, because she did. "Their deaths don't change what they took from you,"

Her goodsister's eyes became glassy, her voice hoarse. "I have known grief and anguish before, Rosennis, but some days - even though four of my children are returned to me, one way or another - it's... too much. How did you bear it, at such a young age?"

Ross smiled weakly. "Do you not remember? I was a ghost after coming home. I could not sleep more than a few hours without waking up screaming, or sleepwalking through the castle. I flinched from the touch of every man. I missed Jaime like I had left a limb in King's Landing - we had been so dependent on the other. Oh, and I tried to murder my husband the night before the wedding,"

"What?" That won a tiny laugh from Catelyn.

"He told me I couldn't take Ren with me. So I tried to kill him in his sleep. I regret every day that he woke up before I could,"

"A few years ago, that would have scandalised me. Now, I understand," Her goodsister paused a moment. "You didn't answer my question. How did you get better? How did you deal with more without breaking? You were stabbed in the heart, and soon after were winning back the North, finding Rickon and getting your vengeance,"

"You don't get better," Ross shook her head. "It stays with you, always. You get better at hiding it, and grow to live around it. Honestly, I had no other choice. You cope, because you have to,"

*

She found Jaime in the yard. After the initial hostility and suspicion, the Winterfell men were warming to him, and he had spent a lot of time here lately. To her amusement, today he was sparring with Arya, whilst Ren and Edrick watched from the sidelines.

Her niece's face was set in fierce determination. She fought like no one Ross had ever seen; the style of a Braavosi water dancer, not a Westerosi knight. Jaime was better, bigger, stronger, but even he seemed perplexed by some of the moves the little girl was coming out with, still countering them easily but without his usual effortless fluidity. It didn't help that she was a much smaller target than he was used to, quick in a way even the most nimble grown man could never be.

"Gods, be careful," She said as Arya was disarmed quite violently and knocked to the ground. "Jaime, remember she's eleven,"

"She's vicious, is what she is," He said, unapologetic.

Arya grinned for a second as she picked herself off the ground, which quickly turned to a scowl as she remembered she was meant to dislike him.

"I nearly beat you,"

"No you didn't," Ren said, amused. "You did baffle him, though," He grinned at Jaime. "Wait until I tell Loreon an eleven-year-old girl caught you off guard a few times,"

Jaime did not seem to care. "Hire a Braavosi instructor," He said to Ross. "The style suits her,"

As the days wore on, the mood at dinner became less tense. Arya, despite herself, was warming to Jaime through their sparring; he was one of the few who wouldn't go easy on her. Edrick was similar; determined to hate him, but gradually changing his mind. Sansa was now perhaps the most wary, though she was, as ever, faultlessly polite, if a little cold. Lady Catelyn began to join them, and though she refused to speak to Jaime at first, they did exchange some stilted conversation later on in the visit.

Ren, of course, had known Jaime half his life, and it was as though nothing had changed. Aileen was trying to make up for her cousins and younger brother, and she and Jaime had struck up an unlikely friendship. As for Morganna, she was as brazen as ever.

"So was your father ashamed to realise he had five - well, six including Loreon - no, five, Joffrey died... five bastard grandchildren?" She asked Jaime at dinner one day. "Would I be wise to avoid King's Landing from now on?"

"You'd be wise to do that anyway," Jaime replied, considering her question. "He was more angry at my refusal to leave the Kingsguard than anything, especially after meeting Ren," He raised his glass mockingly. "You managed to impress the Old Lion, though he'd never admit it. He's furious you could never be his heir," He glanced at Morganna with a small smirk. "He'd be less impressed with you,"

Even Sansa, who had been listening in, had to smile at that. Ross knew exactly why Tywin Lannister would disapprove of Morganna, and that was because she'd remind him far too much of his disappointing former heir.

"I'm a bastard now, not a lady," Her daughter seemed to enjoy that fact. "I don't need to impress anyone,"

Arya shot her an envious look. "Can we tell people I'm a bastard too?"

"Arya!" Catelyn said, outraged, but did crack a faint smile.

