Disclaimer: All characters belong to George R. R. Martin.
Don't take this too seriously. All characters are pretty ooc probably. I was just trying to write something a bit angsty, and this thought popped up in my head.
"How can I be brave when I'm scared, father?"
"That's the only time you can be brave."
Ned felt the grip around his waist tighten as Bran clutched on to him as if he was holding onto something precious. His whole upper body shook under his embrace, a clear contrast to how his legs lay limply on the bed… as they would for the rest of his life.
Had it only been a moon since Bran was still racing across winterfell? His younger son was a free spirit with a need for exploration. He was the first of all his children to walk, to run, to climb.
He was always climbing. His crib. Trees. Castle walls. He was sure that Bran was climbing before he crawled.
The only thing he loved as much as climbing were knights. His eyes shone with excitement and thrill whenever he talked about them. It wasn't just an interest, he knew… It was his dream.
But his eyes no longer shone with that youthful gleam. Empty, despairing eyes he had only seen during the times of rebellion when all seemed lost.
One moment. That was all it took to completely change his life. He would never be a knight. He would never climb again. He would never be able to fight or ride, and the maester wondered if he would be able to even have children.
But Ned was just glad Bran was still alive. The moon where he flirted with the line of life and death was the worst moon of his life. He had been so disturbed he had even refused Robert's offer to be hand, even if it meant that Jon Arynn's murder would go unpunished.
His son needed him.
He wrapped his son in his embrace, reassuring himself with warmth. God, when had he grown so big? It felt like only yesterday that he was being placed in his hands for the first time. He was so tiny then, barely more than his palm.
If it hadn't been for Jon, the only one who had been smaller than Bran, he might have panicked. Instead he had hugged him as he was doing now, and marveled at the man he would grow to be.
And Ned was sure Bran would still grow up to be that sort of man: Good, strong, fair, and intelligent.
"I know right now it may feel like you have nothing to look forward to, but that's not true. One day you'll be the lord of your own keep and with a beautiful wife and kids of your own who will love you as much as me and your mother do." Ned kissed his son's forehead, and the rubbed the boy's shoulder.
However he had to let go in shock as the boy recoiled at his words, and pushed him away. "Who would marry a cripple?!" He cried, tears already formed. He screamed at him, fury in his eyes. "Who would follow a cripple? Nobody!"
The accusing look in his eyes cut him more deeply than any sword had ever managed to.
He gripped Bran's shoulder's tightly, and gave him a stern look. "You may not be able to use your legs anymore, but that does not mean your life is over Bran. You're my son! You have Stark blood running through your veins, and the Stark name. Both things that mean a lot here in the North. You will be the lord of your own keep. You will be respected. It's not just a privilege, it's your duty as the second son." He scooted closer to Bran. "As for love, I promise you I will choose a bride who is beautiful both inside and out. Someone who can look past your legs, and see the kind and honorable man you will no doubt become." Ned promised.
His words seemed to ignite the young boy. "Promise me?" Bran whispered faintly, his voice hesitant. As if he was too afraid to even hope for it anymore.
"Promise me Ned. Promise you'll take care of him."
He nearly flinched. Bran sounded so much like her at that moment… It frightened him. It made him wonder if it was a bad idea to make this promise. He had so many regrets about the last one.
"I promise." But he would not have any about this, he resolved.
—
"M'lord, we've caught a deserter."
When maester Luwin brought the news to him and Catelyn, Ned frowned. "So soon? It's barely been 3 moons since the last one. This worries me. Especially with the talk about the king-beyond-the-wall."
"The night's watch is not what it once was my lord. Nowadays the wall is filled with only cravens and criminals too scared to face death. It is no surprise that the news of wildlings causes a few deserters." Luwin shook his head disheartened.
And that is the place you sent Jon.
He felt guilt at the accusing tone that sounded so much like his own voice. He had done the best he could with Jon. Jon could earn honor there. He could grow high despite being a bastard. And more importantly, he'd be safe.
