AS

by Renato1235

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2. Chapter 2

The Fate of the Cursed

Arya Stark

The unprecedented storm cried out suddenly, without warning and left the outside of Winterfell shrouded by its heavy rain. With winds invisible to the eyes, and only could be felt by its pure strength when it blew down everything that it pushes through. The only source of light outside, was that of the flashes of lightning, sent down from the heavens above.

As the winds worse over time, the entirety of the household in had to remind indoors and couldn't remain outside. The few outside lost their grip standing would fall. Arya was brought into her room with only her fireplace lighted, and an incomplete rag from her needlework.

Arya was beyond bored as the feelings of anger build within her. She saw no reason for remaining here with only what Septa Mordane left her to fiddle on her work. By her father's command, he had all his children stayed inside their rooms until the storm ended, she wanted to protest, but the look on her father kept her silent, and all she could do was mumble.

She couldn't say the same for almost all her siblings. Bran and Sansa shared her sentiment, but Rickon was the only one that grew fearful of the storm. Every sound of thunder that had the roar of a dragon would make his cry greater than the last. It became too unbearable for even their mother to handle, she used every possible method to calm him down. Rickon, with no other option, was given a small dose of dreamwine to help soothe him back to sleep.

Putting her thought aside, Arya returned to the rag left behind her desk. It was uneven, a simple plain piece of her work, which left her frowning for failing at creating something perfect. She didn't care for needlework, but there was a keen desire for accomplishment in her works, rather than anything based on what she was taught to be ladylike.

Aya began to use the sewing needle to make scratch marks on her desk. Drawing swirls and circles that connect. She had no interest right now finishing her needlework. There was too much fear built into her chest. Her brothers were still out and had not returned.

She couldn't let it out in her mind that they aren't doing well right now.

When they planned on leaving, she wanted to join them. Her father came to her when she was doing archery with Theon back at the courtyard. She knew his answer before he refused, but she fought back about it. Now though, she can't be there for Robb and Jon when they are trapped outside in who knows how much danger.

Mother had pleaded for her father to send more men out to find them, even when it was terrible to go outside. She saw the look on her mothers face; the terrible fear of losing her brother Robb weighted heavily on her emotions. Father would point out the danger of sending anyone else out there, where the winds right now can blow down the trees and leave them stranded. For now, until the storm was over, there was nothing that they could do.

There was a knock at her door, and it was relative and at a fast paste. A guard immediately opens the door, his face with uncertainty. "My lady, your father requests your presence. It's immediate."

She was about to reply but was cut off before she could ask, "It's your brothers they returned, one of them gravely is injured."

What? She surpassed turning her face with frightfulness and immediately followed the guard. She didn't bother putting the time into putting on any shoes and a warm fur coat on. Not when her mind was racing at what has happened.

They reached into the main hall where all her family members were there. Mother was hugging dear to Robb. Unmoving as there was letting out tears smear on his already wet coat. Sansa's face was horrified, and she kept her hands to her mouth, too scared to shout and shook at sight before her. Bran was too still to move, his eyes even at what he was staring.

He was looking at Theon holding Jon by the shoulder. Bleeding, and bruised, their half-brother hanging off like a rag doll.

JON! Anya's mind screamed. She rushed to grab Jon, to hold his face up.

Tears began to fall from her eyes. For the first time, a pain of coldness reaches into her the moment she saw her brother. The locks of his hair were covering his face, but she could get a glimpse of the paleness that colored his cheeks. He was still, with his eyes only staring down. There was no expression. Only a silent look too frightened to make a face.

Then father appeared with Maester Luwin at his side. His eyes widen "What has happened Robb?" his voice raised and eyes hardened.

Robb was catching his breath, "We were attacked by strange men, unlike anything I've ever known," He looked away, turning his head towards Jon. "In the moment of panic when we ran, Jon made a different turn, and we split up. Theon and I tried to find him when the assassins were out of sight, but we couldn't find him."

