"As I said, there is more to Jon Snow. He is not just a prince hidden by his uncle as a babe to protect him from his father's enemies," Maester Aemon opened with. "My nephew was well read, from a young age. I gifted him with many books, tales from history and myth. One such book spoke of the prophecy of the 'Prince that was Promised'. Rhaegar believed that he may be that prince, for it was said that the prince would be born 'amid salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star." The old man seemed to be caught up in his memories, though she had no idea what it had to do with overthrowing the Lannisters. "Rhaegar was born under such signs, the smoke of Summerhall, and the salt of all those who cried over the tragedy. But he was not born under a burning star. Do you know when the last bleeding star was seen in the sky, Catelyn Stark?" he asked.
"There was one above the night we were informed of Ned's death, the night I told Robb about Jon," she said. However, she did not understand where he was going with this. He was speaking of prophecy, she was dealing with hard fact. How were the two related?
"And before that?" When no response was forthcoming, he said, "It was nearly eighteen years ago that I saw a star such as that cross the sky."
Eighteen years ago, Catelyn remembered, she was sitting at a window in Riverrun, holding her infant son. "Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell," she said to him. "You will be a great lord, this I know."
It was when he was a no more than two moons old, staring up at her with those wide blue eyes. But at that time, where was Lyanna? Where was Ned? Could he have reached the tower he had found his sister in by then?
"Eighteen years ago...that would be about right," she said in awe. "Maybe not his birth, but the time of Rhaegar and Lyanna's marriage." But then the other part of the prophecy came to mind. "And you believe this prophecy speaks of Jon?"
"Prophecies are tricky things, my lady. If we think of Jon in such terms, born of salt and smoke, maybe instead of a palace on fire, it was a kingdom ravaged by war, and instead of tears over the death of so many, maybe it was the death of just one," Aemon said. "Words can be manipulated to suit the reader. But there is another prophecy that I can see lying on top of Jon Snow's life. You mentioned the Pact of Ice and Fire before."
Catelyn blinked, trying to remember all they had already spoken about. "Yes, the treaty between Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon."
"What are the house words of the Stark's?" he asked, leading her along with the question.
Catelyn knew them as well as she knew her own house's "Winter is coming," she repeated.
He smiled at her response. "And House Targaryen's words are Fire and Blood, my lady."
"The pact of Ice and Fire?" Catelyn wondered aloud. "You think it was a portent to Rhaegar and Lyanna, to Jon?"
"It is possible," Aemon replied. "A woodwitch said to my nephew Jaehaerys that the prince who was promised would be born from his line. That was why he wed his children Aerys and Rhaella to each other, to help bring the prophecy forward." Then he stopped, trying to remember more. "But it was also said that this prince would have a song of Ice and Fire."
Catelyn thought she was beginning to understand but was still unsure. Was it that the two points converged on one person? She knew it was past time that Jon reclaimed his rightful place on the Iron Throne, as it would have been if Rhaegar at least had not died. But was he what this prophecy spoke of?
"Why was this prophesied prince so important, Maester?" She knew she needed more information. She was not one to believe in such things, not right away.
"He is said to be someone who will deliver us from darkness, a great darkness that comes," Aemon explained. Then, he suddenly changed the topic. "Do you know the reason Lord Commander Mormont led the Great Ranging himself?"
She was caught in confusions for his words. "Was it not to seek out my husband's brother, Benjen Stark?"
He shook his head. "There was another reason. The bodies of two brothers were brought back here," he told her, "but they came back to life. Lord Mormont believes there is something else out there, besides the wildling tribes, and set out to find it and warn the Seven Kingdoms."
Now it was Catelyn who was remembering something. When the children were young, Old Nan would tell them stories, legends of the North. The one that scared Bran the most was of what the old woman would call 'the living dead'. Often, after hearing the story, her little boy would run to their room, needing to be comforted by both she and Ned. They would do their best, but it continued to happen.
