Flying in the clouds

by IronicallyPresent

Summary:

The thing about so called ‘perfect systems’, is there nearly always bullshit.

Born the son of a superhero, Jon Snow has his entire life planned out. He’ll follow in his mother’s footsteps and join the pantheon of heroes that protect Westeros. But when he develops a power he shouldn’t have, his entire life falls into uncertainty.

Will he be a hero like his mother? And after learning more of the dark side of his world… Does he still want to?

Notes:

So this story was started way back when I was waiting for my A-level results in lockdown 1! I can’t believe it’s been 3 years since then!

I do eventually want to finish this as I hate to abandon stuff. With this is mind I’m going through re-writing this to update it to my current writing style. I know it’s not perfect even know but it was crazy to read the OG version of this and compare it to my newest fic!

I hope the re-written chapters of this story are enjoyable!

Chapter 1: X marks the anxiety

Today was the day, the day marked with a fat ‘x’ on several calendars.

Several, due to Jon’s mother having an unfortunate habit of using the back of them to take notes, before loosing them in the ether.

Today Jon Snow became a sophomore.

Now to most people this wouldn’t be a big deal. It wasn’t his first year at the school, nor was it his last. He wouldn’t be stressing out about making new friends, and he wouldn’t be panicking over preparing for university. Except that Jon Snow isn’t most people, he had the privilege of being the son of a superhero. And that meant he had entirely different things to stress over.

Being the child of a superhero, meant certain expectations, and those expectations came knocking around the same time as 16th birthdays.

The form those expectations take, were that of the placement test.

That knock was looming over Jon.

The Placement test itself had been created centuries ago, only a few generations after the very first age of hero’s. Where such hero’s as Brandon ‘the builder’ Stark and Durran ‘Godsgrief’ had started the tradition of protecting the non-powered ‘civilians’ of Westeros from powered threats. The test itself wasn’t in reality an actual written test, you couldn’t prepare for it and there was technically no pass or fail. The test scans your very being, your soul, and determines whether you will be a hero or… a villain.

The Septon’s, the lone neutral party in Westeros, hold the responsibly of conducting the test. Having taken oaths of neutrality, a Septon is neither a hero or a villain. Though they may come from either side- in theory.

In truth the order was mostly made up of those without powers, as to take the Septons oaths was to swear off the use of your abilities. Something very few supers would, or could, do.

Jon liked to think of himself as someone with good restraint, he could go at least a week without using his powers! Not like Theon who couldn’t help but use them to cause mischief, or attempt to attract women. But even Jon had to admit, he could never swear to refrain from using his powers for the rest of his life. It would be like swearing to never use his hands again!

Placement test take place exactly one week after a teens sixteenth birthday. All those with super powers, develop said powers in full by this point. And since history had shown no instances of otherwise, it was deemed the appropriate time to conduct the test.

It had been hammered into Jon since a young age, had been hammered into all of his peers, that once the test had been conducted the results were final and could not be changed.

Those deemed a hero, would spend their final two years at the Vale Academy of honour. Those deemed as a villain, would spend them at the Dragonstone Institute of Darkness. Jon guessed that neither of the two schools founders knew much about subtlety when it came to naming their fine institutions.

Children like Jon, who had at least one powered parent, attended the school based on their parent’s inclination. As the son of a hero, Jon had spent his Freshman year at the Vale Academy.

In the case of those children born of ‘powerless’ parents, they too would attend the Vale institute. Unless they had some kind of criminal record prior to their power developing.

It was a badly kept secret in their world that a powered child could not come from two powerless parents. This wasn’t Harry Potter.

Children who miraculously develop powers, when neither parent ever displayed any of their own, were always in reality the child of a super and a civilian seduced during the line of duty. Such was Jon’s own origin story, yet most weren’t as lucky as Jon and grew up unaware of their superpowered heritage. That is until puberty arrived with some surprises not covered in sex education.

The idea was that despite the school you initially attend, the test could cause anyone to transfer. Yet, this nearly never happened... The most common case of transfers were the children of ‘powerless’ parents. Aunt Catelyn said that this was because they lacked “the legacy” that the teens from ‘hero families’ had. His mother said that was Catelyn’s way of saying “they weren’t raised right”.

The children of villains never transferred to the Vale. Jon had to admit, he saw this as strange, statistically there must have been at least some villain kids who weren’t like their parents?

When he’d voiced this view to his mother, after first learning of the test he would one day take, she got a strange look on her face.

It was a similar look she got when Jon announced his maturity, evidenced by the fact he had developed his power. Surely this meant he was ready to choose his Hero name!

She’d smiled at him then, but it wasn’t her real smile, that was a smile full of not quite straight teeth and to loud laughter. Jon had always thought his mothers smile highlited how young she really was. To young many thought, to have a son his age.

This look was not that smile. This was a smile tinged with something Jon couldn’t name, and made his mother look older than she was, Jon didn’t like this smile.

His mother had advised him to wait on choosing his name, and Jon, wanting that smile that was so wrong on his mother’s face gone. Had hurried to agree.

She’d smiled that smile when Jon had asked her about the children of villains. She’d told him “yes, that is strange isn’t it? Best not worry over it though.”

Jon didn’t ask about villain kids again.

At fifteen Jon wasn’t the only one in his year not to have chosen his hero name. But, he was the only one who had developed their main power, that had yet to do so.

Hero lineages passed down ability’s, it’s one of the reasons why their community had always been so close nit. Some would say (his mother, would say) incestuous.

A child of two hero’s was certain to inherit one of the ability’s from their parents families, as well as their own individual power. It wasn’t right, but it was one of the reason supers tended to marry their own kind. Wouldn’t want to have a child who was less powerful. Many even still had the rather antiquated belief, better a cousin than a powerless.

Robb, who was the eldest child of Jon’s uncle Eddard Stark, had his mothers Tully ability of water manipulation.

This had been a bit of an embarrassment for the Stark heir when it had first developed. Robb, who was the heir to the Stark hero duties, not having their ancestral gift. Jon had tried to comfort his cousin, telling Robb that the Tully ability to manipulate water was much cooler and more useful than controlling wolves. But Robb had argued that it wasn’t about coolness or even practicality, it was the principle. As a Stark, the Stark heir no less. He should have the Stark power.

Things had been smoothed over slightly when Robb had developed his principle power, the power which was his alone.

They had found out one eventful evening when Robb had been so angry he looked like he would burst that he did, and shifted into a huge direwolf- right on top of aunt Catelyn’s fine china.

As the son of only one super Jon’s likely hood of developing two powers was slimmer. In theory, he had the chance to develop both the Stark ability and his own power. But at nearly 16 Jon had only his own, and thought the chances of developing his ‘ancestral’ power, which usually came first anyway, slim.

His mother was unaffected by his lack of ability to communicate with wolves, purchasing their albino direwolf Ghost regardless. Ghost, a red eyed white furred beast that Jon loved as much as any of his human relations. Had been glued to Jon’s side since his mother had brought him home as a pup. Lyanna may be the one who could control him, but it was clear who Ghost favoured.

Jon developed his only power later than Robb, something aunt Catelyn had taken great pride in.

The summer before Jon’s Freshman year came with the fiery arrival of Pyrokinesis.

That summer had seen Robb, Theon and himself enjoying messing around at the hot pools in the GodsWood creating shapes in the steam from the combinations of their powers. Reducing them to giggles better fitting the boys of their past, than the men they were on their way to becoming.

Both Theon and Robb sat at the older end of their year groups age spectrum. Whereas Jon, held the title as one of the youngest.

