JON
"Jon, I need to speak with you. It's urgent," said Bran, who was struggling to keep up with his wheels that he pushed with his arms.
Jon was walking very fast, pointing out things to men and telling people things.
"Start making dragonglass arrowheads, and axes for the Dothraki, they're not Arkhs but they'll have to make due. And spearpoints for the Unsullied. And we need fire. Start collecting barrels of pitch. And armor. More armor. We can't have enough of it. Have everyone in the Seven Kingdoms with a blacksmith start making all of these things, and send more men to Dragonstone to mine more Dragonglass. We will need everylast bit we can get from that cave."
"Jon," said Bran. "Please, I need to speak with you."
"If it's not to do with the White Walkers or the Wall, it's not urgent," said Jon, stopping impatiently, pointing at Bran before continuing.
"Jon," said Sam, jogging to keep up. "It is."
"No, it's really not," said Jon. "They tore down the wall. I don't know how they did it, but they did. The most important thing right now, is amassing our forces as quickly as we can, and heading straight for the wall before they get any further."
They were entering the great hall now.
"Jon," said Bran. He'd stopped, unable to keep up anymore. Jon didn't stop.
"JON!" he said again, and there was a growl.
Ghost, which had been at his heels, jumped on him, knocking him to the floor. His eyes were no longer blood red, but milky white.
"Ghost...?" Jon gasped, winded. The wolf did not respond, only growled. He felt the swish of Sansa's cloak on his face as she turned.
"Bran, stop it!" he heard Sansa say sternly, his eyes locked on the wolf that was no longer his.
Ghost's eyes went red again. He whined, ears flat, and laid down on top of Jon, sniffing at his chin, whining.
"What the hell-" he started.
Sam looked down on him, and Bran wheeled over as well, looking down.
"We need to speak with you."
"Seven hells," he said. Ghost growled at Bran. Jon was not entirely sure it was undeserved. "Off, Ghost."
The Direwolf moved off him, and Sam helped him up.
"What's so damn important?" said Jon grumpily. He shared a look with Daenerys, who seemed startled, but afraid to intervene. Jorah stood beside her, and Tyrion, who looked troubled. That did not bode well.
"I know things, Jon," began Bran ominously. "I know things other men have never known. I know who the Knight King is. I know the first men to step on these shores. I know who the Children of the Forest were, and what they created."
Jon stared.
"I see things, past and present, and future. I can see everything. I can see the moment you took your vows, and when you burnt Ygritte's body. I can see the moment you died, and came back to life. I can see the past. I can see the Mad King, and father as a child, with Brandon and Lyanna and Benjen, and their whole lives. I have become the Three Eyed Raven, Jon."
Jon wasn't sure he liked where this was going.
"I don't have time for this," he croaked out, and turned away.
"I know who your mother was," said Bran simply.
Jon stopped dead.
"And your father."
Jon turned. Looked at Bran. He stared into his cold eyes.
"Ned Stark was my father," said Jon angrily.
Bran only stared knowingly. Jon felt his heart hammering.
He took a step forward angrily. He would throttle Bran if he wasn't his brother.
"I don't have time for this," he said angrily.
But he did not leave.
Sam stepped forward. Put a hand on Jon's shoulder. Looked his brother-in-arms in the eye.
"Jon, listen to him."
Jon looked at Bran. Cold eyes that did not resemble the brother's that he had loved. He remembered the last he had seen him, laying in bed, never waking. So peaceful but in a terrifying way. He had been but a child then...both of them. How could he possibly know who his mother was?
Is my mother alive? Does she know about me? Where I am? Where I'm going? Does she care?
The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother. Hm? I promise.
But they had never seen each other again...
"How could you possibly know who my mother is? No one knew but father. It's not...How could you possibly know?"
Bran wheeled closer, so that he was right in front of Jon.
"Better that I show you," and he reached out and touched Jon's hand.
Suddenly everything went dark. Jon felt a whoosh of air, like he had been moved but not moved himself. He felt very dizzy.
"Open your eyes, Jon," said his brother beside him.
He opened his eyes.
Bran stood-stood-right beside him. Beneath them was a muddy ground that was upturned with horseprints. He heard the horses whinying, and heard the sound of trumpets. In front of him was a jousting rail, beyond that was a great pavillion, where sat a great many people. In the distance, he spotted the great ruin of Harrenhal. He looked back at the people.
