Eddard Stark climbed the Tower of Joy, weak and exhausted with the blood of slain men still dripping off the end of his sword. No one stopped him, not after three men of the kingsguard – Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Gerold Hightower, and Ser Oswell Whent – had been killed by the wolf, and Ned made his way of the tower gratefully unhindered. It was a good thing; Ned wasn't sure that after so much fighting he would have been able to stand for much longer.
But it was what he had to do. He had to find Lyanna. He needed to get his sister back.
The setup of the Tower of Joy was familiar enough to Ned, even if he had never been here before he knew well how such things were built and his feet led him to wear he thought the bedchambers would be. "Lyanna!" Shouted Ned as he flung open the first set of doors he came to. But there was no one inside. Ned growled and forced himself to go onward, leaning heavily against the wall and leaving increasingly dark smears of red across stone where he brushed against it.
"Lyanna!" He would call out at every door, "Lyanna! Lyanna, please! Where are you? Lyanna!" Until his voice was a desperate plea for the sister he hadn't seen for months. It was rare to see Ned Stark so fearful, and indeed no one did for the moment he came across a young Dornish maid Ned's eyes were as cold as ice and his fear had visibly evaporated.
Ned grabbed the young maid around the throat before she could do much more than stumbled back in fear. His leather gloved hands dug into the dark skin of her throat and his sword was at her breast as he pressed her back against him. "Where is she," Ned growled in her ear. But the maid could only cough and whimper as the northern lord dug his fingers in so deep she would probably have the marks for months. "Where is my sister?"
For a moment, Eddard loosened his fingers and pressed his sword closer, smearing blood across her dress but it was enough for the girl to sing. "Go up the stairs and down the third hall; the Lady Stark's chambers will be at the other end," she managed to rasp and Ned growled in her ear before he flung her away, running as quickly as he could up the stairs and looking for the hallway. Ned didn't think that Rhaegar would have hurt his sister, he wasn't even sure that she was here against her will. But she was a Stark still, and had been in this tower while Ned fought against the Targaryens. The Mad King would have savaged her as he had done to Ned's father and brother, of that the young lord had no doubt.
He looked wild by the time he got to his sister's chambers. His hair was slick with swear and grit, and there were long gashes across his body. Ned's breath came in ragged breath and he staggered after he flung the doors open, almost falling and letting his sword fall to the ground with a clatter.
But he had eyes only for his sister, who was on her bed on the far side of the room, basking in the light and clean air coming in from outside. "Lyanna," Ned managed to say as she looked quickly to him, her own eyes almost as wild as his. "Little sister." She was piled in a mountain of gray and white furs, to protect her from the chill of winter and surrounded by the blue roses of the north. A touch Rhaegar would have thought to be romantic, Eddard had no doubt.
"Ned," Lyanna said and Ned's heart skipped a beat at how raspy she sounded. For the first time he noticed how pale her skin was, and how her eyes were glazed over with fever.
"No," Ned said. He tried to stagger forward and almost fell before he caught himself again. The fact that Lyanna only stirred weakly was all he needed to know. Lyanna had run to his side whenever he had so much as scraped his knee when they were children. She would not have been able to sit by and watch her brother bleed to death unless she was physically unable to move herself. Ned made himself walk forward before he collapsed to his knees at her bedside, his eyes already wet. "No, Lyanna, no. We won you can't-"
"Hush Ned," Lyanna said, smiling weakly at him. Ned cupped her cheek, his fingers leaving wet, red marks on her skin before he ran his fingers up, brushing a strand of her dark hair out of her face. Lyanna closed her eyes and sighed, leaning close to him so their foreheads touched, and Ned could feel the heat of her fever radiating against him.
Ned tried to swallow, but his tongue felt dry and swollen. "Have you seen a Maester?" He demanded suddenly, drawing back from her and fixing her with his stare. But Lyanna only smiled sadly and glanced away, downward downwards the furs heaped around her.
"The Maester is too far away to help me now but the maids have been doing the best they can," Lyanna said. "How many of them did you frighten?"
"Only one," Ned said, now looking downwards as well, even as his sister tried to make eye contact. He could smell something else, Ned realized. Over the smell of the battlefield he carried on him and the sweet smell of the northern roses. It was the smell of blood. Lyanna was speaking but Ned didn't hear as he reached over her and roughly tore the furs from around her legs. Even as Lyanna cried out Ned didn't stop.
Blood.
Her blood.
Ned felt sick to his stomach as he stared down at her skinny white legs, smeared with crimson. Even the bed she rested on was soaked. Ned's jaws became tight as he stared down fearfully at the mess between her legs. He was a solider, and this war had been long. He knew how much blood it took to kill a man, and it was far more than a woman would lose from her moon's blood alone. His sister was bleeding to death and dying of fever, same as Ned. But Ned didn't know the cause of her sickness.