His hands clutch into fists "Then we saw Crofters' village burning. We decided to take out the chance at finding any survivors left… but they were all dead," There was water in Robb's eyes "They butchered them down mercilessly. The sight of their wounds made it look as though wild animals slaughtered them!" He screamed.

There was a moment of breathing before he finished," Then we found Jon was among the rest of the dead…"

Father did not say a word. He only walked over Jon, pulling the hair to look at his eyes. His left hand squeezed into a fist. Ned then spoke louder then he'd normally. "Luwin, treat Jon's wounds quickly."

The Maester rushed over her brother without hesitation. Aya moved aside to leave Maester Luwin with space next to Jon. He placed two fingers him over his neck. For what felt like hours, in a few seconds he made a nod, "His pulse is beating, he's still alive."

Arya released air held deep within her from Luwins words. He's still alive.

"I'm afraid though as of his symptoms and condition, I need to work on him right. Here." Lupin's tone was severe and directed at Eddard. Her father made a nod to Theon, who was still holding onto Jon.

In need of something for Jon to lay on, Theon unfashionably clear dining table. Much of what was already there was thrown down on the floor, but no one seemed to care. Luwin quickly lifted a knife to cut open his shirt, cut in two with his chest bare for all to see.

When his torso was visible, Arya could see all the wounds. Some of them look like bite marks from insects, and some were scars he gained from his rough training. What stood out the most was a wound on his chest, there was a deep cut close to where his heart would be and circling it what looked like a recently burned mark. Strangely, the burn mark was perfectly aligned, making a strange design that made the wound almost appeared like a gaping pit.

Who could've been capable of doing that?

"His wound is deep," Maester Luwin frowned "I'll need milk of the poppy to treat him."

"Do whatever is needed," Father's voice was shaking without hesitance, "He cannot die like this."

When Luwin returned to heal Jon, Father had everyone returned to back to their rooms. Arya catches a glimpse of Robb and Theon. She could see the look of defeat and fear on their faces. Not like the times where she would see them when they acted playfully mad or annoyed when losing. It was like that in the stories, where crestfallen warriors have lost in battle and saw comrades fallen.

She feels her Father's directly at before he turned to mother. "I'll take Arya back to her room. Take the rest of children back to their chambers."

Her mother only gave a silent nod. She took a moment to glimpse at Jon, her face unreadable but hardly with a look of remorse for her. She had her hand gently placed on Robb's shoulders, and Rickon held by the other, walking back to the room. When the guards escorted the rest of her siblings, it only now the two of them, her father and her alone. She gripped her father's hand, as he, in turn, squeezed back.

Neither of them said a word to each other as they walked together back to her room. The feeling of apprehension about her brother's life did not leave her still. It began it crept up on her from the neck to back. A shivering feeling that she wasn't familiar with crawled beneath her skin. She always had the best of confidence in her brother ability to do anything. Still looking up to him, even in her worst of moods.

For the first time, she feared the worse for him, and couldn't help but think this is something he may never be able to recover.

Edward reached for the door and opened it. The sounds of the heavy rain and winds were still at present raging out. Her father tucked her into her bed, but she wasn't feeling tired, too much was on her mind.

Anya's father broke out the silence. "Arya, Jon will be safe I'll make sure of that."

She looked back with a solemn look "But what if he doesn't come back from this?" She raised her voice, beginning to shed tears.

"Arya…" Edward said in a low tone. His eyes were also sharing the same sadness as her.

Her father began rubbing his head and eyes. Concern was racing in his mind, and the stress was growing further. Without hesitant and without her notice, he pulled her into a hug. She could feel him weeping, tears running down and reaching her hair. Ayra then let herself cry into his shoulder, letting out all her extreme fear of losing her brother.

"Who would do this father? Why would they want to hurt Jon? He never did wrong to anyone!" She cried out.

"Whoever did this will pay Arya, I promise you that. Right now, he needs us as much as we want him back with us. I promise he will be safe." Her father's stern voice returns with a vengeance underneath his voice.

She took in her father's words. She knew he would always do what's right and keep his promise. He would get back at those bastard who hurt and tried to kill her brothers.

