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Game of Thrones: The Ruler- Chapter 50: Identity Learned
🕑 Added 2025-08-02 18:52:36 +0000 UTC[Extra Chapter of the week]
Ned stared at the portrait in front of him. His eyes had bulged, his hands were trembling, and his legs were shaking from the shock he had been feeling at that moment. He could not believe what he was seeing.
It was a portrait of a young man, only the upper body had been painted.
Behind him, the sea was shimmering and glistening with the golden rays of the rising sun. But Ned’s eyes were fixed on just one thing. The face of the young man.
It was not a face he could ever forget. Even though nearly a year had passed since he had last seen it, he would recognize it even in his dreams. It was Jon.
“Lord Stark… Lord Stark.” Wyman’s repeated calls finally snapped Ned out of his stunned daze.
“Lord Manderly,” Ned murmured, his voice strained. “Is he… who you say he is?”
Wyman nodded solemnly.
“After receiving the portrait from the merchant, I confirmed it with nearly half a dozen people from Astapor who had seen Lord Aeos. They all identified him as Lord Aeos. And they had no uncertainty in their minds. They were too sure to be doubted.”
Ned’s legs finally gave out beneath him, and he sank into his chair, his eyes still fixed on the painting.
“I saw Jon Snow a few years ago,” Wyman said gently. “And the moment I saw this face, I knew there was a resemblance.”
Ned said nothing. He just kept staring at the portrait. Silent, shaken, and overwhelmed.
Although the face was nearly identical to Jon’s, save for a few subtle changes, there were some stark differences between what Ned remembered and what he was seeing now.
The Jon he had known always wore a subdued, melancholic expression. His eyes, like the rest of him, had been dull, lacking drive or ambition. He had carried himself like someone who accepted his place in the world. A bastard without a future destined for mediocrity.
But the Jon in this portrait was ablaze. There was light in his eyes, purpose in his gaze. His expression bore the calm authority of someone who knew who he was and what he was meant to be. He seemed aristocratic in bearing and royal and noble in presence. He looked every inch a ruler. A sovereign lord of his own lands.
Ned did not know whether the transformation he saw was the painter’s imagination or simply the truth captured in brush and colour.
He could not wrap his mind around it. Jon was Lord Aeos? The very same man who had seized three cities in Essos? It was utterly incomprehensible.
“Lord Stark,” Wyman’s voice broke through his thoughts, gently trying to draw him back. “Judging by your reaction, I take it… he is your bastard. Jon Snow?”
Not a bastard, Ned wanted to say. But the words stayed buried in his throat. He could only nod, still in a daze.
Wyman let out a long, disbelieving breath. “Seven hells,” he murmured.
“To think, your bastard would go on to do something like this.”
Ned had no answers.
.
.
.
Wyman Manderly had retired to his accommodations shortly after their meeting. Ned, on the other hand, had remained holed up in his solar for the rest of the day, trying to wrap his head around everything he had learned.
But even after hours of contemplation, the truth still refused to settle in. Jon. His Jon. Lord Aeos. It was too surreal. Unbelievable.
He finally left his solar only when it was time to join his family for dinner. As was customary, Wyman Manderly should have joined them at the table, but sensing the gravity of what Ned had discovered, he chose not to impose upon Lord Stark and gave him space.
By nightfall, Ned had managed to regain at least a semblance of composure.
“Ned,” Catelyn murmured, a worried expression etched across her face as Ned finally took his seat at the table.
His children watched him with a mix of curiosity and unease. Even little Rickon, barely old enough to understand such things, seemed to sense the tension in the air.
“Is something wrong?” Catelyn asked gently. “You did not emerge from your solar all day, and now Lord Manderly is not joining us for supper.”
Ned forced a small smile, directing it at Rickon, who continued to look up at him with innocent, questioning eyes.
“Catelyn,” Ned finally sighed after a long silence, his voice heavy with meaning. “There is news. News about Jon.”
Everyone at the table froze, their eyes widening in surprise at Ned’s words.
“Where is he?” Arya asked instantly, her face lighting up with joy. Bran, too, looked visibly brightened at the name.
Robb remained quiet, uncertainty clouding his expression. Sansa looked indifferent, almost aloof, while Catelyn’s face twisted in disbelief. A disbelief laced with a flicker of something colder.
Rickon, too young to grasp the weight of the name, simply blinked curiously. He had heard Jon’s name mentioned only rarely and knew little about him.
“In Essos,” Ned answered quietly.
“Essos?” Arya echoed, frowning in confusion. “What is he doing in Essos? Is he coming back? Did Lord Manderly give you this news? Have you sent men to bring him home?”
Ned shook his head.
“He most probably would not be coming back,” he said, his voice low and weary.
He had no delusions about it. Jon, after building a new life and forging his own empire, would not return to Winterfell.
Catelyn let out a faint, almost imperceptible sigh of relief, while Arya’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.
“Why?” she asked softly. “Why would he not come back?”
“Because he has built a new life for himself in Essos,” Ned replied.
“A new life?” This time it was Robb who spoke, his voice quiet but tense.
Ned nodded slowly.
“Yes. A new life. One where he is free from the stain of being a bastard. And even if people knew, no one would have cared.”
Everyone was staring at him now, waiting him to explain further.
Ned reached into his robe and pulled out the folded portrait. Carefully, he laid it out on the table and smoothed it flat.
“That is Jon,” Bran said at once, his voice sure.
“Yes,” Ned confirmed. “That is Jon. And he is also known as Lord Aeos.”
The words hit like a thunderclap. Silence fell around the table, broken only by the crackle of a nearby torch.
“Jon Snow is Lord Aeos,” Ned repeated firmly, letting the truth settle into the room. “Ruler of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen.”
Comments
georgiy tatunashvili
please let catelyn have a heart attack, or during war have her kneel and beg him for help
