[Chapter Size: 2500 Words.]
Third Person POV
North, 95 AC.
The hunt had not been as enjoyable as they had imagined.
One moment, they were going after an adult moose; the next, trying to survive against a monster that had apparently appeared out of nowhere.
The horses were still trembling as they returned along the path they had come from. It almost didn't feel real to them anymore.
Three guards had been killed: one Tallhart and two Stark. Their bodies were being carried over the horses, wrapped in cloth. They had found the corpses a little away from the area, since the bear would catch them by dragging them through the forest, killing them by mauling their bodies and then changing position to try to attack again by surprise from another side.
Alaric's son, Edric Tallhart, had a broken arm after being struck by the bear.
The damned bear was far too treacherous.
Benjen Stark had never seen anything like it. When he asked Alaric Tallhart — who was always telling stories about his adventures with his father, the former Lord Stark — Tallhart himself also said he had never seen anything like it.
The bear was gigantic, larger than any they had ever encountered. And the beast was tactical when hunting. Some might even say it was intelligent.
'The boy had warned them.' Those words would not leave Lord Stark's mind.
The boy was being carried in a small cart they had brought to transport the carcasses of the hunt. Now it was where the unconscious boy was being taken, along with his wounded wolf.
If someone asked what had really happened in the end and how they had survived against that monster, they would hear several versions.
Some said that when they had fallen to the ground and suddenly saw the white wolf challenging the giant bear while being wounded in a fierce battle between the two beasts — and that afterward the boy, enraged, had shouted at the bear when he saw his wolf being hurt. It fled the moment the boy shouted at it, now how a child had power over a beast like that, no one could say...
Others said it was the wolf itself that had almost killed the bear.
Some claimed it had been the gods themselves who had driven the creature away.
Benjen Stark merely snarled when he heard those confused versions.
After all, there was no reason for the bear to simply flee after knocking them down, when everyone there would have been easy prey.
In any case, the only concrete evidence was clear: a gravely wounded wolf and a fainted boy who had fallen in the middle of the chaos.
Benjen Stark swore he had seen the boy shout at the bear before it fled… but now he was unconscious in the cart to ask.
His father, Garren, was not only worried but deeply disturbed. He stayed by his son the entire time, never taking his eyes off him — nor the wolf.
He did not know if Ghost would survive.
They tried to stop the bleeding from the deep bite the black bear had left near the neck of the white wolf, but there was not much that could be done there with those wounds still open.
Most likely, the wolf would die.
At least the boy seemed out of danger.
He hoped it would continue like this.
The boy might not have held a bow or wielded a sword, but he had been fundamental — together with his wolf — for everyone there to survive.
And whatever had happened in that moment… whatever the boy had done…
Benjen Stark was certain of one thing.
Without him, everyone there would probably be dead.
"If we were in Winterfell, the wolf would be treated," Benjen commented, breaking the group's silence.
"The boy will certainly be sad when he learns what happened to his wolf," Lord Tallhart commented, also worried.
"Well, unfortunately there's not much more we can do. But we'll try to compensate them somehow," said Benjen Stark.
Tallhart agreed.
"I would like to send a maester from the castle immediately, but I can't do that with so many nobles present at Edric's wedding," he said with a dissatisfied tone.
"Do it after we leave the place. We'll send a maester or a healer. I want the boy to be treated," said Lord Stark.
Alaric Tallhart nodded.
Meanwhile, they continued on their way back.
Rowena was with her son Sam, planting some flowers, when the cavalry arrived. She immediately looked happy and began to approach.
But when she began to see the state of the men and could not find Jon anywhere — only her husband with a disturbed look — her heart tightened.
"Where is Jon?" she exclaimed.
Rowena passed by the riders and went to Garren.
He dismounted and walked to the cart. Rowena followed behind him and saw her son lying there… and the wounded wolf, with blood spread all over his white fur.
"No!" she screamed.
