A/N: I just needed this to get out of my head. I based the title off the track called "Goodbye, Brother" by Ramin Djawadi in the Game of Thrones S1 soundtrack album because it's so beautiful and heartbreaking. So, I hope you guys enjoy this and let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Game of Thrones is not mine.

Summary: When Ned finally told Catelyn about Jon Snow's mother, he had not expected for things to turn out the way they did in the end. It was so unfortunate that Robert had been smarter than Ned ever thought he was.

PART I

NED

I

When Ned had finally gathered the courage to tell his wife who Jon Snow's mother was, they didn't speak for an entire week.

As honorable and as accomplished Ned was at leading the North in both peace and war times, he became a craven at the very thought of facing Cat with the truth about Jon's mother. Not until forced to do so.

The events that lead to this and what soon came after were sung by bards long after their time.

Bran had taken it upon himself to prove that his dreams were not at all dreams but visions.

The second son of the Stark lineage had always found it strange that he dreamt of being in an animal's skin and mind only to wake to find those animals were, in fact, real and had been right where he'd been before he woke. Bran, being a boy of only seven, had both been ecstatic and absolutely terrified of this. He asked Old Nan of what it may be and he'd been told of men who could change skins and see through many beasts' eyes.

A Warg. That had been the word.

Bran had gone to tell his father about his abilities but merely saw them as the product of the fantastical mind of a child. Hence, why he'd been determined to find that giant wolf he'd dreamt of—a direwolf— lurking in the Wolfswood. He never intended to get lost wandering around the woods until nightfall, trapped in a horrible snow storm.

Catelyn had then been sick with worry for her little boy, begging her husband to go and find him, whatever the cost. But the storm prevented the men to venture out deep into the woods. Ned had wanted to charge out by himself but his men had told him otherwise. There was no way to see in that blizzard, they told him. Bran is a smart boy, he'll survive this. But it was later they discovered that another boy—older and not a Stark though had shared their blood—is missing from the party that came back to the castle after the storm had turned for the worst.

Jon Snow never returned with them, they had later found. He had snuck away from the party and continued the search despite the storm.

Ned had been nearly frantic with both boys out but he knew that he'd be no use charging into this storm and could only hope both boys were true sons of the North and that they will survive it. He had said the same thing to his son, Robb, when he'd caught the boy sneaking about, attempting to do the same.

"HOW CAN YOU LEAVE THEM OUT THERE?" Robb had angrily bellowed when Ned had stopped him.

"Because we'd be no help to them if we die out there ourselves!" Ned roared back. Robb's eyes brimmed with tears, awfully afraid of losing two of his brothers. Ned could only look at him in empathy. He knew what that felt like. Losing the people you love. But this was different. They weren't in the south where Northmen have a habit of dying out. They were here in the North where winters howl and still, they survive. His boys will, too. "Your brothers are smart and they would've found shelter, Robb."

"And what if they haven't?" Robb countered, looking like the boy of four and ten he was.

"They will. They have. They are children of the North. They will survive. I have to believe that."

Ned walked away, finding himself in the crypts below, praying and wondering and fretting.

The next day, the snows nearly buried the castle gates in its thickness. When midday came, the guards saw a little boy running towards the gate and sent for Lord Stark immediately. Bran was met by his mother and father, wrapping him in arms so warm he thought he'd been scalded. He was freezing, they could tell. He wore two coats and one of them was fairly larger than him. Ned instantly knew it was Jon's. Bran's lips were blue, parts of his face, fingers and hair had icicles and frost clinging to him but he was relatively fine. It was Robb who noticed that he had still one brother short and that Bran was squirming around in his mother arms, trying to say something.

"Bran, what is it?" Robb asked.

"J-Jon!" Bran stuttered. "H-He's h-hur-rt b-b-bad-ly!"

"Where is he, Bran?" Ned asked solemnly. Promise me, Ned.

"F-Follow t-that b-bird!" Bran's eyes turned completely white and Catelyn cried out in horror.

A crow squawked above them and it looked too determined for a mere bird. In that moment, Ned believed him. It fluttered around Ned until he nodded and the crow began to fly in the direction of the woods with Ned and Robb and the rest of their men not far behind.

The snow was so thick their horses barely made it through but when they found Jon, a wolf larger than any of their horses guarded him like Jon is her pup.

Not just any wolf. A direwolf, he thought.

She lay down next to the boy as if to keep him warm and had a bulging stomach which, in hindsight, Ned thought the direwolf to be pregnant. But that didn't matter. Not now. Not when Jon was lying down on the ground, unmoving and deathly pale. He looked to be dead already if not for the fact that Robb had gotten off his horse and checked if he was still breathing. The direwolf made no attempt to stop him and Robb didn't seem to notice it, just getting to Jon's side as quickly as he could.

"He's still alive!" He announced with relief.

"Quick, get him to the castle." Ned swooped down from his horse and he and Robb started to carry Jon back to his horse but was stopped when Jon stirred in pain, the unnatural angle of his legs were finally noticed by both Starks. The way he was breathing also hinted some form of pain on his ribs. It would be difficult to bring Jon home now with these injuries and he needed to be brought home. Ned saw signs of hypothermia setting in and he cannot stay in the cold any longer than he already had. The direwolf growled to get their attention, its eyes turning blue like Bran's for a moment, and nuzzled Jon's arm. Ned had an idea.

