Chapter 17 – Jon
That first night back at Winterfell was probably the best night's sleep Jon had had in years, with not a single dream of icy horrors to wake him. His limbs still felt like jelly, from both the fall and from the events of the night before. His lips still tingled where Daenerys had kissed him, the image of her gentle smile, the way her hair fell over her shoulders and the way her violet eyes melted as she looked at him firmly engraved into his long term memory. Therefore, Jon was the lightest and most refreshed he had ever felt when he awoke the following morning.
The meeting, it had been decided, would not be held until the afternoon, so Jon decided to wander around the castle and catch up with some of its new and old inhabitants. He decided to go to the Great Hall first, thinking perhaps his siblings or some other members of Daenerys' group would have started heading there in search of breakfast. But in the end, Jon didn't get ten paces out of his room before Sansa came running towards him, a look of pure panic on her usually composed features.
"Jon! Come quickly," she said urgently.
Following her at a fast pace down the stairs, he asked, "Why?"
"Arya and the dragon queen look like they're trying to kill each other!"
He looked at her sharply. "What? Why?"
"I don't know!" came the reply. "But they're in the yard with swords!"
"Right," Jon said, striding in the direction purposefully. However, he didn't feel too worried. He knew the two of them got on reasonably well, and knew Arya was anxious to start training people in combat in preparation for the war to come. But at the same time, he feared a little for Daenerys. As far as he knew, she was inexperienced with wielding the weaponry, while Arya was as boisterous with a blade as she was deadly. Plus, if many other people saw them, they might get the wrong idea that Daenerys was attacking Arya, potentially putting the idea with an alliance with the North for her in jeopardy.
Jon went to stand over the courtyard and surveyed the scene below. He saw that Sansa had over-exaggerated somewhat: while the two young women were fighting, there was nothing vicious about it. Daenerys was staggering somewhat with the effort of holding up what looked like a Valyrian steel sword; clumsily trying to swing in the general direction of Arya. Arya was being more patient than Jon had thought she could possibly be, yet easily deflecting every ponderous blow. Jon now assumed this must be what the two of them had been up to when they had spent all that time alone together at Dragonstone. He tried his best not to smile. Of course.
Quite a large crowd had now gathered to watch the two of them spar. Jon's eyes wandered to Sansa, who was still quietly fretting, to Brienne, who stood watching with fascination, one hand gently curled around the pommel of her own blade, to Missandei, who looked to be concerned for Daenerys' safety. Jon had just begun to focus back on the practice in the yard when a slight figure approached him.
"Good morning, Your Grace," the cool, formal voice came, and Jon turned to see Lyanna Mormont looking up at him. "I am glad to see you returned and well."
"And you, my lady," Jon replied politely, smiling down at her serious little face. "I take it you have been informed about the meeting?"
"Yes, and I look forward to it," she said. "It is nice to see another Stark has returned home. I look forward to meeting Lady Arya," she added, nodding towards the fight.
Jon gave her a small smile. "I don't think she'd appreciate you calling her a lady." And he could have sworn Lyanna smiled back.
"Your Grace, I had to ask you something," she started, almost nervously. "Before the meeting, where everyone else will be. I wanted to know for sure…"
"Go ahead, my lady," Jon said courteously. "What is it you want to know?"
"I wanted to know if there is anyone in the new alliance group that you truly trust," she said, peering at him meticulously.
Jon sighed, a part of him surprised that he hadn't anticipated this before. "I trust them enough to see the Long Night through."
Lyanna nodded respectfully. "I had a feeling you might say that. And I must say, the Mother of Dragons certainly has the determination to learn something new." She looked away from Jon and back to the spar. Daenerys was now visibly tired, and Jon could see that Arya was starting to go easier on her. "I wish I could do that with a sword," Lady Mormont added admiringly.
"I bet Arya would teach you if you asked her," Jon said. "She's keen for everyone to train and prepare."
