Who: Arya & Ned Stark What: Making sense of the dream When: Sunday afternoon Where: The guesthouse Rating: PG-13 Status: Incomplete
When Arya called, he was just clearing the checkouts with three boxes of cigarettes. He hadn't smoked so heavily in many years, but he never used to have dreams of being beheaded or Lyanna dying in his arms. He couldn't make heads or tails of the whole thing - how could they have had the same dream? He remembered thinking about Sansa and Arya in those seconds before he died. Did it mean Sansa had the same dream too? But surely she would tell him, just as Arya had come running to the phone?
It wasn't a dream. It was like a flashback. He said so himself. That would make sense because the three of them must have been there. But how could they have flashbacks of a time they had never lived?
He got home in three minutes and ran straight for the guesthouse. He had left the air conditioning unit on and running for the past few days. It must have been ten or twelve degrees in here, and the cold air was refreshing and cleared his head. He tossed the Lucky Strikes onto the coffee table and went to the whiteboard towards the rear end of the building where he had been fleshing out his dreams, or flashbacks, or whatever the hell they were.
Glancing over his shoulder, through the glass windows to see if Arya was by the pool yet, he assured himself she wasn't there as he got his phone out and took four pictures of roughly each quarter of the board before he rubbed off the name 'Jon Snow' and the things he had written specifically about the young man. It left a bit of a hole in the bottom right corner but that couldn't be helped.
When Ned was sure he had erased all traces of Jon from the board, he stepped back out into the heat of the Sunday afternoon and lingered by the side of the pool, waiting for Arya.