"He's fine. At least his pulse is stable… but the wolf was caught by a very large bear, the biggest I've ever seen..." said Garren, almost voiceless.
He picked up Ghost carefully and carried him to a small cabin outside the house, placing him over the hay.
Lord Stark and Lord Tallhart watched everything in silence.
"Here," said Benjen Stark. "I'll send a maester. But if I can get a healer too, that should help." He handed over a pouch with at least five gold coins.
"My lord, it's too much," said Garren immediately, trying to refuse. That was too much money.
But Lord Tallhart shook his head. "This is for your son helping save our lives. The lives of our sons… and of our men."
In the end, Garren accepted.
Jon was taken inside the house. No one managed to say much. Certainly the family would have their own problems now.
But then Benjen Stark remembered something. "May I see the tree the boy mentioned earlier?"
Garren simply nodded, without resistance. He did not even seem fully present.
Even so, he led the men to the back of the house.
There, they saw the small weirwood.
"You said it was born out of nowhere?" Benjen asked, suspicious.
It was a simple question, after all, no weirwood is born out of nowhere. And they did not even have records of when the last sprout had appeared.
"I'm telling you, my lord. It appeared during the winter. Neither I, nor Rowena, nor my children can say how. It simply started to grow."
Benjen remained silent for a few seconds. "All right." He sighed.
"I'm sorry for what happened, lad. A lot happened because of this hunt. I hope your son wakes up well… and that his wolf survives."
He looked again at the tree.
"I am a Stark. A man who saw the end of the direwolves when they reappeared from the south. I am cursed, I believe..."
His voice carried a tone of lament. Even for a man like him, that seemed like a heavy loss.
"Don't say that. You had no fault in any of this," Garren said to Lord Stark.
But Benjen did not seem to agree. He nodded and returned to the group, but not without continuing to look at the half-sunken ship...
"It's over..." Lord Tallhart commented, but that irritated Benjen.
"How can you say that? I may very well have cursed our family, Lord Tallhart. It was because of my search for this hunt that we came here and perhaps lost the only direwolf in the south in hundreds of years."
He spoke dejectedly before turning his attention to Garren, who did not dare say anything. "Your son has Stark blood," Benjen began.
Those words alone made Garren shudder. "What... what does the Lord of the North mean by that?" he asked cautiously.
"We Starks always take care of one another, regardless of whether the blood comes from a distant branch or not," Benjen replied. "That is why, lad... I would like that, in a few years — perhaps when he has eight or ten namedays — I could adopt the boy and take him to Winterfell, to be raised together with my sons."
Garren was completely shocked.
His son being invited to live in a castle.
None other than Winterfell.
"Are you certain, my lord?" Alaric Tallhart asked, surprised. It seemed unthinkable. "To be raised together with your sons? Something like that does not happen. Perhaps the boy could show enough intelligence to become a maester one day... but to be raised in a castle, with the most powerful lord in the North..."
"I am serious, lad," Benjen said. "I like the boy. I think he would be a good addition in Winterfell. I will take care of him as I take care of all my sons."
He continued:
"He will learn how to comport himself, receive the basic education of any noble, and will also have military training."
As he said those words, the group behind him did not fail to show surprise at the proposal.
"Are you sure, brother?" one of Benjen's brothers asked.
Benjen did not answer. That alone was enough of a response for them to know he was serious.
But seeing Garren's confused face, Benjen continued:
"I know this is sudden. I met the boy today, but I already realized he was special from the moment I heard about him. I am certain he will accomplish incredible things one day." He gave a small smile.
"And I only want to prepare him for that. After all, he will carry the name of the North with him. And if one day he decides to make his name in the south, I do not want him to make us northerners look like fools."
After that, the group began to leave the farm, saying their farewells.
Garren was still stunned. The gold he had received weighed in his hand, and he knew he would have to speak with his brother urgently.
He walked over to the wolf.