The voice in his head laughed scathingly at him and disagreed.
He clenched his jaw, adopting his "Lord Stark" face. "Tell Robb to round up Theon and Bran."
"Surely you don't mean that?" Catelyn asked, shocked. She rounded on him, fury burning in her bright blue eyes. "He has just gone through something traumatic! He's been through enough! You can't take him there and expose him to such raw inhumanness! What… what if it triggers something?"
"I promised him that nothing would change. I took him before, and if I don't take him now, he'll come to think that something is wrong with him. That he's worth less now." Ned argued. He understood his wife's concern. He shared it as well, but he promised to treat Bran the same as before, and he would. "He's stronger than you know Cat. Winter is coming, and he must be prepared."
—
"I wish Jon were here." Bran muttered to himself as he trailed behind Robb and Theon. He felt scared and alone, the prospect of having to see justice carried out frightened him. He could still perfectly recall the blank look on the head that rolled near him all those months ago.
Life had always felt so endless and full of possibilities, while death was nothing more than a distant dream told only in stories. But at that moment death had never felt more real. He had nightmares about that head to this day.
His father had praised him for not looking away, but he had wanted to. It had been Jon who had held his shoulder and warned him not to look away. It had been Jon who stood by him and made sure he was alright, checking up on him before and after.
Jon had always been like that… warm and kind, and always willing to help… even if he was always sullen. Of all of his brothers, it was only Jon who was patient with him. He would play with him when Robb would want to galavant off with Theon. He would teach Bran how to wield his sword or tighten his bow even if he was busy. He helped him understand Maester Luwin's lessons when it hurt his brain.
And he would even hide or cover for Bran when he went climbing despite risking his mother's wrath. Thinking about how his mother treated Jon left a sour taste on his tongue.
He loved Robb and Theon. He did, and they were fun and helped him too, but sometimes he always felt excluded from their activities due to his age. Like now, where the two rode ahead of the group. They were constantly glancing back at him with varying degrees of worry and annoyance. He could feel their displeasure at the slow pace the group was traveling despite Robb's best attempts to hide it.
If Jon were here he would probably be by Bran's side.
But he wasn't here. During the time he was unconscious, Jon had ridden to the wall.
The wall!
He turned to Jory who had been assigned to him. "Do you think Jon is there?!"
"I wouldn't bet on it, Lord Bran." Jory shook his head. "They don't usually send out new recruits because they're afraid they'll run away. So they'll only send older and more experienced brothers. Ones they know for sure will come back. Jon joined only a few months ago, it's highly possible he hasn't even taken the vows yet."
"Oh." Bran whined in disappointment. He had hoped to see his brother one last time. Did Jon even know if he was awake? He'd be happy to see that Bran had awoken.
"Don't be too disappointed Bran. I miss Jon too. I'll tell you what, in a few moons you and I will go to the wall and visit him. How's that sound?" Bran didn't see Robb come closer until Robb had begun ruffling his hair.
His eldest brother grinned at him with his usual smile, so full of easy confidence. His brother's charisma and confidence had always amazed him, and more than once filled him with jealousy. He wished to be like Robb one day.
However for now he settled for smiling back, and holding Robb to the promise.
"Don't know why you'd want to freeze your balls off for Snow." Theon sneered, ruining the good mood.
Bran glared at Theon, though the older teen wasn't affected. He merely smirked cockily as if the sight of Bran amused him. Sometimes Theon was infuriating and grating to the nerves, like now.
"Don't look at me like that. We all know it's true." Theon shrugged. "The wall is so cold your balls will drop. Perfect for Snow who never needed them anyway. I on the other hand will stay at winterfell with a warm we-"
"Theon!" Robb cut in sharply, giving Theon a warning look.
Theon grinned but dropped it with a wink towards Bran.
Bran was young but even he knew what Theon wanted to say. He would never shut up about his visits to… to… Bran felt embarrassed to even think of the word.
"We're almost there." Jory called out. Everyone, even Bran sped their horses up to the site of the execution.
