HotD – Jon Arctic!

Lady of Winterfell was changed from Lyanna to Lyarra!

[Chapter Size: 2900 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Winterfell, 100 AC.

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The Manderlys had left a week after their stay in Winterfell, while Jon made the most of his time with them and had fun alongside Rickon and the two White Harbor twins, with Lyra always trailing behind them.

It could be said that Orys, Rickon, and Jon faced each other every day in the yard, trying to outdo one another. In the end, Jon was unmatched when it came to using a wooden sword, and even the master-at-arms could tell that he was finally beginning to show his talent — and would truly go far with it.

Lord Stark did not grow irritated by this. In fact, it instilled in Rickon a competitive spirit strong enough to make his son strive to improve more and more.

The news that the Good Queen had passed away reached the North. Lord Stark celebrated in an indirect way. Although he never said her name aloud, he drank and feasted on the same day the letter arrived, offering a grand banquet for everyone.

Jon did not know what to say about that, but he did not care much. What else could he feel for a queen he did not know at all.

In any case, the days went by, turning into moons, while he remained occupied with his activities, training, and studies.

One moon after the Manderlys left, he set out for the farm with the guards, as he did every three moons, while visiting all his relatives. Mari, Rickon, and the others were growing, and these visits from the region were always a cause for celebration at the farm.

Lord Stark himself always sent a stock of food from Winterfell for Jon to take to his family. Once a year, his violet-eyed grandmother also took part greatly in these visits, as she had the chance to see her children and also visit her grandchildren.

Jon would always spend the journey talking with her and the guards, and then return to Wintertown. Jon also visited his grandmother every week. She always offered wheat biscuits with warm milk at her home, which Jon enjoyed devouring.

His relationship with the townsfolk was not bad either. He knew many of them — many thanks to his grandmother — being known as the boy who was adopted by the Starks and lives in the castle. He was also well recognized. This could often be seen when he visited the town, many times being called a boy blessed by the gods of the north.

Lord Stark did not forbid his outings to the town, as long as Jon did not cause trouble or enter the brothel. The boy could always go out.

His parents also visited Wintertown to see Jon. He even took Mari and Sam to the castle once, where they visited Ghost. Although they had no contact with the Starks, beyond a greeting for being accompanied by Jon, they were fascinated by the castle.

The first time Sam saw it, he could not help but exclaim: "Wow, you really live in a place like this!"

Jon, on the other hand, did not miss the chance to brag, saying that he had a room at least three times bigger than the one on the farm, to the point that he could even run inside it.

Somehow, this had been the routine Jon followed for more than two years. Now, in the middle of the year 100 after the Conquest, Jon found himself in the hall of Winterfell, while all kinds of lords of the North were there, celebrating the harvest festival.

They also celebrated the stockpiles that Lord Stark, together with Lord Manderly, had ordered from Braavos, filling their reserves. There was no shortage of food to supply any part of the North, while the people had something to eat at lower prices than those practiced in the south.

Jon was seated at the high table beside Lyarra, watching the lords drinking and eating.

"Do you think the Tyrells will complain to the king?", Lord Karstark asked, referring to the food that had been acquired. Many southern stockpiles must have remained unsold, since the North had not bought from them, which could anger them and lead them to send messages to the king about the purchase of food in Braavos.

"It does not matter. What matters is that we stayed in line. Those bastards who charge abusive prices will now let entire harvests rot. We should do this every year!", Jon saw Lord Umber roaring, as always loud.

"Well, I will not disagree with you, Lord Umber. So, a toast to the south's losses!", said Lord Glover, drawing laughter.

Jon saw Lord Tallhart, someone he had known well even before coming to Winterfell, speaking with Lord Manderly about business. Even Lord Reed was present, something rare, since he hardly ever left the swamp. The man was usually isolated, did not seem to have friendship with any other lord, and remained there drinking in silence.

Even so, Lord Stark always made it clear that he was welcome — both he and any other lord of the North.

The mountain clans were drinking and shouting with the Mormonts, there were other northern lords, each in their own activities and conversations.

"Is something wrong, Jon?", Lyarra asked, seeing the boy playing with his food and looking toward the lower tables. He still shared a seat at the high table, no lord seemed to have a great problem with that.

He looked at her and shrugged slightly. "Nothing much."

Even so, she did not stop staring into his gray, piercing eyes, trying to understand. "Another dream?", she asked.

