The wind felt amazing rushing through his hair as he darted down the kingsroad. He had rode out at dawn and no one tried to stop him. Why would they? Jon had sworn no vows, Ser Alliser had seen to that. Not even the Lord Commander was willing to step in to stop Ser Alliser. Even after Jon had saved his life, and he would bare the burn scars on his hand to prove it. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont had thanked him for saving his life, even gave him the Mormont ancestral sword, Longclaw, yet he refused to override Ser Alliser's decision to leave Jon a recruit. "Ser Alliser is the master-at-arms. It is his duty to decide when a recruit is ready to take his vows, not mine. There is nothing I can do," he had said, and so it was.

Robb was taking a host south to rescue Father, so why stay at Castle Black for more torment when he could fight beside his brother. He had left Longclaw behind. It didn't seem right to take it. He may not have said his vows, but Mormont deserved to give the sword to a man who would truly honor the Night's Watch. Maybe Daeron will earn it. Jon laughed. It was unlikely Ser Alliser would let Daeron say his vows either. They were by far the best swordsman of the recruits, and had even taught the other recruits how to fight, yet somehow, all of their fellow recruits had been allowed to take their vows, while they could not. Jon felt bad for leaving him, but he couldn't afford anyone attempting to stop him.

Jon stopped beside a stream to water his horse. It had rode long and hard, and there were still many miles to go. He pulled two apples from the saddlebag and fed one to the horse before sitting against a tree and biting into his own. Ghost lumbered out from the woods and laid down beside him, resting his head on Jon's leg. "We're going home, Ghost. You'll see your brothers and sister soon." Ghost lifted his head and stared up at Jon. His eyes were like live embers, unsettling to some, but not to Jon. He felt only comfort by his silent companion.

Jon awoke to the sound of hooves beating down the road. Ghost looked in the direction of the noise, but otherwise seemed uninterested. Jon almost leapt up and hopped his horse, but then he calmed. I've swore no vows. The horse was his own, the one he had originally ridden to Castle Black from Winterfell on. He had only taken enough food to get him to Winterfell and he left Longclaw behind. Comforted, Jon leaned back against the tree once more and absentmindedly stroked Ghost's head.

The figure appeared around the bend, pushing his horse to go faster. He wore all black and reined up when he saw Jon alongside the road. At first Jon didn't recognize him, but then it dawned on him as the rider drew closer. "Daeron?"

He dismounted and grinned. "Who else would come chasing after your sorry arse? All of your other friends didn't care. He's no man of the Night's Watch. Let him ride where the fuck he pleases, I believe was what Grenn said." He offered Jon a hand up. "Now come on, we had best be getting back."

Jon leapt to his feet, without the assistance of Daeron. "Back . . . why would I go back? Robb is leading a host to rescue my father, and Ser Alliser plans to train me to an early grave. Come with me. Robb has need of all the men he can get, and you're a better swordsman than me."

"Our place is at the Wall," Daeron answered without hesitation.

"Ser Alliser won't let us take our vows, Daeron, and the Lord Commander won't stop him. What's the point of staying there? My brother needs me. My father needs me. The Night's Watch doesn't."

"There was a raven," Dareon began. "Your father is headed for Castle Black. He'll be there soon."

Jon was in disbelief. A thought sprang to the forefront of his mind, unbidden. The next time we meet, we'll talk about your mother. "Father . . . he's coming to Castle Black. Why? How?"

"I believe you know why, don't you?" At Jon's nod, Daeron smiled. "And is the how of any real importance?" Jon shook his head. "Now, we had best be getting back. Will you join me?"

Jon said nothing, but mounted his horse and started back up the kingsroad towards Castle Black. The sun was high in the sky now; the people of Mole's Town were outside their houses, going about their business. If any of them thought strange of the two men dressed all in black, they gave no sign of it. The wind began to pick up, cutting through their thick cloaks, but Jon was numb to it. His thoughts left no room for such trivial matters. Is she lowborn, or high? Is she alive, or dead? Did she love me? If she did, why did she leave me?