Another tiny smile appeared on the lady's face. "I prefer a bow and arrow."
They watched the scene for a few moments more, before Lyanna turned away.
"I should go," she said. "I take my leave, Your Grace. I'll see you at the meeting this afternoon."
"Wait!" Jon said, remembering. "Something you should know, my lady. One of Queen Daenerys' advisors is Ser Jorah Mormont. Your cousin, I believe."
Lyanna nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting," she said. "Very interesting." She must have noticed Jon's nervous look. "Don't worry – I won't say anything that'll make things awkward. Not in public, anyway."
Then she left.
Jon looked back to the spar. Daenerys' face was flushed and red, but she was not giving up. The sword looked far too heavy for her and Jon started to worry: she was trying to keep up with Arya's experienced style and failing. With this realisation, Jon headed down the nearest stairs and made his way over to them.
"That'll do, won't it?" he said in greeting. "You both look exhausted!" This was a lie, of course, for Arya looked as though she had barely lifted a finger.
His sister was glowing with praise. "You did so well!" she said to the dragon queen. "You'll be as good as any soldier in no time!"
Daenerys shook her head, but smiled nonetheless. "Thank you." She then appeared to notice the gawking crowd and looked a little embarrassed. "There was no one out here when we started," she said, quietly enough so that only Jon and Arya could here.
"Breakfast time?" Jon suggested a little louder, and some people started to turn away.
"Wait!" Arya hissed, turning to one side and looking around. "Bran and Sam are coming!" Jon barely had time to register Daenerys' expression of anxiety before he too noticed Bran approaching in his chair, Sam puffing and panting with the effort of pushing him. When they were close, Sam gently slowed Bran's chair and made an awkward bow to the three of them.
"Your Grace," he mumbled, looking terrified, to Daenerys, who looked equally uncomfortable. "My la- Arya." He looked at Jon. "Your Grace."
"Oh, come off it Sam," Jon chuckled, hugging Sam and clapping him on the back. "You don't need to say that to me!"
Sam laughed nervously. "How are you Jon?"
Jon grinned. "Well enough. Tell me about you! It sounds like you have had quite the adventure."
"The Citadel was not as great as I imagined," Sam said, shrugging his shoulders. "It was a disappointment and absolutely ridiculous, what they had me doing. I was re-writing histories and diaries of better men, all while the secrets to defeating the Night King were probably lying on some dusty shelf in the restricted section fading away. I thought I would be of far more use to you here, and I heard that you had taken back Winterfell, so I came here."
"How's Gilly?"
"She and Little Sam are well. They're here too."
Jon nodded. "I'm sorry you changed your mind about being a Maester. You were so excited about it."
Sam shrugged again. "They refused to take the threat north of the Wall seriously. They didn't believe me."
Jon sighed. "I've been having troubles like that of late."
Sam smiled again nervously.
"Jon, I need to discuss a matter with you," Bran said tonelessly. "It is important."
Jon looked at him carefully. "Very well. Is this something that can be said in front of Arya and Queen Daenerys? And Sansa?"
"No –" Bran started to say, but Sam interrupted him.
"Why not?" he retorted. "It's Jon's choice. Besides, everyone will probably find out soon, anyway!"
"What?" said Arya.
"Uh, yeah," Jon said, his mind a whirl.
Sam started fretting. "Someone will need to get Lady Sansa –"
"I'll go and find Sansa," Arya said with the subtlest of edges to her voice. She moved away from Jon to give Bran a hard look. "Whatever it is, wait for us." Bran only inclined his head by an inch.
"What about me?" Daenerys said quietly. "This seems like more of a personal matter."
"It's fine," Jon said, surprised that she was even asking. "We're allies. Besides –" he nodded back at his brother – "Bran gave us invaluable information about the Night King through Sansa's letter. There's nothing not worth knowing at this stage."
