I struggled with this chapter I couldn't figure out were I wanted to take it the next chapter is finished I just kept going back to this one I know were I wanted to go with this story but this was a pain.
Winterfell, 289 AC, Jon Snow's POV
The crypts of Winterfell were a tomb of secrets, the air heavy with the weight of Ned's words. Jaehaerys Targaryen. Jon's true name burned in his mind, a spark igniting the wildfire in his blood. The dragon's cry still lingered, a primal roar that had shaken the stones of the castle and his soul alike. He stood before Lyanna's statue, her stone eyes gazing past him, as if she too felt the fire awakening within her son.
"Ned," Jon said, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest, "I need to tell you what happened. What I saw." He touched his silver hair, his ruby-red eyes glowing faintly in the torchlight. "It's not just this… change. I've lived another life. I died, Ned. At the Wall."
Ned's face tightened, his grey eyes clouded with disbelief and dread. "Died?" he whispered, his voice barely carrying in the cold crypt. "Jon, what are you saying?"
Jon took a breath, the memories sharp as knives. "In another time—years from now—I was at the Wall, sworn to the Night's Watch. I was Lord Commander. My brothers… they betrayed me. Stabbed me in the snow. I felt every blade, Ned. The cold, the blood." His voice cracked, but he pressed on, the bond in his blood pulsing with heat. "I called for Ghost, my direwolf. Then darkness took me. When I woke, I was here—289 AC, a boy again. But different. Silver hair, red eyes, this… fire in my veins."
Ned staggered back, his hand gripping the edge of Lyanna's statue. His face was pale, as if the weight of his sister's secret had doubled. "The gods," he murmured. "They've done this to you. Lyanna's blood… Rhaegar's blood"
"There's more," Jon said, his ruby eyes meeting Ned's. "Before I died, I saw things. Visions. Rhaegar and Lyanna, running through a forest, laughing under the stars. She was pregnant, Ned. Rhaegar spoke of naming me Jaehaerys if I was a boy. I saw her in a tower, dying, begging you to keep me safe." His voice softened, raw with the pain of truth. "You're not my father. You're my uncle. And I'm… I'm Jaehaerys Targaryen."
Ned's shoulders sagged, the weight of his promise to Lyanna pressing harder than ever. "I swore to protect you," he said, his voice thick with grief. "To hide you from Robert, from the world. But this…" He gestured to Jon's transformed appearance, the unmistakable mark of House Targaryen. "This changes everything."
Jon nodded, his chest tight. "There's something else. When I woke here, I felt a bond—not just with Ghost, but something fiercer. Like wildfire. I saw dragons, Ned. Soaring over a blackened sky, circling a shadowed island. A cave, eggs pulsing with life. It's calling me, pulling me somewhere. I don't know where, but it's real. And then… that cry." He paused, the memory of the dragon's roar echoing in his mind. "It wasn't just a sound. It was a summons."
Before Ned could respond, a deafening roar split the air, louder and fiercer than before. The crypts trembled, dust falling from the ceiling as the sound reverberated through the stone. Jon's heart lurOTC, the bond in his blood surging with a ferocity that nearly brought him to his knees. It wasn't just a cry—it was a command, raw and primal, pulling him toward the surface.
"Gods," Ned whispered, his hand on his sword hilt. "What in the Seven Hells was that?"
Jon didn't answer. He was already moving, his boots pounding against the stone steps as he raced upward, Ned close behind. The bond burned, guiding him like a beacon. As they emerged into the courtyard, chaos greeted them. Servants screamed, guards shouted, and the smallfolk of Winterfell poured from their homes, their faces pale with terror. Above, the sky churned with storm clouds, and there, on the frost-covered fields beyond the castle walls, stood a creature out of legend.
The dragon was massive, its scales black as midnight, its eyes blazing with a malevolent green fire. Its wings cast a shadow that swallowed the snow, and its teeth glinted like daggers as it loosed another earth-shaking roar. The Cannibal, Jon knew, though he'd never seen it before. The wild dragon of Dragonstone, feared even by its own kind, a beast that devoured its kin and bowed to no rider. Yet here it was, its gaze locked on Jon, its presence thrumming through the bond in his blood.
