JON

Ser Rodrick was waiting for them in the training yard. Jon was very nervous, while he had years of experience of battles and sword fighting, he knew he had downplay his abilities. It wouldn't be good if he suddenly became an expert swordsman overnight. How would he explain that?

But keeping his sword fighting abilities to himself was not his biggest obstacle. If he was going to have to become king, he had to convince his uncle that he was the best choice for the office. Even then, the North had to support his uncle´s choice, and in the North his Targaryen name was more of a burden than a boon.

It would be for the best if they would support the man, despite the name. Then he would have to do something incredible for the North. Lead it to some sort of victory in battle or do some service for the North. He doubled that anyone would follow a ten-year old into battle, and hopefully there would not be any wars for the next few years.

But maybe he could do some service for the North and its people. Something that would even help in the wars to come.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Robb. He was laughing at something Theon had said. It was so strange seeing them again. Both so young and carefree. They had both suffered horrible fates in the last life, and if Jon could help it, they wouldn't have to suffer them again. Though this Theon could with some humbling, Jon thought as he listened to Theon brag about his incredible talent with a sword. Jon wasn't sure where Theon had gotten that idea, he had never been all that talented with a sword. He was very good with a bow, but not a sword.

"Alright lads, grab your practice swords, and get ready." Ser Rodrick was standing before them with his ever present no nonsense look on his face. He looked very much the same as before Jon left for the Wall for the first time. With his white whiskers that moved every time he said anything. "Who wants to go first?" Ser Rodrick asked.

Theon swaggered forward in all his awkward fifteen-year old glory. Gods, Jon was not looking forward to being a teenager again.

"I will go first Ser Rodrick." Jon had not missed this Theon at all, who swaggered all around Winterfell, trying not to let anyone see that he wasn't here willingly, and he was a hostage to ensure his father´s good behavior.

Robb always eager to prove his worth with a sword, jumped forward and volunteered himself. The fight wasn't very exciting or long. Even though Theon had five years on Robb and was a head taller, Robb won easily. Lord Stark eldest was really a talented swordsman. Robb was much quicker than the Ironborn and even as a ten-year old he was also stronger. When Robb had laid Theon flat on the ground, they heard slow clapping above them.

They all looked up and saw Lord and Lady Stark standing on the balcony, they were looking at their son and smiling. Jon could see the pride and joy in their eyes as they looked on their son winning his match. Jon would never have that. He would never look up and see his parents smiling down on him as he won a sword fight. Jon quickly looked away, so that they wouldn't see his tears forming in his eyes.

He may have been a grown up in a child´s body, but this was always going to be an open wound for him. He had once been the motherless bastard son of Eddard Stark, but now he was the trueborn orphan of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. If he had a choice, he would have chosen to be the bastard of Lord Stark, at least he still would have had one parent instead of none.

Ser Rodrick beaconed him to step forward and have his turn. Jon´s head was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't realize that his body had automatically started to twirl the sword in his hand as he walked forward to his cousin. Jon´s practice sword was made like a longsword and Jon had been using a bastard sword for the last few years. But it wouldn't be a problem. At Winterfell and Castle Black, they had been made to train with any kind of swords they could find themselves with.

Robb rushed towards him, but with skill that surpassed most full grown men, Jon laid his cousin quickly on his ass. It was then when Jon realized what he had done. He had been so deep in his thoughts that his instincts had taken over. Jon and Robb had always been rather even as fighting went, so Jon beating him so fast must have been a lot of shock to all watching.

The training yard was silent. Theon was staring at him with his mouth open and Robb was looking up at him from the ground with wide eyes. Jon was sure that Ser Rodrick´s eyebrows were never coming down from his forehead.

Jon looked slowly up to the balcony, where Lord and Lady Stark stood. Lady Stark looked like she was going to murder him, slowly and painfully for winning a match against her son. But even that was better that the look Lord Stark was giving him right now. He looked like he was carved from stone. Jon could not begin to start to guess what the Lord was feeling right now, but it was not pride.

Jon looked back down and handed the old knight the wooden sword back. Jon mumbled his apologies and hurried away. He had screwed that up. How was it that he managed to screw everything up, everything he did, no matter what he tried to do always ended up back firing into his face, hard.

It wasn't long until he found himself in front of the crypts. He wasn't surprised to find himself there. The pull of the dragon eggs was stronger, but he also wanted to visit his mother´s crypt.

Jon walked down the stairs into the cold crypts of the Starks. It was dark down there but for a few torches that were always lit by the servants. As a child he had never liked the crypts, he always felt like the Starks of old were judging him for being a Snow, but now he knew the truth of the matter. They hadn't been judging him for being a Snow, but for being a Targaryen.