"This isn't about the Night King," Bran said impassively, and began to wheel himself back towards the castle. Jon exchanged a bewildered glance with Daenerys before looking at Sam, who just looked awkward and uneasy. Feeling a little nervous himself, he went past both of them and went to push Bran's chair.
Never before had Jon truly appreciated just how many stairs there were in Winterfell, as he pushed Bran up them, as gentle as possible so that he wouldn't fall out of the chair. After a couple of flights, he felt so out of breath that he almost didn't hear the tentative conversation behind him.
"Are you alright, Your Grace?" Sam asked gently. "You are looking a little worried."
"I am fine, thank you," Daenerys replied. "Samwell, isn't it? I hear you did wonderful work on Ser Jorah. I must thank you, he is a great friend of mine."
"It was nothing," Sam said modestly, but Jon could not miss the faint pride in his voice. "Is he still well?"
"He is strong," Daenerys told him. "In fact, he is here, although I expect he is staying close to the Dothraki. He is working closely with them."
"It will be nice to see him again."
By this time, the small group had finally reached the top of the stairs and were heading towards Jon's solar. Arya and Sansa were not yet there.
"Are you alright, Jon?" Sam laughed. "You weren't struggling with Bran there, were you?"
"Lifting was never my strength," Jon replied, trying his best not to wheeze. Remembering the old stable-boy, he turned back to his unsmiling younger brother. "What happened to Hodor?"
"He's dead." There wasn't even a hint of remorse in Bran's deadpan features.
"Did you burn his body?" Sam asked him. "He was the tall one, wasn't he? We wouldn't want him coming back."
"We were attacked by wights while north of the Wall," Bran said. "There was no time for us to burn his body, I didn't actually see what happened because I was unconscious – I was becoming the Three-Eyed Raven."
Jon scoffed. "The Three-Eyed what?"
Bran smiled mirthlessly. "It's difficult to explain." Thus, Jon ascertained that he probably wouldn't bother to explain.
The room was awkwardly silent for a few seconds.
"Sam?" Daenerys said hesitantly after a few seconds. "I have to tell you something." Jon couldn't help but be surprised again. She had told him that she was going to confess to Sam about her involvement in the deaths of his father and brother, but Jon had not expected her to do it straight away.
"A few weeks ago, there was a battle at Blackwater Rush," Daenerys said, he voice strong but her discomfort evident. "Your father's men betrayed House Tyrell and were fighting for the Lannisters. After the battle, I…" Her voice faltered, and her eyes fell.
"We already know what happened to Randyll and Dickon Tarly," Bran said after a few seconds. "I saw the Loot Train Attack and what happened afterwards."
Daenerys looked Sam in the eye. "I am sorry for what I did to them," she said very softly.
Sam nodded. "I forgive you. I was not particularly close with them, and I disliked my father very much. Plus, Bran saw your conversation with Jon about it, and told me how… upset you were. We'll say no more about it."
Daenerys nodded too, and then the door banged open and Sansa and Arya entered.
"You all look very serious," Arya said accusingly. "I did ask you to wait for us."
"We did," Jon said, as his sisters moved in and sat down. He noticed the two of them barely glanced at each other as they sat down. He also noticed that Sansa sat opposite him, near Bran and Sam, as far away from Daenerys as possible, while Arya happily plonked herself down next to the dragon queen, who smiled at her in greeting. Quarrelling already Jon thought.
"So what is all this about, Bran?" Sansa asked. "What was so important that you had to wait for Jon, rather than telling me when you came home?"
"It is about Jon, my lady," Sam explained to her, while Jon's curiosity heightened. "Therefore we thought he should be told of our discoveries first. And we didn't want to assume that he would want other people to know straight away."
"Go on then," Arya said, glancing Jon's way. "Get on with it. This important discovery – is Jon secretly a dragon or something? I always thought he was a bit scary-looking. Or a demon?"
Jon laughed and ruffled her hair, finding it difficult to be anxious while Arya was there.
"Are you trying to imply that dragons are scary-looking?" Daenerys asked innocently.
