The Pack Survives

by LordStark5

The year is 302 AC. Westeros is deep in the midst of the War of the Five Kings. One is dead, and another has seen the war turn on him so badly that he wishes he were so. Little does Robb Stark know his family is about to be the subject of a much bigger game though, with them being forced to align with unnatural powers to avoid destruction.

20. Jon V

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. Tomorrow would mark the fourteenth day since they had returned back to Westeros after their brief adventures in other worlds. He was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to cuddle up beside Ciri, so he could go back to sleep. But he couldn't. Even with Ciri, Ghost and Kelpie, they weren't safe here. Despite him trying to will himself to stay awake, he felt himself slipping into a dream. One that he had been expecting for a while after he had returned to Westeros.

In his dream, there was something familiar about the room. It was like the one he had dreamt of when his mother had come to him, just before Ciri appeared, yet now he had the chance to take 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. Absent from the room were any windows, but he still somehow knew that they were in a rather tall tower where if there was a window, it would offer a commanding view of the nearby lands. Everything seemed so familiar, like he knew exactly where this was, and what it all meant.

Except for one thing. On the table, sitting amidst the books and dirty dishes that had accumulated, there was a red mask.

"Mother," Jon called out, possessing control of his own voice. This was her place, but he couldn't see her for some reason.

"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. As before, her hair was jet-black, and possessed a pristine quality, and her eyes were like a pair of freshly picked violets. But she was younger now, looking like she was about his age.

"What took you so long to come back to me?" he asked. "After I survived…"

"After the dream broke, I was too scared to look for you. You were in mortal peril, and I felt your spirit depart just a matter of minutes later." Ashara Dayne admitted. "When you came back… I figured that you were returning as a vengeful spirit, and I couldn't find the strength to face you again. At least until tonight." She took a seat on the cluttered bed and patted the spot next to her. "I know you have more questions for me, and I have answers. At least most, I would hope."

"Where are we? What is this place?" Jon sat down next to his mother on the bed. "Is this like one of Ciri's other worlds?"

"No, no," his mother said, with a sigh. "I don't have the same powers that your Ciri does. I'm just a simple sorceress, capable of creating and influencing dreams."

"An… illusion?"

"Not quite that either, Jon. We're in a memory. A memory of Starfall, but neither of us is really here. I'm far away across the Narrow Sea, and you're still beyond the Wall." He felt her nestle a little bit closer to him. "This is my home… or it was, anyway. This room is the room that I stayed in while I was carrying you and your sister. You were born here, and for a little bit, this was your home too."

"My sister…" Jon said. "You mentioned her last time too… you don't mean Sansa or Arya, do you?"

"No… but they will always be sisters to you, regardless, just as the boys you were raised with will always be your brothers." She shook her head. "I suppose you don't remember your sister at all, no more than she remembers you, Jon. But your sister's name is Allyria."

Jon tried to remember if he'd ever met any woman named Allyria before, or if he'd heard Lord Eddard speak of one. The closest he could think of was a Queen Allyria, who had been a wife to one of the old Kings of Winter before Aegon's Conquest, but she only ever existed in Old Nan's stories. Even Maester Luwin was unsure if she actually existed.

His mother seemed to recognize how he was struggling with that. "Allyria is your twin sister, but it's alright if you don't remember her. I'm sure Ned never told you that part, the same as he never told you that I was your mother or that Brandon was your father."

"Did she… die?" Jon wondered. "How come I didn't ever get to know her?"

"Your sister is still alive, have no fear about that. I owe you a full length explanation, don't I?" Ashara Dayne's face seemed to get a little bit sadder as she said that. "When you were young, you probably were told about how Lord Eddard had become smitten with me at the Tourney of Harrenhal, yes?"

"He never mentioned you. But there were stories." It was Jory Cassel who had told Jon that Lord Eddard was smitten with Ashara Dayne at Harrenhal.

"You can still call him father. He raised you for your entire life- you don't need to pretend otherwise around me." She combed back some of his hair. "The truth is that while Ned was smitten with me, I wasn't particularly enthralled by him. He was shy and quiet… and I myself was young and beautiful and had no shortage of suitors who wanted my hand after I'd been dishonored."

"Dishonored?" How did you gain more suitors after being dishonored?

"Not… dishonored like I had been raped, or gave up my virginity to some peasant boy," she said, with a bitter smile. "I'd been betrothed to a prince… right until he decided to break off our betrothal, because he'd fallen in love with some bastard woman. My family's outrage was the only thing that prevented them from marrying, in fact." She studied him a little more carefully. "When Ned needed his brother to ask me for a dance, it was the brother that ended up appealing to me more. He was taller, more handsome, the heir, and… much more eager to take what he wanted. Ned presented himself as a bit of a hopeless romantic; the type who made all sorts of sweet gestures and tried to treat me like a proper lady. You might think badly of me for this, but I wasn't particularly in the mood for that sort of man."

"So you fell in love with Brandon," he concluded. "Then what?"

"Well… we made love and had a splendid time. We even said marital vows beneath the weirwood tree."

Jon was shocked by that. "But he was betrothed. He was promised to marry Lady Catelyn- how could he…?"

"It's simple really." His mother had a bit of a smirk on his face. "He didn't love her, and Brandon wasn't like Ned. I wasn't the first woman who he told that he would have preferred to marry instead of Lady Catelyn, though I do believe I was the last. Then after Harrenhal, we had to go our separate ways."

He was still confused. "You said Allyria and I were twins… children that you had with Brandon, but… when? You had us after Harrenhal?" Jon and Robb had always been very close in age, and he knew the Tourney of Harrenhal had taken place a couple of years before they were born. There was no way it was possible.

"No." Ashara Dayne's face darkened a little bit. "When your Aunt Lyanna was taken by Prince Rhaegar, Brandon rode from Riverrun to King's Landing to demand her return at once. When the Mad King arrested him, he spent months in those Black Cells, alone and in the dark. I decided to honor the vows I had sworn to Brandon, and snuck down there to be with him, talking to him, comforting him… I'm sure you can see where that led."

"But then he died," Jon recalled. He had not been told exactly what had happened to his grandfather and Brandon, but that they had been killed.

"Then he died," she agreed. "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. There were no tears though. "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. I remembered what happened to Lady Darklyn. So my mother and father decided to have me hide in a tower, this very room in fact, to keep it a secret, while my mother faked a pregnancy of her own so we could all pass my child as hers. Everything seemed to be going to plan… until you two decided to come into the world, looking about as different as possible. The trick worked with Allyria- in fact it has for twenty years now, 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 is why you gave me to father…?"