This meant the two boys would be taking their tests months before Jon would. Though he would never admit it, this sparked anxiety for Jon. Already being assigned their designation would bond Theon and Robb even more, Jon would be the odd one out.

He had always been jealous of the bond the two older boys shared and it was a constant source for Jon’s feelings of inadequacy. Jon was Rob’s Cousin, they were family and thus Robb was stuck with him. Theon however, was someone Robb had actively chosen to befriend he didn’t have to spend time with Theon, Robb chose too.

It didn’t help that Theon and Jon shared a strained friendship, if you could even call it that. Theirs was a kinship born out of a mutual love of Robb Stark. Without Robb they had very little patience for each other, they just clashed.

Jon felt terrible about it, but sometimes, when he was feeling particularly low he’d hope that Theon was determined to be a villain.

The truth was, Jon’s dark wish wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. The Greyjoy family was a ‘hero lineage’, but held the title more dubiously than any of the other families.

They marked their descent from a hero known as ‘The Greyking’. He had been one of the first hero’s to emerge claiming to be born of powerless parents. Yet as everyone now knew, this wasn’t possible. It became one of the worst kept secrets of the hero world that ‘The Greyking’ was actually the son of ‘The Drowned God’, an infamous supervillain of the age that specified in, as his name suggests, drowning his victims. But Greyking had been a hero for years before this revelation was made common knowledge, and therefore his descendants are part of a hero lineage. Though Jon wondered for how much longer.

Each generation of Greyjoy’s had more and more transfers to villainy. Of Theon’s fathers generation only two of the four Greyjoy son’s had become heroes.

Though Ballon Greyjoy’s title as a hero was laughable at best. He called himself the ‘Lord Reaper’ the protector of Pyke, but in reality did very little protecting. He mostly just sat in the Salt Stone chair talking a big talk while his brother Victorian did all the actual protecting.

Theon’s other uncles Euron (The Crows Eye) and Aeron (The Drowned Priest) were villain’s of varying notoriety. Both are indisputably yet, Euron was definitely the more dangerous of the two due to his moderately higher level of intelligence than his brother.

Of Theon’s own generation, he was the youngest of five with no cousins. His older brothers Rodrik and Maron had both registered as villains, which had surprised no one, they’d always had a cruel streak and had often paired their ability’s of super strength and speed to cause chaos. However they were killed shortly after graduation by Jason Malister, also known as Seaguard.

The designation of Theon’s sister Asha had been much more of a surprise. She’d always been gruff and ruff round the edges, but Jon had always thought that deep down she was a good person. Her relationship with Theon had always been testament to that, as she was the only one of his relatives that didn’t mock him for his power of controlling aquatic life. Truthfully Asha had always reminded Jon of his mother, even her ability to conjure weapons made of kinetic energy was similar to Lyanna Stark’s gift. Crucially however, Asha lacked the allowances afforded to Jon’s mother based on her family name. Lyanna got away with being wild and not conforming to female hero standards, Asha did not.

Jon guessed that this dissatisfaction may have been what caused her designation of villain, and if it was he couldn’t really say he blamed her, but still- it had come as a surprise.

Jon pondered on all of this as he checked his uniform tie in the mirror, not too long, not too short. He really didn’t want to deal with a lecture from Miss Mordane today on his appearance. He’d spotted the old hag eying his hair with distain a few times last year, just because Jon like to grow it longer than most boys. It didn’t really fit into the mould of the hero image, but Jon didn’t care, long hair wouldn’t make him a villain.

Grabbing his bag, which he had been packing and re-packing obsessively for the past two days, he headed down to the kitchen where he knew his mother would be waiting.

Lyanna Stark sat perched on a kitchen stool, leaning on the counter with a glass of orange juice in one hand and her phone in the other.

The sun shone in from the windows behind her catching on the metal of the tap, causing a backdrop of sharp patches of light to halo his mother.

Lyanna was young to have a child Jon’s age and they were often mistaken for siblings rather than a parent and child, despite their ages, the relation between the two was undeniable.

They both shared what was commonly known as the ‘Stark look’, dark hair, grey eyes and a long face. Yet, there were some features that sat on Jon’s face that he didn’t share with his mother, and he knew must have come from his mystery father. Jon’s cheekbones had a sharper shape, his lips were formed into more of a natural pout and his hair had more defined curls rather than the frizzy waves his mother was custom too.

“Do you have everything?” She asked, eyeing his bag as he placed it down on the counter.

“How many times did you pack that bag again? Ten? Twelve?”

Jon scowled at her as he retrieved the milk from the fridge and began adding it to a bowl of cereal.

“Yes, and I did not pack it twelve different times!” It had in actual fact been much closer to fifteen, but there was no way he was admitting that.

“I just need my history folder Robb’s gonna bring it round any minute.”

This prompted a crease to form between his mothers brows. One of the many facial expressions that reminded Jon starkly of his cousin Arya.

(The phrase starkly was one never to be uttered out loud in fear of uncle Ned’s endless supply of bad dad jokes.)

While Jon looked a lot like Lyanna, the resemblance had nothing on the similarities between her and her youngest niece, it was frankly quite scary.

“Why does Robb have you history folder?”

Moving to sit opposite his mother, newly acquired breakfast in hand he replied “Robb doesn’t, I lent it to Sansa. She wanted to read over the content covered in first year and my notes are more detailed than Robb’s.”

Robb wrote his notes in some kind of untranslatable shorthand readable only to himself and maybe the Gods.

“Oh, well isn’t she very… studious.” His mothers pitch went higher betraying her statement as more sarcastic than sincere.

“Mum!”

It was no secret that Jon’s mother and his aunt Catelyn didn’t get on.

Catelyn Stark nee Tully was the embodiment of the stereotypical female hero. She’d been the sidekick to her father under the name Pieces for a few years after graduating the Vale, before marrying Uncle Ned and retiring permanently to raise her five children.

This in itself wasn’t what put the two women at odds, though this was a lifestyle Lyanna would never hold herself she didn’t begrudge Catelyn that she did. The problem was that Catelyn didn’t share her sister in-laws tolerance. Hoster Tully had always been a traditionalist, and he’d raised his children to have the same views.

Jon had long realised that his aunt looked down on him. Not only because his mother had conceived him with a powerless, but because his mother had failed to marry or even know the name of the man who had done the deed.

This was why Jon’s last name was Snow rather than Stark. In the old days of Westeros, back when his family was still nobility, children born out of wedlock to members of the ‘great’ houses would receive their last name based on their region of birth. Snow being that used in the North.

In modern times however, things were different. If both parents agreed, then the child could take one of their parents name regardless of marital status. But this process required written proof of agreement from both parents, and since Jon’s father was a mystery, he remained a Snow.

Of all Jon’s cousin’s Sansa was the one that looked up to her mother the most. This was probably why she and he got on the least, not for lack of trying on Jon’s part, but Sansa always maintained a distance between them. Consequently, Sansa was also Lyanna’s least favourite of her brothers children, and she put very little energy into hiding it. Lyanna never claimed to not be petty.

“Fine, Fine do you have everything apart from the folder? I.D. Card? Money for lunch?”

Jon produced his I.D Card from the pocket of his blazer and waved it in his mothers direction. Unfortunately it still bared the picture of him taken on the first day of freshman year, his face was flushed from nerves and he was wearing the glasses he had since grew out of needing. Much to Jon’s disappointment he wouldn’t be issued a new card, and more importantly a new picture, until next year.

“I still have money left over from Mr Mickinen, I’ll just use that”.

