Eddard Stark hadn't been sure what to expect when Jon had awoken.
He had looked to the Old Gods for guidance in this matter, now that he had no idea what was true regarding the anomalous Stark of Winterfell anymore. No answer presented itself before the chambermaid Catelyn had sent informed him that Jon was awake and asking for him.
When he had discovered Lyanna on that bloodstained bed, he had honored the promise he'd made to her.
He'd suspected at first that the boy was the result of an affair between Lyanna and the Crown Prince, making him Rhaegar Targaryan's bastard son. But his exclusively Stark coloring had thrown that into question in his mind. He still didn't dare tell Robert about Lyanna's only child though. For what Robert learned would inevitably spread to the rest of the seven kingdoms the first time his old friend began his third goblet. And while he himself had been reasonably sure of Jon's non-Targaryan parentage, he was not willing to chance the Lannisters, Tyrells, Martells, Greyjoys, Baratheons and countless other houses major and minor all coming to the same conclusion. So he claimed the boy for his own, assured of Howland Reed's silence regarding the circumstances. What did his honor matter if it meant keeping the promise he'd made to his dying sister?
As Jon had grown, Eddard had agonized constantly over when/how to tell the boy. But where to start to explain something like that when he wasn't even sure who Lyanna had taken to her bed? He loved the boy like his own son, but he knew he could never legitimize him without the story he had concocted falling apart at the seams. And while he believed Jon to be mature for his age that did not mean he was willing to trust him with such a dire and precarious secret.
He could also never tell Cat the truth. His wife was many things to his mind. A loving mother, a devoted lady, a pious woman. But a convincing actress was not one of them. If he was to carry on the charade that Jon Snow was his illegitimate son, he had to maintain that story even to his wife and his children. Yet now…
When he had entered Jon's sickroom, he had been shocked to see the boy looking healthier than ever despite the bandages that covered his eyes and his demeanor making him appear older than his fourteen years of age.
His lady wife stood by the doorway as Arya was curled into Jon's chest while the recently recovered boy held her in his arms under Maester Luwin's watchful gaze by the opposite wall, eyes very obviously cataloguing every movement of his adopted son's body.
Eddard noticed that despite his silence in entering the room via already opened door, only Jon had fixed his covered eyes firmly on him, Cat and Luwin only seeing him when they looked to follow Jon's line of non-existent vision. Unsure of where they were supposed to go from here, Ned said the first thing that came to mind.
"I am glad to find you whole again Jon." He greeted, walking toward the boy's bed.
Jon flashed a brief smile at him before he looked down at Arya. Cat had given a respectful curtsey as befitted his station while Arya had only turned her head and chirped a brief greeting at Eddard before burying her head in Jon's chest again. She had not even bothered to move her arms from their position around his nephew's sides.
Jon spoke to the younger girl. "I need you to give me some alone time with our lord father." He prodded, rubbing her back soothingly as he did so.
She shook her head without looking at anyone. "I won't interrupt." She preemptively countered before anyone could speak up.
"I know you wouldn't." Jon said, right hand ruffling her hair. "But I need to explain everything that happened in the Sept in addition to why. And unless the Lord of Winterfell permits it, I cannot in good conscience speak of it with others before I talk to him about the matter."
Eddard was on guard now. Very rarely had Jon used his title when referring to him. When he did, it was generally because he was distressed about something and using highborn protocol to create emotional distance between himself and the matter in question.
"Can't you at least look at me when you say that Jon?" Arya asked quietly.
Catelyn inadvertently drew a sharp breath as her youngest looked up at Jon's face beseechingly. Jon had never been able to say no to Arya, especially not when he looked her in the eyes. But what would he say now that his eyes were gone? If Arya was to see that-
"As you wish little sister." Jon answered. "But I'll need you to remove the bandages for me." He continued, leaning his head down so their brows were touching while Arya's hands moved up to begin undoing the bandages.
"Stop Jon!" Mikhal exclaimed, moving toward them. "Your eyes-"
"My eyes are fine Maester Luwin." Jon firmly cut off, his form unmoving from his position in front of the youngest Stark girl. For a moment, Ned thought he sounded like his brother Brandon when he was not going to brook any more argument about whether or not he could use his leg after falling from the tree. Though Eddard was fairly sure gouged eyes were somewhat more severe than a broken leg.
