S01 E01

Winter is coming

Part 1

Jory

People say dreams are delivered to you by the gods. Other say dreams are what you secretly hope for.

I think neither is true. I don't really believe in any gods (not anymore) and I certainly don't think the dreams I have are things I secretly hope for, unless I have some sort of death wish. I don't just see my death, I also see the death of others. Especially
/others. People never see their own deaths when dreaming. Neither do I. I always wake up before I die.

But that night my nightmare is different.

I see a black raven flying past the stables, landing on the archers target. It's turning its head, looking right at me. I am following it. For some reason it feels like the raven is summoning me, urging me to follow it. I have no idea where it is headed. The moment I approach it, it spreads its wings and keeps going, towards and out the gates, leaving the castle of Winterfell. Before the gates I hesitate. I'm not supposed to leave castle grounds without telling anyone. Yet the raven keeps calling for me, so I follow him.

However, once I'm out of bounds, I'm no longer in Winterfell or near the castle anymore. It's snowing heavily, but I'm not freezing. In the distance I see a huge wall of ice and a small „castle" in front of it. Lord Stark's Brother Benjen has told me enough about it, so I know for a fact, that that the wall is „The Wall", which separates us from whatever lies beyond, like Wildlings or White Walkers. But apparently the latter doesn't exist any longer. The raven is turning circles above Castle Black and suddenly, out of nowhere, a black horse is rushing past me, towards the Wall. It disappears just a sudden as it appeared and I wake up in my bed.

Whenever I wake up after one of my nightmares, I'm breathing heavily and my sheets are covered in sweat. Usually I get up, cover myself with a thick cloak and go for a short walk outside on the castle grounds.

This time my breath is steady, the sheets are dry, only my heart is racing. Cool air is entering my room, the candle next to my bed has almost burned down. I still feel uncomfortable after the dream, so I decide to take one of my night walks and get anew
candle. A perfect excuse for anyone who finds me walking around after I'm supposed to be asleep. Anyhow, I hate servants sending me back to bed; after all I'm almost 18. Almost of age and certainly old enough to make my own decisions.

I get out of bed and throw on one of my old cloaks, accidentally knocking over my sword. Luckily the sound is muffled by some other old cloaks lying on the ground, thank the gods. If there were any.

I take the candle and leave my room. Since I grew up in this castle, I know exactly which hallways to avoid in order not to attract any attention to myself. With the black cloak and my noticeable red hair covered by a hood I can easily merge in with theshadows.
I am quite experienced in the arts of sneaking around and not getting caught. When I was younger I used to play these sorts of games with Robb, Jon and Arya all the time. But now that I'm older, people have all sorts of expectations of me,such
as becoming and behaving like a lady. I've rebelled against these expectations as long as I can remember simply by skipping lessons I disliked, such as embroidery or sewing and instead practiced Swordplay and Archery with Ser RodrikCassel,much
to Septa Mordane's and Lady Catelyn's dismay. Eventually the Septa gave up on trying to make needles and silk dresses my friends and allowed me to learn skills like swordsplay, which in this world were meant for men.

Until this day, I've never actually worn any silk dresses, even as a child I strictly refused to wear those stupid dresses as they make it impossible to fight for one thing. And for another, no one takes you seriously if you wield a sword and then showup
for supper, dressed as a weak little girl. Instead, I wear dark grey leather breeches and and matching wams in black. On the one hand I like black, on the other it fits perfectly to my flaming red hair, the one thing I actually like about myself.

The castle has many exits, but you have to know which ones are not guarded. One of them is a small, wooden door close to the servants quarters, through which I leave the castle. I always walk past the stables. Sometimes I sit and rest on one of the hugebales
of hay, watching the stars and the moon. One time I fell asleep there. The next day one of the boys working by the stables woke me when I was pricked by his pitchfork.

I approach the stables but instead of climbing on the hill of hay I walk up to the box which holds my horse. She's a grey beauty, which combined with her temper resulted in the name I gave her. Greyfire. Robb said it sounded just mildly cheesy but I didn'tcare
back then. Not that I care today.

Greyfire is awake but it's the candle which attracts her attention. Slowly she turns around and greets me with a quiet snort.

„Hey there", I whisper and gently stroke her soft nose. Somehow I feel relieved and calmer now. It's always like that when I'm with my horse or just horses in general. They always calm me down, make me feel at home. Comfortable and welcome. The Starkfamily
doesn't always make me feel that way. Especially Lady Stark.

