Winter's Promise

5th Month of 298 A.C. Winterfell

Jon/ Aegon

The memory of what had happened in the Wolfswood haunted him, it was burned into his mind, he closed his eyes and he saw it, he opened his eyes and he saw it. There was no escape from it, they had been trapped in and attacked, he had been tricked, he had thought things would be fine, and that there was nothing there that might come for them, and his dreams had said that there was nothing to fear. He had been proven wrong, there was a lot to fear, death had stalked them, hunted them and it had come. The arrows had come out of nowhere, making them all scared and worried. They should have sent Arya back, he knows that now, but he did not think of it then, there was too much on his mind. She had paid for it, his cousin, she had paid for his foolishness with her life, and that of her direwolf as well. Her body had been limp in his arms as he had carried her back, the thoughts of the dead still in his head. Unable to break free, to make sense of what he had seen and heard. Anger was growing stronger within him at that thought, constantly there, pressing against him, not letting him sleep. Not letting him do anything but scream inside, and pace around. The people who had attacked them had carried something, something that they had no right to be carrying if they were wildlings, he was starting to think that they were not wildlings though, their attack had been too organised, too concise, and there was something else to them. Something he had seen once before when he had been very young, and he was not sure whether that was good or not, for he felt fear in his gut at the thought of it. It was a fear he had not felt since he had been a boy, a boy who had just discovered what things were in the world. He could still hear the screams, gods, he had thought that was all behind them now, his uncle had said it was, but he was beginning to think there were things that his uncle had not told them, and they were coming back to hurt them now. There was so much he did not understand, there was so much he was scared to learn, and now he had lost someone because of that fear. He despised that, despised the sense of not knowing, not being able to find something within his memory or his dreams that could explain what had happened, there was only a sense of helplessness, and it was growing. It felt as if it might consume him, and he was not sure he could deal with that, not now, not with Sansa gone and distant. Gods, he missed her, he missed her so much, but he was scared of what she might say if she knew what had happened, would she blame him?

They had ridden like the wind from the Wolfswood, him, Robb, their friends, all of them riding as hard as they could, determined to get back to Winterfell before they lost Arya for good, but they had been too late. Arya had lost too much blood, he can still hear the screaming of Lady Catelyn when she had seen Arya, gods, and they had thought this was over, that they had paid their debt, but no, it seemed that the gods wanted more. Lady Catelyn had not screamed at him though, even though he had told her he had allowed Arya to come riding, because nothing in his dreams had said she would be harmed. She had done nothing but stare at Arya, looking for all the world, as if the heavens had just dropped and the seven demons had come forward. He did not know what he could do to comfort her, and so he had left, he was not proud of that, but he had left her there with Robb, and gone off to hold Rickon, he found it easier to comfort his youngest cousin than he did to comfort the woman who was for all intents and purposes his mother. He felt ashamed at that, he did not know whether to cry or to curse. Arya was gone, she was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. Absolutely nothing he could do now she was dead, perhaps he should not have allowed her to come with them, and they should not have gone riding in the first place, it was foolish and irresponsible, but they had done it anyway, and now they were paying the price for it. Gods he wishes he could go back and tell her not to come, but then gods knows what might happen. There was something about all of this, his dreams had lied to him, for the first time that he could remember they had lied to him, and it was eating him up inside. Winterfell was in mourning for Arya, and he could have stopped this, he could have told her to go back and she would have, he knew that Arya had been looking at him differently since being told about who he was, there was more respect there for him in her eyes now than there had been before, she would have done as he had asked, if he had just asked her. But he had not, confident in himself and his visions, nothing would happen to her or Nymeria, and now, well now he had been proven wrong and he was scared. He had no idea of how to deal with this knowledge, of knowing that he was the reason his cousin was dead, she had come along with them because he had said she could, because Robb had bent to his judgement, he could tell that his cousin was growing resentful of his influence, and he was scared, scared he would lose Robb, the man who was closer than a brother to him. It was eating away at him and he did not know what to do. He felt as though the ground was being pulled from out beneath his feet.

