Since the moment Ned first met his baby son, his heart leapt with excitement as his small party consisting of Lysa and their son rode in the shadows of the tall and looming walls of Winterfell. It had been around a year since he last set foot at his home, the last time when he called his banners to war. His heart fluttered with anticipation and faintly, dread. How will I tell Lysa there is already a baby boy in the Winterfell nursery?

Ned had feared that moment throughout the uneventful journey from Riverrun. His relationship with Lysa had already improved. They spoke more and she inquired about the Northern houses and their sigils. When they parted ways with Lord Reed, Lysa had casted her jewels away to the bottom of her trunk. "Jewels are of the south," she decided when Ned questioned her. "The North has no need of fineries." A sensible choice on her part. He reminded himself to tell Lysa that a minimal amount of jewels could be worn on grand occasions such as weddings and feasting days.

As Ned approached the main gates of Winterfell, a small crowd of Northern smallfolk crept out from winter town, the village outside Winterfell's walls. As it was springtime, winter town was virtually empty. Ned suspected the Northerners present were from the far corners of the North who travelled to winter town for a few days with petitions for him to deal with. Not uncommon, but Ned recalled when the petitions were once given to his father to handle.

"They are so quiet," Lysa murmured as softly as a wind's whisper.

"They have been waiting to see us for a year," Ned answered, his voice echoing dryly in the hushed atmosphere. "They have not expected a lady from the Riverlands to be the Lady of Winterfell." When was the last time a Stark wedded a Riverlands maiden? Lord Rickard married his cousin Lyarra Stark, Rickard's mother was a Locke…Ned racked his mind. Who did his paternal great grandfather wed? Melissa…? Melara…? Melantha. That was it…Melantha Blackwood.

"Will they like me?"

"If they disapprove of you, they will not hide it." Lysa uttered the quietest of squeaks and spurred her horse closer to Ned's. Ned could not help but smile fondly at her. Lysa was certainly different from all the Northern girls he knew (not that many). Times like this, he appreciated the warmth and affection Lysa projected towards him; other times, he wished she would be more…sober? He hoped Lysa would be more prudent when he introduced her to his lord bannermen in a week or so in one of the few feasts, this one to formally welcome Lysa to Winterfell and present her to his bannermen. For decades the Lords of Winterfell had continued with that tradition – Ned planned to continue in the same fashion as his Stark ancestors.

"When will the Northern lords swear allegiance to Robb as their heir?"

Ned blinked. "What?"

"When will the Northern lords swear allegiance to Robb as their heir? Catelyn said to me that once, great lords would have their bannermen swear loyalty to their eldest sons as the heirs of the regions."

Ned had never heard of such a custom. It sounded like a tradition in King's Landing in the age of the Targaryens, maybe even at Dorne or Highgarden. Perhaps it was done at the Riverlands too where it was home to many feuding lords.

"We do not have that custom," said Ned finally. "My bannermen are always faithful to House Stark. That tradition…is unnecessary here in the north. Robb is already the heir of Winterfell and all the lords have accepted it. That is that. One day we will have more children, more sons perhaps. Whatever the case, Robb will always remain as my heir. I swear it by the old gods and new."

Lysa nodded, satisfied. "Will Robb be fostered?" she pressed.

"We will discuss it another time," said Ned gently. "Robb is still a babe. There will be a good many years before he might be fostered. We are almost at Winterfell. Welcome to your new home, Lysa."

Lysa gasped, her eyes as wide as platters as they rode even closer to Winterfell. Huge waves of emotions washed over Ned. This was his home…the home of his ancestors and descendants to come. The two massive granite walls separated by a wide moat between them defended the large castle. The outer wall was about eighty feet high, the inner wall a hundred feet high. The outer wall was further decorated with guard turrets, with more than thirty watch turrets on the crenelated inner walls.

The great main gates groaned open and Ned led his wife and son into the Winterfell courtyard, his heart pounding loudly. I used to practice swordplay with Brandon and my father's men there. A vision of his wild elder brother chasing him and Benjen appeared in front of him. Ned also saw the first of a seemingly endless row of stables. Brandon and Lyanna would spend long hours in the morning and evening there. The two of them loved riding horses. Ned closed his eyes. When he opened them, he almost believed he caught a glimpse of Lyanna galloping towards him on her favourite horse, a marvellous white palfrey, in her plain riding garments. As she rode, her torrent of brown hair would fly; it was a pretty sight. Lyanna had always found riding the happiest time of her life. Ned had oft wondered why Lyanna did not ride away when Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped her. It was possible for her to gallop away – she had a way with horses.

She is dead, Ned told himself harshly. Lyanna is dead; Brandon is dead; Father is dead; and Mother is too. There were a good many ghosts at Winterfell, but this wasn't the time to mope over the past. Ned had a wife and a son; it was time to look to the future. There were no more Targaryens – it will be a period of peace…hopefully.