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." Suddenly, she kissed him, a light little peck on the cheek. "Gods, I… I waited too long. You and your sister are as old as Brandon and I were then- older even possibly… you're a man and she's a woman now." Her expression became sad again, and her tone became defensive. "I want you to know that I did not forget about you. I saw you… all those nights you woke up from a bad dream, and I know deep down you yearned for a mother's bed to crawl into. I tried to send happier dreams on those nights, and give you what comfort I could."

"Would you still do it?" That was the question that he felt was most important. "Would you still give us up?"

"I… don't know," she admitted. "I wish more than anything that I had you and your sister with me… I wish I hadn't given you up… that I had decided to admit my folly and kept you with me. I don't know what we would have done, but…" Her voice stopped, like there was something she was unable to say.

"What is it?"

"Well, for starters, you and Allyria would lose your loved ones that you have now. Rewriting your entire lives for my own want… it feels cruel."

"It's more than that," he realized. Perhaps it was the influence of this dreamscape they were in. Or perhaps it was just that he could read her well enough. But he knew there was some other reason.

"Truth be told, Jon… I think I would have been a terrible mother. I loved you and Allyria, you were my moon and she was my sun, but… I didn't have Brandon, and I think I would have been too scared to find another to share my burdens with." A tear started to run down her cheek. "W-what scared me was… the idea that you or Allyria might crawl into bed, after you had a bad dream… only to find out that I was trapped in an even worse one."

When she started to cry, Jon was unsure what to do. When he had imagined a reunion with his mother, he had always pictured her being glad to see him, and having a lot to say about her own life, just like she was. But he hadn't expected this type of honesty. Out of instinct, he put his arms around her.

"I-I'm… S-s-o-rr-y… J-J-o-n…" she managed to say between sobs, as he hugged her. "Y-y-o-u s-s-s-houl-d-dn't h-av-e t-to…"

"Help you with your feelings?" he guessed.

His mother nodded. There was a look of shame on her face. When he stared into her violet purple eyes… it seemed to trigger a dream within a dream for Jon.

He and Robb and a little girl, who must have been Allyria, were all playing together in the yard of Winterfell, while Lord Eddard approached. There was a look of dread on Lady Ashara's face.

"My lord," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The younger version of his father sat down beside her. He already seemed to have a frustrated expression, one that she seemed to bring out in him. "Maester Luwin said you did it again last night…" he began to say. "How many times do we have to tell you?"

His mother looked ashamed. "I… know, but… I was scared."

"I know that you were scared," he agreed. "I know your nightmares, Ashara, I do. I don't fault you for having them." His expression soured. "But you cannot keep taking the children to cuddle with when you have bad dreams. I understand that you don't want to be alone, that you need someone to be with you- but you need to find someone other than the twins. They're just children, they get scared when they see their mother is afraid."

"I know, I know," she said, whispering. "But I… have no one else."

"You need to find someone else," he replied. "A lover, a husband, a bedmaid, a friend… it makes no difference to me. But it cannot be your children."

Then all at once, Jon was brought back to his mother, and their shared embrace. She seemed to have settled herself a little bit in the moment he was gone.

"You were scared that…" his voice trailed off. "I don't think I understand."

"I have nightmares, Jon. Terrible, horrible nightmares. When I sleep, I see your father dying, I see Lord Eddard coming to Starfall with my brother's sword, I… remember the day when I realized that I was with child and how scared I felt… all my happiness and joy had turned bitter when I had you and your sister. I was alone, and so deep in grief and sorrow… I wasn't ready to be a mother back then." A fresh tear ran down her cheek. "I still don't know if I could make a good one. But even if I wanted to… you're all grown up now."

He frowned. "If you think you're ready now… I wouldn't be angry if-" he stopped again.

She shook her head slightly. "You and Allyria are my children… some days I have wondered if I deserved to feel happy, knowing what I had done."

Jon took her hand. "You deserve to be happy," he told her. He felt like she might have been referring to more things that she still hadn't told him about when she was alluding to things she had done, but it didn't matter. "Even if you needed penance, you've suffered enough, mother."

His mother gave a trembling nod. "I just don't know where to start, Jon." Her expression was still sorrowful. "When I gave you and Allyria up- when I faked my death- it was because I had a job that I needed to do. One I'm still doing. I wish I could reclaim any part of my old life, but… you and Allyria have gone this far without me… I suppose you were suggesting I might make a new family for myself, but you two still will haunt me. As will Brandon."

"You should start somewhere." Jon had an idea. "Can you come to me? In my dreams? Can you visit more?"

She looked shocked. "Really? Do you want me to?" For the first time he heard real, genuine happiness in her voice.

"Yes."

Ashara Dayne's face seemed to light up a little bit. "Of course, Jon… Of course I will." She put a kiss on his forehead, and then hugged him, pulling him back up to his feet. "Whenever you want." It felt like there might have been a start for them.

"Thank you." He hugged her back.

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. Even if it wasn't as he had imagined it- there was still a certain relief that came from it.

"I love you, Jon," her muffled voice said into his chest, breaking the silence.

"I love you too," he said.

When they broke apart, she wiped away a couple of tears from her eyes, and sniffed. Then she looked up at him, with a smile on her face. "Could you do something for me, Jon?"

"Anything."

"I don't want you to follow my path," she told him.

Now he was confused again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't want you to try to find me, Jon. Maybe I'll come to you, one day, but… you have your oath and vows. Even if you didn't, there are some secrets I must keep. Even from you." Her face darkened. "But I also want you to not follow my life either. I don't want you to be miserable like I am."

"I'm not," he assured her. "I'm happy. Ciri and I… we might be lovers, but… I'm doing what the Halfhand told me to do." At least in that strange dream I had.

She gave him a sad smile. "Changes are already afoot. At first I thought I was mistaken, that it was impossible, but… well it is."

"What do you mean?"

"Your Ciri doesn't know it yet, but she is with child. It's probably only a matter of days at this point, but I did detect the child. A boy."

Jon's throat suddenly went dry. "A child…" he struggled to say. "Our child."

"Yes, Jon."

"My vows… I never told her about them…"

"It's too late for an 'I should have.'" She gave him a hard look, like she was thinking back to her own experience, where it had been too late for an 'I should have,' for her as well. "The question is what you'll do right now. And… I want you to be certain that you don't do anything you'll regret. No matter how hard it is- I want you to promise me that you'll not abandon Ciri or your son."

Jon was dizzy now. "Mother… what am I supposed to do about this? How can I…" Then he realized his mistake. She didn't know what he ought to do. All she had was her experience on what not to do.

"From what I understand, Ciri is powerful… enough that she brought you back from the dead even." His mother sighed. "That's why you have stayed with her, yes?"

"That's not it," he told her. "She saved my life that night, and we killed an Other together. But she just took us to different worlds after that- where I could recover and where we would be safe."

