Arthur: This chapter has been edited by co-arthur 1

Jon

Once more he found himself ensnared in an unfathomable darkness. The feeble light of a single flickering candle, crafted from the eerie glass of a forgotten age, cast haunting shadows that danced malevolently across the cold stone walls, he could sense an unrelenting malevolence watching him from the hidden corners of this forsaken realm.

There was no escape from the glass candles, not now, after all that he has done.

His eyes darted around, searching for unseen foes. But the abyss seemed to coil around him, its emptiness concealing the lurking dangers that surrounded him. The glass candle's twisted and malevolent power gnawed at his mind, tormenting him with every passing moment.

"You will kill them," the voice continued, a chilling command that seemed to resonate within the depths of his soul.

Fear gripped him, yet he mustered the courage to glance around, seeking the source of the sinister voice. Shadows leaped and swirled in the dim candlelight, playing tricks on his senses. The walls seemed to close in, and the very air thickened with maleficence.

As he strained to hear any sign of the hidden foe, a soft, unsettling sound emerged from the darkness. The gentle pattering of footsteps, faint but undeniable, then of the gloom came a small girl, her clothes stained with soot her face was disfigured, charred, and horrid to look upon. Her left arm was torn and mangled leaking a blackened ichor onto the dark floor. Her brown eye, the only one she had, gazed upon Jon with naught but hatred. She held a small wooden toy of a knight in her ruined hand while the scarlet rain from her arm socket dripped to the floor. In her skeletal hand, she clutched a weathered wooden toy, once a knight now burnt black.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

"You will kill them, Maegor," she hissed, "Just as you have killed me, and so many others, you are a monster".

A swirl of emotions washed over Jon – anger, sorrow, and a touch of fear – but he steeled himself against her spectral manipulation, refusing to be ensnared by her malevolent game.

"I didn't kill you," he retorted, his voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions roiling within him. "It was Cannibal that did it."

The girl's eyes seemed to glow with an unnatural light, reflecting the darkness that permeated the chamber. She tilted her head with an air of eerie grace, and her smile deepened into a sinister curve, revealing a set of unnaturally sharp teeth.

"The beast is your responsibility, is it not?" she taunted, her words weaving a haunting spell around him. "My blood is on your hands. You killed me…"

Her spectral form seemed to waver, shifting between the realms of the living and the dead, casting an otherworldly aura that made Jon question his own reality. The chamber echoed with her haunting laughter, the sound both chilling and enchanting.

Jon's growled angrily and mustered his courage. He knew this was naught but the cruelty of the candles hoping to ensnare him in madness and despair.

"You are but a specter, a shade from the beyond. I cannot be trapped by the whims of a vengeful spirit." Said Jon, angrily. "I did not think that would happen; it was the Cannibal who killed you not I."

The girl's laughter intensified, the melody of her mirth echoing through the chamber like haunting music. Her form flickered as if the boundaries between realms were fraying.

"Ah… yes the Cannibal again you blame the blade but not its master. Did you not give him the order, did you not tell him to rain fire and blood on your enemies?" she chided, her voice deadly cold. "You brought that beast from across the seas…to my home. You killed my brother, my momma, my papa. The whole town…"

I-I-I…" Jon frowned heavily. "He was the only way I could make it home." It sounded pathetic, damning to his own ears.

"At the cost of others? You knew how dangerous and wild Cannibal is, how much he hungers for prey and flesh. Even at all the deaths and destruction, he caused in a short span of time…why didn't you go back to Valyria where you and he couldn't be a threat to innocent people."

Jon already knew. It shamed him still. "The Starks," he said honestly.

"SELFISH!" Her childlike voice became an inhuman shriek. "SELFISH!"

Jon stepped back as a nightmarish ring of black flame encircled him, and from the shadows emerged soldiers, their skin burnt black. Others were blistered to such a frightening extent that they no longer seemed human; their bodies were mangled, with limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Some lacked limbs altogether and crawled on their bellies. They looked up at him forlornly and tried to speak, but no sound came, save for gurgling as they hurled up seawater and soot. Worse still were those who had worn armor; it had melded to their skin or ran like quicksilver, dripping onto the ground in flames, hissing blobs.

The eerie green flames adorned their bodies, dancing and flickering with an otherworldly glow, casting grotesque shadows that writhed and contorted on the walls around them. Jon recognized them as the soldiers who once formed the dreaded Triarchy, but now they stood before him as nightmarish apparitions, their burning visages contorted with unimaginable pain and anger.

"You killed us," one of the fiery specters hissed, the emerald flames peeling the flesh from his tormented face. "You burned us all."

Jon met their accusing gaze with a stony stare, trying to muster his resolve. "It was war," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of guilt and defensiveness. "You were sieging Kingslanding, and in the chaos of battle, lives were lost."

"You have killed all of us!" they cried out in unison, their voices resonating like a haunting chorus that reverberated through the abyss, sending shivers down Jon's spine and settling like a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach.

His mind raced, seeking a way to justify his actions, to make them understand. "You knew the risks when you enlisted to fight for the free cities," Jon finally retorted. "Your greed and thirst for power led you to plunder, rape, and murder in the name of glory."

"I had nowhere to go," one burning man lamented."I had a debt to repay," another moaned.

"I had a family to feed! You took that away from ME!" a third cried out, their voices blending into an anguished cacophony.

But Jon held firm, refusing to be swayed by their haunting pleas. "No, I didn't," he asserted, his heart heavy with remorse but determination. "I was protecting the city, its people, and its future."

"You protected the Targaryens," they accused, their ethereal forms pulsating with intensity.

"And if I did?" Jon questioned; his voice tinged with defiance.

"You killed all of us for a family that thrives on tyranny and madness," they screeched, their fiery forms writhing in anguish. "You killed us for a family that was nothing more than strangers to you. You killed us because your bastard heart yearned for love and acceptance from a family that wished you dead!"

"I did it to protect the smallfolk of the city," Jon declared, his voice firm and resolute. "The innocent lives that would have been lost if the Triarchy had breached Kings Landing's walls. I fought to defend the defenseless, to safeguard those who had no part in the conflict."

The burning men wailed in response, their anguished chorus resonating through the ethereal realm. "You lie! You cared only for the Targaryens, for your own desires!"

"No, that's not true!" Jon exclaimed angrily. "I cared for the city and its people. Yes, I had a connection with the Targaryens, but that didn't diminish my duty to protect all who lived within those walls."