His jaw dropped as he lay eyes on his father.
Younger, ungrisled, lines of worry free from his face...but still...his father.
"...How...?" he breathed. Bran did not answer.
Beside his father sat... Gendry? No. Not Gendry, he realized, a younger, not-fat, stronger Robert Baratheon.
On his father's other side sat his Aunt Lyanna, who he recognized from the statue in the crypt beneath Winterfell that he'd seen his whole life, but he quickly realized the statue did not do her justice-she was even more beautiful than the hunk of stone, and she was as every bit as beautiful as he'd ever heard. She looked happy, and was laughing as she chatted with her brothers, as Uncle Benjen sat on her other side.
There were others, too. And right in the center of them he saw him-the Mad King Aerys, only he did not look so Mad. A bit twitchy, and old, and decrepit, impatient, with shifty, suspicious eyes that lingered on every man in attendence. He had long flowing white locks, and he was clad in silver, and a silver crown of dragons sat atop his head. He held a cup of wine in his hand. Next to him sat who Jon supposed was his sister-wife, as she too had long silver Targaryen locks. She took Jon's breath away.
She looked exactly like Daenerys.
Or, he supposed, Daenerys looked like her.
She was a bit older than Daenerys was now, he supposed, but her face was rather timeless.
Next to her sat a small boy, no older than five, who also had blonde hair and was watching the tourney with eager, bright eyes.
Viserys, he realized with a jolt. The only family his beloved had ever known.
In front of the King sat a pregnant dornish woman. She was also very beautiful, dressed in golden silks and wools. Her sharp eyes were fixed at a point to Jon's left.
Jon followed her gaze to see a very striking figure on the back of a grey horse. He wore black armor veined with red, and on his chestplate was the Targaryen sigil encrusted with rubies. He held a lance upright in his hand, and underneath his helmet Jon could tell the man was smiling.
"Rhaegar Targaryen," said Bran beside him.
"Where are we? How is this possible? That's father, and Aunt Lyanna, and Robert Baratheon, and the Mad King...how are we seeing this? What in seven hells is happening, Bran? What is this?"
"This is how I see the world," said Bran mysteriously. "This is how I know the things I know. I see them. I see everything."
"Bran-"
Bran turned to look at him.
"No, they can't see us. We are shadows to the world. Merely observers.
"We are at the tourney at Harrenhal, or Lord Whent's Great Tournament. It's the year 281, the year of the false spring. Yes, that is our father, and the Mad King, and Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark. The two combatants are the shining prince Rhaegar Targareyan, and Barristen Selmy, of the Kingsguard."
Jon looked to the other side. The man was clad in the white cape and gold armor of the Kingsguard, and his lance was white.
"Watch," said Bran.
A horn blew. The horses snorted, and the two combatants lined up. A second horn sounded, and they charged.
It was barely even a competition. Rhaegar flattened Barristen Selmy, and the man lay flat on the ground, though he was laughing as if he hadn't expected it to go any other way. Rhaegar took off his helmet, setting his flowing silver locks free. He was laughing with joy, and everyone was smiling and clapping. But Jon knew what was about to happen-he'd heard this story before. Rhaegar's eyes locked with Lyanna Stark's, and she tried to look away but was always drawn back to the handsome man's gaze. He rode to a servant, who held a crown of winter roses on a pillow, and Rhaegar took them. And all the smiles died, and the yard became as silent as the crypt, as he rode right past the Dornish woman, who Jon now knew was Elia Martell, and laid the crown on Lyanna's lap.
Jon was filled with sudden anger. He kidnapped her, and raped her, and left her to die.
He stepped forward, but Bran put a hand on his arm.
"Look at their faces," he said.
Lyanna could not break eye contact with the prince, and she was blushing. Rhaegar's eyes were soft as he looked Lyanna. He saw a spark there between the two, of what he did not know.
The scene faded, and Jon felt the whooshing feeling again, and they stood in a courtyard in what could only be Harrenhal. Rhaegar and Lyanna were walking together, and, though Jon could not make out what they were saying, he knew they were flirting, because Lyanna kept blushing and looking away, and Rhaegar's eyes danced with a fire he'd seen in Daenerys' eyes many times. The two moved closer, beneath a tree, and they stopped, and Jon caught a whisper of what they were saying.
"I love you," said Rhaegar.
