1) Soooooo.... sorry this took so long, especially since it's not that long of a chapter. I can't say much expect that life can be a b*tch something and my laptop is being difficult. The next chapter should be quite long though.
2) The formatting of this chapter is wonky because it's a lot harder to do it on my iPad. Similarly, there is probably all sorts of grammar and spelling errors because my prefer work checking site doesn't work on mobile devices. I'll fix it next time I can get on a working PC.
3) Speaking if that, maybe one of you out there can helping me. My issue with my laptop is that it keep just shutting down almost right after boot up. It's not that old and it's a thinkpad. I think the issue is the fan and I can buy a replacement fan for fairly cheap but is it worth trying to do it myself or should I take it to Best Buy?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Timeline
283 AC/4E 187: Robb Stark is born; (two months later) "Jon Snow" is born.286 AC/4E 190: Sansa Stark is born; RS-3, "JS"-3.289 AC/4E 193: Arya Stark is born; Theon Greyjoy (10) arrives at Winterfell; RS-6, "JS"-6, SS-3.290 AC/4E 194: Bran Stark is born; TG-11, RS-7, "JS"-7, SS-4, AS-1.295 AC/4E 199: Rickon Stark is born; TG-16, RS-12, "JS"-12, SS-9, AS-6, BS-5.296 AC/4E 200: Direwolves are found; TG-17, RS-13, "JS"-13, SS-10, AS-7, BS-6, RS-1.297 AC/4E 201: Robb Stark turns 14; (two months later) "Jon Snow" turns 14; (one month later) "Jon Snow" runs away from Winterfell/appears in Skyrim; TG-18, SS-11, AS-8, BS-7, RS-2.299 AC/4E 203: Jon Whitewolf sends a letter to Winterfell; TG-19, RS-16, JW-16, SS-13, AS-10, BS-9, RS-4.300 AC/4E 204: Lord Eddard Stark asks Jon to return to Winterfell; TG-20, RS-17, JW-17, SS-14, AS-11, BS-10, RS-5.302 AC/4E 206: Jon Whitewolf receives Arya's letter: TG-22, RS-18, JW-18, SS-16, AS-13, BS-12, RS-7.(two-and-a-half months later) Jon Whitewolf arrives at Winterfell: TG-22, RS-18, JW-18, SS-16, AS-13, BS-12, RS-7.(Four days later) Robb Stark turns 19: TG-22, RS-19, JW-18, SS-16, AS-13, BS-12, RS-7.(two weeks later) Jon Whitewolf (18) leaves for KL with Enzo, Ned Stark, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, and the royal party.
Robb Stark I
The inhabitants of Winterfell fluttered around, preparing for the departure of the royal family with his Lord Father and Sansa. They would be leaving on the morrow and, apparently, his brother would be traveling with them alongside his giant companion. But be that as it may, Winterfell seemed quiet now, quiet like snow; the castle had been so full the past month that, with all noble families aside from the Manderlys, Karstarks, and Reeds (who had shown up very late and seemingly not for his nameday celebration at all) gone, it felt so empty. It was cold too, Robb noted; a frosty air creeping into the stone wall of Winterfell and winding its way through the corridors and wherever the Lady of Winterfell tread.
The Heir of the North internally winced at the thought; for the past few days his mother had been the center of all the talk among the servants. Oh, they were careful about it and never spoke up around him or acted inappropriately in front of the Lady of Winterfell but in a community so small words traveled far and fast, even seeping into the mouths of visiting nobles and those who lived in Winterfell. They spoke of a callous and vengeful woman who wished death upon a kind and generous soul; someone who had come to visit his beloved family, only to be met with mockery and scorn. They whispered of jealousy that grew into a plan to murder an innocent babe.
It was all such utter shit and yet there was nothing that could be done about its; servants and smallfolk talked and short of removing tongues, that was one of the few constants of the world. Not that his father seemed to have any desire to quell the talk; the Lord of Winterfell didn't seem to notice the gossip about his wife or, if he did, didn't feel the urge to try and stop it. Perhaps he was too distracted or perhaps he believed the talk himself; Father hadn't exactly been the warmest to his wife in the past few days.
