5. Hermione

When Jon had mentioned going beyond the Wall, Hermione had not felt so helpless in such a long time. Despite all her attempts, she couldn't summon her magic. She had tried everything and all it had done was leave her with a headache and feeling more helpless than when she began. It occurred to her then that she ought to rectify that. She'd been able to convince Ser Davos into helping her. The courtyard was empty now, most people were in the Great Keep where it was warm and the wine was plentiful. She felt more comfortable taking these lessons privately, and Ser Davos, bless him had not minded being out in the cold this late.

Hermione almost dropped the bow when she saw him walking across the empty courtyard to them. Ghost, whom she'd been quite surprised to see had taken a little more interest in her, trotted ahead of his master. His red eyes watched her keenly, but this time there was a little more familiarity in his gaze on her.

Hermione noticed as he got closer that he was wearing his crown this time, no doubt he had probably come off another meeting. Jon did not wear his crown all that often but it was such a sight when he did. It had been fashioned from the previous Kings of Winter and more closely his own half-brother, the late King Robb. It was made from black steel rather than the traditional bronze and though not overly ornate, especially for a King's crown, Hermione thought it suited him very well. The open circlet was surmounted by nine black points in the shape of longswords. At the front, two swords crossed over each other and at the base, were two incised snarling direwolves. It had no other embellishments. No large rubies or diamonds or anything excessively extravagant, but the fine detail on the etching of the wolves was a beauty no less. Hermione thought Jon always looked so handsome and kingly, but seeing him in his crown was another sight to behold.

Jon looked quite intrigued as he joined them. "Your Grace," Ser Davos greeted. Hermione curtsied too but he quickly waved them off. It was quite late and he was visibly surprised to see them both out in the practice yard. When Jon got close enough, he stopped and then cast a look over his shoulder to the bridge that ran between the armoury and the Great Keep. There was a fond look on his face and he turned back to them.

Hermione couldn't help but look at him expectantly, hoping he would share whatever it was that gave him such a tender look on his face.

"My father used to stand up there and watch us train when we were lads." He finally said. "What are you doing out here, this late?" Jon was looking at Hermione as he spoke.

"I asked Ser Davos for help."

"Help with what?" he frowned.

"I wanted to learn … how to fight that is."

He smiled. "Do you plan on doing much fighting my lady?"

"I don't know." Her lips quirked upwards. "I seem to find myself in dire circumstances more often than not these days. It seemed foolish to not know how to defend myself."

Jon seemed to understand that well enough. It seemed like the time had come for them all to learn how to fight, the argument of women not fighting long lost on them.

"Beside I have no magic to protect me anymore so…" Hermione shrugged, ignoring the pang she felt at her loss.

"Why is that?" Jon asked curiously.

"I don't know." She answered. "Perhaps I wasn't meant to have it here."

Jon considered her answer for a moment, nodding ever so slightly. Eventually he changed the subject to what she had been doing. "And how does the lady, fare, Ser Davos?" Jon asked.

The onion knight smirked, no doubt thinking them foolish, for certainly they weren't fooling him.

"She is a fast learner, Your Grace." He replied. "There is power behind those tiny hands of hers." Hermione blushed but she felt rather proud. "She's got a good enough aim with the sword. Though perhaps she might be better with the bow if she had a more accomplished teacher?"

Ser Davos looked at him quite smug. "Oh?" was all he could articulate for a moment. Jon stepped a little closer to their practice area. There were half a dozen arrows embedded in the ground, and only a few in the straw backing. Hermione resisted the urge to glare at Ser Davos. She was very aware of what he was doing.

"Hm, I've seen you with the bow. You're an exceptional marksman." Ser Davos turned to Hermione and Jon could see the humour in his face. "He's the far better shot than myself," But when Jon didn't say anything more, she could almost see the Onion Knight roll his eyes. "Mayhaps, Your Grace can help the lady?"

"Oh no! I'm sure King Jon is far too busy for that, Ser Davos." Hermione rushed out. "I … wouldn't want to take up his time."

"I don't mind." Jon cut in. "May I?" he asked her. She nodded. He stepped up and Ser Davos quietly and smirkingly drew to the side. "Which is your sword arm?"

"This one," she said holding up her right hand. He nodded as she gripped the bow with her left.

"Take you stance," He instructed.

