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. Later in the fic it will have elements of a crossover fic but it won't be the focus.
Jon collapsed against the weirwood tree, smacking the back of his head against the rough bark. His back pricked with slight pain from the prodding of the tree's uneven texture, but it all felt numb to him. The woods were quiet save for his tired heaving. His sword lay at his feet where he had dropped it seconds ago, his palms soaked red with torn calluses. Exhaustion hit him like a bull charging at the sight of red, and his eyelids flickered heavily, a particular strain on his eyes.
It wasn't working, Jon despaired. Usually working himself to the bone was enough to relieve the ache in his chest, or the anger pulsing throughout him. Yet today, no matter how hard he tried to work, the feeling of his heart burning inside him wouldn't leave. He had hacked away at the dummy till his hands bled, and sweat covered him like he'd taken a bath but that burning sensation didn't fade. He had ran around the godswood, with his shirt off, and all that did was give him a frostbite.
This pain… it was too much for him to bear. He felt like curling up and crying like he was a child again, and it was only his pride that stopped him from doing so.
He cursed that dream that triggered this sensation, transforming his normal ache to a blazing wildfire.
The details of the dream was fuzzy, but he remembered a brief outline about a woman crying as she hugged a baby boy. Her tears had been heartbreaking, the sounds she'd let out of her mouth sending raw pain to his guts. He had never met her, but she had felt so familiar. So warm, and gentle, he had wanted to reach out and embrace her.
He wondered if that was his mother.
Waking up had never felt more torturous, especially when the realization that he didn't have a mother settled in again and the usual ache in his heart worsened. The day's event passed by worse than usual, his mood making even the most usual task straining on him. On days like this, Lady Catelyn's cool ire always stung more, and every small reminder that he was not a Stark, reminders that he could usually ignore, bore into him.
It had been enough for him to go to his father, and ask him about his mother. His father had declined, the usual heaviness settling in over his eyes whenever Jon brought up issues about the past. Usually Jon would drop it, too afraid to upset his father, but his temper flared at the denial and the two had a huge row. And Lady Catelyn's glare had worsened, no doubt feeling that Jon was an ungrateful wretch.
It was harder the ignore the whispers about his honor.
"I can't wait till I'm older and I can join the night's watch." He whispered to himself, frustration lining his tone.
Jon's ears prickled as it picked up the sound of something crack behind him, an unnatural sound not of the forest. Despite his state of tiredness, he reached for his blade, and spun to face the sound.
The intruder was dressed in a thin black cloak that covered their whole body as if they were a ghost, and their face was hidden by a large black hood, making them seem all the more mysterious. The ever present mist of the woods aided their anonymity, hiding them behind small clouds at their feet and face, it almost made the figure seem like a mythical creature summoned by the old gods.
"Halt." Jon ordered, his voice trembling both from exhaustion and apprehension. "This territory belongs to the Stark. State your intentions and show your identity, or I will have you taken before my father in chains." His sword trembled slightly, his arm straining to keep it held up. He tried to not let his weakness show, cursing himself for pushing himself to this point when an intruder was nearby.
If they had even a modicum of skill, Jon would be food for the vermin in minutes. But Jon was alone, with no one around to call for help, so he bluffed.
"Apologies Lord Stark, it seems that I have lost my way." Jon was surprised when the voice that came out was feminine, followed by his eyes widened when the intruder reached their hood back to reveal a woman.
She was a very, very beautiful woman. The most beautiful he'd seen, though maybe that wasn't fair. He'd only seen Lady Stark, and a few northern ladies, and he was clearly biased against them, especially Lady Stark. But still, Jon did not think this woman would lose to anyone in terms of beauty, even Lady Stark who everyone praised to be one of the most beautiful in all 7 kingdoms. She had a fair appearance that seemed foreign to the North, yet had long, dark hair similar to his that tumbled around his shoulders. But her most prominent features were her eyes: hauntingly beautiful purple eyes that seemed right out of Sansa's fairy tales.
He stiffened, knowing that only a Targareyan had such eyes. Yet, for the life of him, he could not remember a Targaryan alive of that age. He was only aware of the two across the narrow sea who were of similar age to him. This woman, well he wouldn't guess her age, but was significantly older than him.
"I'm not a Stark" He bit out bitterly, almost growling. The woman flinched, forcing Jon to realize he needed to calm down. It wasn't her fault that he was a bastard, and she didn't deserve his ire. "I'm sorry my lady. I'm just a bit on edge. How did you get here? I'm not sure how exactly one can get lost when there is a wall around Winterfell? How exactly did you get past the wall."
