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2023-02-13
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2025-08-22
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To Shift a Sail

Summary:

Lysa’s letter never makes it to Winterfell.

In its absence, King Robert still looks to renew the spark of friendship he once had with Eddard Stark, but when Ned turns down the offer to be Hand, his attention shifts to his namesake and Ned’s eldest son instead. Thus, Robb goes south in the place of his father, down into the lion’s den that is King’s Landing, almost entirely alone. Meanwhile, Jon finds that having the name Snow can be useful, Arya takes control of her own life, and through it all Ned desperately tries to keep his family safe.

Chapter 1: ARC I: Eddard I

Chapter Text

“I’ve got it, Ned!” Robert roared, throwing open the door. 

Eddard Stark cringed a little as he watched the door handle slam into the wall, sending a thudding sound echoing down the hallway. Slowly setting down his quill, he silently bemoaned the spray of ink the King’s entrance had sent splattering over his parchment. Nevertheless, he stood, bowing his head in greeting as Robert entered. 

“Your Grace,” he said, mildly surprised to see Robert looking so gleeful. He moved to pull out a chair for the king, but he just waved him off, grabbing the seat on his own and situating himself with a sigh. Ned followed suit, growing a little wary as Ser Jaime and Ser Arys of the Kingsguard entered the solar as well, situating themselves in their guard positions just inside the door, which Jaime closed.

“I’ve figured it out!” Robert repeated, banging his hand on the table, and Ned raised an eyebrow at him.

“I won’t be taking your position as Hand of the King if that’s what you mean, Your Grace,” he replied carefully, settling his hands much more gently on his desk. “You’ve tried for the past week; the offer is a great honor, but I’m still needed at Winterfell.”

“Bah! Forget the Hand business!” Robert waved a hand dismissively, and Ned blinked. That was not what he had been expecting. Ever since he had first turned down Robert officially several days ago, his old friend had been dead set on convincing him to go south and run the kingdom for him. “I’ve got a different offer for you.”

Ned pursed his lips, eyes flickering over to where Jaime was watching him with a semi-interested gaze. He wasn’t quite sure he liked the look of this. 

“Well, I suppose I will hear it out,” he said, a little wryly, and Robert laughed. Whatever idea he’d cooked up, he was proud of it. 

“You better!” He blustered, pointing a finger at him. “I’ve just sent the raven to appoint Tywin Lannister as Hand, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that.”

Ned was certain he would, though he didn’t miss the faint twitch in Ser Arys’ face at the blatant insult to the Warden of the West. Still a little uncomfortable, he leaned back in his seat as he continued. 

“What is this offer of yours?” He asked, and braced himself for an idea of pure genius or pure idiocy. With Robert, it was always hard to tell, though his ideas trended towards the latter when it came to politics. 

“I’ve been speaking with my men, and we’ve come to an agreement,” Robert replied. “That it’s time we draw the North out of the little shell you’ve tucked it inside over the last decade.”

Ned blinked. If he’d been expecting something, it wasn’t that.

“Your Grace?” 

“Oh, for the last time, stop calling me that! And yes, Ned, the shell! All you do is pay your taxes and swear your fealties, but no further. The only major northern lord to come south of the Neck in the past few years is Lord Manderly, and that was three years ago! You’ve got five children, Ned, and none of them were fostered, even in the North. And now you turn down my position as Hand.”

“It’s not unusual for a Lord to not foster their children,” Ned replied, but sounded like a flimsy excuse even as the words left his mouth, because it was. Oh, minor lords could get away with not taking wards or sending their children to foster, but such a case was much rarer for a Lord Paramount. His father, Rickard, had him and Brandon fostered in the Eyrie and Barrowton respectively, and a little belatedly, he realized that Brandon had gotten betrothed at around Robb’s age. Ned had received a few offers for his son, but he had yet to bring them up with Robb or Catelyn. At the time, he’d convinced himself that Robb was young still, and didn’t need to worry about marriage just yet. But faced with Robert in front of him, Ned found himself regretting not taking up Lord Karkstark’s on his offer of his daughter, Alys.

