"Jon! You're amazing!"
As soon as the wildlings officially entered Castle Black and saw the mountains of supplies stacked within, a flash of red hair darted through the crowd. Ygritte threw herself into Aedric's arms and started kissing him wildly across the face.
"Alright, alright—stop! Breathe! Let me go first!"
Forcing the fiery woman off him, Aedric turned to Mance Rayder with a weary sigh. "As agreed, Castle Black is yours now. The supplies here should last you about a year. I've done all I can—just make sure you keep your promise."
"Don't worry, Jon," Mance said firmly. "The word of the Free Folk is unbreakable! Let the gods bear witness—until the end of the world, none of us will forget what you've done for us."
"I just made you cannon fodder, nothing noble about it," Aedric muttered tiredly. "And to be clear, the northern armies are stationed less than a hundred miles away. If you go back on your word, they'll wipe you out."
It was all part of the plan. No one in his right mind would trust a promise without some leverage—especially not in Westeros, where oathbreakers were practically a tradition.
"Hahaha, fair enough, Jon," Mance chuckled. "So what now? Stay and fight with us?"
Ignoring Ygritte's smoldering gaze that all but said 'take me now', Aedric gave a wry smile. "I need to run. I've just become the most hated criminal in Westeros. There's nowhere left for me to stand."
"I'll go with you, Jon!" Ygritte blurted, clutching his arm like a vice. "If you leave me behind again, I'll die right here in front of you! I swear it!"
Knowing full well that this wildling woman wasn't bluffing, Aedric sighed and silently cursed whatever cosmic scriptwriter kept pairing him with such stubborn women. Then, helplessly, he nodded. Together they rode away from Castle Black.
Halfway back south, Lord Eddard Stark suddenly appeared with his bannermen, storming across the snow to block their path. His face was thunderous as he shouted, "Jon Snow! What have you done? You conspired with the wildlings!"
Aedric gave a discreet thumbs-up in his heart—Eddard's acting was perfect.
"You're right, Lord Stark," he said coolly. "This is my revenge on the Stark family. You made me a bastard, and now you'll pay the price. Goodbye."
Without another word, he turned his horse and galloped away with Ygritte, leaving the northerners staring after them.
"...Are we not going to chase them?" asked Roose Bolton, the shrewdest man in the North, frowning as the pair vanished into the distance.
Eddard shot him a deadpan look and gestured at their empty surroundings. "If your two legs can catch up to their four, be my guest, Lord Bolton."
With that, he turned and walked off, leaving his men bewildered.
After a hard ride, Aedric and Ygritte reached a northern port where a large ship was already waiting. To his surprise, standing on deck was none other than his new wife—Myrcella Baratheon.
"You can return to King's Landing, Myrcella," Aedric said softly. "You don't need to follow me into exile."
"I'm your wife, Jon," she said with a sweet smile. "Wherever you go, I go."
For a moment, Aedric said nothing. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. When he finally let her go, the golden-haired princess was flushed and breathless.
"What a naïve and adorable little fool," he murmured. "But I like you."
He introduced her to Ygritte. Surprisingly, there was no drama. Ygritte already knew she could never be the "official wife," and simply being allowed to stay by his side was enough.
The two women got along better than he expected, chatting comfortably within minutes. Watching them from a distance, Aedric rolled his eyes and walked to the corner of the deck. Pulling aside a heavy tarp, he froze.
Beneath it was a grinning little direwolf pup.
"...Arya. Really?"
"Of course!" Arya Stark popped up proudly. "You still have so much to teach me, Jon! I'm coming with you—no arguments!"
They'd already sailed far from shore. Turning back wasn't an option. Aedric sighed, flicked her forehead, and scolded, "Next time, at least warn me. Your mother might literally kill me for this."
"I left a note," Arya said confidently, hugging his arm. "And besides—won't it be fun to see Daenerys again? Let's see how she handles not being the only big-chested woman around this time!"
As the two women turned curiously toward them, Aedric groaned and facepalmed. His head already ached at the thought of what awaited him.
And then—during the voyage—Aedric slept with Ygritte.
Yes. He gave in.
After all his moral speeches and self-discipline, the moment Ygritte shed her ragged furs and slipped into fine silk, Aedric had to admit—he was only human.
She was beautiful, fierce, and right there in his bed. Not to take advantage of that would've been… wasteful.
Sure, it was wrong—especially with his young, innocent wife nearby—but Aedric consoled himself with one thought: it was worth it.
He'd just make it up to Myrcella later. She was still too young anyway—barely high-school age by his standards. Getting too frisky might even get him "censored by the gods."
Half a month later, their ship finally reached Meereen—the great city he hadn't seen in almost a year—where the Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, was already waiting for them.
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