Hey everyone, this is just a new fic I've been thinking about. Updates will be slow as I'm super busy with life in general and I have other fics to update but I def will update. It will be explained in the story, but this story isn't straight canon, but more canon adjacent. It is a slash story of the Jon/Tormund variety and please be aware there will be MPREG later on. I don't want to say too much and give away the plot of the story but just want to explain that while Jon isn't an omega, he will have some omega traits as a quirk of his Targaryen heritage. There is no white walkers in this story, they just don't exist. I hope you enjoy
Also, I'm aware that I call Ned Stark by a variety of names in this story, it's supposed to show Jon's turmoil as to what to call him now.
Chapter One
Jon opened his door as silently as he could, cursing the squeaky hinges as he did. It was the early hours of the morning and even though he knew most people would be asleep he still wanted to be as quiet as possible. He pulled on his pack and crept out of his room, closing the door behind him. He paused for a moment to listen for the sound of anyone nearby. Hearing nothing, he started his long decent through Winterfell.
You see, Jon was leaving. Winterfell was his home, but he just couldn't stay any longer.
The night was dark and below freezing as he made his way down the winding stairs, keeping to the dark as much as possible. He pulled his furs closer to himself, he had dressed in all his thickest clothing, he didn't want to risk freezing to death if it could be avoided. Jon heard a noise and ducked behind a haycart, peeking around the back to watch as two guards walked past. He held his breath, anxiety thrumming through him as the guards came even closer. He couldn't be spotted; they would take him back inside and he might never get another chance again. Thankfully, the guards passed by without noticing him. Their conversation lingering in his ears as he waited a few more minutes just to be sure they were really gone before he started moving again. He kept low as he moved until he rounded the inside wall and spotted the main entrance. He watched and waited, knowing that the guards there would soon leave for another walk around the immediate yard, he had watched them carefully the last few nights. They didn't venture far but if he timed it right, he would be able to slip past unnoticed.
Now! Now was his chance! He jumped up and silent as a ghost slipped between the guards and the gates, ducking around the corner and throwing himself against the wall, listening to see if an alarm had been raised. Nothing. He still needed to be careful though, guards patrolled along the parapets and could easily spot him. He crept along the wall, quickly but quietly, his heart pounding in his ears as he went, he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and ran for it into the nearby cover of trees. Again, he hesitated, listening for any cries of alarm over the sound of his heavy breathing. His whole plan hinged on him having a few hours head start. He could not be spotted now. Again, when no sounds could be heard he ran, took off at a brisk jog to where he had tied his horse and packs earlier today. All in preparation for this moment.
It took Jon a little while to reach the spot, but he found Thunder standing right where he had tied him. The packs were still loaded on his back, undisturbed and at Thunder's feet sat Ghost, his head cocked as if asking what had kept him. John gave him a pat behind the ears.
"Time to go, Ghost" Jon whispered as he pulled himself up on to Thunder, his left arm throbbing painfully and gave a gentle kick to get him moving. He needed to be as far from Winterfell by morning as he possibly could. Ghost fell into line beside him and away they went.
Jon decided he would keep to the Kings Road at the moment, no one was looking for him yet and it was the quickest, easiest way to travel. They moved quickly, Jon wanted to put as much distance between himself and Winterfell as possible. He looked back seeing the lights of Winterfell fading into the distance, a pang of sadness gripped his chest. He ruthlessly squashed it down, there was nothing left for him there anymore. He knew it would take close to a month to reach the wall and Jon had tried to pack accordingly. He was aiming for Nightfort, he knew from his uncle that it was a long-abandoned castle that was originally the head of the Night Watch. He planned on hiding out there until his family stopped looking for him, then he would head south. Look for work, build a new life for himself, you know all the usual stuff. He had no illusions that it'd be easy but at least it would be his choice.
Jon thought back to the events of the last week, that had led to his entirely reasonable decision to leave.
"Jon, father wants to see you" Robb said with a smirk as he walked past where Jon had been trying to hide from his lessons. The small nook off the kitchen was a favourite place of his when he wanted a moment to himself.
