Chapter 3

Winterfell

"Jon!" Arya laughed. His little sister was watching her two brother spar in the yard. Robb came very close to victory, but Jon pulled a surprise attack and in an instant, Robb was on the ground. Jonsmiled as he raised his wooden sword.

"Yield?"

"Aye, I yield" said Robb returning the smile. Jon offered him his hand and helped his brother up.

"You win today, Snow" said Robb affectionately.

"Good luck tomorrow, Stark" Jon said with a giggle, then he coughed.

"Jon are you alright" Robb asked.

"I'm fine" Jon lied. He was feeling poorly since yesterday, but he pit it down to fatigue. He and Robb worked hard in the yard these past few days. Jon smiled, then followed Robb's gaze to above, where Arya watched excitedly with her mother and father, Lady Stark holding baby Brandon in her arms. He adored the boy and Arya so much. Sansa he rarely saw, but if she was happy where she was, so was he. Jon's father had a look of approval on his face that made Jon's heart warm up. Lady Stark however, looked on with a scowl as she always had whenever Jon bested Robb at anything. Jon signed. The Lady had no love for him, he knew that, but it hurt to see the mother of his siblings look down on him with such contempt. What would he give to meet his own mother...

He shook his head off the thoughts and turned to Robb.

Take him away

Jon turned back, but Lady Catelyn was already walking away. He had heard her, surely.

"Jon?"

"I'm fine Robb, really" he lied, turning back to Robb.

"Not feeling well, Snow?" the snide voice of Theon Greyjoy called. The Ironborn walked up to them with a grin. "Too tired for a spar, Snow".

"Not at all, Greyjoy" said Jon, annoyed. The Ironborn had been with them for nearly two years, and he was a right nuisance to Jon. He had tried to befriend the boy, whom seemed to be abother outcast in the household, but was hurt to find the boy looked down on him as nothing but a bastard.

"Theon, don't" said Robb, once again trying to play the peacekeeper between them. "Jon, your looking pale..."

"He always looks pale" laughed Greyjoy.

"Shut up Theon. Jon, you ought to lie down..."

"No, Robb" Jon snarled. Theon had irritated him once too often. Before he had stayed quiet and waited until he was finished. It was time to teach him a lesson. "Spar it is. Right Greyjoy?"

"Right."

Greyjoy got his gear from Ser Rodrick and they took their places. Lord Stark had appeared again, Arya by his side.

Theon made the first move. Jon avoided his attack and hit him in the shoulder. Greyjoy retialated, and they exchanged blows until Jon managed to hit Greyjoy in between one of his laughs and the Ironborn was on the ground.

"Yield?" Jon asked his vision blurry.

"Never, bastard" Theon scoffed, contempt in surprise.

"Yield..."

"Jon?" Robb said with worry.

"Snow?" Theon asked in surprise.

Jon looked at them both, barely seeing them among the blurs. He heard Catelyn Stark far away.

Make him die.

He fell to the ground.

The eagle flew across the dark skies, the town below empty and grim. It saw the castle, dark and gloomy and found a window. The boy lay on a bed, his breathing wheeze and weak. Two men looked over him. It could feel the sadness inside the two.

"If he survives the night, he will live, my lord. But it will be a very long night."

Someone else entered the room. A woman. She was different than the two, she did not belong in that cold land. Her eyes fell upon the boy and the feelings that came to her overwhelmed the eagle. Such remorse. Such a feeling was too human. Too much...

Jon run through the fields. It was fast, so fast. The white wolf was too fast. He couldn't catch it, but he had to follow it. But it was so fast. Before he knew it the wolf was gone and instead he had reached a stream. He looked into the water.

"Who am I" he asked his reflection.

"You are my boy" it answered.

He stared at it in shock. It wasn't his reflection it was a woman. Her ebony hair was like waves in the wind. Her grey eyes were so sad.

"Who are you?"

She smiled sadly.

"Oh, my boy. I'm just a ghost. But you must live. We will meet one day, but not today. You must live."

He put his hands in the water, she seemed so real he was sure he could touch her. Embrace her. But she morphed. She turned into Arya. She was weeping.

"Don't die, Jon! Please don't die"

He meant to reach out again, but it changed into Sansa. Her eyes were red.

"Jon, I love you. I do. I'm sorry. Please..."

Then it was Robb. His voice shook.

"Brother, come back. Don't leave us. Don't go..."

Then it was Lord Stark. His eyes were sadder than he had ever dreamed.

"You are my son, Jon, know and always."

Then he heard another voice. Let him leave and I'll live him. I'll be a mother to him. I'll beg Ned to give him a true name. Make him a Stark. One of us.

Jon looked for the source of the voice. But could not find it. Instead he found darkness. He was running through it until he heard a scream. He run in its direction and he found a figure. A small doe was running in the dark with him. Then it morphed into a girl.

"Who are you?" she asked fearfully.

"Jon Snow of Winterfell" he answered.

He lies... A voice hissed in the dark.

"I'm not lying" he shouted angrily. "I am Jon Snow of Winterfell!"

Lies...

"I am Jon Snow of Winterfell!"

Lies!

"I am Jon Snow of Winterfell!"

LIES!

"There was a dragon!" cried the girl. "A blue dragon. A dead one. I need to leave! Hide. It wants you too!"

She run.

"Come back" Jon cried after her, but she was gone.

" Look, Jon" said another voice. He turned to see a boy, for a moment he thought was Robb standing by a Heart Tree. A Three Eyed Crow rested on the branch.

