NOTE: Heya folks! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I went through some kind of desert-like phase regarding my writing. It had been very hard to go back to this story and to try to edit it again. But I went back to the beginning and read myself again and somehow it cured whatever trouble I had!
This chapter is interesting. I definetly like that version better than whaterver happened before. I cut a lot of unecessary rambling as we are in another point of view and I tried to make it more action-centred as opposed to all the contemplation I seemed to do recently. How didn't anyone said how annoying I was with that xD
Anyway, hope you'll like that!

Chapter 9: Uncomfortable truth

Fourth week of the Fifth month of the year 297 a.c

Winterfell

Jon Snow

"What are you doing here?"

Kyria giggled, and rubbed Rickon's head affectionately. The boy chirped and threw his little body right back into his sister's arms, almost falling from the saddle he was perched on in the process. He snuggled behind her thick hair with a high giggle. She barely twitched, her clever eyes jumping from one place to the other around the yard.

"I followed Arya outside."

"Why? Tired of sewing?" smiled Robb from his place next to the targets.

He was looking for all of Bran's missed arrows plucked here and there around the target. On the other side of the training yard, up in the catwalk, Jon could recognize their father's silhouette walking away in large steps. He didn't dare look up to Lady Catelyn, whose glare was still burning his shoulders.

"I wanted to see… something."

"Something?"

Kyria shrugged mysteriously but didn't lose her smile. It was strange to see a smile after months of grim depressed moods and heartbreaking tears. Old Nan's story worked a miracle on his sister. She was convinced it was the explanation behind her dreams. Jon wasn't so sure. But he couldn't tell her that. She was happy, maybe for the first time since she fell from that tree. Who was he to take that from her?

Arya ran next to them with a high-pitched laugh, voluntarily splashing mud close to Kyria, Bran quick on her heels.

"Is she still angry with you?" asked Robb to their sister, handing the arrows to Jon who dutifully pulled them back into their barn.

"I don't know what I did to her…" was Kyria's only answer.

"Lord Robb!"

The three of them turned. An armored soldier was quickly making its way to them.

"They caught the deserter."

Jon looked back at his sister, confused. Kyria blinked back innocently. Robb was ready to demand more details but the soldier stopped in front of them, almost out of breath.

"Your Lord Father demands your presence my Lord, Snow," breathed the man, " A deserter of the Night's watch had been caught by House Umber. You are asked to assist to the execution."

Jon blinked again. Did she just- How-

What happened?

Robb nodded and dragged the man farther, one look lingering on Kyria's growing smile suspiciously. Jon stayed behind.

"How did you know that?"

Kyria shrugged.

"I just knew," she smiled.

That smile again. She was so frustrating sometimes! Acting mysterious like that with her visions or dreams or whatever. She wasn't even sure those things were actual prophetic dreams and not just nightmares!

"My Lord…"

"Yes, we're coming," agreed Robb with a frown.

"No, my Lord, your Lord father asked for Lord Bran to accompany us."

Jon looked at the younger boy, still happily running after Arya. Bran? Really? He was still so young though… Why would father want to have him with them? Wasn't it too soon?

Watching Father execute someone was like a rite of passage. Robb did it when he was ten and one name days, just like Jon did. It served as a lesson their father was very attached to. But Bran was so young...

He and Robb exchanged confused glances. Why now?

"Winter is coming." answered Father as Jon mounted his horse.

Robb looked even more lost. Jon couldn't blame him.

The road to the execution place was silent. Solemn. This was a serious matter. Even Theon didn't spare a word. He knew the importance of moments like that and jokes had no places when a man's fate was to be sealed.

Jon stayed behind Bran, his eyes on the boy as he tried very hard to stay as still and straight as possible faced with the reality of a man's death. Of a life taken by their father's hand. It was painful for him to tell the boy not to look away. But Father would have known if he did.

"You did well."

Bran shivered but didn't speak.

Jon walked away as Father approached, knowing the rest of the conversation was not for his ears. He had learned that lesson already.

"What do you think then?" asked Robb when Jon joined him close to their horses.

