Ned entered his solar and there was the boy, sat on the same stool, because there was no other chair for a reason. It gave Ned an excuse to put pressure on the people he talked to when he didn't invite them to sit, to make them talk easier, and now he couldn't. Instead of commenting on it, he walked around the room to behind the desk and sat in the chair there.

“So.” Ned said and sat there without saying anything else to make the boy sweat. Unfortunately, the tactic didn't work as Jon calmly looked back at him and didn't react or tried to speak to break the silence like he should have. “I heard and saw a few things today that are concerning.”

Jon gave him a small smile before it faded. “I didn't know, if you're wondering.”

“Didn't know what?” Ned asked.

“That Maester Luwin handed me scrolls that weren't already in common.” Jon admitted and Ned raised his eyebrows at him. “I saw common and read it, both for myself and to Arya, because I thought it was part of the lesson. I didn't realize the writing he was doing was copying down what I was saying. I just heard the scratching on parchment and thought he was keeping busy while I read.”

Ned could only nod at that, because it was exactly as Maester Luwin had said. Jon had no idea he was reading such valuable scrolls with an ancient writing that only several handfuls of Maesters could read and they struggled with it. What he didn't tell the boy was he suspected it was because of Jon's father's blood in his veins that gave him the ability to read it. Valarian blood.

“Maester Luwin informed the citadel before he told me about it.” Ned informed him.

Jon tilted his head slightly, then he huffed. “He ensured you couldn't order him to stay quiet about it, even if you did.” He said and Ned nodded. “You did?”

“Of course I did. I've been trying to protect you from it for all your life.” Ned said.

“It?” Jon said and tilted his head the other way. “What do you mean?”

Ned took a breath and let it out, the sigh full of resignation. “After what you just did and what the Maester has surely already sent to the citadel about it, I believe it's time that you learned who your mother was.”

Jon didn't outwardly react, which surprised Ned.

“You suspect something.” Ned said instead of telling him right away.

Jon nodded. “I have some Stark features, like my wavy black hair and my bigger hands. What I don't have are your cheekbones, your ears, or your forehead... like Arya does.”

Ned was definitely surprised to hear that and needed a minute to recover.

“Sansa takes after her mother, almost a direct copy of her, both in mind and body. Arya is almost a copy of you, only less reserved and more open to adventure. And female, as if that matters to someone so young.” Jon said and Ned nodded in agreement. “However, I am like neither of you. Do I have my father's face or my mother's?”

Ned gave him a pointed look and then spoke. “You have your father's nose and chin... and you have your mother's cheekbones. My sister Lyanna's cheekbones.”

Jon's eyes widened and then narrowed. He didn't say anything and frowned, then both the narrowed eyes and frown went away and he gave Ned a blank stare. “Can you tell me who my father was?”

Ned sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I've hidden this secret for years, Jon. Ever since you were born, in fact.” He said and cupped his hands on top of the desk and interlaced his fingers. “Your mother made me swear to protect you and I have always done so...”

“Except from your lady wife.” Jon interjected and Ned froze. “Is that why you didn't want to speak in front of the heart tree? You couldn't bend the truth in front of the old gods?”

Ned needed a few moments to compose himself. “Jon, you have to understand...”

“No, I don't.” Jon interrupted and Ned's mouth closed. “There are many bastards among the lands, or there would be no need for so many set last names for each of them. Snow, Sand, River, Stone, and so on.”

Ned sat there and suffered under the boy's pointed look.

“You easily could have declared me legitimate and protected me as you promised your sister. Yet, all you did was make my life so much harder by claiming I was a bastard.” Jon said. “In fact, I could have become anyone's son inside the castle, anyone at all, and instead you put me right into the path of your lady wife and she has made me suffer for it for as long as I can remember.”

Ned's face showed pain and he couldn't deny it.

“Being the son of the kitchen matron or the son of the Master at Arms would have given me a great commoner life and hidden me so well that not one person would have ever questioned why I was here. Not. One. Person.” Jon said and stood.

Ned was focused on him and didn't see the stool when it disappeared.

“Instead, I was singled out and have been called a bastard, treated like dirt, and everyone in all of Winterfell knows who I am and who's bastard I am... father.” Jon said the last word with as much sarcasm as he could muster, which was a lot.

Ned winced. “Jon, I... I have made mistakes...”

“That you cannot correct, because you are so deep into them that any change or claim will only make things worse.” Jon said and the older man nodded. “I know, Lord Stark. I know.”

Ned sighed and seemed to age a few years. “The Order of Maesters will either send for you or they will send someone here to visit.”