She did. Jon stepped closer, placing his hand on the small of her back as he helped her posture. "Stand tall." He hesitated for a brief moment, "May I?" he asked again. When she nodded he placed his hands on her hips, shifting her stance just a little. "Relax." He whispered in her ear as he nudged her feet a little further apart with his boot. But her stance was still too rigid. "Try and relax, Hermine." He advised. It was far easier said than done, especially with him standing so close to her.

Slowly her shoulders dropped and she exhaled. Jon reached down for one of the arrows. He took his stance beside Hermione, bringing the arrow around her. She tried to relax, as best she could but it felt like she was breaking all sorts of unspoken rules then and secretly it thrilled her.

"Nock the arrow," Jon said softly. He helped her though, bringing the arrow down and into the correct place. He listened for the little snap as the arrow was notched. "No, just three fingers." He amended as he looked down at the bow. He unhooked her little finger from the string. "Move this a hand a little," he said shifting the hand on the bow a little out. "Good." She turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder. Jon tucked the darks curls that had escaped her braid behind her ear. This close, she could see the faint tinge of pink on his cheeks from the cold, his own dark curls that he'd tied back neatly and she was a little surprised to see a hint of indigo perhaps in his grey eyes. "Now raise your bow." She turned back to the target and did as he said. Jon guided her bow into the correct position again. "Remember to relax. Keep your shoulders down." He shifted a little more, leaning in closer as he adjusted her arm. "Draw." She did, pulling the arrow back. "Use your mouth to anchor the arrow." As he said that she froze, momentarily, all sorts of titillating ideas coming to mind. "Here, right at this point." He leaned in, over her shoulder, placing his hand over hers and gently bringing the arrow to the right place at the corner of her mouth. "Keep your arm straight as you draw." He advised. "Now aim." Her hand wavered but he placed his hand overs hers to steady her and then gently pulled back as she took aim. "Loose." He whispered and she did. The arrow hissed as it was released, burying itself into the outer edges of the target. It wasn't a perfect shot, but it wasn't pitiful either.

"That's not a terrible shot is it?" she asked uncertainly.

He chuckled. "Not bad at all my lady."

She turned to him, beaming, and Jon was taken aback by how much comfort that gave him. "Ser Davos was right. You are exceptional… an exceptional marksman, I mean…" she stammered soundly flustered.

Jon felt his lips turn up a little. "Again?" he offered.

"Yes."

"Nock your arrow," he said handing her another one.

"Well it would seem you are in very capable hands, my lady." Ser Davos comment and they both startled. They had forgotten he was still there. Hermione did her best to ignore the smug, knowing smile on his face. "I shall… go find something else to do."

Before either could object, he turned and left them. Hermione chuckled. "He's not entirely subtle, is he?"

As Hermione took her stance again, she could tell Jon was worried over something. Not just the usual army of the dead worries. This felt different. The change in his demeanour was almost instant as he frowned, and then looked away from her.

She put the bow aside. "What troubles you, Jon?"

"Nothing," he sighed.

She frowned and took a step closer to him. "That doesn't seem to be the case."

"I… you're learning archery." He merely said. He was never good with words, she knew; the solemn and stoic man that she had seen in all her time here but this felt like it was more than the usual. Like it was simply to much just to say.

"I doubt I'll be very good but it's better than nothing." Hermione replied. "I tried the long sword but it was definitely not for me. Lady Brienne is very strong to wield such a heavy weapon." She was rambling. They both knew. "The bow seemed like a better choice. Now if only I could hit the target then – "

"She was killed. An arrow to the heart." Jon said. He closed his eyes, sighing as the memory of that night came back to him. when he opened them again, Hermione was standing in front of him. "I loved her very much. But … I was just a lad… unable to protect her and bound by vows I had already forsaken for her. She died." Jon swallowed, feeling Hermione's hand on his arm. He looked at her, with sincerity and almost fear. "I would not like to see you meet the same fate."

"Because I can barely shoot an arrow?" She didn't want to think on what else he could possibly be eluding to and until he said otherwise, she would not question it further.

"No, because you share that same fighting spirit. It scares me," he admitted in half a whisper.

Throwing propriety aside for a moment, Hermione stepped closer, grasping his arm tightly, "I am learning only to survive, Jon. Not to go looking for trouble." She had a wry smile on her face. "This would be a first for me, but I have no intentions of looking for a reason to use any of these skills. I would just like to have them."