Targaryen´s didn't belong in deep, dark tombs, no they were burned in dragonfire on Dragonstone. His father´s family had done that since they had come to Westeros. As much as he always wanted to be a Stark, he wasn't, he never could be because he was a Targaryen.

He went deeper and deeper into the crypts until he came to his destination. The statue of Lyanna Stark, his mother. This was the second time in his life he had stood before her statue, knowing that she was his mother. The first time had been when he, like a halfwit, had told Daenerys that he was the trueborn son of Rhaegar, her brother. How could he not have seen that she would have been threatened by his claim, no matter what he said.

How come he hadn't seen the madness in her eyes when she had threatened Sansa just before they had gone on the dragonride. How could he have let that just slide, a foreign Queen, coming to his home demanding something that wasn't hers to demand and threatening the woman holding the North together after his colossal failures.

He sat down by the wall, opposite the statue of his mother. It hit him how little he knew of his own mother. All he knew of her was that she was beautiful, and Arya looked a lot like her. But he didn't know anything else. What was her favorite color? What was her favorite song? Would she proud of the man he had become? Though he doubted that she would be proud of her only son. He was the worst kind of failure there ever was.

But then he had a realization, perhaps the reason everything went the way it did was because he was acting like a Stark. He had always wanted to be a trueborn son of Eddard Stark and everything he did was to make him proud and Jon had always hoped that one day, Lord Stark would legitimize him and make him into a real Stark. But he wasn't a Stark or Snow. He had always been a Targaryen.

So, maybe it was time to be a Targaryen. Not a burning down your village sort of Targaryen but more like the good ones. But that brought another thought into his mind. Would anyone want him as their king? Why would they? He hadn't done anything for anyone, so what made him so great that he should be the king of not one kingdom, but seven of them.

He also knew that a lot of people would be skeptical of Jon being a Targaryen. Jon didn't have the coloring of old Valyria, and a lot of people would only see young Eddard Stark. Though having the Stark looks might help here in the North, it wouldn't help much in the south. People would most likely call him an imposter or something to that effect. Until they would see his dragons and the sword Blackfyre. He knew that having the sword of Aegon the Conqueror would give legitimacy to Jon´s claim, but how many would only accept Jon as King because they were afraid to be burned to death by dragons?

He didn't want to be another Aegon the Conqueror or Maegor the Cruel. Neither could he be Aenys the son of Aegon, who was famous for being a weak king.

If he had to be any Targaryen king of old, he wanted to be Jaehaerys the Conciliator, who was both a fine warrior and decisive in thought and deed. The man that had really united the kingdoms he ruled. Sure, Aegon had conquered the kingdom and brought them to heel, but they hadn't been really united until Jaehaerys had been king. The Lords under Aegon, Aenys and Maegor had been rebellious and the realm had been torn apart by war. But Jaehaerys and his queen, Alysanne had healed the kingdoms they ruled.

They had done great things like abolishing the rights of the first night and they had helped to build roads that were still being used today, almost two hundred years later.

That was the kind of Targaryen he wanted to be, to be remembered for helping the people of his country.

Jon was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of feet on stone. He didn't bother to turn to the sound, instead he kept on looking at the statue in front of him. The sounds came closer and closer until whoever had come was just beside him and stopped there.

Before the person manage to say anything, Jon spoke. "How much trouble am I in?" His voice was flat and emotionless.

He heard a childish giggle. "Probably a lot, mother was furious that you beat Robb so easily. But I was more worried that you had starved to death, dinner is over." Had he really been down here for that long. It had had been morning when he went down into the crypts and now it was evening? Though it would explain the growling of his stomach, which he has just noticing right now.

He looked up and saw his little sister Arya. She looked as she always had. Thin as a stick and her hair was a bird´s nest. Her dress was muddy and a little ruffled. She had clearly been playing with Bran around the castle.

Jon could feel the lump in his throat and tears gather in his eyes. He quickly willed them away and forced a smile on his face. It was so incredibly hard to be around his family and the people of Winterfell. It was like being stuck with ghosts that were hunting him and he didn't know how to make these feeling stop.

"But father wants to talk to you in his solar." Arya said with a grin. Jon nodded. "All right, I will be right up. Why don't you tell him that I am on my way."

She nodded with a grin and ran up the stairs, clearly eager to get out of the cold crypts of the Starks.

Jon stood up and made his way to the final resting place of Cregan Stark. This was where his dragon eggs where if the pull was anything to go by. He had to get them now, he couldn't come here two days in a row. It would rouse suspicion.

Jon put his hand on the lid and pushed with all his strength. It was hard but with a lot of noise the lid of the coffin moved a little. It would have been easier if he had his older body, but one must make do. He couldn't completely open the coffin, but he could stick his hand into it and feel around.