His heart ached at the memories of the devastation caused by the Triarchy's invasion. The faces of the innocent he had failed to save haunted him, motivating him to make difficult decisions for the greater good.

"I faced an impossible choice," Jon continued, his voice tinged with sorrow. "I had to weigh the lives of the smallfolk against the threat the Triarchy posed. It was a responsibility I bore heavily, but I stand by my decision to defend Kingslanding and its people."

The burning spirits seethed with anger their flesh sloughing from their bones as the flames grew brighter, they cried for his death, his mercy, cruller still some wailed for their loved ones, but no answer would come.

"I am sorry for your deaths," said Jon, sadly. "But I shall not weep for your passing."

Then to his horror a horn rent the silence and more yet came they were not the ones that died at Kingslanding. No…. He saw Dothraki and the men of Volantis, the cruel masters of Slavers Bay and the soldiery of half a dozen cities followed after them so numerous it seemed their horde stretched far into the abyss, their flesh had withered away to reveal yellowing bones, held together by threads of blackened sinew. The remnants of their once powerful warhorses were mere skeletons, their eye sockets vacant and dark, yet somehow filled with a malevolent glare more yet came their armor barely clinging to their skeletal frames.

Worms wriggled through their empty eye sockets, and patches of maggot-infested skin dangled from their cadaverous bodies like tattered rags. Each step they took was accompanied by the sickening squelch of putrid flesh underfoot. hobbled along in the horde, their bodies twisted and gnarled as if in perpetual agony, some had lost limbs and crawled on hands or writhed like serpents yet rotted flesh dripped from their bones, leaving a trail of decay in their wake. Hollow eyes stared out from sunken sockets, and their jaws hung slack, producing a cacophony of eerie moans that echoed through the darkness.

A rancid stench permeated the air as the horde drew near of blood, wet earth, and fire. Swarms of carrion insects buzzed around them, feasting on the fetid remains that clung to their bodies.

"All of them are dead by my hand, it couldn't be that many?" thought Jon in dismay. "No, no it cannot be true I'd don't even remember half of them."
Jon stood petrified, unable to avert his eyes from the ghastly sight before him. The bodies of his victims had decayed beyond recognition, their flesh putrid and mottled with patches of decaying skin. They stood in various states of decomposition, their once noble features now twisted, bloated, and skeletal.

Euron's disembodied voice echoed like the wails of the damned, as his rotting face appeared partially eaten away by maggots, his eye sockets hollow and filled with darkness. "You're a monster, Maegor, more than I ever was," he gurgled, the stench of death thick in the air.

Khal Drogo came forward next clutching his decapitated head, now a skull with rotting remnants of hair hanging limply. Swarms of flies buzzed around the putrid mess, and the head's jaw moved awkwardly as it spoke in Dothraki, the voice now raspy and distorted. "You're fighting prowess was incredible," it rasped, the words mingling with the sound of flesh sloughing off the bone. "You are a plague on this world, a demon banished from the stars."

Harry Strickland's decaying form glared at Jon, his skin a mottled mess of mold and decay, bones protruding in unnatural angles. "I welcomed you into the Golden Company, our brotherhood," he croaked, maggots wriggling within his empty eye sockets. "And how do you repay me? By stealing Blackfyre and sticking it in my gut!"

Olly's once youthful features were now unrecognizable, a horrific amalgamation of decomposed flesh and exposed bones. His silver hair clung to his skull in clumps, and his purple eyes were now sunken, haunting voids. "You were my friend," he gurgled with a voice that seemed to echo from the grave. "And you killed me."

It was then as if a spell had been lifted as the spirits began to crumble their armor rusted, their bones turned brittle and for a moment he thought he might be freed from his torment and then felt an unnerving chill engulf the void, colder than ever the most biting of northern winds.

You are not sorry yet, Jon. Not yet," Euron's voice said with a maniac laugh.

The blackness around him seemed to come alive soon the void transformed around him, Jon found himself standing at the edge of the haunted forest, the trees loomed tall and twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.

In the distance, he saw pale, glowing eyes flickering amidst the darkness, yet these were no fires of the living no, no, a sense of dread filled him as the lights seemed to blink at him, haunting and mesmerizing, and as he looked closer, he realized they were eyes soon, he spotted another pair of glowing blue eyes in the shadows, then another, and another until the whole forest came alive with an eerie blue light.
Out of the depths of the haunted forest, the haunting chorus of creaking branches and rattling bones announced their arrival. From amidst the twisted trees, an ominous mist slithered like spectral serpents, reaching out with icy tendrils to embrace all in its path.

The pale, glowing eyes that had first flickered now multiplied into a multitude, burning with a malevolence that sent shivers down Jon's spine. And then they out of the gloom clad in armor of pale glass their faces fair and terrible to behold. The Others mounted upon Ice Spiders, the monstrous creatures towered over the tallest trees, their limbs creaking with an otherworldly resonance as they moved.

Their icy hide glistened with an eerie, ethereal light, illuminating the darkness around them. Then came the giants, their massive forms draped in rotting shreds of skin and flesh, revealing bones stained with the stains of decay. The stench of death wafted from their hulking frames, and their baleful groans echoed like the anguished cries of lost souls, worse still were the Snow Bears who trotted along like loyal hounds their bodies covered in festering wounds and patches of decaying fur. Their once-powerful jaws now hung open, revealing rows of yellowed, broken teeth. Their gleaming eyes glared with a hunger for flesh that death could not quell.

And then came the Wildlings by the Seven there were so many men, women, and children some were little more than walking skeletons, their bones barely held together by strands of sinew and fraying flesh, others were covered in frozen, mottled skin, their limbs awkwardly dangling as they stumbled forward leaving pools of blackened blood in the snow.

Jon's eyes shot open, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He gasped for breath, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that had gripped him. Sweat trickled down his brow as he reached for the dagger tucked under his pillow. His fingers clenched around the hilt as he peered into the gloom, the moon was waxing, and a cold grey light lay on the land, he stood there a moment straining to listen for any hidden foes yet there was naught save for the soft hooting of an owl perched on a nearby branch and the gentle rush of the small stream nearby.

The owl's call echoed through the darkness, its haunting melody stilling his heart as if it was watching over him, he sat by the fire which had dwindled to smoking embers, and thought about what he had seen.
It seems the candles enjoy torturing me, thought Jon, running his thumb thoughtfully along the edge of his Valyrian dagger.

