[Chapter Size: 4300 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Arctic, 298 AC.

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Jon managed to convince Brynden to look at the green vision with him, while they were talking in Brynden’s house, drinking tea in front of the lake, it was an unofficial meeting.

After the brief conversation, they both headed toward the sacred grove. Wearing cloaks to hide their faces as they walked toward the great Weirwood, the central point of the entire kingdom and hard not to see, even among the tallest buildings.

Their arrival was soon noticed by the children of the forest, as it was the place where the entire race lived. Both adults and small cubs were scattered all over the place.

Among them appeared Leaf, who greeted him as soon as she knew of his arrival. “I hope things in the South are going well.” she said.

Jon shrugged. “We are in a somewhat complicated situation with the southern kingdom, but that doesn’t matter now.” Jon spoke, and at the next moment, a child of the forest ran ahead of a small group, looking at Jon.

“Is Arya alright?” she asked. It was none other than Wind, Arya’s mischief companion, who was the child of the forest that had become her friend.

“She is fine. She is coming to the Kingdom right now. Don’t worry, she will be here soon. Now give us some space, I have to look at some visions with Brynden.” Jon said finally, as the children of the forest retreated, giving them room to pass through the grove full of at least two hundred sacred trees.

They went straight to an entrance in the great tree. It still had passages inside, after all Jon had lived within it at the beginning of Arctic. He had managed to shape it so that it had stairs and even a core, over the years in which he poured his power into it.

The Grand Weirwood never stopped growing, and its roots continued to spread in all directions. Jon believed they were even outside the kingdom’s walls by now.

If he could transform more regions of the North into habitable places, future cities could arise thanks to the roots and magic of the great tree, which fought the hostile cold beyond the Wall and nourished the very earth to have the miracle of planting even in one of the worst regions in the world to live, all thanks to the magic of the old gods.

However, Jon had no time to get lost in ideas emerging in his mind at every moment. He had already accepted that he was a kind of visionary and inventor, something he was even more proud of than being a warrior. He knew how to kill, but preferred to create rather than take lives, although, many times, that was the only way to face his enemies and protect the Kingdom. Willing to fight wars and kill thousands if necessary to ensure the safety of the kingdom.

They went to the core of the tree, where they could see the roots wrapped around the place where Jon usually deposited his magic to nurture it.

“Well, let’s begin. Brynden, are you ready to use your abilities?” Jon said firmly.

Jon sat on the ground and Brynden did the same, among the roots and the very floor made from the tree’s stump. Jon placed his hand on the wood and began to release magical energy. The roots in the core moved at that instant, circling around Jon and Brynden, connecting them directly to the tree.

Brynden closed his eyes and opened them the next moment, with them turning completely white.

Jon, in turn, had only one way to manifest this: his eyes when he was in the minds of animals did not leave him unconscious. His powers allowed him to send and receive images and commands through multiple links with animals, as the most powerful warg who ever lived. But here, his eyes also turned white, for he ceased to be in the present to venture through the time and space of the past, through the memories the sacred trees themselves held about the world.

The next moment, Jon was already in another place, with Brynden at his side. They were standing before a heart tree, looking at a huge castle by the sea more than half a kilometer away on the cliffside.

“So this is Casterly Rock. It’s been a long time since we came here.” said Brynden.

Jon agreed. “Yes. The last time was to deal with a Lannister’s business… if I recall, it was in the year two hundred and twenty-three, after the Conquest.”

“It was. We were here even more times when we were assessing the boundaries during the Dance of the Dragons.” Brynden replied.

“Well, we’re here to investigate. What year are we in?” Jon asked.

“Not too long ago… maybe about 22 years.” said Brynden.

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Then we’re still in Tywin’s time. He should already be Lord of Casterly Rock, in fact he was even Hand of the King until not long ago.” He commented, observing the castle, not failing to analyze and even appreciate the fortress built within the rock.

“They say Casterly Rock can even defend itself against dragonfire. Aegon the Conqueror never needed to use it to test that. However, will we return here someday with dragons to attack this castle in a future war?” Jon murmured, while Brynden waited in silence for his analysis.