That he had been asked to come to Lord Stark's solar for a discussion was a surprise in of itself, he had been expecting to be kicked out of such meetings, and so he stands there in the solar, looking at his cousin who seems as if he wants to kill someone. His cousin speaks then. "Arya is dead. Her direwolf is dead. That much is fact. There is nothing that can be done that can change that, nothing, it is done."

Jon feels as if he wants to cry then, or scream he is not sure which. "I am sorry." he hears himself say.

"Sorry? For what?" Robb asks, his voice alternating between being hard and soft.

"For saying Arya could come on the ride with us. I was mistaken, I had thought that she would be safe, nothing in my dreams had indicated that there would be any wrong doing going on within the Wolfswood. I was foolish, I forgot the first thing Uncle Benjen had taught me. And now Arya is dead because of it." Jon responds.

"Arya would have come with us, regardless of whether or not you thought she should come. She was impulsive like that, and now, I think that there is enough of the blame game to be done here." Robb says, his voice sounding firm.

"Would she have though? She seemed to have been hovering between leaving and protesting, my words allowed her to stay." Jon says, feeling as despondent as he knows he sounds.

A look of anger crosses Robb's face then. "Just because you are a prince, does not mean that everyone does exactly as you say all the time cousin. You are not a king, or a god."

Jon feels shocked at his cousin's words, he feels hurt, and then Aegon says. "Ah, but I am a prince, and people have been doing as I ask and say for some time now. Is that what has you so angry cousin? That they are no longer doing what you want them to?"

He feels shocked at the words coming from his mouth, and sees anger bloom on Robb's face. His cousin stands up then and snarls. "You are a guest here my prince. Do not forget that, you might have been taken in and raised with me and my siblings, but you are a guest here. You would do well to remember that."

"And you would do well to remember who it was who had saved you from countless embarrassments with Theon and others over the course of our lives, cousin." Aegon snaps.

His cousin is glaring at him, and Jon feels an equal amount of anger and shock, at himself and his cousin for the words they are saying to one another. Aunt Catelyn seems to sense this for she speaks then. "Enough, this is not the time to be speaking things we do not mean to one another. We must figure out what happened in the Wolfswood and why it happened." a pause and then she says. "My prince, you found something next to Arya, did you not?"

He looks at his aunt, and sees how her eyes look as if they might go red at any moment, and so he takes a deep breath and says. "Yes my lady, I found a badge which had a skull and bones on it. It was one that I have only seen once before." He pauses then, composing himself. "When that thing happened."

His aunt nods. "Well then, either the wildlings have found a new way with which to cause harassment, or they are back."

"You do not think it could be the Boltons using the same trick?" Robb asks.

Aegon snorts then. "I do not think Roose Bolton or any of his family know about that which happened. They would not know what this thing means."

His cousin looks at him as if he wants to hit him, and Aegon steels himself for it. "I was merely suggesting a possible course of action. We know that Bolton has been planning something, Maester Luwin, what did you say Martyn had said?"

"That Bolton was training men, and that a man who looked like his bastard was seen entering his keep. There has been a lot of strange goings on within the Dreadfort and its land. Things are going missing and then appearing in odd places, there seems to be something of a plan going on there." Luwin says.

Aegon sees his cousin thinking then, and says quickly. "I still do not think that the Boltons are behind this. The wildlings might know of this thing considering what happened last time, but then it might be the others."

His cousin looks quite angry, but does not say anything for a long time, and Jon wonders if he has nothing more to say, or if he is very angry. Eventually, his cousin says. "I think it is possible the wildlings might have done this, but I also think it is possible that the others might have done this. We never knew for certain whether every last single man and woman and child was killed when the purge happened." His cousin looks thoughtful then. "Regardless, we must take action and soon, I will not let this go unanswered."

Aegon looks at his cousin, and sees the hurt and the anger on his face, and he then looks at his aunt Catelyn and sees her pain etched plainly for all to see. He then turns to Maester Luwin and asks. "Is she really gone? Can she not come back?"

The maester appears shocked by the question, as if he had not thought to question it himself. He thinks over this for a moment, a moment longer than one would think if it were really that straight forward, the emotions on his face seem complex, and then he says. "Yes, yes my prince she is dead and she cannot come back."

