Bringing the Dawn

by BonnieScotty

Eddard Stark was known for his honour and incapability to lie. But when it came to family, he would do so. Finding his sister dying in childbed and promising to tell the child on the day he turns sixteen the truth. A truth which throws Jon Snow into the greatest game of all. And when the game is played there is only two outcomes. You win, or you die.

4. III

Jon Snow

Winterfell, 299AC

Jon had always been a melancholy person. Ever since he was young whenever they had visitors, it was usually said in passing that he was most Stark of the lot. Now being no different, but for a completely different reason. The secret had been damning, there was no way around it. The King had murdered his father because he refused to admit his mother did not love him back and had rejoiced over the deaths of his older siblings. Who does that? Who in their right mind rejoices over the deaths of children? Fair enough if they are of war age, but one was only a name-day old and the other being five name-days old. Disgust and horror coiled inside of him.

When he first figured it out, he had wanted to storm out the room and not speak to Lord Stark again. Yet something compelled him to stay, and what he had seen was terrifying. Talks of communication that was either ignored or intercepted in transit. Talks of something bad happening. Talks of Rhaegar forcing Aerys off the throne and banishing him so he could stop the realm from being ran by a tyrant. It was too much. Way too much. It wasn't a secret that dragons were not well-liked. Most people knew the saying. Whenever a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin, and everyone holds their breath to see if it lands on madness or greatness.

A polarising family. There wasn't any known who wasn't a bit of both. It was one extreme or the other when it came to them. And Jon was one. Had been his entire life. What side of the coin did he fall under? He didn't think he was mad, but those who do go mad don't think they are. He was anything but great. Well, except from perhaps his swordsmanship. He wasn't dumb, he knew he took to the art amazingly well and was only getting better as time went on. The boy tossed and turned in his bed that evening, the castle long being dead to slumber by now. But he just could not do so. He'd read the letters dozens of times, he'd tried to write down what he was feeling, but nothing was helping. With a grunt, he pulled the covers off and grabbed the sword.

Dark Sister.

This sword was legendary, and it was his. He had to be careful with it for obvious reasons. If it got out that he had it if he does choose not to do anything, he will be forced into something. He pulled on some furs and made his way into the training ring where dummies were set up. Jon tried his best to imagine that the inanimate object was someone, but who? Then it came to him. Someone strong, black of hair, with a devilish look on his face. Robert Baratheon. With a short cry the sword encountered it on numerous occasions, and by the time he was out of breath, all that was left of it was cushion. He was breathing hard as he swiped the sweat off his brow. Footsteps broke the silence though. Immediately, he stored the sword away and tucked it under his furs before turning to see who was there.

"Bit violent there weren't you brother- cousin?"

A sigh of relief left him at this before walking over to Robb. His cousin immediately opened his arms to him, holding him close. Somehow knowing that the revelation was having a bad effect on the younger. Despite the bastard status, he had never looked down on him, and had gotten into numerous arguments with Catelyn on letting him into some lessons. It took years, but she eventually relented on some, which was a compromise he had accepted. Jon didn't know that though, he had assumed at the time that she was beginning to warm up to him, but he didn't need to know more to it than that.

So much anger was building up inside of him. Of himself, to the Lady, to the man he had called father, to his birth parents, to everyone really. Even if Ned had told him that she had died giving birth to him, the sting may have hurt less. But he didn't, he let him have the belief that she was still out there and he may one day meet her. For someone who held onto honour as closely as Ned had, it was ironic. Yes, his goal was honourable, but what he did to keep it a secret was not. He had lied to everyone. Himself, his wife, his people, his children, his goodfamily, the entire realm.

He did it to protect him.

Those six words were circling around in his head, seemingly mocking him as time went on. Almost immediately, he suddenly felt compassion for Catelyn which was saying something considering she had made her hatred well known for as long as he could remember. Ned had forced her into taking in someone she believed to be a product of cheating- something that was looked down upon badly by her faith. Then everything bubbled over. Robb was startled as tears welled up in his eyes, never remembering seeing Jon cry before and he had no idea how to help him as he was just in as much shock as he was.

Ned had no right to have him believe his mother was alive. He had no right to not speak to Lyanna in front of everyone. He had no right to keep up the horrid lie that she had been kidnapped. He had no right to everything he did to sell the lie other than promising to tell him when he turned sixteen. Jon felt guilt ebb deep inside of him for feeling like this towards the man who had risked everything to raise him, but some of his actions could not be excused. Whilst the Lord had never openly agreed with the rumours surrounding Lyanna and Rhaegar, he didn't deny them either. Letting people believe his mother was taken against her will and her virtue taken from her forcefully? That was an insult to his little sister of the highest grade.