"You love me?" said Lyanna, her face alight with shock and happiness. "Truly?"
Rhaegar nodded, cupping Lyanna's face and smiling. No one was around, but still Jon felt anxious. He looked around, and spotted in the shadows a young child who watched the couple's every move.
"I love you, as well, my Prince. More than you can ever know. But what about your wife? What about my betrothed? Robert would kill you if he ever knew..."
Blackness, and another swoosh, and Jon blinked and looked around. They were in a candle-lit chamber, and all around them sat the skulls of Dragons. Two people stood near the mouth of the largest one, a man and a woman, and Jon and Bran moved closer to hear...
"I know you love her," whispered the woman. Jon saw her face now-Elia Martell.
Rhaegar's face fell. But the woman shook her head and placed a finger under his chin.
"No, I know. No apologies. I understand. In Dorne we know matters of the heart are fickle things. A man or a woman can love more than one heart at a time, and in different ways. And we, though we have grown to love each other as husband and wife, have always known it would never be as true as the great loves of history."
Rhaegar looked about to protest, but Elia held a finger over his mouth to silence him.
"We have always been honest, you and I, we must not begin to lie to each other now."
Rhaegar softened.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, and his voice was deep and soothing.
"There is no need for apologies, my dear," she said, eyes warm. Kissed him on the cheek. "I give you my blessing. She is a beautiful woman."
She looked around.
"But that was not the sole reason I brought you here, my love," she said, and now her eyes grew frightened. "I fear for our children. Your father grows more and more in madness everyday..."
Rhaegar sighed. The man looked so ashamed and troubled.
"I know," he said.
"I fear he will try to harm us. He has never warmed to me, he's never even held his grandchildren...he hates us Dornish, and this has only gotten worse..."
Rhaegar planted a hand on her cheek.
"We must leave King's Landing, and we must take Lyanna too, for if he knew about that as well he would kill us all, surely. We will go home, to Dorne. For if your father knew, he would burn us all."
The scene was fading.
"Burn them all," Rung a deep voice in Jon's ears.
"I won't have my children driven mad as your father by that throne..."
Anther swoosh, and Jon was ankle-deep in snow. They were at Harrenhal again, and it was the dead of night. A man in a dark cloak walked in front of him, and two other men accompained him. Jon peeked under his hood, and saw Rhaegar Targaryen. Across the yard was his aunt, who looked nervous, and also wore a dark cloak.
"We have to go," whispered Rhaegar to her when he neared. His guards watched the yard, wary of people. "We have to go, now, or they'll catch us and kill us. Varys told me... Robert knows. My father will find out soon. We have to go."
"Where?" asked Lyanna fearfully.
"Dorne. Varys has found us safe passage. All three of us will be safe there, and the children. My father has threatened my wife's life and my children's. He will kill you, too, if he finds out...We have to go, now. Guards are coming."
"Alright, my love, I would follow you anywhere..."
The scene swirled...
Suddenly Jon was blinking in the sunshine.
Rhaegar walked between the two women, and they both held his arms, looked happy, smiling... a child that looked like Elia's gripped Lyanna's hand, and Elia held a small baby...and Lyanna's belly was swollen...
They were in Dorne, Jon thought, and Elia Martell looked much more relaxed than Jon had seen her before. Lyanna looked happy, and was smiling. She and Elia wore complementing blue outfits, and Rhaegar wore purple.
They walked up to a tree, and beneath it stood an old man, a septon, Jon thought. He turned to them as they approached.
Rhaegar took Elia's hand.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
The woman looked at the small little girl who held Lyanna's hand, then smiled at her, then she looked at the baby boy in her arms. Jon thought he saw her eyes grow wet with tears.
"Yes. Yes I want to do this. I want them to be happy."
Rhaegar placed a hand on the baby, and kissed the child on the brow.
"I do to," he said softly.
He turned to Lyanna, who drew herself up.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he repeated the question to her. She placed a hand on her swollen belly.
"I love you," she said. "You are the only man I will ever love. Yes, I want to marry you."
Rhaegar brushed a stray hair from Lyanna's face. Kissed her. When he realeased her, he stepped back, and picked up the daughter, tickled her. She giggled and grabbed at his hair and he laughed. Ellia reached out to Lyanna, and grasped her hand.
"Thank you," breathed Elia.
Lyanna took the woman's other hand.
