Hey guys, chp. 2 is here. Here's a plea: think of Gawen Glover as a 19-year-old man, though by 309 AC he is younger than that, about 14 or 15 in canon. Made the mistake, but still want to keep the dates.

Also, decided to shift the idea a bit, and fumble a bit more with the Starks' inner demons, especially Jon's. But the pairing and general plot stays the same.

Characters' ages:

Benfred Karstark: 36

Brienne Tarth, Roose Ryswell: 31

Jon Snow, Eddard Umber: 26

Sansa Stark: 23

Wynton Dustin: 21

Arya Stark, Beth Cassel: 20

Bran Stark, Gawen Glover: 19

Disclaimer: I do not own ASOIAF or any of its adaptations. GRRM rules all that.

"Where have you been!?" asked the Queen of Winter. She was wearing a dark blue long dress, with a deep red cloak and a brown bear pelt. The subject of such anger was dressed much more simply: hard brown leather, with black trousers and a dark grey shirt. Her hair was cut short, and a hooded cloak was resting on her shoulders.

"I told you, I had business to attend to on Braavos." answered the girl, full of impatience. She was standing still, while Sansa was sitting on her throne. The discussion wasn't new, Jon could sense. Though both women had argued since the younger could talk.

"Yet you stayed away for much longer than planned."

Arya snorted, though kept silent. Sansa was about to yell again, when she noticed Jon standing close to the door. Her face showed relief, even relaxing her posture. Her sister read her movements, turning around with a confused expression. When her eyes met Jon's, a big smile was placed on her lips.

"Jon!" shouted the youngest Stark woman, running towards him and throwing herself at him. They both hugged tight. When they parted, the Lord Commander noticed that on her waist were two knives, one on each side, and her sword. He grinned, unsheathing the blade and looking at it. It had been years since Mikken had taken the request to forge it, and it always felt nostalgic.

"You haven't lost or broken it yet." He commented. Arya took it from his hands and swung it around, tossing from one hand to another.

Her face was full of pride when she said: "Of course! It has been with me on much harsher places, always fulfilling its job. Needle won't break, ever."

Jon didn't feel as happy as he tried to appear, for the though swimming around his head wasn't a pleasant one. His sister used the blade to kill, and not only on self-defence, he knew.

He shook his head slightly to erase such thoughts from his head. He died and came back to life, Bran became the most powerful greenseer and warg there was, Arya had become a master assassin and disguiser, even Sansa was much more cunning and manipulative than most believed. Things changed, and it was past time he accepted that.

"You were in Braavos, then?"

She nodded; chin held high. "Yes. There's some people who deserved a visit, and I was eager to pay."

Jon held down a shudder. "Close friends?"

A thoughtful look flashed on her face. "More like business partners."

"And how's Gendry?"

"Oh, he's fi-" the look she gave him was more embarrassed than angry. "Fuck you."

Jon chuckled. Ser Davos had written to him about his little sister's appearance on Storm's End, reporting that Ser Gendry was much more cheerful that week. He eventually asked why, and it didn't take much time for the smith to slip and tell him about her. Something about how wolves are way too hungry and insatiable.

"May I join you in your conversation?" asked an impatience Sansa Stark. Arya turned to him and rolled her eyes, while Jon only laughed softly. They both walked towards the throne, and soon their sister was reprimanding them both. Arya for always stay out too long, and Jon for not seeing a problem with it. "If you just sent a raven…" she finished, sighing.

Arya for one looked a bit guilty, though her defiant attitude wasn't dropped. "I'm pretty sure I did, sister."

All three knew she was lying, though none said anything.

"What about Bran?"

Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose and answered, eyes closed. "He's at Greywater Watch, again. He has been traveling back and forth between the two castles a lot lately, though the reason remains a mystery to me."

Ever since fleeing from the Three-eyed Raven and the Children of the Forest, Bran was much more reclusive than before. His cheerful nature was almost never shown now, though Jon saw flashes of it when the boy met his siblings again. Now he spent most time at the Godswood, or at the seat of House Reed.

"He's among friends." Arya told Sansa, which the latter nodded. Though he could understand the sentiment, after all, they had been apart for a long time and not by choice. It was natural to want your pack around.

A voice rippled through their silence then. "He is returning already, my queen."

Maester Martyn was an old man, average in height, though not in weight. He was big around the belly, though he seemed content about it. 'I have a large head, so it looks more natural like this.' he had told the Lord Commander once. He had white beard and almost no hair at the top of his head, though he used headgear to hide it.