A low, rumbling growl filled the air, and Jon turned his head to see the green eyes of Cannibal, glowing in the darkness. The beast shifted restlessly, perhaps sensing his unease.
"It's alright, boy," Jon whispered, trying to soothe his wild companion. "Just a bad dream."

Alas, Cannibals grumbling was enough to stir Rhaegar from his slumber. He sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, and looked over to where Jon sat by the dying fire, his dagger still clutched tightly in his hand.

"Jon? What happened?" Rhaegar asked, his face marred by worry and he moved to sit beside his son.

"A mere headache, Rhaegar. Nothing to more," Jon replied, though the king frowned, no doubt skeptical.

Rhaegar smiled and placed a comforting hand on Jon's shoulder, "Shall get you some water," he said with a gentle smile.

Rhaegar

Rising to his feet, he set off following a meandering path lined with lush, emerald-green grass, while the cool air carried the subtle scent of earth and dampness. The soft glow of the moon illuminated the surroundings, casting a silvery sheen over everything it touched.

The stream itself was a serene sight to behold, with its gentle, tranquil waters flowing silently over smooth, polished stones, creating a soft, calming sound. The moonlight reflected on the water's surface, creating shimmering ripples that danced along with the current. Delicate water plants swayed gently at the water's edge, with graceful lily pads dotted the surface, their white flowers closed for the night, and reed-like stems standing tall, bending and swaying with the water's movement.

As Rhaegar knelt down, he noticed tiny fish darting about under the water's surface, their silver scales glimmering as they weaved through the clear depths, occasionally breaking the surface with playful splashes. Carefully, he dipped the leather flask into the shallow waters and held it there until it was filled to the brim with the flask in hand, he rose to his feet and made his way back to Jon.

He returned to find his son had not moved merely gazing into the burning embers the soft, warm glow cast a flickering shadow on Jon's face, and for a moment he thought he saw Lyanna sitting there, he sat beside him and offered the flask which Jon took gladly.

"Thank you, your grace," Jon said, before undoing the cork and downing the water in several large gulps.

Will you ever call me father? Rhaegar wondered.

Jon

They sat there in silence with naught between them save the gentle rush of water and the croaking of bullfrogs. Jon took another sip from the flask. He cast a sidelong glance at Cannibal who returned his gaze. For a moment Jon thought he saw a spark of thoughtfulness in the beast's gaze, some semblance of understanding as if the dragon knew what he had just seen.

You have killed a lot of people. You are magnificent and Intelligent but still a beast – a wild and very dangerous one. You are the wonder of the world but also its greatest adversary, He thought, taking another draught of water. I can't count on hand how many times you have saved my life. I also can't count on hand how many innocents you have eaten because you were hungry. My life is not worth the lives of others. I have been selfish. I knew you could not be tamed you slew every man who tried save for me, yet I still came back home…because I missed the Starks. And so many have paid with fire and blood.

But Westeros is threatening to collapse on itself, and the dead are coming. Cannibal is necessary, Jon realized with a curse.

You are the problem as well, a voice said in the back of his mind. All the blood on my hands…

"You gave me quite the fright. I heard you draw your dagger and for a moment I thought more brigands had come," said Rhaegar, eyeing him closely, a frown flickering on his face.

Jon frowned. "I didn't mean to give you worry, your grace," he said. "Nor would I ask you to trouble yourself with my burdens."

"You have failed on that, my son," Rhaegar said gently, "life is filled with miseries and trials innumerable, but you need not face them alone. No matter what those vipers in the Capital may say you are my son, and I shall not let you bear such things alone."

"I see those I have killed, whether by the blade or dragon flame through the glass candles," answered Jon, highly uncomfortable sharing his concerns. It made him feel…. vulnerable. "All of them, they cry out for vengeance, for justice, as if they were robbed of a worthy life. Their faces haunt my dreams, their voices whisper in the darkest corners of my mind. But it's not just the fallen who haunt me. No, I found myself drawn North and I stood before the haunted forest as the skies grew dark and I saw their corpses unnumbered, their eyes glittered like pale stars..."

There was a lengthy silence. Rhaegar's eyes appeared closed, but beneath the lids, he watched Jon intently. Jon stared fixedly at the red embers on the hearth until they filled all his vision, and he seemed to be looking down into profound wells of fire, waiting for whatever he was not entirely sure—perhaps scorn, laughter, his own father to deem him mad. Yet, the man merely sat there, silent as stars.

"The dead truly?" said Rhaegar at last. "Do you truly believe these visions to be real and not some trick of the candle?"
"Yes," Jon replied, his voice a mere whisper, his heart pounding in his chest. He had imagined disbelief, perhaps vexation. Yet his father's eyes shone with sorrow and longing.

Rhaegar's gaze held Jon's with an intensity that cut through the darkness. His voice quivered as he spoke, "What did you see, Jon?"

"I saw giants, as foolish as it may seem, yet they were not the wise creatures of the old tales, no, they were tortured, mutilated," said Jon softly.

"Their flesh sloughed from the bones like hot wax from their bodies, and dire wolves as well. By the Seven, to look upon them broke my heart. Their once-mighty forms were marred by decay. Yet they were not alone. I saw, from amidst the horde, half a dozen figures come forth, clad in armor that glistened like the frozen heart of winter itself. Riding upon massive white spiders, each the size of large warhorses, their legs were as thick as ancient trees and their hides glimmered like powered snow, worse though was their eyes cruel and ravenous like a starved beast ready to pounce."

"You saw the Others" said Rhaegar, knowingly. "The cold demons."

"Yes."

Seeing Rhaegar's silence Jon pressed on. "If this is true, Westeros is facing a danger it has not seen in centuries." The more he thought about it, the more it seemed dire. "The world is not prepared to face the cold. Myself, I have thought of different ways we cou-"

"Stop." Rhaegar motioned for Jon to quieten. His eyes met Jon's own. They were understanding. "I believe the Others are real as well."

Shock and relief trickled down Jon's spine. "Why?" He couldn't help but ask.

"As a child, I've always been plagued by dreams. There weren't normal as you might think. They were rather nightmares of what was going to happen if the world is kept ignorant of the growing darkness beyond the wall. The amount of rest I got at night was sparse. Once I've gotten slightly older, I thought of a reason why the dreams might've been happening. It all comes back to my birth."

