Jon

Jon sat by the fire, watching as it burned slowly. He had the final watch of the night, and Ciri was sleeping soundly huddled up not too far away from him. As he sat, he found himself thinking back to his dream; the one he had the night Ciri saved him. Half dreaming, he remembered what he had been told.

They were in the same room as the first time, though now Jon took note of more details. The bed was unmade and covered in clothes. There was an opened but completely empty chest, though judging from the lack of dust, Jon guessed it had only been emptied recently. Most notable though was the lack of windows. There was only one thing that looked out of place, a piece that seemed completely wrong to him, which was a red mask that was laying on the table amidst a handful of cooks and dirty dishes. He glanced around, wondering where his mother was, but she couldn't see him, until she spoke.

"I'm here Jon," a voice said behind him.

He turned. His mother was wearing the same clothes that she had been wearing before, though her face seemed both more and less worn with grief than it had been only a few hours before. Now she was so much clearer to him it seemed.

"I know you have more questions for me, and I have answers. At least most, I would hope." She took a seat on the bed, and invited him to do the same. "Come here… Sit with me, Jon."

"Where are we?" Jon wondered as he took his seat. "T-this place. Where is it?" He had an idea, but he wanted to hear it from her.

"Home," she said without hesitation. "It was my home once at least. Starfall."

"We're in Dorne?"

"Neither of us is really here." She took a hand and grasped one of the pillows next to her. "You're still far beyond the Wall, and I'm far away across the Narrow Sea, just like last time. This is all just a dream really, one that I'm creating for you. But yes, Dorne, we're in Dorne child"

"A dream…" Jon repeated. It was more vivid and true than any dream he'd ever had. All of it somehow felt so real to him. The color, the smell, every little detail. He could make out the dust in the room, and most importantly he was in control.

"You and your sister were born here, in this room."

"My sister? You don't mean Sansa or Arya?"

"No," she shook her head, "I suppose they will always be sisters to you, regardless, just as the boys you were raised with will always be your brothers."

"Who is my sister then?"

"Allyria."

"Allyria?" Jon tried to remember if he'd ever met any woman named Allyria before, or if he'd ever heard Lord Eddard speak of one. He did recall there was an old Queen Allyria, who had been a wife to one of the Kings of Winter several hundred years ago, which was how he knew the name at all, but she had only ever existed in Old Nan's stories. "I-I don't know who-"

His mother sighed. "I should have known better than to think you would have ever been told of Allyria." She paused for a moment, studying Jon's face. "When your father-When Brandon was arrested and held in the Black Cells, I snuck down and kept him company. He was all alone there for several months, and I… I comforted him…"

"But then he died." Jon had not been told exactly what had happened to his grandfather and Brandon, but he knew how it had ended for them.

"Then he died," she said, nodding. "I was there when he was killed… I watched as Brandon helplessly tried to save his father, only to kill himself in the process. I wanted to do something to help him, but I wasn't able to save him. Princess Elia led me out of the throne room, and later that day had me sent home while I was mad with grief," she paused for a moment, her lips trembling as she recalled the horrors of her past. "But by the time I was back at Starfall, I knew I was with child, and I knew what would happen if the Mad King discovered it, so my mother, father and I decided to have me hide in a tower, to keep it secret, while she faked a pregnancy of her own, so I would be able to pass my child as theirs. But when you and your sister came into the world, you couldn't have been more different. She looked every bit like me, but you…" his mother paused again. "You were very much your father's son. Allyria could have been passed as my sister, but no one would believe for a second that you were my mother and father's child, and if anyone knew of your nature, most would suspect the same of Allyria."

"And that's why you gave me to Lord Stark?" The answer was obvious.

She nodded. "Ned promised he would keep you safe and raise you well… And he did, just as my parents did for Allyria. My soiled honor only exists in rumors now, but I gave up both of you to protect it… While I protected what Ned wanted to keep safe in turn."

"Oh."