"It wouldn't work, besides," Ross said. "You look unmistakably Stark,"

"I know," Arya said. "Sansa used to call me Arya Horseface,"

Sansa flushed. "That was a long time ago. You don't have a horseface,"

"My face is longer than yours, Arya," Morganna said.

"As if!" The girl scoffed. "Morganna Cersei-face, we should call you,"

"I'd rather you didn't," Ross said lightly, making Jaime snort.

"Morganna, you know you're beautiful," Aileen said, slyly. "Lots of handsome young men in this castle have told you,"

"Which ones?" Ren raised an eyebrow,.

"As if I'd tell you!" Morganna tossed her hair. "You'd scare the living daylights out of anyone and no one will even tell me I'm pretty again,"

"Would you tell me?" Ross asked.

"You're even worse,"

She shrugged; fair enough.

"You're meant to be her father," Edrick grumbled at Jaime. "Can the first thing you do to act like it be to use that bad reputation of yours to scare the boys gawping at my sister?"

"Can you hit my pigheaded brother?" Morganna said. "For being a pillock,"

*

Ross hated watching people she loved ride away. Normally she was the one doing the riding - during the Rebellion, every time she left Winterfell and King's Landing, the war with the Lannisters - but not this time. Both her sons, and Jaime too, had left that morning, heading up the Kingsroad to the Wall along with the Stark army. She could still see them from the battlements; it was a clear day and the shadow of the army was visible in the distance even hours later. Ren was riding near the front, recognisable by Crow's huge dark form running beside his horse, Grey Wind on his other side.

Rickon was not happy that Robb, Ren and Edrick were leaving; or rather, that he wasn't going with him.

"Why can't I go?" He demanded once the gates had shut behind them, his little face screwed up in anger. "I'm meant to go to war, I'm the Lord of Winterfell!"

"And I'm Lady Paramount of the North," Ross said, tone uncompromising. "You're not even seven years old and have only just started training with a sword. Absolutely not,"

"Derrick says I'm very good with a sword!"

"You are, for a boy of six. And I don't care if you've got Shaggydog," She raised an eyebrow, anticipating his protest. "You have no place fighting grown men in battle,"

Rickon was silent, but furiously so.

Ross granted him a reprieve. "When you're Edrick's age you can go - this is his first time going to war. He had to stay behind until now,"

The boy had seemed to accept that as fair, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. Thankfully their master-at-arms had managed to challenge a lot of his anger and wildness into weapons training, though Ross half expected to see a small redheaded figure tearing off on a black direwolf after the army as she watched them ride north.

Part of her wanted to take a horse and go tearing off herself. Though she would be useless in battle - the only weapon she was vaguely skilled with was her long dagger, which did not cope well against armoured knights - it seemed wrong to be staying far behind while her sons fought battles technically in her name. Although Edrick was good with a sword for his age, he didn't have the same natural brilliance as Ren did, and none of his clever restraint. Not to mention the fact his sight was only good in one eye, thanks to Ramsay.

Ross had watched battle unfold in the Whispering Wood, and on the Blackwater when Stannis had taken King's Landing. It wouldn't be easy for her younger son to experience that for the first time. Although he had spent over a year living with Ramsay Snow, who brought home the skins of murdered girls as trophies; he had also seen Ramsay be eaten alive by wolves. Battle could not be more gruesome than that. So perhaps he would be alright and this was just a mother's worrying.

It was odd to feel like she was being too soft. Normally it was the other way around. She glanced down at the head of Roose Bolton - and what remained of the head of Ramsay - stuck on pikes on the outer walls. Awfully rotted now, but Ross still smiled at the sight. The rest of her husband's body had been burned on a bonfire of damaged wood and debris, the ashes scattered in the midden heap.

Perhaps soft was the wrong word.

*

The raven came some weeks after the army left. Mance Rayder was defeated, his men smashed between the Wall - manned by the Night's Watch and the Northmen - and Loreon's men advancing from Eastwatch. The southerners had travelled slightly further north and fallen on the Wildlings from that direction, preventing many from escaping back into the Haunted Forest.