Wanting to earn some money of his own, Jon had taken it upon himself to find a job during the summer. Luckily, their neighbour Mr Mickinen had needed someone to operate as a secretary for his repair shop and had been nice enough to hire Jon, despite his lack of experience.

An awkward silence blanketed the kitchen only occasionally disturbed by the humming of the fridge or a passing car outside.

“Jon I understand your nervous but I just need you to know...” his mother began, only to be cut off by the loud opening of the backdoor.

Robb and Theon strode in bringing with them the racket that only teenage boys could bring.

Theon swaggered over to Lyanna’s left before dropping into a deep bow, “my lady you look more stunning every time I have the honour of laying eyes on you!”

He punctuated his flirtation with an attempt to kiss her hand. Only for Lyanna to use the same hand to smack his arm with a giggle.

Both Robb and Jon wore twin expressions of disgust and Robb announced “eww man that’s my aunt!” As he slid Jon’s folder to him across the counter.

“Yeah and my mother!” Jon joined as he flicked through the folder checking there was nothing missing, before stuffing it into his bag and slinging the bag over his shoulder.

The two Stark boys shared a look before looping an arm round each side of the lone Greyjoy and began frog marching him out of the house.

“Alas my lady we are kept apart by villains most foul... But rest assured no other will ever replace you in my heart!”

The sound of his mothers laughter marked his goodbye as all three boys left the house.

Chapter 2: As High as Honour

Technically speaking, there are two ways to get to the Vale. Since the school was situated at the top of a mountain, it requires some unique entrance requirements.

The first way was to traverse the winding mountain road. A path that would require expert climbing skills, a large rucksack full of supplies and about six hours free time. 

Now since school started at 9:45, and to get there on time would require starting the ascent the previous night, this was not the preferred path of choice among the student body. 

Robb had taken it once last year on a dare, shifting into his wolf form and running up. Leaving Theon and Jon to bring his thing’s, as Robb’s backpack wasn’t exactly made for being worn by a large wolf. He’d managed it in three hours, an impressive time, but it had left him zombie-like for the rest of the day. 

This route was firmly written off. 

The second, and much more popular path, was the bus.

The bus that made the journey to the Vale Academy wasn’t like any ordinary school bus, for all that it did look like one. 

The path up the mountain had been carved out centuries ago, before the invention of cars, and thus was much too small for school buses to be driving up and down daily. So Sharra Arryn had gotten creative. 

How do you drive a school bus up a too small path? 

Simple, you don’t. 

Each one of the Vale’s buses were a work of engineering art. Fitted with extendable wings and rocket boosters, the buses were able to fly over the mountain range, and land on the school grounds. 

Thankfully the design of the buses had improved over time. Jon really didn’t fancy the idea of flying in on some of the older buses he’d seen in the history books, Which seemed to only be kept in the air by sheets of canvas, wood, and hope alone.

The bus stop already had a few teens milling about when the three boys arrived. Jon knew from experience that there would be a sharp influx of people in the next five minutes, when the bus was scheduled to arrive. 

He was surprised to not see a head of shockingly red hair among the teens present. 

“Where’s Sansa?” He asked Robb, turning away from his search to look at the other boy. 

“Mum and Dad dropped her and Jane Poole off, like an hour ago. Remember the freshman start earlier on the first day... You know, to get used to the school before everyone else turns up? Or something rubbish like that!” 

Jon flushed and adjusted the strap of his bag, “Oh right! I’d completely forgotten...” 

Theon snorted, and looked up from his phone where he had been mindlessly scrolling.

“More like you blocked it out of your memory! That introduction assembly was torture! 30 minutes of my life I’ll never get back!”

“Yeah and the rest” replied Robb. 

The assembly his entire year had been squeezed into had been a painfully dull affair. Thirty minutes of headmaster Aryyn droning on about rules and regulations that would be covered again at least six times throughout the day. 

Plus the combined smell of a room of nervous teenagers was not a good one. 

“Do you think we’ll have something like that this year?” Jon asked. 

“Gods I hope not! I really don’t wanna spend half an hour in the main hall after the freshmen have just been in there... It will reek!” Whined Robb, rubbing his nose as if it was already hurting from the smell. 

Being able to shift into a wolf larger than a grown man showed in his cousin even when in human form. Robb was faster and stronger than a normal human (and ate much more). His cousin also had much stronger senses, if Jon thought the hall had smelt bad, Robb must have been in one of the seven hells. 

He voiced as much aloud, prompting Theon to announce “yes the seven hells: Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Wrath, Heresy and sweaty teenagers!”

He ticked them off his fingers as he went. 

The bus arrived shortly after and with it the usual last minute stragglers sprinting over. Jon spotted his friends Grenn and Pyp among them and shot them a quick wave over his shoulder, as he boarded the bus. 

Jon took a seat behind Robb and Theon, who always sat together- which never made him feel left out at all. 

Theon turned towards him rolling his eyes as he spotted the book that Jon had pulled from his bag. He elbowed Robb tilting his head in its direction as if to silently say “can you believe this guy!” 

Ignoring them both Jon placed his bag down on the empty seat beside him (to deter anyone else sitting there) and nodded at Grenn and Pyp who had sat in the two seats across the aisle from him. 

“Are you seriously gonna read that?” Snapped Theon, irritation at being ignored shining from every pore. 

“It’s the required reading for Mr Luwin’s class” sighed Jon, fixing Theon with an unimpressed stare. 

“So? Are you telling me you haven’t read it yet? You!” He grabbed Robb’s shoulder shaking it as a giddy smile overtook his face.

“Do you hear that mate! We’re experiencing a historic moment fireboy hasn’t done the homework!” 

Jon scowled, Theon had taken to creating a plethora of fire related jibes to call him after his powers had presented.

“Don’t call me that! And of course I read the damn book. I'm just skim-reading to make sure I know all the main points!” Bit out Jon.

Theon pouted and sunk into his seat. 

Laughing, Robb turned to Theon, “well, looks like this moment isn’t so historic after all! What about you? Have you read it?” 

Reaching over to grasp Jon’s shoulder while maintaining eye contact with Theon, Robb effortlessly made the tension dissipate. 

“Course not! Who do you take me for.” Snorted Theon waving his phone.

“I’ll just read the summary of the main points online. That’s all he’s gonna ask about anyway! No need to waste my time reading the entire book.” 

Rolling his eyes Jon blocked out the soundtrack of the two older boys banter, burying his head in the books pages.

Though he had initially forgotten, Jon was now quite glad the freshmen were missing from today’s journey. Tomorrow he would have to deal with a fuller bus, as well as the loud exclamations of “ooo’s” and “aaa’s” as the bus soared through the clouds. 

He’d been just as impressed as everyone else at first. But like the rest of his year, who now sat either chatting, on their phones, or reading like Jon. The novelty of the flight had quickly worn off. 

Frankly the mere thought of putting up with at least two terms of exclamations of wonder every morning, already had Jon’s head throbbing. 

---

Stepping out of the bus and onto the frosted grass, Jon took a minute to indulge in an inhale of the crisp mountain air. 

Behind him he vaguely noticed many of his classmates shiver and wrap their jackets tighter around themselves. They’d clearly forgotten the difference in temperature up here, and had failed to dress accordingly. 

Jon hid a smirk badly as he followed Robb and Theon to the steps going up to the school. He had always had a high tolerance for extreme temperatures, be it cold or hot. He could go jacketless even in the coldest winter, and he was the only one in his family who didn’t need to practically bathe in factor 50 once April came along. 

Jon had figured that his power would be something temperature related, but he’d been more expecting an ability based on ice, rather than the pyrokinesis that he got. 