In the end, Jon shrugged. “Let’s go. Let’s look at this castle from the inside.” he said, heading toward the small town, since from where they were they didn’t have a good angle of vision.

As they approached, they saw a large entourage spread throughout the place. “You brought us here at this moment on purpose, Brynden?” Jon raised an eyebrow, seeing the Targaryen banners being the most prominent.

“Well… maybe. Since we are already coming here, why not make the most of it? We’re in the time when your grandfather visited the castle, when Tywin Lannister held a tournament in honor of Prince Viserys.” Brynden replied.

Jon raised an eyebrow, thinking that Rhaegar would be there. He had never seen his father up close since he had discovered the truth and revisited the past through the sacred tree at the seat of House Reed. On that day, he had accompanied Jojen Reed at the tournament in Harrenhal, truly meeting his mother and father.

The King of Arctic felt strange, but moved on. Brynden accompanied him in silence as they entered the village full of knights and men from all the kingdoms scattered throughout the place. The tournament would be immense, and Jon remembered that event well, but it would take place in Lannisport.

There would only be a great celebration in Casterly Rock.

And from what they had seen, it was at this moment that the King had arrived and was inside the castle, causing trouble for Tywin.

He kept passing by everyone without anyone noticing his presence, one that should never be there, until he found the crowd gathered inside the entrance hall of the castle. There were the lords of the Crown, along with many nobles. The royal family was there as well, and Jon could see his father’s back. While looking at him carefully, it seemed he was studying the situation while also furrowing his brow.

The king himself, Aerys, was consumed by rage against Tywin in that meeting, while the latter kept a serious gaze, not bowing his head to his sovereign.

Jon did not fail to glare at Tywin with more anger than he remembered, with something inside him burning and freezing, he did not know what he would do if he saw that man again, and as soon as he laid eyes on him, he felt a growing fury within.

Brynden noticed this and Jon tried to disguise it, putting on as stoic a face as he could at that moment, he needed to analyze the situation.

There was also a child among the Lannister family, behind Tywin. And Jon saw that the boy had certain deformities, being the dwarf, Tyrion Lannister. Near him were none other than a young Jaime Lannister and his sister Cersei. Very much alike, as twins should be.

“So this is your son, Tywin? Look at that, a freak only you could create!” said King Aerys, with a mad laugh, delighted to humiliate his former Hand.

Jon could see the fury of the old lion, who glared at the king like two sharp blades. “They didn’t always seem to hate each other…” Brynden spoke beside Jon. “Aerys and Tywin used to be friends along with Lord Baratheon, father of the current King of Westeros. But Aerys’s madness made him unstable and he began to hate Tywin… There were many rumors that the king had an affair with Joanna Lannister, but deep down, I don’t know about that. What I do know is that Aerys certainly desired her and never failed to show it in front of Tywin.” he commented.

Jon could not help but look with disgust at his grandfather as well, while watching him. Jon felt the weight of fury grow within him. He hated that man too, hated his madness and the ruin he had brought upon House Targaryen. Because of his insane rule, he had murdered his uncle Brandon and his grandfather Rickard.

Both might have had their flaws: Brandon might have betrayed Ned at Harrenhal by sleeping with Ashara, Rickard might have schemed greedily to gain more power in the South, as if they were staging a coup in the monarchy… but still, they were his kin, his mother’s family, and they died unjustly. They deserved to have a proper trial.

The little boy, none other than the dwarf, shrank in fear before the king and his mocking words. Jon looked on with a certain pity; the boy was not to blame for having been born a dwarf, but almost no one there seemed to notice that. After all, Jon even saw Jaime Lannister’s worried look, while at the same time perceiving Cersei’s disgust and hatred. As if she were saying they were being humiliated, and all because of the boy.

Cersei, still young, soon turned her attention to a young prince who was the father of the King of Arctic. She gave a silly smile when she saw him. Jon immediately realized: she wanted him. Years later, at the tournament of Harrenhal, that obsession would only grow. But there, so young, she already displayed the same desire. Her gaze was as if she could accept nothing less than that prince.