The whole thing tore at his brain and at his heart because he knew what it all was about; on one hand, the part of him that was a dutiful son wanted to defend his mother, but, on the other, the part of him that was a protective brother wanted to be angry with her. That had always been the great dichotomy of his life, ever since he learned that Jon was different, honoring and respecting his mother while loving and protecting his brother. It was hard, and got harder with every year and every bitter glare his mother threw and every silent bit of pain he could feel in his brother's heart but he managed to the best of his ability. Even if the difficulty increased once Theon came into their lives and needed affection as well.
When he was young, Robb made a vow to himself that, since Jon didn't have mother to love him, he would love him twice as much. And he did; though he loved Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon fiercely, his love for Jon was special. Jon was his twin in all but techniquallity, yes, but he was also Robb's little brother, his first little brother, and there was few events in the heir's life that hadn't been done with Jon by his side.
That was, until, Jon disappeared leaving only a frustratingly vague little note and a gaping hole in the hearts of his father and siblings. It wasn't fair to compare grief, but Robb is certain that he and Arya were the ones hit hardest, aside from their father, of course. He had felt as half of his entire being -the half generally in charge of keeping him from making stupid decisions- had vanished overnight. But where there had been pain there had also been anger; the heir had always counted on the fact that Jon would be by his side and support him. Jon left though, left Robb behind without as second thought. So, as much joy and relief Robb felt upon seeing his brother again after all these years, there was also bitterness; especially since it seemed like he was planning on doing it again.
Robb poked his head through the library door, Tully blue eyes scanning the chamber for a familiar head of curly dark hair. He spotted it bent over a dusty, leather bound tome, surrounded by stacks of other books. Jon's new scholarly side had come as somewhat of a surprise; he had always been the more diligent student of the two boys -three counting Theon- but he'd never shown any great academic interest or integrity, unless you counted him never letting Robb copy off his sums sheet. Now though, he seemed content to wile away the hours with his nose buried in a book and a glass of wine in hand or talking with the Lannister imp.
It was disconcerting, how much his brother had changed, and even as Robb enjoyed the warm weight of his new he couldn't help but feel a sense of regretful sorrow at the divide that had grown between them.
"There you are," he called, causing Jon's head to pop up in his direction. "I've been looking everywhere for you; you're not planning on spend the last night before your departure hiding among the shelves, are you?"
Jon gave a dry chuckle, "I had given it a thought; to be frank, I'm sick to death of all these feasts."
"Then King's Landing is not the place for you; I hear the king throws massive feasts everyday and for every meal," Robb commented as he slid into the chair across from his brother. "It hardly seems like your idea of a good time, why'd you decide to King Robert up on his offer?"
"I have my reasons," Jon said with a shrug as he began to sort the mess of papers and books before him.
'Do those reasons have anything to do with my mother?' "So will you be coming back up with Father after the festivities."
"No, Enzo and I will be leaving from King's Landing. I've already cleared it with Captain Vendicci and the East Empire Trading Company; there are still a few trading details that need to be hammered out with the Manderlys and it turns out part of the shipment they picked up in Braavos was defunct -dyes they picked up aren't working properly- so they need to return there for a little while to get it sorted. The ship with pick us up once their business is complete."
Jon met Robb's eyes and his lips twitched into a wry grin, "Don't worry, I'll send up a nice marriage gift for you and the future Lady Stark with Father."
Robb rolled his eyes and gave the younger man a rude gesture. Last night the official announcement about his engagement to Alys Karstark had taken place to all who were still at Winterfell. It had been met with polite congratulations but the Umbers and Manderlys while the King seemed to view it as an occasion to have many toasts; the King seemed to view most occasions as being worthy of drinking.
For his part, Robb couldn't help but wonder if he should be feeling more. There was relief, he supposed, that he wasn't marrying some girl he'd never met or was much younger than him. It was true that Alys was no great beauty -being a tall, skinny, coltish young woman with braided, thick brown hair, a small bosom, and a long pointed pale face with blue-grey eyes, and small ears- like Margaery Tyrell was reported to be and that her family wasn't particularly wealthy like the Tyrells were, but she was of the North and from what he knew of Alys, believe her to be sensible and sturdy. He supposed that she was someone he could be content with.
