Jon
The frigid winds of the far North howled through the night, whipping around the makeshift tent Jon Snow called home. It was a structure of stone and ice, the kind only those who had lived beyond the Wall could fashion. A small bonfire flickered in the center, casting a dancing glow across the icy lay upon his bed of furs, his breath visible in the freezing air.
His slumber had been restless, haunted by dreams he couldn't stood on the edge of a vast, frozen lake, bathed in the soft light of a silvery moon. In the distance, he saw the silhouette of a dragon soaring above the Wall. It was a magnificent creature, its scales glistening with an otherworldly Jon watched, the dragon descended gracefully, landing on the frozen surface of the lake. With a deafening roar, it breathed life into the ice, causing it to crack and melt. From the depths, a new dragon emerged, smaller but equally beautiful. It was a symbol of rebirth and 's heart ached as he watched the dragon hatch, for it reminded him of a loss he could never forget. He missed Daenerys with a longing that never seemed to fade. She was the fire to his ice, the queen who had captured his heart.
With a heavy sigh, Jon pushed aside his furs and sat up, his gaze fixed on the bonfire's flickering flames. The fire's warmth did little to thaw the coldness that had settled in his the tent, he could hear the distant voices of Tormund Giantsbane and the Free Folk, those who had chosen to follow him beyond the Wall. They were a wild and fierce people, loyal to a fault. Jon had come to respect and appreciate their way of life.
His thoughts turned to Ghost, his loyal dire wolf, who had accompanied him on this new journey. Ghost had been by his side through thick and thin, a true friend and companion. He had chosen to come north with Jon, and the bond between them was as strong as stood, his eyes fixed on the flames, lost in his thoughts. He wondered what lay beyond the Wall, in the vast and uncharted lands that stretched into the unknown.
But for now, his duty was clear - to protect the Free Folk and ensure their survival in this harsh and unforgiving he continued to stare into the fire, the crackling flames seemed to echo the turmoil in his heart. He knew that the world was a complex and ever-changing place, and he couldn't help but wonder if fate had more in store for him and those who had chosen to follow him into the wilderness.
Arya
Arya Stark had always been a restless soul, a wanderer by nature. She had traveled to distant lands, honed her skills, and become a faceless assassin. But now, news had reached her, carried by whispers from distant lands and brought by ravens with messages from her family. Her brother Bran had opened an academy for military training in Winterfell. Arya had mixed feelings about it. On one hand, she understood the need for training, especially in a world that had been marred by wars and conflict. She herself had been through countless battles and had emerged as a skilled warrior. But what troubled her was that this academy was intended for young children.
She believed that childhood should be a time of innocence, laughter, and play, not a time to learn the art of war. Her own experiences had left scars that she couldn't forget, and she didn't want to see young, innocent lives subjected to the same sense of protectiveness extended not only to the children of Winterfell but to all young souls who deserved a chance at a normal childhood. Arya knew that her reservations were strong, and she couldn't stand by and do nothing.
With determination burning in her eyes, Arya made up her mind to visit Winterfell and confront her brother Bran about the academy. She was ready to voice her concerns and, if necessary, take action to ensure that the innocence of childhood was preserved in a world that had known too much darkness.
Bran
The Throne Room of King's Landing stood as an echoing chamber of shadows and silence. At the heart of it all, Bran Stark sat upon the Iron Throne, but his mind was far from the cold, unforgiving metal beneath him. Instead, it soared through the boundless sky, carried by the wings of a newly hatched his vantage point in the young dragon's mind, Bran observed the world with a mixture of fascination and insecurity. He had become the Three-Eyed Raven, a being of immense power and knowledge, but his abilities had also stripped away much of his humanity. He was now a passive observer, disconnected from the world he once called home.
Before his unfeeling gaze lay a sight that had stirred restlessness within him ever since its arrival. A few days ago, the woman who stood in the courtyard of King's Landing had been resurrected—a miracle or a curse, depending on one's perspective. She was a woman he had known in another time, a woman who had challenged the very fabric of the world.
Now, Bran watched her as she moved with grace and purpose, her silver hair cascading down her back, her eyes a reflection of the endless sky. She was a figure of both beauty and power, and her presence had awakened feelings in Bran that he thought long had warged into this young dragon, seeking to understand the connection that existed between her and her scaled companions. It was a bond he had never experienced, one that transcended words and defied explanation. It was a bond he yearned for, a connection to the world he had lost.
As he observed her, Bran felt a pang of insecurity. He had always known he was different, marked by his powers and visions. But now, as he watched her with a mixture of envy and longing, he couldn't help but feel inadequate. He longed for the closeness she shared with her dragons, a connection that eluded his restless vigil, Bran waited, biding his time for an opportunity to reveal his presence. He knew that his abilities held secrets that could shape the destiny of Westeros. He was a silent observer, watching the woman who had captured his fascination.
It was only as she turned, her eyes meeting his in a moment of uncanny connection, that Bran realized the truth. The woman he had been watching, the one who had been resurrected, was the Daenerys Targaryen who was stabbed. It was someone else, someone with a power and identity of her own—a power that would set in motion a chain of events that would reshape the fate of the realm.