His birth…Jon thought about it for a heartbeat, and it came to him. "The tragedy of Summerhall," he said in realization. "King Aegon V Targaryen failed to bring dragons back into the world with fire. It ended in death."

"Indeed. So much death. I was born in it." There was a faraway look in Rhaegar's eyes. "Fire and blood is our vessel – how we reached the height of our power. The eggs might not have hatched. But my visions had. That is just my suspicion."

The great fire at Summerhall gave him visions of the Others? Can something like that happen? Jon wrestled with it but couldn't find an answer. "That's…" Jon struggled for something to say. "Extraordinary."

Rhaegar gave him an uncertain look. "That's not particularly what I would call it. I can't sleep."

"It's good that you can see the threat," Jon simply said. But he thought, if it took a thousand tragedies of Summerhall for you to see what's coming for us all, then that's just what it is going to take. He knew better than to voice that thought out loud though.

"You can see it too. It's good tha-" Rhaegar cut off mid-sentence.

"It's good what?" Jon asked.

Rhaegar's smile was grim and full of sadness. "It's good that I am not alone."

The words lay between them. Jon inhaled softly.

Rhaegar continued. "It's good that I am not the monster people say I am, that I did not start the war for nothing."

What the hell? Jon looked at him questionably. "What do you mean?"

Rhaegar

"What do you mean?"

I mean, that you are the undisputable proof that I was not mad. Your existence is the sole reason why I approached your mother. Falling in love with her was not the plan but I did. I thought you perished along with her for all these years. All this time I thought I brought upon the deaths of thousands for nothing. All this time I thought I was a monster. But here you are…the prince that is promised.

As Rhaegar looked into Jon's piercing violet eyes – so similar to his own – he can't find it in himself to tell him. He will think I only coupled with Lyanna for a prophecy he may not believe in. Believing the dead walk is one thing. Believing that you are the only hope to save humanity is another. That is too much pressure even with…. his reputation. I will introduce him to the concept gradually.

"You will know in time," Rhaegar said.

"Hmph." Jon let it slide. "How do you suppose to defeat the Others?"

Rhaegar's response was automatic. "In the texts, the wights are vulnerable to fire. We need an abundance of wood and such. The White Walkers can be destroyed by dragon glass and Valyrian Steel." There's the catch. At this, Rhaegar put his fist under his chin. "Dragon glass can easily be obtained from the mines at Dragonstone. We can fashion them into tips on spears and knives and arrowheads. Valyrian Steel is very hard to come by. Only a select few Houses can boast of having one. Each house declined Tywin's offer to buy the swords in gold."

Jon rubbed his bearded chin in deep thought. "I can make Valyrian steel from scratch," he said slowly.

Rhaegar's mind broke.

Excuse me?

Rhaegar blinked twice. "Perhaps you can repeat yourself?"

Jon had a slightly amused smile. "I can make Valyrian swords, Your grace."

"But how?" Rhaegar frowned heavily. He blinked some more. "All the texts with the secrets of the origin how to make them was lost wi-"

"You forget, Your grace. I walked amidst the ruins of Old Valyria and came back alive with a full-grown dragon. I have seen what men should never be able to see."

I admit, I am very curious despite not liking my long-lost son going deep into a cursed rotten city that happens to be a death trap. Rhaegar sat forward. "What did you see?"

"Well, that is a tale for another time," Jon said to Rhaegar's disappointment. "But yes, I am capable of creating Valyrian Steel." His eyes narrowed and his voice turned very serious. "However, it comes at a steep price."

There is always a price for power. Rhaegar cursed inwardly. "How steep?"

"Steep. The Valyrians' main source of their magic is fire and blood. That accounts for their weapons as well. They take their enemies and sacrifice them in blood rituals to give the swords magical elements. Dragon fire is needed of course."

More bloodshed. Of course, there is. Rhaegar closed his eyes and sighed softly. "There is no other way?"

"No."

"Does sacrificing animals compensate?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It doesn't work in the making of pure Valyrian steel."

"And you think this is unavoidable?"

"Yes. There are hordes of wights beyond the wall, beyond count. Mind you, I am not just talking about dead people. I'm also talking about snow bears, Direwolves, Ice spiders, and giants. There is no telling how many White Walkers are there – could be thousands. And something tells me the source of dragon glass at Dragonstone is not infinite."

Gods…dead giants and ice spiders? I have given up the prophecy too easily after Lyanna's death. And now we are unprepared and out of time.

With a heavy heart, Rhaegar opened his eyes. "Then we must do what must be done." As I always have.

"I assume uniting the great lords is a priority?"

"Indeed. And it might not be enough from what you are telling me. Assistance from Essos is needed."

A flicker appeared in Jon's eyes. "That would be difficult, for Westeros was at war with them not too long ago."

Especially with you burning all of their fleet. "We must make it happen."

Jon nodded in agreement. "So, how are we going to convince everyone that the Others are not a mere bedtime story? That's shaping up to be a bloodier fight than actually battling the damn White Walkers."

He's right. Bloody hell! Rhaegar wanted to snarl but kept it inside. "I don't know. The only way is for them to see them with their own eyes."

"I suppose – as king – you can simply order the lords to call their banners and march on the wall without telling them the exact details. You don't need to tell them anything."

A small laugh burst from Rhaegar's lips. "Oh really?"

A tiny smile emerged on Jon's lips. "Really. If they are confused about why they are wielding Valyrian steel and dragon glass and marching for days upon end to reach the wall during the midst of winter, you tell them they have no right to judge the wisdom of the king."

"Then I would have another rebellion on my hands."

"Most likely. Though it would be worse if you told them that they are marching beyond the wall to face an enemy that they think is just stories." Jon then shrugged. "Or you can say that the wildlings are becoming too much of a threat and all of Westeros has to band together to put an end to them."

That can work. Might not, but it might. "That's a better explanation," Rhaegar admitted. "Though they will think it queer that they will need Valyrian steel and dragon glass to battle savages."

Jon nodded. "And they might think it is the northerner's duty to deal with them and not them specifically. But facing an opportunity to have their own Valyrian swords will be a bloody draw."

"And let them keep them?" Rhaegar questioned. I can already see that being disastrous.

"That cannot happen. The weapons will have to be confiscated if we manage to win. They will be sad. They will be angry that we are going back on our word, but it is necessary. Too much Valyrian steel in people's hands is asking for a bloodbath. You will have to remind them that they were doing the king's command and having Valyrian steel was the temporary aid to do that."