Then there was the whole thing with Rhaegar and Robert. Why had he never condemned Robert over spreading the lie? Was he really doing it to protect his sisters secret or was he doing it to protect the man who he considered another brother? If it were the second, he had no idea if he would be able to forgive him, and there was no way to truly know. He's had sixteen years now to perfect the lie, it would be almost impossible to find the truth in amongst the web of deceit. If Ned had sided with Robert in it all, then it meant he supported the murder of his siblings, their mother, his father, and his mother's death was in vain. He simply shook his head, knowing this was something he needed to think long and hard on.

"Can't sleep."

"I'd be surprised if you could. So, can I see the sword?"

Jon let out a small snort before opening his furs to reveal the sword. The look that overcame the slightly older very much akin to a child getting a lifetime supply of their favourite treat. He unbuckled it and handed it to Robb, who took it earnestly and began to examine it. For something that was hundreds of years old, it looked brand new apart from the sheath. This was the only part of it that showed just how old it was. Bits of leather faded and creases in it.

"What am I going to do? If I out myself then I'm signing myself up for numerous assassins sent my way. If I don't out myself, the secret may get out because you'll all know. Anyone could overhear- "

"Jon, breathe. I'm not going to pretend I know what you're going through, but you need to think on this long and hard. Winter is coming."

That seemed to break the ice and both began laughing quietly. Robb gave the sword back to Jon who immediately concealed it again. Both headed over to their quarters in silence. If Robb knew, that meant Sansa knew too. The others he wasn't sure if the Lord and Lady had told. How Lady Catelyn was going to treat him worried him greatly. The Tully's were known for their hatred of Targaryen's, and her hatred of him already ran deep. How had she reacted? She's avoided him the entire day but that wasn't unusual for her. In her words, the less time around the bastard the less she will be corrupted. But he wasn't a bastard, he was a damn Prince. Or was he? Rhaegar was the crowned Prince, meaning he was supposed to be King after Aerys died. And it's the heir's eldest male who inherited afterwards. His siblings were murdered. He halted in shock at this, Robb looking to him with wariness. He signalled him into his room and shut the door behind him.

"Robb, you know what this means don't you?"

Hesitantly, he nodded, but from the confused expression he wore Jon knew he did not.

"My grandfather was King, and my father crowned Prince. What is the right of succession?"

The older sat down at his desk as Jon put the sword back into the chest before locking it.

"The eldest heir takes over once the monarch is dead- wait. Jon you're not the damn heir, you're- "

"Technically the King of the Seven Kingdoms."

It was only now everything clicked into place for the boys. Both were heirs, but to completely different things. One knew from the moment they began shadowing Lord Stark, and the other only found out hours before. Jon immediately sat down and covered his face with his hands, overwhelming emotions coming over him. He hated how he was treated as a bastard; how would he react if he were treated as the heir of someone the entire realm hated? Aerys was mad, there was no denying that. Seven hells, Rhaegar's letters confirmed even he was aware his father was long gone if he was plotting to remove him forcefully and banish him. If he were going to say anything on it, who would believe him? What did it mean for him to be a Targaryen in the first place? There were only two who survived and they were gods-know-where in Essos. Of course, he could try, but it was unlikely. Essos was a much larger continent than Westeros was, they could be anywhere. Robb watched as the younger thought everything through, only being able to imagine the turmoil he was going through. One thing was certain though, he was taking it well.

"Robb, please treat me as your brother still. I really need to think on this."

The older opened his mouth to but in, but he was silenced with a single glare from the younger. Why would he not want to press on it? The boy was the most important person in the damn continent!

"I don't know anything about ruling, I don't know anything about command, I don't know much about politics as your Lady mother never allowed me into these classes, I don't know how alliances are made. Heck, I don't know if I even want to do this. My whole life I've wanted to know who my mother was yet the entire time she's been under my feet? My whole life I've wanted to be a Stark when I've always been a Targaryen?"

This clicked it in place for the older. He was terrified, rightfully so. Who wouldn't be in his position?

"I need to know what it means to be what I am before I decide anything, Robb. According to uncle Benjen, there is a Targaryen at the wall serving as maester. I think I need to make a trip next time he comes down to speak to the man myself."

"You can't mean Aemon surely? Isn't he past his one hundredth name-day?"

