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Bang!
The door swung open.
Jimmy stepped in first, the Cloudsplitter blade hanging at his waist. Behind him came Princess Shireen, guarded by Davos Seaworth, and Sansa, protected by Brienne.
"Looks like I'm a little late," Jimmy said casually, glancing around the room. "But you know what they say. A good meal is worth waiting for. And I've brought something even better. Good news."
He turned toward Jon.
"You don't need to rush into stepping down as Lord Commander. That position belongs to you, whether you like it or not."
"Let's be honest. Everyone here trusts you. Without you, a lot of the people in this room wouldn't even be alive right now."
He let his gaze sweep across the gathered men.
"The White Walkers, some of you have seen them, haven't you? Every time they've come before, it took the combined strength of the Seven Kingdoms to push them back."
"And now you think a few hundred black cloaks can handle it alone? Who do you think you are?"
He jabbed a finger toward the doors.
"The Free Folk are beyond the Wall. Without them, you're losing tens of thousands of potential allies. Worse, you're turning them into enemies."
"If anyone here thinks adding tens of thousands of enemies isn't a problem… step forward. I'd like to see just how brave you really are."
"Exactly!" Tormund barked from the side. "I alone would be more than enough to cause you trouble!"
Jimmy shot him an annoyed look. "Sit down. I'll deal with you later."
"Tormund Giantsbane fears no challenge! I've slain—"
"Enough," Jimmy cut him off. "We've got more important things to handle."
He stepped aside.
"Now then. House Baratheon and House Stark have something to say. Go ahead."
Sansa stepped forward first, her voice steady.
"In the name of House Stark, Wardens of the North, I declare that the North will recognize the Free Folk."
"If they stand with us, if they fight alongside us, Winterfell will be their home as well."
Her words were meant for the Free Folk.
The threat before them left no room for division.
The dead would not take prisoners.
And as Jimmy had pointed out, this single decision could bring seven to eight thousand fighters under House Stark's banner.
Whether it was reclaiming Winterfell or ruling the North afterward, they would need that strength.
Sansa had grown stronger, but strategy was still not her greatest strength.
Even so, Jimmy's reasoning had convinced her.
And he hadn't lied.
If they won, the Free Folk would become part of the North.
More likely, by the end of it, most of their warriors would be gone, and the survivors would need Winterfell's protection.
Meanwhile, Tormund stood there, staring at Brienne with wide eyes.
A woman like that?
His mind was already racing ahead… even to what their children might be called.
…
Then Shireen stepped forward.
Her voice carried far more weight.
"In the name of the rightful ruler of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men… Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm… Shireen Baratheon, the true heir to the Iron Throne…"
"I hereby release the Night's Watch from their vows."
A stunned silence fell over the room.
"When this war is over, the Wall will no longer be needed. The honor of the Night's Watch will live on, but you will be free."
"You will marry. You will have families. You will be knighted. You will return home with honor."
"The Long Night is coming. But it will also pass."
She raised her chin slightly.
"And until that day comes, Jon Snow will remain your Lord Commander."
"He will lead you in what will be the final battle of the Night's Watch."
"You need a leader. And Jon Snow is that leader."
At first, when Sansa spoke, the men of the Watch had barely reacted.
It didn't concern them.
But Shireen's words struck differently.
Now they were shaken.
For a thousand years, their vows had defined them.
And now…
Those vows were being lifted.
Of course, most of them hadn't truly opposed Jon for letting the Free Folk through.
Their concern had always been practical. There were too many Free Folk. If things went wrong, it could become a disaster.
As for those who had truly hated Jon for it…
The ones who had wanted him dead…
Jimmy had already dealt with them.
One punch at a time.
A few might still be lurking, but they no longer mattered.
"The Night's Watch has upheld its oath for a thousand years…"
A few voices muttered from the crowd below, but they were quickly silenced before anyone could make a proper argument.
Jimmy stepped forward again.
"Alright, let me say a few words."
"When you swore your vows, none of you really knew what was out there beyond the Wall. But now you do."
"This time, there are only two outcomes. Either we wipe them out, and the Wall no longer needs guarding… or we're the ones who die, and your vows end with you."
He crossed his arms, his tone turning sharper.
"And don't start preaching about honor and vows. Everyone here knows how often you lot visit Mole's Town."
"Some of you came here willingly. But most of you? Dragged here. Pulled out of prison. Or tricked into it."
He pointed toward one of the men.
"Like you, Eddison Tollett. Weren't you some charming noble from the Vale once?"
"Let me remind everyone how he ended up here."
"Back then, Yoren told him wearing black would make him look impressive. Said women would admire him."
Jimmy smirked.
"So he signed up without hesitation."
He paused for effect.
"No one bothered to tell him the Night's Watch can't marry."
For a moment, silence hung in the air.
Then—
Laughter broke out across the hall.
"So listen carefully," Jimmy continued, his voice cutting through the noise. "After this war, those vows are finished."
"In the name of the princess. In the name of House Baratheon."
Voices rose in unison.
"In the name of the princess! In the name of House Baratheon!"
"In the name of the princess! In the name of House Baratheon!"
The room echoed with it.
They were no longer divided.
They were united.
…
Under Jon Snow's command, the armories were opened.
Weapons and armor were distributed, and the forges were lit once more.
The Night's Watch favored swords and daggers.
The Free Folk preferred axes and spears.
To fight together, they needed to standardize their weapons, adapt them, make them usable for all.
At the same time, Samwell made his decision.
He would travel to the Citadel in Oldtown.
They knew too little about the White Walkers. If answers existed, they would be found there.
Maester Aemon fully supported the idea and even wrote a letter of recommendation.
Its message was simple.
The Long Night is coming. Castle Black needs a maester.
If the Citadel refused to train Sam, then they should send someone else.
But with war looming, who would willingly go north, where death was almost certain?
Better to train one of their own.
And so, Sam set sail for Oldtown.
…
Meanwhile, the Free Folk began their training.
At first, many suggested Jimmy take charge of it.
He refused outright.
Instead, he claimed he was heading out to find reinforcements… and rode off.
Jon and Sansa turned their focus to persuading the smaller northern houses.
Even a handful of trained soldiers would be more valuable than unorganized Free Folk.
Faced with the chaos of the Free Folk, Jon looked perpetually exhausted.
His expression rarely relaxed.
All he wanted now was to recruit a few experienced commanders. People who understood warfare, who could lead the Free Folk and teach them discipline.
Because after more than half a month of training…
They still didn't understand even the basics.
Flanking maneuvers meant nothing to them.
To the Free Folk, battle was simple.
Charge forward.
Swing whatever weapon they had.
What they called war looked more like a massive brawl.
And Jimmy?
He knew exactly how hopeless that was.
Train them?
Not a chance.
Even his own Free Folk had taken an entire winter of strict discipline just to become barely functional.
And these ones?
Even wilder.
He'd have to be out of his mind to take that on.
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