"Jon?" Daenerys called as she descended the steps into the crypts. She had followed Ghost from the kennels, certain Jon must be somewhere inside the tomb as the direwolf guided her further in. Dim candlelight flickered from across the corridor. As she approached, she could see Jon slouched against a wall in front of the figure of a cloaked woman.

"This is the last place I thought I'd find you. I've been searching all over."

Jon didn't respond to her.

"You've been down here since the morning?"

He nodded.

Daenerys sighed and knelt beside him. Ghost settled in, too, resting his head in Jon's lap. She reached to scratch the pup's head.

"What did Ned say to you that's got you hiding?"

"What didn't he say?"

"If he forbade you from seeing me, I will run away with you, Jon Snow."

"That's not it."

"What is it then?"

"He thinks we're a good match."

"We are a good match," she elbowed him. "So what's the problem?"

"I can't say."

"Why not?" she grabbed at the bit of his thigh that Ghost's head hadn't been covering.

Jon gasped. No, he thought. Despite everything he'd just learned about who he really was, her touch seared him the same way it always had. His blood started rushing to all the wrong places.

"Dany," he whimpered as she dug her nails into his thigh, inching her head toward his neck. He quickly thrust his hand between her mouth and his neck, stopping her. He pleaded, "Please don't seduce me right now. I can't resist it."

"Then don't," she pried his hand away from his neck, not that he tried much to fight her off. His body was compelled by her and had so far been winning the fight against his mind.

Ghost, annoyed with all the jostling the pair had been doing, had left in favor of a better place to settle. He curled into a ball at the base of Lyanna's shrine. Jon felt abandoned in that moment. Wasn't Ghost supposed to protect him?

Meanwhile, Daenerys kept stalking her prey. She pulled herself into his lap and began massaging his scalp as his eyes fluttered closed. He groaned as she successfully found his neck with her mouth, swirling her tongue underneath his earlobe. The new sensation sent a familiar jolt through him. She felt him harden underneath her as his cock twitched involuntarily. It had become like a game to her to elicit that response as often as she could, particularly whenever she found herself straddling him.

Jon opened his eyes to see his mothers face. No, he thought again. Mustering all of the will he could, he pushed her off of him. The motion felt utterly unnatural and wrong. Rejecting her felt even more wrong than incest, somehow. He felt sick to be so hopelessly drawn to his own flesh and blood. Blood. It rushed under his skin as he looked into her eyes as if it would burn him from the inside out.

"I can't do this right now."

"That's not what your cock says," she teased, though it was clear in her expression that the rejection had hurt.

"Dany..."

"Fine," she said. It wasn't fine.

"I'm sorry. I truly am," his voice quivered as he spoke, his accent enveloped the words.

"It's fine, Jon," her tone was scalding hot. "You're lucky you haven't eaten all day and I care more about getting you fed than I do about conquering your reluctance. It's almost time for supper, in any case. You win."

She helped Jon to his feet. Ghost perked up, starting out of the crypt before them. Jon took one last look at Lyanna before blowing out the few candles that had still been burning since the morning.

After closing the ironwood door behind them, Jon clasped his forearms together behind his back, hoping to avoid holding Dany's hand as they walked together. After having been alone with his thoughts all day, he had mentally distanced himself from her so much she had felt like a stranger. The feeling seemed so absurd now that she was back beside him. He felt whole again.

Jon wished for nothing more than to discuss it with her. It was too dangerous to tell her the truth, but he didn't know if he could live his whole life as a lie, the way Ned had done. He could trick her easily enough by simply never telling her of his true identity. He could go on acting as if they weren't related. But that wasn't fair. If he told her the truth, it could put them both in danger. Or worse yet, it could repel her entirely. He felt a pang of guilt that he hadn't been repelled by her. Wasn't he supposed to be?

"You know I'm going to drag it out of you."

"What? There's nothing there to drag out," he lied. Poorly.

"You're even walking strangely, as if you're heavier all of a sudden."

"I am heavier all of a sudden."

Dany sighed, clearly unhappy with his ambiguity.

Jon cleared his throat, trying to grasp for some way to glean her advice, "Dany?"

She looked him square in the face, her violet eyes disarming him as he continued, already feeling stupid for asking, "What would make you stop loving me?"

She broke into a fit of laughter as Jon winced, "Nothing you're capable of."

"I'm serious," he hissed.

She sighed, "Alright. If you murdered, raped, left me for someone. If you hurt children, or animals. Or Ghost."

"I'd never hurt Ghost," Jon snapped, feeling protective of the fluffy white pup who happily trotted in front of them.

"What about the rest of it?" she teased him.

"Of course not. Sorry, hearing his name just struck a nerve."

"I know," she said, "I was trying to rile you up. But you needn't worry about it, Jon. I know you're not capable of hurting anyone who doesn't deserve it. It's one of the many reasons I love you."

