Jon Snow woke up to the sound of a beeping emitting from a small grey box. He silenced it by commanding "Alarm off," and then slid out of bed. He stripped to the skin and walked into a grey stall with a strange curtain made of some waterproof cloth the Visitors called 'nanofiber'. He said "Shower on," and a stream of hot water at the perfect temperature for Jon's comfort came from above like a Summer rain. Jon held his hand to a dispenser attached to the wall and a blue goo poured into his hands. It smelled pleasant and left him clean, but like so many of the Visitors' gifts, Jon had absolutely no idea how it worked.
The last two weeks had been the most eventful Winterfell had seen in centuries, possibly ever. The Visitors tended to just wander around, asking people random questions. When they discovered a need or task that one of their own inventions could easily solve or do better than the Westerosi way, they offered it. Showers and alarm clocks like the one Jon had in his room were some of the most common gifts. 'LED' lamps that absorbed the light of the sun during the day and gently emitted it at night were also common to see around Winterfell now.
For all that they were open and honest with all they met, there was still an undeniable air of mystery surrounding the Visitors. No matter how similar they looked like people of this world, they were not. Their strange mannerisms, however polite at times, made it clear they were from somewhere else, somewhere alien. Some of the smallfolk still saw them as gods descended from the heavens. And there were times even Jon himself found it hard to believe these Visitors were of flesh and blood like he was.
Jon finished his shower and dressed for the day. Since the Visitors had gifted 'laundry machines' to the maids, the clothes in Winterfell had never been cleaner or better-smelling. Jon, followed faithfully by Ghost, went to the feast hall to break his fast with his family. He took his usual sweat at the end where he'd be farthest from Lady Stark's line of sight. He was seated next to Arya, his favorite of his siblings. They talked easily as they ate.
Jon took a moment to wonder where the Visitors were. Prophet regularly attended every meal at Father's side, but his crew were more sporadic in attendance. Prophet explained that his crew needed less food and sleep than the people of Westeros, so his crew was free to pursue their duties as well as leisure activities most of the day and night. Solomon, the Grey Man, had built up a reputation for visiting the local brother nightly.
When the meal was over, Prophet spoke up. "Stark family. MIght I speak to you all in private? That includes you, Jon Snow."
Jon blinked, wondering what the Captain could possibly want with all of them. They all waited for Father's response. "Of course, Prophet. Shall we convene in my solar?"
The nine of them, including little Rickon, followed Father to his solar where they spread out for some room. Prophet was left standing in the middle of a circle of Starks. "What is it you want to tell us?" Father asked, crossing his arms.
"You know something of my culture, Eddard Stark, after all our talks. You know that honesty is the hightest value in my society, on my world. Secrets are poison, I firmly believe that," the albino said in his strange accent.
"Yes. What does that have to do with anything?"
"It is relevant because I cn no longer keep silent while your family suffers for the sake of your secret."
Father went pale. "How… how do you know?" he demanded.
"In every hair, every flake of skin, every drop of blood, there is a code that defines who we are. My people named it DNA. By comparing the DNA of different people, we can see how they are related. Quite simply, I looked at your childrens' blood and saw what you hoped to hide. I apologize for overstepping my bounds but I do not regret it."
"Ned, what is he talking about?" Lady Stark asked, worried.
"He is talking about a secret I've kept for 15 years. It was meant to protect you, but Prophet evidently believes I've done more harm than good," Father bit out, glaring at the Visitor.
"What secret, Father?" Bran asked innocently.
Father seemed to gather himself. Then he looked right at Jon. "Jon, I am not your father."
The others reacted with shock and surprise. Jon felt curiously distant, as if he'd floated up out of his body. He wasn't Eddard Stark's son. Was he even a bastard? Who was his father and mother? Jon didn't realize he was falling until the astone floor hit his face.
"Jon!" came the voices of his siblings… no, were they even related? Who was he? Jon was fussed over until he was standing again. "Who is?" Jon asked, his voice sounding hollow, not reflecting the storm of emotions inside his chest. "Who am I?"
"You are the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark," Fa- Lord Stark bit out. "And trueborn or not, you are of the Targaryen dynasty.
"Oh, Ned!" Lady Stark slapped her husband. "You could have told me! All these years you've let me hate him over a lie!"
"If only I knew, only I could reveal it. Or so I believed," Lord Stark said as he glared at Prophet.
"So, wait? Jon's our cousin? Why say he's your bastard, Father?" Robb asked even as he rubbed Jon's shoulder.
"King Robert wants every Targaryen dead. And he hated Rhaegar most of all. If he learned of Jon's true parentage, he would have ordered Jon dead," Lord Stark explained.
"Better a Stark bastard than a Targaryen bastard," Jon said faintly as his shattered worldview began to reassemble itself. He was still a Stark. He still had that. Only it was through his mother, not his father. His father had been a dragon.
"So what?" Arya spoke up. "So he's our cousin, not our brother. He's still family!" Arya gave Jon a big hug.
Lady Stark walked up to him, a hesitant look on her face. "I have treated you terribly because of a lie. I hope to be a better aunt than your father's wife."
"I forgive you, Lady Stark," Jon said as strongly as he could. "We all believed it."