She gave him a nod. "And she needs you, Jon, just as much as you need her. You're her guide in this foreign world, and someone who she needs to be able to count on. Whatever you do, Jon, don't let her feel like you've failed her."

There was something else gnawing at Jon. "Our child… our son… he'll be… a bastard, won't he? Like me?" He remembered how vehemently he had sworn to his Uncle Benjen that he would never father a bastard, the night of the feast where they had been celebrating King Robert's arrival. How angry the mere suggestion had made him feel. "I… I can't father a bastard."

His mother gave him a sad smile. "You were never a bastard, Jon. Not truly. And your child… he only has to be a bastard if you let him be one." She sat him down again. "I know it's not going to be easy, Jon… but I don't want you to be like me."

"But what am I supposed to do then? I've broken my vows, I cannot marry Ciri…"

"You'll figure it out, Jon." She took his hand. "In my heart, I know you'll find a way to make things work. Maybe not now, but… eventually. You still have a little bit of time."

Jon wanted to feel reassured by that. But there was another thought that crept into his mind. "What did you name me, mother?"

His mother looked down. "I called you Alaric, when you were born. After my father. My littles, Allyria and Alaric." The thought seemed to please her slightly. "When I gave you to Lord Eddard though, I encouraged him to choose a different name for you, since Alaric was a name that I obviously would have chosen. So he chose to name you Jon, after his foster father, Jon Arryn."

Another thought crept into his mind. "Could I name our son that?" he asked. "Would you be angry with me-"

"-I'll never be angry with you," she cut him off. "Being angry with you or your sister… I gave that right up when I let you two go. Naming your son Alaric, though… I would give my blessing, Jon." Her expression made it seem even more than that though. She wanted him to do that.

Jon wanted to stay longer. After all these years of not being able to see his mother, finally talking to her like this, even if it was in such an odd fashion, was a blessing. But he had his duty. "I need to get back to keeping watch," he said. "If something happens…"

She understood. "Good night, Jon," she said with a soft smile. Then with a wave of her hand, Jon was no longer back at Starfall.

The fire cackled in the center of their camp. They kept it low, just enough to give them some warmth, and light to see their way around in the dark. In the dim glow, he saw that Ciri was still asleep, with Ghost laying beside her, his head nuzzled up to her stomach. He knows, Jon thought to himself. He's known for a few days now, which is why he's become so protective of her, when he used to be so scared of her. He knows that she is carrying my child.

They had been traveling along the Skirling Pass since they had returned, making their way deeper into the Frostfangs. Owing to Ciri's insistence, he wasn't wearing clothes that quite indicated that he was part of the Night's Watch, which was how they had been able to make it through the Skirling Pass unmolested, despite the patrols by the wildlings. In fact, they had been able to spend a night with one of the patrols, which had a pair of men named Orell and Brageir, and a woman named Ygritte. Of course, they suspected something wasn't quite right about them, and Jon eventually had to reveal he was the bastard son of Eddard Stark, but since they didn't know he was part of the Night's Watch, it managed to go well. They received confirmation that Mance Rayder was massing his forces high in the Frostfangs, along the Milkwater, and the woman, Ygritte, had told them the story of a wildling king called Bael the Bard, who supposedly all the Starks were descended from.

Ciri had offered to simply take him back to the Fist of the First Men with her teleportation abilities, rejoining with the rest of the ranging party and informing them of what had happened to Qhorin Halfhand and his men, but Jon had decided against it. Not only did he want to find out whatever information the Halfhand had been trying to uncover, he had figured that returning to his brothers abruptly with Ciri at his side might raise suspicion. If they found his Uncle Benjen, or Ser Waymar Royce, or whatever information the Halfhand was trying to get, perhaps they could begin making their way back. But until then, they would continue on the mission like the rest were still there. After several more days of travel, and the lack of sleep due to watches, he was bone-tired now, but he was adamant that they wouldn't be using her teleporting abilities again. And now that he knew she was with child… he didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure if he should tell her yet or not. But if his mother's words were true, then they would be finding it out soon.

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. Of course, they had their mission, so it wasn't a possibility, but she always liked to make the offer.

"Would you help my brother in his war to the south?" Jon asked, feeling a bit curious now. "If you met me before I had taken my vows… if we stayed at Winterfell together, would you go to war with us?" They had discussed this matter similarly when they were in New Orleans of course, but he wanted to know about if she might fight with a more personal motive.

"I'm a witcher, not a soldier." She pursed her lips together. "There might be something I could do for you though, if that were the case… since you said the war was started after your father was arrested, I suppose I could have just gone and freed him from his cell. I guess we'd get your sisters too."

Jon raised an eyebrow slightly. He still hadn't told her the truth about who his mother and father were yet. Since the day they had met, he had told her that he was Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell's bastard son. Even now, he still didn't know when he was going to tell her the truth. "Do you think you would make a good soldier?"

Ciri shrugged. "I know some history, but I've never been in a position of commanding armies or troops. I'm good against monsters, and small groups, but I've never faced an army before. I mean… I suppose I could probably make myself useful in a war, but… I don't think I'd be as good on a lined battlefield."

"If I were caught in a war. A human war. Would you fight with me?" Jon asked. "Would you help me?"

"Hm… I suppose it would depend," she told him. "I grew rather tired of people constantly fighting over me in my own world, trying to force me to breed or force me to die, of which I had interest in neither. And you remember what I told you… how it just felt like I would go from one horrid world to another. It's hard to feel invested in any of them when you see it so much."

Jon nodded, recalling the stories she'd told him in New Orleans. "What if your Geralt or Yennefer needed help in a war that they were involved in?"

"Well… that would be odd, to say the least. Geralt is hardly one for soldiering, and Yen… to be honest, I think the only wars they'll ever fight are ones that I'm involved in, which is why I've stayed away. I just don't want to be involved in the petty wars of men anymore. I think I just prefer adventures like this… trying to uncover information about monsters and things like that," she explained to him.

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. Neither of them were too happy to be eating the same thing again, as they had been for a fortnight now, but it was the life they were used to.

They ate quickly, and when they were finished, they packed what little they had taken out in camp. The furs went into a bag with the rest of the clothes, which were attached to Kelpie's saddle.

On the night they came back, they had gone to Jon's original camp, and slept there. In the morning, they took the food and clothes they wanted, in addition to the various supplies that Ciri already had and the rest of the things they'd gotten in their adventures. His own horse, along with those of his companions were gone, so they had started riding double on her Kelpie.

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.

Jon still mostly wore his Night's Watch clothes, including the black vest, but Ciri had insisted that he wear the light green cloak that matched hers. Instead of a brother of the Night's Watch, he seemed to possess richer attire than most wildlings did, and Ciri helped him with the rest. Despite Ciri's reluctance, she had embraced the parts Yennefer had given her: the chainmail undershirt, the light green cloak, and the wool undercoat, among several other smaller changes. They weren't necessarily wildlings or free folk, as they liked to call themselves, but more like a pair of southron adventurers.

