Capítulo 12: Chapter 11
Navigating the winding corridors of Castle Black felt like Jon was deep into one of those stealth missions from his favorite fantasy novels. "Can I get a high-five from the game developers for this level design? Seriously, this is like the fantasy equivalent of a labyrinth." Every step was meticulously planned, his senses as sharp as a well-tuned radar. His connection with Vermithor felt like an invisible superpower—an epic bond guiding the baby dragon with the precision of a high-tech GPS.
When Jon finally reached his chamber, he exhaled a sigh of relief. "Home sweet home. Or as sweet as a damp, cold room can get." He released Vermithor from his warg bond, and the little Night Fury stretched with a contented yawn, looking around like he was trying to figure out where the snacks were hidden. Ser Arthur, already waiting, looked at the dragon with a mix of curiosity and excitement.
Ser Arthur's eyes widened in disbelief as he saw Vermithor nestled comfortably in the chamber. "By the Seven," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I never thought I'd see a dragon. How did you manage this?"
Jon shrugged casually, though internally he was thinking, "Oh, you know, just a regular Tuesday. I pulled a dragon out of a trunk of ancient treasures. No big deal." He quickly recounted the story he'd crafted with Maester Aemon: the trunk of treasures from Rhaegar Targaryen, the dragon's egg hidden among them, and how it hatched when he touched it. "I couldn't believe it either," Jon said with a grin. "But here he is—Vermithor, the Night Fury."
Arthur was practically vibrating with excitement. "It's truly incredible," he said, shaking his head in awe. "To see a dragon hatch... it's something out of legend."
Nodding, Jon felt a swell of pride. "Yeah, because who doesn't want to be the hero with a dragon? Next up: fighting evil, saving the world, and maybe squeezing in a nap." "Exactly. It's a sign that things are changing, and maybe, just maybe, it's a sign of hope in these dark times."
As they stood together, watching Vermithor with renewed determination, the dragon's stomach suddenly rumbled loudly, breaking the silence.
Arthur raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Seems like our new friend is hungry. We're going to need a lot more meat to keep him happy."
Jon chuckled, pulling a piece of jerky from his pack. "Ah yes, the universal truth: dragons are always hungry. Kind of like me when I see pizza." "Feeding a dragon is going to be a bigger task than I thought." He offered the jerky to Vermithor, who immediately roasted it with a blast of fiery breath and then devoured it with enthusiasm.
With a satisfied look, Vermithor turned his gaze back to Jon, clearly asking for more. Jon rummaged through his pack for another piece, marveling at the bond they shared. "Note to self: Invest in dragon-sized snacks. Also, I'm officially on dragon duty. This is going to be interesting."
Arthur's wry smile mirrored Jon's thoughts. "Well, if we're going to have a dragon on our team, we'd better be prepared to keep him well-fed."
Jon handed over another piece of jerky, his grin widening. "Absolutely. Next stop: dragon training and figuring out where to store all this dragon food." "We've got a lot of work ahead of us, and keeping Vermithor satisfied is just the beginning."
As Vermithor munched contentedly, Jon felt a surge of exhilaration. "With a dragon by our side, things are definitely looking up. Now, let's see if we can handle this dragon adventure without too many fiery mishaps." With a dragon and determination in tow, Jon knew they were ready to tackle whatever epic challenges lay ahead.
—
The next morning, Jon met up with Uncle Benjen, who was waiting for him just outside the mess hall. Ser Arthur had stayed back in their room to keep an eye on Vermithor. Jon felt a twinge of curiosity about how the little dragon was doing but pushed it aside as he approached his uncle. "Okay, Jon, don't get distracted by your pet dragon. You've got bigger, more ancient fish to fry today."
"Good morning, Uncle Benjen," Jon greeted, trying to keep his excitement in check. "Just a typical day for Jon Snow—except for, you know, dragons, ancient trees, and mind-blowing family secrets." "I'm ready to head to the Weirwood Tree whenever you are."
Benjen looked up from adjusting his gear and nodded. "Morning, Jon. We'll set out shortly."