Jon simply bowed his head, doing the sums quickly in his head. He must be, if he was Rhaegar's twice great uncle, then he must be his thrice great uncle. An impressive feat, not many people lived to be that old. But from the fond way Benjen spoke of him, he knew he wasn't insane and had peoples interests to heart. The pair stayed up for most of the night but just before the sun peeked up Robb left to go to his own room in case his mother would be angry with him. He remembered how he had felt when he was told the truth. Sorrow for his brother, annoyance for his father for keeping it from them and their mother, and pitiful for everyone involved. He'd always worshipped the King he was named after, yet if the man knew Jon existed he would assassinate him. He is a Stark. And when the lone wolf dies, the pack survives. He would do all he could to help Jon, he was going to need it.

The next couple of months were a massive blur. Jon sparred harder than he ever had, and he was allowed into politics lessons. The Septa had scoffed when he had appeared but with a stern look from the Lord and Lady she had kept her distaste for herself. Lady Catelyn was still harsh on him as it's impossible to undo sixteen years of hatred- but she was nowhere near as bad. She'd began letting the boy be seen in public outings, eat close to the high table and not in the back hidden from sight. The only one who still shunned him was Sansa. Ned had pulled her aside and asked why she was acting like this. Her response was that Robert had successfully claimed the throne and therefore Jon had no right and should be treated like a Targaryen. This had led to a grounding much to the red-haired girl's protests, but he was not having it. Ever since then, Sansa had openly avoided him. If she were close to him she would move to be away from him. It didn't affect Jon in any way considering she had always shunned him as she was desperate to emulate her Lady mother, but he couldn't deny it did hurt.

Then a troubling raven came from Last Hearth. Another deserter of the Night's Watch, and the man had been escorted to the Barrowlands near Winterfell. There seemed to be one every other week now. The boys all saddled up and tried to hold in chuckles at how small Bran looked on his pony against their stallions. Jon and Robb were used to this as they had been coming with Ned since they were nine name-days old like Bran is right now. Like usual, a race broke out from the eldest kids which had their other companions snorting in amusement. Both boys couldn't deny the exhilaration that came with feeling the wind rush through your hair or the adrenaline that came with dodging branches and potholes. They knew the woods so well that they barely even needed to look for them.

Once everyone had caught up to them, everyone stared in bewilderment at the man seated next to the block. His hair was long and matted, his cloak ripped to pieces as if he had either fought out of his fate or had been running from something and didn't look to see where he was going. His face was hollow and gaunt. But it was his eyes, those eyes looked like they had seen the worst horror known to man. Lord Eddard got off his horse and walked towards him and began questioning him. A few smiles broke out when he began talking about Others. Others had been dead for almost eight thousand years; they were no threat to Westeros. Everyone concluding it was Wildlings. Only thing is, the other deserters had said the same thing. Was there something more to it?

"Don't look away, your father will know if you do."

Robb smiled as he heard the quiet words Jon spoke to Bran. Quiet enough that no one else would hear because only them and Howland Reed knew the truth. Bran set his face still but he was incredibly nervous. He's never witnessed a beheading before. He just hoped he could keep food down upon seeing the blood. After passing the sentence, Lord Eddard wasted no time in unsheathing Ice and bringing it down on the man's neck. In one clean swoop, his head was off. Bran cringed a little, the sight of a bloodied stump where the head had been attached gruesome. No one else batted an eyelid at the sight.

All rose in formation after this, the sombre feeling over they had just witnessed taking out the joy that a race would. No matter how many times it is seen, seeing someone die before oneself is a horrible thing. Anyone who takes joy in taking a life is horrible. The journey back to Winterfell was approximately an hour, so there was plenty of time to think. It was only when they were entering the Wolfswood nearby that something seemed to stir. Jon couldn't describe the feeling he had. Almost like a pull from an invisible string towards the side. From the look Robb was giving him, he knew he felt it too. With that, the pair rode over the bridge towards whatever it was, ignoring the shouts of the other members of their party. Soon, a scent neither could place invaded their nostrils and made them want to gag. Forcing themselves not to, they soon found the source of the stench and a startled yelp from Robb broke the silence. It was a wolf, which wasn't unusual to find, but it was the size of it. It was almost the size of their horses, the head alone being a good two foot in length.

"Is that?"

"A direwolf? I think so brother."

A sense of awe overcame them and both got down from their horses to inspect it. From the amount of blood surrounding it, they knew it was dead. But what in the woods could kill something of this size? Direwolves had not been seen south of the wall for hundreds of years, long thought to be extinct now. But here one was. The source of its death was found soon from the giant antler wedged in its neck.

"Robb, get away from it!"

Both jumped a little and turned to their party.

"It's dead, it can't harm us."

