Making his way through the corridors of Winterfell he entered the Lord's solar and found it occupied by Eddard, Benjen and Barristan. For a moment he was concerned they'd suddenly decided to send him to the Wall, but squashed it as he closed the door.
"You called for me?" asked Jon. He noted that Ned seemed grim where Barristan wore solemn resolution. Benjen seemed concerned, almost wary as he looked from his brother to Jon and Barristan.
"Jon," Ned said motioning to the chair opposite him while Barristan and Benjen stood to either side behind him.
"Is something wrong?" Jon asked as he took the offered seat and looked to each man.
"I'm going to tell you about your mother." Jon's eyes widened as he took a breath that swiftly escaped him as Ned continued, "But I also have to tell you about your father."
Benjen frowned seeing the boy's brow sink as she shook his head. "What?"
Ned nodded somberly. "I'm not your father, not by blood."
Jon stared at him, anger mixing into his confusion. He looked to the floor trying to speak, but only letting out brief, shaky breaths before he looked to Ned. "Who?"
Meeting his gaze Ned answered, "Rhaegar Targaryen." Ben's jaw shifted hearing it finally confirmed, though having assumed as much. Ned had never told him, but he knew enough to know.
Jon's brow shifted as he sat back in his chair, his eyes sinking to the floor as he said quietly, "You're my uncle."
"I was there when your mother died," Ned said quietly. "I brought her back here and had a statue built for her. I think some part of me wanted you to be able to look upon her face."
"Then you should have told me," Jon looked to Ned, his eyes darkened. "You should have-" He turned his head and shook it, blinking back tears. "I suppose I understand. Who would want to know they were born because their father raped their mother and left her for dead?"
"She was never raped," said Benjen. When Jon turned to him he frowned. "I saw them wed on the Isle of Faces."
Jon stared at him for a moment before looking to Ned and seeing he knew as well. "I was never a bastard?"
"Jon," Ned said carefully, "when I led the party to the Tower of Joy there were three Kingsguard waiting for us. Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower. They weren't there to guard some hostage… they were there to guard their queen regent and their rightful king, Aegon Targaryen."
"What? Aegon died."
"The Aegon born to Elia died," said Ned. "All I know is Lyanna called you Aegon Targaryen, but I couldn't well call you that so named you Jon."
"Even my name is a lie?" Jon asked, his elbow digging into the arm of his chair as he pressed his fingers into his forehead with a bitter laugh. After a moment he sighed and lowered his hand. "So I'm the last dragon?"
"Not quite," said Barristan. "Near a year after the war ended Rhaegar's brother Viserys and newborn sister Daenerys escaped to Essos, their mother dying in birth I believe."
"There's Aemon as well," said Benjen. "The Maester for Castle Black."
"He left with Brynden Rivers," Jon remembered from one of his books. "He must be ancient."
"He is," Benjen assured with a laugh. "Though as kind as he is blind."
Jon's head sank forward in thought before looking to Ned. "How do I know any of this is even true?"
"There is proof," Ned said carefully. "Witnesses. Howland Reed survived the Tower of Joy and saw her. Benjen saw them wed."
"Is that it?" Jon shrugged. "The word of men who lied for near fifteen years?"
Ned frowned at the bitter question. "There is more, but…"
"Show me." When Ned hesitated Jon rose from his chair, his eyes shining black as he glared down at Ned in his chair and demanded, "Show me."
Ned led them through a path that would leave them unseen as they entered the crypts of Winterfell. Jon followed silently through the path, remembering his dreams of the Winter Kings and wanting to laugh that in the end it turned out he never belonged there.
They came to the statue of his mother, Lyanna Stark, the only female he knew of to have a statue. The only one without a sword.
Jon stared at her stony face, wondering how many times he'd look upon it before without ever knowing. If he had, would he have come down here every day to see her, to speak to her? He could have found solace here. He could have found a mother that didn't despise him for something he never had a part of, something he'd never wanted, a lie cast upon him.
"It's here?" Jon asked looking to Ned.
"In here," Ned said raising his oil lantern toward the sepulcher. Jon stepped toward the tomb and saw within her bones beneath a pale shroud that faded with age. With a glance to Jon, Ned said, "When I found her she made me promise something. Not to save you, I would have that without question and she surely knew as much."
"What did she ask of you?" Jon asked.
"To protect your heritage," Eddard said as he knelt down and moved a slab set in the back of the statue of his sister. One he'd set himself years ago after having the statue commissioned and brought down here.
Jon watched him pull a long chest from the cavity and unlock it before turning it to Jon and picking up the lantern. Ned moved to his side while Ben and Barristan watched. Unlatching the chest he found a black cloak with long dead petals spread across it. Jon found small rolled parchments atop it and unraveled one.