"Thank you," said Lyanna in turn, and the two woman kissed. Softly and sweetly, and Jon knew that they had come to love each other, too.
Rhaegar set down the girl, and the trio turned to the septon.
"Thank you for doing this. I know not all in your faith would approve."
"I am the High Septon," said the man. "And I can do as I wish. Not all of us are as cruel to ... unconventional relationships. And the love you three bear each other is true, I can see with my own eyes."
"Nevertheless, thank you," said Rhaegar.
The High Septon smiled, and clasped the Prince's hand and shook it.
He then picked up a book.
"Come, you two first."
Ellia handed the baby over to Lyanna, who took it and cooed over him. The Princess and Prince stepped forward, and took each other's hands.
He turned to Rhaegar.
"Do you, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, consent to this marriage between you and Princess Ellia Martell being annuled?"
"I do,"
"And you, Princess Ellia Martell, do you consent to the annulment?"
Ellia looked into Rhaegar's eyes.
"I do."
"Sign here, please, both of you," he said, and held out the book. Ellia signed, and then Rhaegar, who had to let go of his now former wife's hand, but not before giving it a soft squeeze.
"There, it's done. That's all that's required."
Rhaegar kissed Ellia on the brow, and embraced her in a tight hug. Ellia let out a sigh of relief.
"I hadn't seen that before," said Bran, who stood beside him. "They loved each other...all three...even after the annulment."
Jon turned to him.
"So Aunt Lyanna wasn't kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen, they loved each other. And he annuled his marriage to Ellia Martell. What does this have to do with my mother?" he asked.
"It does," said Bran. "Just watch."
So Jon watched as Rhaegar married his aunt Lyanna somewhat impatiently.
"Father, Smith, Warrior. Mother, Maiden, Crone. Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine, from this day, until the end of my days..."
And as they kissed, the scene shifted once again.
Burn them all...
They were surrounded by red mountains. In front of them was a red tower. There stood Rhaegar, and Elia, and their children, and a very pregnant Lyanna on the other side of him. Elia was crying, but her daughter stood brave in front of her, protecting her mother.
"My prince, you must come back to Westeros. The King commands it."
Rhaegar did not look happy.
"No," he said defiantly.
The man looked upset.
"My prince, this bloodshed was caused by you. When you took Lyanna, Robert Baratheon swore to kill every man who swears for Targareyn until he has your head. You must come back, or more will die. You have to stop them. You have to fight for us..."
Jon's vision faded...
Burn them all...
Bran was shaking next to him. Jon could not move. Something was wrong...
Burn them all...
Rhaegar was kisisng a tearful Lyanna.
"Please, my love, stay here. You will be safe here. I will leave my most loyal Kingsguard to protect you, and the baby when it comes. Dayne, Whent, and Hightower will protect you. I promise. Robert will hurt them, kill them...my brother, and my mother, along with my father when they get to them...I have to fight...whatever my father is, the rest of my family needs to be protected..."
"Will I ever see you again?" she whispered.
"Of course, my love, I will come back for you, and I will hold our child in my arms, and we will be happy."
"Promise me," she whispered.
"I swear it, my love..."
"Do you have to take Elia?"
"Yes, I have to, everyone still believes her to be my wife...it will lower suspicion...she has to go to King's Landing..."
"It's not safe..."
Jon swirled...
BURN THEM ALL...
He heard Bran whispering next to him...
"Burn them...burn them..."
Jon was frozen...
They stood in the Throne Room at King's Landing, next to the Iron Throne...and the Mad King sat on the throne. Two men kneeled before him, and Jon recognized them...his grandfather and uncle...they had swords at their throats.
"Burn them ..." Bran was whispering, shaking. His eyes were white.
Something was very wrong...
Bran was right next to the King, and still, he whispered...
"Burn them..."
The Mad King flinched.
"Burn them..." said Aerys and Bran, and then the two men were beheaded.
"NO!" Jon heard himself yell.
He couldn't breathe...it went dark again...
They stood in a river, and heard sounds of fighting. Jon looked to see Robert Baratheon and Rhaegar Targaryen locked in combat.
"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU SWINE!" Robert was shouting. Rhaegar was laughing.
"She never loved you! She hated you!"
"YOU LIAR!"
Robert swung his mighty hammer at Rhaegar but missed...Jon's heart leapt in fear for the Prince...