Standing in front of the Great Keep were Winterfell's household, all in a straight line and ready to greet Ned, Lysa and Robb. Many were familiar faces, but there were about an equal number of unfamiliar ones. First to approach them was the new maester. A few months ago, Winterfell's old maester, Maester Walys, had died of a fever and according to one of Benjen's letters, he duly sent a raven to the Citadel, requesting a new maester for Winterfell. Ned studied the new maester. He was small with grey eyes and in a robe of grey wool with voluminous sleeves. The heavy chain around his neck clinked in every step he took towards Ned and Lysa. There were an array of different links – black iron, brass, bronze, copper, electrum, iron and silver only a few.

"Lord Stark," the maester spoke in a humble tone. "We welcome you, your lady wife and son back to Winterfell. I am Maester Luwin, Winterfell's new maester."

"Maester Luwin," Ned acknowledged. "How do you find Winterfell?"

"A pleasant place my lord," Maester Luwin responded. "Very Northern. Very beautiful and filled from the tallest tower to the godswood with history. I count myself fortunate to be sent to Winterfell as its new maester."

Ned smiled. He liked the maester already. "Excellent. I am pleased to hear that you've settled in. Are you satisfied with your chambers?"

"More than satisfied my lord."

"Very good. If you require anything, please let me know at once. Perhaps we will talk more tomorrow morning at breakfast."

"As you wish my lord."

Ned nodded. "May I present to you my wife, Lady Lysa, and our son, Robb?" Maester Luwin dipped his head respectfully at Lysa and she smiled graciously at him. After they exchanged a few, short words, Maester Luwin introduced Ned and Lysa to the rest of the Winterfell household. The old steward Urik Wells, had also died and had been promptly replaced by Vayon Poole, a hardworking man, according to Maester Luwin. The master of horse was still the elderly Halyn, who greeted Ned warmly. He had sadly began losing his sight – a new master of horse would be needed soon. Halyn loved horses as much as Lyanna did; Ned would not deprive the old man of one of the few joys he held. Standing beside old Halyn was his son Harwin, a stocky boy of twelve who had served as a stable boy since he was seven. The grim-faced kennelmaster Farlen, was still there, as was the blacksmith Mikken. Ned remembered the plump cook Croll and his son Gage, who had a knack at making cakes, a rare skill in Northern cooks. The nurse Nan gave Ned a wide, toothless grin when she saw him and tried to pat Robb on the head. Her great grandson Hodor, a large man with slow wits, grunted at him happily. After the introductions were over, Ned realised he needed to appoint a new brewer, master-at-arms and a captain of the household guard.

Ned glanced at Lysa. Perhaps he should request a septon or septa too. He had no wish to force Lysa to pray to the old guards when she was raised in the Faith of the Seven. All the northerners embraced the old guards except House Manderly of White Harbour. He reminded himself to send a raven to White Harbour for sound advice regarding septons and septas. There was the matter of a building a sept too…

He yearned to escape to the godswood; he itched for an hour to himself there. He had spent time in the Riverrun godswood, but it felt different to the one at Winterfell. There were no two godswoods that were the same. Mayhap he would pay the godswood a visit after he spoke to Benjen, Robb snug in his cradle in the nursery and Lysa settled in her own chambers. Yes, only after then would he seek solace with the old gods.

As Maester Luwin dismissed the household and Halyn took the horses to the stables, Ned slowly led Lysa to the Great Keep. It was the innermost castle and stronghold of the castle complex, its walls also made of granite. Lysa exclaimed with surprise as a wave of heat warmed the three of them to their bones once the Great Keep's large doors swung shut behind them.

"The Great Keep was built over natural hot springs to keep the castle residents warm and cosy," Ned explained. Lysa nodded. "I do not even need furs in here," she murmured, still in awe. Ned smiled. His smile widened when he caught sight of his younger brother and now only surviving sibling Benjen, head towards him.

In the time span of a year, Benjen had grown from a boy to a young man. Benjen had sharp features and the icy blue eyes of their mother – Benjen was the only one who had inherited their mother's icy blue eyes. He looked healthy, but what worried Ned was his very thin build. He will grow more plump, Ned assured himself worriedly.

"Ned!" Benjen said joyfully. "You are finally home."

"Aye," said Ned affectionately. "I am. I will not go away for some time. You look well, Brother. Have you been eating more meat? You look a little thin."

"Lord Karstark had sent over some meat from deer and rabbits he and his family had hunted. It was quite kind of him."

"Indeed…" The Karstarks and Starks always held a more familial relationship, due to the Karstarks being distantly related to them. It was still kind of Lord Rickard Karstark to have some of his kills sent to Benjen. Ned's last orders to Benjen before he went off to war was for him to remain at Winterfell and never leave under any circumstances. If he loses his last sibling…Ned could not even imagine the grief of it. "I will thank him on the next time we meet," Ned continued. "Benjen, this is my wife Lady Lysa, and our baby son Robb. Lysa, this is my brother Benjen."