He seemed barely appeased by that but perhaps he understood the futility in arguing. Hermione was resolute on knowing at least one way of defending herself, now that her magic was no longer available to her. The last of what she had, had been used when she tried to escape the wight in the Godswood in her very first moments in this new world. The sword was too heavy and difficult for her to master or even move with any finesse. But the bow seemed to hold some promise.

She frowned as a stray thought struck her. "Are you asking me to stop?"

"Would you?"

Hermione bit her lip, not because she didn't know her answer, but because she didn't think he was going to like it. "No."

He smiled ruefully. "I can't stop you anymore than I can stop this winter."

Hermione knew of course that he was wrong. He was the King. He could command it of her as her King and she would have no choice but to obey. Yet, perhaps it was a mark to how well he seemed to understand her that he did no such thing. For certain, she would have hated it, complied no doubt but she would have hated it. Finding some generosity in his actions, Hermione thought it best to at least try and compromise.

"Perhaps I shall practice a little more with the bow until I find a weapon better suited for me."

Jon looked rather relieved by that and Hermione was shocked at how much that meant to him. "I could help you."

"With what? Finding a better weapon or the lessons?"

"Anything you'd like." He shrugged. But Hermione sensed he meant more than that. Deciding it was best not to question that just yet, she distracted them the task at hand.

"Then perhaps a little more practice with the bow… at least until I'm a better shot." Hermione said. They had to be careful how they moved now, Hermione had to remind herself that he was still the King, despite his insistence on the lack of formality. "And while you're away, I suppose I could work on finding another well suited weapon …" she trailed off, her task suddenly paling in comparison to his own.

"It's going to be alright," Jon whispered.

"You don't know that." She fidgeted with her hands and didn't dare to look at him.

She felt his finger under her chin as he tipped it up so she would look at him. "I have given you my word that I will do my very best not to be a martyr. I intend to keep it."

Hermione smiled but her chuckles died when she saw him leaning in. Her breath stole itself from her as she grasped his hand, inching herself closer. He was the closest he'd ever been to her, when Ghost whined and they jumped apart. Above, on the bridge, Jon could hear the heavy footsteps and they both turned, watching and waiting as the chatter grew a little louder.

The two men, unknown to Hermione walked past, throwing only an inquisitive glance before disappearing again.

Jon sighed, running his fingers through his hair as Hermione turned away from him. She tried to calm her frantic heart as she reached for her bow again.

"Shall we go again?"

Jon grinned. "Take your stance, my lady."

A few days later, she watched as preparations were made and being carried out for Jon's voyage beyond the Wall. Something that Princess Sansa was still not agreeable to. Secretly Hermione found herself sharing Sansa's apprehension.

"It feels too dangerous, you leaving Winterfell again, Jon!" Sansa argued.

Hermione looked away from the window, where she stood, to the arguing siblings in the room. How she ever managed to always find herself stuck in a room when they argued she never knew.

"I have no choice Sansa," Jon replied sounding tired.

"You said that about the dragonglass." Sansa reminded him. "And it was a fair argument then, but this! You are needed here."

"I need more men Sansa. We need more swords. We won't get more men if we don't have proof that the walkers actually exist." Jon explained.

"We have the strong forces with the Stark men at arms, the Knights of the Vale and the Free Folk," Sansa argued.

"And the Night King has an army of a hundred thousand strong, Sansa," Jon said. "We don't have enough men. And no one will join a cause they do not believe in! They need to see this if they are to believe it and join us."

Sansa huffed aggrieved before turning to Hermione. "Well, mayhaps you can talk some sense into my brother! He seems to welcome your advice better than most these days."

Hermione blushed at the implication as Jon groaned. "Sansa."

"I'm afraid I've already tried to talk him out of it but it seems King Jon is as stubborn as he is honourable," Hermione said quietly.

Sansa looked amused for a moment before rounding on her brother again. "What if you die beyond the wall?" She asked angrily. "Who will lead the North against the dead then?"

Jon looked at Hermione, perhaps remembering the favour she had asked of him. "I have given my word that I will do my very best to not die." He finally said.

"Jon," Sansa protested.

"If there were another way, I would do it. You know that."

"There is another way. Why does it have to be you?" Sansa asked.

Hermione watched Jon fidget with the wood of the table beneath his fingers before he answered somberly. "Father once said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." Hermione watched as the Stark siblings both deflated somewhat at the memory of the later father. "I cannot send someone to do what is my duty. It is that simple." He said firmly.

Sansa pressed her lips together, clearly not pleased that she hadn't been able to sway his decision.

