Eddard Stark

Late 292AC Winterfell

The arrival of Lord Manderly and his heir, Ser Wylis, and his second son, Ser Wendel, had been long expected. A raven had from White Harbor announcing Ser Wendel's return from Essos. The letter mentioned nothing of Ser Rodrick Cassel, nor the rest of the men Ned had sent from Winterfell in pursuit of Ser Arthur and his nephew. Aemon's existence was far too important to share by letter, but Ned had suspected for weeks they had failed. If not, their letter would have contained an invitation to White Harbor and he and Lyanna would have road down at once.

Instead, he and Lyanna greeted the three men and their small host inside the walls of Winterfell. They had a six man escort whose surcoats and banners were soddened from the wet of the summer snow storm. Ser Wylis and Ser Wendel both rode horses. They were bundled up to their faces, the protective clothing made them appear all the wider. Lord Wyman Manderly was aptly named 'Lord too-fat-to-sit-a-horse', a moniker that was certainly well deserved. His covered carriage was nearly too wide to fit through Winterfell's portcullis.

Ned stood next to his sister as summer snow fell around them. Lyanna's grey eyes were stern. She stood straight-backed her mouth affixed in a flat line. A sword was at her belt and a cloak bearing House Stark's sigil was clasped to her shoulders, hood up. Her hair fell in a long braid down her shoulder. The cold drew a flush from her cheeks.

Despite his sister's stern appearance, Ned could almost see the fear and apprehension that threatened to undue her. Lyanna was a woman of great strength and resolve. She was a Stark of Winterfell, the very embodiment of their late mother's perseverance. Impatience and heartbreak threatened to put that at an end. I promised her that her child would be returned to her nearly a decade ago. Lyanna had never seemed to give up that hope and she had become something of a second mother for his own children. With the hope that perhaps one day her son would find a home with his newly met family.

There was no child that was carried out of the carriage when Lord Wyman fumbled out of its doorway. His bulk was covered in a thick woolen shirt, dyed the same sea green of his house's colors and trimmed with fur. An overcoat was thrown over his shoulders; the rich black fur licked at his heels. It was pinned by a golden trident at his shoulders. He waddled over to Ned and Lyanna. The three Manderly men bowed their heads respectively.

They exchanged greetings and Vayon Poole offered the three visitors bread and salt. Once Guest Rights had been properly adhered to Ned invited the men and his sister back to his solar. Lyanna looked ready to interrogate the three right there in the courtyard. Ned gripped his sister's arm gently and led her in the castle. A glance upwards to his wife's room revealed his lady wife at the window.

Catelyn did not take too well to Ned holding his secrets. She was too observant to not suspect there was some greater reason to this abrupt meeting between he and his Warden of the White Knife. Ned had invented a story of piracy by the denizens that afflicted the Three Sisters, but he knew his wife was unconvinced. Lyanna's coldness and increasing distress was telling, not to mention her presence at a meeting she should very well have no part of. Lying to his wife brought him no pleasure but provided the choice between lying to keep her and their children safe or making her privy to treason, Ned would choose the former every single time.

The day was made dim from the summer snowstorm. Lit candles placed around his solar chased the darkest shadows to the corners of the room. It was only in the brighter light that Ned noticed the stump in place of Ser Wendel's sword hand.

"What happened?" Lyanna questioned. She grabbed his wrist to hold the severed appendage up to her eyes. The stump was wrapped in gauze.

"Ser Arthur," Ser Wendel said gruffly. He snatched his arm away from Lyanna's grip. The knight was not as large as his elder brother nor his father. In fact, the man looked as if he had lost at least two or three stone since Ned had sent first sent him on his mission in the east.

Ned swallowed heavily. "The others?" He asked.

Ser Wendel shook his head. "I am the only one left."

The Lord of Winterfell shared a sigh with his sister. He bid the Manderlys to take their seats. Their conversation paused when Vayon Poole entered the room to serve each of them mulled wine. Ned wet his throat with the drink, Lyanna abstained. Ser Wendel drained his glass entirely. On normal circumstances Ned would have offered the men a meal but the news they held could no longer be delayed.

He nodded at Vayon and bid the man to leave. Only a few seconds after Vayon exited the room Maester Luwin peered in through the doorway. The small grey man was oft at Ned's side when he held conference with his lords. Ned held Luwin's council in the same regard as his wife's or sister's but now was a time for secrecy. Or as much of it that can be maintained. The list of people who knew about Aemon seemed to grow every year. If Ser Arthur had fallen at the tower, we could have held that secret till the end of our days. Now… He clenched his fist.

"My lord?" Maester Luwin questioned. He held up a quill and paper in his wrinkled hands.

Ned shook his head. "That is not necessary Maester Luwin. We require privacy. See to it that no one interrupts us."

Luwin bowed deeply. He tucked his quill and parchment back into his voluminous grey sleeves. "Yes, my lord." The door sealed shut behind him.

"Tell us what happened," Lyanna questioned as soon as the door shut. Her tone was sharp and biting.

