Game of Thrones: Viserys the Three-Headed Dragon.

Chapter 39 Jon Snow
The halls of Winterfell were steaming with the aroma of roasting meat and freshly baked bread.

There was a singer in the hall playing the harp and singing a ballad.

But Jon couldn't hear much from his position at the end of the long room, over the din of roaring fires, clinking of candlesticks, and drunken conversation.

The welcome dinner held to welcome the king had lasted for a full four hours.

Jon had been drinking since the feast and hadn't stopped yet.

He discovered that his alcohol tolerance was almost the same as that of an adult. Encouraged by the group of cheerful young people around him, every time he finished a glass, they would urge him to have another one.

Jon was happy to be with them, and he listened with relish to their stories of war, hunting and adultery. He believed that this group of companions was definitely more interesting than the princes and princesses.

Something rubbed his feet under the long table. He looked down and saw a pair of red eyes staring at him.

"Hungry again?" he asked. There was half a honey-roasted chicken in the middle of the table. Jon reached out and tore off a chicken leg. Suddenly, an idea came to him. He used a table knife to cut the meat of the whole chicken, and then let the remaining chicken bones slide between his legs to the ground. "White Ghost" bit the bones savagely but quietly. His brothers and sisters were not allowed to bring wolves into the banquet hall. Only at the end of the hall where Jon was, there were countless dogs, so naturally no one cared about his little wolf.

He told himself that this was a special blessing.

Jon rubbed his eyes roughly as they stung suddenly, cursing the smoke. He took another swig of wine and watched Ghost devour a whole chicken.

When Uncle Benyan came over to him, he was watching his Ghost winning a confrontation with a bitch that was three times bigger than him. He smiled triumphantly and reached under the table to touch Ghost's fluffy white fur.

"Is this the famous direwolf?" A familiar voice sounded beside him.

Jon looked up happily, and Uncle Benjen put his hand on his head and ruffled his hair, just as he had ruffled Ghost's hair just now.

"Yes," he answered, "it's called White Ghost."

A servant who was telling a low-level story stopped and made room for the Duke's brother to sit.

Benjen Stark straddled the bench and took the cup from Jon. "Summer's Red," he said slowly after taking a sip. "Nothing tastes as sweet as this. How many glasses have you had tonight, Jon?"

Jon smiled but did not answer.

Benjen Stark laughed and said, "Just as I expected. Haha, never mind. I remember the first time I got drunk, I was younger than you." He picked up a roasted onion dripping with brown gravy from the wooden plate next to him and took a bite, making a crispy crunch sound.

Uncle Benjen had sharp features and was thin as a rock, but his gray-blue eyes were always smiling. He was dressed in black like all the night watchmen, but tonight he wore a thick velvet gown, high leather-lined boots, a wide belt with a silver buckle, and a heavy silver necklace around his neck. As Benjen ate his onions, he looked at Ghost with interest.

"A very quiet wolf," he concluded.

"He's different from the others," Jon said. "He never makes a sound. That's why I call him Ghost, and that's because of his color. The others are all very dark, gray or black."

"There are direwolves outside the Wall, too. We often hear their howling when we go out on patrol." Benjen Stark looked at Jon meaningfully. "Don't you usually eat at the same table with your brother?"

"That was an ordinary day," Jon replied flatly. "My lady thinks it would be an insult to the royal family to allow a bastard to dine with them tonight."

"I see." The uncle turned to look at the dining table on the high platform at the end of the hall, "My brother doesn't seem to be in the mood to celebrate tonight."

Jon also noticed that bastards must learn to read people's expressions and understand the joys and sorrows hidden in people's eyes.

His father behaved politely, but there was something restrained about him that Jon had never seen before. He said little, and his eyes were fixed on the room, with a hollow look in them.

The king, who was sitting two seats away, drank heartily all night, his big face behind his beard was red, he kept toasting, laughed at every joke, and ate every dish like a hungry ghost. But the queen sitting next to him was like a cold statue.

"The queen is angry too," Jon whispered to his uncle. "Because my lord father took the king to the crypts, where the queen did not want him to go."

Benjen looked at Jon carefully. "You see everything, don't you, Jon? We need people like you on the Wall."

"Robb is stronger with a lance than I am," Jon said proudly, "but I'm better with a sword, and Hullen says I'm one of the best riders in the city."

“It’s really not easy.”