Ayra's eyes dried as soon as she couldn't cry anymore, and allowed herself to close them shut until she could finally fall asleep from this living nightmare.

Robb Stark

"Please Robb, rest." Catelyn pleaded. "You can't go out again, not after everything that has happened!"

He retaliated "You expect me to to do nothing? I can't, not after what they did to Jon!"

"Your father promised that he would take care of it. Please trust him. He already sent out men to Crofters' Village."

Robb sighted. It's been a week since the ambush, and there hadn't been any whereabouts of his attackers, or who it was that left that wound of Jon. His father had taken off with a group of riders to hunt out in the Wolfwood. Along with alerting Robett Glover of the situation within his territory. So far they haven't found anything.

Even the bodies of Alyn, Hallis, and the villagers have all disappeared.

It was as if had nothing happened, as though it was a ghost town the whole time that burned down by itself. It made things unnerving, and have left any household guard with family in Crofters' village with dismay and depression. Whispers in the halls have been spreading, with fear that it was a curse that happened from the others. He and even Theon tried to assure everyone that it wasn't an attack of the Others. It didn't make things calmer for a lot. There was still a significant number of disconcerting faces that are afraid.

"Robb, your father has placed his trust to you in being in charge of Winterfell while he's away. You know you cannot go back on this." Mother reminded, with a soothing voice.

He merely stared at her.

"I know you want to join with your father to chase after the men that attempted to kill you. Don't hastily risk your life from something that has put you in danger. You are here now, where they can't reach you or our family."

"I wasn't the only one that they were after…" Robb crossed his arms. "They were also after Jon as well."

Catalan blink for a moment, feeling alarmed. "What could they want with him?" She was confused at his suggestion. "He has nothing of value for them."

He didn't want to respond but couldn't help himself. "You mean because he's bastard and irrelevant."

His word shook her and eye swell, hurt of his words. "That's not what-"

"Mother, Robb," A young voice cried out, it was Bran. "Where are you?"

Robb decided to change the topic "In the main hall little brother."

He arrived with a pack of arrows dangling on his belt. The young Stark eyes were red and glassy. He hoped Jon would come back to help him. The thought made his chest ache.

Seeing his siblings cried left him with more dread than it was fighting for his life during that horrible hunt. When he lost sight of Jon, betrayal griped him. The unforgivable feeling that somehow, it was his fault for running and not looking back to see if he was still with him. Abandoning him to fend against the assassins in the shadows lurking behind, that he would have to bring the news, Jon died because he left him behind.

He and Theon found him back at Crofters' Village. The lone survivor amongst the corpses, yet he was still like the rest. He tried shaking him, to keep him awake. Robb had no choice but dragging him, at the worst time too, when the storms arrived.

He didn't think they would have made it back to Winterfell. It was a miracle itself that they did make it.

Jon, however, didn't appear that he will live after this, not with that stab wound in his chest.

"Is Jon awake now?" Bran softly spoke, "Will he be here to help me now?"

Robb gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Jon is still resting. Maester Luwin said it would take a long while for him to wake up fully."

Bran wasn't satisfied. "But he said he might not make it at all." He almost cried again "It's been a week, and he hasn't come out of his room or move out of the bed."

Their mother went to comfort Bran. The sight of Bran and mother hugging each other didn't give him any relief. Robb knew that his little brother had to take this harder more so than even Arya. She would come out as headstrong and steel her feelings. Bran, however, was more sensitive, and it was only after out of sight from Jon, did he begin to start crying.

Robb would try his best, "Bran I can help you with your archery. Does that sound good?"

Bran let go of his mother and opened his eyes to him. He had a smile on him, but forceful. Bran was trying his best to be the optimist.

"Yeah," His brother softly said. "Let's go."

So they did. Bran ran off ahead while he bid farewell to his mother. She didn't bring back to what he said earlier. Thank the gods for that. Robb would prefer that, lest things turn heated into an argument.

