The day had finally come.
Jon Snow’s smile widened as he looked at the preparations around him.
“We have to double our efforts,” he said to the clones.
“They’re coming, and we lack many things.” “We need to prepare,” he continued.
“Where will they stay after the audience?
What will they eat?
Every one.
Move !
move !
move!
The guy coming is technically my uncle, so we have to be accommodating.” Everyone was rushing to finish everything, moving with purpose and urgency.
—— Meanwhile Kael was running at a speed comparable to a horse’s gallop.
To the Night’s Watchmen, this was unbelievable.
But seeing it with their own eyes, they had no choice but to believe.
When they finally arrived at the gate, the Night’s Watchmen were greatly intimidated by what they saw.
A massive gate stood before them, large enough to fit four wagons side by side.
At the very top of the gate was a head of a dragon, made from black iron, with emerald-green gemstones embedded in its eyes.
It was so lifelike that it seemed as if it could breathe fire at any moment.
(Little did they know that as a matter of fact it can truly breathe fire, the seals on the dragon’s mouth —when activated, they would unleash a burst of fire.) As they entered through the gate, they were greeted by a cool, comfortable breeze inside.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers.
The buildings made from rock, are neatly arrange.
The road was white, smooth, and extremely flat.
Their hooves clacked softly as the horses trotted along.
The young Night’s Watchmen looked around in awe.
“This is beautiful,” one of them whispered.
“This is a city only possible in dreams.” Their eyes darted from one building to another, overwhelmed by the sight.
But one thing bothered them—the place looked new, pristine, and untouched.
And where were all the people?
So many buildings, yet not a single soul in sight.
Kael smirked at their reactions.
He then led them toward a crimson domed palace.
When Benjen and the others saw it, they couldn’t believe their eyes.
A palace made from a red gem?
By the Old Gods!
one of them exclaimed.
“If I could take a chunk from it,” someone muttered, “I’d be set for life.” Kael showed them the entrance to the crimson dome palace.
“Please, enter,” he said kindly.
“The creator of this place is inside.
If you want answers, you will find them there.” Benjen looked at him curiously.
“Aren’t you coming?” Kael shook his head politely.
“No, I must apologize.
I am only here to guide you untill at the entrance.” He paused, a faint smile on his lips.
“But you need not worry.
You are guests here.
No harm shall fall upon you.” Benjen hesitated for a moment, weighing his options.
Finally, he decided.
“If you anyone of you want’s to go inside, come with me.
If not, wait outside the gate.” The Rangers exchanged glances, then nodded in unison.
“Lord Stark will be going in with you,” one of them said firmly.
“Every Night’s Watchman here will follow,” another added confidently.
With everything decided, they steeled their nerves and stepped forward, entering the palace.
,——– Winterfell Inside the Lord Solar, a man with a grim face, Ned Stark checked the ledgers of the castle.
The extra provisions they had prepared for the Wall, the people they planned to send to bolster its ranks—everything was noted.
But it was all limited.
Especially the people.
You find very few men willing to go to the Wall and become a Night’s Watchmen.
Mostly, only criminals who choose the Wall over punishment.
The dungeons are practically empty.
The gold dragons are depleting fast.
The only good news I’ve heard so far is that this summer will still continue.
We can still start to plant and grow more crops for harvest.
A knock was heard, and a servant entered.
He announced to Lord Stark that lunch was ready and that his children are waiting in the mess hall.
Eddard Stark rose to his feet and prepared to head to the mess hall.
Just as he was about to leave the room, his wife, Catelyn Stark, was standing outside the door, smiling.
Her beauty had not faded one bit.
After giving birth to Sansa, her looks seemed to become even more radiant, almost as youthful and stunning as when he first saw her.
She then hugged him, looked into his face, and said,”I just talked with Maester Luwin.
I’m pregnant, Ned.” She smiled warmly as she shared the news.
He was so surprised that he hugged her tightly.
He kissed her cheeks, then her forehead, and finally her lips—gently, as carefully as he could.
“I’m so happy,” he said.
“Thank the Gods, the Old Gods and the New.
A new Stark is about to be born.” “Let’s go to the mess hall,” he added.
“The children will be happy to hear this news.” They walked down the hall hand in hand, smiling at each other, engaging in light conversation.
At lunch…
Rob Stark Eddard Stark’s eldest son, who was now four years old, was happily chatting with Jon while eating.
Jon was taller than Rob, even though Rob was a few moons older.
Suddenly, their father spoke loudly, catching their attention.
Jon and Rob fell silent to listen.
My father then announced that my mother was pregnant.
Jon and I looked at each other and grinned.
I asked my mother,”Mother, am I going to have another sibling?
Will it be a boy like me or a girl like Sansa?” His mother smiled and pinched his face affectionately.
“We’ll know when the time comes.
Be patient, Rob.” Rob giggled.
Jon Snow’s clone looked at his aunt.
She had just given birth four moons ago, and now she is pregnant again??
Dam*.
I should have gone easier on the healing.
(Almost every two or three days, I give her chakra because whenever the cold gets into her, she becomes irritated specially when seeing me.
But if she didn’t feel the cold, she’ll be in a good mood, that sometimes even nods at me.
So, I keep spamming healing chakra to her every now and then to prevent the cold from affecting her, which to my advantage.) The midday sun streamed through the windows of Winterfell’s great hall, casting a warm glow over the bustling tables.
While Happily eating lunch Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the air as the Stark family celebrated the joyous news — Lady Catelyn was pregnant.
The atmosphere was light and jubilant, everyone sharing in the happiness of new life destined to join the noble house of Winterfell.
Amidst the merriment, Maester Luwin hurried into the hall, clutching a sealed parchment.
His face was tense, a stark contrast to the joyful expressions around him.
Without hesitation, he approached Lord Eddard Stark, bowing respectfully.
“My lord,” Maester Luwin said softly, holding out the parchment.
“It’s from King’s Landing.” Eddard took the parchment, his expression shifting as he broke the seal and unfolded the message.
His eyes scanned the words, and at first, a smile of contentment touched his lips.
But as he read further, his face darkened.
The smile faded, replaced by a grim seriousness that chilled the room.
Inside the letter, it was explained that the Greyjoy rebelled.
The iron islands is in open rebellion against the Iron Throne.
The realm, still recovering from the scars of the recent war, now faced a new threat.
The King had called upon the North for war, demanding their support to quash the uprising.
A heavy silence fell over the hall as all present absorbed the gravity of the message.
The news of the rebellion was a wound reopened, a reminder that peace was still a distant dream.
Lord Eddard’s gaze hardened as he folded the parchment, his mind already racing with plans and concerns.
The celebration of new life in Winterfell was replaced by the sober realization that the realm’s peace was once again in peril.
The North would answer the call.
The days ahead would test the strength and loyalty of the Stark family, and the North itself.