Sometime later, Ned sat at the window, the child in his arms. He was relieved to see that the boy had inherited Lyanna's dark hair as oppose to the silver of Rhaegar's. Light filtered down onto them and the smell of blood was fading. Ned vowed to take Lyanna's body back with him to Winterfell and set about burying the dead men outside the tower. He now looked down on the boy, who looked up at Ned with dark eyes.

Ned ran a hand through his hair and thought of how silly this seemed, though he felt it important.

"What I am about to tell you, I will never speak of again. I feel you have a right to know, though I pray that you never remember, nor find out," Ned said.

"Your father's name was Rhaegar Targaryen. He was-" Ned began, unsure of what to say. But he decided that everything the prince had done, he had done for Lyanna. "He was a good man and a brave warrior, though like all men he was a fool in the face of beauty.

"Your mother," Ned's voice wavered as he pictured the blood and the roses.

'Promise me, Ned'.

"Your mother was Lyanna Stark," he continued. "She was the strongest woman I knew. Sure willed, beautiful and fierce, she was my little sister. And I miss her greatly."

The boy looked up at Ned as though listening to a bedtime story.

"A child of ice and fire, you were born in the depths of war and despair, and the world will not always be a kind place to you, but you must remain brave like your father and strong like your mother. You will know happiness, you will know safety and you will know family. From this day forward until the end of my days, you will be my son, no matter what happens."

Ned leant down and kissed the child's forehead.

"Jon."