Rhaegar swung his sword, and Robert met it with the handle of his hammer.
"I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do now," said Robert, who was stronger than the Prince, bowing him over as Rhaegar tried to hold firm. Rhaegar grunted, trying to keep steady footing, but the ground was muddy with melted snow.
"First, I'm going to kill you, then your father, then your mother, then your brother. I'll kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on. Then, I'll find my beloved Lyanna, and marry her. Then I'm going to sit on that ugly iron chair, and wipe your family from the history books. No one will remember the name Targaryen, no one! You will BURN!"
Rhaegar slipped out from under Robert and spun, slicing the Baratheon across the back. Robert howled out in pain and swung his hammer clumsily. Rhaegar easily sidestepped.
"No," said Rhaegar. "Let me tell you what will really happen. I will kill you, here and now, and spare Lyanna from ever laying eyes on you again. Then I will retrieve my wife, I will find my mother and brother and sister on Dragonstone, and I will sit on the Iron Throne."
Robert swung again, too hard, and fell to the ground. his hammer slipped from his grasp. He rolled over on his back and tried to reach for his hammer, but it was too late. Rhaegar held his sword to his throat. And for a moment, Jon forgot what he knew would happen, and he thought Rhaegar might win...
Jon stepped forward, reaching out to Rhaegar, and then his heart stopped. Rhaegar looked up, looked right at him. He saw him.
The Prince's eyes widened in surprise. His mouth dropped open in shock. His sword lowered a fraction of an inch...
"Son," Jon saw him mouth...
Jon's heart was racing...he reached out to him...Bran collapsed besides him but he barely noticed...
And then Robert kicked at the distracted Rhaegar's legs...
"LOOK OUT!" he yelled...but it was too late...
Robert was on his feet, and Rhaegar was flat on his back, and Robert swung, like he was chopping wood, his mighty hammer hard into the ruby dragons at his chest.
Rhaegar's armor crumpled like paper, and rubies flew everywhere. Jon rushed forward, and kneeled before Rhaegar. He wanted to grab him...hold the dying man...but his arms slid right through...Rhaegar stared at him, right into his eyes, as blood dribbled from his mouth and he struggled to breathe with his crushed chest. His arm twitched up...reaching for Jon...
"My son..." he managed to gasp out between labored breathing. Then his eyes slid away, up to the sky... "Lyanna..." he breathed, and Rhaegar Targaryen was no more.
"BURN THEM ALL!"
And Jon felt wetness on his cheeks as he felt the hammer go through him, and land a second blow to Rhaegar's body...and third...never mind that he was already dead...and rubies and were flying everywhere...or was it blood...
Jon felt like he was falling...
Jon heard screams.
"NO!" screamed a woman. He heard a baby crying. Heard a little girl wailing. His eyes cleared, and in front of him was the biggest man he'd ever seen, the Mountain. He had grabbed Elia Martell, and the little daughterwas kicking at his leg, trying to protect her mother. Elia tried to fight, but she was weak...
Her screams and cries haunted him, and he wanted to rush forward to stop him from hurting her...
"NO! NO! No! No please, please, please...NO!"
He heard the sickening crunch and saw the Mountain slam the helpless baby against the wall...saw the little girl thronw by the Mountain, then stabbed many times by a man under the bed, and the Mountain, covered in bits of blood and skull and brains, ripped off Elia's dress, leaving her naked...
"NO!"
"Burn them all..." whispered Bran...
They left the scene behind once again...
And there was silence, blessed silence...Jon felt his body shaking...and he heard but one noise...the rasp of a grind stone on a sword.
The wind was blowing, and Jon felt the sun warming his cheeks.
He opened his eyes. Before him sat a man setting a stone to his sword at the foot of the tower he'd seen only moments before when Rhaegar stood in front of Lyanna and Elia. Jon recognized him from paintings. Ser Arthur Dayne. The Sword of the Morning.
He looked up. Six riders approached, and the man stood, and joined his two brethern, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Gerold Hightower.
He recognized the man in front...his father, Ned Stark. Ned Stark is my father, he's my father, he's my father...Jon heard himself say over and over again...he couldn't think...couldn't breathe...everything was swimming...
"Why weren't you there to protect your prince?!" he heard his father saying.
"Our prince wanted us here," said Ser Arthur Dayne.
