Song of A Northern Sorcerer

The sound of Master Nox closing the door was almost deafening as Jon now sat alone in his Master's personal study with nothing more than his mother's journals to keep him company. 'My mother,' he thought sadly, looking down at the seemingly innocent leather book barely larger than his hand. For so long he had only wanted to know one thing about himself. The one thing most could not answer and the few who could refused to do so. But now he knew. And knowing was almost worse than not knowing. When he didn't know who she was, he still had hope that he would someday meet her. That she would hold him in her arms and tell him how proud of him she was. But now, now there was no chance of that ever happening. Because she was dead. Dead and buried along with her brother and father down in the crypts of Winterfell.

Fighting through the pain of anguish that threatened to overtake him once more, he focused on the small journal on the table before him. It looked just like any other book one could read, but to Jon, this one thing might as well have been the Stranger himself in disguise. Would this tell him why she did what she did? Why a Rebellion that cost so many lives was started? Did…did he even want to know? Did she despise him because of - of who his father was?

'I won't know anything just sitting here like a lump on a log,' he thought, shaking his head and sucking in several deep breaths as he purposefully flipped the book open while the words Master Nox just spoke to him went through his mind. 'Move forward, Jon. To stay stagnant is to die. Learn from the past, but do not fear it.'

His resolve faltered as he eyed the seemingly neat yet still sloppy writing on the first page. 'My mother's hand,' he swallowed, his fingers tracing the letters as if they could connect the two of across the barrier of life and death that separated the two of them. 'Oh, for gods' sake, Jon,' he cursed himself as he realized he still hadn't read a single word on the page. 'As Master would say, 'man up or shut up'. Now, read the damn book!'

"My son, gods, that is odd to say. Even though you are still growing in my womb I feel that I already know so much about you. Well, I guess that I do. But most, well, probably all would probably think that I'm crazy for just why. After all, I've been locked in this god forsaken bloody tower for moons now with no one to talk to save for three Kingsgaurd who do rather impressive imitations of trees and, gods I'm rambling. You see my son, I've had wolf dreams, just like the Targaryen's of old use to have 'dragon dreams', the Starks frequently had those who could have 'wolf dreams'. And I guess I'm the lucky one that got saddled with this accursed power this time around. But it wasn't all that bad I guess. I saw you my son. I saw that you would be born a boy and that you would be raised with your cousins in Winterfell, our home. I saw what a brave and good man you will become. But this knowledge came with a great price. The price to know that I will not survive you coming into this world. And it is a price that I will gladly pay my son. And no matter what anyone might try to say to you, I will not regret paying this price. Because I love you. More than my own life. Because you are my life my son. Now and forever."

Pausing, Jon took a steadying breath. 'She – She knew that she wouldn't survive giving birth to me. And – And she didn't hate me. She didn't even know me and – and she said she loves me.'

"I supposed that most of this just sounds like the ramblings of a mad woman. And reading what I already wrote I would be ready to agree with you. But again, I've been locked in this tower for months on end with only my own thoughts to provide any meaningful company. So, I'm sorry if a lot of this won't make sense, but I want you to know. To know the truth behind what happened and the circumstances around your birth.

"Though, having said that I don't know where to even begin. I suppose I might as well start when I was still but a little girl in Winterfell. I was always, well, different from the other girls in the keep and Winter Town. I didn't want to do needlework or listen to poetry or any of those other 'lady-like' things our accursed southern-Maester insisted were proper indulgences for a Lady. I wanted to be in the yard training with my brothers and the guards. I wanted to go out hunting for deer or boar or whatever struck my fancy. I wanted to ride my horse to the ends of the land and sail beyond the Sunset Sea just to see what was out there. The last thing I wanted was a cage that so many girls wanted to willingly lock themselves in. But as I grew up, I suppose I came to realize that such fancies were not possible. Not for me at least. Nobility is a gift and a curse. A gift because we have privileges that others do not. A curse, we because we have expectations that we have to meet.

"And it wasn't just that proper 'Lady activities' didn't sound appealing to me that set me apart from the other girls. Around the time I started my moon blood (don't cringe son, it's a natural part of a woman's cycle and something that you will have to deal with in time) all the other girls started gushing about this guard or stable boy or perhaps even a Lords son or two. But I, I just wasn't interested in them. At least not like the other girls. They all wanted to steal kisses or perhaps more. But I just wanted to beat them into the ground to prove that I was just as good, no better, than them. And my thoughts weren't helped when I overheard two of Winterfell's guards talking about their recent trip to the brothel in Winter Town. By the gods, from the way they spoke they viewed the girls who worked there as little more than holes to be used and discarded. Now that I think about it, that might be a direct quote. And they weren't alone in their feelings. After hearing that, I began to sneak about more often, trying to listen in on more raunchy conversations. I was hoping that those two were the exception and not the norm. But nope. I was wrong. They were pretty much the norm. Even several of the Lords son talked about their wives, betrotheds or whores in the same manner. So, my opinion towards men got quite colored.

"Then came the day that I knew was coming but was still dreading with every fiber of my being. The day when my father pulled me into his solar to coldly and calmly informed me that within a few years, once I reached the age of ten-and-six and could safely carry a child to term, I would wed to Robert Baratheon, the heir of Storm's End and the Lord of the Stormlands. And then I was dismissed. Just like that, 'Lyanna, you will wed Robert Baratheon, get fucked by him, bare him a son and that is all. Leave.' Obviously, that wasn't the real conversation between myself and my father…but that was close. I spent the next two months coming to terms with what was to be my future. I had hope that, seeing as how Robert was a brother in all but blood to Ned that he would be a good man. Even if the idea of being with him, or rather any man, didn't sit well with me, if he was a good man then I could live with it.