"You and your sister are almost as old as Brandon and I were," she said wistfully. "You're a man and she's a woman now…"

Jon gave her a nod, not really sure what else he could say.

"I want you to know that I did not forget about you." Her voice sounded almost defensive now. "I saw you… All those nights you woke from a bad dream, how much you yearned for a mother's bed to crawl into… I tried to send you happier dreams on those nights, to help you sleep peacefully."

"Can you come to me? In my dreams? Can you visit more?"

"Do you want me too?" She sounded a little surprised. For the first time, he had heard a little happiness in her voice.

"Yes," he said faintly.

"Of course, Jon… Of course I will." She put a kiss on his forehead, and then hugged him. "Whenever you want."

"Thank you," he said, putting his arms around her too.

He remained in her embrace for several minutes. A part of him wondered if it was possible to fall asleep inside of a dream, since he might have if he had the chance. When they finally let go, he felt much better. After so long of wondering about his mother, waiting for Lord Eddard to tell him the answer, or wishing to know just anything at all about her, he finally did know.

"I love you," she said, finally breaking the silence.

"I love you too."

"Sweet dreams Jon," his mother said with a smile, then she seemed to wave her hand, and just like that, he had not been at Starfall anymore.

It had been several days since then, but Jon still hadn't yet spoken to Ciri about his dreams with his mother, or about his true parentage. So far, he had only told her that he was the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark, a half-brother to King Robb Stark, the Bastard of Winterfell. He had tried telling her as much as he could about Westeros, about this world he had been raised in, but there was still so much he figured he had not told her, and so much that she likely wouldn't be able to know just from him telling her. The Seven Kingdoms, his brother's war, the Night's Watch, his family, he had been able to tell all that to her at least.

Ciri had told him plenty about the world she was from too. The way she had explained it was as if the stories in books and fairy tales he had read as a child were real, separate worlds that existed, unable to interact with one another, yet she had the powers to travel between them. She had spoken to him of Cintra and Lyria, Nilfgrad and Temeria and half a hundred other places whose names he could hardly keep straight, no doubt the same way Dorne and the Vale were to her, and names like Geralt and Queen Calanthe and Triss Merigold had no more meaning to him than what he figured names like Robb or Lord Eddard or Queen Cersei or Commander Mormont had to her. More than once she had offered to take him to her home, leaving behind this frozen wasteland, but each time, he had refused, citing his duty.

Jon had not been able to refuse her advances though. They had been together for nearly a fortnight, and within the first three days, he had been able to see her interest in him. A day later, and they were making love under the makeshift blankets they were sharing to keep warm. Ciri was beautiful, tall and slim, with big green eyes, and long ash-grey hair, with a scar that went from just under her right eye down to her cheek, and the one who had saved his life. From what she had said, she was just as capable of killing him as she had rescued him, and he knew better than to try anything that would anger her.

He was bone-tired now. Despite having Ghost who could help keep watch, he and Ciri had decided it was best to keep at least one human awake throughout the night to ensure nothing would take them by surprise. They were trying to make their way back to the Fist of the First Men, so he could report what had happened.

She had offered to simply take him there, teleporting instantly, but neither of them were familiar with the area, and he did not think it would be best to simply appear in the camp with some woman from another world that the men did not know. And there was still the matter of his mission too. He had been sent to search for his uncle, and they would not find him if they simply teleported back to the Fist of the First Men, nor would they be able to join the Wildlings as the Halfhand wanted.

Something else was wrong too. He could tell that there was something that was bothering her, something that she wasn't telling him. Perhaps it was how foreign and strange all this magic was, or perhaps it was that she sensed he wasn't telling him everything. But he knew there was something troubling her.

When Ciri finally woke, the sun was just beginning to rise. It would not be completely sunless today, though there were many clouds in the sky, and it looked like it would soon be snowing.

"It's cold," she said as she sat up. Her hair was a mess, and there were dark circles around her eyes from a lack of sleep. She slowly crawled out from underneath the blankets, already fully dressed. It didn't look like the cold was much of a problem for her, though she wasn't particularly fond of it.

