The Lone Wolf Dies, the Pack Survives

Jon and Davos stepped through the gates of Riverrun. When Davos saw Riverrun surrounded by two rivers, he couldn't help but marvel at the castle's sturdiness and its impregnability.

"Sansa, you and Arya go inside first, we'll be there shortly."

"Yes!" Sansa nodded, her eyes filled with excitement, while Arya cheered and strode into Riverrun.

"Jon, is this really going to work? I think we should have told Robb at least two days in advance."

Davos rubbed his severed finger with some concern.

"You don't know my brother. He's a decisive commander on the battlefield, but he's prone to indecisiveness in this area. We have to be very firm in our approach to get him to make the right choice," Jon and Davos said as they rode.

When they entered Riverrun, the guards looked at Jon and his companion with a mixture of respect and fear.

Rumors about Jon spread through the Seven Kingdoms at an astonishing speed.

Some say he can control floods and fire, which is why he was able to defeat the Lannister and Tyrell. To the average soldier, who was used to prenatal education, Jon was practically a wizard.

Davos was naturally aware of this as well. The two should have walked side by side, but he unconsciously lagged Jon by a step, as if that would make him feel safer.

Under the soldiers' wary gazes, the two passed through towers and fortresses. Jon had Robert Frey and Sandor lead their horses, and the guards prepared to lead them toward the hall.

At this moment, Jon discovers that the person who has come to greet him is none other than his old acquaintance Ramsay.

Ramsay still liked to look at people with his gloomy eyes. He walked up to Jon and Davos and said...

"Please hand over your weapons."

Just as Davos was about to unsheathe his sword, he heard a sharp crack and looked up abruptly to find Ramsay lying on the ground.

It turned out that Jon had slapped Ramsay so hard that he fell to the ground.

"Joan----" Davos for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"You bastard! Robb is my brother! What are you trying to do?! Are you trying to sow discord between us?!"

Upon seeing Ramsay lying on the ground, the soldiers angrily stepped forward, but none dared to draw their swords.

Ramsay covered his burning cheek, looked up at Jon with a fierce expression, and Tears welled up in his dark eyes.

"Hmph!" Jon snorted and walked straight into the hall. Davos, who was behind him, glanced back and quickly followed.

Soon, the two arrived at the spacious wooden hall of Riverrun, where a large group of high-ranking lords looked at them.

The air in the hall seemed to freeze. Every gaze directed at them carried the chill unique to the North, pressing heavily on their shoulders.

Davos followed Jon across the high threshold, feeling as if he were stepping into a wolf's den. He couldn't imagine how Jon had stood here alone, facing the fury of the entire North and the Riverlands, against their decision to make Robb King.

"Traitor!"

A spitting curse shattered the silence like a whip. It was "Greatjon," Robb's most loyal and fierce general, who, to some extent, represented the attitude of the North.

The voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear clearly.

Davos's eyes twitched, and he quickly scanned his surroundings. The other nobles remained silent, but their expressions were filled with disdain...

The anger and confusion in their eyes said it all.

They might be thinking that if this bastard had seized the opportunity to enthrone Robb when the King's Landing was conquered, the influence of the North would be at its peak. As for the kingdom being plunged into deeper war? That was not something they should be concerned with.

However, if you broaden your perspective to the entire hall, it's not entirely like that. Most people look at Jon with awe and curiosity, especially a certain young nobleman who looks to be around ten years old. He keeps grinning at Jon, but Jon doesn't have time to look at him.

Davos's gaze returned to Jon in front of him. The young man stood tall and straight, his steps steady, his gray eyes calmly meeting all gazes, as if those invisible arrows had not harmed him in the slightest.

Jon, "Davos palms are sweating. Facing your family and fellow countrymen, being seen as a traitor, what are you really thinking?"

At the far end of the hall, seated on a wooden throne, sat Robb Stark, the "King in the North." His face was taut, the youthful naiveté gone, replaced by the weight and weariness of a king. To his left was his mother, Lady Catelyn Stark, whose eyes, when they saw Jon, flashed a complex emotion unlike any other—after all, it was he who had rescued her two daughters from King's Landing. To his right was Robb's newlywed queen, Jeyne Westerling.

"Robb." Jon stopped at an appropriate distance and bowed slightly. Davos followed closely behind.

"You should address him as His Majesty!" Greatjon roared again, his thick fingers pressing on the hilt of his sword.

Jon seemed not to hear, turning his gaze to Catelyn: "Lady Catelyn."

Catelyn nodded slightly to him, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Rickard Karstark, one of the House Stark's closest vassals, spoke coldly, "If you've come to persuade us to abandon the king, you can turn back now, Snow."

If the Stark were to die out due to an accident, then a person would be chosen from the House Karstark to inherit the Stark name, as the two are inherently one. In his view, regardless of whether there is peace talks or not, Jon's status as Stark "was obtained through Stannis," which Rickard considers not only illegitimate but also an insult to the Stark bloodline.

Harrion glanced at his father, then at Jon, and dared not say anything more.

Roose Bolton, on the other hand, wore a sneer, looking like he was enjoying the spectacle.

Jon ignored Riccardo's warning, his gaze remaining fixed on Lady Catelyn's face. His voice was clear and resonated throughout the hall. "Madam, do you remember the day I left Winterfell for the Wall? What did you say to me?"

Catelyn's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and a blush of shame crept onto her pale cheeks.

She remembered, of course she remembered. Bran had just fallen from the high wall, his fate unknown, and she was heartbroken, blaming this bastard son.