"Too bad you can't be here for it," he said nonchalantly as possible, leaning back in his chair. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Jon stiffen slightly, "The wedding, I mean. Father says it's going to happen as soon as he gets back from King's Landing. That way Alys and I will have some time to get to know one another -her and her two eldest brothers will be staying here for the time being- while Mother arranges everything."
It was a mistake to mention Mother, but at Jon's lack of visible reaction to his words Robb pressed hard. "It be nice to have you be there, give a speech and all that. I always assume-"
"Robb, stop it," Jon cut him off, annoyance across his face. "I put up with quite enough of that from Father and I won't tolerate from you either. Now I love all of you dearly but I am not staying, not in Winterfell or in the North or anywhere in all of Westeros. I'm sorry if that makes you upset but it's just the way things are."
"But why? I know you say you're happy in Skyrim, but you could be happy here too. You're my brother, you promised to always be by my side! Once I'm Lord of Winterfell than you won't have to worry about your position, I could make you lord of your own hold and even legitimize you if that's what you want!"
Jon shook his head, "We both know it's not that simple."
"Why? Is it because of Mother? Because of what she said? She's just overwhelmed, Jon, she didn't really mean what she said!"
"Yes she did," Jon's voice was calm but he slammed the book he had been reading closed.
Everything Robb had been about to say died in his throat with just a strangled, "What?" managing to escape.
"She hates me Robb, has always hated me. She meant everything she said and probably more." Jon stood to return a pile of books to their proper places on the shelves.
Robb followed, his mind whirling. This had never happened before; in the past, whenever Mother did or said something that upset Jon, he'd apologize on her behalf and Jon would just smile, accept the apology, and they'd move on. His brother had never...acknowledged, at least openly, his mother's disdain. Guilt bubbled in his gut but he still felt the need to defend his mother, "That isn't exactly fair."
"It's the truth and the truth has to be neither kind nor fair, it merely has to be truthful."
The guilt started to become tainted with anger at Jon's flippant tone, "She's my mother !"
Jon sighed but took Robb by the shoulders, "I know that, and I assure you that I'm not insulting her. I know she loves you dearly, we both do. But we'll never love each other and it would be hell for both of us to continue living under the same roof. It's not just that I can't stay, Robb, it's that I won't; I won't do that to either of us."
The guilt and anger were extinguished and instead replaced by a deep sadness. Tears pricked at the corners of Robb's eyes, "If you truly loved me than you'd stay."
It was a horrible thing to say, Robb knew that as soon as the words left his lips, but it was the only thing he could think to say in the moment. Jon looked at him, regret in his eyes that seemed so much older than his face, and replied, "And if you truly loved me than you'd understand why I can't."
Then he left and Robb was alone with his thoughts.
Ned IV
"Father, I need to speak with you."
His youngest daughter stood at the doorway of his solar with an uncommonly serious look on her young face. Ned raised his eyebrows in wordless amusement but gestured to chair across from him. Arya slid into with a dancer's grace, folding her hand and squaring her shoulders. He bit back a smile, she looked so much like Lyanna did when she annoyed about something, "What can I help you with, Arya?"
"King's Landing, I want to go with you."
To say Ned was surprised was an understatement; Arya had never showed any interest in the South or any court beyond Winterfell's, aside for the occasion mention of wanting to visit Bear Island one day. "I see, and what exactly, may I ask, brought this desire?"
The girl's composed demeanor dropped for a moment and she shifted in her chair, "Jon. I want spend more time with him; King's Landing sounds dull as dirt but if I can be around him for a bit longer, it'll be worth it."
That made so much sense it hurt; Ned wasn't sure why Jon decided to take Robert up on his offer and he wasn't happy about it, but the young man had asked for trust and Ned was -begrudgingly- willing to give it to him. "And what does your Mother have to say about this subject?"
Arya shrugged, "Mother hasn't had much to say about anything these past few days. But she'd probably like the idea, right? She's always wanted me to be more like a Southern lady, probably be happy about mingling with the nobles of the Red Keep. Plus, with me being away she'd have one less person underfoot while planning Robb's wedding. It just makes the most sense for me to go with you."