"Are you surprised?"

She paused for a moment. "No… It's just that I thought…" Her voice trailed off. "I dreamt we were someplace a little warmer, that's all."

Jon chuckled. "I wish we were someplace a little warmer." He thought of Starfall, all the way in Dorne. All his life, he had lived in the North, first at Winterfell and then at Castle Black, and now he was here, some place far beyond the Wall, in a territory neither of them knew. How different his life could have been if he had been raised there. A Sand instead of a Snow.

"I could take us somewhere warmer," she offered for nearly the hundredth time.

"I know, but I have a mission," he reminded her. "There's nothing keeping you here. You're free to go anywhere else if you would like. I'm sure Robb could use a fighter like you in his war." Ciri was the greatest warrior that he had ever seen, even better than Qhorin Half-Hand or Bronze Yohn Royce or Jaime Lannister, and that seemed to only be the least of her abilities.

"His war of men doesn't concern me. Your war does."

"So it's settled then." We stay in the cold. He reached out his hand to offer her some food. "Do you want anything to eat before we set out?"

"Yes, please," she said, taking the hard salt beef from him, and quickly eating it. He could tell she wasn't very happy about eating this for the ninth day in a row.

Jon had already eaten, so when she was finished, they quickly packed up what little they had in the camp. They put their furs into a bag with the rest of their clothes, and then went over to Ciri's horse, Kelpie.

On the night Ciri had arrived, they had gone back to Jon's original camp, and slept there, and taken what food and clothes they could need, and he guessed she must have gone to a different world and gathered some clothes from there too for herself. Jon's horse, as well as those of the other men he had been traveling with were all gone, and he had been too wounded and tired to try and search for one of them, and she needed to keep guard of their camp, so instead they had been riding double on her horse.

After they attached the two bags with their things onto Kelpie's saddle, he mounted first, and then Ciri, who rode in front of him, taking the reins. From time to time, she would tell him to take the reins while she slept in the saddle, leaning back on him as she did, which always made him feel a little nervous.

For the first several hours, nothing remarkable occurred. They only spotted occasional animal tracks, and at one point, Ghost returned with his mouth covered in blood as though he had hunted and eaten without theml. Ciri remained awake, but Jon himself nearly fell asleep as they rode, but he never could bring himself to do so while riding with her.

At one point, they crossed a small stream that had frozen over, and they both dismounted to walk across it with Kelpie to ensure she wouldn't fall as they went over the ice, before it was back to ankle deep snow and they mounted the black mare again.

As they rode, they talked more about their lives. Their conversation was more sparse than normal, and it was mostly just Jon telling her more about the Night's Watch and trying to tell her everything he could about the Wildlings. He told her the names of each of the seven Kings Beyond the Wall, and did his best to tell her what had become of each of them, and spoke of his friends in the Watch, Pypar and Sam and Green and others. She seemed glad for all the information, though like him wasn't entirely sure what to make of all of it.

Finally, she decided to start talking to him. "Jon, there… There's something I've been needing to tell you. I… I only noticed it a few days ago, but-"

She was interrupted by a loud roar, unlike anything Jon had ever heard before.

"What was that?" Jon said. It sounded like a rather loud creature, perhaps a giant or something even greater.

"I don't know," she said, not sounding particularly nervous. "Sounds like a monster." Before he could object, she was already dismounting. "Come on, Jon." Ciri took the reins from the front, and led Kelpie over to a tree, tying the reins to a branch.

Jon had no choice but to dismount too, wishing sometimes that she could just leave a monster alone. "Ciri, if we…"

"What are you so afraid of? I'm here." She finished tying the reins. "The worst that can happen is we die here and now, instead of you getting your head chopped off by that order of yours. Come on, Ghost."

The direwolf began to follow Ciri, padding along without making a sound, and they started eastward. Reluctantly, Jon went after them, putting his hand on Longclaw as the trio descended into the heavier woods.