Everyone was looking at them with terror, all seemingly realising exactly what this beast was. Whilst they were talking, a noise caught Jon's attention. He walked towards it and when he did, surprise took over. Pups. Five of them. All suckling to their dead mother trying to get milk. Carefully he picked one up, in complete awe over how soft its fur was. The eyes were not opened yet, meaning they were days old. Did their mother die protecting her pups? He went down the line of them, noticing there were three males and two females. Direwolves, found near Winterfell, the seat of House Stark.

"Jon put it down!"

He jumped in surprise before looking up to Jory Cassell who had his sword out. When Bran saw what he had, he let out an excited squeal and ran over. Robb picked one up as well and handed one to the younger before picking up another. Jon heard the others talking whether to leave them or even kill them. When Bran heard this, tears were threatening to fall but he refused to let them fall in front of the adults.

"Lord Stark."

The way Jon had said it broke the bickering as they eyed him and the wriggling pup in his arms.

"There are five pups. Three males and two females. You have three trueborn sons and two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your house."

Ned's eye twitched at what he was doing. Yes, they knew the truth, but the others did not. Jon was deliberately singling himself out so the count was correct. He wasn't a Stark; he was a Targaryen. His sigil is a red three-headed dragon on a black background. Dragons were more recently extinct, but they were.

"You will feed them yourselves, and you will take care of them yourselves, and if they die, you will bury them yourselves."

With that, some people got down from their horses to take one of the pups each. It was when he was about to swing up into the saddle that he heard another yelp. He stepped down at this and walked towards it. Like expected, he found another pup. This one clearly the runt of the litter as it was pure white compared to the grey/black of the others. And its eyes, they were blood red. The only one that had opened its eyes. The deep red against the white very much reminding Jon of the heart trees in the Weirwood.

"Looks like I have got one."

Theon snorted and made a jape over it being the runt and Jon being the runt of the Stark's. He stopped doing so with a single furious glare from Eddard. Theon had come into their care as a hostage disguised as a ward after Balon Greyjoy's failed attempt at claiming independence. He only done so after all but one son was alive, and the man was far too prideful to name his daughter Asha his heir whilst he had a son. Despite him being a hostage, Eddard tried to treat him the same as he did his own children and his nephew, but he always made it clear why he was there. If Balon ever retaliated, Theon's head would come clean off.

The pups all whined at the fast movement of the horses, everyone carrying one trying their best to shush them, but it was no easy task. Even as pups, they were half the size of a full-grown regular wolf. However, there was no biting, scratching, or any negative behaviour. They seemed to know they were taking them in to care for them. When they arrived back at the castle, there were startled yelps of everyone in the courtyards, but none quite so loud as Catelyn. Every time they left to carry out a sentence, she was always waiting on them returning.

"Ned, what in seven hells- "

"Direwolf pups, Cat. Six of them. One for each child."

Now, there were more stunned gasps and gaping jaws as they took in the animals. Hesitantly, all carrying one stepped down making sure they were secure. She knew of Direwolves of course, she was faced with banners with them every day, but seeing one in the flesh? When they were thought to be extinct in Westeros? Steadily, she walked over to her husband who was carrying one that was pure black and appeared to be struggling. Whether that be to break free or to garner attention, none could tell. As she peered down at the tiny creature, there was no denying how adorable it was. With the jet-black colouring of its fur, it looked like a bear cub. But there was no denying the curved ears and long nose that were characteristic of a wolf.

"My love, we need to talk."

Ned gave her a weird look at this before nodding. With a single glance towards Vayon Poole, the man carefully took the pup as the Lord followed his Lady to the godswood. Catelyn never felt welcome here, her being of the faith, but she respected her husband's beliefs. He had even gone to the extent of having a small sept built for her so she could pray if need be. Ned sat down on a large rock as he contemplated everything that had happened. Every time without fail, whenever he had to carry out a sentence, he had to cleanse himself. He always did so by allowing himself some time alone with his sacred gods.

"A raven came today, Ned. From Kings Landing. I'm so sorry, but Jon Arryn is dead. A fever took him in his sleep."

It took a few minutes for her words to register, and when they did, he felt a tightness inside him he knew all too well. Jon Arryn had been like a father to him, had raised him at the Eyrie alongside Robert Baratheon. Curse the other, but he could never outwardly say he despised Robert. How could he not after how he had acted with Lyanna? Over how he had rejoiced at being presented with the murdered bodies of babes and a woman who did nothing other than lay with her husband? Jon was elderly, and he was his goodbrother. His marriage to Catelyn's sister Lysa despite him being thrice her age at the time of the union.

"A fever?"

She simply nodded.

