I had to rewrite this one too. The original version had Jon dealing with this major revelation a little too easily. Something drastic needs to happen. His entire identity has been crushed.

Warning: a lot of italics in this one. We're diving into his mind.

10. Fallout - Jon

Jon opened the door and ignored Brienne standing guard. He kept walking without really noticing where he was going. He heard some people greet him, but paid them no mind. When he stopped walking, he looked up to see a great weirwood tree with a face carved on its trunk. His legs had led him to the godswood.

Ghost was already there, watching him with those intense red eyes. His massive direwolf was about the size of a pony now, yet he still managed to stay silent when he wanted. The wolf padded along the snow to sit beside him. Jon patted him on the head and rested his hand there, as he looked over at the weirwood heart tree.

So many years ago, he remembered coming here almost every day to pray for the Old Gods. He would pray for Lady Stark to accept him, he would pray for his father to convince the king to legitimize him, but most of all he would pray to be just like Robb. My whole life, I wanted to be him. Jon had loved his brother almost as much as Arya, but sometimes he would notice how Lord Stark looked at him with so much pride in his eyes…

When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with pain.

"Why?" he said aloud, hoping the tree could provide an answer. The wind rustled some leaves, but there was no reply.

I've never been a bastard. There was something funny about that. Throughout his entire life, that had been the one thing he knew about himself. The Bastard of Winterfell. He believed Eddard Stark was his father. He had tried to honor the man with every action he took. Whenever he doubted himself, he would think: What would my father do?

He would lie.

His whole life had been a lie. He had suffered Lady Stark during his youth at Winterfell, he had joined the Night's Watch, and he had died at his post, all without knowing anything. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He laughed bitterly, startling Ghost by his side. That's not even my real name.

"Jon or Aegon…" He whispered, wondering what would happen if he demanded to be called Aegon Targaryen from now on. He laughed again, and Ghost turned his head sideways to look at him in a funny way. The wind rustled the leaves once more, and this time he thought he heard something. He couldn't figure out what the voice had said, but it was definitely familiar. Was that Bran?

Now I'm hearing voices. Maybe I really am a Targaryen. He had to leave this place. There are no answers here, only bad memories. Everywhere he looked, he could see his father. Lord Stark is my uncle now. His mind was full of conflicting thoughts. His aunt was his mother and his father was his uncle. Ugh, I need a drink.

From his experience, that was easier said than done. After he became king, everyone in the North treated him differently. Almost everyone, he corrected himself. During his visits to Winter Town, he had discovered a quiet tavern on the western side of the market square. The owner, an older man called Thommel, had always made sure to treat him the same way he treated everyone else who visited the place.

Jon still didn't feel like explaining himself to anyone, so he said goodbye to Ghost and went to his quarters to pick up a cloak that covered his head. Maybe I won't attract too much attention with my face hidden. He also changed into something less regal: a brown tunic and grey leathers. He had met Ser Davos on his way in, and the man was still standing outside his room when he left.

"Where are we going, Your Grace?" The old knight asked him, after looking at his clothes. "Or is this a secret outing?" He added, in a lower voice.

Jon hesitated for a brief moment, but figured the man deserved an honest answer. "I'm going for a drink." Ser Davos nodded, and started walking away. "You're welcome to join me, if you'd like." He added, without thinking. Drinking alone isn't a good idea.

The onion knight stopped and turned around. "Of course, Your Grace. Where are we going again?" He asked jovially.

"A quiet tavern in Winter Town." Jon couldn't remember the name, though he remembered it made him smile when he saw it. "And while we're there, please don't call me Your Grace. Or Jon Snow, for that matter." He figured it'd be safer that way.

He nodded, "So it is a secret outing. But what should I call you, then?"

Jon considered saying Aegon, but thought better of it. "Call me… Grenn." He answered, thinking back on the brave brother of the Night's Watch. He held the gate against a giant.

"Very well. Lead on, Grenn." Ser Davos said, moving to one side of the corridor. They walked together in silence. Some people recognized Jon in the castle, but once they were outside nobody even looked twice at the hooded man.

When they reached the tavern, the old knight said, "Ah, the Merry Widow." He nodded. "Thommel's place may not be very popular, but the ale's good." Why did I think that name was funny? Jon didn't feel like smiling now. He just wanted to drink until he stopped thinking so much. "Let's go inside."

Thommel raised his head as the two walked in, but made no mention to greet them. Jon glanced around and saw only three other people, one sitting alone and two others talking quietly. These last two also had hooded cloaks, so Jon didn't remove his own when he took his seat.

A tired young woman walked up to their table to take their order, leaving right after without even glancing twice at him. It worked.

"Something on your mind, Grenn?" Ser Davos asked him. The man had a worried look on his face, probably wondering why a king would need to drink so badly.

"I've recently learned something that changes everything. My whole life…" Jon couldn't go on. At least not without a drink first.

"Is it worse than dying?"

