JON SNOW
The sun had just started to come up. when he finally got up from the chair. His decision was made. By the dusk of the day, he would leave the wall and go north. There was nothing left for him here. With that in mind, he started packing his belongings.
An hour later, he was done with it. Everything except Longclaw had been packed into two sacks. He was tying the sword behind his back when a knock sounded on the door. A brother of night's watch entered his room a second later.
"Lord Snow, The lord commander has requested your presence in the mess hall."
He nodded and started following him, internally wondering upon the number of names he had been called over the years. The mess hall was barely half-filled. Even then, the number of free folk was much higher than that of the brother's of the night watch.
The new lord commander was a dour mid-aged, bastard son of a minor lord in The North. Jon had hated his voice since the first time he had heard it acting as Commander Mormont's steward.
"Lord Snow, the new recruits would be taking their vows today. Would you join them today, or you need more time to settle down?"
The last two words, the same ones he had used as an excuse half a moon turn ago, were filled with so much sarcasm, that he was sure even ghost would have rolled his eyes at it.
"No lord commander. I have settled myself as much as it was needed."
He waited for a second before continuing, knowing the entire hall was waiting for his next words.
"But I won't be taking the vows of Night's Watch, ever again."
His eyes were locked with those of the lord commander at the last two words. As expected, all the muttering in the hall stopped. The atmosphere immediately became tense. He saw both, his former brothers and the free-folk clutching their weapons. Before the situation could turn violent, the lord commander spoke up.
"You will leave the castle black before mid-day, Lord Snow. I will inform Kingslanding and Winterfell about your decision."
He nodded and left the room, not saying anything in response. He had already planned on leaving, just not in the direction the lord commander was expecting him to.
As he returned to his room, Tormund came in thundering through the door.
"King crow, where will you go. The kneelers will kill you if you go back to them."
He chuckled at the worried undertone of the words. How the times change.
"No Tormund. My life on this side of The Wall is over. The North is where I would be heading."
He bent to pick up the sacks, not seeing the worried expression go through Tormund's face. When he turned back, Tormund threw his arms around him, dragging him out of the door.
"Aye, you would finally be a free folk, snow. Let's leave this cursed place together."
A few hours later found him exiting the tunnel beneath the wall on the northern side. As the last of Tormund's people stepped out, he turned to look back, wondering what his ancestors would think of this moment.
The last known son of Valyria, taking the first step on his final journey. His thoughts ranged from the 40 dragonlords to Aegon and his sister-wives and finally his father. What would they say, when he finally meets them in the afterlife, if he was granted one. With one final look, he turned towards the North, leaving behind everything he had known from his birth in the tower of joy, all those years ago. He never knew that these actions were being noticed by some very powerful beings.
Far in the south, in a large red palace, a King took a breath of relief.
Somewhere, someone else noticed, that after 22 years, House Stark had finally destroyed House Targaryen.
(Two moon turns later)
He was washing his hands in his hut when Tormund's roaring voice accompanied the rattling of his door.
"Snow, come out. My daughter killed her first deer today. Come, we are celebrating."
He laughed at the already drunk voice of Tormund and opened the door to step out. As expected, Tormund was there, with a big full mug of ale in his hand. The person standing next to him was also of no surprise.
Val, the wilding princess had been following him since he had left the wall. She had insisted he had stolen her but respected his wish to not push for anything until he was ready. She didn't know that he was never going to be ready.
As he sat on the log around the fire, a small body immediately climbed into his lap. Queenie, Tormund's youngest daughter, had taken to doing so every time she was around. He raised her to sit on his leg, as she rambled on about her first kill.
Sometime later he saw three women and an old man approaching Tormund and Val, with their fingers pointing in his direction. An irritated sigh left his throat, which queenie caught on immediately. Some anger must have been visible on his face, because she immediately jumped off his leg, and rushed away. He would have followed her, but he wanted some answers now. The pointing and muttering had been going on since his first day with them, and he was starting to get irritated with it.
