Game of Thrones: The Dragonborn - Chapter 57 - Jon Snow is Alive.

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Third Person POV.
Winterfell.

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Things were not easy in Winterfell after Jon left. An hour passed, and Lady Catelyn’s absence from the sept began to be noticed due to her daily prayers. Even so, the septa assumed Lady Catelyn was occupied with something now that her husband would be leaving in the coming days.

However, when Maester Luwin went to deliver some documents to Lord Stark in his solar, he noticed the absence of guards, which was strange. After all, even if Lord Stark left the room, some security should remain to guard his solar, especially with visitors in Winterfell—someone could steal important documents.

Despite finding it odd, Luwin needed to deliver some documents brought by the ravens and have Lord Stark review them later. When he opened the door, he was met with a disconcerting sight: Lady Catelyn and two guards, one of them Jory, the leader of the guard, lying on the ground near the door, and another body behind the desk—it was none other than Lord Stark.

“This...” The first thought that crossed the Maester’s mind was that they were all dead, victims of some assassination. His heart raced as he hurried to check the nearest bodies, glancing nervously at Lady Catelyn.

“She’s alive and well...” He sighed in relief upon checking her pulse and finding no injuries on the Lady of Winterfell, though her face bore a reddish mark in the shape of a hand.

“She was slapped... Who would do this? And they must have been strong enough to knock her unconscious with it...” he murmured, inspecting the guards. Both showed signs of physical attacks delivered with considerable force. He hoped there were no lasting injuries—despite no blades being used, punches could cause fractured bones and internal trauma. He would examine them more thoroughly later.

The last body to check was Lord Stark’s. He appeared to have been thrown against the wall, where a mark over two meters high indicated the impact. It was the most bizarre thing Luwin had ever seen.

“How is this possible...?” he muttered, stunned. It seemed as if some kind of monster had thrown his lord against the wall.

Seeking answers, he attempted to wake them, hoping they were conscious despite their injuries.

“My lord... can you hear me?” He began shaking Lord Stark gently, who responded after several attempts.

“Hm...” A faint groan escaped his lips as Lord Stark blinked his eyes open, wincing from the throbbing pain in his head and back after hitting the wall.

“My lord... Are you all right?” Luwin murmured, studying him.

“Luwin... Hm?! Jon?! Where is he?” Lord Stark’s words came out with urgency the moment he could speak.

“Jon... Lord Stark... Can you tell me what happened here? Everyone is unconscious with severe injuries...” Luwin said, looking at him with concern.

“I...” Lord Stark tried to recall, images flashing in his mind of being lifted into the air by Jon—a Jon older than he could have imagined, with abilities he didn’t understand and that even frightened him. His nephew’s words about intending to start a war haunted him, something Stark could not allow to happen.

“First, I need to know how Cat is!” His gaze fell on his wife. Luwin said no more and went to check on Lady Catelyn, while Lord Stark began to rise on his own despite the pain.

She woke up even more hysterical than anyone else. “Ned! That bastard hit me!” she exclaimed with fury and hysteria, feeling her face burning from the slap, unable to believe that the bastard had raised his hand against her so easily.

“Calm yourself, Cat. First, we need to find out where Jon is,” Ned said as Luwin finished waking up the other two guards.

“I’ll speak with my wife. Jory, summon all the men in Winterfell and search for this man called Dovahkiin!” Lord Stark ordered immediately, and Jory left, still feeling uncomfortable from the blow he had received.

At that moment, the castle of Winterfell descended into chaos with the news that Lord Stark and his wife had been attacked, leaving everyone stunned.

“He did what?!” Arya murmured, shocked that the man who had helped her had struck her parents just moments earlier.

“Arya, I need to know what happened. You were seen with him at the stables, according to what Hodor’s grandmother said, and Hodor himself saw him stealing a horse,” Ned inquired. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jon had hurt Arya after learning he had spoken with her following the attack, but it didn’t seem to be the case. At least Arya didn’t appear to be involved in Jon’s declared personal vendetta.

“He... I found him in the stable saddling a horse. He said he was stealing it and told me to tell you exactly that... Also, he was taking the wolf from the pen near the kennel, saying the wolf belonged to him,” Arya murmured.

“I see...” That was all Lord Stark could say as he looked at his daughter before sighing. His expression revealed his inner turmoil. Other guards confirmed that Jon had left the castle unimpeded and headed toward the Wolfswood. Ned deployed several men to search for him, though after what he had witnessed, he doubted Jon could be brought back to Winterfell in chains.

“He is who he is, isn’t he?” As Lord Stark was leaving his youngest daughter, she suddenly spoke, making him stop in his tracks. He didn’t respond, but Arya continued.

“He’s my long-lost brother, isn’t he? I remember how you all treated him like a nuisance. I couldn’t even go near him because Mother had so many of the castle servants watching over me... Now he’s seeking revenge, isn’t he?” Arya was no fool and had pieced together what was happening.

“It’s complicated, Arya, but I’ll resolve it.” That was all Ned said as he walked away, leaving his daughter staring at him with intense eyes.

“She seems to have a sharp sense...” A voice came from beside Lord Stark, and he turned to see Lord Howland leaning against a wall with his crutch by his side, without any guards, as if waiting to say those words.

“You’re here to give me a lecture too?” Lord Stark said dryly, his tone filled with irritation as the ghosts of the past came back to haunt him. His gaze hardened as he turned to Lord Howland, narrowing his eyes.

“You knew it was him. He’s the one you came to meet, isn’t he? You knew he was alive this whole time?” Lord Stark accused.

