Ubukhosi bo khokho (Throne of the ancestors)
We ndodana ye sizwe sonke (Oh, son of the nation)

The journey felt longer than it was, as if some magic had fallen upon them as the little rowboat cut through the water, or at least that's what Jon thought but then he was the one doing the rowing. His odd guide had quite conveniently pointed out that he was rather slight in form and was suited for hiding and surprising rather than heavy physical work. Convenient, that.

Still it gave him time to actually look at the man who had somehow convinced him to go on this fool errand, whilst he still had his hood up and crouched more than sat in the boat, there were a few distinctions Jon could make out about him. Namely his jaw, it had a firm rough look to it not unlike other Northmen but his height gave away the place he called home. Crannogmen weren't big or particularly strong, which often brought scorn upon them even from their fellow Northerners...but it was a Reed who had protected Bran all on her own in the Land of Always Winter so Jon wasn't about to test this one's worth.

For the most part though his unseen gaze remained upon the stars, as if they had some strange divine meaning that only greenseers might understand. Or maybe he just liked the view, Jon could understand that considering the amazing moonless sea of twinkling lights that shone down on them, their sparkles reflecting off the water of the God's Eye itself creating a double image only disturbed by the breaking of the oars as the boat made its journey to the most sacred of lands.

Jon could admit venturing to the Isle of Faces had him concerned, it was an unspoken pact that no one should ever come to this little green island for fear of absolute retribution. Supposedly the Children of the Forest and their chosen Green Men protectors lived here, 'superstition' the Southerners would call such stories, 'heresy' the Faith of the Seven would cry...and yet the closer they got, the more Jon wondered just what he was going to find here.

Was Rhaegar really here? It seemed impossible. How could he have fooled his Kingsguard? But then, Lord Stark had fooled the whole world for the rest of his life so maybe it was possible for his real father to have done it too...but then why stay?

All these questions and others rattled in Jon's head almost as hard as the boat did as it finally touched land. Upon feeling it, the little man hopped up from his perched stance and off onto the grassy ground, ushering Jon to follow. "Quickly, quickly! We only have so much time!"

"Time until what? Wait!"

But he didn't, the little man rushing off into a nearby clump of trees leaving Jon to hurry after him. Ducking his head in for a second all he saw was more twisting patches of green, Rhaegar was in here? A roar in the distance pulled his head back to stare at the Dragon who had been forbidden to join them, he sounded just as lost as Jon felt about all this. This was insane! Following the ramblings of a mad man in the hopes of meeting someone who wasn't even there for his birth! And yet...

Somehow Jon found himself diving into the wood, shoving branches out of the way and climbing over roots. He couldn't explain why he was doing it, only that some part of him needed to see the proof of his father's existence with his own eyes. And so he kept pushing through the dark patches, where the starlight couldn't touch him, looking for a way through...

"Don't dawdle, boy!" The call came from above him and suddenly he spotted the crannogman staring down at him from the tree to his right, waving his stick in the air. "Hurry up! We're going to miss him!"

"No wait, hold on! How do you-!"

"Come on!" The man's insistence cut through Jon's questions and before he could start up again he'd leapt off of his perch and was dashing through the shrubbery himself, yelling over his shoulder "Come on!"

Without any other option, Jon rushed after him. The only way to his answers would be to follow his guide through the wood until he either caught him or they arrived at wherever it was the man was taking him. But Gods it was hard to keep track of him, he moved so fast that Jon had to listen for him more than spot the next tree he was leaping to. It took every last trick he'd learned as a Brother of the Nights Watch and then all of the Free Folk lessons regarding hunting to even barely manage this, all the while making sure he didn't trip over a root and break something.

The light grew dimmer the deeper he went, and more and more Jon had the dark feeling that whatever he was going to find would not be something he'd forget in a hurry...if he got out of here at all. Yet still he pushed on, until the man's calls were little more than the distant howling of a wolf, and still he ran. The shrubbery caught on his cloak, tearing all of Sansa's hard work to the point he just tossed it off and still he ran. The light was all but gone now, snuffed out by the trees and yet still he ran.

