Jon

Holding himself up at the bedpost, Jon steadily started to balance himself standing. He had the strength in his legs, but the pain of his wound was a constant anchor that wanted to pull him down with every move it took just to get this far.

He took two steps forward, feeling his muscles twist in the second step and almost submitting him to fall. But he would not. He held into the bedframe and forced himself to stand through the seething of his teeth. Once the pain subsided, he tried again, only this time using the frame to support himself more than just trying to walk freely. It was significantly more tolerable, thus determining that for now he needed a walking stick or a cane.

Once he reached the other side of the bed, Jon sat down and took a few breaths. A cane at his age. He'd be better off with a staff and look like a wizard, that would make Sam jealous. The thought of it made Jon crack a wasn't a cripple, just temporarily impaired.

He lifted up his shirt and looked at the bandaged wound. It would be a long time until he would recover from this.

A knock came from his door and in came Tyrion Lannister without permission.

"If it's about the feast-"

"It's not," Tyrion quickly clarified, "though I do agree that you should be there regardless. There's no one held as more stubborn than those who can partake of the bounty in front of them but refuse to."

Jon shook his head. "You're still full of metaphors and wine I take?"

Tyrion raised a brow at him. "Seems like you've sharpened your tongue as well." He wandered over to the silver pitcher on the desk and poured himself a cup. He took a drink but grimaced at the flavor. "Cold ale… not terrible but it's not good either." Despite that, the dwarf finished the cup and came to Jon's side. "I've heard that your adjustments have been quite hard."

"Not at all," Jon said sarcastically, "it's actually quite easy waking up with a year of your life missing and just settling in as someone everyone wants you to be that you have no idea how to be. Haven't you ever done it before?"

"I have," Tyrion said, "though not as strong as you're going through. There was a day when my father called me into his office weeks before Joffrey's wedding and told me I was to marry Sansa. I refused, but of course as all objections went with the great Tywin Lannister, I was ignored. The day came, we wed, and I had once again been married, only this time to a girl I hardly knew or wanted as my wife. Nevertheless, I did what I could for her."

Jon looks at him steely. "Except Sansa's not your sister, is she?"

"Cousin, Jon." Tyrion corrected, but a fat lot of difference it made.

"We grew up as brother and sister, that's all I can see her as." His chest tightened at the words when the image came to mind and the feelings too, feelings he shouldn't feel. "And not just her, but an aunt I've never met and to them I'm just a stranger as they are to me now. Not to mention that everyone looks to me to still be a King they think I am." The last words were almost shouted, making his side throb. "I have no idea what to do."

Tyrion sighed. "It's not a fair thing to ask of you. In fact no one has, no one should. After all you gave to us, you deserve whatever we have to offer. But the sad truth is that we don't mean it, not truly. You have become the very strength that brought the realms together and held them against our greatest enemy. If anything we fought for is going to change for the better, then we need you to be the man we know."

"Right, so I'll just perform a little speech and dance. Raise a cup for feats and glory I don't know. What worth is the truth when lies are so easier to accept?"

"That's what I advised to my utmost last breath in the argument with those in the circle. But then I remembered that it was a wise man who once told me that we fear the truth because we hardly get it." Tyrion looked at him plainly. "And that same wise man once reminded us all that we have grown so used to lies that we fear what would become of us without them." Tyrion took three steps closer to him, setting a hand on the wooden bedpost. "It's about damn time we begin being honest with everyone. And there's no better time and place than tonight. Show them that you aren't that man, but you can be someone just as strong. I know full well you can."

Jon went silent. Is this what Robb felt the night he was declared King? A sudden rush of fear against the amount of devotion and need for a leader like this? "I'm just a bastard."

Tyrion walked over to him. "My father once said that any man who must say "I am the King" is no true king. In your case, any man who has to say "I am a bastard," is no true bastard. But you are right, you're not the King we had, that man is gone, and remaking him is impossible. Everything we saw of you was another man you don't have to become. You do not have to bear the pain that man felt, or the guilt, or the misery. You have given the gift to live a life you swore off when you took the black. Maybe if you tried to see what that life has for you, you won't be so keen to keep away from it." With that, Tyrion took his leave to let Jon mull things over alone.

It was too overwhelming, and Tyrion's words had their weight in him, but it wasn't enough. How could he face all of those people? Ranging the cold of the north and fighting Wildings was a comfort compared to this.

Jon reached over and grabbed Longclaw from the bedside. He stood up and used his sword as a cane, hobbling over to the desk to grab some ale for himself as well. But once he got there, something stopped him from taking the pitcher in hand.

