The sea air is sharp as he steps onto the rocky shores, carrying the scent of salt and storm. The waves crash against the cliffs, steady and relentless, a reminder of the forces at work beyond any ruler’s control. The wind tugs at Jon’s furs, but it is not the cold of home—it is something different, unfamiliar. Yet a deeper chill lingers within him, the weight of what he has seen beyond the great barrier never far from his thoughts. Jon does not come here for politics or titles. He comes because the true war is approaching, and they will all stand together—or fall.

The great hall is quiet, the firelight casting long shadows across the dark stone. At the far end of the room, the queen sits upon her throne, poised and commanding. Her presence is undeniable, her gaze sharp as she studies him. Her trusted advisor stands at her side, watching, calculating. This is not a meeting of allies—it is something far more uncertain.

“You seek my help, yet you refuse to bend the knee,” the queen says, her voice measured but firm.

Jon meets her gaze, his expression steady. He knows the weight of his words, knows the risk in refusing her demand. But there is no time for matters of allegiance when something far greater looms on the horizon.

“I did not come here to argue over crowns,” he says. “The darkness beyond the barrier is real. The army that marches with it is real. And if we don’t stand together, it won’t matter who sits on the throne.”

A silence settles over the hall. Jon sees the doubt in her eyes, the way she holds herself like the ruler she was meant to be. But she has not seen what he has seen. Not yet. And he can only hope that when the time comes, she will choose to stand with the living.