He tries not to sound so harsh considering she is naught but a woman, and surely a woman wouldn't be brazen enough to be a bandit or a robber. Especially alone.
"My name is Nana. My son had business with Lord Stark, and he is currently meeting with him. I had no place in such a meeting and tried my hand at exploring. I had heard the beauty of the godswood before from a… a friend of mine, and wished to experience it." The woman gave him a smile, apologizing to him. It was a very disarming smile, filled with warmth but also a pain that tugged at his heart.
It made him wonder who this friend was. Not many were privileged to have access to the godswood, so it must have been someone who worked here. He didn't pursue it, not wanting to hurt the woman even more.
"Your son?" He suddenly remembered her words. "The prince?" He asked before he could stop himself, the words just spilling out.
"Prince? I believe you might be mistaken." The woman cocked her head, taking steps closer to him. He should have been suspicious of her actions, but he felt at ease in her presence. "My son is no prince."
"Oh! Well, I mean yeah! Sorry, it was just something my sis- lady Sansa Stark said. 'Oh look at that poise and grace. And he is so handsome, like he was shaped by the mother herself. Sure only a prince can be that blessed'" Jon rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, having to recite those silly words.
The woman giggled slightly, her smile more true and more lovely. His heart ached for a different reason. It was clear how much this woman loved her son, even as she uttered. "While I do appreciate the compliment, my son is the farthest thing from a prince. He is more common than even you, Jon Snow."
Jon wondered about that. The woman, while he didn't recognize her, had an air of grace about her that he only connected with nobility. Her manner of speaking was less formal than a noble, but still clear and precise unlike a commoner.
And if her son was even half as beautiful as this woman was, it was no wonder that his sister and the maids in the household were swooning.
Jon blushed at that, and it was only when he didn't feel the sting of pain when anyone mentioned his bastardy that he realized something. His chest wasn't heaving with pain anymore. This woman had a calm, soothing presence about him.
So when she asked if she could take a seat next to him, he accepted without reservation. It was only after she sat down did he realize that he was making a lady sit on the ground.
"Let me lay my cloak my lady!" Jon hurried to right his mistake, but the woman just laughed it off.
"Don't bother, I've sat in worse conditions than this. Once, I was so tired I went to sleep in the forest after it had rained. It was like I was in some pool, my body sunk right in, and my clothes were muddied beyond belief." She admitted with a wild grin that reminded him of his sister.
He was scandalized, not knowing that there was an adult who acted as audacious as Arya. But the grin on her face was contagious.
"So, the night's watch huh?" The woman's tone changed, it became more solemn, the smile fading away. "I've heard of that place. It's comprised of rapers and reavers. Why would you want to go there?"
Her words were kind, with no hint of accusations, yet his hackles were still raised. "The watch is an honorable place to serve! We protect the kingdom from wildling invaders!" He shouted. He felt a bit bad, but he would not back down from this. This woman was a southerner. She didn't know the importance of the watch here in the North. Even bastards could rise high at the wall, regardless of the stain on their birth.
"The wall is not the only place where one can earn honor. There are other options, one that doesn't involve you swearing away your life forever. Don't you want a wife or kids?" She didn't cower at her raised voice, instead responding even more gently.
He turned wistful at the thought. Of course he wanted a wife who loved him, and a child of his own. But he also wanted a lot many things. He wanted to be a Stark. The Lord of Winterfell. Lady Catelyn's approval. But none of those things would happen.
Who would marry a bastard anyway? One with no lands, titles or riches of his own? He could not even protect himself from the whispers and the shame, how could he protect any wife or child he might have?
"There is honor at the wall." He said simply, repeating what he'd told his father and uncle before.
"Do you believe that you are lacking in honor?" The woman asked, her voice strangled. He looked at her and froze. Despite the coldness, there was a strange fire in her purple eyes that captivated him. It froze him in place, and made him unable to look away or lie to her.
Mayhaps she was a Targaryan after all?
"I am a bastard, my lady. The sole stain on Eddard Stark's honor. I know that I have no honor, but it is for that reason that I must prove myself. To me, and everyone else, that Eddard Stark has not 3 but four sons." Jon smiled sadly, looking at his feet. "Mayhaps then, father will deem me worthy enough to know my mother's name?"
The woman stiffened next to him. "Your father has not told you about your mother?" She said, her voice stone cold.
He looked at her again in surprise, nearly flinching at the anger on her face. "N-no my lady. He refuses to mention anything about her. I… I don't even know if she is alive or dead." He admitted shamefully.
"Do you want to know about her? Maybe he was protecting you?" The anger was gone from her face, replaced by a sense of fear. Her eyes drooped, her purple eyes had dulled, the fire no longer lit. There was a shakiness in her voice that troubled Jon.