—
By the time that Bran had gotten on his chair, he noticed something off about the atmosphere. It was solemn and grim during the last execution, yet… there was a strange under current of tension that he noticed lining on the faces of the men holding the man.
The runaway, his face was covered by a bag, but there was something familiar about him.
"What's going on?" Bran asked as he saw his father look uncharacteristically angry. He had donned his lord persona and stood with his arm crossed as he looked at the group of men holding the prisoner.
His eyes were icy cold, and Bran could see the hesitance in the faces of the men.
Robb bent down as he approached, all traces of amusement gone. "It seems like they were trying to get guy they caught be handed off to the men of the night's watch."
At Bran's confused look, Robb explained further. "Since he was caught in our lands, father is the one who is supposed to dispense justice. Father's pretty mad. This could be seen like a direct challenge. Though I don't get why they're doing this. The men of the night's watch have always loved and respected father."
"We meant no disrespect m'lord. It's just… we thought it might be best if the night watch deal with this particular oathbreaker." One of the brothers spoke, his eyes going to the prisoner warily.
"That may be so, but it is not your call to make." Ned reaffirmed, not willing to give an inch. His mind screamed that there was something off about this situation, but he couldn't tell what. Why was everyone looking at him so worriedly?
The brother sighed. "We understand. We were hoping to get this taken care of before you arrived, but it seems inevitable. Just give us the word Lord Stark, and we'll take over."
Ned said nothing, mulling over the men's words. Why were they so sure that he would give the man to them? Even if he was someone important, once they took the oath it didn't matter. Whoever it was, he had broken his oath and he should suffer the consequence for that.
Tragedy was not something that was new to Ned. He had lost his mother at a young age. At the age of 16 his sister had been kidnapped, raped and died at the hands of a mad prince. Both his older brother and father had been killed at the hands of prince's madder father. He, the second son, had been pushed into a lordship that he had never been prepared for. He had been forced to lead an army into war. He was raw, untested, unprepared and had not even been remotely ready for the gruesomeness of war. He had killed many men, men he had respected, and nearly been killed half a dozen times, escaping only through the skin of his teeth. He had lost friends on the battlefield, and finally he had even been unable to save his sister who died in his arms.
But not one of those moments could compare to the horror and fear that gripped his heart as the man was forced to his knees and his mask was ripped off.
Black curly hair scrambled into place, and familiar dark eyes stared right back at him. He knew those eyes. It was the same eyes that stared back at him
His entire body was overtaken by a chill as he came face to face with the prisoner.
"Jon." He whispered hallowly.
With a smirk that felt so out of place on his face, his bastard son spoke. "Hello father."
—
"Jon!" Robb exclaimed, heart hammering in his chest. He could hear similar shouts from everyone around him, but he didn't tear his eyes off his brother.
Why was Jon here? Why was everyone calling him an oathbreaker?! Jon would never do that! He was one of the most honorable people alive, and he loved the night's watch! It's where he wanted to go ever since they were children.
Wanted to go? Or forced to go? A small part of his brain whispered, causing him to flinch. However he shook his head, clearing his head of thoughts.
No one forced Jon to go. If he wanted to stay at winterfell, he could have stayed. Robb himself would have loved nothing more than to have Jon as his bannerman.
No, this wasn't Jon. Or if it was there must be some sort of mistake.
But no matter how much his heart tried to deny it, his brain told him that it was Jon kneeling there. It was that smirk.
Jon's smiles were rare, but his smirks… they were even rarer.
He only smirked when he was extremely, extremely proud of himself and he had planned it. Like the time Arya had disarmed Robb because Jon had been training her in secret.
But if so… why would Jon plan on getting caught?
—
"Hello father."
"Jon… what is going on?" Ned couldn't understand why his son was here. Hadn't he been the one who kept insisting to go to the night's watch despite his protests? And he knew his son well enough to know he wasn't a craven. So why was he here? "Why!"
"Why?" Jon cocked his head. His brow furrowed as if he was thinking hard, but his tone held a mocking inflection. "I guess if I had to say why… it's because I'm a bastard, and that's what we do."
