Chapter 129: What Will the King Ask?
Winterfell had not slept properly since the raven arrived.
The castle seemed to have developed a heartbeat of its own.
Hammers rang from the smithy long after darkness had fallen. Servants carried freshly washed linens through the corridors. Stable boys moved constantly between stalls, counting feed and preparing space for horses that had not yet arrived. The kitchens burned without pause, filling the ancient castle with the scents of bread, roasted meat, onions, and spices.
Everywhere, people spoke about the approaching royal procession.
How many soldiers would come?
How large was the king's wheelhouse?
Would the queen bring all three royal children?
Would the Kingsguard train in Winterfell's yard?
But in the Great Hall that evening, another subject slowly entered the conversation.
Jon Snow.
The Stark family sat together near the high table while servants moved around them. It was not a formal supper. Too much work remained for ceremony. Plates were filled quickly, conversations overlapped, and every few moments someone entered to ask Catelyn another question.
Robb had spent most of the day inspecting the walls, stables, and training yard. He looked tired, but satisfied.
"The eastern guest quarters will be ready by tomorrow," he reported. "The old barracks can house part of the king's escort. The rest will need tents outside the walls."
Catelyn nodded.
"And the horses?"
"Ser Rodrik says we can stable perhaps two hundred more within the castle. The rest must be kept beyond the outer gate."
Theon leaned back in his chair.
"If the stories about Robert Baratheon are true, we should reserve an entire stable for his hunting horses."
Robb laughed.
"Perhaps two."
Ned listened quietly, cutting into his meal.
Bran, who had remained restless throughout the discussion, finally asked the question that had clearly been troubling him.
"Father, does King Robert know about Jon?"
The table became noticeably quieter.
Ned lifted his eyes.
"Robert knows Jon exists."
"That isn't what he means," Arya said immediately.
Bran nodded eagerly.
"Does he know what Jon became?"
Rickon stopped chewing and looked toward Ned as well.
Even Sansa, who had been pretending to concentrate on her food, glanced up.
Ned placed his knife beside his plate.
"He has heard the same reports much of the realm has heard," he said. "He knows about Winter's Heaven. He knows about the Titan. He knows Jon rules there."
"But does he believe them?" Arya asked.
Theon gave a short laugh.
"That is a better question."
Catelyn sent him a warning look, but Theon only shrugged.
"Half the realm still thinks every tale grows larger each time a sailor repeats it."
Robb shook his head.
"Not anymore."
He had seen the transformation in White Harbor with his own eyes.
At first, merchants had laughed at the stories. Then the grain arrived. Cement followed. Preserved foods filled the warehouses. Roads that should have required months of work appeared in weeks.
After the envoys returned, laughter had become much rarer.
"Lord Manderly sent copies of Ser Marlon's report throughout the North," Robb continued. "Some of those accounts reached the South. They know the city is real."
"The city," Theon said. "Not every ridiculous story surrounding it."
Arya frowned at him.
"What ridiculous stories?"
"The ones claiming Jon has a million men, commands sea dragons, and keeps stars trapped inside glass."
Bran looked offended.
"The lights are real."
"I didn't say they weren't."
"The trains are real too."
"So the envoys claimed."
"They saw them!"
Theon raised both hands in surrender.
"I am only saying that Westeros knows what twenty frightened men tried to describe after visiting a place they barely understood."
Robb's expression tightened.
"Ser Marlon was not frightened."
"No," Theon replied. "He was impressed. That might be worse."
Ned watched the exchange without interrupting.
Theon was not entirely wrong.
Ser Marlon and the others had seen Winter's Heaven, but even they did not truly understand it. They had described glowing glass, iron beasts, impossible roads, hospitals cleaner than noble chambers, schools filled with common children, and giants living alongside men.
They had returned with observations.
The world had turned those observations into legends.
Bran leaned forward.
"Will King Robert ask Father about it?"
"Yes," Robb answered before Ned could.
Everyone looked toward him.
Robb smiled faintly.
"Of course he will. Every lord we met in White Harbor asked questions. Robert will be no different."
"What will you tell him?" Catelyn asked Ned.
Her tone sounded casual.
It was not.
Ned met her eyes.
"The truth."
Theon smirked.
"Which truth?"
A silence settled over the table.
Ned's gaze hardened slightly.
"The truth that concerns him."
That erased Theon's amusement.
Robb understood immediately.
Jon had shown the North a great deal.
But he had not shown them everything.
