Chapter Text
The snow was falling softly in the Godswood, making it seem as if the world was peaceful even though it was far from it still. There was still a chill in the air, a remembrance of Winter. The Starks of Winterfell stood in heated exchange, digesting a revelation of separation when they should be enjoying relief and togetherness. Had they really felt the joy of their reunion? It felt not; the revelation made one member feel no less loyal but far more outcast.
Jon heard his sisters’ reactions; words and questions, he tried to answer what he could. Sansa asked the most terrifying of questions: What does mean for Queen Daenerys, yourself and The North? Bran as usual since he had become the Three-eyed Raven, was devoid of emotion and like talking to the Weirwood tree. How ironic.
“I don’t know!” He finally answered in his frustration. “Anything. I know nothing.” He stopped as he remembered Ygritte saying those words to him repeatedly, how right she was. You know nothing, Jon Snow. “I can not think about it now; I have to go south and keep my oath.”
More words and questions about the wisdom of trusting Daenerys as he was a threat to her believed birthright. Again, he did not know, and he no longer wished to think about it. To contemplate the Queen’s anger at his change of circumstance; Sansa’s desire to monopolise on it; Arya and Bran’s disaffectedness of it. Everyone was thinking how it affected them, how it could be used to aid or damage them. Did no one care how it affected him? His life had changed, his story, his blood even, and everyone wanted to think about themselves. No one had asked how he felt or what he was thinking. Strangely he was again a nobody in the great game when his piece had been promoted greatly. Now they were all assessing how to use the new piece on the board and forgot it was him and they were supposed to care about him. Again, he was the Bastard Boy, who was only a hinderance, a problem. He had gone far done much, but he had comeback to the lonely child.
“We understand your desire to complete your oath. We Starks do not swear falsely.” Arya said in her deadpan voice. He missed the excited girl of her childhood, trusted the loyalty of this woman she had become without question. “But Daenerys is not one of us.”
“Bran just told you I am not one of you.” Jon said feeling the same separation Lady Catelyn had strived to thrust upon him every day.
“You will always be our brother.” Arya said. “No matter who your parents were, you are our brother and Ned Stark’s son. He saw you as that and so do we. Regardless of your blood.” Jon’s eyes tightened at the last sentence.
Regardless of my blood. Lady Stark had told him he was nobody and worth nothing, regardless of his blood.
“You will always be Jon Snow to us.” Sansa said with at least some emotion compared to her siblings. It was amusing when you think of it, as children, Sansa had been the one to trail after Lady Catelyn and repeat her treatment and insults and Arya and Bran loved Jon as another big brother, like his name was Stark. Now, it was all turned around and it was turned around. He was someone he never even dreamed of being and the tables of concern and empathy had turned. Sansa was now the one who showed some compassion.
Problem was Jon was hearing some words more clearly than others and he noted distinctly the Jon Snow part. He didn’t want this, had declared he didn’t want the throne, but it itched that they were so quick to let him be nothing again. He thought he was being ungrateful and should forgive them, as he hadn’t accepted it easily either. Still, he was feeling unsupported and marginalised. He decided he needed to get over it and move on, he said he would refuse the throne and he would, so his real anything did not matter. Except it did because he did not know how to fix this in his heart. He was raised a Stark, and Daenerys was his aunt and he was not allowed to love her anymore – it was the worst reality he had ever had to face. Worse than the Night King being real and coming to kill everything.
“So, I will, because you have all sworn to not speak this to anyone. I am trusting you.” They all nodded, but Jon only believed Arya. Daenerys was right telling Sansa could have been a mistake, and suddenly he felt Bran knowing may not have been in his best interests either. I am being ungrateful. “Now may I have a few minutes alone in the Godswood and at the Weirwood, so I may pray to the Old Gods for good fortune in the coming war? Maybe to say goodbye to the Old Gods.”
They again agreed and Arya went to wheel Bran out of the sacred place, Jon noted the smile Bran had at his own words, a smug smile if Jon had to admit it. He guessed that Bran as the Three-Eyed Raven was the one the Northmen spoke of when they spoke of the trees and the Old Gods. That Bran was amused by Jon’s naivety of words. There were probably no Old Gods, just old - now young – men looking out through the trees. Jon was not so sure the Old Gods were just Three-Eyed Ravens and other Greenseers, he felt there was more to them and maybe Bran knew every story, but not everything.
Jon stared at the pond that had always lay before the great Heart-Tree, with its angry face. It was no longer as frozen as it had been, Winter was abating, Spring would soon be here. He thought of the many days he and Robb had swam in the pond as children, Robb had never been able to stay in the cold pond as long as Jon. Was it the Dragon blood? Winterfell had hot springs, but this pond was always cold.
Cold. His existence felt it currently. Winter had come to Jon Snow’s heart. His siblings – cousins – were not helping. They had changed greatly since he departed Winterfell, since they all had.
Arya was cold and solitary; she said she didn’t need more allies, such a short view. His little sister was devoid of the spark she had as a child. She had gone to Braavos, had become No One, before returning to be Arya Stark of Winterfell, and she spoke too often of Death. Sadly, the girl that left Winterfell all those years ago was dead, no longer did she smile brightly. He would always miss that Arya while still loving this one.