"Then came the Tourney of Harrenhal. My father sent myself, Brandon and Benjen down to represent House Stark and we were to meet up with Ned and my future betrothed as well once we were there. When I first saw Robert, I can honestly say that I could somewhat understand why many a maiden seemed to be infatuated with him. He was tall, strong and I'd even go so far as to say that he was ruggedly handsome. Though I still felt no spark or interest in him when Ned introduced us. But he was pleasant enough and courteous. At least for a time. He said that he loved me, even though we'd never even met before this. That sent the bells off in my head. And the more we talked, the more I realized that he loved the 'idea' of me. Not me. I could tell from the way he looked at me, to the way he responded to all my interests that he loved the idea of 'claiming the she-wolf of Winterfell'. Not in marrying Lyanna Stark. And my dislike for him was set in stone that very night when he tried to force himself on me. Well, he didn't push for sex but, he was certainly insistent with his hands and mouth. And didn't stop until I firmly slapped him across the face and ran off.

"I told my brothers what had transpired, and Brandon looked ready to march off and kill the man. But Ned, the ever patient one of us, managed to talk our brother down. He explained that Robert had probably indulged a little too much with his drink, which didn't settle my thoughts at all. But in the end, I decided to give the oaf another chance and went to his tent to speak with him once more. That was when I found out he was with not one, but two whores. Whores that apparently looked a lot like myself judging by the way he kept calling them both 'Lyanna' and the way his men standing guard winced while I stood there for a time listening to his debauchery. After that, I realized that I was doomed to marriage with a man who was just like all the rest."

Jon's fingers curled around the edges of the book as he read through the passages, his anger spiking as he developed an urge to grab the fastest horse he could find in the stables and make his way down to King's Landing and become the second Kingslayer in less than two decades. Somehow, he managed to fight down the urge to gut the king and press on reading his mother's last writings.

"The next day was the start of the Tourney and, despite not announcing that he was even coming, the Mad King apparently decided to come to the Tourney. When I first saw the man, I almost asked Brandon why a beggar was masquerading as the King. His hair was long and disheveled, his fingernails almost impossibly long and he just looked wretched. In comparison his son, the Crowned Prince, was exactly what I pictured whenever I thought of the royal family. He was the first man that I considered beautiful. But he paled in comparison to his wife, our future queen, Elia Martel. She was beauty and grace personified.

"Outside of the Kings arrival, nothing else of note really happened till that night when I caught three squires beating up one of House Starks bannerman by the name of Howland Reed. I managed to chase them off with my name and tended to Howland personally. Howland said he didn't care about the beating, but I did. And as my father always said, the wolfs blood is strong in me. So, I did something that, looking back now, was insanely stupid. But also, the greatest thing I'd ever done. I managed to piece together a suit of armor. Then I rode out on a borrowed steed the next day proclaiming myself to be the 'Knight of the Laughing Tree' and challenged the three knights whose squires beat Howland the night before. And I handed all three their asses on a platter! But the thrill of beating them was dashed when the King demanded I remove my helmet and present myself. I couldn't let that happen so; I ran. I managed to ditch my horse and was in the process of throwing my armor into the Gods Eye when I was found. By none other than Prince Rhaegar, Princess Elia and two Kingsgaurd.

"I was done for, and I knew it. But then something I never expected to happen happened. Elia wrapped me in her arms and told Rhaegar and the Kingsguard to throw the armor into the lake and to never speak of it. The Prince even added that he would take my shield as proof of my fleeing. I was stunned. I didn't understand why they were helping me. But as the Kingsguard, who I later learned was Ser Arthur Dayne and Prince Lewyn Martell, threw my armor in the lake, Elia led me into an unused passage that led back into Harrenhal and proceeded to help me clean up and get changed.

"And that moment was the start of everything, both good and bad. I asked Elia why she was helping me, but she simply smiled and said that she understood what I was going through and that she admired me. Me! The Princess of Dorne and future Queen of Westeros admired me! And while I thought that after that one meeting, I would never see her again, I was wrong. For the next several days the Princess always seemed to be wherever I was, and she kept inviting me to have tea with her, or take a walk, or anything to really spend time with her. We talked, gods we talked a lot! And, and it was through her that I learned more about myself than I ever thought possible. I told her everything, my thoughts on my marriage and on men in general and she just stood there and took it all in. And in the end, she explained just why I was so different from all the other ladies. I was, to quote Elia, 'a ladies lady'. Or rather, I would prefer to be a man in the company of a woman rather than a woman in the company of a man. I didn't really understand what she was saying, but then she dropped a question that changed everything. She asked me if I had a choice, would I rather kiss and sleep with herself, or Rhaegar.

"And that was the moment when everything became clear. The reason why I didn't want to be with a man was because I wanted to be with a woman! I'd heard about such things of course, but…well…such behavior was not acceptable. At least in public. Except for Dorne of course. And the North was more, forgiving of such things. But there were still expectations to be held upon. And then, as if that revelation wasn't strange enough, Elia dropped another one on me as she admitted that she too was a 'ladies lady', and that her marriage to Rhaegar was more like a brother-sister relationship, though not in the Targaryen manner. Rather in the normal manner. And as I was still trying to recover from that piece of information, Elia leaned forward and kissed me! And right then and there, I was lost. Any doubts I had were gone. Gods, I still don't remember how it happened, but the two of us ended up, well, performing carnal acts right there in the godswood of Harrenhal! All I can say is, thank the gods that trees block out noise and that it was her uncle Lewyn that was guarding her that day!"