"Jon," Daeron's voice broke him from his musing. "What's bothering you?"

"My mother . . . I've wanted to know who she was since I was old enough to know what I am. My life on the Wall left me too busy to think on it, but now, knowing that soon I'll know who she is. It has brought all the questions back."

Daeron looked pained for a moment, then it was gone. "I understand . . ."

"You're one of the only who do. You've lived in the North your whole life, Daeron. Do you know who she was?"

The pained look reappeared on his face, transfixed as he spoke. "Jon, please don't ask this of me. Not this. I wish I could tell you, but I can't. Lord Stark will be here soon."

Jon wanted to protest, but the clear pain upon Daeron's face and the silent plea in his words gave him pause. "Okay, Daeron," Jon answered finally. "I'll find out soon enough."

Castle Black appeared as the sun was setting. They had rode in silence, neither feeling like speaking after the tense conversation. Ser Alliser awaited by the gate. "You brought Lord Snow back," he sneered. "Why?"

Daeron's mouth formed a hard line. "Our place is at Castle Black, ser." He spurred his horse on.

Jon smiled innocently. "Only went for a ride, Ser Alliser. Wanted to feel the wind in my hair, as it were." He nudged his horse on and followed after Daeron.

Lord Stark arrived within a moonturn, riding through the courtyard with Ice strapped to his back. Jon was so happy to see him, that he forgot about his mother in that moment. The happiness only grew when Arya appeared with Needle still at her waist. The letter pronouncing Eddard Stark a traitor hadn't mentioned his sisters, and Daeron said that his hadn't either. "Jon," Father's voice interrupted his joyous reunion. "I made you a promise when we parted ways, do you remember?" Jon was lost but for a moment, unsure, then it came to him. The next time we meet, we'll talk about your mother. Jon's smile fell away, though he could not say why. He had wanted to know for so long, and now he would. "If there's somewhere private we can speak, it is time you learned about your mother."

Jon nodded and motioned for them to follow. Best get this over with. He led them back to his cell in Hardin's Tower. Daeron tried to enter but Jon held up a hand to stop him. "He said privately, Daeron." Jon voice was soft, just above a whisper.

Lord Stark stepped up behind Jon and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let him come, Jon. He will no doubt want to hear this. He's wanted to tell you himself for over a decade."

Over a decade . . . how is that possible? Jon had not even known Dareon for a year, nevermind ten. He let him enter all the same. Behind Daeron was an elderly man. He wore an old roughspun robe and a borrowed Night's Watch cloak, though he moved with dignity and was surprisingly deft. "Who are you?" Jon inquired.

The man knelt. "I am Ser Barristan, Your- Jon."

"He is with me, Jon. He will want to hear this as well," Ned said from within the room.

"It is an honor to meet you, Ser Barristan. I was sorry to hear of your dismissal from the Kingsguard. You did not deserve such a dishonor," Jon said. Why has such an audience gathered to find out whom my mother is, he wondered, feeling odd.

"The honor is mine, Jon." The knight rose and walked into the room.

Next came Arya, still all elbows and knees, but grown quite a bit since they had last seen one another. She hugged him tightly, looked up, and whispered, "No matter what, you're still my brother." A tear fell from her eye.

Jon wiped it away and smiled at her. "Of course, nothing can change that. After we're done here, perhaps we can train some, if you'd like."

Arya nodded and moved into the room. A boy stood in the hall, staring at his feet. Jon knew he wasn't a man of the Night's Watch. "Who are you?"

"Gendry, m'lord."

"I'm no lord. My name is Jon Snow. What do you want?"

The boy looked scared. He began muttering apologies and backing away. Lord Stark stepped up behind Jon. "He's with me, Jon. Is there somewhere he can stay while we speak?"

"My sleeping cell should suffice, Lord Stark. It is just next door," Daeron offered.

"That will do," he replied. Lord Stark moved into the hall and guided Gendry next door. When he returned, he moved past Jon without a word.

