章 4: Chapter 3
Jon approached Theon, a look of genuine concern on his face. "You alright?" he asked, offering a hand to help him up.
Theon, still a bit dazed but shaking off the fog, accepted Jon's hand with a wry grin. "I'll live," he said, the initial shock giving way to a smirk. "But next time, I'll be the one winning, Snow."
Jon chuckled, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and mischief. "We'll see about that," he shot back, giving Theon a friendly pat on the back before turning to join Robb, leaving Theon to dust himself off.
Robb, observing the exchange with raised eyebrows, stepped forward. "Impressive performance," he said, genuine curiosity in his voice. "How did you get so good overnight?"
Jon flashed Robb a grin. "Oh, just a bit of secret training under the stars," he teased, his tone light and playful. He could practically hear the fourth wall creaking behind him, but he kept his focus on Robb.
Ser Rodrik Cassel, who had overheard, raised an eyebrow. "Secret training, huh? Seems like you might be keeping something up your sleeve, Jon," he remarked, his tone a blend of friendly curiosity and professional skepticism.
Jon gave Rodrik a sheepish smile, scratching his head. "Well, a little extra practice never hurts," he said vaguely, hoping to dodge any deeper questions. Because, honestly, he wasn't about to start explaining how his new abilities came from a bizarre crossover of Marvel and medieval fantasy.
Robb's eyes narrowed as he looked between Jon and Rodrik, a flicker of realization crossing his face. The idea that Jon might have been concealing his true skills to spare Robb's pride hit him hard. Guilt washed over Robb as he grappled with the realization that Jon had been holding back.
Rodrik's gaze stayed fixed on Jon, clearly not buying the vague explanation. "Hmm, just keep your focus on your duties here at Winterfell," he advised, before turning back to his own tasks.
Robb, feeling a complex mix of guilt and admiration, wrestled with his emotions. The revelation that Jon had been downplaying his abilities to protect Robb's pride left him with a heavy heart and a jumbled mess of feelings toward his half-brother. This new understanding cast their relationship in a different light, making Robb question his own assumptions and the dynamic between them.
—
Robb pulled Jon aside, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "Hey, Jon, I've got a question. Have you been letting me win all this time?" His tone mixed amusement with a hint of suspicion.
Jon chuckled nervously, trying to sound nonchalant. "Come on, Robb, you know I always give it my best shot," he said, hoping to brush off the question.
Robb wasn't buying it. "You've never beaten me before, and now you're taking on both me and Theon at once? Makes me wonder if you've been holding back."
Jon's eyes widened. "Caught me," he thought. He hesitated, searching for words. "I wouldn't say I've been letting you win," he said slowly. "More like… not exactly going all out?" His voice trailed off, and he winced inwardly.
His heart pounded. Explaining this felt like trying to balance on a tightrope with a blindfold. "I… guess maybe sometimes," he admitted softly. "I didn't want to overshadow you, Robb. Just didn't want to make things awkward."
The confession hung there, heavy with implications. Jon braced for Robb's reaction, feeling like he was on the edge of a cliff.
Robb's face showed a mix of surprise and concern. "You think it's because of my mother's expectations?" he asked, his voice softening. The realization that his mother's views might have influenced Jon's actions hit him hard.
Jon met Robb's gaze, his own eyes reflecting the weight of his words. "Yeah, maybe," Jon said quietly. "Your mother's… well, her concerns about me have always been in the background." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've just been trying to tread carefully."
The moment between them was intense, their mutual understanding deepening. It was uncomfortable but also revealed a bond they hadn't fully recognized before. It was an unexpected moment of clarity, bringing them closer in a way neither had anticipated.
—
"Jon, Robb," Vayon Poole's voice cut through the air, jerking Jon and Robb from their conversation. "Sorry to interrupt, but Lord Stark needs to see both of you in his solar," he said, his tone suggesting something was up.
Jon and Robb exchanged puzzled looks and followed Vayon. Jon's brain was already whirring. He'd binge-watched the series, so he knew the general plot. But this was a plot twist he hadn't seen coming.
Entering the solar, they found Ned Stark looking unusually somber behind his desk, with Catelyn Stark standing next to him, looking concerned. The mood was heavier than a dragon's egg.
"Father, Mother," Robb greeted, his voice calm but with a hint of anticipation.
Jon gave a nod, trying to act cool while his mind was in overdrive. What was this about?