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 them. Jon nearly fell asleep as they rode, but he never could bring himself to do so while riding with her. He didn't know if he would have felt safer knowing she was asleep or awake if he did so.

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.

There wasn't much of a conversation between them. It wasn't until they stopped to eat lunch, that they started to talk again. "Jon…" she said, as she was giving Kelpie a pat, and tying the horse to a tree. "There's something I've been needing to tell you."

So she knows too. "You're with child," he guessed.

Her expression shifted. "Jon, why would you-" Her voice suddenly stopped, and she went white. "My powers haven't been working for the past few days… this… no, no, no…"

"Ciri," he called out, stepping towards her.

"Oh, by the devil… no, no, no…" Her voice quivered, and he saw a tear forming in her eye. "No, it can't be."

He reached out to her, trying to touch her face. "It's going to-"

She recoiled away from him. "I don't want you to touch me." It looked like her face was going through every possible emotion all at once, or maybe just the negative ones. "Don't follow me either."

Jon stood motionless for a time, watching as she stormed off into the forest. He wanted to go after her, and to stop her from going too far, but he sensed she was angry enough that she might attack him if he did.

"She's not leaving you," a voice said from behind him. "She wouldn't have left her horse behind if she was going away. And you heard her say that her powers aren't working."

He turned around.

The man looked a lot like Lord Eddard and Uncle Benjen, but it wasn't either of them. He had similar features, but was taller, and had a more handsome face. "Father?" he asked. How are you here? "Did mother send you?"

Brandon Stark shook his head. "I came on my own accord, lad."

"Um… alright," Jon replied.

"It's a special lass you've got," he said. "Almost as special as your mother."

Jon gave a hard look at Brandon Stark. "She's my friend…"

"Yes, and I think a whole lot more than that," the dead man replied. There was a careful examination going on right now. "I see you have a bit more Ned in you than there is me. Dear me, how in the world did you manage to look so much like him?"

"I don't know." The fact that Jon had always looked so much like Lord Eddard Stark was a large reason why he never had thought to question whether or not he was actually Lord Eddard's child. "What would you do in my place?"

"Leave her be. For now anyways," his father replied, without giving it much thought. "She needs to let off some steam, so let her. What matters is when she comes back."

Jon was still confused. "What am I supposed to do then?"

He shrugged. "You can figure that out for yourself, lad."

"Well… what did you do when you were in similar situations?" Jon wondered, deciding to change his approach. "You were with mother even when you were betrothed to Lady Catelyn… and you even had lovers before that according to her too. So… what did you do?"

"Hmm…" Brandon Stark put a finger up to his chin, giving thought to the question. "Well I actually had three lovers. My first was a girl I met when I was young, Barbrey Ryswell. If father hadn't cared so much about making alliances in the south, I might have married her, but not too long after I took her maidenhead, father betrothed me to Catelyn Tully."

"What happened then?" He didn't see much of a similarity, but perhaps there was something.

"I told her that I still loved her and didn't want to marry the Tully girl at all. But… I spent more time at Winterfell, and less time at Barrowton over the years. Her father tried to betroth her to Ned, but our father refused once he learned that I had taken her maidenhead, and instead arranged her marriage to William." Brandon shrugged. "I let her go, and found a different lover instead. A woman named Gerrena. She was closer to home, and I didn't have to worry about her father wanting to marry me off to someone else, or a great scandal when people found out we were together. All was well at least, until I met your mother. When I saw her… gods, I knew then that no other woman would sate me again."

Jon frowned. "Did you ever have a bastard with someone other than my mother?"

"Oh, I did," he agreed. "When I went back to Winterfell after Harrenhal, Gerrena told me she was with child. She seemed overjoyed with the prospect, even when I told her that I found a true love, one that I had an even greater fondness for than her. The child was a girl named Serena, but after the birth, Gerrena was sent somewhere far away by my father."

"And… did you have a woman who wasn't overjoyed at being with child? Anyone who reacted like Ciri right now?" Lord Eddard had not spoken often about his older brother, Brandon, or his younger sister, Lyanna, but from the stories he'd heard, Brandon Stark had been with many women in his time.

"Mm, yes, I suppose I did."

Jon stepped a little bit closer. "Can you tell me about it?"

"Well… when Barbrey's marriage to William was arranged, she was already with child. I was still there after the betrothal was announced, but once she realized she was having a child, she wanted me to leave." Brandon frowned. "Father was almost ready to disinherit me after that, and give Winterfell to Ned, I think. I think she hated it, but I wasn't there."

So being there is the first step, Jon concluded. "And what became of the child?"

"Robyn? You've never met her before?"

He was confused now. "Father never took us to Barrowton, I don't think. I don't remember Lady Dustin ever coming to Winterfell either." He knew who William Dustin and Barbrey Ryswell were well enough, since father would sometimes mention them, or discuss things about Barrowton with Maester Luwin or grandmother or Lady Catelyn where Jon could hear it.

"Hmm… well you ought to meet her sometime," his father said, waving a hand.

"Her mother probably would encourage her to hate me if they found out who I was, wouldn't she?" Jon wondered.

"You should maybe find that out for yourself, lad." Jon began to notice just how unconcerned with consequences his father truly was. The story of Brandon riding straight to King's Landing with a handful of friends to demand Prince Rhaegar fight and give up Lyanna had always seemed a little bit unbelievable, but hearing the man now… "You should go meet your sister."

And add Allyria to that list too. "Do I have any other siblings I should know about?"

"Mmm, there was that whore, Mariah. She left with haste after we bedded a few times. Maybe you want to track her down too?"

"Or maybe you should, since you're the ghost?" Jon suggested. "I think it might be easier for you to do it."

"Don't talk to your father like that, lad," Brandon Stark scowled. "If you were younger, that might have gotten you a thrashing."

"How come grandmother never mentioned Robyn?" As far as he knew, Lady Lyarra Stark had never left Winterfell once in the years following Robert's Rebellion. "If Robyn was her granddaughter too…"

"Barbrey wanted to keep Robyn all to herself, even when I offered to take the child. I didn't fight it." He sighed. "I promised her I would visit every few months at least, which she seemed to be fine with, but otherwise…"

Jon felt like he was beginning to understand how things had gone so wrong for his parents. Or at least his father. "Right…"

"I told you, lad, you'd have to figure things out with this lass of yours on your own," his father reminded him. "But she's special, Jon. I know you'll find a way to keep her."

He blinked, then Brandon Stark was gone.

How can I possibly be his son?

