“Rhaegar Targaryen?” Lord Baelish said. “I was mere boy of seventeen when he took your Aunt Lyanna.”
Jon said, “But you knew him?”
“I knew both of them, Your Grace. Why do you ask?”
Jon stared up at the huge branches of the weirdwood tree, spreading outwards like fingers. Somehow it was still warmer here in the Godswood than the rest of Winterfell. “My father never talked about either of them. And yet they played such a huge part in his life, in our family history.” Jon knew better than to trust Baelish with the truth. “I just want to know…I’d like to not repeat the mistakes of the past, my lord.”
“Well,” Baelish said smiling, “Lords of the Vale and the Starks uniting. I’d say you’re off to a pretty bad start, Your Grace.”
He was a funny man, a very funny man. Jon wondered how his uncles had managed to keep from killing him. Jon had only been talking to Lord Baelish a few minutes and already he felt the urge to snuff out his life. It wouldn’t take much. A forearm on his neck. A few moments of pressure. The very thought of him even near Sansa, let alone touching her…No, he needed answers. More importantly, what would Sansa say if she returned from White Harbor and found her beloved Littlefinger dead?
Best to conceal his contempt. “Help me then, my lord. Tell me what you know of the dragon prince. Where did he go wrong?”
“You mean, besides stealing away with your mother and marrying her?”
How did…? There had been no one else in the crypt. And when they’d come out they’d all agreed to keep it a secret. He couldn’t have known. Unless…
“It never made sense to me that a man as honorable as Ned Stark would step out on his wife, especially one as lovely as Catelyn Tully, even in a time of war. When word traveled throughout Westeros that he brought you home, I knew.”
No, he suspected. All of this was probably a bluff. Baelish had to be guessing, hoping that Jon would reveal the truth out of surprise and nervousness. Sansa had said Littlefinger was capable of such tactics. Jon should’ve worded his question more carefully.
“I’m not sure what you mean, my lord.”
“Yes you do,” Baelish said. He grinned. “You’re the only child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Ned Stark pretended you were his bastard to protect you from Robert Baratheon.” He slid close to Jon. They walked along the edge of the steaming black pool in the middle of the godswood. “I will not go so far as to tell that you should trust me, Jon. But I have declared for House Stark for all to see, and your Aunt Catelyn was like a sister. I am your ally, Your Grace. Now, who else knows your true parentage? Did your uncle tell any of his children?”
Jon wished Sansa was here. This man’s mouth moved far too fast for Jon. Still, Baelish had revealed himself. He had been guessing. How Baelish had ever even gotten it in his head to consider the notion no longer mattered. The only thing he could do was protect Sansa, Arya, Meera, and Bran. Jon had to be a better liar. “My uncle only told me the truth, my lord.”
“And your Uncle Benjen?”
“No, my lord.”
“Ned Stark, clever after all.”
Just a little bit of pressure on his neck, that’s all Jon would need to end his life.
Baelish looked Jon in the eye. “Your uncle certainly could keep a secret, couldn’t he? We must take as much care in how we handle the dragon queen, Your Grace.”
“Your strategy of allowing her to come north has left us in a precarious position. If Queen Daenerys finds out you have a stronger claim on the throne than she, she’ll surely attack Winterfell with her dragons and burn us all to ash.” There was a glint in his eye now. Jon couldn’t quite figure out what put it there, but it left him uneasy. “Leave everything to your sister and I, Your Grace. Together, we’ll put you on the Iron Throne.”
Jon could’ve cared less about the damn throne. He just wanted his family together and safe. And he’d be damned if he left Sansa alone with this monster. He really would kill Baelish before he’d let that happen.
Jon and Lord Baelish left the godswood and made for the Great Hall. “Now,” Baelish said, “what can I tell you about Rhaegar and Lyanna?”
my favourite thing about jon possibly having a targaryen name is that when lyanna told ned he was probs like ‘… ok sis that’s cool but…. how the fuck am i meant to hide jahaerys jacarys jalapeno the third from robert with that name?’
Most of us had some inkling that Jon Snow was not Eddard Stark’s son. Now on 6x10, we have confirmation. Jon Snow is the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.
We read the scene in the books, learned how the Tower of Joy went, knew Lyanna made him promise her something, knew she died in a bed of blood with her brother beside her. We knew it pained Ned to think of it.
But to have it acted out, to see Ned’s raw emotion play out on his face, holding his sister’s child, watching her as she plead with her dying breath for her brother to protect her baby…it’s powerful.
He lost his sister after just getting her back, and gained a child all within a few short moments.
He took a child that was not his, and loved it, and raised it as his own. He chose to become Jon’s father. He protected him and defended him and loved him fiercely, even at the expense of his own honor, reputation and even, for a time, his own marriage.
He lied to the man who he considered a brother, risked his life to commit treason against the king he fought to crown. He lied to his own wife, even though he probably knew he could trust her. He lied to everyone. Because he made a promise to his sister, and wouldn’t let Jon come to harm, not for anyone.
Because Eddard Stark was a good man, a man who loved his family selflessly. And this episode made me remember how good of a man he was, and how revolting his death was.
He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.