"Take me with you when you go back," Jon said, suddenly excited. "If you only tell my father, he will agree. I know he will."

Uncle Benjen studied his face again. "The Wall is a hard place for a boy, Jon."

"I'm almost an adult," Jon argued. "I'll be fifteen next nameday, and Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than other children."

"That's true." Benjen's mouth curled down slightly. He picked up Jon's wine glass from the table, filled it with wine, and took a deep sip.

"Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne," Jon added. The young dragon king in the legend was his hero.

"That battle lasted all summer," his uncle reminded him. "This young king you speak of lost ten thousand men trying to take Dorne, and another fifty thousand trying to keep it. Someone ought to have taught him that war is no joke." He took another sip of his wine and wiped his lips. "And Daeron Targaryen died at the age of eighteen. You haven't forgotten that part, have you?"

"I have forgotten nothing," Jon boasted, the alcohol emboldening him. He sat up straighter, trying to look taller. "Uncle, I want to serve in the Night's Watch."

He had thought over this decision over and over again, and at night, when his brothers were sleeping soundly beside him, he tossed and turned in a restless state.

Robb will one day inherit Winterfell and command a vast army as the Warden of the North.

Bran and Rickon will become Robb's vassals, own their own estates, and manage domestic affairs for him.

Sisters Arya and Sansa will marry the sons of other noble families and go to their territories in the south as noble ladies.

Only he, Jon Snow, a mere bastard, what could he expect?

"Jon, you probably don't know. The Night's Watch is a group that is ready to die. We have no family ties and will never have children. We take responsibility as our wife and honor as our concubine."

"A bastard has his share of honor," Jon said. "I am ready to take the oath of service."

"You are only a boy of fourteen," Benjen replied. "You are not yet an adult. You cannot imagine the price you have to pay until you have had contact with a woman."

"I don't care about that!" Jon was furious.

"If you knew, you would probably care," said Benjen. "My son, if you knew what the consequences of taking this oath would be, you wouldn't be so eager to join."

Jon became even more angry after hearing this: "I'm not your child!" Benjen Stark stood up and said, "It's a pity that you are not my child." He patted Jon on the shoulder and said, "Wait until you have two or three illegitimate children outside, then come to me and see what I think then."

Jon shuddered. "I will never father a bastard out there," he said, each word slowly. "Ever!" He spit the last word like venom.

At this moment, he was surprised to find that everyone at the table had become quiet and everyone was staring at him. He felt tears filling his eyes and finally he stood up.

"Excuse me, I'll leave first." He said with his last bit of dignity, and then ran away like a whirlwind before others saw his tears falling.

He must have drunk too much, because his legs seemed to be tied together and he bumped into a waitress, causing a jug of spiced wine to spill onto the ground. Everyone in the room burst into laughter.

Hot tears rolled down Jon's cheeks. Someone tried to help him, but he shook off the kind hands and continued running towards the gate with his eyes unable to see the ground. Ghost followed closely behind him, running into the falling night.

The empty courtyard was extremely quiet. There was only one guard on the inner battlement, who was curled up in a corner, pulling his cloak tight against the cold. Although he looked bored and miserable, Jon had a thousand and ten thousand wishes to trade places with him. Apart from that, the entire lonely city was dark and lonely.

Jon had been to an abandoned manor, where there was no one, silence and gloom, and there was a solemnity everywhere, only the huge stones silently told the story of the past owners. Tonight's Winterfell reminded Jon of that scene.

The music of singing and dancing poured out from the open window behind him, which was exactly the kind of decadent music he didn't want to hear at the moment. He wiped away his tears with his sleeve, angry at himself for not being able to control himself, and then prepared to turn around and leave.

"Boy," someone called him. Jon turned around.

Tyrion Lannister sat on a ledge above the front door of the hall, looking down on everything like a gargoyle. The dwarf smiled at him. "Is that a wolf beside you?"

"It's a direwolf," Jon said. "Ghost." He looked up at the dwarf, his earlier displeasure replaced by curiosity. "What are you doing there? Why aren't you in there for the dinner?"

"It's too hot and too noisy in there, and I drank too much wine," the dwarf told him. "I learned a long time ago that it's not polite to vomit on your brother. Can I get a closer look at your wolf?"

Jon hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Can you get down here yourself? Or should I get a ladder?"

