Hello there!

Here is a new fic, I have had the idea in my mind for quite some time so I hope you will like it.
As explained in the description, it will be an alternate universe centered on Jon (the few chapters I have in store are all from Jon's POV but if you think I should add another don't hesitate to suggest it in the reviews ;)). It will follow a lot of the canon events of the show but I will probably add elements from the books as well. I am starting on a rythm of one chapter per episode and this should continue at least until we catch up with the events of season 3.

Update should be every wednesday starting next week.
Don't hesitate to review every feedback, good or bad, is welcomed and appreciated! I really need it to know if you guys like where the story is going.

Anyway, I leave you with the first chapter, please enjoy!

Chapter I: In the beginning was the egg

The first time he dreamt of dragons, he had been six namedays old. Sleep had finally taken him after hours of fever and coughs. He would learn later that he had caught the pox. Maester Luwin had said that if he made it through the night he would live and he did. During that night he dreamt of dragons or rather eggs.

He was in an underground room. He knew that because there were cracks in the ceiling where he could see dirt, grass, and above, the branches of trees. A light snow was falling lazily in the night sky. It went through the cracks and formed white patches on the paved floor. He started to walk to the centre of the room. His small legs made it feel as if it was hundreds of yards wide.

"Hello!" He called shivering more from fear than the cold.

Nobody answered so he kept walking to the middle of the room. One of the cracks let the light from the moon fall on a pile of rocks right in the centre. However, as he got closer, he realized that they were not rocks, they were more like eggs. Aside from their form, they looked nothing like the eggs Betha the kitchen maid used to make the cakes his sister loved so much. They were much bigger and, though they were different colours, they were all dark. Their shell was not smooth either, it was covered in scale-like patterns. Intrigued, he carefully moved closer and assembled his courage to touch one of them. He did so with only one finger and quickly took it away when he realized that the egg was warm. It was most odd with the freezing temperature.

"It is not going to bite you!" Someone called behind him which, ironically, made him jump. He turned on his heels to face the intruder. He discovered a child, not much older than him. It only took him one glance to find the boy strange. He was very lightly dressed for the weather, wearing only a beige tunic with brown breeches and a straw hat hanging from his belt. He was also completely bald and had striking deep purple eyes. "Hello, little dragon!" The stranger said.

"I'm not a dragon, I'm a wolf!" He countered. Lady Stark would scold him for saying such a thing if she heard him. She liked to remind him that his name was not Stark and therefore, the direwolf sigil could never represent him. He did not really understand why she hated him so, and neither why he could not be a Stark. His father was a Stark after all. But after his father sat him down and told him that since he was his son but not Lady Stark's he could not be called a Stark, he had accepted it. He focused on the stranger. "Are you not cold?" He asked and thought to himself that it was a very dull question.

"No, I'm not. My blood runs warm. Are you?" The bald boy asked back. He did not expect to have to answer the question himself and then, looking down, he realized he was not wearing his cloak. He had to admit the stranger's question made sense.

"No, I'm of the North so… I guess my blood runs warm too." He shrugged. "What is your name?"

"Egg."

"That is a stupid name." His words were out before he could control them. "Sorry…" He tried but 'Egg' just laughed.

"What is your name?" The dark purple eyes were fixed on him.

"Jon Snow." He held out his arm for Egg to take it. When he did, he realized he had not been lying, he was indeed warm. "Well met."

"Well met."

"What are you doing here?" Jon asked curiously. He tried to remember a bald boy with purple eyes from Wintertown but found he could not. From the way he was dressed, he guessed he was from the smallfolk, but he must have come from somewhere else.

"I'm a squire! Ser Duncan wanted to visit Winterfell and the Wall." The older boy replied enthusiastically.

"You're lying! Besides, there are no knights in the North, we let those things for the southron pricks." Jon was certain that Egg could be no squire. The only squires he had ever seen were always well dressed.

"I am not! Ser Duncan is a hedge knight. We go wherever we want!" He exclaimed.

The bald boy went on to tell him his adventure. Apparently, he had met 'Dunk' before a tourney in Ashford Meadow. There, his knight had won a trial by Seven and Egg's father had agreed to let him squire for him. Jon had no idea where Ashford Meadow was, neither what a trial by Seven was but he was fascinated by the story. Egg also claimed that Ser Duncan settled a century old dispute in the Reach and that together they ended a rebellion. Jon was not sure he believed his new friend, but he sure knew how to tell stories.

