Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

"How would you like to be recognized? For your beauty? Wealth? For the number of women you've conquered throughout your life? Others may complain that such achievements are useless and futile, but you've managed to leave your legacy in the world and they haven't. Which is something to celebrate." Aenar Targaryen.

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 "Should war come to our home, we will fight together, Uncle," Jon said, his voice terribly serious and determined, causing Eddard to display an expression of surprise and emotion.

It was the first time Jon had called him anything other than Lord Stark. He had called him uncle.

"You can go back to your room, Jon. You must be tired," Eddard said, noting the exhausted expression on his nephew's face. He also noticed the slightly red eyes, as if the boy was going to cry at any moment.

Jon nodded and left Lord Stark's solar. As soon as he closed the door, his expression returned to normal. He wiped away the tears he had forced himself to shed and walked calmly away.

The first part of the plan was ready, now it was just a matter of making his uncle increasingly wary of the King and finally demonstrating his sense of revenge towards the King. He would reveal his plan to take the throne and avenge his Good Mother, Ellia Martell, and her brothers and sisters.

Eddard could not deny a son's right to avenge his house, it would inevitably bring the North into the war and, with the existence of Caraxes to prove his legitimacy, Jon was sure that many other noble houses were ready to rebel.

The plan was going according to what Jon wanted, he just had to follow what he planned to sit on the Iron Throne before the Night King with his army of hundreds of thousands of undead got anywhere near the Wall.

As Jon was thinking about the countless possibilities he had seen in the future, he felt a pair of eyes fall on him and he glanced at a dark-haired girl looking at him with big dark brown eyes.

"Jon!" Seeing that she had been caught red-handed, the girl came out from behind a pillar she was hiding behind and exclaimed loudly, running towards him.

Taking the girl in his arms, Jon kissed her cheek and asked in an affectionate tone: "Shouldn't you be taking sewing lessons from Septa, Arya?"

Four-year-old Arya Stark.

The girl's face showed a frown, her eyes filled with disdain at the mention of the Septa. "I hate sewing, it hurts so much when I pierce myself with the needle." She spoke in a low tone, dissatisfied at being forced to do something she didn't want to.

"But that's something every lady should study." Jon smiled and teased the girl.

"I'm not a Lady!!!" Exclaimed the four-year-old as she glared fiercely at Jon, or at least that's what she thought she was doing. In Jon's eyes, Arya's expression was nothing but pure cuteness.

Giving her another kiss on the cheek, calming her down, Jon said, pretending to apologize: "I beg your pardon for my insolence, great Arya Stark, the second coming of Nymeria!"

The girl's expression changed from anger to condescension and smugness. "You're forgiven, I'll let you carry me to my room, be honored."

Jon almost couldn't suppress the laugh he was about to let out after hearing her words. His younger cousin really was someone nice to talk to.

With Arya in his arms, Jon walked towards her room. However, he soon noticed the slightly sad expression on the girl's face.

"What happened? You look sad," he asked, his tone gentle and concerned.

"Sansa called me horseface," Arya replied, leaning her head on Jon's shoulder. Her voice carried a desolate sadness. She had wanted to be beautiful like Sansa, with the straight red hair of her sister and mother. But she had inherited her father's dark brown hair and gray eyes.

"I think you're much prettier than Sansa," said Jon, kissing her forehead tenderly. He didn't want Arya to grow up with low self-esteem, something he himself had faced in another life. He knew how destructive it could be, leading to depression and other deep difficulties, even suicide.

Hearing something like that from someone Arya thought was as handsome as Jon seemed like medicine for her four-year-old heart.

"Really?" she asked, her eyes shining with a spark of hope. For Arya, if Jon thought she was beautiful, then it could only be true.

"Yes," Jon replied with conviction and a gentle smile on his lips. "You'll be as beautiful as Nymeria or Visenya, full of bravery, courage and the determination to keep going, no matter what the challenges." He spared no compliments. "In the future, everyone will know the name of Arya Stark, the Knight of Wolves. But no one will remember Sansa Stark."

Despite the favoritism evident in his words, Jon believed in what he was saying. He already envisioned a great future for Arya, one where she would leave her mark on Westeros. What's more, the girl looked incredibly like Lyanna Stark, his mother, in her youth. How could someone like that be ugly?

Jon's words seemed to ignite a flame of enthusiasm in Arya, whose gray eyes shone like living torches.

Jon had the impression that the girl would have trouble sleeping that night, so excited was she.

When he reached the bedroom door, he placed her carefully on the floor and stroked her dark brown hair. "I'm leaving for the Wall later today. I'll probably be away for a few months. Until then, I want you to behave and not run away from the castle again."

Even at just four years old, Arya was already adventurous to the extreme, causing trouble and mischief like a typhoon. All it took was one opportunity for her to deftly escape from the castle.

Fortunately, she had never crossed Winterfell's boundaries, and everyone knew the Lord of the North's second daughter, which avoided any major problems that could have arisen.

Even so, her escapades led to great confusion, and both Eddard and Catelyn often got headaches from Arya's antics. They both tried to educate the girl, but ended up failing, with her resisting the lessons even more fiercely.

Suddenly, Arya turned her head so quickly that Jon was surprised her neck hadn't been hurt.

"Can I come with you, Jon? Please, please, please!" She clung to his leg, looking up with pleading, hopeful eyes.

On hearing that Jon was going to the Wall, Arya decided she wanted to accompany him. She had heard of the place all her short life and didn't want to miss the chance to go on an epic adventure with her favorite brother!

"No," replied Jon, rolling his eyes. His refusal was as firm as it was cruel. He couldn't take a four-year-old girl to a place full of rapists and thieves, even if there were many good men in the Night's Watch.

Besides, his trip had a specific purpose: to visit one of the three remaining Targaryen relatives on the continent. It was not a suitable journey for Arya.

The hope in Arya's eyes was extinguished almost immediately by Jon's words. She heard the determination in his voice, it seemed that no matter what she said, he would refuse without a second thought.

Seeing the dejected look on the girl's face, Jon's hard heart softened and he crouched down to the same height as her, looking directly at the girl.

"Although I can't take you, I can bring you some gifts, if you've behaved well, maybe I'll even ask a blacksmith to build you a sword worthy of a warrior queen like Visenya and Nymeria." He smiled.

The despondency and sadness on her face disappeared as quickly as you might expect from a child her age. Hugging Jon, Arya exclaimed in an excited tone. "I'll behave!!!"

At the thought of having a sword, the girl's lovely cheeks turned a pale shade of red. At that moment, in her mind, she was only seeing her riding on an indomitable horse and holding a sword worthy of being comparable to Blackfire or the Dark Sister.

"Now go and rest." Patting her on the back a few times, Jon stood up and spoke in a serious tone, to which Arya nodded repeatedly.

She looked at Jon once more and flashed a big, excited smile as she ran into her room, jumping for joy.

Seeing the scene, Jon felt a great sense of satisfaction, he knew he would be a good father, or at least try his best to be. Much better than his father in his past life, who had cowardly abandoned him with the excuse that he couldn't bear to see him slowly dying in a hospital bed.

Taking a deep breath, Jon turned and walked towards his room, next to the kitchen.

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