12. Hermione

Hermione had been wrought with guilt the entire journey back to Winterfell. Knowing the truth about Jon's parentage, holding that big of a secret on something he'd been searching his whole life for, was absolute torture. Jon, intelligent and vigilant as he was seemed to surmise that something was bothering her, but she played it down to her dislike of being so close to the wight.

They'd made good time on the road and Winterfell was a welcomed sight. It was far too late for anyone to be awake but the courtyard was rather busy, people daring enough to try and catch sight of the wight. Jon disembarked his horse and set about seeing that the wight was properly kept.

Sam had been heading to Jon's solar to see to his injuries when Hermione had relieved him of that; insisting he rather spend the time reuniting with his family. They were all weary and tired but the grateful smile Sam gave her as he handed over the clean bandages, Hermione knew it was worth it.

She hadn't been waiting long when he strode in. And though he stared only a second longer at her surprise visit, he simply smiled as he removed his heavy fur cloak.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, my lady?" Jon asked smirking a little.

Hermione blushed. Something had infinitely changed between them. "I'm merely here to change your bandages, Your Grace."

"Of course."

"Where are your sisters?" Hermione asked. "I was certain they would have insisted to see you."

"They'll be up soon. Sansa was kind enough to give me some time to recover." Jon said smiling. "I sensed there was something she wanted to talk about."

Hermione smiled, but it fell short. She was reminded again of that awful heavy secret she kept. She didn't like it. So she set about keeping herself busy. Gesturing for him to remove his tunic as she brought the water and clean wrappings closer. Jon sighed and did as she asked. Hermione didn't speak as she worked, taking in the old scars on his body like she always did.

When she pulled the last bandage in place, Hermione took a step back but then Jon reached out, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer. She gasped in surprise.

"Your Grace!" Hermione admonished, her eyes flickering to the door nervously.

"Such formality," Jon teased and Hermione huffed.

"Well, what would you have me say?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Jon whispered, pulling her a little closer. "Not a damned thing." He said and then he kissed her.

Her fingers wove into his hair, anchoring her to him because she felt heady and was vibrantly buzzing. She moaned, all sense of decorum forgone as he teased and tortured her so well. Hermione gasped and tugged a little on his hair as she felt him nip at her lip.

She pressed her palms flat on his chest, pushing a little so she could put some space between them. Jon chuckled when she squeaked in surprise at the ticklish feel of his beard against her neck as he kissed along her jaw and down her gorgeous neck.

Eventually, he took mercy on her and stopped, just barely, though as he looped an arm around her waist. This was the most affectionate Hermione had ever seen him and she wasn't entirely sure what to do with herself … or him. She knew what she wanted, but her sense of propriety far outweighed that. She briefly thought about what Sam had told her some time ago; Jon was not a fickle man with his words or his affections.

"What is it?" She asked noticing the odd look he was giving her.

"You saved my life. You followed me all the way South and then again to the wall. Why is that?" he asked.

"I told you a while ago. I know you to be a good man, Jon." Hermione whispered.

"You, Hermione are everything." He replied softly and Hermione froze.

"What?" she breathed.

"I've never quite met anyone like you before. And …" he paused thinking it over, "you give me strength." He admitted and Hermione felt her stomach soar at that. "Whatever happens, Hermione, as selfish as it may sound, I want you by my side."

Hermione exhaled suddenly realizing what he was implying. That knot of guilt she'd been carrying around only grew. Shaking her head, tried to step away, but Jon wouldn't let up so easily.

"You can't… We can't! You're the king!" She cried.

"Bastard King," Jon shrugged. "I told you I am not entirely fond of following the rules."

"No, Jon you don't understand," Hermione rushed out. She pushed against him until he let go. He looked utterly confused and a little shattered but Hermione didn't let that deter her. "You're the King. I am no one. I have no name, no house to which I belong. I have no armies to promise you or anything of that sort!"

"I haven't asked for anything but you, Hermione," Jon stated trying not to sound too offended. "I don't want anything but you."

"Oh Jon," Hermione whispered tearfully.

"I do not wish to give you up. Not for any title or crown," he vowed. "Hermione!" he said startled when he noticed the tears slipping down her face.

"But you'll have too," She said wiping furiously at those treacherous tears. "You're far too important Jon."

