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He gazed at his father’s statue, the stone unmoving.
If I live through this war, I swear that I’ll avenge you. You and Robb.
Robb, his brother who had died too young, the same as Rickon. But unlike Rickon, who had a statue that guarded his body and bones, Robb had none.
There had been nothing to bury. The Freys had desicrated his brother’s corpse, made a mockery of it and Grey Wind.
A heavy sadness fell upon him, mixed with heated anger.
If he survived, he would see the Freys gone, too. Perhaps Dany would help give him that. She was no stranger to justice.
It was something he loved about her. No matter who stood against her - impossible odds, men who thought themselves her betters, even the fucking Wall itself - she soared past them.
Leaning forward, Jon quickly blew out one of the candles that surrounded his father’s statue.
He had spent enough time down in the crypts for the day. There were other things that required his attention. Soldiers to oversee, meetings to attend. The war of all wars was coming, and it weighed on him, heavy as blocks of stone.
Dany alleviated that weight. When it was just the two of them - on the boat, in their tents on the ride from White Harbor, even here, in his chambers and the ones he had assigned to her - he felt as if nothing existed save for her.
Jon sensed Ghost with her.
He smiled.
Perhaps everything else could wait. Perhaps he could make an excuse for why he needed to see her. He hadn’t been alone with her since the very early morning. It had been too long since then.
He turned, leaving his father’s statue behind him. He was just rounding a corner when he heard footsteps and feet scuffling.
Then there came a thud and the sound of someone muttering.
“Sam?” he asked.
His friend was there, picking himself off the floor.
“Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to be down here.” Sam said, flustered.
The crypts of Winterfell were meant only for Starks. He had been furious when Petry Baelish had followed him down here, before he had left for Dragonstone.
But Sam was his best friend. He hadn’t seen Sam since he left Castle Black for the Citadel. Ned Stark had brought his friend, Robert Baratheon, into the crypts.
Jon supposed exceptions were allowed for friends.
Smiling, he drew Sam into a hug.
When they parted, he asked, “Were you hiding from me?”
Sam shook his head shyly.
“Of course not.”
Jon only laughed.
“What are you doing in Winterfell? Or did you read every book in the Citadel already?”
A look of worry cast itself over his friend’s face.
“What’s wrong? Is it Gilly? Is she alright?”
“She’s good.”
“Little Sam?”
Sam’s worry only grew. His friend shifted closer and said, “Don’t you know?”
Confused, Jon answered, “Know what?”
“Daenerys. She executed my father and brother. They were her prisoners.”
Oh.
Jon sucked a breath in. Not because he was surprised or shocked, but because he had known Sam would learn of his family’s fate eventually.
He had known for weeks, of course. Little was hidden between himself and Dany.
“I know.”
Sam appeared as if he had taken a punch to the gut.
“You - you knew? She told you?”
“Yes. I was on Dragonstone when she returned from the battle.”
When she had landed before him on Drogon. Gods, what a sight that had been. The only thing that rivaled it was her landing at the Dragonpit.
“What … what did you say to her?”
Sam’s voice wavered. Jon frowned. His last wish was to upset one of his closest friends. If he was in mourning for his brother, Jon would do his best to respect that.
But he would not lie, so he said, “She should have attacked sooner. She was within her rights to execute them. They were the Tyrell’s bannermen, and Lady Olenna had sworn herself to Daenerys. What they did was treason, Sam.”
“But she could have taken them prisoner. She could have killed only my father. My brother only stood with my father because he is a good son.”
Being a good son got him killed, Jon thought, but he could not say such a thing.
“I’m sorry about your brother, I really am. But you hated your father. He threatened to kill you.”
Surely Sam was not so shaken over the loss of Randyll Tarly.
“Would you have done it?”
Jon stared at his friend.
Is it honesty you want, or just my sympathy? We aren’t boys anymore, Sam.
“I’ve executed men who have betrayed me. As has every king who’s ruled over the Seven Kingdoms.”
“You’ve also spared men. Thousands of wildlings who refused to kneel.”
“I wasn’t a king.”
“But you were. You’ve always been.”
Confusion ran through him.
“I gave up my crown. Daenerys saved my life. She has a good heart, it’s why I swore the North to her.”
The North and himself. He remembered the way he’d taken her hand and squeezed, wishing he could wipe the tears from her eyes. She had his heart, she had swept it away from him without him even knowing.
She lost a dragon for me. A poor exchange.
Jon began to walk away. He was missing Dany more and more.
Sam followed him and snapped, “I’m not talking about the North. I’m talking about all of the bloody Seven Kingdoms.”
What?
He stopped and turned. Sam was in front of him going on to say, “Bran and I worked it out. I had a High Septon’s diary. Bran has … whatever he has.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sam stepped toward him and softly said, “Your mother was Lyanna Stark.”
