A/N: I totally forgot that Jon knew Bran was north of the wall so he knew Bran and Rickon were actually alive but let's just say for arguments' sake, that he thought they were. It'll be like a little AU. Plus, I'm too lazy to change the previous chapter. Change one little tidbit and everything else follows. You guys know the drill. Sorry I took too long in updating. Been busy at work and I passed my board exam so hooray! It was worth it. But yes. Without further ado: the next chapter. Enjoy.

P.S. So, I have a dilemma. Care to help me solve it? So, should I have a real Aegon or not to complete the trio dragons? Leave a comment on what you think I should do and I'll consider it.

Disclaimer: Game of Thrones is not mine.

Summary: Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.

Jon Connington felt his old bones start to creak as they continued to march on to Mereen.

A scout had been sent ahead to warn the Imp that the Golden Company are coming to see the queen and the scout returned with an invitation to the hospitality of the free city. He didn't know if the Lannister was a naïve imbecile or a cunning little beast. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, Jon Connington cared little. Aegon is brimming with excitement. He rode beside Jon with his back straight and proud and Jon couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. He cannot believe how much the little boy he had sworn to protect had grown. Not only was Aegon a natural born leader but he was also just and fair, brimming with the desire to prove himself a man capable of his birthright. Jon may be Rhaegal's loyal friend and follower but he had raised the prince since he was little. His little silver prince had come to be like a son to him.

"There it is!" Aegon breathed. He looked up to see the great city of Mereen, built upon centuries of hard labor of slaves but turned to truly be a free city. Jon grunted again, not caring in the least. Aegon rolled his eyes. Jon didn't really give that much thought either. He's busy making sure he has just enough contingency plans for whichever outcome this visit will end up on.

"Welcome to Mereen." A voice announced.

Jon turned to see a small man with a hideous scar across his face. He had a shaggy golden mane on his head and hinted with the scent of liquor. He could be no other than Tyrion Lannister. He had a bald man behind his steps, hands clasped inside his long, silk robes. They stared at each other with neutral expressions, giving nothing away as was customary with the game they play. This one Jon knew quite well. Varys.

"I am—"

"Tyrion Lannister, son of the mighty Tywin." Jon announced for him. The smaller man seemed to have stiffened and looked a little guarded.

"It seems I am at a disadvantage." he says with a tight, calculating smile. "You know my name yet I do not know yours."

"This is Jon Connington, the former hand of the king of the late King Aerys II." Varys answered for the man. Tyrion contained his surprise and smiled.

"You're alive?" Tyrion asked tactlessly although it had been more a statement than a question to begin with.

"Were you expecting otherwise?" Jon huffed.

"Assumed otherwise more like it." countered Tyrion. Jon grunted.

There was a cough from somewhere on Jon's right and he turned to see the young prince's expectant face.

"My lords, may I introduce Aegon Targaryen VI, son of Rhaegar, rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms." Jon introduced as Aegon stepped forward. He had a polite smile on his face but his eyes measured all that were before him, gauging the expressions of his would-be allies.

Tyrion's eyes widened slightly before settling back into his politician façade.

"Well, this is a surprising turn of events." Tyrion commented casually but his eyes held a hint of skepticism.

"I'm here to help you find my aunt." Aegon declared. Tyrion gave him a look that seemed almost exasperated. Aegon tried his best not to bristle with indignation.

"I'm afraid you are too late, my lord." Tyrion said the last two words with emphasis as if it implied something. Jon is already beginning to dislike this Lannister as well. "The searching party has already been deployed. In a few days' time, I have no doubt the queen will return to us unharmed and safe. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay and wait for an audience with her grace."

Aegon gave Tyrion a knowing smirk. "Lord Tyrion, you misunderstand me." he said.

"How could have I misunderstood you, my lord?" Tyrion asked with a frown on his face. "You mean to help us find the queen and I—"

"And you told me that the search party has been deployed." Aegon said. "I have no intention of joining the search party."