He let out a quiet groan and ran his fingers through his messy curls.
"Where is he?"
"He's out in the Godswood, he looked pretty serious. I'd hurry if I were you."
Jon jumped up and took off toward the Godswood, slowing down and catching his breath as he drew nearer. Enjoying the quiet that always seemed to permeate this sacred place.
"Jon" his father greeted with a nod as he drew nearer, and Jon felt his brow furrow as he took in his father's unusually solemn expression.
"Robb said you wanted to see me?"
"Yes. There is something important we need to discuss."
Lord Stark hesitated for a moment, but Jon just waited, trying to be patient while curiosity burned through him.
"You will be 18 soon."
It didn't sound like a question, so Jon didn't respond.
"It is time you knew the truth."
"What truth?" Jon asked in confusion.
Father let out a deep sigh, looking so very weary as he looked at Jon. He started pacing, snow scuffing as he walked a small line.
"You are not my son" the words exploded out, as though he had been trying to hold them back for years.
Jon shook his head; sure, he had misheard. "What?"
"You are not my son."
Even just the memory of their conversation caused Jon's heart to ache in despair. His father, well he should say his uncle, explained that he was actually a Targaryen. The son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. His name wasn't even Jon, it was actually Aegon. He had decided to stick with Jon. Apparently Ned had been sworn to secrecy until Jon was of age and he deemed it was safe to tell him. Ned had decided that now he was nearly of age and there was relative calm in the world, it was time to let the truth of Jon's heritage be known. However, it also meant that the truth coming out made Jon a threat to the Baratheons, who were currently ruling in Kings Landing.
Robert was a good friend of his fathers and to supposedly keep John safe they had secretly organised a betrothal between Jon and Roberts oldest son and heir to the throne, Joffrey. Thus, bringing the Targaryen heir and Baratheon heir together and ending all consternation over the throne.
Jon had repeatedly asked his used to be father turned uncle, how on earth that was supposed to work?
"But how will we produce an heir if we are both men?" Jon asked in confusion, desperation clawing at his chest.
"All will be explained after you wed."
And that had been that. The King, Queen, Joffrey and the whole royal procession were already on their way to Winterfell, expected to arrive three weeks after the conversation in the Godswood. They would spend a month at Winterfell then travel back to Kings Landing, with Jon in tow.
The problem was, Jon didn't want to travel to Kings Landing and he definitely didn't want to marry Joffrey. He had met Joffrey several times over the years and though they were of a similar age they had never gotten along. Joffrey was a horrible, spoilt person, cruel and selfish and not the type of person Jon had envisioned himself marrying one day.
He had tried to reason with his father and when that didn't work, Jon had screamed himself hoarse with all the reasons why he did not want to marry Joffrey, but nothing had changed his mind. Robb and Arya had taken his side, trying to change father's mind. Sansa couldn't understand why he wouldn't want to go to Kings Landing and marry a prince.
Catelyn had been as cold as ever to him, he knew he had no right to complain, there were a lot of people who had things worse than he did. But Catelyn Stark had always been distant and cold to him, seeing him as a constant reminder of her husband's infidelity, now she just saw him as the reason her husband had lied to her for 18 years.
It had been lonely growing up, shunted to the side in all things. Lady Stark had made her distaste for him known and many others followed suit. Not overtly as none wished to anger Lord Stark but he was shunned, ignored, excluded in all things. He had to work twice as hard as anyone else in the castle his whole life, but it never seemed to be enough.
She had warmed to him a little after his accident. After his left arm and hand had been irreparably injured. Guilt had gotten the better of her. But never enough to make him feel like he was part of the family. She must see his marriage to Joffrey as the perfect excuse to finally be rid of him without having to shoulder any of the blame.
These bitter thoughts swirled through his brain as he rode. It was no use worrying about the past. He had made his decision, now he had to live with it.