He had been of great help, Sansa had said. Always patient, sometimes too much. He also had a fascination with Bran, and both would usually spend nights talking and sharing knowledge.

The news was welcomed by the siblings, who spoke a bit more about how things have been and their future plans. Sansa omitted her proposition to Jon from the conversation, but judging by Arya's face, Jon guessed she had felt the tense atmosphere between her brother and sister.

"I've known these woods since youth, my lords. I assure you, a black-horned stag will appear, if we keep looking around this place." said Gawen Glover confidently. Beside Jon, Benfred Karstark snorted quietly.

Gawen had boasted of his knowledge about the Wolfswood through the entire breakfast, telling stories about wonderful beasts that he and his father had hunted. Though Jon had also heard about the mystic black-horned, golden furred stag before, he guessed such an animal wouldn't have survived the last winter.

The cold during the attack of the Others was something none of them would ever feel again, and since it also affected areas around Winterfell, it was obvious that much of the wildlife had perished.

But all men were eager to prove themselves more worthy of Sansa's hand, especially to each other. When Beth Cassel had told Sansa that their meat supply was almost empty, all men present were fast at suggesting a hunt. Except Jon, of course. He had felt Ghost's excitement, though. Jon had expected to be excused such an event by stating that he would leave soon, but maester Martyn told him a raven had arrived from Castle Black, telling them that Jon could stay longer, as Sam and Edd were doing fine up there.

Now here they were, setting camp for a four or five-day hunt. He would share a tent with Arya, who somehow convinced them that she should come as well, stating innocently that Sansa often listened to her advices, and made decisions based on them. When Roose Ryswell answered that her presence would be most welcomed, the Stark woman had grinned at Jon.

"I would say we're not deep enough into the forest. I sense that we will find only rabbits and foxes around here." said Roose Ryswell, while inspecting the bushes and trees around them.

Ghost was the one who found the clearing, which had been useful. It was a bit far from the river, but Gawen stated that the distance was ideal. The stag wouldn't notice their camp, so they could sneak closer to the waters and wait for the animal to come for a drink.

Jon was tasked with making the bonfire. He had finished minutes before, now sitting close to it, holding his hands out to warm them up. The discussion went on for a while, until Eddard Umber intervened, saying that it was too dark to change places now. They should rest.

"Pricks. Bet they haven' hunted here before the War for the Dawn. So much noise would have caught the attention of a bear or a pack of wolves, by now. We should pray this stupid stag is bloody deaf, or this whole trip was for nothin'." Muttered Karstark, while sitting down. He had a pot in his hands, but something told Jon he wasn't about to prepare dinner.

Sure enough, soon after there was wine heating atop the campfire.

"This some good fire you put out for us." he praised.

Though close to the heat, he couldn't help but shudder. "Fire helps to keep things away." he found himself saying.

There was no answer to his comment, so Jon focused on watching the flames dance. It reminded him of Melisandre, and how she sought wisdom and answers on the fire, just to read most of it wrong. Jon had come back because of her, but Shireen's blood was on her hands also. The woman was mad, but it was because of her that he could feel cold or warm again.

"Lord Commander, you alright?" asked Wanton Dustin. He was eyeing Jon hesitantly. About to answer, he noticed that Longclaw had been drawn. The flames he was watching were the ones reflected on the blade, and it seems the action was unconscious. He sheathed it back before answering, voice rough.

"I'm fine, aye."

"Is it alright to let the princess wander?" asked the shy man.

Jon nodded. "She can take care of herself."

Soon Ghost returned from his own hunt, with a small brown rabbit between his teeth, blood dripping to the floor. He looked at them pointedly before walking towards a tree and resting there, dinning.

All men were around the bonfire now. The skies were darkening, and the only light besides the flames was of the full moon above them. Though winter had ended years before, they all felt cold.

"Should've brought a heavier pelt." grumbled Roose Ryswell. He had long dark brown hair, put up in a ponytail. His eyes were dark blue, though brown flecks could be seen if you watched close enough.

"True. I expected much warmer nights." agreed Gawen Glover. He had short brown hair and deep green eyes. Not much beard on him, though the man didn't shave either.

Eddard Umber was sharpening his sword with a whetstone. He stopped to inspect the blade, before resuming his work. "It could be worse." he said ominously.

