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"The Duke has wiped out the Ironborn threat for good. Lord Eddard would be damn proud if he could see you now."
A column of white-armored soldiers marched across the endless snow toward the dark towers of Winterfell. Leading them was Ghost, his white fur cutting through the drifts like a blade. The direwolf moved faster than any man could follow, a blur against the white, only slowing when snowflakes melted on his nose. Every so often he howled, and a matching call echoed back from the castle.
Jon had not gone straight back to Casterly Rock after taking the Iron Islands. He brought a picked company of guards north instead, riding to help Robb deal with the free folk who had flooded south of the Wall. Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's grizzled garrison commander, rode out to meet him. The old knight had shaved his beard years ago to sneak into King's Landing with Catelyn, but the steel-brush stubble had grown back thick.
Rodrik praised Jon's victories while studying the young duke with sharp eyes. Jon looked every inch a Stark now—broad-shouldered, gray-eyed, carrying himself with the quiet weight of a man who ruled the West. Behind him rode an elite guard, loyal to the bone. The whole company had the air of the White Wolf Lord already.
"The Iron Islands are still there," Jon said, eyes on the distant towers capped with snow like white helms. "But the Ironborn, the iron way, and the Drowned God are finished."
"Ser Cassel, you watched me grow up. Call me Jon, same as you call my father Eddard and my brother Robb. Tell me about the free folk. They're giving you hell, aren't they?"
Rodrik relaxed at the familiar tone. He had backed Jon's plan back when it was "recruit first, crush only if they force it," and it had worked. The Northern army was better armed, but men were still men—they could break or run. The cold and the monsters beyond the Wall left the free folk no choice but to come south. If Robb had kept driving them back, the resistance would have been endless. Instead Robb offered land near the Wolfswood. Cut timber, dig coal, burn charcoal. Survival first. The fighting stopped fast.
But peace brought its own mess. The free folk called Southerners "kneelers" and treated not bowing as some kind of holy freedom. Worse, some had started acting like they owned the land they'd been given. There were even whispers that they had beaten Robb and forced him to hand over territory as payment. Northern pride was running hot after the Western campaign and Jon's marriage to the Rose of Highgarden. Then Winterfell tried to collect taxes and the free folk played deaf, made excuses, even raised steel. It was turning into a festering headache.
"I know," Jon said. "That's why I'm here. I'm taking them all with me. Sending them to the Iron Islands to work the mines and plantations."
Rodrik looked uneasy. "Even on the Iron Islands they won't pay you proper taxes, Jon."
Jon kept his voice low. "You and Robb have done enough. If I take them in, the grain alone will cost a fortune. Robb's already talking about cutting off their food if they keep acting up."
"Cut their food and you force a rebellion," Jon said flatly. He already had his own plan, and he was sure these free folk would end up fighting to swear loyalty to him instead of fighting against him.
They reached Winterfell as the sun dropped. Robb, Jeyne, and Catelyn were waiting at the gates. Jon and Robb met with a hard embrace; even their direwolves tangled together in the snow. Catelyn and Jeyne watched with quiet smiles. As long as the brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, the North and the West were untouchable.
"Jeyne's pregnant again," Robb said, grinning like he'd won a tourney.
"Worthy of the Young Wolf."
In this world noblewomen hired wet nurses so they could recover fast and get pregnant again quick. Six months between births was considered normal if you wanted a big family. The brothers traded the old joke, then Jon gave Catelyn and Jeyne the hand-kiss courtesy. They walked inside together.
On the way Jon asked the question that mattered. "The free folk are still causing trouble?"
Robb's smile faded a little. "The Wolfswood forests and mines can take some of them, but they're a pain in the ass. They call us kneelers, act like they beat me into giving them land. Women fight like men. There are cave people among them who eat human flesh. More keep coming south every week. Some even want to head for the coast and fish again. They don't understand taxes or loyalty. They just take."
Jon listened without interrupting. When Robb finished he said simply, "Let me meet their leaders. I'll take them off your hands and move them to the Iron Islands. The mines and plantations there need workers. Problem solved."
Robb stared at him for a long second. Jon had already taken the West from the Lannisters and now the Iron Islands from the Greyjoys. The male line of House Greyjoy was gone. Ancient houses wiped out in a year. But if anyone could make the free folk useful instead of a curse, it was Jon.
"You're really going to take all of them?" Robb asked.
Jon nodded. "They'll fight for me once they see what I'm offering. Trust me."
Robb didn't argue. He just nodded back, the weight on his shoulders easing for the first time in months. Whatever came next, he knew one thing for certain: if Jon or Casterly Rock ever needed him, the Young Wolf would answer the call without hesitation.