Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 50: The Vision

…

Third POV

One moon later

Inside a spacious, elegantly lit room in the Lionheart family mansion, Richard sat comfortably, his golden hair being braided.

Alicent stood behind him, fingers deftly weaving his hair into neat braids, her touch light and affectionate. 

She giggled softly, her laughter a gentle melody that filled the room. Richard's lips curved into a warm smile. 

His eyes were half-closed in contentment as he let her work, savoring the softness of her hands as she styled his hair.

As Alicent braided his hair, Richard looked over a stack of documents.

He reviewed the latest reports on Lannisport. The city had returned to its familiar rhythm, still bustling with life but no longer crowded with lords, ladies, and visitors from other kingdoms. 

Those lords and ladies had left back to their respective land. 

On the other hand Lord Tywin and his brothers Tygett and Gerion, who had departed with the prince, returned to King's Landing, while Elia, Oberyn, and Princess Nymeria had made their way back to Dorne.

Just like that excitement of the recent tourney was fading into memory, leaving the city's streets once more to its own people.

Now, as a lord, Richard no longer needed to reside in the squire quarters of Casterly Rock or in Kevan's keep in Lannisport. 

This new status granted him freedom—freedom from the Galahad persona he'd worn.

With the tourney earnings, he had purchased a mansion in Lannisport, laundering his money to his family, who actually own the mansion. 

He was also preparing to journey to his newly granted lands, but before that, he would celebrate Alicent's name day.

The recent tourney had been immensely profitable. The Lionheart family had earned over thirty thousand gold dragons from their ventures, with an additional thirty-six thousand gold dragons from Richard's own tourney winnings. 

The fortune strengthened both his family's influence and their coffers.

Yet these funds would soon be put to use. Richard had already begun planning the reconstruction of Castamere and its surrounding lands.

Schemes were underway to install pumps to drain the water from the mines, and arrangements were being made to hire builders who would restore the castle above. 

Each decision, each investment, was aimed at breathing new life into the ruins of Castamere, transforming it into a stronghold worthy of Richard's new house.

"Done, Richard! How does it look?" Alicent announced, reaching for a mirror. She held it up, positioning it just right so he could see her handiwork.

Richard looked into the mirror, admiring his blonde hair woven into intricate braids. 

"It's perfect," he said, his smile warm and genuine, a flicker of pride shining in his eyes.

Alicent beamed at the compliment, but then turned to her notebook with a thoughtful frown. "But I don't like it," she muttered, crossing out a sketch of an Ironborn braid she'd drawn.

Turning the page, she revealed a new drawing—a hairstyle inspired by the Reach, elegant and refined. Above it was the title, Reachman Style.

"Is it necessary?" Galahad asked, glancing at her with a mix of curiosity and mild reluctance. She was clearly preparing to try yet another hairstyle on him.

Alicent looked at him and nodded earnestly. "Tomorrow is our nameday," she reminded him, her voice filled with warmth. 

"Remember? We're taking turns. You've chosen my dress and jewelry, and now it's my turn to make you look perfect." Her words carried a sincerity that made it clear she wanted this nameday to be memorable.

Richard's smile softened, the tension from the vision still lingering in the back of his mind, but for a moment, he allowed himself to focus on the warmth of the moment. "Alright then, carry on," he said, his tone a bit more relaxed than before.

Alicent's eyes lit up, her grin widening as she leaned forward. Without warning, she pressed a deep kiss to his lips, soft but full of meaning, before pulling back with a sparkle in her gaze.

"Now, let me fix this mess," she teased, her fingers already working through his golden hair, weaving it into the new style she had envisioned. 

Richard couldn't help but smile again, his mind momentarily at ease as he allowed her to work, feeling the soothing rhythm of her hands as they moved through his hair.

After she finished, she would help him pick out an outfit, ensuring everything was just right for their celebration.

…

Richard POV

The darkness clung to me, suffocating, thick with an oppressive weight as I wandered through a catacomb.

The air was damp, each breath heavy as I moved through endless winding halls lined with tombs, shrouded in shadow. 

The stone walls seemed to breathe, whispering secrets.

I wasn't in control of my steps. My body moved on its own, as if compelled by some unseen force, leading me deeper into the darkness. 

I knew it was a dream, yet every sensation felt sharper than the waking world—each scent, each sound vivid, almost painfully real.

My path ended abruptly, and I found myself before a tall statue, half-swallowed by the shadows. I stepped closer, my heart clenching painfully as the face of the figure took shape.

It was Alicent.

Older, more mature. The sculptor's hand had been mercilessly precise, capturing every detail—the curve of her features, the softness in her gaze. 

The likeness was so lifelike, so painfully real, that for a moment I forgot it was just stone. She looked as if she might open her eyes, as if she might breathe.