After what seemed like hours, he felt like he was drifting to sleep, and Egg's face started to fade away.

He had woken up from that first dream feeling feverish but after a few days in Maester Luwin's care, he had gotten better. As soon as he had been able to stand, he had run, or rather walked as fast as his young recovering body allowed him, to the library. Meeting Egg in his dream had given him the need to know more about the world. After that, he had spent equal amounts of time in the training yard with his brother and in the library. What he discovered in books fuelled his roleplays with Robb. He was particularly fond of the stories about the Targaryens. Kings, Princes and Dragon knights were all he thought about. One day, he had read about Aegon V, the Unlikely, and the Captain of his Kingsguard, Ser Duncan the Tall. The resemblance had been striking even for a 6 namedays-old boy.

As he had grown older, he would frequently dream of dragons and various Targaryens. Each time, he would talk to them, they would tell him stories that coincided with his books and each time, he would be deeply affected by them. He did not know what to make of those dreams so he tried to think as little about them as possible.

It had been seven moons since his last, he felt at peace surrounded by his siblings despite the glares of Lady Stark who had not grown kinder with the years. The sound of an arrow flying through the air was thrilling. It became less so when it landed no way near the target. He tried his best to cheer his little brother up as Robb, Lady Stark and his father watched. The little boy of ten looked sad and it pained Jon to see him like this. Ever since he was a child, he had always wanted his trueborn siblings to be happy. In his mind, there was no reason for them not to be as they did not have a Lady Stark to torment them.

Bran missed again and this time Jon could not help it, he chuckled and so did Robb and the youngest of the pack, Rickon.

"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" The voice of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, boomed from above. "Keep practicing Bran."

The next arrow, Bran did not get the chance to shoot it as Arya, his little sister, hit the bullseye before. He smiled at the sight of his brother chasing after their sister. Arya was his closest sibling. She looked like him the most as well. At some point a few years before she had even thought she was a bastard like him since they were so alike. He talked her out of this idea. She was wild, carefree and short-tempered quite the opposite of their other sister. Sansa was her mother's reflection in every aspect. Though she did not appear to hate Jon, she did her best to avoid him sometimes at great length. No doubt, it pleased Lady Stark very much, beside Robb, her first born, Sansa was her prodigy child.

Tidying up the yard, Jon felt watched. He lifted his eyes to meet Lady Stark's glaring down at him. He quickly lowered his gaze and felt his shoulders round as if it could protect him from her. Moments later Ser Rodrik called, there had been a deserter from the Night's Watch.

The man talked nonsense, saying he had seen White walkers. It did not save him from Lord Stark's blade, Ice. The Night's Watch was a sworn brotherhood, they served for life. His uncle Benjen was its First Ranger. When he was younger, Jon had considered joining the Watch, but not anymore. Not after he had read so many stories about the Realm. Jon wanted to travel, not freeze in one place for the rest of his life. His father however wished him to take the black. It was an honourable calling he told him frequently, Starks had manned the walls for centuries and he could make a name for himself there. The beheaded man before him certainly did not give him any motivation to join the order. But he was a man of duty, if his father insisted, he would go.

Bran had held up nicely during the execution. Lord Stark could be proud. Yet Jon worried about him, Bran was still very young, and he feared the boy had not been ready. During their ride home he checked on him and was pleased to see his brother with a smile. Bran loved to ride, he wanted to be a knight.

Theon halted in front of them. Jon dismounted his horse to join him. There was an eviscerated stag in the middle of the road, right after the bridge. His father came to their level.

"Mountain lions?" Theon asked.

"There are no mountain lions in the Wolfwoods." His father shook his head. Greyjoy would have known that had he paid attention to the maester's lessons. Theon did not like lessons, he liked to fuck whores and brag about the Iron Island. Jon tolerated him for Robb's sake.

Lord Stark seemed to notice something on their right, closer to the river. A giant wolf's body laid with a stag horn in its belly. Pups crawled around it. The smell was no better than the stag's. His father was silent, and everybody respected that until Theon decided he had something to say.

"It's a freak!" He declared seeming to think he was being clever.

