A Dragon, Not A Wolf

Five Years Later

Ned Stark

The lord of Winterfell felt older than his age. The last five years had been a nightmare in one way or the other. Leaving out a tired sigh, he mainly thought of Jon. Since he returned from the Greyjoy rebellion, he had noticed the changes, but he had simply shrugged it off, he was growing like every other child, and that's all there is to it. What more could there be?

Sadly that couldn't be further from the truth; his nephew had basically gotten better at many things he usually wasn't before he went to War. Before, he would sometimes lose, not do better than Robb in tests, but all that was thrown out of the window. Like a horse without reins, let free to run in the wilderness without anyone to stop him.

Jon would proudly show everyone that he was better than Robb, not just in private but in public as well, especially in front of Catelyn, whose face would turn red like blood. The only thing his son did better than Jon was his raw strength; his body was more masculine and bigger than Jon's body, but he easily overpowered Robb with his speed and agility.

Many people in Westeros tend to think that being stronger is primary than being faster when it comes to fighting; of course, there were times when the strength was better, but Ned always believed that speed was more important than brute strength; he had been proven right in The Battle of The Trident when Ser Arthur Dayne had slain Robert Baratheon.

And now, Jon was proving the same every day, every time his nephew grabbed the pommel of a sword; it was like a beast had woken up. Ned was sure his nephew didn't show the full extent of his speed and overall ability with a blade. As if the people he was fighting against weren't worthy of it. The only time Ned had seen Jon become serious was with Ser Rodrik. The man was old and had a lot of experience from battles and wars.

One Year Left

For the last five years, Jon had spared with Robb and Theon all the time, but none of them ever won against Jon. The only time Theon could win against his nephew was in archery; the Greyjoy had shown incredible talent in archery, something that was quite uncommon. His arrows always hit the target, even from fifty meters away.

Robb had proclaimed Jon his rival in Swordfighting, something Ned liked in a way. It was always better to have a rival when you wanted to get stronger. Despite their spars and the clear one-sided duels, they never became distant; they seemed as friendly with each other as five years ago, something Ned was delighted to see; at least his wife couldn't claim that Jon hated his son. Not that actually stopped her from claiming that Jon was planning to get Winterfell from Robb.

The same talk for years now, before the rebellion, at least Jon would try to look bad sometimes in front of the others, especially in public, to make Robb look better, whenever that was making himself lose or not doing that good when it came to studying. Now the tables had turned.

Now both Jon and Catelyn were in some kind of competition, trying to show who hated who most; right now, Jon was clearly the winner; and since Sansa had grown distant towards Jon; his nephew seemed to want to show it even more; especially two years ago when for the very first time, Ned had been a bit afraid that Jon might actually do something.

Jon was carrying Arya around on his back, and the little girl was laughing; both were laughing, looking like identical twins in a way; from all the Stark children, only Jon and Arya looked like True Stark. Something everyone in Winterfell knew, but few dared to point it out due to the fear of Lady Catelyn, who was known not to take kindly whenever someone compared any of her Trueborn children with the bastard.

Bran Stark was born one year ago, and just like the rest, he looked like a Tully, with blue eyes and auburn hair like a Southern. The snow had fallen two feet deep; they stopped running, and soon they started throwing snowballs at each other. A minute later, Robb joined in the fun with them. Theon joined as well, much to Arya's annoyance, who never liked the squid as she liked to call him sometimes, mostly because she knew he called Jon a bastard when he thought no one was listening. Theon wanted to hit Jon sneakily, sometimes seeming to have an eye behind his head.

Throwing a snowball at Jon from behind, the bastard simply lowered his head before whirling around and throwing his snowball at full force, hitting Theon in the chest; the Greyjoy moaned in pain, murmuring 'bastard' under his breath since Robb didn't like it, one time he had called Jon a bastard when he walked away in front of Robb; Only for him to slap his face, warning him not to say that word again.

One thing the others didn't notice except Jon was Ghost looking at them, the Direwolf looking at the blind side of Jon.

Ned watched them smiling, Catelyn nearby him holding baby Bran who stretched out his arms towards them, wanting to play with them.

"No, Bran. You're still too young," Catelyn said, a bit strictly; that didn't seem to work since Bran immediately wanted to play with them, not caring what his mother said.

As Jon threw a snowball at Arya's direction, near her feet, the girl glared before chasing him around with snowballs; Jon ran around laughing at Arya, calling out for help. Robb laughed at Jon's cry for help.

