Jon

Despite what life had been like at Winterfell Jon understood that compared to a majority of those that lived in Westeros he'd had a good life there. Servants to clean his clothing, cooks to make his meals, Ser Rodrick to show him how to swing a sword and if one got too damaged he could just get another one. He'd never been required to build a fire or huddle in a hut of his own making as the cold Northern winds blowed. A pampered life compared to what most people went through and Jon knew that many would scoff at what he had gone through and called in a fair trade.

"What's that? I get three filling meals, the finest clothes, training by a respected knight, swords and armor provided to me without a cost, a warm bed to sleep in even during the coldest winter night, and a place to shit that doesn't involve trudge through snow? And all I have to do is deal with some woman from the Riverlands glaring at me? Do I need to find this woman or will she just begin screaming at me as I am taking my first bath in weeks?"

That wasn't to say that Jon was helpless. He had been thinking of joining the Night's Watch for a few years and worked to prepare for that life. And his… Lord Stark had wished for all his… for his children and Jon to know how to survive outside the comforts of castle and keep should war ever come to the North. Both he and Robb had gone out overnight in the wilds with Lord Stark to learn how to make fires and set up a camp. Hunting had been one of the few pastimes that he, Robb, and Lord Stark could take part in together that would not see Lady Stark rail against him in a jealous rage. He knew how to care for a horse and his armor and weapons and once he'd been given a sword of his own he had worked to see to its care.

It was an odd blend of pampered life and harsh preparedness that now saw him hiding in the secret shack that had become his base of operations while still making appearances in Iron Town to resupply.

Natasha had been rather fine with spending her time in the old house rather than Iron Pointe. She'd commented first that it was rather like her training in her youth, for her father had demanded that she, much as Jon had, learn how to survive on her own. She was not a skittish Southern Girl who would screech at the sight of a spider. When Jon went off in his armor Nat would go for rides (she'd claimed her horse from the stables early on during their self exile) or hunt or visit nearby villages. Sometimes she'd disappear far longer than Jon did but when she finally did return she would merely smile at him and tell him not to worry so much. She was a free spirit and Jon had a feeling that if given a choice she'd much rather have the freedom that was granted to her now then the benefits and perks she'd given up.

'Of course that isn't the only reason she enjoys being out here,' Jon thought to himself with a grin as he removed his armor and placed it in its hiding spot under the floorboards. He looked over at the straw stuffed bed that sat in the far corner, the blankets still a twisted mess. 'The Dornish are a sensual people and the Martels do not stick with the simple and the mundane for long.' He chuckled, pleasant memories of his couplings with Nat over the last few weeks filling his mind. Not only was the change of location something that got Jon's already sexually charged wife red hot but the privacy of their little hideaway meant that she could convince him to be more… daring… when it came to their exploits. One day she'd gotten him to just stay there without flying off to look for criminals before demanding he give her his clothing. She'd placed their garments in their chest and locked it up, stating that for the rest of the day they would live as the Children of the Forest once had, going about their lives without a stitch of clothing. Another time she'd shown him that her skill with knots and ropes did not just make her handy on a ship. Yet another time she'd ridden to Iron Town within Iron Pointe and gotten some sweetcream from one of the bakers, returning with it and-

Jon shook his head, returning to the task at hand. If he focused too much on what he and Natasha did when there was little for them to do he would never be able to leave.

'Besides, I love her not just for… that,' he thought to himself as he tugged on his boots and grabbed his sword. 'If it weren't for Natasha I would have gone mad by now.' Nat was the one that listened to him when he came up with new plans and strategies and offered her praise and disagreement. He would discuss new places he could visit or debate rumors concerning bandits and their hiding spots. She stood by as he raged and would bark at him when he let his anger get a hold of him. When he sobbed over someone he couldn't save it was her lap his head would end up in, her fingers running through his hair. She grounded him. She helped him rise. She made him strong and yet also did not fault him for feeling weak.

"Jon?"