By this time, Arya's nimble fingers had undone the bandages in the back and begun pulling them off. Catelyn had strode forward to Jon's bedside now, her hand flashing out to keep the bandaging in place.
"Mother!" Arya exclaimed, upset that Cat was apparently stopping her from removing the bandages from Jon's eyes. The poor girl had no idea what lay beneath the cloth.
"You cannot simply remove the poultices without Maester Luwin's permission Arya!" Catelyn answered in a scolding tone even as Jon seemed to inaudibly sigh. "You have to-Ahhh!" She was interrupted by Jon firmly tugging the bandages off his face.
Ned had heard tell of miracles before. For the most part, he had privately dismissed them as tricksters and carefully exaggerated illusions. But there was nothing exaggerated or illusionary about Jon's storm grey Stark eyes looking back at Arya's. There was no trick or sleight of hand that could allow a man to regrow that which simply was not there any longer.
Cat was shocked into silence as she took in Jon's very whole eyes, her face turning a pale shade as she whispered: "Impossible…"
Mikahl appeared awestruck, visibly restraining himself from attempting to move Arya and examine the medical mystery Jon now represented.
Jon and Arya's identical Stark eyes were locked for a few moments before Jon spoke again.
"I need to speak with Lord Stark alone Arya. He and I need to talk privately before anything else happens." His tone was gentle, but firm. He was not going to be yielding on this matter, that much was clear.
Ned gave himself a little mental shake and steeled himself. This was not going to go over well with his lady wife or his maester, but there was no doubt that he needed to speak privately with Jon now.
"Jon is right." Ned declared, allowing his mask as Lord of Winterfell to come to the front. His face morphed into a thing of stone as he instructed: "Leave us now. All of you."
Arya protesting his decision was not a surprise. Luwin and Catelyn joining their voices to hers even less so. The three expressed their displeasure with his granting of Jon's request to speak alone for varying reasons: Arya didn't want to be parted from her favorite sibling so soon after his awakening, Luwin ostensibly wished to examine Jon to be sure he had recovered from his unconsciousness (while really attempting to figure out how he had managed to regenerate his previously destroyed eyes) whereas Catelyn objected that before any sort of questioning took place that Maester Luwin should be permitted to look over the boy.
"This is not up for discussion. Leave. Now." He commanded in a warning tone, taking a seat in an empty chair nearby Jon's bedside. Mikhal and Cat quieted at his slight increase in volume though his lady wife had looked positively mutinous. As they went for the door, Jon had kissed Arya's forehead and gently took her by the shoulders to give her a small push toward the exit to his sickroom.
"This shouldn't take long Arya. I'll be out soon." Jon reassured, swinging around on the bed to face Eddard. Arya crossed her arms suspiciously, visibly unhappy that both her father and her brother were denying her the chance to stay with them.
"And you'll tell me what was so urgent it couldn't wait a few hours?" She prompted leadingly, even as Cat placed her hand on her right shoulder to steer her out of the room.
"I can't promise that." Jon responded. "But I can certainly promise I will be out soon." He continued, smiling brightly in that way he only ever seemed to around his most constant companion in Winterfell. Arya stomped her left foot, displeasure evident even as she came back up to the bedside to give her brother one last rib-cracking hug.
"I'll hold you to that." She swore as she pulled back, trudging toward the door as though still half-tempted to turn around and plant herself obstinately in the room.
"I expect nothing less." He responded, throwing the blanket off his legs as Lady Catelyn shut the door firmly behind the three.
Immediately, his adopted son went from smiling to frowning. Eddard showed no external reaction to the change in attitude, content to let the boy begin the conversation on his terms even as he itched to question him about his regrown eyes.
"Let us be honest with each other Lord Stark." Jon said abruptly, standing up with no apparent issue. He avoided looking at Ned as his eyes scanned the room, looking for clothing that could be worn outside the sickroom. "We both know who my mother is. But only I know who my father is. Are you willing to exchange a favor for the name?"
"You aren't speaking sense Jon. You know I am your father." Eddard shook his head, the answer flowing automatically to his lips.
