The Great Hall of Winterfell was alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking goblets. The northern lords had gathered, their faces flushed with warmth and mead as they celebrated Jon’s heroism and the safe return of Alys Karstark. The long tables were laden with roasted meats, steaming bread, and flagons of ale, but the atmosphere was charged with anticipation.


    Ned Stark stood at the head of the hall, his voice carrying over the din. “Today, we honor Jon Snow,” he said, his tone firm and proud. “His bravery saved Alys Karstark and brought her home safely. He has proven himself a true son of the North.”


    The lords raised their cups in a toast, their expressions a mix of respect and curiosity. Alys, seated nearby, blushed deeply, her blue eyes darting to Jon. In her mind, she already saw a future where they stood together as husband and wife, their bond forged in the fires of danger and heroism.


    Ned continued, his voice growing more serious. “But there is more to discuss. The North has prospered in recent years. Our fields are fertile, our harvests abundant. We have more than enough to share. It is time to put aside past animosities and extend an offer of peace to the Freefolk. Let them live among us, as neighbors, not enemies.”


    The hall fell silent, the weight of Ned’s words sinking in. Catelyn Stark, seated beside him, stiffened, her blue eyes flashing with anger. She leaned close to Ned, her voice a sharp whisper. “An alliance with wildlings? Have you lost your mind? And now you elevate your bastard, as if he’s one of us. This is madness, Ned. He’s trying to take Winterfell from Robb!”


    Jon, seated further down the table, heard her words. His jaw tightened, and he rose to his feet, his dark eyes meeting Ned’s. “I renounce any claim to Winterfell,” he said, his voice clear and steady. “Even as a bastard, I have no desire to take what isn’t mine. My duty is to the North, not to a title.”


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The hall erupted into murmurs, the lords exchanging uneasy glances. Ned’s face fell, a flicker of sadness in his grey eyes. Shadow, standing in the shadows of the hall, felt a surge of pride. Jon had chosen family over ambition, a decision that would define him for years to come.


    Lord Karstark, seated nearby, stroked his beard thoughtfully. If Jon has renounced his claim, he mused, it would be easier to wed him to Alys. A match between them would strengthen our houses.


    <hr>


    At the Stark family table, the atmosphere was tense. Jon sat with his siblings, though the usual warmth was absent. Sansa, ever the proper lady, wrinkled her nose in disgust as Mary tore into a roasted turkey with her hands, her face smeared with grease.


    “Must she eat like that?” Sansa whispered to Arya, her voice filled with disdain.


    Arya grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think it’s brilliant. Why use a fork when you have hands?”


    Bran, seated beside Arya, nodded in agreement. “It’s faster this way.”


    Mary, oblivious to their conversation, growled softly as she devoured the turkey. At some point, she grabbed the entire bird and disappeared under the table, her tail flicking behind her.


    Shadow watched from the corner, his glowing eyes filled with exasperation. He had long since given up trying to teach Mary how to use cutlery. Some battles, he decided, were not worth fighting.


    Robb’s seat was empty, a stark reminder of his absence. Shadow’s gaze lingered on the empty chair, his thoughts drifting to the young Stark heir. He must still be resting, Shadow thought. The fall in the river took its toll.


    <hr>


    As the feast continued, Jon sat quietly, his mind racing. The alliance with the Freefolk was a gamble, but it was one he believed in. The North needed unity, now more than ever.