The flames of war seemed to have truly dissipated. The port at the River Gate was bustling once again. Merchants always have the keenest noses; realizing it was safe, they flooded the city with supplies and goods, causing prices in King's Landing to stabilize.
However, prices remained high, and Jon didn't have gold to spare. As a result, the thousands of prisoners held on Rhaenys's Hill—inside the Dragonpit—were getting only one meal a day to keep them alive.
To the north, near the Old Gate, a long column of troops stood ready. Jon was there to see off Hakon and the warriors of the mountain clans.
"Don't worry, my lord. With this armor and these weapons, we could take the Eyrie itself, let alone deal with tribes like the Black Ears!" Hakon declared. Having seen the wider world, his ego was now significantly inflated.
"Enough. I'm sending Ser Rohm with you. Listen to his counsel," Jon instructed. "I'm not looking for higher body counts, but fewer casualties. Go back and prepare well. Once my own fiefdom is secured, I'll send people to bring you out. You won't have to live in those mountains anymore."
Ser Rohm was a knight of House Darry, in the prime of his life and steady in his ways. His presence would prevent unnecessary accidents.
"Mm!" Hakon nodded vigorously. He felt revitalized since coming down from the mountains.
After witnessing the prosperity of King's Landing, who would want to go back to living in a ravine?
Soon, more than seventeen hundred mountain clan warriors marched north toward the Vale, singing the marching songs Jon had taught them.
Jon had promised the clans a better life outside their poor mountain valleys once he secured his own territory.
However, they were also the biggest liability to his "persona." If someone slipped up and spilled the beans like Sora had, his cover would be blown.
That was why Jon was moving them out first. If the timing worked out, Hakon would finish conquering the Vale clans just as Jon's new lands were confirmed, allowing for a mass migration.
Watching the army disappear into the distance, Jon turned to Harrion Karstark. House Karstark was, after all, still loyal to the King in the North. Jon had already sent his proclamation to Dragonstone.
That meant Stannis could arrive at any moment. To avoid awkwardness—or open conflict—Harrion agreed he needed to leave as soon as possible.
"Jon, I plan to take the family troops and leave the day after tomorrow. Are you really not planning to go back?"
"To the Wall? Yes. Once I hand King's Landing over to King Stannis, I'll return."
"You're really going back to the Wall?" Harrion couldn't wrap his head around why Jon would do such a thing.
But starting with the Hound, Sandor Clegane, Jon had been telling everyone he was returning to the Night's Watch. He had to commit to the bit, not just put on a show for Stannis.
"I've avenged Lord Eddard. There's nothing left for me in the south. Of course I'm going back," Jon said with a faint smile.
Harrion wanted to argue that with such massive achievements, Jon didn't need to exile himself, but he held his tongue. He'd said it enough times already.
"Alright then, Jon. I'll take all the Dreadfort men with me. I'll leave the Karhold troops with you for now, along with some of the men from Lord Cerwyn and White Harbor. After all, if you're staying in King's Landing alone..."
"I appreciate it. Thank you, Harrion."
"Don't say that, Jon. You saved all of us. I saw the size of that Reach army with my own eyes. I hate to think what would have happened if we'd stayed at Harrenhal. If the Tyrell and Lannister armies had marched on us there... I don't know how we would have survived," Harrion said sincerely.
"Jon, if you really are going back to the Wall, maybe you should leave an heir first..."
Jon ignored the comment. He gathered his retinue, including Martin, and returned to the city, heading for the Great Sept of Baelor.
The Great Sept sat atop Visenya's Hill, surrounded by a sprawling plaza of white marble.
In the center of the plaza stood a statue of Baelor Targaryen. He looked more like a septon than a king. The guy was a piece of work—he had locked his three sisters in the "Maidenvault" just to stop himself from being tempted by carnal thoughts.
Around the statue, Jon had set up campaign tents. He was handling temporary administrative duties from here. He spent his days holding vigil for Ned Stark, effectively shifting the center of power in King's Landing from the Red Keep to the Great Sept.
