As Jon, Robb, Theon, and Tormund made their way through the gates of Winterfell, the battle-haze was wearing off. In its place was the ache from using his sword, along with feeling something wet on his left shoulder.
They were met by guards at the gate. They threw the bodies to the ground; the guards made to remove them, but Jon didn't want them moved.
"Stop! We need to examine the bodies. See if they can be identified," he turned to Tormund. "Make sure they stay here while I go fetch Lord Stark."
"I'll stay with them as well," Robb insisted, and Jon nodded in agreement.
"Theon, you come with me, we need to tell Lord Stark what happened."
Robb and Tormund watched over the dead men while Jon and Theon made their way into the Great Keep and up to the family quarters. From outside, Jon had noticed the light was still on in his solar, which meant he was still awake, likely working.
Once outside the solar, Jon knocked on the door. "Enter," Lord Stark called out.
Jon and Theon stepped inside and closed the door behind them.
"I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, Lord Stark," Jon said. "But something has happened of utmost urgency."
"Sit down lads, and tell me,"
As they sat, Lord Stark handed them each a tankard of ale. Jon decided it was his place to tell the Lord of Winterfell what happened.
"When we left the Smoking Log, we were ambushed and attacked by four men," he said.
Lord Stark paled. "Are you both alright?" he asked. Jon and Theon nodded, even though Jon knew he needed to see Maester Luwin to tend to his wound. "Robb?" Lord Stark asked.
"He and Tormund were still in the Smoking Log," Jon lied knowing Ned wouldn't like it if he heard Robb had gone to the whorehouse. He just needed to remember to tell Robb and Tormund to corroborate the lie. "We left early as we thought Sansa and Ygritte would worry about us being out too late," he added. Theon nodded in agreement. "The men were armed."
"You fought off four men?" Ned looked at them with a hint of suspicion.
"I took one out, Jon killed the other three," Theon said.
Ned looked at Jon in shock. "How?" he asked.
"One with a dagger a keep hidden. That gave me enough time to unsheathe Longclaw. The angle one of the attackers came at me allowed me to slice through his belly just as I twisted. It was sheer luck. The other one I fought off," Jon explained, trying not to wince in pain. "I think one was distracted by Blizzard."
"Blizzard?" Ned frowned.
"He screeched," Theon explained. "Saved my life. I wouldn't have lasted much longer. I was too drunk," he admitted.
"Where are the bodies?" Ned asked.
"With Robb and Tormund in the yard. They heard the commotion and rushed out. But the men were dead by the time they got to us," Jon said. He wanted this over. He needed to check on Blizzard and see Sansa.
"Are either of you hurt?" Ned asked.
Theon cast a glance towards Jon. "Mainly bruises," Jon lied. "Although I think Theon is going to have a black eye for his wedding."
"You should both go see Maester Luwin," Ned commanded.
"I want to check on Blizzard and see Sansa first," Jon told him. The desire to see Blizzard was strengthening. "He is worrying about me."
"That screech was a lot louder than I've heard him make," Theon said.
Jon nodded. "I agree. He might be getting closer to breathing fire. He is angry and worried," Jon turned to Ned. "Can you find somewhere safe for the bodies while I go to the Godswood?"
"Aye," Ned agreed. "Do you want me to send Sansa to you?" he asked.
"I would be most grateful if you did, Lord Stark," Jon replied. "If you'll both excuse me," and with that, Jon left the room to head to the Godswood.
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Jon heard the cooing sound before he saw Blizzard waddling up to him. The dragon was eager to see him, and nuzzled against him, joy radiating from the hatchling. Jon walked over to the weirwood tree and sat down on the stump. Ghost and Lady curled around him, as did Blizzard.
Jon was overcome with an urge to clean his sword. He removed Longclaw from its sheathe and wiped the bloody sword with a handkerchief Sansa had made for him. The wet blood sank into the snow. At first it turned pink, before it returned to white, meanwhile Blizzard chewed on one of the blood red leaves before settling down beside him.
"Thank you for distracting them," Jon told the creature. "I think you saved Theon's life."
As Jon stroked Blizzard, then Ghost and Lady, the dragon sniffed Jon's injured shoulder.
"It'd nothing," Jon sighed.
That answer didn't quell the curiosity of the dragon, who nudged it. Jon winced at the pain. If any of the three creatures could have rolled their eyes, he was sure they would have done. Blizzard nudged his shoulder.