"I'm really not. I'm just a bastard King and I – "

"But you're not!" she cried helplessly. She couldn't stand for him not to know any longer. "You're not a bastard Jon!"

Jon looked at her confused. "What do you mean?"

Hermione bit her lip. She had her loyalty to both Jon and House Stark to consider her. "I can't say," she objected. "It's not my place. I made a promise."

"Hermione," he pleaded.

Hermione sniffled as she tried not to let it sway her. "A discovery has been made about your parentage Jon." She finally said.

He exhaled and looked at her with sharp eyes. "What do you know?"

"I know who you are. Who you really are." Hermione whispered. "I know who your mother is."

"Tell me," he demanded hoarsely.

She wouldn't – couldn't refuse him then. "Lyanna Stark."

He tensed. "Is this a joke? How in seven hells can my mother be Lyanna Stark if Ned Stark is my father?" he spat.

"He's not," Hermione said quickly, realizing she was handling this terribly.

"Then who is, Hermione?"

She swallowed, "Rhaegar Targaryen."

He blanched and took several steps away from her. Shaking his head in absolute denial and looking quite sick over it. "T-that can't be. He can't be my father."

"He is," Hermione whispered. "Jon I – "

"You're wrong! Because that would mean … if she's my … he raped her!" Jon whispered; his voice tight with emotion. "He can't be …" Jon gripped his hair tightly, still not looking at her.

"It was all a lie, Jon," Hermione said firmly. She had to tell him that much at least. She couldn't stand for him to think the worst of his parents when it was the furthest from the truth. "Rhaegar never kidnapped or raped your mother. He loved her and she loved him."

He looked up then, his eyes blazing. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked desperately. "It doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything, Jon," Bran said from the door. They both turned to see him waiting there, Sansa and Arya behind him. How long had they been standing there she wondered. Bran was rolled into the room and the door shut behind the two sisters as Ser Davos and Sam followed them.

"You were forbidden from speaking of this Lady Hermione," Sansa scolded.

"And you forbid me from going to Eastwatch to save Jon. Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace, but it would seem I'm quite terrible at following rules." Hermione replied. She wasn't quite sure where her insolence had come from and it seemed Sansa didn't appreciate it much either.

"This is a family matter," Sansa said stiffly. "I thank you for the care you've given my brother but we must speak with him now."

"She doesn't go anywhere," Jon said gruffly. "Not until I have the truth. So someone start talking. Now."

There was a tense moment of silence before Bran finally spoke up. "Before Rhaegar and Lyanna ran off together, he had his marriage to Elia Martell annulled. He married Lyanna Stark in a secret ceremony and you Jon are a product of that relationship. You see, you're not a bastard. You're Aegon Targaryen, sixth of your name and you're the true heir to the Iron Throne."

Hermione was afraid he would faint judging by the look of complete shock on his face. His fingers flexed over the top of the chair, grateful he had something to hold him up.

"This … it can't be …" he stuttered looking so lost. The revelation had undoubtedly turned his whole world upside down. "How can you be sure?"

"Sam found the entry in the records from the books he brought back from Oldtown," Sansa explained. "Both Sam and Lady Hermione have checked the validity of the records. It is true."

Jon turned to her, almost as if begging Hermione to tell him it was all a joke. Hermione only nodded. It was Sam that spoke, saying in a gravelly somber voice, "According to the records, your father married your mother somewhere near Riverrun before the rebellion could start."

"I imagine that's what caused the rebellion to begin with," Ser Davos quipped.

"Now you understand, Jon. You aren't a bastard. You're the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms." Bran continued.

"No, I'm not. I'm just a bastard king. I'm just a Snow." He said shaking his head and walking away from the table.

Hermione threw caution to the wind and followed him. She placed a hand on his shoulder but he refused to face her.

"You're not just a bastard Jon. You never were." She said firmly. "Extreme lies were told to keep you safe. But you've never been just a Snow."

Finally, he turned to look at her slowly, "How long have you known?" he asked.

"Just after you left for the wall," Hermione mumbled.

"And you never said a word?" he asked in a whisper.

She held back more of her treacherous tears because that look of uncertainty and almost betrayal was something she never wanted to see in his eyes again. He shook his hand off her and Hermione felt herself burn with guilt and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Jon," Hermione whispered ignoring the others in the room. "It was not my place to tell you." He turned to her, almost wanting to argue that but held his tongue instead.