It was then that he noticed something in a peculiar place, a single letter on the desk and it was addressed to him as Jon Snow, not Aegon Targaryen.

Who could this be from?

He opened the letter and found three pages within.

Hello Jon

It's hard to find a place to begin. I wrote this for you, or rather for us, for I am the one who walked in your place this past year. My story is one you will not have to live, it is the reason I seized the chance to make everything right, and I am sorry for how lost you are now. So much happened and now you're more confused than I can imagine. I woke from death after the mutiny, just as you did, but in Castle Black, and I felt wrong to be alive. More than that, I felt lost. How could I continue to be the Lord Commander of the men who murdered me? I wanted to run as far as I could and forget. If the Night's Watch did not want me, if Winterfell did not want me, then I would be far away from them.

And now, you share my place, but far different. So instead, I will leave you with that which our father could not fulfill.

I'm going to tell you about our mother Lyanna.

Jon's eyes widened as he continued to read earnestly. The last pages were everything he had ever hoped to learn for so many years of his life. His mother was Lyanna Stark.

The pages regaled who she was apart from what he already knew about his 'aunt'. They told of her triumph as the Laughing Tree Knight in Harrenhal, who she was to her family, her friends, and who she was to Rhaegar, why she ran off, why she loved him.

Through all of it, to her last day, I know in my heart we were more than just a child of prophecy. She truly loved us to her dying breath, with all of her heart.

The pages trembled in Jon's hands and two tears trickled from his eyes onto the paper.

I suppose that was my reward for all of it, getting to know that much before I fade away. But you will have a chance too, that much I know. When that day comes, I promise that you'll know what's right for yourself.

Farewell, and good luck."

-Aegon Targaryen, formerly Jon Snow

"Thank you," he whispered.

Jon folded the paper back into the envelope and set it on his nightstand before wiping his tears. He got up from his seat and crudely walked from his room, still using Longclaw as his cane.

The entirety of the great hall fell silent except the crackles of burning embers in the hearth and Jon's deep breaths with each step he took. It bloody well hurt if he moved the wrong way, so he had to walk like a cripple.

Despite all of the eyes looking at him, he kept his on his destination, the vacant seat left for him at the High Table between Sansa and Daenerys. He was able to pull the seat, the wood scraped against the stone, and take his place. Finally, he looked out to all before him. "It's good to be home," he said before taking the drinking horn in front of him and raising it to all who fought for their people, their homes, and for each other.

"Here's to the Dragonshield!" A young girl stood with her horn up.

A man dressed in Blackwood garb stood up as well. "To the White Wolf of the North!"

"The Snowstorm!"

"The Bloodless Conqueror!"

Jon worked up a grin, false as it was, and took a drink of the ale. To his surprise it was damn good ale, better than any he had ever had before. He looked into the cup and saw a red coloring. It was a Northern brew, that was certain by the taste, but he couldn't recall any that were red.

After setting his horn side, Jon tapped Sansa on her arm as he could not lean over to her. "Who was that little girl?"

"Lyanna Mormont," Sansa replied, "of all the nobles in the North, she's been one of House Stark's strongest supporters."

Nodding, Jon looked at the young girl. He remembered the message King Stannis received from her. There was certainly something about her that was just like the Lord Commander.

Eyes trailing across the room, he looked out to as many faces as he could, watching people converse and be happy and celebrate. He recognized too few than he felt he should. He saw some men of the Watch, some of the Free Folk, and several Northern Lords he recognized, but that was it. Everyone here had such loyalty to him and yet he didn't know more than a dozen names in this hall. It felt wrong to have all of this. He didn't earn it, someone else did.

He reached over and tapped the hands of Daenerys and Sansa, gaining their attention. "We'll talk after this."

Neither of them responded with words. They didn't need to. But he noticed the struggle in each of them to hold back some affection. It made his neck tense with discomfort at himself, making feel like the root of everyone's problems. He took in a breath and delved into the meal before him.

Every now and then, Jon would look up from his plate and try to find the faces of the ones he knew. He was grateful he could find most of them. Sam was with Gilly… and she was clearly pregnant. Tormund was missing his bushy red beard, only a stubble was there now. Arya and Davos were talking together with a young man missing an arm and the lady knight dressed in the Kingsguard armor. Bran was over in the corner with quite a pretty woman making eyes at each other and smiling. And Rickon was making large gestures with his arms, regaling some story to a few of the people his age and even some of the older men.

