The Bastard Wolf: Reborn Chapter 5 – Wolves and Vultures
Snow fell soft but relentless across the Wall. Jon stood on the top battlement of Castle Black, eyes locked on the distant tree line. Benjen was gone, and unease spread through the Night's Watch like sickness.
Samwell Tarly had just arrived. A soft boy with softer hands, Sam wasn't what the Wall was made for. The others mocked him mercilessly. Thorne barked orders with venom, but Jon had seen fear behind the sneer. The world was changing, and men like Thorne felt it but couldn't name it.
Jon could. He could feel the cold inside his bones—not from the snow, but from the weight of destiny.
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"Why do you even help me?" Sam asked him one night, seated near the fire with bruises across his belly.
Jon sipped his ale. "Because this place will eat you alive. I'd rather feed it something else."
Sam blinked. "You sound like a villain in a song."
Jon laughed. "Or a prophet. The line's thin."
He rose and, with a slow, almost theatrical swagger, began to hum a tune. Then he sang, deep and slow:
"I remember you was conflicted… misusing your influence…"
"Sometimes I did the same…"
The brothers looked over, confused. Sam tilted his head.
"What's that?"
"A confession. From a man who knew too much and lived too loud."
Thorne threw a cup at the wall. "Shut your mouth with those mad songs, bastard."
Jon turned, grinned. "Make me, old man."
The room went still. Thorne stood, fists clenched.
But Jon didn't flinch. He just walked out into the cold, Ghost at his heels.
---
Nights grew longer. Patrols went missing. The dead didn't stay dead.
Jon knew what was coming, but the others didn't listen.
"You're scaring them," Sam said.
"Good."
"They won't follow you if they fear you."
Jon knelt, whispering to Ghost. The direwolf growled low.
"They will if they respect me."
---
South, in King's Landing, Ned Stark moved like a man surrounded by traps.
The king drank. The queen schemed. The court laughed behind their hands.
Varys appeared in his chamber, as if conjured by thought.
"My lord," the spider whispered. "Your son… the one at the Wall. He sings strange songs."
Ned frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Songs no bard knows. Songs from nowhere."
Ned's blood turned colder than the North.
"What are you saying?"
Varys met his eyes. "I'm saying that Jon Snow might not be your bastard after all."
---
Back at the Wall, the alarm bell rang.
Riders had returned. One of them was half-frozen. The other wasn't breathing. Their eyes were open. Milky. Wrong.
"Get them inside!" Maester Aemon called.
Jon stood beside the corpses in the dark. He knew what would happen.
And he waited.
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That night, the dead rose.
The screams echoed through Castle Black as the corpses attacked. Black brothers fell. Swords rang. Blood spilled.
Jon tackled Sam out of the way, rolled, drew his sword.
"Fire!" he screamed. "Burn them!"
But no one listened. Panic ruled.
So Jon moved.
He grabbed a torch and rammed it into the first wight's face. It shrieked and collapsed, smoke rising.
Another leapt at him. Jon ducked, sliced, burned. Ghost tore into a third.
Finally, others joined. Thorne. Grenn. Pyp.
The hall turned into a slaughterhouse of ash and screams.
When it was over, Jon stood breathing hard, blood and soot on his face.
Thorne looked at him differently now. Not with hatred.
With fear.
---
The next morning, the Lord Commander summoned him.
"You moved like you knew what was coming," Jeor Mormont said.
Jon met his eyes. "Because I did."
Jeor leaned forward. "You're not like the others."
"No. I'm not."
Jeor studied him. "We ride north soon. You'll come."
Jon nodded. "Of course."
Jeor gave a half-smile. "You have the makings of a commander."
Jon turned to leave. "I'm not here to command."
"Then why are you here?"
Jon paused at the door.
"To survive."
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First Person
They look at me like I'm some wild animal tamed just enough to wear black.
But they have no idea.
This world needs a storm. A disruptor.
I'm not here to play their game.
I'm here to flip the board.
And if they try to stop me?
Well… I warned them.
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End of Chapter 5