“Well, let’s not waste any more time here. There’s nothing else to see, only Aerys’s madness trying to humiliate a former ally.” Jon said in the end, stepping away.

He continued observing the castle, investigating each of the rooms. He could enter every door without anything stopping him, letting his gaze wander through every corner. His photographic memory gathered each image, creating a precise mental map of the place, looking for better routes for when Jin Sakai arrived there with his mission.

Jon was already returning to the upper floors when he heard shouting coming from Tywin’s solar, two hours after investigating the entire castle. He found young Jaime Lannister at the door with a worried look while Tywin seemed to be irritated inside, with no one else listening to their conversation there.

“Listen, I tried! Do you think I didn’t do everything I could?” roared the old lion.

Jon and Brynden, curious, entered the place and witnessed the scene.

“It can’t be! I need to marry Rhaegar!” shouted Cersei, young and impetuous.

“You think I don’t want that?!” Tywin replied, furious at his daughter for disturbing him after being humiliated by Aerys in front of all the nobles of the West. The intensity of his voice even made his daughter recoil, shrinking her shoulders before her father.

Tywin continued. “Do you think I enjoyed being humiliated in front of everyone? While he simply said that your son would never mix with someone beneath him? Everyone heard it! Everyone heard that humiliation, and I swear he will pay for what he did today!” said Tywin, in the midst of his fury. Pure hatred and a promise to make Aerys pay were spoken there, and this sparked another wave of fury in Jon as he realized something.

“That bastard…” Jon growled loudly, catching Brynden by surprise. After all, his brother and Elia had been killed by order of that man. Was that what motivated him to assassinate my older brother, to kill Rhaenys’s own mother in such a horrible way?!

Jon seemed unable to control himself, wanting somehow to punch the old lion’s face.

“Calm yourself, Jon.” Brynden said at his side, a little concerned.

“How can I calm down, Brynden? This man is responsible for Aegon’s death! I didn’t know how I would feel until the moment I saw him!” Jon was consumed by rancor.

He certainly wished his brother were alive, that he had taken over Westeros while Jon would rule Arctic. A true brother, not the illusions fate had given him in Winterfell, who, as much as he loved some of them, were not his real brothers. He could even call others brothers, but deep down, he knew the truth: the only true brother, besides Rhaenys, had been killed by that monster and his hounds.

Brynden sighed as Jon, little by little, managed to calm down, glaring at Tywin and realizing he could do nothing more than curse the old lion. But the King of Arctic made a silent promise, staring at Tywin Lannister, who sighed after arguing with his daughter.

“It was his fault! It was that monster’s fault!” shouted Cersei then. “If he hadn’t shown up before the king with our family, the king wouldn’t have scorned us! It’s all his fault!” Jon realized she was speaking of her dwarf brother.

“Certainly I don’t like showing him around either, but the king asked to see him, otherwise he would be locked in his room and out of sight of the other nobles… And he is still a Lannister, just like you and me.” he said through clenched teeth. Despite his words, Jon and Brynden could see that there was a desire to kill his own son, and Jon wanted to mock that—such behavior suited this man in the end.

Not even Tywin liked his son. His tone seemed like a dialogue filled with venom. Cersei, on the other hand, turned her back and left, slamming the door open.

“You should have smothered him when you had the chance! No… I should have smothered him myself, killed that creature the moment I laid eyes on him! He killed mommy and brought disgrace to our house!” she shouted, as she found Jaime in the corridor and moved on, with little Jaime following her like a puppy.

Meanwhile, Tywin remained alone, picking up a cup of wine and starting to drink in silence.

Jon had already seen enough. “Let’s go. We have nothing more to do here and I don’t want to look at this man any longer, otherwise I will have the desire to send dragons to the west when we return.” he said, and they returned to Arctic with Brynden canceling his powers.

The roots, connected to their bodies, began to move, bringing them back to the stump of the great tree when they saw themselves once again in the same place as before, in the core of the Grand Weirwood.

“Well… now I will map everything we saw and deliver it to Jin Sakai.” Jon said, standing up. Brynden did the same.