Jon whistled for Ghost, who padded over then sat on his haunches outside the door. He shut the door and turned back to his cramped room. Arya and Father were seated on his bed, Ser Barristan and Daeron stood against the wall opposite them. Jon managed a weak smile. "Well, shall we get on with this . . ."

Daeron stepped forward and knelt. It made Jon feel odd, first Ser Barristan and now Daeron. "I have lied to you these past few moons, Jon. My name is not Daeron Snow, nor am I from the North. I am Arthur Dayne, knight of King Aerys II's Kingsguard."

Jon stumbled back into the door. He can't be Ser Arthur . . . Ser Arthur is dead. "No, you're dead." He pointed a finger at his father. "He killed you . . ."

Lord Stark stood and took Jon by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes. "It is the truth, Jon. I never killed Ser Arthur. After the war, Arthur hid away in the North and began his life as Daeron Snow."

"But, why?" Jon shrugged from his father's grip and moved to Daeron. No, Ser Arthur, Jon reminded himself. "Why come to Wall, Ser Arthur? Why befriend me? Why, damn you, why?" Jon felt tears burning a trail down his cheeks. Daeron had been Jon's best friend, a constant companion that understood what Jon felt, being a bastard himself. Now, Jon realized that he had never known the man before him at all. Ser Arthur gave no answer, he only looked pointedly at Lord Stark.

"Jon," he said from by the door. "It's not as simple as it seems. Arthur came to the North to protect someone, a person of utmost importance. You, Jon. He came here to protect you."

Jon was shocked, to say the least. "Me . . . why protect me? I'm just a bastard. What could I need protection from?"

Arthur snorted. "Who didn't you need protection from?" he said, ruefully. "Most of Lord Stark's friends would have gladly shortened your neck by a few inches should they have found out."

"If they had found out what?" Jon asked, almost at his wits end.

"Who your father was," Lord Stark said, still by the door. He couldn't meet Jon's eyes after he said the words.

Who your father was. The sentence resonated in Jon's head. No no no, its not true. It can't be. "W-what do you mean? You're my father."

Lord Stark lowered his head. He opened and closed his mouth several times, as if he were trying to speak, but couldn't form the words. "Tell him, Arthur. I can't," he finally managed, his eyes still downcast.

Jon turned to Arthur, who stood stiffly. "You are the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen by the Lady Lyanna Stark. They married in Dorne after the High Septon annuled the marriage of Rhaegar to Lady Elia Martell. They lived at a place Rhaegar came to call the Tower of Joy. It was true love, Jon, and that love only grew when they found out that she was with child. When he rode to rally the crownlands and fight Robert, he left myself, Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Oswell Whent behind to guard Lyanna. Lord Stark found us there. A fight ensued, taking the life of my two sworn brothers. I had almost died myself, but your lady mother's scream saved me. She died in childbed that day. You were born Aegon Targaryen, but there were too many people that would've killed you on sight for your name. Lord Stark took you for his bastard to conceal you, and swore me to silence." Arthur paused and laid a hand on Jon's shoulder before continuing. "I've wanted to tell you for many years, but I couldn't. My deception was not a choice I made easily. I'm sorry Jon . . ."

Jon stood there gaping at them all. He saw no shock on their faces, only varying degrees of sorrow if anything at all. They all knew . . . and not one of them told me. He looked at Arya. A few tears leaked from her eyes when she noticed Jon staring at her, but she made no moves and said nothing. Even Arya . . . "I-I can't be. It can't be true . . . it's not."

Lord Stark looked up now and spoke with a shaky voice. "It is, Jon. "

"No, no." Jon stumbled towards the door still muttering no. Lord Stark stepped forward and tried to stop him, but Jon sidestepped him and ran out the door. He didn't stop until he reached the top of the Wall, Ghost keeping pace with him the whole way. He sat down, buried his face in Ghost's fur, and began to sob. My mother and father are both dead . . . and they loved me. He sobbed harder and wrapped his arms around Ghost's neck. It wasn't fair. For so long he had wanted to know the truth of whether his mother loved him. The truth was harder than he could've imagined, so much harder. They loved me . . . and they both died for me. Jon punched the icy floor, once, twice, then a third time. His knuckles ached beneath the fur-lined glove, but he barely even noticed it. He clung to Ghost and cried for what felt like days.

