[Chapter Size: 2500 Words.]
Third Person POV
North, 98 AC.
"Further north lies the Wall, where the Night's Watch protects the Seven Kingdoms from wildlings and other darker things, according to the legends, boy," said the young man, Rodrik Stark, the older brother of Lord Stark, while Jon was mounted on Ghost riding with them, listening about the North.
They had just left the last hearth to talk about the Wall and the Night's Watch.
"I know that story. About the White Walkers... the Wall was built precisely to protect the realm from the Long Night, Bran the Builder created it in the War for the Dawn!", Jon said firmly, bringing a smile to the Stark, who seemed proud as he boasted about the North.
Even Lord Stark, who was riding in silence alongside his men, did not fail to glance sideways at the boy.
"Well, it seems you know about it! It is certainly a Northern legend. Did you read that in that book of legends?" he asked curiously.
Jon thought for a moment. "There is some information about the Long Night there, as well as the construction of the Wall, obviously, but they are very vague. They do not have much information about the White Walkers... but I know. I once had a dream about them," Jon said with some firmness.
"Oh, did you? You dreamed about them?" Rodrik Stark's eyebrow lifted as he looked at his older brother, who remained silent, observing.
"I'm telling you... it was a nightmare, but still, a dream. I dreamed about them. I dreamed that I was fighting them!"
Jon had enough intelligence to realize that the Stark in front of him was trying not to laugh at him, finding his claim absurd. But he had truly experienced that — or at least dreamed it. He would not be called a liar. He remembered that dream very well. Even though it had only happened once, it was a horrible nightmare that made him run into his mother's arms. He did not even have the courage to tell her about that nightmare.
He dreamed of those evil creatures while facing some of them. His army was strange — he had no control over his body in the dream while fighting the creatures, but he could see everything. In the dream, Jon wanted to be anywhere but there. But there was nothing he could do except witness all of that.
"You fought them, right? Tell me, what are they like then? I would very much like to hear," another brother of Lord Stark, Walton Stark, approached, curious.
"Well..." Jon seemed to hesitate a little, but soon began to speak. "...they have skin as pale as ice, they wear frozen armor, they do not have much hair — and when they do, it is white. Their eyes are brighter than the bluest sky..." Jon thought for a moment before continuing. "They also use frozen weapons, spears and swords. They break any material that is not Valyrian steel," Jon said, while the group fell silent this time. That did not seem like something a child would make up...
"But those are the commanders. Their soldiers are the dead who rise again throughout the battles, killing animals, men, women, and children. They do not eat, do not sleep or rest — they only obey their master. It is a kind of necromancy. Each White Walker has their own... and they can also summon ice storms," he finished.
As he looked to the side, he saw the entire group staring at him — some surprised, others stunned and cautious, some serious. The Starks and the soldiers watched the boy, until suddenly, someone broke the silence, starting to laugh.
"HAHAHAHA!!! Well, that is certainly a good explanation... better than what they usually tell in the Wintertown square, especially coming from an 8-year-old child," Rodrik Stark began to laugh, and the rest of the group also seemed to relax a little.
"I'm not lying!", Jon protested, but that only made some laugh even more.
Jon pouted, lowering his head. His eyes went to Lord Stark, who looked at him. He did not seem to be laughing at him, but he did not seem to agree either — he only observed him with a serious look, studying Jon.
Jon knew he had to show respect to the Starks, but certainly some of them irritated him, like Rodrik. The latter began to boast, saying he would put that into a book and store it in the Winterfell library, replacing the information the library had before hearing it from the boy.
"Stop bothering him," Benjen Stark said at a certain moment, in a firm tone, making his brother stiffen and stop insisting, leaving Jon alone.
Jon was still a little irritated at being treated like someone who only made up stories. He knew he had said too much. He should not have said anything. His parents had always told him not to speak of his dreams unless it was extremely necessary.
