A Prince of House Targaryen Chapter 12 (A Prince of The North) (Patreon)

Jon had outsmarted Robb  on this last history exam. He hadn't meant to do any harm, but his  achievement had put Lady Stark into a rather sour mood. He had overheard  her remarks to Maester Luwin asking if Jon could have cheated. "This is  the fifth time he has bettered Robb. Perhaps he should be taken out of  your tutelage so that-"

"I  will do as Lord Stark commands, my Lady, and Lord Stark commands me to  teach Jon just as I would Robb. However," he paused chewing over her  words. "If he should take interest in not attending to his studies, I  suppose I wouldn't protest too much."

Jon  hit the tree ever harder as their words rang through his head. Why was  he even studying anyways? It's not like it would matter since he could  never be a Stark - never need the knowledge to run a castle and rule  over lands.

His wooden sword snapped in two with a  thwack .  It went twirling out to his right and into the underbrush. He groaned,  knowing that he would have to explain how the sword broke in two to the  Master-at arms, Rodrick Cassel.

"Dammit,"  he muttered. Jon had recently taken to swearing under his breath,  trying to imitate the men around him in Winterfell. He also found it  relieved some stress when he said them.

"Is that anyway for a young man to speak?" asked a raspy, thin voice from a distance.

Jon  looked about him, trying to find the source of the voice. Finding  himself quite alone, he went back to looking for the wooden sword blade,  convincing himself the voice had been in his head.

"Is this the first time we have met?" The same voice asked.

"Who's  there?" Jon called out. Unsure of what to do. It was still bright and  sunny in the clearing where he stood, but the forest canopy blocked out  the light beyond him, and he began to imagine a number of different  persons lurking in the din. "Speak plainly to me in full view, and I  will not tell my father of your trespassing." Jon tried to muster as  much authority in his voice as he could, but that was a tall order for  any near-nine-year-old, and he sounded all the more a child.

"That will be a problem, child, for I am not here."

"Do  not tease me, I am the son of Lord Stark." Jon threatened again. He  hoped his postering would be enough to scare this person away.

"Yes, the son of Winterfell with no name. How curious you would lie to me."

"I  didn't lie. I told the truth. That's the honourable thing to do" He  didn't know why, but he wanted to justify himself to this man, even if  it made no sense. Someone should know that he was only ever trying to do  the honourable thing. Like his father. He thought doing well in his  studies would make his father proud, but it only cause Lady Stark to  despise him more.

"Honourable, yes, but stupid."

"How dare you-"

"Do  not interrupt me, boy!" The raspy voice rang through the air and the  winds picked up and the leaves and grass rustled in the breeze. "Heed  this warning: not all who strive for honour are rewarded. Patients and  knowledge are far more valuable and powerful."

"Who are you?!" Jon yelled, angry at being belittled. It seems he would never escape being berated by others.

"Who are you?" The voice asked back.

Just  as Jon made to reply, he felt a cold snap within his head, like when  one would eat too much snow. It was uncomfortable and jarring. One  moment he was Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell, the next he was a  bird of prey, eyeing the landscape with a piercing gaze.

The  hawk spotted deer grazing in the high fields next to the grand stone  nest where the humans lived. The hawk was briefly remorseful for the  nest he and his mate had built the previous year, which was destroyed by  those humans not long after his mate had laid her eggs, but just as  quickly turned its attention back to hunting.

It  scanned the landscape, knowing that rabbits and hares were threaded  through the knolls. It's stomach was empty from days of no success. It  needed a kill, and soon, if it was to live to the next mating season.

There!

A rabbit was grazing on grass, oblivious to the danger it was in.

The hawk dove down.

Jon was pulled from the hawk with another cold snap. This time he drifted into a rabbit.

Run. Hide. Run. Hide. The  rabbit thought in a panic. A creature of death had swooped down from  the skies and closed its talons upon the back of its sister as they ate a  mid day meal.

Death. Death comes for us  , the rabbit squeaked as it bounced towards its home. The rabbit  bounced down towards their mother who was watching after his sister's  kit. Death. Death. Sister. Death.

There  was a sombre if not panicked atmosphere in the den after the rabbit  announced what happened.The survival of the younglings unknown at this  time.

Another cold snap occurred, and Jon was back in the hawk.

It  plucked and pulled at the tendons of the rabbit, blood-spewing onto the  grass where it died. Every so often the hawk scanned its surroundings  before gulping back another morsel of meat. The hawk ate until it was  full, leaving a large amount of meat lying on the ground. If he was  lucky, he might come back here tomorrow and find it still available to  eat. If not, well, he would have to hunt again.

The  hawk took flight, its wings emboldened by the energy its meal provided  it. The hawk was fulfilled, satisfied with its conquest.

Jon  felt another snap, and he was back in his own body. He cried out, as if  in pain, but he wasn't really. He took a deep, full breath as he shrunk  to the ground wiggling his fingers and toes almost to remind himself  how they worked. He landed on his rear, but sat forward, unnerved by  what had occurred.

"Was th-that real? What did y-you do?" Jon stammered. Was it all a dream?