Soon Jon slipped, with Arya quickly catching him, a playful smile on her face. "I caught you," she said, smiling before throwing her snowballs at his chest; the boy simply smiled before hearing Kessa flying above them.

The eagle had grown quite a bit these past three years. Jon thought that maybe she wanted to spend time with him; suddenly, Arya gasped; looking to his left, Ghost had suddenly showed up, almost the size of a horse now.

Catelyn shifted uncomfortably, her eyes filling with dread, seeing the giant creature licking Arya's face, his teeth big and sharp enough to kill a bear; his paws had grown, leaning closer to Ned, her husband seemed to have noticed her eyes and the way her body moved, but unlike her, he didn't look worried in the slightest.

"Don't worry, Cat; Ghost has been around for three years. He's not going to hurt anyone," Ned tried to reassure her calmly; Catelyn knew it was pointless whenever she argued with him about The bastard's creatures.

Everyone was busy looking at Ghost, not noticing the arrival of two people.

"Arya. What are you doing? That's Not how a Lady should act!! You Bastard, get That Filthy creature away," The septa screamed at the reckless girl; beside her was Sansa, who looked at her sister with a hint of contempt, or maybe it was just Catelyn's eyes making it up.

She turned to look at them with a scowl. "I don't care to be a Lady," Arya shouted back, tired of her sister and septa; after another pointless day of learning how to stitch, she had left under the septa's nose, wanting to play with Jon.

"Of course, you don't; you enjoyed more spending time with a Bastard," Sansa suddenly said with the same smirk Lady Catelyn usually had when she thought she did something brilliant.

Arya gasped at her, sure; Sansa never loved Jon that much was well known; but she never called him bastards before, the little she-wolf wanted to shout, scratch her sister for calling Jon that, but she felt her eyes welling up with tears.

Ned frowned at his daughter, knowing who had taught her to call Jon that, while Catelyn was smirking, a smile of triumph on her face as if she had just won something.

They expected Jon to be affected to be called that by his sister, but he simply looked unaffected; he didn't care if his half-sister called him that. He didn't care in the slightest. Theon suddenly burst out laughing while pointing a mocking finger at Jon.

But all that stopped when they heard an angry cry from above; Ned looked up in alarm, seeing Kessa flying down towards... Sansa??!! Panicking; Ned knew the Eagle was angry, worried that she might actually kill Sansa.

The lord of Winterfell was about to pull out his sword in defense of his daughter when the eagle suddenly stopped ascending and crying out in anger, landing on top of a tower instead, cracking the tiles; her figure was menacing to everyone.

Larger than a horse, and that's just talking about her body, not including her wings, her beak had a bright golden color, with a darker tone at the top that went all the way like a line; the end sharp like a Valyrian steel sword. Her claws were a dark color, with a slight turn at the end so that if her claws went deep into an animal, her prey wouldn't fall as she carried it to her home. Her eyes were a rich purple; her wings were blue, looking sharp, with white color at the end. Her wings had grown in size, five meters each; her body was almost three meters tall.

Kessa glared at where Sansa and the Septa stood, who were hiding behind a guard who was shaking like a leaf before her eyes went to Jon.

Ned sighed in relief when Kessa simply flew away as if Jon somehow ordered her to fly away; during all this, no one but Arya noticed Ghost bearing his teeth at Sansa, but the little girl was hugging him close to her, hoping to ease his anger.

Ned remembered that day better than he wanted; Catelyn had thrown a tantrum, demanding the eagle's head for trying to attack Sansa; sadly, this time, Ned had agreed with her. That eagle was clearly dangerous.

He had seen how the eagle had looked at his daughter. While Kessa wasn't a living person, Ned knew the eagle wanted to kill Sansa, only stopped by Jon somehow.

That day, Ned had told Jon that Kessa couldn't be around anymore, his son had simply scoffed at his face, but he didn't get angry, at least he didn't show it. Arya, on the other hand, had cried for weeks, calling Sansa names, calling her ugly, something Sansa hated above everything else.

Arya only stopped when Jon would sing at her, something he had done more frequently since The Northern lords left five years ago. After that day, Kessa still showed herself in Wolf's wood, perhaps hunting but not once did she get close to the castle; Jon would leave the castle sometimes with Ghost to spend time with his family, according to him.