"Where's my sister?" said his father, and Jon could sense the anger in his voice...
"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come," said Ser Arthur Dayne...and Jon could hardly see now...
"And now it begins."
Jon heard the drawing of swords...
"No. Now it ends."
The sounds of fighting...
And the scene faded again as Jon fell to his knees...
And he found himself face to face with the Mad King.
"Burn them all," he heard himself say...but not with his own lips...was he Jon anymore? Or was he Bran? He didn't know..he might have been the Mad King himself...
"Burn them all," he said again, and his lips moved in tandem with Aerys' "Burn them all."
Then, quite suddenly, a sword sprouted from Aerys' chest, and Jon felt the point brush his own armor...and the Mad King looked right at him, tilted his head as if he didn't understand...but he saw him.
"Burn them all," they said, and then Jon felt the warm spray of blood as the King's throat opened and looked up to see Jaime Lannister in tears...
Everything went dark, dark for a long time, and Jon was floating, floating, floating...
As if from a long way away, he heard the crying of a baby.
He opened his eyes, and everything seemed different, calmer. He saw everything in vivid colors, and though things were blurry he could clearly see her face. Lyanna's face...she looked down at him. She was beautiful, he thought. She looked sad, and in pain, but her features were lifted in happiness upon looking at him.
"I'm going to protect you," she was whispering. "No matter what it takes. I love you, my little one," her voice broke. "Your father loves you, and he'll come back, one day...he promised..." she was crying. "I'm going to always watch over you. I love you so much, my sweetling. Always and forever."
She stroked his cheek. It was soothing.
"I'll call you Aegon," her voice waivered again. "For your brother, and for Elia, and for Rhaegar. You are my shining little prince."
Jon reached out for her, and his fist was that of a baby's. It found her shirt, and he grasped it tightly. She smelled like home.
"Everything will be alright," she said. But Jon could tell she didn't believe what she was saying.
She was dying.
Jon felt tears wet his cheeks, and he heard a baby's cry.
"I know, darling, I know, hush now," she kissed him on the brow. "You will be safe from that awful man, you will. I won't let Robert touch you. I won't. No matter what. Oh, my sweet, my sweet little dragon-wolf. Everything will be alright."
She was growing nervous, and Jon heard the sounds of fighting drift in from the window.
"I won't let him touch you. You are my prince, the son of Rhaegar Targareyn and Lyanna Stark, the Blood of the Dragon, and the howl of the wolf, and one day you will sit on the Iron Throne. And you will be the most wonderful, loving, just and kind King to ever be born."
Jon heard running up the steps. Lyanna was crying now.
"Always be kind. And always be just. Never be cruel," she was crying in earnest now. "But always, always, always be brave."
"And always remember that I love you, always and forever, and I am always with you, my darling little boy."
Jon was crying in earnest now...and suddenly he was ripped from her arms by an unfamiliar woman...
No...he thought...take me back to her...take me back to my mother...
"Ned?" he heard her say as if from a long way away...
"Lyanna..."
Everything shifted, and he stood in front of a bed covered in blood. There she lay, and his father...uncle...kneeled over her...his mother.
"I want to be brave," Lyanna said weakly.
"You are," said Ned.
"I'm not," she said through tears. Jon knew she couldn't be more wrong. "I don't want to die."
Jon didn't want her to die...he was sobbing...and he kneeled beside the bed next to the man he'd called father, unable to stand.
"You're not going to die!" said Ned. He turned to a maid. "Water? Is there water?!"
"No, no water," said Lyanna.
"Is there a Maester?" shouted Ned desperately, but Jon knew it was too late.
"No, Ned, please, please listen to me, Ned," said Lyanna through sobs.
And Ned leaned in closer, and so did Jon...
"His name is Aegon Targaryen. You have to protect him. Promise me, Ned. If Robert finds out, he'll kill him, you know he will. You have to protect him. Promise me, Ned. Promise me."
And Jon heard the crying of a baby. The baby was placed in Ned's hands, and Jon realized...Jon suddenly, suddenly was very aware...
He was the baby...
"Promise me, Ned," said Lyanna.
And Ned leaned back, absorbed with the baby, and the weight of his new task, in shock, and Jon stepped forward, cupping his mother's head with his hand, and suddenly everything, his father, Bran, the maids, the baby's crying...it all stood still...time stood still...for he could suddenly touch her, and she looked right at him, just as his father had done, and there was only the two of them.