Having read that part, Jon felt his face flush and he had to readjust his pants. While the thought of his mother doing, well, that wasn't particularly high on his list to think about, that wasn't necessarily where his mind went. Rather, it pictured another Dornish princess locked in a passionate embrace with another woman! 'Focus, Jon!' he cursed himself, forcing himself to read on. 'I don't need to take care of that particular problem!'

"After that wonderful night, I knew that no matter what, the future I wanted was to be with her. Whether as her friend, lover, sworn shield or whatever, I didn't care. All I wanted was to be with her. And as if the gods were listening to my pleas, they provided one. After we woke up in each other's arms, Elia explained to me the true reason behind the Tourney of Harrenhal. Rhaegar was going to overthrow his father and take his place as King! And the Tourney was being held so that Rhaegar could meet with the High Lords of Westeros and garner their support. Though that plan was now on the wayside as the King had somehow caught wind of what might be happening and decided to attend unannounced, ruining Rhaegar's plans. But that was just one of the two primary reasons why the Tourney was being held. The second was that Elia and Rhaegar were trying to find a second wife for Rhaegar! Elia, with tears in her eyes, told me a truth that no one else in the entire realm save for a handful knew about. She was barren. Rhaenys was hers. But the child Aegon that was being passed off as her son was not. The true Aegon was a miscarriage. A miscarriage that cost Elia her womb. So, to make sure that Elia did not die on the orders of the King and to buy them time for Rhaegar to take the throne, they were passing off a serving girls child as the actual crown prince until the truth could safely be revealed.

"But Rhaegar still needed an heir. A male heir. Which was why he needed a second wife. And, as Elia put it, she would rather his second wife be a woman that she loved, rather than some cold-hearted bitch, and I could've sworn she said some name like 'Kersey' or the like when she did. Now I wasn't a complete fool. I was instantly crushed as I thought that Elia had only seduced me and used me to become a broodmare for her husband. But, and gods above I don't know how, but she convinced me that everything she said, everything she felt for me, was true. And, I don't know why, but I knew that she wasn't lying to me. She loved me, just as I had come to love her. I still love her. Even now after everything. And that will never change.

"When I had brought up the prospect of me giving birth and my, well, distaste for the thought of being with a man, she comforted me. She said that she would be with me always. And that, well, Rhaegar wasn't exactly like most men. He had needs to be sure. And he was not above seeking out a woman's company and that I shouldn't necessarily say I wouldn't like something until I tried it. But she reassured me that Rhaegar usually found solace in his books…or in the company of other men. Which was a thought I did not need. Not when I was still holding Elia's naked body close to my own. I then brought up my current betrothal, to which Elia merely laughed off. What father would uphold a betrothal to a Lord, even a Lord of a Great House, when he could instead have his daughter become a future Queen? In the end, I was convinced. And for the rest of our time in Harrenhal Elia and I spent almost every spare moment we could together outside of the public eye. This of course was made considerably easier as my dear brother Ned had fallen of the Wall in love with Elia's handmaiden Ashara. I can still remember walking out of Elia's room one morning, only to catch Ned walking out of Ashara's at the same time! Gods, I don't know who was more embarrassed! Luckily Ned bought my excuse that I was merely talking to the Princess after failing to find him. I love my dear quiet brother, but gods only knew what he would do if he knew that I had spent the night with said princess in the same manner as he'd spent the night with Ashara!

"But all good dreams must come to an end. And for me, and everyone else for that matter, that end came when Rhaegar won the tourney and, instead of crowning Elia like we had planned, crowned me instead! My brothers, not to mention Robert, were furious and the crowd was stunned. And the King, the mad bastard, just laughed at the mayhem his son had caused with his actions. Our retinue packed up and left that very day, heading to Riverrun where Brandon would be married to Catelyn Tully before we went back North to Winterfell.

"And after we left, none of the plans that'd been put in place worked as they should've. Rhaegar and two of the Kingsguard came and spirted me away from Riverrun, though why it had to be this way I still don't understand. But I made sure to leave a note in my room for Brandon explaining what was going on, and I even sent a raven to my father explaining that I was not going to be the future Lady of Storm's End, but rather the future Second Queen of Westeros. We stopped on our journey on the edges of the God's Eye and, after the Kingsguard managed to find a Septon, I married Rhaegar on the banks of the lake. Though I looked in Rhaegar's eyes and said the words making us husband and wife, in my mind and heart I was saying them to Elia. And I knew that she was doing the same. Then Rhaegar, well, claimed me. Only once and mercifully it was not nearly as horrible as I had thought it would be. We then made our way south all the way to the northern borders of Dorne to a tower that Rhaegar called the 'Tower of Joy', though I have truly found nothing but anguish here. It was all part of the plan to keep me safely away from those who would side against Rhaegar until he was King.

"We were at the tower for only a day before a raven arrived from King's Landing. My brother Brandon had, for some godforsaken reason, marched to King's Landing and demanded my return and for Rhaegar to come forth and explain himself! Apparently, he thought I was taken against my will. In response, the Mad King imprisoned my brother, killed his retinue that came with him, and demanded my father present himself to the court to explain my brother's actions. My father did as was asked of him and…and was murdered. As was my brother. On the orders of the King. And then as if that wasn't enough, he called my brother Ned and Robert Baratheon traitors and had sent orders that their heads were to be sent to him.