"It's not her fault. I forbade her from telling." Sansa said surprisingly coming to her defence. "In fact, it was Hermione, Sam and Bran who quite by accident stumbled upon this discovery."

That didn't seem to warm him up any better.

"What exactly does this mean?" he asked instead.

"It means, you have a greater claim to the throne than Daenerys Targaryen," Sansa said.

"What if I don't want it?"

They weren't surprised by that and it had been the problem they'd all been hard-pressed to solve.

"Then that would be incredibly selfish of you," Hermione said boldly. He turned to her quite shocked. "Your parents died to save you. Your mother died bringing you into this world, not so that you so easily walk away from your responsibilities. You deny this, you deny your birthright and everything they did will have been in vain."

"You don't know that," Jon argued.

"Yes, I do!" Hermione huffed. "I don't need your brother's foresight to see what's the plain and simple truth."

"And what would that be?"

"Your father died, not just for your mother but for this Kingdom. As you have done. You've given your life to this kingdom more times than any of us. Whether you like it or not, you're Rhaegar Targaryen's son. You're Lyanna Stark's only son and that should mean something." Hermione said firmly.

"Your lady speaks truly," Ser Davos said. "There is very little point in trying to run from who you are, so don't bother."

"You think the Northern Lords are going to be accepting of this?" Jon asked uncertainly.

"They made you their King when you were nothing more than a bastard. I think these lords will see this for what is it." Ser Davos said.

"And what's that?" Jon asked tiredly.

"A sign from the Gods." He replied. "If my memory serves correct, your mother was considered the pride of the North. I don't think they could ask for anything better than to follow her son."

Jon sighed and then turned to Hermione. She could see his doubt and uncertainty clear as day but more than that the weight of this discovery beginning to set in.

She offered him an encouraging smile. "Being their son is not a terrible thing, Jon."

"All I ever want was to be a Stark …" he murmured.

"You were. You always were, Jon." Sansa said standing and walking to him. "Foolish, naïve younger me would never have dared to admit it but you were always a Stark Jon."

"Sansa is right," Arya said smiling. "You are still as much our brother now as you were then."

Hermione took a step back and gave the siblings their space. Ser Davos snuck up behind her, with a fondly warm smile.

"Sam says you were rather incredible in saving the King's life." He said quietly.

"Sam speaks too kindly of me." Hermione blushed.

"Perhaps so, but that doesn't make him wrong." Ser Davos smirked.

"So what do we do now?" Sam asked. "Do we tell anyone?"

"No," Jon immediately answered. He held up his hands quickly stalling Sansa's arguments. "We can't let anyone know just yet. We still have a war to win. This has nothing to do with our fight against the Night King's army. And for now, we can't let ourselves be distracted by this."

Hermione bit her lip, biting down on her temptation to correct him. It was after all just a theory. A very good, nearly impossible theory but she didn't think Sansa or even Ser Davos would much appreciate it. Sam caught her look and raised a brow in silent question but she subtly shook her head. Jon had already received more than enough life-altering information for one night.

"I don't know Jon," Sansa said hesitantly.

"If we say something that outright challenges Daenerys Targaryen, she'll march north with her three dragons, her Dothraki horde and unsullied army. We'd die trying to defend ourselves from her and then what will we do when the dead finally come?" he questioned. "She has no interest in this fight," Jon said looking at Hermione for a moment, "And I don't think she's interested in sharing either."

"He's right," Hermione said softly. They all turned to her. "She gave us that dragonglass thinking we'd repay her with our fealty. But that hasn't happened. And if she finds out that Jon has an even bigger claim to the throne… that makes you an even bigger target for her." Hermione finished looking at him worriedly.

Jon nodded. "We can't afford any unnecessary battles right now, especially over some bloody throne a thousand leagues away that is currently occupied by Cersei Lannister."

At that name, Sansa pursed her lips as if she smelt something terrible.

"Them what does His Grace command we do?" Ser Davos asked.

There was a moment of silence as they all looked at Jon. It was his truth and his decision.

"Send for the Northern Lords. Tell them we have proof of the wight. And send ravens to Kings Landing, Dorne and Dragonstone."

"Dragonstone, Your Grace?" Ser Davos questioned.