After around five hundred yards, they reached the foot of a hill, and Jon heard the beast roar again, this time much louder. All three of them stopped at the edge of the trees, waiting.

"Do you have a better idea of what it is now?"

Ciri shook her head. "I don't know this world and its creatures still. It must be on the other side of that hill."

That much was obvious to Jon.

"Are we going to hunt it?"

She answered by drawing Zireael. "We're going to see what it is.I'll go left, you'll go right."

Jon didn't like splitting up when he didn't know what creature laid on the other side of the hill. "We stick together. We both go right."

Ciri did not like to be questioned like that. "Jon we need to."

"We don't. Once we can see what we have, then we'll make our plan."

"Oh, fine."

Together they started walking on the edge of the forest, careful to keep as much cover as they could so they wouldn't get spotted, at the edge of the hill. Ghost's fur allowed him to blend in with the snow, so he walked out of the forest, treading slowly, as they went around.

The beast howled only once or twice, and as they approached, the air started to get colder. "Is it the Others?" he whispered.

"Do they roar like that?"

Jon felt a little foolish for asking. "No…"

"Then it's probably not them."

They continued to walk carefully, as they made their way around the foot of the hill, which Jon realized was more likely to be a small mountain of sorts as they went. As they went, they spotted a pair of wolf carcasses, both seeming completely frozen, not decomposing as they ought to be. Ciri did see it, but she continued on without saying anything.

At last, the creature came into view. It looked like a massive twenty foot worm of sorts, its scales an icy blue, but it seemed to have some white feathers on some spots too, particularly on the top of its back. It laid on a relatively flat area, curled up. "An ice dragon," Jon muttered.

"You've seen one of these before?"

"No," Jon shook his head, making sure to keep his voice down. "I've heard stories, but all the dragons died in the reign of Aegon the Unlucky."

"I see one now."

"The fire dragons at least… The ice dragons were said to be much bigger."

"Did it also have feathers?"

Jon shook his head again. "They aren't supposed to be here, beyond the Wall. They roam the Shivering Sea."

Ciri considered that for a moment. "Perhaps this is a baby one, or there's different sorts of ice dragons."

He shrugged. "Maybe…"

"Get your sword out."

"Why?"

"We may need to fight it."

"Can't you take us back to Kelpie? The dragon won't be able to follow us. You can teleport us there, and we'll ride on, like we didn't see anything here."

"Shhh," she hissed, before crouching down and pulling him to do the same. "That's what I was trying to tell you. I-I can't for some reason. I can't teleport around, or take us to a different dimension."

Jon was confused. "W-what do you mean? Why aren't they working?"

"I don't know," she said, a little frustrated. "But we're going to have to walk back, and if that dragon catches a whiff of us, we'll need to fight it."

On the clearing, Jon saw the dragon lift his head. His heart raced, and he watched in horror, as the head started to turn their way. "Ciri," he whispered, his voice trembling a little as he lifted his finger to point at the dragon.

She slowly turned her head, and watched as the dragon slowly focused on them. "Go," she said, suddenly standing up and pulling Jon to his feet with her. The dragon started to open its mouth, but Jon and Ciri were already rushing out of the forest, going in separate directions. Its icy breath cooled all the air around them, but Ciri managed to duck out of the way, evading it, and continuing to charge at the dragon. Whilst the dragon locked onto Ciri, Jon tried to use the opportunity, rushing closer just as she was, though with the intention of plunging Longclaw deep into the beast's chest.

He was surprised by how easily he was able to get close, but just at the last minute, the ice dragon turned to him, and opened its mouth to let out a roar. The sound was so deafening that Jon could feel his eardrum rupture, leaving him feeling like he was spinning. He fell to the ground, just barely able to avoid the icy breath of the dragon, unable to hear Ciri crying out to him.

Jon lifted his head to watch as the ice dragon had turned its attention back towards Ciri, trying to stop her advances, as she managed to stay away from each blast of cold air, and remained thankfully unaffected by its roars. At last, she managed to make it to the beast's underbelly, and gave an almost triumphant stab upwards.