Several of his Stark ancestors had various abilities centered around ice and snow, probably a result of his family’s age old habitation of the North, the coldest part of Westeros. Jon figured that such abilities would have been pretty useless somewhere like Dorne. 

He’d theorised once that perhaps his father had come from somewhere with a hotter climate, and that’s what had influenced his power, but he’d never know for sure.

Standing at the top of the school's stairs was Jon Arryn, the current headmaster of the vale. The Arryn’s had been running the school for generations, Jon’s namesake was just one in a very long line. 

He was an older man, older than even Jon’s grandfather would have been, and looked every year. To be fair Jon thought, he would look aged too if he had to be in charge of a school for super-powered teenagers. 

Arryn had been an active hero once years and years ago, but had retired sometime before Jon’s Uncle Ned was born. By the time it was his Uncle’s turn to attend the school, Arryn had taken over the position of headmaster. 

He had since occupied a sort of mentor position for both Ned Stark and his childhood friend Robert Baratheon. Jon’s grandfather, Rickard Stark, had been neglectful in educating his younger children on how to be heroes. He’d focused all his attention on his oldest son Brandon, who at the time, was next in line to inherit the mantle of ‘Warden’ and protector of the North… Attention, that was ultimately pointless, as both had been murdered by the supervillain ‘King Scab’ shortly before Jon was born. 

Their sudden deaths had forced Eddard to step up as the North’s protector. 

Jon’s uncle was a gentle man, honourable, too honourable many would say. Eddard Stark had a habit of forgetting that others were not the same, underestimating their capabilities for cruelty.

His powers were not particularly flashy either, especially not when compared to his siblings. 

One of the things Jon had always respected his uncle for was his unapologetic honesty. Rather than try to force himself into the hole left behind by his brother and father, Ned had forged a role of his own. His uncle had taken on the name ‘Candor’ rather than adopt his father’s mantle of ‘Warden’. The name Ned chose better reflecting his own power of lie detection.

Standing to the left of Arryn was councilman Robert Baratheon, better known for his alter ego ‘Stormlord’. 

Baratheon was a somewhat frequent character in Jon’s life, the best friend of his Uncle since childhood, Robert visited Ned frequently. 

Jon privately thought that these visits may be fuelled more by Baratheon’s desire to escape the company of his wife than any real friendly camaraderie with Jon’s uncle, but the marital problems of his uncle’s friend really wasn’t any of his business.

There was always a flavor of awkwardness when Jon was forced to interact with the older man. Once upon a time Robert and Lyanna had been a couple, according to him the two had been about to get engaged, according to Jon’s mother she’d been counting the days till she could end it. 

The relationship had been set up by Uncle Ned, thrilled at the idea of his best friend and little sister being an item. And supported by Rickard who was thrilled by the idea of a ‘good’ marriage for his only daughter. 

All these plans went down like a lead balloon however, when Lyanna broke up with Robert before emerging on the hero scene as ‘Mystery knight’. 

She’d previously, and unwillingly, gone by the name ‘Winter Rose’, a name her father had chosen for her that more reflected the delicate girl he wanted her to be instead of the powerhouse she really was. 

Any chance of rekindling the relationship was stomped on and lit on fire by Lyanna’s return from a year and a half disappearing act, with a baby Jon in her arms. Robert had quickly married socialite Cersei Lannister, the daughter of Tywin ‘The Golden Lion’ Lannister. 

That relationship was born less out of love and affection, and more due to Tywin’s support of Robert’s position of councilman… And Tywin’s continued funding of Robert's obsession with defeating ‘The Silver Prince’. A villain that Robert claimed was his nemesis, but who seemed far more concerned with laying big corporations to waste than battling his supposed ‘Biggest foe’. 

Despite the fact that Jon had been born a good year after their breakup, Robert had been noticeably disappointed when he didn’t develop the Baratheon ability of weather control. What had the man thought? That he’d managed to conceive Jon with his mother through osmosis alone?

The Council, which both Jon Arryn and Robert were members, was the closest the superhero world had to a governing body.

The difference, Jon noted, between the Council and the governments of the powerless was that if a hero was popular enough and charismatic, they could basically talk their way out of being punished for breaking the law. Jon was pretty sure that none of the powerless governments would ever allow that.

The Council was made up of eight members, each with a different role. Robert was the head of the council and had been since Jon was a boy. He wasn’t really sure why Robert had run, or how the man had won, as he seemed to care very little for the responsibilities the role entailed. At the very least the man was good at delegating, he had to be to get out of doing any hard work himself, and he had filled his council with (mostly) competent individuals. 

Jon Arryn held the role of vice chairman, Jon winced in sympathy for how much work the man likely had to do daily. Running both the school and the council in Robert’s frequent absence. 

Stannis Baratheon, one of Robert's two brothers, was also on the council. Much more stern, and sober, than his brother Stannis handled the upkeep of the old and the creation of new laws. 

Between the two of them they did the majority of the duties Robert should be doing, as well as their own duties. 

One of the few responsibilities Robert could actually be trusted to partake in, was public appearances, hence his presence today. 

Jon knew one thing for sure, when he turned 18 he wouldn’t be voting for Robert. 

On the right of the headmaster stood the newly promoted deputy headmaster, Jeor Mormont. 

Previously known as the hero ‘The Bear’ but now known, affectionately, to the student body as ‘The Old Bear’. Mr Mormont was one of the most popular teachers at the school, beloved for his stern but fair teaching policy. No one disagreed with the promotion. 

Jon was particularly fond of the man as he’d been his form room teacher. However, while Jon was happy his teacher had gotten a (well deserved) promotion. The new role meant that Mormont would no longer be a form room teacher. A loss made even worse by who would be replacing him. 

Arryn held an ageing megaphone in his hand, which Jon thought was probably as old as the man that held it. Beckoning forward the crowds of students, Arryn brought it up to his mouth. 

“Welcome back returning students! I along with the rest of the staff here at The Vale Academy of Honour, are thrilled to have you all back with us again.” He paused taking a breath and staring into the crowd of teens before him. 

“This year is an important one for all of you, Seniors, you will be getting ready to leave us, and become great hero’s! Of that I have no doubt! Juniors you will be taking some of the most vital steps to heroics, learning lessons that will serve you your entire careers. And Sophomores, well I highly doubt I need to say what you will experience this year!” 

But you will anyway, Jon thought. 

“The placement test is one of the most important events in your young lives, and this year will be spent preparing you for that test, and dealing with the aftermath...” 

Jon began to zone out, blocking the rest of the speech from his notice. 

He didn’t think it was fair of the headmaster to claim they’d be preparing them for the test, there wasn’t really any way to do such a thing. All the teachers could, and would do, is teach them the history of the test and reiterate how ‘important’ it is to their society. 

Not to forget that part about dealing with the aftermath, total bullshit! The Vale never put in any effort towards ‘dealing’ with the aftermath of what came from having your very soul laid bare. 

If you were deemed a hero, you were treated with a blasé form of congratulations. After all what else would you have gotten? 

If you were deemed a villain? Instant ticket to being forgotten, shipped off to Dragonstone, kicked out of your family, and never spoken of again. 

The Vale definitely did not do ‘dealing’.

Jon came back to the real world in time to catch the end of the speech.

“Now I’m sure you all remember what it was like to be a freshman. New school, new people, and most importantly new powers. Many of our students have only just developed a power, and as this year progresses they will likely be developing another! I ask all of you to be patient and considerate of the difficulties this may bring. And as older and wiser hero’s, help your younger classmates in any way you can.” 

