Full Summary: Ice and Fire. Death and Life. Two ways to say the same thing. The Prince who was promised doesn't just come from Fire and Ice, he transcends the boundaries of death and life.
One day, a depressed Jon Snow goes to bed wishing to meet his Mother. He encounters Ashara Dayne in his dreams every night after. Not his mother but someone who cares. As Jon explores his ability to commune with the dead spirit of Ashara, he finds himself plunged into a world more mystical than he ever could have imagined. Crowns, Magic, Krakens, the Others, and lots of Dragons loom in his future. A future that he can see in the fire?
It's been a while since I've posted any fanfiction. Since then, I've gotten a job. I now have to write 5K+ words of analytical work daily for my job. Naturally, I thought the best way to unwind after a long day was to write more during my freetime. I'm not planning on abandoning this and have plans for this story, but it's never going to be my first priority. Updates will likely be very infrequent.
This story was inspired by a Harry Potter Fanfiction that I can barely remember from years ago. Harry found the resurrection stone as a 5 year old, and got to talk to his parents regularly. The concept stuck with me so here we are.
There is a lot more changing in this story other than the ability to speak to the dead though. Jon is the combination of a lot of powerful magics, so he has a lot of abilities. Aside from communing with the dead, his abilities will all be ones that are portrayed or at least similar to those portrayed in canon. He's not going to shoot lightning out of his hands or anything. The magic is a focus in this story, but it's very much character driven. It's not just going to be cool powers that solve everything. Money, armies, dragons, and the support of people matter more. Magic is a tool, but it's not a deus ex machina.
For those who were reading King's Squire, it was Orphaned. You can still find it on here and even take over it if you want. I could care less.
I have no clue as to what the pairings will be at this point. This is like 95% the books universe but I'm planning on taking exactly three things from the show. One of those is character ages at the start of cannon, and I won't spoil the other two. There will be probably 5 "prologue" chapters before we get to the cannon storyline. Anyways, here is A Song of Death and Life.
Jon I
"Happy sixth nameday Jon," his father says with a small smile as he hands him a small box.
Jon eagerly grabbed the package out of his father's hands and unfolds the flaps. There was a small wooden wolf doll in it. Jon took the wolf out of the package and cradled it gently to his chest.
Presents for Jon were rare and he cherished all of them. "Thank you, father," Jon replied honestly. "I love it."
His father flashed a brief smile at him. "Of course Jon, you are my blood, it is my duty to provide for you." He squeezed his shoulder gently before standing up and turning towards the door.
"Father!" Jon called out shyly as his father left him in solitude. "Can you tell me about my mother?"
His father stopped and turned back towards him with a grimace. "Not today Jon, perhaps when you are older I will."
"Father, please tell me about my mother before you go!" Jon begged as he said goodbye to his father. Lord Stark was going off to war and Jon was well aware of how often men wouldn't return from war. Jon wasn't sure of the details, something about the Greyjoys or something. He only knew what he had eavesdropped.
"Now is not the time Jon," his father replied dispassionately. "I'll tell you when you are older." He promised vaguely once more.
"But what if you never return?" Jon asked quietly, voicing his inner fears.
His father frowned and ignored his question. "Take care Jon," was all he said in response before taking a fussing Sansa from Lady Stark's arms. He kissed the top of her head tenderly. As Jon looked on enviously as their father murmured sweet nothings to her. He kissed Lady Stark tenderly before handing Sansa back to the Lady.
He then turned to Robb and knelt down beside Jon's brother and embraced him tightly. "When I return you will be so big and strong, Robb." He told him with a genuine smile. "Soon you'll be even stronger than me and Lord of Winterfell. Do me proud and watch after your mother and siblings for me." His father glanced up towards the Lady Stark and placed his hand on her stomach. "Especially this one, when he is born in a few moons. Can you do that for me?"
Robb nodded eagerly, "I promise father."
"Take care son." He said as he stood up and went to his horse. Jon watched mutely as his father saddled his horse and rode out the gates of Winterfell; taking with him Jon's hope of ever hearing about his mother.
"I'll be father!" Robb declared proudly as he brandished his stick in front of him with an overly-dramatized swish.
:"I wanted to be father," Jon mumbled to himself. "In that case I'll be King Robert Baratheon!" Jon declared loudly.
Robb giggled. "You can't be Robert," he laughed. "You can be King Squid."
"I don't want to be King Squid," Jon protested. "Why can't I be King Robert? Or even Lord Karstark?"
"That wouldn't make sense, Jon" Robb scolded. "If you were Robert then you wouldn't be fighting father. You have to be Lord Greyjoy, so father has someone to battle."
Jon grit his teeth. "Fine, but I get to be father next time."
"Sure," Robb agreed easily. Jon had no confidence he meant that, he had almost never gotten to play father when they mock fought despite being promised the opportunity before.
"Fine," Jon grumbled once more before raising his voice and taking on the persona of Lord Greyjoy. "Lord Stark," he shouted. "I look forward to taking Winterfell as my own home." Jon would admit he wasn't really sure what Greyjoy wanted, but he would imagine that land had something to do with what the savages wanted.
"King Squid," Robb snarled. "The only thing you'll be taking from me is a sword."
"That doesn't even make sense," Jon laughed.
"It doesn't have to!" Robb grinned and then leapt at Jon with a swing of his stick.
Jon blocked it with his own, and then took a big hack of his own. They traded blows like that for a while. Back and forth they swung the sticks and always met in the middle.