Winterfell's courtyard wasn't back to the way it was. He can see the wreckage littered all across the ground. All the household servants were working in their routine, but there was a high presence of uncomfortableness. Patrolling guardsmen moving paste very quickly, Hullen and Harwin clamming frighten horses, and up ahead he saw Arya and Bran waiting for him. He lacks the same familiar enthusiasm he would always greet them. They were only looking at the haystack targets.

Theon was approaching, replaced with a simple nod instead of his cocky smile or cheerful attitude. There were no words needed, Robb understood his silence as exhaustion from the whole massacring event. That storm took a lot out of him, seeing it as a bad omen from the Storm God.

It was undoubtedly, a strange experience.

He turns back to his focus on Arya and Bran. Both of whom were not shooting as well as they have. Arya was more forceful with the string of the bow, and Bran was steadily aiming as he would. They made their shoot Arya's didn't make it at the center. Bran's just merely missed it altogether.

The archery would continue until he pressed in and expressed his encouragement. They would smile back at him, and it did help in efforts a bit than the last few times.

"Robb," Arya spoke, "have you seen Jon?"

"No I haven't Arya," Trying to dismiss it, "You know he's in his room resting right now. We can't see him."

"But I can't stand waiting around for him! He needs us, Robb, as much as we need!" Her grip on the bow tighten. Her fingers were nearly turning white.

"I…" What could he do? Just..walking in to see his brother? Would anyone, notice nor even be harmful to matter? He can honestly agree with Arya here that he's grown impatient on waiting out for Jon's health.

"… All right" His little siblings' eyes brighten. "Let's go see Jon, but stay quiet. Were only going to check on him."

Aya and Bran waste no time. They immediately drop their bows and run off back into the hall. Robb rushed to catch up, calling out to wait for him.

As they finally were a step away from Jon's door, Bran knocked. A usual routine even though he's not going to answer back.

They enter the room, Robb could see Jon laying on his bed. Bandages wrap around his torso, and fur blanket covering him. His eyes closed shut, and he didn't look as though he was breathing.

Arya was the first to check on him quickly. She placed her hands on her brothers head, seeing if he had a fever. Then she put her head against his chest gently. Waiting to hear his heartbeat, if it was still there.

She didn't move from where she was standing.

"Arya?" Robb was beginning to worry again. There was that return of uncertainty, just like back at Wolfswood. The crept of darkness hanging on your skin.

Jon eye's open wide.

"Jon-"

Robb didn't have to time to react, as his brother reached over Arya and had his hands on her throat. A sudden moment he only stood still but didn't let go nor pressed. Jon's eyes flow bloodstain red and filled with dreadful terror.

"Jon!" He rushed over to his brother to remove his hands over Arya. His hands would let go, and time, Arya was fighting back. It would take only a moment did he finally let go.

As Robb looked back, he saw her still. Arya was walking back to Bran until he grabbed her. Their faces twisted with shock and fear of what Jon almost did.

Teardrops fell from her eyes.

Robb turned back at Jon with a murderous glare. Jon, however, was widening his eyes with despair and panic. He didn't stop staring from where Arya was, look down at his hands.

"What have I done…"

Jon was beginning to breath heavy and fast. His hand was gripping tight where his wound was.

He choked on his words. "Ar-Arya I-"

She didn't stay to listen and ran off. Bran followed suit.

"Jon you-"

"I know what I did!"

Jon pushes away Robb. Running off chasing Arya.

What has happened to you, Jon?

Arya Stark

Arya didn't care where she was going. She wanted to be away from everyone and alone.

For a whole week, she was worried about Jon. Weeping more than she ever felt the need, fearing that she was going to lose him. Consistently, she would fight these thoughts, believing that he would wake up and returned to himself again.

Over time in days that gone by, she would sneak into his room to see his progress when Maester Luwin would leave his room. There she would find him asleep peacefully. His was unmoved, but the stillness of it had drawn her.

She thought she would see that again, where he would remain in a blissful sleep and awaken to the presence of those around him. Those that needed him the most. Every night, she would see Bran run to his room when it was time for bed. Sansa, though she may have not taking as hard as her, was distressed as much as their brother Robb was. He would continuously task the other servants around albeit politely, but it was out of his character to do so.