The beautiful voice of Jon had spread everywhere around; Ned felt dread, the thought that Jon's singing voice would somehow reach even South; there were many northern who sailed or rode south every day, and the rumor of a boy singing could quickly spread, but hopefully The Royal Family wouldn't pay it much attention. Many servants even stopped whatever job they were doing when Jon would sing, mostly when Arya wanted him to sing, but the bastard boy sang songs every time he went to God's Wood alone. Sadly hearing Jon sing like that had somehow convinced Sansa that she could sing just as well, if not better than him. Something Catelyn encouraged fully with a bright smile on her face.

Sadly it didn't take long for everyone to understand that Sansa's voice left a lot to be desired; her friend Jeyne would keep supporting her, saying that the voice of a bastard couldn't compare with the voice of a Trueborn.

That lasted for a week before Arya bluntly said in front of everyone in the main hall.

"Your voice will make even ghosts go back to their graves."

After that, Sansa ran away crying. Jon didn't care that Lady Stark had kind of forbidden him from singing; she was only his father's wife, nothing else, and it is not like Jon planned to stay in Winterfell much longer.

Right now, Ned was reading a proposal from lord Manderly to foster Robb in White Harbor. A smile on his face, finally something good, the negative feeling around the castle sometimes suffocated him, strangling him.

Reading it from top to bottom, Ned put down the letter, convinced to go through with this; he knew the other northern lords wouldn't be happy since they wanted their own daughters to marry Robb, but at the very least, there wouldn't be much protest knowing the girl was a northern through and through.

A two-year fostering, yes. This could work very well, Ned thought, feeling himself suddenly lighter, he knew his son would perhaps not like the thought of going away for some time, but eventually, everyone would go away. This is how the life of a Lord went.

He knew Catelyn wanted a Southern Wife for Robb, but Ned couldn't allow that; the lords weren't happy with him marrying a Southern; Robb marrying a southern as well; that would be like a slap in the face.

With that in mind, Ned suddenly remembered his promise to Maege five years ago. Feeling his body heavy all over again, Ned felt like he would collapse from the weight, that day, he had been sure that Lady Mormont would kill him. He had been so focused on the Royal family recognizing Rhaegar on Jon that he had completely ignored the thought of anyone in the North seeing Lyanna on Jon.

A knock stopped Ned's job as his eyes went to the door just as it was opening, revealing Maege; despite her old age slowly catching up, she looked strong and fierce.

"Maege! What can I do for you?" Ned asked in a friendly matter, a smile on his face. He expected her to answer the same way, but her cold eyes made him freeze.

Ned was confused; why was she glaring at him? Before he could ask if anything had happened, what she said next, crushed him...

"I know Jon is not your son."

That was it; Ned blinked, once, twice and a third time, hoping his ears were playing tricks; his blood went cold, his heart beating in his throat as he felt the blood leaving his face, white face like a corpse.

Ned opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out; he tried but only whispered in the wind, closing it, opening it, yet he couldn't talk. Suddenly he felt the weight of everything crashing on top of him, falling back to his chair; he felt everything going blur, his back leaning against the chair; Ned tried desperately to catch his breath.

After what felt like hours, Ned drank a full glass of water before leaning forward, his eyes on Maege, who had stood in the same place the whole time.

Knowing he needed to deal with this as soon as possible, he gestured for her to sit, almost pleading; she reluctantly sat, still not saying anything.

"H-how did you figure it out?" Ned finally asked his voice low, almost a whisper. He knew it was pointless to act as if he didn't know what she was talking about; that could make his situation even worse than it already was.

Maege clenched her jaw, making the lord of Winterfell think she would perhaps use her club to smash his head in.

"Is that what you're asking? The better question is, why is The prince here? Why is he under the name Jon Snow? Why is Lyanna's son raised as a bastard?? Why Ned?" Maege was barely keeping it together; the moment she saw Jon riding his horse, she knew he was Lyanna's son, that much she was 100% certain.

The only thing left was to know who the father was. Of course, Maege already knew the answer, but a small part of her begged that his father wasn't the King, anyone but the King. Ned could easily fix it if he were a Lord, anyone but the King. But Maege knew that was just wishful thinking. Lyanna wasn't someone to sleep with anyone.

When Maege had heard Jon Snow sing in the main hall, all doubts that he wasn't King's son were burned, turned to ash.

Now, she just didn't know what to think about this situation; a part of her told her to send the prince back to his father and... beg for forgiveness?!

