authorsnote: yes this is real, yes this is a 2023 update, yes I promise to do better
chapters 1-7 have been updated with improvements (same sl), I recommend re-reading before reading this
do enjoy, do review
songrecs: in the end - tommee profitt version
'I am a Stark, yes, I can be brave'
- Sansa Starks thoughts
-x-
As he stepped into his Uncles solar, he was glad for how often he'd practiced keeping a stoic expression, for how he'd forced himself over and over again not to betray a flicker of emotion on his face.
Sitting opposite Mance Rayder, Stannis Baratheon, Kings and Lords, Wildlings and Commanders, and he betrayed nothing, it was useful then, it would be useful now.
Sansa's face was a mask beside him too, but whereas he'd learned from Leaders and Generals, she had learned from Spymasters and Schemers, he could keep that brooding expression, Sansa could offer a fake smile or tears on command (and had showed him as much once, to which he'd been both impressed and disconcerted).
It had been out of character for Sansa to reveal their closeness, to betray herself to her emotions, but he knew he was the same.
They could play the game, but when it came to one another playing became harder, and their priorities shifted.
Now, he couldn't allow that, and as Lord Stark waved them in and they took their seats he resisted the urge to take Sansa's hand, forced himself to sit still, slump even a little; he was no King here, and he needed to act like it.
He allowed himself one glance at Sansa to see her head bowed, and he allowed her presence, her expression of hope to give him strength, he would take the lead here, and he could not fuck it up.
Them being together, staying together relied on him getting this right.
He had to get it right.
"Explain" Lord Stark said curtly, and Jon noted the bottle of Northern whisky already waiting on the table, Lord Stark anticipated this being a difficult conversation and Jon had to agree, he knew it was a huge risk for him and Sansa, but what other choice did they have?
They had been careless and were now rueing the consequences, it was time to take risks.
"I know I'm not a Stark" Jon began, blurted out his words really, he should have been more careful, measured, and yet it dawned on him that being too mechanical would not work, they had to not just give Lord Stark a story, they had to sell it.
Their lives depended on it.
Lord Stark sighed then, and Jon saw a flash of pity in his gaze, "Jon, you may not have my name, but you have my blood, and I…"
"That's not what I meant" Jon interrupted, and felt himself almost flush, he'd never interrupted the man he had thought to be his Father before, but he hoped it came across as frantic rather than disrespectful.
"I know I'm not a Stark, or Snow" He said, and chose his next words carefully, "I'm a Sand"
A lie, he knew he was a Targaryen, remembered Sam showing him the records, Bran recalling the wedding of his Mother and Father, Howland Reed arriving with a marriage certificate and his baby blanket, he was no bastard after all.
He remembered when he had found out, when Sansa had found him kneeling, sobbing in front of the statue of his Mother in the crypts, when she had swept him into her arms, already so close, and he had explained everything, his heritage, the truth of his parentage, and what that meant.
He was a Targaryen, not Stark.
And he was no bastard after all.
It had taken time to accept, to work through in his head, to let go of the resentment of the stain of bastardry, but he had seen why Lord Stark had done this, why he had gone to such lengths to hide his birth right, especially because he was trueborn, he had come to accept that, to understand, but it had taken time.
The Northerners had needed time too, when he and Sansa had revealed the truth, had needed time to accept it but forgot most of their grumblings when Bran suggested he and Sansa marry, probably already knowing how close they'd grown, how they'd need no convincing at all.
Never siblings, something else had bloomed.
But now, he had to pretend he thought he was still a bastard, perhaps Lord Stark would correct him, perhaps he'd try and hide that too, the fact he technically had a claim to the Iron Throne, but at the very least, even knowing he was Sansa's cousin, not brother, and admitting it, got them out of this mess.
To an extent.
"Jon…" Lord Stark began, but Jon shook his head.
He had planned this, knew he should let Lord Stark speak, and yet as Sansa had lost her head when Lady Stark had insulted him, he felt something bubble up then, something boil over in him that needed to be said.
