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Jon Snow felt a searing pain in his chest as he gazed down at the dagger lodged deep within his heart. He looked up to see the faces of his former brothers, their eyes filled with malice and disdain. One by one they uttered "For the Watch" before plunging another dagger into his chest. The world around him began to fade away as he collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving snow.

As he lay there, waiting for death to claim him, Jon suddenly found himself transported to a different realm. The freezing temperatures gave way to a comforting warmth, and he opened his eyes to find himself standing in front of Winterfell - the castle he once called home. The familiar battlements and towers loomed above him, and the Stark banners fluttered in the gentle breeze. The Godswood, where he had often sought solace in prayer, seemed almost within reach.

Overwhelmed by a mix of shock and nostalgia, Jon couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of divine intervention. Had he truly passed on to the afterlife? Was this a final gift from the gods, allowing him to experience the joy and tranquility he had known in life? As he took in the beauty of Winterfell, he couldn't shake off the feeling that this was indeed his eternal resting place - a haven where he could find happiness and peace.

He walked towards the Godswood, feeling an unusual pull towards it, like a moth drawn to a flame. He couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and reverence, as he entered the weirwood grove. The white trunks and red leaves stood out against the lush green grass and clear blue sky. In his death, the Godswood seemed even more eerie, but still provided a sense of comfort to Jon. It was as if time stood still in this sacred place.

He approached the heart tree, the oldest and wisest weirwood in the grove. Its bark was adorned with a face that seemed to watch him with a knowing gaze, as if it held centuries of secrets and stories within. Jon knelt before the heart tree, and felt its energy coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes, remembering the times he had come here to seek guidance and strength before embarking on his journey beyond the Wall.

He recalled the words he had whispered to the heart tree, promising to uphold his vows and serve the Night's Watch with honor. But now, as he faced the consequences of his actions, Jon couldn't shake off the feeling that he had failed in his duty. Had he betrayed his oath by sparing the lives of the wildlings? Did he deserve to meet his end at the hands of his own brothers?

Suddenly, a soft rustling echoed through the leaves, like a gentle breeze stirring the branches. Jon opened his eyes to find the face on the heart tree coming alive, its lips curving into a sorrowful smile. A voice resonated in his mind, a chorus of whispers that seemed to carry the weight of history. It spoke in a language that was both familiar and foreign, like a long-forgotten melody that had been buried deep within the earth.

"Jon Snow," the voice called out, and a shiver coursed down Jon's spine. It wasn't just any voice; it was the voice of the Old Gods. With a mixture of respect and awe, he lowered his head, feeling humbled by their attention.

Again, his name echoed, and Jon, though still stunned, found his voice. "Who are you?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"We are the Old Gods," the voice replied, its words ancient and weighty. "We are the spirits of nature, of earth and water, of fire and air. We are the memory of this world, of all that has been and all that will be."

Jon felt overwhelmed by their words and wondered why they had chosen to speak to him, a mere mortal.

"Why are you here?" he inquired, seeking answers.

"We are here because of you," the voice declared enigmatically. "You are here because we brought you here."

Jon struggled to understand their cryptic response. "What do you mean?" he pressed.

The Old Gods replied in riddles, their ancient wisdom evident. "A child of destiny like you shouldn't have died surrounded by traitors, Jon Snow, not without fulfilling your destiny."

Frowning, Jon tried to make sense of their message. "What do you mean? What destiny can someone like me have? After all, I'm just a bastard," he repeated, grappling with his doubts.

The voice seemed both indignant and amused. "You're not just a bastard, child. You are the culmination of Westeros's two greatest lines, the Song of Ice and Fire."

Jon stumbled, for he had always believed himself to be a stain on his father's honor, worth nothing. But now, the Gods were telling him he was destined for something far greater than he had ever imagined. He recalled Melisandre's prophecy, speaking of a hero born of ice and fire, destined to save the world from darkness.

"What... What do you mean by that?" he asked, his mind racing to grasp their words.

The Old Gods said nothing more, but the wind rustled, almost guiding him toward the heart tree. "Touch the Heart Tree, Jon Snow, and understand."

With a mix of fear and curiosity, Jon decided to trust the Old Gods and reached out to touch the heart tree.

As his fingers connected with the ancient wood, an electric surge coursed through him. He saw a blinding flash of light before everything faded to black. It felt like he was falling, tumbling through time and space, glimpsing memories and dreams.