Guarding the perimeter were Jon's most trusted men: the Winterfell soldiers and the veterans of the mountain clans.
"My lord," said Old York. The man still looked guilty every time he saw Jon because he had failed to keep an eye on Arya.
"Forget about the Arya incident, York. I'm gathering the grain I promised the mountain clans. When it's ready, I want you to be in charge of the transport. You're one of the people I trust most."
"Rest assured, my lord! Even if I die on the road, I'll get that grain to them!" Seeing that Jon wasn't blaming him but encouraging him, Old York felt even more ashamed—and determined.
Jon walked inside, passing through the gallery of rainbow-colored leaded glass, and entered the main hall of the Sept. Hundreds of candles flickered around the central altar, where Eddard Stark's ashes and the clothes he wore in life were displayed.
It wasn't until Jon fully controlled the city that he realized why things were different. Tyrion hadn't returned Ned's bones as he did in the original timeline because Jon's assault on the Riverlands had been too ferocious. The Lannisters had lost the composure they originally had.
As Jon entered the hall, a figure darted past like a little wildcat and knelt beside Sansa, who was dressed in mourning white.
It was Arya. She didn't speak to Jon; she just knelt on the cushion with her head down.
Arya and Old York had arrived in King's Landing two days ago. Arya had intended to surprise Jon, but instead, he had chewed her out in front of everyone for taking such a risk.
She hadn't spoken to him for two days.
If she didn't want to talk, Jon didn't mind.
The bigger problem was Sansa. Even the death of Joffrey hadn't lifted her spirits. She had no appetite, refusing to eat even her favorite lemon cakes.
"Jon," Sansa said, her voice raspy, seeing him approach. "When can we go home?"
Hearing the word "home," Arya quietly turned her head to listen.
Jon looked at Sansa. Originally, Ned had planned to send his daughters away in secret before making his move against Cersei. But back then, Sansa hadn't understood her precarious situation. She had been desperate to stay at court and marry Joffrey.
Now, after suffering torture of both the mind and body, she had finally realized that home was the warmest, safest place.
"Ser Harrion is leaving with his army in two days. You and Arya can go with him. You'll head to Riverrun first. Lady Catelyn and Robb should be there," Jon said, gently ruffling her messy hair.
Arya watched from the side, feeling a pang of jealousy. Jon used to only mess up her hair like that.
"What about you?" Sansa asked.
Jon was the one who had dispelled the darkness when she was most terrified and alone. In just a few days, she had developed a deep psychological reliance on him.
The thought of leaving him made her feel unsafe.
"Me? I have to hand King's Landing over to King Stannis, intact and secure."
"Then I'll wait for you. We can go home together."
"Alright," Jon smiled, pulling his hand away. He noticed several strands of auburn hair caught in his fingers. He showed them to her. "Look at this. You haven't been eating properly, and now your hair is falling out. Be careful, or you'll end up bald like Thoros of Myr!"
Hearing that she might lose her beloved hair, Sansa immediately said she was hungry. Jon ordered men to bring food.
"Jon, my hair is falling out too," Arya piped up, finally unable to contain her jealousy.
"Fine, fine. I learned how to make special soft steamed buns at the Wall. I'll make some for both of you later." The tension evaporated, and the siblings fell back into their old rhythm.
Just then, Mund hurried in from outside. "My lord, a man fitting the dwarf's description was spotted in Flea Bottom. He boarded a ship bound for the Free Cities and left."
Jon knew that only Varys had the reach to pull off something like that in a locked-down city.
But this wasn't like the original timeline where Tyrion killed Tywin while he was on the privy. The Westerlands were still in Lannister hands, so Tyrion had a retreat.
However, with King's Landing under Jon's control, Tyrion couldn't get back to the Westerlands without an escort. Going to the Free Cities was likely just to lie low for a while.
Perhaps later, after Jon conquered the Westerlands, Tyrion would truly give up on his family and go join Young Griff and Daenerys.