The stories of a Wildling army of a hundred thousand turned out to be exaggerated. Whilst there was near that many people as part of the host, the majority were women and children, the elderly and infirm, who stayed in the camp and did not go to battle. The Wildlings had suffered heavy losses simply getting to the Wall in the first place. Ren was vague about that, claiming that the cold took them, but it wasn't even truly winter yet? It would be bitterly cold beyond the Wall now, yes, but that would hardly hold a candle to the worst winters Winterfell had seen, let alone those lands further north. Strange...

Even the men and women that did fight in battle were a ragtag group of various tribes and clans that normally warred against each other. They had no training as a large army, did not work together as a cohesive unit and were not used to Westerosi warfare. No doubt the sight of a wall of armoured knights charging them down was utterly terrifying, and had caused many to break and run.

Many Wildlings had refused to stop fighting, or attempted to flee and been cut down, but all their generals had been told to offer their foes the chance to surrender, and to spare them if they did. Ross frowned after reading that, wondering why Ren, Loreon and whoever led the Night's Watch now - was it still old Lord Mormont? - had agreed to that.

Nonetheless, Mance Rayder's army was crippled and the man himself was held captive. Around ten thousand fighting men and women had survived the battle and were now prisoners. A further fifty thousand women and children joined them from the camp, along with 'a number of giants'. Giants? Madness... Ross hadn't realised there were any alive today; the last she heard of a giant was in Old Nan's stories.

THe letter only got more strange from that point onwards. She had to had to read the following paragraph again, and again, to be certain her eyes were not deceiving her. Her son was asking - at Jon Snow's request, which Loreon had for some reason agreed with - that she help them persuade the Northern lords to allow the surviving Wildlings through the Wall to settle in the Gift and New Gift.

I know it sounds absurd Mother, but you know I wouldn't ask if I didn't have a good reason. Come to Castle Black and you will see for yourself why this is the lesser of two evils. When I tell you that the Mountain Clans have not yet outright refused and even the Umbers have not killed us for suggesting it, you know this is a matter of great urgency. The Night's Watch is divided; half want us to butcher the Wildlings and have done with it, but the other half seem to be siding with Jon. Rayder led his people south for a reason.

That was concerning, to say the least. Any Stark that suggested letting the Wildlings through the Wall would not be Lord of Winterfell for long. The houses of the far north - Umber, Mormont, the Mountain Clans, even Karstark - held a deep and fairly-earned resentment towards the Wildlings, for years of raiding and stealing women. Not even mentioning the Watch itself.

But it was Jaime's message that fully convinced her she should actually entertain this possibility instead of deciding that there was something in the water at the Wall that had made everyone there go mad. He had written a small note at the end of Ren's letter;

Trust him, Ross. There's things out here that you won't believe. Come north, and hurry.

Not a word of that sounded like a joke.

The next day, Ross was riding out with an escort of a dozen Winterfell men - leaving the castle securely garrisoned, with strict orders that a siege would be preferable to losing the castle in the same manner they had before - along with (despite her reservations) Rickon, Shaggydog and Osha. People needed to see that both she and Rickon, the new Lord of Winterfell, were actually alive. And she did not trust that boy out of her sight for too long.

The journey was slow going. The Kingsroad was covered in a thick layer of snow, which only got deeper the further north they went. The horses were sturdy Northern beasts and did not struggle overmuch, plodding through the snow, but were not exactly fast. Both she and the men were used to travelling in winter, and Rickon was hardy from his time on Skagos, so there were few complaints on the journey, but it was a relief nonetheless when they reached the underwhelming sight of Castle Black.

Ross finally realised how sorry the state of the Night's Watch was when she saw the dilapidated castle, lots of the buildings in dire need of repair. They had been able to see the magnificent structure of the Wall for days now - she had found it quite beautiful on the days when it shone in the sun - but it had taken a while to realise the small dark smudge beneath it was the castle. The Northern army was camped in and around it, vastly outnumbering the Black Brothers. From what she understood, Loreon's camp was on the other side of the Wall, and that was where the Wildings were contained.