He knew it all was because of his paranoia. Ned was a man who had always found himself painfully aware of his failings, even as he nursed them in the background. After the Rebellion, he’d been more than keen to keep his family close around him. Jon Arryn and Robert had raised and grown up with him, yes, but they were not family. It was only after losing all but his younger brother that Ned realized that he’d never gotten to know his blood. Not really. Now that Benjen had joined the Watch, he found himself loath to let go of the new family he had built, to let them run to far-off places where they might never return. Betrothals were something he’d similarly avoided, after the whole business with Lyanna. Sansa’s desire to go south and see herself married was what had convinced him to promise her to Joffrey, but that wouldn’t be for several more years yet. Robb had yet to show much interest in marriage, and Ned’s other children were too young, so he’d made no promises to anyone as to who they would wed.

In the end, he knew it was for his own benefit, and no one else’s, and yet had done nothing about it. And as punishment he now found himself without much of a defense when Robert accused him of retreating into himself. The uneasiness grew in his belly, and he glanced at the two Kingsguard again. 

“It’s high time you start forming some better relationships with the rest of the kingdom, Ned,” Robert was saying, and Ned forced himself to pay attention. “Right now, the only tie you have to the outside world is the Riverlands, through your wife. What about your heir? Has he even left Winterfell before?”

“Yes,” Ned replied tightly, leaving out the fact that it had only been on the occasional trips Ned himself took around the North, never for longer than a few weeks. 

“Not enough to have allies! Even I know the importance of that.”

Someone had put Robert up to this, for he was clearly spouting an agenda that he wouldn’t have thought up on his own, or at least he would have brought this up quicker. Ned wondered who it had been, coming up with the answer that whoever it was, the person had to be smart, because they had found a hole in Ned’s defense that he couldn’t readily patch.

“Forgive me, but where are you going with this, Robert?” He asked. “Sansa is already betrothed to Joffrey. Isn’t that enough?”

“Of course not!” Robert scoffed. “The marriage benefits us some, yes, but once it’s over with, Sansa will be living in King’s Landing and the North will be as secluded as ever. And if you won’t take my offer to be Hand, we’ll have to rectify this another way.”

It clicked in Ned’s head, then, what Robert was insinuating, and he knew Robert could see when he realized it as well, because his grin grew wider. 

“Robert, no—”

“Oh, stop that!” The king interrupted him. “I’m giving you the chance of a lifetime here! Your heir can’t be stuck in Winterfell all his life before he ascends. Let me take him to King’s Landing, teach him the ways of court. It’ll only be until he comes of age. A year and a half, Ned, that’s all I’m asking.”

“You can’t just take Robb south,” Ned protested still, even though it looked like Robert had long made his mind up on the matter. “He’s needed here, he has lessons, duties—”

“The Others take your duties! You’re thirty-four, Ned, not seventy-four. Robb will have plenty of time still to learn from you. No, let him come south now, while he’s still young. We have families visiting the court all the time; he can make friends! The Tyrells have several children near his age, I know, and Renly’s close enough as well. And when he comes north, he will have people his age he’s friendly with south of the Neck.”

“King’s Landing is a pit of vipers,” Ned shot back, something cold curling in his veins. “I won’t send him into that alone.”

“He’ll have me!” Robert protested, and when Ned gave him a flat look, seemed to realize how especially stupid that statement was. “Fine, fine. Take someone from your household and give him a small guard. When I can’t keep an eye on him, they can.” He paused then, thinking. “Though I suppose that won’t satisfy you, will it?”

“I won’t do it. Starks don’t do well south of the Neck, and King's Landing is the worst of it all.”

But Robert wasn’t listening. “I know! Send your bastard with him. I’ve seen them hanging around, they look like good friends. Reminds me of us when we were boys, honestly. Those were the good old days, chasing skirts across the Eyrie.”

Ned let him prattle on, the cold in his veins shattering into ice. 

Promise me, Ned.

“No, I won’t let Jon go!” He exclaimed, cutting Robert off. “Robb isn’t going to ward with you, and Jon won’t join him. Their place is here, in the North.”

Ser Jaime snorted softly from his place by the door, sharing a look with Ser Arys. Ned ignored them, carefully watching Robert as he finally let his jubilation simmer, a frown gracing his features as the two studied each other.