"Your time is up, King Squid!" Robb declared loudly after a moment of mindless hacking. "This is where I will send you to the Old Gods!"
"Oh,yeah?" Jon challenged. "It is you who is about to meet your end, Lord Stark."
Robb took a big overhand hack with his stick aiming for Jon's shoulder, but he turned out of the way. He retaliated with a side swing of his stick into Robb's exposed flank. "Got you!" He declared loudly. "I win mwahahahaha." Jon gave an evil laugh. "I will take Winterfell now."
"Nuh-uh," Robb protested. "I'm wearing armor."
Jon grit his teeth. "That's not fair," he barked.
Robb grinned. "Face it squid, you've met your match. I defeated the Sword of the Morning. You don't stand a chance."
Jon's grip tightened on his stick. "I guess I'll just have to take your head to get around the armor then!"
Robb lunged at him again and Jon leapt out with his stick, whipping it down on Robb's unprotected temple. There was a loud crack and Robb dropped his stick to the ground as he collapsed to the ground.
"Winterfell is mine." Jon cackled in triumph.
He looked down at Robb and dropped his own stick. "Oh gods," Jon muttered as he saw the blood. He ran over to Robb in a panicked rush. "Robb, are you okay?" Jon begged.
Robb groaned in response. "I didn't mean to-" Jon exclaimed.
"Get away from him bastard," Lady Stark screamed from across the courtyard as she sprinted towards them.
Jon froze, paralyzed by the horror of what he had done. Had he actually killed his brother? His head was bleeding, did that mean he was dying.
He felt a hand on his bicep and in the time it took him to blink, he found his face in the dirt. Jon winced in pain as his knees and face both stung from the force of impact.
"Look at me bastard!" Lady Stark snarled at him.
It's kind of hard to, when you shoved my face into the ground. Jon thought to himself. He obviously didn't say that aloud though. He instead forced himself to roll onto his back and look up at her.
"How dare you attack my son!" She screeched like a harpy. "You hurt the heir to Winterfell bastard! Were you trying to kill him? Thought you would take his place and usurp him if he died? I should have your head for this!" She spat. Jon just listened meekly and let her rant at him. He deserved it after all. He had hurt Robb, his better.
"Well, bastard? What do you have to say for yourself?" Lady Stark sneered at him.
Jon flinched back. "I'm sorry, Lady Stark." He replied demurely. "We were just playing, I didn't mean to… It was an accident, I swear it!"
"An accident?" Lady Stark hollered with venom. "An accident? This wasn't an accident, bastard. You attacked my son and maimed him. If I had my way you would be banished from Winterfell for this. Ashara Dayne won't protect you from this! Not this time!"
"Please don't," Jon whimpered. "I promise it won't happen again. I swear it by the Old Gods. I'll be good, I promise."
Lady Stark looked down her nose towards him with distaste. "Unfortunately, Lord Stark explicitly commanded that I let you reside in Winterfell while he was away."
Jon exhaled loudly in relief earning another glare from Lady Stark. "Don't think you're getting off easy bastard!" She hissed.
"Ser Rodrik!" Lady Stark called out. "Escort the bastard to his quarters. He is not to be let out for any reason until I give the command."
Ser Rodrik frowned but nodded his ascent. "Yes, my Lady." He grabbed Jon's arm and hauled him to his feet. "Come along Lad," he ordered.
Jon trailed after him glumly.
Jon was hungry. He had been locked in his room for two days now and hadn't been allowed to leave even once. Other than servants coming in to clean his chamberpot, he hadn't seen anyone in those two days.
He also hadn't eaten anything. Hence the hunger. Jon had never gone hungry when his Lord Father was home. He always made sure he had enough, even when he was being punished he still didn't have to miss meals. The first day was hard, but this was impossible. Jon thought he would die if he didn't get something to eat soon. But what was he to do? He was trapped here.
Jon supposed this was what he deserved for hurting Robb. Jon was just a bastard but he had struck his brother, the future Lord of Winterfell. Lady Stark always said that bastards were uncontrollable greedy people who couldn't control their anger and sinful desires. By hurting Robb Jon had proven her right. He had succumbed to his anger where Robb would have kept his composure.
Jon shivered in terror and hugged his legs to his chest. What if Lady Stark used this to convince father to send him away when he returned from war? Jon had given her proof that she was right about him. And his father loved Lady Stark. He would trust her when she said that Jon was evil and had tried to kill Robb. That hadn't been his intention but it was certainly her interpretation.
Maybe she was right and Jon really was evil. Only an evil person like him would ever hurt their brother. Jon was a monster, and perhaps it was best that he just starves and relieves Lord Stark of the burden of raising him. If he had killed Robb then there would be nothing left here for Jon. Why bother living?
Jon sobbed in equal parts frustration and depression. What if his father never returned? Lots of men died at war, why should he assume his father would be the exception to that rule? Jon would be all alone, a slave to Lady Stark. Or perhaps she would kill him outright if Lord Stark died. She certainly hated him enough to do so.
All Jon wanted in his life was to belong- if not here then with his mother. He loved his father but he wasn't a mother. What Jon wanted most was a mother who could hold him, comfort him, a mother who would dote on him, a mother who would stand up to Lady Stark. A mother who would put him first. Not even his father came close to doing that. Robb didn't do that. No one cared for him that much.
That was what Jon wanted most in the world but Jon would settle for so much less. He would settle for a mother who treated him like Lady Stark did her children. He would settle for a mother who treated him with complete indifference. He would even settle for a mother who treated him like Lady Stark treated him. Even a dead mother was an improvement over no mother. He just wanted to know where he came from. Where did he belong?
