The convoy that appeared at the gates of Winterfell was massive. Five hundred people. Of these five hundred, around four hundred and fifty were warriors and fighters, while the remaining fifty were mostly maidservants.
Ned had received a letter from Wyman Manderly, who had told him in detail about Jon's convoy and a lot of other things he had observed. But seeing it with his own eyes was a different experience altogether.
The hundred Dothraki warriors were massive, muscular and bulky, with their arakhs strapped to their waists. And their horses, which they had brought from Essos, were equally magnificent.
They were dressed in their usual horsehide leathers. They were dressed in trousers made of horsehide and a thick horsehide vest. Above the vests, they were wrapped in furs capable of protecting them from the biting cold of the North. It took Ned only a glance to tell that they were magnificent and fearsome warriors.
That did not mean the other soldiers in the convoy appeared weak or feeble compared to the Dothraki. These men were not as massive or bulky as the Dothraki, but their presence was equally intimidating and awe inspiring. They were no lesser warriors than the Dothraki.
The majority of these soldiers were wielding spears, which gave Ned enough of a hint to assume that they were the former Unsullied.
And riding at the forefront, commanding these fearsome warriors, was none other than Jon. Jon Snow, or Lord Aeos, or Khal Aero.
The man who had defeated the forces sent by the Free Cities with nothing but wild animals. The man who had defeated eighteen Khals in a single duel. And the man who had accomplished many other impossible feats.
Jon had grown much taller compared to years ago when Ned had last seen him. His face had also changed a lot. But a few features still remained the same, and Ned was able to see the presence of his sister in him.
Ned recalled a certain line that Wyman Manderly had written about Jon in his letter.
"Jon Snow will not try to project himself upon you. He will not try to press his presence. He will not try to dominate you or force you to bend to his will. But his mere existence is enough to subdue you. A mere glance from his eyes is intimidating enough. The words escaping his lips would look like commands. When you are in his presence, it is enough to tell you why he is the very same Lord Aeos whom people worship with an almost fanatical devotion," Lord Manderly had noted.
"Lord Stark," Lord Manderly had suggested. "He might be your bastard son, but do not think of him merely as your bastard son. He is a grown man. He is a ruler. He is a king. Treat him as such. Treat him with respect. He is not a man you would want to antagonize over trivial matters."
And now, even before Jon had stepped down from his horse, Ned could tell that Wyman Manderly had not been exaggerating. There was truly something special about him. It had been easy for Ned to pick up the subtle hint that Wyman had thrown towards Catelyn. The suggestion that do not think of him merely as your bastard son had been directed more towards her than towards Ned himself.
Flanking him on both sides were probably his two most trusted individuals. Lady Melisandre and General Slyvia.
If Jon's presence commanded a certain awe, then these two ladies were no less magnificent. Ned had heard enough about them to know who was who.
General Slyvia was dressed as a warrior. A sword was strapped to her waist, and her clothes resembled those of a soldier ready for war. Lady Melisandre, the former red priestess, on the other hand, was dressed in a long, flowing red robe. Ned was not able to spot a weapon on her.
The horses of Jon, Melisandre, Slyvia, and around two dozen soldiers entered the courtyard of Winterfell. The rest of the convoy came to a halt outside the gates, where the arrangements for their accommodations would be made by the men assigned for this specific task.
Jon stepped down from his horse, his gaze fixed on Ned. The faces of both individuals were stoic, with almost no emotion or expression present on them. Jon had barely taken a step towards Ned when a blur shot forward from next to him. It was Arya. She had shown enough patience.
"Jon!" She screamed at the top of her lungs before throwing herself at him.
Jon, though caught a little off guard by this sudden tackle, handled it well. He was easily able to take hold of this little she-bear, wrapping his arms around her waist. A genuine smile of happiness blossomed on his face.
"Arya," he laughed.
"Where have you been?" Arya cried. "Why did you leave us and go?"
"Arya," Jon smiled.
He did not respond to her questions. He merely stroked her back. Arya took control of her emotions in a few moments, and Jon placed a red-eyed Arya back on the ground.
"Arya," Jon said, bending down on one knee. "I think you know where I have been."
The previous excitement returned to Arya's face.
"Oh! Yes," she replied with a wide smile. "I know. In fact, I know everything that you have done. I read daily about how you conquered Astapor. And how you defeated the mercenaries of the Golden Company and a horde of a Dothraki khalasar with nothing but wild animals."
"I do not know how you did it," she continued. "Will you tell me? You must tell me. How did you capture the animals? Okay?"
"And they are saying that you defeated eighteen people all by yourself," she pressed on without stopping. "Is it true? Or did you spread rumours to make yourself sound great? A lot of people say that this is merely a rumour."
She still would not have stopped, but a stern voice cut her off.
"Arya," Catelyn reprimanded her daughter. "Behave yourself in front of our guests."
Arya stopped but was still unwilling to pull back. Jon eased the situation. He placed his hand on her head and patted her gently once again.
"I will tell you everything," he said. "But first let me greet Lord Stark and the others."
Ned, meanwhile, let out an inward sigh. He knew that his wife was definitely not pleased by this affectionate interaction between Jon and Arya.
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