My hand trembled as I reached out, fingers grazing the cold stone. I couldn't look away.

Then I noticed the words carved into the stone below her. I lowered my gaze, eyes tracing over the letters.

"Birth 262 AC, Death 278 AC."

The numbers burned into my mind. I staggered back, my hand still pressed to the cold stone as the realization hit me like a blade to the heart. This was a tomb. 

The air thickened, a crushing weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. 

I wanted to scream, to tear the statue apart, to deny this future. But the world around me began to shift, blurring at the edges, and then the catacombs dissolved, giving way to another vision.

The scent of blood clung to the air, sickly sweet and heavy. I found myself in a dimly lit room now, the quiet broken only by the faint, desperate cries of a newborn. 

My eyes moved to the bed in the center of the room, where a figure lay unmoving.

It was Alicent.

Older, more mature just like the statue, her face pale but serene against the blood-stained sheets. Her chest lay still, her eyes closed. 

Cradled in her arms was a tiny bundle—a child, her child, our child—its cries soft, almost pleading, a fragile life clinging to the last remnants of warmth in her embrace.

I tried to look away, but I couldn't. I was rooted to the spot, my gaze fixed on her face, still and cold, drained of the vibrancy I had known so well. 

I suffocated from this, drowning in the scent of blood and loss.

The door to the room creaked open, and footsteps echoed through the room. I turned, and there I saw him—myself, a few years older.

His—my—expression was one of utter desolation as he looked at her, hollow and haunted. He moved forward, not seeing me, as if I were nothing but a specter.

My older self sank to his knees beside her, reaching for her hand with a desperate reverence, as if he could still feel her warmth. 

His fingers closed around hers, clutching it like a man drowning, as though he could somehow pull her back from the abyss. 

His shoulders shook, silent sobs wracking his form, each one tearing at my own heart.

Why was I seeing this? Why was I forced to witness this agony, this hollow future where everything I had built was stripped bare, meaningless? Who was showing me this torment?

A fire ignited in my chest, an anger hotter than any forge. 

My hands clenched, and a searing pain erupted from them, like molten metal surging beneath my skin. 

I looked down and saw my claws, glowing red, hotter than I had ever seen, pulsing with the fury that filled my veins.

A scream tore from my throat, raw and defiant, shattering the vision around me, the room crumbling to ash and darkness.

"Richard, wake up! Wake up!" A voice, familiar and urgent, broke through the haze, pulling me back.

I jolted awake, gasping for air, my breath coming in wild, frantic bursts. Alicent was beside me, her young eyes wide with concern.

I was about to calm her down but as I reached for her, I noticed my hands, or what should have been hands. Instead, I saw the jagged, skeletal outline of my carpal bones and adamantium claws, burning with fire. 

The flames curled around my bones, as if the metal itself was alive with heat. It was spreading from my hand to my forearm, burning away flesh. 

My heart raced, and I glanced down at the sheets—smoldering, singed from the fire I had somehow unleashed. 

I looked toward Alicent who seemed to be in distress, because of the burning sheets,

 she had gotten off the bed.

Panic flickered through me, but I forced myself to focus. I couldn't let Alicent get hurt. I reached out, willing the fire to obey, pulling the flames back into my bones. 

The burning sheets were also extinguished as the flames were absorbed into my bones.

They hissed and crackled before fading, absorbed into the metal.

The flames died down, and I directed my focus to my hands, willing them to cool. 

The fire extinguished, leaving my Adamantium claws and bones, cold and hard beneath my skin. Slowly, I felt the healing process begin, the flesh on

Moments later, I retracted my Wolverine claws, and my hands slowly returned to their normal state.

Before I could even gather my thoughts, Alicent's arms wrapped around me in a tight, almost frantic embrace.

"I'm okay. I won't die," she whispered softly, her voice trembling. At first, I was confused, but then the fragments of the dream came flooding back. 

I must have muttered something from my dream.

I pulled her closer, holding her tightly against me. The sensation of her warmth and the steady rhythm of her breath calmed me, grounding me in reality. 

Whatever that dream—or vision—had been, I couldn't afford to let it come true. I wouldn't. Not if it meant losing her.

"I'll make sure of it," I muttered, my voice low and determined. Whatever it took, I would prevent that future from ever becoming a reality.

…

Note: Finally I'm done with the last chapter of Volume 1. It only took more than 100k words.

This chapter basically sets up the next arc. Also I've been hiding his full evolution so here the full extent of it, I hope yall like it. I'll see y'all in a while. I'm going to chill and set up the next volume.

In the meantime I'm going to practice my writing by writing a new novel. It'll probably be a one-shot like my other novels.

Btw Support me on Patreon: https://patreon.com/Ninjaking3834