Ser Wendel looked to Ned for his permission before speaking. Ned provided him with a nod. The knight cleared his throat. His skin was grey and green and deep dark circles were present under his eyes. He tried to smile at Lyanna, perhaps to placate her but his expression was anything but cheerful. "We found him, my lady. We found your son."

"And you lost him," Lyanna accused. Her grey eyes grew fierce.

Ned squeezed his sister's thigh in an attempt to quell her growing anger. The wolf's blood was strong in his little sister, but her blame would serve no purpose. Ser Wendel's guilt was plain.

"Ser Arthur was too formidable?" Ned guessed. Even a decade after their fight, Ned still had a vivid memory of how formidable Ser Arthur had been with that greatsword in hand. The Sword of the Morning was not one for half measures and protecting Lyanna's son and the boy's claim to the Iron Throne was his sworn duty.

To their surprise, Ser Wendel shook his head. "We caught Ser Arthur by surprise. By the time he knew we there we had already infiltrated their manse and had his sister in our custody. Our big man subdued Ser Arthur but not before he killed two himself. Ser Arthur had four other men protecting them. Two Dornish men and two bodyguards he must have hired in the city-"

"And my son?" Lyanna questioned.

Ser Wendel swallowed heavily. "We had him," he said in a voice as quiet as whisper. "Or we thought we had. The boy we found was plainly a Stark. His face, his eyes were grey, and his hair was dark. We thought he was yours, my lady."

At the Tower of Joy, Ser Arthur had only spared them a single glance at the child. Ned's eyes had nearly been sealed shut, Howland was close to death and Lyanna was bordering delirium from blood loss and stress. She had seen her child for a few seconds, not even allowed to hold him in her arms. It was forgivable that she could not even reliably name his hair color.

"They had a decoy?" Ned questioned. He should have not been surprised that Ser Arthur would such measures in place. If they weren't at odds with one another then Ned might have been impressed.

"Not exactly," Ser Wendel said. He stared directly into Ned's eyes. Ned found all three Manderly men looking at him intently. "The boy was… is a Stark. His mother is Ashara Dayne and his father-"

"Brandon," Lyanna interrupted. When Ser Wendel nodded, her eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

"You did not tell us that you had a nephew. A trueborn son of Brandon Stark nonetheless." Ned could hear the accusation in Ser Wylis' voice.

Ned glared at the man. "You think I knew? My brother marched to King's Landing and died watching our father burned alive. If I had known he had a son…"

"He has a better claim to Winterfell and the North than you or your children," Ser Wendel said. The words hung in the air for a moment. "Ser Arthur said he was part of the reason why you sent us. To protect your own claim."

Ned felt his anger rise but it was Lyanna who spoke for him. The she-wolf's ire was plain. "Ser Arthur is a man who stole my only son. I never held him in my arms. Never had the chance to because of Ser Arthur. If you believe that man over the lord who has ruled the North fairly for a decade then you are all fools. Ned would never act against Brandon's son. Never."

The three Manderlys shifted uncomfortably under Lyanna's stern gaze. It was Lord Manderly who spoke. "Please forgive us Lady Stark. We had to be sure. But you need to understand, Brandon's son's existence changes everything in the North. Ser Arthur will ensure it."

Ned's heart hammered in his chest. He felt short of breath and stalled for a moment to take a long draught from his goblet. Lyanna squeezed his leg. When he set his goblet down his resolve was stronger. "Ser Arthur will not need to plot. Winterfell belongs to Brandon's son." A bitter chuckle left his throat. "By the Old Gods… I don't even know his name." His hand shook. "He can marry Sansa or Arya and we will unite their claims." How could he explain this to Catelyn or his son? Robb… Will the boys get on with each other? Ned had been born a second son and had known from birth that his place was to support his elder brother… but Robb. Robb is a firstborn. Even this young and he will know his claim to Winterfell was taken away from him.

A grimace appeared on Ser Wendel's face. "His name is Rickard, my lord and I wish that were possible."

Ned hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"We had them. Ser Arthur and his men were subdued. Ser Rodrick ordered Lady Ashara and her son to be taken to our ship and then we would deal with Ser Arthur and his knights." He looked to Lyanna. "And then your son appeared. A full Targaryen that one. Silver-hair and all." A look of abject horror came on his face. "I have no idea how, but I watched that child kill a man with his mind. He made him bite out his own tongue. How can you explain that?"

Lyanna shook her head in denial. "You're making a mistake. That is impossible."

"I saw it with my own eyes. The boy is a demon," Ser Wendel said with great conviction. "Whatever he did gave Ser Arthur enough time to turn our man against us. Ser Arthur cut off my hand. He is the finest swordsman I have ever seen, and he is angry. Livid." He shook his head in disbelief. "We killed his sister, Ned. His nephew lost an eye. Arthur has promised his vengeance and he means to take the North from you."

Ned could not believe the words. How did this all go wrong? The more Ser Wendel spoke, the greater Ned's dread became. My brother's wife… His son. "I-" The words stilled in his throat.