“Why?” Jon asked.

“Maester Luwin claimed you are a treasure and more valuable than all the years he has served my family faithfully.” Ned answered and felt anger. “As you already guessed, he did send word in case I ordered him to keep you a secret.”

Jon shook his head at the man's reaction. “Maester Luwin didn't make you break your vow to my mother, Lord Stark. You did that years ago by not keeping your word to protect me.”

Ned sighed and had to nod, albeit reluctantly. “I see that now.” He responded and wouldn't meet Jon's eyes. “You gave up your claim to Winterfell.”

Jon huffed again. “As if your lady wife would ever allow me to live if I tried to claim it before her precious first born son, even if I am a few months older than him and have a stronger claim... if I had actually been your bastard.”

Ned looked quite guilty now. “Would you have done so if she wasn't so against you?”

Jon gave him a pointed look. “I would have done it in spite of her, Lord Stark.” He said, truthfully. “That is assuming you didn't spend the next few years trying to convince me to take the Black and go to the Wall to join the defenders there.”

Ned's face paled and he didn't speak. It could all be seen on his face, though.

“When is Uncle Benjen going to visit again?” Jon asked when he saw it.

Ned looked embarrassed. “During Sansa's nameday celebrations.”

Jon nodded in understanding. “It's a good thing I already said I was too busy to attend.”

Ned didn't nod or said anything in response.

“Is that all?” Jon asked.

Ned couldn't think of anything else to say after so many shocks and revelations, and nodded.

Jon walked over to the door and stopped, turned back, and gave Ned a glare. “If it isn't too much trouble to ask, Lord Stark? What did my Lady Mother, your loving little sister, name me upon my birth?”

Ned's face somehow paled even further. His mouth opened and closed several times and nothing came out.

“Will you continue to dishonor her memory by not telling me my given name?” Jon asked, even though he knew it already. He just wanted to see if Ned would be man enough to say it out loud. He didn't even ask for his family name, just the one Lyanna had given him.

“I... I can't. If anyone found out who your father was... who you really are...” Ned hedged.

“Coward.” Jon said and Ned winced, because he couldn't deny it. “Lyanna would be ashamed of your behavior if she were alive.”

Ned didn't say anything as Jon opened the door and stepped out.

“Have a good evening, Lord Stark.” Jon said and very, very slowly closed the door.

Ned knew the boy was giving him a chance to speak and he didn't take it. He couldn't say the name without causing himself, Jon, and everyone else so much pain. The door shut with a dull thud and he feared it meant a lot more than it should have.

It did.

*

Arya laid in her bed and she was almost vibrating as she waited for what she knew was coming. She had been good and hadn't fussed or cause her mother or sister any trouble as she was brought to bed. She had changed and didn't say anything when her mother took the fancy dress with her when she left. Jon had given it to her and she could just ask him for another one.

Instead of her door opening, one she knew someone was standing in front of, her window let out a soft creak as it was pried open and Arya sat up to look over at her favorite person in the world. He had somehow avoided most of the inhabitants of Winterfell to come to her room.

“Shh!” Jon whispered with a finger to his lips.

Arya giggled and nodded instead of calling his name out like she usually did. She also didn't question how he had reached the second floor of the living area to reach her room from the outside. Jon slipped through the open window and closed it, then walked over to her bed and sat down on it. Arya didn't wait for him to hug her first and grabbed him and clung to him like the barnacle on that boat Torrhen had talked about.

“I'm sorry about how things turned out today, little wolf.” Jon said and kissed her forehead.

Arya felt herself warm up inside and let out a sigh as he hugged her. “Are you leaving?”

“No.” Jon said and pet her hair. “Not yet, anyway. Maester Luwin sent a raven to the citadel about our lessons and I might be asked to travel down south to learn more.”

Arya immediately felt lonely and her grip tightened on him. “No! Don't go!”

Jon sighed and held her, because they both knew if he did have to leave, it would be for a few months at least, if not longer. The trip alone would take several weeks on horseback, or longer if they sent a carriage. He would be stuck at the citadel for however long they wanted him for and then it would be another few weeks to a month for him to come back to Winterfell, assuming they let him leave.

“It depends on what they send, Arya. A letter can be easily ignored for a while. A Maester making the trip to meet me instead? Not even Lord Stark can deny their request to meet if they come in person.” Jon told her.

Arya shook her head in denial and wouldn't let him go. She leaned back and pulled him down to lay with her in the bed. Jon looked at the pillow that was much softer than it should be and he saw she had switched his pillow for hers. She gave him the best puppy-dog eyes ever and he sighed, making her giggle and she cuddled her favorite person in the world as she closed her eyes.