Jon remembered those early days. He hadn’t made himself very popular by accidentally burning off the eyebrows of no less than five of his classmates. One benefit of his power was that he didn’t have to worry about burning, he was protected, everyone else not so much. 

“Please proceed towards your form rooms where you will be given your schedules. Once again I say welcome back and good luck with your new year!” 

Jon would need every bit of luck he could get. His new form teacher was Allister Thorne.

Chapter 3

Jon shouldn’t have a nemesis yet. Most heroes never had one, and yet somehow Jon had stumbled upon his before he had even graduated.

Allister Thorne had started teaching at the Vale the same year Jon had become a student. He’d been a minor league hero for a while but was quietly retired by the council when his outdated politics began to reflect badly on the hero community.

So naturally, they made him a teacher.

Thorne had disliked Jon instantly, and Jon had been more than willing to hate the man in turn. Their animosity was due in part to their own characters, and part due to the role Jon’s Uncle had played in the man’s forced retirement.

Thorne taught ‘combative heroing’, which was the Vale’s (much more violent) version of physical education.

Coming from a very active family, and being the son of the woman who thought saving lives with a baby strapped to your chest was perfectly acceptable. Jon was naturally one of the best in the man’s class.

Unfortunately, he performed a little too well. Thorne seemed to take Jon’s skill as a personal attack, as if his ability to run laps on time was a grave insult.

Admittedly, Jon didn’t help the relationship when he began to actively undermine the man by teaching his fellow students how to improve. Though in Jon’s defense, Thorne had never made any attempt to do so himself, in fact, the older man seemed to take some kind of sadistic pleasure in watching his students fail.

Form room used to be Jon’s favorite time of the school day. The old bear would take the time to talk to each of his students individually about their worries and stresses. As embarrassing as it was to admit, Jon had even begun to view the man as a sort of father figure, not having a father of his own, he was always looking to fill that gap.

His uncles tried, and Jon loved them for that. But their attempts always left him feeling emptier, as if it highlighted what he lacked. His mother was wonderful… But there were times when her youth was glaringly obvious, when she forgot she was not his friend but his mother. What role would his father have filled in his life? Their lives? Would he have been a grounding influence on Lyanna? Or just as chaotic?

Jon couldn’t see Thorne ever caring enough to talk to his students about their issues. The man was more likely to try to cause them more than help solve them.

Jon headed towards the classroom his form was hosted in, dread building in his stomach. Waving a solemn farewell to Robb and Theon, who were in a different form, he entered.

The seating plan on the whiteboard indicated that Jon’s seat would be in the middle of the very back row, a strategic decision on Thorne’s part for sure.

With Jon in this seat, Thorne could effectively pretend to not see Jon’s raised hand, or perhaps he would fake deafness when Jon voiced his complaints. All while, in reality, being able to keep a close eye on one Jon Snow...

Then again perhaps Jon was overestimating Thorne’s intelligence.

Jon shot a small smile at Satin Flowers, who was sitting in the seat in front of him. Satin, in turn, gave him a brilliant grin that would have put movie stars to shame, prompting a pink flush to overtake Jon's face.

Satin had the ability of regeneration, not only an A-class hero power, but a gift that left the boy with blemishless skin, as if he was not pretty enough already.

Satin was largely agreed to be one of the most good looking students in the school. Made prettier, in Jon’s opinion, by his kind disposition.

Unfortunately as useful as his power was, Satin’s gift wasn’t particularly combative, and the boy's slight frame betrayed his lack of physical strength. This made Satin an easy target for those who saw his appearance, and sought to take advantage.

When Jon had stumbled upon the boy being picked on by a bunch of seniors, when they themselves had just been freshman, he had been quick to intervene. As gifted as the students of the Vale all may be, there was a primal reaction that had many fleeing at the sight of fire, especially when the flames were under the control of a pissed off pyromancer.

Jon’s desk-mate for the year was Waymar Royce. Despite being in the same form for a year, and sharing several classes, Jon couldn’t remember a single word shared between them. He didn't expect that established pattern to break now.

Glancing around the room he noticed Pyp and Grenn sharing a desk in the front row, and Jon spotted the large form of Sam trying to make himself shrink in the third.

“Quite down!” Thorne yelled, despite the already quiet class.

No doubt an attempt to assert dominance rather than volume control.

“I’m not gonna be bothering with any welcome speech explaining what we’ll be doing here. If you don’t understand the concept of form room by now there’s really no hope of you ever getting it.”

Jon didn’t necessarily disagree with what Thorne was saying, but there was the unfortunate problem of it being said by Thorne, and therefore Jon must disagree on principle.

“While I would rather sit here and ignore you lot, while you read your timetables in wonder, as if you don’t already know what classes you take.”

Thorne picked up one of the blue notebooks from the pile to his left, and waved it at them threateningly. The falcon of the school logo looked like it was flying erratically in a hurricane.

“I am unfortunately required to go over the details of the placement test, details I’m sure you’ve heard before and no doubt will here again!”

He pointed at Grenn and Pyp and with a grunt indicating for them to hand out the time tables.

Jon read through his diligently, while Thorne had been correct in his assessment that Jon would know what lessons he’d be taking, knowing and seeing were very different.

This year's timetable happened to be quite different from the previous year’s. Extra lessons, such as ‘psychology of supers’ and super suits 101, had been added. Replacing some of the more ‘normal’ lessons deemed less vital.

The timetable did include some ‘normal’ lessons such as English, Maths and science. But each had a twist to them that made them different to what would be found in powerless school.

Written in bold red at the top of the page were the words “subject to change depending on the results of the placement test”.

Change? No shit, Jon figured that the students transferred to Dragonstone would have a very different timetable, evil monologues for dummies perhaps?

“At some point this year you will all take the placement test. This will not happen at the same time! For some reason people always think otherwise even though it’s been the same damn routine for over a hundred years!” Thorne snapped.

“The time you take the test will depend on when you turn 16, this is because at this age you and your powers are deemed ‘mature’” Thorne snorted and turned his beady eyes on the class, glaring at each of them in turn, it was clear that he thought the assessment of their maturity was laughable at best.

“You will receive a notification on your birthday with the exact time and date of your test. The longest time will be a week ahead, but it could also be the very next day. Regardless, the time you are given is final! Nothing less than a coma would get you out of it, are we clear?”

Mumbling and grumbles of yes were issued, and Thorne, clearly having had enough of his civil duty, insisted they memorise their time tables in silence while he returned to his desk.

———————

Emptying his bag into his locker Jon sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“He was that bad then?” asked a giggling voice from behind.

Jon turned and met the brilliant green eyes of Joy Hill with a scowl.

“It was Thorne meaning it couldn’t have been anything but bad!”

He closed his locker forcefully, and slung his bag over his shoulder, now much lighter without the unneeded books.

Joy pouted and moved to lean on the locker beside his, twirling a strand of her golden hair that had escaped her twin bunches. Despite being in the same year as Jon, Joy looked far younger and often got mistaken for a middle schooler, much to her frustration.

“I was trying to be optimistic, you know since I knew you wouldn’t be!” She sighed and tucked the strand behind her ear.

“I’m not pessimistic, I'm realistic. And after knowing the man for a year, I knew what form room would be like with him, awful.” Jon deadpanned as the two began walking.

“What do you have now?” Joy asked, idly flicking through her timetable.

Jon answered her with a sigh, “study for the next two periods.”

Something which seemed pointless at present, what with him not actually having learnt anything to study yet.

“I have super-suit 101 now, but I’ve got study next, so save me a seat!”

With that Joy skipped of, leaving Jon to walk to the library alone, and in blessed silence- well as silent as a school corridor could be.