The words sent a shiver down Jon's spine, though he remained quiet. Others present held their tongue as well, so silence reigned for a while. Jon was about to stand and leave to retrieve some water, when the question arrived.

"Where're you when the Others crossed the Wall?" the usual cheerfulness of Benfred was absent from his voice. He was staring at the flames with much intensity, as if also looking for answers. "I was travelling back to Karhold, from Winterfell. I've heard the news a few days too late, when their army was already on the march. We did our best to reach Winterfell before them. It was harsh, but we had t'make it."

Jon remembered the relief from seeing the Karstarks again. They were not many, but the more the better.

"I was at Deepwood Motte. My father and uncle were going to Winterfell, but we should remain home. My sister and I were scared to death. What if the creatures turned and marched towards our castle?" a visible shiver shook his body, hands clenched.

Roose Ryswell was shaking his left leg up and down. "I was a commander in my father's army, heading towards Winterfell. I was cynical of these Others everyone feared. Young and stupid, only when they arrived that it dawned on me. I was going to die and become a bloody walking corpse." he sniffed, taking his gloves off and scooting closer to the fire.

"I was also left behind, at Barrowton. Can't remember much, only the panic. And the cold." Wanton Dustin had been a child by then, like many others. His father was also fighting alongside Jon and died in the process.

So many died that night. Jon couldn't even remember them all, guilt settling at the bottom of his stomach. It was chaos, there were too many soldiers. Even more fighters. But he should remember them.

The sound of the whetstone came to a halt. The man didn't look up to speak, but Jon could see it might be because he didn't trust himself to speak without showing weakness.

"I was feeling myself at the time. Heir to Last Hearth, after all. But in that battle, I finally understood that talent and confidence could do so much. Soldiers much better than me were being devoured and cut down. I would too, weren't for that wildling, Tormund."

Jon remembered seeing Eddard Umber always beside his father, a cocky attitude displayed full front. But when the going got tough, the man had been overcome with panic, he was told. Tormund finished the wight that was about to murder Greatjon's heir and yanked him up by the collar. 'If you're scared, go hide in your mother skirts, boy. This is the song of men.'. He laughed when telling Jon the story, though the man in front of him now didn't seem to find it funny.

"Hard to hate those wild bastards after you see them fight on your side." commented Benfred. "Brave and unyielding, they marched forward against those creatures without hesitating. Though they could have used better tactics."

"Made me feel like shite, trembling in my fine armour and sword, while they only had pelts and hard leather."

Jon chuckled.

"How did you manage to have them follow you?" asked Roose.

Jon opened his mouth to answer but couldn't find the words. He furrowed his brows in thought and tried to focus on memory. "I infiltrated their ranks, before." He started, though things seemed blurred. "Met some of their commanders, even the king. They weren't evil savages." He said firmly, though he couldn't exactly say why he felt like that. "When Stannis imprisoned their king, they had no leaderships left. I was Lord Commander then and did my best to avoid filling the army of the dead's ranks, so I gave them shelter."

He omitted Ygritte from the story, mostly because it didn't concern these strangers. But one big reason was that Jon couldn't exactly remember her, not everything at least. His time with her had been important, he could feel that, but his memory betrayed him. It had been doing so since he came back from death.

"Did they also… you know…" started Gawen, though he never finished the sentence. Jon motioned for him to continue, but it was Eddard Umber who replied.

"Stab you."

The question didn't surprise Jon. He expected people to want more information surrounding his death. He had left some details out of the letter he sent to the northern lords, explaining everything, especially the forsaken of his vows.

He tended to the fire for a while before answering. "No. Only the Night's Watch.". Only his brothers.

"What does it feel like?" asked Wanton.

Jon managed a weak smile. "I don't know. My mind went to Ghost's body." he explained.

They all nodded, not pushing for more. Ghost had walked towards the fire and was standing next to Jon, eyes focusing on the flames. He was the first to hear her, appearing from behind a tree with two brown beavers, one in each hand. She tossed Gawen one of them and sat down between Ghost and Roose, taking a knife out to skin the animal.

They all watched her in surprise, except for Karstark and Jon. They had seen her during the war.

"What were you speaking of?" she asked, without taking her eyes off her prey.

"Past." Jon answered simply.

She hummed. She then watched the bonfire, noticing the pot dangling over it. "Is it wine?"

"Aye."