"Maester Pycelle tried to save him when he first took signs a few days before, he says in the letter it burned through him too fast to be stopped. He said he wouldn't have felt any pain."

She simply bit her lip as she took in his reaction. The way he was staring at the ground very much reminding her of her nephew, but it was gone in a second. Never in her life did she think she would ever be hospitable to a Targaryen, but he was the last piece of Lyanna her husband had, and she would grant him it as was her duty as a wife and a Lady. But one boy's legitimate birth would never undo decades of brewing tensions between the high lords and the dragon royals. She'd hated him when she thought he was Ned's bastard, but since he told her the truth, she had realised the error of her ways. But for appearances sake to protect the truth, she still didn't treat him brilliantly, but she was trying.

"There's something else, my love."

He looked at her now with complete sorrow, his feelings taking over the characteristic stony face of a Stark. She handed the scroll over that had been delivered by raven not long after he had left. She had no idea how he would take this in, knowing he treaded on thin ice with the King.

Eddard Stark.

Lord of Winterfell.

I am writing to inform my old friend Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, to alert him of a visit. I shall be leaving with my wife, children, and entourage in the next few days and expect to arrive within the month.

Robert Baratheon.

King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the realm.

This was too much, too much in one go. First, a deserter speaking of Others. Secondly, finding direwolf pups which have long been considered extinct in Westeros for hundreds of years. Third, his wife made him aware that his foster father had died of a fever. Now Robert Baratheon was coming north with his Queen, children, and an entourage. Ned had not seen Robert since the Greyjoy rebellion, the pair had little to no communication with one another. From what people have said in passing, he was not the person Ned remembered at all.

Was this a good thing or a bad thing though? Had he finally had his temper humbled and wouldn't want to murder babes to strengthen his claim? Or was it the other way? It took approximately ten days for a raven to fly from Kings Landing to Winterfell, meaning the man was already on his way. There was no stopping him now, and there was no doubt Queen Cersei would take kindly to a rejection due to her title. The Lannister woman had always shown she was a miniature Tywin, but she had much more of a temper. How Robert had not set her aside yet amazed Ned. Their marriage was nothing but volatile.

"I guess we had better prepare for a reception, my Lady."

"And the boy?"

The Lord simply let out a loud sigh at this before thinking carefully. Since Jon had been told the truth, he had made it no secret that he detested Robert for what he had done to his siblings and would've done to him if it got out. He had a temper as well, his wolf blood and dragon blood inherited from both sides of the family.

"I'll speak to him, make sure he doesn't do anything that will look bad on us."

Catelyn simply nodded at this before leaving the godswood. He sat there for what must've been hours before making his way back. Much to his amusement, he made it back in time to catch the boys training. Jon was now beating Ser Rodrik frequently, and if rumours were true from the servants, was asking to be trained with dual swords like Ser Arthur Dayne had done. Robb was coming into his own as well, developing a completely different style from his cousin. The Targaryen being fast and vicious, the Stark being strong and cunning. The pair of them would be formidable in battle together. He glanced around the training yard and had to stifle a laugh at spotting Arya sticking her head out of a crevice so she could watch. Once she spotted him though, she disappeared elsewhere. He asked his nephew to visit him in his solar once he was done. Something which confused the master at arms. He knew something had happened within the family, but he couldn't deny it was a welcome change.

"You asked to speak with me uncle?"

Since he had told him, he had begun speaking in a more regal tone. Very much beginning to accept that he was the rightful heir. Whether he had decided if he was going to act on the claim was still up in the air. He didn't want glory, didn't want to rule people. But Ned knew, if something bad happened, he would do so in a heartbeat to protect those he loved.

"What's this I'm hearing of you asking Ser Rodrik train you with dual swords?"

From the faint blush that crossed the youngers face, he knew the rumours were true.

"I've been reading up a lot on Kingsguards and other respected knights. Those who are most known wielded two, and not many people bother with doing so. I've been training my left hand with writing and other things to begin getting used to doing so. I've gotten to a point now where it's almost boring to train with someone I can now easily beat, and I want to try other things."

Ned simply nodded at this, the reasoning making sense. But he caught the hidden message in the words. When he said Kingsguard and knight, he knew he was trying to emulate the man who had died protecting him when he was just born. Even now, he felt guilty over the dishonourable slaying of Ser Arthur. Even more so when it was made known that Ashara had thrown herself from the highest tower in Starfall in her grief.

"I'll speak to him and see if he can do so, but I will make you aware Ser Rodrik has not used dual swords in a long time so he will not be very up to par. I'll also see if I can hire someone with more skill to challenge you better. But that's not why I asked you here."