"This isn't the time for jokes Jon!" Ned yelled, unable to restrain his emotions. What was he doing? His life was on the line, and he's just playing around?! He thought Jon was more responsible than this! Did he not realize what he was getting into! "They're saying you tried to desert! That you broke your vows as soon as you did! Do you have any idea what that means!"
"It's true. Of sound mind and judgment, I, Jon Snow, bastard son of Eddard Stark and some nameless whore broke my vows to the nights watch and tried to desert." Jon shrugged, his blase at his impending death sending Ned even more into a fit of rage. But as Jon's words caught up to him, Ned stilled.
A strange silence permeated the execution grounds. It was like all noise came to a still at Jon's proud declaration.
The rage bubbling inside of him popped, leaving him stunned. He might have hoped to have heard him incorrectly, but all around him he could see everyone gaping at Jon in much the same manner.
"Cut the bullshit Jon! If you didn't want to join the night's watch you had months to come back!" Robb was the first to break the silence. His eldest son had his fist clenched at his side, and looked one step away from needing to be restrained. There was a fire in his eyes that spoke of desperation. "So why now?! You just took your vows! There must be a reason! Please brother!"
"My reason… I told you. It's because I'm a bastard."
Jon didn't take his eyes off Ned. Everyone flinched at his tone. It was like winter. Harsh, cold and unforgiving.
Nameless whore.
His heart constricted with guilt at how Jon referred to his own mother. There was no doubt that many people had uttered those exact words about Jon's mother behind his back, but hearing it to his face jarred him. Especially from Jon, her own son.
Promise me Ned. Promise me.
He took a deep breath, ridding himself from thoughts about her. Now wasn't the time to be dragged into the past. He had to focus on Jon.
Jon's stare unnerved him. He had seen people beg for their lives, eyes full of terror and mouth full of false promises. He had seen people who had accepted their death, broken and reluctant. But every man who had died always died with fear, uncertainty and regret.
Only once had he seen such conviction and certainty with death staring them down.
He looked so much like his mother right before she…
Ned stopped right there, his eyes widening as the bad feeling in his gut worsened. He eyed Jon once more, desperately trying to find one thing, anything to prove it wasn't so. An ounce of fear, regret, something to show that he hadn't done what Ned thought he had done.
But there was only a grim satisfaction.
"Y-You didn't run away to escape." His voice came out hoarse and weak, but still shock rippled through the crowd. "You weren't caught. You let yourself be caught. This is all your plan. You want to die!"
And through the shouts of shock and denial, Jon's smile shatters his heart.
The same smile his mother gave the last time he saw her. Jon shared all of his features, an exact copy of him to the point that no one could deny that his parentage. Yet that smile was all hers. He saw the shadow of Jon's mother over Jon.
There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to do. But the words escaped him. Emotion welled up and clogged his throat. It took all he could to wrangle out the disfigured "why?"
"I told you why, it's cuz I'm a bastard. I-"
Her death had weighed on heavily over the years. His hand had been forced, but he had always wondered… if he had done things differently, would she still be here? Would she have been able to stop Jon from whatever madness had possessed him.
Jon's action had opened up a wound inside of him, and he felt the raw pain all over again. And seeing Jon acting so apathetic in front of his sincerity and vulnerability… something in him snapped.
"Answer my question Jon!" Ned roared, his anger silencing was a man who was known for his icy fury, not the fiery temper he displayed. He was called the quiet wolf for a reason, and seeing him like this frightened everyone into silence. "You claim it's because you're a bastard, but I never let you be treated like one! I raised you like a true born. You were given the same upbringing and same education as my true born children. In what way have I been unfair to you?!"
Ned thought he got through to him as Jon lowered his eyes, his body trembling. However the chains restricting Jon clanged at the sudden jerk upwards. The sudden movement caught the night's watch member by surprise and the stumbled forward, still clutching the restraints.