Movement startled him, and he rushed to wipe his eyes. A man stepped forward, but Jon struggled to see him through tear-blurred eyes. He rubbed his eyes again. Finally he was able to make out the old man, Ser Barristan, standing before him with a worried expression. "May I sit, Jon?"

"My name is Aegon . . . or so I'm told," Jon said, somewhat annoyed. He tangled a hand in Ghost's fur and motioned for Barristan to sit.

"Is it?" he asked. He took a seat across from Jon.

Jon let out a short bitter laugh. "If you had asked me the same question yesterday I would have said no without pause. But yesterday I was Jon Snow, the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark. This morn I woke up the same, but I don't know what I'll go to sleep as."

"I understand," Barristan said kindly.

That irked Jon. "Do you? Arthur said the same, back when he was still Daeron Snow. I doubt you know anything of what I feel. You're no better than the rest of them. Ser Arthur Dayne and Lord Eddard Stark, both renowned for their honor, yet they lied to the whole realm and no one suspected a thing."

"You're right, I don't know what you're feeling. But I know loss, and the pain of the lies Lord Stark said. I failed your father on the Trident, and while I healed, King Aerys and Rhaegar's children were murdered. Dragonstone fell, the Prince and Princess were scattered to the wind, so I chose to serve Robert. I didn't hear of you until after Lord Stark's imprisonment. Joffrey dismissed me, and later tried to kill me, so I hid out in King's Landing, searching for your sister, Arya."

Jon pondered his words. He seemed sincere, but so had Lord Stark when he called Jon son. He squashed that thought down, Ser Barristan was not like the rest of them, or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. "You saved Arya?" he asked softly.

"Yes, with the help of Varys' little birds. She only found out on the journey north, you know. She hated her father for the lie, only recently beginning to forgive him." Ser Barristan chuckled. "She forced them both, Arthur and Lord Stark, from your cell, after calling each of them a number of rather unladylike names. Arya was also the one who asked me to talk to you. She certainly is a willful girl, that one, and she cares about you."

Jon smiled. "Yes she is." He sat up straighter. "I'm sorry for acting harsh towards you. You should not be blamed for the sins of others."

Ser Barristan rose and knelt in front of Jon. "You have been through a lot, Jon, and there is more to come, should you decide it."

"What do you mean?"

"The realm bleeds. Joffrey is cruel and weak, and war has already begun, as you well know. You are a Targaryen, whether your name is Jon or Aegon, that fact stays true. The people need a king, a good king, to rally behind. I believe you are that king, and it would be my honor to serve you."

Jon laughed for true now, and stood. "Me, a king. No, Ser Barristan, I think not. I know nothing of war and ruling. Why would you want me for a king? You barely know me."

"I know more than you think. I spoke with Lady Arya frequently while aboard The Wolf's Howl. I know that most consider you sullen, but that is because most never really knew you. I know that you are close with the Stark children, expect for Lady Sansa, and you are closest to Lady Arya, who was considered an outsider like you. I know you observe much and are skilled at most of what Maester's teach. You are a strong swimmer, capable on horseback, and deadly with a sword. I know that once, as a boy, you covered yourself in flour and hid in the crypts of Winterfell, and scared Arya, Bran, and Sansa when Robb brought them there." Jon smiled at that memory. "I also know you are honorable and just, but not without kindness. You see, I know much, and I would gladly serve the man Arya described, if he would have me."

Jon blushed. To recieve such praise from a man so renowned as Ser Barristan heartened him, but also frightened him. He was not meant to be a king, he was to serve the Night's Watch, and maybe one day even be Lord Commander. Jon only managed to half convince himself. "I was not meant to be a king, Ser Barristan," he protested, though his resolve was weakening.