"Tormund, what is it? What do they want?"
"Nothing to worry about..."
One of the older women interrupted him.
"We want you to leave Jon Snow. You are a kin slayer. You bring bad luck. You must not be welcomed with us."
The small world, which had made with a lot of effort since leaving the wall, crashed.
(Early morning, next day)
As he tied his sword to one of the packs on the horse, the sound of twigs breaking caught his attention. His body tensed, as his mind recognized the heavy steps. Turning around, he saw Ghost, Tormund, and Val standing in front of his hut. No one said anything for a long time. Finally, Tormund was the one to break the silence. Gathering him in a bear hug, he spoke with a sad voice.
"I will miss you, snow. Will we see you again?"
"If gods will it, we will meet again my friend."
Tormund stepped back as he turned towards Val. The warrior princess, who had made it clear she wanted him for a long time, had tears in her eyes. He wiped the tears off, having grown fond of those deep blue eyes in all the time they had worked together. There was a question on her face. And he knew the answer.
"You have people depending on you here."
Resignation was clear on her face as she nodded. He stepped up to give her a small kiss.
"Maybe in the next life, Val." (He would laugh one day remembering this moment.)
She nodded again and left, her eyes full of tears. He took a minute to compose himself, wondering about the what if's. Finally, he turned to his oldest companion.
Ghost, the last of his siblings, was now as tall as him. Even with all the scars, he had received over the years, the dire wolf still looked fearsome.
He touched his head to his friend's snout.
"Not this time my friend. I am afraid this is the end of our journey together. It is only me from here on."
The feeling of understanding went through him as Ghost stepped back a few steps. Raising his head, his flurry friend let loose a loud howl.
A familiar pain, but much much worse than before, went through him. Deep inside him, something broke and dissolved, leaving him feeling empty. His entire body jerked and he fell on his knees. Fortunately, Tormund grabbed him before he could face plant himself. Taking a few moments to drown the pain, he looked towards Ghost. The dire wolf too had fallen its knees and was panting heavily. He knew what had happened. Ghost had broken the bond they had forged in all these years. He had felt the same pain earlier when Rheagal had drowned.
"Protect Tormund and his family, My friend."
Ghost stared at him for a moment, and then turned and left. He kept his eyes on his friend, storing the last sight he would have of him, for however long he may live.
Giving a final nod to Tormund, he mounted his horse, leaving without looking back.
As soon as his pack was over the ridge, he fell back on the ground, breathing like a horse who had run from Winterfell to Castle Cerwyn without stopping. He laid there for quite a long time before his mind caught up with an important fact. His fall had not been painful and the reason behind that was quite clear. Rather than cold hard earth, it was a layer of snow beneath him. His mind immediately went back to the last time he had fallen in the snow, muscle memories working overtime to bring him back to his feet. A second later, his sword was out of the scabbard as he turned to look around.
The sight which greeted his eyes amazed him in a way like never before. White snow was covering everything as far as he could see. A sharp difference from the plains below the mountain he had climbed on.
(A moon's turn and six days ago)
After leaving the free folks, he had ridden in the northern direction, intending to keep moving till he saw something worth stopping. Since the snow and ice had melted since night king's death, he had reached The Thenn valley in less than a moon's turn. Barely a few people of the tribe had survived after everything, and they were taking their time before returning here. He had met some of them on his journey from the wall.
After spending two days in the valley, he had started the only known perilous part of his journey, climbing the Frostfangs mountains. Even with the melting ice and lack of the constant blizzard, it was cold enough that one of his two horses died in the middle of the climb. He had left behind all except one pack on the surviving horse, choosing only to bring a few clothes, his sword, as much meat as he could pack and a few more items.
But tired of exhaustion, he had chosen the wrong path. Instead of taking him on the top of the mountain, the path had curved midway, and brought him on the other side of the mountain, towards the land of always winter. For a moment, he had wondered about going back, as he had always wanted to climb its peak. But one look at his horse had stopped that thought. His companion looked like he was ready to die, with all the breezing and staggering. He had decided to camp there, before moving any forward.