As they started walking, Benjen's eyes flicked around to make sure they were alone before he spoke. "Oh boy, here comes the ominous secret-sharing moment. Should I brace myself for a plot twist?"
"You know, Jon," Benjen began in a low voice, "I'm glad your father finally told you about Lyanna and Rhaegar. It's important that you know the truth about your heritage."
Jon's heart skipped a beat. "Yep, plot twist confirmed. This is the part where my entire life gets rewritten in real-time."
"You knew?" he asked, barely above a whisper, feeling a mix of shock and disbelief.
Benjen's face grew serious. "Aye, I did. Lyanna confided in me before she left with Rhaegar. I tried to share the truth with others, but I was young, and my words were easily dismissed."
Jon's mind reeled. "So Uncle Benjen was in on the Targaryen conspiracy the whole time. Guess this family really is full of secrets."
"Lyanna told you?" he repeated, stunned. "And you tried to tell people?"
Benjen nodded, looking pained. "She did. But speaking out was dangerous back then. The realm was in chaos, and anyone connected to Rhaegar or the Targaryens was seen as a threat."
Jon was swamped with questions but knew they had more pressing matters to attend to. "Okay, Jon, focus. The truth bomb can wait; there's a mystical tree in your future."
"Thank you for telling me, Uncle Benjen," he said sincerely. "It means a lot to hear it from you."
Benjen's smile was warm and encouraging. "You're both a Stark and a Targaryen, Jon. Never forget that. Now, let's head to the Weirwood Tree. It's sure to be an experience you won't forget."
Jon returned Benjen's smile, feeling a rush of gratitude. "And here I thought family reunions were awkward enough without dragons and ancient gods involved." "Thanks, Uncle Benjen," he said, determination lining his voice. "Let's see what the gods have in store for us."
With that, Jon and Benjen set off toward the Weirwood Tree. The crisp morning air filled Jon's lungs as he walked, anticipation bubbling inside him. "Okay, Jon, you're about to meet an ancient god-tree. Just keep it cool, and maybe you'll get out of this with your sanity intact. Or at least with some answers that don't create more questions." This journey promised to reveal more about his heritage and set the course for his future—he could hardly wait to see what lay ahead.
—
As Jon and Benjen approached the ancient Weirwood Tree, Jon couldn't help but be awestruck by the sight. The tree's gnarled trunk and blood-red leaves glowed in the sunlight, standing like an ancient sentinel. It was both awe-inspiring and oddly comforting, kind of like a big, mystical hug from the universe. "Well, if this isn't the most majestic horror-movie prop I've ever seen. Is it weird that I kinda want to take a selfie with it? Too bad the Westeros version of Instagram is non-existent."
"It's... magnificent," Jon said, almost in awe. "Note to self: Make sure to keep the fangirling to a minimum. After all, I'm supposed to be the brooding bastard of Winterfell, not a tree enthusiast." The tree seemed to have this weird magnetic pull, like it was practically begging him to come closer.
Benjen clapped a reassuring hand on Jon's shoulder. "Aye, it is," he agreed quietly. "Just like the heart tree at Winterfell, this one has seen countless generations. It holds the memories of our ancestors and might have something to reveal to you."
Jon's curiosity and nerves were bouncing around like a pinball machine. "Okay, Jon, don't freak out. It's just a sentient tree that might download your family's darkest secrets straight into your brain. No big deal." He stepped closer, feeling the tree's presence enveloping him. It was like he was being wrapped in a warm, ancient blanket that whispered secrets straight into his soul. As he touched the rough bark, a tingling sensation surged through him, and he knew—this was just the beginning. "Alright, here we go. Please don't fry my brain, please don't fry my brain..."
The world around him spun into a dizzying vortex of light and shadow. "Whoa, okay, hold on, tree! I didn't sign up for the magical mystery tour—at least, not without a Dramamine first." When everything stopped spinning, Jon found himself in a dimly lit chamber, the air heavy with age and mystery. In the center of the room, tangled with the gnarled branches of a massive Weirwood Tree, sat an ancient figure. His body was almost part of the tree, and even though he looked weathered, his eyes had a sharp, eerie glow.