Tyrion looked perplexed. "Well, what did you mean then?" he asked.

Aegon smiled wider. "Show me where she keeps the other two dragons."

It was well past midnight that Jon had been able to climb into bed.

His body didn't seem tired despite his healing injuries but his mind and heart are pushed to its limits. Here, in the solitude of his quarters, he thinks of these past few days. His brothers killed him. He had died. Then, he lived again.

Reborn, Melisandre had said.

She said a lot of things, Jon realized. She said a lot of things that he doesn't think he can believe or accept so he puts those thoughts away for now.

He doesn't even know how to be this great hero to begin with. He didn't know if he could be this savior prophesized to lead all of humanity to a war against the White Walkers. He'd been murdered by his own men for decisions he'd thought had been the right thing to do. Still believe to have been the right thing to do. How can he be this promised prince if he can't even make the right choices?

He rubs a hand down his face and sigh deeply.

You know nothing, Jon Snow.

She's still right.

JON!

Sansa woke up with a strangled cry trying to burst free from her throat.

She felt disoriented, looking around wildly until reality caught up with her and she tries to breathe. Instead of exhaling, she sobs and sobs until she feels herself cracking.

It was just a nightmare. Just another nightmare, she tries to tell herself.

She wraps her furs tightly around her and was thankful she wasn't heard. The last thing she needs is someone bursting through her door and sees her in a wreck. It takes a while but eventually she controls herself enough and breathes in deep and slow until her heart stops hammering in her chest. She runs her palms through her face, wiping away her tears and tries to fall back to sleep.

She resolved to tell Jon to do something about the traitors before she loses her mind.

She doesn't think she can handle seeing him die again in her dreams.

So, she doesn't sleep.

Jon Snow.

He was flying, wings outstretched wide with his eyes zooming through the forest below him. Something has called him here, a power he does not recognize but it's as familiar as his own blood, whispering his name in the night.

Jon Snow.

Jon decided to descend near the weirwood tree, making a few circles around it before settling on the snow covered ground. He doesn't dare to perch on the branches. He has a feeling whomever calls to him will not appreciate it. He settles and he waits.

Jon Snow.

There it was again.

A crunching noise is heard from behind him and he squawks as he turns to a blue eyed corpse. It reaches down with inhuman speed and its dead cold hands are around Jon. He struggles with all his might but the hands prove too strong. The last thing he feels is his head being torn off his neck as the wight's teeth closes around him.

He bolts awake, breathing heavily, to find Sansa by the door with apprehension in her eyes.

"You were dreaming." Sansa tells him worriedly.

He shakes his head.

"I don't think it was a dream." he murmurs. He cups his head and he closes his eyes. The Red Priestess' words swirling in his head.

Your powers will only grow as this war continues. You must not resist, my prince. Learn them. Use them. They are given to you for a purpose. She tells him.

"Jon?" Sansa says timidly and he snaps back to the present. That's when he notices Sansa's red swollen eyes, fatigue burdening her shoulders and fear painting her beautiful face. Her injured hand is cradled closer to her body, a movement Jon has learned to associate with vulnerability when it came to Sansa.

"Sansa," he says as he stands and takes the three strides to reach her. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head but her eyes began to fill with tears. "Nothing, I—"

She clamps her mouth shut and grits her teeth, looking away from her cousin. Jon puts a hand on her shoulder and another to her cheek. She looks up and his chest constricts at the sorrow he saw in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asks more firmly, a worried frown settling on his brows. Sansa was breathing heavily and Jon thought she would break down and cry when suddenly, there's steel in her eyes and anger in her pretty face.

"You need to do something about the prisoners. Kill them already. They do not deserve to live any longer than they already have." she says fiercely as if she was giving a command. Jon involuntarily takes a step back at her ferocity, his hands dropping back at his sides. When he steps away from her, she immediately looks hurt and guilty, looking anywhere but at Jon.

"What's gotten into you, Sansa?" Jon asks sadly.