"It's a direwolf." His father replied looking at Ser Rodrick who looked both shocked and concerned. "Tough old beast." He whispered more to himself than to them.

"There are no direwolves south of the Wall." Robb intervened as they had been told so since birth.

"Now there are five." Jon answered to his brother. "You want to hold it?" He asked Bran and gave him one.

"Where will they go? Their mother's dead." Jon understood Bran's compassion, he felt the same. Having never known his own mother he felt his heart melt for the pups. They did not deserve their fate, the gods were unfair.

"They don't belong here!" Ser Rodick said.

Their father seemed to agree. "Better a quick death." He walked away for the body. "They won't last without their mother."

Theon moved to kill the pups, but Bran resisted. Robb, Bran and Theon started to argue over whether they should be killed or not. Seeing his little brother plead for the animals' lives was touching. Jon then noticed the number of little wolves. "Lord Stark." He called as they were in public. "There are five pups. One for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them." It hurt him more then he could tell to exclude himself from his family. The bright side was that it changed his father's mind.

He handed his siblings the wolves.

"What about you?" Bran asked.

"I'm not a Stark." He replied resolutely though he wished he did not have to. He turned to find a white one they had not seen before. He caught it by the skin of the neck.

"The runt of the litter." Greyjoy declared. "That one's yours, Snow." If looks could kill, Theon would have been dead by now.

They rode back to Winterfell and presented the girls and Rickon with the wolflings. Lady Stark was unimpressed. She tried to have the animals locked in the kennels. Thankfully, Lord Stark forbade it. Jon quickly ran to his room to put his own pup to safety. He liked his poorly furnished small room. It was where he felt the safest and he hoped his wolf would to. The pup's fur was white as the first snow of winter, before it becomes muddy. Its eyes were red as fresh blood.

"You look nothing like the others, boy." He started talking to the animal. "But don't worry, we are the same you and I." The pup tilted its head. Jon found it funny as there was no way the wolf understood. "We have to find you a name. Let's see, you're white and quiet. You remind me of that time I drenched myself in flour and pretended I was a ghost to scare Sansa. Ghost… That shall be a good name, don't you think Ghost?" The wolf tilted its head the other way.

That night he dreamt again. For the first time since he caught the pox, he dreamt of eggs again. He could not say it was a pleasant dream which was odd, he had only had one nightmare including dragons before, but this dream was unlike any other.

He was laying facing the ceiling in that underground room from his first dream. The only difference was that this time there were no cracks. The room was as good as new. The eggs were still there, the same dragon eggs he had seen the first time.

"Egg!" He called, half expecting to see Aegon V appear from behind a column.

"Yes, those are eggs, no need to shout." He female voice replied, it clearly did not belong to Egg. The said woman was unquestionably a Targaryen. She had a slender frame, purple eyes and silver hair. Her clothing looked foreign, but he could not place it. "Hello, little dragon." She said. No Targaryen he had met in his dreams had called him that since the first one.

"I am not a dragon My Lady." He felt the need to call her that.

"Are you not? Surely by know you should have figured it out…" He did not reply, he did not want to deal with his theories. She waited a moment before she gave up. "I dreamt too." She announced.

"Everybody dreams My Lady." He replied. She seemed to have liked the title before.

"Mine came true." Jon tried to place a Targaryen that dreamt in the known history.

"You are Daenys the Dreamer." He found.

She chuckled. "They called me that yes, it was meant to be an insult."

"I'm sorry My La…"

"I don't mind. They were right, all I did was dream. It saved my family and our dragons…" She seemed lost in her memories as she paced the room, not once looking at him. "They all thought me crazy in Valyria… And they all burned. Then they thought me crazy on Dragonstone, but I wasn't. What I saw had just not happened yet, some of it still has to happen…" She sounded enigmatic. "You dream too." She stated.

"I never dreamt of the future My Lady. Only of past Targaryens." He replied, it was the first time he discussed his dreams in a dream.

"And what do you think that room is?"

"That room is real?"

"Of course. You have to find it." She kept pacing.

"Why should I find a room with dragon eggs?" He asked.

"You know why. You just won't admit it."

"I don't." He said stubbornly. Actually, he did not want to admit because then he would have to deal with it, and he was not ready to walk down that path. Daenys was not about to let him do as he pleased however.

"You do!" She stopped walking and locked her eyes to his. Suddenly, they were not in the room anymore.

