Jon fell into a routine. With training, he managed to get closer to Loki's mastery, slowly building muscle memory. He knew how to swing it but without the muscle memory, he was slow to change between forms. Protecting Edric meant sitting with him in the maesters tower or going with him into the city. It was easy work. Only once or twice he had to intervene when the dumber of citizens thought it a wise idea to attack the heir of Starfall. He also sparred against the lordling, as Edric requested. The young heir was good but in the end, he was only a boy of eight name days. As Jon build muscle memory, even Ser Arnold was getting easier and easier to defeat. It wasn't guaranteed anymore that he would land a hit on him after the first month.
When he wasn't training or protecting Edric Dayne, he was exploring Starfall.
The city was bigger than Winterfell, though not as big as King's landing. There were many side alleys and secret passages all around the streets.
He was in another of his exploration ventures, passing through a secret passage, when he found himself in front of a run down building. It might've looked unremarkable to others but Jon could feel the magic slumbering just beyond that door. He could smell incense burning, a nice and calming sensation.
Intrigued, he pushed open the door and was assaulted by strange smells and a wave of subtle magic. Looking in, every wall was covered in rugs and beads hung from the ceiling. A big fire roared in one corner, a strange sight so far north. Plush chairs were propped up next to the fire. On one of them sat an old man, who was the source of the magic, Jon could feel it. The man was in his sixties, maybe seventies, with a crooked nose that might've been broken before. His hair was thin and graying but what caught his attention were his eyes, purple, deep, deep purple, like the Targaryens of old.
"Ah, the young dragon appears", the man spoke, not looking away from the fire, which danced unnaturally, dimming with every exhale and burning brighter with every inhalation.
"You know me?", Jon stepped closer, drawn by curiosity.
"Indeed I do. You are quite unique, aren't you? Three names, one person… Jon Snow, Aegon Targaryen, Loki Laufeyson… you have quite the story both told and yet to be. Come and sit with me, god of mischief"
He should be alarmed that he knew so much when he hadn't told anyone yet but he just couldn't bring himself to. His mind was screaming at him to be cautious but his instincts were that this man, whoever he was, didn't harbour any ill intent. He wouldn't spread the word.
Jon sat down on one of the chairs across from him, "how do you-?"
"Know about it all?", he smiled, showing his crooked teeth, "a little mix of dragon dreams and looking in the flames"
"Dragon dreams? Are you a Targaryen?"
"A bastard, conceived and forgotten about. My mother was very drunk when she had me, she couldn't remember who the father was. If she did, I might've been raised in king's landing or maybe I would've been killed but alas, she didn't, so I grew up fatherless. I first experienced the dragon dreams when I was six. Back then, I thought it was a simple dream but years later, what I saw came true. After more and more of my dragon dreams came true, I set my sight on Essos. I studied under the red priests and they showed me how to harness my gifts. I lived in Essos for many years, as a sellsword, then, when I grew old and frail, i changed careers to a diviner. People pay good money to know the future. I was happy but then the dragon dreams returned, showing me the great other and the man who would stand against them… you. I traveled to where the dreams guided me and have been waiting here ever since. Come, Jon Snow, look in the fire with me"
Jon's eyes flickered towards the flames. He stared into them for a few minutes with nothing happening, he was about to turn away when he saw it. Visions of the future. He saw himself riding a dragon to the north, flying over Winterfell. He saw the night king, battling him. He saw the hored of undead collapsing mid march. He saw himself dying against a white walker and being victorious. Then, the scene shifted towards him, standing over the corpse of Cersei Lannister, presenting the corpse to Daenerys. The scene shifted again. He was sitting on the iron throne, a small child with silver hair on his lap.
He stared into that fire for a long time after, seeing triumph and tragedy alike. Deaths he couldn't avoid and lives he could save.
When he looked up from the flames, his eyes, once grey bordering on black had turned a rich shade of red, like crimson blood. Looking at his hands, they had turned a shade of blue, with long, claw like nails but were slowly reverting back to their human colouration and the claws receding to finger nails once more.
"What did you see?", the old man asked, curious.
"Everything", Jon whispered, his hands shaking, "which of those futures I saw was the real one?"
"They are all equally real. All that differs are your choices. You can shape your own destiny. What I can show you is merely a glimpse into the endless possibilities but one thing remains true, you are very, very important to this world's fate", the man explained, his hands shaking before the life in his eyes vanished. He had been holding onto life due to pure determination.
Jon looked at the corpse, lying in the chair. The dead were coming, he couldn't burry him. He wouldn't have wanted to come back as an undead. It wasn't probable that the dead would manage to get this far south, not if he had anything to say about it but he wagered, the man -who's name he didn't catch- wanted to be burned, so he threw him in the fireplace and walked out, his mind racing.