"A Southern name, aye," Uncle Benjen agreed. "But a Targaryen name? Even your bannermen, even the ones who have guessed who you are, would understand that you are in no position to do so. You cannot go to King Robert and introduce yourself as Jaehaerys, even if you tack on Stark. You cannot name your son Aemon and hope to keep the peace, however much you admired the Dragonknight growing up. At least not your first son."
Jon drew in a sharp breath, let the words filter through his mind, through the rebelliousness that had been telling him, ever since he found out the truth, not to listen to anything any Stark had to say to him after all the lies he had been fed. He let the breath back out, calmer now.
Calmer now, he let other options go through his head, apologising mentally to his son that he might have given him a name he could not safely keep. "Duncan," he said at last. He looked down at his infant son, trailed a careful finger through the platinum down on the top of his head. "Duncan Stark."
Benjen took long moments to think it over before giving a sharp nod. "It is a good compromise," he said. "It was a Westerosi name long before the Targaryens used it, and Duncan 'The Small' Targaryen was never crowned King, nor is he remembered as well as his namesake Ser Duncan the Tall, who even the King Robert still honours as the pinnacle of a Kingsguard. Those who must know remember Duncan Targaryen, the brave young warrior price who chose love. Those who must not, remember first the loyal, honourable knight who gave his life for his friend and king's line to continue. His allegiance might have been to a Targaryen king, but he was never a Targaryen himself. And his death saved Rhaella's life even as she birthed Rhaegar."
Jon nodded, took a moment to glance down at the babe in his arms. He was beginning to fuss, tiny fists slowly pulling free from the swaddling to swing through the air. Given Jon's own stature, this Duncan was unlikely to ever be Tall, but had Ser Duncan not embodied the same ideals Ser Aemon once did? Did he not have the same honour, the same code that Jon wanted to ingrain into his own son? Was he not, in some roundabout way, the reason either Jon or his son had ever even had a chance to exist? Mentally, he apologised to the babe for how confusing a name change must seem when he was so far from old enough to understand the reasoning. The babe let out a small, hungry wail, and Jon got to his feet, carefully cradling his son in his arms. "Come on, Dunc," he muttered. "Let us go see Mama, and explain to her why your name is Duncan now."
Behind him, Uncle Benjen actually laughed, even though it was tense and uncertain the way it had been ever since his suspicions about Jon had finally been confirmed. Jon knew his uncle still loved him. He just hoped Benjen's natural Northern wariness would not win out and leave Jon alone in the end.