"Want some." the laidback way she said it had Benfred Karstark stumped for a second, before pouring her a cup. She sipped on it, before letting it beside her. "So, what are we remembering about? First women?" she said, looking them all in the eye. When Wynton and Gawen turned red as a beetroot, she smirked. "Or maybe… first kill."

The conversation suddenly got much more tense. When no one answered her question, she simply sighed and went back to flaying the beaver.

"I saw one of them." said Roose Ryswell. "The cold ones. Atop a dead bear.". He was shaking. "He cut down one of my father's best swordsman like he was nothing. I despaired after that."

Jon nodded. He understood the feeling, having faced them as well. It was difficult to think of something more frightening than an army of tireless corpses, but certainly the Others were. When Jon saw the first one, the word 'beautiful' popped on his head. The creature was magnificent, in shades of white and blue, all clad in armour, atop a dead horse. When it cut through Grenn with one swift slice of its frozen blade, the train of thought had halted on cue, almost giving backlash.

They were so occupied with the army of the dead that one could hardly blame them for not seeing their commanders' approach. The plan was for the dragons to face them, though in the end only a feel succumbed to the flames of Daenerys' children. The remaining had to be defeated by men, and many perished while trying. Jon managed to take down two, with great effort. The first he had help from Jeor Mormont's son, Ser Jorah, though the man died in combat. He was exhausted from the fight, but he saw many wights slump down, unmoving. After that, it became a blur.

Tormund latter claimed that Jon charged at an Other recklessly, slashing, dodging and all-around rash. Ghost accompanied him and both fought in complete sync. In the end they defeated the cold one, who apparently howled before turning to shards. Valyrian Steel and dragonglass, alongside dragon-fire, had been the weapons used to win the battle.

The next morning everyone mourned their dead, even though most didn't feel exactly alive at the time. Daenerys Targaryen was especially shaken, though she did everything to hide it. She lost too much; her confidant and two sons. The green and cream dragons had perished, and the tears on her face were what made Jon realise that, aside from all her titles and fierce conquests, that was a six and ten girl who just saw her children die.

She then took armies south to fight Cersei but died on the explosion of King's Landing. Queen Cersei had gone down on history as the Mad Queen, blowing up her city, rival and throne in one long show of wildfire. It was kind of ironic, really. A dragon killed by man-made dragon-fire.

After that chaos ruled south of the neck, until Jon rode with some northern lords and settled on the ruins of the Red Keep. A council was called soon after, with every great lord still alive attending. Jon wanted someone like Davos or Tyrion to do the honours and speak, but all agreed that he should do it. He did as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, to show that he wasn't playing sides, though that didn't convince anyone.

In the end, they became kingdoms again. Jon pledged his life to the Night's Watch once more, Sansa became queen, Arya and Bran decided to stay in Winterfell. Things were harsh, but hopeful.

Everything started adjusting, after that. Some places with ease, others with war. It was desired to stay so, by Jon.

"You fought them, right?" asked Benfred beside him.

Jon nodded, facing him now. "Aye."

"Wish we had them down first." murmured Gawen Glover. All men seemed to agree, but Eddard and Benfred understood that it had been pretty difficult to lay out a plan at such times, and especially so to put it into practice.

"At least there's none of them left." the lack of confidence in Roose's voice was transparent.

The air became colder suddenly, though all did their best to ignore it. They sat and spoke for some time before Jon retired himself to his tent and tried to get some sleep, Ghost laying beside him.

The darkness around him morphed into the Lord's chambers of Winterfell.

Sansa appeared before him then, a bright smile on her face. She was carrying something in her arms, looking at it with much happiness. He walked towards her slowly, reaching close enough to touch her if he tried, but he didn't. Instead he shifted his attention to her lap. There, wrapped in a cloth and being help by Sansa, was a small boy.

His short hair was dark brown, just like Jon's. His eyes were dark grey, like Jon's. But he looked much more joyful than Jon had been in his childhood, from what Luwin had told him. His tiny little arms were reaching out to his mother, a wide smile on his lips. Ghost walked past Jon and bumped the boy's head with its nose, earning a gleeful laugh in response.

Sansa finally saw him then. Her eyes told Jon that she was proud of her son, their son. "Look who's here, snowflake. It's daddy!" she told the baby, showing him a surprised face, before giggling as the baby replied. 'Addy! Addy!'.

Blue eyes locked on his again, much more serious now. "Want to hold him?"

