Chapter 12

Winterfell

As his solar emptied around him, Ned fell back in his chair. He couldn't believe how that meeting had gone. How could his family treat him like that? They might not agree with his decisions, but he had always done the best that he could, given the circumstances. He had always wanted the best for his people, for his family. He didn't understand how anyone could possibly think otherwise. Despite not being the heir raised to be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, he thought that he had stepped up to the task admirably over the years.

But at the same time, he knew his family. They surely wouldn't have spoken to him that way without serious evidence. Thinking back over the conversation Ned concentrated on what Robb had said about the food supply. While he was aware that they imported some food to supplement what was produced in the North, Ned couldn't remember when he'd last spoken to Maester Luwin about the state of their granaries. He could barely remember the last time he'd dealt with his duties as Lord of Winterfell. He may have dropped the ball recently, but he hadn't lost too much. There would surely still be time to turn the tables back to where they should be. He had to be able to turn the tables around, and fast. His people wouldn't be likely to support him if he wasn't able to keep them fed. He would speak to Maester Luwin on the issue on the morrow.

What concerned Ned as much as the accusations of not being a good Lord, were the accusations that he hadn't been a good father. He loved his children more than anything else in the world, the accusations hit hard. His children knew they were loved, he had never done anything to make them think otherwise. Yes, perhaps his daughters could be naïve on occasion, Sansa in particular, but truth be told, they had a right to be, growing up in a golden summer as they were. He was proud that he had been able to protect them so thus far. And when they were old enough, he would see them married off to good men who would be able to protect them as well. They needn't have to play the political game when the men in their lives were more than capable of playing it for them.

Ned hardly blamed himself for being so protective of his children though. He had lost his father, his sister and a brother during the Rebelling twelve years before. His only surviving brother had run off to join the Night's Watch, either out of guilt or shame. He had no wish to lose any more of his family.

It was his daughter Arya who worried Ned the most out of all his children. She, who most reminded him of his bold, brave, brash sister. More than anything, Ned feared that his daughter would share the same fate as his sister. Having Dacey Mormont as a governess would probably help Arya in a lot of ways. He didn't want his daughter's spirit or her independence to be crushed – and considering the way that that blasted Septa had been teaching his daughter it had been almost a certainty. Banning the Septa from having any further part in the education of his daughters was one of the best parenting decisions he had made in quite a long time.

Slowly Ned's thoughts turned to his nephew Jon. He thought about what the boy's mother, his sister, had wanted him to promise just before she died. Lyanna had wanted him to look after her child. Despite not actually making that promise, Ned thought that he had actually done pretty well in looking after his nephew. He had fed, clothed and housed him for twelve years. He had the boy educated and trained. Yes, his dislike of the boy may have led to him a couple of lessons, but could anyone really blame him when the he could so disruptive?

He thought of what Catelyn had told him. Her words continued to rattle around in his mind, wouldn't allow him a moment of peace. Would Lyanna be ashamed of the way that he had treated her son? Deep down Ned knew what the answer was. He may have housed his nephew, but he had never truly about him, blaming the child for his mother's death. He had allowed his wife to treat a child abominably, all because he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen should anyone discover the truth. He had been so afraid of the truth that he had lied to his nephew for over a decade about who he truly was.

When it came down to it, Ned had never truly intended to tell Jon the truth about his parentage. He was going to forever deny his nephew the truth of who he was because he blamed his father for the deaths of his family and because he was scared.

At the end of the day, he had protected his fat fool of a friend more than he had his own flesh and blood. And now Jon had already left with Barristan Selmy to go into the lion's den. He didn't know what else he could do other than write to him to apologise, beg for his forgiveness and warn Jon to be on his guard.

Keeping the truth of Jon secret had been his entire life for twelve years. He had lied to not just his family, but to the world. Perhaps it was true what people said about secrets and lies… Secrets and lies rotted the soul.

Ned thought of those who had recently scolded him after finding out the truth about who Jon truly was. Benjen's fury and anger was more than understandable. He would be angry as well if he were in his brother's shoes. He was more than shocked by his wife's reaction, however. He had never in a million years expected Catelyn Tully to take the side of his perceived bastard. Not after the way she had made her disdain and hatred for him so obvious over the course of the boy's life. Ned had even received a letter from old Howland stating that it was about time that Jon put him in his place.

In that moment Ned was forced to admit that he had let his sour feelings for Jon affect the future of his children. Ned had always considered his time fostering in the Vale as the happiest of his life. Yet he had not fostered his children out, nor had he fostered any children himself. Why? Was it out of shame, the same of letting people think that he had a bastard son when he did not?

Let them – let the world – know that the honourable Eddard Stark had no honour whatsoever.

Ned knew that things had to start changing. Knew that he had to begin to change. He might not particularly like his nephew, but he had to stand by him, no matter what. He couldn't bear the thought of losing anymore family. He had to teach his children what it meant to stand together, otherwise when the dark times came, they would not survive.

And more than that, he had to find some way of making it up to Jon. For when it came down to it, his nephew deserved a better life than what he had been prepared to give him. Catelyn had been right. Lyanna certainly would have been deeply ashamed of him and the way that he had treated her son. And no matter how hard he attempted to make up for it, Lyanna would be sure to make the afterlife a living hell for him.

It had already been twelve years. It was past time to let his pain and hatred and anger go.

The King's Road

Jon hadn't been his usual self since departing Greywater Watch. It was something that he was sure that his companion had picked up on, even if the old knight hadn't mentioned anything.

