"You're name, your real name, is Aegon Targaryen?" Sansa's voice shook out. Her words were soft, but Jon cringed away from them.
"No," he replied.
"It is…that's your name. Thats the name Aunt Lyanna gave you. Jon, don't you understand what this means?"
"Yes, but it's not my name," Despite the cold of the room, Jon could feel the heat rising in his face.
Winter had been upon them for mere months, yet he could already feel that it was colder than any other he had lived through. He could feel in his fingers, seeping through his worn gloves and down to the bone.
Sansa was staring ahead, her eyes glazed over. "Aegon Targaryen…"
"You're not listening to me, Sansa. It's not my name and it's not who I am."
Sansa blinked at him. Her hands were gripping the small writing table in front of her, her face was whitening by the minute. "But you just said that Bran saw…Jon, you're the heir. It's yours by right."
"Listen to me!"
Jon's words rang out across the room, clanging violently off the cold stone walls.
Sansa's mouth opened to speak, then closed again. Her breath hitched in her throat.
He sighed roughly and fell into the the wooden chair he'd recently vacated. His own words were still ringing in his ears. He couldn't deny the anger he felt.
He was angry at his father for not telling him the truth. He understood why Ned Stark had kept the truth from his family…from his friend Robert, from Lady Catelyn, from everyone. Yet somewhere in the anger, there was a clarity.
For two days Jon had stewed in it.
Bran hadn't said much when he first arrived back in Winterfell, but Jon wasn't even sure what to expect of the little brother he hadn't seen in years. The last memory he had of him was after his fall, so small and fragile, lying motionless in the bed.
He had assumed that Bran was simply angry and confused, just as Sansa and Arya had been over his decision to relinquish the North to Daenerys. But when he spoke, Jon hadn't recognised Bran's voice, and the coldness behind his eyes had scared him.
When Bran had revealed his knowledge of Jon's parentage, it were as though he were reading it from a book. He was stating fact and Jon knew in that moment that it was true and it didn't take him long to fit the pieces together.
It wasn't until two days later that he decided to tell Sansa. They had been through so much together, and he knew she was feeling uneasy about his return. He could see how she was struggling to control the things that were happening around her, and how the struggle was turning to fear.
Jon stood up out of the chair and cross the room in two strides.
"I need you with me, Sansa. I need you to know that I'm still the same person."
"Nothing is the same. How can anything ever be the same?" Sansa was trembling now. "You're a Stark, and a Targaryen. Aegon Targaryen"
"I understand that she was my mother, I do. I understand that was the name she wanted for me, but it's not true. I spent my entire life believing that I was a bastard, knowing that I wasn't Stark…and never could be. You may know me as your brother, Sansa, but I'm not a Stark. And I'm certainly not a Targaryen."
He looked at Sansa, he wanted desperately to make her understand. He could see the pity in her eyes, the sadness that she felt for him, as well as the fear and confusion.
"Just as you are not a Bolton, nor a Lannister."
Sansa looked at him them, eyes widening.
"When I left home for the wall, my name was Jon Snow." His voice was steady. He needed her to know that he knew everything now, all of who he was.
"When I came back home, when you and I took back what belonged to our family…my name was Jon Snow."
Tears were streaming silently down Sansa face.
"Stark. Targaryen. It's not that simple. It doesn't matter who anyone wanted me to be and it doesn't matter who I thought I wanted to be, this is what happened. This is our story."