The Warden's Duty

The Warden of the North, Jon Targaryen of Winterfell and his cousin Sansa, his second in command, were at their wit's end.

Winter had come. The dead had been put to rest after many battles and lives lost. Cersei no longer ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and only one Lannister, the Imp, remained.

The rightful Queen had taken the throne, and after so many years of being ruled by the Lannisters, the people of Westeros flocked to her like flies to a rotten carcass.

Once Daenerys sat on the Iron Throne she had bestowed Jon with the last name he was born to have - he was a Targaryen. She awarded him with the North, vowing that as long as there were Starks or Targaryens living they shall rule as the Wardens in the North.

There was peace in the kingdoms. But there was also hunger.



The crops had started to die long ago, and now the only thing left in the North were the frozen remnants of what had once been.

The deer and wildcats that once roamed the woods had been hunted to near extinction. There were a few bears left in the woods, but not enough to feed the people behind Winterfell's gates.

Once respectable nobles that dwelled behind the walls had turned to beggars. They began to grow scared, some even went mad with hunger and rage, taking their own lives and the lives of those they loved, for a death by blade was better than being taken by hunger.

Sansa Stark ached for the people in their care, she really did, but there was nothing more she could do.

Their supplies were running dangerously low and the Vale had ceased their supply food and furs because they were beginning to run low as well.

Jon and Sansa knew they couldn't ask the Queen for her help just yet, she'd only reclaimed her homeland a few moons back and was in no position to hand out anything beyond the capital's walls.

This long, cold winter had taken it's toll on everyone.

The sound of a child's whimpering brought Sansa back to the throne room of Winterfell.

The father that kneeled before her broke her heart, his and his children's faces so near to the ground she was sure they'd freeze to it. They were begging for any food she could spare.

"Please, my lady," the man whispered, his hands shaking beside his head on the ground. "My children are starving. We 'ave no more grains. The wildlife in the woods has been thinned to near nothin'. We're living on borrowed time."

Sansa looked to Jon, her eyes pleading with him. 'Help me,' she'd mouthed to him.

Jon sighed heavily, but stepped forward nonetheless, willing to bear the burden of becoming Warden in the North.

"I have only enough to get everyone through the next few weeks. I offer you my sincerest apologies, but there's nothing more we can do."

The man's eyes darkened. He was angry, that much Sansa knew. She'd seen the same look in Joffrey's eyes many times during her stay in King's Landing.

"Your apologies won't feed my children," the man nearly growled. "I'm willing to bet my life when everyone else's bellies 'ave been emptied for days you'll still be enjoying your secret feasts in your chambers, my Lord and Lady."

Jon inhaled a breath deeply through his nose to calm himself, but his voice still came out louder than intended. "There will be no food in my belly before I feed the children, you can bet your life on that." Jon turned to move back to his place beside his sister.

The man jumped up from the ground and dove forward, his hand hidden somewhere deep in the folds of his robes. He pulled out a long dagger and came at Jon's back, his eyes wild.

Sansa gasped and stood quickly from her chair. "Jon, look out!"

Jon turned and caught the man's wrist. He took three large strides forward to pin him to the wall. The man was weak, Jon could tell by how little fight he had in him. "Do not make me kill you in front of your children," Jon begged.

"Do it," the man's eyes watered. "Take away the hunger. The shame."

"Coward." Jon sneered at him. "You'd rather die than live to feed your children."

"There's no food, bastard." Jon guessed it was still true, since his mother and father hadn't been wed. It was something to rile him, he knew, so he pushed it aside. "What do you suppose I'll feed them?"

"You've tried to murder me, so your wish will be granted. You will die, and your children will live on without their father." Jon pressed his forearm against the man's throat harder. "But this I promise you, I will not let my people die."

"Guards!" Sansa ordered from the corner of the room. The men standing by the door, their hands on their swords said nothing as they watched the exchange. "Take him to the dungeons."

Jon watched the man, his heart overflowed with sorrow as he was dragged away from his children.

"Get him some bread. He may have attacked me, but he doesn't deserve to die on an empty stomach."

The guards nodded, but kept their grips like iron on the man's arms. His children were taken into a spare room in the castle where the orphans stayed.

"And his children, get them something to eat."



In the conference chamber later that night Jon barely touched his plate. He picked at a piece of bread given to him and had ordered his guard to take the soup to the madman's children.

"We have to do something," Sansa whispered, her eyes filled with tears. "If we don't there's going to be more attacks like today. People are desperate, Jon."

Jon sighed. "Aye."

"That poor man," Sansa whispered. "His poor children."

Jon pushed his bread aside. Hunger was no longer the only feeling that plagued him. "Are there no more houses that we can barter with?"

"We have nothing to barter," Sansa said quietly. "We're out of everything."

Jon nodded, taking off his sword belt. He stood, ready to tuck into his warm furs for the night. He stopped behind Sansa and bent to give her shoulders a firm squeeze of reassurance. "We'll think of something, Sansa. Get some sleep, try not to worry yourself into an early grave."



Sansa awoke the next morning and rushed to her nightstand. She knew what she had to do.

She quickly dipped the quill into the ink pot and brought it back out, splattering the blackness onto the wood she leaned against. She paid it no mind as she scribbled words onto the parchment, her writing fast but legible.

It was perfect, she nearly cried as she reread the terms.

She knew there was something to be done! Some place in Westeros not hit as hard as they had been by the winter. There was one thing left to barter with - the joining of their house.

Jon may not take to the idea at first, Sansa knew, but it was for the people, and for them Jon would do anything.

That morning a raven was sent to Dorne.