Jon didn't think there was much of anything useful in what his father had said; apart from the fact that Ciri was probably going to come back soon. That and the conclusion that his father was a terrible resource for romantic advice. The most glaring thing that he took away from that was how he needed to find a way to be with Ciri, or to avoid giving her and their child up, at least- however he possibly could. He leaned towards his mother's advice primarily, the fact that he needed to talk to Ciri.

So he waited. And waited. And waited some more. He prepared lunch, but after a couple of hours when she still hadn't come back, he was forced to eat it by himself. Jon started to prepare their camp too, getting a fire going and unpacking some things from Kelpie too. It wasn't until he was preparing dinner that she finally came back.

"Ciri," he called out as he heard the snapping branches which heralded her return. He took out a flask of water for her. As she came into view, it was obvious from the look on her face that she had been crying.

"Jon…" Her voice sounded very dry. She walked right over to where he was sitting across the fire, and sat in his lap, facing him, and burying her face into his shoulders. He put his arms around her, completing their unusual hug. She sniffed several times, while he rubbed her shoulders.

"Do you feel any better?" Jon kept holding her.

"Only a little," her muffled voice replied. It sounded like she did need a drink, so he pushed her off of his chest momentarily.

"Drink," he told her, offering the flask. "You're thirsty, aren't you?"

"Thanks," she mumbled, taking the flask from him. From her expression, he could tell that she was being truthful when she said that she was only feeling a little bit better. She took a deep swig, and gasped when she was finished, before resting her head on his shoulder, rather than burying it in her chest.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" He figured they didn't have much of a choice, but he still wanted to ask her first.

Ciri sighed. "I've not even missed my moon's blood yet. How in the world did you guess that?"

My mother told me. "Magic, I guess…"

"That bond you have with Ghost is what gave it away, isn't it? He knows about it, and that's how you found out." Ciri sighed, as if recalling how Ghost had been cozying up to her stomach recently. "I'm not sure how it explains my powers not working- my mama had her greatest display of power when she was carrying me. But… we were careless. Too careless."

Jon decided to start over with a basic question. "Do you want to have children?" She had mentioned not trying to have children several times already, but wanted to ask her directly about it.

She took a moment, before answering. "It's not that, Jon. I suppose if I were to find a child who needed a parent, like when Geralt found me, that would be one thing." He felt her poke at his stomach. "It's thinking that something is growing in me, it makes me feel weird and dizzy. And labor at the end of it…" she shuddered slightly. "It's all those who wanted to marry me off to this man or that man, so that they could get some baby to fulfill their prophecy out of me."

"I don't care about that. I don't want a baby to fulfill some great ancient prophecy," he promised her. "My vows prevent me from marrying or having children too."

Ciri sat back. "What?" She gave him a soft punch. "You forgot to mention that when I was trying to seduce you. Not that I was looking for marriage or children out of you, but… you should have told me that."

"I wasn't wanting to have a child either," he said. "My vows forbid it."

She scowled at him. "It's not the same, Jon. Men like you always get the luxury of walking away, leaving their children and the mother of them behind. You don't have to carry it for months, or fret about dying while giving birth. I do." A fresh set of tears started to stream down her face. "It's not like I even get a choice. Tell me, Jon, if I wanted to abort the pregnancy, where would I go?"

"Abort the pregnancy?" he repeated. "What does that mean?"

"Exactly," she said, with a frustrated tone. "So now I'm stuck in this world of yours, with a child growing inside of me, fathered by a man who was forbidden to take a wife or have a child even. Of the people I've met here, the only one who I know where they are still is you. I have nobody to help me, nobody to care for me if you go."

Jon was beginning to understand the fear she felt. She was utterly terrified that he would abandon her, and that in her current state, without her powers, she might not be able to do anything about it. "I won't abandon you, Ciri. Not you or Alaric. Not now, not ever. If they force me to send you away… maybe we can go to another one of your worlds?"

Ciri frowned. "Alaric? You already determined the sex of our child and a name for it without me?"

"I can't really explain it, but… I just know, the same way-"

"-You knew that I was pregnant?" She rolled her eyes. "You men always think you're getting sons."

"I wouldn't be angry if it turned out that we had a daughter," he assured her. "I just…"

"You sensed it, yes. It's not that I don't believe it Jon. If Ghost was able to detect that I was having a child this early, I'm sure it could also detect whether it's a boy or a girl, and all the prophecies I've ever heard have been about the possibility of me having a son, rather than a daughter." She sighed. "Where did you get Alaric from?"

For a second, Jon didn't know how to answer. Eventually, he decided to give her honesty. "It's the name my mother was planning to give me, until she gave me up. My father gave me the name Jon instead, for his foster father, Jon Arryn."

Ciri nodded, but didn't seem to call out the contradiction of Jon knowing the name that his mother had planned on giving him, while also not knowing his mother at all. "It's alright as a name. It's… sweet, I guess." She seemed to relax a little bit. "Are you scared, Jon? You told me the penalty for deserting the Night's Watch is death, right? What happens if they force you to send me and Alaric away, and I don't ever get my powers back? What do we do then?"

He looked into her eyes. "My brother Robb will welcome you both to his court at Winterfell. I wasn't forced to join the Night's Watch, like most of my brothers were, so maybe there could be some kind of arrangement made to have me leave… perhaps. But if not, I'll still be able to see you."

"Your step-mother wouldn't stop us from staying at Winterfell, would she?"

"No." He shook his head slightly. "Robb and I were always close. And Myrcella always liked me too, not like… you and I do, but… we were friends. Arya will adore you. The rest of my family… might not like you as much, but they'll accept you eventually, I think."

"Hm… or maybe I'll just join your Night's Watch myself," she mused. "I'll make it clear they can't refuse someone like me."

And what would we do with the child? "Do you want to keep going?"

Ciri looked at him funny. "Keep going… on our mission? To figure out what the King Beyond the Wall is up to, and discover more about these Others, which have been plaguing your world?"

Jon nodded. "Our other option is going back to the Fist of the First Men, and rejoining my brothers there."

She contemplated the question. "Well, it's going to be revealed to them regardless that you've broken your vows with me," she said. "I mean… we can tell them that I saved your life from the Others, which had killed the rest of your companions."

"That's not what I meant," he told her. "I don't know how long this mission of ours will take. I'm not a midwife… I don't know how to deliver a baby." He thought back to his conversation with Sam at Craster's Keep, however many months ago that had been, when he had brought up the possibility of taking Gilly with them to the Wall. "We have to get somewhere safe before the baby comes."

"I wish we could go back to Geralt and Yennefer," she said, mournfully. "They'd take care of me… us. Well… and I'd have choices with them too, and they could protect us, and…"

Jon had little doubt about that. But Ciri's adopted parents were in an entirely different world, where they were inaccessible now without her powers. "We can start back," he offered her again. "Once we're south of the Wall, you might have to go somewhere like the Last Hearth, so that there's a maester and a midwife to deliver the baby, but we'd be safe."