"Raised like a trueborn but still a bastard!" Jon spat, his eyes on fire. "What does a bastard need with a lord's education? What keep was I going to run?! You may have treated me as a son, but I had no future!"
"The knights watch is an honorable calling. Starks have-"
"The knights watch is just a prison who murders and rapers dressed in pretty speech." Jon glowered. "Even Tim here joined after killing his comrade." He pointed to the man holding his restraints.
"S-silence! My crimes were forgiven." Tim blustered in shame at being exposed in front of so many people and lords.
"You could have stayed at winterfell." Ned didn't even try arguing for Night's watch. Benjen had made him well aware of how far the watch had fallen.
Jon scoffed. "In winterfell? I'm sure Lady Stark would have loved that."
"It isn't her decision to make."
"Maybe it should be. If it were her, I would already be dead." Jon sneered.
Ned stiffened, a familiar rage coming up whenever someone insulted his family. "Lady Stark doesn't like you, and her treatment of you isn't ideal. As my bastard it is to be expected, but accusing her of this is unbecoming. She may have not have treated you as a son, but she never harmed you."
"'It should have been you'"
"What?" Ned frowned in confusion. "What should have been me?"
"It should have been you. That's what your precious wife told me when I tried to visit Bran. She wished that it had been me that had fallen off the tower and become crippled." The venom in Jon's tone caused Ned to flinch once more.
Oh Catelyn. Ned despaired. Catelyn had been beside herself in grief, lashing out at anyone and anything. Even him. It should not have been a surprise to hear how harsh she had been to Jon. "Lady Stark should not have said those words to you. But she was grieving, and dealt with it in the only way she knew how. Do not hold it against her."
"Is that why she wished me dead when I was a child? She prayed to the gods to kill me! Did she ever tell you that?!"
Ned felt his blood chill at Jon's words. He didn't say anything, but he did know of what he was talking about. Catelyn had come to him a sobbing mess and laid bare her sins. He had been horrified, but seeing how she regretted her thoughts he had forgiven her.
"How do you know this?"
"A servant gloated it to me one time. She had heard Lady Catelyn at the sept, and used that knowledge against me."
"Which servant?!" Ned demanded. Who would dare utter such filth to his son and besmirch his wife.
"Does it matter?! She was just one of the many servants who never let me forget I was a bastard!" Jon griped. "Just one in a long line over all my years. You claim that no one ever treated me less than a true born, but you have no idea how badly I was mocked or insulted for my birth. By servants. By your wife. By other lords. Even your captive, Theon would never fail to remind me of my birth."
Ned felt his heart go out to this son who had suffered so much because of his mistake. He wished there was a way to make sure that Jon did not go through that pain, but he couldn't go around and punish everyone who insulted Jon. The lords would revolt if they were punished over a mere bastard. "Words are wind Jon."
"It's easy to say. But only the one who has been insulted knows the weight of those words Lord Stark."
Jon shook his head, frustration rising at how his father just didn't understand. He couldn't! "Do you have any idea how I felt?! How it feels to be looked at like I am trash! I wasn't even human to them! They looked at me like I was an abomination. They blamed ME for staining your honor! It made me feel like I'm a mistake!"
Hot tears streamed down his face. A light snow had begun falling, the tip of his nose becoming paler. "She may not have physically harmed me, but she made sure to always remind me of my place. It wasn't just her, but all of winterfell. My dreams had to be limited. My spirits crushed. My hopes dashed. Because if I showed even a hint of ambition, people I loved and trusted, looked at me like I was Daemon Blackfyre reborn. Isn't that right Jory?!" He suddenly called out to Jory.
—
Jory paled as he remembered the incident. Jon had been only 6 at the time, and Jon had claimed that he wanted to be best swordsman in the world. He hadn't thought much about it until later that day he had seen Jon eying Ice. It hadn't been anything unusual. He eyed it the same way every child eyed a beautiful and powerful blade. Yet Jory had remembered Lady Starks rantings about Daemon Blackfyre claiming to be the rightful king because he possessed the Targaryean valyrian blade.