"Very well." She finally conceded. "Be safe, Jon." She said quietly as he pulled her into a hug.

"I shall look to your return," Sansa said with the barest of the smiles. "Though I suspect, I won't be the only one." She added her smirking as she looked at Hermione.

She ignored Jon's groan, squeezing his hand affectionately before gathering herself and leaving the room.

It was just her and Jon. Again. She walked over to the table, silently unsure of what to say.

"Are you not going to wish me well, Hermione?" he asked almost teasingly. His smile dropped when he noticed she was wringing her hands nervously. "I thought we agreed I had to go?"

Hermione stared at him wide-eyed for a moment. "I wouldn't dare presume to think that my opinion on the matter should affect the decisions of the King." She said tightly. She was frustrated and anxious and scared. Everything about Jon leaving Winterfell right now seemed like a terrible test of fate. When he frowned, looking down at the table once more, she felt oddly guilty and quickly made to correct herself. "But if I did, I would ask you not to go."

"Don't ask that of me, Hermione," Jon said his voice taut with emotion. He didn't look up from the table yet. His fist curling and bracing on the table as he steadied himself.

"I know. I am no one of significance to ask that of you. I'm sorry." She said quietly.

"Of course you're important." He snapped. "You're … I only meant to say that you can't ask that of me because I fear I would obey."

"Oh," Hermione said in surprise looking at him.

He rounded the table coming to her. "I don't know why, but I know if you ask anything of me I would give it to you." He reached forward, pushing her hair away from her face. "I don't care very much for titles Hermione. You are someone of great importance to me." He said softly leaning a little closer to her.

Hermione exhaled, her heart hammering just a little faster. "You're the King," she reminded him. "Their White Wolf," she recalled Lord Manderly reverently calling Jon that a few times in passing.

"Hm, Bastard King." He murmured.

"Still a King," she argued weakly. Hermione gasped when she felt him pull her a little closer. His hand resting at her waist. she swallowed hard. "Jon?" she asked.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Anything?"

"Aye," he breathed.

He held her to him, her hands burying themselves into the fur of his cloak. He was looking at her, in earnest, as if committing her to memory and that scared her.

"Don't die." She ordered.

He sighed and when he didn't say anything Hermione pulled him closer by the furs of his coat. His instincts were good, arms coming to wrap around her waist as he steadied them both.

"As you wish." He replied, leaning down and closing what little space was between them.

Hermione sighed against his lips, her fingers weaving into his curls. His lips were warm and demanding against hers. He tasted of spiced wine and sweets. He shifted them, bring her closer, almost lifting her tiny figure off the floor and Hermione was certain nothing would ever be as delectable as kissing Jon.

Footsteps outside the room had them both tensing and pulling apart quickly but then the heavy steps carried on, they both sighed in relief. Hermione was pleased to see that Jon looked as flushed as she felt. When the footsteps echoed further down the corridor, Jon chuckled running his fingers through his hair. Hermione pressed her fingers to her lips, hoping to commit to memory what had just occurred.

"Jon?" she said. "When you asked me why I'm loyal to House Stark… I didn't tell you everything."

"I know."

"It's not just because you saved me. That would be the preferred answer I know." Hermione said quickly. "It's because I spent all those days and weeks after that incident watching well everything and I – I realized what kind of man you are."

"What kind would that be?" Jon asked.

"A good one. You're a good man, bastard king or not and I know you're doing what you think is right to save your people." Hermione answered quietly. "But please, whatever happens, don't die."

He stood a little taller as he adjusted his cloak and then he started to reach out to her, placing the barest of there kisses on her cheek. "As you wish, Hermione." He said again.

He was almost to the door when Hermione called out to him. "Good luck, Jon." She said softly.

Jon gave her one last fleeting look and then left the room. Hermione leaned against the table, exhaling loudly as she tried to regain composure of herself.

In no time at all, they were gathered in the courtyard, seeing Jon and his small group of wight hunters off. A few had been selected, hoping to keep their party small and thereby avoid attracting much attention. In this hunting party, as Hermione had come to call them, were a host of odd characters that she had only seen in passing during her time at the castle. Both his sisters and even Sam had come to see them off. Hermione worried for a moment as Sam approached Jon. They shared a few words and then they were hugging again.

"Sam," Hermione called hopeful he wouldn't turn away. He didn't, choosing instead to join her on the side, watching quietly.

"You look a little weary, Lady Hermione," Sam said though not unkindly.

