A/N: Okay, I know that this turn of events will be strange. I am prepared for all the questions you're going to ask about this. But it depends if it's within my power to answer them. haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Game of Thrones is not mine.

Summary: When Ned finally told Catelyn about Jon Snow's mother, he had not expected for things to turn out the way they did in the end. It was so unfortunate that Robert had been smarter than Ned ever thought he was.

VII

When Jon arrived at the king's chambers, Robert was standing with his back to him, looking over King's Landing, seemingly deep in thought. When he heard the doors close, the king turned to him with unfathomable eyes.

Jon gathered his courage. "Your Grace." He nearly whispered and kneeled.

"Stand, boy." The king growled but not harshly. Jon did as he was told and avoided meeting the king's eye by staring at something above the king's shoulder.

"Come closer, boy." Robert commanded and Jon forced his feet to move. The king sat on the table and began to place food on his plate while Jon stood rigidly near the other side, befuddled and anxiously waiting. Before the king could take a bite of his bacon, he frowned when he noticed Jon standing awkwardly in front of him. "Well, don't just stand there. Sit down, boy!"

Jon was startled by the outburst but forced himself to calm down and sat with as much grace as he could muster. The king followed him with fury-infused eyes very carefully and Jon looked down the empty plate in front of him, wondering what they'll do to him now.

"Well, don't just look at it, boy! Eat!" Robert bellowed.

Jon was so stunned he stuttered, "Y-Your Grace?"

The king looked angrily frustrated now. "The Imp told you that you were to join me at breakfast, did he not?!"

"Y-Yes, Your Grace."

"Then eat, boy!"

Jon placed bacon and bread on his plate but did not touch it. The king grabbed the pitcher of water on the side and poured him a cup full. Jon's eyes widened and he was caught completely off guard. What in Seven Hells was happening?

"I-I don't—"

"Did I give you permission to fucking speak, boy?!" The king roared. Jon shut his mouth. "Now, eat your breakfast!"

Jon reluctantly tore a piece of bread and ate. He chewed slowly, taking as little as he could without appearing so. The king ate heartily as if he was angry with his food and Jon decided that if the king wanted to see him poisoned to death, he will have to wait for Jon to finish his breakfast. He focused on his meal, determined to not look at the king but instead set his eyes on the view the balcony offered. King's Landing truly is beautiful with its fancy houses and buzzing streets but something about it felt awfully sick. Something didn't feel right. But that didn't matter really. It was still a pretty sight. For months now, Jon had seen and been in nothing but darkness. He missed the blue skies and the warmth and glow of the sun. The noises of the market that drifted up to them were like music to his ears.

"You're nothing like her." The king observed and Jon's eyes snapped back to the man in front of him, staring at him with an intensity that Jon doesn't understand. Robert looked like he was looking for something but Jon doesn't know what he wants.

He swallowed and answered as honestly as he could. "I've always been told I took after Lord Stark, Your Grace."

The king scoffed sardonically. "That man was never much of a talker even when we were boys. It was Brandon who couldn't shut up, the gods rest his soul, and your mother, she—"

Jon stiffened. The king became quiet and thoughtful, a pained frown marring his face. Whenever the king visited him in his cell, any mention of his mother would soon follow a severe beating and shouting, blaming Jon for everything that happened to her. This time will not be different, he knew. Jon stayed absolutely still and waited with baited breath.

"She was spirited, your mother." The king said quietly, lost in the memory. Jon was completely taken aback. He can hardly believe what he was hearing. "Beautiful and kind, compassionate but wild. She was perfect in every way. If it happened as it should have, you would've been our firstborn son."

Jon sucked in a breath and the king looked at him with a passion burning in his eyes. "I've been dreaming about her for weeks now, haunting me from the grave. In my dreams, we're in Winterfell, deep beneath the crypts and she's crying out for you. She blames me for killing you. But you're not dead, I keep telling her. But she doesn't listen. She only cries and she's always sad. He promised me, she keeps whispering. He promised."

Jon could only listen, numbness spreading quickly from his chest to the rest of his limbs.

"Every night it's the same." The king continued, louder and stronger, his eyes pinning Jon with its storm. "Ever since that lion bitch, her fucking brother, and their bastards fled, it's been the same. Every night she comes to me and cries. My beloved Lya…"

Jon flinched away from those eyes. The eyes that roamed his face for any traces of the woman the king had once loved and he knew he saw plenty of her there. He knew because he'd seen that look before. His father wore it every time he looked at Jon. He saw his sister, the king saw his beloved. What would Jon give to see it himself?

So, Jon turned away from the king and something caught his eye.

He missed it on his way in, but he saw it now. There, on the far side of the king's bed, was Ghost. His head was mounted on the wall with teeth bared, snarling silently as he always had.

Jon felt odd. His lungs protested and begged for air. Had the king struck him without his knowing? Why couldn't he breathe? He needed to breathe…

"Boy?" Robert asked and he looked to where the boy was gawking. Guilt and shame welled up in his chest at the sight of the boy's white direwolf.

He was a fool. He was a drunken, shameful, dishonorable fool.

Jon suddenly jerked back to life and had a wild look in his eyes. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I beg to return to… wherever I may rest."

Robert only nodded, not meeting the boy's eyes.

Jon stood and walked as brisk as he could. The doors opened and Pod escorted him back to his chambers. But he didn't notice any of it. He hardly noticed he was moving. He told Pod he'll be resting and the young man seemed to understand that he needed to be alone now.

When the squire left, Jon slid to the floor as the onslaught of sobs wracked his body violently. He put a hand over his mouth to keep from crying out louder than he's already making.

But it doesn't matter. He knew many heard him anyway.

And once again, Jon is reminded that he is utterly alone.