Jon knew that — he did not even tell everything to his parents. They had already been quite frightened when, suddenly, he spoke about having traveled to Sunspear, in Dorne, or entering Volantis, or even venturing into Valyria and the Dothraki Sea.
The places Jon described were impossible for him to know, but he spoke as if he had truly lived through them in his dreams.
"Well... it seems we have finally arrived," Lord Stark looked at the scout's signal ahead of the hill and announced.
They moved forward until they reached the top, and the great city of Winterfell was seen by the entire group.
Jon could not help but widen his eyes, surprised by its size. "It is so big!", he shouted, excited.
Everyone seemed to agree with him. The city had more than 50,000 inhabitants and did not fall behind any other city in the North. Not even White Harbor, which was very active in trade, but did not have more than 30,000 inhabitants in the port city.
The North did not have many large cities — its climate did not favor urban life as much as in the south of the Seven Kingdoms. Many people also migrated to the South in search of opportunities. Even so, the North was populous, with millions of inhabitants spread mainly in villages and farms scattered everywhere.
But for Jon, seeing that up close made his small village seem insignificant compared to the enormous city before him. Jon could not contain his excitement.
"Look at this, Ghost... this is one of the great cities!", he said.
In the distance, he could see the massive castle of Winterfell, and he opened a wide smile, his eyes shining.
Even Ghost let out one of his rare barks. He was not mute — just very quiet — but he knew how to growl, bark, and howl when necessary.
Jon could not stop looking at the city and at Winterfell, comparing it to his dreams. He also could not help but notice how different it was — whether because of the shape of the houses or because it seemed much smaller. Even so, despite being smaller than in his dreams, seeing it in person gave him the feeling that it was more real than ever, and not just a dream, a vision, or imagination.
"Let's go," Benjen said, and soon the group moved on.
City guards approached, spoke with the Stark, and then moved ahead again, announcing the lord's arrival, while the streets were cleared so that he and his group could pass.
There was no grand event, but many people liked to watch him. Nobles, especially — the lord who commanded the entire North. It was normal. Even if many did not care that much, since seeing Lord Stark was something common in Wintertown, still many stopped to see him.
However, this day was different, what truly shocked everyone there was when Jon entered the city along with the group.
The enormous direwolf, the size of a horse, stood out — not only because of its size, but also because of its pure white fur like snow, contrasting with the brown and yellowish horses of the group.
"What is that? A monster?", people murmured.
Jon watched, feeling awkward as he saw the looks as if they were seeing something they did not understand. Ghost continued without caring, but Jon seemed a little intimidated.
"Relax, they have never seen a giant wolf before," Benjen said to Jon when he saw the boy a little frightened by so many people looking at him, compared to the village, this was much bigger!
"It's him... it's the boy everyone is talking about...", the whispers began.
"Lord Stark brought him to Winterfell... that must be it."
The people who previously did not care much about Lord Stark's passing soon joined the growing crowd upon hearing about a direwolf — a legendary creature — walking through the city as the mount of an eight-year-old boy.
People were enchanted and frightened. Jon grew a little worried, while Ghost stared at everyone with his red eyes, making many step back just by meeting the wolf's gaze.
Jon also saw people pointing at him, commenting on his appearance — probably his eyes — as they talked about him.
But among all those people, something caught his attention, he raised his head in that direction.
He saw a pair of lilac eyes staring at him intently.
Jon also fixed his gaze on the middle-aged woman, who wore a hood but had her face visible. Her eyes were very strange — he had never seen that color... not outside of his dreams.
Somehow, he felt that he had seen her before.
The woman gave him a smile directly. Jon could not look away. There was something in that smile — a tenderness that felt familiar to him.
Jon kept looking at her until, little by little, she disappeared before they reached the end of the city.
"Well, it is good that the people of the North already know you, boy," Benjen said, smiling.
"Did you see their faces, brother? That was well worth it," Rodrik Stark commented, laughing.