They walked silently outside. What they had seen was only a vision of the past, but Brynden did not fail to look at Jon: there was hatred and pure destruction in his green eyes when he remembered Jon looking at Tywin. He could only hope that was not a bad sign.

A king consumed by fury was never a good omen, even if Brynden perfectly understood why Jon was so enraged, to the point of almost casting a curse in the middle of the vision.

“Thank you for everything, Brynden.” Jon said as they were leaving the last of the trees, while Brynden nodded, bidding farewell as well.

They separated upon leaving the grove, while Jon encountered a crowd of 12 royal guards waiting for the king.

“You are quick.” said Jon, letting a smile appear on his face. At least two hours had passed in the vision, but even so, the guards had found him, even though he had been hiding while passing through the city after leaving Eragon in the army’s area.

“Your Majesty, we have eyes throughout the Kingdom. Even if you try to hide under a cloak and walk alone out there, which I do not recommend — I would prefer to be at my king’s side to protect him. Even here, among our people, we can find you. After all, it’s not every day that someone tries to hide in the middle of Arctic using a horse and a cloak. Besides, no one else has permission to enter the sacred grove; the children of the forest would have driven out anyone with magic.” said the royal guard with a smile.

It was Lancelot, an honorable man, the chief commander of the royal guards, and the closest protector of the king.

“Well, let’s go home.” Jon said at last, mounting the horse he had taken in the military area with Jin still, heading toward the castle with the royal guards advancing.

As they proceeded peacefully, at a certain moment Jon stopped in the middle of the path and turned to the side without warning, as if he felt something. His birds always circled the area above the houses and buildings, and this time, he found something unusual, something wrong.

“My king?” asked Lancelot.

“Come with me.” was all Jon replied, moving forward, while his guards followed him.

They crossed a few streets until they found a commotion. Arctic soldiers, who were patrolling the city, asked the crowd to move back. Jon approached; as soon as some saw him, they immediately stepped back.

“It’s the king!” they exclaimed, turning all attention to him and his royal guards. Jon, however, ignored the looks, keeping his focus on the center of the scene.

“My king.” said one of the soldiers, stepping forward.

“What happened here?” Jon asked, with a firm and concerned look.

“We don’t know for sure yet, we are still gathering witnesses.” the soldier replied, pointing to a man lying on the ground, dead, with his belly slashed open and blood still running from the wounds. “He was attacked in the middle of the street by another man and bled to death with his belly torn open, no one could help him. All we know is that the attacker had dark hair and fled through the crowd. No one managed to follow him and he disappeared. We will request an investigation team.” the man reported.

Jon dismounted from the horse in silence, looking at the body. He recognized the face, not from knowing the man personally or having spoken to him, but because he had seen him from the very beginning in Arctic. This was one of the first to enter the kingdom with the tribes he had gathered along the way when he came from the Wall to the North. The memory combined with the scene reignited his fury.

“Who dares to murder a citizen of Arctic within these walls?!” Jon roared, before beginning to search for any sign of the criminal through the streets.

He found some birds and rats that lived in those alleys. Extending his mind into them, he quickly began to extract memories, seeing flashes of the killer’s flight. He connected vision after vision, each glimpse from an animal that had seen him, aligning fragments of recollection. Thus, Jon began to trace the path of the dark-haired man who fled through the city.

“I want you to take this man’s corpse and also look after his family. If I’m not mistaken, he has three daughters.” Jon said.

“My king?” Lancelot asked, while Jon began to rise and mount the horse, his gaze hardened.

“We will only make one detour. I myself will pursue this murderer.” Jon thundered.

Lancelot nodded with the other guards. Jon moved forward on horseback and then disappeared among the alleys, while the crowd made way for the king to pass.

Jon said he would solve the problem alone, seized by the fury that had built since he saw Tywin; now he had found something to relieve the rage. He rode through the quieter areas of Arctic, off the main roads, always attentive to the animals along the way. Extending his mind to birds, rats, and squirrels to capture memories and glimpses of the man who had fled after stabbing the victim.

They moved further away from the main area of the city and entered more tranquil regions, with rivers and narrow streets. People who passed by looked at the king in astonishment and whispered as he advanced on horseback with the royal guards, ignoring them.