"Oh yeah," Arya said breezily. "Especially the human ones. Scarier than Drogon, you are." Daenerys laughed and so did Jon.
"This is serious," Sam said.
"Sorry," Arya said. "I'll shut up now. Daenerys, you're not bad. Jon, you're not a demon." She sat up straight in her chair. "Go on."
Sam and Bran exchanged glances, which made Jon's stomach flip again.
"The thing is, Jon," Sam said, and Jon had never seen his friend look so terrified. Not when he first joined the Nights Watch, not when they went north of the Wall for the first time, not even when the wildings attacked Castle Black. "With Bran's ability to see everything that has ever happened, and the information I have learned from transcribing various important documents at the Citadel, we have found out a lot of information about the world. And a lot about you."
Jon's mouth felt dry. "Like what?"
"You once told me that you didn't know who your mother was," Sam said. "Well, if you want to know, myself and Bran can tell you."
"You know who she is?" Jon felt a rush of excitement. "I once asked Father if she was alive, or if she knew about me. He wouldn't even tell me that."
"Jon… she's not alive. She died giving birth to you. But she knew about you, definitely. Bran saw her, and saw you as a baby."
"Oh…" Some part of Jon had been hoping he would be finally given a name, someone to track down and contact. He had envisaged travelling miles to meet her, to finally hugging her, and learning about who she was.
"I'm sorry," Daenerys said to him, moving to squeeze his hand. Jon barely noticed Sansa's raised eyebrows as he remembered that Queen Rhaella had met the same fate.
"What… what was her name?" he managed eventually.
"We didn't just learn the truth of your mother," Sam said gently, evading the question. "But of your father as well."
"What do you mean?" Sansa asked. "Jon's father wasn't a truth to uncover. Everyone knows he was our father's bastard."
Sam looked uncomfortable again, and nodded to Bran. "I think Bran is better for being direct."
"You are not a bastard, Jon," Bran said. "You never were. Eddard Stark lied to the entire world to protect you."
Arya snorted. "Who the seven hells is he, then?"
"The thing is, Arya was actually right when she said in jest that Jon is secretly a dragon. His –" Sam went to explain further but Bran cut him off.
"Jon, your parents were Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. You were born in the Tower of Joy in Dorne. Ned managed to get there in time before she died, and she made him promise to protect you. She told him that your real name was Aegon Targaryen. Sam transcribed the High Septon's personal diary whilst at the Citadel, and found out that he married them in a secret ceremony in Dorne."
It was so silent in the room after Bran finished speaking that it was almost loud. Jon's head and heart hurt, his chest burning while his face and hands froze. Not a bastard. Not even Ned's son. The siblings he grew up with were really his cousins. And Daenerys… a new friend, potential love interest – his aunt…
Arya was the first to speak. "I don't suppose you can take us in a vision to prove it, Bran?"
"No," Bran said, and went on to explain something else, but Jon was not listening. His heart now thumping in his chest so fast he felt dizzy. Sansa was saying something about not telling the rest of the lords of the North until after the Long Night, but telling Davos as soon as possible.
After a few minutes, Arya poked him in the side.
"I don't care what they just said," she said fiercely. "You're still my brother. You'll always be my brother. Alright?"
"Yes. Yes…" Not looking at anyone or anything, Jon walked out and didn't stop until he reached the Godswood, where he finally slumped somewhere he knew he wouldn't be seen.
A/N: Wow, this was probably the hardest chapter to write. (I know I say this every time. But I mean it!)
Jon finding out his true heritage is something I'm really looking forward to in season eight, and I really didn't want to do what will surely be an epic scene a disservice in this fic. Let me know what you guys think!
The next few chapters will be everyone ascertaining an opinion on this news. I don't want to spoil my own work, but Jonerys shippers shouldn't feel the need to worry too much.
Thanks so much for reading again, your continued support of this fic and your reviews really do mean the world.
The next chapter will be in Arya's POV. Until next time.