"The first step is Tywin Lannister," Rhaegar said. "I command him to call down his banners. I will do the same with Renly Baratheon. Then I will work towards preparing for the march on the wall."

"As they say – it's easier said than done." Jon stood up and looked at the dying sky. "I think it's best we move. We will reach Casterly Rock with one more push according to my calculations from the map."

Rhaegar stood as well. He ignored the stiffness in his arms as he readied himself. Additionally, marriage is needed. I can make lords submit all I want, but to truly achieve their loyalty to the crown marriage is the best option. The Lannisters and Baratheons feel like they have been treated unjustly. Considering the recent actions of my house towards theirs, I cannot blame them. Resentment cannot be allowed to fester for so long.

Rhaegar watched Jon stride towards Cannibal. The armor on his person was a smokey grey. Glyphs, swirls, and unique patterns danced merrily on the armor plate. It looked beautiful, indestructible, but Rhaegar knows it was light as a feather. With Jon having the classic Targaryen purple eyes, he looked the part of a deadly adversary. Jon carries an edge Aegon does not have, Rhaegar noticed. There are a few characteristics he has that Aegon does not, Rhaegar thought and then immediately shook that thought away with shame.

You are a warrior, Rhaegar observed. His eyes traveled to the long scar over Jon's brow. You are a warrior created through pain you have suffered and inflicted on others, the exact opposite of Arthur who came to be a warrior through hope and chivalry. You are the warrior the world needs. But is this what Lyanna would've wanted? Is this what I want?

"Are you coming?" Jon's voice interrupted.

Jon stood with his gloved hand on Cannibal's black snout. Jon stared at him expressionlessly while Cannibal stared at him with his usual insatiable bloodlust. It was an imposing sight.

They will be catalysts in the fight for the dawn. They have to be, Rhaegar thought with a clenched heart.

The sky darkened and the stars shined as they soar through the air. The wind is sharp and absolutely freezing. Rhaegar clutched his heavy cloak around his shoulders and tried to soak as much warmth from Cannibal's scales as much as he safely could, which was difficult since Cannibal is unbelievably spikey.

Rhaegar just sat there and braced himself, just as he always have.

Jon

The sun was peaking from behind the immense mountain which Jon now has his eyes trained upon. This may be the most improbable castle in all of the seven kingdoms, Jon thought to himself. Casterly Rock is essentially a huge piece of rock that lies on the ocean road and spans so high in the sky that onlookers from the ground level might think it is touching the clouds. Jon can see various amounts of walls, windows, and slits carved into the sides of the colossal hill. At the peak was a ringfort with watchtowers and gates. He can see a long bride – long enough for twenty horses to ride abreast – stretching from the main entry which is a front cavern that reaches two hundred feet high.

It is simply marvelous. No army in the world can take this castle, not without some type of sorcery. This is no ordinary castle. It has rocks to protect it. Even Cannibal would have trouble methinks. He would have to rain fire for a long time in order for the rocks to melt and the melted rocks could pour into the airways the inhabitants depend on. The vents would be taken out. The fumes would be toxic and the smoldering liquified stone would change the air in most passageways. Everyone would be killed by suffocation. Jon ignored how easily it was for him to think of a way to destroy a castle's defenses that would lead to great deaths.

They flew over a huge port bustling with moving war galleys, longships, cogs, carracks, and trading vessels. Lannisport, Jon the city, a war camp has been set up with thousands of tents erected. Through Cannibal's eyes, Jon can see the various banners of the Western lords, big and small.

Jon can now hear the ringing of bells from the city. They have spotted us. Now how to approach this? Landing in the city is off-limits. There are a lot of people that are not involved in this game and cannibal might not be able to handle himself. The idea of Cannibal feasting on a city as populated as Lannisport made him a tad bit sick.

Jon directed Cannibal a few leagues away from the camp and landed. "They will send a few outriders to check us out and then approach us," Jon told Rhaegar. "It can take a while. Something tells me Tywin is a very cautious man."

Rhaegar nodded silently, placing his crown upon his brow. "He is." The king then looked towards the looming Casterly Rock in the distance. The soft breeze from the water made his silver hair fluttering in the air.

As he thought, Jon spied a few mounted men in the distance over the hill. A few moments later the men vanished behind the hill. Jon tensed when Cannibal emitted a growl in his throat. We don't have all day. They best know he is not the most patient of beasts.

They did not know after all as they have waited maybe an hour with Cannibal growing more agitated by the second. Jon watched as steam puffed from his nostrils and was just about to command Cannibal to lift in the air when the pounding of hooves was heard. Cannibal hissed and twirled his long neck toward the incoming riders. Jon saw one of them holding the banner of House Lannister.

The armored mounted men with lion-crested helms jerked to a stop when Cannibal lowered his neck and crawled forward in an overly dangerous manner, snapping his teeth. The armor-clad horses shrieked in horror and kicked out their feet. It took all the men's might to hold onto their reins for dear life. The Lannister men were not as composed themselves as Jon can see the tremble in their arms. Jon was relieved they made no motion to grab their swords. It will be a meaningless and quick ending.

Jon can feel the sick pleasure Cannibal is enjoying basking in the men's fear. Sometimes, the dragon's antics are truly childlike as it is disturbing.

Cannibal, calm. These are friends, Jon communicated.

Cannibal gave one more sharp snap of his teeth before relenting. The men visibly sagged in relief. The middleman gathered his courage and trotted his horse forward, just slightly. "Your grace, lord Tywin Lannister has extended his invitation to you to meet him in his solar at Casterly Rock."

Jon looked back at Rhaegar. "A trap?"

"Unlikely. I have said it before – Tywin is a very cautious man. He knows by now that we have a dragon on our side. He will not risk facing dragon fire, especially not in his prized Casterly Rock." Rhaegar looked down upon the messengers. "We accept!"

"We will escor-"

"That won't be necessary!" Rhaegar looked at Jon and said, "We are going to fly to the Lion's Mouth and enter there with Cannibal."

Is he mad?! "What?" Jon asked ludicrously. "We would be dangerously exposed, Your grace. There is no telling how many traps are in that rock." It's a guarantee they have hundreds of murder holes ready at a moment's notice to put arrows in our damn brains.