"My winter rose, I look upon the sky and fear each day may be my last, yet greet each dawn with a smile for it is another day until the Long Night comes," Jon read, looking through the letter. This was his father's handwriting. His true father.
Setting it back beside the others atop the cloak he realized there was more beneath the cloak. Or rather, wrapped within it. He carefully began moving them, his brow furrowing as he noticed the odd weights and shifts in shape. When he finally removed the cloak he saw not only was the inside of the cloak red, but what it covered made Barristan, Benjen and Jon all gasped.
Laying across the bottom of the chest was a slender blade housed within a black scabbard with gold meeting the cross guard which had a ruby set on either side. The gold of the waving horizontal guard seemed to leak into the black hilt, which had gilded lines through it leading to the golden fire shaped pommel.
"Is that Dark Sister?" Barristan asked, earning a nod from Ned.
Yet Jon found himself reaching not for the sword, but the dragon's egg beside it.
It was much larger than any hen's egg with fine red scales covering it's surface, shining bright as jewels in the lamp light. It was heavier than expected, with smooth scales of deep, rich red which seemed to shimmer as he turned the egg in his hands. "Blood and fire," he whispered, noting the fleck of gold in it as well as whorls of midnight black.
"That's-"
"A dragon egg," Ned nodded. "Lyanna said it was a gift from Rhaegar before he left."
"And Dark Sister?" asked Barristan.
"She said he'd gotten it from Maester Aemon," Ned said with a look to Benjen.
"Who likely got it from Bloodraven," said Jon, setting down the egg. He picked up Dark Sister and unsheathed it partially to examine the rippled steel of the longsword. He'd imagined it much like the sword he'd bought Arya, but was only just slimmer than other longswords he'd seen and the same length as most others.
Ned nodded. "Rhaegar left it with her. He thought her a warrior, but she was too weak. A fever had taken her."
Sliding Dark Sister back into her scabbard, Jon put it all back into the chest and slid it back in to the cavity, closing it with the flush slab. Rising to his feet, Jon stared at the floor for a moment. "I'll need time to think."
"Take as much as you need, son," said Ned. He saw Jon bite back a comment, likely ready to tell him he wasn't his son, but he only frowned and made his way from the crypt.
Benjen watched Jon's back before looking to Ned and Barristan. "What do you think he'll do?" With a glance toward the statue he asked, "Would it be enough?"
"Maybe," Ned sighed. "The letters will be of more use than the sword or an unhatched egg we could well have found, but they'll bolster the rest, the letters and accounts of others."
"Do you think he'll try?" asked Benjen.
Ned glanced to Barristan as he frowned. "Whatever his choice, the Starks stand together."
Jon had been roomed with Dom and Sam, his old room, the one he'd had before leaving, had been changed and given away. The moment he returned it was clear he had no place in Winterfell, but he'd been glad at least to be paired with his friends.
When he didn't join them hours after leaving for his father's solar flickers of concern had grown in them. "Perhaps he's finally given in," Domeric said with a smile. "Decided it time to give up and rode to a brothel to find his solace."
With that they found sleep, but that was broken early, before the sun had risen when they heard the door open. Waking they found Jon sat beside his bed packing the few things he'd removed back into his bags.
"Jon?" Sam asked sitting up in his bed. "What's going on?"
"I'm leaving," Jon said, stopping to look back at them. "Will you two join me?"
Domeric sat up, his brow furrowed when he saw Jon's frown. "What's happened?"
He turned to them. "Will you come?"
Dom and Sam exchanged looks before throwing aside their furs. "Where are we going?" asked Domeric.
Jon had spent the night thinking on much, as well as this. He'd considered riding to White Harbor and sailing to Essos, to find the aunt and uncle Barristan had mentioned, but they weren't alone. They had one another. He could find a way to contact them, to let them know he was alive, that he wanted to know them. But Aemon was alone.
"Castle Black," he answered.
"Are you taking the black?" Sam frowned.
"I'd follow you many places," Domeric said teasingly, "but I fear I'm not ready to give up the Dreadfort just yet."
"No," Jon said shaking his head, standing as he tucked a cloak into a large satchel that hid Arya's sword, sliding it over his shoulder. "I have something I need to do there. Things I need to see. We'll tell them we've come to see the Wall at least once in our life and check in so I could properly ask the king to help them."
Domeric arched his brow, clearly curious what had caused this but trusting Jon. "We could leave before they break fast."
"I have things I need to handle," Jon said adjusting the satchel across his back. "Could you two prepare the horses?"
"We can handle it," Domeric nodded.
"I'll meet you by the stables," Jon said holding the bag on his left hip as he left the room.
In the dark of the early morning Jon Snow crept into the crypts of Winterfell. One of the few things which was likely unique to squiring with Barristan, was the kingsguard's lessons on stealth. He'd sneaked into a city to save the mad king and knew much of going unseen and moving quietly despite spending his time donning heavy snow white armor.