Catelyn kept telling Old Nan to stop scaring Bran with the stories, but the woman was earnest in telling her that they were not made up. "These are stories that have been passed down here for thousands of years. All the way back from the time of Bran the Builder, my lady. It is our duty to keep them alive, lest we all be dead," the nurse would tell her.
Perhaps because she had no immediate reaction to his words, Aemon called to her. "My lady, you are still here, aren't you?"
"Yes," she said. "Yes, I am. I was just…" She let out a breath before continuing. "The old wet-nurse at Winterfell, she was near as old as you, maester. She would tell the children stories when they were growing up, stories she said were histories. They would frighten the children, more often than not."
"And was Lord Snow frightened of the stories?" he asked. She could tell he wanted to know as much as he could of the boy. He was family, after all.
But she grimaced as she said, "When Jon was of an age to be frightened, I am sorry to say I did not look favorably on him." Shame overtook her as she remembered. "I must ask, my lord," she addressed him as such, even though he had already told her he was no longer a lord, "that I was unkind, even at times cruel to the boy. I...as his few remaining family members, I wish to ask forgiveness of you for any actions I took against him."
Sadness touched the old man's face. "What were these actions?"
Catelyn didn't want to remember but forced herself to. "When he began to learn to speak, he'd often mimic Robb and call me 'mama'. Most times, I would ignore him, turn away as to reject him." Tears sprang from her eyes. "When he was nearer to five, he had learned to stop, but he slipped and called me that. He realized just as quickly his mistake, but not before I yelled at him, told him I was not his mother and that he was some whore's bastard."
That said, she stood, unable to look at Aemon because of the guilt she felt. Catelyn could still remember the look on Jon's face, the tears he was fighting to stop. He ran away from her, hid as was his way. It took them a good few hours to find him. She told him all this. "In the end, he was found, in the crypts beneath Winterfell. Ned was the one who looked there. When he emerged with the boy in his arms, his face was white. He told Maester Luwin that the boy was hiding behind Lyanna's tomb."
"The Targaryen's bonded with their dragons, and their dragons knew who they belonged to. It was an instinct in their blood, they said. When I first encountered Jon, I sensed something akin to that, and now I know the truth." Catelyn turned back to him. "I would suspect there was something in him that drew him to his mother's grave at that moment."
Catelyn Stark knew there was no intentional rebuke there, but felt it all the same. Wishing to banish thoughts of past misdeeds, she got Aemon back on track. "Who did you think the prince that was promised was to be?"
"I thought it Rhaegar, but now I think it could very possibly be his boy," Aemon said. "I said bringing this to light, the truth about Jon Snow and what he could potentially be will not be easy, you remember?"
She nodded. "Yes, I do. And I will admit to you, I do not entirely believe this story of prophecy. But I am willing to continue, to see the wrongs righted."
He accepted her response. "After Rhaegar left here, he was to return to Dragonstone. He told me he wanted what we had discovered to be safeguarded and knew of no other place that would be."
"He didn't know what was to come," Catelyn understood.
"On the contrary, I think he had an inkling. He asked something of me. He asked that if he was to die, that I stay alive long enough to tell his children about him. I have come to suspect that is why the gods have not called me to their side yet." He waved off anything further on the subject, going on instead with his assignment for her. "As I said, after his last visit to his ancient uncle, he took all the research he and I gathered and brought it to Dragonstone. Somewhere there is what will aid you in joining our missions."
Catelyn had never been to Dragonstone but knew it was not a small island. "Where on the island? You cannot think I am to wander over the whole place without any guidance, do you?"
"I do not," he said, "but I have faith you will know where to look." Then he turned to his desk, taking the quill in hand. "I know that Lord Stannis Baratheon was given claim over the island after the rebellion. I have heard it said he was not all in favor of it, that there was no love lost between the two brothers."
