He left the Dreadfort a bloody ruin. Its halls ran red with blood, carrion birds and insects descended to feast, and the smell of death filled the air as the snow fell thicker and thicker.
Despite his instincts when dead bodies were concerned, Jon did not set pyres. Part of him wishes he had the time and resources to scorch the castle, but he hoped all the corpses lying about would spread disease and infect any fools who tried to claim it. The witnesses of his rampage will spread word of what happened here today, and the North itself would soon know the Flayed Man's fate. Good. Let word be spread that the House Bolton was dead and rotting. Let them see his bloody footprints in the snow and be afraid. Let them hear the tales of a monster with blue eyes that commanded cold and death, and perhaps then the fools would take things more seriously if someone told them an army of wights and White Walkers were coming.
As Jon splashed once more into the Weeping Water river to wash away the blood, did he feel the eyes on him.
The sensation of being watched was surprisingly familiar; one he had learned to feel for when Bran was watching him from the eyes of birds and beasts. Now, with his own senses enhanced to preternatural levels, the magic of his watcher, ancient and older than the surrounding trees, stood out like someone had lit up a bonfire behind him. Jon's head snapped up and glared at a raven perched and watching him from the boughs of a beech tree overlooking the river. The black bird stared back with eyes a milky pale, the telltale sign of a warged animal.
There were no wargs this side of the Wall. On the other side, however…
"Hello, Three-Eyed-Raven." Jon growled low in his throat.
His eyes burned blue, and he looked further into the eyes of the raven; saw the skeletal old man behind them, saw the roots of a weirwood intertwining within and throughout his body, and saw the single red eye that stared back at him with surprise.
Jon bared his teeth and spat, "Or should I say, Bloodraven?"
The raven took to the skies with loud caws, and Jon watched with wide eyes as what he somehow instinctually knew to be greenseer magic swirled into existence before him; a cloud of wispy tendrils of black that came from nothing and coalesced into an old man standing upon the riverbank.
Surprisingly, the man before him looked more flesh and blood rather than the fusion of man and weirwood bark and roots that he had seen. Garbed in a tattered black robe that billowed in an invisible breeze, the old albino was tall, thin, gaunt, and grim with sharp and vaguely sinister features that were lined with wrinkles. His skin and hair were milk white, and his right eye glowed an eerie red. His left was simply gone. Jon read how he had lost it to his fellow bastard and half-brother Aegor Rivers, Bittersteel, in the Battle of the Redgrass Field during the first Blackfyre Rebellion. On the right side of his face was the winestain birthmark extending from his throat up to his right cheek that earned him the name Bloodraven. It vaguely resembled the shape of a bird, but Jon thought it just looked like a blotch.
"Brynden Rivers." Jon greeted in a tone that was all ice and anger.
Jon had learned how Bran became the Three-Eyed-Raven from Meera Reed. The Other's first attack had been held off, Arya had just assassinated Cersei, Euron Greyjoy had claimed the Iron Throne, the Vale had fallen under attack from the Red Hand, and the Golden Company was marching through the Neck. At any other time, the army would have fallen to the very nature of the Neck itself. The endless morass of suckholes and quicksand were enough to slow any army, not to mention the cranogmen who knew the land like the back of their hands and could make the lives of invaders an absolute hell. However, the Golden Company used a never-before tried method to cross it.
Wildfire.
Green flames engulfed the Neck and burned a path straight to the North, along with everyone who could not escape the blaze. After Greywater Watch fell, the remaining cranogmen retreated to Winterfell where Jon met Meera Reed and gotten the full story of how of her, her brother Jojen, the wilding Osha, the stableboy Hodor, and Bran's quest beyond the Wall, chasing after greendreams of a massive weriwood and a raven with three eyes.
After his return to the past, Jon had decided to research the bastard son of Aegon IV. The man known as Bloodraven had quite an interesting history; his role in the Blackfyre rebellions, his tenor as Hand of the King and Master of Whispers, his imprisonment and taking the black, his election to Lord Commander, and finally, his disappearance while ranging beyond the Wall in 252 AC. What interested Jon the most were the claims that Bloodraven was a sorcerer. "How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have?" The riddle ran, "A thousand eyes and one." Given what Jon knew now, it was a very apt description.
"You know me." The albino said after a long moment of silence.
"I do. And I know what you are." Jon replied in a low and cold voice.
"And just what," The apparition queried, "Am I?"
Memories the Three-Eyed-Raven, his Three-Eyed-Raven, came to the forefront of Jon's mind as he stared down the thing across from him.
"If you truly were a Stark, you would kill him...and end this."
"But I'm not a Stark. I am the Three-Eyed-Raven."
"Another monster I should kill!" Was what he wanted to say. Instead, he said, "Just an old man in a tree who's done nothing but watch the world go to the seven hells for the last fifteen years!"