"I wanted to head north immediately and explain everything that had happened, damn the plan. It was ruined anyway. But Rhaegar wouldn't listen to me! He kept insisting that he couldn't just depose his father now. And then the next raven came, and with it any fantasy I had of Rhaegar being a good man was destroyed. My brother Ned, Robert and Jon Arryn had all risen in rebellion against the crown. Now I was frantic to get back and fix the mess that we'd caused. But Rhaegar…he wouldn't budge. Instead, he…well…he said that because my brother, Robert, and Jon Arryn had declared open rebellion against the crown, they were traitors and would be dealt with as such. And that he would have to head north to deal with them, but promised that, out of respect for the future mother of his children, that he would leave Benjen as the next Lord of Winterfell. And that should Ned survive that he would allow him to live out the remainder of his life at the Wall.

"He then followed that statement up by saying that, before he left, he had to make sure that his line was secure. That I needed to be pregnant. I told him that, if he was insistent on killing my brother after what his father did, that I would bite his cock off if it got even close to me! He then, gods, the look in his eyes. He told me that if I did not submit willingly, that he would have his Kingsguard hold me down so he could impregnate me and then he would end House Stark for good. But if I complied and provided him with his heir, then and only then, would he grant mercy to my brother Benjen. He said all of it so calmly, as if we were talking about the fucking weather! I had no choice and…I…gods…I didn't fight back as he took me over and over again. Two weeks later I missed my moon blood and a week later Rhaegar went off to war, leaving the newly arrived Lord Commander of the Kingsguard along with Arthur and Oswell behind to 'protect me'."

Feeling sick to his stomach once more, Jon pushed the journal away from him. Thinking he was just a bastard born from a moment of weakness was one thing. Knowing that he was born from rape was – gods that was infinitely worse! Even if he was technically 'trueborn'. The thought of just how he came to be sickened him and made him wish that his 'father' would come back from beyond the grave just so that he could send him back to whatever hell he was currently in!

"Despite how you came into being my son, I hold nothing but love for you. I fell in love with you the moment it was confirmed that you were growing within me. The sins of your father are not yours, my son.

"After the man who sired you left (I refuse to call him your father my son), my life became duller than dull. The only people I had to talk too were the three Kingsguard, none of whom I wish to even see, and the one serving girl named Wylla that Ser Arthur managed to get permission from Rhaegar to bring back from his home in order to help me as my pregnancy progressed. Wylla was nice enough, but I can tell that she is scared out of her mind. And it is no wonder why as the esteemed Lord Commander told her that should she ever breath a word of what was going on here that he would cut her down without hesitation. Such a wonderful man.

"For months I have been stuck with nothing to do but think and, well, talk to myself. But then the news came that had me just about on the floor laughing for joy. Rhaegar was dead. Killed on the banks of the Trident by Robert Baratheon! That act alone was enough to elevate the man somewhat in my mind, though I still didn't want him within a few leagues of me considering the way he acted the first time we met. With Rhaegar's death, the tide of the Rebellion shifted and the coalition of Northmen, Valemen, Riverlanders and those from the Stormlands started pushing the loyalist back all the way to King's Landing. I was openly praying to the old gods for my brother's success in dethroning the Mad King, something that I knew irked the Kingsgaurd, especially the Lord Commander, more than a little. Which of course only made me pray louder and more frequently!

"The next message that was brought to the tower however destroyed what little hope I had left in me. King's Landing had been sacked and the Mad King killed by his own Kingsguard. That news was cause for celebration, however – Elia…my sweet desert rose was murdered. Raped and murdered with the blood of a child still on her killer's hands. And her daughter, my soon-to-be unofficial daughter, was stabbed nearly a hundred times. And Robert, he laughed at their corpses! And my brother, my sweet Ned, did nothing! The one person who I had come to truly love, the one who explained to me just who I truly was and accepted me for it and even loved me, was dead! And no one seemed to give two shits about it! I just…"

The writing faded off as there were clear signs of water droplets having fallen onto the page and smeared the writing. 'Not water droplets,' he realized, feeling his own eyes swell. 'Tears. Tears for the woman she loved and the woman who was torn from her so violently.'

"Sorry, I couldn't write for a while after that. I thought I'd come to terms with what happened, but I realize now that I haven't, and I probably never will. But I guess this is it my son. Now you know everything that happened. Gods only know what people say happened during all of this, but I doubt it is the full truth. So, I guess that I need to end this as I don't really know what else to tell you my son. I just wanted you to know the truth of your birth and to let you know that even though bringing you into this world will end my life, I will gladly pay the price. I love you my dear son. I know that your uncle will raise you to become a good man. And I just want to say that, even though you have the blood of the dragon within you, you also have the blood of the wolves. And between the two of us, I know that the blood of the wolves is far far stronger than that of the dragon. And I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that I won't be there to watch you take your first steps. I won't be there to listen to your first words. I won't be there to wrench your ear and tan your hide when I catch you with a young girl in some darkened corner. And I won't be there to watch as you cloak a young girl with whatever sigil you take for yourself. But even though I might not be there physically, I will always be watching over you from the realm of the gods, my little dragonwolf.

