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"Knowledge is a weapon, Jon. Arm yourself well before you ride forth to battle."
Aemon Targaryen, Son of Maekar (The wisest of the Maesters)
Westeros, Wall
Year 300 AC
Jon Snow/Aerion Sand
Jon sat thoughtfully in a chair in his Lord Commander's small chamber behind the armoury, staring at the letters glowing gold before his eyes. If he had ignored all the other obvious signs that his journey in the Lands Between was not over, the message before him confirmed it completely.
In her infinite generosity, Greater Will has given you the chance to change the fate of your homeland, but now the fate of two lands rests on your shoulders.
Let the flame of ambition burn within you, and the Golden Grace illuminate your path amidst darkness and despair. She has chosen you as her champion, and like the one who preceded you, she gives you the tools to fulfil your mission.
For, noble champion, you cannot acquire runes in your homeland, because life here was not created by Greater Will. Instead, she offers you tasks of a kind. Complete them, and you will receive the best possible reward. Power in its purest form.
"Go, my champion, bring Order to where chaos reigns."
You received a quest.
Main Quest: King of Winter (Quest Chain - 1/3)
1.Main objective: Capture Winterfell and liberate the North from the Boltons. Crown yourself King of the North.
2.Secondary objective: Eradicate the Bolton line and kill all lords who supported them.
3.Bonus objectives:
Gain the support of at least 6 Wildlings leaders.Gain the support of at least 7 Northern lords.Earn the loyalty of at least 8 knights in the service of Stannis BaratheonSave Stannis Baratheon and his menRescue Mance Ryder Thy strength befits a crown: Conquer Winterfell single-handedly.
Rewards:
+2 to all attributes, Lightning Spear Incantation +1 to all attributes
3.
+2 to Strength+2 to Endurance+2 to Faith+2 to Arcane+2 to Intelligence +1 to all attributes, Knight Lightning Spear Incantation
Penalties: The probable end of your home world
You received a quest.
Side Quest: The North remembers.
1.Main objective: Unite entire North
2.Bonus objectives:
1 northern lord or leader of Free Folk recognized your rule over the North(0/1)5 northern lord or leader of Free Folk recognized your rule over the North(0/5)10 northern lord or leader of Free Folk recognized your rule over the North(0/10)25 northern lord or leader of Free Folk recognized your rule over the North(0/25)50 northern lord or leader of Free Folk recognized your rule over the North(0/50)Eliminate lords and leaders who do not recognize your authority(0/?)
Reward:
+1 to all attributes, Erdtree Heal Incantation+1 to Mind+1 to Mind, +1 to Faith+2 to Mind, +1 to Intelligence+2 to Mind, +1 to Faith, +1 to Intelligence+2 to Mind, +2 to Faith, +2 to Intelligence+3 to Arcane
You received a quest.
Main Quest: One Who Comes With the Dawn
Main objective: Banish influence of Great Other from this World Secondary objective: Kill all his champions(0/3) Bonus objectives:More than 10% of Westeros population survivesMore than 25% of Westeros population survivesMore than 50% of Westeros population survivesMore than 10% of Essos population survivesMore than 25% of Essos population survivesMore than 50% of Essos population survivesYour strength, extraordinary...The mark...of a true Lord: Kill the Great Other
Rewards:
+3 to all attributes +2 to all attributes+3 to Vitality+4 to Endurance+5 to Strength+4 to Intelligence+5 to Arcane+6 to Faith +3 to all attributes, ???
Penalties: The End of your home world
The implications of what he saw before him were enormous, not only for him but for his entire world. The fact that Geater Will had decided to reward him for accomplishing something he had planned to do anyway, and by increasing his power, only strengthened his resolve.
However, these warnings about possible penalties for failing to complete the quests were more than unsettling. Of course, he suspected they merely represented the real consequences of his eventual failure. He realised that if he failed to unite the North and reclaim it from the Boltons, he could forget about fighting the Others.