"How could you lie to me?" He asked, it was foolish, and he watched as Sansa lifted her gaze, eyebrows knitting together, confused, this wasn't part of the plan, he had long accepted why his Uncle had hidden him, even from himself, and yet, he felt the need to ask, now he had him here, felt he had to ask, even if he already knew the answer.
"Robert would have killed you" His Uncle said, his expression one of sadness then, all anger draining away. Jon felt at least happy he wasn't trying to deny it now, even as he felt a pang of guilt for the pure grief that encompassed his Uncles face.
Grief over Lyanna, his Mother.
How he wished to have known her.
"Your Mother Jon" His Uncle stood then, poured them each out a drink, one for Sansa too (though much smaller), and passed them out, Jon drank his in one go, Sansa managed a sip and wrinkled her nose, he would have laughed had it been any other time, "I promised her I would protect you"
"He's always wanted to know his Mother" Jon heard Sansa say, and he knew it was not to heap the guilt on her Father, but was in a moment of calculation, it was key Lord Stark understand Sansa already knew, and perhaps had for a while.
How else could they justify their love?
High risk … high reward.
"I know" Lord Stark said with a nod, "But I had to protect you, that came first"
He paused then, and Jon felt the tension in the room, knew he could cut it with a knife, but waited, he still felt angry, felt he was owed an explanation, but he already had it, he knew that, had when he'd asked.
It still hurt though.
"How did you find out?" Lord Stark seemed resigned then, his mind a million miles away from his other question (which Jon had hoped for and counted on). "Tell me"
At that, Jon made his way over to the open fire, removed his glove and placed his hands in the flames. He had known this would work, had known Lord Stark would need proof, and with no documents to call on, no way to access them that would be believed, he had gone for something more showy.
He didn't even know if this was due to his Targaryen heritage, or from being ripped back from death. After all, he had burned when he had saved Lord Commander Mormont from a wight by throwing a lantern at it, and yet weeks after finding out the truth about his parents he had accidently picked up a too hot pot when a kitchen hand had dropped it, and whereas the kitchen hand had been nursing blisters, his skin had been unmarred.
Was it the same reason he could no longer feel any cold? The same reason he could feel that part of him was gone? He didn't know, but he knew it had its uses.
Especially now.
"Damn Targaryens" His Uncle said with a sigh, eyes widening, perhaps it was a Targaryen trait, but that didn't explain his sudden immunity. When reading Targaryen history, he had seen several references to immunity to fire, perhaps it was a well known myth, but again it suited his purposes here.
And for his Uncle, what other explanation could there be?
"When?" Lord Stark asked, tone clipped now, though the grief remained in his gaze.
"Months ago" He said, his and Sansa's connection was too deep to pretend to be weeks old and shallow, "Sansa was getting lemon cakes from the kitchens" He smiled then, couldn't help it when he knew Sansa would be furious he was using her well known affinity for sweetthings as a scapegoat, even Lord Stark managed an upturn of the lip, "A pan dropped, I lifted it and then got reading, about Targaryen history, about Roberts Rebellion, and then it just all made sense"
Lord Stark nodded, and Jon felt his heart lift in hope; could they be believed, could the risk be paying off?
Gods, he hoped so.
"I had so hoped you hadn't inherited that trait" Lord Stark said with a sigh, "But here we are"
"I know" He continued, "And things have changed since then"
"Clearly" His Uncle said, glancing at Sansa and then back at him again, he seemed almost resigned to it, resigned to the situation, but then his gaze sharpened. Fuck.
"What did you mean about being King and Queen?" He seemed frantic then, switching his line of questioning; Jon supposed he should be glad how easily he'd accepted his initial story, seemingly unquestioning how he'd figured out his heritage, and what that meant for him and Sansa, but this? This was trickier.
"I…" He began, his mind racing, he had often had to think things up on the fly as Lord Commander, and yet Sansa stepped in quickly.
"We were just playing around Father" She said, stepping in, and Jon near smiled; that was what made them a good pair, always able to cover for one another, whether it be now as children in front of Lord Stark, or be it at a war council, or presiding over court.
They had one an-others backs, always had, always would.
"You absolutely cannot" He said then, and seemed more furious than he had before, somehow, and Jon nodded, quickly, to defuse the situation as it dawned on him the out Sansa had given him, and what Lord Stark thought that meant.