His brain was twitching, quite in the way when he knew that he knew someone's name, could picture his face in his mind, and it was on the tip of his tongue, yet he could not recall it. In that manner, he knew something was going on, his brain was telling him something, he just wasn't sure what that something was.
"I would still want to know about her." Jon answered, pushing those thoughts to the side. Thinking too much about them made his brain hurt. "She's supposed to be a part of me, you know! Not knowing who she is, it's like not knowing half of who I am! What does she look like? Did she love me? Did she regret having me? Does she know I'm alive and is waiting for me? There's so many questions I have that I don't have the answers to, and it just eats away at me!" He was basically screaming in frustration by the time he finished. His little outburst felt a bit embarrassing, but it felt good to get it off his chest.
It was the first time he'd ever revealed his thoughts to someone not his father. Not even Robb knew the depths of his feelings, but here he was, exposing his heart to a stranger.
"Don't you blame her?" The question had him reeling, and he looked at the woman in shock.
"What?" He asked in puzzlement.
"Every struggle you've faced, every scorn that was shot your way, the dishonor you've faced, every look, every word that hurts you, it all happens because your mother could not control herself. Because she whored herself out for a man who was not her husband. So do you not blame her?"
He would have been mad if not for the look of pure utter sadness in her face, and Jon had the distinct feeling she wasn't talking about his mother.
Jon took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her question heavily. "She's my mother. The only thing I've wanted for as long as I could remember. But if you ask me that, I don't know. I really don't know." He admitted, a feeling that even he didn't know until this moment.
His admission was followed by a brief silence where Jon tried to find the answer to his question. The wind blowed silently, like a wolf pup to the moon.
"She is alive."
Jon froze. No, he didn't just freeze. He completely shut down for a few seconds, the words just running through his mind on a loop. Even his heart just came to a still, and felt the resounding echo of its silence.
Slowly, it began beating again, and he didn't realize until he let out a breath that he'd been holding it.
He turned to her, slowly, taking a step back as his eyes were wide open. "What?" he breathed out loud. "How do you know that? Do you know my mother?!" He asked, scrambling in desperation. He got on his knees in front of her, clutching her shoulders. "Do you?"
The woman have a look softer than a marshmallow, and reached out to clutch his cheeks. Her hands were warm, but the look on her face was even warmer, especially in his chest.
She let out a shaky breath. "Your mother has never once, ever regretted having you. She loves you, from the moment she found out that she was pregnant, to the moment she left you with your father, till now, there has not been a single moment when she hasn't thought about you." Her hands trembled, and tears began pooling in those violet orbs. The way she looked at him, like he was something precious to her, made him gulp in anticipation.
It was like the entire world was slowing down as he waited for her to speak. A strange anticipation bloomed in his heart, one that he was not completely sure what exactly he was waiting for. He just knew he was waiting for it. For the longest time he'd wanted even the tiniest bit of information on his mother. Now that there was someone here who claimed to know, who gave him some information, he realized that he was greedy. He wanted to know more and more about her.
"Your mother is tall, and fair with long black hair, and I've been told she had hauntingly beautiful purple eyes like a Targaryan." The woman shook, her eyes visibly wavering. She looked at him searchingly, unsure of his own reaction.
Jon froze, his brain and eyes reconciling. Tall, black hair, purple eyes. What could it mean? He stepped away from her touch, emotions hitting him like a storm and overwhelming him.
She cried out as he left, her face falling, but not her tears. She pursed her lips.
"Stop." He commanded. The greediness was gone. He was full now. He wasn't ready to handle the information that he now knew was coming.
"Your mother's name was Ashara Dayne, eldest daughter of the previous lord of Hose Dayne, sister of the Sword of the Morning Arthur Dayne."
Jon was basically hyperventilating at this point, his chest beating faster than it had ever before. Sending wave after wave of pure… something! He was feeling so many things he couldn't understand, just… that the feelings were too much.
But she didn't stop, and she hit the final nail on the head that confirmed all his suspicions.
"Jon, I am your mother."
—
Ned didn't know who the man sitting in front of him was, but he was no commoner like he claimed. If he was some prince like Sansa was suspecting, he would not be surprised, though not for the reason his oldest daughter claimed.
He was too sure of him, too confident, and had an air of authority like someone who was used to giving orders. The mere pressure he exerted with his eyes alone was greater than that of most nobles. It was something that couldn't be replicated, borne from knowing you were the top, and something that was out of the realm for commoners no matter how well off they were.
Or maybe it was borne of madness because surely no sane person would be brazen enough to admit to murder in his own lands, to his face.
