Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 394: Jon’s Choice

To celebrate the victory of the War of the Restoration, Viserys held a grand three-day feast in King’s Landing. The people of the city each received ten catties of grain daily, a gesture that filled them with joy and gratitude. While the commoners rejoiced, some nobles harbored quiet concerns, though their worries seemed insignificant in the face of the people’s exuberance.

During this time, Jon found himself in an awkward position. He suspected that Viserys had called him from the Wall with plans for him to inherit Winterfell. To allay Catelyn’s fears, he repeatedly reassured her, saying, “I have no designs on Winterfell.” Even if Viserys did ask him to become the next Lord of Winterfell, he was determined to refuse. Yet Catelyn remained unconvinced and tried to guilt him by bringing up the time she had nursed him in infancy.

However, before long, Jon and Ned were summoned to an audience with Viserys, leaving Catelyn visibly tense and uneasy.

"Your Grace," the two greeted Viserys upon entering the chamber.

“Sit, Lord Ned, and you too, Jon,” Viserys instructed, gesturing to the seats before him.

Ned guessed that Viserys’s purpose was likely related to the question of succession. He knew that if he agreed to whatever was proposed, it would strain his relationship with Catelyn; yet if he refused, House Stark risked appearing disloyal and isolated.

After they were seated, Viserys turned to Ned with an unexpected question.

“Lord Ned, have you told Jon his true parentage?”

“My parentage!” Jon’s ears pricked up, heart racing as he wondered if Viserys was about to reveal the identity of his mother. Is it Ashara…? Jon thought of Aemon’s earlier suspicions. Even if she’s just an ordinary farm girl, at least I’d finally know… He prayed silently, casting a searching look toward Ned, desperate for an answer.

Now that Viserys had ended the Baratheon dynasty, Ned’s old worries had faded, only to be replaced by new ones. He had once witnessed Robert’s drastic change after seizing power, and while Viserys appeared magnanimous and dutiful in his rule, Ned remained wary. For years, he had planned to tell Jon only half the truth—that his mother was Lyanna—but to withhold his father’s identity as Rhaegar Targaryen. He had been pondering the right way to break the news over the past few days and was taken aback that Viserys had chosen to broach it himself.

“I haven’t told him yet,” Ned replied, then turned to Jon, his voice steady but solemn. “Jon, your mother is my sister, Lyanna Stark, whom you believed to be your aunt.”

...

Jon’s eyes widened in disbelief, emotions swirling as the revelation sank in.

“You mean to tell me that my mother is actually my aunt? And you…” Jon looked back and forth between Viserys and Ned, a bitter realization dawning on him. The thought that the Starks could have emulated the Targaryens was both bewildering and unsettling.

“Your father…” Ned hesitated, glancing at Viserys. With a brief nod from the king, Ned continued under Jon’s anxious gaze. “Rhaegar Targaryen, His Grace’s brother.”

“Huh? Rhaegar? My father?” Jon’s gaze darted between Viserys and Ned as if trying to reconcile this truth. His head felt as if it were spinning. All his previous speculations had led nowhere near this reality—he was a Targaryen.

“So… I should be called Jon Sand?” he asked tentatively.

“No,” Viserys corrected, his tone steady. “You are not a bastard. You are the child of my brother’s union with Lady Lyanna. You should be called Jon Targaryen.”

Ned felt an unexpected wave of relief. Jon Targaryen, he thought. It would be best if Jon bore a simpler name, not something like Aegon that would draw suspicion or conflict with Viserys’s rule. Only Ned knew the name Lyanna had whispered with her dying breath, and he sensed that Jon would be safer as he was.

“Is that true?” Jon asked, seeking confirmation.

Ned nodded solemnly. This knowledge, though long-held, still stirred something deep and conflicting in him. Watching Jon’s reaction, he could almost hear the buzzing that seemed to fill the young man’s mind.

“Jon, Jon!” Viserys’s voice cut through, grounding Jon back in the present.

“Your Grace… did you call me from the Wall just to tell me who I am?” Although shaken by the revelations, Jon composed himself. His mind whirred with the implications, but he quickly recognized that his status as a Stark bastard might still be the simplest path forward.

Ned, equally uncertain, wondered why Viserys had chosen now to bring up Jon’s heritage.

“Tell me first,” Viserys pressed, watching him keenly, “do you want to be a Targaryen or a Stark?”

“A Targaryen or a Stark…” Jon echoed. Until mere moments ago, he had always seen himself as a bastard. Now, he was faced with an unimaginable choice: embrace his Targaryen blood or remain as a Stark. He looked at his dark hair, then at Ned, and spoke steadily.

“Your Grace, I want to be a Stark. No… I’ll remain a Snow.”

Jon’s mind had already settled. Rhaegar and Lyanna’s union was a romance the world would not accept, and aligning himself with the Targaryens would dishonor his parents’ memory. By choosing to remain a bastard, he might sacrifice his own standing, but it would shield both the Starks and Targaryens from scandal. For Jon, knowing his parentage was enough—more than he had ever hoped for.

Viserys, observing Jon’s resolve, gave a nod of approval. “Jon, you have proven yourself wise, Lord Ned.” He paused thoughtfully. “I propose we establish a new branch of the Starks, to be called the ‘Whitestark.’”

Ned stiffened at the suggestion. The name “Whitestark” had political undertones that couldn’t be ignored. The North once had a cadet branch, House Greystark, which was destroyed after betraying the main line. Now there was only House Karstark and House Stark. Viserys’s proposal would divide the Stark lands, a reminder to the North that the crown’s influence was absolute.

“This new branch will inherit part of the Winterfell fiefdom,” Viserys continued. “A necessary measure to honor Jon’s wishes—and to temper the Starks.”

Jon looked uneasy. “Your Grace, I am still a member of the Night’s Watch. This… may not be possible.”

“As emperor, can’t I decide whether or not you remain in the Night’s Watch?” Viserys’s tone brooked no argument. “If you wish to stay, then so be it. But take a wife, have a child, and continue your line. That is all I require.”

His command left no room for objection, and Jon nodded, sensing that this path was now set.