Ashara Dayne . Was that his mother? Lady Stark had cursed her name when talking to Jon before- including when he hurt Robb. She probably wasn't his mother, Jon was a nobody, but it was better than a faceless mother. Jon wished she was his mother. That anyone was. That he had one of his own. He could pretend- just this once that he had a mother. That Ashara Dayne was his.
As Jon drifted off to sleep, he mumbled to himself. "I just wish I could meet my mother. I wish I could meet Ashara Dayne. I would give anything for her to hug me."
Jon's eyes flickered open and he was no longer in his room. Instead, he was in a snowy landscape, but it was oddly warm. The snow was deeper than anything Jon had ever seen- deeper than Jon ever thought possible.
A blizzard was ongoing around Jon. The snow buffeted against his skin. It was somewhat discomforting to feel the snow on his nose but not the cold that came with it. Jon wasn't sure where he was but he assumed he was dreaming.
"Hello?" A woman's voice called out? "Where am I?"
Jon turned in her direction and was taken aback. She had long dark hair that flowed down her back. It was a darker shade than his father's- Jon's color was in between them but closer to hers. There were specs of crystalline snow clinging to the strands. Her violet eyes were her most striking feature.
She was slim and young. She looked softer than Lady Stark. Her features were warm even as she stood in a landscape of ice. She was wearing a sleeveless blue dress with a silver collar. Affixed to the collar was a silver star pin. She was beautiful and she was his.
Jon wasn't sure how he knew but he instantly recognized her. "Mother?" He choked out in disbelief. "Is that really you?" He eagerly sprinted across the clearing to his mother, Ashara Dayne .
Jon pressed his face into her stomach and clung to her waist desperately. His mother's arms gently wrapped around Jon's shoulders as he blabbered. "Who are you, mother? Why did you abandon me? Why am I a bastard? Can I stay here with you? Why does Lady Stark hate me? Why won't father tell me about you? Are you dead? Why…? He sobbed into her arms.
His mother gently rubbed the back of his head. "I-I…" she trailed off and looked away from him. "I'm not your mother, little one."
Jon stepped back from her as if he was burnt. "You're not?" Jon whined. "Why are you here then? You have to be my mother!" He roared as tears blanketed his face.
His mother- not his mother, the strange woman in his dreams; hesitated for a moment before responding. "I can't be your mother. My only son died before he was even named. I followed him to the grave."
"Then why are you here?" Jon snarled unsympathetically. This was his dream. "Just leave me alone then! That is all I will ever be!" He fell to the ground and cradled his knees to his chest as he sobbed uncontrollably. This was a nightmare. He had hope and then it was ripped away from him. He was destined to be alone forever.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up on the annoying beautiful features of the woman who wasn't his mother. "You're not my son, but that doesn't mean we have to be alone," she chewed on her lower lip. "I'm not sure how we're here. I'm dead, and I don't think you are. I don't know who you are or where we are. What I do know is that the stars have brought us together for a reason and that we're stuck with each other."
She sat down on the snow across from him so she could look at his face. "I'm not your mother, and you're not my son; but perhaps we can-?" She offered. "Or we can just be friends?" She quickly amended. "You're alone in your life, and I'm alone in this barren wasteland. I would love to have someone to provide me comfort. You don't have to be my son for that."
She extended a hand to Jon who tentatively grasped her soft palm. He nodded silently. "I-I would like that," he agreed after a long pause.
The woman beamed at him and resituated herself on the snow to sit criss-cross. "Why don't we spend some time getting to know each other then?" She asked.
Jon paused for a moment. Would she be like everyone else and push him away when she found out he was a bastard? But she was lonely too. Maybe she wouldn't care? "Sure," Jon agreed apprehensively.
The woman chuckled after an awkward pause. "I'm Ashara Dayne, what's your name?"
Jon leapt to his feet with a triumphant grin. "You are my mother!" Jon declared joyfully.
Ashara tugged him back down. "I'm not your mother," she replied with some frustration. "My son is dead!"
"But you have to be…" Jon protested weakly. "Lady Stark always said…"
"Catelyn Tully is a thieving bitch!" Ashara seethed. "She knows nothing!"
Jon cowered at her shout and scampered away from her. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I meant no offense!" Jon babbled.
Ashara took a deep breath and slowly walked over towards Jon. "It's not your fault, Ashara whispered. "Tully is just- a sensitive subject. I'm not mad at you." She sat down across from Jon again and grabbed his hand. "I'm not mad at you," she repeated.
Jon held onto her hand desperately without saying anything for a long moment.
Ashara coughed and Jon looked at her but said nothing. After a moment Ashara spoke once more. "I'm assuming that if Tully told you I was your mother, you're Ned Stark's son? A bastard probably?"
Jon flinched at the accusation and insult, but nodded shyly.
"Do you have a name?" Ashara prodded without pause.
Jon blinked in surprise at the lack of aversion to his bastardry. "Jon Snow."
"Nice to meet you, Jon Snow." Ashara greeted him warmly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"
Jon said nothing in response. He was boring and didn't want her to know that. To decide that nothing was better than having Jon. He was a bastard. Worthless.