As the sun went down the next day, he finally reached the plains below the mountain. Although there was a stretch of green area, but it was not much. There was another line of mountains, starting barely two leagues from where he was standing. After considering everything, he decided to free his horse. The animal was not looking like it would survive another climb. He had stayed in the plains for another two days before starting to climb again. This time he had only carried his sword, ropes, one set of extra clothes, and all the meat he could carry in his pack. It took him three days of walking before he came to a steep climb that would lead to the mountain peak. After resting for one night, he had started the climb early morning and reached the topmost ledge by midday. He had left his pack there, and climbed up the rest of the way, deciding to pull it up when he reached on top. And here he was.
After admiring the familiar view of snow for a long time, he started making camp there. He had an important decision to make now, whether to continue moving forward or return. The former was one which he preferred, but the lack of vegetation he could see on the way forwards was a big issue. He would never survive for a long time without fire. Also, there was a matter of food. He had some meat still in his pack, but even if he rationed it, it would be finished within three days. With a sigh, he started collecting some wood still lying around, intending to decide everything the next morning.
Late in the night, something woke him up. It took him some time to trust his ears, but he was sure. The fire which should have gone out by now was crackling heavily, and there was the sound of people speaking. He drew his sword from the scabbard and moved towards the opening of his tent slowly. The scene around the fire was unbelievable.
Four people were sitting on the logs around the now roaring fire. While he couldn't see the person closest to him, the other three did not look like someone who would be present this far north. One of them was a middle-aged man, dressed in red color robes and red hair, while the other man had silver hair like his ancestors, and the most aristocratic face he had ever seen. There was something familiar on his face, but he couldn't identify it. The third person was an old female, wearing clothes unsuitable for the cold, with a trident laid in her lap. He was trying to decide a course of action when the man in red robes caught sight of him.
"Ah Jon snow, finally awake huh. Join us."
Noticing that they did not look ready for a fight, he stepped towards the fire, holding his sword ready on the side. As he took a seat on one of the logs, which had not been present there earlier, the man in red robe clapped him on his back.
"It's wonderful to meet you again, Jon snow. And this time you are even alive."
So many questions and thoughts arose in his mind at once, that he froze on his seat. The man with silver hair must have noticed it because he turned to speak to him next.
"Ignore him for the moment, Aemon. He likes his japes too much."
The mention of his real name broke him from his frozen state. Gripping his sword, he snarled.
"Who are you guys? And how do you know that name?"
While the two men smirked at the same time, they turned to look towards the fourth member of their group. Absent-mindedly noticing the old woman's raised eyebrows, he also turned towards the last person. Once again the feeling of familiarity struck him hard. The man was old, with a black beard and body like greatjon, but face somewhat his father. (Uncle, not father, his mind supplied). His eyes though were filled with amusement.
"There are a lot of names for us young man. But you know us The Old gods, R'hllor, The god of Valyria, and Mother Rhoyne."
With each name, the man had pointed to one member of the group. Jon's body had fallen on one knee without any thought, with his head bowed.
"My lords."
A second later, he added.
"And My lady."
He was sure the one crackling with laughter was R'hllor. A soft female voice addressed him.
"You are trusting our words with proof, snow?"
"The logs, clothes, and fire are proof enough, My lady."
He saw her turning towards the God of Valyria and the Old gods.
"He is not an idiot, at least. I agree with your choice."
The god of Valyria spoke up then.
"Take a seat, Aemon Targaryen. We have a lot to discuss."
Placing his sword at side, he took his seat again.
The old god addressed him again.
"So Jon snow, what do you think why are we meeting you here?"
"To punish me, My lord."
"Oh, do tell me what do you think you should be punished for."
He thought immediately went back to that fateful day in King's landing.