"That's where you're wrong Uncle." Jon said in return, his back turned to Eddard as he appeared to continue to hunt for clothing to wear. Eddard in the meantime felt as though the breath had been knocked from his lungs. He had been sure to never speak of Jon's parentage with anyone. He had barely even acknowledged it to himself least he feel the accumulated guilt borne from years of deception. He kept himself composed, unwilling to give too much away.
"What are you talking about Jon?" The Lord of Winterfell asked, shifting in the chair to better face the dark haired young bastard.
Jon glanced at him through his peripheral vision as he found a simple pair of leather breeches. With a tone almost as dry as Dorne, he said: "Unless the Starks have a lot more in common with the Targaryans then Maester Luwin is willing to admit I find it doubtful that you're both my father and my uncle."
"And what makes you so sure I'm your uncle?" Eddard shot back, trying to figure how Jon knew something only two living people did. Perhaps the boy was simply trying to bluff him into revealing the truth of his mother to him.
Jon faced Eddard entirely as he pulled off his oversized sleeping shirt. He idly noted that Jon's skin appeared as unblemished as it had the day he'd been born. The minor scars he'd accumulated from rough-housing and exploration around Winterfell had disappeared. It was yet more alarming evidence that his recent bout of unconsciousness and subsequent healing had been influenced by a power not of this world.
Jon's eyes met his own when he spoke the simple yet impossible answer.
"Lyanna Stark told me." He said matter of factly.
'He thinks he spoke to Lyanna?' Eddard thought in alarm. In all his years as Lord of Winterfell, the patriarch of the Stark family had believed in the Old Gods, had seen Catelyn's belief in the New Gods. But he had never heard of the dead speaking to someone from the realm of the living. But then again, before today he hadn't believed it possible for a man to regrow plucked eyes while sleeping.
"What else did she tell you?" He asked, keeping his voice level in an effort not to hint he wasn't sure whether Jon's sense was fully intact or not. If Jon had spoken to something that claimed to Lyanna, who was to say it honestly was her? That it wasn't some other spirit taking on her form for his benefit? Though Ned honestly couldn't see what the point of it would be. Jon had never known Lyanna when she was alive and so would have no context or previous connection for the spirit to exploit by taking on her form if that was the case.
"Mother said that she thinks you should let Arya try horseback riding. She said it would be amusing to see if maybe she has more in common with her aunt Lyanna than just looks." Jon answered, pulling on a woolen shirt as his lips curved upward in a smile, likely a result of imagining Arya getting dedicated horse riding lessons. Ned could only imagine the sort of mischief the girl would get into with the mobility a fully trained horse could provide her.
He had to internally concede though, that Jon's statement sounded like something Lyanna would say. And only a few of his own generation had been aware of Lyanna's love of riding. He knew he and Cat had certainly never told the children anything about it. But he would reserve full judgment on Jon's claim when he had heard the rest of his story.
"Why don't you explain to me what happened in the Sept?" He asked, moving onto another subject. He didn't want Jon to distract him from the central issue he had supposedly needed to talk to him alone about.
"I want you to first promise me that you'll grant the favor I ask at the end of our discussion." Jon stated, sitting down across from him on the bed now that he had finished changing. His grey eyes were focused and sharper than Eddard had remembered them being previously. "I can tell you nothing until I have your word."
"If you do not fully explain everything and give me compelling reasons why I should, I will not grant the favor you ask." He warned, unwilling to make a blind agreement even with Jon. "But if you can fulfill both those requirements, than I would honor your request to the fullest extent of my power."
"I suppose that's the best I can expect from you, isn't it Uncle?" He breathed ruefully, eyes closing as his head dropped a few degrees. His eyes opened again and his face returned to its original position as he sat upon the bed before Eddard could respond. "No matter. Ask what you will." He continued, clasping his hands in front of him as his forearms rested on his knees.
Ned thought carefully about what he wanted to ask first. He would have to start simply and work his way up to the questions that would require more explanation. He decided on his opening salvo of questions, thinking they were straightforward enough that Jon would have no chance to lie or obscure answers from him.
"Did you light the fire in the Sept?" He asked.
"Yes." Said Jon with an unflinching expression.
"Were you the one who took Arya from her room?" He continued.