“You overestimate me, Ned. But yes, he’s the one I came to meet. I wanted to see how her son was doing... But I was surprised by what I saw at the feast. He has quite bold ambitions. I presume he shared them with you as well,” Howland remarked.

“Yes... are you on his side too?” he asked in an even drier tone.

“I’m always on Lyanna’s son’s side, Ned. You brought this upon yourself, and it wasn’t for lack of warning. I always sent letters about the boy’s condition and questions about the rumors reaching the swamps of my home,” Howland said. He had never liked what he heard about the boy’s treatment and had sent letters hoping Ned would improve it. Now, Jon had returned in the worst possible way. Even though Howland didn’t know everything Jon was capable of, the way he had confidently and dangerously entered Winterfell, coupled with his advanced age, showed he had been through much. And the fact that he had already interfered with the fate of the world said a lot—but Ned didn’t need to know that last part.

Ned said nothing more and continued on his way until someone approached him in the courtyard.

“Ned, is it true that this Dovahkiin was your bastard son and he attacked you?!” The voice thundered through the courtyard as Ned sighed, realizing the king was about to start talking and he had no choice but to respond.

‘Catelyn must have already announced that Dovahkiin was Jon Snow,’ Ned thought with another sigh as he began to listen to his friend, interrupting his search for Jon.

“Well... to think that Dovahkiin was the bastard son of Ned Stark and gave you quite the beating—what an irony of fate, don’t you think? But it doesn’t explain why he hates us so much...” Tyrion’s voice was heard inside the castle, alongside his brother.

Tyrion looked at Jaime, expecting him to appear pleased at the news that Lord Stark had been beaten by his own son. But Jaime showed no reaction, leaving Tyrion wondering what exactly Dovahkiin—or rather, Jon Snow—had said to his brother to leave him in such a state for so long. Jaime didn’t even seem to care about what was happening.

“Rob, is he our brother?!” Bran couldn’t help but ask Rob in surprise after hearing the news. Rob appeared deeply pensive while Tyrion seemed to mock the entire situation.

“To think I followed the demands of a bastard... That Snow grew up a lot. No wonder they say bastards grow faster,” Tyrion mocked.

“...” Rob didn’t respond to Bran or Theon, his face pensive over what he had just heard.

Meanwhile, in the North...

“We’re still far away... Are you sure we can trust that guy?! What if he reports our position?” one of the Free Folk said to Mance as they returned to the Wall, avoiding the main roads and traveling through forests to avoid detection.

“We have no choice... Let’s just keep moving. If he’s telling the truth, we’ll find the evidence at the camp and eventually cross paths with him again,” Mance replied as they continued their journey.

Meanwhile, in another place, many hours later...

“It’s time to say goodbye, boy,” Jon said to the horse that had carried him for an entire day deep into the Wolfswood.

The horse looked at him with a hint of curiosity. Jon’s gaze was equally strange, as if both were forming a connection. It seemed his warg abilities were growing stronger, enough to begin establishing bonds with every animal he kept nearby. However, he still lacked control over it, which was why he had developed this bond with the horse.

"You’d better go. You can take the same path we came on; after all, you won’t survive in this forest. I hope you run straight back to Wintertown," Jon said. He couldn’t take the horse with him, as he only kept the wolf pup due to its small size since they were preparing for a long journey across the sea.

The horse seemed to understand Jon’s words, as it promptly turned around and began retracing its steps, disappearing into the forest.

Jon watched it go and nodded, hoping the animal wouldn’t encounter any predators. At that moment, he felt a small tug on his arm as the wolf pup nestled there. Smiling down at the pup, he said, "Let’s go, little one."

Although he disliked the idea of such a long journey for a pup, Jon had no choice. He could not return to Winterfell, and leaving the wolf behind wasn’t an option. They continued through the wilderness.

After two hours of walking, a strong stench of rotting meat invaded Jon’s senses as he approached a colder, frost-laden area. There, an enormous white creature lay sprawled, raising its head as if sensing his presence.

The area was littered with ice spires created by the creature, and the remains of bears were scattered about, clearly the dragon’s meals. It seemed that during the week Jon had been away in Winterfell, she had fared well and, more importantly, had obeyed his order not to follow him to the northern city. A dragon flying near the king of Westeros and his uncle would have caused considerable trouble.

“How are you, girl?” Jon asked. The dragon exhaled a cold breath in response, though Jon couldn’t discern its meaning.

“Anyway, can you freeze those corpses? The stench is unbearable, and I’m sure you can deal with it,” Jon instructed. The dragon eyed him for a moment before turning her neck and unleashing a blast of white flames over the decaying remains of her recent hunts.

The wolf pup observed the dragon curiously but remained cautious. Jon could sense its apprehension, though it stayed silent, as usual.

“Now then… can you carry me across the sea? It’ll be a tough journey—we need to reach Pentos. Can you fly for an entire day?” Jon asked, knowing that the trip would take at least that long.

The dragon regarded him for a time but seemed more willing to comply now. She rose, taking a few steps forward and shaking her massive wings in preparation.

“That’s great. Let’s go,” Jon said with a smile, climbing onto the dragon with the wolf pup in his arms and settling atop her back.

“Fly!” Jon commanded in the ancient tongue. The dragon took a few steps forward, her massive wings stirring the air and shaking the surrounding trees as she began to lift off the ground.

Soon, they were airborne, rising higher and higher. The dragon soared above the Wolfswood, heading southeast as Jon directed her.

They were finally leaving the forest, setting out for a new destination. Jon was on a mission to learn about his aunt and uncle—the last remnants of his paternal family.