Ned
He looked between the pile of missives that he had received since arriving back from his journey north. Initially, the purpose of his to the mill at the beginning of the river flowed past Winterfell, but soon he heard word that the Whitehills and Forresters had amassed forces and were gathering to shed blood.
It had been frustrating to have to get involved, but apparently, Asher Forrester, who had only been in Winterfell a few weeks prior, had become intimately involved with Gwyn Whitehill. Worse, the two decided on a convoluted escape plan that had failed miserably. Asher had already left, but Gwyn was caught trying to flee and withheld for a time, but eventually told the truth.
Instead of just marrying the two like any pair of sane houses would do, these two, being who they are and what they mean to each other, tried to escalate to war.
Which meant Ned handled it personally, which involved gathering both Gregor and Ludd at the Tumbledown tower. Three weeks of vile insults and accusations slowly simmered to a heated negotiation. It ended in Gregor granting permission for half an acres worth of Ironwood and the exile of Asher from the North for no less than six years.
As with all compromises, no one was happy, but it had avoided bloodshed, for now.
Instead of accomplishing a simple goal of inspecting a mill and being gone for three days, it took three weeks of his time to settle this mess.
Even worse, it seemed that the letters he had been waiting for had arrived when he had been gone. Ned rubbed his head as he got through the first bit. The number of soldiers who arrived at White Harbor with the Northern and Braavosi retinue was fewer than he wanted, but it had been enough to set sail. Word came that the first group of galleys had docked at Dragonstone. However, Ned had been waiting to hear if they had set sail with the smaller fleet for the probing attacks.
Ned scratched his beard; it was long now, too long. Usually, Cat would remind him to trim it, but they had not been with each other very often. Even though the number of other noblemen had dwindled, he was kept too busy working to spend significant time with his family.
Harmond Umber, dejected at being denied the chance to fight, left with Benjen to travel to Last Hearth but promised that he would return once he had spoken with his father, which was nearly two months ago but the lad should be back at any time. Eddard Karstark and Robar Royce were the only ones who were allowed to leave with Wendell Manderly and two hundred Stark-men under Alyn's command. Fifty Cerwyns joined them under Kyle Condon, and thirty men of Lord Beylen's under the leadership of the old coot himself. It only served to stress Ned even more as the old man had no heirs, and if he died fighting bloody pirates, it would cause Ned an even bigger headache.
Robb had been gone for two months almost three, and with him, he took his own retinue. Rodrik Forrester, Arthur Glenmore, and Theon Greyjoy had all left with him with former Night's Watch recruits and another forty of his household guard. Cat had pushed back vehemently, saying Robb needed at least a hundred, but Ned talked her down to forty. With his departure it now meant that the number of men within Winterfell was nearly a quarter of what it had been even a year ago. Some had left to make extra gold working at lumber mills, some went to fight in the Stepstones, and then the others went with his son.
Still, Ned held the missive delivered by a courier from Robb. His son must have arrived where the shipyards were being built at the mouth of Torrhen's River.
Father,
As I stated in my previous letter, Torrhen's River is suitable to float timber down, but it must be done slowly and only in a trickle. From what I understand, that may be advantageous for now, as I will speak on in a bit. The master shipwright from White Harbor and two of the journeymen who traveled with us from Torrhen's Square have already marked the trees they need and found that the locations for the dry docks are suitable, but the work is slow so far.
Many of the men that have found their way here are eager but unskilled. The Master Builder says that is fine for now as the work isn't complicated yet, but the shipwrights say this will cause ship production when the dry docks are complete to go much slower than planned. They are both complaining that it will take a couple of years for this group of men to be skilled enough to be considered simple apprentices, let alone journeymen.
On top of the problem with the lack of men, food here is sub-par, and many of them still live in tents.
More so, by the time the dry docks have been dug, we will need more stonemasons, blacksmiths, coopers, ropers, sailmakers, and more. Not to mention sailors to sail the ships.
I am doing what I can, but I can see that this place will become an essential place for the North and potentially another real town and, in time, a city. I believe we need to treat it as such and plan for that eventuality. As such, we need more gold, more builders and in general, more men and from what the village elder has stated, more women for those men.