Father looked grimmer than ever. He has made it a priority to alert the North of the incident and to hunt down and capture the men that tried to kill her brothers. In the last few days, her father rode off to Wolfswoods blade in hand, along with Ice. He would come back with nothing left but a stern look on his face.

Aya turns around from her thoughts are look to her surrounds. She was reaching for the crypts. It was the only other place where she could hide away from everyone right now. Bran tried reaching for her but run faster so he couldn't keep up. When he was out of sight, Arya ran down the stairs without care of darkness taking the light away.

Further ahead touches were hanging on the walls where she could see her family and ancestors tombs. She could see the many statues of the Winter Kings, their faces seemly looking down at her. She never had any fear of crypts, but observing it now, she understands why the rest of her siblings felt creeped out coming here.

Arya made a quick jump and hid when the sound of footsteps was coming close behind her. Between two of the stone kings, she could make out who it was.

"Arya…"

It was Jon's voice.

Arya couldn't move. The passing thoughts of his awakening burned into her. She saw his eyes, the terror and hatred within them.

She remembered his hands on her throat, ready to squeeze the life out of her.

Jon wasn't himself when that happens she knew, but couldn't bring herself to crawl out. He never threatens or harmed her, always by her side and treated her like how all other ladies were supposed to. Jon would teach her how to fight, go on hunts with her when she dressed as a boy, and always listen to her feelings.

In those passing moments when she looked in depth into his eye did she see pure malice in them. Those stark grey eyes brighten before her like the winter ice. Like it was starting at a fear wolf that hungered anything it devours on. Arya tried to fight off, but it was only with Robb's help that he let go of her.

Aya watched him from afar when he walked past her. He was making his way to the end of the crypt where their late aunt Lyanna was.

He trembled down. Jon grabbed tightly on the bandages, seemly ready to rip them off.

"I'm sorry…" Jon sobbed.

She continued to stay where she was for a while, waiting to see what her brother would.

For what felt like hours, neither one made a step to move. Jon crouch down, his head laying against the crypt. His heavy breathing was echoing in the darkness.

She couldn't bear to stay in hiding any longer.

Aya took small steps, slowly reaching close. She couldn't see if he was looking back at her, his breathing slowing as she came closer to him.

"Jon."

Slowly, his head tilted and his eyes open. Still watering and slithering down his cheeks, his mouth opening but didn't make a sound.

Arya could see him now. His eyes were what recognize about him, with a quite sad solemn like how father was. The shared color of gray steel eyes, Jon would always tell her, that her eyes had a unique ring of ice to them. Like staring in the depths of cold starlights. When she had asked anyone else of what they saw, it would always be 'stark eyes.'

She never understood what it was her brother saw, but she always appreciated that he did.

Arya gulped "A-are you alright?"

Jon slowly stood. He limped a bit as he grips over the side of the wall to reach up. Walking carefully to her, she felt a strange presence to him. It was different from his usual self. He always is warming and comforting.

Here, his presence felt cold and dark. The longer Arya stared at him, the more it felt the shadows surrounding them would swallow them.

"Are you hurt?" Jon whispered.

Aya couldn't reply, not as long as there was that uncertain feeling crawling around her. She only turns her head sideways saying 'no.'

Jon let out a sigh of relief.

They return to their silent awkwardness. Each would continue turning away from one another, unsure of which sibling could say to the other.

The silence broke when Jon hugged Arya.

"Jon-"

"I'm sorry!" He cried. "I did something that I that can't forgive myself! I almost killed you…" His arms started shaking. The sight in front of her caused her to break down.

Arya replied with her arms around Jon, her head resting against his neck. "Jon, I forgive you." her voice was muffled, but he could hear her. "I want you to be safe. I was worried that you were going to die. We all did!"

Jon's eyes stopped crying. He pulled slightly away to look back at her. "You saw what happen to me?"

