Lord Eddard Stark was kneeling before the weirwood. His head was bowed in concentration as he cleaned his sword. The blood washed off the Valyrian steel of Ice, the ancestral blade of the Starks. He thought back to the direwolf pups. It was an omen, he was sure of it. The men had been weary of the beasts, and Ned couldn't blame them for it. Direwolves south of the Wall? Ned shook his head, still in disbelief. That they had been found so close to a dead stag only added to his worry.
"Lord Stark!" Ned turned around when he heard the voice of maester Luwin. His wife and the maester were coming towards him. Maester Luwin had a letter in his hand. He stood up, making sure his sword was free of bloodstains. Once he was done, he sheathed his sword, and began walking over to them. He spoke up when they met. "What is it?" he asked, hands clasped in front of him. The maesters held out the letter. Ned took it, and checked the seal. The wax sigil was that of the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn. It was addressed for him. Curious, Ned cracked the seal, and unrolled the letter.
Lord Eddard Stark,
I write to inform you that a malicious and most certainly untrue accusation has been made against you, concerning the parentage of your baseborn son, Jon Snow. His Grace, King Robert Baratheon, came into possession of a letter from an anonymous source, claiming that Jon Snow is the product of rape during Lyanna Stark's forced marriage to Rhaegar Targaryen. The letter goes on to claim that its writer was present during Lyanna's captivity, and was made to bear the child against her will, and was driven mad. It goes on to claim that Lyanna made you promise to care for the child due to this madness. While I know such rumors to be without cause or proof, Robert is in a rage the likes of which I have never seen. I have done all I can to control him, but he I fear it may not be enough. Indeed, he and Ser Barristan almost came to blows when he had me read the letter to the small council. I was able to persuade Robert not to have Ser Barristan killed, convincing him it would raise far too many questions. He is sending Renly with a hundred men to Winterfell, on the pretext of arranging a marriage between your eldest daughter and Prince Joffrey, but in truth, he wants to bring your bastard back to King's Landing. I know that these rumors of your son are nothing more than slander, made to drive a wedge between the Houses of Stark and Baratheon. I will find whoever it was who came up with the notion to create such lies, and make them pay dearly for it.
Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn
Ned felt his throat grow numb. Horror, dread and fear mounted within him with every word he saw. He could hear the sound of steel clashing with steel, men screaming as they died, and Lyanna calling for him. A babe's cries as his mother passed from this world. The scent of winter roses. Howland Reed asking the babe's name, and Ned giving it as Jon Snow. When he finished, he felt his arm go limp by his side, clutching the scrap of paper tightly in his fist, crumpling it. He stared off blankly into space, mind reeling. How? How could this have happened? Who could have done this? Who has betrayed me? Certainly not Howland Reed. The man was one of his closest friends. Benjen was still at the Wall. He had no way of doing this, and would never put Lyanna's boy in danger. Which only left...
"Ned?" His wife's voice called him back to the real world. Her voice sounded near hoarse. He recovered, and looked at his wife. She was confused and worried, and when he looked to maester Luwin, he saw the same expression. He blinked once, then again, before composing himself.
"Maester Luwin, send a raven to Greywater Watch, and summon Howland Reed. Tell him that he must come as soon as possible," he ordered the maester, The maester was a bit surprised at first, but nodded and walked away, heading for the maester's turret. He turned to Cat, and addressed her "My lady, If you need me, I shall be in the crypts. I wish to be alone for now." Without another word, he left her, heading for the aforementioned crypts. He barely even realised he had arrived when he found himself in front of his family's tomb. He had ignored tradition when he had them all buried in the crypts of Winterfell.
There was the statue of Lord Rickard Stark, his father, a direwolf curled at his feet. His southern ambitions had dragged the Starks into the troubles of the south, but Ned could not find fault with the man. He wondered what he would have done if he had learned about Rhaegar and Lyanna's marriage, of his grandson who bore royal blood? What would he do?
His father would tried to have the boy sent to the Wall, and if that was not enough, he would have called the banners.