Jon could barely process the words when Sam added, “And your father - your father was Rhaegar Targaryen. You’ve never been a bastard. You’re Aemon Targaryen, true heir to the Iron Throne. I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot to take in.”
My mother … my father … I’m Aemon? No, no I …
He wanted to deny it, to say it was all some elaborate lie, but as he stood and let what Sam had said sink in, he knew that it was true.
He thought of Dragonstone, how the island that had once felt so strange and grown more and more like home. He thought of Rhaegal, the mighty dragon named for his father.
He knew. Drogon did, too.
Dany.
My aunt …
Jon swallowed and stressed, “My father was honorable to a fault. He died because of his honor. He lied to me all my life?”
“No. Your father - well, Ned Stark. He promised your mother he’d always protect you. And he did. Robert would have murdered you if he knew. You’re the true king. Aemon Targaryen, First of His Name, Protector of the Realm, all of it.”
Aemon, gods be good. Was he named after Maester Aemon, or perhaps Aemon the Dragonknight? Maester Aemon was meant to have been King, once. But he had refused the crown and passed it to his brother, Aegon.
Jon straightened.
“Daenerys is our queen.” he stated, resolute and firm.
“She shouldn’t be.” Sam objected.
Anger surged through him, tendrils of it wrapping around his muscles and pulling them taut. His jaw clenched and he hissed, “Stop talking. Now, before you give me no choice but to charge you with treason.”
Sam ignored him.
“It’s the truth. You gave up your crown to save your people. Would she do the same?”
“Did you grow deaf in the time since you left Castle Black? I told you Daenerys saved my life.”
“Only because she needed you. Only because she doesn’t know who you are.”
“And you don’t know her. You think that she’s a tyrant just because she killed your family? I’ve killed people, too. Aliser Thorne, wildlings, Olly, who was just a boy. What do you think of me?”
Sam began cowering and moved backwards, putting distance between them. Jon met his step back with a step of his own forward.
“That - that was different.”
“Was it? How?”
Sam couldn’t meet his gaze.
“You’re a smart man, a student of the Citadel. Don’t you have an answer?”
Jon inched closer, hunting. A wolf stalking its prey.
“It’s true, isn’t it. What your men are saying. You’re … you’re in love with her.” Sam all but whispered.
So he was, but he hadn’t sworn himself to her simply because of that. It was because of so many other things: her heart, the way her people followed her, how strong she was, how despite all the atrocities that had been to her, she kept going, only wanting to make the world a better place.
She was light in a sea of darkness. Not the death of him, no, she was his salvation.
“I’m allowed to be happy. As is she, and she will be, after I tell her the truth.”
Of course she would. Dany, who longed for a home, a family.
I’m your family. You don’t have to be alone anymore, sweetling.
Sam glared at him, eyes that were once warm turned icy and cold.
“Will she still love you after she finds out you’re a threat to her?”
The anger won then. It burned through him, igniting so quickly and turning into a roaring heat that could not be contained.
Jon struck, bolting forward. He grabbed Sam by the front of his cloak and shoved him hard against the stone wall of the crypt.
“I told you to stop talking about her! You think that you’re so wise? You don’t know anything. What she and I have is far stronger than you and this weak, pathetic, attempt at trying to turn me against her!”
Sam whimpered. Jon growled before pushing him further into the wall and then letting go.
“You don’t know a single thing that she’s been through. You lived a life of luxury compared to her. But you’re always playing the victim, Sam. Well, this time, I won’t be here to save you.”
How fucking dare he come down here and whisper his poisons?! To try and make him a usurper, to get him to toss Dany aside as if she were some mad dog that needed to be put down.
“Get out. Ride south for White Harbor. If you make it in time, you’d best get on your knees and thank the gods.”
Tears filled Sam’s eyes.
Is that supposed to sway me?
It didn’t.
“LEAVE! And stay away from Daenerys! If you touch her, I will have your head!” Jon swore.
It was not a threat, it was a promise.
He watched, his eyes aglow in the candlelight, as Sam scurried away from him and out of the crypts.
Outside, a dragon cried.
Ghost, he thought, thinking of Dany.
His direwolf said nothing was amiss.
Jon sighed heavily.
He should go to her. He was so tired, so upset, not at her, no, never, but at the world around them.
And yet instead of leaving, he went deeper into the crypts. He passed Ned Stark’s statue and went on.
Mother.
He sank to his knees.
Do you understand me? You gave up so much to be with Rhaegar. I would give anything and everything to be with his sister.
Lyanna’s stone eyes held no answer.
Jon placed a hand on the cool stone at the base of the statue.
Dany would understand. He just needed a bit of time. Then he would find her and tell her the truth.