"Yes!" she shouted. "Robb and Theon were dragging you back. Your legs were giving in and weren't moving." Tears began to return.

Jon gently swiped the tears from her cheeks, giving her a sad smile. "I've been doing badly as a brother to you haven't I?" He bitterly chuckled.

Arya pouted at that and punched his shoulder. "Don't say that!" Her sadness turn to anger, filled with her return confidence. I won't let your despair. Arya took his arms off of her and stood tall. Like, father. "Promise to me that you won't leave us again; promise to me that you'll live and stay with me!"

She saw his eyes widen from those words. It was the first time Jon has seen her act this bold and prominent. Taking after their father, Arya can see that look for when Jon would act humble for when their father started his lecture.

Arya can see his eyes dilating, the pride within them. It made her smile seeing that. From that moment onwards, she knew things would get better.

"I promise."

Her smile sprang further, and she wrapped her arms around him.

He saw his home in Winterfell. Empty and quiet, with the snow falling, drenching it in white.

At the gates, his whole family was there in front of him.

Eddard, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, even Theon, and Catalyn. They're all there, with no expression but altogether looking at him, awaiting his arrival.

He felt happy seeing their faces. He had so much to tell them.

To tell them how much he appreciated still being alive still and having them alive with him.

He walked closer, yet this seems to change as he continued. The air was dense and felt too warm.

It was starting to feel like fire.

Horror gripped him, his whole family before his eyes were melting. Like paint, yet also fading right in front of him.

'NO!'

He ran reaching over for them. His hands and arms open forward. Father, Brother, Sister.

'Arya…'

He couldn't leave them again, not like this.

Can't return to the darkness.

Time was slowing him down, yet they were fading more rapidly. He only screams internally, to slow to let it out. He had almost died, he couldn't bear the thought of them dying while he lived, after all, that's happened.

It was too late they faded into nothing. One after another faded quicker than the other. His sister was the last.

His hand reached for, but it only grips the air.

'Why was is this happening!'

'Because that is your curse bastard.'

He couldn't move. Not from that voice. He heard it before, and he can feel the radiant heat from behind. He was too scared to look back.

The pain in his chest returned to him, he remembers now.

Suddenly he found himself turning around. He tried resisting, but a force was moving him, and could once again feel the burning flame eating away the skin.

It was him.

The same man that stabbed him that day. Still wearing that ancient ruin armor like it was his second skin. His hooded cloak coving his face, yet shrouded him in royalty.

His demonic black sword in hand, but was glowing red and black at the same time.

He could not move. Could not turn his head away and run, the world transformed into a land of ash and snow. The sky was dark and burning. The polluted covered in corpses and blood.

His eyes screamed as the burning sword stab him in the chest.

The same man was killing him again.

'Thrice dammed you are, bastard. First in birth and then in life. Now in death, you will find eternity. All things are brought forth and driven away. Those bornless will face my bladed carriage, for it is delivering the right stature that may irritate the sun with only his vessel.'

His last moments was his dying scream and his decaying body.

Jon Snow

Jon found himself awaken; the screaming brought him back to the wakening world.

Not again. Jon remembered the dream this time. The magnitude of all that he witnessed was madness. How could the gods allow such monstrosity to exist?

He rushed over the bowl of water to splash on his face. His head was pounding, feeling painful from having to awaken at this time of night.

Jon contemplated all that has happened. That attack at Crofters' village wasn't an ordinary raid by bandits. His attackers were trained assassins, in fighting styles he never saw before. What's worse, it seems like it was only one man that was able to kill everybody else.

The masked men were only out from a distance.

What were they doing in a village?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds hollowing winds of his opened door. Panic ran through him from the sudden moment. Jon grip the sword right over his bed.

There was no one at his door.

Jon began breathing rapidly. Did the assassins return? Were they toying with him and getting him to come out? Was this all in his head?

Did they kill my family?

His dream returned to him. He won't let them take away his home and family.

Jon sheath his sword out. Keeping his guard up slowly and firmly walked out into the halls. The night of empty halls echoed his step. The source of light from the moon glowing out the windows, were his source to walk.

