Jon

The bones littered the ground, bones of rats and wolves, birds and bears, bones of humans. And a man with bone white hair and skin, surrounded by the white roots of a weirwood, was waiting for Jon, watching him with one red eye.

"Jon Snow, finally you arrive," the man said with a gruff voice.

"You… What are you? I thought it the ones calling me…"

"Were the Children?" Somehow the man raised his eyebrows, even though a root was growing from his left eye socket. "While I'm not one of them, you were not entirely wrong."

A slight shuffle of leaves was the only thing that alerted Jon of the spectators. From behind the enormous roots that covered the cave two figures appeared, they were small with spotted skin, and yellow eyes like those of a cat.

They didn't uttered a word, content with staring at Jon. One of them carried a spear with a black tip. 'Dragonglass.'

"As for your question," the man in the wierwood continued. "At birth my mother named me Brynden, yet I used many names throughout my life. For the Children I am the Last Greenseer."

Jon stood silent for a moment trying to collect his thoughts, he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, not knowing how to begin. The Greenseer kept his silence as well, apparently he enjoyed leaving Jon speechless.

"From the moment I put on the ring I knew things would be different," he finally said, looking at the red eye. "After I saw them you appeared in my dreams. You guided me through the battle. You stopped a damn river. I know the stories about the Children and Greenseers, but I've never heard anything about magic rings that made you invisible." Jon shoved his hand in his pocket. "So tell me, what is this…"

"Stop."

The man didn't shout, but his voice filled the cavern all the same and Jon didn't dare move a muscle.

"They must not see it." With that the Children that were beside him retreated and the sound of leaves told Jon many other left as well. After almost a minute in silence the man continued.

"Take it out now."

Jon obliged him, opening his hand to reveal the ring, somehow shining in the dark cave. For days he had not dared to see it, the itch to wear it had flared up each time someone defied him, or when the path turned difficult. But it didn't have the sheer pull that had graved him when he'd found it.

"Should they have seen it, I suspect you'd be dead," the Greenseer broke his trance. "To tell you the truth, if I were not seated in the weirwood throne, if I had seen the ring when I was like you, nothing would've stopped me from taking it."

Jon shifted in his place. "I noticed a skinchanger had such a reaction, we almost came to blows."

"Almost. The stronger the gift is in someone the stronger the pull of the ring, I suspect."

"Which would explain why the Others came that night." Jon blinked. "You suspect?"

The man gave a dry chuckle. "I don't know much of the ring either, Jon Snow. It has power greater than any seen in millennia, and as such the enemy could not be allowed to take it."

"So now what?" He asked, somewhat miffed. 'If even they don't know…'

"Now we learn. Put on the ring and don't worry about them seeing you."

At that Jon smiled. "Yes, if wights are destroyed by just being near you I suppose there's no danger."

"That was not normal," the man said with a frown. "This place is protected by an ancient spell, but its only function was preventing the dead from trespassing."

"Then…" Jon looked at the ring once more.

"It got stronger the closer you came. Now put it on, we need answers."

He did as he was told, and while he expected the world to brighten up, he almost had to close his eyes at the light. Each root shined brightly and their light moved, as if a river was made of sunlight, and all of them converged in the Greenseer, a beacon as bright as the Others had been. Jon wasn't surprised he could see him.

"Incredible," man whispered. "Before you picked up that ring you were just a skinchanger, full of potential yes, but untrained and incapable of using the gift at will. Now, I could almost mistake you for a Greenseer." He smiled. "Well that explains how I could touch your dreams without dooming you."

Jon frowned at that. "What do you mean?"

"Do you think I can just visit anyone's dream?" He arched an eyebrow, amused. "Why? If I'd do that they'd go insane."

"And you just decided to risk that with me?"

"Needs must, Jon Snow. I hope you'll learn that. Enough, we don't have the luxury of time. Touch one of the roots."

Jon walked forward and grasped the tree, and the world blurred once more.

He was falling through the sky and he started to scream. The ground was coming closer each second but all he could do was scream and stare at the white sun. 'Or is it the moon.'

The skyline shifted like waves and he fell into a sea, a black and cold sea that engulfed him, taking him farther and farther form the light. But that was not the only star in that world.

The ring shone brighter than ever before, a circle of fire in his finger, and he heard a faint whisper.

"Shre nazg golugranu kilmi-nudu"

His entire body was shaken, weather it was with fear or awe he could not tell, and Jon fell out of the dark sea and into the sky once more. The crow was beside him, only now it was white.

"You are flying," there was surprise in his voice.

"Am I?" Jon saw the extend of the sky before him, an infinite blue as far as the eye could see, the sun was setting and he admired it for years, or minutes, he could not tell.

"Look bellow," the crow said.

There were mountains bellow him, with their snowy peaks reaching to him, to one side of the mountain range there was an immense forest and to the other an icy meadow. But nestled in the frozen peaks he could see a valley, and a small red light in it, like the last ember of a fire.

He felt the crow pulling him away, and his gaze turned south and east. He flew above the sea and the cities of Essos, until he saw a doomed place. A land of fire and ash and shadow, and fourteen volcanos ruling it. 'Valyria.'