His brother, Brandon, who should be the Lord of Winterfell, flanked him, a rusted sword across his lap, like that of his father. Wolf-blooded Brandon, who would have been a far better lord than Ned would ever be. He thought of the days when they would spare together as children, of the sores and welts he received after each and every bout. Ned had always looked up to his older brother. What would he do?
Brandon would have taken up his sword and buried it in Robert's stomach before he let him lay hands on his nephew.
Then Ned turn to Lyanna's statue. His sister had a crown of winter roses on her brow. The man who had made the statue had failed to capture her beauty, her fierce and willful nature, the iron Robert had never seen. He had held her hand as she died, pleading with him to keep her son safe. She had whispered her son's name to him, Jaehaerys Targaryen, and made him promise to protect him from a man he considered a brother. Her words haunted him to this day. Ned didn't have to wonder what lengths Lyanna would have gone to protect her son.
Ned had named the boy Jon Snow, and taken him as his bastard son, sacrificing his honor for his family. He had borne that secret for thirteen years, raised his nephew with his own children, loved him like a son. And now, Robert had finally discovered the truth. His eyes felt wet, and he lifted his hand to them, wiping away tears. "I'm sorry, Lyanna," he said softly, voice breaking, "I've failed you. I promised to keep him safe, but I haven't."
Ned didn't know how long he was down there for, but when Cat came to get her, she was stunned. Ned didn't know how hard he had been crying until she remarked upon how red his eyes were. He didn't say anything to her about, and instead made sure he was presentable for dinner. They both went to their quarters, where Catelyn helped Ned get ready. He felt so sluggish, so tired, as if the burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders, and all the effort caught up with him.
Dinner was a drear event. Ned could only think of how to deal with this crisis. He could never live with himself if he gave up his sister's son, but not doing so would be denying the crown, an act of defiance against his best friend, Robert Baratheon. The two had been raised together by Jon Arryn, who was now Hand of the King. Jon would not forsake Robert easily. He could try all he wanted to convince Robert to leave Jon be, but Ned knew the kind of man Robert was. He wouldn't be satisfied until every single Targaryen was dead. And that would include Jon.
The next few days passed by, Ned not even bothering to notice. The staff and household of Winterfell could tell something was weighing him down. He guarded his feelings, his face even more grim than usual. He spent time with his staff, going over everything twice. He had maester Luwin prepare summons for each of his bannermen, not telling him why. He had the stores checked, had the men drilled a few times more than usual, left nothing untouched. When Cat asked him about it, he said nothing. He dare not tell her the truth. Not yet.
When Howland Reed did arrive, he did so with a handful of men, armed with the weapons of a crannogman. They had frog spears, and were all short in stature, dressed in clothes which were clearly traditionally among them, a swampy green. Ned had received word of their coming, and had prepared to welcome his old friend. His family was with him as he watched the Lord of Greywater Watch enter. Howland Reed's eyes were a deep green, and he had grown a beard since he had last seen him. Ned walked forward, and embraced him. "Lord Reed," he said, "it is good of you to have come."
"Aye," Howland answered. Ned noticed two young children approach behind him. A girl, roughly Jon and Robb's age, and a boy, who he guessed as being the same age as Brandon. The boy was the spitting image of the Howland he remembered. Howland gestured behind him, seeming to have anticipated that Ned would notice. "My children, Meera and Jojen Reed." The children bowed in turn before Ned. Ned acknowledged them both, before presenting his own children. The direwolf pups were at their sides. Howland briefly looked over each, exchanging courtesies with Cat. Sansa behaved a proper young lady, but Ned could sense her unease. She probably wasn't sure what to make of these crannogmen. Arya was fascinated to see Meera carrying her frog spear. She stared at it for longer than Ned would have liked. Meera most certainly saw her staring.
Jojen seemed to linger on Bran, something Ned could not help but notice. There was a wisdom in that boy's eyes, something Ned felt both intrigued and wary of. Bran just returned the stare, a bit confused. His direwolf pup watched Jojen with keen interest. The little beasts were getting bigger everyday now, and were now large enough to run around with their masters. Ned was amazed at how fast they were growing.
With the others, it was simply polite courtesies. Howland and his children exchanged greetings with each member of Ned's family in a proper manner. However, when it came to Jon, Howland studied him intently for a small few seconds, and acknowledged him. Jon was a bit taken aback, but still was able to return the greeting.