Despite not being an avid reader, at least not at the level of Sam, the library was one of Jon’s favorite places in the school, even if the librarian Dr Pycelle was a bore. The man’s ability was literally to put people to sleep, Jon had thought it was a joke when he had first found out, but no, that was the man’s real power.

Pycelle had been part of the Maesters guild years upon years ago. The guild was made up of supers with abilities deemed ‘useful’ to healing. Jon had long wondered how Pycelle had been scouted. The Maesters were similar to the Septons in that they were meant to be a neutral party. It had long been agreed by both sides that they would rather be healed by their own kind than allow any of the non-powered populous too much information on the anatomy of the gifted.

Those with powers deemed suitable would attend the Citadel, it was the only place where the inhabitants came from both villains and heroes. Resultingly its students took strict oaths concerning keeping the identities of those they healed to themselves. They were also strongly encouraged to keep their own backgrounds to themselves… For their own safety.

Jon found his usual seat in the corner, it was a very nice seat indeed, as it gave Jon a good vantage spot to see the rest of the library. Yet the angle of the bookshelves made it tricky for others to see him back, private just as Jon liked it.

Jon pulled out his psychology of supers textbook and opened it to the first page, it would do no harm to be ahead of the reading. But rather than getting lost in the monotony of terminology and case studies, Jon found himself re-reading the same sentence again, and again, and again. All while a steady ache began to form behind his eyes.

Finally giving in, he closed the book and rested his head on the cover, letting the coolness of the plastic surface soothe his aching head.

Jon hoped this wasn’t an indicator of needing glasses again. Both his cousin Bran and his uncle Ned used them on occasion, so it was possible, but he dearly hoped this wasn’t the case. He’d been so happy after being told he had grown out of needing them, Jon didn’t want his eyesight to backtrack.

Sighing, he pried his throbbing head from his textbook-turned impromptu ice pack, and stared blurry-eyed ahead. He was met with the sight of Pycelle shuffling too and from his desk to the nearest shelf depositing a single book each time.

Jon was sure that was not where some of those books went, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary in this library. Pycelle was famed for his laziness.

What was out of the ordinary however was the transparent blue figure that hovered slightly behind each movement. The image was reminiscent of the fuzzy telegrams featured in the ‘Star Wars’ movies Jon had watched years ago. Bran had taken to them instantly and had posters adorning his walls to prove it. Jon didn’t dislike the franchise per-say, it had a good story and surprisingly decent special effects given the time the movie was made.

Jon’s issue was that it was hard to get caught up in the fantasy of the world, when you already lived in a very fantastical world of your own.

Startled, Jon rubbed his eyes vigorously, as if a spec of dust could be the reason for the sudden apparition before him. Yet the thing still remained. Curiously the spector seemed to get clearer the longer he stared at it. Jon could now make out the shape of a young woman, dressed in an outdated outfit, with a baleful glare on her face.

Turning left to right he attempted to see if there were any other students in the vicinity, surely this was some kind of prank. Someone must be trying to mess with Pycelle, but the old man didn’t seem to even notice.

Grumbling Jon swept his belongings into his bag and strode over to the bumbling old man.

“Excuse me, sir? I don’t mean to bother you with your..” Here Jon paused, reluctant to describe what the man was doing as work.

“Re-shelving… but that thing beside you is really putting me off my reading.”

The apparition jumped as if she had been poked, and now wide pupil-less eyes fixed unblinkingly on Jon. Surely proof that this was a prank, whoever controlled the hologram was realising Jon was there and that he was more bothered by it than Pycelle.

“What thing beside me young man?”

Jon’s thoughts came to a grinding halt, surely even Pycelle wasn’t that unobservant to not see something right next to him even after it had been pointed out?

“The blue figure? The one that looks like a Star Wars knock-off? Sir, it’s literally right next to you!”

Jon found himself getting angry. Was he the subject of the prank? Was Pycelle in on it? Surely not, the man was far too boring to agree to something like that.

Beside him, the blue woman began to move her mouth as if she was trying to talk.

“Young man, as you can see I am in the middle of vital work. I do not have time for your childish antics.”

Jon didn’t know if it was the shock, or the anger, or even the sheer bewilderment, but his headache returned with vengeance, accompanied by a high pitched ringing. He felt like someone had set off a bomb in his head.

“...see me… believe… years!”

Shocked, Jon renewed eye contact with the woman, who now no longer seemed to be on mute.

“You can see me! Oh! Tell this horrid little man that he is not forgiven for what he did! Justice will be served and I’ll be here to see it!”

The woman who now seemed to have a far more stable form, if still blue and somewhat transparent, pointed aggressively at Pycelle.

“What? I don’t get what you're talking about?” Jon replied, rubbing his temple.

Pycelle turned back to face him the same moment the woman lunged to grab Jon’s forearm as if to shake sense into him.

“Young man… Oh my! By the gods!”

The moment the woman had made contact with Jon’s arm, the apparition became suddenly solid. Gone was the eerie blue glow, gone was the flickering and gone was the fact that only Jon could see her.

“You… it can’t be… your…”

“Dead!?” The woman cut off Pycelle’s stuttering with a vicious glee

“Thanks to you! You lazy sod!”

The old man’s arms had risen to grasp his chest, right over his heart. Whereas the woman still maintained a firm, cold, grip on Jon.

“And I’m still here waiting! Constantly waiting to see you get what you deserve!”

Distantly Jon felt something wet drip out of his nose. Shakely he brought his free arm up to wipe his face, only to be met with crimson blood displayed starkly on his pale skin.

Stumbling backwards Jon broke contact with the screaming woman and as he did she began to lose colour and solidity. Back was the eerie blue glow, back was the flickering, and back was the fact that only Jon could see her.

Seeing her begin to turn to face him, and realising he was about to get a lecture for cutting her off, Jon ran.

Skidding into the corridor he palmed his bleeding nose, not a good sign. Jon was beginning to think that this was not a prank that-

“What exactly are you doing here Snow? I distinctly remember seeing study down for your first-period not free! Or did you just decide you were above school rules?”

Fate clearly had decided that Jon was to be her victim today, because the worst person who could find him just had, Thawne.

“I’m going to the nurse… Sir.” Jon hissed out the honorific between gritted teeth, not turning to face the older man, but did cease his walking.

“Oh, are you now? Why? What for? Is a little studying too much for you?” Thawne’s voice had taken on a high pitched mocking tone.

“Face me when I’m talking to you boy!”

Here the older man utilised his powers to make the corridor floor shake beneath their feet, worsening Jon’s headache and causing the classes that occupied the rooms on either side to stare curiously out the window at the pair.

Distantly Jon noted that Robb was among the class on his right.

Turning slowly, Jon met Thawn’s glare with one of his own.

“I. Need. To. Go. To. The. Nurse. Now!”

He could tell that Thawne was momentarily stunned by his outburst, and blood smeared face as he reared back slightly. Yet, true to form, his surprise didn’t last long and the older man began to aggressively march forward.

Jon began to notice several blue orbs phasing into flickering existence around Thawne, rapidly becoming more humanoid with every step he took.

Jon guessed what was going to happen before it did, like a bad sequel to the disaster of the library, seven figures appeared surrounding Thawne the moment he grasped Jon’s arm.

Shouts of “you!” And “murderer!” filled the corridor, soon joined by surprised yelling from the teenagers that had begun to flood out of the rooms on either side.

Thawne looked like someone had punched him, Jon wished he had.

The blood flow from his nose increased, falling freely down Jon’s face masking his lips and chin in red, his head ached something fierce.

