A/N: Standard disclaimer here. I don't own ASOIAF and only write for fun.


Jon

Cold sweat fell down his face like a water ran down river as his body jumped forward violently and threw he from his sleep. For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of his heart thumping against his chest, and the faint sound of someone calling his name. Sam. It was Sam.

"Jon are you alright?" his friend called out. It took him a moment to come out of his daze. "Aye," he responded, still failing to catch his breath. He let his head fall back on the pillow, taking the time to do the breathing exercises that Ser Arthur taught them for fighting. They worked for other things too.

"If you say so," Sam responded. They were actually pretty lucky. Most of the men were stuck in tents outside of Riverrun, and with Lord Beric's arrival that meant that even more of them slept in the dirt. Ser Arthur's presence was the only thing that kept them in a warm bed in the castle. The gods knew that Lord Edmure didn't like him. Jon couldn't blame him. Not yet.

He waited until the familiar sounds of a snoring Sam filled the room before he rose from the bed and quickly dressed. He grabbed the bag that held his egg, and quickly departed the room. It was still early, early enough to where the only people that would be up were the servants who were getting breakfast ready so that allowed him to go unseen to the kennels where Ghost was.

Ghost hated the kennels, he had since he was a small pup in Winterfell, but this wasn't his castle, so Jon did not have a choice. He opened the gate and beckoned his wolf forward, but Ghost stared at him defiantly. "Come on boy," he told him, weakly, "you know this is not my fault."

Ghost got up and stretched his legs before trotting slowly beside him on there way to the godswood. Well it really was a garden. Lady Catelyn had been right. It was bright and airy, and the air smelled of fresh flowers. Tall redwoods loomed large, casting booming shadows over tinkling streams. Birds sang here, and the air didn't have that frigid smell of the North. He wasn't sure he liked it.

"If this all works out," he asked Ser Arthur before, when they traveled the roads and where not stuck feeling useless in a castle, "will I have to turn my back on the old gods and worship the seven?"

Arthur sighed. "No, but it would make things easier." He was being honest with him, of course, but that didn't mean Jon liked the answer. The old gods had never turned their backs on him, and he would not do the same. They gave him guidance and peace. Even stuck in Riverrun, where the shortest way from the Great Hall to the keep was through the godswood, he still could find a quiet spot for peace.

He went off the main path and when he found a quiet place, he let his body fall to the ground. He took his egg out of his bag and placed it next to him, making sure to cover it was leaf in case he was found. He then took more leaves and made a pillow to rest his head and lied down. Ghost followed and put his great big head on his chest. He had grown so fast.

He closed his eyes then, and for the first time in a while, felt at peace. There wasn't any nightmares, and he wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping when he heard a voice call out to him. He knew that he was safe because Ghost was there, but it didn't stop a slight panic from rising. His direwolf though, he was so smart. He had already re-position himself and was hiding the egg with his body, starting blankly into the clearing.

"Jon," the voice called out again. It was Ser Arthur. He should have figured it as soon as he heard it. Ghost probably wouldn't have let anybody else get that close. He opened his eyes to stare at the old night before closing them again. "I'm fine," he said before Ser Arthur could could even get a word in.

Ser Arthur sighed. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what is going on. Sam told me that you were talking in your sleep again, said you were begging to someone not to kill her."

He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. It was only when the footsteps started to fade that he found the courage to speak. "She was beautiful you know. So small, so fragile, but a beauty like none I've ever seen."

"Jon," Ser Arthur said, but he was ignored and Jon kept talking. "Her eyes were as black as the night's sky. So pretty, so precious. I could stare into them forever. I see how my father could love her."

"Elia," Ser Arthur took a deep breath, his footsteps growing louder as he walked back over.

"She wore a pretty yellow dress that matched the headband in her hair. Her neckline was embroidered with the red sun and golden spear of her house. She shined brightly like the moon that night."

"What night?" Ser Arthur asked, his voice shaken. For the first time in his life he sounded afraid.

"My brother, he couldn't sleep. So she had taken him down to the gardens of the Red Keep to soothe him. I can hear her voice, although I do not know the song she sang. It was so sweet, a beautiful melody…."