The people he loved most in this world were safe. That was a gift uncommonly rare to anyone these days. But with the Night King gone and the realms at peace, maybe it could become something more and more people get to have just as well.

It was enough that Jon could smile and be happy.

"Lord Stark," Daenerys spoke in a louder voice than began a hush throughout the hall. Rickon looked over to her. "Long ago, King Torrhen Stark swore fealty to Aegon Targaryen with peace that they would ally together against the threat of the Night King. After three hundred years, the alliance made has finally finished its purpose. I hold the oaths of Torrhen Stark fulfilled and release your service to House Targaryen. The North shall have its independence and House Stark its crown once again."

No one was able to say a damn word after that declaration. It was so unexpected and almost unbelievable. Many eyes turned to Rickon only to find him in deep thought.

"With respect," Rickon began, "and seeing that this wasn't an offer, I would refuse this fulfillment." A collective murmur went across the hall but died down when Rickon continued in a louder tone, clearly making sure all could hear his words. "We have suffered greatly, too great in the past decade. Now's hardly the proper time to think of independence. We're not ready to be on our own once again. Not yet. I ask that the bonds of House Stark and House Targaryen be renewed."

Daenerys looked to Sansa and Jon, but the two of them kept silent. "Until the North is ready for its crown again, we gratefully accept your services once again and offer what we can to rebuild what was lost."

"Here here!" A man cheered, causing a chorus of cheers and bangs from fists and tankards against tables to fill the room.

Jon couldn't believe how impressed he was. His baby brother was carrying the spirit of House Stark itself with such respect from all. It was a moment without question that signified his right to be the Lord of Winterfell.

The feast continued on, and despite his plate being filled, Jon didn't find himself all too hungry, only taking a few bites of his roast venison. His mind was not on food, but the people he saw. Tyrion Lannister had been sitting pleasantly with a young woman as golden haired as he was, perhaps a niece or cousin of his, until a young man of lengthy black hair approached her and Tyrion's demeanor became a scowl. The members of the Kingsguard were all grouped together, talking pleasantly but carrying a sadness in their eyes for their brethren who fell. Jon still couldn't believe that Jaime Lannister was a part of it or why he would have granted him such an honor.

So many faces, so many people who knew him so greatly and yet he knew hardly a thing of them. His memories of the dreams he had were of no help to him here, there was not enough. How was he supposed to lead these people when he wasn't the man they decided to follow?

Amidst the feast, a bard had suddenly leapt atop a table and began plucking at the strings of his lute in an epic melody before he began to sing in a rich voice.

"Sharpen your swords, for battle draws near!"

"Dawn your shield under your lord's sigil!"

"Monsters of death and foul ice armed with fear"

"March within winter to come and kill!"

"But upon the dawn, comes a new light yet!"

"Secrets great unveiled, a king we shall not forget!"

"From North did he come, a watcher of Night!"

"Raised upon ice and the blood of oath's kin!"

"A wolf among crows fought to bring the day's light!"

"At cost of great grudges and love he did finally win!"

"Beware the White Wolf, his claws are sharp!"

"Though blood stains his fur he will not concede!"

"Betrayed by brothers with blades in his heart!"

"The veil of shadows burns for him to be freed!"

"But was it the White Wolf who awoke from death?"

"Nay, but a dragon's temper and his burning breath!"

"From North did he come, a watcher of Night!"

"Raised upon ice and the blood of oath's kin!"

"A dragon's fire from within him shall ignite!"

"Farewell my brothers, my destiny will now begin!"

"Flayed were the monsters that plagued his lands!"

"Twin towers of traitors condemned by the gods!"

"Weak were the lions who brought forth these ends!"

"Faith in the dragon destroyed the impeccable odds!"

"Upon wrought iron he sat"

"A legacy restored would he begat!"

""From North did he come, a watcher of Night!"

"Raised upon ice and the blood of oath's kin!"

"Bathing his crown was the dawn's new light!"

"The shield that he forged shall never give in!"

"Dark are the clouds that swell in the north!"

"Night gathers and now my watch begins!"

"Joined by two heads, the dragon flew forth!"

"Armies united charged behind their wings!"

"A song of ice and fire!"

"Hope for tomorrow is our great desire!"

"From North did he come, a watcher of Night!"

"Raised upon ice and the blood of oath's kin!"

"The Night King brings his challenge in sight!"

"The Promised looked upon him with a grin!"

"From the east came the light of dawn's break!"

"The future before us is ours to make!"


