Chapter 1

"For the Watch."

Those words echoed in Jon's head as he collapsed onto the snow. There was no pain, not anymore. He didn't care about the betrayal. All that was left was silence. Memories of the life he had lived flashed before his eyes. The faces of those he had cared about. Those he had loved. Friends. Family.

To Jon, that brief moment felt like forever. Finally, he saw the face of a woman holding him in her arms. His mother.

"Please, Ned," she pleaded. "You must protect him. Robert will kill him if he finds out Rhaegar is his father…"

"Lyanna…"

"Swear to me, Ned. Swear you'll keep him safe."

"I swear it. I'll keep him safe…"

In that final moment, Jon saw the truth. The truth about his mother, about his father, about who he really was. It was a strange realization. As Jon took his last breath, he sent a final prayer to the gods. He prayed they would allow him to be reunited with those he had lost.

After that, darkness took him.

Then, his eyes suddenly flew open.

He was lying on a massive canopy bed beneath silk covers. He sat up abruptly, his chest heaving as he scanned the room in shock. Where was he?

"My Prince?" a female voice purred, followed by the soft touch of a hand on his arm.

Jon froze before managing to turn towards the voice. A blonde woman, lying naked beside him, smiled seductively.

"That was truly incredible," she said. "You were amazing, My Prince."

Before Jon could even begin to comprehend what was happening, he felt another hand on his other arm.

"You truly were," purred another female voice.

Jon turned his head, only to see a naked redhead lying on his other side. He stared at the two women flanking him, his heart pounding in his chest. The silk sheets felt foreign against his skin, and the air was thick with perfume and smoke from burning incense.

The last thing he remembered was the cold bite of the snow, the steel sinking into his flesh, and the faces of his sworn brothers twisted in guilt and resolve.

Yet here he was, in a lavish chamber fit for royalty, with two women clinging to him like he was some conqueror king from the stories Old Nan used to tell.

"Where am I?" Jon croaked, his voice hoarse.

The blonde woman giggled, her fingers tracing his bare chest. "You're in King's Landing, My Prince. In your chambers. Did our little… celebration tire you so much?"

King's Landing? Jon's stomach twisted into knots. This had to be a dream, a cruel trick played by the gods. Or perhaps he was in some version of the afterlife.

The redhead leaned closer, her hair brushing against his shoulder. "Shall we summon the servants for wine, My Prince? Or perhaps you'd like another round before breakfast?"

Jon threw off the silk covers, scrambling out of the massive bed. His feet hit the cold marble floor, and he realized he was just as naked as the women he was abandoning. He grabbed a nearby robe, deep crimson embroidered with black dragons, and hastily pulled it over his shoulders.

The two women exchanged confused glances, their flirtatious smiles fading.

"My Prince? Did we displease you?"

Jon ignored them as he scanned the room. Ornate furniture carved from dark wood, golden dragon statues perched on the mantle, and a massive window overlooking a sprawling city bathed in morning light.

His chest tightened.

"This isn't right," Jon muttered to himself. "This can't be right."

There was a knock at the chamber door, and Jon flinched. A deep voice called from the other side.

"Your Grace? Your mother, the Queen, is here to see you."

"You better be decent, Aegon," a female voice added before the door swung open.

Jon's head spun, and he gripped the back of a chair to steady himself.

His mother. Lyanna Stark. She was alive.

The memories of her face, her dying plea to Ned Stark, and the truth of Jon's parentage crashed over him like a tidal wave. This wasn't just a dream, it was something else entirely. Some cruel twist of fate. Some impossible second chance.

The woman who entered the room was a striking brunette and unmistakably a Stark. Her brows furrowed as her sharp gaze fell on the two women who quickly covered themselves and curtsied.

"Your Grace," they murmured in unison.

"Leave us," Lyanna said, her voice carrying clear authority.

The two women obeyed immediately, gathering their clothes and hurrying from the room without another word.

Lyanna then turned her attention to Jon, who stood frozen, unable to do anything except stare at her.

"Truly, Aegon," she sighed, her tone a mix of disappointment and weariness. "Could you at least try to be discreet? Must you humiliate your betrothed so?"

Jon's breath caught in his throat. His betrothed? His mind raced with questions, but the sight of Lyanna Stark, alive and standing before him, rendered him speechless.

"Mother," he whispered, the word foreign on his tongue.

Her expression softened as she stepped closer, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Are you unwell, my son? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Jon swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "Perhaps I have."

Lyanna observed him, concern evident in her eyes.

"Are you ill? Shall I call a Maester for you?"

"No, no," Jon murmured. "I…"

Before Jon realized what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around Lyanna and hugged her tightly. His mother. She was here. Alive.

She was clearly surprised at first, but she soon hugged him back, her arms wrapping around him gently.

"It's alright, Aegon," she assured him softly. "I understand how you feel about your engagement. I've tried to tell your father that you're not ready for marriage yet, but you know how he sees this."

She paused and pulled away just enough to kiss Jon's cheek.

"I know you're a man already, but you will always be my son. Your happiness means everything to me."

Jon's throat tightened, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. For a brief moment, he let himself sink into the warmth of her embrace, allowing himself to feel something he had been denied his entire life: a mother's love.

But reality loomed heavy in the back of his mind. He needed answers, and he needed them soon.