[Chapter Size: 2700 Words.]
Third Person POV
North, 90 AC.
It was the year 90 after Aegon's Conquest, Jaehaerys ruled alongside Queen Alysanne.
There were about 6 main princes alive, sons of the king and queen, besides the grandchildren who had been born.
Aemon Targaryen was the heir to the throne, having his only daughter at the time, who was marrying Corlys Velaryon that year.
The house of the dragon was powerful and stable at this moment, as the greatest concentrated force in the world, no one could deal with House Targaryen directly.
At the same time, the kingdoms were stable, the king was marked by a long reign without major conflicts, making Jaehaerys the best king Westeros had ever had up to that moment.
And while the kingdoms remained firm and stable, the great houses remained loyal to the throne, in the kingdom of the north, a certain event was happening at that moment, while a good region of the north was caught by a storm.
In the territory southeast of Winterfell, where the roads slanted to avoid hills that were beginning to rise gently and the wolf woods filled the entire western region, the wind howled like a fierce wolf for all who could hear.
The storm fell mercilessly. The rain bent with the wind and the thunder tore through the dark sky above, illuminating for brief moments before crashes were heard loud enough to frighten its witnesses.
It seemed that the old gods were enraged with something, many in the regions began to fear, but at that specific point, there were people more worried about something else than the storm itself.
Men advanced with difficulty through the mud and wet earth. Their feet slipped echoing through the dark night as they searched for shelter for them, or rather, for the woman one of them carried.
Her groan echoed, being carried by her husband, who held her in his arms, sliding against the rain lashed by the wind directly at them.
"I found a place!" Someone shouted ahead and a lightning bolt illuminated the path to a man pointing in the distance. They were already off the road, looking for a place among the trees.
"Ahhh." The man heard the woman's groan in his arms and ran toward the man.
"We're going!" he said, running as he could toward the place, while more lightning began to light up the sky.
He looked at his wife, able to hear her ragged breathing... Her hair was drenched, stuck to her pale face, and her groans, exhaustion, and laments that the child inside her was coming, were almost swallowed by the roar of the storm.
Her water had already broken. The labor had begun, and there was no shelter in sight. They had stopped to sleep that night, then the storm came without any warning, they were returning from Wintertown, in Stark territory after visiting some relatives.
And they had the misfortune of that night filling them with a storm and a sudden onset of labor. The child was supposed to be born on the next moon.
"Faster! Garren!" She moaned in pain as another thunderclap burst over their heads.
Her husband's hands that held her were trembling, from fear. He heard the people shouting, who were with him, his brother and his brother's wife. He moved forward looking ahead, toward the forest. Silent. Watching.
The man kept pointing forward. When he reached the spot his brother had told him to go to, they finally saw a natural shelter.
A tree with a trunk white as bone.
A heart tree...?
And a gigantic one. It must have been about 10 meters tall, while it stood beneath the rain without caring about it.
The red leaves fluttered in contrast against the gray and night sky. And in the center of the trunk, the carved face seemed to watch them with deep and eternal eyes.
A weirwood in the middle of nowhere...
They hesitated for only a second. All weirwoods were within the territories of Lords, used as a way to worship the old gods, they had never heard of a tree like that, in the middle of nowhere...
Had no one ever heard of this one before? But that did not matter now, the man saw his brother run there shouting for him, the rain did not fall heavily beneath it, the leaves were so full that the storm seemed not to happen under it, even though it was still a little damp.
Then he carried his pregnant wife there.
"Place her against the tree!" The woman, Garren's brother's wife, said.
"Careful Sarra, we must be respectful to the gods!" Garren's brother said.
"She is about to give birth, Roman, the gods will not care about that, Rowena needs a place to rest, she is going to give birth!" Sarra said and her husband nodded, returning to his brother who was adjusting Rowena against the tree.
Carefully, he placed his pregnant wife beneath the tree, protecting her as they could from the violent wind. Sarra spread the only dry cloak over her. She held Rowena's hands.
"Breath!" She helped Rowena settle better against the thick roots that were out of the ground.
The storm continued.
The face of the tree watched.
"Will she be fine? Will our child be fine, Sarra?" Garren asked worried.
"Relax, brother. Sarra knows what she's doing." Roman said to his younger brother.
"I know... cursed weather... Right now of all times." Garren muttered looking at the sky beyond the red branches as more lightning appeared in the sky.
They were so poor that they did not even have a tent, they were sleeping in the wagon under the open sky, when the storm came and the horses ran off with the wagon, and when they went after them, that was when Rowena's water broke and all of that began.
"You will do exactly what I tell you, understand, Rowena?" Sarra began giving instructions to the woman, who nodded tiredly to the other.
There, under the silent gaze of the old gods and of the two men, she began to push.
The woman arched her body against the thick roots of the weirwood.
A scream tore from her throat.
She began to push.
The raindrops, which had not yet ceased even beneath that tree, ran down her face mixed with tears, her fingers sinking into the soaked earth as pain coursed through the woman's body.