He put his hand into the coffin to search for the eggs. He could feel them, they were just there. He pulled his hand back out. He put his hands back on the lid to push a little more. The stone on stone made an awful sound. He prayed that no one was hearing it. He reached back into the coffin, he could feel the bones of his forefather, but he tried really hard not to think about it. Then he reached them.

One by one he got them out of the coffin. He put them on the ground and with difficulty, he managed to close the coffin. By now he was covered in sweat by the effort. All he wanted to do was grab the eggs and go to his room and hatch them. But he had to go and see the Lord of Winterfell first.

Jon gathered his dragon eggs into his arms and hurried back into the castle. When he left the crypts, he noticed that it was dark outside.

He managed to avoid people all the way into his room but there were a few close calls. He disposed of the eggs under the covers of his bed and then he went to his uncle´s solar.

It didn't feel right to part with his dragon eggs when he had just gotten them. All the way to the solar he wanted to turn around and go back into his room to be with them and try to hatch them. The pull was stronger now that he had touched them, and with every step away from them the pull to turn back was stronger.

The walk to his uncle´s solar had never been this long, but finally he made it. Jon knocked on the door and waited to be allowed in. Jon heard his uncle´s deep voice, "Enter".

The solar was not filled with riches, but with things from the Lord of the North that had given the Starks through the ages. There were a few tapestries that hung on the walls that showed historical moments of the North. His uncle was sitting behind his desk, looking serious as he did most of the time. He was reading some missive from some lord or another and there was a plate of untouched food on his desk, then he looked up and saw Jon, he gave his nephew a small smile in greeting and motioned him to sit opposed the Stark lord.

Jon sat down and waited for Ned Stark to begin. The Lord of Winterfell pointed to the plate of food and gave Jon a long look. Jon then knew that he was being ordered to eat, while Eddard was finishing reading the missive. He didn't have to wait for long.

"I think that you and I need to talk Jon, about what happened in the training yard this morning and other things." The man was looking at him like he was seeing right through him. Jon wanted to fidget in his chair, but he tried to smother that feeling. Was this what people felt when Jon looked at them?

Ned continued. "I noticed how strange you were acting this morning, Jon. These nightmares were not just nightmares, were they?" Jon didn't respond. He just starred at the man in front of him. Eddard Stark didn't believe in anything that involved magic, only in the old gods. He didn't believe in signs, like when Jon talked him into allowing the Stark children to have the direwolf cubs. He doubted that the reason he allowed them to keep the pups was because Ned thought it was a sign, rather he thought that the wolfs could be trained to defend his children.

The Lord of Winterfell continued. "I also know that you are not the same boy that went to bed last night." He could feel the blood drain from his face. Did he know? How could his uncle possibly know? "You are not the only one that has memories from a former life." His uncle sounded tired and defeated.

"I woke up a few days ago with memories from a past life. A man came to me in the Godswood. He called himself the Father of the seven. He told me in a few days you would regain your memories."

Jon just stared at the man. The Stranger had said that he and his siblings would be sending other people back, but he didn't expect it to be so soon. Then all he felt was relief, he wasn't all alone anymore. His uncle could help him. Together they could do this. He was so happy that he could cry.

"The man also told me that you and I need to work together to stop an impossible threat in the future." Jon sighed. It was time to tell Lord Stark everything that happened after he had died. So, he did. Jon felt like he was speaking for hours, telling his uncle everything that had happened to him and his cousins. This was the hardest thing he had ever done. To tell someone he cared about, about all the horror that had happened to his children. About how Robb was betrayed by Roose Bolton and the Freys. How they all thought Bran and Rickon had been murdered by Theon but later to see Rickon murdered before him and Sansa and thinking that Bran had survived only to find something using his body to manipulate everyone around him. How Arya had become a cold killer. But the hardest was Sansa.

Sansa had gone through so much and grown into someone that should never be crossed. She had gone from a silly little brat to a formidable woman. She had told him not to trust Daenerys and she had told him not to make the same mistakes as Eddard and Robb, but he had trusted Daenerys and he had made the same mistakes as his uncle and his cousin.

How in the world could he have done that? He had played Ygritte without a problem, sure he had feelings for her, but she had never led him around by his cock like Daenerys had, and he had happily allowed it to happen.

He vowed to himself he would never allow it to happen again.

Jon also told his uncle about what the Bloodraven and Sam had told him. How Jon knew that Ned was his uncle and not his father. How Jon was the trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. How the Bloodraven had told him that his name was really Aegon Targaryen.

Jon looked at Ned, the man was burying his face into his hands. Jon had never seen his uncle this tired before. They sat in silence for a while.

"Your name is not Aegon." This shocked Jon. But why would the Bloodraven lie about that? Why would he lie about his name? what was the point? But before Jon could ask what his name was, Ned spoke. "Your mother didn't name you, she didn't live long enough to do so, her dying words were to make me promise to protect you and make sure that Robert would never be able to get to you."

