The Rising Son

A secret, hidden right under their noses, threatens the foundation of the Seven Kingdoms. Young Jon Snow finally realizes his worth. Tired of the bastard title, he vows to carve out a place for himself in this world of ice and fire. As Jon begins to search for clues about his true parentage, the truth he uncovers points directly to a shattered royal marriage. The bond between Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen is not as simple as the maesters recorded. Jon’s true bloodline is the painful, hidden third party in their connection. Jon's awakening is not just for himself; it is to right a historical wrong. He must confront the brutal truth about his origin, about the bond between Rhaegar and Elia, and about who he is destined to become. When the Night’s Watch vows are broken by the power of blood, Jon's every action will reshape his fate with the royal marriage overshadowed by history.

The Rising Son

A secret, hidden right under their noses, threatens the foundation of the Seven Kingdoms. Young Jon Snow finally realizes his worth. Tired of the bastard title, he vows to carve out a place for himself in this world of ice and fire. As Jon begins to search for clues about his true parentage, the truth he uncovers points directly to a shattered royal marriage. The bond between Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen is not as simple as the maesters recorded. Jon’s true bloodline is the painful, hidden third party in their connection. Jon's awakening is not just for himself; it is to right a historical wrong. He must confront the brutal truth about his origin, about the bond between Rhaegar and Elia, and about who he is destined to become. When the Night’s Watch vows are broken by the power of blood, Jon's every action will reshape his fate with the royal marriage overshadowed by history.

Snow fell silently over Castle Black, dusting the black cloaks of the Night’s Watch like ash from a dying fire. Jon Snow stood at the base of the Wall, staring into the darkness beyond. The raven had come at dawn—three words etched on a scrap of parchment: He knows the truth. No signature. No seal. Just a warning.

Samwell Tarly approached, breath fogging in the cold. "It’s real, Jon. I found it in an old Maester’s cipher—Rhaegar didn’t kidnap Lyanna. They were married. By a priestess of the Old Gods. In Dorne. Before the war."

Jon’s fingers tightened around Longclaw’s hilt. "Then everything they said… my mother… my name…"

"You’re not a Snow," Sam whispered. "You’re a Stark. A Targaryen. The rightful heir."

A horn blast split the night—one long note. The wildlings. Trouble. But Jon didn’t move. The past and future collided in that moment. He could return to duty. He could silence the truth. Or he could walk away—and claim what was stolen from him.