[Chapter Size: 3600 Words.]

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Third Person POV

The Wall, 299 AC.

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The snow of the North manifested itself silently among the pines and small branches of other trees near the Wall, in those early hours of the morning. The entire forest, besides being silent, was almost invisible due to the thin mist/fog.

It was only disturbed when an enormous shadow emerged from the sky. Suddenly, the snow began to move, not by the force of the wind, but as if the entire forest had received a command.

The snow was swept away, disappearing completely, while the shadow continued descending over the now visible forest, choosing a suitable place to land with the enormous creature.

Eragon landed once again in the clearing he used to use in that place, with Jon getting off his back and kneeling on the ground to feel the earth of that location with his finger buried in the mist, he had developed some interesting things since the beginning of the training.

He soon stood up and looked at his dragon. “Our control is getting better.”, Jon commented, looking at the forest now bathed in the cold mist and completely clean. His training had begun a month ago. Developing his magical strength to fight the White Walkers.

The white dragon snorted proudly at this, and Jon opened a small smile for him. Then, he said goodbye, asking him to stay there and began to leave him, since his objective was the Wall, nearby and visible as a wall of ice just by looking through the openings of the dry branches of the forest.

He moved forward.

No one had triggered the alarm with the strange behavior of the mist disappearing or the arrival of the dragon, Jon had an advantage with his white dragon, as he camouflaged easily within the white environment of the North of the Wall. If it were the other, it would be easily seen with its size and body contrasting with the environment. Since _____ was dark as the night.

Anyway, he continued detecting life throughout that place, much more than the last time he had been there. He knew that the animals were moving farther and farther south, reaching their limit, and he even felt sorry for them. If he could save them, he would have, but unfortunately there was no way to do everything at the same time.

He put those thoughts aside and continued, leaving the forest and advancing into the open space in front of the Wall.

He walked for two minutes, but no one seemed to notice him yet. Up there, with the rangers still sleepy, seeing this, Jon raised his hand and a ball of flames began to appear in the palm of his hand. Jon simply aimed upward and threw it, before it exploded in midair with an explosion of flames over 5 meters, making the sound echo in all directions and bounce against the Wall, returning with an even more piercing sound to the region.

This quickly alerted the entire patrol above the Wall and even the people inside Castle Black on the other side. The alarm was finally triggered, and Jon remained standing there, waiting for the gate to open. His shining armor should already reveal who he was.

Ser Alliser Thorne came out of the opened gate and approached with a group of men, stopping at a certain distance before dismounting his horse and kneeling.

“Your Majesty, you are finally here!”, he said, with far better treatment than the last time, a moon ago, when not even the Night’s Watch was supposed to take sides in the conflicts between the Seven Kingdoms. Even so, Alliser seemed to ignore all of that due to his fanaticism for the Targaryens.

“Hello, Ser. You may rise. I am here to hear the recent news from the south. How is the war, how is the North?”, Jon said, as if it were an order.

The men of the Night’s Watch looked at each other, but waited for the Lord Commander to continue. As he lowered his face, his expression did not look good at all, and Jon could only hope for bad news.

“Your Majesty, I regret to inform you that Winterfell has fallen to the Ironborn”, he said, making Jon widen his eyes in surprise before closing them again, with a cold look.

“When did this happen?”, Jon asked.

“Two weeks ago, Your Majesty”, he replied, sounding increasingly cautious, as if he feared continuing with the news.

“Who did this? And the Stark children?”, he asked.

“It was Theon Greyjoy.”

“That damned Theon. Tell me what else happened”, Jon demanded, cutting off the Lord Commander himself when that cursed name was spoken, letting his anger build once more. He did not expect to hear anything other than bad or even tragic news from the war when coming here, but this… in his heart, he feared for his cousins.

“Winterfell was conquered and subdued by the Greyjoy boy. They kept the two Stark children, your cousins, under custody, and also Cassandra, who was named in the last moons as Cassandra Stark throughout the North, carrying a child of Lord Stark in her womb.”

Jon nodded, but also felt his heart tighten upon learning that the young woman whom Arya had hired to be castellan of Winterfell, replacing Vayon Poole due to Lord Stark delivering justice in Jon’s name, in that case of the theft more than 11 years ago… — and who later became his uncle’s lover, marrying him — she was expecting a child after all.

