As the fire crackled and the hall of Winterfell held its breath, my voice continued, calm but heavy with
memories.
"When I ventured further beyond the Wall, after, I thought I was truly alone. For weeks, I wandered through snow-covered forests and frozen plains. The cold was brutal. The silence, deafening. But then… I found them."
"Found who?" Arya asked, leaning forward eagerly.
"A small group of wildlings," I said. "They were barely surviving. Huddled in a half-buried cave, weak, starving, and desperate. I could tell from the moment I laid eyes on them — they were running from something. But they were too afraid to speak of it."
Sansa raised an eyebrow. "And they didn't attack you?"
I smiled faintly. "They tried."
Gasps echoed through the hall.
"I had no choice," I continued. "It was either kill or be killed. We fought in the snow — eight of them, all fierce, hardened by the wild. But I was stronger. Faster. The gods had given me more than just visions and instincts. I defeated them all — but I didn't kill them."
Ned narrowed his eyes, curious. "Why not?"
"Because I saw something in them," I said. "Fear. Not of me, but of something far worse. I helped them — gave them food, fire, warmth. Slowly, they began to follow me. One by one, they pledged themselves to me. Not as followers of a king, but as brothers in survival."
Robb's voice rang out with awe. "You turned enemies into allies."
"It wasn't easy," I admitted. "But over time, more wildlings found us. Outcasts. Families. Fighters. They came in waves, guided by word of mouth or dreams of hope. I trained them. Led them. Protected them. And soon… our camp became a village. Then a town. Then… a kingdom."
Bran's jaw dropped. "You built a kingdom?!"
I nodded, looking at each of them. "I named it Winter's Heaven. A place where no one would be judged for their name or blood. A kingdom beyond the Wall, carved into the harshest lands. We built it with ice, stone, and fire. With our hands and our faith. And now, it stands strong — with more than 150,000 people living within its borders."
Everyone stared in disbelief. Even Ned was silent.
"And still they come," I added. "The numbers grow each week. Our walls rise higher. Our warriors grow stronger."
"Why?" Theon asked cautiously. "Why would you stay there and not return home?"
"Because the gods asked me to," I said. "They sent me visions — not just once, but over and over. In dreams, they showed me a kingdom of ice and light, a fortress against the coming darkness. They showed me Winter's Heaven before it even existed. I knew it was my destiny."
Arya, eyes wide, whispered, "What else did they show you?"
I looked down for a moment, then slowly raised my gaze. "Death. Fire. Shadows walking across the snow. And a throne of frost buried under the weight of bodies."
The fire flickered as I continued, "After I grew close with the free folk, they finally told me what they were running from. Why they were hiding. Why they were desperate. They spoke of something ancient. Something no man could fight alone."
Ned stood, his voice low. "The Night King."
I nodded. "And his army of the dead. Thousands upon thousands of them. They don't sleep. They don't feel. They don't stop. The wildlings were fleeing south — anywhere they could find to escape the tide of death. That's why they followed me. That's why they helped me build Winter's Heaven. Because deep down… they believed I was the one who could stop it."
Sansa looked shaken. "And can you?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I'm not afraid. Because I've faced death before. I've walked through the snow alone. And now… I lead thousands. I'm not that little boy who left Winterfell anymore."
Arya grinned. "You're a king now."
"No," I said softly. "I'm a protector. A shield for the people no one else would save. The gods didn't choose me for power. They chose me for responsibility."
The room was silent. Then Ned stepped forward and placed his hand on my shoulder.
"You've become more than I ever imagined, Jon. And I believe you. Every word."
I looked at him, and for the first time in years, I felt like I truly belonged. I was a Stark — always had been — but now I was something more, too. A son of Winterfell… and the Lord of Winter's Heaven.
As the night wore on, the family talked quietly, still absorbing everything. But I remained still, staring into the flames, knowing in my heart that this peace would be brief.
Because beyond the Wall, the storm was rising.
And soon, winter wouldn't just come…
It would march.
[Damn I can't believe how much of bullshit I am speaking, but I had it tell this, and feeling like a stark, hahahahahaha I laughed in my mind, I am a Targaryen, a stark, and a senju.
And which bloodline is stronger, of course it is Senju blood. ]
End of Part 2.