I have yet to meet Ser Sift to deliver your message, but I have sent a courier for him because I have promised a small layman's tournament when the first three dry docks have been dug and lined with stone. I have pledged some prize money for the ten winners to try and improve morale.
I will be here for another month or so, but I believe we need someone we trust to oversee the construction and ensure that it is done correctly.
Robb Stark
Ned smiled at the discomforting words. It should have stressed him more, as the news was not quite what he wanted to hear, but truthfully, he was glad to hear of Robb's intuition and initiative.
Still, the lack of overall workers and further lack of skilled workers made him nervous. With the twenty he had sent with Robb, there should be close to a hundred and thirty laborers working, and the lack of progress irked him. He needed more men, and then he would need more women, which would bring children who would need…Ned shook his head clear to stop the train of thought.
One step at a time. Ned looked at the missive from Wyman Manderly. Ned's plan for trying to lure Duskendale's skilled craftsmen away probably wouldn't work. So he had to plan accordingly as he was desperate to continue to move his projects forward.
Ned sat down and wrote the missive.
Lord Manderly,
It seems that our project in the west goes slower than we would have wished.
When the business on the Stepstones is complete, have your son set sail and arrive in King's Landing, send men through the city looking for those that need work and have some sort of skill. Then have him stop in Gulltown. Have him speak to his good father again and do the same—journeymen preferably, with the promise of steady pay. However, if we can only have apprentices, so be it.
-Eddard Stark,
Lord Paramount of the North and the Stark of Winterfell
Ned looked at it and shook his head. Coin was becoming less of an issue for House Stark as what they were receiving from Braavos for the medicine and timber shipments was starting to become staggering. Ned had even tried to send more supplies to Howland, hoping to hear from his friend again but true to his word as ever the crannogman was silent.
Ned took a breath, he knew he could pay more for men to work at the dry docks, lure away some farmers and fishermen, but Wyman and Luwin dissuaded him initially as they worried it would draw too many to abandon their work. This might cause a shortage of food in the next winter, causing them to spend even more than usual on shipments from the Reach to survive.
Ned sighed, he would hate to do it, but he may not have a choice as these dry docks and harbor needed to be completed with a complement of ships sent out before winter and the entire north ground to a halt. Worse, The dry docks weren't finished yet, and Ned was eager to focus the men on building the harbor itself. Ned knew that he wouldn't have to make a decision quite so soon, but the window was shrinking. Maybe after the next harvest. It would give him a few months at the very least.
Ned noticed two letters, one with the sigil of a Stag and another with a Falcon sigil. Ned sat back in his chair. He had received only one from Jon Arryn after Jon's disappearance with his condolences, and Ned had torn that into shreds, and never responded. There had been no word from Robert, so Ned could only stare at the letter with the Baratheon stag. He reached down and broke the wax seal and was disappointed as he read.
Lord Stark,
Word has reached us at Dragonstone from captains of Salladhor Saan that the Volantene never united with the Redwyne Fleet off the coast of Dorne. They have instead to decided to start their attack of the Stepstones on their own.
The rest of the Braavosi Fleet that was supposed to join the eight ships we have with us have decided to directly engage the other Stepstones without coming here.
Lord Wendell Manderly has agreed to leave with the eight Braavosi ships here while I need him to join the Royal Fleet as we've only received six-tenths of what was expected. He will be here for another four days. Please respond with orders to follow my lead.
Stannis Baratheon
Lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships
Ned felt the pang of disappointment and threw the paper into the fire. His friend for so long, yet he heard more from the taciturn brother.
Still, now Ned received why there was no update from Wendell himself. Nothing he wrote now would get there in time to make a difference, but even if it could, Ned didn't think he would.
Still, they expect a response.
Ned wrote a quick note and sealed it. Then he reached for the other one and cracked the seal.
Lord Stark,
Ned,
I have received word that the Braavosi, who you've generously allowed to distribute your most valuable good, has been increasing the price at a few ports to an absurd level. Braavosi has always been difficult merchants, but the price increase is causing the rest of the goods being sold to these ports to increase in price. Simply put, this has caused issues in the flow of goods, and thus, taxes have started to decrease.