He jumped slightly before relaxing, moving towards the door and opening it to find the woman he'd just been thinking of standing before him. She had gone with blend of Northern and Dornish styles that worked well on her and would have made most Southern Women scream in horror. For one thing she did not wear a dress out here, preferring riding leathers and tight jackets to long hems that might catch on branches. For another she was well armed with her escrima sticks on her hips along with a few daggers and a bow slung on her back with a quiver of arrows. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly, a smile on his lips when he pulled away. "Hello."

"Hello," Natasha said, reaching up and running her fingers along his cheek. "Good day?"

"Good day, better now," he said tenderly. "Have you eaten?"

"I'm cooking something out back."

"I thought I saw a fire going," He commented, shutting the door behind him and following her as she led him along the outside of the old building. "Need me to rescue our meal then?"

"I'm not that bad of a cook!" Natasha complained.

"Give you poisons and you can brew dangerous things that would make men tremble… give you a soup spoon and you end up doing the same t-ow! Ow!" He raised his hands to shield himself as she began to smack him, laughing as he ducked out of the way. "You are talented in many things but making a meal is not one of them!"

"Stop it!" Natasha complained.

Jon though merely turned, walking backwards as he addressed her. "If I gave you a piece of ham and two slices of bread you would still find a way to make a mistake-"

"Then it's a good thing I'm the one cooking, isn't it," a man rumbled.

Jon instantly whipped around, drawing Shadowfang and squaring up the intruder. The man was tall and strong of build, wearing black leather from feet to neck, a sword strapped to his back. He was stirring a pot that hung over the fire, his one good eye never leaving Jon; the other was covered with a patch. His short blond hair was threaded with silver and he had the air of a man that had seen many things and couldn't muster the energy to get excited by much anymore.

"Put that down, I've already seen valyrian steel."

"Jon," Natasha said, reaching over and placing her hand on his wrist. "Please… just listen before you get upset. Please. There is… much I have to tell you-"

"Like how you knew I was the Centurion before our wedding day?"

Natasha, his composed and collected wife, actually started a touch at that. He wondered how much of it was a true reaction and how much was faked for his benefit. He didn't bother to tell her how he'd known, how her reaction to him in the armor had been far too accepting, how she had let slip small comments in passing that could only have come about from knowledge she wasn't supposed to have. He honestly didn't feel like telling her. He had assumed that Oberyn had learned the truth and that was part of the reason for their betrothal; Iron Man and Centurion had given black eyes to the Lannisters and while Oberyn couldn't risk voicing his thanks he could reforge a marriage contract that may or may not have ever existed to begin with.

Apparently he was wrong, judging from the looks his wife was sharing with the odd stranger who was decidedly not Dornish.

So instead Jon pushed away from her and walked over to the fire where the stranger was still sitting stirring the stew… but he did not sheathe his sword.

"Would it make you feel better if you knew my name?" the stranger asked. "Nikolos Fury."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "That your real name?"

"You think it isn't?"

"I'm rapidly coming to expect lies today," Jon said, not bothering to glance over where Natasha was standing.

Fury shrugged. "You're right but that's the best you'll be getting."

"Then the sword stays out."

"Fine by me." Nikolos grabbed a wooden bowl and ladled out some stew. He looked at Jon before he purposely pulled out a smaller spoon and ate a bit of the meal, swallowing it and staring Jon down.

"Poison in the bowl you hand me, poison on the spoon."

"Would you like your wife to get you one from your home?" Fury asked.

"No," Jon said coolly.

Natasha stepped forward and after a moment sat down on a log that was between Fury and himself. "Please… let us explain."

The one-eyed man shook his head. "You honestly don't have a leg to stand on when it comes to keeping secrets… Jaehaerys." Jon tried hard not to start at that but he knew that he'd failed. "Oh yes… we've known about you for quite a while, your grace. Before you were even born we've been watching you. The White Bull was a member of our organization." Fury took another spoonful of stew. "Sure you don't want some? It's real good. Rabbit. Some carrot in there, a bit of onion…no? Hmmm." He reached up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nat?"

His wife shot Fury a thunderous look and the man held up his hands.