That made him fear for her life as well.

“We learned that Ser Rodrik was executed by Theon himself, but on that same night, there was a revolt in Winterfell, the Ironborn entered into battle against soldiers and people of the castle, who united against them because of what they had done, but the Ironborn managed to maintain control”, he said, before hesitating. Now, Alliser Thorne seemed very concerned about saying his next words.

“Speak”, Jon ordered coldly.

“The following morning, Theon Greyjoy burned two children, declaring that they were Bran and Rickon, who had been killed during the confusion”, he said. Not only he, but everyone stared at Jon, waiting to see how he would react.

Jon stood still, his eyes fixed on nothing for a few seconds. The sensation was similar to that of a month ago, when he received the report about Lord Stark’s death — but now, a hundred times worse. Suddenly, all the air began to freeze.

A roar echoed in the distance once again, and probably all the animals bound to Jon in Arctic were roaring fiercely.

“Your Majesty…”, Alliser seemed worried, looking into the distance, not knowing what that sound meant. All the men began to tremble and take steps back. The entire air had changed, making them even forget about the creature.

Jon had trained for a month with the Old Gods, awakening hidden magics in his blood that had never been activated before, becoming far more powerful than he had been. The warg had changed nothing, but the creation of trees had increased significantly, he could create dozens of trees from the ground at the same time, make a field of flowers bloom with force in an instant, but this was not used for combat.

However, the flames created by his hand had become true fireballs. He could also create a snowstorm and freeze the air around him, just as the White Walkers did — something that Eragon himself now also mastered.

An explosion came, as the ground began to tremble. Suddenly, lines of snow surged upward like a hurricane from the ground around Jon, forming a massive gale and making the men of the Night’s Watch exclaim and step back in fear.

They retreated, almost burning from the low temperature, seeing the King of Arctic shrouded in lines of flying snow within a ten-meter diameter, with him as the central point. His eyes glowed, and anyone there could mistake him for some kind of god.

The snow rose more than fifty meters into the sky, and the wind seemed to freeze everything it touched. Even the men felt their gloves and cloaks begin to be covered with a layer of ice, with the very molecules of the air freezing upon touching any surface.

“By the Seven…”

“By the Old Gods!”,

Alliser heard his men exclaim, praying to anyone who could give them answers as to what that was. No one understood what was happening.

Jon remained still, letting the wind spin for more than twenty seconds. He was enraged, letting the anger take hold of him and even of his newly awakened powers. Then, he blinked, and the snow began to fall slowly around him.

When that happened, Jon once again masked his pain and his anger with an indifferent and cold expression. He needed information before thinking about revenge or even allowing himself to grieve.

“When did this happen?” Jon asked in that cold tone.

No one knew how to answer him immediately, seeing the snow falling and the air returning to normal, even Alliser himself seemed hesitant for a few seconds, looking at Jon with fear. He saw Jon’s gaze remain fixed on him, waiting for an answer, and swallowed hard before beginning to give it.

“It was a week ago, my king”, Alliser said, with evident fear in his tone.

“I understand. Then they should still be in Winterfell, right?”, Jon asked. It was a simple question, but laden with intent.

“I believe so, but a Bolton force was advancing directly toward the castle. They should have already arrived there by now, Your Majesty. It takes about three days for a raven to reach the Wall.”

“I understand”, Jon said, but he was not finished yet. “Anything else I should know from the south?”

“Stannis is about to launch an attack on the capital, if he is not already sailing directly toward King’s Landing. As for the south, there are rumors that the Tyrells are with the Lannisters and are also aligning for an alliance. Robb Stark is winning all the battles so far, but he is falling into a disadvantage…”

Jon listened, but none of that made him angrier than the first news.

“Your Majesty, may I ask a question? What do you intend to do?”, Alliser asked cautiously.

“I will go to Winterfell. I want to see with my own eyes what is happening there.” It was time for him to see the south. “If I find Theon, I intend to kill him”, he declared.

Then, he simply turned around. “I am leaving, Lord Commander. Thank you for the information. I will return at another time. I also hope to have more news from the south.”