They were still facing each other but they were flying above a tower. It was planted in the middle of rocky deserted hills. Jon had no idea where they were. He saw men fighting beneath them. Some of them wore the white cloaks of the Kingsguard. He was very aware of Daenys' furious eyes on him.

The moment that followed they were still flying but in a room, from what he could see through the small window they were inside the tower. Beneath them, a woman laid on a bed, she was bleeding heavily. He saw the scene in accelerated time as a young man entered the room and rushed to the woman's side.

"Promise me, Ned." He could hear her say as she gave the man a baby.

He had no time to register what had just happened as Daenys shouted at him.

"It is time to kill the boy!"

They changed places again, they were over a battle. A river ran down the middle as the two armies raged against each other. One of the warriors wore a helm with antlers. He wielded a hammer and crushed another man's chest. That man's armour had rubies set in it, as the man crashed into the water, the rubies were carried by the stream.

"Be a dragon!" Daenys shouted again.

Jon started to find it hard to breathe but he did not have time to linger on that feeling as the vision shifted once more. From the chair in the background, there was only one place they could be. The Throne Room in King's Landing. Dragon skulls surrounded the Iron Throne and tapestries depicting past Targaryen kings hung from the wall. There were no Targaryen in the room however. Jon recognized the warrior from the battle as well as the man from the tower. They stood over bloodied Lannister banners that seemed to shield something from view. The two men he recognized were arguing.

"I see no babes! Only Dragonspawn!" The warrior shouted.

Jon realized what this scene was. More importantly, he knew what laid underneath the banners. He wanted it to stop. He felt sick but before he could empty his dreaming stomach Daenys screamed one last time.

"Beware the Usurper!"

Jon woke up screaming. "Stop!" When he realized he was back in his room, awake, he tried to catch his breath. This dream had been the worst in a very long time. It was still dark outside, but he could not get back to sleep, not after that dream. So instead, he dressed and went to the training yard. He hit the dummy with a tourney sword until well after the sun rose. When Theon found him, he japed at his expense, but Jon did not hear him, he was too caught up in his thoughts.

He went to break his fast with his siblings brooding. He was partially aware that Arya tried to talk to him, but he ignored her. His siblings had learned that from time to time, he would be in a funny mood and oblivious to the world around him. He was always like that after a dream. The only thing that took him out of his stupor was his father announcing that Jon Arryn had died and the King rode to Winterfell. Fear caught him to the throat.

There was no way this man was King. Jon could not think of anybody less kingly. Robert Baratheon was fat, rude and an overall disappointment. He greeted his siblings as if they were in a tavern, not the courtyard of Winterfell with all the North watching. Jon had been put behind, near Theon, Lady Stark did not want to offend the royal family by having a bastard in sight. For once, Jon was relieved, he did not know how he would have reacted. Since that night a moon before, each time he closed his eyes he heard Daenys' voice whisper "Beware the Usurper." So he did not have a good opinion of the man.

"Ned, take me to your crypt! I want to pay my respects." As the King declared that, the Queen started politely protesting. Robert would hear none of it. It was no secret who he wanted to pay his respects to. Lyanna Stark, Lord Stark's sister had been betrothed to Robert before she was allegedly kidnapped and raped by Rhaegar Targaryen. Jon had never met the Last Dragon in his dreams but from what he had read, it was hard to imagine him committing such a crime. In his opinion, Lyanna had avoided the worst with Robert anyway. He was starting to get lost in his thought again but this time he did not allow himself. He had no wish to think more on Lyanna and Rhaegar as what he might conclude to frightened him.

The King was even more of a disgrace at the feast if the noises were any indication. Obviously, Lady Stark had forbidden him from attending, he could not even sit at the back as when a bannerman of the North visited. If he was honest, he was probably happier hitting a dummy outside anyway. But his pride was hurt anyway. He would not have wanted to look at the King groping women if he had the choice, the problem was that he had no choice.

He did not pay attention to the horse galloping through the doors of the keep until the man asked: "Is he dead yet?" Jon recognized the voice and turned away from the dummy to greet his Uncle Benjen.

"Uncle Benjen!" They roughly hugged each other. Jon was smiling from ear to ear. He loved his uncle and his stories of the Watch. He was actually the reason why he had wanted to join the brotherhood a few years before.