"I— I –" Sansa stammered, looking like the lost child that she was. But for the second time that morning, her eyes steeled and this time, for a completely different reason. She looks Jon in the eye and he was glad to see more of her mother in her than the girl who had demanded him death merely seconds ago. "I know that I was never truly genuine with my affections with you when we were young, Jon." She begins and Jon would have interrupted if she did not continue to negate whatever he would have said to appease her.

"I was horrible to you and I deserve none of your kindness. But you're my family." Sansa's voice was a mere whisper as she pleaded with him. She sucked in a sob that threatened to deter her from what she needed to say. "The only family I may have left. So, please, for me. I can't sleep knowing that they are a threat to you. I can't sleep while they get to keep their lives after what they did, after all you've done for them. I can't sleep until I know that they got everything they deserve."

"Killing them wouldn't change anything, Sansa." Jon whispers back, stepping forward again and held her shoulders, reasoning with her. "I was dead, yes, but I'm alive. I lived. You'll never be alone again. I promise."

She looks at him sadly, as if she saw Robb, her father and her mother in him. As if she saw all the loved ones that they have lost in him.

"You are the Lord Commander." she says, looking away. "I will trust that you will make the right decision."

With that, she fled away from him and Jon was the one left alone.

Jon descended into the castle's dungeons. He can hear the men moving as he approached and only Longclaw on his hip can make him feel at ease as he trudged further into the poorly lit cells. This was a meeting he'd finally finished putting on hold. With Sansa's distress and his final day as Lord Commander, he had no choice but to face what awaits him at the end of the dungeons. Sam and Edd had both offered to accompany him on his confrontation but he gratefully declined. This was a meeting between him and his murderers.

He needed to face this alone so that he can put it to rest and sleep soundly again.

"Well, well, well," Alliser Thorne said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, as Jon stopped in front of his cell. His voice echoed through the walls so Jon had no doubt that all the other men can hear them. He can feel the others moving closer, breathing loudly; he can feel their gaze on him. "If it isn't the undead Lord Commander. The last time you told us a man rose from the dead, he was a wight."

"I'm not a wight." Jon said. Alliser snorted.

"No?" Alliser said as he got up to press his hands on the bars with a sneer on his face. "Then what are you?"

"I was your Lord Commander." Jon said. "And you murdered me."

Alliser snorted. "Tried to." he murmured.

"I want to know why."

"Why? Why?!" Alliser growled. "Because you were a damned fool who may have just killed us all!"

Jon can hear a murmur of agreement from the others but they didn't dare to speak aloud. He saw Alliser standing straighter like a peacock with a dirty smirk on his face. He looked upon the other dark cells from the corner of his eyes, never truly turning away from Alliser and saw them all pressing their faces on the bars except for Ollie, who remained huddled on the corner, listening but avoiding Jon's eye.

Jon had known these men for years. He had fought with them, broke bread with them and called them brothers. They weren't capable of hatching up some plan in the dead of night to lead him to his death, as much as they wanted to. These men were sheep who followed blindly to the blade and Jon wanted to know why the shepherd had lead them there in the first place before he was to pass judgment.

Jon let the silence fall once again before speaking. "That's their reason." Jon said, his gaze piercing through Alliser. "I want to know what's yours."

Alliser's glower became harder but Jon held his ground. He found that he had grown stronger since he had died. The cold didn't bother him as much as it had before, as if a fire burned inside him as he slept, never truly cold despite having the winter coming to a hideous turn. His heart was as calm as a mountain lake, strength seeping into him through the fatigue and his injuries are healing faster than it should, the wounds already closing and well underway to disappearing as if he had never died at all when he had checked them this morning.

Melisandre was right about his growing powers and it frightened him as well as it exhilarated him.

Jon realized that he had been foolish for his apprehension of Alliser Thorne.

He was no one but a man while Jon was a dragon as well as a wolf.