His face must have reflected it because Jon took one look at him, and his hands instantly dropped to the side. He had felt guilty at that, but he reassured himself that he had done nothing and hadn't even apologized afterwards.
He didn't think Jon remembered it.
"I-" However Jon was no longer looking at him.
—
"Winterfell is my home… but I was just an outsider. Some lucky bastard that the honorable lord Stark took pity on. I love Robb and Arya and Bran and Rickon… even Sansa, but… I still felt so alone! Do you have any idea how it feels? To be surrounded by everyone but still be alone?!" Jon cried. "There were days where it was so hard to get off the bed. My body felt so heavy, and I felt so disassociated from it. I went through days like i was a passenger in my own mind. My smiles became fakes. My laughter non existent. The only time I felt something was the burning in my chest that made it hard to breathe."
Jon slackened, his body stiff with anger just… dropping. "Robb… I was so jealous of him. He had everything I ever wanted. A loving family. The adoration of the people. A title. A name. A promise of a good future. But more than that… he had love." Jon sounded so defeated. "And that's what truly destroyed me. That I would never have love. You couldn't allow yourself to love me the same way that you loved your true born children. I never knew the warmth of a mother's love. The only person to love me unconditionally is Arya, and one day she'll leave as well. I dreamed of a wife. A wife who would love despite being a bastard. And children who looked upto me."
Jon closed his eyes as he pictured it. Wrapping his arms around a woman, and feeling her arms around his torso. Hugging her to his chest, his chin on her head. A Small baby, wrapped in a red cloth, hugged against the mother's chest.
But suddenly the woman and child disappeared into darkness.
"But who would marry a bastard who has no lands or money. And children… how would I protect them? You have power to protect me, but I have no such power. Any children I have would suffer worse than I did. No, I am ruined for marriage. And that knowledge destroyed me!" He spat bitterly.
And who would marry a traitor's sister who had already lied with another man and bore him a son. No, I am ruined for marriage Eddard.
Ned's heart kept shattering over and over again. He wished Jon would stop talking if only to get a reprieve from pain in his chest. He had known Jon was affected by his status as a bastard. He had known it but he turned a blind eye to it! As long as he was fine and alive, he had thought. It is better than most bastards in the realm, he justified. But he had neglected his son. Hurt him with his willful ignorance. And he had even sent his own son to the wall. And to make it worse, Ned was congratulating himself on doing a good job at raising him.
All the while Jon was breaking.
"Jon… I'm sorry. I truly am. This isn't your fault."
"I know. It's yours!" Jon clenched his fist. "How could you do this to me?! I was your son too! Stark blood ran through my veins just as much as it did Robb. No! Even more! Look at me!" He pounded his chest, and pointed towards him. His features so Stark if was undeniable. None of his trueborn children save Arya could boast such features. "In a stint of madness I wondered what would happen if I turned into another daemon blackfyre. Be the monster that Lady Stark always wished me to be."
Seeing the concerned look on Lord Stark's face, Jon laughed hysterically. His laugh sent chills down Ned's spine. It reminded him of the only time he had seen Aerys. "Don't worry, it disgusted me too. I love my siblings and I would die before I hurt them."
Jon smiled bitterly. "Yeah, I wanted to die. I thought it would be better to die than living through this torture. One day I climbed on the broken tower, looked down and thought… what if?"
Ned too thought of the what ifs. How would he have reacted if he found his son's body lying on the outside floor, in a pile of blood and bones. He would have been devastated beyond belief, but he wondered if a part of him would be glad that at least he still had his son's body unlike… .
"What stopped you?" Ned found himself asking, wincing as he realized how it sounded. He didn't mean to encourage Jon. He was just wondering what differed between mother and son.
"Why should I take my own life?! I didn't do anything wrong! You did! And I wanted to make you pay! I wanted to make you suffer even a fraction of what I did" Jon growled. "That's when you brought me here for the first time."