For a mad moment he wished to enter, as if the place was calling to him, to admire the topless towers and the peaks of flame, but something made him stop. He glimpsed a white light in the fires, a drop of crystalline water among the magma.

He was pulled away once more, further east, until he saw a lonely mountain in the grassland. And atop it, a shard of the blue sky.

"ENOUGH!"

Jon was in the cave once again, kneeling in the ground.

"Take off the ring!"

With obeyed with clumsy fingers, and when the golden band was off he took a deep breath, as if he was coming out of the water. He felt more tired than ever before.

"We must never do that again," Brynden said. "The ring may augment your powers, but not enough to traverse the Green."

"What was all that?" Jon asked, after he spent a few minutes catching his breath.

"It seems your ring did not wake alone. Three powers scattered in the world." He let out a tired sigh. "I supposed we should count ourselves lucky that only one is close to them."

Jon tried to stand but only managed to sit in the ground. He had remained in cavern for hours by now, the freefolk outside must be growing restless. "You expected that to happen?"

"No, I only wished to know the nature of that ring, and now I know that and more." He pierced Jon with his only eye. "It is a fragment of the past, of an age long past. So long ago that not even the myth and legend remains."

He didn't know what to do or even say, half a year ago he thought the wargs were only children's stories. "The place I entered," he decided to take one step at the time. "What is the green?"

The man laughed softly. "The weirwoods, where the singers and greenseers have gone since time immemorial."

"And the three lights I saw…"

"Your ring called to them, guided you through the Green to them. I suspect they are artifacts much like that golden band," the leaves shuffled once more, and the Children of the Forest returned. "And one of them is dangerously close to the domain of the enemy."

Jon frowned in though, trying to recall that dream. 'Dream? Vision?'

"The snowy peaks and the ember in that valley."

"The Frostfangs and the Valley of Thenn," Brynden said, as if proclaiming a death sentence. "You must go there and recover the artifact before the Others can have it."

He swallowed, opening and closing his hand. 'That place is further north than anything in the known world.'

"How could I?" He protested. "Even the Thenns themselves have abandoned it. The dead surely rule that place."

"Why? With the help of the Thenns of course." The greenseer said, amused. "And I assure you, the White Shadows lost interest as soon as the men there fled. For now at least."

"You know where they are, the rest of Mance's army?"

Brynden laughed aloud. "What good would a thousand eyes be if I did not?"

Jon was taken back, something in that seemed familiar, but the man continued.

"To accomplish this you'll need help of course, and power. Worry not, I will tell you where to find the rest of the Free Folk, and what to do with them. As for power, we'll spent a few days honing your gift, at least, and you'll need a new sword. You cannot command respect without a fine weapon, after all."

One of the Children approached Jon, carrying a sheathed sword. When Jon took the offered weapon he noticed the scabbard was decorated with silver, the finer work he had seen since the royal visit. Frowning in confusion he took out the blade. It was a slender longsword, with golden flames sculpted in the hilt and a big red ruby in the golden guard.

Ripples covered the grey steel, so dark it almost seemed black. Jon's mouth was hanging open.

"Dark Sister." The Greenseer in the Weirwood said, almost lovingly.

He turned to the man, and saw the red mark in the right side of his face.

"You're Bloodraven."

The smile he shown was as sharp as the conquering blade in Jon's hand.

"Rest now Jon Snow, your works are just beginning."


He looked upon the field before him, the sun was close to its peak, and the grass was already red.

The red banner and the white were dancing and a circle had formed around the riders. He was fidgeting with the great white bow. 'One chance.'

And he got it. The rider in white fell, his blood further reddening the field, and instead of riding ahead, to carve out a bloody path to victory, his opponent dismounted and helped the defeated knight.

'You always were…'

He raised his arm high and knocked his arrow, his loyal company followed. Death rained over the men under the red banner, including a small figure, too small.

The black dragon ran to his son, cradling him in his arms, shouting for help. He looked up to the ridge, and saw him.

Brynden felt a tear rolling down his eye as he loosed the arrow, and then another, and another.

'…the best of us.'

Daemon died nobly and when his other son took up the sword Brynden cursed and dammed himself even more.

The horns were blowing from the south now, and he saw the red dragon upon black. Baelor lead his knights and smashed the Blackfyre rear.

Men dying uselessly now that their King was dead, Brynden knew that the vast majority would throw down their arms if they knew.

He then saw another banner, the winged horse, rallying around Daemon's corpse, somehow turning the rout into another shieldwall, buying time for the cavalry to escape the encirclement.

Aegor had taken the sword, he knew, and tried to rain death once more. And yet the winds did not respond again, there was plenty of blood, but no time for the rituals.

He saw how the charge was coming for them, for him. Trembling with rage the mounted his horse and took out Dark Sister, he had just killed three kinsmen, he would enjoy killing his fourth.


Jon woke clutching Dark Sister, he was in one of the wierwood beds the Children had given him. 'Redgrass'

He looked around him and saw some of the Children by the underground river, catching fish as easily as one would catch apples in a barrel.