"He did good. Better than you."

Robb snorted and pushed his shoulder.

"You were the one to look away, Snow."

"I didn't!"

"You did!"

"I blinked! It's different:"

"Of course it is,"

"Gather around boys, we go back home!" called Theon, stopping their quarrel.

His annoying smile was judging them, from atop his horse and Jon almost wished he could pull his feet to make him fall.

He didn't. But it was tempting.

The Dead stag in front of the old bridge killed any playful mood they could have still carried around. The large claw marks on the beast immediately alarmed the guards, and Father who ordered the chase of the beast. Something this big so close to Winterfell was no good news.

Jon followed his father's lead, a knot of nervousness on his stomach. What kind of beast could do something like that? A bear? This close to Winter Town? Highly unlikely… But then what else?

His mind briefly flashed back to the discussion they had with Kyria in the godswood. He tried to catch Robb's eyes but his brother was riding ahead of him, trusting Jon to look after Bran who now looked even paler, hands shaking on the reins of his poney.

His apprehension choked him as they had to descend their mounts to follow the traces of the beast farther in the woods. He couldn't describe what he felt, nor did he have the time to contemplate it.

Then he saw it.

The still warm corpse of the giant Wolf knocked something in Jon's reality. The six pups hungrily sucking what was left of her milk achieved to remove any expectation or understanding of the world Jon thought he lived in.

It was real. Magic. Stories. All of it. Real. The squeaking mass of fluff wiggling in front of their dead mother was the proof he had been waiting for.

Next to him, Robb was pale as fresh snow, his eyes not leaving the pups, even for a blink. Jon couldn't even think of something to say, looking dumbly as Bran quickly snatched one of the babies, wordlessly claiming it as his own.

"How old are they?" asked someone behind Jon.

The question ran a shiver down his spine.

Ser Rodrick and Jory Cassel looked at the pups seriously for a couple of minutes.

"We can't know for sure. Direwolves had not been seen South of the Wall for decades." answered the oldest Cassel with a gruff voice. "I would say… a couple of days. Two weeks maybe. No more."

Two weeks. Kyria had talked about her odd dream two weeks ago.

This shouldn't be possible. It couldn't. Why? Why now? Why Kyria? It made no sense…

Jon tried to say something. He looked at Robb, but Robb wasn't looking at him. He seemed frozen in place, his eyes glued to the pups. Six pups. Six.

Lord Stark had six trueborn children. Could this be?

Without their mother they couldn't last long in the wild. Leaving them here would condemn them.

The idea was almost painful to him. To kill those creatures… Direwolves pups, the same number as his siblings… it would be like insulting the gods themselves. Daring them to take his siblings from him.

Those creatures… They were Jon's proof. The proof he needed to believe Kyria. Believe she was something more than a troubled girl with nightmares desperate for a reason behind her fears.

She had dreamed of those pups. Somehow she had dreamed of being one of those pups.

Jon took deep breaths. Trying as hard as he could to remain calm and focus on the conversation still happening around him.

The words were out of his mouth before he could completely understand what he was saying. Whatever that was, it seemed like it convinced his father. Before long, Jon, Robb and Bran were taking the shivering pups against them, shielding them from the cold Summer wind.

Lord Stark made his recommendations, ordering them to take care of the pups themselves and Jon was ready to flee the place.

He was held back at the last moment by a whimper. Tiny and barely audible. Something moved at the periphery of his vision. Jon looked and almost swallowed his tongue.

A seventh pup, as white as snow. He took it in his arms. This one had its eyes open. They were as red as blood and fixed on him. Something clicked inside him, a piece of himself he didn't know was missing.

Mine.

"The runt of the litter!" mocked Theon behind him "That one's yours, Snow."

Yes, whispered his mind, mine.

Robb merely pushed his shoulder when Jon finally decided to move. The white pup was tucked under his doublet, against the thin shift he was wearing. The white fur was soft against his skin and Jon could feel his own heat spread through the little body, to his relief.

