Eddard

The morning had dawned clear and cold, but that meant nothing. Here in the north it was always cold. The day they carried his mother down into the crypts his father had told him that winters were hard, but that Starks would endure. As they always had. As he would now. The wagons that carried the bodies had become fewer as they had come north. As house after house had taken their dead to bury. Now only his own remained. A scorched carcass hidden beneath a cloak, a blue headed corpse marked by torture and a girl with skin as white as the snow they used to play in.
He was awakened from his thoughts by the cry of a crow overhead. An arrow had just barely missed the animal, but instead of hastening away it continued to follow the convoy, albey at a farther distance.
"It is bad luck to shoot a crow at a day of burial, crannogman." He heard Rodrik Cassel chide the archer.
"Aye," a silent voice replied. "But I do not like the look of that bird. I feel watched."
Eddard turned to consider his host. How pathetic they had to look to the inhabitants of the castle compared to the proud man that had ridden out at a time that seemed like a lifetime ago. So many had died. In his mind he recalled the men and memories he had left south. The boastful William Dustin, Ethan Glover arising from the black cells, Martyn Cassel hugging his miraculously alive brother, Theo Wull trying to woo a girl at Stoney Sept and Mark Ryswell looking in wonder at the beauty of the mountains of Dorne. He had vowed to never forget their faces, but when he had returned Lord Dustin's stallion to his widow he had already felt their faces fade from his memory. And had it not been for Howland then he would have fallen in front of that cursed tower too. But Ser Rodrik was right.
"Lord Reed stay your bow. I will have no bloodshed of any kind today. Put your arms to better use and fetch my… son." The crannogmen nodded in reply, before turning his horse around. Eddard followed him with his eyes before turning to Ser Rodrik.
"My lord, if I may?" Eddard had seen the knight's heart break when he heard of his brother's death. He was old now. "It may not be the best decision to introduce a bastard into your own house. Especially your wife could take it as an insult. Many houses would be honored to foster him for you. You could even visit him as often as you like."
Eddard shook his head no. "He is of my blood. The blood of Brandon the builder. He will live in the halls my ancestor built." Just in that moment the clouds broke up. The sunbeams washed over the land until they found what they sought. A castle made of stone, bigger than any other in the north, testament to the will of the first men. "Winterfell." Eddard whispered. He spurred his horse on. Finally he was home.

They rode into a dead castle. The news of the war and his failure had reached Winterfell long before him. As his eyes drifted from one face to the other he saw the grief that he and all of them shared. Not one cheered for their lord's return. All eyes were fixed on the carriage behind him where the woman whose beauty had caused Lords to go to war was laid out for all to see. The only noise was the weeping of old Nan. As his men filled the courtyard behind him Eddard lead his horse to where Maester Luwin, his father's trusted stood to welcome him. Next to him stood the girl who should have been his brother's wife, but had now become his.
As he dismounted the old man began to speak. "Welcome back, my Lord. Know that the entire north shares your pain. The old gods in the forest must be weeping along with all of us." A Luwin's aged face was testament to the sincerity of his grief. "Thank you, Maester. I know how much you all loved them. I wish I could have at least brought her back alive."
Now his wife stepped forward. She was carrying a bundle in her arms. "You fought well and true my husband. There is nothing you could have done. The gods give and take and it is not ours to judge. But we all know that none loved her more than you. Even the gods must have known, for they have not only taken from you. They only gave to you. They have blessed you, blessed us,with this gift" She raised the bundle she held and carefully gave it to him.
Ned stood stunned as he looked at the little face that peaked out of the blankets. The kid had its mother's auburn hair and her souther look, but its eyes, the eyes were as grey as…
He asked the question even though he knew the answer. "Is it a boy or …?"
"A girl my love." Catelyn seemed to hesitate before adding: "I am sorry that I could not provide you with a suitable heir."
Eddard looked up at her. "Nonsense. Do I have other children?" Just then Howland Reed entered the castle carrying an almost identical bundle in his arms. Catelyn bit her lips. Careful not to hurt the child her embraced he kissed his wife. He turned to the people assembled in the courtyard. "Do I have any other children by my beloved wife?" Ned repeated loudly. He raised the kid into the air. "This girl is my daughter. My beloved daughter Anna." He lowered her again and looked her into the eyes again.
"How do you like that name, little one?"
And thus a little girl returned laughter to Winterfell.