There are proposals of imposing tariffs on any Braavosi vessels in the crownlands, which would cause issues with the Iron Bank. Please, Ned, speak to-
Ned didn't finish reading, threw it to the flames. Ned took a piece of parchment and wrote three words, folded the parchment, poured the wax, and harshly stamped the snarling Direwolf.
He opened his mouth to call for Luwin, but it was midday, and Ned hadn't left his solar since he woke this morning, so he decided to stretch his legs.
Ned left the solar with Harwin, his guard for the day, and started to make his way to the Maester's Quarters underneath the Rookery. Ned decided to take a detour to the armory, to catch a glimpse of Bran, Beren and Rickon training. He passed through the covered bridge just in time to see Bran get the better of Beren and the Tallhart boy's sword fell to the dirt with a clang.
Ned smiled at the success, "Well done, Bran." Bran whirled around to see him, and his son's face light up with his approval. Rickon was busy swinging a smaller wooden sword at a straw dummy, who also stopped to look at him.
His youngest raised his sword, "See how I hit it, father!"
Ned smiled again, "Aye, a strong strike son, better than I at your age." Rickon smiled as well, and Ned decided to move on when he saw Arya, in a grey dress bolt out of the keep and head towards Godswood with something in her hand.
Septa Mordane was rushing after her nearly shouting about acting a proper lady and something about how you treat family, and Ned could see Sansa rubbing her cheek. His eldest daughter yelled, "You are a horrible little toad!"
Arya stopped briefly and turned around and shouted, "I HATE YOU!" Then cuffed her eyes and turned to flee again.
Ned was confused but roared out, "Enough!" Both of his girls noticed him then.
Sansa just flinched in surprise and squeaked "Father," while Arya turned and just ran faster and was soon out of the keep, and Ned knew she would hide somewhere in the godswood amongst the trees. Ned made his way down to the yard, and when he finally did, Cat was already there consoling Sansa.
"What happened?" Ned demanded, and Sansa was about to speak when Septa Mordane interjected.
"I apologize, my Lord, Lady Sansa caught Arya with a guardsmen's knife, dull, but a knife nonetheless. When Lady Sansa informed me I demanded the weapon from Arya, the young lady got angry, which I reprimanded her for. Then Lady Sansa made a remark about manners, and Arya struck her with her palm and ran off."
When she finished, Ned looked at Cat whose eyes were wide, "You said she had a knife?" Mordane nodded, "Where did she get the knife?"
"I didn't have time to ask."
Cat turned to him, "Ned, enough is enough, Arya needs more discipline, she had been unruly since White Harbor."
"I had no idea she had been carrying a knife..." Ned muttered to himself, half ignoring what his wife said.
Cat gave him an incredulous look, "If you would spend more than a moment with your children every couple days."
Ned flinched back to look at his wife, "Pardon?"
"You heard me, Lord Stark," Cat responded coolly and took Sansa's hand and started to pull her away.
Ned chose not to engage and turned to the Godswood, "I'll speak with Arya."
"As you should, Ned," Cat said, and Ned bit his tongue and left.
Ned entered the Godswood and started shouting for Arya. Ned finally made it to the Weirwood and sat down and yelled, "Arya, come to me now!"
Still, Arya didn't come, and Ned shouted something else, "Arya Stark, this is enough, come speak to me now!"
Ned sat there, staring into the black pool and the foot of the tree and put his head in his hands and remembered the missive he needed to send. Ned rubbed his temples. I need to leave and take care of this. But Ned stopped himself. No, right this with Arya, first I've put this off for too long. He had so much to do, and there wasn't enough time to accomplish what needed to be finished— Cat's right. Ned didn't like the taste of this truth, but he had pushed his children away from his attention.
Ned caught the patter of small feet as they crossed over the dead leaves that littered the godswood. Arya was there, her head was down, and Ned heard the little sniffles. His daughter was holding an older dagger, with a worn handle, and Ned noticed it was a hunting dagger, not just any hunting dagger but the one he had gifted Jon on his ninth nameday. Jon had received a new one a couple years back, he had thought Jon discarded the old one.