Jon took a deep, labored breath before continuing. It was hard. "You know for being so big, he sure is quick," he croaked. "One minute she was singing my brother a song, and the next she was being thrown to the ground like she was nothing."

"Jon," Ser Arthur pleaded now. "She was my friend. I grew up with her."

"The gods are kind. I never get to see what happens next. It never goes that far. At this point, the dragon always rises. White as snow with an underbelly as red as blood, she rises and devours every thing in a great white flame."

"Is this your nightmare?" Ser Arthur asked after a brief pause. "The one that keeps you up at night."

"Aye," Jon responded. It was a half truth. There was one more, but he would not tell Ser Arthur that. How could you tell a man that you dreamed his demise. That you watched the knife rip through his flesh and watched the blood pour from his body while you were helpless. Just like before, the dragon would come at the end. Rising like the sun to end the nightmare, to drown the pain in flames.

"I could ask the maester to make you a potion," Ser Arthur suggested, "it could make your nights dreamless."

"No," Jon responded. It was hard, but he didn't want them to stop. "The Starks of old trusted their direwolves so much that they listened when their companions gave them signs of danger. I might not like the method, but the dragon is trying to tell me something."

"Have you figured it out?" Ser Arthur asked. Jon opened his eyes, staring at the purple, tear soaked, eyes of his mentor as he gave his answer. It wouldn't happen like that. He would find a way to save Arthur.

"I think so."


"You're Jon Snow," a quiet voice called out. He lifted his head from the pillow of leaves

to get a look at the face the voice emerged from. He had already returned Ghost to the kennels, broke his fast, and trained in the yard. When he finished, he found himself again in the godswood.

He had saw the same boy a couple of days before, riding next to Lord Beric as they rode into the courtyard when they arrived. The boy was wide-eyed then, staring directly at Ser Arthur the whole time.

They rode carrying the banner of the King, a King who was dead. Word had reached them some days ago that King Robert had died in a hunting accident. The same letter announcing his death was the same letter that crowned Joffrey Baratheon as King and demanded that Lord Tully come swear fealty to him. It also demanded that they release the Mountain, and hand over the men that captured him to be tried at court for arresting an innocent man and breaking the King's peace.

Another letter followed after, this time from his father, Lord Stark. His letter denounced the legitimacy of Queen Cersei's children, naming them bastards fathered by Jamie Lannister for all the realm to read. Apparently, in that same letter, his father told Lord Edmure Tully to stay put, to gather all his men at Riverrun, that Robb was on the way.

Edmure Tully ignored that part of the letter. Ser Arthur had practically begged him to reconsider, but instead he sent Lord Piper and Lord Vance to guard the pass below the Golden Tooth.

"They will be outnumbered and slaughtered," Ser Arthur had told him. He was right. If Tywin Lannister was gathering the might of the West and marching toward Rivverun, which all of their scouts and spies suggested that he was, then spreading out his forces was a bad idea.

"These are my lands," Edmure would repeat, putting the unnecessary emphasis on the word my. "You expect me to allow them to pillage my villages, and burn my crops while I sit back and do nothing?"

Villages could be rebuilt, fields could be resowed. People could not be replaced…. but he did not speak. To Edmure, he was still a bastard, a stain on his siser's marriage. He was starting to wonder why they were still here but Ser Arthur was adamant that they would not leave, at least not yet.

"Aye," Jon finally responded, sitting up to give the boy his full attention. He had pale blond hair, and what looked like purple eyes. He wore a purple cloak that was fastened with a brooch that was a large white star.

"I am looking for Ser Arthur," the boy said, his voice cracking a bit. "The men told me that you would know where to find him."

"What business do you have with Ser Arthur?" Jon questioned. Perhaps he was too harsh, the boy's face fell and he stared at the ground, playing with his thumbs.

"He's my uncle," he spoke with in a shy whisper. "I just want to meet him."

Jon's eyes widened, and he stood immediately. "Lord Dayne, my apologies I didn't realize that was you."

"We have never met," the boy responded, dismissing Jon's apology with a small smile.

"What are you doing here, in the Riverlands?"

"Lord Beric took me for his page when he was betrothed to my aunt," he responded politely. "I was seven, but when I turned ten he raised me to squire."