All the fire torches were out.

"Hello," he called out. He knew it was a stupid idea, but he didn't have anything better think about it. The guardsmen would always be on patrol in the halls. There wasn't anyone in sight. It only confirmed that something terrible has happened.

Jon rushed to the closets of his sibling's rooms. Bran's was his first stop. His bedroom door closed, yet it was unguarded from any interference. His hand tightens to his sword, in fear of the worse. Taking the risk, he slowly reaches for the first door to bran's room.

He opened the door slowly for the worse possible outcome. They could be hiding out and waiting to attack him.

"Bran," he whispers loudly, "are you awake."

No reply.

Steadily he opens the door widely in a rushed moment. He brought his sword out, his eyes pacing across the bedroom.

Bran was sleeping blissfully.

His heart stopped panicking, and the feeling of nostalgia was in place. He remembered when his brother would always be scared of sleeping in the night, the terror of the other's creatures coming in to snatch him away. Bran would go to him and his mother, asking to stay by when before he sleeps.

After he and Arya made peace, their brothers later found them. He could see the gripping fear that his sister had when he first saw him awakened. His brother Robb, weary yet no less pleased to see him and Arya were standing together without harm for the latter. His brothers help made a cover story for Jon when he had run off when not any notice of anyone seeing him. Thankfully Maester Luwin was able to regard his little incident as having a panic, considering he and the rest knew what happened.

The sound of wind pulls at him to look from outside. Jon could see from the outside where courtyard was. The night was peaceful, the crescent moon up high and the stars shining.

He breathed in the cold air, filling his lungs in place of the sensation from his cheat it burns. Jon had never known such pain in his life when feeling that burn, and indeed, like the fight, he had fought.

Looking at the bandages wrapped around his chest, he did not see any bleeding or any stains on. It was as perfectly clean when he had them replace the last time. He asked Maester Luwin if he saw any changes from his wound, but he said nothing of any significant injuries.

His only reply was that he found that there was burn was circular around where his chest wound stab was. For all tense and purposes, he should have died from that wound. It was a miracle that he didn't, Luwin says its one of those rare god given gifts that he'll ever receive.

Words echoed in his mind.

'From this moment forward. You will have no beginning, and without no end.'

The idea that it was a miracle didn't assume him the very least. More like it was a curse even to be alive from what another said.

Down below he saw someone outside in the dark. Their presence was shrouded, but this only resolved his feelings.

They're back.

He made for a quick pace when leaving Bran's room and closed his door silently. He scouts out to see if anyone was out in the hall, but no one was in sight. He was on his own if need be, but he won't cower from these invaders.

He will fight and live, as he promised he would.

Jon was standing before the door that leads outside. His fingers are brushing against the door, holding his breath. What may be the second and most likely last time he would live if things don't go right. The comfort of the dark help blocks out the light when he closed his eyes.

Thoughts return from that awful night, his dreams. These things wouldn't leave him alone, and it hunted him. He could not find the answer to why.

His first theory was that it was a Targaryen vengeance. Sending assassins for his family's betrayal when his father pledged his blade to King Robert Baratheon. That didn't add up, as they were only attacking crofters' village. Otherwise, they would've met them sooner, or he and Robb would have been both killed in the night of their camp.

Then the words of that man who almost kill him ringed to him. He didn't expect his arrival, yet it made no difference to him. It was only at the last moments did he take an interest in him.

His mouth twisted when the burning sensation return to his chest. He was in no condition, yet he could not see any of the guards as he ran across the hallway. Hoping that the noise he caused would alert someone.

Nothing happened.

Alone again and this with certainty, he opens the large door ahead of him and stand ready against the familiar foe.

No…

It was him again, in the flesh.

His heart froze. With a much clear sight before him, Jon can see the vivid appearance before him. It was like staring at an arisen dead king of the ancient days. The ruin robes that attached to his ruin armor yet still majestic as torn as it was. Silk unfamiliar to him, this whole stranger appearance was utterly foreign.