So there he sat, finally with his mother at last.
///
He thought he might tell her now, but there were too many people.
Jaime Lannister arriving without an army had thrown everyone into a foul mood. Dany seemed ready to throw him to the dragons.
Not now, then.
So, he waited.
But not long after, Tormund and Edd had arived, and he had to greet them, and he was happy they were alive, even if it meant the Night King’s attack was far closer than anyone wanted.
There was one final war council.
He had wanted to stand next to her, but her own advisors had filled those spots. He had wanted to take her by the hand after, to call her Dany and just be alone with her.
All he managed was, “Your Grace”, before he left the room.
As he walked the castle grounds, he felt like a fool. Was he the one hiding from her? What for? Nothing would change. He knew her, knew her heart. This wouldn’t tear them apart, only bring them closer together.
Jon looked up at the battlements. Edd was there, a lone sentry, so forlorn, so dour.
There were stairs, if Jon wanted to join him.
He walked past them, his feet carrying him towards the crypts. The sun was gone as he entered.
When he was at his mother’s statue, he called for Ghost.
The white direwolf came, Dany in tow.
Good boy.
Oh, what a lovely sight they were. She in white, matching with his wolf.
“I know I’m not meant to come down here, but Ghost was quite adamant.” Dany said, with a light giggle.
Jon smiled at her as she approached.
She smiled back and took his arm, nestling into him. He reached for her hand and squeezed.
“Who’s that?”
“Lyanna Stark.”
He felt her tense, felt her apprehension. She paused before saying, “My brother, Rhaegar, everyone told me he was decent and kind. He liked to sing. Gave money to poor children. And he raped her.”
“He didn’t. He loved her.”
It was the conclusion he had reached on his own. His father had loved his mother so much, he had risked war.
Jon turned to face Dany. The arm she had been holding slid around her waist.
“They were married in secret. After Rhaegar fell on the Trident, she had a son. Robert would have murdered the baby if he had ever found out, and Lyanna knew it. So the last thing she did, as she bled to death on her birthing bed, was give the boy to her brother, Ned Stark, to raise as his bastard.”
She was following his every word. Her eyes gazed into his, urging him to go on.
“My name. My real name is Aemon Targaryen.”
He heard her take a breath, yet she did not move. She stayed with him as she whispered, “Who told you this?”
“Bran. He saw it.”
“He saw it?”
Jon wished it was warm enough to go without gloves. He wanted to touch her face, to stroke her cheek.
“His gift, his ability. He can see back in time. He saw your brother and my mother, and then he saw Ned Stark with Lyanna and me.”
Dany was silent, waiting for him to tell her more.
“Sam confirmed it. He read about their marriage at the Citadel, in some High Septon’s forgotten diary.”
More silence, but he saw tears begin to shimmer in her beautiful eyes.
He pressed her against him, holding her tight.
“It’s true, Dany. I know it is.”
“I know.” she told him as a tear fell.
Another fell as she said, “Rhaegal knew. And Drogon. I thought they knew of my feelings, but it would seem that dragons are smarter than men.”
She sobbed and he held her head against his chest.
Don’t cry, he wished to murmur. Was she happy? Was she simply overwhelmed?
When she raised her head to look at him, he kissed her. Long and deep. She returned it. All the same passion and emotion that had been there before they had learned the truth was still there.
No, there was more.
They parted, short of breath. Against her lips he whispered, “I love you. I always will. Is that alright?”
She laughed then nodded tearfully. A second later she was placing her mouth on his, kissing him, loving him.
He felt set aflame. Whatever they were made of, it was the same. He could not live without it, without her.
The horn blew. It sounded of death and doom.
Dany clutched at him, frightened.
“I just found you. I can’t lose you.” she croaked, her cheeks red and her eyes dripping tears.
“If I could, I would send you away on Drogon, but I know you would never go.”
“I could never leave you.”
“Nor I you.”
He pressed his forehead against hers. Damn the Night King, damn this war. He could lose her tonight.
No. I’ll die before I let that happen.
“We have to go.” Jon said. The words were a dagger to his heart.
She gazed at him for a long moment, then grew resolved and nodded.
“I love you. Jon or Aemon, whichever you are, whichever you choose to be, I love you.” she promised.
“And I love you, Daenerys. Dany. Until the end of our days.”
As they left the crypts, he prayed that the gods would grant his wish. Snow fell as they emerged. In it he saw a castle, not the Red Keep, Dragonstone. He heard Drogon and Rhaegal, saw Ghost running across the grass. There were the sounds of children laughing. Five children, ten. The youngest, pale and silver haired, clutched at Dany’s skirts as he begged to be picked up.
Let it come true, let us live.
But first they had to fight.
And so they did.