And ran. And ran. And - "STOP!"

The hand appeared right in front of Jon's face so suddenly and so close that he almost ran straight into it, his boots digging into the dirt as he ground to a halt, his nose barely missing the palm. The hand retracted, revealing the hooded man's jaw pulled into a stern frown as he brought the hand to his lips in a shushing motion before pulling ahead. Starlight illuminated the way as the little man pushed some reeds away with his stick and peered downwards.

After a moment the mouth turned up in a smile and he gestured for Jon to join him. "Come, lad. Look down there."

Down? Had they come to some sort of burial ground? No stories ever mentioned that. Tense and confused, Jon stepped out of the trees into a starlit clearing. Had he gotten his hopes up for nothing?

But the man continued to usher him forwards and so he decided to just get it over with. Joining him, Jon saw that there was a small rocky outlet that was reflecting light from beneath and, further afield, a Wierwood tree bathed in the same cool glow. A glance at the man offered no answers, merely an encouraging nod to go and see for himself. Seeing no other alternative, he held back a sigh and stepped through the reeds and onto the outcrop to see what awaited him.

It was a pool. The clearest water Jon had ever seen anywhere in his life, reflecting the stars and trees and everything else back upwards, including the face that now covered part of the magical vista. For Jon though it was the evidence of disappointment and madness of his guide that he needed and he snorted, too exhausted to be angry.

"That's not Rhaegar." He muttered, unable to muster any kind of emotion as he turned to leave. "It's just my reflection."

But the guide's mouth also dropped in a frown. "Rhaegar? Why would I bring you to see Rhaegar? I brought you to see your father."

"Aye, and Rhaegar Targaryen is my father." Jon retorted, the first embers of annoyance starting to emerge. "And he's been dead, like I told you, for over twenty years."

And then the man - the mad idiot - had the gall to laugh at him lightly, patting his shoulder as if this were some funny joke. "Oh Jon Snow, truly you know nothing, don't you?"

Once again the fight went out of Jon, that old adage that had stuck to him since his time with Ygritte coming back to haunt him again. What was it he'd missed this time? In answer, the little man pushed him back towards the pool, urging him to look again.

What good a second look could do Jon didn't know but for whatever reason he found himself staring back down at his reflection. A light breeze suddenly blew over them and the water rippled, throwing the perfect mirror-image of himself into disarray though he could still more or less make out himself. Yet not a thing of it looked like Rhaegar, his brow creasing in frustration Jon tried not to shout over it. What was he supposed to be seeing here that showed him his father?

And then something about the image began to shift, the lines on his reflected face suddenly seeming deeper, his bearded jaw growing thicker...what was happening?

"Answer me a question if you will, lad." The crannogman's voice blew over him, suddenly sounding miles away. "What is a father? Is it the man whose seed quickened your mother's womb, only to go off and die forgotten?"

Jon barely heard all of that, his eyes now fixing on the face staring back at him; the hardened brow brought on by difficult decisions and harsh lessons, the firm set stare of dark clouded eyes built over years as a soldier and ruler of the North...that wasn't Rhaegar, that had never been Rhaegar...

"Or is it the man you moulded yourself after?" The voice whispered to him, "The man who lives on in you?"

This was impossible! Jon knelt down closer to the water, seeing if that changed anything, the figure however just did likewise - one leg knelt whilst the other remained bent, left arm on his knee - their eyes never breaking contact with each other. That face wasn't Jon's...but it was one he knew nonetheless.

"...Jon." The man's thick Northern accent rippled through the pool, and it took all he had not to jump back.

"Father?"

Wait
There's no mountain too great [Oh, oh, iyo]
Hear the words and have faith [Oh, oh, iyo]

Have Faith