"She'd likely see the logic in such an idea," Ned acquiesced. A pang of guilt hit his heart; he knew the reason for his wife's withdrawal, she felt like he didn't listen to what she said so now she refused to speak at all. He'd need to deal with her soon, tonight would be preferable.
He scanned Arya's face, barely concealed hope painted all over it. Perhaps it would be good for her to experience at least a taste of life down south; life in the capital was certainly quite different from that in Dorne, but the experience could still be education. If only because it would help to teach his daughter to curve her wild side, "I'll make you a deal, Arya. I'll consider it, and I'll speak to your mother, but you must swear to follow the rules: you must be dress appropriately, conduct yourself with proper etiquette, be polite to those around you -including Sansa and your Septa-, attend all the events expected of you-."
"Including the tourney?"
"Yes, I trust that won't be a problem?"
"No, Sir," Arya chirped with a energetic shake of her head.
"Good to hear. And finally, you must swear not to wander off alone. King's Landing is full of dangers, Arya, and you'll need to stay close." A small smile played on the Lord of Winterfell's lips and he gave his youngest daughter a consipitoral look, "Or, at least, stay close to Jon."
She seemed to study him for a moment, as if to make sure he wasn't fooling her, before her face split into a wide grin. "Deal!" she exclaimed with an enthusiastic nod.
"Alright then, go get packed up. Just in case," he jerked his head in the direction of the door. The girl scampered away with a spring in her step, 'Oh, what did I just agree to? More headaches for myself, that's for sure. Still, I'd have to be heartless to deny her the chance to spend for time with her brother; this may be the last time they ever see each other face-to-face.'
With a sigh, the Warden of the North leaned back in the chair and wondered what in the world he would say to his wife.
"Cat, can we speak?"
Aside from a slight movement of the head, his wife gave no indication that she heard him. He hadn't gotten the chance to talk with her before supper -which had again been painfully awkward- and who knew if he'd the chance before they shipped out tomorrow at midday. He needed to do this now.
"Arya asked me if she could come to King's Landing with Sansa, Jon, and I. I've decided to let her, I think it will be a good experience for her."
Cat didn't even move this time, instead continuing to stare directly into the fire that reflected gold in her long, loose hair. His wife was bundled in a thick dressing gown with a heavy lambswool blanket across her lap, a piece embroidery grasped in a white-knuckled hand.
He cleared his throat and tried again, "Cat? What do you think?"
"Oh, so now you care?" Her voice was thin and sharp, "Does it even matter what I say, or will you disregard me on this too?"
Ned bit back a groan, "Don't be like that. I was harsh with you the other day, I'm sorry-"
"So you'll listen to me and send the Bastard away then?"
This time he couldn't keep the hiss out of his voice, "You will not refer to him that way anymore, Cat. Just because I regret how coarse I was with you, doesn't mean I take back what I said; Jon will be leaving with me tomorrow, you will most certainly never see him again, so it is time for you to get over it ."
Cat flinched at his tone and Ned fought against the guilt that hit his gut. "Why are you here then, if not to continue to disrespect me?"
"Because...because I still love you, Cat," he admitted softly. "I love you and our children and the life we have together. I want things to be better between us and I think they could be if we just talked ."
"Not until you get rid of him. You claim to love me but it will never be as much as you love him though, him or his mother." She turned in her armchair to glare at him, her face seemed more deeply lined than he'd ever realized before.
He gave a forlorn shake of the head, "It's not a matter of you or him, Cat. I love you both and I'm not going to choose between you two. Please don't try to make me."
His beloved wife returned to staring at the fire, back to him. After a few long moments he sighed, "I see. Goodnight then, Cat. I hope you will be there to see us off tomorrow, but if not, than I suppose it's goodbye for now."
With a heavy heart, the Lord of Winterfell closed the door between himself and his wife of near twenty years and left to ponder the future.
