Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

Snow was falling again. Soft, quiet, like the gods themselves had taken to whispering across the land. I stood just behind Jon as the raven came, the chill of the wind brushing over my face like ghostly fingers. The ink was dark and bold, the seal unmistakable—three dragon heads pressed into the wax, blood red against the cream parchment.

"It's from Daenerys Targaryen," Maester Wolkan said, handing Jon the scroll with both reverence and unease.

Jon's eyes scanned it quickly, his jaw tightening. I could see his eyes narrow at certain lines. He passed it to me without a word.

To the King in the North,

I, Daenerys of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons,

do hereby summon you to Dragonstone to bend the knee and declare your fealty.

I offer alliance and peace, but the North must remember the Dragon once ruled, and will rule again.

Come with your advisors. Come quickly.

– Daenerys Stormborn

I scoffed. "She certainly loves her titles."

"Doesn't even mention the war we're facing," Jon muttered.

"She doesn't believe it yet," Jon Bonds said, already leaning against a pillar nearby, his arms crossed. He always seemed relaxed, but I had learned to read the sharp glint in his mismatched eyes. He was already calculating our next move.

We called a private council in the godswood, only those we trusted completely. The red leaves above us barely shifted in the wind, but their color bled into the sky like a slow, seeping wound.

Jon stood between the heart tree and Ghost, who towered like a living statue, white fur thick as snowdrifts and ice drifting off his shoulders with every breath. Davos stood to Jon's left, grim and wise. Tormund flanked him, red beard tangled in frost.

And Jon Bonds—he stood to the right, arms folded, swords at his back, eyes sharper than any blade forged in Winterfell.

"She's calling you to bend the knee," I began, looking to Jon. "Are you going to do it?"

He shook his head immediately. "I can't. The North made me their king. I won't betray that."

"But you'll go," I said.

He hesitated.

"We need allies," Jon Bonds cut in. "Dragons. Dragon glass. Soldiers who believe this war is real. If bending the knee is the price, we'll find another currency."

"You think you can sway her?" Ser Davos asked.

"I know I can," Bonds replied, smirking. "She hasn't met me yet. And Ghost."

Ghost let out a low growl of approval, ice spreading around his paws like frost spidering over glass.

"So," Jon said, looking around at us, "we go. Me, Bonds, Ghost. Davos, I'll need you. Tormund too."

"You need Sansa," Bonds said suddenly.

We all turned to him.

"To stay here," he added. "Hold the North. Be the face in the throne room while you're gone. If something happens—"

Jon shook his head. "Nothing will."

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst," Bonds said. "It's what I do."

I crossed my arms. "You said she wouldn't make us bow. Why are we still worried? Didn't you promise the Northern lords already? Didn't Jon and Ghost receive the power of Fenrir and Okuchi no Makami? They are more powerful than her entire army—than her dragons."

Jon Bonds smiled. "Aye. But dragons are proud creatures. Even when you're stronger, you still have to prove it."

Ghost rumbled in agreement. "And as long as I live, the North will never bow to the South."

Tormund clapped Ghost's shoulder, which was like slapping the side of a barn. "Bloody right, Ghost."

Ser Davos nodded. "Jon's no southern boy. He's our King. And I'll follow him to fire and frost."

I stepped forward. "Then go. All of you. I'll stay. I'll keep the North in order. Prepare the soldiers. Stock up food. The lands you enchanted, Bonds, are growing crops even in the cold. The livestock you blessed are birthing stronger calves. We will endure."

Jon Bonds gave me a teasing smirk. "I'm sure the Queen in the North can handle it just fine without the King."

I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. The others followed with chuckles and warm looks.

"Just make sure my idiot, honorable brother comes back in one piece," I said.

"I'm not an idiot," Jon Snow whined childishly.

"Sure you're not," Tormund grinned.

"We'll keep him safe," Davos promised.

"I'll freeze any fool that touches him," Ghost added, teeth glinting like glaciers.

Jon Bonds looked to Jon and Ghost. "It's time. Time you learned who your mother is."

And we all fell silent, as the snow whispered around us like the breath of the gods.

Bonds stepped forward, the crunch of his boots against the snow echoing louder than any words. He looked directly at Jon . The man who had fought White Walkers, battled Boltons, and died and returned—all without flinching—suddenly looked as though he were a boy again, confused and unsure.

"It's time you know," Bonds said solemnly. "You deserve the truth."

Jon tilted his head, his brows furrowing in wary curiosity.

"Your name... your true name... is Aegon Targaryen."

The silence that followed was immediate and brutal. Not even the wind dared to whisper.

"What?" Jon breathed, his voice hoarse. He blinked at Bonds as if trying to decide whether this was some cruel joke.

Bonds held up a hand, his tone softening. "Your mother was Lyanna Stark. Your father, Rhaegar Targaryen. They were married in secret. Their love was real. You are not a bastard. You are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

Jon staggered back like he'd taken a blow to the chest.

"No... no. Ned Stark—he was my father. He raised me. He—he loved me." His voice cracked, and my heart broke at the sight of his eyes filling with tears.

Ghost stepped closer, his massive body shadowing Jon protectively. "He will always be your father, Jon," Ghost said, his voice deep and rumbling, filled with reverence. "The one who loved you enough to keep you safe from those who would've seen you dead."

"It's not fair," Jon whispered. "He lied to me. All this time. He let me feel like a stain on his name... like I was something shameful."

I stepped forward, falling to my knees beside him in the snow. "No, Jon. He carried the weight of that lie to protect you. It wasn't shame. It was love. The purest kind."

He turned to me, his expression breaking. A sob caught in his throat. "Then why do I feel like I'm falling apart?"

I took his hands in mine. "Because the ground beneath you just shifted. But you're still Jon. You're still the boy who held my hand when I had nightmares. You're still the man who saved me from Ramsay. You're still my brother. Nothing will ever change that."

Tormund knelt beside us, his rough voice surprisingly gentle. "You're the man who killed the Bastard of Bolton and took back Winterfell, you are the man who saved my people and took knives to your heart for them and still keeps fighting for them. That's all I need to know."

Ser Davos followed. "You're the one I chose to follow after Stannis. Because you're a better man. You have my loyalty, Jon Snow—or Ageon Targaryen, it matters little."

Jon Bonds placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. "A name doesn't define you. You've bled and fought and suffered. You're not some prince born to privilege. You're the wolf who clawed his way through ice and fire. You're the man the North chose. Not for your name. For your deeds. You are not the king of the North for your name but cuz you bleed, fought and did your duty for North."

Ghost let out a soft growl. "You're my alpha my brother who loved protected and feed me since the very day you found me and my siblings beside our dead mother, Jon. That hasn't changed."

Jon's lips trembled. Then he fell forward into my arms, burying his face in my shoulder. His body shook with silent sobs. I held him tighter.

He needed to grieve. He needed to fall apart. And we would hold him together.

Bonds crouched beside us, his voice quiet. "You are the balance between Ice and Fire. The world needs you whole. We will not let you break."

Minutes passed. No one said anything. Not until Jon finally sat back, his eyes red, but his expression more composed.

"This doesn't change who I am," he whispered. "Ned Stark will always be my father. The North will always be my home."

I nodded. "And you will always be my brother. Not by blood. But by bond."

Ghost wagged his tail once, a slow but powerful gesture. "Then let the world know. Aegon Targaryen may be your name. But Jon Snow is the King in the North."

Bonds smiled. "We've got work to do. A dragon queen awaits. But she's not the only fire the world should fear."

Jon met our eyes, steadier now. Hardened. Focused.

"Then let's remind the world why the North never forgets."