Much like the dark, grayish purple of his eyes that's only visible in certain lights, there are silvery strands scattered throughout here and there that are normally hidden by the thickness of his stark locks and dismissed as the grays that accompanied stress by anyone who caught sight of them. Another hint towards the truth withheld from him that no one, including himself, never thought to take a closer look at.

Jon sighs, far more content than he thought himself capable of being. Was it what his ancestor was doing with his hands or simply the comfort of being welcomed wholeheartedly by a blood connection? He doesn't know and right now, doesn't care.

"I never got headaches until the cold Beyond the Wall," he finds himself saying, eyes remaining shut. "Never got sick, either. My brothers and sis— cousins all came down with touches of the typical ailments of childhood, but I never did. Lady Catelyn hated me for it. She hated me for a lot of things."

The younger man goes quiet for a moment, but for once eh's at ease enough to ponder aloud—

"Sometimes I wonder if she would have resented me less had she known. If he'd told her who I was from the start."

Would she have kept his secret or would she have sold him out to the Baratheons first chance she got in order to keep her Stark children safe from the legacy of Lyanna's Targaryen son?