"My lady." Benjen smiled at Lysa. "Welcome to Winterfell."

"Thank you my lord," Lysa responded immediately. "I am honoured to meet you."

"When I heard Ned had married, I could not wait to meet my good-sister." He peered at Robb who stared back curiously. "How is my little nephew?"

"Tired." Lysa bounced Robb a little. "He had a long journey." She gently kissed him on the forehead. "Say hello to your uncle Benjen."

"Perhaps you would like refreshments?"

"That would be nice." Lysa beamed. "I think Robb needs another feeding too. I cannot wait to see the nursery."

Benjen and Ned glanced at each other. It was too early to show Lysa the nursery. "We can eat and drink first," Ned suggested. "I heard that you liked lemon cakes, Lysa. When we were at Castle Cerwyn yesterday, I sent Benjen a message to ask Croll, Gage and the other cooks to make lemon cakes for you."

Lysa's eyes lit up. "Oh Eddard! How sweet of you! Lemon cakes! I love lemon cakes so much! They have always been my favourite cakes since I was a child." She tittered. "Cat and I used to sneak into the kitchens at night and snatch them."

"I want you happy here," said Ned truthfully. "I hope you will find the lemon cakes as delicious as the ones from your childhood. At Winterfell, we do not consume fruit cakes as much as southroners did. However, we do have an excellent head cook whose son has great skills in making desserts of any kind. Would you care for some fresh bread and a cup of tea too? Mint tea is delicious." He hurriedly guided Lysa and Robb out of the Great Keep and towards the Great Hall, Benjen trailing behind them.

Exteriorly, the Great Hall was enclosed with grey stone and covered with banners. It was surrounded by the open courtyard which served as a place of mingling on occasions of celebration such as weddings and a practice area Ned knew well. The two guards that were posted at the front pushed open the wide oak-and-iron doors. Lysa gasped again in wonder. Ned looked around. It was large and held eight long rows of trestle tables, four to each side of the central aisle; it was able to seat five hundred people. At the other end contained a raised platform for noble guests.

Nothing had changed in a year.

Ned led Lysa to the high table and told the waiting servant, "Fresh bread and eggs, a few cups of mint tea and lemon cakes if you will." He said down next to her and Benjen was seated on his other side.

"Where is Howland?" inquired Benjen. "I thought he would be here with you."

"He went home when we went our separate ways at the Twins," Ned replied. "There have always been hostility between the Freys and the crannogmen."

"You stopped at the Twins?"

Ned glanced at Lysa. She was busily cooing at Robb. "We did not have much choice in that," he murmured. "The journey from Riverrun…it was uneventful but it was not easy. We had a baby with us and Lysa…she needed a day's rest in every few days of travel. We should have rode straight from the Crossroads Inn up north via kingsroad, but Lysa was afraid we would be attacked by mountain clans during the night so we ended up riding to the Twins. Lord Frey was ah, courteous…to an extent."

Benjen chuckled. "What happened, Brother?"

Ned grimaced. "Introductions took about an hour, if not longer. Lord Frey insisted on presenting his entire family to us, trueborn and baseborn. About a quarter or so of them are named either Walder or Walda. By the end of introductions, I had already lost count of all the Walders and Waldas. He even showed us his newborn daughter."

"Another Walda?"

"By the gods no. Roslin, I think he called her. Her mother, his fifth wife Lady Bethany Rosby, died giving birth to her a few days ago; Lord Frey already hinted that he planned to wed again soon." Ned shuddered. "I pity his future bride. After only two days in Lord Frey's company…I was glad when Lysa declared herself ready to leave. Over supper, the Lord of the Crossing suggested a betrothal between Robb and Roslin. He said her dowry will be her weight in silver and when the time comes, if I am dissatisfied at the prospect of having Lady Roslin as my good-daughter, I – or Robb – will be more than welcomed to pick another of his daughters or granddaughters to join House Stark with her dowry too being her weight in silver."

"That is very generous of Lord Frey."

"Quite. I politely refused. It is too early to agree to any betrothals for Robb right now. I intend to locate him a northern or Vale bride to reinforce traditional Stark alliances to assure the bannermen that not all Starks marry southroners." He broke into a smile. "If you are interested, you can have a Frey bride. Lord Frey did say that he will die content if he marries one of his daughters to you."

Benjen laughed. "Are any of them pretty?"

Ned shrugged. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If you are at all interested…"

"No," said Benjen quickly. "Oh no, I have no desire to take a Frey wife."