Ser Barristan looked up with a smile. "The crown does not make the man, Jon. It will not change who you are, unless you let it. The people need you . . . they will suffer if left to Tywin Lannister."

"War will only bring death to all," Jon commented.

"War is already here and your kin, Robb Stark, is in the middle of it. There is no avoiding death, but we get to choose what we die for, and what we live for." Barristan paused as he stood. "But it is your choice, Jon, and yours alone. If you choose to remain here at the Wall, no one will stop you. I will gladly take the black as well and serve alongside Rhaegar's son until the end of my days." He turned away and started walking back along the path to the stairs.

Me, a king, he thought, still in disbelief. Maybe . . . Jon had always wanted to be viewed as honorable, perhaps this was his chance. I could be a good king. I will be a good king, he promised himself. I won't let a crown change me, I may be a Targaryen, but I will never forget Jon Snow, I am still him. "Ser Barristan!" he shouted, unsure of exactly what he was doing.

The knight came back, looking curious. "Yes?"

Jon hugged Ser Barristan, catching the knight off-guard. He backed up and smiled. "I am Jon, Jon Targaryen. Thank you making me see it, Ser Barristan, I would not have without you."

"What are you saying?"

Jon wasn't certain himself, but he felt this was the right thing to do. "I will honor the fallen, and reclaim the throne from the Lannisters. I will do what I must to make this realm a better place, as my father might've done." Jon scratched his chin. "I will need a Lord Commander to do that though, if you're willing.

Barristan smiled and dropped to one knee. "It would be my honor to serve you in any way you see fit, Your Grace."

The title brought an odd feeling to Jon, one he was not comfortable with. "Please don't take to calling me that. I would prefer Jon, for now at least. Now rise Ser Barristan, before you make me regret my decision."

Ser Barristan's smile grew wider as he stood. "As you wish, Jon. If I might say something else?"

"Yes, please do."

"Arthur," the knight began, killing Jon's smile. "He was devoted to your father and he gave up his life to watch over you from afar. I believe he has only good intentions, and never would've lied to you if he didn't feel it necessary. If you see fit to forgive him, I know that he will serve you dutifully and never tell you false again. He could be the second of your seven, and protect you as he has tried to do since you were a babe."

Jon mulled it over. Arthur lied to him, yet he had been sworn to silence by Lord Stark. I need more time to think, he decided. It was all too much, too fast. It felt as if his head was going to burst. "I will think on it, Ser Barristan," he said, ending the discussion. Jon flexed his hand.

Barristan nodded.

What now? Jon asked himself, but no voice gave reply. Finally he remembered something. There is a Targaryen at the Wall. "Ser Barristan. Return to Ser Arthur and Lord Stark, work on our next move. I will join you shortly, there are somethings I need to do before. And can you ask Arya to bring my sword to me in the courtyard?"

"Yes, Jon." Barristan turned and walked off, carrying out his king's orders.

Jon sat down once more, blowing out a deep breath. Gods, is this what ruling is like? Ghost nudged Jon's hand, making the young king smile.In truth, he was already regretting his decision, but Ser Barristan's words still resonated within him. Jon wanted to be honorable, to live serving the realm and its people, and to protect his family. He would not go back now, even if some part of him wished it.

When Jon returned to the courtyard, Arya was already waiting for him, Longclaw in hand. She looked worried. I probably look a mess. "Arya . . . I'm sorry for running off." Jon watched Ghost run off into the forest.

Arya huffed. "Just like you to apologize for needing to get away. I'm more shocked you didn't leave before Ser Arthur was finished." She frowned. "Are you okay? Ser Barristan said that you are but you don't look it."

"I'm . . ." Jon sighed. There was no point to lying to her. "No, but I will be, with time. It is just so much to take in, with so little time to decide. Right now, Tywin Lannister is at war with Robb, and I need to be there. If being crowned helps in some small way with his fight, then that is what I'll do. The rest . . . well, the rest doesn't really matter while there is war, so why bother to worry about it."

