Alright, so this was from a conversation me and my sister had yesterday. It is not meant to be taken seriously, if it is not clear. It is not a conspiracy theory for the parentage of Jon either. It is just a stupid one-shot.
As Eddard sat in his prison cell, staring sombrely at the old, damp walls, which had the appearance of stone that had not been looked after since the dungeon had been built, he thought of his children, how he would not see them again, Rickon, only six, Bran, so vulnerable. And Jon, his bastard son, now sworn to the Night Watch. He remembered his mother. His dear, beautiful mother.
It had been a warm night in Starfall, and Ned stood next to his beloved. Silently weeping, the figure handed the Stark the sleeping child.
Ned looked up at the figure, their long blond hair, their purple eyes illuminated in the moonlight. They looked perfect, not a flaw visible on their body. Almost inaudible, his final words to Ned were uttered,
"Name him Jon" Rhaegar whispered.
Remembering that night, seeing Rhaegar's face for the final time, was all that Ned needed to die a happy man. He knew, he realised, that he loved Rhaegar more than he had ever loved Catelyn. He despised Robert for killing his beloved, and now he could not re-enact his revenge. All he cared for was that he would finally be reunited with him.
Okay, now remember it is not a serious fanfic, and that I am well aware it makes no sense at all and clashes with stuff.