Sansa

There had not been as beautiful a celebration in Winterfell to Sansa since the days when she was a little girl. Only now, Arya refrained from flinging pudding at her face. The part that made her feel hurt was watching Jon behave as though he was simply bearing through it instead of enjoying himself. She could read the emotion in his eyes. He saw it all as something he didn't deserve.

To the very least, it was a comfort that he was able to genuinely smile and laugh with the Free Folk. His surprise and laughter rediscovering that Tormund giantsbane's beard was stripped from him was a perfect way to break the ice. Throughout the feast when Jon was with her and Daenerys, the two of them helped point out the many people Jon ought to become familiar with in the future. Gendry Baratheon and family, the surviving Kingsguard, Prince Manfrey and Sarella Martell, and dozens of others. All throughout, he handled things well, but something about that worried Sansa.

But now, the feast was over, night grew dark, and many sought to sleep. Sansa and Daenerys had taken to separate chambers since Jon's awakening, and both of them felt the same helplessness that being apart from their husband did to them. So when Jon asked them both to join him in his room, it came as a surprise to each of them. However the way he said it, it was clear it was not to join together again, but time to address things as they are.

Jon found a seat at the edge of his bed. Sansa sat next to him while Daenerys took the chair that Qyburn usually sat next to the bed when examining Jon's condition.

"I don't know where to begin, really." Jon said, hands resting on Longclaw's pommel in front of him. "I don't know how to go about this. I… I just can't make sense of it." His voice began to grow angry with frustration directed at himself. "I need time."

"I'd be more worried if you said you didn't need it," Daenerys said.

A tiny gasp came from Sansa when she saw a ghost of a smile play on Jon's lips, a genuine expression for the first time since he woke up. But just like a ghost, it was gone the moment it was noticed.

"When Uncle Benjen came to Winterfell for the feast with King Robert, I told him to take me with him to the Wall when he left. He was reluctant because he said I didn't know what I would be giving up if I did. I told him that I didn't care about it… but I did. The shame I carried for being a bastard buried how much it mattered to me. And then I got to see a glimpse of that when I loved a woman for the first time…" His fists clenched hard. "My dreams I had waiting to wake up, they constantly gnaw at my mind. And my heart remembers what I have forgotten. It hurts. Accepting things as they are is a hard thing to ask, I won't make light of it. But part of me believes that maybe I can."

"Jon," Sansa came closer, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands in hers. "I know that you still see me as your sister. I won't try to convince you otherwise. But I vowed to be at your side to never let you suffer alone. I won't break that promise ever in my life. Whatever you need, I am here." She smiled hopefully at him.

"We both are." Daenerys added, although she kept her distance. Sansa felt somewhat bad that she remained distant. But then it was Jon who extended his hand out to her. Daenerys took it and came next to him as well.

"What I know for certain at the least of all things is that in this moment with the two of you, I'm not afraid."


Arya

With one last check of the saddle, Arya was assured that it was secure to her horse. The supplies had been prepared beforehand, along with everything else she and Gendry were taking with them on their journey to Torrhen's Square. "That about does it," she said to Gendry. "Are we forgetting anything?"

"I don't know, otherwise we wouldn't have forgotten." He replied cheekily, his left arm shrugging as his right rested in the sling.

"Ugh," Sandor scoffed at the both of them, "leave first before you act like a pair of nancies," he said all the while double checking the horses like a doting father.

Arya rolled her eyes and walked over to Gendry. "You still have the declaration?"

Gendry patted the satchel at his side, but then his eyes went from her to elsewhere.

"Leaving without saying goodbye?"

Arya turned around and saw Jon standing in the dark, only illuminated by the soft pale glowing lights in the sky. "I don't like too many goodbyes. Makes me feel like it's the last time I'm ever going to see someone."

"Where are you off to then?"

"Torrhen's Square, and then whatever secrets are past the Sunset Sea. How'd you know I was leaving?"

"Call it a brother's hunch." Jon slowly closed the gap between them and hugged her softly. "Hang on," Jon said with narrowed eyes at her hips, "that's not Needle."

"Oh," Arya grabbed the hilt and pulled her sword in front of her for a better view. "So about that. Needle might have gotten broken in half when I tried fighting the Mountain by myself. But this one's made of Valyrian Steel. I'd like to see anyone try to break it." She smiled, but nervously.

"I understand how it is," Jon said with a shrug and fold of his arms, "my gift wasn't to your liking so why take care of it enough when you can have better steel."

Arya opened her mouth to speak but Jon kept going.