Prophet spoke up. "I shall take my leave now. If you'd prefer not to see me for a few days, merely tell me." With that, the Visitor left the solar.
Lord Stark came up to Jon and laid his hands on his shoulders. "You may be my nephew, but I've loved you like a son since you were a squalling babe in my arms. That hasn't changed. You are part of the pack, and you always will be."
Jon gulped, hot tears coming to his eyes. Lord Stark, no, Uncle Ned pulled him into a warm embrace. The other Starks all joined in, surrounding Jon with warmth and love and family. The pups all came close too, worming between legs to join the group hug. When Jon stopped crying silently, he pulled back. The Starks all detached themselves from him.
"Mayhaps I should be thanking Prophet. I hadn't realized how much pain I was causing with the secret," Uncle Ned mused.
"You'll see him at dinnertime," Aunt Cat said confidently. "That man wants something from you, Ned: your aid in convincing Robert that they should stay. He won't pass up an opportunity to have your ear."
"He'll be so impressed with their trinkets that he'll let them stay in a heartbeat," Uncle Ned rolled his eyes.
"Um, Father. The reason Captain Prophet had you reveal the secret is because he saw it was causing us pain. You know him better than we do, but he seems to be a good person," Sansa spoke up.
"He seems to be. That's the problem. It seems too good to be true, these people coming from another world and wanting to do nothing but observe and offer gifts freely," Uncle Ned admitted.
There was a knock on the door. Jon, being closest, opened it to reveal Minerva, the Grey Woman. "I believe I may clarify our motives, Lord Stark and family, if you wish to hear what I have to say," she said, inserting herself into the conversation like she'd been part of it all along.
Uncle Ned waved her in. "Very well. Perhaps you can explain better than Prophet. I've asked him the same question and he just repeats his speech from the first day about how your people value all life and wish to treat it well."
"I know. And I believe I can explain it in terms that you'll understand better," the Visitor said. "You believe our generosity is too good to be true. So to that I ask: what would we have to gain by declaring war or otherwise setting out to hurt you?"
Jon and the other children turned to Uncle Ned, waiting for his answer. "To take our land, our resources," he answered.
"We have the resources of over a hundred worlds, why go to any effort claiming those of this world when we already have more than we know what to do with?" Minerva countered. "More to the point, you've seen how sophisticated our so-called 'trinkets' are. Trust me when I say you cannot imagine how great and terrible our weapons are. If we wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Quite frankly, if we'd come offering the fist of war rather than the hand of friendship, the whole of Westeros could be exterminated within a week."
Uncle Ned had turned pale, much as most of the others in the room had. The simple, matter-of-fact way in which Minerva spoke made it clear she was stating the truth. Either she was the best liar Jon had ever met or she meant every word.
In the silence, Minerva spoke again. "The people of this world pose no threat to us. If we declared war on you, it would be akin to you going out of your way to squish a handful of ants. But, as Prophet has repeatedly told you, our culture values all forms of life, no matter how complex or how simple. We value the life of the vermin living in your walls and the trees in the Godswood as much as you, Lord Stark. Keep in mind that we had our pick of where to make first contact. We choose you because our observations were that you were an honorable man as much as because you're friends with the king. If your king dismisses us, we'll try again in Essos. If we're dismissed again there, we will go to Sothoryos. If all peoples of this planet reject us, we will merely observe from our ship. We bothered to come down to this world in the first place because we want to interact with you. We want to see how you react to us. And, believe it or not, we want to help you. It's up to you whether you accept that help when it's offered. Any questions?" Minerva asked.
The Starks all absorbed and processed that little speech. "What's your most powerful weapon?" Robb asked curiously.
"The antimatter-fusion bomb. A large enough one can crack a world in half," Minerva stated calmly.
Robb seemed a little wide-eyed. "When your people wage war with themselves, what's it look like?"
"Thankfully, our last war was over a hundred of our years ago, before we united into one society and began exploring the universe. Our most sophisticated and destructive weapons had yet to be invented," Minerva answered.
"If your people abhor war and treasure life, why keep making weapons?" Sansa asked, kneeling to hug Lady.
"In case we meet another interstellar civilization that decides to declare war on us. The universe is a very, very big place. Our people have explored less than a thousandth of a thousandth of just this galaxy. There could be a people out there even more advanced than we are. So we continue weapons research in anticipation of meeting such a people and they deciding to declare war on us," the Visitor told Sansa.
Jon cleared his throat. "If you hate war, what will you do if we of Westeros break out in war?"
"As Prophet stated, our purpose here is to watch, listen, and learn. We can help if you ask but we won't fight your battles for you or arm you. In the event the Seven Kingdoms go to war, we will merely stand aside. Neither helping nor hindering. That is all," she told him.
Aunt Cat nodded. "Thank you, Minerva. You've made you and your crew's position very clear. You may go now."
Minerva nodded and left the room.
Uncle Ned rubbed his face with his hands. "Well, this had been an… eventful morning. I think it best if we all go about our activities for the day. Jon, I'm afraid that to the rest of Winterfell you'll have to remain Jon Snow. Just know that you're still family no matter what you're called."
"I know… Uncle Ned," Jon grinned before leaving the room with Ghost at his heels.