"Freys?" Lysa shuddered. "Ugh. Lord Walder Frey frightens me. Ever since I was little, he tried to marry me off to one of his hideous sons or grandsons. Oh Eddard, remember when Lord Frey wanted to wed that ugly baby of his to our dear, sweet Robb? As long as I live, no Frey will be my good-daughter." She held Robb closer to her chest. Robb didn't look particularly happy. His small mouth formed into a frown and he uttered sounds of discontentment. "Eddard," Lysa said, standing up. "I think our little boy wishes to be put to bed now. We can always eat afterwards."

A lump formed in Ned's throat. He was not ready yet…

"Now?" said Benjen, his eyes darting between Lysa and Ned nervously. "The…tea and lemon cakes are…are almost here."

"Lemon cakes need to cool down," said Lysa impatiently. "Oh Eddard, I long to see the nursery. Can we not go and put Robb in his crib and return? I wish to see the nursery – I plan to sew banners and tapestries to decorate the walls. I do not want our son to stare at blank walls all day."

Benjen glanced at Ned helplessly.

"Robb does not look tired," Ned commented. "Why don't you put him down…or have Benjen hold him? I don't think Benjen had a chance to hold his nephew yet." Lysa's lips formed into a stubborn line and she did not relinquish Robb, who had began fussing. To Ned's relief, the servant arrived with a large plate of lemon cakes. Still holding Robb like an overprotective wolf, Lysa carefully picked up a lemon cake and examined it. Ned and Benjen exchanged a confused glance. What was there about lemon cakes to stare at as if they were poisoned?

"It is delicious," tempted Benjen.

"Robb first," Lysa insisted stubbornly. "A mother must always care for her child first." She remained standing and looked at Ned expectedly.

"I will return," Ned told Benjen. "You go ahead and eat without us. If Maester Luwin is looking for me, tell him I will be in the nursery." Benjen nodded, biting his lip. Back into the Great Keep Ned went, Lysa and Robb with him. Every step he took seemed to be like another step into a black pool of dread. Ned nodded at the two guards standing in front of the nursery, the Stark sigil emblazoned on their tunics. "You may go," he said, biting his tongue to stay calm. "Come back in say, an hour."

"Aye milord," one responded. The two of them walked away. Ned's heart pounded as loudly as the sound of drums as he slowly pushed open the nursery door. Like the Great Keep, Great Hall and virtually all the buildings in Winterfell, the nursery hadn't changed much at all. To one side of the large room was an empty hearth, a couple of logs and bits of kindle already in its open mouth while another stack of logs sat in a black iron bucket beside it. The majority of the stone floor had been covered with a thin layer of furs and on the opposite side of the chamber were two cribs. A number of chairs were scattered throughout the room and close to the cradles was a round table that carried a few bowls and cups of probably milk.

"The nursery is lovely," said Lysa, gazing around. "Very soon there will be many toys all over the-" She stopped and stared at the two cradles. Her eyes narrowed. Ned waited nervously. The warm blue in her eyes had turned into a shade of frigid blue. "There are two cribs," she stated suspiciously. "Two." She strode to the two cradles at a rapid speed that she had never exhibited before. Ned followed, his heart beating even faster. It was the moment he had feared – it reminded him of the eve of battle.

"There are two cribs." Lysa's voice rose.

"Yes," said Ned uneasily.

"There are two cribs." Her voice had become even shriller. "Two! Two, Eddard! Why are there two cribs? We only have one child!" Ned winced as she gasped. No doubt she had now laid eyes on…the other infant. Would it have been better if I had agreed to Lord Reed's offer? It was too late now. Even if the boy had been shipped to Greywater Watch to be fostered until he was a man grown, Lysa must be told eventually.

"Whose child is that?"

"He is of mine blood," Ned croaked, his throat suddenly tighter. Lysa held Robb even firmer when she whipped back and glared at him, tears shimmering in her eyes.

"Why?" she asked, a tear falling onto Robb's cheek. "You are the, the honourable Lord Eddard Stark! Why? Was he…before we wed?" She sounded hopeful.

Yes, a voice said in Ned's head. Lie to her. Lies will soothe her more. "Not exactly," Ned said uncomfortably.

"Not exactly," Lysa repeated angrily. "Do you not know? If you don't know, why bring him here? Leave him with his mother."

"She is dead."

Lysa laughed hysterically. "Dead! A likely story Lord Stark! A likely story! You found it more honourable to foist a bastard on me rather than to keep to your wedding vows! I'll not have it, Lord Stark! I will not have it!" Ned watched helplessly as she shot the other baby a deadly glare and stormed off with Robb in her arms.


Haha I know I said I'd try and not matchmake as much, but it's so addictive :D You probably noticed that I added a few OCs in the Winterfell household - I did that so it would fit the time (283 AC) a little more as not all the 298 AC Winterfell staff are old enough (or born yet). Littlefinger's climb to power will definitely be more challenging :) Next chapter is the first Lysa chapter.