"Okay, more for me then." Fury took another bite of his food and let out an overly exaggerated murmur of pleasure. Jon wondered if the man had a reason for being an annoying ass or if he just enjoyed it. "The plan was to get you across the Narrow Sea with your mother once she was stable enough to travel. Ser Gerold was to fly a flag that would signal his men to arrive and prepare for the journey. A body was already prepared that would take Lyanna's place in the crypts… Ser Gerold recruited her to our cause late into her pregnancy and she was ready to flee with you. But your father can ride harder and faster than was expected and Mace Tyrel folded quicker than the Council predicted. The White Bull fell and that was that." He paused. "I wasn't a part of our group at that point; if I was I would have demanded a maester or midwife. They would have saved your mother and not left her bleeding for your father to find-"

"My father died on the Ruby Ford," Jon said sharply.

"Oh please, don't give me that. Ned Stark raised you, that makes him your father. Get your head out of your ass when it comes to that. He had to lie… you realize how many people would have killed you to get favor with Tywin Lannister, let alone Robert?" Fury stirred the pot of stew again before continuing. "Besides, seems to me you don't have much to complain about. Yes, Catelyn Stark wasn't the best person to be around growing up but most people go through worse, bastard or not. Your father raised you with love and kindness and you don't do him any good calling him anything other than the title he earned." Fury scooped up another bit of stew. "Was better than the Council's plan for you. They were going to take you and have you raised across the Narrow Sea and marry your mother off to a Dothraki khal. The plan was to have your brother Aegon raised to be a king-oh yeah, we smuggled your brother Aegon out of the Red Keep- and have you be raised to be the Orys to his Aegon the Conqueror." He paused there. "Well, to be truthful the hope was you'd be a girl and would be his Visenya be plans were in place for you being a boy. Your aunt Daenerys would be his queen and we'd shift you all back onto the throne when Robert and the Lannisteres fucked everything up. Aegon and Daenerys would rule the Kingdom, you'd be his hand, and eventually you'd end up as a Lord Paramount. Perhaps to the Westerlands or the Stormlands." Fury shook his head. "Then Aegon died before his second nameday and his protector, Jon Connington, went mad from grief. Grabbed some orphan with Targ looks and began calling him Young Griff, convinced he was Aegon… Council has been dealing with that for a while now, massive headache." He scraped at his bowl. "Point is you aren't the only one whose been watched."

"And that is supposed to make me feel better? That I wasn't the only person you manipulated?" He shot Natasha a dark look. "How many other women have you sent to people singing songs of love to get them under your thumb?"

Natasha's eyes blazed with rage at that but Jon did not back down. "It is NOT like that. You need to listen-"

"Right now the only thing I need to do is walk away," Jon said, taking a step backwards. "That is assuming you don't have bowmen hidden in the trees ready to fire on me if I make the wrong move?"

"We wouldn't do that!" Natasha snapped, clearly angered by his insinuations. "We just-"

"How much of this has been true?" Jon demanded, cutting her off. "Was there really a marriage contract between the Starks and the Martels or did you trick Oberyn into this? Is he even your father or a fool you tricked with a sad tale? Or is he working for this man too?"

"He's…" Natasha paused, composing herself. "He is my father. There is a marriage contract. I had no say in the matter and Fury didn't even contact me until I had already arrived at Iron Pointe. It was the day after we sat on the watchtower and talked about being bastards." She glanced towards Fury who shrugged and Natasha, coming to an internal decision, turned back to Jon. "I was born Natasha Sand. I was recruited when I was nine years old by the Council. They had already sent envoys to my uncle, Doran the Prince of Dorne, because their goals and the goals of House Martell were the same. They never approached my uncle because while he is a skilled fighter he…"

"He can't keep secrets worth a damn," Fury said. Natasha shot another death glare at him and the man held up his hands and spooned out more stew for himself.

"I was to pass messages along to my uncle without him realizing it was me doing it. In exchange the Council made deals with fighters, swordsmen, potion masters, and other learned men and women to approach my father and offer to teach me. I learned to be one of the deadliest women in the world and the Council got an ear and a mouth in Dorne.