Her arrival was without fanfare but she was met in the courtyard by a several men of the Night's Watch, along with Ren, Edrick, Loreon and Jaime. She wondered where Benjen was. She had not seen her little brother since Ned left Winterfell; they were the last two left, she realised bleakly.

Jon Snow was there too. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the boy - man, now - looking like the ghost of Ned Stark, but taller and less stocky than her brother had been. Ghost stood at his side, white and silent.

"Father?" Rickon looked unsurely at Jon, voice quiet enough that only Ross heard him. "But I thought - "

"Your father is dead, Rickon," She spoke softer than usual. "That's Jon Snow, your brother,"

"That's Jon?" The boy brightened up a little, remembering. "He looks a lot older,"

Shaggydog was already racing forward, tackling Ghost into the snow. People hurriedly moved out the way of the horse-sized wolves play-fighting like common hounds. Grey Wind stood nearby, not getting involved and watching the interactions instead.

"Lady Rosennis," Jon inclined his head politely. "Welcome to Castle Black,"

"I'm your aunt, Jon, no need to be so formal," She said, nudging Rickon forwards. That was all the prompting the boy needed to fling himself at Jon, who seemed surprised but incredibly glad all the same, arms wrapping around his brother.

Once they parted, she turned to Loreon, who had hung back slightly with Jaime whilst she greeted her family.

"Lady Rosennis," He beamed at her. Her eyes widened when he threw propriety to the wind and moved to embrace her, so tight that her feet lifted off the ground. "Gods I'm glad you're alive. It was awful to think of you dying bloodily in some dark room in Harrenhal by your husband's hand. You deserved a better death than that,"

"Quite," She wasn't sure what to say to that. "Have you run the kingdom into the ground without me?"

"Put my mother down, Storm," Ren warned, only half-joking.

And finally, she turned to Jaime, offering a small smile. "I would offer you just as warm a greeting, but I'm afraid the Northern lords might mutiny against me. Even after the treaty, I doubt you are especially popular,"

"Wise of you," He said, grinning, unbothered. "Loreon here truly did miss your advice at court. I watched him flounder a few times without you,"

Loreon nodded. "I've been dying for someone to tell me my ideas are stupid, I'm not being harsh enough or that I haven't thought things through," He said, amused. "Actually, I just need someone in court who can tell the flatterers and lickspittles they're talking horseshit. I can't do it myself without making too many enemies,"

"I'm rather busy at Winterfell, but I could send you a letter to read out to them?" Her lips twitched. "Or perhaps you could grow a spine,"

Loreon had to laugh at that. "Never one as strong as yours," He said. "I'll just find Ren a position on the Small Council. He's the next best thing, and my dear grandfather seems keen to have him in the south as it is,"

"Told you," Jaime turned to Ren. "Dye your hair blonde and he may almost treat you like a real Lannister,"

His friend pulled a face. "On that note, Jon, you still haven't told her,"

"Told me what?" Ross narrowed her eyes.

"He's the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," Edrick said with a grin.

She turned to her nephew, surprised. "Really?"

Jon smiled slightly. "I didn't enter my name in the vote, but thanks to Sam - Samwell Tarly - my Brothers voted for me anyway," He gestured to a fat young man in black hovering behind him. "It was only a few days ago,"

"We wouldn't have held the Wall without Jon, my lady," Samwell Tarly's eyes darted around nervously. "We were on our own for a day and night before your troops got here, with no Lord Commander,"

She could tell he was loyal to Jon; otherwise he would have been to scared to speak directly to her. Perhaps he thought she was like Lady Catelyn and would dislike a bastard rising too high.

"Well done," She said to her nephew, meaning it. "What happened to Lord Mormont?"

"Mutiny," Jon said darkly. "There was a great ranging, beyond the Wall. It's a long story, one we should tell inside out the cold. The Northern lords are gathered in the hall, Aunt Ross, but they've all heard the story. I'd rather tell you in private, if that's alright with you,"

"Of course," She nodded, following him inside.

*

Private turned out to be her, Jon, Ren, Edrick, Grey Wind, Rickon, Samwell Tarly, a very old maester wearing Night's Watch blacks and a woman dressed all in red.