"Where did you get it?" Ned asked. Arya mumbled something, and Ned gave her a pointed look, "Speak up and look me in the eye."
Arya did so, "It was in J-," She stopped, "It was in Jon's old room."
Ned was a little surprised that no one had touched his son's quarters, but no one had wanted to offend Ned, so it stood to reason Jon's things were still there. Still, Arya shouldn't have something so dangerous. "Arya, why do you need Jon's dagger? Is it because you miss him?"
Arya shook her head. Ned was a little confused. Why in the wo-, Arya interrupted his thoughts, "I'm scared."
"What? Scared, why are you scared?"
Arya lips quivered, "I, I saw Ella." She took a sharp intake, "And Jon...Jon isn't here, and no one loves me anymore, and no one will protect me…"
Ned felt his heart shatter, and he scoped up his little girl into his arms and held her tight as she sobbed into his cloak, "Oh Arya, my sweet little wolf, I love you and so does your mother, your brothers and even Sansa."
Arya separated and shook her head. "Mother hates me, and Sansa thinks I'm a demon with a horse face who is too ugly to ever marry. Not that I want to!" Arya said quickly, but Ned just smiled.
"You remind me so much of my sister," Ned said.
Arya frowned, "They say she was a great beauty."
"Aye, and you are her spitting image when she was her age."
Arya scrunched her face and cuffed at her eyes, Ned reached for the dagger in her hand, but she took a step back. "No! I need it!"
"Arya, you do not need a dagger. The guards will protect you here. You are safe, I promise you."
Arya wasn't convinced, "There were guards in White Harbor, and Ella still got hurt bad."
"No one would think to harm you, Arya, you are the daughter of House Stark."
"So was Aunt Lyanna! She couldn't defend herself!" Ned felt a blow and staggered back away from Arya, who looked wide-eyed in terror for what she had just said. "Father, I'm sorry."
Ned held up a hand, "No, no, it's okay." Ned knew the truth, but that didn't matter here, it didn't matter now. It didn't matter when it was Lord Umber's wife and daughters, and it had not mattered when it happened to a thousand other daughters, highborn or not.
His daughter was scared, felt powerless, and alone for doing precisely what Lyanna had wanted to do. Arya was holding the dagger out to him, and Ned shook his head, knowing this would cause more trouble between him and his wife.
Ned took the dagger from Arya, looked it over and smiled sadly, then handed it back. Arya's eyebrows shot up. "Keep it, I think Jon would have wanted you to have it." Arya's eyes started to water again at that proclamation, "and since you're keeping it, you'll need someone to teach you how to use it."
Arya's watery smile turned into pure joy and wrapped her arms around Ned's neck again, and Ned just held her there for a long moment.
Arya leaped off him, but Ned held her arm in place and put on a solemn face and matched it with his tone. "However, if you ever brandish that dagger on anyone again, I will take this away from you, and if you ever hit your sister again, you will lose these privileges for a year. You could have seriously hurt yourself or someone else, do I make myself clear?"
Arya scrunched her face and didn't move then blurted out, "She was saying things about Jon!"
"What things?"
Arya's face reddened and scowled, "She said Jon might be in the seven hells."
"What?" Ned bellowed so loud Arya stepped back. "I will speak to her. Regardless, you should not hit your sister."
"But!"
"But nothing, if you hear any more of this, you come to me directly or when Robb returns to him." Arya didn't look happy but nodded, and Ned hugged her and kissed the top of her head. "I'll speak to Rodrik and your mother about real weapons training, but you will still be expected to take part in your other lessons."
"Why?"
"Because I said so, Arya Stark, now run along to Mikken and tell him you need a new sheath for your dagger," Arya was caught between being frustrated and happy as she walked with a little force out of the godswood.
Ned looked up to the heart tree, sent out a silent prayer, and left to find Sansa.
Sansa was sitting with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, speaking on something to do with overseeing household duties.
"Septa, Jeyne, please leave me alone with Sansa."
"Yes, my lord," They both said, and Ned noticed the look between Sansa and the Septa.
Ned sat down, "I just spoke with Arya, she told me why she hit you."
Sansa paled, but tried to keep her composure, "She's lying!"