Jon stopped at a small clump of trees, since there were some small crowns of trees like a little forest; children often played there in various spots of Arctic. Jon looked at the trees with narrowed eyes and raised his hand. “Stop.” he ordered, at the same time a squirrel, gnawing a nut, provided a memory he had captured — there was no exit there except toward the river, so the killer was inside among the trees.

“We don’t want to alert him. Leave the horses.” Jon said, dismounting. His guards obeyed immediately.

They advanced silently among the tree crowns, approaching until they spotted a man at the riverbank, vigorously cleaning his bloodstained hands. The man appeared nervous, understandable for someone who had just murdered someone in the streets of Arctic when he managed to hide hoping not to be discovered later by the kingdom’s law enforcement and investigative force, which was famous for solving crimes.

Although the Kingdom’s legal system was effective, with investigators capable of solving most cases, Jon, who had seen the dead man after it happened and still taken by fury, decided to act on his own. He moved in silence until he was close enough.

The man was so distracted that he only noticed someone behind him when he felt someone grab him from the back. Jon grabbed his clothes with both hands, in the midst of fury, and pulled him backward forcefully. In a single motion, he hurled him like a puppet: the body flew more than three meters and slammed hard, the man’s back hitting a tree.

The man screamed as he hit the ground and began to cough, looking up, dazed, until he grew even more terrified at the sight of the king himself, surrounded by several royal guards, glaring down at him.

“You dare murder someone in Arctic?” Jon roared, furious, already on top of the man. He tried to escape, but he felt his back was no longer right; a sharp pain shot through his body and he screamed, stunned, before Jon grabbed him by the neck and yanked him up, uncaring of the murderer’s suffering.

The man barely had time to keep groaning from the pain in his back when he felt his neck about to give, ready to snap with the sound of shattering bones, as Jon pressed him against the tree he had hurled him into.

“You dare?” repeated the king, ignoring the worried looks of his men. They didn’t understand why he was so enraged; the man was already condemned and would pay for his crimes.

Jon, however, was consumed by wrath and seemed on the verge of breaking the accused’s neck right there, as if it were made of glass, his hand ready to snap it. It was the strength of someone who, since childhood, had received knowledge and potions that strengthened his body over the years.

“My king…” Lancelot tried to intervene, concerned, as Jon blinked, as if finally realizing how far his fury had consumed him. He had felt his body heat up and freeze at the same time, a sensation more common when he was 8 or 9 namedays old, but rare now, since he had mastered his fury many years ago.

Inside him, fire and ice roared against one another, turning his core chaotic. That enraged him even more than it should have, beyond any Targaryen madness.

Jon hurled the man to the ground with force; he collapsed unconscious, still coughing faintly, as if he could not breathe properly after Jon’s grip.

“We will take him and deliver him to Arctic’s justice so they can investigate the motives of his crime before executing him.” Jon said. “There is no other sentence for murder: a life for a life. If you take a life in Arctic, you pay with your own. That is the law.” he declared.

Jon’s men obeyed. Some of the royal guards lifted the unconscious and badly injured man. It was likely that, after being thrown with such force, he had suffered spinal injuries and might never walk again, even if by some miracle he survived. His survival would not last long; his fate seemed inevitable.

“I want some of you to take him. I will return to the castle, I need to cool my head.” Jon ordered, mounting his horse.

Lancelot accompanied the king back, along with some guards, while others carried the assassin’s body elsewhere before returning to the castle. Jon tried not to think about what had happened; he kept his gaze forward and forced himself to focus on the map he needed to draft for Jin Sakai’s mission.

He needed to cool his head after everything that had happened; only the touch of his wife, the smiles and laughter of his children could calm him at that moment.

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Raccoon Here:

I have to admit something, I am very lazy when it comes to naming the royal guards of Arctic. Since there are 100 of them, I have never named them throughout the story in order to stay focused on Jon and other people. Maybe I should start adding some passages about them, after all, they are always with the king and the royal family, just like Jill and Bari with Arya in Winterfell.

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