"Ouch," Jon frowned. "That hurt."
Blizzard nudged the shoulder again, confusing Jon. However, he soon realised the dragon was curious and wanted to look at his injury.
"Alright then," Jon sighed.
He pushed his cape over his shoulder, unfastened his doublet, and pulled his cravat to one side and the tunic from the shoulder, revealing what was a far deeper slice than he thought. The bleeding had yet to stop, although it had calmed down, from what Jon could tell.
Ever inquisitive, Blizzard sniffed at it.
"Are you satisfied?" Jon asked.
Blizzard answered Jon by licking the wound with his hot tongue. The wound sizzled as he did so.
"Ouch," Jon frowned, as he looked down at the slice, which had not only stopped bleeding, but it turned out Blizzard's tongue had cauterized it without burning the surrounding skin.
Jon looked at the dragon in surprise, who appeared to be quite pleased with himself.
"Jon!" he heard Sansa call out his name.
"Over here," Jon pulled his tunic over the wound and pulled the doublet over his arm. He was just adjusting his cravat as Sansa arrived.
"Are you alright?" Sansa flew over to him and crushed him in a hug. Jon expected to feel pain in his shoulder, but there was none.
"I'm fine. A couple of bruises, but nothing more," he replied, deciding to tell her the truth when they returned to their chambers. "Though Theon ended up with a black eye."
"Where were Robb and Tormund?" Sansa asked. Jon knew there was no point in lying to Sansa, for she knew about Robb visiting the odd whorehouse.
"Robb took Tormund to the whorehouse. Tormund claimed he didn't know what the Lord's kiss was."
"And Robb fell for it?" Sansa asked.
"Aye, he did," Jon replied.
"Who did it?"
Jon shrugged. "I suspect it was Bolton loyalists. But I saw no sigil on their clothes. I was hoping you might recognise them."
"I'll try," Sansa nodded.
"We'll wait until the morrow," Jon insisted. "He was exhausted from the alcohol, the adrenaline of the fight, and losing blood from his wound. "I just want to go to bed and sleep."
They said goodnight to Blizzard and Lady, who was looking after the dragon for the evening, while Ghost followed them back to their chambers. Jon didn't need to have a connection with Ghost to know the direwolf wanted to protect him. However, to Jon's surprise, there were already two guards stood outside their chambers.
"Your graces," the men said in unison.
Jon frowned. "Who sent you here?" he asked, not trusting anyone except his family, close friends, the wolves and Blizzard.
"Lord Stark did," one of the guards replied.
"It isn't necessary," Jon told them. "Go about your other duties."
The guards looked at each other, uncomfortable with the order. The one who had spoken before addressed them again.
"But Lord Stark…" he started.
Just then, Ghost pushed himself in front of Jon and Sansa, baring his teeth. The two guards looked on in terror.
"I said, it isn't necessary," Jon reiterated.
"As you will, your grace," the guard said as men bowed their heads and scuttled off, giving Ghost a wide berth.
They entered the chambers where the fire was already lit. Sansa removed his doublet, cravat, and tunic, leaving the top of his body bare.
"What is with the urgency?" Jon asked. "Not that I'm complaining."
"I want to make sure you have no injuries. I know what you are like. You get shot by an arrow and say it is nothing," she knew him too well. Jon needed to confess before she got mad.
"There was a slice on my shoulder," he told her. "But it has stopped bleeding, so I think it will be alright."
"Have you seen Maester Luwin?" Sansa cast him an icy glare.
"No," Jon admitted. "I doubt I need to. Blizzard fixed it."
Sansa stepped back. "How?"
"He, er… licked it. Then the wound healed."
Sansa didn't look convinced. "Show me!"
Jon removed the doublet, cravat and tunic, so that he was naked from the waist up. He pointed to the mark, which had faded into a silvery line, as if it were an old scar.
"There," he pointed to a faint line on his shoulder.
Sansa examined the scar. He knew she'd accept he was telling the truth, as she knew his body better than he did. After all, she'd explored him plenty with both hands and mouth. Jon's cock stirred at the thought.
"How?" she asked. Jon shrugged.
"I don't know," he said.
"I know he has healed it, but you should have gone straight to Maester Luwin," Sansa chastised him like he were a child.
"I know," Jon replied. "But Blizzard saved Theon's life, and he was calling out to me. I needed to see you both. But a worried dragon is much scarier than you," he japed.
