Work Text:
“Ghost...”
The world had faded from him. The last he remembered was laying in the snow, feeling colder by each second. He looked around the darkness and felt an immeasurable sense of being lost. “Hello?” He took a few steps and began to wander around. Was this what death was? Absolute darkness and completely alone? Jon had been avoiding looking at his chest, despite the fact he could feel the last wound given to him. The pain was significantly less, but there was still pain. After everything he had done for them, they’d murdered him in the snow.
Jon supposed that it made sense. Every change he made and proposed, the elders of the Watch rebelled against. He had brought the Free Folk out of the land beyond the wall and was met with scorn and anger. They all had seen the dead that arrived when the Night King raised his hands and yet that itself was not enough to bring compromise. Jon sat back down and put his head in his hands. What could he have done differently? The ideas floated through his mind with regret. What would happen to them now? Would the Watch hunt down women and children with no regard to the true threat coming? His fists beat the ground beneath him. It echoed out into the nothingness around him.
“What’s that for?” The disembodied voice filled the air and echoed.
“Who’s there?” Jon scrambled to his feet and reached for Long Claw… except it was no longer on his back. Being dead was harder than he expected it to be.
“Hmm, you can’t see me. Can you, Jon?” The voice softened. “Do you think you’re truly alone? That I would have abandoned you even in death?” Jon worried that he had offended the Old Gods of his father.
“I’m sorry I do not know who you are.”
The voice snorted, “Surely you haven’t forgotten your own father.”
His stomach dropped like a stone as he gasped, looking around. As if forming from shadows, Eddard Stark formed. Just as he last saw him. Summer snow in his hair and that worn cloak around his shoulders. Suddenly he felt smaller and younger than he was now. “You’re not real.”
“How am I not?” His father held out his hands and looked at himself, like trying to see something only Jon saw.
“You’re dead.”
“As are you.” His father’s voice broke. “Oh my boy.” Jon was frozen in place as his father approached and laid his hand on his shoulder. It felt real. His warmth cut through the cold that he’d adapted to here. He imagined if he stepped forward into his father’s chest, he would be enveloped in that warmth and safety. Home. That’s what he was. When he’d left for the Night’s Watch, he always thought that he could return and visit with his Uncle Benjen. That Winterfell would be something that always called to him and always welcomed him as it’s son, even though the Lady of the keep hadn’t. Yet… when his father died, that call had died with him. His father was gone and his little sister was missing. However, he was a man of the Night’s Watch. Jon had no father or sisters. Not anymore. Eddard’s hand moved to his cheek and tears whelmed in Jon’s eyes. “I never wanted this for you.”
“You said it was my choice to leave.”
“Aye, that’s true. I wanted happiness for you and staying where you were wasn’t going to bring that.” Not being alone with his wife. “I wanted so much more for you. Yet, I was unable to do more.” His father’s free hand rubbed the back of his neck. There was no indication of his injuries.
“You’re truly here?”
“Yes. I never left you.” His father’s thumb moved over his cheek affectionately. Jon couldn’t keep himself from leaning into it and closing his eyes.
“I couldn’t do it,” Jon murmured. “I couldn’t be the leader that you were. I tried to be Lord Commander and got myself killed. I failed.”
A cooing sound came from his father as Eddard shifted forward to bring Jon fully into his arms. He was much taller on his father than he’d been when he left and rested his cheek against his shoulder while Eddard’s rested against his brow. Jon’s arms wrapped around him, under the cloak. If this was just his own mind creating his father, he didn’t care. It was exactly what he needed. For every harsh truth their father gave them, there were these moments he could imagine he was his true son. Not born from lust and wanton, but from the love he held in his heart.
“I was the one who failed you, Jon.” Eddard leaned back and looked into his son’s eyes. Those familiar eyes that used to tear at his heart every time. That pain was no longer. He’d been able to see his sister again and tell her about how much he saw of her in her son. His son. “I should have told you before you left, but I was afraid.”
“About my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Are you ashamed of me?”
“Never.” Eddard pulled away from the embrace and held his son’s face in his hands. “Your mother was the most dear to me. I was afraid of how much the memory would hurt me.” His fingers moved through Jon’s wild curly hair. Just like hers.
“Yet you never spoke of her.”
“I know. I made many mistakes in my life. That was my biggest. I believed that keeping the truth from you would protect you. I only made you question your worth instead of believing how much I love you.”
“Who is she?”
Eddard took a deep breath, “Your mother is my sister. Lyanna Stark.” Jon’s eyes widened as he spoke. “Your true father is Rhaegar Targaryen.”
Jon ripped away from him, anger burning in his chest. “I’m not your son?!” His accusation sent pain across his father’s face and Jon regretted it.
“You are my son. I raised you. I carried you across the Seven Kingdoms and I defied my king to keep you safe.” Eddard took a breath and closed his eyes.
“Why can’t I see her here? Why am I talking to you instead?” Jon had so many questions, but he couldn’t give them sound.
“Because you wanted me. I came because I could hear you calling across the veil of life and death.”
“Is that what this is? The veil?”
“It’s complicated. You are dead, yet someone is holding onto you from the other side. Keeping you from joining us fully.” Eddard closed the space again. “You won’t be able to stay.”
“Why not? I want to stay. I don’t want to go back. Father, please.” The crying out his son’s soul did felt like it would rip him apart right then.
“I’m sorry. Your brothers and sisters need you. It’s not your time yet.”
“They murdered me! How is it not my time?” Jon reached out to hold his father’s leathers in his hands. His father’s hands wrapped around them and held them gently.
“I know. I know…” If only he could take the pain away. If he could create a world where his children were paying for his mistakes. Ned would change every aspect of it and send them home before it all went wrong. If only he’d known what kind of hell he was taking them into. It was foolish of him to think that Robert would protect him. Eddard held his son’s hands as he let out the emotions he’d held back for so long. Just like Eddard himself had done.
Jon gasped, swaying for a moment and nearly staggering into his father. “What..? What is that?”
“You’re being called back…” He could feel Jon starting to slip through his fingers.
“Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t.” Instead, Eddard reached for his son and picked him up to cradle him in his arms like a small child. Jon held onto him as he began walking towards the pull and taking him back to his body. Watching his son’s eyes fade in and out of the veil tore at his heart. Yet, it would hurt worse if Jon died now. He had so much to live for yet. “I will never leave you. You may not be able to see me, but I am with you always. All of you.” Eddard swallowed and took the step across the veil to where Jon’s body lay. It was filled with wounds from the mutiny. Even he couldn’t figure out which wound had been the killing blow… there were just that many.
“I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay.”
“No matter what, you are my son. You are a Stark in blood and in name.” Eddard laid Jon’s soul back into his body. He began to watch it fade out of his sight. “I am so very proud of you.”
Jon’s eyes opened and he saw the wood room around him. The cold pierced painfully against his skin as he sat up, gasping. He couldn’t remember what he was doing before this… only the faint smell of leather and pine lingered around him… He looked around for someone else in the room, but there was no one there… Jon swore what he smelled was familiar and it brought a sense of comfort before disappearing completely.