"Oh, one last thing. The man who sired you wanted you to be named Aegon. Well, I'd rather shit down my own throat than give two shits what that man wanted. So, I decided on a much more fitting name for you my son. Jaehaerys Targaryen, or Jaehaerys Stark, whichever you prefer. Or perhaps a new surname to make a fresh start. I'm sure you can guess my preference, but I want this to be your choice my son. Goodbye, my son. Live long and live well.

"Your loving mother, Lyanna Stark nee Martell nee Targaryen."

He read the last words ever written by his mother time and time again, trying to picture her sitting in that accursed tower, tears streaming down her face as she penned her last words to him. 'Jaehaerys,' he thought, his fingers tracing his mother's elegant, yet somehow still sloppy, script. 'My name, my true name isn't Jon Snow…but rather Jaehaerys. I, it's the name my mother gave me, and I want to honor her. But gods, I don't want anything to do with my father – no. Lord Eddard Stark is my father. Rhaegar Targaryen is merely the man who sired me. Nothing more.'

As he pondered this, a different thought occurred to him, something that Lord Nox had just told him. About how, when a Sith was ready, they would cast aside their old name and take a new one. The names were often given in relation to what they were expected to do or what they'd accomplished. But they also served as a means of severing their ties with their past and forging a new future for themselves. 'I can choose my name. Be who I want to be. Not who others want me to be,' he thought, finally coming to the realization of just what it meant. 'My names, Jaehaerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, in grand scheme of things mean nothing if I do not allow them to… Jaehaerys Stark…no. Not Stark. I, I might want to be a Stark. But, I – I need something new. What was it my mother called me? Dragonwolf? Yes. Jaehaerys Dragonwolf. That…That is my name. That is the name that I choose. That is who I will become.'

Moving to close the book, he realized as he flipped through a few more pages that there was a second set of writing on the back pages. Flipping the book open to the very back, he regarded the writing that stood in stark contrast to his mother's delicate hand.

"Your grace. Before you read further, please know that I have not read what your mother has left for you. That is for your eyes and your eyes alone. While I may not know the exact words that your mother used, I can guess. I know that my death is coming for me in the form of your uncle. Even now, while your mother labors to bring you into this world with but a single wet nurse for aid. I pray that your Uncle will arrive here in time and bring aid for both yourself and your mother, neither of you deserve this accursed fate that has been set upon you both. And I shoulder the blame for that. But the oath of the Kingsguard is both absolute and a crutch. I have done many terrible things and stood witness to more heinous acts than you can possibly imagine, unable to do anything as my oath as a Kingsguard prevented me from doing anything while my oaths as a knight, a lord, and a man demanded that I stand up and stop what was happening. It may sound odd, but I wish that I had the strength of will, the conviction, to do what Ser Jamie Lannister did when he ended the Mad King's life. I would've been put to death and called an oath breaker and kingslayer, but how many lives could I have saved had I done what needed to be done instead of what was easiest? It is a question I have pondered for months now. And I have not found an answer.

"Forgive my ramblings, my King. I have had so many doubts ever since I became a member of the Kingsgaurd. I thought that Rhaegar was free of his father's madness. But he wasn't…not entirely. He merely had a different form of madness. Obsession. Obsession with the prophecy of the 'Prince-Who-Was-Promised'. At first, he thought that he was the promised Prince. He dedicated himself to the art of a warrior in preparation for what lay ahead, even if he didn't know what it was. But then, one day, his obsession shifted. No longer did he think that he was the promised prince, but rather that the prince would be born directly of him. His son. And after speaking with his Uncle Aemon, who is a Maester at the Wall, he became convinced that his son needed to match Aegon the Conqueror exactly. 'The dragon needs three heads', he would constantly tell me. Elia gave birth to their first daughter Rhaenys. And when she was confirmed to be pregnant for a second time, he knew it would be a son. But then Aegon died a stillbirth and what was left of my friend died with him, though I did not know it at the time. He retreated into the library at Dragonstone for nearly a week. And when he emerged, it was with a revelation. 'Fire and Ice,' he kept saying over and over. 'We were sent for Fire and Ice. And through Fire and Ice shall the prince and his second wife be born'.

"I thought it mere ramblings, my King. As once we left Dragonstone with the fake Aegon, he never once spoke of it again. But now, now I realize. The Tourney of Harrenhal was indeed so that your father could gain allies so that he could overthrow his father peacefully. But it was also so that he could find a second wife with Elia's blessing to provide more children. I realize now that Rhaegar had purposefully targeted Lyanna Stark. This was not known to Elia, who I feel truly had come to love with the she-wolf. Everything was seemingly going to plan, but then everything fell apart so quickly that we were not able to recover. Rhaegar showed himself no better than his father as he raped your mother several times a day to ensure his seed took hold in her womb. Gods, I wanted to split him in half the first time I had to stand and listen to him forcibly take her. She was but a girl of six-and-ten! But my oaths to the Kingsguard prevented me from doing anything. Then Rhaegar left and died. Then Elia and her daughter died. And now your mother lay on the birthing bed with naught but a single wet nurse to aid her, and I fear she will not survive you coming into this world.

"I ask—no, beg—for your forgiveness, my King. Even though I know that I do not deserve it. Forgive me for being a weak man, unable to do what was right and who instead let my oaths bind me into inaction. Ser Oswell Whent is of similar mind. He truly liked your mother. He enjoyed her wit and northern forwardness. And I know that listening to her screams and tears cut him far deeper than a sword ever could. We both wished we could stay by your side as your Kingsguard, or even your friends should you decide you not want the throne. But we know that we do not deserve such an honor. Death is the only thing we deserve. But while we have too much stubbornness to simply die, we will both meet our end at the edge of Ice when your Uncle arrives. It is no less than we deserve, and I could never harm the man that my sister loves more than life itself. Even if he has been forced to marry another, despite everything that happened.