Jon quirked an eyebrow at his uncle's words. Ned hesitated a little before handing over the scroll that was brought. As he read, he felt a heat deep inside of him bubble up. It was very minimal, but the elder caught it.

"We received it this morning whilst away, and with the amount of time it takes ravens to go from the capital to here, he'll already be well on his way. We cannot stop it. I would if I could, but I cannot without creating a revolt."

Jon huffed loudly before closing his eyes. He knew he would need to keep his anger in line, but how was he going to do that? He was going to face the man that spread the vicious lie that his mother had been kidnapped and raped because he didn't want to admit she didn't love him back, the man who had rejoiced at the murder of his siblings, and the man who was known for hiring numerous sellswords and assassins to take out his aunt Daenerys and uncle Viserys in Essos. For all he knew, one of them had been successful as there had been no news on his relatives across the narrow sea in years. He hoped they were still alive; he'd like to meet them.

"Ok, I'll try and stay away from him in case he recognises my father in me, and if I do come into his presence I vow to keep my anger in check. I have one request though."

The Lord nodded in acceptance, knowing that was as close to a 'I will not cause trouble' he was going to get from him.

"I want to go to the Wall. Not to take the black, but to speak with Maester Aemon. He may be my only family member left from that side, and I've heard uncle Benjen say the old man is lonely. I think he deserves to know I exist, and his vows bound him from revealing the truth as he cannot interfere with the politics of Westeros."

It was a simple enough request. It took a week to ride to Castle Black from Winterfell going by the Kings Road. He could go and be back in enough time for Robert arriving. He wasn't stupid either, he knew Jon wanted to go to get insight on his heritage. And who better to ask about said heritage than someone who had denied the crown himself and handed it to his little brother?

"That can be arranged, and who would you like to accompany you?"

"Either you or the Lady, uncle."

This stunned him. He expected him to name him, but he didn't expect for him to name Catelyn. Yes, she was much more tolerable of him as of late, but she was far from loving.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, uncle. My cousins are all too young for such a responsibility except perhaps Robb. You may not be able to go, and if that's the case, I would like her to come. She is of the south, and I was born in the south, and my family mostly followed the seven. I don't know about my thrice great uncle's faith, but he may take it as an insult if you came."

As much as he wanted to deny it, Jon's logic was sound. Yes, Catelyn was a Stark in marriage, but she would always be a Tully and a devout follower of the Seven. He understood the implications that the younger was making. His wife was liked well enough, but the Lords of the North may take it as an insult if she were running the keep in his footsteps. There have been times where the keep has been left to her for a couple of days, but longer than a fortnight may be pushing things.

"I'll ask her and bring Robb with you as well. It's time he begins learning things."

Jon seemed like he was about to retort, but as he thought on it, he knew the Lord was correct. He couldn't come with him the whole way, and he wasn't sure if he trusted the Lady wholly yet. Having Robb there would be the buffer if things did go sour between them. With a simple nod, both left the room. When Ned found his wife in her rooms, she was sewing something and humming lowly to herself. She looked up upon hearing the door creek open and when she spotted her husband a large smile overtook her. To say she was shocked at what he had come to ask of her was an understatement. She's now come to terms with everything but she knew she had to play it safe. If the secret got out, the realm would go into its biggest state of chaos to date. As much as she had hated the boy for almost his entire life, she would not force him into something he didn't want to do.

The next morning all were saddled up alongside two guards, making their way out of Winterfell. The furthest north Catelyn had ever been was to Last Hearth, but they were travelling further out than this. Robb on the other hand was finding it difficult to hold in his excitement. When Jon was talking of going to the wall before he found everything out, the Stark heir had made him aware he always wanted to see it himself. A wall said to be built by their ancestor almost eight thousand years prior spanning the entire width of the continent and over seven hundred feet in height. He was also excited to see his uncle Benjen again, having not seen him for many moons as he couldn't make it for his name-day.

The ride seemed to go on forever. The Kings Road here being completely unkempt as very few people used it anymore. Numerous vines, bushes, potholes, and too many animals blocking their path. Luckily, the summer snows had been pleasant to them, not laying more than a couple of inches in the ground. On the sixth day, the wall finally came into their lines of vision and those who had never seen it before eyes widened to comical widths. Even Catelyn had to stop herself from doing so. Her entire life she's only ever seen it as the place where murderers and rapists loomed, but there was no denying the beauty that was the wall. Made of pure ice and bound together by ancient spells that had been lost thousands of years ago, spanning as far as the eye could see.