Once this was concluded, Ned announced that he and Howland would be retiring to his solar. Cat lead the others to the Great Hall. He had had the cooks prepare a fine feast for the crannogmen.
Once he and Howland were in his solar, the Lord of Greywater Watch cut right to the chase. "What is the matter, Ned?" Howland asked.
"A raven came from King's Landing," Ned said as he retrieved the letter from it's hiding place. Despite trusting his household, he didn't dare allow for anyone to see the contents of the letter. He handed it to Howland. His friend moved his lips as he read the letter, eyes moving over it. When he finished, he locked eyes with Ned.
"Dark wings, dark words," Howland muttered. "How could this have come to pass?"
Ned shook his head. "I don't know. The only people alive who know of Jon's parentage are myself, you and Wylla."
"What of Wylla? Have you heard from her recently?" Howland inquired.
"No," Ned answered. "I do not believe she would ever tell a soul about Jon's mother."
"But she is the only one aside from us who knows the truth," Howland pointed out. He sighed bitterly as he turned his head to the side before turning back to Ned. "If it wasn't her, then who was it?"
"I do not know," Ned answered, "but we have more pressing matters. Robert wants Jon brought to King's Landing, Howland. We must find some way to prevent this."
"We cannot send him to the Wall," Howland said slowly, "nor can we simply refuse. If Jon is not present when Renly arrives, it could be seen as an admission of guilt."
"Aye," Ned agreed, "but I promised Lyanna I would keep him safe. If Robert is not convinced that he is my bastard, that he is indeed Rhaegar's son, he'll kill him."
"So how do we convince the King otherwise?" Howland replied, "We both saw Robert's wrath at the Trident. You were present when Tywin Lannister laid the corpses Rhaenys and Aegon before Robert. He may have already convinced himself that this is the truth."
"Jon doesn't have the Targaryen look," Ned pointed out, "how can Robert justify his killing? No one would believe him. It would seem he has been deceived by some spiteful and petty man."
"So? How far would a man be willing to go to win the king's favour? Tywin Lannister may dismiss it, but I cannot imagine the Queen ignoring this. You cannot trust Roose Bolton. And what of Dorne? What if they should learn of this?" Howland shook his head. "There are many who have reason to see house Stark fall. I would wager that someone made this later for that exact reason."
Ned himself had thought the same. That someone wished to see House Stark cast down into the dust. He could think of many who wished to see his family laid low, but none who could learn about Jon's heritage.
"So what should we do?" Ned asked, dreading the answer.
Howland's face became rather solemn as he answered. "We must try and convince Robert that Jon is indeed your son. If not...then we must push the boy's birthright."
"No," Ned said firmly. He would not see Jon end up sitting on the Iron Throne, surrounded by vipers.
"You know as well as I do that if the kingdom learns of this, there will also be many who wish to see Jon on the Iron Throne, Ned. Lickspittles and Targaryen loyalists, those who wish to see the Baratheons or Lannisters laid low," Howland said, meeting Ned's gaze. Ned clenched his fist. "Aye, we may succeed in keeping this a secret, but for how long? How exactly will you convince Robert Jon is your son?"
Ned thought about it. He began to feel like he was trapped in a cage, unable to move or do anything. "I'll think of something," Ned told Howland. "Jon looks like me. It shouldn't be hard."
"With Robert, how can you be sure?" Howland raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head to the side.
Ned sighed, and started to pace around the room. He leaned against a window, gazing outwards at nothing. He stayed silent for a few moments, thinking. How could he be sure Robert would believe him? He knew of how wrathful the man could be. Of what lengths he was willing to go to claim vengeance when it came to the Targaryens. "I haven't told Jon yet," Ned answered. "Nor Cat."
"You shall have to," Howland said in understanding. "Eventually, you must."
Ned nodded. "Aye," he told Howland. He thought about when he should do. How was he to break the news to them? Cat would have to know first before he told Jon. She had that right, at least. He knew Howland would be there to support him when the time he had never wanted to arrive did come.
"I'll tell Jon tonight." Ned firmly.