"Push!" Sarra ordered, kneeling between her legs, her hands steady despite the cold. "That's it… that's it!"
Seeing this, her husband went to Rowena and grabbed her hand, squeezing it.
"You can do it," he whispered, his voice almost lost beneath the thunder. "I'm here… I'm with you. Be strong. Just a little more. Our child will be born soon."
Another lightning bolt tore across the sky.
For an instant, the white light revealed the carved face on the trunk of the heart tree. And the sculpted eyes seemed to shine alive beneath the storm.
Then the darkness returned.
She screamed again and pushed.
Her body trembled, exhausted, but she did not stop. She looked tired, she looked like she was dying, Garren seemed frightened and Roman worried watching from a distance.
"Look at me," Garren said firmly. "Breathe… now push!"
Another flash lit up the forest, drawing grotesque shadows among the red leaves.
The seconds began to pass, then the minutes... and then they turned into hours.
Push after push.
Ragged breathing.
Cries muffled by the wind.
Garren stayed with his wife, Roman did what he could, but they were in total darkness, while Sarra remained beneath Rowena helping her.
"She seems weaker." Garren was worried about his wife.
"It's coming! Keep going! Don't stop!" Sarra said in a firm voice.
The storm did not cease for hours, but it began to weaken as dawn started to come to an end.
Rowena had been there for more than 8 hours, screaming among the roots of a sacred tree.
The wind lessened even more.
The rain became thin… then only a distant whisper among the red leaves of the weirwood.
On the horizon, to the east, a pale line began to cut through the darkness.
The sun was rising and a new day had finally arrived.
"I will look for the horses and the wagon." Roman said while no one said anything, giving himself an opening to go if they needed them.
"It's coming! He's finally coming!" Sarra said.
Rowena pushed again. Little by little, the baby began to emerge.
After hours and more hours of pain and lament, Rowena continued pushing, her body exhausted, her voice hoarse from so much screaming, but without giving up. She squeezed her husband's hand as if it were an anchor with each push she made, as she had been doing for the last hours.
"Now!" Sarra shouted. "One more time! Push!"
With one last scream, tearing through the silence that was forming after the storm, she pushed.
And then—
The cry of a baby echoed beneath the heart tree with only the 3 there.
It was a loud, alive and strong sound.
The husband fell to his knees, relief taking over his face as tears ran down his face watching the boy being lifted from between his wife's legs by his sister-in-law.
"We need clean cloths!" Sarra said, while holding the child with trembling hands.
"I want to see him." Rowena said almost like a whisper, she had no strength left.
And at that exact moment, something happened.
The weirwood began to glow.
Everyone immediately looked up, it was not something like fire or lightning. But like a soft and ancient light that seemed to pulse from within the white trunk. The carved face on the tree seemed almost… awake.
"What?!" Garren jumped back in fright, while Sarra almost did the same with the baby in her arms.
The light enveloped the newborn the instant he fully came into the world. Then, as suddenly as it began, the glow vanished.
Leaving only the cry of the child.
And the attentive silence of the forest.
Everyone was stunned.
The strange glow of the tree did not leave their minds, as if they had witnessed something that should not belong to the world of men.
But the father quickly turned his attention back to his son, after seeing his wife still frozen there, staring at the leaves.
He approached his sister-in-law, who also turned her attention to the baby, who opened his eyes to the light above him. He had a cloth not so wet, he handed it over so they could clean the newborn with that slightly damp fabric.
His hands trembled — no longer from the cold, but from emotion. "My son..." Garren declared, as he noticed for the first time his still half-closed eyes observing the world with tears from crying.
And then Garren and Sarra were surprised.
His eyes... They were like his mother's, green, but not exactly.
They were much brighter. An intense, vivid green, almost luminous under the soft light of dawn.
There was something deep there.
Even Sarra, who was holding the baby, hesitated for a second. She looked at the heart tree… then back at the child.
"By the old gods…" she murmured. "He is blessed."
The mother, still among the roots of the tree, exhausted, slightly lifted her head to see the child.
The father finally took the boy into his arms. The little one grabbed his finger almost immediately, with surprising firmness. The gesture drew an emotional laugh from the man, no longer caring about the eyes or the strange events of the tree.
"He is beautiful," Sarra said.
"So strong…" Garren spoke.
"My son..." Rowena's weak voice stirred Garren and he looked at her as she tried to see her son.
"Here... Our son." Garren approached her quickly. Kneeling at her side as he carefully placed the baby into her arms, wrapping him in the cloth.
"He has your hair..." Rowena smiled immediately, enchanted with the baby.
"And your eyes…" Garren said.
But they were more beautiful.
Much more.
The baby stopped crying, at that moment, he seemed tired, his eyes slowly closing. Rowena was motionless with her son...
"He is beautiful... ours." The mother said, with the child now resting on her chest, she exchanged a long look with her husband.
For a few moments, the world seemed smaller.
Just the three of them.
"The name…" she murmured, her voice low and tired. "We need to give him a name."