Jon barely remembered the journey back home. He knew he had to carry three other wolves with him. Robb carried the other two, and Bran had his securely cuddled in his arms. None of them talked, although it might be for different reasons.

When they trotted through the drawbridge, Kyria was there. Looking at them with a blank face. She walked slowly, like drawn to them, her eyes glued to Jon's arms. He knew, before she moved, that she was going to take one of his charges from him.

She did. The pup was one of the loudest, his little back almost black and his paws a pale grey that looked strangely white in comparaison. The little thing who hadn't shut up since Jon had first taken him in his arms grew silent once nested against his sister's chest. He nuzzled her neck and, if Jon was not mistaken, licked Kyria's jaw with the tip of his little tongue.

Robb took a step forward, as a single tear dropped from their sister's eye.

"Hello Frost…" she gasped, "I've been waiting for you."

The pup whined again and huffed in her neck. The twisted relief that broke her face was enough for Jon to be certain, if he wasn't before.

Those pups were the proof they had been waiting for.

Kyria was a greenseer.

It was a strange thing. To witness how every single one of the Stark children was drawn to the pups. Even sweet soft Sansa who took so much after her mother, immediately took on her own, a sweet little thing she called Lady, to Arya's mocking delight.

Even Rickon, as young as he was, had taken on his black little wolf. Even more surprising, the pup was just as enthusiastic about his little master.

But the closer were without a doubt Kyria and her pup. The little thing refused to be apart from his mistress even for a second, as the servants were soon to discover. The mournful, high pitched howls Frost made the one time one maid tried to put him out of the room awakened the whole family.

Lady Catelyn was furious. Jon, wised by past experiences, had run as fast as he could as soon as her face started twisting in her displeasure. He took Ghost with him, safely nested inside his doublet, and disappeared.

From what Robb told him later, the great lady's anger had been cold and unforgivable. Never before had she seemed more of the North than in that moment. As cold as a snow storm.

The admiration in his brother's voice almost tore a smile off Jon's face.

In her displeasure, Lady Catelyn had ordered every single one of the wolves to be thrown in the kennels. Unfortunately, for her mostly, she was met with the determinate obstination of every single one of her children.

It had been a sight to see. Every single Stark child, united in their determination, refusing to give up on the charges they had been gifted on. Rickon had been ready to bite his mother if she dared come close enough to take his pup from his little arms. In the end, the lady had to bow under the collective pressure of the Stark stubbornness. Lord Stark himself had to allow them to keep the wolves in their rooms. Lady Catelyn was powerless against the Lord of the Keep.

The following night, every direwolf was tucked safely next to their new master, in their bed. Father was proud. His entire litter of children, showing their Stark blood through the wolves they claimed as their own. Nothing could have shut down the light in his eyes. Jon had been the only one allowed to carry Ghost to his room with no trouble. Lady Catelyn didn't care about decorum when it came to her husband's bastard. In that case it allowed Ghost to follow him anywhere he went.

Knowing about Kyria's… gift seemed to change things around his sister. It happened almost overnight. The way the people around the keep would look back oddly at her when met with a wide smile instead of a tarnished face would have been hilarious in other circumstances.

When they were alone, Robb, Kyria and Jon, she shone through every conversation and argument with sheer determination, burning so bright it blinded Jon half the time. She was ruthless.

If what I dream about is a warning, as I think it is, we need to prepare for it. As much as we can. If we can stop all those horrible things from happening… we have to try.

In those strange days where they had to get used to the new presences around them, Kyria insisted on meeting every afternoon in the library, devouring book after book on every single subject she could think of. Anything even potentially useful in their future, Politics, strategy, history, geography, warfare… anything.

She was determined and more stubborn and pushing than even Maester Luwin.

"Why do we even do this?" asked Robb flatly against the table.

The mop of auburn hair on top of his head made a funny picture. As if growing out of the book he was mashed onto.

"Because we need to be prepared. If what I dreamed about ever happens we will need all the advantages and knowledge we can have in our possession." answered Kyria promptly, her nose glued to her own book.

"Kyria, we still don't understand half of what you're dreaming about. How can you know all of this is ever going to help us?"