"I did not know what to expect when my father told me we were sailing to the Westerlands. I was unable to contact anyone and frankly I was intrigued by what I learned about you. The future Lord of Iron Pointe, Ned Stark's bastard… I wished to see you for myself." She smiled at that. "I liked what I saw."

Jon felt something stir within him but he stomped those feelings down. "And then they contacted you? What for?" He pointed his sword right at her. "Was the plan for you to give birth to a son? Have a Targaryen with the blood of Dorne in his veins? Rally the North and Dorne and the loyalists and sit an infant on the Throne? I imagine an assassination would have helped urge on those seeking revenge… my brother Robb would want to avenge me, Tony too. And Dorne would have a babe they could easily control. Would you have let me hold him before you slit my throat?"

"No!" Natasha snapped once more, standing up. "How could you ever think that?

"How could I not?!" Jon demanded. "You've been spying on me… for people who have been plotting against me my entire life."

"Plotting to help you, Jon," Fury said, finally setting his bowl down. "There is a big difference."

"Jon…" Natasha tried again. "Please… I…" she looked down. "I've done more than spy."

"Sand…" Fury warned.

"Fuck off, Nikolos, this is my life you are ruining with your games!" She turned and took a step towards Jon but when he refused to lower his sword she stopped and hung her head. "I've killed, Jon. Many people who deserved it… and many people who did not. There is a lot of red in my ledger… and with you-"

"What, I was your prize?" Jon snapped.

"You were my chance at redemption! Your mission… it is so steeped in good… in kindness and nobility. Helping you, both in doing it and just… helping you by loving you… it was my chance to wash away the blood on my hands." She shook her head and bitterly shot out, "I was greedy, all right? You were handsome and kind and noble and when I am with… when I was with you I wasn't Natasha that spy and assassin. I was Natasha Stark, Jon Stark's wife and that… that made things so much better."

Jon didn't say a word. He didn't offer her any succor to the wounds on her soul or absolution for her lies.

No matter how much his heart longed for him to do so.

"Why now?" Jon finally asked, turning so his sword was now pointing at Fury. "Why appear now?"

"Because, and I can't believe I'm using that fraud's opening line, you have stepped into a larger world." He stood up and grabbed the pole that supported the stew pot and pulled it from the fire. "You think you're the only hero in the world? Oh no… there are far more of you than you think." Fury set down the pot before he began to pace, ticking off with his fingers. "Natasha here, though I don't think at the moment you realize just how much good she has done… especially when her guilt won't let her see it herself. The Thunder God currently running around with Stannis Baretheon. Bruce of Tarth, last seen across the Narrow Sea. Clynt of House Barton, who is keeping tabs on Tyrion Lannister. Just to name a few. And the rumors are true north of the Wall…" Fury waved his hand. "The point is that you aren't the only one in this world, Jon Stark… and on your own you won't be enough.

"Originally the plan was to approach Antony. To bring him in. But his recent actions have closed that avenue to us and after your falling out-"

"I didn't tell them, Jon," Natasha said, cutting Fury off.

"-it is felt that you are our best option now. You see… there was an idea. To bring-"

Jon snorted.

"…you find this funny?" Fury asked when Jon stopped his speech.

"Very," Jon commented. "You two think that I would betray Tony, give up his secrets, just because of one fight?" He shook his head. "No… no. I might think Tony is a massive ass right now but he is still family and I won't betray him. I might want to smash his teeth in and honestly if I don't talk to him for a few years that probably would be good for all… but you don't betray blood."

"This isn't about betrayal!" Fury thundered, for the first time raising his voice. "This is about the Night-"

"I don't care, old man," Jon snapped. "Go trick some other fool into falling for your lies." With that he turned on his heels and marched off, honestly not caring what Fury had to say. He was just too mad and, though he refused to admit it to himself, hurt to focus on whatever threat Fury was worried about. 'A proper knight would put aside his own feelings and do what is good for the realm,' he thought to himself as he went back into the house and began to strap on his armor. 'But I'm not a proper knight, am I?'

