EDITED VERSION POSTED THE 05/04/2021

NOTE: Well, hello. I know it's been a while... I'm sorry. I had a lot of things to do for my final year in college and it is all a little crazy. A lot even. It's confusing and I can't wait for it to be over.

Anyway, here we have the third edited chapter, fresh from the bakery so to say xD It's what used to be the second part of the old chapter 2 but you know, editing and stuff... I tried to develop a bir more the relationships between the characters but you'll see for yourself xD

Anyway, enjoy this chapter and see you down there!

Chapter 3: Help me...

The eleventh month of the year 296 a.c

Winterfell

Jon Snow

Jon Snow was worried.

A common occurrence in his short life, he could not deny it. He was always worried. For himself generally, for the place, he was supposed to occupy among his family and his father's house. With Lady Catelyn and her harsh judgment of him. With his future and the fate that awaited him.

Jon Snow had many reasons to worry. Too many maybe, for someone as young as he was. He could not be partial on the matter. He only ever knew himself worried, for as long as he could remember.

But recently, his worries had nothing to do with him, and more to do with one of his sisters.

He always had a peculiar relationship with his sisters. Different for each of them. He was the closest to Arya, since her birth. They were alike and shared a similar spirit and thirst for adventures. It wasn't like Robb whom he admired as his brother or Bran and Rickon both too young to be of the same wood. But it was something.

Sansa never truly felt like a sister to him. Since she was young, she had always been a lady and her mother's child. There was something in the way she carried herself that always made him feel bad about himself. She was a lady, he was a bastard. There laid a line very distinct, that he couldn't ignore and never tried to walk on or pass through. She never reached for him as she did with Robb. She wasn't mean per se, but… unpleasant.

She made him feel beyond her.

Kyria, the oldest of the three was different too. They had been close, as close as Robb and he still was. He had many memories of them playing together when they were younger. But she was a girl. A lady. A growing lady had no place in her life for a bastard. Lady Catelyn told him that once. He never repeated it. To anyone. Because part of him knew it was true. And as she grew, Kyria and he grew apart. Slowly. Surely. He liked to think it was normal, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that it was because of what he was.

Bastard Snow.

Things would have continued this way, if not for her accident.

Everything changed that day.

At first, obviously, he had been worried she might not survive. They said the fall had cracked her skull, and he knew enough of wounds by now to understand the gravity of the situation. There was very little chance for Kyria to pull off without any sequels. He remembered, in the early years of his life, how he went across a man who had been wounded similarly. Those empty eyes would never leave him.

He had nightmares about it for days after that. Dreaming of his own head cracked like an egg in the middle of a battlefield.

But then she woke up after a couple of days, and Jon felt the weight of worry leave his chest almost immediately.

It came back just as quickly when an ashen-faced Robb announced the news.

Kyria didn't remember.

"What do you mean?" he had asked.

"She doesn't remember. Not a thing. Not you, or me, or mother, or father, or anyone else. She doesn't even remember her name."

As so, Jon worried again. He was ashamed to say it had been for himself first. Before Kyria, and her situation, he thought of what it could mean to him. He had not been as close to Kyria as before, but for her to lose her memories… Did that mean she would start treating him differently? Like Lady Catelyn or Lady Sansa?

The idea of another member of his family treating him like- like a nuisance or the dirty secret no one wants to think or talk about was frightening.

Then he thought about what it meant, to lose all your memories. He felt bad. This has nothing to do with him. This was about Kyria and no one else.

He took his time before gaining enough courage to go see her. When he did, he found a small back turned on him, and a sea of auburn hair displayed around the pillow. The dirty white of the cloth on her head was almost painful to look on. He did not know what to say or do, so he just found a corner where he could lurk peacefully for a little while. He was good at lurking in dark corners.

Then she turned and looked at him and he opened his mouth.

Things went on pretty well after that. For a time.

Then the nightmare started and Jon found another reason to worry.

It went on every night. They could hear her screaming in her bed, begging, calling, crying things no one really understood. She stopped talking, for a while. When he went into her room, she was quiet, looking at her hand or the wall on the other side of the room and Jon couldn't find anything to say about it.