Ashara groaned. "Fine. I'll go first. I'm from Dorne, I grew up in Starfall. I have three siblings. Alastor, Arthur, and Allyria." She paused and squeezed Jon's hand. "Now it's your turn. Tell me about where you live. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
Jon nodded shyly. "My father is the Lord of Winterfell. I live there with him. I have two siblings. An older brother named Robb and a younger sister named Sansa. They're trueborn." Unlike me.
"You live in Winterfell?" Ashara asked. "Ned said it was always snowing there," she sighed wistfully. "I wish I could have seen it. It was supposed to be my home."
She cleared her throat. "Do you like snow?" Ashara asked.
Jon blinked in confusion at the change of subject but went with it. He didn't want to enrage her by asking too many questions. He shrugged. "It's just a part of life. It's always there, it's not something you like or dislike. It just is."
Ashara signed and threaded her fingers into the snow. "Snow is rare in Starfall. Even during Winter we only get a small amount. To me, snow was always magical. It felt like the heavens had opened up and graced us with a piece of the sky. Every time it snowed, my brothers and I would race outside to go play in the tiny bit that had fallen."
"Ned always described the snow as cold and unforgiving, a monster that took lives, but I was never able to reconcile his telling- probably a more accurate telling with the dream I had of Snow. I wish I had been able to…"
Jon rubbed his hands together. "I suppose it is kind of nice. There's a sense of comfort in it. It's familiar and warm?"
Ashara and him shared a laugh at that phrasing. "I'm sorry for rambling," Ashara apologized. "We were supposed to be getting to know each other. How old are you? You look two-and-ten?"
Jon giggled. "I'm seven."
Ashara gasped in shock. "Seven? You must be lying! You're far too big and strong to only be seven."
Jon buried his hands beneath the snow and looked away from her. "How old are you?" Jon asked through gritted teeth.
Ashara gasped "Don't you know it's rude to ask a woman her age?" She hummed thoughtfully. "I died when I was 19. What year is it now?"
"289."
She frowned and her features hardened, she cursed under her breath before relaxing again. "Then I'm 25. Or 19. I'm not sure how aging works when you are dead." She laughed. "By the heavens, I apologize. I am being terribly morbid."
"So do you have any idea as to… all of this?" She spread her hands out in front of her.
Jon cocked his head at her in confusion. "Huh?" He asked eloquently.
"Where we are? How I'm visiting you from beyond the grave? Why of all people was I chosen by the ones above to commune with you? Literally anything."
Jon shook his head with a slight scowl. "I've never seen any of this before. I've never spoken to someone in a dream. This is new. In a good way," he quickly added.
Ashara leaned back with her palms on the ground behind her. "Well whatever is happening, it's because of you. I don't know if you did it, or if they wanted us to meet for some reason. All I know is I couldn't have done it, and I wouldn't have been pulled from oblivion to meet with some random kid if he wasn't special."
Jon laughed bitterly. "I'm not special. I'm just a bastard."
Ashara scowled but not at him. "Tully has indoctrinated you with her stupid Andal theology?" She asked knowingly. "In Dorne, no one cares if you are a bastard. Prince Oberyn has three bastards and they are all treated as Princesses despite their birth status. It's only the uncultured Andals that are so harsh towards bastards. The First men weren't kind to them, but they didn't treat them as dirt."
"It truly doesn't matter?" Jon asked softly. "I-I'm special?"
Ashara grabbed his hand. "You don't see Brandon talking with the dead do you?" She squeezed his hand tightly. "That is you. You are the one who has the higher purpose. Not him. You. You're special."
Jon flushed. "Who's Brandon?" He asked with a wide grin. Special. Jon Snow was Special.
She laughed. "I messed up the name, didn't I? Your brother."
"Robb?"
"That's right," Ashara nodded. "I should have known Ned would name his son after him ."
"Robb's a good name," Jon snapped defensively.
Ashara hummed noncommittally. "Right, back to the conversation now. How did we get here? Any ideas? Did the ones above just plop us in a snowy field without an explanation? There has to be some hint as to how this happened."
Jon furrowed his brow and rubbed his temples. "I was going to sleep when I woke up here. I-I was tired- and h- tired. I went to bed wishing I could know my mother and here I was." Jon shrugged hopelessly as he glanced around the clearing.
Ashara hummed again. Jon liked the sound, it was soft. Melodic almost. Most importantly, it was for him, even if she didn't realize it. She was making a pleasant sound because she was talking to Jon. It sounded like she was pleased to talk to him. A reminder that she actually cared. That someone actually cared.
"And you thought I was your mother?" Ashara asked with bright eyes.
Jon nodded silently.
"So when you wished to see your mother, you saw the person you thought was your mother. Me. Fascinating." She palmed the snow and leaned back. "I wonder if you can replicate this with someone else if you think of wanting to see them instead. Or if we'll see each other again at all. Maybe this is a one off?"
Jon winced. What if this was the only time he had Ashara? To himself? What if he couldn't see her ever again? What if she didn't want him? He found himself breathing heavily in fear. He couldn't lose this. Couldn't lose her. Someone who actually cared for him. A stranger who didn't let his bastard name define him. "We have to…"
Ashara leaned forward and grabbed Jon's hand tightly. "I'm not going to abandon you Jon," she quickly reassured him. "I'm just naturally curious. I want to know how this works. This is unique- special. It's not like anything the world has seen before. You are the first known person to commune with the dead!" She beamed.
"But I can promise you that there is no force on the planet or in the skies above that I'll let come between this. You are undoubtedly better than oblivion. There is a reason for this meeting, and I don't want it to be a one off."
"Promise?" Jon asked with wide eyes.
