The next morning, Jon did not get out of bed as soon as he woke, as he usually did.
Instead, he lay there staring at the dim wooden beams overhead.
All he could think about was Daenerys’s pale, helpless face and her bare feet, red from the cold.
His chest tightened.
I can’t help her.
Maybe Father can.
With that thought, he quickly dressed, pulled on his shoes, and left his room.
Winterfell still held the chill of the previous night.
A cold wind swept down the stone corridor.
The white mist of Jon’s breath drifted before him, then quickly vanished.
Avoiding the inner passageways of the keep where he might run into Lady Catelyn, Jon crossed the quiet courtyard corridor and went straight to the door of the Lord’s study.
After greeting Ser Jory, who stood guard outside, he raised a hand and knocked twice on the oak door.
Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
Eddard’s deep voice came from within.
Jon pushed open the door, stepped inside, then turned and closed it behind him.
Behind the desk, Eddard had just set down his quill.
He looked up from the parchment, and when he saw Jon, a flicker of concern crossed his eyes.
“Jon, what brings you here so early?”
Jon walked up to the desk and looked up at Eddard.
“Father, there’s something I want to tell you.”
Eddard smiled at his “bastard son.”
“What is it?”
Jon asked quietly, “Father, you said before that the things I saw in my dreams weren’t real.”
“But I dreamed of it again afterward.
That great white beast in my dreams…
is it really not a dragon?”
The smile on Eddard’s face stiffened for an instant before returning to normal.
Jon noticed the change and continued, “It has wings, and it breathes fire.
It looks exactly like the dragons I’ve seen in books.”
After thinking for a moment, he added, “I even gave her a name.
Frostflame.”
The pinewood in the hearth crackled softly, sparks flaring and fading, but the fire did little to ease the heaviness that settled over the room.
Eddard stared at the child before him, his voice unconsciously tightening.
“You gave it a name in your dream?”
“Yes.”
Jon nodded seriously.
“Her scales are as white as frost and snow, but her breath is as hot as fire.
That’s why I named her Frostflame.”
He lowered his head for a moment, then continued, “She’s always appearing in my dreams, and she’s very close to me.
Even touching her feels completely real.”
“But recently, something else has changed.”
Confusion filled Jon’s eyes.
Eddard watched him without speaking.
“There’s a girl in the dreams now.”
“Her name is Daenerys Targaryen.”
Eddard placed the broken quill in his hand on the desk and looked at Jon gravely.
“How do you know her name?”
“She told me.”
Jon hesitated before continuing.
“The first time she went near Frostflame, I thought Frostflame would reject her, like the dragons described in the books.”
“But she only looked at her once and then let her come closer.”
After saying this, Jon asked hesitantly, “Father, do you know who Daenerys is?
Is she related to me?”
Eddard was silent for a moment before asking, “Why do you think she might be related to you?”
Jon lowered his head, searching for the right words.
“Because she appears in my dreams.”
He raised one hand and gestured vaguely.
“And Frostflame doesn’t reject her either.”
“Her name is Targaryen.
Maester Luwin said House Targaryen once had dragons…
and it seems only people from their house could ride them.”
Jon pressed his lips together before continuing.
“And Frostflame is close to me too.”
“So I thought…
maybe she and I are related somehow?”
Eddard fell silent as he took in everything Jon had told him.
He had never expected that leaving Frostflame more than a thousand miles away would still fail to sever her connection with Jon.
Even more unexpected was that another Targaryen girl had now appeared in Jon’s dreams.
After a long while, Eddard finally spoke, his voice hoarse.
“Jon, there are some things I still cannot tell you.”
Jon looked into his father’s eyes.
“Is it because I’m still too young?”
He studied Eddard for another moment before cautiously asking,
“Then…
did I guess right?”
Silence settled over the study once more.
Eddard clasped his hands beneath his chin, his brow furrowed, and did not answer.
Jon already knew what that silence meant.
The vague memories buried in his mind had long ago led him to suspect such a possibility.
But having his suspicions all but confirmed by Eddard’s reaction still stirred something deep within him.
Jon lowered his head.
After a long while, he said softly,
“I understand.”
“You can tell me later, when you think I’m ready.”
Then he added earnestly,
“I won’t tell anyone.”
A trace of relief and heartache passed through Eddard’s eyes.
He rose, walked around the desk, and crouched in front of Jon, resting one broad hand gently on the boy’s shoulder.
“You understand far more than I expected.”
“Father, there’s one more thing I want to ask of you,” Jon said quickly.
“What is it?”
Jon looked into Eddard’s eyes and told him what had happened to the girl.
“In my dream last night, Daenerys told me that she and her brother are living in Braavos.”
“Ser Willem died a few days ago.
Some people took their money and drove them out of their home.
Now they have nowhere to go.”
Eddard looked at the boy before him, particularly the undisguised worry on his face, and already knew what Jon was going to ask.
“What do you want me to do?”
Jon spoke softly.
“Could you send someone to help them?”
“If they really are in Braavos, it’s so cold and vast there.
What if they have nothing to eat?”
He paused, then reached out and gripped Eddard’s sleeve.
“If she really is related to me, I want you to help them.”
Eddard fell silent as he looked into the boy’s worried eyes.
The oath he had sworn beneath the Tower of Joy all those years ago seemed to overlap with the clear gray eyes before him.
Faced with that hopeful gaze, Eddard thought for a long time before finally making his decision.
“I’ll use reliable merchant contacts in White Harbor to send several people I trust to Braavos.”
“Their only task will be to find the two of them and protect them from the shadows.
They will not draw attention, and they will not reveal any connection to House Stark.”
Jon finally let out a breath of relief and quickly bowed.
“Thank you, Father.”
He turned to leave.
“Jon.”
Eddard called him back, his expression stern.
“Nothing we discussed in this room today can be repeated to anyone.”
He paused.
“Not even Robb.”
Jon nodded seriously.
“I won’t tell anyone.”
He quietly closed the heavy oak door behind him and left the study.
Cold wind swept through the corridor outside.
Jon walked quickly until he was some distance away before slowly unclenching his fists.
Inside the study, silence returned.
Eddard walked to the window and pushed it open a crack.
The biting Northern wind swept inside with flecks of snow, ruffling his gray-brown hair.
Frostflame, the dreams, and the Targaryen girl far across the Narrow Sea.
Eddard stared out at the vast, snow-filled horizon, his expression grave.