Jon flushed, lingering on the compliment only for a moment as they came upon the great hall. "But what else would give you pause? About me?"

"I don't know what else. Nothing I can think of. What are you trying to get at?"

Jon stopped. Daenerys, following his lead, planting her feet not far from his. He looked deeply into her eyes, hoping to measure her disgust as he broached the topic. "What if we were related—if I were your brother?"

She laughed again, but not for long after noticing his dry, solemn expression, "But you're not my brother."

"It's an odd question, I know, but I've been trying to work something out. Humor me, please?" he begged, as he saw figures approaching the hall from all directions.

She inhaled deeply, scanning her mind for an answer, "Well," she began, "before Viserys died, I was under the impression we'd be married one day. I never really minded. My parents were brother and sister. I know to some that sounds revolting, but, to me it wasn't. As legend has it, Targaryens kept their bloodlines pure because only we have the power to tame dragons. Like on our sigil."

There was something in the way she said the word our, in reference to the Targaryen sigil. As if she had meant the pair of them. As if she already knew.

"You believe in dragons?" Jon asked, unsure why that had been the detail he had chosen to expand upon.

"Don't you?" her eyes looked spellbound at the mere mention of the mythical beasts.

Jon averted his gaze a bit, trying not to get lost in them, "No. I can't say that I do."

"I'm not sure I did either. Not until you brought home an entire pack of direwolves."

"But direwolves are real."

"So are dragons," she breathed, her voice set his blood aflame. He considered her words as hot blood coursed through him. He could hear his pulse beating in his ears, he could feel the burn as his face flushed. Maybe he did believe in them. She was a dragon, slowly burning him alive with her flames.

Ghost began anxiously pacing, Jon tore his eyes from Dany's to see what the fuss was about. Nymeria ran toward them, tackling Ghost, Arya fast on the wolf's trail. She excitedly ran to Jon as he and Daenerys stood before the great hall.

"Jon!" she shouted to him with delight in her voice as she spotted him. The girl never failed to bring a smile to his face.

"Arya," Jon greeted her warmly, "Have you been practicing with Needle?" It was the name she had given the sword he gifted to her weeks ago. He intended it to be a parting gift, back when he thought he'd still join the Night's Watch. Now he'd get to watch her grow into it.

"Every night in my room!" the girl beamed.

"You'd better be careful," Jon warned her before continuing. "I'm working on Jory. I'll convince him soon enough to let you come down and train with us, I swear to all the Gods, the old and the new. You could take any of the boys, I'm sure of it. Even the ones as big as me."

Arya smiled ear to ear as Jon reached out to ruffle the girl's hair, stopping short to examine her face. He had once heard that Arya looked just like Lyanna had as a child. Jon stumbled as the sudden force of her weight came crashing into his chest.

"Oof," was all Jon could manage, delighting in the waves of pain that rippled through his sore ribs. He felt at home with his sister wrapped around him. Cousin, he corrected himself as he set her back down. He ruffled her hair, pushing her in the direction of the dining hall.

Just then, Sansa brushed past Arya, nearly knocking her down, had she not been quick enough to jump out of the way. Jon couldn't help but admire the girl's agility. She has promise, he thought, vowing to make a fighter out of her yet. Sansa's sobs echoed from inside the great hall. Unsurprisingly, Daenerys ran into the hall after her, but not before giving Jon an apologetic shrug.

He sighed, wondering what the fuss could be about this time. Theon's voice sounded behind Jon as he approached, "You hear the news about Joffrey?"

"Joffrey?" Jon spat the name from his mouth like food that had gone bad.

"Stannis says the Twins are essential in securing any rule. Turns out Joff is betrothed to a Frey girl, now," Theon snickered, emphasizing the disreputable house name.

"Don't laugh at the Frey girls," Jon muttered. He had never liked it when people laughed at another's expense, knowing all too well how it'd felt.

"Right," Theon's chuckling ceased, throwing Jon off.

Jon raised an eyebrow, "Is this why Sansa's crying?"

Theon nodded, not even bothering to take a jab at the overly sensitive redheaded girl. Jon leaned in a bit closer, "Theon, something's up with you lately. Every time I see you I keep bracing for some snide comment that never comes. It's like you're less annoying now. Nicer, even. And what is with all the gossip?"

Theon sighed, though somewhere in his eyes, Jon could see the compliment had not been lost on the ward, "Been talking to Jeyne. Her father hears a lot as a steward."

"Jeyne Poole? Sansa's friend."

Theon nodded, pursing his lips to hide a smile.

"What is she, fifteen? A bit young, no?"

"She'll get older."

"Until then?"

"I'll wait. Where else am I going to go? Back to the Iron Islands?" Theon looked a touch forlorn as he said the name. "I'm a prisoner here, as much as Daenerys."

"There are worse places you could live," Jon grumbled, though his voice sounded grave with understanding.

