An Invitation to the Crypt on a Cold Night
The crypts of Winterfell were always a few degrees colder than the surface, and even though the snowstorm outside had ceased, a biting chill still seeped from the cracks in the stone.
Bran sat in his wheelchair, paused before Lyanna Stark's tombstone, and his fingertips gently traced the Direwolf emblem carved on the stone—that was his mother's sister, a woman who existed only in family legends, yet held a secret capable of shaking all of Westeros.
Footsteps echoed from the stone stairs, steady and urgent; it was Jon.
He was wrapped in a black Night's Watch cloak, carrying an oil lamp, its dim yellow light casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.
Seeing Bran, he quickly walked over and placed the oil lamp on a stone slab beside the tombstone: "Why did you ask me to come here? The soldiers outside are still reinforcing the defenses; the Night King's army could arrive at any moment."
Bran did not answer immediately, but instead turned to look into the depths of the crypt—where the tombstones of past House Stark lords were lined up, at the very end was the empty space for Ned Stark, destroyed years ago by Cersei's order, now only a rough stone slab remained.
"Do you still remember the story Father told us?" Bran's voice was very soft, like the chill in the crypt, "About Aunt Lyanna, about her death at the Tower of Joy."
Jon frowned and squatted beside the tombstone: "I remember.
Father said that Aunt Lyanna was abducted by Rhaegar Targaryen during the rebellion, and when Father found her at the Tower of Joy, she was already dying, only leaving behind the words 'Promise me, Ned.'"
He paused, looking at Bran, "Why are you suddenly bringing this up?"
"Because Father lied." Bran's eyes became sharp, no longer the boy who needed protection, but the three-eyed raven who saw through fate, "Aunt Lyanna was not abducted; she and Rhaegar were in love.
They secretly married at the Tower of Joy in Dorne and even had a child."
Jon's body stiffened, and the oil lamp in his hand nearly fell to the ground.
He looked at Bran, his eyes filled with disbelief: "What are you saying? This is impossible—Rhaegar was a Targaryen, our enemy, how could Aunt Lyanna marry him?"
"Nothing is impossible." Bran reached out, took a roll of parchment from the cloth bag beside his wheelchair, and unrolled it—on it were old documents Sam had found in The Citadel, recording "Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark held a secret wedding at the Tower of Joy in 281 AC," and below it was a faded Targaryen Family seal.
"The reason Father lied was to protect this child, to allow him to grow up safely in the North, far from the Targaryen Family's misfortunes."
Jon's breathing became ragged; he stared at the words on the parchment, his fingers trembling slightly.
A vague thought surfaced in his mind, like a shadow in the crypt, both clear and terrifying.
He opened his mouth but no sound came out, he could only look at Bran, waiting for a confirming answer.
2. Identity Revealed: The Bloodline of Targaryen
"That child is you, Jon." Bran's voice finally fell, like a giant stone smashing into Jon's heart, "You are not Father's bastard, nor are you from the Snow family.
You are the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, the last legitimate heir of the Targaryen Family, and your true name is—Aegon Targaryen."
"No..." Jon suddenly stood up, taking a step back, bumping into the tombstone behind him, and the oil from the lamp spilled out, splashing onto the stone floor, "This is impossible!
I am Jon Snow, I am from House Stark, not some Targaryen!
You must have seen wrong in your Greensight, Bran, you are just a child, you don't understand..."
"I am not a child anymore." Bran interrupted him, a red glow of Greensight flashing in his eyes, "I saw the scene at the Tower of Joy: Aunt Lyanna was lying on the bed, blood staining the sheets, she was holding a baby and told Father 'Promise me, protect him, don't let him get involved in Targaryen conflicts.'
I saw Father bring you back to Winterfell, claiming you were his bastard, just to let you grow up safely.
I also saw Rhaegar; before he died in battle at the Trident, his last thoughts were not of the crown, but of Lyanna and you."
Jon clutched his head, closing his eyes in pain.
All the details he had deliberately ignored now surged forth: Father's complex gaze when he looked at him, Uncle Benjen's special care for him, and Daenerys's dragons' closeness to him—dragons only recognized Targaryen blood, which is why Drogon did not attack him on Dragonstone, why Rhaegal allowed him to approach.
"Why did Father do this?" Jon's voice was choked, "He knew I was a Targaryen, knew I was the child of our family's enemy, yet he still protected me..."