Others... Yes, this was the real problem, because according to the quest description, he not only had to eliminate the deity's influence from this world but also defeat its three champions. Could these be the three leaders of the Others, or something else entirely? He had no idea.
Furthermore, he was concerned about what he saw regarding the surviving population. The bonuses included ensuring the survival of half the population as the most difficult, yet also the most rewarding, bonus. That meant that ensuring half of humanity survived the Long Night was the best they could hope for.
Jon felt a chill run through him, despite his resistance to the cold.
"SNOW! DEATH! KING!" The screech of old Mormont's raven echoed through the chamber, and Jon narrowed his eyes at it, but the creature stared back with its impenetrable black eyes.
Not for the first time, he had wondered if this bird was some Greenseer transformed into an animal by the gods, and having experienced even a sliver of the Lands Between, he realised it wasn't as unlikely as he might have suspected.
He reached out to the raven, as he had several times before, but this time, he found the "door" open, as it had with Ghost. Within seconds, he felt a bond forming between them.
But the mind of his new raven companion was entirely different from that of a direwolf, more complex and chaotic. He delved deeper, and their minds connected, allowing him to see through the bird's eyes, an entirely different experience than Ghost's.
"Hmm. Now that we're companions, it would behove you to be given a proper name. What do you think?" He asked the raven, to which it merely looked at him, tilting its head.
"So what name would suit you best...? I'll have to think about it."
"KING! GOLD! SNOW" the bird squawked in response.
Jon shook his head with a laugh. "No, we'll find something more appropriate."
With those words, he rose from his seat, extending his arm. "Come, let's check on Ghost and Val, and then we'll have a talk with that stubborn woman of Stannis's." The raven took to the air and landed on his shoulder, then climbed onto his shoulder, where it perched.
Jon moved to leave, but as soon as he opened the door, Melisandre stood in his way, staring at him with an intensity he hadn't seen in her before, not even with Stannis, her Azor Ahai.
"Lord Commander, may we speak?" Her melodic, almost seductive voice carried through the air. However, one trait she had shared in their earlier romances was missing.
The sense of superiority that often accompanies adults talking to children. Now, in its place, he saw respect, even a hint of something that might have been fear.
"Lady Melisandre." He nodded, then, to her surprise, left the room and closed the door. "If you want to discuss something, we can do it on the way... I don't have much time."
The woman regarded him with an unreadable look for a moment, then nodded, and he moved forward without hesitation.
"What did you wish to discuss?" he asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as soon as she caught up with him. As usual, the red priestess seemed to float in midair, as if she weren't taking any steps.
"You know what you're talking about, Lord Snow. You were marked by a god and received his blessing... a power beyond human ability. To guide us through the Long Night," Melisandre said without a trace of hesitation, utterly convinced of what she was saying.
"You speak of being marked by 'god', not ''R'hllor', as if you weren't sure," he replied, looking at her suspiciously, but they didn't slow down.
"Because I know it's not R'hllor. I can recognise the touch of my god, and the one who marked you... is something... much more. My behaviour in the courtyard was a show to ease the tension and 'disarm' Selyse's men," she replied, and Jon had to admit it was exceptionally sensible behaviour, one he hadn't expected from her.
"So what now? "What do you want, my lady?"" he asked, looking at her, but immediately looked back ahead as his gaze fell on her inhumanly seductive figure.
The woman must have noticed this, as he saw a sly smile playing on her lips out of the corner of his eye.
"What do I want, you ask? Only one thing, and to this I have dedicated my entire life. To defeat our common enemy, and to that end, R'hllor commands me to serve you, to aid you, and to guide you when necessary."
Jon said nothing, and in the meantime, they went out into the courtyard, and he headed instead of Hardin's Tower, where he and Ghost were in Val, to the King's Tower to meet with the would-be queen.
