The heat of the sun burned at the back of Jon's head as he walked toward Hayford Castle, fur cape draped over his shoulders and Longclaw hanging on his hip. The sweat drops running down his forehead reminded him that he didn't belong here, in the southern land of dragons and drama. Not anymore and not ever. His home was where winter fell early and stayed way too long.

He may have been born Aegon Targaryen but in his heart was nothing but snow.

Around him were camps that housed the rebellion forces: Baratheon men, Arryn men, Lannister men, Redwyne men, and men of the Night's Watch. They had all arrived in the days following the ambush from the king's men, ready to march toward the capital once all preparations were made.

After leaving Crossroads Inn, Jon had sent Devan ahead with the men of the Nightwatch, while he took command of the more numerous but less trained men of the North. Even if they knew now that he wasn't the son of Ned Stark, they were still loyal to him.

That's why he arrived at Hayford Castle several days after the battle. He wasn't here to fight today but he was here to pledge himself and his men for another fight. A fight for the throne.

"Jon!" a familiar voice called out from one of the tents. A hand was put on his shoulder as a gray-bearded man--who'd stood by his side many times in battle--caught up. "Great to see you here. Thank you for taking care of Devan up there in the North. I wouldn't been able to bear losing him."

"It was my pleasure, Davos," Jon replied, reaching out a hand to take the battle-proven knight's hand. Although it wasn't actually true. Knowing Devan had been many things but pleasurable was not on top of that list. "He's... not like you but he's also just like you, somehow." Davos had always been a noble man while Devan was often ridiculous in his antics, but they were both as loyal and kind.

"I know what you mean." Davos chuckled, probably knowing his whirlwind of a son better than anyone. "Regardless, I'm glad to have him back with me."

"He is a good man, just like you," Jon concluded, and he meant it. Regardless of how annoying Devan could be, he did definitely have his heart in the right place. "Although he needs to cut his hair. It's out of control."

"His mother will see to that as soon as she sees him," Davos assured Jon. "But he is a good man, or at least he will be one day... we're working on that." Davos shook his head in a mix of despair and amusement. Which seemed to be the impression Devan left most people with. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you again, Jon. I didn't think I would ever see you down these parts again. But I'm glad you're here because we'll need you for what is ahead."

"I didn't think I would ever return here either." Jon gazed toward the capital in the distance, where the towers of the Red Keep could be hinted among the clouds. That's where he'd last seen her. His love. That's where he'd killed her.

Jon looked away, inhaling as he suppressed the haunting memories he'd been running from. But somehow, his escape had taken a circular shape, causing him to end up right where he started: standing outside the capital, ready to take down a tyrant ruler.

"But I can't stand idle," he sighed at his own rightfulness while he stopped a moment to look at the Baratheon banners that swayed above the field. Had the man he'd called his father, Ned Stark, felt compelled in the same way when he arrived to fight on Robert Baratheon's side? "I need to right the wrongs committed, by myself and others. I need to put a rightful ruler on that throne."

That was his duty. He felt it in his bones. Just because his tragic saga was over didn't mean he couldn't make sure another glorious saga was written. Then, he could return to the snowy fields of the North once again, disappearing into the mist of forgetfulness. One day, he may be like Maester Aemon; decrepit and forlorn by the world he once called his. Jon embraced that fate. He'd rather be forgotten than infamous.

Davos nodded, being on a similar quest himself. "He's in there." He gestured toward the drawbridge that led to the castle. "He's been expecting you."

"Thank you," Jon replied, patting Davos' shoulder as he passed. Who would have thought they would stand side by side in battle once again?

But a battle would come, and it would come soon. Hurrying across the drawbridge to escape the sun, Jon could feel it in the air. It vibrated with a certain kind of tension, one he'd only felt right before forces collided in war.

The main hall of the castle, which had been appropriated for battle preparations because it its convenient location close to the capital, was filled with lords and commanders planning for battles ahead. Devan Seaworth gave him a patented huge smile upon entering, "About time you made it here, Commander Snow," he exclaimed, drawing everyone else's eyes to him. He recognized a few faces: Howland Reed, whose lands he passed through when he almost became crocodile food; Robin Arryn, who he still couldn't picture as anything else but a young boy; and Tyrek Lannister, whose blond curls made it obvious which house he hailed from. Others were still unknown to him, as the landscape of Westeros had changed in his absence.

And, of course, there was Gendry. Amidst the flurry of chatter and movement, he still stood out. On the surface, the former blacksmith looked the same as he always had. But he also looked completely different. His features were the same but now, they appeared to be ignited by a fire from beneath. He looked like a bastard blacksmith from Fleabottom but he also looked like Lord Gendry Baratheon, leader of the rebellion against the crown. He had the presence of a man who knew without a doubt that he could accomplish what he had set out to do and who also knew that men would follow him on his quest.

"Jon." Gendry rose from his seat, walking toward Jon to greet him. His handshake was surprisingly weak, as if his right arm wouldn't quite obey him. "It's a pleasure to have you with us."

"Gendry," Jon replied, trying to incorporate the man who stood in front of him with the man he once knew. "Or Lord Baratheon now I suppose."