Sansa folded her arms and glared at him, cheeks sucked in.
"Do not jest! We cannot risk your safety. Dying from a festered wound would be a stupid way to go. Didn't Daenerys first husband die that way?" she asked, every word becoming sterner and icier. Jon nodded, knowing she was angry with him. "Next time, see a Maester first. If Blizzard can complete the healing process, he can wait. I know you can reassure him with your mind."
Jon felt chastised, although he wasn't sure if Sansa understood the bond he had with Blizzard. Although similar to the one with Ghost, which she experienced with Lady; it was not the same. The connection went deeper. Blizzard was communicating to him without using words or images.
For example, he knew Longclaw's blade needed to be wet from the blood of those he'd killed. How Blizzard knew, he wasn't sure. Was it the blood of his enemies which sealed the wound? He wished Bran the Three-Eyed-Raven was here to ask.
Jon approached Sansa and took her hands in his. She turned her face away in anger.
"Sansa, look at me," Sansa turned her head, albeit with some reluctance. "Blizzard needed the blood on the sword to be wet. It takes longer to dry on Valyrian steel."
Sansa narrowed her eyes. "I don't understand. How did he know?"
"I know not how he knew this," Jon admitted. "For the first time since we returned, I wish the Three-Eyed-Raven were here to guide us."
"Mayhap we should pray by the tree on the morrow," Sansa suggested. "He might answer in some way or other."
Jon yawned. "Aye, maybe we should."
"Come, I think it is time for bed," Sansa sighed.
"Thought you'd never ask," Jon smirked.
"Don't get any ideas. You are lucky I'm letting you sleep in the bed and not on the floor. Anyway, my moon-blood has come."
"You know your moon-blood doesn't bother me."
"It bothers me. And I'm angry with you. We will sleep and visit the heart tree in the morn," she added.
Jon knew there was no point in arguing with Sansa when she was angry and her moon-blood had come. It would only anger her more. She would win the argument, and he would end up sleeping on the floor. It wasn't worth the hassle. Therefore, he shut up, undressed and climbed into bed.
Sleep claimed him the moment his head hit the pillow.
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The following morning, Sansa had cooled down. Her ire was followed by genuine curiosity. They needed to find out who had attacked Jon and Theon, but first she wanted to visit the Godswood and see Blizzard and Lady.
When they arrived at the heart tree, Blizzard and Lady were accompanied by Greywind. A rush of jealousy churned through Jon's stomach, which he knew came from Ghost, although why this was, confused Jon.
Blizzard flapped his wings and approached them. As he did, Jon was stunned by what he saw. The dragon must have grown over a foot during the night, for he was bigger than Jon. His body was filling out and his wings had grown. Soon the Godswood would be too small for him. Jon hoped Blizzard would be able to fly before they needed to move him.
Sansa stroked Lady and Greywind, as Blizzard rested his head on her shoulder. Sansa turned her head and glanced over at Jon, her eyes widened in surprise. All Jon could do was shrug. He didn't know how fast the dragon was going to grow before the growth spurt slowed.
"Haven't you grown?" Sansa smiled at Blizzard, who flapped his wings and jumped.
"I think he's trying to fly," Jon said.
"Soon he'll be breathing fire," Sansa sighed. "He's growing up too fast."
"It will soon slow, of that I am certain," Jon said, reaching out and stroking the scales, which shimmered in the bright autumn sunshine.
"Let us hope the existing Three-Eyed-Raven will be of some help," Sansa sighed. "I think we should pray to the old gods and hope he responds in some way."
"Aye, I think we should," Jon agreed.
They knelt on the soft snow, closed their eyes and prayed. Jon did not know what Sansa prayed for, instead he concentrated on his own needs.
We need your help. There are questions we need answered. Help with anything. In our last life, Bran was the Three-Eyed-Raven, and although I do not want that to be the case this time, we need someone like him. A greenseer to guide us.
The notion came to him, blood would be required for that person to join them.
Jon opened his eyes. Sansa was still praying, to which Jon was glad. He didn't want to scare her. Jon took the dagger from his hip and sliced his hand. He squeezed it, allowing the blood to drop into the snow, which turned pink for a moment, then like the previous night, the pink stain disappeared into the snow, which was as white and pure as before.
Jon put his dagger away and wrapped a handkerchief around his hand, just as Sansa opened her eyes.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"The tree wants blood. In exchange for my prayers, I fed it some of my blood," he explained.
