Game of Thrones: The Ruler

Jon walked absentmindedly toward the Weirwood tree. For whatever reasons, he was unable to tear his eyes away from the massive tree.

The tree seemed nothing out of ordinary but there was something about the tree which Jon could fee. Maybe ancient. Magical. He did not know. 

He felt a strange connection from the tree. As he continued walking towards the tree, a strange sensation overtook him. An otherworldly force seemed to pull him and before he could react, Jon's consciousness faded away, as if swallowed by a whirlpool.

When Jon regained awareness, he found himself floating. Suspended in air. He was weightless. He felt like he did not have any presence at all. It took him only a moment to realize what this was. A greenseer vision.

For years since arriving in this world, Jon had tried repeatedly and failed every time to awaken his greenseer abilities. It was a power derived from his lineage, from the blood of the first men. He had believed the power should have come naturally. But no matter what he attempted, not a single glimpse of the past had revealed itself.

But now, he was here.

Jon shook himself free from awe and looked down.

Beneath him stood a young man with silver hair and a young woman with dark hair and a swollen belly. Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.

Jon felt no emotion. He had expected tears upon seeing his parents together, but the vision numbed him to sentiment. Greenseers feel no happiness, no sorrow, no emotions. They only see the truth.

Behind the couple stood three members of the Kingsguard, unmistakable in their gleaming golden armour. Beside them were three large, wooden chests.

In Lyanna's hands was a sapling. A weirwood sapling, its crimson leaves fluttering slightly in the warm breeze. The couple were looking at each other lovingly.

A moment later, Rhaegar knelt and dug a small hole in the earth. Lyanna gently lowered the sapling in place. Rhaegar covered the root with the soil.

Once it was planted, Rhaegar stood up.

"I have heard that the First Men used to offer blood as a sacrifice to the Weirwoods for blessings," Rhaegar remarked.

"Yes," Lyanna nodded. "Though not anymore."

"Most Northerners have distanced themselves from such practices. Such practices are considered barbaric. As blood magic and even though we still have a lot of connection with the old magic, magic is frowned upon."

"The influence of the South," she sighed, "and the Seven has grown too strong. A lot of our older culture has now been replaced."

Rhaegar nodded. He smiled softly and placed a hand over her stomach.

"Our son will be the greatest man Westeros has ever seen," he said with a confident tone.

He drew a dagger from his belt and made a cut across his palm. Blood dripped onto the sapling's leaves and the roots of the sapling.

"A song of ice and fire," he murmured.

Lyanna was caught off guard as she blinked in surprise at the gesture.

But a moment later, she took the dagger herself, slashed her own palm, and let her blood fall alongside his.

"A song of ice and fire," she repeated.

Their blood mingled, soaking into the soil around the Weirwood's roots. They had done this action on a whim but in reality, they had sung the song of ice and fire.

Rhaegar turned to the Kingsguard and gave a single nod. Gesture for them to begin their work.

The three knights removed their heavy armour and picked up shovels. They began to dig a pit, several paces away from the tree.

"Why not take them with you?" Lyanna asked softly, gesturing toward the chests.

"These could help turn the tide of war. You could trade them for the support of noble houses."

"Maybe," Rhaegar replied. "Maybe not. I do not know if I will survive what is coming."

"Treasure is not enough to secure loyalty of any house in these times," he added.

She looked as if she were about to speak again, but Rhaegar gently cut her off.

"Lyanna, if something happens to me… escape," he sighed. "Take care of our child. He will change this world."

Tears welled in Lyanna's eyes. Although she believed in Rhaegar, she knew that whatever he was saying was a possibility. Something which can turn out to be true.

"Why not write to my brother? To Ned?" Lyanna asked, even though she was aware of the answers. "I could write to him once again."

"I already have," Rhaegar replied, his voice low.

"I have sent five ravens. And two riders with letters. Not one reply. Neither of the riders returned. Most probably they have been killed."

That stopped Jon cold. Five ravens. Two riders. And no answer?

In both lives, Jon had wondered why Rhaegar or Lyanna never tried to contact Ned and stop the war. It never made sense.

They had time. They had every reason. Could not they have explained the truth?

If Ned had known, things might have been different. The North would never have turned against Lyanna, not when she was carrying the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

So why?

Had Ned ignored the letters? Had he joined Robert out of blind loyalty? Or worse, had he wanted revenge against Rhaegar for his father and brother's death and had chosen that over his sister's safety?

Jon did not want to believe it. Ned had loved his sister, but he could not rule it out entirely.

Or had someone intercepted the letters? Sabotaged the truth?

Five ravens failing was rare, nearly impossible. Could it have been the Three-Eyed Raven? Or someone else? And what of the riders? Killed? Turned away? But by whom. There were not many names who might have benefited from such thing.

Back in the vision, Lyanna could only sob harder.

The couple turned and walked back to the tower. Lyanna, heavy with child, moved slowly. She was clearly exhausted. The months on the road had worn her down.

Meanwhile, the Kingsguard continued digging. It took them half a day to finish the deep pit.

hen, one by one, they lifted the heavy chests and lowered them into the earth. They buried them under layers of soil, erasing all signs of what lay below.

This was treasure waiting for Jon to unearth.

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