"I suppose so." Gendry shrugged as if the name meant nothing. But without it, he wouldn't be standing where he was. They both knew that truth. "I never thought I would get used to being called that. But it's who I am. I actually turn around now if someone calls for me by that name." Putting his hand on Jon's back, Gendry led them toward a secluded alcove beside the main hall, where they could speak more candidly.

"You are even more than Lord Baratheon now," Jon said. He leaned on a nook in the stone wall while Gendry sat down on a barrel. "You are the hope for the kingdom. The leader of a rebellion."

Gendry sighed. "I'm none of those things because I want to," he mumbled. "I am what I am because I need to. Because I need to get her back. And I need to go to war against your brother to do that."

"The king's not my brother," Jon reflexically replied. "Ever since Devan arrived at Castle Black, he's tried to convince me of this. But I wouldn't listen."

"So what made you change your mind?"

"Jojen Reed..." Jon mumbled, knowing it probably sounded dumb. Jojen Reed wasn't alive. "We met him up North. Where he died. Both he and Bran died there, I suppose. It's hard to explain." Jon looked down, feeling embarrassed to admit he'd listened to a ghost.

Gendry shook his head, putting his hand on Jon's knee to make him look up. "Jojen's been to see me too," he said. "So I believe you. He told me that Meera is safe, before disappearing into the wind. He's not dead but not quite alive either."

"Then you understand why I believe him. And once I found out what he had done, there was no doubt anymore. Because Bran wouldn't do this. He wouldn't take a woman from her husband and children. So whoever is sitting on that throne is not my brother."

With a stern expression on his face, Gendry nodded. "He's not," he confirmed. "He's someone, or something else. Meera always knew that. She told me right after the election but by then, it was already too late. Not sure anyone would have listened to me then anyway."

"Everyone listens to you know though. You earned it."

Gendry sighed, pulling his hands across his face. "I just want her back," he mumbled. "That's all I want."

"You love her? Like it wasn't just a marriage for alliance." Having been away for so long, Jon wasn't up to date on what had been going on in the kingdom. Not that he cared about dalliances and petty squabbles anymore. That part of the world could move without him.

"I love her," Gendry confirmed, a smile beneath the bitter expression. "I love her with all my heart. I wouldn't be what I am without her."

Jon nodded, knowing that feeling all too well. He wouldn't be what he once was without Ygritte or without Danaerys. "I met Meera once you know. In the Neck. She almost had me killed by a crocodile."

"That does sound like my wife," Gendry chuckled. "The first time I met her I got stuck in a sinkhole and plunged into the swamp. I supposed I've been stuck ever since..." Looking into the distance, he seemed to be back in that moment, beside a beautiful swamp woman with unruly hair and wily ways.

"You have weird taste in women, my friend," Jon scoffed. "But I will assist you in reuniting with her nonetheless."

"That's all that matters," Gendry replied. "All the other stuff... the throne. It's just madness. But I will do what I have to do."

"And you do it well. You're a leader now. You changed my friend. Being a lord changed you."

Gendry shook his head decisively. "Being a husband and father changed me. Meera and our daughter are the reason I'm doing this. They changed me. Not being a lord."

Jon wondered how it would feel like to be those things. He would never know. Of that he was certain. But even certain men could be wrong.

"You're planning to take the throne if it comes to it? That's what I've been told."

"If it comes to it, then I'll do it for them." Gendry groaned at the mere mention of ruling but still didn't waver from his resolve. "You know you could claim it though, Jon?"

"I don't want it," Jon resolutely said. The mere thought was ridiculous to him. He was not a man of this world anymore. He would do what he could do right wrongs committed, but he wouldn't stay.

"Neither do I. But I'm my father's son so I supposed it's my destiny. Even if I never met him."

"I am my father's son as well. And my father was Ned Stark. So just like him, I will stand by my Baratheon friend while he takes down a king to get back the woman he loves."

They both fell silent, not wanting to speak out loud how it went down that first time. Gendry's father was never reunited with the woman he loved. Jon's mother. Lyanna died. They didn't want to utter that truth because if they did maybe it would happen again. And it just couldn't. Meera had to live. They had to change the story.

They would play the parts of their fathers but they couldn't be them. They had to be more than their fathers. They had to do things differently than their fathers. Because history might repeat itself but in each iteration, changes could be made to alter the outcome.

"Gendry, it's time." Davos walked into the alcove, his gaze darting between the two young men. One who he used to serve and one who he currently served. Both about the age of the son he lost. "The men are waiting for you to make your speech."

Author's Note: This Gendry/Jon conversation is actually something I drafted very early on (I revised it heavily though as I was very new at writing then and details of the story also changed), about 3 years ago, before much of the rest of the story was written. Because Jon coming back and seeing what Gendry has become in his absence felt like an important moment. And while this isn't Jon's story, I do enjoy writing this version of him: a man whose story has ended but who is still forced to carry on. So he'd jaded but he still can't help but care about the fate of the kingdom, even if he doesn't plan on staying there.

And yes, the attack at Storm's End will come back into play again soon.