Hermione managed a weak smile. "I am anxious Sam. This feels too much like tempting fate."

"Yes, it does." He agreed somberly.

They watched as the steeds were made ready, some of the group shifting a little uncomfortably as Ghost wandered between them. The wolf tended to make a lot of people nervous. His gleaming red eyes, seeing everything his master couldn't. King Jon had decided to take Ghost with him and that gave Hermione some comfort. The beast was fierce and very protective of Jon – it was exactly what he needed. Unexpectedly, the white wolf came up to where Hermione and Sam stood.

"Hello boy," Sam greeted respectfully.

Ghost looked his way as if – absurdly Hermione thought – in greeting too and then nuzzled her hands. She bit back her gasp, aware of Sam's keen gaze before petting the wolf. Ghost leaned into her touch, as her fingers played with the softest fur she'd ever felt. It had been the first time she'd ever touched the wolf.

"He likes you," Sam noted.

When Hermione looked at Sam, she found him looking across the courtyard. Turning her attention there, she caught Jon looking at them – her – intently. Not entirely sure if Sam spoke of the master or the wolf, Hermione blushed and looked down at Ghost again.

"Keep him safe. Please." She whispered.

Ghost rubbed his snout against her palm and then trotted off, joining his master. Jon kneeled to pet Ghost as he looked back across the courtyard at Hermione.

"Who are those people with him?" Hermione asked Sam, more of a way of distraction to her nerves.

"Ah, well you've seen Tormund around, haven't you?" Sam asked. She had. He was kind of hard to miss.

Tormund Giantsbane was as big as any man she had ever seen. He had a thick, wild red mane for a beard and piercing eyes. He was loud and several of the servants and squires used the term 'savage' to refer to him. Yet, Jon had somehow come to consider him a friend. A trusted one at that. He was Chieftain to the Free Folk, a title – she was admittedly shocked to see – he took rather seriously.

"Then there's Sandor Clegane or the Hound," Sam said. He looked a little happier now that he was sharing and educating her about what he could.

Hermione focused on where Sam was looking and gasped. "What happened to his face?"

"His brother burnt him when they were lads," Sam answered wincing.

Hermione thought that was absolutely awful but looking at the glaring man quickly decided he won't appreciate her pity so she turned away.

"That's an odd sigil," she remarked.

"Hm. It's the Brotherhood without Banners – a history lesson for another time I'm afraid," Sam added when she looked at him, more questions on the tip of her tongue. She smiled guiltily. "Lord Beric Dondarrion. He's the leader." Lord Beric Dondarrion had ragged-looking hair and a leather patch covering one eye. "He's a practitioner of the Lord of Light." At this Hermione turned to him sharply. "Aye, the same. That man beside him is their Red Priest, Thoros of Myr." Compared to Beric Dondarrion, Thoros was a stout looking man with a thick beard and calculating eyes.

"Has he …" Hermione asked uncertainly.

"There are rumours that Lord Dondarrion has a habit of dying during a battle and yet somehow he stands before us today. A seemingly unfair advantage to have, some have said." Sam answered.

"How many times has he died?" Hermione asked shocked.

"Some say four, some say as many as eight." Sam shrugged.

Hermione chortled out a short raspy breath. "I guess Jon's falling behind with only the one resurrection then." Hermione joked.

Sam laughed. "That's Gendry Waters." He pointed to the smallest looking among the troop. "He's the bastard of the late King Robert Baratheon."

Hermione noticed that Gendry had black hair and blue eyes that seemed to have a habit of following Arya around the courtyard.

"Ah, noticed that have you?" Sam teased.

Hermione giggled, turning her attention back to the group join had assembled.

"Will it be enough, Sam?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I hope so, my lady."

Jon called for the group and they were all mounting their horses, a stiff silence fell over the courtyard. Jon mounted his horse and with one last look at them all, his eyes lingering on her a few seconds longer than proper, before kicking off. Their departure left a lingering sense of eerie quietness.

Sam looked at her for a moment, before offering her his arm. She laughed, her breath causing small misty clouds in the air. She walked with Sam through the castle grounds, her steps only faltering when she realized where they were heading.

Sam seemed to sense her hesitancy. "It's quite safe, I assure you." He soothed.

Hermione exhaled and nodded allowing him to lead her once again. She had not set foot in the Godswood since her fated arrival. It was very much different than she had remembered. Of course, she had been screaming and fighting for her very survival then. Quite difficult to take in the scenery when you're trying to escape the undead.