The husband remained silent for a moment, watching the newborn. The boy was strangely calm now, the green of his eyes only a faint gleam beneath his nearly closed lids.
It was at that moment that Roman returned with the wagon pulled by the 2 horses.
"I found them! There's still clean cloth here! Under the leather, they aren't wet!" He shouted triumphantly.
"You arrived at a good time, husband!" Sarra said, satisfied.
He stopped the horses nearby and climbed down to get the cloths. "So he was born! I was coming here, but I couldn't find the place, then I saw a light! What was that?" He asked, handing the cloths to his wife.
"You wouldn't believe me if I said we saw the heart tree glow?" She said in a tired tone.
"What?! What do you mean, glow?" He asked carefully.
"I'm telling you... Anyway, let's help the boy first." Sarra said and they approached the parents with the baby.
"Haha. He looks healthy, brother." Roman said to his younger brother.
"Yes... we are choosing a name for him." Garren said.
They had begun to whisper possible names. Old names of the North. Names of ancestors. Simple names, strong names. But none seemed to fit.
In any case, the dispute to choose a name for the boy stopped so they could continue getting organized.
They began to clean the baby with the dry cloths, as well as the mother, who was placed in the open wagon.
"The fruit kept in the bag, eat. You need to regain your strength." Garren said as Rowena took some of them to eat.
"Her bleeding has stopped... I've never seen a birth like this..." Sarra said with relief and quite impressed.
Garren sighed in relief, he had not lost his wife as happened in a good part of births in the North. He stayed with his brother beginning to guide the wagon with Sarra helping Rowena holding the baby in the wagon behind.
"Garren..." His wife's voice sounded as they returned to the road, moving toward Tallhart territory.
"Hm?" Garren looked back, worried, but only saw Rowena opening a smile.
"I know what we can call him..." She said, still in a weak tone. "Jon. We will call him Jon."
The husband was surprised, but opened a happy smile. "Jon..." He repeated.
"It is a good name, brother. A great name for my nephew!" Roman said beside Garren guiding the horses.
"Jon..." Garren repeated once more. For some reason… that was the proper name for that boy.
For a birth beneath a storm. For a child wrapped in the light of a weirwood.
"Then he will be Jon!" the father declared, with gentle firmness.
"Jon..." Sarra also said, satisfied, looking at the baby almost asleep. "The glow… of that tree... The old gods were watching that boy as well..."
Sarra believed that boy had been touched — or blessed — by the old gods.
'If this story spreads, there will be lines of northern women wanting their children to be born beneath sacred trees...' Sarra could not help but amuse herself with the thought.
She saw the boy's eyes open, he began to cry.
"He must be hungry, he needs to nurse." Sarra said to Rowena who brought the boy to one of her breasts.
In the end, all that chaos ended with a good outcome, the baby was alive and well. And they were returning home, even with almost everything still wet in the wagon, the sky seemed to forget that there had been a terrible storm the night before, with the day completely sunny.
Raccoon Here:
I will clarify a few points here -> I am not going to make this Jon Snow be born from the union of great houses, Rowena has Stark ancestry, since her grandmother was a Stark bastard. Other than that, I wanted Jon to begin among the common folk with a family, because he will build his legacy from scratch.
He does not need a prestigious birth lineage in this era, because he was already born with Targaryen and Stark blood, even though his parents have nothing to do with it, along with all his powers, which I classify as druid powers. He may even be able to transform into a Wolf and a Dragon like an animagus or something like that, but that will only happen when he returns to his prime as Jon Arctic.
I admit the premise still needs to mature, I am not sure if I should clarify this type of premise ->
1 - Jon lost the war, a second Long Night arose because the Night King returned, he gathered all the forces of the frozen continent in the far north of the world, two decades after he lost the war against Arctic, and acted on the other side of the world, descending upon the continent north of Yi-Ti and massacring humanity to create an even greater army to return and destroy a Westeros unified by Arctic in the west. The battle takes place in the Dothraki desert, all the peoples of the world are under Jon's command and advance against what amounts to 4 million dead. The battle lasts for days and in the end they die.
2 - Jon won the war and died of old age ruling the kingdom as best as he could, he even passed the throne to his grandchildren or great-grandchildren upon reaching 200 years of age. He devoted himself to creating new magical inventions for humanity, in that era they had magical ships, airships in the sky. Winged animals that flew across the heavens, large enough to be ridden by people. There was no more hunger or war in the world. It was a Final Fantasy-style world, but without technology, people used magical artifacts created with ancient runes that Jon developed for the world, making everyday life easier.
I know it is a little outside of Game of Thrones, but I think it would be good to end the story with a new world being created with the knowledge Jon had in the other timeline and he lived for more than 250 years, so I think that would be plausible. Magic could only be used through runes by people who had some ability. Creating fireballs, snowstorms, only Jon could truly do that and his children as well, but on a smaller scale.
But upon dying, he was taken to a different world by the gods, they knew that this world was destined for destruction, with that world's future Jon Snow failing in the war that happened in canon. So the gods send him to a parallel world of his own, to prepare humanity for what was to come.