The message must have gotten through, because the System's internal monologue finally shut up.
Jon's body jerked sideways, plastering itself against the rough stone of the outer wall just as the heavy oak door of the Broken Tower swung open.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
His heart was beating so hard he was sure Jaime Lannister could hear it. He'd been online for less than 24 hours, and the System had already tried to get him killed twice. At this rate, he wasn't going to die from a sword; he was going to die from cardiac arrest at sixteen.
He held his breath.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel, fading away toward the Great Hall. Jaime was gone.
Jon sagged against the wall, gulping down the cold night air. Okay. He's gone. I'm alive. Just walk away, Jon. Walk away now.
But then, from inside the tower, came a sound.
Rustle.
The soft slide of silk on stone. Then a low, frustrated sigh that quickly morphed into something else.
[DING.]
[CRITICAL OPPORTUNITY DETECTED.][Target acquired. Do you wish to continue with Smart One-Click Hosting for an Intelligent Tier Upgrade?][YES / NO]
Jon stared at the prompt, horror dawning on him.
His body was frozen again. Only his eyes could move, darting frantically around the holographic screen.
He knew exactly who was in there. He knew exactly what "Tier Upgrade" meant in this context.
Cersei Lannister. The Queen. The most dangerous woman in Westeros.
"No," Jon thought, his internal voice screaming. "Absolutely not! Are you crazy? That's suicide! That's treason! That's—"
[NO selected.]
The invisible strings holding his limbs snapped. Jon stumbled, his control returning so abruptly he almost fell over. He let out a loud, ragged breath of relief.
Haaaah.
It was loud. In the silence of the abandoned courtyard, it sounded like a gunshot.
Inside the tower, the rustling stopped instantly.
"Who's there?!" A woman's voice rang out, sharp and imperious. "Jaime? Is that you?"
The moonlight cut through the crumbling archway, illuminating the interior. Cersei was standing there, her golden hair disheveled, her dress half-undone. Her skin glowed like pale marble in the moonlight.
She turned, her green eyes locking onto the shadow near the door.
Jon was standing in that shadow. And the light hit him too.
They stared at each other.
Cersei's eyes went wide with panic. Jon's eyes went wide with terror.
And then the mechanical voice spoke again, sounding smug.
[ERROR: User hesitation detected. System overriding decision to prevent missed opportunity.][Re-initiating Smart One-Click Hosting.][Target: The Queen.]
"Wait—what?!"
Jon's body went rigid. His legs moved. But instead of running away, he took a step forward. Toward the tower. Toward Cersei.
"System! Stop! STOP! Do you have any idea who that is?! That is the King's wife! That is Tywin Lannister's daughter! You are going to get my head mounted on a spike!"
The System didn't care.
Jon watched, a passenger in his own body, as he walked into the tower with a predatory confidence that belonged to a romance novel hero, not a teenage bastard.
Cersei gasped, backing up until she hit the cold stone wall. She looked ready to scream, but something in Jon's expression—or rather, the System's expression—stopped her.
What happened next was a blur of madness.
Jon's mind was screaming in protest, a constant stream of NO NO NO NO, but his body was operating on autopilot. It was like watching a movie in first-person VR where you hated the main character's choices.
Every few seconds, a notification would pop up in his peripheral vision, bright and cheerful against the backdrop of treason.
[Experience Deficiency Supplemented.][Strength +0.01][Constitution +0.01]
[Intelligent Hosting Complete. New Title Unlocked: "The Persuader"]
[High Favorability Detected. Tier Upgrade Complete.][Reward: "The Emperor's New Clothes" (Limited Time Trial)]
The night dissolved into a haze of sensory overload and sheer panic. By the time the first gray light of dawn started to creep through the cracks in the masonry, Jon felt like he had lived a thousand lifetimes.
His body finally slowed down. The System's grip loosened.
Jon collapsed back against the wall, gasping for air. His mind was racing, trying to formulate an escape plan, an excuse, a lie—anything that would explain why the Bastard of Winterfell was in the Broken Tower with the Queen.
Cersei was slumped on the floor, her golden hair a mess, her chest heaving. She looked wrecked.
But just as Jon opened his mouth to stammer an apology, a shadow fell across the opening high above them.
