Jon Snow hesitated, the reluctance plain in the set of his jaw. As one who had fought for every scrap he possessed, the promise of such a boon tugged at him more than he cared to admit. It could make the path he walked less unforgiving, less steep. And that, perhaps, was precisely why he did not trust it.
"Well met good merchant. Although your offer of reward is gracious, I would have to refuse. I did not help you to gain anything in return. I did it because it was my duty," Jon Snow refused with great reluctance. Sure, he could could almost regret not taking up the merchant's reward. He was very tempted to do so.
But it wouldn't be right.
It would taint the Starks for taking advantage of those who need help. His father wouldn't have approved.
O' Dimm watched him intently, his eyes savoring the very moment as if enjoying the dilemma that was flooding the young man's mind.
And that was precisely why the Merchant of Mirrors decided. For what could be more delightful than handing a fisherman the ocean? Giving a king the entire world? Filling a thirsty man with the most delicious wine in existence? The depth of his abyssal mind is almost buzzing with excitement. After all, mortals were the most entertaining creatures when granted but an inch to thrive, their desires and weaknesses unfurling like threads in a tapestry he alone could see.
The Merchant of Mirrors does not deal with giving away freebies, that much was certain. Every transaction, every boon, came with its price. And the most desperate souls always made the most lucrative bargain. Yet, maybe he could indulge himself for a time. He knew this world is ripe for the taking, teeming with lives to manipulate, with millions of suffering hearts eager for his goods. How exquisite, to have stumbled upon such a place. Even the local entities are very fascinating for him. A world full of magic masking itself with banality, pretending to be bound by blood, steel, and politics.
Such wonderful world, indeed.
"No matter, young Snow," said Gaunter O'Dimm lightly, a hint of amusement threading his voice. "It would sit poorly with me if word spread that I failed to reward one who rendered… such fine service," his smile lingered.
"Reputation, you see, is everything for a humble merchant such as myself," O'Dimm finished with finality, as though reputation were no mere courtesy, but a thing of weight, of consequence, not easily denied.
Jon Snow could not refute those words given the tone of the merchant. He could understand it. A man's words spoke for the kind of man he was, and those spoken with such certainty were not given lightly. Such declarations, once made, bore a weight that could not be easily set aside, and should be uttered sparingly.
"If it must be so, then... I will accept. Not for want of reward, but because you have it so," Jon spoke with reluctance even if it was betrayed by the surge of joy in his chest. Whatever the worth of the boon, it would belong to him alone.
"Oh, you have seen nothing yet, young Snow," O' Dimm reassured with a chuckle. Then with a snap of his fingers, something heavy and significant settled in Jon. Something ancient, complex, something beyond understanding.
Jon was forced to inhale deeply as the stars, the sun, the moon, and things beyond the night sky stretched before him. They pressed upon his sight, upon his mind, until he could no longer tell where he ended and the void began. He felt small. Insignificant. As though the sheer depth of the universe had settled within him, vast and endless, threatening to swallow him whole.
"What did you do to me?!" Jon demanded with a shaky breath, confused, agitated, and very shocked. His eyes wandered as he tried to call the guards, but he noticed that everything froze as if time stopped. Flames freezed mid-flicker. No noise was heard as the very things that caused them stood very still. The world was caught in an unnatural pause.
"A gift, young Snow," O' Dimm answered with an amused smile.
"You are a large part of a wide tapestry that spans beyond what you can fathom. I thought it might be… interesting to tug at it, see what unravels." He continued.
"Why do this? What do you gain from this?" Jon almost cried. He did not know the depths of what the sorceror deemed upon him.
"Why? because I can, and frankly, this millenia have been rather dull for me," The merchant answered with a faint shrug as if it was a very simple answer. "So I thought, why not broaden my horizons? It's just my luck to stumble into this place," His smile widened.
Jon Snow stood frozen, his mind reeling. Confusion and shock crashing against a rising, simmering anger. To be spoken of so lightly, as though he were no more than a piece on some unseen board. It set his blood aflame.
'What right did he have?'
He steadied his breath as he forced the storm surging inside him. Anger would not help him with this, not when he is alone and powerless.
