Archive of Our Own ^beta

The lords were settling down for the night. On the morrow they would ride out to join the rest of the Northern lords on their way to meet up with King Robert. The Iron Born uprising required it.

But for some reason her husband wanted to have words with her. And down here of all places.

The stone statues of past Starks looked out from the alcove’s recessed in the sprawling tunnels. They observed their passing as she and Ned walked further into the crypts. They stopped when they reached where Rickard, Brandon and Lyanna were interred.

Ned looked up at Lyanna’s cold face. She was the only woman with a statue. Many Stark women were down here, but until Lyanna only the kings and later the lords of Winterfell had been given statues. Though in that vein, Brandon was an outlier as well, since he had died before he could officially inherit.

Her husband’s expression was drawn and weighted.

“What troubles your thoughts, my love?”

“Secrets.” He sighed. “The fewer who know a secret, the easier it is to keep. And I have a heavy secret. One I have sheltered behind my teeth for years, even though it often lies bitter on my tongue.”

He turned to her. “Tomorrow I ride to war. I will do all within my power to return to you. To return to our children and to our home. Only a fool ignores that men die at war. I had thought to spare you this burden, but should I fall, you need to know it.”

Cat’s heart fluttered in her chest. A secret her husband felt she needed to know if they lost him? Some knowledge that Robb would need to know if he found himself Lord Stark far too young, perhaps. “You can entrust me with it, Ned. If you feel it needed, I will guard it.”

He smiled, but it was sad. “I know that. Now I know. I would ask your forgiveness for not telling you before. When we met, you had not been meant for me. You were Brandon’s betrothed, not mine. I did not know you when we first wed. We were strangers for all that we were married.”

That was truth. She had been set to wed the dashing, handsome Brandon. Over time, however, she had learned more of the elder brother and knew that she had wed the brother better suited to her happiness. He had only done one thing to shatter that belief, and even that had been long ago.

“What is it you need me to know, Ned?”

Her husband stared up into his sister’s face,drew in a deep breath, held it for the span of a few heartbeats and released it slowly.

“A man fathers a child on a woman, but the man dies before the babe can be born. His child will never know him. Another man finds the child and takes them in. Feeds them. Clothes them. Educates them. Which man is the child’s father? The man who sired the babe or the man who did everything else?”

She frowned. Her husband was not a man given to riddles. What was he getting at?

“The end of Robert’s Rebellion, when the Red Keep fell, the Princess Elia Martell and her children were slaughtered. I know that in the South there are tales that she killed the babes out of fear, or that the Mad King killed them, or that Elia’s death was a tragic accident when she panicked and tried to flee the Lannister men. None of those are true. Dorne speaks the truth loudly. I do not hide from it either. Tywin Lannister’s men killed them ruthlessly and needlessly.”

“They were of House Targaryen.”

He looked up, meeting her eyes, and she froze. His grey eyes were cold and angry. “Aerys Targaryen murdered my father and brother. Rhaegar took my sister. Elia and her children had nothing to do with those actions. In many ways they were as wronged as House Stark had been. They were more hostage than kin. And if Aerys had known…”

He paused, regaining his composure. “Lannister presented their bodies to Robert as though it were a great deed. It was wrong. They were innocents. I said as much, said the prince and princess were only children. And Robert…he laughed. He said he saw no children. Only dragon spawn.”

There was pain in his voice. She had heard this before, of course. Ned refrained from discussing those days but sometimes soldiers spoke of old horrors when too much ale had flowed. And she had heard of how the death of the princess and her children had nearly torn the bonds between her husband and the king asunder.

“I left. We rode to lift the siege at Storms End. Word reached me of where Lyanna might be held. The Lady Ashara sent that Rhaegar had secured a tower in the Red Mountains. He called it the Tower of Joy. She could not be sure, but her brother had sent to Starfall for supplies to be sent there. I took those I trusted most and sent the rest of the men home.

“We rode into Dorne to find my sister and bring her home. Six of us against three Kingsguard. Later my thoughts and mind would order themselves enough that I could see that should have been a sign. There is remarkable clarity in hindsight. But at that moment I was war weary and heartsick. Father was gone. Brandon was gone. Benjen wasn’t even old enough to grow a beard and he was here trying to hold the North in my absence. With so many of our men in the South he would have stood little chance had real trouble arose. I just wanted it to all be over. So I antagonized and goaded them into a fight. And four more good Northmen were lost.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She could hear the pain and regret in his voice. She wanted to reach out to him but held back. She could tell he was not yet done.

“I found her in a blood stained bed. I could smell the sickness burning her up. She was barely holding on. She had just enough strength in her to ask a final promise me. I still hear her voice. ‘Promise me, Ned. Promise me.’”

Catelyn stilled. Her eyes moved slowly from her husband’s profile to the cold stone of her goodsister’s statue. “One man sires the child. Another man raises them.” Her voice was a bare whisper amongst the ghosts of past Starks.