Kyria blinked owlishly.

"What do you mean?"

Jon felt like it was a good time to add his own worries.

"Well, you have to admit there is little chance for… for someone like me to ever have any use of lessons about the way to manage a castle."

She squinted. Jon gulped. Oh my what had he done now...

"And what if Father offers you a keep? As his bastard, he could do that. There are far enough abandoned keeps around the North for that. What if you become a knight and impress your Lord enough he offers you a position? What if you join the Watch and become the Lord Commander?"

Jon gulped again. Oh dear...

"I- there is little chance for any of those things to ever happen Kyria."

"But there is a chance," she snapped stubbornly. "You never know what your future holds. Besides, if it doesn't serve you directly it will serve someone. It's never bad to know things."

That was… some kind of reasoning?

Sometimes he felt dumb when he talked to Kyria. He wondered what happened inside her head. This thirst of knowledge couldn't be healthy could it?

What could possibly happen anyway? the country was at peace, and half of the beasts Kyria dreamed about didn't even exist.

The worst they could face would be Winter, and they knew how to prepare for that anyway. Father threatened them with it often enough.

As he voiced such an opinion Kyria's sharp gaze fell on Frost who was happily chewing on the foot of the table, his large ears almost falling into his eyes. Feeling watched, the pup stopped and blinked up at them, mouth still around the wood. Then, seeing that no one was forbidding it, he resumed his activity drooling profusely around the abused furniture.

...Well, yes.

"Really Jon?"

Jon shrugged, defeated. One could never win against her.

Robb snorted in his book.

"No one wins against Kyria." he muffed against the pages.

"Do stop drooling on this book brother, you are supposed to read it, not eat it."

Robb moved his head so one eye was visible.

"I am contemplating my headache, sister."

She squinted again, and looked at her own book, a heavy piece larger than her head.

"I can ease that for you if you wish. I wouldn't want you to suffer. Much."

Jon blinked. Did she-

Yes. She was eyeing the book far too strongly for that to be anything else but a threat. Robb's spine snapped back in place, pulling him out of his moping and back into his studies.

No one won against Kyria.

Thankfully not all afternoons were spent around books. Kyria had maps. A lot of them. Far more than Jon ever suspected they had in this old tower.

When she was not forcing them to swallow books and books of knowledge, she dragged them in front of one of those to play war. Literally. With little wooden figures and everything. She made them think of possibilities, from different fronts, wars and battles, alliances and politics.

To be honest Jon quite liked this part. It wasn't as tedious as reading, and the exercise had the advantage of being more interesting than dusty books. It was kind of entertaining. It reminded him of Maester Luwin's lessons back when he was teaching them about past wars. Those had been his favorites and lasted up until Lady Catelyn stomped her foot down and forbidden him to follow Robb's lessons.

Having those again felt good. Sometimes, when Kyria wasn't there, with her mother or sisters, Robb and Jon played with the maps. Like children exploring a new toy. Old battles they used to love hearing about as children first, then new ones, coming right out of their minds.

How would you react if you were Harren the Black against Aegon Targaryen, what would you have done if you were Robert Baratheon in the battle of the Trident, etc. Those kinds of things.

The more they did it, the more Robb seemed to like it. And he was good at it. Far better than Jon. But then, Robb was good at everything.

"You lack self-confidence brother! It's your downfall! Every time!" had laughed the oldest boy after yet another smashing victory.

Jon smiled but didn't comment. He knew he was nothing to the growing leader that was Robb. One he would be more than happy to follow one day.

They started a new routine, every afternoon finding each other in the Library Tower and working hours long, on everything they could find. Until one day.

"The Godswood?"

Robb looked up.

"What?"

Kyria pushed her hands against the table, standing up.

"The Godswood."

"Why do you want to go there?" asked Robb suspiciously.

" I need some air."

...Really?

"You need some air?"

"Since when do you voluntarily stop a study session for some air?"

Kyria sniffed hauntingly.

"Since now."