He had just begun to get the breastplate on, made a bit difficult considering he had switched into thicker, bulker clothes, when Natasha finally came in. Her face was utterly neutral and she stared at him much as one would stare at a rock or a tree; no emotional attachment, just a blank cool gaze. He paid her little heed and continued to gather up his armor, grabbing a canvas bag to hold the extra pieces.

"This is bigger than all of us," Natasha finally said. "Bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than all the Westerlands or the North or Dorne. The fate of the entire world rests on you actually listening."

Jon though didn't say a word.

"There is a threat and it's going to sound mad but it's coming. The Others… they're real Jon. The War for the Dawn didn't defeat them it just made their spirits retreat. But they're awake now. Awake and stirring North of the Wall." Jon glanced at her but didn't say a word. "Listen… Fury went about this all wrong. As he said he was going to approach Tony first but then you two had your blow up and before that Tony stopped being Iron Man and that threw all our plans off kilter. I wasn't even tapped by Fury until after our betrothal and I was only approached about this plan to bring you in a week ago. Until then all I did was promise to watch out for you. That's it. I didn't come here to spy on you and I was just as shocked as you were when Fury revealed everything and what he wanted me to do." She shook her head. "I warned him you weren't like Tony, that it would be better to come at you straight and true and not play games but Fury… Fury sometimes gets it in his head to be an ass to people. See how they react." She took a step forward. "Jon, saying something."

"You say you didn't come here to spy on us," he answered as he shoved one of his spare gauntlets, the original one that Tony had made, not the one with his swing blade folded into it, into the bag, "yet when they asked you to you did so. When we swore ourselves to each other it was to make us one. Yet your loyalty isn't to me."

"It is to you," Natasha said, against approaching him. "That's why I went along with Fury's plans to contact you. Because if we don't work together, if we don't unite… we die." She let out a sigh and when Jon finally looked at her he was startled by the haunted look she wore. He had seen many emotions on her face during their time together: longing, need, lust, joy, annoyance, cocky swagger, tender desire… but never fear. Never fear. And yet… "The Others… the South has forgotten them and the North doesn't understand just what they are. They think they are demons or monsters but they are… so much worse. And their desire is to kill us all." She took several more steps so that she was standing before him. "I have been loyal to you…" she reached up to touch his cheek but something must have flashed in his eyes because she jerked her hand away like his face was living flame. "…and that is why I've done all I have. I would rather have you feel betrayed now if it means that I don't have to hold your dying body in my arms."

Jon slowly turned away, unable to look at her when he spoke at least. "Ned Stark lied to me my entire life. Let me believe I was a bastard. Looked the other way when Lady Catelyn spat her poison at me. For my own good. Tony changed his goals and didn't say a word and then thought it fine to demand that I give up being Centurion. For my own good. You are my wife… and now I find out that was all a lie. A lie… for my own good." He grit his teeth. "You'll forgive me if I am tired of the people in my life deciding to hide things from me and dictate what I must do for my own bloody GOOD!" He grabbed a pitcher of water and hurled it against the wall, the sound of it shattering giving him a wonderful release of tension.

"…it wasn't a lie to me," Natasha whispered.

He turned to look at her and saw her standing there looking so utterly miserable, tears in her eyes. And where before that would have made his heart ache now it only filled him with rage. He stormed over to her, his gauntlets thrumming with energy that begged to be released. To her credit she didn't tremble or shrink away in the face of his fury.

"And how do I know this isn't an act? That you aren't shedding a mummur's tears to get me to go along with your plots." He leaned forward and hissed, "That's the problem… I can't trust anything you say or do. Because you are the best liar I've ever met and everything you do is fake."

"Not this," Natasha said, swallowing up her despair and squaring her shoulders. "Never this… never us. Everything I've done… is for us."

Jon considered her for a long moment. "Fury still outside?"

"Probably."

