What was long lost

Jon woke up sweating. The air was chilly but somehow his whole body felt like it was on fire. It was like this every time he had a dream, but these days they seemed so real he almost felt like he was inside them. He wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and looked out of the window. Snow was still falling. Today, he thought. His aunt was to come today to Winterfell and finally the North was going to have a Stark back as its Warden. Jon paced his room slowly, remembering the dream he'd had. It had been the same for weeks. He saw Winterfell when it was ruled by Eddard Stark, saw Robb and Bran. Even Sansa sometimes. Even though he knew his real father was Rhaegar Targaryen, he was still Ned Stark's son. Jon remembered him and Robb practicing sword fighting. The Young Wolf was his best friend. Jon remembered Bran. How the boy wanted to be a knight and he remembered the fear he felt when he heard about Bran's fall from the tower. Where was he now, he wondered.  But most of his dreams were occupied by his little sister. Arya. No, she is not my sister. She is my cousin. But whatever she was to him, Jon missed her more than anyone else. No one knew where Arya was. The Starks had sent ravens all over Westeros after reclaiming the North, asking about the She-Wolf of the North. Although no one ever brought news of her being alive, Jon couldn't lose hope. He wouldn't. She is a direwolf of the North. She knows how to survive. And the dreams where he and Arya had fought together and talked and laughed made him more melancholy. He looked out into the snow covered ground below his room. He wondered if Arya still remembered him. If she still had the Needle he gave her. Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Come back home, sister. His eyes felt heavy and his body started to slightly shake. Come back home to Winterfell, to your siblings. Come back home to me. ---------- "The Queen's here!" One of the workers shouted. Daenerys Targaryen came with a hundred of her men. She rode on a white horse; beside her were Ser Barristan Selmy, an Unsullied and a little woman who walked beside Her Grace's horse.  Jon stood there with Sansa to his right and Rickon to his left. Theon Greyjoy stood behind them. He had been accepted as a friend of the Starks after he had helped them drive the Boltons from the North. Rickon strode ahead to meet Daenerys at the gates and knelt before her. "Winterfell welcomes you, Your Grace," he said, in a manner not much different from his father. Daenerys smiled slightly and said, "Lord Rickon." She walked to where Jon and the others stood. They knelt and got up again. Daenarys eyed Theon carefully, and smiled at Sansa and Jon.  "Your Grace," Jon said.  The Queen smiled warmly. "Nephew." -------- "I declare Lord Rickon the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North." Rickon went on one knee before the Queen and rose. The Great Hall erupted with shouts of "Stark! Stark!" and "Daenerys!" and "Winterfell!"  The food was bought in. Jon sat with Ser Barristan on his left and Theon to his right. Sansa and Rickon and Daenarys also sat on the same table. The Queen was talking to the girl. Missandei was her name, Jon found out. A good friend to his aunt from what he'd heard. He remembered when Daenerys had offered to legitimize him. She said she'd give him a Lordship and he could live in King's landing.  "As a Targaryen should," were her words. But Jon had refused. "This is my home. It has been my home for as long as I can remember. I cannot go. Not for anyone or anything." "But you are a Targaryen." "No, I am not. I was born a Snow and I'll remain a Snow. If I ever have to change my name, I'd rather change it to Stark," Daenerys stopped asking him after that and Jon was grateful for it. Jon remembered Arya again. He remembered her fiery grey eyes. The last time he had dinner in this hall was when the King and the Queen had visited Winterfell. Everything changed after that. He remembered how that night he had decided to go to the Wall. I was just a boy then. A boy who thought he didn't belong. A stubborn boy. He remembered the night he had given Arya Needle. The shine in her eyes had told him how happy and sad she was. Just like him. They were just two stubborn children. Jon stood up from his chair. Ser Barristan looked at him, "Are you well, My Lord?" "Yes, Ser. I just need some air," Suddenly out of nowhere, Ghost came and nuzzled his nose on Jon's legs. "Ghost." Jon patted his head and walked out of the hall. Snow had started to fall and the chill was growing. Everyone was inside so the yard was almost empty. Jon felt the cold wind on his face and closed his eyes. Father, don't let me disappoint you, he prayed. Help her come back. "You miss her, don't you?" He heard Sansa's voice from behind him. "Don't you?" He asked softly. "I do, but-," her voice faltered a little. "You were closer to her than anyone else." Sansa laid a hand on his shoulder gently. "We all do, Jon," she added. After a pause she continued, "You should come inside. Its going to snow." Jon looked up at the sky. "I like the cold," he said. "I know." He heard her footsteps fade away after a while. Ghost was still at his side, but as it slowly started to snow, Ghost sat on the cold ground and put his head on his paws. Jon knelt and ruffled his fur. "Do you miss Nymeria?" Ghost stared at him with red eyes and Jon knew what he wanted to say. Just as much as you miss Arya.