She had mentally shaken her head that no the king would want blood for the kidnapping of his son; she just didn't know what to do. On one side, she could just send a letter or rider to King's Landing with a message that Lyanna's son is in Winterfell, living like a Bastard... BASTARD.

The word made her blood boil; everyone in Westeros knew Rhaegar had married both Elia Martell and Lyanna.

But if the King finds out the truth? What then? What will happen to The North? They were speared the first time because The Mad King executed Brandon and Rickard Stark, and they thought Lyanna had been abducted.

But second treason wasn't something the South or The King could easily forget. The South could easily stop all the current deals they had with The North. People of the North would starve; it would take years, if not decades, to secure enough food on its own again without depending on The South. The Royal Family will want blood; what if they want blood from the whole House Stark? There were too many ways this could go. Maege knew if someone kidnaped any of her children, she would want blood as well.

Ned closed his eyes, a headache almost splitting his head open like a fruit. He knew this day would come sooner or later. The moment he decided to take Jon back to Winterfell, he had sealed his fate.

"I was afraid," Ned finally spoke, taking another deep breath. "I was afraid. You know what The Mad King did to my father and brother; how could I send my nephew-" Ned felt strange when he said the word 'nephew' instead of son.

"I didn't know who Rhaegar Targaryen was; for all I knew, he could have become like his father; but even if he never became like him. House Martell would never accept Jon; they are snakes, you know how the South is, people still remember the Black Dragon, House Blackfyre is the one that brought the bad reputation to bastards. House Martell would always see Jon as one; he would never be safe there. All it takes is one spoon of poison," Ned confirmed, his talking pace going faster with each word he said.

Maege looked at Ned with an understanding look but anger as well; he had a point with what he was saying but didn't have the right to take away a child from his family, all that fear is based on speculation, not actual proof.

"Everyone in Westeros knows Dornish are known to take wives and paramours; how do you know they wouldn't accept Rhaegar's decision to marry Lyanna? All you just said are excuses based on fear," Maege said coldly, her tone sending shivers of fear on Ned's body.

Is this it? Will she tell the truth to the King? He felt his breath stuck in his throat now, the thought of leaving his children alone, all that was possible now, something he didn't want to think about.

"I-" "Was this because of Revenge?" Maege suddenly cut him off, her voice seeping venom.

Ned's eyes widened like a plate; NO, he told himself, he did this because Jon would be in danger in the South, Not Revenge! Never. Ned told himself over and over.

"No. I- I would never. I-I did this because Jon was in danger there," Ned said, trying to convince her that he never cared for revenge.

Maege narrowed his eyes at him before saying what she really thought of this whole thing. "Who are you trying to convince Ned? Is it me or yourself? Rhaegar and his House were responsible for the almost extinction of House Stark. I understand if you can't see them eye to eye, but taking the Prince away, someone who was innocent and Lyanna's son. I can tell in the beginning was for revenge, maybe changed later, or you're trying so hard to convince yourself that it was never for revenge that at this point, you are not sure yourself why you stole Prince Jon from his Family" Maege spoke, venom seeping into her voice.

Ned was frozen in his place, himself not sure of the reason anymore. No, I never wanted Revenge. I did this to protect Jon, for him to be raised amongst his family, Ned told himself over and over.

Ned escaped his thoughts as a knock on the door was heard. "Come In," he announced, hoping to ease his worries somehow, thinking of going to God's Wood to clear his mind. That place always helped him with his thoughts, always able to calm him, whatever was happening.

One Year Left

He thought grimly as the door opened, revealing Jon. Ned arched an eyebrow; his nephew never went to his solar unless it was something important.

Looking at his face, Jon's face was...emotionless, almost like a corpse. He wondered just what had happened, but Ned could see a glimpse of hope in his eyes.

"What can I do for you, Jon?" Ned asked kindly, standing up from his chair, his eyes paying attention to Jon's face. In the last five years, Jon had grown into a fine young man, looking more like Rhaegar with each passing year; the resemblance between the two was almost scary in a way.

While Jon had Stark colors, anyone who knew the King could see the Targaryen on him, and just like his true father, Jon had grown into a handsome man that Ned had no doubts would break many hearts. Give it two years, and ladies will be in line waiting for Jon, Ned thought in amusement, already imagining it.

His curly hair reached his shoulders, and his eyes were grey, with a slight shade of purple that could hardly be noticed.