Davos, standing to the side, swallowed hard. He could tell from Catelyn's expression that she hadn't said anything nice.

Jon didn't wait for her answer, but spoke for her, word by word. "You said I should be the one falling off the wall, and I, the motherless bastard, should be lying there."

A suppressed commotion spread among the nobles, and some shifted uncomfortably. To bring up such harsh past events about the mistress in person was tantamount to a declaration of war.

"Jon!" Robb finally spoke, his voice filled with suppressed anger and offended authority. "Are you bringing up these old stories to humiliate my mother, or to gain sympathy?"

Robb had already heard that Jon had slapped Ramsay as soon as he arrived in Riverrun, which made him feel somewhat offended.

Jon's public criticism of his mother, Catelyn, is something he cannot tolerate.

Jon slowly turned to Robb, looking at him with those grey eyes that so resembled Eddard Stark's. "No, Robb. I just wanted to tell the lady that I don't hate her."

He looked at Catelyn again, his tone softening, even tinged with nostalgia. "As you said, I'm a motherless bastard. I have no memory of my mother. But I remember once when I was little, I had a fever and was bedridden for several days. I woke up in the middle of the night, and you were there, nestled at my bedside. I'll never forget that warmth, but sadly, it only happened once. So, whenever I hear or think of the word 'mother'—what comes to mind is your image."

The hostility in the hall, like a punctured skin, silently dissipated. Greatjon opened his mouth, but ultimately only mumbled something and turned his head away. Lady Catelyn lowered her head, her fingers gripping her dress tightly, her shoulders trembling slightly. Robb's taut jawline also seemed to soften for a moment.

Jeyne, who had been extremely nervous and uneasy, relaxed a little.

But this moment of warmth was shattered by Jon's next words.

"But," Jon's voice hardened again, like the walls of Castle Black, "I now pledge allegiance to His Majesty Stannis Baratheon I. He bestowed upon me the Stark name, so that I am no longer Snow."

My contribution to this is to dedicate my loyalty to him.

He looked directly into Robb's eyes, and the brothers' gazes met in the air, neither looking away.

"My purpose in coming here is on His Majesty's orders to ask you to lay down your crown and submit to the Iron Throne."

"Otherwise what?" Robb's voice was as cold as ice.

"Otherwise, we'll only meet on the battlefield." Jon's tone was eerily calm. "If fate forces me to kill you with my own hands, Robb, I won't live alone. I'll go with you, because Father said, ' Winter Is Coming, the lone wolf must die, the pack must live.' And you and I are both lone wolves now."

"The moment to show off my acting skills has arrived," Jon thought to himself. He paused, his voice clearly choked with emotion. "Because killing you feels like killing my mother's son. And the blood that flows between brothers will stain the entire Trident River. The North and the Riverlands have already shed too much blood."

A somber atmosphere enveloped the hall. Lyman, seated among the lords, craned his neck and clenched his fists involuntarily, feeling a heavy weight in his heart for some reason, as if Jon's words were making him feel suffocated.

Rickard couldn't bear to watch any longer. Brothers killing each other was a tragedy Eddard Stark would never want to see, and he finally stopped caring where Jon's Stark surname came from.

If he can say something like that, then he is a Stark.

Roose Bolton's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile. This was just right. Back when Jon was at Harrenhal, he used this "I'd rather die with you" attitude to leave himself helpless.

"I will wait outside for your reply." Jon's gaze swept over Robb, Catelyn, and every lord. "Whatever your decision, Robb —before the swords fall, I want to embrace you one last time, like I did when I returned to Winterfell."

Having said that, he turned away resolutely, just as he had when he tried to dissuade Robb from becoming king, except this time he shed a few more Tears.

Jon deliberately made a gesture of wiping away Tears so that more people could see it.

Although politics is devoid of personal feelings, personal feelings can be used as a weapon in politics.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, he walked out of the hall alone. The heavy door frame framed his back, dividing the hall into two worlds.

The pressure suddenly fell entirely on Davos's shoulders, who remained where he was. He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and faced the crowd with their varied expressions.

"My lords," his voice was not loud, but carried the composure honed by years of seafaring, "Yes, Jon is a bastard, that's true. But it's not his fault that Jon is a bastard. He is the purest, bravest, and most responsible man I, Davos Seaworth, have ever met."

He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over every face. "His Majesty Stannis offered him the Stark name and the title of Duke of Stark Lord of Casterly Rock three times, but he only accepted on the last occasion. Why? Because he feared this situation, feared turning against Robb, whom he considered a brother!"

Davos emphasized, "Now, Lord Walder House Frey of the Twins has pledged allegiance to the Iron Throne, and the House Redwyne's fleet is gathering, soon to strike down Balon Greyjoy, who has usurped the throne! The blood of the Riverlands has not yet dried, and the children and old men of the North still suffer in the bitter cold, longing for their fathers, sons, and brothers to return!"

He finally looked at Robb on the throne, his words earnest yet carrying an undeniable reality. "Your Majesty, my lords, lay down that crown that does not belong to you. It is too heavy, forged with the lives of countless brave men of the North and the Riverlands. Go home, return to your true home, Winterfell, where you should protect what is rightfully yours."

That was all he had to say. Davos bowed deeply, said no more, and turned to leave the hall, leaving the lords with a deathly silence and an incredibly difficult choice.

Outside, the cold autumn rain continued. Davos saw Jon standing in the courtyard, looking up at the gray clouds over Riverrun, as if trying to find a crack in the sunlight.