The words held so much power over him, that Jon fell silent for a moment. He couldn't say no. He didn't want to either. He reached out and suddenly his body was rocking slightly, a tiny copy of him in his arms, giggling nonstop. His heart warmed in a way it hadn't in years. Even tears were fighting to escape his eyes, but he held them back. The boy was calming down, almost sleeping. Jon was about to hand him back to Sansa when he felt a hand in his shoulder.

"May I hold the babe as well?"

Jon froze immediately. The voice was so familiar. The softness in it was so rare when the Lord Commander was a child that he almost doubted his senses. Though the moment he turned, it all disappeared. There stood Lord Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell. His father. Jon passed him the child, never looking away from the man's face.

Eddard Stark held the child and said greetings to him, earning a soft whine as an answer. He quickly tried to calm down the boy, though it took some time before he settled.

"Your face is too scary, father." said Sansa, from behind Jon, though Jon could feel the smile on her voice.

His father had a light scowl on his face, which became a small grin seconds later. He kept rocking his grandson, who was almost asleep now.

"His grey eyes are closing now. My eyes. My heir. My legacy." he said softly, looking at Jon now, prideful. The words struck him hard, and once again his eyes were watering up.

But it all cooled down, once he heard someone speak from behind him.

"And mine."

It wasn't Sansa who spoke, yet when he spun around to look, he almost thought it had been. The same red hair, the same blue eyes, the same high cheeks. But the hardness lacing the words, the distaste plain on the woman's face, the way she looked at him like he had sinned, it couldn't be Sansa. But it certainly could be her mother.

"Lady Catelyn." He managed to croak out. She didn't reply, instead adjusting the skirts of her dress. They held contest, eye to eye. Finally, he found his tongue and spoke: "Will you not hold your grandson?" it was presumptuous, he knew. But the babe was real, it was her blood. And his. But then he blinked and before him stood Lady Stoneheart, all bleak and wounded, throat slit and hair white. Her eyes though, were blue. But not the right shade.

Her hand grabbed her throat when she spoke: "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

And then a chill travelled down his spine, almost freezing his whole body. He turned around fast, trying to find Sansa or Ghost, but found none.

'My son.' He thought then and turned to where his father was. And when he did, his heart stopped. There he was, all dark haired and long faced. But the arms around his son, his boy, were bluish white. Ice armour laced the rest of the body and the cloth surrounding the child was slowly freezing.

Jon watched as the Other smirked at him, releasing a strange sound, one that Jon identified as a laugh. Jon reached for Longclaw, but he paused, thanks to movement coming from the heir to House Stark. Squirming and twisting, he was facing Jon now.

'Alive.' Jon thought. Eyes opened then, but no grey could be seen. Only cold blue.

"JON!" he heard. Darkness enveloped him, only for him to open his eyes soon after. Above him was Arya Stark, both hands on his shoulders and a panicked look on her face.

"Arya! Arya!" he panted, chest heaving up and down heavily. His right hand flew up to rub his face and his left tried to help him stand up. He breathed in deep four times before closing his eyes again.

"I'm here, I'm here." she answered softly. She was reaching for something, Jon could tell. Ghost nuzzled his arm. "Here, water."

Jon grabbed the flask and gulped everything down. He handed it back to her, still feeling thirsty. She eyed him worriedly, though kept silent.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The cold made him shiver, and Arya handed him his black coat. He asked for his cloak as well, though she complied only after staring at him for about five minutes.

She only spoke when he was halfway out the tent.

"Why were calling our father's name?"

The question confused Jon, but it was too much to tell now. He didn't want to remember it.

"Nightmare." was all he said. Her response came in the form of a sigh, eyes almost glaring now. She then laid down again, eyes closing. Jon whisper-thanked her and left. Ghost treaded before him, passing beside the other tents and heading to the lake.

The moonlit path he took was silent, a faint breeze passing through it while shaking the leaves above him. He saw a small brown bunny hop away from them, feeling Ghost's desire to hunt the small animal. The direwolf stayed, though. He did look at Jon pointedly.

When they arrived at the lake, the water was sparkling. He searched for a large tree to recline against, while his partner went for a drink.

Jon watched the waters swirl and a reflection suddenly appears on it. Black horns, golden fur. The beast looks so much like the Baratheon's banner that it makes Jon remember Stannis. His proposition. Jon had refused to take that chance then, but should he do it now?