Robb's suspicions were legitimate. In what universe would Kyria do something like that. Kyria never wanted to leave first. It was always him or Robb begging for five minutes to breathe or leave the room. Just to see something else than the walls.

One of her numerous massive books under her arms, Kyria all but pushed them out of the tower into the yard.

"Come on Jon!"

Jon followed. Ghost rolled his tongue out of his mouth and happily took on his master's and brother's steps. Kyria's quick steps put them on the way to the Godswood, much to the boy's surprise. She promptly fell on her usual place next to the pond, and opened her book.

Jon thought of leaving. The session was over wasn't it?

"What are you doing?" asked Robb as Jon eyed the tiny pathway that would lead him to an afternoon of freedom.

"I was thinking a change of scenery would be good for us."

Jon felt his brow twitch.

"Really?'

She almost looks insulted.

"Yes of course. Why?"

Why indeed.

"Because you never do things for no reason. Not when you drag us along with you."

Kyria looked offended.

"What is that supposed to mean exactly?"

Robb shrugged unapologetically.

"You are very determined with our education sister."

She huffed.

Greywind happily japped. Frost whined, and scratched the floor. Ghost sneezed. Very helpful input. Finally, Kyria seemed to drop her little act. She pouted and scratched the golden painted lines on the cover of her book.

"I.. have those feelings sometimes. It's hard to explain. It's like… something I need to do." she said slowly. "I needed to come here and to bring you with me."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Robb looked at him. But Jon had no answer for his brother. Kyria didn't seem inclined into more conversation, as she opened her book and started to read.

It took less than five minutes for Robb's curiosity to have the best of him.

"What are you reading ?"

Kyria smiled. She looked like she had been waiting for this question. Instead of answering she started reading out loud. Jon looked at Robb. Really? Story time now?

That said, as they reluctantly listened, Jon had to admit it was a pleasant change of scenery. The book apparently was about one of those Targaryen King's reigns. It took a while for Jon to know which one. Daeron the First. The one who died trying to conquer Dorne. Again. The whole thing was hard to hear for Jon. Why did he feel like he would have done the exact same thing had he been in the King's shoes? Hearing the disaster it came to be was nerve wracking.

Kyria paused after the Kings death and pressed a hand one the head lined pages.

"How could he have done things?" she finally asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think he could have won Dorne the way he tried to do."

Kyria looked up, waiting for him to develop his thoughts. Robb shifted in his rock.

"Well, Dorne has proved time and time again that it is as impossible to conquer for outsiders as the North is." their brother explained slowly.

"Why is that?"

It was odd how much she reminded him of Maester Luwin.

"Because they are too different?" tried Robb after a while. " We don't think the same way, we don't… we don't fight the same way. And I think it's an advantage."

Jon nodded. They were very different cultures. None of them ever truly take in the Andals way of life. Though each in their own way was influenced by it, the Dornish did take on the faith of the Seven, and Jon couldn't deny there were knights in the North. But all in all, they kept what made their kingdom what it was. None of the other kingdoms was that way. When Jon thought about the Seven Kingdoms, he always cut it into three main parts. The North, the South, and Dorne. Because it was how it felt for him.

"Do you think we could have been as independent as Dorne? If Thoren Stark hadn't bent the knee?" Asked Jon pensively.

"What with the titles?"

"Yeah... the independence, the titles, the way of life…"

"Well… with the exception of the titles, we didn't lose much of ourselves did we?"

Jon shrugged. His mind went back to his own situation. Would Bastard be frown upon had the Andal's beliefs not touched the North with their last king's abdication? Things were different for people like him in Dorne. Maybe they could have been different there too.

Well, none of that truly mattered in the end. What-if never helped anyone.

"Well, well...People."

They all looked up in perfect tandem. Ned Stark was slowly walking toward them, his thick cape brushing the floor around him.

"Hello father!" smiled Kyria.

Hm.

"What are you doing here my girl?" asked Lord Stark as he sat on the large rock under the Heart tree.

"Reading." she chirped. "I found it in the Library. The Life of Four Kings."

Lord Stark hummed.

"Why did you choose this book?"