“Your Majesty, how will you—”, Alliser tried to speak, but Jon simply ignored him. He was enraged, and the last thing he wanted was to exchange unnecessary words.

A roar echoed once again from the forest. Jon ignored the looks and the whisper-filled conversations about what that meant and moved into it, disappearing among the trees.

Jon saw Eragon staring at him, his intense blue eyes fixed on him. Jon stopped and stared back. There was a tree beside him; without warning, he struck it with force, cracking the wood with his Valyrian steel gauntlet. A line of tears ran down from his eyes.

“How could this happen to Rickon and Bran? How will I tell this to Arya…” he murmured, in a cold tone, despite the tears betraying his sadness.

He did not know Rickon very well, but he knew he was part of the pack. Bran, on the other hand, he had lived with the boy since he had his four name days, when Jon left Winterfell and spoke to him less than a year later. Unlike Robb, he truly liked the boy.

The boy had the potential to become a Green Seer as powerful as Brynden, but he also had a long and simple dream: to become a royal knight. The boy who had asked him to teach him in Arctic, because he admired the royal guards of Arctic far more than those of Westeros… And Jon had promised him that when the war ended… now it was shattered.

Jon could not stop thinking about the memory in which he found Bran together with Arya in that forest, after the chaos of Winterfell.

The boy had already lost his dreams once, when he became paraplegic. Jon was certain he could deal with that when he learned of it, a moon ago. After all, the news of the son of the Lord of the North losing the movement of his legs had spread quickly and was already among the information brought by Alliser a month earlier. Arya had been deeply worried when she learned of it, and Benjen as well.

And now the boy had been murdered by that cursed Greyjoy.

“That filthy squid will pay. They will all pay”, Jon said, as a promise, while he continued squeezing the tree he had crushed.

He did not know what to say to Arya at that moment. She and her uncle had already suffered with the death of Lord Stark, and this only made everything worse.

Eragon let out a worried snort. Jon stared at him for several seconds, saying nothing, until he broke the silence.

“How am I supposed to tell Arya that Bran and Rickon are dead? What am I supposed to say? That I failed? At the very least, I will make sure the guilty ones are punished and die screaming for mercy…”, Jon said, with restrained anger in his voice, his eyes fixed on Eragon as he addressed him this time.

“Let us go south, my companion. Let us kill squids, after leaving them desperate”, he said, moving toward the dragon, as Eragon adjusted himself, feeling the fire of battle of his rider.

He had no plans to cross the Wall, but would he now remain still? Jon mounted him. He kept Blackfyre at his waist and there were other weapons fastened to the dragon’s saddle, along with his helmet, which he picked up and fitted onto his head.

“To the south.” That was all he said.

Eragon beat his wings and surged into the sky. The Night’s Watch must have seen the giant white dragon leaving the forest at that moment, gaining altitude as it entered the clouds, before becoming a point that not even the men of the Wall could see through the clouds, heading south of the Wall.

Jon no longer had the Wall’s barrier to interfere and began searching for animals below him, trying to create quick bonds to capture memories. Anything that revealed what had happened in the last weeks would be useful to him. He wanted to find the Ironborn, he wanted to find Theon.

He could not capture much, as he was flying too fast, but even so he created a connection with a dozen animals every ten minutes, advancing directly toward Winterfell.

There were many points of smoke coming from the coast. He could feel that all the coastal villages and towns of the North had been attacked from the west. The Ironborn had devastated the kingdom where Jon had spent the first half of his childhood.

‘I blame you too, Robb. Your damned war in the south for your own crown brought only death and destruction to the North.’ Jon mocked.

He did not grow angrier. There was no longer room for that. He merely made a silent promise that all would pay and continued moving forward.

When he arrived at Winterfell, he saw the town of Wintertown partially destroyed. There were burned houses and the streets were empty. There should have been people there, but only survivors remained. If they had taken Winterfell, the city and the surrounding villages had likely met an even worse fate.

His eyes returned to the Stark seat and his heart tightened even more — different from what he had imagined. The imposing castle was now marked by embers and burn scars on all sides.

“They set Winterfell on fire…”, Jon stated the obvious, but there was no one visible in the castle yard or on the walls. No damned Greyjoy in sight in the region, not even through Eragon’s eyes.