He stood there, awkwardly watching his sister watch nothing. It was painful to see, and Jon worried. He wasn't the only one, of course, Kyria was the center of almost every conversation around the keep.

But Jon didn't talk about it. He worried. That was enough.

It lasted a month. A month of nightless sleep and anguished cries.

Then it stopped abruptly.

He should have been relieved. But he wasn't, for some reason.

Something wasn't right. With Kyria. With what happened, with the situation. With all of it really. There was something wrong.

The Maester let her leave her room after another sennight. Lady Catelyn spent the first day with Kyria glued to her side. She followed her everywhere. Like a duckling. It was odd to see. The silent shadow behind the lady. Well, shadows in fact, with little Rickon stuck around her skirts.

Jon was used to the happy but quiet girl he grew up with. Not this… new person, silent and sullen.

He saw her once, standing in front of the broken tower. Without moving. Looking up. Fixing the edge of the broken stones at the very top of the thing. The lone window, eternally open for everyone to see. She watched it for a long time, intensely. Like this bunch of stones and wood had inside the secret of the entire universe.

There has been something strange, painful in the way she watched the tower. And Jon worried.

Another day, she stood in the Goodwood. The same expression wearing her face. And Jon worried.

He saw her crying once while fleeing the place where she had just seen Father's sword. And Jon worried.

The others were happy. Mostly. Kyria was better. She had no bandage around her head, no open wound, the hair around her ugly scar was growing back, she was safe, alive, and on her feet yet again.

But Jon was good at observing. It was all he did since he was young and no one bothered looking for him. He could see the lingering glance sent to her when she wasn't looking. The worry, the questions.

He wasn't the only one noticing everything odd about Kyria.

Some days, in the dead of the night, he wondered how she must feel. How does someone feel without any memories? It was like her entire life was erased.

Or, most of it.

He heard Maester Luwin talk about it. How odd it was for her to forget everything related to her family and life, but to remember how to read and write and all the rest. He didn't get it. But it was as it was.

Part of him wished there was something he could do. They were all hanging around, waiting for Kyria to be better, to change or something. For this melancholia who seemed attached to her every step to disappear. But nothing happened.

After another sennight she stopped following Lady Catelyn and went back to Septa Mordane's teaching. Jon was tempted to ask Arya for more information, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She was young and already had a hard time with the other girls Septa was teaching. She did not need him to use her as his little spy to satisfy his misplaced curiosity.

But he wished he could do something. Help her maybe.

Slowly people around her stopped worrying. As odd as she was, she still seemed pretty normal, or normal enough for people to stop worrying all day. It was slow and discreet, but he could see it happening.

But something still was not right.

"Robb…" he asked one day, "Did she tell you about her dreams?"

"Who did?"

"Kyria."

His brother took the time to think of it, his hands full of arrows he was about to put back in the barrel.

They were training in the yard. Him, Robb, and Theon. They didn't need as much supervision as they used to. Especially with a bow. They trained with it for years now, they were pretty much at ease with it. But it was always good to practice a little.

"Ah yes!" laughed Theon, "Dear Kyria! Tell us, Robb, how is the fair wounded?"

Robb frowned at his friend, and Jon was a bit confused. What was supposed to be funny?

"What are you talking about Greyjoy?" grunted Robb his fist tight in the bow.

"Your sister. How is she? Still screaming in the middle of the night like a lunatic?"

"Watch your tongue."

He looked ready to bite his head off. Like a dog or a wolf. It was almost scary. Jon couldn't blame him either. His own anger was kept in check only for he knew the numerous gazes on them and was very aware that any mistake he could make would be taken right to Lady Catelyn. And he'd rather not have to be in her presence more than strictly necessary.

He may understand her grief about him, but he had enough self-preservation not to actively seek her disdain and contempt at any occasion.

"Oh do calm down!" laughed Theon.

Jon still did not catch the joke. He kept his mouth shut, however.

Theon had this tendency to find every single thing funny. He took great pleasure to remind Jon of his lack of sense of humor. Some days, Jon really hated the guy.

"Alright, alright. How is the kind lady Kyria?" he mocked with a distorted face.

Idiot.

"I don't know," answered Robb with barely hidden frustration.

He pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes and Jon felt the awkward moment coming. Wrapping itself around them like a tangle of sheets around their legs.

After an uncomfortable silence, Robb sat on the edge of a small bench. He looked defeated. Tired, frustrated. Jon could relate to that.

"I don't know," he said again, quietly. " I don't know if she is better if her dreams are truly gone if there is an improvement or- I just-"

"She looks fine enough to me," commented Theon with a shrug of his shoulders.

"But that's the thing!" exploded Robb, raising his head so quickly he only missed the wooden post next to him by an inch.

"I don't know if she is alright. Not truly. Before- Before she would come to me when things were wrong or she was troubled. She would talk with me. Now she- She's quiet. So, so quiet. All the time. And I don't know if it's because she's lost or because she's not fine at all and only pretends to be fine or-"

"Alright!" cut Theon, whose face has gone a bit white confronted to all the bare feeling coming out of Robb like uncontrollable waves.

Jon could understand the feeling. Both of them.

"I don't know what is happening anymore," confessed Robb guiltily.

"I don't think there's a lot you're supposed to do," said Theon. "Let your parents deal with the girl. She'll be well soon enough."

He received a glare.

"You think I'll abandon my sister like that? What do you take me for?"

The Kraken actually rolled his eyes. Jon felt himself frown.

"Nah of course not. Better spend all your days worrying for a lass who may even not be so bad! Maybe she just changed! Maybe she's just different now and you're building things in your head that do not exist!"

"I don't think she just changed." blurred Jon before he could stop himself.

Both pairs of eyes turned on him with surprise, as if in their heathen conversation they had forgotten about him. Jon wouldn't have been surprised if it was the case. He was easy to forget.

"There is something wrong with her," he said carefully.

He couldn't ignore it.

"I- Sometimes she acts like-"

Robb nodded slowly, his eyes falling from Jon's face to the floor.

"I am not even sure how to explain that…"

"Aye…"

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. There was nothing neither of them had to say to feed the debate. If it could be called that way. For, honestly, what could they have done? In the end, without talking with Kyria herself, they could only speculate.

With every day, Jon was more convinced something was wrong with his sister. Maybe he should try to talk to her directly. He hadn't done much of that since that first day in her room. It was before the nightmares he recalled.

Maybe he should do that. At least he would try something.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The year faded and another began. Six months after Kyria's accident, and Five months after her name day, nothing truly changed.

Kyria's hair grew thicker around her scar. Looking more and more like how it used to be. Sansa turned one and ten, and Bran eight name days. Things were as they always have been in Winterfell.

It took Jon two moons after the first exit of her sick room, to gather the courage to go talk to his sister.

He found her in one of the Greenhouses. She was in the middle of whatever that plant was, on the side where Jon knew Maester Luwin kept his little herbs. She was looking at one of them, a little book in her hand. Wasn't that one of those little books Master Luwin liked to make about his plants?

"Can I help you, Jon?"

He blinked.

"How- Did you hear me coming?"

He was behind her, she couldn't have seen him. She looked up, blinking slowly. She looked surprised.

"I guess I did."

"What do you mean?"

The question seemed to make her uncomfortable. She frowned and looked down on the little book, then up again, but not in his eyes.

"I'm not sure."

What? What was that supposed to mean exactly?

"Did you need something Jon?" she asked again less patiently.

"I- I wondered if- If you were alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't think you've been… truly fine since-"

"What do you want."

She sounded cold. Defensive. Jon thought of giving up. But for her to react this way, he mustn't be far from the truth.

"I want to know what is wrong."

She smiled and huffed a laugh. It sounded very forced.

"What is wrong? What could possibly be wrong, brother?"

"Well, you-"

"Oh me then? I am wrong?"

"No, you just- I feel like something is- I don't know."

"On that note, we agree." she snapped, standing up and brushing off her skirts. "You don't know a thing."

Jon tried not to feel hurt by that.

"Maybe. But I know something is not right. It's bothering you and I don't know what it is. But you can not convince me it's not here."

She didn't answer. Her eyes set on the book in her hands, she seemed to refuse to talk. Jon would have loved to insist more, but he didn't know what to say.