"Go, look down on me?" the little man said. He thrust his hands back and flipped into the air. Jon gasped in surprise, staring at Tyrion as he curled up into a ball, landed lightly on his hands, and then flipped back to his feet.

Bai Ling took a few steps back hesitantly.

The dwarf dusted himself off and laughed, "I think I must have scared your little wolf. I'm so sorry."

"He's not frightened," Jon said, leaning over and calling out, "Ghost, come here. Come here, be good."

The wolf sauntered over and rubbed his nose against Jon's cheek affectionately, but he remained wary of Tyrion Lannister.

When the dwarf reached out to touch it, it immediately drew back, baring its sharp teeth and uttering a silent growl.

"Are you shy?" Lannister said.

"Ghost, sit down," Jon ordered. "That's right. Sit still." He looked up at the dwarf. "You can touch him now. He won't move unless I tell him to. I'm training him."

"I see." Lannister scratched the snow-white fur between Bai Ling's ears, "Good boy, wolf."

"If I hadn't been here, he would have torn your throat out long ago," Jon said. Actually, this was not yet true, but judging by the growth of the little wolf, it would not be long before it happened.

"If that's the case, then you'd better stay here," the dwarf replied. He tilted his oversized head and looked at Jon carefully with his uneven eyes. "I am Tyrion Lannister."

"I know," Jon said, rising. He stood much taller than the dwarf, which was odd.

"You are Ned Stark's bastard son, aren't you?"

Jon felt a chill run through his body. He pursed his lips and did not answer.

"Have I offended you?" Lannister said hurriedly. "I'm sorry, but dwarves are not very good at observing people's expressions. Anyway, the dwarf predecessors who performed juggling and selling music were all dressed casually and spoke without restraint, so I followed their example." He chuckled, "But you are indeed a bastard."

"Lord Eddard Stark is my father," Jon finally admitted.

"Hmm." Lannister studied his face. "I can see that. You are more of a Northerner than any of your brothers."

"Half brother," Jon corrected, secretly pleased with the dwarf's statement.

"Then, bastard, let me give you a piece of advice," Lannister said. "Never forget who you are, because the world will not forget. You must turn obstacles into strengths, so that you have no weaknesses. Use them to arm yourself, and no one can use them to hurt you."

Jon was in no mood for a lecture. "What do you know about being a bastard?"

"All dwarfs in the world are no different from illegitimate children in the eyes of their fathers."

"You are your mother's own son, a Lannister through and through."

"Really?" The dwarf smiled bitterly. "Go tell my father about this. My mother died when she gave birth to me, so my father was never sure whether I was his biological child."

"I don't even know who my mother is," Jon said.

"She's a woman anyway." He gave Jon a sad smile. "Remember, my boy. Although any dwarf in the world may be considered a bastard, a bastard is not necessarily considered a dwarf."

After saying this, he turned around, hunched back and returned to the banquet hall, humming a love tune. When he opened the door, the lights in the room cast his back clearly in the courtyard. At that moment, Tyrion Lannister stood tall and straight.

That night, Jon had that vague and strange dream again, dreaming of the sea with dark clouds covering the sky.

This chapter is from the original novel, but it is necessary, so I will post it as a separate chapter. The foreshadowing is for the last sentence. Jon's fate will have a slight deviation because of the dream that troubled him during this period. His identity anxiety reached its peak during the king's visit. There are mysterious things that take the opportunity to exert subtle influence. He has to make a choice among more possibilities.

The most interesting thing about Ice and Fire is that no matter how things develop, it is still people who make the final decision.

By the way, let me say in advance that there is a speculation that Tyrion is the son of the Mad King and Tywin’s wife. On this matter, I believe what Aunt Gena said: Tyrion is Tywin’s child.

相对阴谋论推时间，乔安娜和疯王有染反而可能生的是黄金双胞胎。论据是:1.蕾拉王后说讨厌伊里斯染指自己身边的女官。2.蕾拉王后把乔安娜赶回凯岩城并勒令不许再来君临。3.黄金双胞胎出生后伊里斯特别高兴并送来不少礼物。4.瑟曦对火的钟情。5.詹姆的鱼梁木梦境。

I am not saying this to prove this conspiracy theory. It is to show that I will selectively ignore some conspiracy theories that have no real evidence and each has its own arguments in the book, and treat the people of the Lannister family as Lannisters.

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(End of this chapter)