The castle they were approaching however, left little to be desired. Parts of it had fallen into ruin, other parts on the brink of being so as well, and the liveable portions were not much at all. A raven had been sent ahead when they left so that the occupants knew they were to be expected. But Catelyn did not expect to be faced with someone she recognised. She did not know him well, but she could recognise that face anywhere.

"It has been a few years, Ser Alliser. Never thought I'd see you here."

Both boys looked to her oddly at this, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth. They sized the man up. Easily in his mid-forties, a few wrinkles showing on his skin, his hair missing a few patches and the parts that were not already grey. He tightened his lips at her words, clearly taking the insult that was intended.

"It has indeed, Lady Stark."

The words certainly had a bite to them, and it was not missed by anyone there. These two clearly had history together, and not a good history. Once inside, there was again little to be desired. The Nights Watch members all leering their way as if they blamed them for their own actions that led to them being here. However, it was one friendly face that broke out the smiles. Both boys got off their horses as Benjen walked over to them to engulf them in a tight hug. The Lady followed soon after and she let a small blush come onto her cheeks as he kissed her hand as was custom.

"What brings you all here?"

Catelyn simply glanced towards Jon for a split second and her goodbrother understood. He was the only other person who knew, Ned not being able to keep it a secret from his own brother after he had told them the truth.

"The boys can share a room with me, and we'll find something suitable for you goodsister. Come, lets catch up."

Everyone else seemed to understood the implications of his words as they all went back to their tasks. The room they were led to was easily one of the nicer ones, but it was not much better than the worst room in Winterfell. Once the door was shut, the ranger turned to face them all individually before focusing on Jon. To say Benjen was shocked when he received the raven from his older brother revealing everything was an understatement, but when he did read it, it all made sense. Lyanna was never sickly, and she was way too headstrong to allow herself to be kidnapped and raped. She would've drove a dagger through anyone even attempting to do so. He never really believed it, but he didn't know much else other than this.

"I don't know how I never saw it; you look exactly like her. Just a few differing facial features which you clearly inherited from your father. What brings you all here?"

Catelyn and Robb both turned to Jon now, them knowing it had to be him who told his uncle.

"You said the Maester here is a Targaryen. For all I know he might be the only family I have left from that side of my heritage. You've also said the old man is lonely, I think he deserves to know he isn't the last Targaryen."

Benjen simply nodded in understanding. It was true Aemon was lonely and often despaired if Viserys and Daenerys were still alive as they hadn't heard from them in many years. He'll be absolutely delighted when he finds out he has a family member only a week's ride away. At that moment, the Lord Commander appeared and Benjen asked if he could give Catelyn and Robb a tour. The old bear simply nodded but shot a confused look towards Jon. Catelyn took the offer, but Robb decided he wanted to watch on to make sure nothing happens between the long-lost relatives. They were led to one of the towers that wasn't falling apart like the others were.

Benjen entered a room to alert the maester he had visitors, and a withered voice broke the silence. Jon took a deep breath and Robb simply placed a hand delicately on his shoulder to give him support. Their uncle came out again and advised they could go inside and he would keep a watch outside for any eavesdroppers or unwelcome people. This talk could not be overheard. Upon entering, all breath seemed to escape the younger boy. The man seated at the table was incredibly old, his eyes milky white proving his blindness, and his silver hair short and unkempt. It was hard to tell if it was Targaryen silver or if it had just turned that colour due to his age. Aemon felt something, a pull almost. Something he only experienced once, the feeling he had felt when his twice great nephew Rhaegar had come to visit. But Rhaegar was dead, the remaining Targaryen's likely dead, so why was he feeling this?

"Maester, what I'm about to tell you sounds crazy but it's the truth. I believe I'm your thrice great nephew, Jaeron. Last son of Rhaegar Targaryen and only son of Lyanna Stark."

His head snapped up and immediately turned to Jon which surprised Robb. How did he know where to look when he couldn't see? Steadily, both boys sat down in front of him and Jon was struggling to keep his tears at bay. The maester reached his hands out delicately and with a simple hum from Jon, he gently touched his face. The features felt so familiar to him, and he remembered a raven that had been sent of the Prince intending to marry the Stark woman after agreeing to an annulment with Elia.

"You've got your father's face. A face I never thought I'd see or feel again."

There was the confirmation. Robb smiled softly at the pair, only being able to imagine what they were feeling as they were reunited. He looked around the room and was pleasantly surprised by how ordinary it was. Considering the man in the room with them had been offered a crown but he had rejected it as he had already taken his vows as a Maester at that point, it was strange. There were numerous cabinets with too many pieces of paper and a large chest that looked like the one Jon's proof of identity was in.