"The world has heard of the savageness of Cannibal. Tywin will not risk his wrath in his own castle. And it will set the tone when he lays eyes on the dragon inside his home. No matter how big and strong your castle is – even protected by rock and gold – it is insignificant against the power of dragons."

If you say so.

Jon gave a command and Cannibal propelled in the air with a clap. With a couple of beats of Cannibal's wings, they landed on the bridge in front of the Lion's Mouth. It was even bigger up close. Worst, Jon can see nasty scorpions lined up in a row above the entrance, all pointing at them. Cannibal sees this and screeches in defiance. Gradually, the scorpions were lowered.

"I hope we don't die," Jon told Rhaegar. Cannibal prowled through the entrance with a swoosh of his tail.

"We will not die yet," Rhaegar responded.

Not yet…... They sat on top of Cannibal as they were escorted through the tunnel.

Inside the courtyard proper they were met with a dozen speared men sorted on opposite sides of the yard with lion-crested helms and scarlet shields. Up in the galleries, there were archers and men armed with crossbows. They were not showing murderous intent, nonetheless, Jon's skin still crawled from the implications if the situation happen to get ugly. Although Jon noticed that all the eyes were mostly on Cannibal.

The wild dragon sniffed the air dangerously, twisted his neck to look at everyone clearly, then proceeded to give a deafening roar.

That did the trick.

All in attendance flinched horribly and stepped back and shouted. Cannibal hissed in elation. Everyone showed their fear.

All except one.

In the middle of the yard was a tall powerfully built man, bald with long golden side whiskers. The man stared at the dragon unemotionally with his hands clasped behind his back. His cold eyes were green, freckled with gold. Tywin Lannister, Jon knew immediately.

Tywin Lannister

The tales are true. The monster is real. The thought built up a pressure that tightened his chest uncomfortably. While his men cowered like frightened sheep at the sight of the dragon, Tywin stared the black death in the eyes. He did not dare flinch as Cannibal's wild emerald eyes brushed over his person. He couldn't afford to feel fear or show it. As he looked upon the Dragon as it spread its dark powerful wings ominously, he instead allowed himself to feel contempt and hate.

The rider is allied with the Targaryens. The muscle in Tywin's jaw twitched as he caught a glimpse of the dark-haired man beside Rhaegar. I have lost. The concept of losing was very much foreign to him. Much less, essentially losing inside his own castle.

That's what this is. Instead of accepting my invitation to enter the castle properly, they enter my home on the back of the dragon which can easily destroy us all. The implications made the taste in his mouth bitter. From his peripheral vision next to him, Myrcella broke her composure and hid her head in the arms of Genna. That made his head hotter.

Foolish girl! Lions do not cower before anyone! Tywin raged.

"As customs demand, kneel before your king," Rhaegar's soft voice said from above the dragon. Tywin wanted to balk at how presumptuous the fool was to command that way in the lar of lions.

They will kneel on my command. When Tywin heard word about the king's arrival on the back of the dragon, he knew his rebellion would die quickly and negotiation and surrender was the only option on the table. Still, being treated like the inferior grated against Tywin's cool.

To his disgust, the whole courtyard kneeled and included the archers without hesitation. You will all be punished for this disgraceful display. Tywin eventually kneeled when Rhaegar's haunting purple eyes fixated on him. The ground felt like it was in flames.

The dragon lowered himself to the ground to let Rhaegar and the other person off. Tywin's eyes burned holes in the ground until Rhaegar's black boots appeared in his vision.

Seconds stretched with him in that position. The longer he kneeled, the tighter his chest became. It felt like it was gripped in a vice. He bit his tongue till it bled. However, Tywin kept his face composed and cold. You think you are in a position of power now foolish boy. The tides always turn, and I am always on the right side of it. Lions are patient. They always get their prey. Your father's cold and dead body is a prime example of my recent hunt.

"All Rise." There were clicks and clanks of armor as the armed men gradually stood to their feet. Useless sheep. They are here on my specific instructions to show strength to let Rhaegar know this is a negotiation and not an easy surrender. They have shamed me. They will be whipped for this - everyone! A vein threatened to pop from the side of his head.

Tywin rose to his feet and looked the king in the eyes. Rhaegar's eyes held the same mysterious sadness in them Tywin had seen since he was a little boy. Tywin always thought it was a sign of weakness. The heavy black and red cloak around his rich doublet and the crown resting upon his silver head was a reminder that this man was not a child no more. His face now held minor scars from what Tywin knew was his monumental clash with the late Robert Baratheon. It is just a painful reminder of how the perfect world was stolen from Tywin on that fateful day. The buffoon was only good at smashing his hammer at things but somehow couldn't do it when it mattered most. Pitiful.

"Welcome to Casterly Rock, Your grace. The bread and salt on my table is yours." The words left his lips and left a trail of fire. I'm offering food to my enemy who has murdered my daughter and grandchild. I rather offer swords in their bellies. Though, the dragon eyeing them hungrily kept those thoughts at bay – for now at least.

The servants arrived with bread and salt which Rhaegar and the rider accepted promptly. Now Tywin can see what the rider looks like closely. The man was tall – though a little shorter than Rhaegar – and leanly built. Tywin is observant enough to see hidden strength. His hair is long and curly and dark brown. A short beard lined his jaw. He was handsome with a long thin scar trailing down to his cheek. Two startling violet eyes examined him silently. It is a given he is of Valyrian blood. How else could he have gained control of the savage Cannibal?

The most eye-gripping detail was the suit of armor the rider currently wore. Tywin has never seen one of such qualities. It was of smokey grey with scales as dark as char and gleamed and moved in the torchlight. Glyphs intertwined with whorls as they danced upon the metal steel.

Valyrian steel armor…Tywin thought with grudging amazement. His mouth almost watered at the thought of holding such a prized item. This man can buy a kingdom if he so desires. He has many more in possession from what I heard. Tyrion was there with him on the foolish attempt to save Gerion and has claimed some for his own but has the audacity to not report to me to give me my share. This is what I get for allowing that evil creature to live?

I have to get the rider to pledge allegiance to me, Tywin determined. I do not know the full root of his loyalty to the Targaryens, but it should not be significantly deep. As far as I have to go by my informants in the capital, there is no betrothal or any rewards the Targaryens have been able to gift this man. And that is mainly because the rider has not been wanting to be found – until now. Tywin looked at Myrcella, who was scrutinizing the rider with extreme interest and a little bit of awe. I can match any offer the Targaryens can give and more. Then I can remove them from being a disease to me forever.