"I suppose not. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Jon grabbed Longclaw and strapped it across his back. He was still a tad too short to wear the sword at his hip, much to his chagrin. "No, but I'm glad to know the truth. I need to see Maester Aemon, do you care to join me?"

Arya nodded and followed Jon to the Maester's chambers. Clydas admitted them immediately, as if the Maester had been expecting them. Sam was seated beside the Maester, hunched over a book. "Ah, Jon, I had hoped you would come," Aemon said.

"Did you know?" Jon asked.

"Only after our dear Ser Arthur told me. I must say, Lord Stark was quite clever in hiding you. Had it not been for Arthur, I would not have figured it out."

"Yes, Lord Stark's deception was well . . . thought out," Jon said bitterly. He couldn't bring himself to call him Father anymore, it hurt too much. He was never my father, he helped kill my father.

"Come and sit." Jon sat down beside Aemon, who took him by the hands. "Lord Stark is just a man, Jon. He did what he thought best for his nephew and he has cared for you as any father would a son, has he not?"

"He sent me here," Jon interjected.

Aemon appeared thoughtful for a moment, then he smiled. "Yes . . . well, no one can be perfect. But Lord Stark is here trying to fix his mistakes. He betrayed his friend to hide you, yet he did it all the same. Forgiveness need not come easy, just don't write it off completely."

"Thank you, Uncle Aemon." The Maester teared up at that.

"U-uncle?" a shaky voice asked.

"Yes, Sam. My thrice-great uncle if I'm not mistaken."

"B-but that m-makes you a T-Targaryen." The boy turned a pale white.

Jon cracked a smile. "Yes, Sam. I will be leaving Castle Black soon."

"Leaving? You can't just leave. You're a brother of the Night's Watch, they'll kill you."

"Jon has taken no vows, Samwell, he may leave if he so wishes. Please wait without, my nephew and I have things we need to speak on."

Sam calmed at the Maester's words. "Yes, Maester." He stood and looked at Jon. "It was good to have known you, Jon. I wish you the best of luck in your journey."

Jon smiled. "Sometimes different paths lead to the same castle, my friend. We will meet again, I promise you that."

When Sam shut the door, Arya was the first to speak. "Who was that?"

"Samwell Tarly, a friend." Jon flexed his hand.

"He's fat."

Aemon and Jon both chuckled. "You must be the lady, Arya Stark," the Maester said.

"I'm a wolf," she protested. "How are you Jon's uncle?"

"When a Maester says his vows, he puts aside his House name. I was Aemon Targaryen, before I said the words. Jon is my thrice-great nephew through his father, Rhaegar."

Arya nodded, but at Jon's nudge she said, "I see."

"So Jon, what would you like to know?"

What do I want to know? Only one thing came to mind. "Why did you refuse the crown?"

"I was sworn to the Citadel, and my brother Aegon was not. I might've . . . had there been no other choice. I went to the Wall to ensure I could not be used in a plot to usurp my brother. I loved my family and would never have betrayed Egg."

"They want to crown me, and I've said yes, but I have so many doubts."

Aemon gave Jon's hands a small squeeze. "Doubts are good, to a degree. A king who does what he wants without care is no king at all. Though too much doubts may lead to hesitation at the wrong moment, a moment when your life depends on quick thinking."

"So I should I doubt myself, yet also not doubt myself." Jon laughed.

Aemon and Arya joined in. "Yes," the Maester simply said.

"Did you see the dragons, Aemon?" Arya asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"No, though I wish I had. The last dragon died before even my time, unfortunately." Aemon sounded almost wistful. "Have you been flexing your hand as I instructed, Jon?"

"Not as much I should . . ." He flushed, ashamed.

Aemon shook his head. "You need to do this, Jon. Where you're headed, your sword hand will be the difference between life and death, it needs to work. Let me examine it."