"Brother," Lyanna said as Ned tried to stand, even as one knee gave out completely. "Ned!" She said in a harsher voice, sounding every bit a wolf herself. Her older brother finally tore his eyes from her legs and looked her in the eye. Tears had started to fall down his cheeks and Ned's lips trembled as he looked upon her. He couldn't lose her too. She was all that was left. One brother to the wall, one to the mad king. Now his sister as well? They were wolves, they still needed their pack but Ned's pack had crumbled about his head.
"We won," he tried to protest in a weak voice, "We won, Lyanna. You can't die I'm going to take you back to Winterfell."
"No my sweet brother," Lyanna said, shaking her head. She looked down again and Ned followed her gaze as the furs around her torso shivered. He expected them to fall away and reveal some equally horrific injury. Instead, they fell away and Ned found himself looking at a small, pale face blinking sleepily as the warm cocoon of furs was pulled away. "I named him Jon," Lyanna said, looking down and smiling at the baby in her arms. "He's half Targaryen and half Stark; Rhaegar said my son would be the third head of the dragon. The last promised prince for his song of ice and fire."
Ned felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. The Stormborn girl and her brother were not the last dragons. A third dragon lived, resting in the arms of his wolf mother. "Jon," Ned whispered. The baby blinked at him and opened his mouth, though no sounds came out.
"He is a good babe," Lyanna said, smiling even though she herself had started to weep. "He was born a week ago and he's barely cried once since." Ned swallowed and his eyes traveled to the blood on his sister's legs once more. The dragon – Jon – had been born a week ago. How could she still be bleeding? The baby in his sister's arms yawned and blinked sleepily, making strange little baby noises and shifting closer to the warmth of his mother. "Take him," Lyanna commanded.
"What?" Ned asked, finally tearing his gaze from the baby. But his sister's gaze was commanding. And fearful, even.
"Take him, Ned." Ned didn't know where he found the strength in him, but when he took the babe from Lyanna's arms he was strong, and he held the baby firmly the way he should. Jon protested at the move and looked like he might join the two adults and cry himself, but Lyanna touched her son's cheek and smiled. "This is your uncle, Jon," she whispered to the baby, "and you must behave yourself for him, do you understand?"
The fever had taken her strength, and her voice was weak as she said, "Promise me, Ned."
"What?" Eddard asked, unable to take his eyes off the infant dragon.
"I . . . take me to Winterfell. Bury me in the crypts." Ned looked up sharply but Lyanna did not give him time to speak. "And take Jon too. He's the last Targaryen in Westros. Robert, for all he loves me, would still kill him. They would see only the mad King, and none of my prince. None of me." Lyanna lay back, and it looked like breathing was hard for her. "Promise me, Ned."
Ned remembered Rhaegar's other infant, the trueborn one of his wife. He had seen the baby's head in red ruin and even if Lyanna hadn't seen it herself Ned knew she feared it for her child as well. "I promise," Ned said and when he gave his word the fear went out of her eyes. Ned Stark always kept his vows, and he would protect Jon Targaryen with his life. And as he looked at the boy he thought there was more than a little wolf to him. Already his hair was black rather than silver and his blue eyes looked as though they would become dark as well, rather than Targaryen purple. "No one will know who he is. I'll tell them he's my bastard, Jon Snow. Wylla . . . if I speak to her she would say that she was his mother if she had to."
Lyanna was lying back, watching her brother hold her son with a smile on her lips. "Jon Snow," She repeated, as if she was savoring the name. Ned looked at her sorrowfully, knowing her son would never be called his true name after he was taken from this room. "Raise him, Ned. Raise him to be a good man. He is of ice and fire. He will be the greatest man to walk this earth." So say all mothers, Ned thought, although he wisely kept it to himself.
"I will," he swore. Greatness he could not promise, but his sister's son would think himself Ned's own son. "And I will bring you to the crypts of our family. You will rest there for the rest of time."
"Thank you," Lyanna said as she sank back, finally letting her fever claim her as Ned held her son and wept.
And years later when Jon Snow sat upon the horse that would take him to the Night's Watch Ned found himself thinking of that day fourteen years ago when he had held his son –and Jon was his son – in his arms for the first time. "Is my mother alive?" Jon asked, "Does she know about me or where I am or where I'm going?" It felt like a knife in Ned's throat as Jon Targaryen asked him, "Does she care?"
For a moment Ned didn't know what to say, but words found him and Ned spoke. "The next time we see each other," said Ned, "We'll talk about your mother." Jon was more a Stark than Ned could have ever hoped; he even had a Dire Wolf at his side. But Eddard knew that the identity of his mother had weighed heavy in Jon's heart for as long as he was able to understand what 'bastard' meant. But Jon expected the name of a whore, not the names of the dragon prince and the wolf maiden. "I promise," Ned said. And he had always kept his vows.
Jon gave a small nod, seeming impatient to know the truth but Ned only smiled at him, and spurred his own horse on to follow King Robert's hoard. Lyanna never would have wanted the truth hidden forever and Jon was a man even at fourteen. And maybe the Night's Watch would have done its work by the time they met again, and the knowledge of the fire in his veins would not go to his head. Ned could only hope he would see his son again soon, just as soon as he understood the reason for another man of the same name's death.