"I haven't told you what she told me, how would you know it's a lie?" Sansa paled further, and Ned gave her a disappointed look and shook his head. "Jon was your brother, why would you say this?"
Sansa didn't meet his eyes, "He hurt a knight. Knights are anointed by the gods to protect ladies, and he hurt one badly. He was a ba-" Young, but not completely stupid Sansa stopped, "naturally born and turned away from the Seven, so it is his punishment after he-" Sansa trailed off, never finishing the sentence.
Ned felt his face flush with anger, "Who told you this? These foul lies about your own brother? And you believed them?" Ned knew it was unfair, Sansa was a child and was prone to believe whatever is told to them by those they trust.
Ned felt a pit in his stomach, those she could trust. It was either Septa Mordane or her mother. Others take me, please let it be the former.
Sansa was starting to cry, and Ned grabbed her daughter's chin and looked her in the eye, "Listen to me Sansa, I can't tell you exactly what happened but know this, your brother sacrificed more than anyone could save Ella Hornwood from a worse fate. That man may be a knight, but all knights are not what they are supposed to be. He's... Jon's...gone, and all we have are our memories of him. All Arya has are memories of him, please don't tarnish something so precious to her." Sansa looked down to her lap as tears fell, staining her embroidery.
Ned took a deep breath and pushed on, "Now tell me who you heard these things from." When Sansa wiped her eyes with her kerchief and stayed, silent Ned shook his head, "If you refuse to speak on it to protect someone, that is commendable. However, know that if you don't tell me, I'll have you work as a washerwoman for three months." Sansa, red-eyed and pale, was scandalized at such a harsh punishment.
"Septa Mordane," she said, and Ned nodded, fighting his anger and his relief.
"Good, now listen to me well, Sansa. Jon may have only been your half-brother. He may have been a bastard, but he was our blood, and I know you know he was a good person." Sansa looked down, but Ned continued, "He would forgive you for your words." Sansa looked up at him, and Ned realized how much Arya and Sansa were alike. Ned took a deep breath, "However, I do not. If you repeat the servant's gossip, then you will be treated as such."
"But you said if I told you-"
"It wouldn't be for three months. Instead, it will be two weeks, so let this be a lesson to you. Now, go along Sansa," she did so, but Ned knew his daughter was on the verge of tears as she fled. Then Ned heard the quiet sobs echo through the stone halls of Winterfell.
However, at that moment, Ned didn't care, "Harwin."
"Yes, milord?"
"Find Septa Mordane and Septon Chayle and bring them to the sept."
"Yes, milord."
Ned got up and headed to the small seven-sided building. Ned rarely thought about the sept, it was peculiar that any religion would require a building to worship, but it made his wife happy. Still, he had taken steps to limit its influence within Winterfell's walls to his wife, his children, the Septa and the Septon. Maybe I should have done more.
He only entered the sept on rare occasions, usually searching for his wife or daughter. As expected, it was empty when he arrived, and Ned took a moment to really study the seven gods.
Compared to the Great Sept of White Harbor, it was sparse but well built, and Ned could see the additions and repairs that had been made over the past few years. The small foot and half sculptures of the seven gods that Ned had purchased for his wife's twenty-fifth nameday stood there, examining him. He smiled at the memory of her receiving them and frowned at how unobtainable that happiness now seemed. Ned touched the Father's face. One thing I do wish the Old Gods gave was a little more direct guidance. Ned withdrew from the statue of the Father like it burned him and looked around.
The door opened, and Septa Mordane and Septon Chayle entered in with Harwin, and to Ned's surprise, his wife joined them as well. When they were all comfortable, Ned nodded to Harwin, who nodded back and left to close the doors and to make sure no one else entered, and that no one else withdrew until he said so.
Ned looked at all three of them, "Do you know how long the Faith of the Seven has tried to come to Winterfell?" All three looked confused at the question, so Ned continued, "Do you know how often Andals have come to the North to try and violently impose their religion on my people?" They all looked down, and Ned's voice started to carry, "Do you know what I asked of the North to allow this sept to be built not only near Winterfell but within its walls? The scorn and goodwill that I had to fight to regain with my lords to allow this here? All as a comfort to my new wife!?" Ned was yelling by the end of it, and all their faces were pale now.