Jon had been 9 when he brought him here for the first time. He had almost lost his son when he was only 9 years old. His failure was increasingly obvious.
"And that's when I knew how to make you suffer, Eddard Stark! It was for that reason I joined the night's watch. I stayed there for moons, waiting to take my vows. And the moment I did, I rode out all for this moment" Jon knelt before the stump, his face set in a hard line. He placed his head on the stump and looked at him. "I'd make you take my life with your own hands. Come!
Do your duty as the warden of the North and behead me! Become a kinslayer
Or lose your honor once more and run away from your duty like a craven!
Kinslayer or Craven!
But whatever you choose, I win! For I will have dragged you down from the pedestal you have placed yourself in."
Jon then turned sideways to his siblings who were still watching shock and tears. "I'm sorry you had to see this Robb. But you're strong. You'll get through this."
"Why did you never tell me? Am I not your brother?" Robb asked.
"Because you'd fight for me. Lady Stark may have been cruel to me, but she was a great one to you. I didn't want to come between that." Jon replied.
"So you decided to just remove yourself? Jon you're not just my brother, you're my other half! My twin! We've done everything together from my first memory to now." Robb protested.
"Ours paths differed a long time ago, Robb. I'm just making it a bit more final." Robb collapsed to his knees.
Jon turned to Bran. "I'm glad you're awake Bran, but I wish you'd slept for a bit more. Then you wouldn't have to see this. Close your eyes."
Bran shook his head, tears streaming. "No."
"Close your Bran. No one will fault you."
But Bran still kept shaking his head. "No! Please don't go! You can't die Jon! You just can't! Father please do something! You're the warden of the North! You promised me because I'm your son right?! Jon is your son too father!"
Bran tired to rush forward on his wheelchair, but Robb stopped him. He held his brother back by the body, wiping away the tears in his own eyes.
"Look away Bran." Jon ordered once more.
Jon then turned to Theon. Surprisingly the older boy too looked morse, his eyes glistening. He didn't think Theon would miss him, but maybe he was mistaken. There were no words exchanged. Just a nod of respect and equality, something that was lacking between both boys.
Jon turned back to Ned. "Your choice Lord Stark?"
His father no longer looked like the heroes in his stories about the winter king. Not the honorable lord of winterfell nor one of Westeros' greatest military commanders. Instead he looked lost.
There was raw pain etched on his face.
A broken man full of faults.
Ned remembered the first time he felt his heart being ripped out of his chest it had come in the form of a letter. He had went into a blind rage, screaming his lungs out as he banged his fist against the floor. He scratched at the ground until his fingertips bled, and his nails were peeled. Robert, Jon and a dozen other vale lords couldn't hold him back.
It was the embrace of a single woman did he stop hurting himself and let himself fall into her lap.
But the ultimatum left by his son made that pain feel like a paper cut. A father was supposed to be every boy's hero. A father was supposed to give his son's courage. But Ned hadn't been Jon's hero. He had merely acted like one, and instead threw Jon to the clutches of those that wished him harm. He wasn't his son's courage. He was his downfall.
He remembered when the children were young and they would squeeze into his and Catelyn's bed during a thunderstorm. Jon had never come. With Catelyn there he wasn't welcome. And Ned hadn't gone to Jon. Was Jon ever frightened?
What about girls? He knew Jon didn't want to father bastards, but did he ever take a fancy to any of the girls at winterfell? Any pretty maids? Or maybe a lords daughter. Didn't he dance with Alys Karstark a few years ago? God he didn't even know Jon thought about marriage until now!
But he knew the first girl Robb had taken a fancy to. He even knew the first boy Sansa had taken to. The Royce lad.
Now that he thought about it. He didn't know anything about Jon.
Now that he thought about it, when was the last time Jon had called him father? When had he stopped calling him father, even in private.
Ned had failed as a father in every possible way. He wondered if she was cursing him from above. Crying and regretting ever trusting him and laying with him. She should. He had failed her, and he had her son.
A part of him wanted to blame Jon for never saying a word. But he knew if he did it wouldn't have mattered.