It didn't matter, though. The stag didn't stand waiting for him to make up his mind. He left, and Jon was left alone, with only his direwolf sitting beside him, loyal.

When the morning came and they all went back to hunting, Arya convinced them to look for an easier target. What they wanted was food, not a pretty crown made of black horns. They agreed reluctantly, though soon enough they were invested in tracking down the biggest animal.

Gawen found two hares, Ryswell struck an arrow between a beaver's eyes, Benfred took down a boar, Eddard and Wynton had a moose killed, while Jon and Ghost found and hunted a bear. When they all returned to camp, Arya had a pair of huge aurochs laying on the ground.

The trip back to Winterfell seemed to be much shorter this time around.

Dinner was prepared and the men took turns telling Sansa their stories.

Jon excused himself shortly after eating. His chambers were warm thanks to the hearth, and soon after entering Jon sat down and poured himself some wine. He drank about four cups, eyeing the small flask of sweetsleep warily. He hated taking drugs, but the dreams…

He decided against it, stubborn as he was, and got up to undress. As he stood, only in breeches and boots, a knock echoed through his room.

"Who is it?"

"Sansa." answer a muffled voice. "Can I come in?" she asked.

Before Jon could tell her to wait, the screeching sound of the wooden door scratching against the stone floor halted his movements. His sister entered his chambers, still dressed in her formal clothing.

She closed the door behind her, eyeing him, up and down. She settled on his face and had an easy smile when she said: "You haven't told me of your gallant hunt of the mighty bear."

Her teasing tone only helped to make Jon even more uncomfortable. He grunted softly in response, earning a chuckle from her. She took small steps towards him, stopping about three feet from him; hands behind her; eyes scanning his room.

"It's too small." She commented. Jon shrugged, being rather content with it. It's the same from when he lived in Winterfell, before taking the black. He liked it just fine. Sansa, on the other hand wanted him to have the Lord's Chambers at first, but he had refused outright.

"It's fine." he replied simply.

"Ghost should have more space."

"He never said a word about it." he said, to which she giggled, amused. The atmosphere changed then, her face turning much more serious. She stepped even closer, with Jon mirroring her motion, though away from her.

She frowned a bit, before stepping closer. He copied her once more, though soon he heard a thud and felt something pressing against the back of his thighs. Her eyes glinted at the sound, a grin forming on her lips.

So close now, almost touching. She rested her hand on his chest, tracing along one of his scars. The contact made his skin burn, but he stood still. She watched her own movements with mild interest.

"This one… it's from… that night?" she asked, and though Jon has faced many nights with danger creeping on him, he knew which one she was referring to. The night he died.

"Aye."

She hummed, tracing it one more time. Jon felt bile rising from his stomach, while an entirely different reaction was happening inside his breeches. He held both down, especially as the latter boosted the first.

She tilted her head up and suddenly Jon noticed how warm it had become since she entered the room. Their breaths were mixing up with each other, and both kept silent. Sansa was apparently trying to find something in his eyes, watching them intensely. Jon was trying to keep control.

Her lips parted slightly, a whisper coming from them, slowly, sweetly.

"I could help you finish…" her voice lingered, though Jon could hear the unspoken words. Her hand slid by his chest, neck, reaching up to his bearded chin.

But then he blinked, and for one swift movement he saw it again. Those striking blue eyes, that weren't Tully's. So alive in such dead bodies. And suddenly all heat left his body, only cold remaining.

He grabbed her wrist, catching her attention.

"I know how, myself."

The look she gave him then only made him feel hollower. And when she retracted her hand, he noticed that the last fragment of warmth he was feeling had vanished. He blinked twice before rubbing his face, watching her walk towards the door, without turning. She opened it while staring at him.

Halfway through the door, she paused and looked at him. "You know nothing, Jon."

When he laid that night, no dream disturbed his sleep.

The next morning, he bid goodbye to Winterfell, after breakfast. Arya begged him to stay, but he reminded her of his duty, which earned praise from Roose Ryswell and Gawen Glover. Sansa didn't show up when he was getting ready, but as he rode away the Kingsroad up to the Wall, one glance was enough to catch the dot atop Winterfell's battlements.

Hope the "world-building" wasn't done horribly. Tried to fill the holes between ADWD and here, but it's hard.

Rate & Review, please. This chapter was a bit more difficult to make, but I have a feeling that chp. 3 will be out soon. Or not.