"Tell him you are done and we are leaving. Tell him I am taking you across the Narrow Sea to Essos. Tell him to find someone else to lie to those they love. We leave and start somewhere else. You said that you longed to be a bastard again, to have the freedom that brought. Let's do that. In Essos they won't care who we are, our parents or our holdings. We could be sellswords or artists or simply find some island where no one dwells and live like savages. Go and tell him that."

Natasha shook her head. "I can't." She grabbed his arm and it took all of Jon's will not to wrench it back. "Because this is so very important, Jon. I wasn't being flowery when I told you how dangerous the threat is… the Others WILL kill everyone in the world. Unless the heroes of this world unite. And you are one of them." He turned his head and she sighed. "You are mad because everyone is lying to you, trying to make decisions for you. And I wish I could tell you that this was one where you did have a choice. But you don't. Because none of us have one. Death marches on the Wall, and then on Westeros. The only other option… is to die."

Jon fought with the dueling parts of his heart. Half of him wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close. To forgive her and say he understood. Because despite his anger he DID see why she'd done what she'd done. How Fury and his masters had forced her into this situation and how she didn't have a choice. That like him others had made decisions for her and also like him now she had to deal with the fallout. But the other side of his heart screamed that if she truly loved him, truly cared and trusted him… she would have told him the truth. She wouldn't have waited this long.

'Except she did,' he thought to himself even as another voice whispered, 'Only when forced.'

Jon sighed. "I hid the Centurion from you… and then who my… father was."

"So you understand?" Natasha asked.

"Understand is one thing," Jon said. It was the hardest thing for him to do, to reach up and slowly, almost painfully so, draw her into an embrace. He could feel her heart thundering in her chest, her head pressed close to his own, her tears dropping onto his shoulder. And then, just as difficult… he slowly pushed her away. "But accepting is another. I can't trust you Natasha… not right now. Everything you do now causes a voice to cry out within me that it is a fakery. An act. And without trust…"

"Then…" she asked, bracing herself for a mortal blow to her heart.

"I can't promise anything," he said finally, finding that even the part of him that screaming at him that she was not to be trusted could not drop that blow. "But what I need is time."

"I will give it to you," she whispered. "And I'll prove to you that it wasn't a lie. As long as it takes… I'll earn back your trust." She reached out and pressed her hand against the cold metal that covered his. "I'll give you the time you need to trust me again."

"I'm afraid you won't be getting that, Centurion," Fury said, shoving the door open. Jon glared at the man only to whip up his gauntlets and move to stand in front of Natasha to protect her when he saw that Fury was dragging what clearly was an Iron Born raider inside. The man was wearing leather armor and both of his arms had been dislocated, a cry of pain leaving the man's lips when Fury shoved him to the floor. "While I was waiting for you lovebirds to realize you were being foolish and that you loved each other and would be miserable without each other I heard this one trying to sneak up on me. I decided to have a… chat with him." Drawing forth his blade (and Jon's eyes widened when he saw it was valyrian steel) Fury looked at the squirming Iron Born raider before pressing the tip of his blade into the man's back, making him pause. "If I do this right I just paralyze you for life. Wrong and you die. Of course you might think it should be the other way around. Now please tell Jon and Natasha what you told me."

The man's jaw worked before he grunted out. "I'm part of a raiding party. Landed ten days ago and worked our way here."

"And why is that?" Fury pressed. When the man didn't answer he forced the point of his sword harder into the man's back, his jerkin becoming stained with blood.

"Attack! Attack on Iron Pointe!" the man cried out. "Vanko is leading a raid against Iron Pointe!"

Jon stepped forward. "Vanko is dead." He glanced at Natasha, wondering briefly if that had been a lie too but she just shook her head and he could see in her eyes she was confused as he was. "He died on the road to Dorne."

"Staged by his benefactor, some highborn Storm Lander." Fury poked at a different spot and the Iron Born cried out before talking again. "Separated our forces… half when Captain Asha Greyjoy, the other with Captain Vanko!"

"Now was that so hard?" Fury said before slashing his blood down and taking the man's head from his shoulders. "You might want to buy a rug to cover up that bloodstain."

Natasha and Jon shared a look before storming out of the house, leaving Fury behind.