Ghost was breathing with difficulty.
Rowena was inside the house with Jon in the bedroom, but Garren could not stop worrying about the wolf. Jon seemed fine… but if he knew the state Ghost was in, Garren did not know how his son would react.
And it would not be good.
Perhaps it would become even worse than it already was.
He did not want to see his sweet boy desperate as he watched the wolf die.
At that moment, Sam appeared at the door, crying. "Dad... will he live?" the boy asked, stumbling over his words as he sniffled.
"I hope so, son. Let's go see your brother."
Garren said that before going to the other room. Sam followed him, still crying. The boy was also very attached to his older brother's wolf.
Rowena was there, crying. Her clothes were a little dirty because of the soil, but she remained beside the bed, looking at Jon lying there. He seemed restless, as if he were having troubled dreams.
Garren simply sighed.
There was nothing more to be done.
Now all that remained was to wait for Jon to wake up… and then tell him that his wolf was gravely wounded.
Even so, Garren wanted to do something. That was why he began to prepare himself to go to the town.
Before leaving, however, Lord Stark gave his son one last look.
He wondered how his father would react if he discovered it at that moment.
Then he turned, went to get his horse, and departed — perhaps for his brother's house, perhaps for the village.
Meanwhile, Jon was having a dream.
A strange dream.
Disturbing.
Something he had never seen before.
He found himself inside a large room. The place was organized and extremely luxurious. There were several men there, all well dressed.
But some things there were strange. Besides the amount of things on the table that Jon had never seen before. Gold in all kinds of cups and jars.
Among them there was a gigantic man, nearly four meters tall, standing at one corner of the table, but well dressed.
There was also a man as small as a child, but extremely robust, full of muscles and with a fierce look.
And there was another creature Jon could barely describe. It was a girl… but her skin seemed to be made of leaves or tree...
She watched him with curiosity.
There were also human adults there — a woman and some men, one of them quite old.
Jon felt everyone's gaze turn toward him.
When he looked at his hands, he realized something even stranger.
He could not control his own body.
And he was taller than he should be.
Then he heard his own voice.
But it was not the voice of a boy.
It was older. Firmer. A voice of authority.
"Tell me what the news is."
One of the men stepped forward. "My king, the threat of the Dothraki is real. Khal Drogo threatens to attack every city we do business with because you took Princess Daenerys from him."
Jon — or that older version of himself — hardened his gaze.
The boy within the dream could feel the anger coming from that adult version.
"Very well, I have already thought about that," said the voice of the adult Jon. "Then we will begin our military campaign in the Dothraki Sea. Something I had already intended to do for some time."
He continued:
"It is time to begin our first great campaign. We will take the greatest army we have ever assembled and march to Essos."
"Are you certain, Your Majesty?" one of the men asked cautiously.
"I doubt that this Khal Drogo will stop with only a few threats," the adult Jon's voice continued. "We will simply enter Essos, eliminate everyone who stands in our path between here and Vaes Dothraki… and then we will deal with Drogo."
With those words, he simply turned away.
Everyone present nodded. No one protested.
The young Jon saw his adult version walk toward a huge window, in a very high place.
When he looked outside, he saw something that left him completely astonished.
A gigantic city stretched out before him.
In front of it there was a massive white castle… and beside it, a colossal tree with red leaves.
The small version of Jon could not help but stare in amazement.
He had never heard of a place like that.
The tree was so enormous that it made the buildings and houses around it look as small as ants.
Jon had never seen a city before. What he saw now seemed to stretch to the horizon: streets, houses, people moving everywhere.
A living and bustling city.
He did not even know something like that could exist.
And he had never seen a castle.
But that white castle was immense.
It seemed that he was still in his world… but at the same time everything was completely different.
The only question that passed through the young Jon's mind was:
Where was he?
And why was he having such a strange dream?
The next moment, the dream disappeared.
And he woke up.