"Aye, we can't be fussy in our allies right now Ser Davos," Jon said with a heavy sigh. "I doubt she will commit to our cause but we can only hope."

"Do you think Cersei Lannister will?" Sansa asked.

"Do you?" he asked in return.

"No," she said slowly.

"But we can ask," Jon said with a shrug.

"Very well, Your Grace." Ser Davos bowed.

"And we'll need to make preparations to start fortifying the castle," Jon added, biting his lip in thought. "Have Gendry assigned to the smiths. We'll need extra hands to forge the dragonglass. I hear the lad is good with his hands." Ser Davos nodded. "And then – "

"Rest," Hermione interrupted. She almost blushed when they turned to her. "Forgive my impudence, Your Grace, but you're still injured." She said bravely. "You need to rest."

"She's right," Sam hastily agreed. "You were barely healed when we left Eastwatch."

"Would you believe me if I said I'm alright, my lady?" Jon asked looking a little amused.

"Not even a little." Hermione huffed.

"Fine," he acquiesced surprising them all. "We'll pick this up tomorrow." Hermione was about to argue but he simply said, "We still have much to do, Hermione."

She couldn't deny that was true. Almost everyone took their leave shortly after that until it was only Sansa and Hermione left with Jon. Sansa hugged her brother closely, and Hermione could see the relief in her eyes.

"Thank the Gods you're alright Jon." She whispered.

"I am, only thanks to Sam and Hermione."

Hermione saw Sansa tense for just a second. "I heard. It seems ignoring my instructions worked in our favour this time." She turned to Hermione and said. "Though don't think to make it a habit, Lady Hermione, I won't be so forgiving in the future."

"Of course Your Grace," Hermione said solemnly.

"Very well. I will leave you in the capable hands of your healer." Sansa smirked. "Rest easy, Jon." She hugged him again, placing a kiss on his cheek this time as she whispered something in his ear.

Jon smiled after her and as the door closed behind her any façade he had slipped from his face, wincing.

"You're in pain," Hermione said. "Come sit." She said motioning to the chair. "Jon." She said more firmly when he didn't move.

Jon lowered himself into the chair again and Hermione gathered the supplies Sam had left behind. She didn't speak as she checked his wrappings one last time. Eventually, she had stalled all she could and there was nothing more for her to do but leave him to rest.

"I am sorry I didn't tell you before," Hermione whispered. When she looked at him it was to the painful fact that he was avoiding her gaze. "I wanted to tell you, but it was not my place to say anything."

"How can you say that?" he asked in an angry whisper. "How can you think … Gods Hermione…"

"Jon, you're not just a bastard King anymore. You're the king." Hermione stressed.

"That doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything!" Hermione argued. "I- I …." She faltered.

"What?"

"I have no right to you." She whispered dejectedly.

"Yes, you do." He said as if it were so simple.

"Jon," Hermione said tearfully. It was too late to deny what she felt but her sense of propriety was much stronger. "You're the King."

"I've always been the King, Hermione." He reminded her. "My parentage doesn't change a thing."

Hermione shook her head because she knew that it would. There would be lords with proper well-bred daughter and princesses even who would be expected to make the match of Aegon Targaryen, the sixth. How could she make him understand that without overwhelming him?

"Would you… care for me any less if I were still a bastard?" Jon asked.

Hermione scoffed. "Of course not."

He smiled and somehow it made Hermione think he'd won something, but what, she wasn't quite certain. So she placed a hand on his chest. "You must know that there are things that will change."

"Yes, I do. But not us, at least not in the way I think you imagine." Jon said thoughtfully.

"You have different responsibilities now," Hermione sighed.

Quite seriously he said, "I meant what I said before. I do not wish to give you up. Not for any title or crown."

"No do I," Hermione said. "But you have different responsibilities now," She reminded him again, "And I have no right over you. You're the King and I am – oof!"

She squeaked in surprise, fell into his lap quite ungracefully but he didn't care as he grasped her face and kissed her. Eagerly, she kissed him back. There were such sincerity and passion with every move he made against her that Hermione sighed and relaxed into him. There was a sense of security and home and safety that she felt only with him ever since she fell through into this world.

"Trust me," he murmured against her lips and she could do little else but nod as he kissed her again.

AN: Hi all

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