But the blow had little effect on the dragon. Little more than the tip of Zireael had managed to pierce the dragon's hide, and there was no blood on the blade itself, only a spider's web of frost that seemed to travel the full length of the sword up to the hilt.

As the dragon tried to squash her, she leapt out from underneath, whirling her blade in an attempt to sever one of its legs, but just like the underbelly, its skin proved to be tough, not allowing her to pierce very deeply. If Ciri cursed or grunted in anger, he couldn't hear it.

Jon made an effort to stand, but as he did, he felt a new wave of dizziness take over him, and he vomited up that morning's breakfast. When he looked up again, Ciri had gotten onto the creature's back, almost as though she was trying to ride it. Each movement she made looked graceful and elegant, as though she had practiced each little step tens of thousands of times. She plunged Zireael down several more times, as though she was looking for a weak spot, all while carefully avoiding any counterattacks from the monster. But every attempt was as fruitless as the first too.

Then, it seemed as though an idea had come to her, and Ciri launched herself forward, bringing herself closer to the monster's head. She gracefully leapt off the ice dragon's backside, Zireael pointed downward, aimed at the beast's head.

Jon watched as her strange sword struck the creature's eye, penetrating deep into its skull, while Ciri fell to the side, away from the monster.

Had she not killed the monster then, they would both have been dead, laying on the ground, Ciri unarmed and Jon completely helpless. But as the ice dragon fell, Jon's heart managed to rise a little.

Once Ciri saw the monster was dead, she started rushing over to him. "Jon! Jon! Are you alright?" She knelt down in the snow next to him, and lifted his head on her lap, turning it on its side. Only now could he feel that his ear was bleeding. "Oh, Jon, your ear… Can you hear me?"

"I can," he managed weakly. "It's better with the other ear."

"You must have ruptured your eardrum."

Jon gave a small nod. "No more random monster hunting… Not till you can teleport again… Not till we're back at the Wall. Promise me."

"I promise," she whispered. "I promise we won't hunt random monsters until we've made it to your Wall."

"M-maybe we should make camp here… Bring Kelpie over, and… And we can have a little fire near our dragon carcass. N-no one will provoke us with one around."

Ciri turned his head, and showed her white smile to him. "We'll stay here today, and tomorrow too, and perhaps the day after that. Until you're ready to travel, or my powers come back."

He nodded again. "I'll just… I'll just wait here with Ghost." He moved his head off of his lap and pulled up the hood on his cloak to cover the back of his head.

Ciri stood up, agreeing. He heard her first walk over to the ice dragon to take Zireael, and then walk back over to him. "You should put this away," she said, handing him Longclaw.

Jon took the sword, and struggled a little to put it away as he continued to lay down, but he managed, while Ciri began to walk away, heading out of the clearing, making for where they had left Kelpie.

Before Ciri had returned, Jon had fallen asleep, but his dreams were not like normal dreams. He was a wolf, prowling at the foot of a hill, his senses greatened. In the forest, he could hear birds, and could smell a dear not so far off. He hungered for it, wanted it, but he had to remain where he was.

The white wolf remained where he was, guarding the hill. There had been other wolves who had attempted to conquer this hill, but they had failed, and now it was his. Perhaps he could have made a pack out of them, if they had lived, yet they were dead and lost, just as lost as his first pack was to him.

For now, the sky was only partially covered with clouds, though more were moving in from the south that would soon block out the late-morning sun. When he let out a howl, it seemed to echo, hearing it from another source that the white wolf could not understand.

Eventually, the wolf decided to turn up the hill, moving closer to the dragon carcass that lay there. Perhaps it would have made for a good meal, were it not for its thick hide, that the wolf tried several times to claw at, unsuccessfully. He tried gnawing at it with his fangs too, though he was no more successful - the wolf went back down again, returning to the man laying not very far away. He was injured, a pain that the wolf could feel even without seeing its injuries. A pain that they seemed to share.