So, his name was really Jon? He felt weirdly relived at that, everything had been taken away from him when he heard the news of his parentage. His father, siblings, everything, even his name. But now he felt he had it back. A little bit of himself. Maybe that was Bloodraven´s game, to take everything from him so he would feel even more lost. A name is a powerful thing.

"There is one other thing I should mention, Uncle." Ned looked at him and waited for him to continue. "I have three dragon eggs in my room, that I need to hatch tonight." His uncle´s eyebrows shot up. Before his uncle could say anything, Jon continued. "I will be able to control them, and I will hide them in a cave in the Wolfswood when they are big enough to take care themselves. We will need them to take back the Iron throne and to win the war of the Dawn, the last time we won against the Night King it was mostly luck, and we need the seven kingdoms united behind us if we are going to win."

Ned just shook his head. "This day just keeps getting weirder." Jon laughed at that. Yes, this day was getting weirder.

"Well, I am going to go to the kitchens and find some cooked meat for them, they will probably be hungry when they hatch." Jon said as he stood up.

He was leaving the solar when his uncle´s voice stopped him. "Jon…do you mind if I watch when you hatch them? I would like to make sure that you are safe." He hurriedly added that last part.

Jon smiled and nodded. "Sure, meet me in my room in a short while." With that Jon left the solar to go to the kitchen to find meat for his soon to be born dragons.

When he arrived at his room holding a small plate of cooked meat, his uncle was waiting for him. He looked nervous, not that Jon could blame him. Jon was nervous to. It wasn't every day that one is planning to hatch dragons. They entered the room and closed the door behind them.

Jon put the plate on his desk and fetched his dragon eggs from under the covers. He didn't have time to appreciate the beauty of the eggs before but know in the reasonably well light room he could see it. One was the color of pure black and blood red. The second one was cream with golden rivers running though the surface. But the third one, the one of the dragon Jon himself had ridden into battle against the Night King was emerald and bronze. "Jon where did you get them?" Jon almost jumped, he had forgotten his uncle in his excitement. He really didn't want to tell him, but he knew he had to.

"I found them in the crypts, in the tomb of Cregan Stark. He hid them so the Targaryen´s wouldn't take them. He knew they would be needed here."

Then Jon pulled out his dagger and put it by the fireplace. He lit a fire in the fireplace and then he fetched the eggs. "What are you doing with that dagger Jon?" Jon could hear the nervousness in his uncle´s voice.

"I need a little blood, I have to put them on the eggs to hatch them." He replayed softly. Then Jon sat down in front of the fireplace. Sitting so close in front of the fireplace should be unbearably hot, but to Jon it was soothing and comfortable. He picked up the dagger and sliced his palm open, and bleed on the eggs.

Jon picked up the eggs and one by one, he put them in the fireplace. He could feel them in his mind, their presence was already there. It was strange but not unwelcome, in fact it felt right. All he needed was Ghost and he felt like he would be complete. The eggs hadn't been in the fire for long before Jon reached into the fire with the hand he had cut. "JON! NO!" His uncle shouted.

"It is alright uncle, it doesn't hurt." Jon had never felt so calm in his life. The fire was so soothing and warm. Then he could feel them, their snouts were touching his fingers. He gave a short laugh. Then they started to crawl out of the fire. They were the same colors they had been in the other life. Black and red, cream and gold, emerald and bronze.

They crawled into his lap and cooed at him. The dragons were the size of large cats and just as agile. Jon could feel their hunger, he turned to his uncle and asked for the plate on the desk. Ned handed the plate to him, but Jon could see it in his eyes, the man was beyond shocked. Jon put the plate on the floor. Eddard walked to the bed and sat down while Jon was feeding his new dragons.

"Are you all right uncle?" His uncle hadn't taken his eyes from the dragons. Then he dragged his eyes to Jon. "Well, now we stand a chance at winning." Jon snorted at that.

"We can´t tell anyone about them, Jon" His uncle had turned grave again. "We also shouldn't tell anyone that we have memories of another life." Jon nodded his agreement. But then he had a thought.

"There are other that may get memories from the other life. We could tell them, if they are on our side."

"What do you mean? On our side, are you expecting someone knowing of the other life while working against us?"

Jon frowned. "Yes, it is possible. The one who brought me back said that someone might comeback when he and his siblings brought people into their old bodies."

Ned grew paler and frowned. "The Father brought me back, who brought you back?" He asked.

Jon turned back to his dragons, he started to pet the cream and golden one, Jon noticed that he didn't feel any pain from the cut he had made on his hand. He looked at the cut and noticed that after he had put the hand into the fire, the cut had vanished. He was looking at a small scar that was now on his hand as he said. "The Stranger."