The laugh came easily, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Aye, it's worse." He answered, just as the woman came back with two mugs and a large pitcher of ale. Jon didn't hesitate and poured himself a full mug of ale, drinking deep.

Ser Davos paid the woman, waiting for her to leave before going back to the conversation, "What could be worse than that?"

Jon poured himself another mug while he answered, "Imagine living your entire life believing in a lie." He drank again before continuing, "That the person you trusted the most had been lying to you since you were born." He finished his second mug and started pouring again. "And then imagine learning about this lie only after you'd died."

The old knight sat silent for a long time. Jon had finished his third mug by the time he replied, "It's hard to imagine, I'll admit it." He drank for the first time.

"Now I have to decide if I want to continue living with the lie, or if I should tell everyone the truth." Jon was in the middle of another mug. "Whatever happens, nothing will ever be the same." He stopped drinking for a while, looking at the half-empty mug and wondering about the future. This isn't working at all. I'm still thinking too much. He drank the rest.

"I won't ask you what the lie is about. There's no telling who might be listening." Ser Davos said, glancing at the table with the two hooded figures. Jon couldn't even tell if they were men or women. "But it seems to me you've already made a choice." The man finished, giving him a pointed look.

Jon poured another mug and nodded. "Aye, I have." He took another gulp before continuing, "I won't let people follow me based on a lie. They deserve to know the truth."

"You didn't need to drink to figure that out." Ser Davos looked at him drinking his ...fifth? No, maybe it's still my fourth mug. It was hard to keep track.

Jon didn't stop drinking, but replied anyway, "I wasn't drinking to think clearer. I just wanted to…"

"Forget?" The onion knight was perceptive as always. Jon nodded, and the man continued, "Believe me, J-, uh... Grenn." He caught himself on time. "Ale won't solve your problems. It just creates so many others that you'll end up drowned in them." There was a strange look in his face, probably remembering something from his past.

Jon hesitated, bringing his mug down. "I suppose we should go back. I'll have to…" He couldn't remember. Maybe I drank too much. He rose from his seat a little too quickly and swayed in place. Davos went to his side much faster than his age should have allowed and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady.

"Easy, there." Davos said, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder. "You'll want to move slower now, unless you wish to show us what you ate for breakfast."

He laughed loudly, "I like you, Davos." Jon patted the man on his chest. "You always know how to keep things light. I'll need that."

"Thank you, Your G-, uh… Grenn." Davos replied, with an awkward smile. "Now let's get you back to your room. What you really need is a good rest."

They walked back to Winterfell at a slower pace, with Davos walking right next to him, ready to catch him if he tripped. Jon didn't trip once, though the roads did look a bit twisted to his eyes. When they reached the East Gate, he stopped for a while.

"Do you think anybody recognized me?" Jon asked, lowering his hood. His attention had been focused more on his mug than anything else, so he might have missed something.

"I think one of those hooded people did, but I'm not sure who they were." Davos said, scratching his beard. "They stopped talking when you started, which was odd."

"Well, I didn't say anything too important." Jon wasn't worried about this, though it could be the ale in his head.

"I don't suppose you did, but any information could be valuable in the right ears." Davos replied. Jon had no idea what he meant by that, so he was about to ask him when he heard a familiar voice coming from behind.

"Your Grace!" Turning around, he saw the smiling face of Alys Karstark coming closer. "I was just thinking about you." She leaned in for a kiss and he could almost smell her perfume.

He put his arms around her and brought her closer, leaning in to her neck. Lavender. "You smell lovely." Jon whispered in her ear, feeling her face grow warmer.

"Th-Thank you." She whispered back, in a weak voice. She sounded nervous at first, but he felt her relax in his arms. He felt other things too, and when his mind started wondering he heard a light cough. Davos.

Jon let her go and introduced them. "Lady Alys Karstark, this is Ser Davos Seaworth. My finest advisor."

"My lady." The man inclined his head slightly.

"Ser Davos." She replied, still looking a bit flushed. She was wearing a black woolen cloak with the white sunburst of the Karstarks. Jon found himself watching her, wondering what her body looked like underneath those furs. He knew she had large breasts, but that was all.

"Your Grace." Ser Davos said, a little too loudly. "Should we move on?"

"Uh.." Jon's eyes were still wandering. He blinked a couple of times and smiled. "Don't be rude, Ser Davos. I'm sure Lady Alys here can escort me the rest of the way." He turned to face her. "My lady?" He asked, holding out an arm.

She hooked her own arm around his and pressed close. There they are, he mused, feeling her breasts pushing up against him. "Where are we going, Your Grace?" She looked up at him with wide eyes.

Jon leaned in closer and whispered, "To my chambers."

I was hoping to add more to this chapter, but it got way too big as it was. I guess I'll have to keep Jon drunk a little longer than I initially intended. At least it opens up more possibilities.

I have no plans to add Bran's POV. I have no idea how to write his whole Three-eyed Raven stuff, so I'll just steer clear from that. He'll show up later, though.

The date is 17/05/2019