"I thought it could be interesting to see the things one might not do if he wants to rule and command people," Kyria explained patiently.

Ned held out a hand and Kyria obediently handed him the book. He took a moment to turn the pages, thoughtful.

"Ah, yes… The Targaryen Kings… a very complicated book. What made you want to read it, Kyria? This kind of thing should interest your brothers more than you. A lady couldn't have to bother with trivial things like war and ruling."

...What?

Father didn't seem bothered by his statement. But it sounded wrong to Jon. It clashed very rudely with everything Kyria had shown them those past weeks. The sharpness of her mind and the quick ways she took upon any kind of knowledge. Like a sponge drinking water. Why couldn't she be interested in politics? Or war? Knowledge was knowledge. And Kyria had the mind to discuss these things. On a theoretical level at least.

For some reason, hearing Father say that worried Jon. Surely he knew Kyria's love for knowledge in any kind or form? Surely he knew how much she carved it?

"I found this book absolutely fascinating, father." She said, her whole face lightened up by the attention, " Not only is it a very complete and accurate tale of the lives of each of those kings, it also gives us a unique perspective of the war to conquer Dorne as well as tales of how it failed. It provides us with enough information to form some very precise hypotheses on the situation and reasons behind this failure, beyond mere strategy. Maester Kaeth's own reasoning is very interesting and I find it very edifient to pick the influences of his time and the Kings who followed in his analysis of the situation of each reign. Every King shows a different vision, a different side of what is ruling. I think that could also apply to a Lord and those perspectives are needed for any Lord wanting to take care of his lands in the most efficient way possible." She paused to take a breath and carried on before anyone could intervene, " Each of those Kings gives a lesson that can be used in many situations. The disaster that can happen when war and conquest take too much place in one's rule. How War can destroy your own land and power even when you're fighting it outside of it. Daeron the First lost his life because he loved war too much. The power held by the small folk with Baelor the Blessed, the influence of the faith of the people one is supposed to rule. And every moment of Aegon the Unworthy reign is a basic lesson of how to mess up the power you weild, and how to do everything humanly possible to be the worst ruler in existence."

Lord Stark chuckled. Jon was fascinated. That… was a lot of thoughts. She seemed so passionate about this book, Jon almost wanted to read it himself. He suspected her to be very aware of that power of hers. She used it from time to time to push Robb or himself into reading whichever book she selected for them.

"You do have opinions about Maester Kaeth's work." observed their Lord Father.

Kyria nod enthusiastically.

Father's eyes found his.

" Now as much as you seem to enjoy your time, I do not think watching you read is the most thrilling activity a couple of boys growing into their sword can find in their spare time."

Jon felt like gulping. Again with the strange uneasiness. Maybe he was taking it the wrong way but Father sounded like he found Kyria boring. As if they shouldn't bother spending time with her?

Maybe he felt a bit insulted too. Father made them sound like silly little boys more interested in hitting each other with wood rather than learning useful things in their smart sister's company.

Maybe he felt insulted because it wasn't that far from the truth? Guilt creeped through his gut. He had been complaining not moments ago hadn't he?

"I thought debating the subject with two people who are training in the art of War and strategy would be interesting. Especially for Daeron's passage. " answered Kyria without even batting a lash.

Robb coughed awkwardly.

"It is interesting; Father. I asked Kyria to walk me through this book. She was reading it earlier and I was intrigued."

Lord Stark merely blinked.

"Were you now?"

Robb nodded, unflappable.

"She started telling me about it the other day and I asked her to show it to me. Maester Luwin had wanted to make me read it a while ago and I wasn't really interested. But the way Kyria describes things is far more interesting than how Maester Luwin talks. And I am to be the next Lord of Winterfell. I want to do it right. I thought learning a bit more about the past Targaryen Kings and their different vision of ruling would help me find my own way of doing things? It could have some advice I don't have yet."

Lord Stark blinked for half a second. Then smiled, proudly at his first born son. Jon had to look away, disturbed by the taste of ashes in his mouth. He could feel the shadows creep around him, ready to swallow him back into the background.