In a way, Jon was grateful for the reprieve. He knew that he was the one who had wanted to speak to Howland Reed, had been relieved to finally hear of his parents origin story from an unbiased source. But what no one could deny was the fact that a lot of information had been dumped on him at once. Jon felt that he needed some time to process it all. It was still somewhat hard for him to comprehend the fact that he had lost so many members of his family because of the avarice and greed of a handful of people.

Despite both Howland and Barristan attempting to reassure him on the matter, his confusion and fear remained with him. Both his uncle and the bastard who called himself a king had lied to him – had lied to the entire world – about his parents for a decade. A part of Jon could understand the lies; after all, they strengthened the Usurper's claim to the throne, and went some way to legitimise the Rebellion. But those very lies had already forced him to live a lie for twelve years, with no end in sight. From the way his uncle had acted since the Greyjoy hostage had arrived in Winterfell, Eddard Stark had never had any intention of telling him the truth. In fact it would be safe to assume that he would only have admitted the truth to him after he had sworn oaths that would prevent him from ever claiming the Iron Throne.

Not that Jon currently had any intention of claiming the throne. Not yet at least. Not while he had still to come to terms with everything that had happened recently. He had gone from believing that he was a bastard, to being trueborn, and royalty literally overnight. For someone who had been raised believing that he was the shame of his father and disgrace of his house, it was a lot to process, especially for a confused twelve-year-old.

After almost two weeks travel since departing Greywater Watch they were now close to approaching the Trident. Just being near the place made Jon's mood sour even more, even as it made his blood boil. The Trident. The place where the Usurper had won a crown that wasn't his. The place where the man who was his true father had died. In the moment, Jon couldn't help but imagine how his mother must have felt upon hearing the news of Rhaegar's death. With child, awaiting a return that would never come.

Perhaps sensing where Jon's thoughts had gone, Barristan attempted to smooth their sharp edges, attempting to get through to him in the first time in hours. If he had attempted to speak to him earlier, then Jon hadn't even noticed. He had barely been aware of what was going on around him for days. Since departing Greywater Watch, really.

"Despite the rumours, your father was a good man, your Grace," Barristan said quietly, lost in his own memories of the fallen Prince. "A good, kind man and a loving father. Rhaegar loved his children, your sister and brother, with all that he was, and he would have loved you too."

"Why?" Jon asked, forcing himself to break out of his melancholy. "I mean, why did they lie all this time? My uncle and the Usurper, I mean."

"You are aware, of course, that your mother was betrothed to the Usurper. All this time, Robert has claimed that Lyanna was the love of his life. From what little I have heard from your uncle Benjen and Howland Reed, that feeling wasn't mutual. I have watched the Usurper at close quarters for years now. I suspect that he may not have been able bear the fact that the woman he claimed to love chose someone else, anyone else, over him." Barristan shook his head.

Jon, however, wasn't letting him off the hook that easily. "What about my Uncle, then? What excuse did Lord Stark have for lying to me about who I am for my entire life?" He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Whatever we may think about Lord Stark's lies, what we cannot deny is the fact that those lies kept you alive. If Robert had ever discovered the truth surrounding your birth, he would have had you killed in a heartbeat. Still would, as a matter of fact."

"You say that my Uncle's lies were designed to protect me, but I think he protected his fat friend more. He chose to stay loyal to his fat friend despite knowing that his own nephew, his own flesh and blood had a stronger claim to the throne. He lied for so long that even he began to believe his own lies. He should have chosen his family over his loyalty to a friend."

Barristan exhaled. While he couldn't deny that young Jon had a point, perhaps being able to observe the Usurper at close range would help him realise that the man's hatred of everything Targaryen still burned as strong as ever, even twelve years later. Lord Stark's lies had truly protected the boy more than he realised.

Then he remembered how Lord Stark had allowed the boy to be treated while growing up at Winterfell. How Jon had grown up being treated like an outsider, and began to wonder. Jon had grown up being taught that he didn't matter and that the only future available to him had been to join the Night's Watch. Looking at it from that perspective it was clear to him that his young king was right, and that his Uncle had protected the Usurper as much as he had protected his nephew, if not more so.

"Don't believe the lies, your Grace. The public lies are not who your father truly was. The lies were spread by those who wished to vilify Rhaegar's memory. Believe the private truth. Believe what is in your heart. That is what your mother and father's truth is. They loved each other, and they loved you. Family was everything to them."

Jon seemed somewhat doubtful, but didn't say anything. Barristan couldn't entirely blame him. A lifetime of lies and pain would be hard to forget.

What truly haunted Barristan, though, was the fact that Lord Stark could still easily destroy his King if he wished. All he had to do in order to do so was go straight to Robert and confess the truth. The fact that it would destroy Eddard Stark as much as it would Jon Snow did not bring Barristan much comfort. He supposed that he simply had to rely on the Northern Lord's almost unfailing sense of honour.

Barristan vowed to keep as close an eye on the boy as he could once they arrived in King's Landing. The city would be a dangerous place for him. A single mistake, a single slip up, could spell disaster for all of them. For a single slip up in King's Landing in particular could mean the murder of the true heir to the Iron Throne, Jon Snow, Aemon Targaryen.

He would protect him with his life, if that was what it took to keep him safe. Glancing across at his King, Barristan took note of the grimly exhausted expression that he wore. The same expression that the boy king had worn for weeks now. He sighed. This may be harder than he had thought.