Tywin saw Joanna in his eye and blinked it away. His eyes narrowed slightly. The Targaryens must perish.

"It has been a few years since I was here at the rock – a mere boy to be honest." Rhaegar took in the scenery of the courtyard but mainly looked at the speared men and the archers in the gallery. "It is unfortunate I am here again in such troublesome times."

Troublesome times you have plunged us in with your house's stupidity and haughtiness with killing my daughter and having my only son on the run. I want you dead. Tywin looked at Myrcella from the corner of his eye and could see that she was thinking the exact thing. Her face went from awed and terrified to an empty look that brimmed with barely controlled emotions. You will hold yourself together, girl. You will not show fear in the face of enemies again.

"As you say, your grace," Tywin simply said.

"It would be best to discuss the terms of your surrender in private."

It galled him to a high degree because he made no such implication that he was surrendering but, in the end, they both knew that there would be no battle. Not against a full-grown dragon.

"That is best," Tywin was forced to say with the hate roaring in his heart. "I will lead you to my solar…. I request the dragon stays here."

Jon

The halls were wide and cavernous. Everywhere Jon turns his head he sees gold and red. Everywhere. Long Rich rushes with scarlet filling and golden trims rested on the ground. Lining the walls in the perfect array were statues carved from the purest gold – roaring lions with ruby eyes and smirking Lannisters with golden swords. I am better than you, everything said. And they made sure to give reminders every hall Jon passes. The wealth was immense.

They surely do like flaunting their wealth. Arrogant bastards. I can see where Tyrion gets his temperament from, Jon thought dryly. The thought then disquieted him. He was raised up all his life as a lion when he was really a dragon. The irony of thinking that didn't escape him. We are more alike than we knew, Tyrion. Suddenly he found himself missing the dwarf.

Soon they were in a spacious chamber with a hearth crackling merrily. Tywin sat down behind his desk while Rhaegar sat across from him. The maester of the castle waddled in and sat in a chair in a corner. Jon chose to stand a bit way off. Genna and Myrcella Lannister came as well and sat on a couple of cushions on the other side of the room.

When Myrcella passed Jon, they made eye contact. Jon found himself surprised at how beautiful she was. Rhaenys and Arianne had their own stunning beauty and so did Myrcella. The gir- woman was on age as him. Her hair was golden like the sun and curly like its rays. Her face was pale and looked soft to touch and her lips softer and plump. She looks just like her mother. She doesn't have the same arrogance as her though. Her catlike green eyes were immersive. Jon saw a lot of emotion she tried to conceal as she looked at him. I don't blame you. Your two brothers died in a span of two days. Your mother was stabbed to death by a man you thought was your father for your whole life. Jon felt sorry for her but kept his face blank. Myrcella hurriedly broke the gaze and took a seat.

"I am terribly sorry for the loss of your daughter and grandsons, my lord," Rhaegar began. "My brother's actions were monstrous."

"Indeed. And how did you punish Prince Viserys?" Tywin asked. There was a cold glint in his green eyes.

He punished him by giving him a manor to stay in and a fat magister to serve him at his every whim.

"He was swiftly banished from Westeros with specific orders to not return," Rhaegar said softly. Jon caught a slight fidget from Myrcella and Genna.

"Your grace, Prince Viserys has taken the lives of my daughter and my grandson on an absurd accusation," Tywin explained as if Rhaegar is a dimwit. Viserys has killed his kin and basically got a slap on his wrist, Jon translated.

I wonder who told Viserys that his children might not be his children after all. It must be someone credible for him to act so hastily. And is it true? Jon wondered. It would be sickening if it was a lie, and he killed his wife and son on the spot for no reason.

"The absurd accusation about his children actually being the children of Jaime Lannister," Rhaegar said. "What do you think of that, my lord?" Viserys killing them was not without purpose. Did you have any knowledge of this or do you think this is false, Jon deciphered.

Jon watched Myrcella's face turn hard. Should she really be in the room? Kind of heartless don't you think?

Tywin's eyes narrowed. "It is vile and ridiculous. True or not, justice has to be served, Your grace." Even if it is true, Viserys should have never dared to kill my kin, Jon translated.

"It has been served," Rhaegar replied easily. "Viserys will not set foot in Westeros." His punishment is enough in my eyes and is not of your concern.

"Will it be permanent? He breathes while my kin does not?" It is of my concern, and you will not dismiss my words so easily.

"Visery's situation has been settled. No further discussions," Rhaegar waved away. Jon can see Tywin's jaw clench, just oh so slightly. "Now is the matter of Jaime Lannister?"

Tywin raised a mocking eyebrow. "What about my son, Your grace? Is his situation settled as well?" Obviously, my son's life is out of my control so why bother discussing this, Jon translated.

Rhaegar ignored the jab. "He is currently avoiding the king's justice. I will have him back in my custody, and whoever helped him escape shall face judgement as well, including your brother Kevan Lannister." We both know what is going to happen. I am just reminding you who is in power here.

Tywin stared at Rhaegar without a blink. It was a tad unnerving. "As my king commands."

"You will meet with your bannermen and tell them of your loyalty to the crown and send them home. In time, I will have you come to Kingslanding to repeat your oaths of fealty to the crown in front of the court and swear to not raise swords against House Targaryen ever again."

"I am eager to do so."

"I am glad our feelings are mutual." Rhaegar looked around. "I assume this meeting is concluded."

However, Tywin raised his hand. "If I may ask, how did you come to the service of the rider?" The old lion turned his gaze to Jon. Jon met it unflinchingly. I see that they are a bit behind on information. Here we go. Jon sighed mentally.

"He is my son, lord Tywin," Rhaegar announced instantly, almost proudly. "The product of the marriage between Lyanna Stark and I."

His words died down. Then silence reigned supreme.

They all stared at Jon, and he wanted to curse. The maester dropped his quill and parchment on the ground and gapped like a fish. Genna scrunched up her face in absolute surprise. Myrcella was wide-eyed and blinked slowly at him as if he was a pig that could fly.

Tywin eyed him critically up and down sharply with his eyes. He puffed after a while and glared at Rhaegar. "Impossible," was all he could say.

Rhaegar had a ghost of a smile on his face. "This is real, Lord Tywin. My son has returned to me and is finally home." This time, his smile was small but real and aimed at Jon. "Jon."