She stayed silent. He stayed in a corner. He didn't want to leave yet. Leaving would feel like a failure. Even more so than what he already felt. Part of him hoped that if he stayed longer, she would break and talk again.

She didn't. But even so, Jon was determined. He would make her talk. No matter how long he would have to wait for it.

She lasted two hours.

"Why are you still here?"

"You didn't answer me."

"And I don't plan to."

"Kyria-"

"No. Just- Why can't you leave me alone? I am fine!"

"You are not. You refuse to talk about those nightmares or your injury or anything related to it!"

"Because there is nothing to say!"

"If so, why can't you look me in the eyes?"

She opened her mouth but there was nothing she could have said. Her eyes were glued to his chest and never looked higher than his chin. He knew it and she did too.

"Why do you care so much anyway? Can't you just accept that I don't want to talk about it? Is it too hard to understand?"

The blood pulsed inside him.

"I know you don't remember much, but in families like ours, we support each other. You are not well, I can see it every day. And I want to help you."

She stayed silent for a moment.

"And if I don't want any help?"

Again, it was hard to muzzle the anger bumping in his blood.

"I'm afraid I am quite stubborn," he said. "I will not be persuaded to let go until I am sure you are truly well."

She raised her chin defiantly.

"Then I'll just have to convince you."

Sure. She could try.

OoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Jon made it a habit. Every day he would take one hour to look for Kyria, to find her when she didn't want to be found. To convince her to talk, to share whatever burden was laying on her shoulders.

Some days he wouldn't find her. Generally, those days she was outside, riding on the fields. Or walking around the Wolfwoods, sometimes with Maester Luwin. For his little plants. She seemed to like them.

When he did find her, it was never where he expected it. Up in the broken tower, in front of the heart tree, in the courtyard, sometimes on the catwalk around the yard. In the great hall once or twice. Never in her room or the library. He would spend hours looking around the huge castle for hope to find a glimpse of red curled floating around as she walked around.

Today it was the Godswood.

She was in front of the tree, silent and solemn. He was behind her, far enough not to bother her much, but close enough for her to know he was there. Like always she stayed silent. Jon was tired of this to be honest. She never talked about what he wanted to know and he knew people had started to notice his little masquerade. It was exhausting.

Somehow though, today was different.

"I like this place." she said slowly, "It reminds me of Father."

"Aye, he spent a lot of time here." nodded Jon, taking a prudent step further.

"You know, the first time I felt safe was with Father," she confessed slowly.

Jon was surprised. But then, it made sense. It must have been a terrifying experience to wake up with no memories and no way to know where or even who she was.

"Mother made me uneasy. She was full of tears and sat and talked to me like I was a fragile little thing. Robb and the others... they always talked to me… like they were looking for someone. For the old Kyria to come back. But Father… he never talked much when he came to see me and he never stayed very long. But he didn't ask anything either. He was there. Just- just there. And it felt like it was enough when he did."

They let the silence grow a moment between them. Each one contemplating the words still floating around them. They faded away quickly, carried by the wind but Jon could still feel them against the shell of his ear.

"You did that too." she added finally, "When you came to see me that first time. You were the first who treated me like me, and not the person I was before the accident. It was refreshing. It made me feel normal. For a time."

"You don't feel normal?"

"I don't think I can be."

"Why?"

She barked something broken. Small and sharp on the edges. Something that made Jon's teeth hurt with the need to grit them.

"Because I am not. There is too much."

"Too much what?"

Something shifted on the line of her shoulders. She crumbled, right in front of Jon. Twisted into a small creature, afraid and fragile. Ready to break. Curling around herself to protect what was left of her.

Jon held his breath.

"I am tired, Jon."

"Of what?"

She broke. Something snapped and she fell apart in front of him, dissolving in loud sobs and agonizing moans of distress that tore apart something soft inside Jon.

He fell on his own feet in his haste to come to her aid. He knelt in front of her, hushing things between rushed lips and trying to find a way, any possible way to stop the river of tears on her cheeks.

She fell with him, crushing the fabric of his doublet between her small hands. He stopped fussing when the weight of his sister fell on him. He closed his arms around her and waited, patiently for her to finally calm down enough to explain.