He finally turned from the statue to face her. “Even if I had been able to stay Robert’s hand, leveraged his love for Lyanna and myself to plead for her boy’s life, it only would have bought him a little time. Lannister would not have tolerated a threat to his grandson’s future claim to the crown. If not death by one of his, I could not be certain how Dorne might have reacted. They have their own sense of honor, but Rhaegar setting aside his wife was a grave insult.

“Even ignoring the ones who would want him dead merely for existing, then there d be the loyalists wanting to get their claws into him in hopes of seizing the throne. Those who would dream of securing an infant king they could raise as their puppet. I could not let any of them have my sister’s child.”

Her knees weakened. She lowered herself to rest on the stone pedestal of Brandon’s statue. Disrespectful, perhaps, but Brandon might not care. Not given the weight of the discussion.

“He would still be a bastard.”

Ned growled slightly. It was a sound of irritation. “Nay, he is not.” Her head came up. “There were documents. One of them was Rhaegar’s personal journal. I read that damn thing at least a half dozen times, trying to make sense of it all.”

“Did he write in code?”

“That might have been less frightening. He was mad. Perhaps not in the same way as his father, or as much, but he was not entirely sane. There were pages rambling about prophecy. Something had gotten lodged into his mind. He believed he had to have three children, kept going on about the dragon needing three heads. But Elia Martell had nearly died giving birth to Aegon, her daughter’s birth had also confined her to bed moons afterwards. The maesters had warned she could not risk another pregnancy. Rhaegar had their marriage dissolved on those grounds. He wed Lyanna later the same day.”

“Married? How was this not known? A crown prince doesn’t set aside a wife and wed another without the realm knowing.”

“A Septon loyal to him. Only a few he could trust as witnesses. He did seem to have moments of sanity and wit. He wrote that he could not tell of the marriage because his father still had Elia and the children. It was no secret that the Mad King hated her and did not feel the children were true Targaryens. Rhaegar believed that as long as his father believed Elia was still his wife it would shield them from Aerys madness. It appears his plan was to depose his father once the rebellion was settled and then let the realm knowing of the change. Aegon would remain his heir.”

“And Lyannas child would be the spare.”

“No. He slipped back into madness after that. He was convinced my sister carried a daughter. A Visenya to go with his Rhaenys and Aegon. He hadn’t even chosen a name in case he was wrong. My sister was in no fit state to think of one. I named him.”

True born. Not a bastard. All the scorn and cold looks the boy suffered and they weren’t even justified. Though, in fairness he only suffered such from herself and perhaps the Septa. Even the Septon did not treat him unkindly. That was her failing alone.

Ned crouched down before her, taking her hands into his. “Do you understand why I kept this from you, Cat? Can you forgive me for doing so?”

Forgive him? Should she be angry with him? He was right, of course. Jon’s life would be at risk if anyone found out. He would have been too young to pass off as Brandon’s. Benjen had been up here and just a boy himself. Even if he’d been physically capable of fathering a child at the time, he would not have been able to hide it. Too many eyes upon him. Someone would have noticed. And Ned had been at war. Many men fathered bastards at war. It had been easy to bring the child here. To drape a pelt of dire wolf fur over the scales of a dragon.

“There is nothing to forgive. Can you forgive me for how cruel I have been to him?”

“You acted based on what you knew. If that action was to be cold, it is as much my fault for not entrusting you with this sooner.”

She huffed softly. “What a pair of mummer fools we make.” She squeezed his hands. “I understand. And I will keep this secret. And if need be, I will keep the promise you made to Lyanna. I would prefer it should my husband returned to me to aid with the burden.”

He lifted his hands to frame her face and kissed her. “I would much prefer that as well. If needs be, however, the documents and evidence we found with her are in Howland Reed’s keeping.”

“You kept them?”

He grimaced. “I did not wish to. I was going to burn them, but Howland argued that gods and fate do not always care for the plans of men. He convinced me to keep them in case the need to prove Jon’s legitimacy ever arose. I sent them with him because Greywater Watch is impossible to find unless you are a Cranogman. It is a good place to hold dangerous secrets. Starks have entrusted House Reed with such before.”

“Hm. He most likely has the right of that. And as his uncle and mourning Lyanna you may have been in too much pain to think clearly.”

“Oh, I was. Young men rarely think as clearly as they do after gaining wisdom. Howland was wise beyond our years.”

He met her eyes and he looked…lighter. Less burdened. She realized how heavy this must have been for him. How much it had weighed on his heart. Now he’d shared it with her. He would not ride into battle worrying what might happen to Jon should he fall. It would not distract him.

And she would keep the secret. She could use the time he was away to start repairing her relationship with her nephew. She could not call him that, of course, but she could stop fearing what he represented. He wasn’t a bad child if she were to be honest. In truth he was a sweet and well behaved boy. Well, as behaved as boys could be. Mischief making was a part of their nature. She would stop scolding him for it, though.

Ned helped her stand back up. The night was cool and he shrugged off his cloak to drape it over her shoulders as the left the crypts. The lords would not ride out until morning, and they still had several hours during which they could say their own goodbyes.