He actually said my name. I…actually appreciate that. Jon nodded which Rhaegar vaguely did back.

"Jon…you said?" The maester asked slowly. "Pardon me…uh…my prince, you don't happen to be The Jon Snow, would you?" There was a hint of fear in his wobbly voice. Jon was too used to it.

"I am," Jon said bluntly.

He didn't think it was possible, but everyone in the room save Rhaegar was even more surprised.

"Oh my, Oh my," Genna said with a smirk. "The former Golden Company commander. Do you happen to have Blackyre on you?"

"The slayer of the Dothraki." The maester gulped.

"The white wolf," Myrcella whispered, staring at him with fear and awe.

"A mercenary of the highest level." Tywin's eyes were full of contempt. He turned to Rhaegar mockingly. "Your grace, you have been preaching about delivering the king's justice. Look no further as to who you need to give it the most. Jaime's king slaying holds no weight to the acts of the white wolf of Essos. All of Westeros has heard of his atrocity reputation." Rhaegar stared back at the man hard, his sad eyes replaced with purple flame.

The words were full of scorn and full of challenge, the kind Jon will not ignore. "If my history is right," Jon said for the first time, gaining everyone's attention. "House Reyne and Tarbeck revolted against House Lannister. The Tarbeck's were exterminated. Castamere was flooded, killing women and children and erasing all of Reyne entirely. You had seen to it personally."

Tywin clasped his fingers together, his full attention on Jon. "Correct. I would do it again."

"Then you are the last person to talk about my past to deflect what the Kingslayer has done. It is not wise to anger me, my lord. Especially," Jon looked over to Myrcella and Genna and back to Tywin's cold eyes, "when I hold the lives of your house in my hands." I do not want to play the role of the monster. But if I have to in order for the lords to fall in line, I will do that.

Tywin thrummed his fingers on his desk idly, contemplating his words. The scorn in his eyes was gone. It was replaced with something else. Jon could almost say it was respect.

"I have agreed to all your terms of my surrender, your grace," Tywin said to Rhaegar. "But I feel like there has to be compensation in order."

"Compensation? I am the king." Rhaegar tilted his head.

Tywin continued undeterred. "House Lannister and Targaryen have to mend the hole it has with one another. I suggest a marriage between Prince Jon and my granddaughter Myrcella."

That prompted an eyebrow raise from Jon. Is he serious? He looked over to Myrcella to see she was fully shocked. He is giving her up like a damn lamb. And it was not too long ago he had a thousand scorpions aimed at my face. It's funny how politics work. Myrcella caught his gaze and held it for a second, considering him before quickly looking back at Tywin.

"That proposal will be under discussion for the time being." Rhaegar stood at his feet and considered Myrcella. "This actually brings me a great idea, lord Tywin. For the time being – until you give your fealty at Kingslanding – lady Myrcella will be a ward of the crown. This has been the most pleasant of negotiations." I will not give you what I know you desire. Myrcella will be a hostage instead. I have come into your home, frightened your soldiers senseless, made your knees bend, made you give up your little rebellion without effort, and taken your granddaughter away from you. I have won and you have lost, Jon translated.

Tywin

It has been hours since Rhaegar and Jon departed after handing Tywin his most humiliating loss to date. Tywin had personally seen them off, watching the black beast disappear in the sky with abhorrence. It had been less so when Myrcella was sent off for Harrenhall in a carriage with a select few Lannister guards as her escort. The girl had been disheartened about being at the mercy of the Targaryens.

"Grandfather, I don't want to leave," Myrcella had said to him.

Tywin disliked it as much as her, but he had said, "We have little say in this matter," he'd said shortly. "You will do your part, child."

Myrcella had lowered her head submissively. Tywin had thought that was the end of it. She had surprised him when she looked back at him with green eyes that were filled with tears just as it was with fear. "Please don't let them take me, grandfather! I…I don't want to go to the castle where they took my mother's and brother's lives away."

Insolent child. A Lannister does not beg, Tywin had thought. A harsh reproach was on the edge of his lips. But seeing his granddaughter's teary emerald eyes struck a memory from long ago.

Tywin had decided to give his granddaughter some type of condolence and grabbed her arm firmly and leaned next to her ear. "You will be safe from harm, child. They will not dare risk the wrath of the lions again." He lowered his voice. "The deaths of our own will not go unpunished. We have to play the long game. But you must do your part. Prince Jon is the key. You must make yourself acquainted with him. Only then, your mother can be avenged."

Myrcella had looked up at him. His meaning was clear. And then she had nodded. Tywin always knew she was a smart one.

Now in the present, Tywin sat behind his desk brooding. The rider is in fact the legendary Jon Snow, the supposed natural-born son of Eddard Stark but is actually the son of the foolish king and the dead bitch Lyanna Stark. How can this be? Had the king given him up to Stark to hide him from the world, or is it something else? If that is the case, why did the boy run off to Essos? Is there a riff between Stark and Targaryen? If there was, Tywin would make sure to exploit it. He has to touch bases with his spies in Harrenhall. He may appear to be a submissive kitten in the eyes of Rhaegar for now, but he was anything but. Dealing with the biggest threat in Jon was the biggest hurdle. Myrcella has to do her part.

A gentle fist knocked on his door.

"Enter," Tywin said sharply.

The maester wobbled in carefully, holding a rolled parchment in his wrinkly hand. "You have received a raven that might interest you, my lord."

Hmmm. Tywin thought with disinterest but took the parchment anyway. His boredom disappeared rapidly when he look upon the seal of House Greyjoy. Hasn't the wretched Balon Greyjoy fallen to his death like a fool because he couldn't watch his footing? If my calculations are correct, his brother Victorion would most likely be the new lord of Pyke. What do these barbarians have to say to me? Tywin will never forget anytime soon that it was the Ironborn who put his fleet to the torch. If it was he who had the decision and not Rhaegar, he would've killed the Greyjoy's whole bloodline.

He broke the seal.

And his interest in the contents of the paper slowly peaked with every word his eyes ran across. Job well done. You have grabbed my attention.

Arthur: And finally Jon has met Tywin Lannister. What did you think of their interaction? What do you think Tywin has in mind? Leave your thoughts in the review section!

I have another story called The Bastard and The God's eye. In there Jon learns from Euron Greyjoy and has bonded with the Valyrian god Balerion and has ambitions to take control of the world. I think a lot of you will enjoy that. Enjoy your day!