"One last thing, my King. I know that these events have more than likely colored your opinion of your father's family. But I beg you to not remember the Targaryen dynasty and your ancestors based on the few bad apples. There were just as many good and just kings during the Targaryen Reign as there were bad. Perhaps more so. And if you truly need confirmation of this, I implore you to seek out your Great-uncle Aemon Targaryen at the Wall, provided he still lives. He will be able to tell you much more than I. Live long and live well, my King. Whether as a King, pauper, or knight. I know that you will do well in life.

"Your loyal Kingsgaurd, Ser Arthur Dayne."

Not able or willing to read any more, Jon closed the journal and buried his head in his hands. The past half a day had been the most turbulent of his life. First, he found out his father wasn't his true father. Then he learned that his mother was dead. Then he read her last words to him and learned that while he wasn't a bastard, he was a child born of rape. Then the words of Ser Arthur, the Ser Arthur Dayne, the man he had always looked up too as an idol. Well, learning that the man he had tried to emulate his life had stood outside the door while he listened to his mother be violated time and time again. Gods, how was he supposed to deal with this?

"Jon?"

Jerking, he just barely managed to stop himself from drawing his lightsaber and turning it on Robb, who had somehow managed to enter Lord Nox's private meditation chamber without him even realizing it. Nox would've tanned his hide or made him run till he dropped from exhaustion for such a lax in awareness. Hell's even Ghost and Greywind had managed to get in with Robb without him noticing. "Robb," he gulped, not even sure where to begin.

Robb approached him slowly, his eyes shifting towards the book laying closed before Jon. "Are you alright brother?"

"Brother," Jon hiccupped, the one word meaning more to him that anything, "am I? I'm…I'm your cousin. A cousin brought about by rape thought justified because of…I don't even know what my…father thought justified it."

The chair next to him scrapped across the floor as Robb sat down beside him. "You might be my cousin by birth. But you're my brother by choice Jon. Hell's, we've been through everything together. The first memory I have you are in it. And when your cock got hard for the first time you came to me in fright. And father, he's still our father. Regardless of who sired you or…or how you came to be."

Chuckling through the sadness within him, Jon lightly knuckled Robb's shoulder. "I thought you swore on the old gods never to talk about that again."

Laughing, Robb knuckled him back. "I swore I'd never speak of it to anyone else. I never said anything about when it was just the two of us. And besides, you know just as many embarrassing stories about me, perhaps more."

"Yeah," Jon nodded, his mood lightening. "Does Lady Stark still not know about the whore that Theon snuck into your room just before we left? The whore you couldn't do anything with."

"Hey, I was ambushed," Robb countered. "How would you react if you walked into your room after a long day and found a naked woman kneeling on your bed saying she was there for whatever you wanted?"

Jon didn't need to imagine. Princess Arianne had pretty much done the same thing. And he hadn't reacted any better than his brother had. But he wasn't about to admit that to Robb, not yet. So, he was going to tell a little lie. "Oh, I'm sure I would have handled it better than you, Stark."

"Really?" Robb countered as look Jon did not care for entered his eye. "Are you sure, brother? Cause Dacey told me the most interesting story about how you escorted Princess Arianne back to her room. And how after you left you were in a complete daze and, well, you know the reputation of the Dornish. Did she show you her appreciation for defending her honor in the yard, brother?"

"Careful, brother," Jon said, cursing Dacey in his mind and starting to try and plan his revenge on her. "Or I might just arrange something similar for you with Lady Talisa."

"Hey, hey, she's off limits and – oh, you…" Robb tapered off as he realized he'd walked straight into Jon's trap. "Fine. She's, gods I've never met anyone like her. She's smart, almost ungodly so. And she acts more northern than most northern ladies I've met! And her skin, her eyes and that hair of hers…alright so she's been featured in my dreams more than once since we've met. So what?"

"No judgment, brother," Jon nodded as he watched Ghost and Greywind play around the room. "I can understand where you're coming from. The difference between us is you might stand a chance with Talisa. Arianne, she's a princess and I—"

"You're the Apprentice to the Northern Sorcerer, a son of the Warden of the North, a brother to the future Warden of the North and you have the blood of two of the oldest and most well-known families running through you." Robb said, fixing him with a look that brokered no argument. "Yeah, there's absolutely nothing there to make you a decent match for a Princess from Dorne."

Smiling, Jon gave a thankful nod to Robb. "You know, Arianne might have said something similar. She said, well, I – gods. Alright, she said that it wouldn't have been unheard of for a Princess of Dorne to take a bastard as her consort."

Smiling, Robb gave him a nod. "Well there you go then Jon. It seems like you have a far better chance with your lady then I do with mine."

"And what about Theon?" Jon asked, scratching at the back of his head. "I mean, I might not always get along with him but…hells he's our brother also."

"Yeah he is," Robb nodded. "Hmm, that's a good question. We'll have to find a lady from somewhere far to the south, that way it can be a complete southern invasion on the purity of us poor Northern boys."

"Not sure there's much purity left in Theon regarding women," Jon laughed. "Not if even half of the stories he's told us about his exploits in Winter Town are true."