"Because you are also a Stark." Bran's voice softened, "Aunt Lyanna was a Stark; you have half Stark blood and half Targaryen blood flowing in you.
Father loved Aunt Lyanna, and he loved you.
He didn't want to see you, like other Targaryens, die in rebellion or assassination.
He gambled with his own reputation, gave you a home, an identity, so you could grow up like an ordinary Stark child."
Jon squatted down, his hands resting on Lyanna's tombstone, his forehead pressed against the cold stone.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping onto the stone, quickly freezing into ice.
He remembered his days on the Wall, remembered dying for the Night's Watch and being resurrected by Melisandre; he remembered retaking Winterfell, avenging Robb and Father—all of this was built upon a "lie."
He was not Jon Snow, but Aegon Targaryen, an heir to a family he had been taught to hate since childhood.
"Does Daenerys know?" Jon suddenly looked up, his eyes filled with panic, "If she knows I am a Targaryen, and that I have a greater claim to the iron throne than she does, what will she do?
Our army still needs her dragons; we cannot have internal strife at this time."
"She doesn't know; right now, only the two of us know." Bran said, "I haven't told anyone, including Sansa and Arya.
I came to you so you could decide when and how to tell others this secret.
But now, we have something more important—about your relationship with the Night King."
3. Fated Bond: Targaryen's Confrontation with the Others
Jon's attention was drawn back; he wiped away his tears and looked at Bran: "Me and the Night King?
I've never seen him, except for seeing his army from afar beyond the Wall.
What relationship could I have with him?"
"Your relationship with him is deeper than you imagine." Bran's eyes became profound, the red glow of Greensight swirling in his eyes, "The Night King is not an ordinary Other; he is the first Other, created by the Children of the Forest using dragonglass weapons, with the purpose of fighting the first men.
But he later betrayed the Children of the Forest, built his own army of wights, and wanted to destroy all humans."
He paused, then continued: "And the Targaryen Family are descendants of Valyria; their bloodline carries the magic of dragons, able to control dragons and resist the cold of the Others.
Do you know why dragonglass weapons and valyrian steel can kill Others?
Because valyrian steel contains the magic of dragons, and is of the same origin as the Targaryen bloodline.
And you, Jon, the Targaryen bloodline in you is purer than Daenerys's, because you also possess the northern bloodline of the Starks—the ancestors of House Stark were first men, and had an alliance with the Children of the Forest.
Your bloodline holds the key to confronting the Night King."
Jon was stunned.
He remembered how his wounds healed faster than ordinary people when he was stabbed by a wight beyond the Wall; he remembered being able to easily wield longclaw—that was a valyrian steel sword, and other Northern soldiers always found it chillingly cold when they held it.
"You mean my bloodline can kill the Night King?"
"More than just killing him." Bran shook his head, "The Night King can sense your existence because your bloodline is his bane.
The reason he is accelerating his advance south is to kill you before you awaken your bloodline's power.
If you die, there will be no one left in Westeros to stop him, and all humans will become wights."
"Then what should I do?" Jon's eyes became firm, no longer the confused bastard, but a Targaryen shouldering his destiny, "What power do I need to awaken? What do I need to do to defeat the Night King?"
"You are already awakening." Bran looked at him, "You can make dragons close to you, you can resist the cold of the Others; these are all manifestations of your bloodline's power.
Next, you need to actively use this power in battle—thrust longclaw at the Night King, and your bloodline will combine with the magic of valyrian steel, generating a power stronger than dragonflame, enough to completely kill him."
He paused, adding: "But you must remember, no one can know about this, including Daenerys.
If she knows your bloodline is more powerful than hers, and that you are the legitimate heir, she might see you as a threat.
Right now, we need her dragons, we need her army; we cannot let this secret jeopardize the alliance."
Jon nodded, tightening his grip on the longclaw sword at his waist.
The blade gleamed with the unique silver light of valyrian steel under the oil lamp; he could feel a warmth emanating from the hilt, no longer cold metal, but a power connected to his own bloodline.
"I understand." His voice was steady, "This secret, only the two of us know.
We'll consider other matters after defeating the Night King."
4. Secret Sealed and Pre-Battle Resolve
Bran looked at Jon, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.
He knew Jon had accepted his lineage and understood his destiny.