Even during their meeting at White Harbor, Jon had controlled every detail. The number of soldiers. The gifts. The goods unloaded from the Titan. The thirty silent warriors who remained near him. The armored giants. The direwolves.
Everything had been deliberately chosen.
The visit had not been a careless revelation.
It had been a message.
Sansa looked between her father and Robb.
"What would not concern the king?"
"That is not a question for children," Catelyn said.
Arya scowled.
"We're always children whenever something interesting is being discussed."
"Because you are children," Catelyn replied.
"I'm not."
"You are eleven."
Arya stabbed a piece of meat with unnecessary violence.
Bran ignored them.
"Will King Robert want to meet Jon?"
Ned was quiet for several moments.
"I do not know."
"He should," Arya declared.
Sansa glanced toward her.
Arya continued confidently.
"Jon is more interesting than anyone in King's Landing."
"You have never been to King's Landing," Sansa reminded her.
"I don't need to go there. They sit around wearing silk and whispering behind one another's backs."
Theon laughed into his cup.
Catelyn frowned.
"Arya."
"What? It's true."
"You cannot know that."
"Jon built a kingdom," Arya said. "What has Prince Joffrey built?"
Sansa's cheeks immediately warmed.
"No one said anything about Prince Joffrey."
Arya's grin appeared.
"I didn't say you did."
Robb looked between his sisters and slowly began to smile.
Sansa noticed.
"Don't."
"I haven't said anything."
"You were about to."
"I was only wondering why Prince Joffrey suddenly entered this conversation."
"He did not suddenly enter anything. Arya brought him into it."
Arya leaned forward eagerly.
"Who do you think is better?"
Sansa stared at her.
"What kind of foolish question is that?"
"A simple one."
"They are completely different."
"Exactly. So choose."
Catelyn closed her eyes briefly.
Ned reached for his cup, hiding the smallest hint of amusement.
Sansa sat straighter.
"Prince Joffrey is heir to the Iron Throne."
Arya shrugged.
"Jon already has a throne."
"We don't know whether he actually sits on it."
"He doesn't need to. That makes him better."
"That makes no sense."
"He has a giant eagle."
"A prince does not need a giant eagle."
"Only because he doesn't have one."
Bran burst into laughter.
Even Rickon joined, though he had probably understood only half the argument.
Sansa tried to appear offended, but the image had entered her mind before she could stop it.
Prince Joffrey, golden and elegant, arriving beneath royal banners.
Jon descending from the sky upon his enormous eagle, dark cloak snapping in the wind.
Her blush deepened.
Arya saw it immediately.
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Thinking about Jon."
"I am not!"
"You have the same face you had when he visited."
Sansa nearly dropped her cup.
Robb coughed, though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
"Arya," Sansa hissed.
"What face?" Bran asked.
"The foolish one."
"I do not have a foolish face!"
"You do whenever someone says Jon is handsome."
Silence.
Then Theon laughed so loudly that two servants turned toward him.
Sansa's entire face became red.
Catelyn's expression sharpened.
"That is enough."
Arya leaned back, victorious.
Sansa glared at her with enough fury to melt the snow beyond the walls.
Ned decided to rescue her.
"Robert will likely ask about Jon," he said, returning the conversation to safer ground. "He will ask about White Harbor. He will ask about the Titan and the trade agreements. Perhaps he will ask what Jon intends."
"What does Jon intend?" Bran asked.
"To protect his people," Ned answered.
Robb looked at his father.
"And beyond that?"
Ned remembered standing with Jon in White Harbor.
The confidence in his voice.
The way hardened northern lords had quieted when he spoke.
Jon had not begged for recognition. He had not demanded submission. He had arrived knowing exactly what he possessed and exactly what he wanted.
"He intends to build," Ned said.
The answer sounded simple.
Robb knew it was not.
"More cities?"
"Perhaps."
"More ships?" Bran asked.
"Perhaps."
"More iron beasts?" Rickon added.
Ned smiled faintly.
"Almost certainly."
Theon studied him carefully.
"You sound proud."
Ned turned toward him.
"I am."
There was no hesitation in the answer.
Theon's smile faded.
Ned rarely spoke openly of pride, even regarding his own children. Hearing it stated so plainly carried weight.
Robb lowered his gaze, smiling slightly.
Arya looked delighted.
Bran seemed as if Ned had personally confirmed that Jon was a hero from legend.
Sansa's expression softened.
Catelyn remained quiet.