Jon X
It was hard to say goodbye to Winterfell; He had done before, years ago, but as the time to leave came closer -now only mere hours away- it felt like an immersible feat. The last time he left, Jon hadn't allowed himself to think of the good memories or the people he loved, just the anger and confusion. This time though, things were different. He was different, and now, gazing into the nursery that once housed him as a child only to now stand vacant and largely abandoned, Jon couldn't help but think that this was likely the last time he'd ever walk these ancient corridors or breathe in the icy fresh Northern air or eat Matlyn's cooking -he said goodbye to her earlier that morning; there had been tears. And screaming. And the promise of letters. And a tasty bundle of freshly baked spice cakes- or lay his eyes on familiar faces.
"Jon, is that you?"
His head wirled to the side, "Old Nan!"
To be completely honest, Jon hadn't even considered the possibility the elderly woman would still be among the living. There she was though, uglier and older with less teeth and hair that he remembered but with such a kind look on her withered, wrinkled face and in her squinted, sightless eyes. A rush of warmth came over Jon's heart at the sight of the comforting figure from his childhood in apparent good health. "How did you know it was me?"
"Oh, my eyes may have forsaken me but I still have my ways," she answered, pulling him into surprisingly tight embrace. "Now, come here and let me see you."
With gnarled, blue-veined hands soft as worn paper, Old Nan gently traced the lines of Jon's face. She smoothed her thumbs along his eyebrows and down his nose, cupping his jaw in her palms and brushed her fingertips over his ears. After what felt like a comfortably long time her face split into a toothless smile, "You've grown up handsome; I always knew you would."
"I don't know, I always thought I was a odd looking child," he japed.
The old woman patted his cheek, "Perhaps for a while, but you always had such a warm heart; I'm glad to see that hasn't cooled. For awhile I was worried that when you returned -I always knew you would eventually- your heart would be as cold as poor Adara's."
"The girl from your story about the ice dragon?"
"Aye," Old Nan nodded fondly. "That was always your favorite story. I must have told it to you at least a hundred time."
It had been; the story about a girl different from all those around her and blessed with the both the coldness and beauty of winter. The girl had befriend an ice dragon -the one creature who could truly understand her- and love him until the day it died saving her family. Was that irony or was that fate?
"A hundred times easily, but only me. I don't recall you ever telling that story to any of the others."
She took one of his callous hands in his own, "That's because it was your story, Sweet Boy, just for you. Even if you did always get sad at the end."
Jon chuckled, "I couldn't help it; the end is happy enough for Adara, her family is alive and her heart has melted so she could finally be accepted by other children but the dragon went and melted into a puddle. It gave it's life for her."
"Such a gentle boy. That's what happen to ice dragons, they melt and leave no other trace behind aside from pool of frigid water. Fire dragons though, now they're different; some folks say they can turn themselves into stone when they want to sleep the centuries away."
Jon, who had some experience with dragons, found such an idea amusing. "Somehow I doubt such a thing is true, Old Nan. Everyone knows stone is-" a realization hit him like a battering ram to the gut and struck him cold, "dead."
The wagons were packed, the women and children were loaded into the wheelhouse, the horses were warmed up, everyone was gathered, and it was time for final goodbyes to begin.
"I'm going to miss you so much," Jon mummered, pressing a kiss into Rickon's unruly auburn locks as he hugged the boy tightly. The boy didn't say anything in return, just squeezed Jon around the neck.
"Is this the last time we'll ever see you, Jon?" Bran asked mournfully, his bright blue eyes starting to swim with tears.
Jon hesitated, even though he had quite a bit on his mind at the moment he didn't want to lie to his little brother -he had spent enough time doing that- so he merely folded the boy into him embrace. "I hope not, Bran. But I promise that I'll write every chance I get; I'll even send gifts. How does that sound?"
Both boys gave small, tearful nods against his chest before letting go to run off, likely to get one last look at all the knights. In there place set Robb, the two young men stared each other for a moment, awkwardness from their last encounter tainting the air. Jon rocked back on his heels, "Well, Robb, I wish you well your upcoming nuptials. I imagine-"
He was cut off when Robb tugged him close, "Stay safe, Little Brother."
Robb's smile, bright and bold with the left corner of his mouth tugged a little higher than right, was achingly familiar, as was the gloved hand that dragged across his dark hair; Robb's smile had comforted Jon during many a dark moment in his younger years and it still calmed him all this time later.
"The same to you, especially when you become the next Warden of the North. I don't want to hear you've gone and done something foolish as soon as you've gotten the job."