"Half, at least," Robb laughed.

Feeling the tension leaving him, Jon nudged the book with his hand. "Do you – Do you want to know what she said?"

He could see Robb's throat move as his brother stared at him. "Yes, but only if and when you want to tell me, brother. And not a moment sooner."

"I do…just…not now." Jon sighed. He knew he needed to talk about it. But, for just a short time, he wanted the words to stay private between him and his mother.

"Then when you're ready," Robb nodded before clapping his hands and standing. "Well, now that that's all out of the way, let's get to the baths. We need to get ready for Lord Nox and Lady Nyra's wedding tonight. And gods help both of us if my mother or, gods forbid, Sansa finds even the slightest fault in either of our appearances. I swear, with the tear that our sister has been on since the announcement back in White Harbor you would think that she would be the one getting married today."

"One would think," he agreed, rising to his feet and taking the book with him. Walking over to the one section of the wall, he held his hand out and used the Force to unlock a hidden compartment in the wall that could only be opened with the Force. Giving the journal one last caress, he carefully set the book inside and closed the compartment up tight. "Well, Robb, let's go get sheered like the sheep our sister seems to think we are."

"Not sheep, brother," Robb laughed, slinging his arm around his shoulders as the two walked out of the chamber with their direwolves nipping at their heels. "Wolves."

The slight chill of the Northern air was almost calming as Nox stood before the weirwood tree within the heart of the godswood of Winterfell. A calmness that he was in almost desperate need of. Some may find it odd, or even ridiculous, that a Dark Lord of the Sith, a Darth in rank, and a Member of the Dark Council could feel even the slightest hint of nerves. But in this time and place, it was all Nox could do to remain firmly planted to the ground beside Ned Stark, the man who had quickly come to be one of his few true friends, along with dozens of other Lords and Ladies from the North and the Vale as they waited for the woman who would soon become his wife to emerge from amongst the trees.

"Relax, friend," Ned said quietly out of the corner of his mouth as they waited for Nyra to appear. "Enjoy this moment while you can, for the wedding will be over quickly enough and you will only be able to wish to repeat the events over and over again. Trust me, I know from experience."

Nox was about to respond, but his words died in his throat as two people made their way from the trees and into the clearing between the rows of those assembled. Robb Stark stood tall and proud; the sigil of House Stark clearly displayed with the pin on his chest as he walked forward. And on his arm was the woman who would soon be Nox's wife, Nyra. And Force, if there was ever a divine entity, he swore that it'd descended and blessed Nyra. She was breathtaking. The white dress and fur that hugged her curves beautifully. The white maiden's cloak over her shoulders and her dark hair woven into an intricate braid and slung over her right shoulder. Force, she was beyond beautiful.

"Who brings forth this woman before the gods and men today to be wed?" Ned's strong voice called out, almost startling Nox, he'd been so focused on Nyra that he hadn't even realized that her and Robb had crossed the distance separating them and were now standing before the weirwood.

"I, Robb Stark, Heir of Winterfell, do hereby bring forth Nyra, vassal of House Stark, to be wed this day."

"And who accepts this woman before the gods?"

"I, Lord Alim Nox, do hereby take this woman, Nyra, vassal of House Stark, to be wed this day," Nox answered Ned's question, taking care to ensure that his voice was loud and steady.

Motioning for Nyra to take the last step forward, Robb let go of her before retreating to join Jon and his siblings, while Nox held out his hand for her to take. Nyra's presence was radiating pure joy and light as she grasped her hand in his and stepped even with him. "Nyra, vassal of House Stark," Ned spoke loudly, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips as he placed a single hand atop of theirs. "Do you accept Lord Alim Nox as your husband, from this day forth and until you are reunited in the realm of the gods?"

"I do," Nyra responded, her head held high. "He is mine and I am his. From now and until we are reunited in the realm of the gods."

Turning his attention to Nox, Ned placed his other hand underneath their joined hands so that he was holding them together. "Lord Alim Nox, do you hereby accept Nyra, vassal of House Stark, as your wife, from this day forth until you are reunited in the realm of the gods?"

"I do," Nox said, feeling a joy he had not felt ever in his entire life as the words left him. "She is mine and I am hers. From this day forth until we are reunited in the realm of the gods."

"Then kneel before the gods and may they recognize your union," Ned said, stepping aside so that the two were left with an unobstructed view of the carved face of the weirwood.

While Nox was not of the faith of the North and would've perhaps preferred a different ceremony, Nyra was very much of the North and the faith of the old gods, even if she agreed with many of his views on the Force. And this ceremony was for her. Everything now was for her. So, with their hands still tied together, Nox and Nyra knelt before the weirwood tree and bowed their heads before rising once more. "Lord Nox, you may remove the cloak of Nyra, and place upon her shoulders the cloak of your house. And with this cloak comes your solemn vow to take and protect her, now and forever."

Letting go of her hand was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. Unclasping the cloak at her shoulders, he gently removed the maiden's cloak and handed it off to Sansa, who'd stepped forward to accept it with tears of happiness running down her face. Undoing his own cloak, Nox wrapped the heavy black fabric around Nyra's petite frame, signifying that she was no longer a direct vassal to House Stark, but rather the Lady of House Nox.

"Lord Nox, Lady Nox." Ned spoke, his voice gradually rising in pitch as he did. "You have come before the old gods and have sworn yourself to each other. And now I, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North, do hereby proclaim you to me man and wife! May no man tear asunder what the gods have brought forth and witnessed this night!"

