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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and all rights for characters, plots and settings belong to G.R.R. Martin and FromSoftware. I have no ownership.
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Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. Tell his red whore.
Your false king's friends are dead. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false king lied, and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride from me.
I will have my bride back. If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell.
I want my bride back. I want the false king's queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want this wildling princess. I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it.
(Ramsay Bolton???)
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North, Castle Black
301 AC
Val
Val was finishing unravelling her braid when she heard a knock on the door. Ghost's massive form twitched on the floor, but the direwolf didn't rise, likely recognizing the person behind the door. And since Wun Wun had let her in, it could only be one of several people who had access.
"Come in," she said, and a moment later, the door swung open, revealing the Red Priestess standing behind it, horribly her closest ally over the past dozen or so days.
Since Jon had set out for Hardhome, the situation on the Wall had become increasingly tense. While his presence had served as a buffer for the various factions in Castle Black, his absence only deepened it.
A few more days, and she expected fighting between the Crows and the Free Folk, or both and the Southern King's kneelers.
"Melisandre, what do you need?" she asked in a tired voice, something the priestess must have noticed. Val didn't know how the woman managed it, but she looked flawless and radiant, even though the last few days should have left as much of a mark on her as they had on herself.
The red priestess smiled slightly, and to Val's surprise, it seemed to be a genuine smile. A rare sight on the woman's face, especially since they had no reason to be happy.
A few days ago, Thorne returned to Castle Black, and the Night Watch began to stir. The only good news was that, upon hearing of what had happened, Iron Emmet and Eddison Tollett arrived from Barrow Town with several spearwives.
Melisandre, meanwhile, gracefully approached the tower window and peered out at the square below, then looked back at her. "Lord Snow is late; we're running out of time," she spoke, a flicker of fire dancing briefly in her eyes.
Val looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Don't you consider that Jon might not return? Not after that great fire a fortnight ago? Unless it was the work of your god?"
Melisandre glared at her. "R'hllor had nothing to do with those cursed flames," she replied, revealing a rare emotion. "This foul fire is unknown to me, but I can say with certainty that it is as dangerous as the Great Other... It was not the work of man."
Val laughed lightly at these words. "Of course it wasn't man-made. Those damn flames reached the sky, and just looking at them made me nauseous and dizzy... I just want to know if you're sure Jon is alive."
Melisandre sighed and looked at her as if she were dealing with a child, which irritated Val immensely. "Dear Val, I told you, if 'He' were dead, I would know. His presence hovers at the edge of my senses, growing brighter and more powerful with each passing moment."
Val narrowed her eyes, looking at the woman with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. Not that she considered Jon a normal human being. She had seen what he was capable of, after all, but Melisandre's words suggested that his magical powers were constantly growing.
"So what, Jon, instead of bringing order here, is training his magical abilities?"
"He's preparing himself more for the coming confrontation. He's our champion, and his fight isn't a duel of swords or spears, but a clash of minds and souls," the priestess replied, and after a brief moment of reflection, she added.
"And I wouldn't simply call it 'magical ability.' Jon Snow slowly takes one step at a time on the bridge between humanity and divinity. Yet my god sees him as a blade that will pierce the heart of the Lion of the Night."
Val tried not to show it, but the words didn't comfort her at all. Jon's best quality was that he cared, and from her own experience, she knew that gods didn't care at all.
"So, you thi..."
Before she could finish her question, Ghost suddenly leaped to his feet, his enormous frame, standing six feet at the shoulder, barely breaking through the doorway.
She stared for a moment at the spot where the direwolf's silhouette had disappeared. Another change and proof of Jon's magical powers. Ghost, who had reached her chest a moon ago since his master's murder and revival, had begun to grow, now towering over her.
He weighed probably three times as much as before, rivalling Varamyr's snow bear in size. Furthermore, the direwolf had always seemed more intelligent than most animals, and in recent days, Val had felt as if she were dealing with a mute human.
She looked questioningly at Melisandre, but the Red Priestess merely shrugged and followed Ghost. Val, after a moment's hesitation, did the same. Ghost sensed something, and she hoped this wasn't more trouble for her.
As she left the tower, she was greeted by the sight of Wun Wun leaning against the wall, holding the golden halberd Jon had given her. The square before them was in turmoil.
The bustling Crows and Free folk scattered before a massive direwolf, which could bite off their heads as easily as crush them with its sheer weight, roaming the courtyard.
The direwolf stopped just before the gate leading beyond the Wall and, raising its head to the sky, let out a mighty howl. And though the sound was terrifying, Val, who spent almost all her time with Ghost, seemed to detect a joyful note in it.