"Yes." Jon said. Not a moment's hesitation in his answers. So far he seemed to be telling the truth.
"Why?" Ned asked, leaning forward to hear the boy's explanation.
Jon exhaled shakily as though considering how much to tell. As he began, Ned could guess he was expecting a negative reaction from him.
"Because the voice in the flame told me it would work." He started. He rushed to continue before Ned could say anything, whose mouth had automatically begun to open and demand Jon explain what he meant by the voice in the flames.
"I came into the Sept to try to clear my head three nights before the fire. There was a candle burning at the altar for the Mother. A voice spoke to me from the flame. But it was different from the rest, it was-"
"The rest?" Ned interrupted, his tone a definite request for clarification. Jon had tried to gloss over this in his explanation, but had only raised more of a question about it. What voices in the flames?
Jon looked down to his left at that. When at last he spoke again, he did so in a slight whisper, as though it pained him to admit this.
"I've been hearing the fires around Winterfell speak to me for two years now." He confessed.
Ned couldn't help staring at him. His mind raced as he contemplated what this meant. Jon had been hearing voices that only he could for over two years and confided in no one about it until Ned had pushed him on the circumstances of the Sept fire just now. Why had this not been brought to his attention before today?
Jon gave him a sad smile in exchange. Evidently he had asked the question aloud without realizing it.
"I'm already the Bastard of Winterfell. It's one thing to be born to the honorable Lord Eddard Stark out of an affair, but then to have addled wits as well?" Jon shook his head. "No. Who could I have trusted telling this?"
"You could have told me." Eddard gently admonished. Surely their relationship was not so bad that Jon felt he had to hide things like this from him. That he felt he couldn't come to him with his problems. Yes, he hadn't acknowledged the boy as a true-born Stark, but he had done as much as he could to make him feel a part of the household. He had raised him alongside his own children, he had allowed him to know the workings of the castle, to receive an education that many bastards could never hope for. Was that not enough to prove his care for the boy?
Jon let out a brief laugh. It was not a pleasant sound.
"And what would you have done if I had?" He asked, the curiosity clear in his voice as his face returned to face Ned's again.
Ned was silent for some time as he tried to honestly think what his response would have been if Jon had come to him claiming that voices were speaking to him from the fires. His gut clenched uncomfortably as his mind automatically leapt to Aerys Targaryan. Or as the people of Westeros knew now him: the Mad King. Could Ned honestly tell his bastard nephew that he would've believed him? That he wouldn't have looked at him any differently? Or been wary of Targaryan madness beginning to show itself in him at an early age? Even as it was, Ned was thinking more and more that the boy was a Blackfyre with an unusually strong connection to the element the Targaryans were famous for.
"I don't know." He admitted slowly, not willing to lie to the boy about it. It stung him a bit to realize that he couldn't honestly say he wouldn't look at him without suspicion or wariness. It wasn't fair certainly, but who could blame him after the strife the Mad King had put his family and by extension the realm through?
Jon apparently let the subject drop. If he hadn't been watching his expression so closely, Ned would've missed the brief flash of hurt that had crossed the boy's face.
"The voice told me of a ritual I could perform to save Arya's life. I was to place her upon an alter surrounded by weirwood from the Old Gods and wooden idols of the New Gods. I picked up the fallen wood from the Godswood grove and waited until the night of the full moon to get them to the Sept and move the idols of the Seven into position. I brought Arya to the Sept and placed her on the Alter. After that…"
He paused, seemingly lost in the memories of the night. After a few moments of silence, he continued without Eddard's prompting.
"I lit another candle to hear the voice's instructions. It told me to light the weirwood, to let the fire spread to the idols. It told me to get closer to her so that I could act. But when I did…" Jon paused here, a look of shame appearing on his face. "When I did that, I panicked. All I could feel was the fire. So the voice asked me to trust it. I did, and in return it used me to draw some kind of smoke out of Arya. When it did, she got better. But the smoke was drawn into me. When she recovered fully, I began to feel afflicted with her illness. I remember coughing, vomiting and a burning sensation inside my stomach. After that, I was unconscious and I dreamed."
Jon stopped speaking, looking at his own clasped hands as though they held the words he needed to speak but would not. The silence hung heavy in the air as Ned wondered if he should ask about the dreams or the presence. He decided to compromise.