'I'm sorry' he would have said to Jon. 'I wish it weren't so, but you are a bastard. You must steel yourself, and ignore all the naysayers. Remember. You may not have my name, but you have my blood." But words were wind, and they wouldn't have helped.
No, Ned would have never listened. Not truly.
He had been so tired after the war. He had lost everything he had known and everyone he had loved. Ruling winterfell wasn't just a stressful job, it was an impossible one because he hadn't trained in ruling. There were so many days he had run himself ragged to the ground just trying to keep everything working, but he was still failing.
Catelyn's presence had been a godsend. With her help he had learnt how to rule. With her by his side, the loneliness subsided. And though he would never forget her, he began to move forward and began to love Catelyn.
And in loving her, he had unconsciously left his son behind. Jon's presence hurt her, and he didn't want to hurt Catelyn more than he already had. He owed her so much already.
And your first born is the one who paid the price for your selfishness. He truly is like his mother.
"I'm sorry Jon." Ned broke down crying. The guilt was too much to bear. "I'm so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing. Now I realize I was just selfish. I failed you. If I could have done things differently, I would've. I… I've made so many mistakes in my life. You, Lyanna, Robert, your mother. I've always been this way. When someone stands by and helps me, I lose myself in them, ignoring their worst parts. I made that mistake with Robert and lost Lyanna. I made that mistake with Catelyn, and I lost you."
Ned wiped his tears away, and gripped ice. The hilt was cool to the touch, yet Ned just felt a burning shame. "The last time we met, I told you I'd tell you of your mother. Do you still want to know about her?"
Jon shrugged. "I'll just meet her if there's an afterlife."
"Very well. But you should know her name at least. Her name is…"
Jon was startled, his eyes wide. He whispered the name to himself, as if making sure he didn't forget it even in death.
Then he hardened his eyes. "Your choice Father?"
Ned nodded. "Being known as a craven is far more preferable than being known as a kinslayer. The gods would never forgive a kinslayer… and my crime is not one that should be forgiven. I brought an innocent child into this life, and I gave him nothing but suffering. Jon, you broke a sacred vow, and you shall be sentenced to death. And it shall be at my hands. Let your blood be soaked into my actions. Let my soul be forever tainted by the callousness I showed my own child. You are my blood. My responsibility. I brought you into this world, and I will take you out of it. I only hope that you may find your mother in the afterlife, and that you will receive the love and care that I failed to give you."
Ned raised the sword, tears streaming down his eyes. Bran watched with his eyes wide open as he tried desperately to get out of his brother's grasp. Robb could not bare to watch however, as he clenched his eyes shut, his arms tightening out of his wriggling brother.
"I love you Jon."
"Goodbye father." Jon said as darkness greeted him.
—
Jon opened his eyes. The view was beautiful. It was a plain green meadow with nothing on it, and a fresh breeze that made him feel alive. He chuckled at the irony of it.
"Jon…"
Jon's eyes widened, tears beginning to form in his eyes. He had never heard that voice before, yet he knew instinctively who it was.
That soft melodious voice as if it belonged to an angel, filled with so much love and warmth that it made him melt on the inside.
He turned around to find the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. No song or story could match up to her beauty. Catelyn Stark or even the Queen paled in comparison to this woman. Whether it be in looks, or just the sheer grace this woman possessed.
Jon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Was she really here? Or was this a trick that gods played on bastards?
However all thoughts flew from his head as the woman embraced him. It was like her arms had the power to chase the bad thoughts away.
"I have wanted to meet you for so long. I'm so glad!"
Jon inhaled in shock before melting into the woman's embrace, his tears flowing down. "M-Me too!"
The woman let go from the embrace, but she held his hand. "Come, I haven't seen you for 18 years. Would you tell me about your life. The good and the bad?"
Jon found himself nodding, feeling like a child again.
The woman smiled.
"Very well. But you should know her name at least. Her name is… Ashara Dayne"
"Only if you tell me all about yourself… mom"