The Stark family spilled into the courtyard, drawn by the commotion. Catelyn clutched Bran and Rickon close, her face ashen. Robb gripped his sword, his eyes wide with disbelief. Sansa stood frozen, her hands pressed to her mouth, while Arya darted to Jon's side, her expression torn between awe and defiance.
"It's a dragon," Sansa whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her stories come to life. "A real dragon."
The smallfolk gathered at the gates, their murmurs rising into a cacophony of fear and confusion. "It's the Snow lad!" one shouted, pointing at Jon. "But look at him—silver hair, eyes like fire! He's a Targaryen!" Another voice cried, "That's Jon Snow, ain't it? What's he done to bring that here?"
Jon felt their stares, a mix of recognition and dread. They saw the boy they'd known, the bastard of Winterfell, but also something alien—a dragonlord reborn. The Cannibal roared again, its tail lashing the snow into a flurry, and the crowd flinched back, some falling to their knees in prayer.
Ned stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Stay back! All of you!" His eyes found Jon's, and in them, Jon saw a man wrestling with a truth he could no longer deny. "Jon," he said, low enough for only them to hear, "this… this bond, these visions, the dragon—it's tied to what you told me. Your death, your return. The gods have marked you."
Jon nodded, his gaze drawn to the dragon. The bond pulsed, urging him forward. He took a step, then another, ignoring Arya's sharp intake of breath and Catelyn's cry of protest. The Cannibal lowered its massive head, its green eyes boring into Jon-kl Jon's ruby ones. The air crackled with heat, the snow melting beneath the beast's claws. Jon reached out, his hand trembling, and touched the dragon's snout. Its scales were warm, almost scalding, and the bond flared, a torrent of fire and rage and recognition. This was no mere beast. This was his kin, bound to him by blood and destiny.
"I am Jaehaerys," Jon whispered, the name solidifying in his heart. The Cannibal rumbled, a low growl that vibrated through the earth, as if acknowledging his claim.
Ned grabbed Jon's shoulder, pulling him back. "Jon, this is no game," he said, his voice urgent. "That dragon's here for you. Your visions, your blood… Robert will hear of this. The Iron Throne—it's yours by blood, whether you want it or not. We have no choice now—we must fight for it."
Jon's chest tightened. The throne? He'd never wanted it, never dreamed of it. He was a Snow, a bastard, not a king. Yet the dragon's presence, the bond in his blood, the name Jaehaerys—they all pointed to a path he couldn't escape. "I didn't ask for this," he said, his voice raw. "But if the gods sent me back, if they sent him—" he gestured to the Cannibal—"then I have to face it. I saw what's coming, Ned. War, betrayal, death. I can't run from it."
Ned's jaw clenched, his eyes haunted but resolute. "Then we stand together," he said. He turned to the courtyard, where Maester Luwin had appeared, his chain clinking as he hurried forward, his face pale at the sight of the dragon. "Luwin!" Ned called. "Send ravens to every lord in the North. Call the banners. Winterfell prepares for war."
Luwin's eyes widened, flickering to Jon and the Cannibal. "My lord… war? With whom?"
"With whoever comes for him," Ned said, his voice like iron. "The dragon has chosen. The North will protect its own."
The smallfolk's murmurs grew louder, a mix of fear and reverence. "The dragon's his!" a woman cried. "Jon Snow's a Targaryen king!" Others muttered prayers, some cursing the return of dragonlords, while others stared at Jon with newfound awe, as if he were both their familiar bastard and a myth made flesh.
Arya slipped her hand into Jon's, her grip fierce. "I'm with you," she whispered. "Dragon or no dragon."
Jon squeezed her hand, his ruby eyes meeting the Cannibal's green ones. The bond thrummed, a promise of fire and blood. Beyond the castle walls, a wolf howled—Ghost, sensing his master's change. And somewhere, far across the sea, a silver-haired girl woke with a start, her dreams filled with a dragon's roar and a name she didn't yet know: Jaehaerys.