"We need to get back," Jon began. to their home.

"Sound the alarm and bar the gates."

"They are probably sending multiple parties. Land and sea."

"We need to hurry."

Without thought Jon grabbed Natasha, wrapping one arm around her waist and firing off the sunstones in his gauntlets. Their fight and their trust issues had been put aside. Later there would be time to work out the problems and hurt that had come about and see if they could rebuild the love between them.

Now… they had to save their home.

"No no, I'm good!" Fury called out as they rose in the air. "I'll catch up… don't need a lift! Don't worry about me… you f-" whatever else he said was drowned out by the winds as Jon and Natasha flew back to Iron Pointe.

~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Notes: What started out as hints of Jon and Natasha sexy times (and now, you guys aren't getting anything more descriptive on here! FF has rules and I'd rather not lose this entire story just because you want to hear about J&N's Fun Nekkid Time) turns rather dramatic when Gerion/Fury appears.

A lot of people wondered about Natasha's training, especially when it was mentioned that "Syrio" trained her. While we don't know yet if that was Mystique or not, we do know that there was more to it than there appeared: like Iron Man 2 Nat was sent into Tony's household for a purpose.

Some people complained about the idea of Lyanna and Rhaegar planning on boy names when it is clear that Rhaegar wanted a girl to give Aegon his two sister-wives to fulfill the prophecy. Keeping in mind that Ned never said exactly WHAT Lyanna told him, only that she admitted that Rhaegar married her and gave Jon the name Jaehaerys, we now learn more to the story and see that it is FAR more likely that Lyanna wasn't talking about her and Rhaegar picking that name… that Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull and Lyanna's contact with the Council, was the one who she discussed names with. Ser Gerold, being like Gerion/Fury, would plan for multiple outcomes and would consider what would happen in Jon was born a boy or a girl. A girl and Aegon gets his sister wives. A boy… he is the Orys to Aegon's… Aegon.

For those who don't know Orys Baratheon was Aegon's alleged bastard brother who was the very first Hand of the King and who married the last of the Storm King's daughter and thus fused the two lines together.

And yes, I nipped the Young Griff thing right in the damn bud: Young Griff isn't a Targaryen. He has the looks of them but isn't one… probably isn't even a blackfire but a dragon seed at best or merely one of the mixed raced orphans from the free cities where there is still some Valyrian blood.

We also learn of the reach of the Council. Gerion is running around. Natasha in Iron Pointe. Varys in the Red Keep. The Samuel L. Jackson Fury in the Riverlands with Ned. And now we get conformation that Clynt is more than he seems (apparently being of House Barton which he has yet to mention as well as being on the Council's radar if not one of their agents… Nikolas didn't reveal that).

So originally this chapter was going to end with Jon flying off after giving his "It was all a lie" speech and the final line was him hearing Natasha cry out "It wasn't a lie!". Then, a few chapters from now, Natasha would have found Jon where they first talked about being bastards and hashed out details before spotting the Iron Born fleet. A few things arose to alter this plan that caused me to merge the chapters. One was the length, as things ended far too soon. Second was that I want the Sacking of Iron Pointe to line up on the exact same night Stannis attacks King's Landing. For that to happen I couldn't have several days between Jon and Nat's fight and them getting back together. And finally… I didn't want it all settled. This needs to linger. Jon is setting it aside for now but he hasn't forgiven Natasha and they just went right back to square one. They can fix this, and in fact it can make them stronger… but he can't forgive her right now. And Natasha knows in her heart she needs to do this, she needs to prove herself… because lying to him? That added so much red back in her own mental ledger.

Now, one last little bonus. As some of you may know, if you follow me on Twitter (and you should because I am delightful!), I said that there was a certain scene from the latest episode of Game of Thrones that worked well with the music from a certain Anime's most epic moment.

So, with warning for SPOILERS… enjoy this omake where I take it one step further.

SPOILER!

SPOILER!

SPOILER!

Omake

The Night King looked at the broken and pathetic form of his most hated form and couldn't help but feel the need to gloat. To make it clear to the Three-Eyed Raven or whatever the avatar for the Old Gods was calling himself nowadays just how little his powers meant to him.

