《Jon snow after a thousand year voyage》


 Chapter 1: The Wolf returns

    (Robb Stark¡¯s POV)


    The great hall of Winterfell was alive with the clamor of steel and the low growl of angry voices. Robb sat at the high table, his father¡¯s seat now his by grim necessity. The weight of the crown¡ªa circlet of bronze and iron¡ªfelt foreign upon his brow. King in the North. The words should have been a triumph. Instead, they tasted of ashes.


    Father is dead. And I will have justice.


    The lords of the North stood before him¡ªGreatjon Umber¡¯s booming voice, Roose Bolton¡¯s quiet menace, Lady Maege Mormont¡¯s steel-eyed resolve. They had come for war. And then¡ª


    The doors opened.


    Jon Snow stood in the threshold, clad in black, his face gaunt and weathered. But it wasn¡¯t just exhaustion that marked him. His left arm was gone, the sleeve of his Night¡¯s Watch cloak pinned uselessly at his side.


    Robb¡¯s breath caught. Gods, what happened to you?


    "Jon," he said, rising. His voice was steadier than he felt.


    "I came as soon as I heard," Jon said simply.


    A murmur spread through the hall. The lords shifted, eyes narrowing. A deserter from the Night¡¯s Watch stood before them, and worse¡ªa cripple.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Robb ignored them. "Your arm¡ª"


    "Doesn¡¯t matter," Jon said. His voice was calm, but there was something in his eyes¡ªsomething Robb couldn¡¯t place.


    Lord Karstark scoffed. "What matters is that the boy¡¯s an oathbreaker. The Watch is for life, or did the Starks forget their own words?"


    Jon didn¡¯t flinch. "My watch has ended."


    "By whose decree?" Maege Mormont demanded.


    Jon met her gaze. "By the only one that matters."


    Robb¡¯s fingers tightened around the armrest of his seat. Jon had always been solemn, but this¡ªthis was different. There was a certainty in him now, an unshakable resolve. And yet, he offered no explanation.


    Greatjon Umber laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Did the cold freeze your wits, boy? Or did you just tire of freezing your balls off at the Wall?"


    Jon didn¡¯t rise to the bait. "I didn¡¯t come to argue. I came to fight."


    "For who?" Roose Bolton¡¯s voice was a whisper, but it cut through the room. "Your brother? Or yourself?"


    Robb saw Jon¡¯s jaw tighten. For the first time, something flickered in his eyes¡ªnot anger, but something deeper. Something like grief.


    "I came for House Stark," Jon said. "The dead don¡¯t care about oaths."


    A strange choice of words. Robb frowned. The dead?


    But before he could speak, the Greatjon slammed his fist on the table. "Enough! We¡¯ve no time for broken men and riddles. The Lannisters¡ª"


    "¡ªare not the only threat," Jon interrupted.


    Silence.


    Robb studied his brother. There was something Jon wasn¡¯t saying. Something no one knew.


    "Later," Robb said finally, his voice brooking no argument. "We¡¯ll speak later."


    Jon gave the barest nod.


    As the war council resumed, Robb¡¯s thoughts churned. Jon had changed. Something had happened at the Wall¡ªsomething worse than a lost arm.


    And whatever it was, Jon believed it was worth breaking his oath for.