Sansa glanced up at the face on the tree, where new red sap tears had appeared.
"I think you are right," she said. "Pass me your dagger."
Jon was reluctant to give it to her. He hated the idea of her hurting herself, however; he knew it would be needed for the greater good. What was a drop of blood if it helped save the realm?
Sansa ran the dagger down her hand, then squeezed it, to allow the droplets of blood to soak into the snow. Which repeated the same colour changes Jon had already witnessed. Sansa looked at him in shock.
"Did that happen to you?" she asked. Jon nodded.
"Last night and just now," he said, watching her wrap her hand in a handkerchief.
"It is almost as if we are feeding the tree," she said.
"Aye, blood magic," Jon agreed.
"Maybe Old Nan might be able to help. She knows all the old tales. She was right about the Others. We ought to find out what she knows of the weirwood magic before we search the library."
"First, we need to examine the bodies. Find out if you recognise any of them," Jon said.
Sansa nodded in agreement. "We'll say goodbye to the wolves and Blizzard, then see if I recognise them."
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Ghost and Lady followed Jon and Sansa to the Great Hall, where they broke their fast. Afterwards, Lord Stark led them to a cold cell, which was guarded by two of his most trusted men. It wasn't as if the dead men could run away, but to ensure nobody removed the bodies.
The cold cells had little access to the heat provided by the underground hot springs, and at this time of year, they were icy cold. Many were cleared out and used during winter to freeze meat and fish. They had been placed in the cold cell because the bodies would take longer to decompose, and be easier to identify.
Lord Stark remained with the guards to allow them time alone to examine the bodies. Jon carried a torch as they passed through the iron bars and into the dark cell. There lay the four bodies, looking almost the same as the previous night. Sansa leaned over, examining their faces. He saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes over the first man Jon killed.
"Do any of them look familiar?"
"His face is familiar," Sansa replied, pointing to one of the men. "He was at Winterfell whilst Roose Bolton was warden of the North."
"Is he one of Ramsay's or Roose's?"
Sansa shook her head. "I don't know. He was never around Ramsay like some of his friends. That one though," she pointed to the man Theon had fought. "He is one of Ramsay's Bastard Boys. I don't know his name, but I recognise his face."
That was enough for Jon. These were Bolton men. Either they were out for revenge for the death of Ramsay, or they had been sent by Roose. Not that it mattered, for Roose would not only deny it, but he had already left the North to bend the knee to King Tommen and kiss the arse of Tywin Lannister.
"We ought to burn the bodies," Jon said, coughing. "At least we know who sent them."
They made their way back outside into the brilliant sunshine, where Lord Stark was waiting for them.
"Well?" he asked.
"I recognised two of them," Sansa told him. "Both Bolton men."
Jon coughed again. His throat felt dry and warm, as did his chest. Mayhap he had gotten an infection after all.
"Are you alright?" Sansa asked.
Jon shook his head as he kept coughing. He doubled up in pain. The burning ran through his chest, almost overwhelming him. Then, as sudden as it had started, it stopped. He stood, realising the significance of what had happened. His face must have told them of his worries.
"What is it?" Sansa asked.
"It's Blizzard," Jon's voice was hoarse. "I think he's ready to breathe fire. We need to get him out of the Godswood before he does any damage."
"Seven hells," Lord Stark cried, as he and Ned ran back to the Godswood to Blizzard, who was flapping his wings with joy. For a moment, his body lifted off the ground before settling back down into the snow. Jon held his hand out to the dragon.
"Come Blizzard, follow me and we'll get you a leg of mutton. You can cook it yourself if you want," Jon suggested. "But not in here," he turned to Ned. "Go get him something raw from the kitchens, I'll let him out into the yard. As long as everyone gets out of his way, nobody will get hurt. Then we'll find somewhere for him to stay."
Lord Stark left the Godswood and Jon followed, with Blizzard and Greywind behind him. Once outside, they crossed over the lichyard and into the main courtyard. There, his uncle had a raw leg of mutton in his hand.
"Put it on the floor," Jon called out, as the surrounding people fled into the doorways, watching on in what they believed to be safety.
Lord Stark placed the mutton on the floor next to Jon, while Sansa approached Jon and Blizzard. They both stroked his neck, readying themselves for the moment. Jon nodded to Sansa who stood back.
"Dracarys!" Jon said.