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked. "What happened to your hand?" Jon said nothing but tugged off his glove and held up the hand for inspection. The cracked flesh no longer oozed red, and the blood blisters were far gone, but it was still a sight. Arya gasped and gingerly touched it. "How did this happen? Are you okay?"

Jon held the hand out to the Maester. "A wight attacked the Lord Commander in his tower. Fire was the only thing that could stop it. A burnt hand is a small price to pay for our lives," he said as Aemon poked and prodded.

"A wight," Arya whispered in disbelief.

"Yes, and another attacked, killing five good men before it was stopped. Something is stirring beyond the Wall, Arya."

"The hand appears to be alright, though I would not tempt fate again. What would happen were your hand to grow stiff and unyielding? Do not forget again." The Maester sounded worried.

"I won't. I wish that I could stay longer, Uncle, but there is still much to do. I will come see you as much as I can over the next few days, I promise." Jon tugged back on his glove and stood to leave, and Arya followed suit.

"Jon," Aemon said, halting their exit. "If I may impart one more piece of advice?"

"Of course."

"Lady Arya, if you would be so kind as to wait outside, I need a moment with my nephew." Arya frowned but left all the same. "I gave my brother, Aegon, this same piece of advice before departing for the Wall. He was three-and-thirty when he was crowned by the Great Council. A man grown with sons of his own, yet still a boy in some ways. Kill the boy within you, I told him. It takes a man to rule. Kill the boy and let the man be born. You are half the age that Egg was, and I fear that your burden will be far greater. There will be little joy in your crown, but I believe you have the strength to do what needs to be done. Kill the boy, Jon, for winter is almost upon us."

Jon felt a tear roll down his cheek as he crossed the room and wrapped the Maester in a hug. "I will," Jon promised. "Thank you, Uncle."

With that he was gone, leaving the only one of his father's kin that he might ever know. Jon walked past Arya and out of the tower. She caught up as they crossed the courtyard. "What did he say to you? Why are you acting all strange now?"

"It's nothing, Arya, there is just much to do and little time."

The two black brothers admitted both of them, yet Jon made Arya wait with Jeor's squire, Edd Tollett. This was something he needed to do alone. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont sat behind his desk with his raven perched upon his shoulder. "Snow, snow, snow," the raven cawed.

"There is good news, Snow. Ser Endrew states that he finds your's and Daeron's skills exemplary, and that it is a wonder Alliser never allowed you to say our words. You can say them whenever he allows."

Jon grimaced, feeling ashamed where only a few days past joy would have been. "Lord Commander," he began.

Jeor cut him off. "Why do you look as if I've just killed your wolf? I thought you would be pleased."

"I am," Jon began again, "but I can not stay at the Wall."

"Ah, I see." There was no mistaking the disappointment in his voice.

"Lord Stark revealed my true parentage upon his arrival. I am the trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark. I have said no vows, and Joffrey must be stopped." Jon braced himself for what came next, whether it be anger or disappointment. He was shocked when neither occurred. The Lord Commander appeared . . . thoughtful.

"So you plan to lay claim to the throne?" he asked.

"I will do what I must. The realm has need of a good king, and there is worse than I."

Jeor let out a bark of laughter. "I suppose so. The Wall has need too, in case you've forgotten. You have seen what is coming, and every man will count when it comes time."

"Will I be of more help here though, as a man of the Night's Watch, or would I not be better served in the south where I can provide aid for the Wall as king."

Jeor rubbed his beard, when he spoke it was in a less formal tone. "You're right, having a king that knows of our hardship would be better served. The Night's Watch takes no part, so why come to me?"

"To ask for supplies. We will need horses, and food to last until Winterfell. It can be arranged for the horses to be returned to the Wall, if needs be."

"Done. I will have an escort formed to take you as far as Winterfell, past that you'll be on your own."

"And one more thing." Jon set Longclaw on the Lord Commander's desk. "This sword belongs to a man of the Wall, a man who will faithfully serve you and has the Watch's best interests at heart."

