You shall father no children…
When Jon received the raven from Winterfell, he was on his horse in minutes. He did not ask the Lord Commander's leave, but he doubted the man would send anyone after him. He would return. He was, after all, a man of honor.
Despite riding hard and changing horses at every opportunity, the journey took over two weeks. When he reached the castle in the dead of night, he did not wait for welcome. He knew his way by heart and went directly to the Queen's chambers.
He found Sansa sitting beside the fire, a babe at her breast. He knelt by her side and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.
She leaned over and pressed her forehead to his.
"It's a boy." She whispered, slowly shifting the child from her arms to his.
His heart pounded harder than it ever had in battle and the feeling of the small, fragile body in his arms.
"What did you call him?"
"Robb."
Jon's eyes stung with tears.
"Robb Snow." He whispered.
"Robb Stark." Sansa corrected with a small smile, "A perk of being a queen."
They held each other through the night, enjoying their perfect little family. And within those walls, true names and titles, honor and dishonor, duty and shame, held no meaning. Within those for walls, they were the Starks of Winterfell, and the pack was united and strong.
Jon did return to the wall, but his rides South to Winterfell increased in frequency and each trip lengthened in duration. Until the Lord Commander named Jon Snow the representative of the Night's Watch to the Queen of the North, allowing that he need only report back to the wall once a year.
In time, Winterfell was once again filled with Starks. Robb was followed by Caitlyn and then Eddard, Rickon, Lyanna, Rhaegar, and lastly Aegon.
If the 6 kingdoms to the South objected over the Queen of the North's interpretation of Jon Snow's exile, they chose to turn a blind eye. Afterall, the North did not recognize the authority of King Bran the Broken. The North recognized no king but the King in the North, whose name was Snow though his children were Starks.
But what is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms?
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