Chapter 5

Eddard Stark was just as Jon remembered him, only a little older. His arrival at Winterfell two days ago had been a bittersweet return. He had been received with all the courtesies due to a son of House Stark, despite his status as a bastard. He had spent time catching up with his brothers and sisters, especially with Robb, Arya, Bran, and little Rickon, though the latter was still very young. Sansa, although happy for his return, had not spoken much to him. Jon understood her reasons; Lady Stark had always tried to instill her distrust of him in her children, and Sansa had been the most faithful to that teaching.

Now, two days later, he found himself in his father's Solar. Since his arrival, they had not had many opportunities to talk, as the Lord of Winterfell had been busy with his duties. Jon watched his father in silence as he poured wine into two cups, feeling the mix of respect and distance that had always marked their relationship.

"You've grown a lot, son," was the first thing his father said, with a slight smile that barely softened his stern face. "Howland's letters speak highly of you and your performance. How did you feel in the Neck? Were you well received?"

Jon took a sip of his wine before answering, recalling his days at Greywater Watch.

"It was an enlightening experience," Jon replied, carefully choosing his words. "Life in the Neck is... different. At first, it was difficult to adapt, but Lord Reed was very kind and helped me feel at home."

Eddard nodded, as if expecting that response, then added:

"I heard you get along well with his children."

Jon smiled slightly, thinking of the Reeds.

"Yes, well. Lord Jojen is a curious boy, though we didn't talk much. But the few times we did, he was very courteous. And Lady Meera... she is not like any other lady I have known before. She's different, but not in a bad way, just different."

Eddard watched his son with a glimmer in his eyes that Jon couldn't fully decipher.

"Yes, Meera. I heard what happened during your first year at Greywater. I'm proud of you."

Jon felt his body tense for a moment, but he managed to relax before responding, aware of his father's gaze.

"Yes, well, things got out of hand."

Eddard looked at him with soft eyes, filled with an understanding that almost hurt.

"Yes, but it was necessary."

Silence settled between them, a silence full of unspoken things. Jon knew there were many questions his father was not asking, and he felt grateful for it. Finally, Eddard spoke again.

"I've heard news of your feats. From the Neck to Bear Island, and more recently at the Wall... you've certainly had your share of adventures," he sighed, his voice laden with pride. "You've worried me, I can't lie, but I'm proud to call you my son."

Jon felt a smile tugging at his lips, a warmth unknown in his chest.

"I swear none of it was planned."

Eddard smiled, amused, as if he saw the child Jon once was.

"I believe it. Now, tell me how you came to receive the Valyrian sword from Lord Commander Mormont. I've heard the story, but I'd like to hear it from you."

There were many things to talk about, but Jon noticed that his father omitted any mention of his "strange abilities," and that was fine with him. With a sigh, he began to recount his story.

"Well, it all started when I arrived at the Wall..."

---

The small peasant village burned. Brutal men massacred the inhabitants without mercy. Women, children, the elderly; no one was spared from the cruelty of Tywin Lannister's dogs. The Mountain, a colossal beast that spread terror through the Riverlands, burned and looted everything in his path, enjoying the destruction he caused.

Smoke and screams filled the air, creating an atmosphere of despair. In the midst of the chaos, a young woman watched in horror as her father was impaled like a pig and tossed aside. The killer looked at her, a cruel smile devoid of humanity curving his lips.

"Well, now that the nuisance is gone. Where were we?" he said, licking his lips with disgusting lasciviousness.

From above, a raven watched the scene with cold, white eyes. Further away, with a gasp, Jon Snow regained consciousness in his body and roared in fury. Ghost, sensing his master's anger, howled in response.

Jon's eyes burned with overwhelming fury.

"We're close," he muttered, his words filled with unyielding determination. "But not close enough."

He stood up with quick movements, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and headed toward his horse, which awaited him a few meters away. Without wasting time, he mounted and spurred the animal, eager to reach the camp.

---

"To the old lion!" exclaimed a Lannister soldier, drunk and euphoric, as he raised his cup. The other soldiers of Gregor Clegane echoed him with laughter and cheers, repeating "To the old lion!" over and over again. Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, grunted as he devoured a piece of venison, indifferent to the commotion around him.

Jared, an old soldier, watched the celebration with a crooked smile, already drunk on cheap wine. He had had a good haul that day, and the memory of the river women he had violated made him laugh to himself. Feeling the urge to urinate, he stood up unsteadily and ventured into the woods to find a suitable spot. He untied the strings of his trousers and began to relieve himself, unaware of the danger lurking in the darkness.

The last thing he saw were a pair of red eyes shining in the gloom before a white blur pounced on him.

Ghost's howl echoed through the camp, but the soldiers, lost in their revelry, barely paid attention. One of them, annoyed by the sound, shouted:

"Get out of here, damn animal!"

The raven that had perched nearby moments earlier began cawing uncontrollably. When the man looked up, his eyes widened as he saw a tree branch covered by dozens of ravens, all watching in silence, their black feathers blending with the darkness of the forest.

"What the hell...?" he muttered, stunned, when a sudden gust of wind extinguished the torches and campfires. A chilling cold swept through the camp, making the soldiers shiver involuntarily. Suddenly, no one was laughing.

In the darkness, a white blur moved among the shadows, and the screams began to echo through the camp. A young soldier, terrified, drew his sword, but it was in vain. Hands emerged from the shadows, grabbed his head, and with a quick motion, snapped his neck.

Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, drew his sword, his eyes filled with fury as he prepared to fight. He didn't expect to be pushed back with such force that his body slammed violently against a tree. A groan of pain escaped his lips.

"I've been looking for you for a long time, Ser Clegane."

Jon Snow's icy voice echoed in the Mountain's ears, overpowering the screams of the soldiers being massacred by the wolves. The cloud that covered the moon moved aside, and the moonlight illuminated the camp, revealing Jon, with his eyes glowing an intense red, standing in front of the Mountain.

Behind Jon, a pack of wolves, led by a huge white wolf, tore through Clegane's men without mercy. The Mountain roared in fury and stood up, swinging his sword in a strike intended to cleave Jon in two. But Jon reacted immediately, stopping the attack with his own sword.

A common man would have been knocked down, his sword shattered by the impact. But Jon was no common man.

To the Mountain's incredulous rage, his great sword shattered. Jon didn't let him react and delivered a powerful blow to the Mountain's chest. The Mountain roared in pain. Gregor Clegane was a formidable fighter, with unmatched brute strength.

Jon struck him directly in the face, and the Mountain's vision blurred as he fell backward to the ground.

"I usually hold back in my fights, but with you, I won't do so, not even a little."

Like a wolf, Jon stalked his prey.

The Mountain tried to get up, but Jon prevented him by placing his foot on Clegane's chest, pressing down hard, making him groan in pain.

"How does it feel, Clegane? How does that feeling of helplessness feel? That weakness..."

He pressed down harder.

"You'll pay with blood for everything you've done... I'll make sure of it."

That night, the howls of the wolves echoed through the entire forest.