"I promise." Ashara loosened her grip on his hands, but didn't let go. "Now how about I tell you a story? I used to tell them to my younger sister some nights. I like to think the practice made me good at them…"
"Ooh yeah!" Jon cheered. "That would be great!"
Ashara sat up straight. "Listen up then. Once upon a time…"
When Jon's eyes opened again, he was freezing cold. He had been in the deepest snow that he had ever seen only moments ago but hadn't felt the cold at all. Now, Jon felt like he was buried under the snow and completely naked at that. Colder actually. His hands were numb and stiff, they hurt to move. His teeth were chattering noisily as he shivered.
Jon glanced up and realized exactly where he was. The ceiling was a familiar one- he was back in his own room in Winterfell. So why was it freezing cold? It felt like Jon's bed was made of ice- colder even.
Jon forced himself to sit up and rubbed his hands together in an effort to create some warmth. He didn't understand why he was freezing. It's not like his room was any different, his window was still closed and there wasn't any trace of ice in his chambers. The hearth was barren, but it often was. Lady Stark wasn't keen on giving Jon the wood to burn.
The only reason Jon could think of for his possible cold was because of his vision of Ashara Dayne For whatever reason, Jon knew that it was real and not just his imagination. Things just felt right. He couldn't have made all of that up. Perhaps, the cold was because his vision took place in an icy landscape.
If the price of seeing Ashara was to freeze the rest of his life, Jon would gladly pay it. Jon had a huge grin on his face as he dressed in multiple layers and prepared to go about his day.
He went for the door only to scowl when he found it locked. Right, he was trapped in here all day. For a moment, Jon contemplated sleeping the entire day. Maybe he would see Ashara again if he did so. He had enjoyed sleeping last night more than being awake. It was freedom, not this cage with Lady Stark as his jailer.
Then Jon's stomach rumbled and he rejected that plan. Food first, then sleep the rest of the day. But how to get food when he was locked in his chambers?
Despite looking at the problem for a long time- Jon wasn't sure how long, but it felt like forever; Jon was no closer to finding a way to get food. He was starving too. Maybe he should go back to bed and if he saw Ashara again he would ask her for ideas. But he didn't want to bother her with this either. Or even worse, he didn't want Ashara to turn on him too when she inevitably found out that he had hurt Robb.
Jon sat on the floor of his dark, stuffy room, his stomach gurgling loudly. With nothing to distract himself anymore, the hunger was only made worse. His joy was turning into ashes as he wasted away. He had been locked in here for three days, with no food or water, as punishment for his violence.
He was starving and thirsty, his mouth dry and his head pounding. He could hardly think at this point. The pain was unbearable. He was desperate for something to eat, but there was no way for him to get it himself.
He thought about yelling for help, but he knew that it would only make things worse. The only people who might've ever chosen to disobey Lady Stark and help him were his father and Robb. One was off at war and the other was injured thanks to Jon. Ashara wasn't here to save him as much as he wanted her to.
Just when Jon was about to give up hope and go back to sleep- at least he wouldn't be miserable with Ashara, he heard footsteps outside his door. He perked up, listening intently. The door opened, and a young serving girl- Mara if he wasn't mistaken, entered to clean his chamberpot as was the daily ritual.
"Mara, please," Jon said, his voice hoarse and cracking. "I haven't had anything to eat or drink in days. Can you please bring me something?" It was painful to speak with his throat so dry. "Just a slice of bread or a single apple. Anything. I-I need food."
Mara hesitated, looking torn. "I'm sorry, Snow, but we've been told not to let you out. If Lady Stark found out I was even talking to you right now, she could have me whipped."
Jon was silent at that and let her go about her task. He wasn't worth her being punished for him. Jon was just a bastard. Worthless.
But? Ashara had said that Jon was special. That he had real worth- as much as anyone. More than Robb. "Please, Mara, I'm starving," Jon pleaded, his eyes filling with tears. "I promise I won't tell anyone. Just please, give me something to eat." He was desperate.
Mara's expression softened, and she quickly shut the door. "If I bring you something, you can't tell anyone I gave it to you."
"I promise, I promise," Jon replied desperately.
Mara nodded at him once before opening the door and stepping outside with his waste. Jon was left alone in misery again. But…
This time Jon had hope. She hadn't said no to his request. He would actually get to eat something for the first time in three days! Probably. Maybe. Jon's life was truly looking bright for the first time. He had Ashara who cared about him, and he wouldn't be starving.
Jon didn't know how long it had been since Mara left. He only knew that his hunger hadn't abated when she finally returned. He knew it was long enough that he had stripped out of his layers, the cold that he woke up in was no longer overbearing. She only carried a small bowl and a flagon with her but Jon was more than satisfied with it- anything was more than he had. The door only opened a crack as she stepped inside.
"Thank you," Jon gasped the moment he saw her. "Thank you. Thank you."
She smiled at him but it didn't reach her eyes as her eyes roamed the room repeatedly. "Eat quickly Snow, once I finish my rounds I'll be back to collect the remnants. I'm only doing this once."
Jom barely heard her as he was already devouring the food that Mara had brought him. It was porridge. Bland and tasteless. Like gravel on his tongue. And it was the best food Jon had ever tasted. He looked up at Mara after taking a few more bites. "Thank you so much," Jon babbled.
Mara forced one more smile. "Eat quickly Snow." She turned back towards the door to leave.
"Is Robb okay?" Jon asked in a rush.