"Tell me about what happened while you were asleep." He commanded, now needing to know if the voice that spoke to Jon was also responsible for his injuries while unconscious.
Jon's expression took an edge of caution and contemplation to it Ned wasn't sure he liked seeing on his normally straightforward if taciturn child. It was an expression that spoke to a decision that would lead to him attempting to fool Ned and downplay or outright lie about what happened. After all that he had been told, the Lord of Winterfell was not going to abide partial or falsified information now.
"The whole of it Jon." He warned, a stern rebuke toward his adopted son.
"I simply was thinking you're more likely to believe a demonstration than anything else I tell you." Jon answered, his eyes narrowing at Ned in an expression of teenage rebellion Ned was startled to recognize from Lyanna's face when their lord father Rickard Stark had declared she would not be learning swordsmanship alongside himself and Brandon. "Besides, the trials I endured were meant to be…personal. They are difficult to speak of even if they were effective teachers."
"Then show me what these trials taught you." Eddard quietly challenged, unsure how much of the trials had truly been personal and how much was simply Jon not wanting to reveal everything that had been shown to him via mystical means.
Jon stood up abruptly and walked toward a lit torch near the door. He held out his right hand over the flame, palm facing down as his left hand moved to absently rest at his side. Even as Ned began to wonder what Jon was trying to do, the boy clenched his hand into a cupped claw hand over the flames, the fire seeming to rush to fill the small circle his palm and fingers created. He stepped away from the torch, the light still burning inside his palm.
Just as Ned wondered what was happening to Jon, he flattened his right hand so that the fire was on the flat surface of his open palm. Without warning, the fire hurriedly engulfed his right hand, stopping at his wrist. Ned jerked back in his chair, startled by the spontaneous combustion of his nephew's hand. He watched in morbid fascination as Jon slowly and methodically flexed each finger inside the fire before tracing his hand through the air, making various motions via finger and wrist rotation to prove that his hand wasn't being harmed by the fire that continued to flicker and dance merrily as though it were simply in another hearth burning away more fresh wood.
Eddard couldn't find the words for this. What was he even seeing?
The fire abruptly disappeared from Jon's hand. He looked to Ned's belt where he kept the dagger and gestured toward it. Ned handed it over in a trance, morbidly fascinated to see his nephew would do now. Without a word, Jon brought the dagger to his left palm and slid the blade across it with no hesitation and only a grimace to show for the pain. Eddard moved to his feet faster than he had thought possible. To do what, he wasn't entirely sure but Jon dropped the dagger and ignited his right hand again before he brought it over the cut in the span of less time than it had taken Ned to inhale sharply and stand. Before the Lord of Winterfell's disbelieving eyes, the cut rapidly stopped bleeding and knit itself back together leaving a faint scar for only a few moments before even that faded: leaving the skin whole and unmarred as though nothing had happened. The Jon kept the fire lit for a while longer around his hand before he clenched his fist and placed his palm to the stone floor, producing an audible sizzling noise that gradually died out as his hand cooled off by burning a faint impression into the stone in front of him.
He stood up, eyes still locked on Ned's as though daring the man he had believed his father for so long to look away now.
The two men to meet each other's eyes, both projecting an aura of forced calm. The one awaiting judgment, the other attempting to process the fact that he had witnessed several things he had never imagined he would see in his lifetime. It was Eddard who broke the silence first.
"That definitely lends a certain…credence to your claim Jon." He said carefully. He thought on how to get the answer he wanted before he decided the blunt approach would serve him best. "Was your father the voice that spoke to you?"
Jon nodded his head, eyes unblinking as he watched for Eddard's reaction.
'Jon's not fully human.' Was the first instinctive thought that occurred to Ned, followed shortly by: 'What would happen if the rest of Westeros found out?'
The various scenarios involving the many houses of Westerosi nobility that all attempted to crowd each other out in his mind were universally chilling. And that was without factoring in what the High Septon, the Maester Order, the Night's Watch and other assorted groups might make of the poor boy. Before he could continue that line of thought, Jon spoke.
"As I am, I don't stand a chance." He stated. There was no self-depreciation or pity in his tone. A simple statement of fact. "I need to train, develop myself. And I need to do it away from prying eyes; mother and father were clear on that point."