Jeor scoffed. "This sword, belongs to whomever I bloody well choose, and I gave it to you. This is now the second time you have tried to return it. You had best learn better courtesy than that if you plan to be king. Keep the sword, you'll have need of one in the wars to come, and no sword will serve better than Longclaw." He pushed the sword back towards Jon. "I can have the pommel changed if you wish, a dragon perhaps, they have claws as well."

Jon laid a hand on the pommel, feeling the cold stone. It was carved in the likeness of a snarling wolf, of Ghost, who was more a part of Jon than a dragon would ever be. "No," he decided. "It will serve as a reminder of who I was. Are you sure you do not wish for it to remain here?"

"No, damn you, I wish for you to stop trying to return it." His voice softened. "I planned to make you my steward, you know."

The words shocked Jon. He had always presumed that he would join the rangers like his uncle Benjen.

"I recognized something in you, Jon," the old bear continued. "I saw it in the yard when you helped train the other boys. You're a natural leader."

"That was Daeron. He's a far better swordsman than I, and he trained the other boys better than I ever could."

"Maybe so, yet they followed your lead, not Daeron's. He is a soldier and will be well served on the Wall, but he is not half the leader you are. That is why I planned to take you on as my steward, so that I might groom you to become the next Lord Commander. That will not happen now, yet you still possess the ability to be a great leader."

The words struck deep in Jon and filled him with a sense of pride. Though there was something the Lord Commander still needed to know. "Daeron Snow is not his true name. He is Ser Arthur Dayne. He lived in the North to watch over me, and joined me at the Wall to do the same. He will accompany me south as well."

Jeor frowned. "Aye, I guess he will. When will you depart?"

"As soon as possible. After this I am to meet with Lord Stark and the knights, Barristan and Arthur, to plan our next move."

Jeor rose from his seat, causing the raven to fly to one of the beams. "King, king, king," it cried. "Best get to it then, Your Grace," the Lord Commander said, offering his hand.

Jon winced slightly, rose and shook his hand, then restrapped Longclaw to his back. The title still discomforted him, yet many would soon be calling him that and it would not do to correct them. "Thank you, Lord Commander. For the assistance, and the sword, but most of all for the words. They were a great help."

"It is no great trouble to speak the truth. Do not forget what is coming while you're in the South."

Jon held up his burnt hand and smiled tightly. "I will be hard pressed to forget, Lord Commander. We will speak more after plans are set."

Jeor nodded and Jon left to the raven crying king. Arya waited in the hall with Edd. She fell in step with him as they left the King's Tower and headed back towards Hardin's. "Edd is weird, why'd you leave me with him?" Arya asked angrily.

"Because I didn't trust the guards on the door. I trust Edd. He's somber but a good man."

"Why'd you leave me at all? You let me stay with you at the Maester's."

"You would have been a distraction and this was something I needed to do alone."

Arya huffed and quickened her pace. She closed the door in Jon's face when they reached the tower. Jon opened the door and went inside but Arya was gone by the time he reached the hall. Lord Stark and the two knights waited in Arthur's sleeping cell but she was not there. The boy, Gendry, was though. He stood in the corner and said nothing as the three men spoke. Their conversation came to an abrupt halt when Jon cleared his throat. "Your Grace," both Arthur and Barristan said as they knelt. Gendry and Lord Stark inclined their heads.

"Enough of that. What is your thoughts on our next move?"

Ser Barristan spoke up. "We believe it would best to announce your return from here at Castle Black. Let the realm know the Targaryens are not gone. Lord Stark had the good sense to send for a Targaryen seal from the Maester at Winterfell. It arrived by raven while you were away."

"A raven? How can it a carry a thing such as a seal?"

"It was a rather large raven, Your Grace." A small smile danced across Ser Arthur's face.

Jon nodded. There was nothing standing in the way now. He was terrified and part of him still wished to remain at Castle Black. Kill the boy and let the man be born, Maester Aemon had said, and that is what Jon needed to do. He would never forget being a Snow, but allowing it to remain would only hinder him. It is time. "Lets get to work then."