"Yes... it is not every day that the North receives a direwolf after hundreds of years without seeing them south of the Wall. And that one is among the largest ever recorded," Benjen commented, looking at Ghost as they headed toward the gates of Winterfell.
More soldiers approached, greeting the Starks and informing them that everyone was already waiting in the courtyard. Even so, they did not fail to cast cautious glances at the giant wolf. Even their horses, which were not as accustomed as the group's horses — who had traveled for days with the wolf — seemed ready to startle and flee from there.
"Come. My family is waiting for us." With those words, they headed toward the gate.
"Lord Stark..." Jon called, still dwelling on something, to the point of ignoring the reactions around him. He gathered courage and turned to the lord.
"Speak, boy," he looked at the child.
"I saw a woman with purple eyes, among the people of Winterfell... who was she?", Jon asked.
Lord Stark could not help but give a small smile. "Ah... you already noticed. She is the one your father asked me to introduce to you. She is the only one in Winterfell who has that eye color, so it was easy to know who she was..."
"Really? Who is she?", Jon asked.
"She is your grandmother. Your father's and your uncle's mother."
Jon raised an eyebrow, but he was not as surprised as Lord Stark expected.
He had already connected the woman to his father. When he saw her, he felt that she resembled someone a lot — and then he realized: she had a face very similar to Uncle Roman's. That expression... it was the same. And no one looked at him with so much tenderness and surprise at the same time.
Even so, Jon opened a smile. He wanted to meet her. "When can I see her?", he asked, excited.
"In the next few days. Let me arrange your things in Winterfell, and I will ask someone to take you to her. But I would not be surprised if she comes to the gates of Winterfell looking for you soon as well," he replied.
Jon nodded.
As they crossed the entrance of Winterfell, his attention soon turned forward when he saw the enormous castle, with a large courtyard stretching out before them. There, many people were gathered.
The soldiers who were with the group began to move away, leaving only Lord Stark, his brothers, and Jon, who did not know what to do — whether he should go back or stay.
A touch on his shoulder made him look to the side. It was Lord Stark's younger brother, Walton Stark.
"Stay with us. You are a guest now," he said in a gentle tone. Walton Stark was more friendly than the other brother.
Jon nodded, while observing everyone's reaction to the giant wolf.
He could see two children looking at him with a sparkle in their eyes, enchanted by the giant. There was also a girl, half their age, shouting excitedly. She was also a Stark, while the woman trying to hold her looked at the giant wolf with some caution and fear.
Lord Stark was the first to dismount from his horse, and his brothers followed shortly after. Jon stopped at a certain distance. He knew the woman would not feel very comfortable if he got any closer with Ghost, given the cautious look she was giving the wolf.
Even so, he did not fail to observe the other men. There were stags on the banner, a man whom Jon recognized as the maester, staring at him with fascination, and also a man in front of the guards — probably the master-at-arms of Winterfell, as the Stark brothers had told him during the journey.
"Come on, Ghost... let's lower ourselves. Lie down and make a friendly face," Jon whispered to the wolf.
Ghost lowered himself slowly, allowing Jon to climb down from his back. Then the wolf settled, lying on his side, with his paws in front and his tongue out, removing any fierce look he would naturally have.
It was a trick Jon had taught him, so as not to scare the people of the village where he lived — making him look like just a big friendly dog, instead of a wolf capable of devouring a man with a few bites.
It worked.
Jon could see the woman relaxing, while the girl almost ran toward the wolf, until her father said something to hold her back. The other children still looked curious and cautious, but they were already beginning to smile at Ghost.
Even the people in the courtyard relaxed a lot with the wolf's posture.
Jon touched Ghost's head, rubbing it affectionately, smiling, before looking ahead and seeing Lord Stark watching him along with the others.
"Come, boy. Meet my family," he called.
Jon finally moved forward. After Lord Stark and his brothers greeted everyone, it was his turn to be introduced to the most powerful family in the North.
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