“Why not, Ned?” Robert repeated, at somewhere resembling a normal level of speaking. “You’re freezing yourself into isolation up here. Time south will do your boy good, even if it’s only to realize how the Red Keep stinks. Let him take some guards, your bastard, and learn a thing or two about the wider world. Make some friends, or at least get to know who his future constituents will be.”

“He’s doing that well enough with your family here.”

“For three weeks? I think not!”

Ned floundered. 

What could he say? He could refuse Robert outright, but after already refusing the position of the Hand, that put him in a precarious position. Robert might forgive him, yes, but with the Kingsguard here, he had no doubt the rumors of his protectiveness would soon spread all over court. The last thing he needed were the other kingdoms whispering about his abilities as Lord Paramount. And even then, keeping Robb home against the wishes of the King was something he could barely explain away. Jon was another matter entirely.

“I… will have to speak to my wife about this,” he finally said, and Robert grinned, knowing he’d won. 

“Fine, fine!” He replied, standing up. “Talk to the woman, maybe she’ll see sense!”

Ned privately disagreed. Catelyn would be more than happy to see Jon gone, but Robb was an entirely different matter. Hopefully she would help him think of a way out of this. 

Despite his tumultuous thoughts, he rose and bowed again as Robert swept out of the room. Ser Arys followed after, but Ser Jaime lingered, watching Ned for a moment with a curious eye. Ned frowned at him, and Jaime smirked. A moment later, he was gone, white cloak swishing through the air behind him.

Ned collapsed into his chair once the door shut, hand going to cradle his forehead as he thought. 

“I should have just accepted his offer to be Hand,” he said to the room. He knew he was right as he said it. Ned had gone south once in his life, and though it was more than enough for him, he’d do it again. The last thing he wanted to do was let Robb out of his sight. And if Robert’s suggestion of Jon wasn’t a passing whimsy, if he brought it up again…

Promise me, Ned.

Which would be better? Refusing to let Jon go south, raising even more suspicions as to why Ned was keeping him so close? Or letting him go, straight into the dangers of King’s Landing? Jon had been safe up North, but south, where people still remembered the Targaryens?

But it might not even matter if people started seriously thinking about who Jon’s mother was. Tywin was Hand of the King now, and had access to many more records than he had at Casterly Rock. If he thought to go looking in the wrong places… but which choice would make him more suspicious?

He was getting ahead of himself. Ned let out a long breath, trying to steady his racing heart, and picked up the ruined parchment he’d been working on, rolling it up to copy to a clean slate later. His mind was racing now, and he doubted any work he tried to do would be successful. No, let himself enjoy the day, he thought, and talk to Catelyn about this whole affair later. She would have wise counsel on how to turn Robert down, at least. 

 


 

“It would be a good idea,” Catelyn said, after a long minute of silence, and Ned had never felt more betrayed. 

“It’s foolishness,” he shot back, perhaps a bit sharper than he meant to. “He wants to carry Robb off to a city six hundred leagues away with this idea of making him a ward. I can’t accept his offer to be Hand anymore, not now that Lord Lannister had received the offer, so I won’t be able to go with him, either.”

“It would only be for a year and a half,” Catelyn replied quietly. “Not the many years I would expect you to be away for, if you were Hand. And he would learn much down south. Jon Arryn was a good foster father to you. You learned much from him, I know.”

Ned shook his head, getting out of their shared bed to pace away the jittering energy that sung in his bones. He considered opening the windows, and almost did, but decided against it when Catelyn followed him out of bed, watching him with Robb’s eyes.

“Jon Arryn was a good man,” he agreed after a moment. “But Robert… even if he was the same man I knew in the Rebellion, I don’t know if I would have trusted him with any child of mine. And I’ve seen him here; he whores and drinks more than he rules! No, Tywin Lannister will be the real power behind the throne now, and I will not send Robb down to live under his rule.”

Catelyn didn’t answer him, the corners of her lips pulled tight against her face as she watched him. Ned watched her closely, and realized with a pang in his heart that she disliked this proposition as much as he, but wasn’t voicing it. She sighed, grabbing a robe and pulling it over her shoulders as she walked up to him. 

