1. The End of an Era
The blade slides in smoothly. Jon's hand doesn't shake, though his soul screams. Daenerys gasps, her violet eyes—eyes haunted, royal, and broken—locked onto his as her knees buckle. "Why…?" she whispers, a dragon queen's final fury and heartbreak pooling on her lips.
Jon sobs, clutching her as ash wafts from the ruined throne room. Drogon's roar splits the sky. It's too late for apologies, too late for regrets.
But fate—cruel, indifferent, ever spinning—has one last turn for Jon Snow.
As the world crumbles in fire and betrayal, Drogon's pain kindles the hidden fires of the gods. A tear in the world—swirling, molten, ancient—opens. Jon barely has time to scream as he tumbles down into the flames, Daenerys slipping away like smoke in his arms.
### 2. Out of the Ashes
He doesn't die. He burns, blinds, loses all sense of body; and then, as if waking from a fever, he lands—hard.
The crash echoes through a chilly forest clearing. Snow, this time real, crunches beneath Jon's naked, half-seared form. Somewhere in the distance, the northern lights dance across the sky. For a moment, there is peace. The only sound is Jon's own ragged breath.
He rolls to his knees, coughing, shivering. Blood (whose?) stains his lips. The wound that should have killed him is just a scar, closed by the magic suffusing his flesh.
The world is wrong. Everything smells different—metal and smoke, lightning and secrets.
### 3. The Witch
He barely sees the woman before she appears. Red hair glows in the twilight, swirling out from a hood. The cold does not seem to touch her, though the snow falls thick and wet. Jon struggles to his feet, ready to fight, but she just studies him, unafraid.
"Who are you?" she demands in accented English.
Jon stares. "I am Jon Snow. I… I shouldn't be alive."
She laughs softly—a dangerous, rich sound. "Life and death are complicated these days."
Power hums around her. Jon feels it in his bones: magic, deep and old, responding to his own fractured soul.
She lifts her hands. Crimson light flickers. *Wanda Maximoff*, though Jon does not yet know her name.
"I'm not here to hurt you. But you're not from here, are you?" she murmurs, probing his mind. Jon's memories swirl—ice, dragons, swords, the Wall, Daenerys's burning eyes. And something older, darker: the shadow of the Night King, the song of dragons, a cosmic whisper that is not of Westeros.
Wanda reels back, eyes wide. "What are you?"
"I don't know anymore," he admits.
### 4. Gods and Men
There is a rumble. Machines—slick, black, noisy—arrive, encircling the glade. Jon's sword hand clenches from memory, but there is no Longclaw. Figures emerge in black, armed with glowing rods and hard eyes.
"Lower your hands! Identify yourself!" one shouts.
Wanda steps forward. "He's confused and injured. He's not a threat."
The leader ignores her, his gaze sharp and suspicious. Jon sees the world has changed: no Lords, no banners—just men with technology he cannot fathom and eyes full of fear.
Jones shivers, covering himself. Wanda waves her hand, conjuring an energy shield. "Stay behind me," she mutters.
He stands tall. "If you wish to kill me, try," he growls, the old wolf stirring.
The agents hesitate. Tony Stark, watching from a drone, orders, "Bring them in carefully—he doesn't match any registry. The girl you know. The man? Not so much."
Jon feels the magic again—rolling, hungry, desperate. The memory of Daenerys, of fire, flashes in his mind. He sucks in a breath, and the world shifts: Valyrian words slip from his tongue. The air crackles.
He shouts—a word that to Westerosi legend would break chains.
The doors slam open, energy warping. SHIELD's tech flickers; the agents stagger, Wanda's eyes widening as crimson and blue light swirl between them.
### 5. Flight
Jon lunges, moving with uncanny speed. He doesn't remember being this fast. Raising his hand, he utters another word—half-Valyrian, half something else. A shockwave erupts, scattering the agents.
"Run!" Wanda gasps. Together, they bolt into the forest. Wanda's magic fends off stun darts; Jon's instincts guide him, feet sure on strange new ground.
They vanish into the trees as alarms sound behind them.
### 6. Night and Memory
Later, by a frozen river, Wanda conjures a cloak for him. Jon stares into the fire, silent. She joins him, a question in her eyes.
"Where did you come from?" she asks gently.
Jon shudders, memories tumbling out: "A place of dragons and death. I tried to do what was right. I failed. I always fail."
Wanda sighs, her hand light on his. "We all have blood on our hands," she whispers, voice full of pain and longing.
He looks up, moonsilver and flame in his gaze, and for the first time since Daenerys's death, Jon doesn't feel quite so alone.
Above, in the shadows, a dragon's mirage flickers—a memory or a spirit, it's impossible to tell. Somewhere far away, power gathers. Jon Snow—Aegon Targaryen—will shake the world again.
And so begins a new saga, where gods and monsters walk openly, and the wolf must once more decide: king, lover, or sacrifice?