Jon looked at her for a moment and nodded.

In truth, it was not hard to notice. She had realized that he had been like this all day, ever since he woke up — somewhat distant and cautious about everything, even in the middle of the Harvest Festival, surrounded by lords and youths he called friends. He had even dismissed those same friends, Rickon and Lyra, preferring to remain more isolated.

"Do you want to talk about what you dreamed?", Lyarra asked.

"I..."

"Let me guess. You were somewhere distant... perhaps in Volantis?", she teased.

Jon had said before that he dreamed he was atop the Wall and had seen Castle Black. Another time, he dreamed he was in Essos and Yi-Ti.

To be honest, he had already dreamed of Volantis, but said nothing about it.

"No... it was a strange dream. Tell me, grandmother, what would you do if you found out that your whole life they lied to you? That they brought you down, even if it was to protect you... would you still feel that anger? Would you feel betrayed because you are not who you thought you were your entire life?", he murmured, while Lyarra could not help but raise an eyebrow.

"Where are these thoughts coming from?", she insisted.

"The dream I had was strange. I dreamed that the person I was... was meant to be a bastard in this castle, but he was actually a hidden prince, half Targaryen, half Stark... He was raised his entire life as a bastard, cleaning stables and being hated by Lady Stark, who tried to get rid of him in any way, even turning the servants against him," he murmured, while Lyarra remained silent, listening with some surprise.

"Well... that sounds a bit strange," she admitted, scratching her head. "Can you tell me more details?"

"He read a book on top of a giant tree. He read that a Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen had been married... and that they were his parents... then he heard a roar coming from behind him, and suddenly everything turned white, like a snowstorm," he murmured.

Lyarra stared at him with an arched brow. There was no Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark in these families at the same time, and he said he was on a giant tree with a roar — which was quite suspicious.

"Well... you really dreamed quite a story, but I still do not understand why that left you depressed," she murmured, while he tightened his grip on the fork.

"I felt all of his anguish... the anger, the feeling of betrayal... and all of it did not go away when the dream ended. I still feel it. I feel anger and sadness. Is that normal?", Jon asked carefully.

Lyarra touched his hair gently. "No, it is not normal... but whatever you are dreaming, there is something to learn. Your dreams are always strange. You seem to live them. It cannot be a coincidence that you feel this anger... these emotions are still reaching you for some reason."

Jon's dreams were something that had been discussed between Lyarra and Lord Stark behind closed doors. The boy spoke of places he had never been before, yet described them very well.

In any case, Lyarra simply sighed and turned her attention back to a lord who was calling her. Jon remained there, ignoring Rickon trying to call him to the dance floor, while he watched various heirs and daughters of lords dancing with one another.

Jon only offered a polite smile and then went to bed. He did not feel much like staying there.

"I understand your anger... I do not know why, but I understand it perfectly," he murmured with the memories of Jon Arctic discovering that he was Aegon Targaryen.

"What is each of these dreams supposed to be for me...? Why do I have them?" He could not help but wonder.

Jon was no longer listening to her. He was lying down, staring at the ceiling, his face full of conflict, thinking about that dream.

They wondered what that dream meant. Jon — or Ártica, as everyone called him in that dream, a name he was already used to — was never exactly another person, but he was not entirely himself either.

His dreams were like that: sometimes they seemed like events of an older Jon Arctic, other times of a younger Jon Arctic. It was all quite random.

Even so, he clearly remembered the end of that dream: Jon Ártica riding a white dragon and flying south. He wondered if he had destroyed Winterfell, where they intended to go, to appease his anger — what he truly wanted was to see his mother's tomb, and he even risked being seen riding a dragon at the time, overcome by pain and emotion.

After all, the first thing he did was want to see the crypts and see Lyanna. He wanted to see his mother's crypt, which he had never visited as such — he had only seen it up to that point in his life as that of his aunt who had been wronged. But now, he wanted to pay his respects and ask forgiveness for never having spoken to her as his mother.

Jon knew that this Jon Ártica had never had a mother.

That could not be ignored. No matter the time of the dream — whether he was a child or an adult — there was always that emptiness in his heart.

Jon could not help but think of Rowena, the mother of the Jon of this world. He could not imagine a life without her. Even being far away now, she was something in his heart that could never be replaced, just like his father. But Rowena was the caring face that Jon always carried with him, a face that reminded him of something like belonging, he came from that woman, he felt loved by her and Jon loved her in return.