Her relationship with Jon had never been simple. She remembered him as the child Ned brought home from war. A living reminder of betrayal. A shadow beside Robb.
But the boy was no longer in Winterfell.
He had grown into a ruler whom merchants praised, soldiers obeyed, and an entire people appeared to love.
Whatever bitterness she had once carried could not change that truth.
"Robert may not see it as you do," she said carefully.
Ned's expression grew serious.
"No."
"He is king of the Seven Kingdoms. Jon calls himself king beyond the Wall."
"Jon does not rule any land Robert has ever possessed."
"Kings often care less about law than pride."
Ned could not disagree.
The title itself might become a problem.
Not immediately.
Robert was too fond of Ned and too fascinated by bold men to react with instant hostility. He might laugh. He might boast. He might demand to hear every story twice.
But Robert was still king.
And kings were surrounded by people who could turn curiosity into suspicion.
Littlefinger.
Varys.
Cersei.
Lords who would see profit, danger, or opportunity in Winter's Heaven.
"What will you do if Robert asks Jon to bend the knee?" Robb asked.
The hall seemed to become colder.
Ned looked toward his eldest son.
"He has no reason to ask."
"That does not mean he won't."
Ned did not answer immediately.
The truth was uncomfortable.
Jon would never kneel.
Not after everything he had built.
Not after turning a frozen wilderness into a kingdom through his own will.
And Ned would never ask him to.
"Robert is coming to see an old friend," Ned said at last. "We will not create conflicts before he arrives."
Robb accepted the answer, though it was not truly an answer.
Bran, less troubled by politics, asked another question.
"Do you think the king will like Jon?"
Ned's stern expression eased.
He remembered the young Robert—the warrior who laughed louder than any man, admired courage, loved strength, and collected friendships as easily as victories.
Then he imagined Robert hearing Jon speak.
Seeing Winter's Titan.
Watching a giant eagle descend.
Learning that Ned's quiet bastard son had crossed the Wall at six and returned as a king.
A rare laugh escaped him.
Everyone stared.
Ned Stark did not laugh often.
"Robert," he said, "will likely spend the first hour accusing me of hiding the most interesting child in the North from him."
Arya grinned.
"And after that?"
"He will demand a feast."
Theon raised his cup.
"At least some things in the world remain predictable."
The laughter that followed was warm and easy.
For a little while, there was no Hand of the King.
No royal court.
No danger waiting in the South.
There was only a family gathered around a table, speaking about a brother who had left them years ago and somehow become a legend.
Later, when the meal ended, Ned remained behind with Robb.
The others slowly departed.
Sansa dragged Arya away while whispering furious threats. Bran followed them, still asking whether a giant eagle could defeat a dragon. Rickon ran after him shouting that Shaggydog could defeat both.
Catelyn paused near the doors.
"We should speak privately tonight."
Ned nodded.
She left.
Robb waited until the hall had emptied.
"Father."
Ned looked toward him.
"When Robert asks about Jon's strength, what will you say?"
Ned studied his son carefully.
Robb had seen Jon's soldiers at White Harbor. He had seen giants in armor. Direwolves moving beside disciplined ranks. The thirty warriors carrying dark swords unlike anything ordinary smiths could produce.
But even Robb had seen only what Jon wanted him to see.
"I will tell him that Jon is capable of protecting his kingdom."
Robb frowned.
"That will only make him more curious."
"Yes."
"And if he asks whether Jon is a threat?"
Ned looked toward the fires burning along the hall.
His answer came quietly.
"Jon has never threatened the North."
"That wasn't my question."
"No," Ned agreed. "It was not."
Robb waited.
Finally Ned looked directly at him.
"Remember this, Robb. Men often become afraid of power simply because it exists. Fear makes them ask whether someone could harm them, instead of asking whether that person ever has."
Robb listened closely.
"Jon has traded with us. Fed our people. Strengthened White Harbor. Offered friendship without demanding obedience."
Ned's voice hardened slightly.
"If men choose to see an enemy in that, the fault will not belong to Jon."
Robb nodded slowly.
Outside, another hammer struck iron in the courtyard.
Then another.
Winterfell continued preparing for its king.
But within the ancient hall, father and son understood that Robert Baratheon would not be the only king whose name shaped the conversations to come.
Far beyond the Wall stood Winter's Heaven.
The world knew its name.
It had seen its ship.
It had heard the testimony of those who walked its shining streets.
But its greatest secrets remained exactly where Jon Snow wanted them—
Hidden.
End Chapter 129
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