"I know," Theon smiled, he really didn't mind. He had hardly thought of Pyke at all, anymore. "I like the way she looks at me. And she's pretty, too. Jeyne's the only one who doesn't think I'm an ass."

"We wouldn't think it either, if you stopped being one."

Biting back a retort, Theon paused, and then agreed, "I'll work on it."

He dipped into the dining hall to join the others. Jon had started after him until he noticed a large shadow drawing across the stone wall. Hodor, he thought, turning to see the lumbering giant escorting Bran and Rickon to supper. The boys raced each other inside, but Hodor took his time as he followed behind.

"Hodor," Jon called to him.

"Hodor?" he asked, stopping to listen.

"Keep an eye on Bran. Don't let him wander off alone, alright?"

"Hodor," the hulking man smiled, nodding in agreement, before shuffling into the dining hall after the boys.

Jon waited outside the doorway a moment. These were his siblings, and Ned? His father. He loved all of them with all his heart, even Sansa, though he'd never dare admit it to her. Jon felt tears well in his eyes as he cursed himself for being so sensitive. He lingered for a moment longer outside as he worked to compose himself. It didn't work. He had only felt more emotional as he remembered how he wanted to run off to Castle Black. Maybe he wasn't a Stark, like his brothers, but Winterfell had been his home.

"Jon," a woman's voice called to him in the distance. Jon thought he recognized the sound, but certainly not the defeated tone with which she had said his name. He turned around to face her, unsure what to expect.

"Lady Stark," he called back to her as her figure loomed from the entrance of the sept. Jon dipped into something of an awkward bow as she fastly approached him. No matter how badly she had treated him, he had always treated her with the utmost respect. That fact had not been lost on Cat, who had nearly closed the distance between them, now. Part of the reason she found Jon so objectionable was that he had favored Ned far more than her own sons, both in looks and in his solemn, honorable nature.

"She told me what you did for Bran," Cat's voice shook as she spoke. "Daenerys did."

"Oh... well," Jon struggled to find the right thing to say as he nervously ruffled his curls, "It was the least I could do for my brother."

Cat noticed Jon frown as the word passed through his lips. She grabbed his forearm as if to tug the look off of his face, "He is your brother."

When Jon had finally mustered the courage to meet her gaze, he saw she had an emotional intensity about her like he'd never seen. Holding back tears, a lifetime of guilt overtook the Lady of Winterfell. In that moment he had wanted to hug her.

"I spent the day in the sept begging forgiveness, apologizing to the Seven, to the Mother, to Lyanna," a couple tears fell from her eyes as his mother's name left her lips. She wrapped her arms around Jon, the same way she had done to her own sons.

"I beg your forgiveness for my behavior. Even if you had been his child, it had never been your fault that you weren't mine." Jon thawed long enough to return her hug. It felt awkward, in a sense, but in another way, it was comforting. Had she still been here to embrace him, Jon wondered if this is how it would've felt to have Lyanna's arms wrapped around him. For a moment, he considered telling Lady Stark there was no need to apologize, but thought it might make her feel even worse if he denied it.

"I forgive you," Jon whispered to her. And he meant it. Cat spotted her husband and eldest son approaching. Both men had flabbergasted looks on their faces as Cat released Jon, wiping her tears away. Before joining her husband, she took one last look at her nephew. The boy nodded back at her, his eyes narrowed warmly as he smiled. For a brief moment, Cat looked as if she had seen a ghost. The eyes of Lyanna Stark peered at her from behind the pitch-dark eyes of her only son.

The Lord and Lady clasped hands as they entered the dining hall, leaving Robb and Jon alone. Before Robb could even ask, Jon explained, "She was thanking me for saving Bran."

"What happened to Bran?" Robb demanded, a familiar look of fear washing over him, the same as had done to Jon.

"He was climbing too high on the broken tower and he fell. I thank the Gods I had been there to catch his fall."

"I'll have to thank them, too," Robb agreed as the look of fear had left him.

"You and father were later than usual," Jon observed.

"Yeah," Robb started in, unable to suppress a smile. "We're expecting another round of visitors, this time from The Reach. Apparently, they've already been traveling quite some time. They're expected within the fortnight."

"Have you been betrothed to someone already?" Jon asked, cutting to the chase.

"Well, no, not yet. Lady Olenna is uneasy about promising Margaery to anyone without both of the women having met the man first. Word has it she's coming herself to personally judge the Starks."

"That's smart," Jon thought aloud. "Well, consider yourself betrothed. You're like a damned prince who walked right off the page of some storybook. Even Sansa would be in love with you if she weren't your sister," Jon's laugh caught in his throat. Oh, no, he thought. He had almost forgotten about his revelation regarding Daenerys. His aunt.

"Shut up," he muttered, face flushed. Jon rapped his brother on the back as the pair entered the hall.