I never understood why she dislikes me. Well, dislikes is the wrong term. Evading would fit better. When I was little, I didn't understand why Lady Stark disliked Jon so much, until Eddard Stark explained it to me. Jon isn't their real child. He is an
/illegitimate son of Eddard which means Lady Catelyn Stark isn't his mother, which makes him a bastard. Jon doesn't know his mother and neither do I. My surname is Snow too, but I know I'm neither Eddard's nor Catelyn's illegitimate daughter. I don'tknow
my parents at all. I assume they're dead. Otherwise I wouldn't be growing up in Winterfell with the Stark family. I don't even know if I'm really a Northerner. I could be somewhere from the darkest corners of Essos and I'd never know. As faras
I can remember, I grew up with the Starks, being treated just like Jon. Almost a child but not enough their child to be properly loved.

People told me that some men sometimes send their bastards away to be raised among another noble family. I don't know if that could be my case.

All Lord Eddard Stark ever told me the one time I asked him about my family was, that nobody had abducted or taken me from my family, like Theon Greyjoy for instance. I don't know whether to feel happy or unhappy about that information. I am seventeenyears
old now and Lord Stark had adopted me as his daughter. Of course that didn't officially make me his kin but I didn't mind. I preferred the Starks over my parents, who I in truth hoped to be dead. Having dead parents was better than having livingparents
somewhere, who abandoned and didn't care about you.

„Can't sleep too?". My heart seems to miss a beat. I didn't hear him coming. I whirl around and face the one who spoke. A pair of grey eyes which match my horses fur, the pale but still pretty face always seems stern somehow, framed by lustrous blackcurls,
all dressed in black.

„Seven hells, did you have to sneak up on me like that?", I scold Jon jocosely. He approaches and I notice he's wearing his usual attire. The flickering light of my candle falls on his face and again it strikes me how much we look alike. We may not
/share hair and eye color, but our faces are shaped similar and we both have the Northern people's determination and hardiness. Some people say even I look like a Stark, even though we both aren't, with the difference that Jon has Stark blood and NedStarks
grey eyes whereas I have neither.

„Forgive me, my lady. I couldn't resist", he says.

„Why the sudden and especially pointless use of formality?", I wonder. Jon chuckles as he leans against Greyfire's stable wall.

„Just felt like it. You as a lady should have more experience in speaking formally than I do". I glare at Jon. He knows I despise being called a lady just as much as he being called „bastard", which happens daily.

I know Jon's just teasing me but for some reason I've always had a bit of a problem understanding jokes at times. But I know for certain Jon didn't say it to offend or hurt me in any way. We've had that conversation, well it was more a heated discussion,years
ago.

„So, what's a pretty lady doing in the deep dark stables at this hour of the night?", Jon asks. I shrug.

„Thinking, I guess. I couldn't sleep", I say.

„The nightmares again?", Jon asks. I nod.

„May I ask what it was about this time?", he asks. I hesitate.

I've known Jon all my life, we've been close friends since childhood, especially thanks to a connection no one else understands; being a bastard of the North, which means we both carry the surname „Snow".

It's not a question of trust which makes me hesitate, it's a question of interpretation. Jon is certain that my dreams aren't just dreams but some kind of future telling which I sure hope it's not since I've mostly seen death.

„It was different this time. It wasn't about death. For a change. I saw a raven and I followed it. I saw the Wall and Castle Black. A black horse running towards it", I say. Jon remains silent for a moment, lost in thoughts.

„Nothing else?", he probes. I shake my head no.

„That's strange", Jon adjudges.

„Doesn't matter. It was just a dream", I say. To my surprise Jon doesn't object which he usually does.

„Aren't you freezing?", he asks instead, pointing at my bare feet. I didn't even notice I wasn't wearing any boots.

„Not really", I say. We both laugh and our eyes meet. Somehow, whenever I look into Jon's eyes I see some sort of constant sadness. Like a puppy left in the open fields with nowhere to go. Even when he's laughing, the sad glance remains and it neverseems
to leave.

„You should get back", he says.

„Does that include yourself?", I ask.

„I guess so".

We walk back to the side door I came through in the first place.

„Good night, Jory", Jon says.

„Sleep well, Jon Snow", I whisper and we part ways. I turn and watch as he disappears into the shadows of the dark corridor.