She looked at him, and Jon knew that she knew.
"Aegon?" she whispered.
"I'm here, mother," he said, voice shaking.
She smiled.
"So he kept his promise," she said. "Look at you. This is a dream...but a wonderful dream..."
And she stroked his hair away from his face.
"It's not a dream, I'm real. I'm here. I'm alive because of you."
She wiped a tear from his cheek, smiling.
"Don't cry, my son, because all is well. You are alive. And strong. And handsome. Oh, look at you..."
"I didn't know...I never knew...Father...Ned...he told no one...I thought, my whole life I thought I was a bastard...just...Jon Snow..."
"Smart of him," said Lyanna. "But you're not a bastard, my beautiful baby boy...you are a prince. You are the heir to the Iron Throne. You are my son, and the son of Rhaegar Targaryen."
Jon couldn't breathe.
"Mother..."
And a man appeared on the bed before him, next to Lyanna, a shadowy figure, but no less bright in appearance. His blonde hair flowed down his back, and his indigo eyes met Jon's. He was dressed simply in silks, this time, armor shed, free of this life.
Lyanna reached out to him, and Rhaegar took her hand and kissed it.
"My son," said Rhaegar. "I'm so proud of you."
"Father..."
"We are both so proud of you, my son. My Aegon."
Jon was crying...
He reached out for his father, and Rhaegar cupped his head.
"You can defeat them, Jon. You are so strong. So brave. A better man than I have ever been."
"Father..." he choked.
"You are the Blood of the Dragon, my son. A dragon awaits you."
"Rhaegal," answered Jon. Somehow, he knew.
Rhaegar nodded. "You may have known nothing but ice your entire life, but now you will know fire. My sister will show you the way."
"Daenerys..."
"She is your destiny...together, you and she are fire and ice. And only together will you defeat the dead. Tell her...tell her...that I'm sorry I couldn't be there with her...tell her I'm sorry she's been alone...tell her I love her, and that she is strong, and brave. Just as you are. Neither of you will ever be alone again."
Jon looked down at his mother. Back up at his father.
They were fading fast...
"We love you, my son, never forget that," said Rhaegar and Lyanna together. "We are always with you."
Jon heard crying behind him, and he turned, and his last sight was of Ned Stark holding little baby Aegon Targaryen like he might break him.
"I'll call you Jon," he was whispering to him. "For Jon Arryn, the man who took me in a called me his own, just like I will do to you, and I will call you my own. Catelyn won't be happy about it, but she'll learn to love you. You and the son that awaits me in Winterfell will grow up as brothers, and I'll raise you as my own just as he is. And one day, when you're old enough, when it's safe...I'll tell you who you really are, Aegon Targaryen. Until that day I will protect you, little one. I will always keep you safe. I promise."
And everything went dark.
A/N: I know I waited a HELLA long time to post, but I really needed this to boil around in my head a bit. I really, really LOVE this chapter, and I think it was a WAY better way to tell Jon his true parentage than Bran and Sam simply telling him. It's not technically canon that Bran can bring people into his...uh...visions...but his powers are growing exponentially now. It wouldn't be that far of a stretch to bring Jon in, (especially considering that in the books I believe Jon has similar powers to Bran's, though not as strong.)
And BTW no, Bran is not OK. This was really more than he should have pushed himself to do.
Poor Ned. Poor fucking Ned. My heart fucking breaks for him.
Yes, I did put Rhaegar, Lyanna, and Elia Martell in a polyamorous triad. I refuse to believe Rhaegar would be a complete dick to Elia by snubbing her her children's birthrights, I think she totally wanted them not anywhere near the Iron Throne and wanted them to live a normal life. She witnessed firsthand how horrible the Mad King was, she might have thought that was the only way they would survive. Aerys wouldn't even hold his grandchildren because THEY SMELLED DORNISH. SERIOUSLY. THIS RACIST OLD FUCK...
*clears throat*
Anyway, Lyanna, would probably have no problem with her children being heirs, I think, and Rhaegar knew his father's madness was exclusive to his father. I think, perhaps, that Rhaegar might have thought that once he took the throne, it would be OK for him to be in a polyamourous relationship and not have to hide. (the OG Aegon Targaryen, was, after all, married to his two sister-wives. Targaryens are fuckin WOKE yo)