Ned was forced to concede the point. Even disregarding Jon's claim of having met both Lyanna and his mystical father face to face, there was definite truth to that. As soon as Jon flared in a way that couldn't be hidden or in view of anyone that wasn't his immediate Stark family, there was a good chance word of it would reach King's Landing and all the wrong ears that listened there. And then the vultures would begin to circle.
"I need to leave Winterfell." Jon continued, the look in his eyes showing how much the idea pained him even as the rest of his face was kept as close to blank as he could make it.
"I cannot allow you to do that." Eddard immediately objected, not believing for a moment Jon would be any safer outside of Winterfell than he would be inside. Here he was among the rest of the Stark pack. It was never the pack that suffered so much as the lone wolf. If the pack was hurt, they could hurt those who tried in turn. But the lone wolf had no such help. They were always alone when they dealt with huntsmen and predators alike.
"Can you guarantee that word of what I can do will not leave Winterfell?" Jon riposted.
"Here you are safe, you are among family. You are protected staying here." Eddard reasoned.
"Here I am known, I am watched. I am exposed, along with everyone who stands with me." Jon responded. His head drooped, his dark hair covering Eddard's view of his eyes. "Believe me Uncle, if you know of a way I can stay here and not be discovered I am more than eager to hear it. But until then" His head came up again, eyes sad but overall expression one of resolve. "I need to leave Winterfell and figure out what I can do."
"Where would you go? Do you think you would not be seen no matter where you tried to go in Westeros?" Eddard asked him, unwilling to let his nephew leave without a fight. He had promised Lyanna he would look after the boy and by the Old Gods, this did not absolve him of his responsibility toward his charge.
"Perhaps…" Jon appeared hesitant to keep speaking. He visibly shook himself before he continued his thought's original path. "Perhaps I should go across the Narrow Sea. Discover more of what people believe of my father."
"People know of your father across the Narrow Sea?" Eddard asked. He had been willing to accept that Jon's father was perhaps not entirely human. But a full-fledged demon or spirit?
"They know him across the sea by various names. The Red God. The One Who Dwells in Flame. The Lord of Light. Or more commonly as R'hllor." Jon ignited his right hand again, absently rotating it while his eyes watched the flames flicker. "They might hold answers."
Ned was astonished he didn't make the connection before. The Red God. The same Red God that mad priest Thoros of Myr worshiped, the one he claimed allowed his sword to be lit on fire when he entered battle. Ned mentally admonished himself. He should've thought of that before his nephew had spelled it out. But then again, he and numerous others had grown so used to thinking of Thoros as a sort of walking joke ('the only man to outdrink and outwhore Robert Baratheon and live to tell the tale' was a common insult or compliment depending on who used the phrase) that it was easy to forget that he had been a man of an actual faith behind the strange tricks he used on the field of battle.
There was silence between the two Starks again as Jon clenched his fist to put the fire out. Ned tried to think of what he could say to keep his nephew here where he could look after him. Finally, when he could deny no longer that he couldn't think of any feasible alternatives for Jon to learn of his heritage and his potential, he bowed his head briefly.
"I do not like any part of this idea Jon." He said. "I dislike your leaving the walls of Winterfell to go to a strange land to find potential answers to questions you don't know how to ask. On top of that, it will pose a serious problem to find anyone in Winterfell with even a passing familiarity with the lands across the Narrow Sea."
"I must do this alone." Jon said, eyes not leaving Ned's for a moment.
"Absolutely not!" Ned thundered, verbally drawing the line in the sand. "If you go alone, I have no way of knowing what will or will not happen on this half-mad quest of yours."
"And you have no man who is familiar enough with the lands across the sea that could be more than a hindrance to me." Jon countered. His expression and his voice was steady, his conviction showing with every word he spoke. "If I go alone, I am a glory seeking young bastard who thinks to make a name for himself in another land. Perhaps as a sell-sword, perhaps as a simple traveler, perhaps as something else altogether. If you send even one man with me, it will be suspicious. Seem as though you're attempting to build alliances across the world for an unknown purpose." Jon's expression was grave as he continued. "Mother and father have told me that the last of the Targaryans lie across the sea. If you send men with me, the Southern Lords will take it as a sign that you are attempting to covertly court the last remaining Targaryans."