"Leave Sylese to me, Lord Snow. She is stubborn and arrogant but equally blindly devoted to my god. I will make her listen to you; the knights will be the bigger problem, and by that I mean those whose faith in R'hllor is shallow."
He only nodded in response, appreciating that the woman was trying to be as useful as possible. As she herself had said, they had a common enemy.
As Jon walked through the courtyard, illuminated by the setting sun, he felt the gazes of the castle's inhabitants bustling about. He sensed the tension.
Especially since the gazes weren't just directed at him, but people nervously walked around Wun Wun, who sat beneath Hardin's Tower, toying with a massive golden halberd.
Jon smiled faintly at the sight and entered the King's Tower with Melisandre following close behind. Two of Selyse's men stood inside, but neither dared to stop him; they were merely guards.
The would-be queen's chamber itself was more heavily guarded, with almost the same knights present as during his previous conversation with Selyse, when she had ordered him to abandon the women and children at Hardhome.
However, Ser Patrek was dead, and Ser Alex Florent, the queen's uncle, whom he had wounded, was missing. Ser Malegorn, Ser Benethon, Ser Narbert, Ser Dorden, and Ser Brus were present.
However, where previously they had looked down on him as if he were merely a bastard, not a Lord Commander, he now saw respect and fear in their eyes. Their gazes involuntarily fell on his face, specifically on the golden, radiant eye that held the Great Rune of Life.
Stannis's wife, on the other hand, wore a sneer, but beneath it, the fear that filled the chamber was palpable.
"Lord Commander, I had hoped you would arrive earlier with an explanation, considering what happened in the courtyard, your elevation by R'hllor, and your proclamation that my husband is dead." The woman spoke first, and though her words weren't insulting, her tone clearly indicated that, unlike her knights, she had not gained respect for him.
"Lady Selyse," Jon spoke, and several knights gasped at his audacity. Finally, he made it clear that he didn't recognise her as queen. She herself actually reddened.
At the same time, Jon pulled a scroll from his pocket. "I learnt of your husband's death from that letter, not long before I was murdered. But I thought Ser Narbert and Ser Benethon had told you the news, as they were present at the meeting where I revealed the contents of that letter."
Selyse narrowed her eyes, staring at the scroll, then turned to Ser Malegorn she said. "Ser, read this letter. I want to know exactly what it says."
The knight nodded and approached Jon, watching him like a hare approaches a wolf, fearing for his life. Jon couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face. To think that just a few hours ago, this lecherous man had treated him like a foolish northern youth.
He handed the letter to the knight, who, without taking his eyes off him, stepped back a few steps, then unrolled the scroll and began to read.
Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. Tell his red whore.
Your false king's friends are dead. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false king lied, and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride from me.
I will have my bride back. If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell.
I want my bride back. I want the false king's queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want his wildling princess. I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it.
It was signed,
Ramsay Bolton,
Trueborn Lord of Winterfell
"Give it to me!" Selyse practically snarled, extending her hand to the knight, but it was more desperation and panic than anger.
Malegorn handed the letter to the woman, and Jon noticed his hand was trembling. His gaze, as he turned, expressed concern, even fear. The same was true of the other knights in the chamber. A few even paled, gripping the hilts of their belted swords with a mixture of anger and uncertainty.
The would-be queen's eyes scanned the letter's contents over and over again, as if refusing to believe what it contained. Then she looked at Jon. "How can you be so sure it's true? Perhaps the bastard is probably lying."
Jon shook his head, anticipating the implication. "No, too many of his words ring true."
The woman narrowed her brows. "Is it true what it says about Mance Ryder? You saved him and sent him to Winterfell." Her voice grew more furious with each word. "His burning was to guarantee my husband's victory. The blood of kings. It's your fault Stannis is dead."
The woman rose from her seat and moved toward him, but before Jon could react, Melisandre, who had been standing behind him, stepped forward.
"Lady Selyse, get a grip before you do something you'll regret," the red priestess said, and no one present missed the fact that she hadn't even called her queen.
