House Stark Whatifs: • House Stark
House Targaryen Whatifs: • House Targaryen
House Baratheon Whatifs: • House Baratheon
What if Jon Snow was the trueborn son of King Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark? Let's explore this alternate timeline together, in the video.
The tourney at Harrenhal ends the way all tourneys end, with dust and departure, and lords riding home carrying whatever they arrived with plus whatever they picked up along the way. The silver-haired prince crowns the wrong woman, and the wrong woman stands on a balcony that night holding the roses and trying to understand the weight of them, and that is where Robert Baratheon finds her, not because he planned to, but because both of them had needed air at the same moment and the same balcony was the one available.
He does not charm her. He finds her holding the crown and staring at it, and he tells her he is sorry, plainly, without any performance behind it, and she is so disarmed by the plainness of it that she listens. Then she answers. By the time the moon has moved a quarter of the sky they are still talking.
A year of letters follows. He writes from Storm's End and she writes from Winterfell, clumsy and honest both, and honesty between two people who are ready for it turns out to be enough. By the autumn, when Lord Rickard arranges a visit, something real has grown between them and both of them can feel it. It is Robert who asks first, standing before the heart tree in the Winterfell godswood, in the cold and the dark.
Robert: "I want to marry you here. Tonight. Before this tree and the old gods and your brother and Howland Reed and any other witness you name. No septons, no arrangements, no lords of the south deciding what we owe the realm. I know what my reputation is and I will not insult you by pretending it is not mostly earned, because you are too sharp to believe that and I have too much respect for you to try. What I am asking you is whether you think I am capable of being different than those stories. Not the man who woke up in three strangers' beds before you knew his name. The man who has been writing you honest letters for a year because he does not know how to be dishonest with the one person in the world who seems to actually want to know who he is."
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