Septon Chayle, with his young face and usually cheerful demeanor, struggled to keep the fear from showing. "Lord Stark, we have always been grateful for the oppur-" Ned glared at the man, and the words died in his throat.
Cat's paleness was starting to fade, but she remained silent as Ned began again, "Septa Mordane," the septa looked up to him, "I allowed my wife to bring you into our home, to teach our daughters in the same way she was. I allowed this."
Septa Mordane tried to speak, "Lord Stark I re-"
Ned raised his hand, "My son Jon was a bastard, he was my mistake. But he was my child and my duty. I chose to raise him here, in these walls, because men of the House Stark do not run from their duty." Cat's face scrunched together at the remark.
Chayle spoke, "He was always courteous to me when we crossed paths."
Ned looked at the man, surprised, "Aye, he was a good lad. A good lad who I was forced to exile because of the faith. A faith that has poisoned the world against children born with no say in their status!" Ned barked out the last portion. "I am telling you as your Lord, that my son was innocent of any crime and defended a young woman from being raped. From a man, may I add, that was one of your fucking anointed knights!" They all flinched at the profanity.
"My son-" Ned choked out, "My son is probably dead, his body somewhere in the Narrow Sea. His brothers and sisters will never see their brother again. I have to carry that guilt for the rest of my life." Ned quieted at that, then locked eyes, scowling at Septa Mordane. "Then I hear that one of my daughters, Sansa, told Arya that her brother may be burning in one of the Seven Hells? My daughter!?" Septon Chayle gasped in shock, and Cat's eyes widened in surprise as well. The Septa was deathly pale as Ned continued, "I know you told her that Septa. I am asking you now to let me know if the Septon whispered these vile things to poison my daughter's thoughts."
Chayle tried to get a word in, "Lord Stark I would never-"
"It is not your turn to speak Septon, interrupt me again, and I will have your tongue."
Septa Mordane looked to the ground, then quickly at Cat than to Chayle. Septa Mordane spoke then, with a resolve that was echoed in her features, "The Septon had no need to tell me what I know to be true in my heart. Bastards are born to lust after what they do not have, and when they do not turn to the true gods, they burn where they should." Ned's grip turned his knuckles white, and the Septa's words shocked Chayle, and even Catelyn looked horrified at the brazen proclamation to her liege lord. The Warden of the North. The Stark of Winterfell. If this was not happening to him, Ned would almost admire the impertinence.
But it was happening to him, and Ned's anger came from somewhere deep within him, and it took every ounce of self-control not to kill this woman in front of him. "I appreciate that you are forthright with what is in your black and malevolent heart. You are hereby banished from Winterfell and banished from the North, you leave immediately and with no aide from me and mine. If I see you any time after this or if you step foot in the North again, I will have you hanged."
"Ned!" Catelyn shouted.
"Lord Stark!" Chayle said at the same time.
Ned whirled onto the Septon, "If you speak one more word on this Septon, I swear to my gods and yours that I will burn this sept and ensure that the faith is banned from the entire North outside of the walls of White Harbor."
"Ned!" Cat nearly was wailing, "You can't do this."
"No!" Ned roared, "What I cannot do is sit by why your faith and their practitioners poison my children against one another! That is where the line is drawn." Ned stared at the Septon who was visibly shaking in fear, "Chayle, I have always liked you, but if I hear you say any of those vile things about Jon to my children or anyone else I will follow through with my threat." Septa Mordane stared in silent horror at her former Lord who spoke this way, "I told you to leave, now!" Mordane bolted from the sept, and Chayle followed behind her.
Soon it was just him and Cat who was now staring at him with something akin to when he had brought Jon home for the first time.
"How could you, Ned? Septa Mordane was good for our daughters and did her duty well in shaping them into proper women, proper ladies to that will run strong households."
"Do you know what Arya said when I found her in the godswood?" Cat didn't say anything, so Ned continued, "She told me no one would protect her from danger because the only one, the only person that truly loved her, was dead." Cat's face fell, and tears started to form. "Aye, I know, so continue to tell me that Septa Mordane fulfilled her duty. Tell me that we haven't failed in ours to love both our daughters."