"Not only was he designated as his champion, Azor Ahai, by R'hllor own will, but now both your fate and that of your retinue rest with him. Only he stands between you and the Boltons, and above all, the Great Enemy. Remember that your daughter's fate is also in your hands."
Melisandre's words held power, a certain charm; he was certain of that. For Selyse herself stopped in her tracks, her fury vanishing as if blown away by a cold wind. The knights surrounding her glanced at each other uncertainly, looking more like lost children than grown men.
Jon, seizing the moment, added, "Lady Selyse. I can promise you nothing else, but I assure you that as long as you remain under my protection, I guarantee your safety. You, your daughter, and your retinue."
Selyse fixed him with a cold gaze. "That all sounds fine, but what do you expect in return? Nothing in life is free, especially since I know you don't like me. It was in your eyes, or should I say, it was in our last conversation, because I can't read you now."
Jon had to admit she was perceptive. He would indeed gladly banish her from Castle Black, but he had no intention of doing the same to little Shireen Baratheon, and among her retinue were innocents he had no intention of sending to their deaths.
"Give me your word that both you and your people will obey my orders and rules. We are in a war of survival, and we must be united," he replied, his tone as firm as a rock.
"What if I don't agree?" she asked with apparent confidence, but her voice trembled.
Jon fixed his gaze on her, his left eye glowing brighter with the light of Grace. After a moment, he spoke, his tone colder than the icy wastes of the Land of Always Winter.
"You and your retinue will have to leave the Wall, and if you refuse?... My men in Castle Black alone outnumber you by a dozen to one." As he spoke these words, his gaze swept over the knights present, but none dared meet his gaze, and they lowered their heads.
Young Shireen Baratheon chose that moment to enter the chamber, with Patchface hot on her heels.
As if sensing the atmosphere within, the girl stopped a few steps from the door. However, the same couldn't be said for the jester, who entered with his strange sideways gait.
Patchface stopped only before Jon, then bowed low to the waist, and his helmet, fashioned from an old tin bucket, with a rack of deer antlers strapped to the crown and hung with cowbells, fell to the ground with a clatter. The jester, however, quickly picked it up.
"Shattered, shattered is the Ring. Who will mend, who will mend it?
All I see, all I see is the Golden Tree and an empty throne beneath it."
Patchface's words echoed through the chamber in a half-singing voice. Jon looked at Fool with narrowed eyes, his mind flooded with thoughts. Had that jester just mentioned the Elden Ring and its shattering?
All of Patchface's mysterious chants and rhymes suddenly took on a different meaning. Did he have some connection to some gods? Or some other powerful beings? The very fact that he knew of these things clearly suggested it. The aforementioned Golden Tree and the throne of the Elden Lord only confirmed it.
"Patchface, could you repeat what you said? Or say more about this Ring and the Golden Tree?" He asked the jester, but the jester looked at him absently for a moment before shrugging.
"Poor Patchface doesn't know what you're talking about. Heh," the jester replied, then moved back to Shireen, muttering under his breath and swaying from side to side. Jon shook his head at this, realising he wouldn't learn anything from this poor fool.
He looked back at Selyse, who was gazing at her daughter with a distant expression.
"So what do you say, my lady? Do you agree or not?" Jon asked her, to which she, with a final glance at Shireen, then a glance at Melisandre, who nodded, replied, "Yes, you have my word."
"Good," Jon replied, turning on his heel. As he left, he smiled at the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder and bidding her farewell, "Lady Shireen."
Then he left the chamber, hoping to gain some time before everything began to turn against him again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Westeros, Wall
Year 300 AC
Val
The Jon Snow of yesterday and the Jon Snow of today were two completely different people. And it wasn't just about appearance, though he too had undergone a drastic change in the form of a new magical eye, and Jon seemed a bit taller, too.
No, the biggest change was in his demeanour. Of course, the bright, brooding youth, sometimes bold to a fault, was still there. Yet there was a depth to him that was hard to describe, something that hadn't been there before.