He left the lantern near the entrance as he made his way within, his stride sure and unstopping as he went to the statue of his mother. For a moment he stopped before her, his eyes having shifted to the dark enough for him to see her, placing his hand in her stony grasp.
Moving the slab he opened the chest Ned had shown him and took the cloak from his bag, wrapping it around Dark Sister and his egg which he placed back in the bag. Setting the chest back he hid it away, with no clear sign the slab existed once it was set.
Arya sat up in her bed before the sun had risen over the horizon, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she dressed and answered the door. She blinked in confusion at Jon, who offered a smile. "May I come in for a moment?"
With a nod Arya stepped aside, waving Nymeria away as she sat on her bed. When Jon closed the door she noticed the bag on Jon's torso. She stood with a gasp. "Are you going already?"
"I'm sorry, Arya," he said walking to her. "I need to do something while we're in the North, but I'll be back, I promise."
"Why?" She pouted, sinking to her bed. "You just got back."
Jon took a knee, holding her shoulders. "Arya, it doesn't matter where I am or what happens. No matter what, you're my sister and I love you, do understand?"
Arya nodded, blinking back tears brought on by his sudden sincere declaration. "I love you too, big brother."
"I'll always do what I can to protect or help you, but I can't be there always, so I've brought you something," said Jon. "Something you'll have to keep secret."
"A present?"
"You could call it that." He opened his satchel and pulled a thin small sword from beneath the cloak he'd packed. Sheathed in a gray scabbard with a blade slimmer than Dark Sister. The hilt was black with a rounded gray pommel and straight gray cross guard.
"A sword," she said in a hushed breath.
"This is no toy," he said drawing it from the scabbard to show her the pale steel, which though narrow retained a cutting edge. "Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with."
"Girls don't shave," said Arya.
"Maybe they should," Jon said with a smirk. "I've seen a few with legs hairy as my head."
Arya giggled at him. "It's so skinny."
"So are you," Jon said handing her the sheathed sword. "I had this made special for you by the best blacksmiths in King's Landing, Tobho Mott. It's the kind of sword bravos use in the Free Cities. It won't take a man's head, but if you're quick enough it'll poke him full of holes."
"I can be quick," Arya nodded.
"If you end up coming to King's Landing, I promise I'll try to help give you lessons, though I'm not sure how much use I'll be with such a different sword."
"Really? You'll teach me?"
"As much as I can," he assured. "First lesson, stick them with the point end."
She smacked him with the flat of the sword. "I know which end to use."
Jon chuckled. "Good. Make sure you watch how they fight in the yard, even if you can't use the same things they do you can learn how they fight and think on how to counter it. Run, ride, do whatever you can to make yourself strong."
"I'll find someone to practice with until you're back," she nodded, sheathing the blade. "Do you really have to leave? What if we leave before you're back?"
"Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle," he told her. When she nodded he motioned to the sword. "All the best swords have names."
"Like Ice," she said looking over the blade. "Does this one have a name?"
"I'd considered one. Can you guess it?" He teased, "It's your favorite thing."
After a puzzled moment she smiled, looking to him. "Needle."
Hiding the sword away she followed Jon to the stables where they found Domeric and Samwell had prepared their horses with enough provisions for the Wall and back.
"All set?" Domeric asked before nodding to Arya. "Is she coming with?"
"No," Jon said shaking his head. "Just here to see us off."
Arya smiled to his friends, who gave her nods as Jon turned to her, who took a knee, letting her wrap her arms around him. "Take care."
"And you, sister." Jon held her shoulders as they separated. "I'll need you to tell Ser Barristan that I've gone, as well as Father. Tell them I've gone to the Wall to see it once before I go back south. If you can find them alone and when you're sure no one else is around then tell them I've taken what's mine and will decide if I'll take the rest when I return. Okay?"
Arya nodded. "Okay."
Seeing her confusion he chuckled. "I can't explain right now but I will later, I promise. They'll know what I mean, but remember, no one can hear or know. And tell Robb I'm sorry I left early and didn't tell him, but I need to hurry so I can get back sooner."
"Can I tell him about Needle?"
Jon chuckled. "Just don't tell Sansa. She may tell your mother or the septa and no good can come of that. You're smart enough to know who else can know, who else can keep a secret."
"I'll wait to tell them," Arya said looking toward the gate. "Give you time."
"Thank you," Jon said rising and mounting his horse. Securing the satchel at his hip he took the reins and gave Arya a nod before leading then toward the gate as Dom and Sam fell into place at his sides.
He would have gone alone if he had to, but it was a relief to know he rode with men he could speak to of the truth, who could help him decide what to do. As of now all he knew was he didn't want to be in Winterfell, and wanted to let his uncle know that he wasn't alone, and maybe neither was Jon.