"Let's stop dwelling on heroism and start focusing on reality," the Night King taunted. "A vast army of the undead, their will completely mine. A loyal guard of beings just like myself. And my own powers… your dragon flame did not harm me. My speed and strength is so great that you cannot hope to kill me with your pathetic dragonglass." He scoffed. "I wasn't sure until we exchanged blows tonight, boy… but the Wolf's Blood no longer dwells within you Starks. A bastard who always seeks to give command to others. A woman who pretends to be strong but is still the weak girl she always was. And you… a broken thing. You are just the embers of what has already gone. And that fire gets weaker with each botched plan… even now it is a feeble spark about to put itself out." With that the Night King drew his blade. "It seems you will die with regret! As the Raven and as a Stark!"

'You're right,' someone, certainly not Bran for he was in no state to fight back, thought. 'We failed as the Starks of WInterfell. To remember what was important. We failed. But that is why we have to make it up to our ancestors.' And with that Arya Stark leapt from the shadows and intercepted the Night King's blade with her sword Needle, the blade trembling and buckling from the onslaught.

The Night King regarded her for a moment in amusement. "I see," he finally said. "The weak embers inside you are resisting. You are trying to rekindle some of the former strength of the Starks of old. A desperate attempt to rage against the inevitable and fulfill your duty. But it is not enough!"

Arya could feel her arm ache and she watched as her beloved blade began to crack like a mirror's pane against the Night King's power and strength.

And then she heard it. A voice from the past, echoing in her head.

'What do we say to the god of death?'

"I'll beat you," Arya whispered. "Not merely to save Westeros… but because I will do what my teachers did for me." She thought of Syrio, standing against the Goldcloaks, knowing he would die but willing to if it saved another's life. "Until I have become all they knew I could be…"

"It's embarrassing w much you're resisting," the Night King declared.

"I won't-"

"Perhaps I was wrong."

"I refuse… TO DIE!" With that Arya stopped holding back with Needle, letting the sword shatter in her hand even as she drew her Valyrian steel dagger and slashed at the Night King's stomach, cutting his armor but just missing his blue flesh.

'A girl won't be able to stop him head on,' someone that sounded suspiciously like Jaqen whispered in her mind. 'A girl must use her wits.'

Bran watched on from his wheelchair and for the first time in a long time… he was surprised. "At the last moment she transferred her focus from her right arm to her left. She used her right arm as bait."

"A clever trick," the Night King said, touching where she'd cut his armor before reaching out and grasping Arya by the throat with one hand and the arm holding her dagger with the other. "That's so unlike you noble Starks. STILL WEAK THOUGH!"

Gasping for air, Arya snapped back, "That's because… I didn't put my back into it that time!" And with that she dropped the dagger.

Suddenly the world fell away and Arya was at the beginning of time, watching as countless Starks, from Bran the Builder onward, appeared before the Heart Tree. "The duty of our family has been passed down from Stark to Stark," a voice called out to her. "Each praying they would joy and peace to humanity. That House Stark would give the world hope." Arya could only stare as all the ancient Starks merged as one… and became her father, who turned and smiled as he looked upon her. "And now it is your turn." He reached out towards her fallen dagger and Arya did the same with her own hand, for a brief moment his large warm hand wrapping around her own. "Do your best Arya."

The Night King let out a gasp as Arya's fingers locked around the handle of the Valyrian steel dagger and behind her it seemed as if the weirwoods had exploded in ghost flames. He dropped her but still she leapt forward, blood gushing from her wounds as she raced at him, screaming in rage and fury.

"Goodbye, Night King!" Arya said, the 'weak embers' of House Stark bursting into an inferno. She drove the dagger into his throat, her momentum so much that she actually took him off his feet and smashed him into the ground before he shattered, the rest of his army falling as he did, the unleashed power from the blow causing the trees to tremble and Bran to be flung from his chair. Arya fell to her knees, panting as she looked about the weirwood forest. "Goodbye… father."