"That is a very mature way of thinking, Robb."

Robb beamed.

"I want to be as good as you are Father when it's time to take on the mantle of the Lord of Winterfell."

Kyria made an odd sound with the back of her throat. Like she had almost swallowed her song. Frost sniffed at her skirt, his huge golden eyes shining with a shy ray of sun. Greywind yipped.

Lord Stark smiled again.

"And you Jon? Why are you here?"

Jon didn't answer at first. The innocent question hitting him right where it would hurt. Why indeed would someone like him want to listen to something like that? He was no lord. He had no future in ruling. What use could such a knowledge have for someone like him?

We have to prepare Jon. If whatever happens in my dreams really happens, we have to be prepared.

We prepare for the worst then?

In a way yes…

Prepare for the worst…. Maybe he could use Robb's words. It wasn't far from the truth after all.

"I- I wanted to prepare for… every eventuality." he finally said with some hesitation.

Lord Stark hummend and nodded pensively. His face looked shadowed for a moment, as he looked at Jon right in the eyes. He seemed to be looking for something with a seriousness that almost frightened Jon. Then his gaze dropped on the book still in his hands.

"You know… when I was a boy, your grandfather made your Uncle Brandon read this book entirely. He said that was as good as any training he could give him." Father said, his eyes lost in the cover of the book.

"He did?" asked Jon.

"Oh yes," smiled Father.

It took an hour for Jon to understand why they were in the Godswood. Father. Father was teaching them. About politics and war and maybe it was because he was their father but Jon felt like this had been the best lesson they ever had. Unfortunately, far too soon for his liking, a familiar cold shiver ran down his spine. Jon swallowed the end of his sentence and shrinked like a turtle.

Behind him, he could hear the soft whisper of a dress against the fresh Summer snow.

Her steps were slow and composed. She knew exactly where she wanted to go and every move was with that objective. Robb turned and certainly smiled at her but Jon glued his eyes to the black pool in front of him.

The steps stopped and Jon waited. The silence was almost too much. Then, finally she talked.

"Ned. Maester Luwin had been asking for you. A raven came from one of the Mountain Clans." said the cold voice of Lady Catelyn.

Father sighed and closed the book still in his laps. He gave it back to Kyria who took it without a word.

"I'm afraid the lesson is over for now children."

"Thank you father, for taking the time to talk with us." smiled Kyria.

Father nodded and gently touched her chin before standing and walking behind Jon, where his eyes refused to follow.

"My Lady", mumbled Father.

There was more ruffing of fabric and the steps of the Lord and Lady of Winterfell slowly faded away. Jon only looked up once he couldn't hear them anymore.

The three of them looked at each other for a moment, not sure of what to do now. Finally Robb stood up.

"We should go back to the Library. Maester Luwin won't be happy if the book is damaged by the snow."

Kyria nodded and Jon stood up to his feet. He looked around him for Ghost who had wandered around.

His eyes immediately found the cold blue stare of Lady Catelyn, still watching them at the entrance of the Godswood. The shiver ran down again and Jon gulped. The contempt was almost palpable in the air. He could taste it on the tip of his tongue.

He gulped again and looked away. But he could not chase the question that suddenly gripped his throat.

He was turning Five and Ten in a moon turn. How long would Lady Catelyn allow the personification of her greatest shame to live under her roof?

TBC

So? What do you think?
I like this one, because one, he is not from Kyria's POV, and I think this Jon POV really allowed another perspective regarding Kyria and her behavior. It's something else the old version lacked I think. A real understanding of how Kyria's powers and behavior could appear to others, Jon and Robb mainly. I mean, they complained once, and then we're done! It does not work like that!
The wolves as always are the best part of it all and I am SO HAPPY to have them back!
Hope you liked it!

Friendly reminder! I have a Discord server, that I created for this story, and any other I might post in the future! If you are interested let me know!
I tried leaving a link for it but apparently, it didn't work '-'
I'll try again this time, let me know if it works!

discord channels/ 854452482029387806/867860894913265684 (remove the spaces)

Alright this time I'm done xD See you next time!