Cat's eyes were starting to overflow "I have been with them and raised them from the time they were born, you are the absent one. You have hardly spent time with them, hardly raised them at all!"
"I know!" Ned bellowed so loud it echoed. "I know," he repeated softly, "Gods above, I have become my father." Ned sat silently, "We both need to be better, Cat."
Ned looked up to see her staring at him, "The girls need a septa."
Ned shook his head, "They need a governess, and I promise you she will not be a Septa." Catelyn scoffed in disbelief through her tears, but Ned continued to press, "You can select whomever you want, and I will bring them here so we can speak with them in person before we decide anything."
"Why do you hate the Seven so much? Is it because of her?"
Ned looked up, confused, "Arya?"
"No. Jon's mother. Is your hate for them to assuage your guilt for loving another woman more than your wife." Ned put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples in frustration.
"Guilt," Ned said quietly. He then stood, "Guilt is all I have ever felt. Guilt that you were to be my brother's bride, guilt that I can't seem to save any of my family, guilt every time I see how you treated Jon."
"You expected me to treat him as one of my own?" Cat said with disbelief.
Ned shook his head, "No, Cat. I have another well of guilt for all the things wrong I've done to Jon. I feel guilty, all the time from the pain and anger his presence brought you."
"Yet, you kept him here anyway."
"What would you have had me do? Leave him alone in some Lord's castle? Shunned from his siblings, have him become angry and bitter towards Robb and me?"
"Yes!" She shouted, then looked down, ashamed, "No. I don't know." She looked at him then, "Why did you do it?"
Ned shook his head, "What do you want me to say, Cat? That I loved her more than I love you? That she was a whore? That she was a great lady of a noble house? That she was a fleeting fancy? What do you want me to say? What would you have me do? Jon is probably dead! His mother is dead! What would you have me do to make you feel better?"
"Tell me who she was."
"What?" Ned asked.
"You said she was dead, so why do you guard her name so fiercely?"
"I.." Ned faltered, "Why? Why does it matter if you know her name? What would it change?"
Cat sat on the bench and was quiet for a time, "I don't know Ned. I was so angry back then when I saw you brought him home from the war. I was alone and afraid. I was with a man that I wasn't supposed to marry in a strange place, and I was just angry. I thought you cared little for me and some ways...in some ways, it would have been easier." She took a deep breath, "But damn you, Ned, you couldn't help but be a good man, and kind one and despite the anger, I felt then, I fell in love with you."
She clasped his hand, "And it made it worse, Ned, it tore at me. You were this kind, generous, deeply honorable man whom I loved, and I felt who loved me, yet you did this thing. Something that felt so contrary to who I came to know."
"Cat…" Ned tried to interject, but Cat pushed on.
"It ate at me Ned, I couldn't forget it because Jon was there, looking like you as he grew and I can't stop thinking about this woman that made you do something so contrary to your very being and all I can think is 'what love it must have been,' 'how much happier she could have made you.'" Catelyn stood and walked to the statue of the Mother, "I am haunted by this unknowable woman. I was weak and spiteful to a boy because I felt inadequate compared to his mother, this ghost of a woman." Cat wiped a tear away as she sat down again and buried her head in her hands.
Ned felt stunned and frozen in place and didn't know what to say. It was a conversation years overdue and one he had refused to have with her. Still, he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. Well, not the whole truth. "She died after giving birth to Jon. She asked me, no, told me to promise her that he would be safe and cared for."
Cat opened her mouth, but Ned held his hand, "I cannot say her name." Cat mouth screwed tight, and Ned smirked. Cat looked at him, seemingly offended. "Arya does that when she is angry as well, I wondered where she got that from."
Cat gave a sad smile, and Ned knelt down in front of Cat, "I loved her, Jon's mother. But not the way I love you, Cat. We've built something strong, and gods know we haven't made it easy for each other. If you can't forgive me for Jon, I understand, truly I do. But we created a good life together. Created these wonderful children and I...we...no I need to help our children, and I know I've neglected you and them both since White Harbor." Cat raised an eye at that, and Ned sat next to her, "The children, the children loved Jon deeply, and he, them. He would have died to protect anyone of them. You know this Cat. You held no love for him, I understand, but our children, me even, lost someone precious. I just, I just can't stand the thought of someone poisoning their memories of him."