"Father, who was my mother?" Jon asked bluntly, straight to the point, his voice blank, but Ned could hear a tiny hint of hope in his voice, his eyes a bit more shiny all of a sudden, making the purple shade on his eyes more visible.

Ned was startled by his question; he hadn't expected this question; sure, Jon had asked him and even Benjen about his mother. Ned had kept quiet; Benjen had no idea, probably still thinking that Jon was Brandon's son.

Ned could only thank the gods that Benjen wasn't here right now; if he were to take a good look, he would be able to see that it wasn't Brandon's son; it would be only a matter of time before he started asking questions that Ned couldn't answer without giving away the truth.

One Year Left

Ned wanted to tell Jon the truth, to make all this pain go away, all this guilt that had been building up for years. Lyanna calls him a liar, calling him a dishonorable man in his dreams.

But instead, Ned looked at his nephew dead in the eye. It took all his courage; he had to look at his nephew's eyes without being overwhelmed by guilt.

"When you're gro- "When I'm fully grown, right?" Jon interrupted him with a sneer in his voice; the hope in his eyes disappeared like the fire from a candle; he didn't look surprised to hear that from his father, something Ned hated. He didn't want to disappoint Jon, but... but...

One More Year

He repeated on his head, looking down, not being able to handle the look of disappointment from Jon, something he had been getting quite often since he ordered for Kessa to never be inside the Winterfell Territory anymore.

"Jon, I-" Ned started looking up, only to stop when he saw the door shut before him; Jon had left his solar. Ned closed his eyes, deciding to go to God's Wood to clear his mind.

God's Wood

Cleaning the sword, Ice, with one hand holding the hilt, using his knee to hold it up, the sword was long and sharp, a giant sword even for the strongest warriors.

Hearing the birds chirping, Ned closed his eyes, thinking of times when things were simple, the times when Lyanna would chase him around the courtyard, Benjen helping her to find him in Hide and Seek games. He remembered one time he had given Ice to Robert for him to try and use.

Much to the surprise of everyone, Robert couldn't even hold it up, let alone swing around, something Ned could do. Robert had tried for hours, eventually giving up, saying he was made for Hammers, not Swords.

Cleaning his sword, Ned looked upon the carved face in the Weirwood Tree, the bloody eyes almost looking back at him. Ned took a deep breath; the air around God's Wood was always different, clearing his mind.

Putting the piece of the towel against the guard of the sword, sliding it down, the Valyrian steel shining like a mirror, cleaning all the way to the pointy end, still sharp as the day it was forged. Ned let the sword rest against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and leaning his back against the root of the Weirwood Tree. He allowed himself to rest; the silence of God's Wood was comfortable.

Ned stood at the top of a hill, looking down in horror, the smoke rising as high as the sky, the flames as blue as the ocean melting the foundations, and people crying out to the Old Gods. The old tower fell down; the tower had been built and stood tall since the day it was built a long time ago.

The Direwolf flag burning, turning to ash, as a thunder above him reached Ned's ears; looking up, an enormous shadow came from the sky, releasing Blue Flames.

Ned gasped, his face sweating; standing up, he saw himself in The God's Wood, it took a few minutes to calm himself and understand that his home wasn't burning, and Winterfell and his family were still safe.

Tomorrow

The following day started normally, just like every other day; House Stark was eating in The Main Hall; it was late in the morning. Eddard Stark noticed Arya wasn't around but concluded that she would arrive later, as she usually did sometimes.

"Where's Jon?" Robb suddenly asked, eating stew with a piece of bread; his father turned to him in confusion.

"What? Isn't he in his room?" Ned asked, receiving a 'No' from his son. Perhaps he is in the God's Wood or Wolf's Forest, he thought; there were many times that Jon would leave Winterfell without telling anyone but returning the same day.

Ned thought that must be the case today as well, but a small part of him was telling him that it wasn't this time that he needed to find him right now.

Before he could tell Ser Rodrik to search for Jon, the door burst open; Arya walked inside in tears, sobbing loudly, holding a letter in her tiny hands.

"Arya" Ned shouted in fear, running to her, followed by everyone else; he put a hand on her shoulder, looking to see if she was injured somewhere.

"Arya, what's-" "He LEFT," Arya suddenly shouted, her sobbing getting out of control, snuggling against his chest. His clothes muffled her cries.

"Who?" Sansa asked, confused.

"Jon," Arya cried out; at that moment, Ned felt his whole world falling apart.

I f-Failed. What should I do now, Lyanna?