Ned took a deep breath, his gaze flitting between Jon, Robb, and Catelyn. "Robb, Jon, Catelyn," he began, his voice like he was about to drop a particularly nasty plot twist, "there's a secret I've kept for sixteen years. It's time you knew the truth."
Jon's internal alarm bells went off. He'd known Ned was keeping his parentage under wraps, but this? This was like finding out the secret ingredient in Aunt May's cookies was actually dragon fire.
Ned continued, "This concerns Jon's parentage and the true identity of his mother."
Jon's internal monologue was on fire. "Okay, this is officially not what I signed up for. I was kind of hoping for a nice quiet day of training, not a family secret reveal. Did someone swap my script with a soap opera?"
Ned's voice grew more intense. "The rebellion that toppled the Targaryen dynasty? It was built on a lie. My sister, Lyanna, wasn't kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen. She went with him willingly."
Jon leaned in. Wow, plot twist level: Infinity. I knew about the rebellion, but this? This is like discovering Santa is a dragon. Mind blown.
Ned's voice broke slightly as he continued, "Lyanna and Rhaegar were in love. They married in secret, and Lyanna had a son with him."
Jon's heart did a double backflip. So, not only was he a fictional character's reincarnation, but he was also the son of a secret royal marriage? "Great, so I'm basically the hero of my own soap opera. How do I even handle this?"
Ned's eyes were locked on Jon, filled with a mix of regret and determination. "Jon is not my bastard son, but my nephew. His true name is Daemon Targaryen."
Jon's brain did a somersault. Great, now I've got this plot twist on top of my existential crisis. Can't wait to see how this plays out.
Jon took a deep breath. The revelation had just changed everything he thought he knew about himself, and the journey ahead promised to be as wild as the plot twists in his favorite series.
—
Catelyn's emotions hit her like a freight train, leaving her struggling to stay upright. Anger, betrayal, and a profound sadness churned inside her like a storm. She felt as if she had been sideswiped by a runaway cart and was now grappling with the crushing weight of exclusion.
"Ned…" Her voice wavered, like a stack of plates teetering on the edge of collapse. Her eyes pleaded for some explanation that could make sense of this mess. "I understand you wanted to protect Jon, but how could you keep something like this from me?" Each word felt like a rock she wanted to throw at the man she thought she knew.
Ned's face looked like it had weathered a thousand storms, each wrinkle telling a story of regret. He met her gaze with sorrowful eyes. "Catelyn, I never meant to deceive you," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of all the secrets he had kept. "I made a promise to my sister, Lyanna, to protect her son, no matter what. For that, I am truly sorry."
Robb stood nearby, looking like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He turned to Jon—Daemon now—his expression a mix of shock and something that might have been awe or fear. "Jon… Daemon," he said, as if saying the name aloud might help him wrap his head around this revelation.
Jon, who had seen this plot twist coming from a mile away thanks to his extensive binge-watching, offered Robb a sympathetic look. He could practically see the gears turning in Robb's head as he tried to process everything. "Robb," Jon said gently, extending a hand as if to anchor his brother in this storm of revelations. "I know this is a lot to take in, but we're still brothers. Blood and loyalty don't change."
Robb's eyes widened as he began to understand the full scope of the situation. The awe and fear on his face were almost comical, like he had just discovered he was standing next to a dragon instead of his usual brother. "Jon," Robb repeated, his voice barely a whisper, as if the words themselves might betray him. "You're not just my brother… You're the heir to the Iron Throne."
Jon had to stifle a laugh at how melodramatic this all seemed. The weight of Robb's words hung in the air like a storm cloud about to burst. Jon—who was used to the Iron Throne being a dramatic plot device on TV—couldn't help but think things were about to get a lot messier, both in the story and in his own life. And honestly, he wasn't sure whether to laugh or start drafting a will.
—
Ned handed Jon a letter, its edges curling and fading with age. The thing practically screamed "historical artifact." Jon felt his pulse quicken, like he was opening an envelope from the admissions office of an elite academy—except this was from a mom he'd only ever heard about. It was like expecting a surprise party but with way more existential dread.
The letter was written in Lyanna Stark's graceful script, and as Jon read, he felt a surreal blend of awe, melancholy, and déjà vu. He'd watched the series, read the books, and yet this was different. Lyanna wasn't just a tragic figure on the screen anymore; she was his mother, and this letter was her dramatic reveal.
He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the emotional rollercoaster. It was like flipping through pages of a script he knew all too well but was now living in, waiting to see how his new role would play out.