Cat nodded, "I...I understand. The boy...Jon. I am sorry that I could not be a better person...when it mattered. I wish I was a better woman." Cat, cuffed away more tears, "I'm sorry for Mordane. Septa Mordane was always good to me, but I can see she misstepped."
"Misstepped?"
"Grossly misstepped. I am not asking for Mordane back, but I would still like a Septa here, not as a governess, but to help me stay closer to my gods."
"Septon Chayle…"
"Is a fine man, but…"
Ned shook his head, "I don't know Cat." His wife looked down, "Give me time. I need to think about this for a long while."
Cat laid her head on his shoulder, "Would you have really burned it down?"
Despite himself, Ned chuckled, "That was extreme of me. Chayle is a good man, I'll apologize to him later."
"No." Cat said, "You won't. It is within your rights. I never truly appreciated what it cost you to build this for me. I forget how much the North hates my gods."
"We do not hate them." Cat moved to look at him, disbelief etched on her face, "At least, I do not hate them. I am terrified of them."
"What? Why?"
"The North has fought its influence for a thousand years, Cat. Aside from a handful of Houses, we have not allowed many to worship them, yet they have still found influence among the North."
"What do you mean?"
"Our culture shifted. Our language, coinage, gods even how we count days all stem from the Andals. Yet no Andal has ever ruled in Winterfell. The Old Gods have power, I know they do, but it is a subtle thing. They protect us, but it is subtle. Your religion, though, its tendrils affect even those that have never believed and can warp their thoughts and processes. Even I am not free from it."
"Yet, you built this place."
Ned took a deep breath, "Yet I built this place."
Ned felt Cat's hand in his, and then she squeezed it tight. Neither said anything but stared at the statues of The Seven.
Ned finally broke the silence, "We need to talk about Arya."
"Yes, how are you punishing her."
"I think having she and Sansa work as washerwomen for a couple of weeks is sufficient."
"Sansa? Why?"
"Provoking Arya."
Cat sighed, "It is a bit extreme."
"It's a day of extremes." Cat chuckled softly at that.
Ned pressed on, pushing the arrow out in one, "I am writing to my mother's cousin Torghen Flint, he has a daughter who has a daughter of her own, both are capable warriors, they will be coming here to act as personal guards for our girls and to train Arya. And Sansa, if she wants to. To learn, I mean."
"Ned!"
"No, Cat, listen to me. Arya feels powerless, defenseless, scared, and honestly, she has every right to feel that way. She somehow came across an injured Ella Hornwood, who was protected by guest-right. Her aunt was kidnapped. She has felt alone and left to grieve by herself."
Ned stood and leaned next to the statue of the Warrior. "I want my daughters if they desire to, to be able to try and protect themselves. To be guarded by those that can protect at all times and in all places." Cat looked like she had swallowed a lemon but didn't say anything, so Ned continued, "When we find a governess, she will still have those lessons, and I am hoping that martial discipline will carry into other areas of her life."
Cat softened a bit at that, but asked, "But clansmen Ned? Why not Ser Rodrik?"
Ned shrugged, "He teaches men to fight men, I don't think he'll be able to teach a woman how to fight in the way he's used to."
Cat put her hand on her head, "Who will accept her as a bride if she is capable of killing them?"
Ned took a deep breath, "There has to be someone. Maybe an Umber would look past it." Cat just stared at him, and Ned fought a smile, "Your grandchildren would be giants."
Cat's lips quirked up, "That's not funny, Ned." Ned laughed then, and soon Cat joined him. It quieted after a few moments, "Still, I am worried she will never marry."
Ned nodded, "I know, but she is still young. There will be time for her to grow and learn her duty."
Notes:
So work is going to pick up quite a bit over the next month or so. I'll try and get an update in, but I can't guarantee anything.
Thanks to everyone who has stuck around, commented, kudosed, and the like.