"Melisandre," Her eyes narrowed. Last she had heard of the priestess, Loreon had banished her from King's Landing. "You won't find many willing to convert to your red god in the North,"

"I am not here to convert," She said in her rich, accented voice. "But to advise," She considered Ross closely. "Strange that you still don't believe in R'hllor's power, seeing as he has touched you so deeply," Her eyebrow raised. "Stranger still that your heart beats,"

Jon cleared his throat. "Thank you, my lady," He said, and Melisandre drew back, though her eyes lingered on Ross. "I didn't know you had met. This is Maester Aemon,"

He gestured to the ancient man who was sat down, and Ross realised that he was blind. The name was familiar - she'd read it somewhere before - as were some of the features on his wrinkled face... Then the truth hit her like a hammer to the face.

"Aemon Targaryen?" She asked sharply, remembering her histories, how Aegon the Unlikely had become king after his elder brother, a maester, had gone to the Wall.

Jon's eyes widened. Evidently he remembered her hatred of Targaryens and had hoped she wouldn't realise. Ross ignored him, focusing on the old man.

His eyes were blind and white rather than purple, but though his face was heavily lined, she still recognised the fine-boned nose, the Valyrian curve to his lips. Her blood grew cold as it did at any mention of his family, and memories viciously assaulted her; Rhaegar's eyes locked on Lyanna as he handed her a crown of roses; Aerys on the throne laughing as Father burned and Brandon died; Aerys bearing down on her, hurting her, his voice hissing, evil and cruel -

"Lady Stark," The maester's voice was calm and courteous.

She had half expected Aerys' cackle and blinked herself out of her memories. He's an old man, just an old man, they wouldn't have let him be a maester if he was as mad as his great-nephew. She still didn't trust herself to open her mouth without insulting him, or embarrassing herself.

There was a silence, which Jon broke.

"And this is Mance Rayder,"

That got her attention. She had barely noticed the unassuming man sat in the corner, taking him for a Black Brother until she realised he wore chains on his wrists. He did not look like a king. Even sat down, he was tall and slender, with a mane of grey hair and laughter lines on his face.

"Rosennis Stark," He said, not using her title, though she didn't expect him to, his tone light. "I hear you're the one to decide if my people live or die and come back to kill you,"

She raised an eyebrow at that odd phrasing, glancing at Ren, who looked to Jon.

Jon grimaced. "There's a reason the Wildings banded together to attack the Wall," He said, trying to find the right words. "It started before I came here, when two rangers were killed and another deserted. I was there when Father beheaded him - he was raving about undead creatures, white shadows,"

Ross was silent, wondering where this was going.

"Then Uncle Benjen went missing,"

"Benjen is missing?" She asked sharply, not having been aware of this. As far as she was concerned her little brother was still First Ranger. "Since when?"

"Since I came to the Wall," Jon said, surprised that she didn't know.

She gritted her teeth, angry that somehow she hadn't been made aware of that, and very concerned for her brother too; missing beyond the Wall for two years, gods he couldn't be dead, not little Ben, I can't be the last one, I can't. Trying to block out the turmoil of her mind, she waved for Jon to continue, jaw clenched.

"We found the corpses of the two men that went with Benjen," He said. "We took them into the castle. But that night, they rose and tried to kill Lord Mormont,"

What? She searched his face for any sign of a joke, and found none. None of the others were laughing either.

"The corpses tried to kill your Lord Commander?" A chill ran down Ross' spine even voicing it. Dead men rising in the night hit too close to home.

"Yes," Jon grimaced. "It sounds absurd, I know, but it's true. I got this burn killing one," He showed her the burn scars on his hand.

"Was it... magic?" She felt stupid even suggesting such a thing, though less so than she would've before she was raised from the dead herself. Perhaps this was the same thing, only something had gone wrong. She glanced at Melisandre; she was a red priestess, had she been behind it..?

"We weren't sure," Jon continued. "But Lord Mormont had had enough of the strangeness and took us all on a Great Ranging, to see what was going on. I was sent away with Qhorin Halfhand at this point," There was a story there that he wasn't getting into; Tarly shifted uncomfortably and Jons eyes closed off a little. "But the Watch made camp at the Fist of the First Men. Sam was there, he'll tell you,"

He glanced at Tarly, who looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.