Sansa’s journey had taught her a different resilience, she was not the type to stick a sword in a man’s gut, but she was not the dreamer she had left Winterfell. The dreamer was gone, crushed by the real world and the harshness of politics and people. Her hardships had given her a discerning mind, Arya was right Sansa probably was the smartest person they knew, and she had earned her education. She was so tall and beautiful, and any lord would fall over himself to woo her, but Sansa was no longer the type of girl who would be flattered by that rubbish. She was also a damn good leader, a great lady. She deserved whatever pride she took in how she had grown.
Bran was a worry. The boundless boy was broken, he hardly seemed alive at times, so consumed by his purpose. The boy who had wished to be a knight was emotionless and broken but weren’t they all. Jon had noticed a smugness to Bran when no one was watching, mostly he was deadpan, but at times he smiled to himself and Jon worried to his thinking, for he had seen men with smiles like that, and it was never good for someone else. Jon supposed though with Bran, it was because he knew everything that had ever happened; was happening and was to happen, it was a good reason to be superior.
Jon’s attention went to the great old tree, with its white bark and red leaves. So, few Weirwoods existed anymore and with the annihilation of The Children of the Forest, he supposed they would slowly die. Be lost to a new day, maybe so would the Old Gods.
“Your Grace.” A feminine voice came from the other side of the tree. Jon headed around to see who it was and remind them he was no longer King in The North. The woman was tall and thin, and she had her ash blonde hair twisted in a braid of northern style. There was nothing distinctive about her, but he recognised her face, from his childhood.
Wasn’t she my nurse? Wait that could not be she wasn’t old enough to have been his nurse. He tried to recall her name. “Wylla?”
“Yes, your grace.”
“I am not… I am but a Lord at best.”
“Is that right King Aegon?” She raised an eyebrow at him. He looked shocked by her knowledge. “Born in Dorne at the tower your father called Joy for the love he shared with your mother there, and the son he hoped to see born.”
“How?”
“Of no consequence.” She waved a hand as if shooing a fly. “I come with a warning.”
“Am I about to die?” Jon could settle for that right now.
“If you are not careful, maybe. No, I must warn you to trust no one and you must be wary of the words of men you considered to be wise and knowledgeable in the past.”
“I hate prophecy.” Jon cursed to himself.
“Hush! Your Queen is in danger. Do you recall the ancient dragon’s words?” This puzzled Jon for a moment until he understood.
“Maester Aemon.”
“Seems you do know something.”
“He said many wise words.” Now there was someone Jon wished he could talk to, the old maester had always been kind and supportive to a bastard such as he. Then he realised that Maester Aemon had been his Great-great-great Uncle, he also wondered if the old man had known his secret?
“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.”
“Yes, he worried for Daenerys in Mereen.”
“And you in Westeros. Daenerys is alone. I noticed at the Feast of the Dawn that the queen sat alone gazing jealously at the attention you were getting.”
“You think I abandoned her?”
“Not everything is about you. Her friend, Missandei of Naath was absent as was her Unsullied Commander, all her Unsullied really, and all her Dothraki. Her armies and friends abandoned her, and she was caused to be made jealous of the love people, your friends gave you. Daenerys was alone. I warn you to not leave her alone, do not abandon her. She has lost much and will lose much more yet. She needs someone who will not abandon her.”
“I will not, she is the queen.”
“Others will convince you to do your duty, to be what you were meant to be. Do as they wish. You may need to betray her to save her.”
“Daenerys is my queen, now and forever.” The passion behind the statement was intense.
“Remember that and tell her, as they will be the words to save her.”
“I will not betray her.” He refused, they may stop him from being with her, but he would never betray her.
“When they come to punish you, do not fight the punishment they give you for doing their vile intrigues. Make no vows as the Lord of Light will be sending me to meet you beyond The Wall.”
“Lord of Light?” A convert of Melisandre’s.
“The Old Gods smile on you, Aegon Targaryen.” She smiled at him and came forward to stroke his cheek. “Remember trust no one and follow their plans as if you were a fool on their strings. You are a Dragon of Ice and Fire, remember that, for you are no one’s fool.” She pulled the dagger from his belt and placed another in its place. “Use this one. The Black will do the rest.”
“I will not betray her.” He said looking at the dagger.
“Through the heart, make it quick. Do not remove the dagger, it needs to stay in. Worry not, the blade is sharper than Valyarian steel, she will not even have a scar afterwards, it will close as if never there. Use that dagger.”
“They are going to betray her.”
“They have set her up to fall, save her. Don’t let them make her a monster.”
“Sansa believes it is too late.”
“Dragons are magic made flesh; it will not be too late until the day you stop loving her. Now go, you have a war to fight and a queen to assassinate, so she can be resurrected.”
Jon watched Wylla melt into the forest behind the Heart-Tree, he did not like it, but he thought he might understand it, this plan of hers. He had some weeks of riding to think about it.