She looked at him and tilted her head to the side. "Why wouldn't the young lord be fine?" She then left the room before Jon could formulate a response.
Jon's grip tightened on his spoon. Robb was fine? Why was he still imprisoned here then? He hadn't even hurt Robb that bad, why was Jon being punished as if he had killed his brother?
Jon finished his porridge and flagon of water in a matter of minutes. He stuffed the dishes under the bed while he waited for Mara to return, and she took them wordlessly after she showed up to collect them. Nothing much happened the rest of the day but Jon went to bed with the biggest grin. He fell asleep at complete peace.
When he opened his eyes again he was back in his snowy paradise, staring at his mother standing across from him. He sprinted into her arms with an exuberant grin. "Mother!" You're still here!"
Jon had been let out of his room the next morning and allowed to return to the world of the living. Sure enough, Robb was totally fine. He had only a tiny red spot on his temple from where Jon had struck him. He had gone three days without food for no real reason.
Jon hadn't actually gotten to speak to Robb much with Lady Stark in charge of Winterfell now. The only time Jon got to hang out with Robb was during the few lessons Jon got a share in. Except they weren't allowed to talk much and certainly not play at all during those lessons. Jon missed his brother. Lady Stark had put Jon to work serving around Winterfell over the last few weeks.
He was assigned to the supervision of Vayon Poole, the head steward in Winterfell. Meanwhile, Robb got to do whatever he pleased whenever he wasn't in lessons. It wasn't fair. Ashara promised that Jon was special. That he was an equal to Robb, but he certainly wasn't treated that way.
Poole was kind enough to him, he treated Jon just like any of the other children under his command. He talked for an hour the first day while Jon ignored him in favor of thinking about the stories Ashara had shared the previous night. Finally, he had sent Jon off to clean the mess hall and Jon had been stuck in there until dinner. Perhaps, if Jon hadn't known Ashara and had her comfort he would have latched onto Poole's small kindness when he was being isolated from his brother and his father was gone. But he did so Jon was distant from him and everyone else. People didn't matter, he had seen Ashara again that next night and that was all Jon needed. She was perfect and she was his.
His nights were spent conversing with Ashara Dayne, and Jon valued those much more than his everyday waking life. At first, her stories were fictional. Fantastical tales of knights and dragons. Othertimes, she would recant history for him in a way that made it come alive. However, lately she had shifted. Now Ashara was telling him about her life, growing up in Starfall, and about her siblings. Jon was hooked. She was the most fascinating person in all of Westeros. She hadn't told him everything but she told him a lot. She didn't keep secrets from him- mostly at least.
Jon drifted off to sleep again with a wide grin stretching from ear to ear. That was his default expression now. He had gotten more than a few weird looks due to his transformation from a gloomy child to a joyous one after three days without any food. He once again woke in the snowy paradise of his. "Ashara!" Jon called out cheerfully.
He quickly wrapped his arms around her before stepping back. "Jon," She greeted him in kind. She made no effort to reciprocate his actions.
Jon plopped down on the soft snow and Ashara tucked her knees beneath her as she knelt next to him. "Can you tell me another story about Ser Arthur tonight?" Jon asked eagerly.
His favorite stories were those of her brother, Ser Arthur Dayne. The sword of the morning and the greatest swordsman who ever lived. He used two swords! He was so cool! Ashara had very few songs of battle to sing to Jon, but she didn't hold back from telling Jon about his hero off of the battlefield. He learned that Ser Arthur's favorite song was Jenny of Oldstones. He knew that when Arthur wasn't training he enjoyed cyvasse and reading fiction. And Jon's father killed him.
"As much as I love my brother, and enjoy telling you about him… I would rather we do something a little different tonight." Ashara stammered.
Jon nodded before he had even finished processing what she was saying. "Like what?"
She shifted nervously. "We've spent the last few weeks discussing every little detail of my life, so you could get to know your mother. I thoroughly enjoy telling you about my life, but don't you think it's time you return the favor?"
Jon blinked at her in confusion with a sprinkling of hurt mixed in. "What do you mean?"
Ashara placed her hand on Jon's knee in a show of comfort. "When we first met, we agreed to get to know each other. Right now,this arrangement feels rather one sided. Tell me about your life, tell me about how you became the charming young man, I've spoken too."
"But-but why would you want to know about me?" Jon asked quietly. "I'm not interesting. I'm just a bastard."
"I've told you I don't give a fuck about that Jon!" Ashara snapped. "You're special! Stop making me repeat myself. I'm not going to constantly validate you. Stop hiding behind your bastardry and accept that you are who you are and that person is amazing! I don't like repeating myself. Get it through your thick skull."
Jon cowered at her vehement defense of him- against himself. "Sorry mother," Jon apologized contritely.
Ashara patted his knee once more as she took deep breaths to steady herself. "I know you didn't mean anything by it, Jon," She replied quietly. "Just, have confidence in yourself. You have value. Accept it and embrace it. You are special and bastard isn't an insult- just a description. You are who you are because of your birth. Not in spite of it. Only you get to choose who you get to be."
Jon looked at her with wide eyes. "Wow. That was so smart."
Ashara laughed. "It was? That's good, I didn't mean to yell. Just…Always remember that you are important. To me and to Ned. No matter what anyone else, know that you are the most important person in the room. Carry yourself with confidence and don't let doubt seep in. Regardless of what any idiots tell you."
Jon ducked his head in embarrassment at her praise. "Thanks Ashara, it means a lot to me."
"I'm glad." She replied. There was silence for a moment before she broke it with a question. "So?"
