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Chapter 460
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 16:49:17 +0000 UTC"Lord Robb!"
In the midst of the heated discussions, a low yet piercing voice cut through the noise. Roose Bolton, his face as expressionless as a well-worn mask, began to speak. "Having an impartial observer provide their perspective is always valuable. Jon's insights and the lords' differing opinions each carry merit. This matter demands careful deliberation and a decision made only after fully hearing everyone out. That said, I have a suggestion: Jon Snow, as a special attendee, has completed his role by sharing his perspective. We should thank him for his time and input. However, perhaps it is now time for us Northerners to decide among ourselves?"
Though polite on the surface, Bolton’s words were a thinly veiled dismissal. However, this was Winterfell, not the Dreadfort, and Robb Stark, not Roose Bolton, was its master. Robb shook his head after a brief moment of thought, rejecting the suggestion. "Jon is my brother and a son of the North. Even if he doesn’t speak further, he has the right to remain in this room."
"No," Jon interjected, his voice soft but resolute. It wasn’t Robb’s rejection that weighed on him but his own unease. For someone as straightforward as Jon, deflecting questions with calculated responses felt unnatural, and the heat of embarrassment rose to his face. He had already spoken as well as he could within his capabilities. Staying any longer, he feared, would only risk worsening the discussion's outcome.
Jon stood slowly, bowing to the gathered lords and ladies. "My lords, I still have duties to attend to. I’ll take my leave now. Please excuse me."
Not being Jon's liege lord or superior officer, Robb had no grounds to stop him. Reluctantly, he watched as his half-brother donned his heavy cloak and stepped out into Winterfell's biting winds, closing the door gently behind him.
With the sound of the door sealing the chill away, Roose Bolton's sharp eyes followed Jon's retreating figure. A faint, almost imperceptible smile crept onto his face. Too young. Too naïve.
Even as the Commander of Castle Black, Jon was still a child in Roose’s eyes—idealistic and inexperienced. He had entered the meeting not to pursue power or position but out of a genuine desire to prevent conflict between the North and the Gift. And yet, Bolton mused, if Jon had been shrewd enough, he would have realized that leaving the room was a critical error. No matter the pressure or subtle provocations, Jon should have stayed seated, anchoring the debate. His abrupt departure had left the direction of the meeting uncertain and untethered.
Repressing his satisfaction, Roose adopted a stern, serious demeanor. The largest obstacle to his plans had just walked out the door. Now was the time to steer the North back onto a course favorable to House Bolton.
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"I oppose the views of both Lord Karstark and Lord Glover," Roose declared, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. "Neither war with the Gift nor so-called neutrality is the best course for the North."
The gathered lords, still processing Jon’s unexpected exit, snapped their attention to Roose. Even those who had remained silent thus far found their interest piqued.
"And what would you suggest, Bolton?" Karstark shot back with a glare.
Roose offered his signature thin smile. "I wouldn't presume to call it wisdom—merely an attempt to offer Lord Robb an unemotional perspective. War with the Gift would be disastrous. The wildlings submitted to the Night’s Watch out of desperation, not loyalty. Their unity, such as it is, is fragile. If we provoke them, the threat of war would push them closer together. Even with clever maneuvers to avoid their dragons, the North cannot hold against such forces. And if we can’t bring down their queen from the skies, then any military endeavor is doomed to failure. At best, we’d bleed our armies to delay her march south. A pointless loss for the North."
Rickard Karstark, as usual, let his temper flare. "Living is about pride, Bolton! Always playing it safe—where’s the spirit in that? Even the White Walkers brought down a dragon; why can’t we? You’re always cautious, calculating—how’s that worked out for your House’s numbers? People thrive by fighting, not hiding!"
"Lord Karstark!" Robb’s voice, firm and commanding, cut through the argument. "Let Lord Bolton finish."
Karstark flushed but held his tongue, recognizing the authority in Robb’s tone.
Roose inclined his head and resumed. "We cannot win through direct conflict, but neutrality is equally foolish. Lord Robb, do you truly believe the North can remain neutral in a war for the Iron Throne?"
Without waiting for an answer, Roose continued. "The North is not Braavos or Pentos. We cannot stand apart from the Seven Kingdoms. Granting Aegor passage south is not neutrality—it’s tacitly opposing King Stannis. Even if we do nothing else to aid Daenerys, Stannis will see us as traitors. And to Daenerys, we’ll appear as cowards who only conceded under duress. Both sides would resent us. In a war for the throne, neutrality is a myth."
The room was silent as Roose let his words sink in. Then he drove the point home.
"The war for the throne will end only when one side annihilates the other. And the victor will reward their allies with lands and titles. Where will those come from? From the losers—and the so-called neutrals.
History shows no mercy to those who sit on the sidelines. Neutrality won’t save us. It will mark us as traitors to both the victor and the vanquished."
Lord Reed of Greywater Watch, silent until now, nodded in agreement. "He’s right. No matter who wins, they’ll see the North as a threat for refusing to take sides."
Roose allowed himself a satisfied smirk. "Exactly. Whether it’s Stannis, Daenerys, or that boy Aegon Targaryen who takes the throne, the North must choose a side—or risk being ground to dust between them."
Rickard Karstark growled, "So what are you saying? That we throw our lot in with Daenerys? Wave the dragon banner and serve her like the rest of her lapdogs?"
Roose’s smile deepened. "What I’m saying, Lord Karstark, is simple. The North must act decisively. If we fight for Stannis, then we must fight to the bitter end. If we back Daenerys, then we must do so wholeheartedly. But the one thing we cannot do is cling to illusions of neutrality. That path leads only to ruin."
The room fell silent once more as the weight of Roose’s words settled over the gathering. For once, even Rickard Karstark had no immediate rebuttal. The North stood at a crossroads—and the lords of Winterfell knew the wrong choice could doom them all.