Aegon bows his head then, his mind filled with grief and anger, and rage and sorrow. The he looks up and bows before his aunt and his cousin. "Forgive me for my words earlier, but I must leave." Jon says, with that he turns and walks out of the room, Ser Arthur and Ghost following behind him. He walks and walks, he knows that Arya's pyre is being lit today, and he knows that something must needs be done to soothe the anger within him, he is just not sure what. He ends up back in his room, and opens a cupboard and stares at the eggs before him. He is not sure why but he picks up one of the eggs, the white one and stares at it, before giving it to Ser Arthur, who says nothing and merely takes it, he then takes the blue egg out and gives it to Ser Arthur who keeps in his other hand. He then takes out the egg he has had since he was a mere babe, a white egg with blue swirls on it and this he keeps to himself. Blackfyre strapped to his side he nods at Ser Arthur and then walks out of his room, he walks and walks, a feeling of strangeness filling him. He walks out to the courtyard, where Arya's funeral pyre is, he looks at her body and that of her direwolf, Ghost whines at his side, and he feels a pang. He could have stopped this, prevented it from happening, but he believed in his dreams, like a fool he thought that it would not happen.

A crowd is gathered, a long silence and then Robb speaks. "My sister was taken too soon. She was young and she had barely learned the ways of the world. She goes now to a place where there is always light, and where the gods might always care for her. I hope she and her wolf rest easy. We will miss her."

"We will miss her." Jon says, feeling tears threaten to spill from his eyes. He fights the urge, and then looks as his cousin takes a torch from one of the guards and places the flaming end toward the pyre, he watches as slowly the fire catches and the pyre comes alight. He takes a torch and adds his flame to the pyre, and slowly one by one others do the same, until there is a flame burning brightly and strongly. He stares at the pyre for a long time, unsure of what to think or what to feel. His cousin is dead, will soon be joining their ancestors in the great beyond, and there is something within him that wants to curse the gods, for taking her from them, he wants her back, gods does he wants her back. And then a memory comes back to him, of something the girl had said long ago, only a death can pay for life. He nods to himself, his memory confirmed, he looks behind him, and takes the eggs from Ser Arthur, and walks forward. He can hear voices calling out to him, warning him of something, but he pays them no heed, he is a dragon, and a dragon is not scared of the flames. He keeps walking, the pyre coming closer, its light intoxicating, something about it calling to him, drawing him closer and closer toward it. He stops before it, looks behind him and then says. "I will bring her back, one way or another I shall bring her back." With that he sits down on the Pyre, and hears screams, people crying out to him, he ignores them, and continues sitting on the pyre. The flames dance around him, they are warm, not as hot as he expected them to be, and he sits and closes his eyes.

Jon dreams then, he dreams of a land far away, of a man and a girl arguing about something, and he sees the land before them green and dry, sand all over the place. He hears the keening of the sun and the howling of the moon, he hears it all, and it makes his heart sad. And then another is there, before him, standing there looking at him, its hand outstretched, offering him the chance to experience something new. He takes the figure's hand and comes with them through the desert and the wind and the rain, he keeps going, feeling something within him come to life as they travel through this wind and passage. He sees towns and cities growing and then shattering to nothingness, he sees women and children crying out for their loved ones. He sees death, the boldness of it all laughing at the suffering before it. He sees a girl, her face turned toward the sun, her hair silver, her eyes purple, and she smiles and laughs. A blackness over her, wings growing and howling. He wants to coil back from this figure, he does not know who she is, or what she is, but she scares him. They continue onward, and then the everlasting winter is upon them, people are dying, screaming and crying, and in the midst of it all is the figure of white itself, a crown upon its head. "Choose." he hears the figure leading him say. "Choose, life or death, ice or fire." He does not know how to respond, and then it comes to him, and he says the words he knows he has always been meant to say.

His eyes open, and he and the fire has died, he hears people gasping, sees them staring at him, and he is not sure why, and then he hears the song. He looks around himself, and sees them, beings of great beauty, of white, of ice and of blue. His beings of great beauty, his dragons.