Images flashed before him - snapshots of his life, past, and future. He saw himself as a savior, rescuing wildlings from the White Walkers and guiding them through the Wall. He saw himself as a traitor, joining the wildlings and confronting Qhorin Halfhand. He saw himself as the unwanted Winterfell bastard, enduring Catelyn's disdain and Theon's envy. He saw himself as a child, playing with Robb and Arya in the snowy courtyard. He saw himself as a loyal steward, serving under Lord Commander Mormont and befriending Samwell Tarly. He saw himself as a ranger, venturing beyond the Wall and meeting Ygritte. He saw himself as a lover, sharing a cave kiss with Ygritte and breaking his vows. He saw himself as a recruit, training with Grenn and Pyp at Castle Black. He saw himself as a Lord Commander, chosen by his brothers to make tough decisions. He saw himself betrayed, a knife in his heart.

But there were also inexplicable visions—an island with a towering volcano, a woman with striking violet eyes and silver-blonde hair who could only be Daenerys Targaryen, a massive green dragon, and a connection he couldn't explain. Riding atop that dragon beyond the Wall, setting wights ablaze, battling the Night King.

These visions showed him everything, things that had happened and those that might have occurred. They carried a spectrum of emotions—joy and sorrow, love and hatred, pride and shame, hope and despair. Jon felt as though he was reliving his life, experiencing every moment that had shaped him. He also glimpsed events that were beyond his time, part of the tapestry of history and destiny—the Song of Ice and Fire itself.

He found himself in a distant place, a tower in what seemed to be Dorne, with a fierce battle raging outside its walls. One of the men caught his eye – it was his father, Ned Stark. Jon couldn't help but gasp, recognizing this as the famous battle where his father and his men had faced off against the legendary Kingsguard and emerged victorious.

Eddard Stark was locked in combat with one of the Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne. The skill displayed by Ser Arthur was breathtaking; his pale sword gleamed as he effortlessly parried and weaved around Ned Stark's attacks. Jon marveled at the Sword of the Morning's prowess. Just as he pondered how his father had managed to defeat such a formidable opponent, a shocking turn of events unfolded. Howland Reed rose from the ground and stabbed Arthur Dayne in the back. It was a moment that conflicted with the tales of his father's honor that Jon had grown up with, and a pang of disgust tugged at him.

However, a woman's anguished scream from inside the tower diverted his thoughts. Without hesitation, Jon followed his father inside and ascended the tower's stairs. As he entered the room, the scent of roses and blood enveloped him. On a blood-soaked bed lay a woman with long dark hair and grey eyes, resembling his sister Arya.

"Lyanna..." Jon heard his father's voice, laden with heartbreak, say.

"His name is Aegon Targaryen," the midwife informed Ned, placing a baby in his arms. Jon approached, eager to get a glimpse of the child. The baby's head was covered in small tufts of black hair, and when he opened his eyes, they revealed a shade of dark violet Jon knew all too well.

Overwhelmed by the gravity of the moment, Jon retreated and leaned against the wall. The realization of why the Gods had shown him this scene began to set in. Still praying that his suspicions were unfounded, Jon watched as Lyanna Stark gripped her brother's hand.

"Promise me," she whispered, her voice weak. "Promise me, Ned. If Robert finds out, he will kill him. You have to protect him. Promise me, Ned."

"I promise," Ned vowed, his voice filled with anguish and sorrow.

With her concerns for her son eased, Lyanna looked more like a child than a mother. "I'm sorry, Ned. I hope you can forgive me for causing so much destruction. I wish I had more time with my son."

"I forgive you, Lya," Ned whispered, his voice heavy with grief. "And you will have more time with your son. Just hold on."

"Goodbye, brother," Lyanna said with a faint smile, and then she breathed her last.

Jon remained silent, watching as Ned Stark knelt beside his sister's lifeless form, tears streaming down his face. He shared in the sorrow of the scene before him, mourning the loss of another family member at such a young age, and the death of the woman who had given him life.

Eventually, Ned composed himself and carried the baby outside to where Howland Reed stood. The Crannogman looked at Ned with a questioning gaze, and Ned recounted everything that had transpired between sobs.

"I can raise him at Greywater Watch if you'd like. He'll be safe from prying eyes there," the Lord of Greywater offered.

Jon prayed that his intuition was wrong, but his worst fears were realized as Ned spoke. "No. He will be raised in Winterfell, as his mother was. I will claim him as my bastard, and that will be the end of it."

A sinking feeling settled in Jon's stomach, but he had little time to dwell on it as another jolt of energy coursed through his body. A flash of light filled his vision, and then everything went black once more.