Jon kept up a steady pace, not wanting to push Thunder too hard. He was glad he had dressed in his warmest clothes, because although his face was freezing the rest of him was quite snug. He pulled his hood up and used it to try to shield himself as best he could from the cold winds. Ghost had no problem keeping up, looking as though he was simply out for a pleasant run.
They slept curled together for warmth in the small tent Jon had been able to plunder before leaving Winterfell. He ate sparingly, knowing the food had to last but he managed to pillage some things along the way. Fruit from orchards, vegetables and eggs from farms. He also went hunting, catching rabbits and birds mostly, Ghost even shared his kills with him on the nights his hunts had been unsuccessful. Meaning that Jon could start a small fire and have hot meat most evenings, it went a long way to keeping his spirits up. He checked the crude map he had managed to steal from the library before he left, trying his best to stay on track from what he could tell.
He made sure to move off the Kings Road after that first day though, wanting to avoid any travellers who might recognise him or would be able to provide a description to his uncle. He assumed they were looking for him, but the North is a big place, and he was hoping it would take them a long time to look, in particular to think to look towards the wall.
Jon was eternally thankful to have Ghost at his side, having someone to talk to helped to keep the loneliness at bay, even if he couldn't talk back. Luckily the loneliness didn't worry Jon too much, he was quite a solitary person after all.
He had only changed his clothing a few times since he had left. Not having the time or opportunity to wash his clothes, he had to make them last. He also hadn't been able to have a proper wash, making do with a damp cloth rubbed in his ripest areas to try to keep the stink at bay. Jon was especially thankful that he had managed to avoid most people as he new his smell would be quite heady at the moment.
It was not easy, but Jon couldn't deny that he quite enjoyed being away from the stifling atmosphere that was Winterfell, where expectations and the lack there of laid heavy upon him. Here he was no one, he had nothing to live up to, no expectations to meet and no one to disappoint. Here he could just be, for probably the first time in his life and he found it an equal mix of calming and exhilarating.
The landscape changed as he went. Became wilder and less tamed the further he got from any towns or villages. Snow came thicker and the air turned icy, but Jon managed OK, though it did become more and more difficult to find dry firewood for fires. Everything either covered with snow or simply too damp. He took to tying some wood off the side of his saddle in the hopes it would dry enough to be able to light that night. Sometimes it worked. Thunder probably suffered the worst from the cold, shivering when they stopped each evening and Jon pulled the saddle and baggage off and began brushing him down. Jon draped a large blanket over Thunders back, tying it around the horse's neck in an attempt to keep him warm, he's not sure if it worked or not.
Eventually, just over three weeks after leaving Winterfell, the Nightfort came into view. It was much larger than Jon had been expecting, built during a time when the night watch had numbered thousands. It was crumbling and decrepit in many places, but Jon didn't need anything fancy. Thankfully the majority of the structures were still largely intact. It was quite late so an exploration would have to wait until morning, he tied Thunder in what looked to be the old stable. Unloading the heavy packs and brushing him down before covering him with a blanket and giving the gentle horse a few apples to munch on. The stable would at least be warmer then being out in the full elements, especially as it was made of mostly stone, with only the roof and door rotting away.
With one final pat goodbye Jon gathered everything he would need for the evening and Ghost, and he made their way into what looked to be the safest, least likely to fall on his head during the night building. It looked to have been a communal dining area at some stage, broken tables and bits of furniture as well as a large collection of dust lined the floor. He wandered until he found a small room he could settle in for the evening. Jon laid out his bedding and furs on the ground before walking back out to the larger room and collecting some of the broken wood to start a fire. With the dry wood it was easy to get one going and Jon huddled around the warmth letting it soak into his chilled bones and aching arm. He stretched out his left arm, as best he could. Rubbing and massaging the taught muscles. His hand was the worst after holding the reins all day, even if Jon did try to favour his right arm to keep the pressure off his left, it didn't seem to make much difference. He rubbed his palm and two remaining fingers extensively before deciding he was just too tired to continue. With a small fire roaring merrily in the grate, Jon curled up under his blankets, Ghost at his side, feeling quite content as he drifted off to sleep.