Early in the morning, Jon sat on the winter throne. The high seat of the olden kings of the North was made out of grey stone, its massive arms were decorated with snarling direwolf heads. Below him, the tables had been moved to the side, leaving a wide space open in the middle of the Great Hall. While rather small, the Court of the Winter King had been assembled once again for the first time in three centuries. The lords and ladies were seated around the tables together with the surviving wildling chieftains. It was an odd sight, but both groups were relatively peaceful after fighting together against a common enemy. Only Maege Mormont was missing as she took three hundred men with her yesterday, and headed to take control of the Dreadfort.