"I think I am losing my mind."

"What? No, why would you think something like that?"

One hand pushed him back weakly. Or maybe she was trying to hit him. He didn't know.

"You know nothing! I know! I know what I feel! What it is like, night after night. The pain, the scream. The voices! I want it to stop! Do you understand me? Make it stop Jon!"

"Kyria-"

She sobbed louder and he resumed his attempts. Stroking the soft spot where her hair was growing back, the long locks cascading around his arms like the branches of a tree. The strength of her sorrow was so great he could feel her shaking violently against him. It scared him at some point, it was like she couldn't control herself.

"Make it stop" she sobbed again, and Jon would have killed for her to stop crying like that.

It was too painful. What happened for her to end up in his arms in the middle of the Godswood? Who hurts his sister?

"Jon-" she gasped and he answered eagerly, desperate to do anything she might ask so long as she stopped crying.

He never knew what to do when one of his sisters was crying. But to witness something like that… There was only that much a bastard like him could do to help.

"Jon-" she gasped again, gripping his doublet.

"I hear you Kyria."

"Help me."

Jon's heart stopped.

Help Me.

Alright. Alright. He could work with that. Action. That was his thing. Definitely.

"Of course I'll help you."

She sobbed again, but something was different. Relief maybe?

Jon patiently waited for her to calm down. To talk. It was quite hard. He had never been a patient person. Not really. And certainly not when it was about his family. But he knew enough of great sorrows to know he wouldn't have anything from her as long as she was crying like that. He needed to wait for her to calm down and talk.

It took forever. But she stopped crying.

Then, she talked again. And Jon's mind went blank.

"Every night, since the accident, I dream," she started slowly, "I dream and I wake up afraid and alone and desperate for it to stop. But they never stop. I see death, and pain, and torture, and abominations. Every night."

Jon tried to think of something to say. But confusion mostly clouded his mind.

"I dream every night. All the time. They are inside my head and I don't know what it is but they just don't stop!"

Jon closed his mouth and let her talk. He was never good with words.

She talked for a long time, Jon listened with growing sickness. She talked and talked and he wanted for it to stop. At several points, he thought it couldn't be worse. But it was. With each dream, she described he wanted to hit something. With each voice, word, visions, whatever it was, he wanted to leach out like a mad man, to hit something or someone. To do something. Anything

It sounded… so unfair. To hear her talk about everything that was tormenting her, and to feel so lost. He wished he could make it stop. He should be able to make it stop. She wanted him to. Why couldn't he?

In the end, she stopped talking. He had kept her hand in his all along and he was watching it now.

"What of it now?"

Good question.

"I don't know what to do yet. But I will help you. That I swear Kyria."

Kyria cried again, and this time he truly hoped it was a relief.

They stayed in the Godswood. Not really talking about anything else. Jon felt strange, relieved, to finally know what troubled his sister. And at the same time, the weight of what he just promised hangs heavily on his shoulders. Heavier with every passing moment.

He vowed to help his sister. But now, as they slowly made their way back to the keep, he wondered how he was supposed to do that.

He was only a bastard after all.

TBC.

AAAAAAAAAND CUT!

What do you think? Is it better? I feel like it's better. Much more emotional. I mean come one, how would you react if you were thrown in a world like that with no memories and traumatic visions inside your head every night? And she's thirteen! She's a baby!

I'm very pleased with this chapter... I hope you like it too. Tell me what you think! I also take this time to think Max who's helping me a lot and is very patient with the craziness happening inside my brain xD Thanks buddy!

OH before I forgot! I need your help guys! In order to follow my plan in the long run for this story, I need a new character. The son of one of the northern mountain clans.

The character is mostly planned minus a tiny little detail. He has no name yet!

So I ask you, dear readers, how would you like to name him? Let's precise that it will be a kind of minor character, important yes, but not on the scale of Kyria or Robb or Jon. Just someone I need to be able to name xD

Tell me your ideas in the comments and we'll try to decide how we will name him ^^

And there we go! The next chapter will be on this story from now on :) Hope you'll enjoy it!

Thank you for following this story and dealing with my little bag of crazy!

See you next time!

Rubyy.