"So what?" Jon asked with a raised eyebrow..
Ashara smacked the back of his head playfully.
"Ouch woman!" Jon hissed. "That hurt!' He swooned over dramatically despite having barely felt the blow.
She raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed. "So you were going to tell me about your life. Who is Jon?" She pressed.
Jon sighed and glanced down at the snow in front of him. "My life hasn't exactly been exciting. I've lived in Winterfell my whole life as the unwanted bastard of the Honorable Lord Stark," Jon couldn't help the vitriol that snuck into his tone.
"You're not unwanted Jon," Ashara muttered wearily. "We've already been over this. Move on. Ned is bad at showing his emotions externally, but he does care for you. You're his son. You're his blood, he does care for you."
"He doesn't!" Jon snarled. "If he cared he wouldn't let his wife treat me like dirt!" Once upon a time, Jon would have never voiced protest with his treatment with anyone but he was trying to live like Ashara told him to. From a place of value and not bondgage. Her semi-regular reassurances of his value and his confidence she genuinely cared about him had made a huge difference in his sense of self-worth.
Ashara's facial expression hardened as she clenched his hand in her grip tightly- desperately even. "What?" She begged desperately. "Surely… Ned wouldn't!" She looked away from Jon and down at the snow.
"Ned isn't like that!" She wailed. "He's a good man. He has to be a good man. He- he..." The usually confident and vibrant Ashara Dayne sounded so vulnerable- Jon had never seen her like that.
Jon wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I'm fine Ashara," He whispered. "I have you now. That's all that I need." Ashara scoffed at his subservience.
"Tell me Jon," She begged. "Tell me everything that dishonorable liar has done to you!"
"Lord Stark is kind to me, albeit distant..." Jon weakly defended. These were treasonous thoughts. "He cares, he just is distant to appease Lady Stark?"
"And the bitch?" Ashara demanded. "How does she treat you? How does Ned let her treat you?"
"Ned is good, but his wife isn't the same. She hates me. She hates everything about me and what I represent. The symbol of my father's infidelity. She treats me like the lowest of the scum- worse than any peasant."
"Is- is she abusive?" Ashara asked quietly- terrified at the thought. "Does she hit you?"
"No- well not normally," Jon tried to reassure her. "She has hit me when I do something wrong but only then!" Jon tried to defend Lady Stark for some reason he couldn't name. Father hit him when he misbehaved too, just not as often.
"And what is her definition of you doing something wrong?" Ashara sneered. "Breathing too loudly?"
Jon shrunk in on himself. "It's not that bad. She only hits me when I break the rules or show up Robb. She's fine otherwise! Honest!"
"She hits you because you're better than her stupid son?" Ashara ranted as she stood to her feet and paced back and forth. "That stupid bitch! First she steals Ned and now she is abusing you! For no cause! Oh by the heavens, let that bitch die."
Jon whimpered at the continuous shouting and cradled his legs to his chest as he rocked back and forth. He felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched away from it even as his head shot up to glance warily at Ashara.
Ashara crouched down next to Jon and brought her other arm around his back. This was nice. It was warm. Home. He leaned his head into her shoulder and sighed.
"I'm not mad at you Jon," Ashara whispered softly. "Just Tully. You're not remotely at fault for her actions. She's the one who takes out her anger at Ned against you for no reason. It's her and that liar Ned Stark."
Jon relaxed into her embrace demurely as she ran her hands through his hair soothingly. "It's not your fault," she whispered quietly. "Even if you have no one else. You'll always have me."
She pulled back to look at him and intertwined his fingers with his. "I'm sorry," Ashara apologized. "I thought Ned was better than this. I thought I knew him."
"Before Lyanna ran off with Rhaegar, I was going to marry Ned. I had thought I knew him. I thought he was good. That he would be a good father. He was kind and honest. A great man. I was a fool. Then Brandon died by Wildfire in King's Landing, and Ned was forced to take Brandon's place in a marriage alliance with the Tully's. I was left alone, the man I loved ripped away from my marriage bed only a few moons before the wedding," she snorted. "Perhaps that was a mercy."
She frowned and looked down at the snow. "My son… Ned was the father. He died after only a few days of life. Ned arrived with Arthur's sword and informed me of his death within a fortnight. I had been told just a few moons before that Elia and Rhaenys were dead. Everyone I loved was ripped away from me in short succession. I followed them to oblivion with nothing left to live for."
Her son was also a Stark? Her son's father was the same as his. Ashara had to be his mother didn't she? That had to be why they could talk to each other! It had to be! Maybe someone faked his death! "Don't-" Jon cut himself off. He didn't want to hurt her. He could recognize this was a sensitive subject for her. It didn't matter if she was his mother, she was still his. She still cared.
"In another world, you would have been brothers," Ashara continued, unaware of Jon's internal battle. "You and my Daeron would have been the best of friends. I could have raised the two of you together with Ned. We would have been happy." She sighed wistfully. "But it was all just a dream. A lie."
"Ned was never true to me. He was like his brother and sleeping with other women at the same time as he professed his love for me. Ned never cared about my son or you. He only cared about himself and his Andal wife," Ashara spat.
Jon looked back and forth awkwardly before catching her eyes and squeezing her hand. "At least we have each other?" He had seen Lord Stark say that to Lady Stark once when she was crying. It had worked for him.
Ashara chuckled through her tears. "At least there's that. I'm glad I have someone again. Our lives might not be perfect, but at least we're together."