*

I let out another soft sigh at her silent demand I stay with her and I settled down beside her. I couldn't resist her cuteness, then had an idea. I hummed a little and then softly started to sing a very slow version of an appropriate song, making Enter Sandman into a ballad instead of a fast-paced rock song.

“Say your prayers little one, don't forget little wolf, to include everyone. I tuck you in, keep you free from sin, til the nighttime it comes. Sleep with all my blessings, gripping my pillow tight. Exit light, enter night. Take my hand. We're off to never-never land.”

Arya almost immediately started dozing off and her breathing deepened a little as her mind became suggestible.

“Something's wrong, there's no light, heavy thoughts tonight, and they aren't of the wights.” I whispered and she hugged me tightly as I slowly fed her visions of what I saw in the show about the White Walkers and the fight for the Iron Throne. “Dreams of war, dreams of liars, dreams of dragon's fire, and the things that will come. Sleep with all my blessings, gripping my pillow tight. Exit light, enter night. Take my hand. We're off to never-never land.”

Arya trembled a little, half-asleep, and I ended the visions of the future as I changed my words to another song that was the same slow pace I had set, then I fed her my memories of all the times I spent with her, to Everything I do by Brian Addams.

“Look into my eyes, you will see, what you mean to me. Search my heart, search my soul, and when you find yourself there, you'll search no more. Don't tell me it's not worth trying for. You can't tell me it's not worth dying for. You know it's true, everything I do, I do it for you.” I whispered.

Arya took a deep breath and the tension left her arms as she snuggled into me. Her own memories played in her head to match mine and I saw myself through her eyes. She really did love me unconditionally and unreservedly, no matter what Catelyn and Sansa told her about me.

“Look into my heart, you will find, there's nothing there to hide. You take me as I am, you can take my life. I would give it all, I would sacrifice. Don't tell me you're not worth fighting for. I can't help it, there's nothing I want more. You know it's true, everything I do, I do it for you.”

Arya made a soft sound, almost a whine, and her breathing deepened.

“There's no love like your love, and no other could give more love. There's nowhere, unless you're there, all the time, all the time.” I breathed and felt her grip tighten. “Yeah, I'd fight for you... I'd lie for you... walk through fire for you... and I'd die for you. You know it's true, everything I do, I do it for you.”

Arya finally fell into a deep sleep and her grip lessened enough to let me move her around to have a full night's sleep without getting sore or sleeping in an awkward position. I did make sure to lock the door and closed the window with telekinesis, so I wouldn't be caught.

I was going to spend the night in her bed, keeping her warm with my body and my emotions. Oh, and a bear fur blanket. Those things were great. I copied it a few hundred times and stored them, just because I could. I had a bit of fun making them different colors as I waited for my own mind to relax and drift off to sleep.

*

The entire town inside Winterfell was abuzz about Jon Snow, the bastard that renounced his bastardness. It had never happened before and everyone was taking about it, then supper happened and word quickly spread about the boy's ability to both play the lute and sing like a bard that lived in Kings Landing.

Hearts and minds of the younger girls were all aflutter about it, and everyone else felt proud about what was being called The Song Of The North. No one had ever sung about them before and it made them see the young man in a new light. He had always been around, and helped out where he could, and now he had reminded them of something that no one could ever take from them. National Pride.

*

Maester Luwin sat in his office, the half-written note in front of him on the desk, and he couldn't do it. It was one thing to inform his fellow scholars about an unknown and very valuable resource, one they needed to protect and not exploit.

However, what was the point of informing them the same boy could play an instrument like a professional bard and could sing like the Maiden of the Seven? Most of their members disliked the wasted time music represented, except for the few that used it as a hobby to take their minds from their studies.

No, there was no point in making the boy's secret hobby a point of contention among the Maesters, so Luwin used a small cloth and wet it with a little specially treated oil and wiped at the note to clean off the still wet ink. It was a little trick the Maesters used to fix any mistakes they made while transcribing documents.

Luwin used it to wipe away his second lapse in judgment and put the parchment back on the small stack of them he had. He put his writing instrument and the ink bottle away, then sat back on his chair and thought about the day's revelations. It had almost been too much for his old heart, then he heard that song and felt more connected to the people than he ever had before.

That gave him an inspiring idea and he picked up a larger piece of parchment. He took out his writing instrument and the ink bottle again, then started to recall the words he had heard. His years of training kicked in and he remembered it all, word for word, and transcribed The Song Of The North onto parchment for the first time of what would soon become many times.