Telling the whole plot of Got

Theon (his voice quiet but firm):"To know about the prince who was promised you should know what happened before his birth. It began before the Long Night. It began with a rebellion. A stag rose against a dragon. Robert Baratheon loved a woman, Lyanna Stark. Or so the world believed."

Brandon and Torrhen exchanged glances. Gilliane was very still.

Theon (continuing):"She wasn't taken. She ran away with the dragon prince, Rhaegar Targaryen. And from their union came a son… hidden away, his name buried. Everyone believed Lyanna was stolen, and so Robert raised his banners, and the realm bled."

He looked to Brandon Stark now, eyes solemn.

Theon:

"Brandon Stark, heir to Winterfell and eldest son of Lord Rickard Stark, rode south to King's Landing — proud, unbending, and full of fury. He stood in the Red Keep and demanded that Prince Rhaegar return his sister, Lyanna Stark. But the prince was gone, and the Mad King sat the Iron Throne.

Brandon was seized as a traitor, and summons were sent to his lord father, commanding him to present himself before the crown. Lord Rickard came, seeking justice. Instead, he found madness. He called for trial by combat, as was his right. Aerys, ever cruel, agreed — but named wildfire as his champion.

In the great hall, they bound Lord Rickard in chains and hoisted him above the hearth. Beneath him, the pyromancers lit their green flames. Brandon was brought forth, a leather cord wrapped tight around his neck, the end fastened to a winch in the wall. A sword was placed before him, just beyond reach. The Mad King decreed: 'Let the son be a champion. Let him save his father.'

Brandon fought the cord, clawed for the blade, but the more he struggled, the tighter the noose drew. Rickard roasted above him, and Brandon choked on smoke and desperation, dying not by fire, but by fate's cruel hand.

When it was done, the realm shuddered. Aerys sent word to Lord Jon Arryn of the Eyrie, commanding he deliver the heads of his wards — Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon. But Lord Arryn defied the king, raising his banners instead. And thus, the realm was set alight, and Robert's Rebellion was born."

Brandon's face darkened, but he said nothing.

Theon:

"In the days of Robert's Rebellion, an alliance was struck with the Riverlands. Lord Hoster Tully, ever mindful of duty and honor, demanded that Eddard Stark wed his eldest daughter, Lady Catelyn, who had once been promised to his slain brother, Brandon. Thus was the pact between Houses Tully and Stark upheld, and the Riverlords took up arms in rebellion. The joining of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully, and that of Lord Jon Arryn and Lysa Tully, sealed the allegiance.

The war turned, and the rebellion found its strength. On the banks of the Trident, Robert Baratheon drove his warhammer through Prince Rhaegar Targaryen's breast, shattering the crown of rubies and the hopes of the dragon. King's Landing soon fell.

Lord Tywin Lannister, who had kept his banners unraised for much of the conflict, rode for the capital with a host at his back. At the city gates, he claimed to come as a loyal servant, to defend the realm and the king. The Mad King Aerys, in his paranoia, doubted him — yet Grand Maester Pycelle, ever whispering in the king's ear and long a friend to Casterly Rock, urged that the gates be opened. They were.

The lion revealed his teeth. King's Landing was sacked, its streets running red. As the city burned, Aerys Targaryen, last of his line to sit the Iron Throne, gave a final command to his pyromancers — to ignite the hidden wildfire and 'burn them all.'

But one remained who would not abide it. Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard, golden and young, put his sword through the Mad King's back ere the flames could rise. Thus ended the reign of House Targaryen… or so the realm believed."

He paced now, slowly, as though telling the tale gave it weight.

Theon:"But Aegon targaryen, seventh of his name trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark was born in the shadow of war, far from the eyes of kings and usurpers — in the Tower of Joy, amidst the red mountains of Dorne. He was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, yet no crown touched his brow.

To keep him safe from blade and crown alike, he was given a false name, raised in the North, as one of Eddard Stark's own. His name… was Jon Snow."

Torrhen raised his head slowly.

Torrhen:"Snow? You mean a bastard?"

Theon (nodding):"Aye. Jon Snow. Raised in Winterfell by Eddard Stark. But he was no bastard."

Silence fell again. The fire popped softly in the hearth.

Brandon Stark (brows furrowed):"If what you say is true… then why keep such a boy hidden? Why raise him as a Snow, and not a Stark or a Targaryen?"

Theon:"To keep him alive. Had Robert known Lyanna bore Rhaegar's son, he would've had the babe's head dashed against the rocks himself. The rebellion was won on the lie that Rhaegar stole Lyanna. To reveal the truth would have shattered the realm anew. So Lord Eddard bore the burden alone — told none, not even his lady wife."

Torrhen (grimly):"A heavy price for love and duty both. But Catelyn Stark… she would not have borne it well."