"You cannot expect me to believe such an outrageous claim about one of my own lords." Ned pressed the man's claims, refusing to believe such slander! House Bolton had a lot of rumors surrounding them, but surely they'd never do what the boy was claiming.
"There's an entire village with men who would claim the very same thing." Tristan informed him cooly.
"Claims without proof. Claims that could just as easily be made because of their dislike of their liege lord. House Bolton is not a very popular house among the common folk." Ned acknowledged.
If he thought the man was going to be disappointed, he was wrong. The man just smirked at him, his black eyes looking expectant and disappointed. Like he was looking down on him.
"Maybe, but don't you think you should at least send a few men to check out my accusations?" Tristan cocked his head, sneering at him. "Rather than completely shutting me down? What would it take for you to investigate your own lords? Or maybe you're willfully turning a blind eye to these matters because it's not worth the headache? I'm disappointed in you Eddard Stark."
The sneering at him, and his total lack of respect as this boy talked to him was unacceptable! Ned was a fairly tolerant lord, but he had learned his lesson on making sure his subjects respected him a long time ago. He would not be talked in that manner in his own home, and by a boy half his age. "I can have your tongue for such an insult." Ned said icily, giving justice to his moniker the quiet wolf.
It had been a long time since someone had angered him so.
Before the boy could say anything, there was a loud commotion outside before the doors were flung open. He could Jory and his other guards trying to restrain Jon, but his son was pushing past them with a fiery rage like he was a ball of inferno.
"Is is true? Is Ashara Dayne truly my mother?!" Jon pushed himself forward, stalking forward like a wolf. He'd seen the boy angry before, but never had he seen him burn with such righteous fury before.
Ned froze, panic welling in his heart. How did Jon know?! Who had told him? He forced the panic down. This wasn't the first time rumors had emerged that Ashara was Jon's mother. He would have to do the same as he did last time, and shut them down. Before he could, Tristan spoke up.
"Yes, she is." Tristan answered. He had spun around to face Jon, looking at him with a warm look.
There was a chorus of whats coming, but most noticeably from the red-haird woman who stalked forward, her eyes swimming with fury. However at Tristan's words she froze, and looked at Ned with a look of distrust. Ned shook his head, even as he could see her building the walls around her.
Jon looks surprised at Tristan's words, or more accurately just at the interruption. "So that would make you my brother?"
"What?" Ned spins around as Tristan smiles and waves. Now he knew something was going on. Ashara had only one child and that was Jon before she died. The boy was too old to be Ashara's. His mind was reeling from all the implications of this, wondering what reason the boy had to be lying. Or telling a partial truth?
He was so confused.
"He is not your brother!" Ned declared, breaking himself out of the stupor.
Everyone regarded him surprised, not knowing him as one to yell or lose his temper easily.
Jon squared his shoulders. "Look me in the eye, and tell me that Ashara Dayne is not my mother."
Ned felt hesitant, seeing the scared look in Jon's eyes. What had spooked him so much that he had come in that state? He looked physically imposing, or as much as a 13 year old could be, but there was a naked fear in his eyes? Why would Jon have such fear unless someone had told him the truth?
No, there's no way that anyone who knew could have. It must have been this boy. I was hesitant to deal with him because he might have been a noble of a foreign country, but it's different when he is coming to mess with my family.
"No." He declared solemnly, his heart not liking the lie he'd been forced to utter. However he couldn't reveal Jon's parentage without putting him in danger. "No, Lady Ashara Dayne is not my mother regardless of whoever might be convincing you of that." He shot Tristan a dirty look.
The man just smiled, shaking his head.
"How about you look in my eyes and tell me the same?" Ned stiffened, eyes wide. That voice. He knew that voice. Had heard it many times over the years in his nightmares. The only time his sins reached him.
But surely it wasn't possible for she had died years ago, her body disappearing off the rushing water.
It was Catelyn who recognized her first, a look of anger entering her face. This look was a thousand times more deadly, than the ones she shot Jon with. Catleyn entered the room, closing the door behind Ashara. Her silent fury making his heart tremble.
Or maybe it was Ashara's fury.
It wasn't possible, but it was. It was her. He could recognize those purple eyes, those handsome features anywhere. They had plagued him for years, tormenting him, inciting his guilt.
Many considered Jon's existence to be the sole stain on his honor. Ned knew the truth. It wasn't Jon's existence that was the stain, but what he'd done to Ashara. How he had betrayed her, and abandoned her.
"Look me in the eye Eddard Stark, and tell me that Jon isn't my child? That he isn't my flesh and blood."
Ned found himself unable to say a single word.