Catelyn knew this too. "Ned told me once when he left the capital to search for Lyanna further south, he informed Robert he would do his best to entreat with Lord Tyrell to lift the siege at Storm's End, but Robert wanted him to find Lyanna before that."
That was probably the first sign to her that Robert was a fool. He wanted his betrothed found, a woman who ran from him, before sending help to his own blood. What would have happened, though, if Ned had gone to Dorne first, and found his sister?
"This is a request to the maester on Dragonstone. It will not be questioned. It says I have asked you to retrieve family documents for me, for a history I am writing. Even if there are few left in this country that holds my family name in any degree of respect still, the maesters of the Citadel are one such group," he explained.
He finished his writing and handed the parchment for her to inspect before it was sealed. "But would they question if it is I who have come to fetch it?" she wondered.
"You are traveling south on behalf of your family so that a peace can be brought between House Stark and House Baratheon of Dragonstone. I asked it of you when you came to inquire about your husband's boy, that you were asked by his brother Robb to come and speak with him and I asked this of you as you were leaving soon," he reasoned.
Aemon's plans sounded reasonable, but it worried her nonetheless. And it was a perilous journey he had set her on. She knew Howland would come with her, but it would not be easy. Sealing the scroll, though, Aemon also advised, "Best for you to begin making your arrangements. Eastwatch-by-the-Sea would be an ideal place to pick up a ship sailing south, my lady."
She took the paper and nodded as she placed it within the fold of her cloak. Then she remembered one last question. "Maester Aemon, Jon is a sworn brother of your order. Of your vows, one is to wear no crown. How will this effect Jon?"
He seemed to think on that for a moment. "My nephew believed in this prophecy and believed there was a specific name for the prince. I can assume Jon is not his true name, and you have documentation to prove it."
She sighed, seeing a problem. "The only proof I have are the dying words of a mother to her brother. Ned told me the boy's name. I know it from there," she informed him. Then, thinking of Howland, she added, "and there were no others in the room to hear it as well."
"But there is another whom Lord Eddard told?" he asked. Without waiting for a response, he went on. "There may be some leeway there. At the very least, he can be released from his vows since he was never told truthfully what he was giving up."
It was not the best answer, but it was what she had for now. "I will begin to see to plans immediately," she said. "And I vow, by the Old Gods and the New, I will return with whatever we need for Jon Snow to reclaim his identity, his heritage and his throne." She took his wrinkled hand in hers once more and kissed it as she bowed.
Closing the door to his library before her, she began to make her way back to her quarters when she ran into the imposing form of Ser Alliser Thorne. She tried to let out a scream, but he clasped his hand over her mouth and dragged her away.
From the moment he first encountered Jon Snow, there was a familiarity about him that made Ser Alliser Thorne unsettled. Here was a bastard born, but he carried himself with both the dignity of a king and yet, there was a humility about him as well. He'd only found that combination in one person. It was a ridiculous thought, but one he could not shake.
Alliser knew the boy's history. Bastard son of the honorable Ned Stark, he chose to serve in the Night's Watch. He was arrogant, to be sure when he arrived, but his actions brought admiration from the men. So here was another strike against Lord Snow.
It was known that Lord Snow had tried to abandon his vow after learning of his father's execution, but had been brought back by his friends and forgiven of it by Lord Commander Mormont. The Old Bear had taken the bastard as his steward, setting him up to perhaps take command of the Watch some day. A boy of seven and ten and his path was cleared!
But now that boy was beyond the Wall, out chasing Mormont's ghosts. If the gods were kind, the boy would never come back. It was a peaceful thought, one he felt no shame in thinking. If what he thought was true, better the boy dies out there, far from any harm he could do.
But now Lady Catelyn Stark was here, looking for the boy. Oh, he did not believe for one moment she came to merely speak to Maester Aemon. If she had a question from centuries ago, better to go to Oldtown, to the Citadel, have the archmaesters answer her directly. No, she was here for the Last Dragon, and for Jon Snow.