Even so, he descended at full force, landing in a blind spot of the city so as not to draw too much attention. Although it hardly mattered if the dragon was seen this time, and some people might see him behind Winterfell.

The thunderous impact of the dragon’s landing, already outside the walls, alerted some people, who shouted inside the castle.

Jon narrowed his eyes and moved quickly, advancing toward the walls while using the passage through the godswood that he knew well, as he had entered Winterfell a few times to speak with his uncle.

The godswood had also been affected by the flames. The sacred tree was still standing, but part of it had been burned. That was another thing that affected Jon deeply. Sacred trees were something protected by the harshest laws of Arctic; no one could harm the Children of the Forest or the sacred trees. It was one of the worst crimes possible. A crime against the gods.

No one had approached the place yet, probably trying to understand what that tremor had been. Jon approached the sacred tree and raised his hand, touching it. It began to glow as he gave part of himself to restore it.

The damaged branches soon began to regenerate. Red leaves sprouted at a speed visible to the naked eye, restructuring the entire destroyed portion until the tree returned to what it had been before.

“You’re alright now”, Jon said, giving the tree a light pat before moving on.

As he left, he encountered some women speaking worriedly with an elderly man about Eragon’s landing, but unable to see the dragon behind the towers.

They were servants of Winterfell. As soon as they noticed him, the women were the first to point, seeing him emerge from the godswood toward them. Everyone immediately stepped back, frightened at the sight of a man approaching in such shining armor.

Jon removed his helmet and looked at them, showing no hostility. “I did not come here to harm you. I am here to understand what happened. You know me as Jon Snow… Jon Arctic or Aegon Targaryen now. I do not know how I am still called here”, Jon said, making them exchange wide-eyed glances.

“You are Jon Arctic, Lord Stark’s son, who founded a kingdom beyond the Wall?”, the old man exclaimed, his voice trembling.

“I think he is a nephew! News from the south says he is the king of the throne!”

“Tell me what happened here”, Jon demanded, cutting off the unnecessary conversations.

The man swallowed hard. “The Ironborn entered Winterfell and simply attacked us. They killed Ser Rodrik and also Maester Luwin in the confusion.” The man said this, visibly shaken by the memory.

“What exactly happened that night? And how did my cousins die?”, Jon demanded.

“We do not know very well. A man entered Winterfell, freed some guards who were being held by the Ironborn, and then the chaos began. Many servants even took up knives. We fought, but most of us died. We could do nothing against those men”, he explained.

“The next day, Theon, that bastard, brought two children’s bodies. He burned them before we could see their faces and announced that they were the Stark children.”

“That bastard killed two children… one of them was not even ten years old… the other… my poor Bran…”, the woman began to cry.

Jon remained silent, not showing how disturbed he was inside.

“What happened to the woman called Cassandra Stark?” Jon asked.

“No one knows, they say she managed to escape, my lord…” the man said.

Jon remained silent for a while and broke it under their fearful looks. “Where were the children buried? I want to see the bodies”, Jon asked, feeling that he needed to do this.

“They were placed inside the crypt, in wooden boxes. We did not have time to bury them properly. Even so, a few days ago, the Boltons launched an attack against Theon, and it seems they captured him. The one who did this was Ramsay Snow, the son of Lord Bolton”, the old man said again.

“I understand. I will enter the crypts. I need to see with my own eyes”, Jon replied, already moving forward. No one said anything and they only watched him walk away.

He kept thinking as he descended into a place that once did not seem to want his presence, as if the Kings of Winter wished to drive him away with their ghosts, back when Jon was only eight namedays old.

It felt different this time… the Kings of Winter themselves seemed to revere him as soon as his feet touched the floor of the crypt… Jon, however, was not the least bit interested in that and moved on.

He saw two coffins near the entrance. They were probably there awaiting a proper burial and a response from Robb in the south.

Either way, Jon felt the horrible smell of burned bones and flesh coming from the corpses inside the boxes. He opened the coffins and saw the charred flesh, completely black, still visible. Jon narrowed his eyes, clenching his teeth, and then opened the other coffin.

He stood there in silence for several minutes, observing it, until he realized something.

Those were not the bodies of his cousins.

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