A moment later, a prolonged horn blast sounded from the top of the Wall. Everyone in the castle fell silent, listening for another blast, but it didn't come, meaning the Rangers were returning from their expedition. This could only mean Jon and Tormund.
All the most important people in the castle began to pour into the courtyard. Alliser Thorne, surrounded by several of his henchmen, but also Iron Emmet and Eddison Tollett. The minor leaders of the Free Folk and the knights of the now-former queen.
"Raise the gates!" Thorn shouted, and the Crows immediately rushed to the wooden turnstiles.
A few minutes passed, then several more, and they waited in the cold, impatiently. Only after a few more moments did a massive figure appear in the gate leading from the tunnel in the Wall.
The man must have been over seven feet tall, towering even over the waiting direwolf. However, when he turned, what was on his back caught their attention. In a chair made of wood and rope, tied to his back, sat a boy with auburn hair and blue eyes.
Before she could consider who they were, however, for they did not appear to be Free Folk, more figures emerged from the tunnel: another boy and a slightly older girl.
Then, even younger children began to appear at the gates, spilling into the courtyard but keeping their distance from the patiently standing Ghost. Had Jon rescued them from Hardhome?
Gasps erupted from the Crows standing closer, and Val, looking more closely, realized they weren't dealing with human children but with the Earthsingers, mythical even among her people.
Their golden, green, and amber eyes scanned the buildings and people around them with curiosity and distrust. Val counted over three dozen of them.
As the last of the Children emerged from the gates, a final silhouette appeared, and Ghost pounced on them without hesitation. Surprisingly, despite his massive bulk, he couldn't bring his master down, contenting himself with licking his face with his tongue.
Jon pulled Ghost close, nuzzling his face into her thick white fur, drawing a small smile from her lips. It was a true bond, and though she got along well with the direwolf herself, she could only watch Jon and Ghost with envy.
Excitement swirled around her at Jon's return, and everyone was probably relieved to know he would take control of this chaos.
However, when Jon released Ghost and straightened, more gasps of surprise escaped the lips of those present. Jon had not only grown a good half-head, but he also looked different.
In place of his dark brown hair, there was now short silver-gold hair, as with his eyebrows and eyelashes. His right eye had become completely purple with a vertical pupil like a cat's. Combined with his magical golden eye, it all gave him an ethereal appearance.
On his shoulder, clinging tightly with its talons, sat that mad raven, though now it was more the size of an eagle, or at least a large hawk.
Val could believe Melisandre that he was becoming some kind of deity. Seeing her, he smiled at the sight, and a strange warmth spread within her. She moved toward him, stopping a few steps away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Melisandre following her.
"Val," he said warmly to her, then nodded to the Red Priestess, "Melisandre."
"Lord Snow." Melisandre greeted him with a bow.
"Jon, you've changed... and grown a bit." Val also greeted him with a slight smile, full of relief.
"Aye. That's true. I've been eating well," he admitted with a wink, then glanced around at the people gathered in the courtyard before adding, "I see Tormund hasn't arrived from Eastwatch yet."
"No," she admitted, "but what was he doing in Eastwatch, and what about Hardhome?"
Jon's face immediately turned serious. He glanced briefly at the boy in the carrier on the big man's back, then replied, "Tormund was being chased by wights, and Eastwatch was the closest, and Hardhome was a disaster. All the Free Folk and Brothers of the Watch, along with Cotton Pyke, are dead."
Val felt the atmosphere fill with fear and anger at these words. "What happened, Jon?" she asked, but he only shook his head and, passing her, called loudly, "All gather at Shieldhall for a council!"
Then he turned to his steward, who was standing to the side. "Satin, see that my brother, his companions, and our guests are housed and fed."
"Leaf and Song, come with me," he said to the two closest Children of the Forest members in turn.
Then, without hesitation, he strode toward the building housing Shieldhall, and Val and Melisandre followed him. A few steps ahead of them were Tollet, Emmet, and, surprisingly, Thorne, who didn't take his eyes off Jon for even a moment.
Everyone, like Val herself, must have had many questions, but they patiently followed Jon, who was a completely different man. The aura he exuded commanded obedience.
Entering Shieldhall, Jon sat in the central chair belonging to the Lord Commander. Val and Melisandre sat on his left, drawing a few wry glances, but no one dared comment.
On his right sat Thorne and Emmet, and before the dais lay Ghost, a mountain of muscle and snow-white fur. Slowly, the chamber filled to capacity. Nearly four hundred people.
Jon watched silently, his gaze clearly lost in thought, all eyes glued to him, an achievement, especially considering the two beings of legend and story stood nearby.