The man chuckled.

"I see you have recovered and so quickly." It stated. "Having some of those memorable dreams again?" He asked with ridicule.

Jon flared, "How did you get here?!" The gate to enter Winterfell were sealed, he shouldn't even be here.

"Your home is not as defensive as you think it is." The stranger tilted his head, "If you look more thoroughly here, you'll find that many secrets here will lead you to many passages… and many unknowns."

Jon snorted "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Irrelevant as of now. I've come here for you."

He put his guard up, the best stature his condition could pull. Jon's eyes ran around for any sight of help.

"Don't bother," The stranger as if he was bored. "No one here will hear you, or awake to your pleading. You are all alone bastard."

Jon grew angry at his words.

"You are after all unwanted, and you'll be glad after all of this is over."

"Shut up!" Jon went charging. He would not let him continue throwing insults at him or allow him to cause any more harm.

He pulled his sword up for an attack, but it never happens. Jon felt a sudden push that sent him over; as if there were horses that have run over him and crush him to the ground. It was in that instant he felt all the force through his mobility and couldn't get up. His chest's pain intensifies even further, bitting and grinding teeth from the agony.

Jon felt a heavy boot stepping on his chest.

He looks back at the monster that was holding him down, the one who caused him to be in this predicament.

"Wha-what do you want; why me?!" Jon shouted.

He received a reply with a laugh. "Merely hasten the inevitable for you. It won't matter if I have interfered with what you'll become. "

Jon coughs from the pressure. "I-inevitable?"

"Yes," He removes his foot and kneels next to him, placing his hand on his bandages. "To cast open the seal of fire in place upon your flesh. The Darksign."

The stranger grabbed him by the throat and lifted him with only his hand. "It is a curse placed upon man, where they will lose their soul and become an empty shell."

Jon mind was panicking at the ramifications of what this entails. By the Old Gods!

He threw him over the air and Jon landed on the ground. He couldn't find the strength to fight off. All of this felt like a nightmare repeating back again like before.

"When the curse takes a complete whole of you, it won't just be that you'll lose your soul."

Jon saw flashes of his home.

"You will lose everything."

He could see his family, the sigil of House Stark.

"Your identity."

He saw an image of his mother. Her beautiful and gentle face looking at him, with an infant in her arms.

"Your memories."

The image of his family.

"Your very light." He could hear the sneer behind the stranger's voice.

Once more the monster was standing before him. "You will walk the earth as something else entirely. A monster that only desires to feast on souls…"

He pulled off his hood.

"An undead hollow like myself."

His face was unnatural. His flesh was thin and rotten, yet remain intact on him. There was no expression on his face with only what looks like a fake smile on him. His eyes were empty, like staring into the depths of the void. Jon could not turn away now, the mysterious undead's words have taken hold of him.

This will be my fate? "Is that why you killed those villagers?"

The undead's smile only grew larger.

"Did you?!" Jon brought his head up.

"Yes, I consumed their souls." He spoke as if there was nothing wrong. "Sadly they did not possess what I was looking for." His face looked like a frown. "But it is of no consequence, for I have granted them mercy than suffer a fate worse than death."

"You slaughtered them!"

The undead scoffed. "You're not listening to me poor bastard. Do you want to know a cure for this curse?"

Jon blinked at that. "A cure?"

The undead put his hood back on. "If you wish the overcome the curse, and regain your sense of self and memories, you must feast on souls."

He reached out his hand, and from it, a bright flame appeared. It was pure light than that of an ordinary fire. It was awe and enrapturing to stare out; he could feel it's warmth and power emitting and brightening.

The undead crashed it with his hand. "Seek flame Jon Snow and harness it for yourself."

He then turned away from Jon and was walking away. Jon tried to stand up to chase after him, but his senses were leaving him.

"But know this when that time comes." He was walking towards the Starks Crypts, "If make this your driven desire before you die. When you do regain your memories, become whole and more, remembering who you are…"

His last words echoed in his mind before he found himself again fading in the wakening of the world.

"By the end, you won't even care."