"Jon … I.." He paused then, and Jon screwed his hands into fists, hard enough his knuckles went white, his unburned knuckles, what was coming now?
"You're not a bastard" He said, "I can't lie to you further"
Jon was no actor, didn't bother gasping, but instead dropped his gaze to the floor, tried to interject something into his tone, letting some of the boiling anger out as he spoke to the stone at his feet, "What?"
"Your Mother and Father married before they had you, Rhaegar Targaryen after all, he could have multiple wife's, at least he thought so" He said with a shake of his head, "Your Mother left me a letter explaining it all, he loved her, and she loved him"
Jon didn't have to pretend then as he looked up and knew unshed tears clung to his gaze; he had known they were married, had known there had been love thanks to Bran, but to hear it confirmed? In a letter only Lord Stark would have read? It was better.
"Truly?" He asked, his tone cracking, no falsehoods there.
"Truly" His Uncle said, and managed a sad smile, "They loved each other, and Gods, she loved you so much, for the time she had, she adored you"
He had hoped as much, but Bran had never said, and a tear trickled down his cheek then, felt Sansa take his hand … this was different to learning the facts Bran and Sam had given, this was more.
This was his Mother, who she had been, who he so wished he had known.
"And that was why" Lord Stark moved around the table then, placed a hand on Jon's shoulder as another tear fell, "That was why I lied, hid it for all these years, to protect you"
He nodded then, he'd always known, always understood, but this was different, and though part of him was glad to have learned this as he did, for surely Lord Stark was convinced now, the main part of him just revelled in knowing;
His Mother had loved him, she had loved his Father. He wasn't just trueborn, but a product of love.
Tears continued to fall.
"But" His Uncle stepped back then, back behind his desk, looked across at Jon and Sansa with hands held, and as Jon lifted his gaze he saw a flicker of fear in them then, true, real, fear.
Can a man be brave when he is afraid?
That is the only time a man can be brave.
"Playing or not, you absolutely cannot entertain any idea of the Iron Throne" His tone was fierce then, as he looked across at them, at Sansa who had tears unshed of her own, and Jon, who sniffed, forced back any more tears, and forced himself to nod.
Of course, they hadn't been discussing the Iron Throne, they'd been King and Queen in the North in their time, but if this was how to get his Uncle off the 'time travel' trail, this was the way.
"I'm serious" He continued, "Both of you" Lord Stark said, and Sansa nodded too, as he glanced her way, her eyes wide. "No one can know the truth, Jon will be killed for it, without a doubt"
"Promise me" He carried on, his tone more furious than he'd ever seen, more desperate even as he looked across at them, "Swear it on the Old Gods, I'm glad you know the truth Jon, in a way, but you cannot ever go for your birth right, you'll surely be killed for it"
His birth right … he'd never heard it explained that way before, and it stirred something in him.
"But Father…" Sansa began, mostly silent until this point, but now she had something to say he could see, she glanced at him first, and then back again, "I … I won't marry anyone else"
Jon knew it needed to be said, knew it needed to be made clear; they knew the truth of Jon's parentage, and in that, they had risked revealing the truth about their feelings, feelings they couldn't hide.
Truth and lies.
They couldn't tell the whole truth, but some, enough to have an impact, enough to ensure they were never parted. For what else could they do?
They could never tell the truth, that they had somehow travelled back in time, but they could risk telling part of the story, of Jon's parentage, and the feelings that had come from learning it, it was the only way to stay together.
Risk and reward.
"By the Gods" His Uncle said then, falling back into his chair with a thump "A Stark and a Targaryen" He shook his head then, cradled his head in his hands, and Jon felt a pang of worry, of what this could mean, would mean, what would they reveal? He didn't know. "Not again"
Not again.
Jon looked at Sansa then, and her fear was reflected in his eyes.
'Targaryen men have a habit of falling for Stark women'
Sam had said that once as a jape, and yet it was true.
But what would the consequences of it be? They would soon find out.
ooof that was emotional to write
here we go, changes already and remember the ripple effect ...
new update coming soon (I promise)