Finally, after a moment of silence, he cleared his throat and spoke, "Allow me to begin by introducing our guests. The crippled boy is my brother Bran, but don't ask how he ended up beyond the Wall; it's unimportant now. The large man is Hodor, his protector, and with him are Meera and Jojen, children of Lord Howland Reed."
Hush whispers echoed through the hall, but Jon merely raised a hand, and they instantly died away. There was something dangerous, predatory about him, and Val, living beyond the Wall, knew that prey tried to remain unnoticed in the face of a predator.
Jon gestured to the Earthsingers standing awkwardly to the side, casting wary glances at the gathered people. "These are Leaf and Song, some of the Children of the Forest who have been hiding north of the Wall for millennia. They are under my protection, and any harm to them means certain death."
And though it wasn't directed at her, Val felt a chill run through her. She didn't know what had happened to him these past few days, but it had changed him irrevocably.
"You're probably wondering what happened. Well, then, listen to what I have to tell you. If we intend to survive, I must reveal some things that will be hard to believe. However, I have evidence to back up my words. And the potential spies and traitors present here do not know that there is a fate worse than death."
"Lord Commander, your hair..." Allister Thorne suddenly spoke, with unusual respect for him, if what she had heard and seen were to be believed. Jon, however, interrupted him.
"Not now, Ser Allister. All answers will be given to you... even more than you would wish." Jon's tone held no room for argument.
With these words, he launched into a tale, not only of events beyond the Wall, but of things so incredible that if she hadn't known him, she wouldn't have believed a word.
However, his extraordinary strength, the mount summoned by the magic ring, and now that cursed flame from several days ago, as well as the magic he demonstrated, were convincing enough for her.
After all this, she knew two things for sure: The world was even crazier than she'd expected, and Jon really could save them from the impending Death.
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North, Castle Black
301 AC
Aerion
After severing Bloodraven's head and storing it in their gear, hoping they might be able to revive it in the future, they set off towards the Wall through the Hunted Forest. Leaf and the other Children knew the forest paths perfectly, guiding them along paths he wouldn't have found normally, even by accident.
They moved as quickly as they could, feeling the chilling breath of the Others, who hunted them relentlessly. Aerion was forced to engage them in combat several times, slaying several of them.
After that, the masters kept their distance, sending only their dead servants against them, not in horde, but in small groups here and there, exploring and testing. And so it went for the next few days of the journey.
However, a dozen or so miles from the Wall, they abandoned their pursuit altogether. Was this caused by the mere presence of magic woven into the Wall, or had they simply achieved their goal? He didn't know. Instead, he felt relief as he saw the icy wall rising skyward before him.
As they emerged from the treeline, a moment later he heard Ghost's prolonged howl, his emotions already surging through their bond more strongly than ever. Yet his dear companion's mind seemed different, less alien, and more akin to his own.
The same was true of Godwyn, the third of his animal companions, who had found him two days ago. Though Raven had grown considerably, and his once-bleached feathers had darkened completely, to the point where they almost blended together.
Shortly after Ghost's howl, the guards on the Wall must have noticed them, as a long horn blast sounded, announcing the Rangers' return. The gates opened, and they entered the winding tunnels leading to the other side of the Wall.
There, a welcome awaited them. Ghost, now more like a snow bear in size, immediately pounced on him, and if not for his new strength, he would have been crushed.
He expected to see Val and Melisandre as well, but not Edd and Emmett, and he certainly didn't expect to see Allister Thorn alive, not after what had happened north of the Wall.
The next two hours were among the most arduous. The entire journey back, he wrestled with thoughts about what he should do next. His prolonged absences in the future could lead not only to weakening morale but also to sowing division within his ranks.
And so, his enemies could exploit his absence when he moved to the Lands Between, thus giving not only hope to his people but also striking fear into their hearts with the fact that he was growing in power in some magical land.
Some might not believe his words, but only for a while. His strength, spells, and incantations would quickly make them realize how wrong they were. There was no perfect solution in this situation. He had to play the cards he was dealing.
He needed loyalty and obedience, the right mix of fear and admiration, and even reverence. Wasn't it most appropriate to reveal himself like a mythical hero from the Age of Heroes? Like Bran the Builder, Symeon Star-Eyes, Galladon of Mourne, or Garth Greenhand.
Now these wouldn't be the arrogant words of some deranged king or lord, but words backed by true power and strength.
He slowly scanned the crowd before speaking. "The free folk of Hardhome have perished, and the enemy is more terrifying than we could have imagined, but that doesn't mean there's no hope for us. What happened to me and the magic that awakened within me is our chance.
Just as the legendary Last Hero, Azor Ahai, led humanity in the fight against death and cold during the first Long Night, I now take this responsibility upon myself."