The cheers of the crowd were almost deafening, but Nox didn't care as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Nyra's, sealing their bond. But as he pulled back, the cheering abruptly cut off into gasps. Nyra, both physically and in the Force, was glowing. To everyone save for Nox it might've looked like she was being blessed by the gods, but Nox could see what was truly happening. For there was a second presence that'd made itself known and was blessing their union as well. 'Ashara,' Nox thought, reaching out for her presence and feeling a warmth in response. She was gifting Nyra both her blessing and protection through the Force. 'Thank you.'

The lingering presence of his lost love flared once more in comfort and warmth before fading, the light that'd been around Nyra dissipating slowly until it disappeared completely. "Fucking hells!" Greatjon Umber bellowed, slapping a massive hand to his equally massive thigh. "The sorcerer is a true Northman now! And Lady Nox, blessed by the old gods themselves! Now what are we all standing around here for? There's a feast and drink to be had!"

Sweeping Nyra up into a bridal carry, Nox pressed a quick kiss to her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you, my lovely Lady Nox. My wife."

Her joy was almost blinding as she tucked her head onto his chest as he walked out of the godswood with the Lords and Ladies of the North and the Vale following behind. "And I you, my husband."

The next several hours passed in a blur for Nox as he and Nyra sat in a place of honor within the great hall of Winterfell while a feast unlike any Nox had ever experienced since coming to this strange land took place. There were several different animals roasting on spits within the fireplaces all around the hall. Wine and ale flowed freely and there was a sense of revelry that Nox would not have expected of the usually serious Northern people. It seemed that when the people of the North found an excuse to celebrate, they did not do it in half-assed. Jon, Robb, and Theon were both being permitted to drink undiluted wine, in a limited quantity of course, but given their age it certainly hadn't taken long for both boys to go red behind the ears. And they'd even managed to get Samwell Tarly to down a full cup of wine, which of course was almost enough to do the boy in as he quickly ended up on the floor giggling while the other three laughed at his antics.

By the time the younger children were put to bed, an exodus which had been started when Lady Stark had announced that it was time for her children, save for Robb, to head to bed, all four boys were well on their way to being drunk. Of course, they were relatively tame in comparison to some of the others in the hall. He wasn't quite sure just what had started it, but the Greatjon and Maege Mormont had at some point in the night started a drinking competition, and now Nox was seriously starting to wonder if they would run out of wine before either one or the other would concede defeat. And there were more than a few of the younger men that were chasing anything with a skirt around the hall. Though, to be fair, it seemed like there were quite a few women who were chasing the men as well. The atmosphere was such that Nox was relatively sure that there would be a 'baby boom' within the next year given how many in attendance were pursing such delights.

Feeling the night starting to wear on him, not to mention the persistent ache that hadn't left him since this morning, Nox wrapped his arm around his wife and leaned in towards her ear. "Have we stayed long enough for propriety's sake, my love?" He asked, nipping at her ear slightly. It had to have been the wine. "As beautiful as you look in that dress, I would much rather show you my true appreciation for your beauty in private."

Blushing fiercely, Nyra nodded as a servant placed a new chalice of wine down on the table next to him. "Aye, that we have. Let us finish this wine and retire so that, well, so that we can show each other our appreciation more appropriately."

Nodding, Nox picked up his wine and downed most of it while Nyra slowly sipped on her own. "Ned," Nox called out lowly, getting his friends attention. "Not to break with tradition or anything, but Nyra and I are going to slip out here. Like hell am I going to let a bedding happen."

Smiling, Ned nodded. "Aye, I can understand the sentiment, my friend. Enjoy your night together."

Feeling more than a little warm, Nox took Nyra's hand in his own and got to his feet. And then promptly almost collapsed as his legs didn't seem to want to support his weight. "Gods, husband," Nyra chuckled with him as she somewhat supported his weight. "Just how much have you had to drink tonight? I surely do hope you haven't indulged yourself to the point where you will be unable to perform your husbandly duties."

"There is not enough wine or ale in the world that could keep me from performing that duty my wife," Nox laughed, though on the inside he was confused. How out of practice was he that such a relatively small amount of wine as he'd drunk tonight was enough to put him in this state?

Rising to his full height, he almost immediately collapsed again. "Gods, maybe I – had more than I thought," he laughed, his throat suddenly parched as he searched for a glass of water to try and gain his wits about him.

Coughing again, he started to feel something was…off. It started low in his gut, then it exploded. Doubling him over in agony he hadn't experience since he been under the Overseer's watch in Korriban. Letting loose a hacking cough, Nox frowned as he felt something wet leave his lips. 'Spit? No,' he wondered, confused as to what was happening. 'Blood. My blood…What…?'

The pain intensified again, doubling him over and making him almost collapse onto the table. "Nox!" Nyra screamed as his Force Vision started to waver.

'What – Poison?!' he realized as he started coughing up globs of blood onto the table. 'The…The warning! It – It was not about the darkness! It – Shit!'

Something hard and sharp pierced through his shoulder, nearly spinning him around as his shoulder was thrown back. 'A…bolt?' He realized as he could feel the bolt still quivering in his flesh, 'how…when…shit!' Throwing his arm out in front of Nyra, he let out a pained yell as the crossbow bolt that'd been intended for his wife's heart imbedded into his outstretched forearm. "Run!" Nox yelled with a pained cough as his vision darkened even further while all around him the great hall which had once been a sight of joyous occasion turned into pandemonium.

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