"That is a fool's hope and you know it, Wolf. Robb here has never been able to stop himself from making stupid choices," Theon called from his spot slouched against one of the walls of the courtyard.
"You're one to talk, Greyjoy! It's a miracle you're still alive with all the risk you take," Robb joked with a roll of the eyes and a rude gesture in the Kraken's direction before turning back to Jon. "I'm serious though; if King's Landing is anything like Father describes it, than it's one big cesspool of filth, crime, and-"
"Debauchery; don't forget the debauchery. Jonny is going to be in the city that houses the finest brothels this side of Dorne," Theon chimed in.
"Thank you for knowledge that I have absolutely no use for, Squid, and you don't need worry about me, Robb; I know how to handle a bunch of overstuffed politicians and greedy businessman. Besides, I'm just going for the tourney, what possible dangers could there be?"
A lot, if what he was planning came to head, but Robb didn't need to know that.
"And here you're telling me not to be foolish," Robb mumbled with a final hug. Jon chuckled and left Robb to say goodbye to Sansa and Arya.
"I see you're all ready to head out."
Jon gave a light jump -it was rare that someone could sneak up on him- and turned to kind, if slightly unnerving green eyes of Howland Reed. "Oh, Lord Reed, I didn't see you there. You're not coming with us?"
"No, Ned requested I stick around for a little while and look after the younger boys. I don't mind, my daughter, Meera, seems to enjoy the ice fishing. She's close to Bran's age, so I'm hoping she'll find some companionship with him. Additionally, me being here means Lady Stark is under less pressure as she plans Robb's wedding ceremony," the man jerk his head to where Uncle Ned appeared to be exchanging what looked like extremely uncomfortable farewells with Lady Stark.
Jon hoped they wouldn't go on too long, he had something he needed to talk to the man about. Instead he excused himself from Lord Reed's company and instead strolled over to where Tyrion Lannister was finishing up getting prepped for travel, "Lord Tyrion, I hear you're going opposite way as the rest of us."
"Oh, yes. I have decided to run north and join the Black Brothers; my father will be thrilled. I shall defend the realm nobley against snarks and grumkins."
Jon gave a snort, "Well I'm sure you'll serve the order well, My Lord. Do keep an eye on my uncle, won't you?"
"Well, fine. If you're going to be cheeky about it, I'll have you know I'm going because I've always wanted to see the Wall. It's one of the nine Wonders of Man, you know? I intend to stand on the top of it and piss off the edge."
The young Dragonborn wrinkled his nose at the crude -if somewhat amusement- statement, "I hope you enjoy yourself; I've heard it's a magnificent place, if brutally cold and windy."
"How joyace," the youngest Lannister sibling drawled.
A hand settled on Jon's shoulder; Uncle Ned had joined them. "Lord Tyrion, ready to start off I see."
'Uncle, could you be anymore blunt about wanting all the Lannisters out of your castle?'
Thankfully, Lord Tyrion -who was certainly intelligent enough to detect the underlying unfriendliness in the Lord of Winterfell's voice- pretended not to notice.
"Once your brother gives the word we'll be going. I must thank you for your wonderous hospitalities though, Lord Stark."
He did, however, respond with his own bit of sarcasm.
His uncle remained unperturbed though, "Think nothing of it, I wish you safe travels. Now if you'll excuse us, I need to speak to my son."
Lord Tyrion nodded and gave an exaggerated half-bow as Uncle Ned lead the dark-haired young man away to a secluded archway. "Jon, I know I promised to trust you on this but I still feel the need to ask once more if you're sure about this?"
There was worry dripping from the words and for a moment Jon felt guilty about causing it; what he was planning needed to be done, certainly, but that didn't mean he relished causing the man who raised him worry. "It will all be fine, I assure you. I will not put you and our family in danger. Beside, I've already arranged things with Captain Vendicci. So what am I going to do until I can get another ship home? Wait here?"
The man let out a small wince, glancing back over his shoulder to where Lady Stark dispassionately observing the bustle of the courtyard. "Just swear to me that you aren't planning on, I don't know, burning down the Red Keep in an act of revenge?"