Jon looked up. Cersei looked up.
A small, shocked face was peering down from the window ledge.
Bran Stark.
Bran's eyes were huge, saucers of disbelief. He had seen everything.
[EMERGENCY EVENT DETECTED.][System initiating Emergency Protocol.][Host, please prepare for immediate action.][Countdown: 5... 4... 3...]
Panic flared in Bran's eyes. He scrambled backward, his foot slipping on the slick moss of the ledge.
He fell.
He didn't scream. He just flailed, gravity taking hold.
[2... 1...]
Jon didn't wait for the System. The adrenaline override kicked in. He moved faster than he ever had in his life. He was a blur of motion, launching himself toward the window.
He didn't jump out; he grabbed.
His hand shot out and clamped around Bran's ankle just as the boy tumbled past the lower opening.
The jerk nearly dislocated Jon's shoulder, but his grip held. He hauled the boy back in, pulling him into the safety of the tower floor.
Bran landed in a heap, trembling, his face pale as milk.
"Kill him," a voice hissed from the shadows.
Jon froze. He turned to look at Cersei.
She had pulled herself up, clutching her torn dress. Her eyes were cold, hard flints of green. There was no hesitation in her voice. No mercy.
"He saw us," she whispered. "Kill him. Or we all die."
Jon looked at Bran. The boy was terrified, looking between Jon and the Queen.
Jon took a deep breath. He knelt down in front of his little brother, forcing a smile that felt like it was made of glass.
"Bran," he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Listen to me very carefully."
He put a hand on Bran's shoulder. "You saw nothing. You were never here. Do you understand?"
"I... I..." Bran stammered.
"Forget everything," Jon commanded, trying to channel some of that 'Persuader' title the System had given him. "If you talk about this, bad things will happen. To Father. To Robb. To everyone. Promise me."
Bran nodded frantically, tears welling in his eyes. "I promise. I promise, Jon."
"Go," Jon said. "Climb down. Go back to your room. Run."
Bran scrambled up and practically threw himself down the ladder, vanishing into the morning mist.
Jon stood up slowly. He turned to face the Queen.
Cersei was glaring at him, her lips pressed into a thin white line. "You fool," she spat. "You should have thrown him."
Jon stepped closer to her. The System was humming in the back of his mind, ready to take over again if he faltered.
"Your Grace," Jon said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register he didn't know he possessed. "I can explain..."
He paused, looking at her. The madness in her eyes was mixing with something else. Fear? desire?
He changed tack.
"Actually, Cersei," he said, stepping into her space, "you wouldn't want to explain why you were here with me, would you?"
Later that morning, the courtyard was bustling.
The Royal Hunt was assembling. Hounds bayed, horses stomped, and men shouted orders.
Prince Joffrey was preening on his horse. Robb was chatting with Theon. Even Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, was there, waddling toward a pony with a customized saddle.
King Robert was missing, presumably sleeping off a hangover.
Bran watched from the balcony, miserable.
"You're too young," his father had said. "Stay with the girls."
So here he was, stuck with Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen while everyone else got to go have fun.
He kicked a stone, watching it skitter across the cobbles. He felt useless. His wet nurse told him stories of Ser Barristan the Bold and Arthur Dayne, knights who were legends. He wanted to be like them.
But he was just a boy who liked to climb. He couldn't shoot a bow like Jon. He couldn't fight like Robb.
And now, everything was changing.
Tomorrow, Father was taking him south to King's Landing. Jon was going north to the Wall. The family was splitting apart.
Bran picked up his wooden practice sword and hurled it over the wall in a fit of frustration.
"Stupid sword," he muttered. "Stupid hunt."
A low whimper came from the bushes below.
A grey blur darted out, chasing the sword. Summer, his direwolf.
Bran sighed, leaning against the cold stone. He touched his ankle, wincing slightly. It was bruised where Jon had grabbed him.
He shivered, the memory of the tower flashing in his mind. The Queen's cold eyes. Jon's strange, fierce expression.
You saw nothing, Jon had said.
Bran squeezed his eyes shut. I saw nothing. I saw nothing.
But he knew, deep down, he had seen everything. And nothing would ever be the same.
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