"Let's press on for now, Jon. I don't want to be ruled by pregnancy- at least not yet."

In his mind's eye, he pictured them months later, stuck in a cave, Ciri's labor beginning as a storm raged outside. If something like that happened, it wasn't going to be pleasant for them. "Just for now," he allowed, "but in a few months… we need to be making our way back south."

And that seemed to settle the discussion for them. After supper, they both went to bed, choosing to sleep together for the night, rather than doing their normal watches. If ever there had been a night to cuddle, it was that one.

At least until they awoke. It wasn't even dawn yet when they were both woken by a loud erupting roar. It wasn't like anything that he had ever heard before.

"Uhh, Ciri?" he said, groggily. "What was that?"

"Mmph," was her only response, as she accidentally hit him in the face with the back of her hand. "Oh sorry… that roar…"

"That was a giant, wasn't it?" Jon speculated, as they started to stir. They did have stories of giants in this world at least- and if the stories that the wildling woman Ygritte had told them were true, then perhaps they had accidentally made camp not too far from one.

"Could be," she agreed, "maybe it's a different kind of monster."

His stomach was rumbling while they got ready. If there was a monster, they had to get ready quickly, so breaking their fast would have to wait. "We're going to run away from the monster, right?"

Ciri looked at him like he was crazy. "Are you kidding? I'm a witcher- it's my job to hunt monsters like this." She was busy tucking things into Kelpie's saddlebags. "Besides- even if we don't kill it, I want to know information about it. Maybe get insight on the monsters of this world."

"Yes, but… our child."

She shook her head, causing Jon to expect a scathing response. However, her tone was relatively soft and thoughtful. "Think about it this way, Jon. If that monster is tracking us, we're better off killing it now, where I'm still in my own best condition. And if not- think about how many lives it might be capable of snuffing out, how many parents and children it might take. Risking our lives is part of the job of being a witcher- that doesn't change."

"I'm not a witcher," Jon retorted. "I'm a brother of the Night's Watch, I guard the realms of men…" Maester Aemon's words rang in his mind again. Brothers of the Night's Watch weren't supposed to have families because of how it could hinder their ability to do their duty.

"From threats like wildlings, and the Others. Why shouldn't monsters be part of that?" She pulled out his sword belt from one of their bags, and handed it to him. "You're going to be a witcher now, just like me."

It was clear to Jon that her convictions were firm. She would not bend on this. At least not now. But there was something else that bothered him.

They'd fallen asleep with their full outfits on, as had been usual for them in the days since their return, so it was mostly just things like getting their swords on and putting on their cloaks and belts. After that, they had to finish packing their camp up. Just as they were finishing up, another roar came from the distance, as the sun had risen significantly on the horizon.

"Jon," he heard her say, after that. He turned and saw she was sitting on a log. "Come here."

He did as she asked. There seemed to be a bit of melancholy in her face now. "Are you alright, Ciri? Is there something bothering you?"

She rose and gave him a hug. "I love you, Jon," she whispered in his ear. "I really do, even if I… sometimes make it hard to tell." Then he felt her warm lips give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Let's talk on the way," he suggested as they split.

The roar was tremendously loud, but it was hard to pin exactly where it had come from, so there was no telling how long they would actually get. Since they were tracking a monster, Ghost went ahead of them. Jon and Ciri went on foot, while Kelpie was left to carry their things and served as their rear.

It was becoming clear to Jon that they were nearing the end of the Skirling Pass, and though the area was relatively flatter, if he remembered correctly from the map, there was a major patch of the mountain range that was relatively flatter than the rest. He suspected that they were nearing that spot now.

"Did you sleep well last night?" he began to ask as they went. "Do you feel better?"

"I do," she admitted, "I don't feel great, but I feel better. I dreamt of being with Yennefer again last night, but when I tried to tell her about having a child, I couldn't." She looked down at her stomach. "I don't feel at peace about it, but I wouldn't get an abortion either if I had a chance."

That was the second time she had mentioned something called an abortion now. "What does that mean?"

"Abortion?" Ciri hesitated for a few seconds. "I suppose you've never heard of it, or really seen anything comparable to the concept here. It tends to be more rooted in magic within my world, but otherwise, it's usually more of a technological and medical advancement. What it means is that women have the ability to end a pregnancy."

Jon frowned. "Wouldn't that kill the child?"

"Well, that's how people like to put it," she said, nodding, "it would kill the child, yes, but it protects the mother. It gives us a choice on if we want to actually have a child or not. If the baby is unhealthy, we don't have to labor with it, or if the mother has a health risk, it can save their lives. When women are raped, they don't have to potentially give birth to a child conceived by a man who violated them, and it helps women avoid having children they don't want."

"Or allow them to avoid having a child they have no choice but to give up?" Jon wondered. Would mother have gotten an abortion with Allyria and I?

"That too," she agreed. "To you, it probably feels like a way of life, but it's not easy for us. We get sold off into marriages, forced to birth children at the risk of our own lives, and get pressed into roles that we don't fit into. I get to be what I want as a witcher, and wield a sword, and don't have to deal with getting married off and it still can be hard for me sometimes. Now this…" She leaned against his shoulder. "I'm not going to give up my life as a witcher to be a mother once our child is born. Even if it complicates things for both of us, I'm not doing parenting by myself."

"I can agree to that," he said. Assuming there's a solution that lets us stay together.

Another roar came from the monster, indicating that they were on the right track. It sounded more terrifying as they were getting closer. Jon set his hand on Longclaw in nervous anticipation.

"Maybe after I've weaseled you out of this Night's Watch of yours, we can start a new path in this world, training witchers and fighting monsters together," she said. "What do you think of that idea?"

Jon was confused. "With a baby in our company?"

"I was six when Geralt was supposed to claim me and turn me into a witcher," she told him. "I was eight when my home was sacked, and destroyed, and nine when I arrived at Kaer Morhen and began my training. We'll be there to protect Alaric, but the world doesn't wait for children to grow up."

"So what would we do, exactly?" Jon asked. "Have Alaric just… witness all our battles? Would he just be strapped to one of our chests?"

Ciri frowned. "Well… I suppose we might be able to go a few years before then. It's not like we'll be seeking fights out or something, Jon, we'll be going to cities and reading at the libraries to discover what knowledge we can about monsters in this world, and I'll be teaching you how to be a proper witcher, things like that. Hell, if he asks nicely, I might even help your brother out with his war. Monster hunting isn't always about seeking out monsters either, and before long, Alaric will be old enough to accompany us on little expeditions and things like that."

"I think I understand." Jon had the mental image of him and Ciri having to chase down their four year old son on a ship right as they were about to arrive at Oldtown. "What about going back to your world? Would you take us there too?"