"Why did you kill me?" Jon hissed. Alliser glowered at him for a long time before speaking.

"Because you are Ned Stark's bastard." he said simply.

Jon blinked. He was so mightily stunned and incensed he didn't know if he should laugh or drive his blade up this man's chest. "What?" he gritted out.

"You're Lord Stark's bastard." Alliser repeated as if it was an insult. Perhaps, once it was. But it means nothing to Jon now. "I fought for the Targaryens when he and his fat, whoring friend laid waste to all the kingdoms for Lyanna Stark. All for a woman!Fools! All of them! I was a knight!" he raged, his face turning red. "A respected knight of King's Landing and they sent me off to this cursed wall along with these cravens, murderers and rapists!"

Jon was oddly rendered speechless.

"When the time comes, and it is upon us, the Targaryens will rise again." Alliser hissed. "I will leave this useless lump of a wall and serve them once more. That is why I killed you, bastard! Because your father was an honorable fool and an usurper!"

Jon couldn't help it any longer. He laughed.

Alliser looked startled for a moment before his face morphed into an enraged sneer.

"What are you laughing about?!" he snapped.

Wary glances were exchanged from the other prisoners but Jon didn't care. Suddenly, all his doubts as a commander lifted away from his shoulders. No, this betrayal had not been because of his inability to command or of his decisions. This had been because of a decade or so old grudge for Eddard Stark, who isn't even Jon's father. It seemed utterly ridiculous. His death at the hands of a Targaryen loyalist? Isn't this an ironic turn of events.

"I'm laughing because you're an idiot, Alliser Thorne." Jon chuckled, looking at the imbecile with pity. "But if it weren't for you, I never would've known who my mother was." Jon paused briefly for effect. "Or my father. I should thank you for that."

Alliser looked indignant and confused. "What are you talking about, bastard?"

Jon couldn't help feeling a righteous satisfaction by telling this fool of a man that he had not only offended and slighted but also failed the house he claims to serve. Because Jon is no mere bastard son who had dragon blood coursing through his veins. He was Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark's son.

"When you killed me, I had a vision of my mother." Jon confessed almost casually, his voice hinting a sarcastic bite in his words. "She told me the truth about my birth. She told me who I was."

"What does this has to fucking do with anything? She was nothing but a nameless whore!" Alliser snapped but his eyes showed apprehension.

"Her name was Lyanna Stark." Jon growled. His eyes darkened, angry that Alliser had insulted his mother. "And I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen."

Alliser's sneer disappeared from his face. Dawning horror took its place as Alliser paled considerably.

"YOU LIE!" he screamed, hitting the bars. "YOU'RE A LYING BASTARD, SON OF A TAVERN SLUT!"

"Didn't you know, Ser Alliser?" Jon mocked. "Fire cannot kill a dragon."

Jon smiled bitterly as Alliser began to breathe faster, the shock taking over him and went as rigid as a man can possibly get.

"I have decided what your punishment would be." Jon announced to all of them. Some of the men had looked resigned to hear of their execution. But Jon hadn't decided to kill them. Not like how they thought anyway. "Since you doubted me so much, I've decided you need to see it for yourselves. You are to accompany me to a journey beyond the wall."

Many of them quivered or looked terrified or both.

"Why?" one of them demanded fearfully.

"I have a business to attend there." Jon said almost sarcastically but it was the truth.

"And if we refuse?" another one asked.

"You'll die anyway." Jon answered quietly. "But if you survive the journey back, then you will be redeemed."

This gave many of the men hope. Alliser Thorne is still as rigid as he left him so he turned to climb back up and away from these dark cells.

"Jon?" a small, timid voice calls out. Jon closes his eyes and turns slowly back around. Olly had tears running down his cheeks and Jon couldn't help but feel the knife this boy had plunged into him days ago.

"I'm sorry."

Jon gritted his teeth and nodded stiffly. "Me too, Olly."

He climbs out and never turns back, taking away whatever light the prisoners had for days with him.