With help from Samwell Tarly – who'd shockingly enough survived the attack – and a few others of the remaining number, Jon shoved the massive rock wall back into place, gusting out a sigh of relief when he heard the unmissable sound of the locks clicking back into place.
"Well, lad." Mormont's gruff voice sounded in the weak half-light of the torches. "Where, exactly, have you brought us?"
Jon grimaced. That was why he'd been hoping to undertake a Ranging North alone, without the sharp eyes of the Night's Watch on his back. There were things House Stark kept secret with reason – and this secret was at the top of that list.
Face stony, Jon remained silent, walking over toward the far wall, searching with his sharp eyes and torch as Ghost did the same.
"Well?!" The Lord Commander barked when it seemed like no response was forth coming. Don't mistake him, Mormont was happy to have lived through that little skirmish. That didn't however mean that he was happy to be trapped in a tomb of all things in the middle of the Far North.
Under a gods-be-damned mountain no less.
A yip from Ghost had Jon loping a few yards down the deeply-black corridor, nearly disappearing into the darkness despite the torch he was carrying. The black brothers followed at his heels, none of them eager to be abandoned in the dark when Jon was the only one who had any information about their current location – such as how to get back out again.
Jon spun on his heels, Mormont and Sam easily making out the cocky smirk and the devilment dancing in the younger-man's eyes as he spoke with grand drama.
"Welcome, Lord Commander," he gave a short bow. "And honorable members of the Night's Watch. I humbly present: The Tomb of the First Men!" And without further ado, Jon plunged his torch into the hidden niche in the wall – and setting alight the precious oil waiting for just such a moment.
"By all the gods." The Lord Commander breathed in awe as Jon turned to take in the spectacle as well, the rest of their company stunned into silence. "What - ?"
Jon shook his head in wonder. He'd read descriptions and heard the tales all passed down by Bran the Builder of this place but never thought he would see it for himself. Only one member of House Stark made pilgrimages here every generation – in fact Benjen joining the Watch was to carry out the maintenance of the tomb, beyond the vastly more urgent reason to him taking the Black. It outstripped every expectation he'd had of it.
With the first spark of flame, fire had rushed all along the hidden track inside the walls – illuminating a massive man-made cavern shaped like an elongated D with the massive cliff-face doors occupying the flat of the shape. The cavern was long – longer than the Great Hall of Winterfell or the hall of Castle Black. Perhaps bigger even than the catacombs beneath his Northern home. And spaced evenly all along that great length were statues finely carved and hewn from rock of all kinds and colors – largely untouched by age as they were protected from harm inside the Tomb.
Marching all down the chamber in pairs of two facing each other across the wide aisle were the visages of long-forgotten heroes and kings from before the days of the Seven when the Olde Gods ruled Westeros – some even, Jon thought, were older still than that.
And it was one of those that he had come to seek.
Huddling together, the men of the Night's Watch followed as their Lord Commander kept pace with the strange Stark (or Snow?).
Jon pointed out a few of the more notable – or recognizable – figures.
"Bran the Builder," he waved a hand at a sober-looking edifice with painted storm-grey eyes. "Lann the Clever, Garth Greenhand, Symeon Star-Eyes," and on and on it went.
The Lord Commander – and former Lord of House Mormont – cursed under his breath as he saw a familiar jaw-line here or a brow-ridge there. Forged in stone for all to see were the very beginnings of the great houses of Westeros.
But the farther in they went, the less he recognized, for the warriors and heroes of the Age of Heroes – a time shrouded in more myth and legend than facts – were only at the very beginning of the Tomb.
With an exception.
He'd noted – but made no mention – of the newest member of the statues placed closest to the mouth of the chamber.
A statue with an extremely familiar if not infamous likeness, depicted in modern tools and stone with white-silver hair and purple gemstone eyes.
Now what, Mormont couldn't help but wonder. Was a statue of Rhaegar Targaryen doing in the Tomb of the First Men?
The company came to a stop at the very far end of the chamber opposite the doors – and the first sign of an actual tomb in the Tomb of the First Men.
"Long ago," Jon spoke softly in reverence for where they were. "Before Winterfell or the Wall were built with might and magic or Lann the Clever won Casterly Rock, the Epoch of Ice and Fire began from the ashes of the last Epoch – one where magic and technology warred, eventually ending their world in a series of disasters beyond what any of us alive today could fathom."
He gestured to the series of carvings on the walls above the clear diamond tomb – a tomb that contained more than dust and bones.
"But before that epoch ended – or was even close to doing so – a Prophecy was given."
Mormont arched a furry brow. "Like that of the "Prince Who Was Promised?"" He asked warily. The Lord Commander had no tolerance for witchcraft, sorcery, or soothsaying. Unless he could see it and touch it, he had no truck with it save for his belief in the Warrior and the Stranger.
"Nothing so benign." Jon scoffed, nearly rolling his eyes at the mention of that bit of drivel. "That prophecy set up a young child as the nemesis of a Dark Lord of Magic seventy years his senior. In the end the child defeated the monster and became Lord of two Houses. A warrior and more powerful than most, the love and adulation of his people swiftly turned to fear."
"They killed him." Samwell Tarly whispered, caught up in his friend's tale. "Didn't they?"
The men of the Watch winced, feeling for the child though Jon had told them nearly nothing about him. They knew what it was like to be hated and cast out.
:::
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