Theon (softly, with a hint of sorrow):"She did not. She despised him, though he had done no wrong. Jon felt it, carried it with him like a scar upon the soul. A ghost in his own home — blood of the wolf, yet always apart. Her eyes, cold as the snows of the Last Hearth, never warmed to him. She saw only the shame she believed was her husband's."

Jonnos (shaken):"Wait… you said Jon lived. That he was raised at Winterfell. What happened?"

Theon (his voice low, bitter):"He lived — until he didn't. During the Greyjoy Rebellion, the castle was in turmoil. Lords called to arms, ravens flying like crows to carrion. After Eddard Stark left for battle, Jon fled because he couldn't bear the abuse from her anymore. He was but a boy of eight name days, frightened and lost. He ran from the cold in her eyes, from the whispers, from the weight of not belonging."

Brandon (stiffly):"You mean Catelyn Tully?"

Theon (nodding slowly):"Aye. Catelyn Tully. She saw him not as an innocent, but as a living insult. A stain upon her honor. And though he bore no name but Snow, and no crime but being born, she could not keep her scorn to herself."

Torrhen (voice like stone):"And so he fled."

Theon:"He slipped past the guards, into the night, wearing naught but a cloak too big for him. By the time they found him, he was frozen stiff beneath the Heart Tree. Eight years old."

Gilliane (whispers, horrified):"Gods be good… a child."

Jonnos:"He was family. He was blood!"

Theon (quietly, with steel):"And now that blood is lost, and with it the prophecy. A life that might've changed the world — snuffed out. Because one woman could not master her pride."

Theon (his voice becoming more somber):"Jon's death... it wasn't just a death. It was a wound in the fabric of time itself. You see, the moment he slipped away from this world, it set something into motion. A ripple, unseen but powerful."

Torrhen (his gaze narrowing, as if seeing something distant):"A ripple? What are you saying, boy?"

Theon (his voice heavy, pained):"When Jon Snow died, the course of history fractured. He was the heir, the trueborn son, the one who could unite the realms and avert what was to come — the darkness. His death… it turned the wheel that spun our doom. The Long Night was not some far-off prophecy anymore. It began with him."

Brandon (voice full of disbelief):"A child's death... turned the tide of fate?"

Theon (his eyes locked with Brandon's, a flicker of pain crossing his face):"Aye. A child's death, yes. The gods have their ways, but Jon Snow was not meant to die so young. His life was meant to change things — to lead us against the coming darkness. He was to join the Night's Watch, to face the Others, to protect the realms. But with him gone, the realm was not prepared for the Long Night."

Jonnos (whispering):"So all life was lost because Jon Snow left Winterfell early?"

Theon (his voice a ghost of emotion, hollow and lost):"Because of that one moment. Because Catelyn Tully couldn't hold her hate. The day Jon Snow died, the world began to fall apart. The dead gathered their strength. That moment, the loss of Jon, was the beginning of the end."

The flickering torchlight danced across the worried faces of the Northern lords gathered in the solar.

Torrhen Stark

His face etched with a grim determination that belied his years, turned to Theon. His voice, though steady, held a tremor of uncertainty. "Theon," he began, the weight of their precarious situation heavy in the air, "the whispers… the cold… what should we do now?"

Theon Stark

His eyes distant as if peering beyond the stone walls, finally focused on his Grand father. A strange calm had settled over him, a stark contrast to the fear that gripped the others. "Now," he said, his voice low and resonant, "now we prepare for the Long Night. The old gods… they have given me gifts."

He moved with a deliberate purpose towards a shadowed corner of the solar, near a weathered brick in the wall. Drawing a dagger from his belt, its steel gleaming faintly in the dim light, he knelt. A collective gasp rippled through the room as he turned the blade not on an enemy, but on himself. With a sharp intake of breath, he made a shallow cut on his palm, a thin line blooming crimson against his pale skin.

Brandon Stark and Gilliane Stark, their faces etched with alarm, rushed forward. "Theon! What in the Seven Hells are you doing?" Brandon's voice was sharp with parental fear. Gilliane reached out a trembling hand towards the cut.

Theon didn't flinch, didn't even seem to notice their distress. His gaze remained fixed on the brick. Ignoring their pleas, he smeared the welling blood across its rough surface, the dark red staining the grey stone. A hush fell over the room, the only sound the soft drip of blood onto the stone floor.

Suddenly, a low rumble vibrated through the solar, growing steadily louder. Peoplein the room exchanged bewildered glances. Then, with a grinding groan of ancient stone, a section of the wall beside Theon shuddered and began to slide inward, revealing a dark, gaping doorway where only solid brick had been moments before. A cold gust of air, carrying the faint scent of snow and something else… something ancient and earthy… swept into the room.