The cave was full of weirwood roots that served as beds, twisting in little cocoons. Jon had asked how it was possible for them to build such things without breaking the wood.

"It was not built, it was sung," one of them explained to him. "When one speaks the True Tong to the trees they answer."

They would not elaborate further, so Jon focused in his food, fish and roots that somehow left him more satisfied than any feast. The dream still troubled him, so he went early to Bloodraven.

They had daily meetings in which the man would instruct Jon in skinchanging and their plans for the war to come.

A small bird was in front of the greenseer and Jon knew what to do. He sat down and closed his eyes. Ghost responded almost instantly, he could see the camp of the Free Folk, could see them eating and singing. 'They've been oddly cheerful.'

"The bond between man and a wolf or a dog is a strong one," Brynden said when he asked. "Especially since you had the direwolf almost since birth, and they're intelligent creatures to begin with. It's no surprise that the ring made warging him so natural."

Jon focused his mind in the cave, he could sense Brynden and the Children easily, so bright they were. The bird was more difficult, but his teacher had made sure it was the only animal in the room. Eventually he felt its presence.

He then pushed in its direction, expanding his mind to cover the small bird, it offered some resistance, but it was clear it was used to being warged.

Jon flew around the cave for a few moments, but when the urged to escape to the open sky grew, he quickly returned to his body.

"Good," Brynden complimented. "If you used the ring you could warg almost anything I dare say, but remember…"

"Only in the direst need." Jon completed the mantra, he then pursed his lips, unsure on how to proceed. "I've a dream last night."

"Oh?" he said, leaning forward.

"It was of you. I was you." As Brynden didn't respond Jon continued. "I saw the Redgrass field, I shoot the arrows that killed the Black Dragon." He looked into Brynden's eye. "I felt your rage and hatred against Bittersteel."

"I had imaged something like may happen."

Jon had to laugh. "Is there anything that surprise you?"

"You already did, with your ring. I make a point to not let a man surprise me twice."

"So what are these dreams? I can't imagine you showing them to me."

Brynden rubbed his chin. "The magic of the ring does not stay in place. It leaks to anything it may touch, and Dark Sister has been close to it."

"The sword gave me dreams?" Jon asked bewildered.

"Not as such," He hesitated and frowned. "One day you will know what exactly Valyrian Steel is, but not now. Dark Sister acts as a conduit of sorts, for you and the ring to access the Green. I hope it'll stabilized soon, and I'll be able to guide you through it. Alas, it'll have to be during your travels."

With that Jon sat straight, today was his last day in the cave, he had trained his skinchanging with the Greenseer and even had some spars with the Children, in which he was outmatched. Four days he'd lingered, but time was, as always, on the side of the enemy.

"The Magnar of Thenn will soon cross the Milkwater, just south of the Fist of the Firsts Men, he leads a host much like the one outside, alongside a chief covered in bones."

"Rattleshirt," Jon clarified. "The fucker doesn't like me. Their numbers?"

"Twice as many as your own."

"They are not my host," he complained.

"Are they not?" There were moments Brynden clearly thought him dim. "At any rate, you must treat with them, and offer them salvation, elsewise they won't serve you."

Jon decided to not respond, they had discussed that point for days. "I know what to do. Should I need to talk, I'll sleep under a weirwood."

Brynden only smiled at him. "Sleep by the roots tonight, time for another experiment."


Jon stood in a practice yard, the stone beneath his feet was clean and polished, its color was red as blood.

The yard was rather small, and surrounded by gardens. He walked to the edge and saw the sparkling sea before him, and a sprawling city hugging it.

He heard voices then, and saw two boys running out of the keep, they couldn't be older than ten. One had hair like silver and gold, and the purple eye of Old Valyria, his companion's hair was pure white, and his eyes red.

"Come Bryn, I'll make a swordsman out of you yet!" Daemon said, eyes full joy.

"You weren't so happy when we used the bows." Brynden said with a smirk.

Daemon Waters just snorted. "Shooting apples off the trees gets old after the tenth time."

The boys took up practice swords and began their game. The future rebel danced around the future Hand, with grace and skill that Jon thought impossible.

He turned from the boys to look at the sea again, there were ships coming and going, and the ports were busier than anything Jon had seen in the North. He could just make out the Sept of Baelor in the distance.

"One of the private gardens for the royal family," a familiar voice said. "This one doubles as training yard. And as the Prince of Dragonstone is away, the King's bastards have free reign."

Jon turned and saw Bloodraven as he was after the Redgrass Field, missing eye and all.

"King's Landing is not the cleanest city in Westeros, I tried to improve it as best I could when I ruled it, but alas, I was half blind by then." He looked meaningfully at Jon. "And yet it's alive as few other places in this continent, it has unlimited potential."

Jon arched an eyebrow. "Do you mean for me to harness it? Should I add it to the works you've given me?"

Brynden Rivers chuckled. "For now, I should teach you how to wield Dark Sister better, she does hate to be mishandled."

With that he unsheathed the Valyrian blade, and Jon followed suit. They spared and talked for as long as Jon dreamt.