Ciri frowned. "Probably. Things weren't too bad with you and Yennefer… I don't know how you'd get along with the rest of my people, though." She held a hand up to her cheek and giggled. "Maybe I'll take you to Kaer Morhen, where I trained. You can meet Eskel and Lambert and Uncle Vesemir and all the other witchers I met there. Mmm, you could pass for a witcher too, I'd say. Those claw marks on your face- well you've got a scar like mine."

"Your scar," he muttered, "how did you get that? Training at Kaer Morhen?" He'd been meaning to ask her about it for some time now, but it hadn't come up.

She shook her head. "Somebody threw an orion at me. You've seen those, haven't you?"

"Ah… no?"

"It's a throwing star- nasty little thing too, like a star made from metal that's sharpened into knives, if you can understand that. I almost died from it, but… I was cared for by someone else who helped make the scar a little less ugly later." The way Ciri talked sometimes made it hard to tell if it was a part of her life that she looked back on with fondness or as if she wished to forget completely, and this was one of them.

"What did you do to offend him?"

"I existed- that's just about it. Because I was a princess, because the Emperor wanted to marry me, because I'd gotten myself into a bad company, there were quite a few reasons I think." She sighed. "I guess that's something I need to tell you with Alaric. You know that I was a princess in my world once upon a time, yes?"

Jon gave a slight nod. "I do. And the great Emperor of Nilfgaard married a girl who everyone thinks is you, making you the Empress too, right? That's also why Yennefer and Geralt said you couldn't stay there for very long."

"Yes," she agreed. "And it's not just politics either. Vilgefortz might be dead, and the Emperor may have let me go, but the Lodge of Sorceresses- they wanted me to marry someone named Tankred Thyssen, and give birth to a child that would one day rule a kingdom and be their puppet. I'll bet they wanted my child for its magical abilities too. I may have escaped their grasp when I took Geralt and Yennefer to Avalon, but there's more, Jon, way more."

He looked at her with confusion. "What does this mean exactly?"

"It means there's more to being just a father or mother with our child, Jon. It's more than raising little Alaric to have control of his powers, and teaching him to use them for good. It's about keeping him away from the people who would take him from us. Yes, they're mostly concentrated in my world, and hopefully with time people start to assume that I'm dead, or that the girl who is married to the Emperor of Nilfgaard is the real me, but people who want my offspring for magical reasons…"

He frowned. "If that's true, Ciri… why raise him like you've said? Why raise him like you were, as a witcher?"

"Because he needs to be able to fend for himself too, Jon. There maybe aren't any prophecies in this world about me or any offspring I have, but they existed in worlds beyond just my own, and there's no telling if they might start sprouting up here too." It started to look like she might begin to cry again. "You know what scares me, Jon? It's the idea that Alaric may find himself lost in a desert, like I did. That he'll end up at some hermit's hovel, almost dead and with his face completely ruined by a nasty cut. That he'll get beaten and abused like I was when I was with Leo Bonhart. That he'll have to watch friends and family members be butchered in front of him, all to send some sadistic kind of message." She wiped her face. "I don't want my life for anyone else, I really don't. I want to believe that we can keep him safe, that we'll make sure that he doesn't have to go through all that. But if we can't…"

Jon stopped them. "We're going to," he said with confidence. "We'll protect him, Ciri. We'll keep him safe."

She hugged him. "And we'll make sure he's prepared, won't we?"

"We will," he agreed. "He'll be prepared."

Ciri gave him a slight smile when they were finished hugging.

They continued for around five hundred more feet, until they reached the foot of a hill. It was surrounded entirely by woods, but the hill itself had no cover. Then the beast roared once again. "Do you have a better idea of what it is now?"

She frowned. "No… it's just a roar, Jon, loads of animals and monsters do that. And there's no telling how the ones you have in this world might be different from ones I've encountered."

"Right…" He looked around. "Do you think it's on the other side of the hill? Or is it in the forest?"

"No idea," Ciri admitted. "But the woods give us cover."

"So we travel along the edge of it?" he guessed.

"Yup- and once we've figured out if it's on the hill or not, we'll figure out what else to do." She started to think again. "Hmmm… maybe you go right, I go left?

Jon didn't like that idea one bit. "We stick together. We both go right. We'll be safer that way, and once we've figured out what it is, we can determine if we should hunt it or not, right?"

Ciri seemed to accept his logic. "Fine, fine…"

They left Kelpie behind when they started around the hill. Ghost traveled just outside the woods, since his white fur gave him cover, but Jon and Ciri were careful to both maintain their cover and keep a keen eye on both the hill and the forest itself.

"Do you think the monster might have something to do with the Others?" Jon wondered. "They have wights, maybe they work with other monsters?"

"I don't know," Ciri said, "what do your stories say?"

"The stories are old," he told her. He'd been told stories about the Others and the Long Night by Old Nan, but had always been at least a little bit dismissive of them. A little more doubt started to creep into his thoughts, since bizarrely, Old Nan's stories hadn't been as inaccurate as he always had assumed they were. "I don't know…"

"Alright, then deduce, Jon- have you ever heard an Other roar like that?"

"No."

"Wights are just undead humans, and this certainly isn't that either," Ciri continued to say. "So if whatever this monster is has to do with the Others… well it would be odd, wouldn't you agree?"

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. They both saw it, but continued on without a proper investigation or even talking about it.

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," he muttered.

Ciri gave him an inquisitive look. "You've seen one of these before?"

"No," Jon shook his head and made 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," she said, glancing over at the monster on the hill.

"The fire dragons at least… the ice dragons were said to be much bigger." Jon had never believed in the idea of ice dragons, but obviously now it was right there in front of him.

She flashed another curious look. "Did they also have feathers?"

Jon shook his head again. "They aren't supposed to be here. Not 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?" She rubbed her cheek. "Dragon lore is a little bit fuzzy in my world too."

"Let's go back now," Jon said, "let's just go our own different way and leave it be."

"Not a chance," she hissed back. "You saw those wolves back there, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"It's dangerous, Jon. And what if it's migrating? We didn't hear it last night, and it seems to be resting right now, so it's not like a giant chicken, calling out whenever the sun comes up. It's probably calling out to mark its territory after moving. Who knows what it might do if it encounters a group of people?"

Jon stopped listening part way through, as a dawning sense of horror overtook him. Slowly the dragon was lifting its head, causing his heart to skip a beat. Then the head started to turn its head in their direction.

"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 focused on them. "Go," she ordered, unsheathing Zireael from its scabbard. He also took out his sword, as Ciri tugged him forward just a little bit.