"No, no. There's nothing you need to say. I know where I stand in the line of people you don't give a damn for now." His tone made it clear he was joking and Arya burst into laughter.

"You arse," she swatted Jon in the shoulder, making him chuckle with a big grin. When the fun died down, She came forward and hugged him softly. "You've always been my brother, Jon." the hold around her squeezed ever so slightly. "It doesn't matter where either of us go or what we end up doing with our lives, that will never change."

He smiled, seeming relieved at knowing that fact, but then the smile faded. "You at least have some choices on the matter." Jon looked up, where one of the dragons circled aimlessly through the clear skies. "I'll be in the Red Keep."

Arya would've disliked living in the palace too, but as her eyes flickered to Gendry for a split-second, the living with a handsome man and the pitter patter of their giant Baratheon babes didn't scare her as it would've even six moons before.

Jon sighed. "Not that simple."

"Way I see it, it rather is." She stared him in the eyes. "You're not going to abandon your kids, are you?"

"Course not," he replied incredulously. "It's just… the man they fell in love with is gone, and how could I ever fit into his shoes? What if I can't love them the same way?"

Arya merely walked the few steps between them and hugged her brother. "Both of you were Jon Snow. Aegon Targaryen. The other one, he was once exactly in your position, and he fell in love with both Daenerys and Sansa." Advice she had moons ago seemed to reflect back to her brother. "Don't be scared to accept what you want, Jon, even if you never thought you deserved it."

He stared at her with new eyes. "When did my little sister get so wise?"

Arya smiled back. "We stopped being summer children a long time ago, brother… but the dawn is here and we're hopeful again." They shared another hug before Jon moved to talk to Gendry, likely for more formal matters - leave it to him, even without his memories he slipped into the role of a dutiful man well.

"Tryin' to fix him?"

Blinking, Arya looked up to the Hound's scarred face. "It'll be a while before he heals completely, but I think he's in a good place."

"Hm," Sandor grumbled, "good men hardly get what they deserve. I hope he does."

Arya gaped at the Hound. "Dear me, does Sandor fuckin' Clegane have a heart after all."

He snorted. "Fuck off." She laughed. "Just a sense of loyalty I suppose. Not many people have done as much for me as he has. It'd be a shit move for the gods to just ignore what he's done."

"I thought you didn't believe in gods."

"Just fought an army of ice monsters alongside literal dragons. I believe, but they can still be cunts." Arya couldn't argue with that.

"So," she finally said. "Where're you going now? Will Clegane Hall see its new leader riding home from the North?"

The Hound snorted. "I've left my orders with your sister to have that place burned to the fuckin' ground. That place is nothing but a monument to my brother now."

She nodded. "Then what next?"

The Hound was quiet for a while. "I liked the peace I found before I joined Beric. Think I'll look for that again somewhere. I'm done fighting like a dog."

"You could come with us if you want." Arya said, almost hopeful he'd say yes but knew it was a vain idea.

Sandor ruffled her hair, as if she were still the girl in his reluctant charge. "Take care of yourself, and don't fuckin' die like a cunt."

"Don't plan on it," she replied, eying her man and brother, whose conversation seemed to be winding down.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Gendry reached into his satchel and produced a sealed letter, handing it to Jon, "this for you, but circumstances as they are, I figure it's best that maybe Queen Daenerys or Queen Sansa takes care of it. Not that I don't think you can," he spoke frantically to clarify, "just that I figure you might not want to because of your-"

"Shut it," Arya said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she approached them.

Jon's face twisted into confusion as she broke the wax seal and read the letter. His eyes widened quickly after he began reading and looked at him dead in the eye. "Are you sure about this?"

Gendry nodded. "I'm not fit to be a Lord of a castle, let alone the entire Stormlands. My brother Edric will be better than me."

Jon folded the letter up. "It wasn't his idea, was it? If he pressured you into it-"

"No," Gendry laughed, "in fact he has no idea about it yet. I figure it's better to get his forgiveness than his permission. Besides, I could tell he had the desire and the fortitude. He's a good leader and a good brother."

Jon paused but then nodded. "You're a good man, Gendry. Thank you for watching over my sister." He shook hands with Gendry, both looking like a pair of brothers. It was so poetic even, the sons of two great enemies parting ways as friends.

Arya and Gendry mounted their horses and set off from Winterfell. As soon as they passed under the gate, Arya looked back and saw Jon and Sandor watching her go. She waved back one last time, happy for all the good days and bad ones she was given with the both of them.