Jon smiled and pulled her into a hug. One she eagerly returned.
You look upset," Ashara commented when Jon entered the snowscape. "What's wrong Jon?"
"Nothing," Jon tried to deny. "I'm just tired."
"You're asleep right now Jon," she pointed out with her hands on her hips. "That excuse doesn't work."
Jon forced a smile and rolled his eyes fondly. "It'- it was just a long day."
"How so?" Ashara demanded.
"I don't want to talk about it," Jon grumbled as he took a seat on the soft and still oddly warm snow, criss crossing his legs in front of him.
Ashara sat down next to him. "That bad huh?" She placed one delicate hand on his knee. "Surely, there was at least one good thing?"
Jon scoffed. "Lady Stark had me tending to the pigs all day. I didn't have any lessons today so I didn't even get to speak to Robb."
"He doesn't hate you Jon," Ashara soothed. "He's just young and his mother is horrible. He doesn't know any better."
"I hurt him," Jon mumbled as he glanced away from her and into the vast emptiness. "He hates me because of it."
"He doesn't hate you Jon," Ashara repeated adamantly. "He's just a child who doesn't know any better. So he listens to his mother." She explained patiently.
"You're wrong," Jon stubbornly denied. "Robb doesn't like me anymore. I hurt him and he's avoided playing with me since. He hasn't swung a stick at me in the three moons since then. He hasn't even thrown a snowball." Jon's voice raised an octave. "Life is boring now! All I do is work, go to lessons, and talk! I just want to be a child for once!"
Ashara raised an eyebrow at him. "You want to be a child?" She asked mockingly as she buried her hands in the snow.
Jon hesitated. "Ye-" He was cut off abruptly as he tasted snow. She had lobbed a pile of snow at his face.
She sprung to her feet as Jon wiped the snow off his face and scampered away from him.
Jon let out a surprised laugh and quickly retaliated, pelting Ashara with a glob of snow of his own. The two of them chased each other around the field, giggling and shouting as they threw snowballs at each other.
"Stop," Ashara gasped. "You've won, I yield."
Jon grinned triumphantly as he came to stand next to her. "You never could have defeated me," Jon boasted.
Ashara smirked at him before tackling him down into the snow. Jon grunted as she landed on top of him, straddling his lap.
She tickled his sides and Jon couldn't withhold his laugh. "Ash!" Jon cried out between giggles. "Please! Stop!" He begged. He wiggled from beneath her in an attempt to escape but it was to no avail. "Let me go!"
"Do you yield?" Ashara asked not ceasing her attack.
"I yield! I yield," Jon cried out.
Ashara rolled off of him and collapsed on the snow next to him. They laid on their backs together looking up at the falling snow.
"You yielded," Jon grumbled. "It's cheating to attack again after that."
Ashara turned her head to look at Jon. "Aye, I yielded. Then I chose to start another battle while you thought you had won." She grabbed his hand and Jon turned to meet her eyes. "Let that be a lesson to you Jon. Just because a man yields does not mean he won't start another fight. Watch everyone closely, and don't trust a man at his word or on his honor. No matter how honorable people think them to be. No one is truly honest. Honor is a lie. If you let your guard down, you will find a knife in your back."
Jon scrunched his eyebrows up. "Huh?" He asked in a bit of a daze.
Ashara chuckled and squeezed his hand. "I suppose you're a bit young for that lesson Jon. Just be careful, and know that words- and vows are wind." She wrapped an arm around Jon's shoulder and pulled him close to her. She pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.
"That was fun," Jon admitted after a moment.
"It was," Asahara immediately agreed.
"Can we do it again sometime?" Jon asked eagerly. "Not all the time," he quickly amended. "Just occasionally."
Ashara kissed the top of his head again. "We can do this as often as you want Jon," she promised. "It was a nice change, reminded me of being a child in the winter."
Jon sighed and buried his head in his mother's shoulder. "I wish I could have grown up with you. Father cares but… he's distant."
"I as well, but what's done is done." Ashara squeezed his shoulder. "We have each other now."
"Aye, we do."
This is the only author's note that will be an essay because I really am trying to work on show not tell in my writing.
First off, biased narrators are very much a thing in this story. Jon only knows what he knows and often misjudges other's intentions and eveen actions. Jon hates Lady Stark so she looks like a monster here. Ashara hates her as well for taking away her chances with Ned, so she feeds the hatred and those are the only two perspectives we've seen so far. Spoiler alert: but Catelyn is a complicated but generally "good" character. She's not the monster Jon thinks she is because he only sees the worst in her. This is not a bashing fic.
Also I need to note that corporal punishment was normal in this time period. Dorne is also very different culturally from the North so maybe don't trust Jon and Ashara's accounts blindly. Narrators are biased. This does not mean I approve of corporal punishment. I do not.
Orginally this story was supposed to have Jon meeting Lyanna in his dreams instead of Ashara. I wrote the first chapter and was ready to publish before I completely scrapped it. Things were just too easy with Lyanna being the one who he met that first night. Jon instantly knew who his mother was and had his self worth validated. He knew exactly what he needed to do and when. It made things to easy by giving him all the pieces of the puzzle early on. He was able to win wars peacefully and it made for a really boring story.
And that's what led me to having Ashara Dayne- the person he thinks is his mother be his contact with the dead. We can debate if she's actually dead and who her child was; but for the sake of this, she and her newborn are both dead.
Anyways, read and review or whatever. If you have questions or whatever, please ask.