“Snow! Snow? What did you do?”

Well that was the question wasn’t it. Thawne had just confirmed the conclusion that Jon had slowly been coming to himself. He, had done this.

Jon had a new power.

How the hell did he have a new power?

Notes:

So this is the first chapter in this re-write that has some significant changes! I added some background for the Maesters guild in this world.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 4: The She wolf, The shining sun, and the last Dragon

Summary:

Jon learns the truth

Notes:

Dedicated to Valaena_the_Historyteller1 for reminding me this story exists ❤️

The office of Jon Arryn could be a Museum exhibit to days long past. Pictures of long graduated, and in some cases long dead, heroes blanketed the walls.

Velvet banners were also on display, cascading down the stone walls with the school’s logo embroidered upon them. In the days of old it had been the symbol of House Arryn, the headmasters' ancestors being the Kings and Lords of this land long before the school was even a thought.

A musty smell fermented the office, despite the open terrace doors that looked out onto the mountain range.

“He attacked me!” bellowed Allister Thorne, pointing viscously at Jon.

“You attacked him! Since when was it okay for teachers to grab their students like that? His arm is bruised!” Bellowed Jon’s mother in turn, somehow managing to match the man’s volume.

Across the desk, Arryn gave a loud sigh and fixed the two quarreling adults with a scolding look.

“I would hope we all know that who attacked who, is not the biggest issue at hand.”

“Excuse me!” hissed Lyanna, “I’m meant to ignore that one of your teachers assaulted my son?”

“I’m meant to ignore that your son has developed a second power? A power that is not the ancestral gift of your family? An unknown power that he should not have? Since by your own admission his father was a civilian.” Arryn said with an icy calm.

Adopting a mulish expression Lyanna dropped the elder man’s gaze.

“You can’t guarantee it was him, it could have been someone else! This is a school full of superpowered teens.” Was her lackluster rebuttal.

“None of which were close to the scene at hand, the two closest classes were filled with seniors and students of Jon's age. Who might I add, have already developed all their powers... just as we thought Jon had” Arryn sighed, rubbing his hand down his lined face.

“The council has already been made aware of the incident, it will no doubt be discussed in this evening’s meeting.”

Thorne, clearly feeling neglected, decided this was the opportune moment to put his two cents in.

“It’s my professional opinion that the boy should be expelled! Attacking a teacher, that's clear villain behavior! Not to mention his now dubious origins. He should be shipped off to Dragonstone as soon as possible!”

“Regretfully, your opinion won’t be necessary, Allister. The council is already aware of what happened and can draw their own conclusions... You're dismissed.”

Thorne departed with one final scowl in Jon’s direction, before slamming the door.

“Very mature” Lyanna snarked under her breath.

“I’ll try to keep this quiet” sighed Arryn. “But several students saw what happened, and you know how teenagers can be. It doesn’t help that Robert was still on school grounds when it all happened.”

Standing from his desk, he walked round to Jon and his mother’s side.

“I think it’s best if you take Jon home for the rest of the day. It’s likely the council will want to speak to you both tomorrow, best rest while you can.”

Nodding Lyanna rose, grasping Jon by the arm and guided him to the door.

“Lyanna” Arryn called out to them before they could exit.

“Either you’ve been very naive, or you have kept a very dangerous secret all these years... There will be a lot of explaining to do.”

Face pale but determined, Jon’s mother said nothing, only resumed her shepherding of him out the room.

Jon took a moment to be thankful the tower that Arryn’s office occupied was distanced from the more populated areas of the school. He couldn’t handle all the stares of his peers right now.

Cocooned by the light of one of the school's many windows stood Dacey Mormont, a pocket knife spiraling through her fingers with lazy grace.

Dacey was Jon’s mothers closest friend, she also happened to be the niece of the ‘Old bear’, their community was not a large one.

The two women had a lot in common, most obviously their roles as female heroes in a male dominated field.

Dacey was one of the few childhood friends of Lyanna’s that had never judged her Ill for her choices, for Jon, she’d stuck with his mother through them all.

“Jon! Look at you being a chip of the old block, seven hells the amount of times your mum and I marched in and out of that office! Whatcha do kiddo?”

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not that the news had yet to breach the mountain pass. Though he knew that would only last till the end of the day, when his classmates would spread the news like rats with the plague.

Before he could stammer out an answer his mother cut in. “He didn’t do anything wrong, none of this is his fault!”

Sighing and lowering her volume, his mother wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Can you just take us home Dace, me and Jon... me and Jon need to chat.”

Sensing the seriousness of the mood Dacey dropped her inquiries.

“Sure thing, keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle, don’t wanna lose them!” She winked.

Lyanna and Jon each grasped one of Dacey’s arms firmly.

Having a family friend who could teleport had its perks.

---

Dacey hadn’t lingered, resulting it was just Jon, his mother, and the stifling awkwardness that now polluted their house.

Neither Jon nor his mother made any attempt at breaking the silence that sat heavily. What if what followed was worse? Jon knew the signs of an incoming ‘talk’, and this had the potential to be the most earth shattering yet.

The awkward tiptoeing around each other continued into the evening. Uniti his mother finally caved and called him down to where she sat at the kitchen table. A warped reflection of the morning's events.

“I’m guessing you want answers... an explanation. The Gods know I owe you one.”

Placing her hand in the middle of the table as if wanting to reach for his, but lacking the nerve, Lyanna continued.

“Jon, I want you to know I didn’t intend to lie to you, I always planned on explaining things. I guess… No, I did, wait too long.”

“Can we get to the explanation please!” Jon cut in, refusing to take his mother’s hand, or meet her eyes.

“Right... well you’ve probably figured out that the story where your father is a civilian, isn’t quite true.”

Jon snorted, everyone who learned what happened today would soon figure that out.

“I wasn’t that much older than you. I was freshly graduated from the Vale, and my father had thrown me into the role he wanted me to play. And that was the crux of it… He wanted, not me...”

Lyanna took a deep breath fortifying herself, Jon felt his resolve begin to crack, he knew how hard it was for his mother to speak about her dead family members.

“So I left, I told my father I was taking a year to figure myself out, to experience the world! He wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but Brandon helped convince him.” His mother smiled softly, her eyes wet.

“He only did that to make sure I didn’t tell father about what he did with Barbary, and all the others, he was quite the cad your uncle...” She wiped her eyes and laughed shakily.

“I got a crappy little flat and worked two jobs, I still barely made ends meet. Father had given me nothing, and I was quite naive to how the real world worked. I was determined not to ask him for help.”

Jon was enraptured with the tale, he had heard nothing of this before, not even a hint.

“One of the jobs was working in this old book shop, four floors of shelves with books floor to ceiling, you could get lost in there… I fact I did a few times! One day this man walked in, and instantly I noticed him. This wasn’t a guy you could ignore, he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. You get your good looks from him.”

Jon blushed ducking his head, he had always been described as pretty opposed to Rob’s handsome. Was this man’s features the reason why?

“You can imagine my shock when he noticed me back... He returned every evening, right at the end of my shift so it was just the two of us in the shop. He was older than me, gorgeous, sophisticated, I fell for him and I fell hard.” Her eyes had glazed over, lost in memories of the past.

“We’d been seeing each other for about three months when I saw him out with another woman, and they were both wearing wedding rings”

Oh shit, Jon thought.

“Here was the catch! Of course the hot older man was married... When he came to visit me that night I had prepared to confront him. Yet he managed to shock me once again when he introduced me to her, his wife, and told me he’d like for us to be together.. All of us.”