"W-w-we were attacked, my lady," He said, quailing slightly as her stare turned to him. "In the night. There were three blasts on the horn. That means - it means... Others are coming,"

"Which others? Wildlings? Freefolk, apologies," Ross frowned, ignoring Mance Rayder's raised eyebrow at her use of the term 'Freefolk'. Then realisation hit. Others, not others. "You can't mean - "

She broke off, taking in the grim faces around her. But they're just stories, they all must be joking, but no one's denying it, none of the lords, not Ren, Jon, even Edrick...

Gods.

She swallowed. "Have you seen one? An - an Other? Has anyone?"

"Sam killed one. Sam the Slayer," The corners of Jon's mouth twitched. Samwell blushed, shuffling his feet, and Jon looked amused for a moment before turning solemn once more. "But yes, lots of us have seen one. They hounded the Night's Watch all the way back to the Wall, the Freefolk too. And everyone has seen the wights - the Others can raise the dead. That was what happened to the corpses that attacked Lord Mormont,"

"It was wights that attacked us at the Fist, my lady," Samwell Tarly said. "You can stick them with a sword but they don't die. You can cut their heads off but they keep coming,"

"They killed our men then raised them against us," Jon said. "That's why a lot of people want to let the Freefolk through the Wall. Otherwise we'll be facing them as a wight army in the future,"

That was a lot to take in. Benjen missing, probably dead, Gods, I'm the last one left, Others, giants, Wildlings, wights, the dead walking - the dead walking! Was she a wight, having been raised from the dead, though she was raised by a red priest, not than an Other? But surely not, she could remember everything, she had a heartbeat, she felt alive and no different from before save a few extra nightmares. Lord Beric, though...

Ross took a deep breath.

"Can wights be killed?" She asked, trying to remain practical and not take her family as far from this place as possible. "You said Tarly killed an Other?"

"The wights can be killed by fire, Valyrian steel or dragonglass," Jon drew the odd-looking dagger at his belt. "Obsidian, the maesters call it. As for the Others, they dislike fire but only Valyrian steel and dragonglass will stop them,"

"Well that makes my decision easier," She said, trying to focus on what she could do now rather than the wintery doom bearing down on them. "Let the Freefolk through the Wall, though take all their weapons. I'd rather have them alive here than undead out there,"

Mance Rayder smiled, satisfied and looking like he was hiding his surprise at how easily she'd been convinced.

"The lords will want more assurance than that," Ren spoke up. "They've been fighting these people for millennia,"

"Take hostages," Jon said, no hint of the boy she had known at Winterfell in his tone. "From each of the wildling leaders. Have them give up a son or daughter, with the threat that we'll kill them if they cause any trouble,"

Ross looked at him appraisingly. Ren seemed surprised, but impressed.

She nodded. "A good plan. Will your people accept that?" She looked at Mance Rayder.

He shrugged. "They can accept it or die. They know what's out there,"

*

Edited November 2024

Many of you were curious where the situation with the Wildlings was headed - here's your answer. What do you think of this chapter? It struck me while writing it that Ross never found out that Benjen went missing - I honestly can't remember if Robb ever found out in canon, but if he did lets just say Ross was away for that bit and no one got round to telling her.

It's important to make the distinction now between show!Jon and book!Jon, because honestly by ADWD they're completely different characters. Show!Jon is led by his emotions and is honestly not the brightest (see the Battle of the Bastards, staying to fight after everyone got on the dragon, bending the knee to Dany etc etc). Book!Jon (whilst still ignorant in many areas and not perfect by any means) is ambitious, intelligent and even rather cold sometimes, hence the wildling hostages here.

Also Cersei's insane plot was thankfully foiled. It was such a brilliant and shocking moment on the show, and I couldn't wait for the consequences for what she'd done only to see there were none at all. 

Please leave a comment if you can spare a minute! Even a few words matter a lot. Thanks for reading!