He gave another howl, and slowly paced back and forth.

Eventually, another came, the lady of ashen-grey hair, riding upon her black mare. She rode on the edge of the hill. Inside of her, he sensed another presence, small, almost undetectable, something the white wolf might never have noticed were it not for their bond, slowly growing within her.

When the woman was close, she dismounted from the mare, leading it up the hill, over to the dragon's carcass, and tying it there, before walking over to the man. "Jon," she called out. "Jon, Jon, wake up. Jon." The wolf heard her voice twice. "Jonnn, come onnn." She shook him a little…

..and just like that, Jon was awake, back within his own body.

"Ciri," he said, breathing a little heavily. For a moment, he stared into her emerald green eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." His voice was not much stronger than before.

"You were asleep…"

"Aye."

"Come on, let's set up camp closer to the dragon."

He managed to get to his feet, and with some help from Ciri, he made his way over to the ice dragon's carcass. Walking made him feel dizzy and nauseous, but she was there to make sure he wouldn't fall, and once they were over there, she helped him sit down, then sat down herself.

"You're pregnant."

Jon did not know how he was so certain, but he had sensed it in Ghost, another presence within her, small, but perhaps stronger and more powerful than even hers. He did not know why he stated it so bluntly either, but the words had come out all the same.

Ciri immediately recoiled away from him, her face turning red. "W-what do you mean? H-h-how do you know?"

"My dreams," he said. "When I go to sleep, I… I think my mind enters Ghost… There I… I can sense things I normally can't."

"I-I'm pregnant?" her voice quivered. "H-oh… oh no… I… oh gods no…" She started to cry. "I-is that why I… I can't…"

For now, he was not so concerned with his vows or his folly so much as he was on her. "Ciri c-come here."

Ciri shook her head. "I-I don't want you to touch me…"

"I won't, just-" Jon stopped as she stormed off, and he couldn't tell if she was more angry with him or herself. He started to get up to follow her, but another wave of nausea passed over him, and he had to sit back down. "Ciri, come back!" he yelled, despite how much it hurt. "Ciri!"

She didn't answer, or come back, and began to disappear as she went into the woods.

You fool. He ought to have been careful to make sure she wouldn't get with child. I will take no wife and father no sons. His uncle had warned him that he might father a bastard or two, and Jon had dismissed him, but now here he was, the father of a bastard, whose mother had just run off in the woods.

If Ciri was gone, he did not know how else he would make it back to the Fist of the First Men. Even once he did, he would have to confess he had gotten some woman from a foreign world with child.

Jon leaned his head back, and looked up at the sky. It was still daytime, not even quite noon yet, but he was still tired enough to sleep. "Mother," he whispered. "Mother, I want to talk." He closed his eyes.

To Jon's surprise, he fell asleep almost instantly.

For a third time, he was at Starfall, this room that had once been his mother's while she was carrying him and his sister. But this time, things were different. Outside, sunlight poured into the room, almost blinding him, while in the other dreams, it must have been night time, and everything seemed so unclear now. Every item was fuzzier, hard to make out.

"Yes, Jon," Ashara Dayne said, stepping out. Just like the rest of the scene, she was harder to make out, which she seemed aware of. "This doesn't work as well during the day… I can only even send you a dream if you're sleeping."

"Oh," Jon said.

"You're here to talk about Ciri, aren't you?"

He nodded. "I am."

"She's not leaving you."

"She's not?"

Ashara smiled, and chuckled a little. "She left that precious horse of hers with you, and you heard her. She can't go to any other worlds. Ciri, she needs you, just as much as you need her now. You're her guide."

"Her guide," he echoed.

"Yes," she said, nodding.

"She doesn't want a child though."

"And you don't either," his mother sighed. "I know… It was like this for me too. I was alone and afraid, and scared of what was happening to me."