—
My dearest son,
As I write these words, my heart aches with the knowledge that I may never hold you in my arms, may never watch you grow into the man you were meant to be. But know this, my sweet Daemon: you are loved beyond measure, cherished more deeply than words can express.
I wish I could shield you from the trials and tribulations that await you, but fate has woven a different path for us. Your father and I made choices that have shaped the course of our lives, choices born of love and sacrifice.
Though we may be separated by time and distance, know that you are never far from my thoughts, my prayers. May the gods watch over you and guide you on your journey, my son, and may you find the strength to face whatever challenges lie ahead.
With all my love,
Your mother, Lyanna
Jon's heart pounded as he unfolded the letter from Lyanna Stark. It felt like opening a surprise package from a mysterious aunt—only this aunt happened to be a legendary figure from a series he'd binge-watched. The letter's delicate script seemed to glow with significance, and Jon felt a whirlwind of awe and shock. This wasn't just some TV plot twist; it was his reality now. His mom was Lyanna Stark, and suddenly, everything he'd known about his life felt like a page in a book he'd been handed a little too late.
Ned, with his usual solemnity, watched Jon closely. It was like he was waiting for Jon to either have an existential meltdown or start running for the hills. "Jon," Ned said, his voice serious but soft, "now that you know the truth about your heritage, the next move is yours. What do you want to do?"
Jon took a deep breath, feeling like he was caught in an epic scene where he had to choose his next move carefully. He was surrounded by characters he used to think were fiction—now his family—waiting for him to decide the next chapter in this high-stakes drama. It felt like one of those "choose-your-own-adventure" books, but the stakes were real and there was no "reset" button.
He glanced at Catelyn, Robb, and Ned. They looked at him as if he were holding the key to a treasure chest. Jon couldn't shake the feeling that he was in the middle of a game where any wrong decision could be disastrous.
As Jon, now in Jon Snow's body, tried to process everything, his brain felt like it was overheating. Sure, he'd watched *Game of Thrones* and knew the plot twists, but this wasn't just another episode. This was his new reality, and it was intense and terrifying.
On one hand, discovering he was Daemon Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, was literally finding out you're a secret prince. On the other hand, Westeros wasn't exactly a magical kingdom. Claiming the Iron Throne was like signing up for a deadly game where getting your head chopped off was a real possibility.
Jon realized he needed more time to think and gather information before jumping in. He knew Robert Baratheon's epic beer belly wasn't going to save him from that boar, and Jon Arryn was already on his way to the afterlife. Trying to alter those events was futile. So instead of fighting the inevitable, Jon decided to work with it. If he played his cards right, he might use his knowledge of future events to his advantage.
He started piecing together a plan: build his own support, make allies, and avoid getting entangled in the chaos to come. If Westeros was a chessboard, he needed more than just pawns.
Finally, Jon turned to Ned, ready to share his decision. "Father," he began, trying to sound as confident as possible despite feeling like a complete newbie. "I've thought this through, and I've decided not to challenge Robert Baratheon's claim to the throne."
Ned's eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised. This wasn't the usual Stark move, but Jon wasn't your average Stark.
"Are you sure, Jon?" Robb asked, looking at him like he'd suggested they all take a vacation with the Lannisters. "You're Daemon Targaryen. That's... kind of a big deal."
Jon nodded, channeling his inner Tyrion minus the wine. "I know what it means, Robb. But challenging Robert would put Father in a tough spot. I can't ask him to choose between me and his friend. Besides," he added with a wry grin, "I'd rather not get stabbed in the back before I've figured out how to navigate this mess."
He let that sink in, then continued, "Instead, I'm going to focus on serving House Stark and the realm with honor. We have a lot at stake, and we need to be strategic about it."
Ned's stern expression softened with what looked like pride and relief. "Your decision shows great wisdom, Jon," he said, sounding like the wise dad from a classic drama. "Whatever path you choose, you have my full support."
For the first time since finding himself in Westeros, Jon felt a sense of calm. He didn't have all the answers, but he knew he'd made the right choice—for himself and for his new family. With Ned's backing, Jon felt more prepared to face whatever Westeros threw at him next.
Sure, the road ahead was going to be tough, with political intrigue, power-hungry rivals, and, oh yeah, dragons. But Jon knew he wasn't alone. With his modern-day mindset, a little future knowledge, and a lot of determination, he was ready to tackle the game of thrones his own way. And hopefully, come out on top.
—
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