"They're coming" said the boy.

In the direction he pointed towards, shapes of ice and shadow were appearing. Jon was overcome with fear.

"Help me!" He cried. He looked behind him to see his siblings shivering beside him. "Help us!"

Far away, in the heart of the North, the voice was carried by the wind. The two Direwolves hunting in the snow lands heard the call. A call of the old gods. A sad end for them, but hope for the future. They knew what must be done. They begin the long way South to the voice that called them. The chosen. The dragon.

Casterly Rock

The journey was long and difficult. She had tried to stir clear of Joffrey. Luckily, he seems to have grown bored of paining her and instead took his boredom out on whatever young squires he encountered and the unfortunate animals of the forests. Her father ranted and drunk and snuck off with women at whatever brothels they had stayed in. Whn he did her mother looked at him with the same malice as always. But she seemed to find comfort in her Uncle Jaime. She wished her brother was as good to her as Uncle Jaime was good to her mother.

They have graced her grandfather with a visit to Casterly Rock to celebrate the birth of her sister, Myrcella. She was a pretty babe, with her mother's curls and green eyes. She smiled at Joanna from their mother's arms. Joanna smiled back, then looked back down to her book.

She was bored with the feast. Feasts were always boring to her. People drunk and made obscene jokes then snuck of with women to do what men and women did together. Her mother would smile and laugh in such a fake manner it made Joanna sick. She judged that her father was not a clever man if he didn't notice this. But it occurred to her that maybe he doesn't care. He never cared much for anything other than hunts and any women who wasn't married and wasn't her mother. Her mother cared only about Uncle Jaime and Joffrey and sometimes about new she met at feasts. Neither payed much mind to Joanna. Uncle Jaime cared about her physical well being but they didn't speak much. He would do something nice for her once in a while at least.

Uncle Tyrion was different. He talked to her. He didn't ask if she went to her lessons or if she danced well. He asked if she liked the books he had given her. Asked if she wanted to learn more about the history of the Seven Kingdoms, to do hard sums or ride a horse. He even offered her knife lessons after she scoffed at her Septa when she said girls should leave fighting to the men.

"So, Septa, what should I do if I am attacked by a theif? Hope a valiant knight is waiting around the corner to rescue me?"

Uncle Tyrion laughed when she told him about the face the Septa made. He called "Flamespitter" after that because in his own words "you make remarks so snide they burn".

She looked up from her book to see her father complimenting another serving girl's hair while her mother smirked in her Uncle Jaime's direction. She never smiled at Uncle Tyrion. She thought him a monster, a mother slayer. How she could hate him for something he had no control over she knew not? Perhaps she wasn't very clever either.

Her grandfather was a clever man though. He sat grim faced by the King's side. He gave a look she found hard to place then turned back to Jon Arryn, a man Joanna liked.

He's the real king, she thought. Father can't or doesn't want to run the kingdom. Lord Arryn is for that.

She knew he and her grandfather detested eachother, so watching them trying to be civil and engage in clever talk was almost amusing. Uncle Stannis sat grimly with his wife, a woman Joanna found frightening. Poor Shireen, her cousin, suffered the Greyscale and was confined to Dragonstone. Uncle Stannis was clever too, she could tell. And full of envy, as his eyes showed every time he looked at her father. Uncle Renly, a boy of sixteen sat flirting with girls and laughing with squires.

"Joanna, you should not read so much. You're eyes will pop out". Her mother spoke to her in a neutral tone. She signed and closed her book.

"Perhaps I shall make use of my legs instead then mother. If you would pardon me, I need fresh air."

She left the table, her mother not giving her a second thought and went to wonder the Rock. It was a beautiful castle, she couldn't deny. A beautiful place. Uncle Tyrion's initial of the Rock were sugar-coated, she acknowledged. Initially, he merely spoke of the castle's beauty, bit never about his childhood. When she saw how his own father treated him, she knew his childhood was terrible. Uncle Jaime was probably the only one to show him any kindness, apart from perhaps aunt Genna.

She found her way into the lion cages her uncle told her about on their way to the Rock. She could here the beasts growling within and was unsurprised to find her brother there. He was a boy of seven, and yet he was already daring beyond his years. His false friends, sons of Knights and Lords whom hoped for favour with the future king, dared him to put his hand through the bars.

"Why of course" he said foolishly. Despite all he did to her, she felt concern as he put his hand through the bars.

"Joffrey, no!"

"Ah, sweet sister" he said with disgust in his voice. "Come to see the show?"

"Stop it. Your gonna get hurt."

"You think I fear this thing. I should have you flogged just for suggesting it."

"The lion doesn't care how brave you are. It will bite your arm of anyway! Now take it out!" she screamed as the creature got closer. She could see it, its golden hide and its predatory eyes.

"Joffrey, look out!"

He turned and his face went pale as he saw the lion right in front of his outstretched arm. He janked it out with a scream and fell to the ground. Some of his false friends suppressed a giggle.

"How dare you?!" he shouted, his hair messy abd his eyes wild. "I am the future king. The brave and true lion. Courageous without measure."

"If courage means stupid, Joffrey, you're not looking at a fine reign at all. And the true lion is in the cage."

She turned as more of his false friends giggled and was gone by the time the next tantrum arrived. She went back to the feast, where Uncke Tyrion greeted her with a smile.

"Did you have a good walk, Joanna".

"Very" she said with her own smile. Flamespitter she thought.