He would hate the idea of never having had the chance to see his mother — the most important woman in the world to Jon. Perhaps he could understand, then, the pain that that other Jon Arctic felt in his heart.

He sighed and looked at the ceiling... "I never understand these dreams... what do they mean?", he murmured, questioning his dreams once more, as he heard light flapping of wings coming from the window and looked at his two birds entering.

"I am not going to feed you. So, good night." Jon simply turned his back to sleep, but the birds landed on top of his blanket, pecking insistently.

They kept pecking at him, until he knew he would never fall asleep like that.

"Ah, fine!", he complained, as he opened the drawer and grabbed the corn, pouring some over the bedside while they began to eat.

Jon soon turned over and went to sleep, entering once more into the world of dreams.

But that one was a bit different.

All he saw was darkness.

Then he saw a camp in the middle of a forest.

Until a growl emerged — teeth bared — and then everything returned to darkness.

He saw fallen bodies.

"Fall back! Fall back!", someone shouted.

Jon recognized that voice.

Another growl echoed, and he saw an enraged bear roaring.

Someone screamed, he was dying, the man's screams mixed with roars and the sounds of flesh being devoured.

"Fall back!", the voice Jon recognized returned. It was his father, holding a sword in one hand and a torch in the other, shouting.

The bear lunged at him with a fierce roar. It sank its teeth into his shoulder and roared. The man's scream echoed through the forest.

"No!", Jon shouted, at the same time the bear was about to devour his father right there.

Jon, in an urgent tone, placed a special force upon the bear, as if preventing it from hurting his father any further.

And the bear felt it, it felt a pressure entering its mind, like daggers. It frightened it, reminding it very well of a similar situation years before.

The bear simply ran in the opposite direction, leaving the man fallen.

Jon woke up in the middle of the night, frightened.

"No..." He had dreamed of his father, in a camp full of the dead, while a black bear attacked. Somehow, even there, he managed to stop the bear...

But his father... He saw him bleeding, falling into the bear's jaws, he was injured!

His father never hunted again in the black bear's territory. He knew how dangerous it was.

So why was the bear there? If that were the logical answer, then it meant that his father had never left his territory and had entered the hunting grounds of Jon's father — which was not near the farm, but was not that far either.

Jon tried to reason: perhaps, due to winter, food had become scarce, and the bear could have migrated in search of food, approaching the farm. Thus, it found his father's camp and the other men.

His father was the only survivor. He was there, fallen, wounded, with one arm almost torn off, and from the chest down, everything was crushed by the bear's jaws.

Jon panicked upon realizing that his father could die there. "No... no, no!"

He even startled the birds that were sleeping in his room.

A howl came from outside. Ghost began to stir, sensing his master's unrest.

"I have to go," Jon murmured.

It was clear what had happened. He needed to return to save his father.

He calmed Ghost first and then began to gather his things. He took a quill and ink, writing a note.

It was night, and the hall was still lively with the banquet. Lord Stark was there, so Jon went to the solar. There were guards watching the place.

"Hello, can I ask you to deliver this note to Lord Stark? I do not want to bother him at the banquet. Tomorrow he will see it."

With those words, the guards nodded, seeing no problem. Jon said his farewells in a friendly manner, slipped the note under the door, and made his way out of the castle.

Taking advantage of the fact that there were no guards nearby, he quickly went to Winterfell's armory, grabbed a quiver full of arrows along with the bow he used to train. He also had his own sword, which he had received two years ago in his parents' village — now much easier to handle, as his body had ten namedays.

Ghost let out a low growl as he approached silently.

"Let's go back to the farm urgently. We have to travel without stopping. Are you with me, buddy?", Jon asked, sounding quite anxious.

Ghost let out a low sound, almost a whine, but already seemed ready.

"Alright, then let's go." Jon slung the bag over his shoulders and climbed onto Ghost.

The wolf was not an animal meant to be ridden, but he was strong enough to carry a ten-year-old boy. Jon needed to position himself closer to the neck so as not to strain his back.

"Hey, Jon, what are you doing?", the guards asked as they recognized him.

But they did not have time to react. Jon dashed through the open gate, while Ghost burst into a run.

Jon headed southwest, where his old home was.

Whatever had happened there, he would deal with it once and for all. He only hoped to arrive before his father died.

Ghost left deep tracks in the snow as he ran without stopping.

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