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Jimmy stretched lazily before beginning to prepare dinner.
Over the past few days, Ned had finally realized something.
He could never defeat Jimmy through honorable means.
And so, slowly, reluctantly, he began to change.
He began to think differently.
He even resorted to methods he would have once condemned without hesitation.
At one point, Ned devised a plan to secretly persuade Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort to betray Winterfell. He promised that once the king issued the decree, House Bolton would be named Wardens of the North.
He believed it was a decisive move. A turning point.
But Jimmy responded without hesitation.
He abandoned Winterfell entirely.
Instead, he gathered his remaining forces and marched straight for the Wall, seizing it with overwhelming speed.
Then he turned the land south of the Wall into bait.
He lured the wildlings into conflict with House Bolton, ensuring both sides would bleed each other dry.
He even supplied the wildlings with weapons on credit, maximizing the damage they could inflict.
…
Ned was stunned.
"You can't do this," he said, shaken. "If you fight like this… the North will burn. Its people will suffer."
Jimmy let out a dry laugh.
"First, you need to survive. If you're dead, what people are you protecting?"
His gaze hardened.
"War means death, Either you die, or someone else does."
He stepped closer.
"You can die honorably and let your enemies slaughter your people."
He paused.
"Or you can be ruthless."
His voice was cold, but not cruel. Simply absolute.
"Stop trying to save everyone. Grip your blade tighter. Kill the ones threatening your people."
He leaned against the table.
"It's like someone holding a knife to your child's throat, demanding you drop your weapon."
His eyes locked onto Ned's.
"If you drop it, both of you die."
He paused.
"But if you keep it… You still have leverage."
Ned said nothing.
That afternoon, he sat by the window, staring out at the endless sea.
He did not read.
He did not speak.
He simply sat there.
Jimmy's words had shaken him more deeply than he cared to admit.
Once, he would have rejected such thinking without hesitation.
He would have clung to his honor, his ideals, his belief in justice.
But King's Landing had shattered that certainty.
His honor had nearly gotten him killed.
One daughter was missing.
The other remained trapped in enemy hands, suffering.
…
That evening, during dinner, Ned spoke carefully.
"Jimmy… could you rescue Sansa?"
Jimmy didn't even look up.
"She's not in any immediate danger. Why rescue her now?"
He set the food down calmly.
"She's too naive. She needs to learn what the world is really like."
His voice remained steady.
"When she's truly in danger, I'll step in."
He slid a plate toward Ned.
"But right now, hardship will make her stronger."
He paused.
"You should be more concerned about Robb."
"Or Bran and Rickon."
His eyes flicked upward briefly.
"If even you were willing to manipulate Roose Bolton into attacking Winterfell in a war game, then it proves something."
"They're not as safe as you think."
Jimmy handed Ned a fork and a knife.
Ned shook his head.
"That was only a simulation. The Lannisters wouldn't use such methods. And Roose Bolton wouldn't betray us so easily."
Jimmy let out a quiet scoff.
"You're joking."
He leaned back slightly.
"What if Joffrey issued a royal decree naming Bolton Warden of the North?"
He let the words sink in.
"The North is vast, but poor. The Lannisters gain little by holding it."
He continued.
"But the Riverlands?"
He tapped the table lightly.
"That's wealth. Food. Strategic control."
"If they secure the Riverlands, they control the Crownlands, the Westerlands, and the Riverlands."
His gaze sharpened.
"And your North?"
He shrugged.
"A frozen wasteland where even rabbits have to dig their burrows before winter."
"To them, it's expendable."
The words were harsh.
But true.
Ned lowered his gaze.
Jimmy waved a hand dismissively.
"Relax. I said I'd help House Stark, and I will."
He took a bite of food.
"It's just a matter of timing."
He paused briefly, then added casually,
"Besides, you've had it better than Robert."
His tone carried an edge of something colder.
"Robert had it far worse."
"Robert fathered more bastards than he could count," Jimmy said casually. "And now? There are only a few left alive."
He leaned back slightly, counting on his fingers.
"His eldest daughter, Mya Stone. She's in the Vale. No title, no recognition, but she's alive. And doing well enough."
He glanced at Ned.
"You know her. You were both in the Vale back then."
Ned said nothing.
"His second daughter, Barra. Born after the Battle of the Bells. Robert was better than you in one regard. He loved easily. And left just as easily."
Jimmy's tone was flat.
"She followed her mother's path. Still working at the Peach Inn."
He continued.
"His eldest son, Gendry. You know him too. Jon Arryn paid double to have him apprenticed to a blacksmith. He should be on his way to the Wall now, escorted by Yoren."
Jimmy raised another finger.
"Edric Storm. The only one Robert ever officially acknowledged. The only one granted the Storm name. He's still alive. For now."
He paused.
"The other twelve?"
His voice turned colder.
"Dead."
"Killed on Cersei's orders."
He looked directly at Ned.
"Even the infant you saw at Petyr Baelish's brothel. Barra."
Jimmy's eyes hardened.
"She was never meant to live."
"Baelish kept her only to prove his loyalty."
Ned shot to his feet.
"What?!"
Jimmy shrugged.
"Why are you surprised?"
He spoke calmly.
"Gendry won't last much longer either. Cersei has already sent the Gold Cloaks after him."
He crossed his arms.
"All of Robert's bastards were marked for death. All except Barra, who was eliminated immediately."
He let the words hang in the air.
"Cersei couldn't risk the truth coming out. Not with Joffrey's golden hair staring everyone in the face."
Ned's voice faltered.
"Jimmy… please…"
Jimmy pulled out a sheet of parchment and set it on the table.
"You want my help?"
He slid it closer.
"Write a declaration."
His gaze was steady.
"A Stark decree recognizing the Free Folk as lawful residents of the North."
Ned froze.
The parchment felt heavier than steel in his hands.
If he allowed the wildlings south of the Wall…
Jimmy noticed his hesitation.
"Relax. Not immediately," he said. "And not everywhere."
He spoke matter-of-factly.
"They'll settle only in the New Gift. They won't go farther south than Hearthglen."
He paused.
"And not all of them will qualify."
Ned frowned deeply.
"I need time to think."
…
On one side stood his king's last surviving blood.
On the other stood his people.
Duty opposed duty.
Honor opposed honor.
For a man who had lived his entire life guided by principle, the choice tore at him.
…
The next morning, Ned's eyes were red with exhaustion.
He held out the signed parchment.
"This is my decree," he said quietly. "As long as House Stark rules the North, it will stand."
He paused.
"The North remembers."
Jimmy took the parchment and carefully folded it away.
"I already believed you," he said lightly. "This was never about the paper."
He looked at Ned.
"I needed your resolve."
He leaned back.
"Not all Free Folk will be allowed south. I'll deal with the ones who don't belong."
His tone hardened.
"After this war, the North needs people."
He continued.
"The Starks will never steal or enslave populations. That's not who you are."
He gestured toward the war board.
"But how will you rebuild?"
"How will you raise armies?"
His voice dropped.
"It takes over a decade to raise a child into a soldier."
He paused.
"But it takes only seconds to lose one on the battlefield."
He met Ned's gaze.
"You can wait to rebuild cities."
"But you cannot afford to wait when you have no soldiers left."
Jimmy stood.
"Wait here."
He turned toward the door.
"I'll bring Gendry back."
He had his own reasons.
Ned was wounded. He couldn't be left alone like this.
If Jimmy was going to save someone, he would do it properly.
Anything less would be unprofessional.
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