Lyanna remained stubborn. "We can fix this, Ned." She gripped his arm tightly. "Declare the North for Aemon. Marry him to Sansa and Arya to Brandon's boy." Her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

Lord Wyman cleared his throat. "Respectfully my lord that would be most unwise." He was unperturbed by Lyanna's fierce scowl. "The North fought to overthrow the Targaryens. We fought to liberate Lady Lyanna from Prince Rhaegar. Your Lord father and brother were burned alive by the boy's grandfather. For your Bannermen to discover that the story they heard… the story that prompted them to go to war for is all a lie… it would be devastating. And then you would ask them to fight for a Targaryen nonetheless…" When he swallowed his jowls jiggled and swayed.

Ser Wylis added onto his father's commentary. "House Manderly will remain loyal to the Lord of Winterfell to the very end, but my father speaks truly. You know as well as I that men of the North are stubborn. We fought to end the Targaryens and if you were to ask your lords, many who had fond memories of Lord Rickard and your brother Brandon to fight for Rhaegar's son then it would be tantamount to spitting on the memory of all who sacrificed themselves in the Rebellion."

"My son is just as much as a Stark as he is a Targaryen," Lyanna all but growled.

"You may have birthed him my lady, but the boy knows Ser Arthur as his father. The Sword of the Morning is raising him to be a dragon. A dragon who has every reason now to hate the North." Lord Manderly's look was full of sympathy. He turned to Ned. "I doubt this needs to be said but you must act from a position of strength. Ser Arthur fully intends to use your nephew's identity to undermine your rule over the North. It is only a matter of time before word of Brandon's son's existence reaches the other lords." The chair beneath him groaned under his weight as he leaned forward. "Frame the narrative before others can frame their own."

There was a pause in their conversation as the five of them considered the Lord of White Harbor's words. "You mean for me to name Rickard a bastard?" Ned questioned.

Wyman nodded carefully. "Did they even have a septon to recite their vows? And I doubt the Mad King allowed your brother to swear himself to Lady Ashara before a heart tree. My son says he looks like a Stark, but we all knew your brother's nature. He could just as likely be a Sand and this is some ploy concocted by Ser Arthur. Whatever the case, the Lords of the North need to have complete confidence in their Warden. You were born in Winterfell, your sons raised here, and have you ruled us justly since your father was taken before his time. Remind them of that. Even the most contentious will see reason."

Lyanna shook her head. She remained stubborn as ever. "Ned remember what father would always say, 'the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.' They are Starks just like you and I. Your children's family nonetheless."

Her words filtered into his ear. Starks raised by Daynes. He remembered his first sight of Lady Ashara at Harrenhal. Even to this day he had never met a woman half as lovely as that violet-eyed beauty. Ned had been too shy to approach her, and it fell to his brother to make the introductions. Perhaps part of him should have been angry that Brandon had taken her for himself, but it had been years and his affection had waned with the ebb of time. May she find peace in death. "You said Ser Arthur promised vengeance. I imagine that is why he let you live?" He directed to Ser Wendel. The knight nodded. "What were his exact words?"

"He promised to burn Winterfell to the ground and rebuild it on your ashes," Ser Wendel answered in a solemn voice. His shoulders slumped. "That was no empty boast, my lord. It was a promise of events to come. Of that I am sure."

Ned nodded woodenly. He turned to Lyanna. "My ashes and that of my sons, my daughters, my wife and perhaps even yours Lyanna. Ser Arthur is not a man that can be reasoned with. Not now. Not ever. And he is the type of man whose threats I do not take lightly. He is determined to be my enemy and use my own blood against me to do so."

"You made a promise," Lyanna pleaded.

"I need to protect my family, Lyanna," Ned explained. It would only be a matter of time until Arthur pressed Aemon's claim. The North and his family needed to be ready to weather that storm. Whose fury will be greater, Ser Arthur's or Robert's? Somehow the former filled him with more dread than the latter. Now not one but two nephews sworn against his family. A War of the Wolves.

He was not surprised when Lyanna abruptly left the room in a cold fury. Alone with the Manderlys, Ned discussed the North's future. By tomorrow ravens would fly and bear the news of Brandon's bastard and the boy's ambitious uncle. His eyes grew heavy and he called a servant to see the men to their rooms. Rather than retire to his own chambers, Ned found himself outside Cat's.

His wife answered after the third knock. She wore a simple white sleeping slip and her auburn hair was done up in a bun she only wore when preparing to sleep. Her vivid blue eyes were filled with concern and question. She is so beautiful. Even near a decade after their union there were times Ned did not feel worthy of her. She was intended for Brandon. There were times Ned looked at his four beautiful children his wife had given him and wondered if his brother's life was the price for his happiness.

"Ned?" Catelyn questioned. A sudden flood of emotion came over him and Ned pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her fiercely. Cat was shocked at first but returned his kiss after a moment's hesitation. "What has gotten into you?" She asked with a laugh after they parted.

Ned tried to return her smile but failed. "My lady, there is something I need to tell you." She was just a stranger to him when they said their vows and when they met in their marriage bed. A stranger when she placed their firstborn child in his arms. A stranger when he brought his sister back to the North. A stranger no longer.

She needs to know my treason. For it is now her own. May the gods forgive me.