"You got bigger!" Benjen declared. "Rode all day, didn't want to leave you alone with the Lannisters! Why aren't you at the feast?" His uncle knew the response already.

"Lady Stark thought it might insult the royal family to see the bastard in their midst." He swallowed hard and Benjen nodded.

"Well you're always welcome on the Wall. No bastard was ever refused to sit there." His uncle said. Jon had heard those words every time his uncle visited, when he was younger, he might have followed them, but not anymore. He looked at his feet to avoid answering and disappoint his uncle. After a moment Benjen gave up. "Well, the Wall isn't going anywhere lad. I better get inside, rescue your father from his guest. We'll talk later!"

He walked back to the dummy but before he could resume his hitting, he heard another man's voice.

"Your uncle's in the Night's Watch." The Imp walked from the shadows. It had to be him. The man was a dwarf with blond hair.

"What are you doing back there?" Jon asked, a little surprised that the Lannister was not at the feast.

"Preparing for a night with your family." The feast had started hours ago and Jon had not seen the small man at the greetings either, it was kind of rude. "I've always wanted to see the Wall." He apparently wanted to talk.

"You're Tyrion Lannister." Jon said. "The Queen's brother?" He wanted to confirm his thoughts.

"My greatest accomplishment." Tyrion replied with a roll of his eyes. "And you. You're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?" Again, being reminded of his status hurt him, he preferred to go back to the dummy in silence. "Did I offend you? Sorry." The Imp called. "You are the bastard though."

"Lord Stark is my father." He could think of nothing else to say.

"And Lady Stark isn't you mother." The dwarf completed walking toward him. "Making you a bastard. Let me give you some advice bastard. Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour."

"What the hell do you know of being a bastard?"

"All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes."

Jon resumed his hitting of the dummy, but Tyrion Lannister words stuck to his mind. What was he? Some days, he even wondered if he was a bastard. Usually, when he thought that, he would have had a dream the night before.

It was decided that the royal party would leave in a week's time. He was relieved, he had done his best to avoid the King and his prick of a son, but they were hard to miss. Robert Baratheon dishonoured himself and his wife at every occasions. He was always drunk. At this point, Jon would not even be surprised if His Grace pissed himself in front of everyone. As for the prince, he had found that the golden-haired boy was even worst. He walked around Winterfell with a superior smirk. And he was a coward. When Robb had asked him if he wished to spar a few weeks earlier, the royal asshole had denied telling them arrogantly that tourney swords were for children. Jon would wager the boy had never swung a sword in his life despite being the best swordsman in the country's nephew. Jaime Lannister was also a disappointment; he had never come to the tiltyard. All he did was guard the Queen.

Yet, in a sense, he dreaded the moment the King would leave. His father had accepted the role of Hand of the King. A mistake in Jon's opinion but the choice was not his to make. It meant in a week, his father but also Bran, Arya and Sansa who had been betrothed to Prince Joffrey would leave Winterfell. Robb would be left as acting Lord of Winterfell. Lady Stark would also remain in the North to help Robb settle, then she would join the rest of the family in King's Landing. As for Jon, he had no idea what he would do. He still had to ask his father about it.

The King wanted to hunt and what the King wanted, the King got. A big party was assembled, half od Winterfell left for the hunt, including Robb and their father. Jon had wished to join, after all he had finally been formally introduced to the King. "Come here boy! Let me look at ya! I wanna see what the stain on Ned Stark's bloody honour looks like!" He had shouted. At the time even he had felt embarrassed for Lady Stark. As usual, she had made him pay for this affront. Instead of letting him hunt with his family, she had him clean the stables. It was pointless, he had already done so the day before.

He was pretending to do this useless task when he heard the screams. All the direwolves were howling, servants were running everywhere. He could tell something dreadful had happened but, in the confusion, he could not know what. He grabbed the arm of the next page running by.

"What happened?" He simply asked.

"Have you not heard? The little lord fell from the tower."

For a moment, he was confused as to who the 'little lord' was. Then it hit him, Bran loved to climb everywhere around the castle. It drove Lady Stark mad. But Bran was sure-footed, he never fell. Surely they could not be talking about Bran.

So, what did you think? Did you like it?

Please leave a review if you have the time!

Next time: truths hurt before the King leave Winterfell.