"Welcome, Jon Snow," the figure said, his voice rustling like leaves in a breeze. "I am the Three-Eyed Raven, keeper of ancient wisdom and the greenseers who came before me."
Jon's heart skipped a beat. "Wait, what? The Three-Eyed Raven? Like, the dude who's basically the Westerosi version of Professor X mixed with Doctor Strange? This is actually happening." He had heard the legends of the Three-Eyed Raven, this legendary figure who could see through time and space. And now, he was face to face with the actual legend.
"What... what do you want from me?" Jon asked, trying to keep his voice steady as he approached the mysterious figure. "Is this the part where I get my Hogwarts letter? Or maybe he's got some mind-blowing revelation to drop—like that time I found out Darth Vader was Luke's dad."
The Three-Eyed Raven fixed Jon with a penetrating stare. "I know what you are, Jon Snow," he said gravely. "You're not just Jon Snow. You're a soul from another world merged with Jon Snow's being, with extraordinary powers."
Jon's mind was racing faster than a roller coaster. "Oh, great, here we go with the 'chosen one' trope. At least he's acknowledging that I'm not really Jon Snow. Props for being genre-savvy, Mr. Raven." He'd suspected his journey was tied to something bigger, but hearing it from the Three-Eyed Raven made it all feel incredibly real. "You speak the truth," Jon admitted, his voice trembling. "I am not just Jon Snow. I am... something more." "And by 'something more,' I mean a confused teenager from the 21st century who has no idea how I ended up in this medieval death trap."
The Three-Eyed Raven's eyes seemed to burn with a deeper intensity. "Indeed," he said. "You have powers beyond mortal comprehension. The Old Gods have shown me the importance of your abilities in the battle against the darkness. They've given Jon Snow a loyal Direwolf, and now they want to give the other soul within you a special gift."
Jon listened, his excitement mingling with a tinge of apprehension. "Okay, so it's not a Hogwarts letter, but maybe it's something cool. Like, I don't know, a sword that shoots fire? Or a cloak that makes me invisible? No pressure, though." He'd always known his powers were meant for something big, but this was like a whole new level. "The Old Gods?" he echoed. "What gift are they talking about?"
The Three-Eyed Raven's eyes sparkled with an otherworldly light. "The gift is one of knowledge," he said. "A glimpse into the mysteries of the cosmos—secrets of the past, present, and future. With this gift, you'll be able to solve the mysteries of our world and uncover hidden truths."
Jon's heart raced at the thought. "Okay, not exactly what I was expecting. But hey, knowledge is power, right? Even if it comes with a side of existential dread." It sounded amazing, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something ominous was lurking. "And what do I need to do to get this gift?" he asked.
The Three-Eyed Raven's gaze was like a laser beam. "You must go to the cave beyond the Wall," he said, his voice filled with gravity. "There, within the cavern's depths, your gift awaits."
Jon nodded, determination solidifying. "Alright, quest accepted. A cave beyond the Wall sounds about as dangerous as it gets, but when has that ever stopped me? Oh right, it's stopped the original Jon Snow a few times. Note to self: Don't die before you get there." "I'll find this cave and get the gift," he promised.
The Three-Eyed Raven gave a slight nod. "Remember, Jon Snow, the fate of the realm is in your hands. Embrace your destiny and use your gifts wisely."
As the Three-Eyed Raven's words hung in the air, Jon felt himself being pulled back to the real world. "And we're back from the magical mystery tour! Next stop, crazy dangerous quest central." His mind buzzed with excitement and purpose, ready to tackle whatever challenges lay ahead. "Bring it on, Westeros. This time, I've got the spoilers and the cheat codes."
—
Jon's eyes shot open, dragging him out of the mind-bending whirlpool of visions he'd just experienced. He blinked up and saw Uncle Benjen's anxious face peering down at him. It was the kind of look that screamed, "You've been knocked out longer than expected," or maybe, "You just missed an epic 'previously on Westeros' montage."
"Jon, wake up," Benjen's voice was tinged with worry. "You've been out for a while. Are you okay?"