Brynden's eye burned like a hot coal when he spoke, "I am just as you say; an old man in a tree." A nigh imperceptible tilt of the head, and then, "Would you like to know what I see when I look at you, Aegon Targaryen?"
"My name is Jon Snow!" Jon could not help but snap. Oh, how he loathed that name!
That lone, red eye blinked, "You cannot deny yourself to me, young prince. The trees know you. They have seen the day you were born and every one of your days since…and yet…" Another slight head tilt, "They do not know you; the one who took the place of that boy in Winterfell. You are lightning from a cloudless sky. Your very presence here has undone the very fabric of fate. Old things walk, old things wake-"
"What do you want!" Jon cut him off. The tone of voice held the same emotionless drone Bran had possessed, and it set his teeth on edge,"A straight answer, Raven! No games! No riddles! Or else!" The blue marks on Bran's wrist flashed before Jon's eyes and he took a step forward with a hand wreathed in freezing river water, "I may not be able to kill you here, but I can try…other things."
The silence stretched long and loud after the threat with winter blue eyes burning fury into that placid, weirwood red orb.
"They've taken to calling you the Night Prince."
A moment passed as the title, and all the implications behind it, registered for Jon. A thin layer of ice crackled over the water as his fury flared in an aura of sheer cold, and he stepped towards the Three-Eyed-Raven with eyes blazing and fists clenched.
"What did you just say?" he hissed.
Brynden did not even flinch, but Jon thought he saw a quirk of the lips in response to his anger.
"The Children; it's what they've taken to calling you. A Prince of the Others." At Jon's surprised expression, Brynden's lips turned up in a small, empty smile, "Did you think I am the only one who has been watching you, child of Lyanna and Rhegar? You cannot deny your heritage, Aegon…or your destiny."
Jon began laughing.
He laughed, and laughed, and laughed because how could he not? It was just so funny! Even Beyond the Wall, in the hovel of the Children of the Forest, the Raven was playing the Game! Mayhaps not a game of thrones, but a game of prophecy. For all his knowledge, he just did not understand! None of them did! Perhaps none of them ever will!
Jon chuckled breathlessly as he dragged a hand down his face, "Tyrion was right about one thing; the Wheel just keeps turning…even when magic and monsters are involved! Stark, Targaryen, greenseers…you're all the same! You think that just because I share blood and name with those two-!" Jon stopped before his anger ran away with his words and took a deep, deep breath before continuing, "Just because I have Stark and Targaryen blood that I am…what exactly? Some sort of promised prince? Some sort of savior? Some righteous king destined for a throne I don't even want? All this because carry the blood of dragons and wolves? Ice and fire? Well, none of it did any fucking good because they all died anyway!" He yelled with decades of anguish and torment behind every word, " Now answer me, Raven, what do you want!"
Hatred curled up into his chest like a snake and hissed vengeance for Bran's memory into his ears. All he could think about was a boy with broken legs and dreams who had been utterly wiped from existence and replaced by this thing in front of him, and his hand tightened on his Other blade.
The Raven's red eye fixing upon the weapon made Jon blink, and he lifted the ice sword for Brynden to see, "Is this why you're here?" He asked brazenly, "Do I scare you, Raven? Because I'm something your precious trees do not know?"
Brynden's eye still never left the sword, "How did you obtain this power?" Came the question.
Jon shook his head, "No…no, you don't get to know that. I don't trust you, and I never will! Why don't you go ask the little Children, hm? After all, they're the reason the Others exist in the first place!" Those last words erupted into a snarl; a mix of his own fury at the Children of the Forest, along with the remnants of ancient memories the Night King had granted him. Part of him still felt the sensation of an icy stone being pushed through his ribcage and into his heart, and he shuddered before glaring back at the Three-Eyed-Raven.
"Kill him!" Whispered a tantalizing voice in his head, but he shook it off.
"I will say this, Raven, just to torment you! You know the past, but I know the future! I lived it! Died for it! The future is a ruined world of ice and fire! Half of Westeros will be scorched by fire while the other frozen in ice! Countless follies by ambitious fools tear the kingdoms apart while you rot away in your tree! I even know your future, Brynden, and I know who you seek!"
For the first time, there was a genuine reaction from the greenseer in his red eye widening in utter shock.
"Stay away from Brandon Stark." He intoned lowly, "Stay out of his dreams and keep to your tree or I'll climb the Wall and kill you and the Children myself!" He turned to walk away from the Three-Eyed-Raven, but paused to speak over his shoulder, "And know this. My name is not Targaryen, nor Stark either. My name is the North…Snow!"
And with that, he left the apparition on the bank of the river with blue eyes gazing south towards the Neck where the king would arrive from. Let the Raven crow his questions and demand answers. Jon would give him none.
No more words.
Cersei.
Joffrey.
No more words!
"Kill them all!"