The dragon began to open its mouth to begin letting out another roar, and by that point, Jon and Ciri were already rushing out of the forest, going in separate directions. Where the dragons that Jon had heard true stories of would have been breathing fire at them, this one's breath cooled the air around them, as it tried to send a wave of frost at Ciri. Luckily, she managed to duck out of the way, and continued to charge at the dragon. He used the opportunity to keep charging as well as the monster had locked onto Ciri, though he intended to plunge Longclaw deep into the beast's side.

Jon was surprised by how easily he was able to get close to the ice dragon- considering that he didn't actually have the slightest clue how to fight a dragon. But his luck ran out when at just the last second, the ice dragon turned to him, and opened its mouth to let out a roar.

He fell to the ground in an instant, clutching at his ear. He felt like he was spinning now, and Ciri seemed to be miles away when she was crying out to him. Through luck, he managed to avoid the icy breath of the dragon, as he curled up. It felt like his ear had been ripped into pieces. The only sounds that seemed to register was a loud ringing and his own soft moaning.

Somehow, he managed to lift his head up just enough to see the fight that was ensuing. Either the ice dragon assumed he was dead now, or was going to deal with Ciri first, given the fact that it was back to trying to stop her advances.

Ciri managed to evade each blast of cold air that it sent in her direction, and remained thankfully unaffected by its roars. It was like she was dancing around as she approached, spinning, rolling, leaping with such a grace that Jon couldn't even imagine was possible. She made it all the way to the beast's underbelly, where she gave a triumphant two-handed stab upwards with Zireael.

Except, it didn't kill the dragon. Little more than the tip of Zireael had managed to piece the dragon's hide, and there was no blood on the blade itself. Had he been closer, all he would have seen was a web of frost that traveled up the full length of the sword to the hilt.

In response, the dragon tried to squash Ciri by sitting on her, though she anticipated it and was already whirling her blade in an attempt to sever one of the monster's legs as she lept out from under it. Unfortunately, like the underbelly, the hide of the legs proved to be too tough for her sword to pierce. 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 two.

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. He was completely helpless, and now she was laying on the ground right next to the dragon, completely unarmed. 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 slight nod. She picked up Longclaw for him and put it back in his scabbard. "A-are you…"

"I'm fine," she said, "a little cold maybe, but that's it."

She started to reach into her boot. Then suddenly Kelpie appeared beside her- and a few seconds later, the black mare had her head lowered by Jon, and was licking his cheek.

Ciri giggled, as she petted the horse's mane. "He's going to be alright, Kelpie." She pointed over to the corpse of the monster. "Look, I killed a dragon."

Jon was still confused as to how the horse had suddenly appeared, but he was having a hard time even talking. He figured this probably meant they were done riding for the day.

"Alright, let's get you over to the dragon," Ciri said, as he felt her grabbing him. "Come on." They stumbled over to the dragon carcass together. Jon nearly brought them down twice, but luckily Ciri was able to keep them going, right until she deposited him against the corpse.

"Cold," he muttered, feeling the temperature through his layers as he was sitting on the dead monster. "It's cold, Ciri."

It seemed like she didn't hear him though- instead choosing to go about setting up their camp, while he was just left to sit against the icy cold dragon. After fighting against the katakan in New Orleans, and now the ice dragon here, it was clear he had a lot to learn.

Very quickly, he drifted off to sleep, despite the immense pain in his ear.

"Jon," a woman's voice said, clearly, "Jon."

In his dream, he looked up. There was Ashara Dayne once again. "Mother," he called out. They weren't at Starfall this time. They were on a beach.

Suddenly, he was wrapped up in a ferocious hug. "Oh, you're my brave baby," his mother said, then planted a kiss on his cheek. "I… can't treat it, but-"

"I'll be fine, mother," he said, displaying a little bit too short of a temper. He was glad to see her again. "I am, really."

"You're saying that because right now you don't feel any pain," she pointed out, "if we were meeting in the flesh, you'd be singing a different tune."

"I doubt I'd be singing."

His mother chuckled. "Oh, you are right about that. Neither you or Allyria ever cared for singing."

"Allyria…" Jon repeated. "Did you ever wish that… you didn't have to have us, mother?"

She frowned. "You mean do I wish I ended my pregnancy like Ciri told you about?"

"Were you listening?" Jon asked.

"Mmm… a little bit," she admitted, "I wanted to see how you two had been handling things, and to get to know your Ciri a little bit better." She put a finger under his chin, and forced them to make eye contact. "To answer your question, Jon, no, never."

He was confused now. "But you said you weren't ready."

"I did. But that doesn't mean I didn't want you or Allyria." She put her arms around her neck, and was practically sitting in his lap at this point. "I was naive, Jon, so utterly naive to think that Brandon might actually have a chance of surviving the whole ordeal. But I knew first hand how mad the Mad King was. After Brandon's death… I was distraught, but… when I realized I was having you… it gave me just a little bit of hope."

"Hope," he repeated.

"Do you know what our words are, Jon?" she asked. "The words of House Dayne, not House Stark."

"I… don't," he admitted. Half a hundred different house words rushed through his mind, yet not a single one that he knew to belong to House Dayne. "What are they?"

"We Bring the Dawn," she recited. "I had my nightmares, yes, but… well I had my dreams too, dreams of a new Lord or Lady Dayne, who might one day rule the castle of Starfall. A Sword of the Morning, who might lead our house to avenge his father, killing the Mad King and ending his own power."

"But the Kingslayer killed the Mad King," he said.

"Yes, but in those days… the outcome did not seem so certain," she explained. "The Rebellion looked like a defeated cause- the North coming from a hard winter, was in no position to muster its strength, the Riverlands… well almost all the kingdom was still loyalist, even if the Tullys weren't. The Stormlands were majority loyalist too , and the Vale… it had loyalists of its own, but those didn't seem to be as mighty. Even with that- the Vale wasn't going to be enough to defeat the Targaryen Dynasty." She looked over him, with a little pride in her eyes. "If I'd found a way to get Brandon out… maybe we could have gone somewhere together, made a life of our own somewhere, with you and Allyria too. It was Brandon missing that made it so hard, but… I think we could have managed together."

"You think so?" Jon wondered. "What do you think it would have been like?"

His mother gave him a sad smile. "I don't know," she confessed. "I'm certain that you and Allyria would be different- since neither of you were raised in the way we would have raised you."

Jon thought about the conversation he'd had with Brandon Stark the day before. "I figured as much."

A tear was starting to form in her eyes. "But that doesn't mean I'm not proud of who you are, Jon. Gods, you're about as close to perfect as I could have imagined."

His heart swelled just a little. He couldn't even remember how long he'd been waiting to hear something like that. "Thank you, mother."

"I know you'll be wonderful for Ciri- everything that she could ever want in a man," she said, smiling again. "And I know you'll be a wonderful father, Jon."

Author Notes:

Thanks for reading!