Depth and authority. Where the old Jon preferred to convince others of his point of view, if possible, the new one demanded obedience. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he expected obedience? As if it were the most normal thing in the world.
The old Jon kept his emotions deeply hidden, buried beneath the shame of his birth, which was incomprehensible to her. The new Jon burnt with a fire and a confidence that some would call arrogance. In him Val saw a warrior and leader who could truly help them survive the Long Night.
She tightened her grip on Ghost's fur, who stood calmly beside her, watching Jon in the centre of the courtyard give his final orders to the Crows gathered around him and the Free Folk leaders, led by Tormund.
Even the southern kneelers stood to the side, listening to everything, and their red priestess stopped not far from Val, casting her calculating glances every now and then. It made her feel downright uneasy, for she knew perfectly well that this woman was more dangerous than anyone could have imagined.
"He's no ordinary man anymore," the priestess of the fire god said to her.
Val glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, then, looking back at Jon, replied with a strange warmth in her voice, the one she heard whenever she spoke or thought of Jon, "He never was."
Melisandre laughed lightly, her booming laughter causing several of the men around them to look at her with a mixture of fear and desire.
"No, he wasn't," she agreed, then added, "He always had potential. I saw it before, but I was blind to the hints R'hllor gave me about how great that potential was. Azor Ahai... or perhaps something more."
Val looked at her with a slightly raised eyebrow, sensing the other woman was trying to suggest something. "What are you getting at?" she asked coldly.
Melisandre simply shook her head from side to side. "Nothing. I'm simply stating a fact. However, every great man needs an equally great woman to stand by him and support him. Especially one who is a piece on the gods' chessboard. Even if that piece is the King."
"King?" she asked, confused. "Are you suggesting Jon is the King? The king of what or who?"
Melisandre shrugged, "I don't know, maybe nothing, maybe everything... That remains to be seen. The future isn't written in stone."
Val looked away from her, looking back at Jon, trying to understand the woman's enigmatic words. A king? Yes, Val had seen what the woman was talking about.
Jon was handsome, smart, and inhumanly strong. He possessed charisma, authority, and unknown magic. He could be decisive and ruthless, but his heart was also in the right place.
However, she was pulled from her thoughts by the very man she was thinking about when, having finished giving the final instructions, he approached her and Ghost.
Getting down on one knee, he embraced and hugged the snow-white direwolf, pulling its massive head to his chest.
"I will miss you, my boy, but I will return soon. In the meantime, I leave Val under your protection. Watch over her and those loyal to me."
Val watched with a small smile, feeling an inner warmth at the thought that Jon cared for her enough to leave his faithful companion to watch over her, yet at the same time, she wanted to smack him on the head and tell him she didn't need anyone to protect her.
Furthermore, she felt a tiny thorn of jealousy at the bond the two shared.
Jon then rose to his feet and looked at her with a strange look, concealing a tangle of emotions.
"Just as I asked Ghost to watch over you, I ask you to keep an eye on him now," he said, looking into her eyes. "You can use him as a pillow," he added with a small smile, and her only thought was that he didn't smile often enough.
Then she examined his clothing, realising he had no belongings, aside from his new armour, not even food. She looked at him questioningly. "Where's your baggage?"
"I have everything I need," he replied with such confidence that she realised there was no point in questioning it.
"And the horse?" she asked, looking around, not seeing any of the Crow leading a mount to him.
"I have Torrent," he replied, and before she could ask who or what Torrent was, Jon put the ring she'd seen earlier to his lips and blew.
A loud whistle emanated from the ring, and beneath Jon, lifting him into the air, a strange mount materialised, unlike any she'd ever seen. It looked like a horse with horns.
Then, without a word of explanation, Jon spurred his mount, which almost instantly broke into a gallop, racing through the gate and disappearing beyond the Wall, somewhere in the Haunted Forest.