“I’ve seen how he looks at you,” Catelyn said. “Robert loves you, Ned, or he loves the idea of you he has from the Rebellion. He thinks the two of you young men still, unmarried and free to gallivant across the kingdoms as they wish.”

“It was Robert who gallivanted,” Ned protested, but the pang in his heart rang true at her words. Robert was no longer the man he had known as a boy, but instead all of his worst traits exemplified.

“And it’s Robert who wants a Stark at his side. If he can’t have you, I suppose he thinks Robb is the next best thing. A Stark boy close enough to the same age you were during the Rebellion.”

“I was nine and ten during the Rebellion, Cat, not four and ten.”

“You think I’m not aware of that?” Catelyn laughed sharply, ending it in a sharp sigh. “But it can be a good thing as much as a bad one, Ned. Robert won’t let anything happen to Robb if he’s using him as a placeholder for you. And he was right in his other points. We haven’t fostered any of our children, or taken any wards into our own household. I know you’ve had offers.”

“We have Theon,” Ned protested, weakly.

“Theon is a glorified hostage, Ned, and you know that.” Catelyn shook her head. “No, I don’t think we can refuse this. Not without raising more questions about how capable Robb will be to lead the North, when the time comes. It will look like we are sheltering him. Any other lord would be jumping at an offer like this.”

Ah, so that’s what it was. Ned conceded the point to her. He’d hoped that speaking to her would bring some magical solution to keep their son home, but even his wife couldn’t conjure up an option that didn’t exist. Catelyn wasn’t a miracle worker. Just smarter than him.

“I cannot think of a good excuse for him to stay,” Ned murmured, and Catelyn drew herself closer to him, watching him with those eyes of hers. Absent-mindedly, he found himself playing with a strand of her hair, soothing himself by letting it curl in his fingers. “It is one thing to turn down the position of Hand of King. I can get away with it by claiming I have duties here. But a wardship under the crown is something else entirely. Robb has no formal role here, besides being heir.”

“I can’t imagine Tywin Lannister having anything to do with Robb; I doubt he’s even important enough for him to even acknowledge our boy. And he would learn much in the South, if only the reason why you Northmen look down on the Southern kingdoms so.” Ned opened his mouth to protest, but Catelyn gave him a light look, and he realized she was teasing him in the midst of their seriousness. “If… we can send Rodrik or Jory after him, and our most trusted guards, he would be safe from common crimes, and no one would think to seriously hurt him with you still in the North, capable of calling the banners.” She paused, thinking, then added: “And Lord Baelish is a childhood friend of mine, on the Small Council. I could write to him and ask to look out for Robb, to stop him from being taken advantage of.”

Ned pursed his lips, second-guessing himself. Perhaps he was overreacting. It was very possible that King’s Landing, while dangerous, wasn’t about to go and swallow his son whole. 

“You must stop making so much sense, my lady,” he said, dropping her hair to press a chaste kiss to her lips. Catelyn smiled softly through it, even as the corners of her mouth crinkled in worry.

“That’s precisely what I don’t like about it,” she sighed, letting the smile fall. “That it makes so much sense.”

Jaime Lannister’s smirk flashed in Ned’s mind again, and he scowled, twisting away from her as he raised a hand to run through his beard.

“Someone put Robert up to this, I think,” he said quietly. “You are right. Robert was making too much sense when he brought this up to me. He never has so many reasons lined up when he wants me to do something.”

“Why would they want Robb in King’s Landing?” 

“Who knows?” Ned shrugged, lost himself. “Robert kept on talking about making connections with the rest of the kingdom. Perhaps some southerner wants better relations with the next lord of Winterfell. There is no way to really know.”

Catelyn pursed her lips, thinking deeply at his words, then let out a long breath.

“We will have to let him go,” she said quietly. “It’ll only be until he comes of age. Not a decade or more, if you were Hand.”

She was clearly trying to reassure herself as much as him, and Ned’s insides twisted.

“I can tell him no,” he offered, more desperately than he’d like to admit. “Robert never holds his anger for long—already he’s almost forgiven me for turning him down to be Hand.”