"Okay? Not sure about that, Uncle. I mean, I just got a VIP pass to the Westerosi Hall of Prophecies, courtesy of an ancient tree and its friendly neighborhood mystical birdman." But instead, Jon shook off the last echoes of his vision, pushing himself upright. His brain was still buzzing from that bizarre encounter with the Three-Eyed Raven. "I'm fine, Uncle," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Just had a... really weird dream." "More like a sneak preview of next season, but details, details."
Benjen's eyebrows knit together, but he didn't press for details. "Dreams can be powerful things," he said with a mysterious tone, offering Jon a hand up. "And also, pretty terrifying when they involve creepy old guys sprouting from trees." "Let's head back to Castle Black."
As Jon stood, the weight of his vision pressed down on him. "Not just a dream, nope. This was more like a cosmic breadcrumb trail, and I'm apparently the pigeon following it." He was determined to follow it, no matter how strange it seemed.
"Uncle Benjen," Jon called out, stopping his uncle in his tracks. "Is there a cave nearby?"
Benjen paused, giving Jon a curious look. "A cave? There are a few scattered beyond the Wall. There's one not too far from here, right at the edge of the Haunted Forest," he said, sounding thoughtful. "Why?" "Please don't say it's for a school project. That excuse doesn't work north of the Wall."
Jon hesitated. "How do you casually drop, 'Oh, just had a little chat with the Three-Eyed Raven, and he said the Old Gods left me a present in a cave'?" But Benjen had always been a mentor and a protector. "I had a vision," Jon said carefully. "The Old Gods told me to find a cave beyond the Wall. They said there's a gift waiting for me there."
Benjen's expression turned serious, curiosity piqued. "The Old Gods, you say?" he echoed, a touch of reverence in his voice. "Well then, it looks like we have a new destination."
"Awesome. Let's just hope the 'gift' isn't a one-way ticket to the Night King's doorstep." With a sense of purpose, Jon and Benjen set off deeper into the wilderness. Every step felt charged with anticipation. Whatever was waiting for him in that cave, it felt like a crucial piece of his destiny. "Or my fate. Or my doom. It's all the same thing in these stories, right?"
As they ventured further into the cave, their torches casting eerie shadows on the walls, they came upon a heartbreaking scene: a shadowcat, her once-sleek fur now a frozen mess, lay still on the cold stone floor. Her tiny cubs were scattered around her, frozen by the icy grip of winter. "And here I was hoping for treasure or, you know, something less traumatic. Thanks, Old Gods."
Jon's heart sank. He saw the lifeless cubs and then noticed one small, shivering survivor. Gently, he picked up the fragile creature, feeling its faint heartbeat against his palm. "We can't leave it here," Jon said softly, his voice resolute. "We'll take it with us and try to save it." "Because if I'm supposed to be the hero in this story, saving adorable animals is non-negotiable."
Benjen nodded, his gaze softening at the sight of the cub. Together, they moved through the cave, their footsteps echoing in the silence, carrying the weight of loss and the fragile hope of new life.
Jon cradled the tiny cub, feeling a deep sense of responsibility settle over him. "This is it. This is the 'gift.' No pressure, Jon—just take care of a magical, orphaned shadowcat and figure out how it fits into the big prophecy thing." He looked into the cub's dark eyes and knew—this was the gift the Old Gods had promised. "Midnight," Jon said gently, giving the cub its name. "That's what you'll be called." "And maybe, just maybe, you'll help me not get us both killed."
As Midnight nestled against him, Jon felt an unexpected connection. He closed his eyes, focusing on merging his consciousness with the cub's. Suddenly, he was plunged into Midnight's world—every twitch of fur, every flick of an ear. The darkness of the cave seemed to disappear, replaced by the sharp instincts and heightened senses of the shadowcat. "Whoa. Okay, this is cool. Like, really cool. It's like getting a free trial of Animorphs, except without the 90s fashion."
Jon's excitement surged as he embraced this new bond. He and Midnight were about to start an incredible journey, guided by ancient wisdom and a connection that went beyond the physical. With a renewed sense of purpose, Jon felt ready for whatever lay ahead, knowing that this was just the beginning of an epic adventure. "Alright, Westeros, let's see what you've got. I've got a shadowcat, a destiny, and a whole bunch of spoilers. Bring it on."
---
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