This secret, like a seed, was buried in their hearts, only to sprout when the time was right.
"We should go out." Bran turned his wheelchair, moving towards the stone stairs, "Daenerys and Illyrio are still waiting for us to finalize the battle plan; the soldiers need our leadership."
Jon followed behind, carrying the oil lamp, its dim yellow light illuminating the path ahead.
He looked back at Lyanna's tombstone, silently thinking: "Aunt Lyanna, Father, I understand your intentions.
I will defend Winterfell, defend the North, and protect the secret you guarded with your lives."
As they ascended the stone stairs, the cold air from outside rushed in, mixed with the shouts of soldiers training.
Illyrio stood on the castle wall, looking at the northern plains, holding a tactical map; Daenerys, riding Drogon, circled above Winterfell, checking for weaknesses in the defenses; Sansa and Arya were in the armory, helping artisans distribute dragonglass weapons—everyone was preparing for the impending battle, unaware that just moments ago in the crypt, two Starks (or rather, one Stark and one Targaryen) had unveiled Westeros's oldest secret.
Jon walked over to Illyrio and clapped him on the shoulder: "Is the tactical map ready?
I want to see how our three lines of defense are specifically laid out."
Illyrio turned around and handed the tactical map to Jon: "It's all ready.
The The Trench of Fire Oil for the first line of defense has been dug and filled with improved wildfire; the shield wall for the second line of defense is also trained, and Dothraki Riders will support from both sides; for the third line of defense, Daenerys's dragons will focus on attacking the giant wights around the Night King, creating opportunities for Arya's squad."
Jon looked at the tactical map, his eyes no longer filled with previous confusion, only firm resolve.
He knew that he not only had to lead the soldiers against the Night King but also hide his true identity, protecting this secret that could potentially destroy the alliance.
This was his destiny, and his responsibility.
Bran was pushed by Meera to Daenerys's side.
Daenerys dismounted from Drogon and walked in front of Bran: "Did your Greensight see anything?
How long until the Night King's army arrives?"
"In three days." Bran said, concealing his conversation with Jon, "His army includes three giant wights, their skin as hard as ice; ordinary dragonglass weapons cannot kill them, only dragonflame can destroy them."
Daenerys nodded, looking at Drogon in the sky: "Drogon's dragonflame can melt steel; dealing with the giant wights won't be a problem.
As long as we follow the plan, we will surely defeat the Night King."
Jon walked over to them and handed the tactical map to Daenerys: "I agree with Illyrio's plan.
Tomorrow morning, I will lead the first squad of soldiers to garrison the first line of defense on the northern plains, ensuring the wildfire traps are operational."
Daenerys took the tactical map, glanced at it, and handed it to Illyrio: "Proceed with this plan.
Illyrio, you are responsible for coordinating communication between the teams, ensuring timely support for all three lines of defense; Bran, you monitor the Night King's movements from the castle wall using your Greensight, and notify us immediately if anything happens."
Everyone nodded in agreement and got busy.
Jon stood on the castle wall, looking at the northern plains, gripping longclaw.
The wind whipped Snow particles onto his face, but it no longer made him feel cold—the dragonfire of Targaryen flowed in his blood, as did the resilience of Stark.
These two forces intertwined, making him the key to confronting the Night King.
Bran sat in his wheelchair, next to Jon.
They exchanged a look, without speaking, but understood each other's thoughts.
This secret would be temporarily sealed as the battle began; only when the Night King fell, and Westeros's crisis was resolved, would they consider how to bring this secret to light.
Night fell again, and the lights of Winterfell were brighter than last night, like a burning sea of stars.
Soldiers gathered around bonfires, eating their last hot meals, sharing stories of their homelands; artisans were still busy in the armory, polishing the final dragonglass weapons; the roar of dragons echoed from afar, carrying a deterrent power.
Jon stood on the castle wall, gazing at the northern night sky, silently thinking: "Night King, come.
This time, I will not shy away, I will not be lost.
I will use my bloodline, use my sword, to protect everything I love."
Bran looked at Jon's back, a flicker of green light in his eyes.
He knew this battle would be difficult, that many would die, but he also knew Jon would win.
Because he was not only Jon Snow, Aegon Targaryen, he was also the man who upheld his vows on the Wall and reclaimed his home in Winterfell—his destiny was already inextricably linked with the fate of Westeros.