"That was skinchanging, child. You have this inert ability which I merely guided you through."

"N-no," Jon defended. "That's for Wildlings and m-monsters. I'm n-neither."

"So you say." There was an eerie silence which followed his statement. A bastard doesn't have to be a monster! Jon thought despairingly.

"Tell  me," the voice said finally breaking the silence. "Why should the hawk  kill the rabbit? The hawk brought such misery to the rabbits simply to  satisfy its hunger. Would it not be more honourable to object to doing  this?"

"Th-the hawk needs to eat." Jon muttered, still confused by his circumstances.

"Yet this is at the expense of the rabbit."

Jon remained silent, unsure about what he was trying to say.

"No  response? Very well, I will end our conversation today by saying that  you must overcome this crippling desire to do the right thing to please  others. Sometimes the right thing is catastrophic for others, killing a  young rabbit so that you can satiate your hunger, for instance. And  sometimes it's a simple bump in the road: outperforming others in their  studies, perhaps." Jon let out a breath he had been holding in. He knows about all this? "Whatever  the case," he continued. "Be certain that you can live with your  choices. You might die if you don't eat a necessary meal, or you may  lose out on necessary knowledge if you let the voices of others dictate  your life."

"Why do you care?" Jon retorted, he wanted to cry in frustration, but held his emotions in.

"Because of the future boy."

The  forest and fields went silent as the wind died. Jon was left sitting  with a wooden hilt in his hand wondering about his sanity. He got up and  absentmindedly walked back towards Winterfell and into his room. He sat  on his bed and stared at the fireplace where the coals of last nights  fire remained.

Skin changing? I'm no skinchanger! I can't be. This couldn't have  happened. Perhaps the sword hit my head and I dreamt this up as I lay  unconscious.

"Jon!"  Robb yelled as he came barging into his room. "Supper is being served!  They're serving the rabbit the huntsmen caught today!"

Jon's  stomach lurched as he sat down for his meal. He had never been opposed  to eating rabbit until this very night. Now the chunks of meat upon his  plate with the stewed leeks and salted carrots made him think of the  dream he had, and how terrified he was of the hawk.

"Aren't you going to eat, Jon?" Robb questioned him, mouth full of rabbit and carrots.

Jon's  stomach growled as if in response, and Jon remembered the satisfaction  of the hawk as it ate the rabbit's flesh, and his mouth watered.

"Yes, sorry, I was thinking." he said before stuffing himself on rabbit.

"You don't have to tell me that! Maybe if you do less thinking, I would be able to beat you one day."

Jon  grinned at that. "I think I'd have to be hit in the head with a rock  for you to smarter than me," he jested, earning an astonished face from  his half-brother. "Besides I think if you studied harder rather than  playing in the crypts or godswood you might close the gap between us a  little."

This earned him a limp leek to his face, and a disgruntled Lord Stark put an end to their rambunctiousness.

"I'm sorry I said that," Jon said to Robb as they were sent to their rooms without further food.

"It's okay, I guess you're right, my Lady mother says as much." Jon grimaced at that.

As  Jon lay on his bed that night, he made the decision that he would  continue studying, even harder, maybe. He liked knowing things anyways,  and he liked at least knowing more than Robb, even if he knew he  shouldn't if he wanted to be a good brother.

Jon  didn't know if that voice had been real, but he knew he didn't want to  sacrifice his studies. At least, he wouldn't sacrifice this for the sake  of staying away from Lady Stark's gaze.

"I'll find something to read, then," Jon listlessly responded to the Maester.

"Good,  good," Luwin chirped. "You know, you would make a good student at the  citadel if you ever wanted to join. They accept anyone willing to  learn."

Jon wrinkled his nose at the suggestion, but replied with a "Thank you, Maester. I'll think on it."

Jon  spent the next couple hours reading by the sunlight streaming through  the windows. He was so absorbed in his reading, that he barely noticed  the change in light until he looked up after hearing a noise.

"Is someone there?" he asked. "Arya? Luwin?"

When  no answer came, he decided to mark his place by leaving a piece of  loose paper where he stopped and placed the book back upon the shelf  where he found it. When he turned to leave, he heard the noise again. It  was a voice, he was sure. Raspy and distant, just like...

Jon's  heart began to race, and his fingers became clammy. Last time had just  been a dream. He hadn't actually spoken to a disembodied voice, it was  all in his head.

"Come to the forest." It called. "Come to the forest."

"I'm sorry to disturb your reading," the voice said. "But you really must be practiced in other matters as well."

"Come towards the weirwood. Let me show you what is real and what is delusion."

Jon  wanted to turn away and run, but he knew whatever this was would only  haunt him forever after. So, he walked, slowly, towards the heart tree,  careful to spot anyone in the Godswood who might be pulling his leg or  speaking to him.

When  he arrived at the pool, he looked towards the weeping face of the heart  tree. It's mouth turned down in a grimace. From what Jon could only  imagine.

"Do you see?" The voice asked calmly.

"See what?" Jon whispered back, not wanting to be heard by any who might walk by.

"Not with those eyes," the voice said, winds picking up. "But with your third eye. This  eye." Jon, again, felt a cold snap in his mind and a weightlessness as he drifted through nothingness.