"I swear that isn't my plan; that idea hadn't even crossed my mind," Jon assured with what had to be an almost comical amount of seriousness. "But there was something I wanted to ask you. I was hoping to visit the crypts one last time to...say goodbye. Do you think we have enough time?"
Understanding flashed in the Lord of Winterfell's eyes and he nodded, "Aye, we're doing one last total check before heading out. You should have around an hour to do what you need to."
"I will, thank you."
"There is something unnerving about this place; I feel like the dead are watching me." Enzo's ink black eyes scanned the statues of the dead Starks, the flickering shadows created by the torch he held gave the illusion the statues eyes were blinking.
"They probably are," Jon said absentmindedly as he led Enzo to the enterence of the blocked off section of the crypts that his dreams always directed him to.
"This is it then?"
"Aye, this is where I need to go; according to my dreams, at least." He paused for a moment, "Do you think I'm mad?"
"I have assumed you were mad for a long while, but your dreams have proven useful in the past so I suggest listening to them. What do you need from me?"
"I need help clearing away enough of this debris that I can squeeze through. I believe a telekinesis spell will do the job but I wnated an extra set of hands incase mine aren't enough."
The giant Redguard agreed -he didn't look particularly thrilled about it though- and together the pair both cast the spell. A reddish glow illuminated the darkness as the two worked to carefully create an opening; they moved away the smaller pieces first until there was eventually a narrow crevice between two large holders that Jon could squeeze through.
He looked back through the opening at his friend, "If I'm not back soon-"
"I will come and drag you out by your hair. Now get going."
Jon chuckled but did so, casting Magelight in order to navigate the narrow tunnel. The smell of hot, moist earth tickled his nose and did little to calm his heartbeat which raced faster and faster the further down he descended. The ground under him was soft, soft enough that his boots sunk into the dirt. The air grew humid too, to the point Jon needed to pull off his heavy fur cloak. Eventually, heat became so oppressive the it was hard to go on, yet he did; he couldn't turn back now.
He pressed on, not sure how much time had passed until, just as in his dream, came to an old wooden door. Jon touched it -neededing to assure himself it was real- and the wood was damp, almost pulpy, and flaked away with a rub of his fingertips. He reached for the handle, but froze.
"Open it," Jon told himself. "You must open it."
So he forced himself to do it, grabbing the handle -the brass almost burning him though the leather of his gloves- and gave it a mighty tug, forcing the warped door open. In the back of his mind, Jon released that, unlike his dream, the door hadn't been locked. He was hit with a cloud of steam that had filled and now flowed out into the tunnel behind him.
The steam was coming from a large hot spring that took up most cavern, the water boiling more viciously that any of the others at Winterfell. In the middle of of pool, though, was a pile of rocks that rose above the water-level and perched atop them was a rusted metal chest. With a mumbled spell and a flick of the wrist brought the chess closer to a curious Jon. The Legendary Dragonborn pried the chess open and lost every breathe in his lungs when it finally gave way.
Because inside we're three eggs. Three large eggs. Three large dragon eggs. And when Jon picked one -smoke gray with orange-red swirls- up, it pulsed gently against his palm.
Next chapter: Jon relaxes by a river, Tyrion chats with a bear, and Arya makes a discovery.
Notes:
1) FIRST OFF- I really want to thank you all. This story has reached over 300 kudos and over 500 comments (granted about half of those are probably my replies). But both of those things are milestones I really wanted to reach. The pinnacle milestone in my mind is for this story to have its own extensive Fanworks page on tvtropes. Kinda sad right?
2) So there we have it, the ending of the Winterfell arc. Not a particularly amazing chapter, I know, but hopefully you guys got a kick out of the ending bit.
3) You guys want to hear a kind of funny story? Well, my grandfather actually got me 'The Ice Dragon' when I was like seven and I loved it. I held on to it for years (still have it) and along the way lost the paper cover which had the author's full name. So when I got my first bookshelf I just put it in the Ms because the only thing that's on the spine is 'GM'. Years pass and I eventually get the ASOIAF series. For nearly FOUR YEARS those books sat next to each other without me realizing they were written by the same guy. Boy did I feel like an idiot.
4) This is out of no where, but does anyone out there watch The Magicians?