The morning after Lady Stark's party arrived, Ser Alliser had the boy emptying her chamber pot follow her to the old maester's quarters. After meeting him there, Alliser was informed they would be continuing their discussion in Castle Black's library. He came a little while later, listening in on their talk.
When he heard Aemon mention the name of the crown prince, all Alliser's greatest fears were manifest, and everything at last made terrible sense. So, his noble prince had run off with the little northern bitch and she birthed him a son. He held out one last hope that at least he was still a bastard, but then that was dashed. Rhaegar Targaryen had married Lyanna Stark, making their ill-gotten son not only trueborn but the true heir to the Iron Throne!
In all the years he had spent on the blasted Wall, Thorne had continually cursed Lady Lyanna Stark. He felt, as did many Targaryen loyalist, that it was her relationship that had brought down the great dynasty. Rhaegar, married to a Dornish princess, put his wife aside for a girl who was his mistress. Robert Baratheon had gone to war for the ungrateful whore, to get back his betrothed, even if, as rumor had it, she didn't want him. In the end, Rhaegar died in the waters of the Trident and Robert stood tall, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.
At that moment, the drunk, whoring oaf was better than a green boy.
He waited longer, trying to catch as many details as he could. He'd given the lad who told him of Lady Stark's movements coin to keep watch for him, lest he be discovered. When Lady Catelyn finally emerged, he made his move.
"Shut your mouth or I'll snap your neck," he threatened, his voice a low growl. He found a storage room and shoved her in once the door was opened. It was only after the door was closed that she was released.
She glared at him. "I see Lady Mormont was correct about you."
"Don't give me a thought, just tell me it's not fucking true!" he demanded, rage building.
She walked further away from him but did not deny it. "As you were right at the door, I can assume you heard most of the private conversation." She nodded her head firmly, only once. "Yes, it is true that Jon Snow is the trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Lyanna of House Stark."
He laughed at that. "Princess? I didn't know they gave crowns to whores." The answering slap caught him off guard, by its fact as much as its strength.
"From what I have read, Ser Alliser, by all rights, she should have been born a princess, but her marriage made her one. As such, do not dare call her by such terms again in my presence," the little Southron lady tried ordering. "Now, stand out of my way."
"You're not going anywhere," he bit back, grabbing her arm and shoving her once more. "I'll be damned if I see that bastard mount the throne! It was his existence that brought the downfall of House Targaryen. I'd rather see that psycho fucker Joffrey be king than Jon Snow."
Now she displayed a mirthless smile. "The Night's Watch is sworn to not interfere in the realms of men," she said.
"Then he has no right to the throne, as he too is a sworn brother," Alliser reminded her,
"As Jon Snow, you are right. But he took that vow ignorant of his name and his heritage. Those can be grounds for a release," she said.
"But if no one else who knows is there to tell him…" Alliser did not even try to keep the menacing tone out of his voice. "This is a secret that can be killed in its crib very easily."
But the lady stayed resolute. Staring straight at him, she said, "I am not the only one who knows. If I should fail, I can assure you, there are others who will continue on after me."
"And I am one of them, good Ser," a voice said from the doorway as he felt the tip of a sword in his back. "Allow Lady Stark to leave here, and I'll see that it is never spoken of," Howland Reed told him. "Else if it does, you may find yourself at the end of a rope when your Lord Commander returns. Now, lay the sword on the ground."
Alliser was smart enough not to fight back. He did as he was ordered, and Lady Catelyn escaped around him to the exit. He turned, watching her every move, but before she was gone, he wanted a final word. "You will fail my lady. And it won't be because you cannot get what you seek at Dragonstone, or that there is no loophole to allow Jon Snow to take the crown."
Alliser Thorne thought of the man he had remembered earlier, one he had put his hopes in when he was younger. That man was noble to a fault, as was his son. "You will fail because Jon Snow will claim no title."