"If I am a piece in your game," he said at last, voice low but firm, "then I'll not be moved so easily."
"I've lived my whole life being told what I am," he went on. "Bastard. Nothing. Less than others. If you think I'll bend just because you've given me some… power. Then you chose very poorly."
Gaunter O' Dimm grinned as if he just heard the very thing he was wishing to hear.
"Oh, I am always right about the people I choose. The ones I bargain with," he said softly. "You see, I know what you are. A bastard, with little to your name save the sword you bled to earn."
His gaze sharpened, voice turning almost thoughtful. "And for all the love you bear your kin, for all the reverence you hold for your father, there are embers in you still. Envy. Ambition. Quiet things, perhaps. But very real."
He took a slow step closer.
"You stand between what you want and what you believe you deserve," he continued. "A most uncomfortable place." A faint smile returned to his lips. "But there is no sin in wanting more, young Snow. Desire is not weakness."
His eyes glinted, something deeper stirring beneath the surface.
"It is what drives men to become something greater."
Jon was caught between a rock and a hard place. The words of the merchant striking deeper than he wished to admit. Envy and ambition stirred within him, clashing against the honor he clung to so fiercely. No matter how he denied it, the truth remained. He wanted more.
To step out from the shadow of his bastardy. To be seen, not as less, but as something worthy. His jaw tightened. To earn the recognition of his family, of his father. That quiet, aching desire had never truly left him.
But there was one thing Jon Snow knew with certainty. Whatever stirred within him. Envy, ambition, or longing. There was a line he would not cross.
He would not betray his family.
Not for power. Not for recognition. Not for anything this world could offer. Not even for the whispering promises of the gods themselves.
Gaunter O'Dimm regarded him in silence for a long moment, that knowing smile never leaving his lips.
"How admirable," he said at last, almost softly. "Such conviction. Such… limits."
"Very well, young Snow. Keep your sentimentality. Cling to it, if you must." His voice carried a quiet amusement. "It makes things far more interesting."
Jon Snow clasp his pommel firmly. " I want nothing from you sorceror. Take back your boon for I have no need for it."
O' Dimm laughed. Not chuckle lightly or grinned, but laughed. Uproariously.
Then he answered. "Oh, but you misunderstand," O'Dimm replied lightly. "This was never a matter of want. Consider it… an investment."
Time lurched. Sound rushed back. The world breathed again. And when Jon looked up, the merchant was gone.
"If you truly wish to test yourself against me," he said, a faint, amused edge in his tone, "then use the gift I have given you. Master it, and when you are ready, come find me." Gaunter O' Dimm whispered in his mind finally before disappearing completely.
Jon finally felt the world settle around him, with Ysolda staring at him.
"Oi, Snow. You've been standing there for a minute. Has the cold finally got in your head?" Ysolda called him.
"W-what? What happened to the merchant...here?" Jon stammered.
"What merchant? I didn't see anyone sit in there for a while," Ysolda asked confused. Jon was about to answer until he remembered his encounter with the merchant sorceror. It would not be good to involve others with him. Jon shook his head and told Ysolda that he might be tired from all the training and errands he did today.
As Jon left the tavern and returned to the courtyard and Ser Jory, he swallowed hard. The echo of O'Dimm's words still lingering in his chest.
What did he get himself into?
His gaze fell to his hand and saw it clasping something. Something that had not been there before. Three strips of golden writing made with some kind of parchment, but thinner and lighter. Jon turned them over, inspecting the strange sheets before his eyes fell upon the words inscribed in elegant, gleaming letters:
"Tear Me"
Curiously, Jon tore one golden sheet into two. The parchment thing dissolved into a swirl of golden particle before settling in his chest, like a familiar weight he felt earlier when he received something from Gaunter O' Dimm. However, nothing happened after feeling the warm weight on his chest. He was just about to turn his mind into other things when his sight was filled with words. It wasn't written on the cold ground. The letters were floating in the air. He considered himself fortunate that he could understand the words. Reading had been a lesson shared with his siblings, a duty drilled into him by his lord father, although Lady Catelyn had argued fiercely against it.
[Chaos Gacha System Initiated, Achieve great feats to receive reward!]
Jon was confused.