The Godswood was calmer than she remembered. Quieter too. She could hear the water trickling delicately through the stream that ran through and the leaves gently rustling in the breeze.

"The Weirwood tree," Sam offered noticing her looking at it.

It was quite unlike any tree she had ever seen. The face on the tree looked morose and yet it was oddly comforting. The red leaves were a vibrant contrast to the startling white snow around them.

"It's quite alright to be scared," Sam said as they walked slowly through the wood. The snow crunching beneath their feet.

"I'm merely anxious. He is our King after all. I would want him to stay in good health," she said primly, "or alive." She added in an undertone.

But Sam did hear her. She could have sworn he smirked. "I've known Jon for a long time, Hermione." Sam started. "Take comfort in that he does not give his affections away so freely to just anybody."

Hermione flushed, looking at the floor. "I am not entirely sure I know what you mean Sam."

This time he did laugh. "He's not exactly subtle about his … fondness for you." When Hermione looked up startled, he grinned. "It's alright Hermione. Jon's a good man."

"Yes, he is," she said as they neared the tree. "But he is also a King." She looked up at the tree hoping to find some strength in it. "A bastard King, as he likes to say. But still a King" She added with an amused smile.

Sam chortled. "Never would have thought, Jon Snow, the bastard, now a King." He said though Hermione couldn't help hearing the pride in his voice.

"Sand." A voice called causing them both to jump.

They looked at each other nervously as they rounded the tree, Sam gripping the hilt of his still sheathed sword tightly.

"Prince Bran," he said a little breathless. "My apologies, we did not see you there."

The boy did nothing more than smile at them before looking back up to the Weirwood tree.

"He was supposed to be Jon Sand." Bran merely continued.

"But those are names give to bastards born in Dorne," Sam said frowning.

"As was Jon," Bran confirmed.

"Where is Dorne?" Hermione asked frowning trying to recall the maps she'd been studying.

"It's the southernmost of Westeros," Sam told her. He turned back to Bran now intrigued. "Jon was born in Dorne?"

"Yes," Bran intoned.

He looked at them again and Hermione fidgeted. The youngest Stark sibling had a way of making her feel like she was always being watched. He seemed to know far more about anything than anyone. Sam had called it being the Three-Eyed Raven. She still did not understand what that meant. Perhaps a seer of some kind, she mused. Nevertheless, it was unnerving; the idea that Bran seemed to know everything, all the time. The insouciance with which he conferred such information certainly didn't help matters.

He smiled as if recalling a memory – though perhaps given his ability he might have been. "Jon was born in the Tower of Joy in Dorne. The only son to my aunt Lyanna Stark."

Sam sucked in a breath. "L-Lyanna Stark was his mother?"

"Yes," Bran answered in an almost bored tone. And then as if taking pity of the mediocrity of their information he continued. "Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped and raped my aunt Lyanna. She bore him a son, born in the Tower of Joy. A son she called Jon. He took the Northern bastard name Snow when it should have been Sand."

Hermione gasped, her hands coming up to her mouth as Sam tensed beside her.

"No," Sam eventually said quietly. His voice, though small cut through the silence of the Godswood rather sharply.

Bran looked at him, almost in disbelief that he dared to disagree. He didn't say anything waiting for Sam to explain.

"Rhaegar Targaryen annulled his marriage to Elia Martell. The records at Old Town say so." Sam said looking between Hermione and Bran. "Rhaegar was later wed in secret to Lyanna Stark."

Had it been any other moment, Hermione would have found it amusing, the look of surprise on Bran's face. But as it were, she could think of nothing but the implications of their discovery.

"And she gave birth to Jon. This means he's not a bastard." Hermione said slowly. "Wait, Sam, you said Rhaegar Targaryen … but surely not…"

"Yes, Hermione. The very same." Sam answered.

"He's not a bastard," Bran said in as much awe as Hermione had ever heard him use. "He's the legitimate child of Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen. And the heir to the Iron Throne."

Hermione raised a shaky hand to muffle her gasp as Sam swallowed hard, still frowning deep in thought.

Bran's words echoed between them and the Gods as they stood in quiet disbelief at their discovery.

He's not a Bastard King, Hermione repeated to herself. He's The King.

AN: Hello,

I would like to thank everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed this story. I am truly grateful for the support and understanding you have shown.

Please don't forget to leave a little love and review. I am working on a little surprise for this story that i hope to get out within the next two days!

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