"Me stabbing my chosen queen. Kin-slaying. The betrayal she faced by me. There are many, my lord."
The god of Valyria was the first to speak.
"Let's make one thing clear, Aemon. Killing Daenerys Targaryen was not one of your sins. Killing your aunt was, killing your queen was, but killing the madwoman she had become, was not."
"But I stabbed her when she trusted me. I betrayed her."
"Yes, you did. You did a lot of cowardly things and betrayed her. Her closest allies did too, many times in her life. But nothing excuses the death of 400,000 people by her hand. She did that by her own decision. Nothing forced her. She was feeling grief and anger, so she did it. You did the right thing by killing her or things would have deteriorated even further."
He didn't reply for some time. But when he spoke, everything he had thought, but never told anyone, came out.
"Aye, My lord. I know that. I didn't feel any regret for killing her. Whatever I felt, was for killing my last family member, my queen, and the woman I loved. The one person in the world who loved me for who I was, not what I was."
Mother Rhoyne's voice did not hold the same tone her words did.
"Your siblings loved you too, didn't they snow?"
His reply held the truth, what he had felt over the years.
"I never knew my lady. My only sister died even before I was born, killed by more than a hundred wounds from a knife. My elder brother died with his head bashed, before his first name day. But I assume you were talking about my cousins. Sansa and Arya may have loved me at some time. But I lost Sansa's love when she started believing her mother, and Arya's when she escaped from the king's landing. After that, the love was gone. Bran's head was filled with stories about the knights, and many times he too behaved like Sansa. The only one to love me was Robb and Rickon. Even then Robb had his moments."
His eyes had torn up by the end.
"Yet, you still told your sisters about your secret, even when the woman you loved, asked you not to."
"Aye, My lady. There was a little hope still left inside me. It died some days later."
There was a heavy silence left after that. No one spoke for some time. He lifted his head to see all the gods staring at the Old god. After a few moments, he gave a small nod.
"There are some things you need to Jon Snow."
"What, My lord."
"The Night King is not dead, Jon Snow."
His heart lurched.
"No, Arya.."
"Arya Stark killed his physical body. His essence still lives on."
His mind went on the obvious answer.
"Bran?"
This time the reply was filled with derision.
"No, the three-eyed raven is himself. The essence that left Night king's body transferred itself into the person closest to it."
Horror filled him.
"Arya."
"Aye, your younger cousin now holds the essence in her body."
His thoughts immediately came to why they were here. He said in a resigned voice.
"You want me to kill her. How many of my kin do I have to kill before my death."
Mother Rhoyne's voice was soft this time.
"No Jon Snow. That's not we want."
R'hllor finally spoke up too.
"And you cannot kill her. By the time you find her, the essence will change her. She will be not killed easily now."
"Then how can I stop her."
"You can't. A few years from now, the essence would change her mind completely. She will return to the north once again, to take her place as the new Night queen. But this time the essence will make her assassinate the three-eyed raven before coming here. And since your overconfident younger cousin has decided to not select his successor or even look for him or her, the powers of three-eyed raven will fade with his death. When the night queen comes back after building her power, nothing will there to stop the death and destruction."
His thoughts were resigned now.
"How much time do we have?"
R'hllor turned to point at another mountain many leagues away.
"The ice fort of great other is beyond that mountain. Once she reaches there, it will be a matter of a few decades, before she is ready."
"That's why this area is covered in the snow."
"Aye."
All his thoughts had disappeared now. His mind was empty.
"Is that why you are here my lord. Is this my punishment? Knowing that I failed in everything I ever did. Knowing I can do nothing but watch as my cousin becomes a monster and kills every living soul."
The old god answered.
"Yes and No, Jon Snow."
"I don't understand my lord."
"You will, but not right now. Rest today young man. We have some tasks to complete before we answer you. We will meet you again, tomorrow."
With that, all of them faded from where they were sitting, leaving behind 4 logs, a crackling fire and a broken man.