"Shields! I need your shields and rope!" He ordered.

Minutes later, they had a makeshift sled securely tied to the direwolf. They carefully placed Jon onto the sled and the direwolf sped with all haste back to the castle with Ned and Robb and their men not far behind.

Maester Luwin spent the next few days between nursing Jon and Bran back to health. But it seems that Jon, unlike his brother who's completely on the mend, was taking a turn for the worst.

"It's all my fault. His horse was frightened by the direwolf and he fell off. He broke his legs and his sides, but he gave his coat to me anyway and we took shelter in the trees and he kept me warm through the night. I just wanted to prove that I could actually do it. That I'm a warg. I never meant to get lost." Bran sobbed into his mother's shoulder. Robb looked thunderous but also completely sympathetic and Ned could only consul his son that it wasn't his fault and that Jon would be better. He'll see. But inside, Ned worried.

When his duties permit, he would sit by the boy's side. He was in a precarious state, the maester told them. With his temperature rising as it was, he could die any moment should his fever not break. Ned wanted to see those Stark eyes again that lit so much like his mother's. Sometimes, his children joined him, the most frequent being Arya and Robb. They took turns watching their brother, Ned was sure. Arya went as far as sleeping next to Jon one night. Bran remained confined in his room to rest as well with his mother tending to him. Sansa came only once, to wish her "half-brother" well. Ned had internally sighed on the one-way exchange. Jon slept on, muttering fitfully in his sleep as he dreamt.

On the third night of Ned's vigil, Catelyn sought him out.

"My lord, I bid you to rest." She insisted.

"I will when he wakes." Ned answered. He couldn't sleep knowing that any moment Jon could die. Not until his fever breaks.

"He'll still be here in the morning, Ned."

"I know but I can't leave him."

That seemed to anger her. "He's more important to you than I, your wife?"

"Cat, please—"

"I shan't hear of this! That boy means to you more than your son! Do you even remember Bran, your trueborn son? Who, like him, was lost! And you sit here, by his side!"

"He's my blood."

"Aye. He's your son." She turns to leave and he could no longer take it. Tapping into that well of unknown courage inside of him, he tells his wife the truth.

"He's not my son."

That froze Cat as she reached for the knob. She sharply turns to him and snaps, "What?"

"He's not my son, Cat." Ned whispered but it was clear enough that he knew Cat heard him.

"Ned—"

"I lied to you."

"I don't understand."

"He's not my son, Cat, he's my nephew."

Cat's eyes widened and the blue shone so bright even by just candlelight. She looked away and Ned knew she was trying to piece it all together.

"Is he Brandon's?" She asked almost fearfully.

"No," Ned answered. "He's my sister's."

It took her a moment before what he said sunk in. "He's Rhaegar's so—"

"He's a wolf and he's a Stark." Ned told her firmly. "He's my blood."

Cat swallowed a lump in her throat before her anger bubbled just as he knew it would. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't safe to tell anyone. Even now."

"Then why did you?"

"I don't know."

When she stormed out of the room, he didn't stop her. They didn't speak a word to each other after that.

The week passed by slowly. Jon's fever broke but he was still confined to his bed due to his two broken legs and a few cracked ribs. Ned visited only occasionally as he knew his children were more than happy to keep their brother entertained.

But he isn't their brother, a voice that vaguely sounded like Robert told him in his mind.

He's as good as. He's a Stark and he's part of the pack. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives, a voice that sounded like Lyanna countered.

On the seventh day of their silence, Cat broke it with the most peculiar request that ever came from his wife.

"Make him a Stark."

The statement surprised Ned so much that he could only stare at his wife with his mouth agape. That was not something he had expected her to say. "What?"

"Make him a Stark, Ned. Put him in the last line of succession to our children."

"Cat, you don't have to—"

"But yes, I do." His wife insisted, guilt-ridden and pained. "Family, Duty, Honor. Those were our words. Those were my words and I am shamed to admit I failed in all three."

Ned didn't say anything, sensing his wife had more to say. She sat on a chair, looking out the window of his solar. It was a murky day as it was in Winterfell yet from that window they heard their children's laughter ringing in the air.

"Many years ago, when you brought that baby home, I couldn't bear to look at him. I prayed to the gods to take him away, make him die. He got the pox." Cat told him quietly, her gaze far away into the memory and he could only gape at her in shock. How could she have wished that? The woman he loved was loving, caring, and good. How could she wish that upon an innocent child? And yet he had betrayed her. Not with an act, true. But with lies. "And I knew I was the worst woman who'd ever lived. A murderer. I condemned this poor, innocent child to a horrible death all because I was jealous of his mother, a woman he didn't even know." Ned's eyes brimmed with tears while Cat's own dripped from her cheeks. "So, I prayed to all the Seven gods, let the boy live. Let him live and I'll love him. I'll be a mother to him. I'll beg you to give him a true name, to call him Stark and be done with it. To make him one of us. But I couldn't keep my promise then."

She inhaled shakily and looked him in the eyes. "But I can keep that promise now. Make him a Stark, Ned. Make him one of us. It's all he'd ever wanted, I know that now."

Ned cannot bring himself to speak. He only nodded once, his eyes conveying the thousand gratitude and love he has for her and they knew then, between them, all was forgiven.