‘I was conceived in a threesome!’ Jon’s thoughts raced, he could already hear Theon’s reaction, the Iron islander would never let him live this down! He could never learn of this.

Lyanna snorted at her son’s open mouthed reaction, but didn’t stop her tale.

“My father would have never allowed it, and now with age, I can admit that might have been one of the reasons I went for it. I’d said I was using the year to find myself, to experiment, what better way?”

Sighing Lyanna brushed her hair back, tying it up with the hair band she always kept on her wrist. It was blue, they were always blue. Jon refused to believe it was the same hair band after all these years, his mother was far too chaotic to have managed to keep something like that for so long.

“I didn’t expect it to last, and in the long run it didn’t obviously, since we’re here and their not… But it was good for a time. Elia was so different from Rhaegar yet they complimented each other so perfectly, and somehow I found myself fitting in with them too. I didn’t think I would, especially when I found out that they had children… A daughter Rhaenys, and a son Aegon.”

“Wait! I have siblings?!” Jon asked, interrupting his mother.

Fiddling her hands nervously she replied, “yes, you do.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me!” he yelled, jumping to his feet.

Jon had always been fiercely close with his cousins, but there were times he wished for true siblings of his own. Siblings that shared the features he bore that the rest of the Starks did not.

“For the same reason I didn’t tell you any of it! For the same reason I didn’t tell anyone!” Lyanna hissed.

“The bliss didn’t last, Jon. The year was ending and my deal with your grandfather was very specific. Not only that but Rhaegar and Elia still knew nothing of my background, my powers, my secrets... I guess I spent so long worrying over my own, that I missed theirs. Until I didn’t…”

His mother met his eyes despite the tears that ran freely down her face.

“It became obvious to me that they were hiding things... Rhaegar was this political activist, very into protecting the environment. I encouraged this, even praised him for it, but I eventually noticed that the companies Rhaegar spoke about would soon be attacked.”

“Attacked?!” Jon echoed.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, I always knew I’d have too but I guess I had lulled myself into a false sense of security. I know this sounds foolish but you're almost 16 and you hadn’t developed another power. I’d begun to convince myself maybe you wouldn’t.”

“But I did mum... please just tell me” Jon implored, voice barely above a whisper.

“I found out that it wasn’t a coincidence... Rhaegar, your father... he’s The Silver Prince.”

Sinking back into his chair Jon felt like the world around him had become muffled, the colours faded. He barely heard when his mother continued.

“I was panicked and furious. I wondered if they had known who I really was the entire time? Had they just been playing me for a fool? I confronted Elia asking if she knew who Rhaegar really was, what he did… She admitted that she had always known, that they had been planning on telling me soon... that they wanted to marry me...”

Shocked, Jon asked “did you want to?”

Pausing to wipe the tears off her cheeks, Lyanna shrugged “honestly kiddo I don’t know, I loved them and if things had been different, maybe?”

Clenching her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white, she continued.

“But things weren’t different.”

Abandoning his earlier anger Jon moved around the table to sit closer, grasping her hands he rubbed circles with his thumb, relaxing her grip.

“What did you do?” He whispered.

“Elia gave me a choice; I could stay with them, have a family and make a life, or I could leave. She knew there was a chance that I wouldn’t be able to cope with what Rhaegar did, what his whole family did. So she had prepared a contingency plan, an out. She was always so organised... Such an opposite to me. Elia promised she would stop Rhaegar coming after me, and in return I would tell no one their families secret identities. Once I knew who Rhaegar really was it was easy to connect the others.”

Squeezing his hand for comfort Lyanna continued.

“It was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make, even though I knew what they did was wrong, that it was everything my family stood against, everything I’d been raised to be against... I barely convinced myself that leaving was the right thing to do.”

“How did you do it?”

Jon had never been in love, at least never to the extent his mother described. He’d had crushes, and he knew how hard it had been to say no to them, even for little stuff like homework. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for his mother to leave a relationship like she described, even if it was the right thing to do.

“I found out I was pregnant with you, and as much as I loved them both I couldn’t let them raise you to be a villain, not like they were doing with your siblings. So I left, and I went home... But things had changed while I was gone.”

Jon paled, he knew what had happened, had heard the story many times, but it now had a much darker element to it.

“I’d kept no contact with anyone while I was gone, partly because of your grandfather’s stubbornness, and partly because of my own... Now I wish I hadn’t been so damn determined to prove him wrong.”

She let out a heart wrenching sob.

“Both Brandon and my father had been killed by ‘Monarch’, or as most people know him ‘King Scab’… They had been killed by Rhaegar’s father, your other grandfather.”

Jon felt sick, his head spun and his heart sunk.

“I panicked, I was young, had just lost my only parent, and was now pregnant by the son of the man responsible.” Unable to stay still any longer she began to pace the kitchen floor.

“I told my remaining brothers the truth, not that I could lie to Ned anyway...”

“I thought you said no one knew?” Jon questioned.

“No I said no one knew everything, and they don’t. Ned’s powers have blind spots, and no one knows how to manipulate them better than his little sister. I told him your father was a villain, that I hadn’t known until after I was pregnant, and that I left as soon as I found out. All true.”

She smirked slightly through the tears.

“I just never told him it was such an infamous villain, I let him believe it was some nobody from the minor leagues. Ned never pressed to know more. We came up with the lie that your father was a nameless civilian, and we planned on finding a hero with similar abilities that we could later claim fathered you. But we never got round to finding one that fit, and as the years went on we stopped checking. We dropped the ball and now here we are, now you know the truth.”

She had stopped her rounds of the kitchen, and now crouched before him face ashen.

Jon stared back at her, his own breaths haggard, as if he had sprinted a great distance.

“I hate that you lied to me... And I hate even more that I understand why... Mama what happens now?”

Jon’s fear and confusion was clear to see. Rising from the floor Lyanna gently took his head between her hands and began patting his hair.

“I wish I could tell you baby, but I just don’t know, we’re in uncharted territory.” Both their eyes were Misty with tears.

“Does this mean Thorne was right? Am I gonna be a Villain?” Jon questioned, his throat clogged.

“No!” His mother replied fiercely, “you are my son, I raised you, I know you! There isn’t a villainous bone in your body!”

“But I get so angry sometimes!” Jon cut in.

“Oh sweetheart everyone gets angry sometimes, it’s part of being human. The important thing is controlling that anger, not letting it control you.”

Jon pawed at his face, smearing tears and snot.

“What are you going to tell the council, they’re going to want an explanation.” Sighing, Lyanna handed him a tissue from the box they always kept on the counter.

“I suppose I’ll try to tell them what I told your Uncle Ned. That I didn’t know who your father was. That I figured out he was a villain when I saw his powers and left immediately... Things will definitely go better for us if they think you're the progeny of a minor league villain, than the most prominent villain of today’s age.”

“And they never came after you? You're sure they never figured out who you really were? Or that you were pregnant when you left” Jon couldn’t help but ask.

“No!” Lyanna exclaimed

“I was very careful, they don’t know about you, they never knew… And they definitely don’t know about who I really am either. I even used a fake name, called myself Lyara Snow. They thought I was a civilian, it’s ironic in a way I suppose.”

Silence returned to the kitchen, but not the heavy silence of earlier, a contemplative kind. Both the Stark and Snow were lost in their own thoughts.

“You should head up to bed, you still have school tomorrow… And I won’t sugarcoat it kid, it's gonna be shit.”

Lyanna kissed him on the forehead before pushing him toward the stairs.

“Night mum... thanks for telling me the truth.”

Notes:

Gonna be going through and editing and re-writing this chapter by chapter