Jon lifted his head. "My vows… I swore not to father any sons, or to take a wife… Our child, they'll, they'll be-"

"-a bastard like you," she finished. "That's what scares you the most." She lifted her hand up to his face. "But you… You don't need to be afraid, as long as you love them like any other child. Being a bastard doesn't need to mean anything at all."

She was right. Jon silently vowed that he would do his best to be a father, no matter what. But there was another matter to consider. "When I return to the Watch, they'll send Ciri and the child away. And they'll punish me, I'm sure."

"You don't need to return to the Watch. You could make east, find some sort of ship, even offer yourselves to slavers. I'm sure you would be able to win your freedom with ease, and you could sail east. To me… We… We could be a family together."

Jon considered the thought. It was tempting. "I would be a deserter… They would execute me. And Ciri, she came here because she was told of some war she was needed, We can't run away."

His mother looked a little disappointed. "You are Lord Eddard's son, deep down, even if Brandon and I are your parents. You'll hold onto your honor until your death."

He gave a nod.

"When you wake up, your Ciri will have returned, or it won't be long before she does. The best you can do for both of you is to talk to each other, just like how I wish I could have spoken to Brandon. You'll figure out what you'll do together."

"I will," Jon said.

Ashara Dayne gave a smile. "I know you'll make a great father, Jon," she whispered, and then she was gone.

His eyes fluttered open, and he was still sitting up against the ice dragon's carcass. He saw Ciri there, ignoring him almost, as she was busy making a fire. "Ciri," he called out. His throat was really dry now. "Ciri."

She turned. It was obvious from the look on her face that she had been crying. "J-Jon?"

"Can I get some water?"

Ciri gave a nod and went to bring him a flask. When she came back, she sat down next to him, as she had been before he told her. She handed him the water, and Jon drank, long and deep, which made him feel a little better. "I didn't get the time to clean your ear… I've been busy setting up our camp."

Jon looked around and saw she had set up a fire and gathered some firewood, and had even been working to turn the dragon's carcass into a temporary shelter. Cleaning the blood from his ear didn't seem like much of a priority compared to that. "You didn't need to…"

"Was Ghost supposed to set up the camp? Or Kelpie?" Jon thought she meant that as a joke, though with how miserable and broken her voice sounded, it didn't come off that way.

He put an arm around her shoulder. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Are you?"

Jon nodded. His ear still hurt, but he didn't feel quite so dizzy now.

"I'm not." She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Do you want to have children?"

Ciri shook her head. "It's not that. It's being pregnant… T-the thought of something growing inside of me like that, all the pain of labor, and…and it could kill me… If it were adopting a child that needed a mother like how I found Geralt, that would be one thing, but…"

"Maybe…" Jon's voice failed. He didn't know how he could help her.

"If this is why I can't teleport… I can't…" she shook her head, "you wouldn't understand."

"We have to make our way back to the Wall," he finally said after a long silence passed between them. "Once we're there, we can figure out what's next."

She nodded. "First we get back to the Wall, and then we'll figure out what's next."

"We're… We're going to figure everything out. I promise."

"Your vows?"

Jon gave a shrug. "We'll sort that out when we get there." Perhaps Robb could even make some sort of agreement with the Watch. At worst, Jon could make some sort of arrangement with Robb to have Ciri and Alaric be allowed to remain at Winterfell with him visiting often enough. "But Alaric doesn't need to be a bastard."

"Alaric?"

"Alaric?" Jon was confused.

"You called the child Alaric, just now."

"Did I? I didn't realize that I… The name just came out."

"Is that what you're calling them?"

"That's what I'm calling him," Jon said. "Ghost sensed that too I think."

She rolled her eyes. "You men always think you're getting sons."

"I know," Jon said. "I wouldn't be making the assumption if I didn't trust Ghost."

Ciri yawned. "I won't go through another pregnancy," she vowed, "Alaric is the only one. If you want another, you'll have to find some other woman."

"I could never."

"Good," she said. "Now let me see that ear of yours."

Author Notes:

I know there's a lot of buns in the oven currently (and trust me, there will be more), but I promise they do all have a point.