In that moment, Ned hated that Jon had these visions whether they were real or not. They had given him ideas and advice on political maneuvering and intrigues that he would've expected to hear from the Lords Lannister or Tyrell not his sister's son. It was not something he had ever wanted any of his children exposed to, let alone one who had already been forced to deal with the uglier aspects of human nature simply because of the story Eddard had been needed to give about the circumstances of his birth.
But once again, Jon's reasoning was solid even if he didn't agree with it. Still, Ned needed to be sure Jon understood the problems he had with this. Not as a Lord of Winterfell or Warden of the North, but as the boy's guardian of the past fourteen years.
"If you go alone, there is no way to be sure of where you are. No way of calling you home. No way of allowing us to even know if you are alive or dead." Ned stated, leaning on the chair back and crossing his arms in disapproval.
Jon's face showed a ghost of a smile. "Isn't that the point?" He asked rhetorically. "Please Uncle." He implored, fire igniting in his right hand again. "I need to do this. No matter how much I want to stay and be with my brothers and sisters, I have to go. It's the only way to keep them safe. Until I gain some measure of control over what I can do, I will only be a liability to Winterfell and the Starks."
"You are a Stark as well." Eddard reminded him. Jon's eyes began to water.
"I know. I've met my mother, remember?" He said shakily, running his left hand through his hair as the fire went out in his right hand again.
Ned allowed his nephew to recompose himself before he asked his next question.
"When do you intend to leave?" He asked: a suspicion strong in his mind that Jon already had a solid idea as to when and how.
"I intend to be gone within two days and catch the next ship I can out of White Harbor. And from there…" He paused. "I shall have to go where the fires lead me."
"Are you certain there is nothing I can say to convince you to stay Jon?" Ned asked, his voice quiet now. If he forbade him, Jon would be as like to sneak out of Winterfell to go anyway. And then what? He dragged him back for imprisonment? Sent him to the Wall? Placed him under guard? No. He wouldn't do that. The boy may not have been his son by blood, but he had been raised as such. If this was truly Jon's decision, than it would be his to make. For good and for ill.
Jon shook his head. "Believe me Uncle; I hate the idea of having to leave. But my head tells me that if I'm to have any chance at all that I need to do this. No matter how much it hurts now."
Ned stood, seeing there was nothing more he could do today to talk his nephew out of his determined course of action.
"What will you tell the others?" He asked as he placed his hand on Jon's shoulder in a small gesture of support. He didn't agree with the boy's idea and plan of action, but that didn't mean he couldn't show the boy he still loved him even in the face of their disagreement. He was not as cold as the southern lords liked to believe him. He loved as fiercely and as well as any other man. But he also knew his love would have to be tempered by his position no matter how much he hated for it to interfere with his family. This was one of those decisions he had hoped to never be forced to make regarding his children.
Jon's left hand automatically covered Ned's. His response was measured but strained, as though he didn't wish to think too much about it.
"That I need to find answers I won't be able to find in Winterfell."
As Ned strode away toward the door, he made a request of Jon. "If you're going to tell them, do it soon. The longer you put it off, the more it will hurt when they learn what you intend."
"I know." He heard Jon's whispered affirmative as he began opening the door.
He didn't see Jon's right hand briefly clench at his chest in a gesture of pain as he opened the door to admit Cat and Mikhal.
'I hope you know what you're doing Jon.' He thought as he cast one last lingering glance into the room. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that something would happen if he allowed Jon to go. But as of now he couldn't see a way to force him to stay and also keep him safe. All he could do for now was seek the guidance of the Old Gods and hope they would be merciful enough to allow him to find a way of helping his nephew. But with winter truly coming, who knew if even that would be enough anymore?
Author's Note: Another chapter out of the way. My thanks to returning reviewers Caellah, BicolourRaptor, Charybde and Quindecim for their continued patronage, as well as to new reviewers Pop, Tangoo43 and IWantColoredRain for being nice enough to leave a first review! You guys all sincerely rock. Be sure to let me know what you think of the story thus far. Best way to gauge how consistent my writing's quality is after all. :)