Timeline: 292 AC
The journey from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to Braavos was long and treacherous. The narrow sea was unpredictable, its waters churning with storms and its shores patrolled by pirates and rival ships. Jon Snow spent most of the voyage on the deck of the Wind Dancer, a Braavosi trading vessel, watching the horizon with a mix of anticipation and unease.
Ancalagon, his growing dragon, was hidden below deck in a makeshift crate lined with straw and cloth to muffle its occasional roars. Ghost, ever loyal, stayed close to Jon, his presence a comfort in the unfamiliar surroundings. The crew of the Wind Dancer was wary of the young man with the direwolf, but Jon's quiet demeanor and Stark name earned him a measure of respect.
As the ship approached Braavos, Jon felt a surge of excitement. The city was a place of legends, a hub of trade, intrigue, and power. It was also the first step in his journey to reclaim his birthright and prepare for the Long Night.
The Titan's Welcome
The first sight of Braavos was awe-inspiring. The Titan, a colossal statue that guarded the city's harbor, loomed in the distance, its stone eyes staring out to sea as if daring any enemy to approach. The statue's roar echoed across the water, a deep, resonant sound that sent shivers down Jon's spine.
"Welcome to Braavos," the ship's captain, a grizzled man named Tormo, said with a grin. "The city of a thousand secrets."
Jon nodded, his eyes fixed on the Titan. He had read about Braavos in Maester Luwin's books, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of the city. It was a place of contrasts—wealth and poverty, beauty and danger, freedom and oppression.
As the Wind Dancer docked in the bustling harbor, Jon made his way below deck to retrieve Ancalagon. The dragon had grown significantly during the voyage, its wings now strong enough to carry it short distances. Jon knew he couldn't risk taking Ancalagon into the city, so he had arranged for the dragon to be hidden in a secluded cave on the outskirts of Braavos.
"Stay here," Jon whispered to Ghost as he prepared to leave the ship. "I'll come back for you."
The direwolf whined softly but obeyed, his red eyes watching Jon with unwavering loyalty.
Hiding Ancalagon
Jon carried Ancalagon in a large satchel, the dragon's head poking out occasionally to survey its surroundings. The journey to the cave was tense, with Jon constantly on the lookout for prying eyes. He moved swiftly through the narrow streets of Braavos, avoiding the crowded markets and sticking to the quieter alleys.
The cave was located in a rocky outcrop just outside the city, hidden by dense foliage and accessible only by a narrow path. Jon had discovered it during his research in Winterfell, and it was the perfect place to hide Ancalagon.
"This will be your home for now," Jon said as he set the dragon down in the cave. "I'll visit you every day, and when the time is right, we'll leave this place together."
Ancalagon let out a soft growl, its eyes glowing with understanding. Jon felt a pang of guilt at leaving the dragon behind, but he knew it was necessary. Braavos was a city of spies, and a dragon would draw too much attention.
Exploring Braavos
With Ancalagon safely hidden, Jon returned to the city to begin his exploration. Braavos was a labyrinth of canals, bridges, and narrow streets, its buildings crammed together in a chaotic yet strangely beautiful arrangement.
Jon's first stop was the Temple of the Many-Faced God, a place of worship for the Faceless Men. He had no intention of seeking their services, but he was curious about the mysterious order and their connection to death. The temple was a somber place, its halls filled with the scent of incense and the whispers of prayers. Jon lingered for a while, his mind racing with thoughts of life, death, and destiny.
Next, he visited the Sealord's Palace, the seat of power in Braavos. The palace was a magnificent structure, its walls adorned with intricate carvings and its gardens filled with exotic plants. Jon watched from a distance as the Sealord's guards patrolled the grounds, their swords gleaming in the sunlight.
"One day," Jon thought, "I'll have a palace like that. But not for power. For survival."
The Iron Bank
No visit to Braavos would be complete without a stop at the Iron Bank, the most powerful financial institution in the world. Jon had no intention of borrowing money—he had no collateral to offer—but he wanted to see the bank for himself.
The Iron Bank was an imposing building, its walls made of black stone and its doors guarded by armed men. Jon stood outside for a while, watching as wealthy merchants and nobles entered and exited the bank.
"They say the Iron Bank always gets its due," a voice said beside him.
Jon turned to see a young man with dark hair and a sly smile. He was dressed in fine clothes, but there was something about him that made Jon uneasy.
"Who are you?" Jon asked, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of Dark Sister.
"A friend," the man replied. "Or perhaps a rival. It depends on your intentions."
Jon studied the man for a moment, then nodded. "I'm just a traveler. No intentions."
The man laughed. "In Braavos, everyone has intentions. But I'll leave you to yours. Good luck, traveler."
With that, the man disappeared into the crowd, leaving Jon with a sense of unease.
Planning for Pentos
Jon's ultimate goal in Braavos was to gather information and resources for his journey to Pentos. He had learned from his studies that Pentos was home to Illyrio Mopatis, a wealthy magister who was rumored to possess dragon eggs. Jon's plan was to steal the eggs and use them to strengthen his position in the coming war.
He spent several days in Braavos, gathering supplies and making contacts. He purchased a map of Pentos, a set of lockpicks, and a small vial of poison—just in case. He also hired a ship to take him to Pentos, paying the captain with the last of his silver coins.
As he prepared to leave Braavos, Jon felt a sense of determination. The journey ahead would be dangerous, but he was ready. He had a dragon, a direwolf, and a purpose.
The Departure
On the eve of his departure, Jon visited Ancalagon one last time. The dragon had grown even larger, its wings now strong enough to carry it short distances. Jon knew it wouldn't be long before Ancalagon was too big to hide.
"Soon," Jon whispered as he stroked the dragon's head. "Soon we'll be together again."
Ancalagon let out a soft growl, its eyes glowing with understanding.
As Jon made his way back to the harbor, he felt a mix of emotions—excitement, fear, and determination. The game was far from over, but Jon Snow—Aemon Targaryen—was no longer a pawn. He was a player.