That face...
Jon's entire world collapsed in that instant.
That face lying in a pool of blood, pale and weak, yet still breathtakingly beautiful.
It looked so much like him, like the reflection he had seen countless times in the water.
The same long face, the same contours of brow and eyes.
"Ned..."
Lyanna Stark's voice was as faint as a whisper on the wind, threatening to fade at any moment.
Her hand reached out from beneath the bloodstained sheets and caught young Ned's sleeve.
"I've missed you so much."
Young Ned fell to his knees beside the bed.
The man who had just slain the Sword of the Morning below the tower now wept like a child.
Jon's consciousness floated in midair. Like an outsider, he watched it all with detached indifference.
He saw a corner of the sheet drawn back beside the bed, revealing a bundle of swaddling.
Inside was a baby.
A black-haired baby.
That was... me?
"His name..."
Lyanna's gaze passed over Ned's shoulder, as though she could see into the distant future.
"His name is Aegon Targaryen."
"You must protect him."
Her grip tightened, drawing on the last strength left in her.
"Promise me, Ned."
"Promise me..."
The woman's voice grew fainter and fainter, until at last it dissolved into the air.
The hand clutching Ned's sleeve fell limply away.
The Winter Rose of the North had withered.
Inside the stone tower, only Ned's muffled sobs and the baby's piercing cries remained.
Buzzz-
Everyone's consciousness was abruptly dragged back by an immense force.
The blood-red wasteland and solitary tower vanished in an instant, and the familiar wood grain and scent of parchment in Winterfell's study filled their senses once more.
Everything was over.
Everything had begun anew.
A deathly silence filled the study.
Samwell