Jon smiled at him, "perhaps we can meet in the yard tomorrow, and you can show me what Lord Beric has taught you."

That seemed to startle him. "You were taught by my uncle."

"I was," Jon agreed, "but you are his blood."

Edric laughed nervously, "I was not blessed with the natural talent to wield the sword like some in my family are."

"Your Uncle taught me many lessons in life Lord Dayne. Hard work beats talent every time….. now come, let me take you to him."


They found them in the private audience chamber above the great hall. Jon suppressed a groan as they approached the wooden door. They were arguing again.

"You forget your place Ser Arthur," he could hear Edmure Tully spit, "I am the acting Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, I will decide how to lead my men into battle."

He heard Ser Arthur sigh. "You are right but at least allow me to go get help. Walder Frey has not answered your call yet. Let me take my men and see what is taking him so long. Hopefully by then Robb will have begun his march."

"Fine," Lord Edmure responded, his voice failing to hide the happiness of being rid of them.

"We will go with them," Lord Beric's voice game through. "Most of the men that make up my party fly Stark banners."

Jon chose that time to knock. It was Thoros of Myr who opened the door. He was a tall, fat man who wore red robes that flapped in the wind. He was bald, but his smooth face led to a white beard. Jon had saw the man when they first arrived and the man stared as him as fiercely as he had done earlier. It was odd and all knowing.

"Jon," Ser Arthur spoke. "What are you doing here?"

Jon smiled at him. "Your nephew is looking for you. Jon stepped inside, and then to the side to let the boy come through.

"Edric," Ser Arthur whispered. "My Lord, Beric just informed me that you were his squire. Had I known, I would have sought you out earlier."

Lord Edmure Tully spoke again before anyone could talk. "As cute as this small family reunion might be, I have a war to plan for. Can you do this elsewhere?"

Ser Arthur glared at him, but still nodded his head. "Of course Lord Tully, let us not be an interruption any longer. We will leave in the morning."

He turned to Edric, "Lord Dayne, if you will follow me to my room, I would love to meet with you."


He walked back toward the godswood, it was the quickest way to the kennel. He wanted to spend some more time with Ghost before the day was over, to tell him tomorrow he would be free. Perhaps he could even let him hunt the hunt rabbit that called the godswood of Riverrun their home.

He heard the footsteps following him, but it was obvious the person was not trying to be stealthy. Still, instincts took over and he reached for his sword. He expertly drew it from its sheath, and turned to face the man that would follow him. Intentional or not, no one liked to be followed.

"Peace Jon Snow, the Lord of Light has told me many things about you," the man spoke calmly, his red robes flowing with the wind. "I have seen them in my flames."

Jon turned, "you are the Myrish priest. The men call you the red wizard."

He snorted. "The pink pretender, rather. I am Thoros, late of Myr, aye… a bad preist and a worse wizard."

"Yet, you claim to know me from your flames. Which is it?"

"I may be a bad wizard, but R'hllor is not. He has told me many things about you Jon Snow," he stepped closer to him and Jon could smell the faint smell of ale on his breath. "The men call you the White Wolf of the North. I wonder what will happen when they find out that the White Wolf can fly?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Jon replied sharply, his heart starting to race. Thoros laughed.

"Of course you don't," he said when he was finished. "Not yet at least but you will soon my friend. Soon. It will be interested traveling with you. As Ser Arthur says, we leave in the morning. I would advise you to get your rest Jon Snow. You are going to need it."

He walked away slowly, humming a tune that Jon had never heard. Jon stared after him, worry etched deep in his bones. He would need to be careful around Thoros.


A/N: Hey you guys. How's it been? I feel like I have apologized for the wait over and over, but here I am again. Life is trash right now. I was supposed to get married yesterday, but with Corona going on and everything we had to postpone. Plus my job is considered essential, and with everything thats going on, I have spending eight hours stuck in my office at home working. I hate to say it, but it makes writing, and editing (I know I know, I suck at it) hard.

But it is what it is. Life is what it should be. I will continue to push forward thanks to your amazing support, and hopefully the next chapter, Arya, will soon come. Thanks again for all the love and support. See you soon!