"I'm only a week's ride away uncle, you're not alone in the world."

"A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing nephew."

They knew the saying, but neither wanted to speak it aloud in case it offended him.

"Tell me, how has King Robert not found you yet?"

"My uncle Eddard took me in as his bastard son to keep me safe. He swore a vow to my mother to do so and he would tell me the truth on my sixteenth name-day. King Robert does not know. The only people who do are my cousins, my uncles, my aunt, Howland Reed, and now yourself."

Robb swears he heard a short snort of laughter come from the elderly male at these words. He couldn't deny it was funny. Robert Baratheon wanted all Targaryen's dead yet there's two he cannot get his hands on. One because they are bound here in their vows, and the other because nobody knew he existed. It was a very elaborate scheme and he cannot deny he was proud of his father for being able to pull it off. Aemon stood up and walked over to the chest. Both realising what he was doing, stood up and helped him bring it over to the desk. The clinks of the numerous links breaking the silence.

"And who might this other young man be accompanying you?"

Robb's eyes widened again, how did he know he was male? Clearly there's more to the man than the eyes see.

"My name is Robb Stark, Maester Aemon. Cousin to Jaeron and nephew to Rhaegar through marriage."

It was odd of him to say that aloud. But it was true. For most of his life he had hated the dragon Prince over what he had supposedly done to his aunt Lyanna. But they were married, which meant he was related to him and did not simply share a relative in Jon.

"Your father and I sent numerous letters to one another. Would you like to see them? Although I must admit they are in our mother tongue. I'm not sure if- "

"I can read it relatively well, and Jon is learning now."

The beaming smile that appeared on the elderly man lifted any tension there was in the air away. Robb was far from fluent in High Valyrian, but he understood it well enough. And considering very few people alive spoke the language in Westeros, they would be safe. He opened a drawer and took out a wad of letters before handing them over to Robb. All were dated, and all signed by hand by Rhaegar. Much to his surprise, there was also one from Queen Rhaella. He read them to the best of his ability, asking for help whenever he got stuck on a word or phrase. They confirmed the rumours that had circulated around Rhaegar. He had been plotting to overthrow his father, and his mother was in on it secretly. The late Queen was willingly helping their son overthrow her own brother as she knew he would be a better King. The last one broke Jon's heart when he heard it. One from the Queen sent from Dragonstone after she had fled with her son and heavily pregnant with Daenerys. Ser Willem Darry had been the one to smuggle them out of the Red Keep safely.

"Your father did not deserve the death he got, and King Robert most certainly did not have the right to claim something as preposterous as kidnap and rape when there was no proof. Kill the boy Jon Snow, and let the man Jaeron Targaryen be born."

The younger frowned at the words, not understanding what they meant. But he simply agreed quietly to ease the old man's mind.

"I've kept these in my possession for many years nephew. Your father entrusted these to me as he was certain a Targaryen would appear here someday."

He eyed the chest beside him, giving both boys permission to open it. What was in here? It was much smaller than the one Jon had, but still a decent size. Once the latch was opened and the lid raised though, Robb's mouth fell open in awe.

"Are those?"

"Dragon eggs. Two of them. Rhaegar went through great trouble to get them."

Robb bent down to pick one up. Being sapphire-blue in colour with pewter-grey spots on it. The other being mostly silver with red and black spots on it. The egg was stone-cold, confirming the creature inside was dead and probably had been for over a century. But it was beautiful to look at. Jon on the other hand had a different reaction to his brother. He couldn't describe the pull he felt towards the silver one at all. The only feeling that came somewhat close was when they had found the direwolf pups. Steadily, he touched it before jumping back in surprise. The egg was warm. Robb gave him a funny look and asking why he had done so.

"The egg is hot, isn't that one?"

Robb shook his head, both boys missing the bright smile on Aemon's face. There was no denying the boy had Valyrian heritage. He too felt how hot the eggs were, and he felt the life inside of them. But he was bound by his vows to remain away from politics, therefore he could not hatch the eggs as that would be an act of rebellion. The older boy leaned down to pick up the other one and frowned in confusion, it was cold to the touch. Like the other one. What was Jon on about? Steadily, the younger took it back off his cousin and that was when he felt the movement inside.

"Robb; touch it now. But do not take it off me."

He did so willingly and his eyes widened again at the feeling. There was no denying it now, this one was alive. Hesitantly, the silver one was placed back into the chest and Robb handed over the blue one. The pull was still there, but nowhere near as strong. But this one was also warm to the touch, and he could feel the movement inside.

"They're alive. Actual dragons."