At  last he found his footing along the edge of a cliff. Paws softly padded  along the side as Jon looked about. There was a cold breeze, but the  usual ruinous chill barely registered through the thick fur. Sleep  the creature thought, and Jon too, felt the need to close his eyes. The  mountain cat opened its maw in a giant yawn escaped it. The mountain  cat had spotted an overhang not too far from where it was, it would need  to climb higher to rest there for the night.

"Take control," the voice said. "Go right if it wants to go left."

The cat snarled at whatever it heard. Danger  it thought. Attack. Kill.

"Take control, boy." The cat shook its head and began to run along the cliff face.

"Take control." The cat swerved to the left, up the mountain towards the cavern it spotted.

"Take control."

It  was as if Jon had emerged from a deep sleep. In this waking world  though, he fought in ways he never thought possible before. His mind was  flooded with thoughts of fleeing, escaping to a safe place. He made a  concerted effort to suppress those thoughts. To stop. To turn right. To  begin walking down the slope.

What is happening? Jon thought. Or was it the mountain cat that thought those things?

The  longer Jon was in charge of moving this body, the weaker he felt.  Controlling this cat was more taxing than he ever thought was possible.  Not even after several hours of training in the yard did Jon feel this  exhausted. Is this real? Is this skin changing? Jon looked  around through the eyes of a cat, and noticed things he knew he never  would have as a human. Movement to his left made him stop, crouching in  anticipation. Mice were scavenging about the loose rocks, causing the  ruckus. Jon continued on, since he wasn't hungry. At least not for mice.

At  last he made it to the valley. The grass felt nice between his toes and  he swept his tail along the green blades. A creek ran through a divot  between hills and he could hear the trickling of water even from a  distance. Jon and the mountain cat paused for a moment to take in the  scenery.

It was no  long before they spotted another mountain cat marching into the valley.  The male cat in the distance marched towards them, staring intently.  Why, was lost to Jon.

We are both men. If he wants to fight, I shall fight.

Run  , the cat thought. Flee. Not now. Not like this  . Before Jon could understand how a cat could have coherent thought,  the male cat had made huge strides towards them. It was aggressive in  its stance, and it seemed as though it wouldn't let them go.

Jon  turned to run back up the side of the cliff, such as the mountain cat's  avid desire. Jon could hear the other cat . For every stride they made  up the side, the other male made three. Jon felt so tired. All too soon,  the male pounced upon them, and Jon rolled onto their back to attack  him with their claws. It was only now that he could see how much larger  and older this cat was than themselves.

The  male persisted, his teeth bared. Together, they hissed out a sign of  protest. Jon tried to roll back on their feet, but the male continued  and jumped upon their back. They fell down chest first, and the male cat  shifted his position and dug sharp claws along his back. Jon's  breathing became laboured as he felt his hide break apart and hot blood  gush out on his fur.

There was a cold snap within his head.

"That's enough for today," the voice said.

Jon collapsed on all fours as if he were still a cat, taking laboured breaths.

"What," Jon gasped. "What was that? What happened?"

"That  was you skinchanging into a mountain cat. What happened  is...regrettable. I did not anticipate those events. But what it amounts  to is the strong overpowering the weak."

That  voice said I was a skinchanger, and what I experienced to day, and  several months ago, is difficult to explain away as something else.

He wanted me to do it, but how is it done when I've never done it myself? He thought he should at least try, however. If not, that being might find out and haunt him some more.

He  sat on his bed, legs crossed, eyes closed, trying to will his mind into  an animal. There weren't any animals in his room, though. So he thought  that perhaps that was a place he needed to start. He would try, he  would fail, and he would go to sleep.

Singing,  That's all Jon could hear, the sweet sound of a bird, he looked around  and saw himself trying to penetrate frozen water with his beak, his eyes  looked around the courtyard, the people of Winterfell were going around  doing their business, servants, guards, Jon wanted to smile, he  couldn't remember the last time he had felt so free, he didn't feel like  a bastard anymore, No, he felt, Free.

Jon  made the bird look at the wings, as if trying to make sure he did have  wings, much to his delight, he had, Jon knew he could fly like this, fly  away from the glares, from everything, to see everything out there, to  fly high in the sky, like a Dragon.

Jon  smiled inside, before trying to drink water, he figured the bird must  be thirsty, as his beak penetrated the thin ice, he started drinking  water, before raising his beak, letting the water wash his throat.

Jon  felt like singing, the bird left out a melodic sound, Jon smiled before  he heard a whistle, it was a very familiar whistle, he turned around,  to the right.

In front of him stood a kid, but not just any kid, it was himself, crouching on the snow in front of him.

What is This?? Jon started to panic before everything went Dark.

Opening his eyes, Jon saw nothing, the darkness had surrounded him, the silence was everywhere around, Am I dead?

"You're  not Dead, young Prince," a voice suddenly echoed in the darkness,  turning around, Jon could make a face surrounded by branches, a thin  white branch sticking out of his left eye, his right eye was still  there.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Brynden Rivers, Bloodraven,"