“Robert might forget, but will the Lannisters?” Catelyn returned. “The other southern lords, who will think we are growing isolationist? Our own bannermen, who might think Robb sheltered? Because he is, Ned, and you know that.”

“We have plenty of time for Robb to learn of the world.”

We know that is true, and we had our plans for him, but do those around us know our minds?” Catelyn wrung her hands, then guiltily added, lower, “Death can come suddenly, Ned. It happened to your father and brother. And you were fostered and knew the world, when you came to Winterfell.”

It was a low, biting blow, but Ned couldn’t begrudge her bringing it up. As always, she was right. Ned had never been supposed to be lord; he had taken everything from Brandon’s cup: his castle, his bride, his rights. He'd been raised as a second son, yes, but Catelyn had been right when she said that Jon Arryn had taught him well. Ned had never been meant to be a lord, but Robert had been, had become Lord of the Stormlands while in the Vale. And every lesson Robert received, Ned learned as well. He’d followed Robert on his escapades through the mountains, befriended their lords and learned their politics, and when he went North to raise the banners, he’d only floundered as Lord, not drowned.

Would it really be so bad to see Robb south? He was receiving a good education here, and Ned had planned on taking him through several tours of the North as he grew older, but that could always happen after he returned home. Robb could learn the ways of court, perhaps make a few friends that could become alliances as he grew. When he returned home, knowing of the South, Ned would tour him through the North, where his bannermen could befriend him as well. By the time he was twenty, he would be a well-connected, well-educated heir. If anything happened after that, if Ned died or was incapacitated, he would rest easy knowing Robb could take his place with ease. 

Catelyn waited for him patiently as he thought. She too was loath to send Robb south, he knew, but she saw the benefits of it, same as him. With Sansa betrothed to Joffrey and Robb with friends in court, they could carry the new dynasty’s favor well into the next generation. Robert had been generous with nearly everyone in the kingdom, but Ned knew that any king born of a Lannister mother would require more than help given a generation past to curry favor.

“Fine,” he grunted, and Catelyn nodded. He sighed, pressing his knuckles to his lips as he finally let himself give in. 

“I don’t like it either,” Catelyn sighed, crossing her arms. She stepped closer to him, and Ned let himself lean into her gentle warmth. He was tired after such a long day, and yearned to slip back into bed with her again. “But I really do think it will do more good than ill. When I was a girl, and still my father’s heir, he took me down to King’s Landing for the same purpose. It was only a few weeks, but I learned much there.” She looked up at him, gently teasing once again. “Even if it was only how much the city stunk.”

Ned closed his eyes and tilted his head in a gentle agreement. “That, I will agree with you on, my lady.”

“Eventually Sansa will have to follow him,” Catelyn continued. “It will be expected of her to visit her betrothed before they marry. If Robb has friends there, I would rest easier for her.” She shifted beside him, her voice becoming more grieved. “Robb is the only one of our children who will return to Winterfell, once he is grown. He will always return to us, but the others will one day go to make their own paths in the world.”

She was right on that account. Sansa was to marry Joffrey, and in a few years Arya would start receiving her own offers. It would have to be a northern husband for her, after Sansa and Robb went south, and Ned figured that would be the right choice anyways; Arya would chafe even more under southern customs. Bran still held his dreams of becoming a knight, perhaps even a Kingsguard for his sister, and Rickon would inherit a holdfast of his own.

Even Jon would leave, in one way or another. Ned found himself thinking of Robert’s offer again, and frowned. No, not King’s Landing if he could help it. Perhaps the Night’s Watch, where Benjen could watch over him. Or he could become Captain of the Guard and serve Robb, though Ned doubted Catelyn would be happy to have him stay in Winterfell. Wherever he went, one day he would no longer be under Ned’s protection, and he feared that day more than he did for any of his other children.

“I will speak to Robb in the morning, then,” he said, once he realized he had been silent for a time. “And tell Robert after. He’ll announce the fostering at dinner, I assume.”

Catelyn hummed, then placed a kiss on Ned's shoulder.

“It’s hard to let him go,” she whispered.

“Aye, my lady,” he replied, and hoped he was making the right choice.