"However, my powers and strength take time to grow, so from time to time I will have to go into seclusion for a few days or more, but each time I will return stronger. In those moments, I will count on you to be as obedient as my second-in-command as you are to me. Come. I want to show you all something." With these words, he stood up and left the chamber.
His exit was accompanied by the sound of scraping and chairs being overturned as those present scrambled to follow him. Aerion emerged into the courtyard and then through the main gate of Castle Black, which opened onto a plain completely covered in snow several feet deep, with only a small path carved through the drifts leading south.
Aerion stopped in a small, cleared space just before the gate, and the Dragon Communion Seal appeared in his right hand. He focused his mind and, with practiced ease, cast an incantation.
Shouts rang out behind him as he was instantly lifted several feet into the air, and behind him, Agheel's dragon head materialized with a roar, a torrent of Winter Rose-colored flames pouring from its mouth, which instantly collided with the thick layer of snow, creating a massive amount of hot steam that completely obscured the view.
Aerion continued the incantation for a good dozen seconds, but they had to wait another minute or two for the effects to show. Whispers of awe and fear filled the courtyard behind him.
"It was a dragon."
"Sorcerer… Magic Fire"
"Targaryen."
"Champion of Old Gods."
He then summoned the Knight Greatsword and used Stormstomp Ash of War. As he stomped the ground, vortices of air rose around him, dispersing the remaining water vapor and revealing a sight that further fueled the people's emotions. The snow over 300 feet away had completely melted, and the ground exposed by the flames had turned to slowly solidifying glass.
Satisfied, he turned to the crowd gathered behind him, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the sight they presented. The courtyard was filled with such awe and fear, and he also caught a few glances expressing something deeper, reverence.
To his surprise, it wasn't Val or Melisandre who approached him first, nor even Edd, but Ser Allister who stepped forward and knelt on one knee, his words surprising even Aerion. The man's face was one of pure self-contempt.
"My King. Forgive me, I beg you… Forgive me for being so blinded as to not see the ruse of Eddard Stark. I was blind... but now with your Targaryen coloring, I see your father standing before me. The same features, the same eyes. You are Rhaegar's son, are you not, Your Majesty?"
Aerion had to give the knight he disliked credit for quickly swallowing his own dislike for him. But he had to give Thorn credit for being unwaveringly loyal, choosing to serve on the Wall when he could have simply knelt like so many others, like Barristan Selmy before Robert Baratheon, for example.
If he was to show the same loyalty to him now, Aerion wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He saw the confused looks of the other Brothers of the Guard, but some of them, as well as the knights in Selyse's service, understood the meaning of the man's words.
"Rise, Ser Alliser," he spoke, stepping forward and placing a hand on the knight's shoulder. "Our past feuds no longer matter. In the War of the Dawn, we stand on the same side. I ask only that you show me the same loyalty you showed to my father."
"My king, command me," Thorne rasped, bowing his head even lower.
"We have much to do," Aerion spoke loudly, addressing them in his most persuasive tone. "To survive the Long Night and defeat the dead, we must unite the living!"
He stepped past the kneeling knight and entered the courtyard, drawing all eyes to him as he continued, "As you may have guessed from Ser Allister's words, I am not Lord Stark's bastard, but the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the Last Dragon, and Lyanna Stark, Winter Rose."
He paused for a moment to emphasize his words. "But that is irrelevant. I do not intend to claim the throne of the Seven Kingdoms on the basis of my lineage, but I will reconquer them with the argument of my strength and the fact that I am the only thing standing between you and Death Beyond the Wall when it falls... and it must fall."
He could see that his words were having an effect on them, but if it weren't for his earlier display of power, they would have had even a fraction of the effect. The truth was that power was in the hands of whoever the people believed it was.
He gave them reason to believe he was their best chance of survival, and it was easy to believe that he was the truth.
"Bolton's bastard sits confidently in Winterfell, and the horrors and crimes his men commit echo throughout the North. He drains the last of his strength from these lands and the people who live here, while the true enemy, who neither tires nor sleeps, approaches."
"ENOUGH! IN MOON RAMSAY BOLTON WILL LIE DEAD AT MY FEET!! AND HIS PEOPLE WILL EITHER BEND OR I WILL TURN THEM TO ASHES!" His cry echoed throughout the castle, and their own cries echoed in response.
"KING IN THE NORTH!!!"
"KING CROW!" "DRAGON KING!!"
He watched with satisfaction as they chanted his name, his eyes scanning those who either didn't or who seemed to be doing so halfheartedly. Before heading south, he would separate the wheat from the chaff.