Ned
Cat was starting to suspect something. He knew it. She knew him far too well for him to hide it, and he wondered how she could have dealt with the news of his death, in that other world, in that future that he hoped so desperately to avoid. At some point he would have to tell her something. He knew not what, but he had to allay her suspicions at some point.
Ned paced around his solar, like the Direwolf from his House Banner in too small a space. There was so much to try and avoid. It had taken three attempts to craft a letter to Jon Arryn that had not sounded as if he had become a fool afraid of his own shadow and finally he had taken refuge in a few half-truths and evasions, coupled with an offer that he had been considering even before Robb's return from the moment of his death. That letter had made him feel dirty. But it had to be written.
A raven to Kings Landing had been out of the question – from the vague rumours that had reached Robb's ears in the early days of the war it was more than possible that Pycelle was in the pay of the Lannisters, plus he had apparently told Cat in King's Landing that Varys had eyes and ears everywhere – no, everyone had eyes and ears every everywhere in that fetid smelly cesspit of a city – and that the ravens were being watched. A letter openly telling even so powerful a man as the Hand of the King that there was a possible Lannister plot afoot to poison him would never reach him.
He hated this. He hated the machinations and double-dealing and the lack of trust. How Robert lived in that bloody city of traitors and self-serving men with no morals escaped him. But he had to try and save Jon.
And so Jory Cassel, a man that he trusted with his life, was on his way to White Harbour, escorted by a small group of men whose sole job was to get Cassel to Wyman Manderly and request the fastest possible ship down to King's Landing. Hopefully Cassel would get to Jon in time with that all-important letter. He wished that Robb had been able to tell him his terrible secret earlier, but that was water under the bridge by now.
He paused and stared out of the window as he thought everything through yet again. If Cassel was too late to prevent Jon being poisoned then Robert would come North to offer him the position of Hand, a position that he had absolutely no intention of taking up. He knew Robert – he would press him hard to accept. And had a good reason to turn the offer down, a reason that required no mummer's act or honourless lies. He was needed in the North because the Others had returned, a threat that he had barely the faintest idea how to deal with, other than reading every book, every fable, every legend and every song about how they could be defeated and then send as much as he could to the Wall. There could be no war. Instead the South needed to send what it could North.
And if Robert came North then they would come North too, the children who were not the blood of Robert Baratheon, as well as the Queen and the faithless shell of a Kingsguard who had now betrayed two kings. He had an idea of how to deal with them. It would break Robert's heart, but it would have to be done. If they came North that is.
What if Cassel got there in time though and stopped Jon Arryn from dying? What had Jon's plan been? How could he stop the war? Ned ran a hand over his eyes. He knew not. All he knew was that as long as Bran was protected then another thread from that future that could never be would be pulled. Bran would not be hurt, if his plan worked, so there would not be another attempt on his life, Cat would not go South to tell him about it and she would not encounter Tyrion Lannister and start the terrible chain of events that would see Tywin Lannister muster his forces and start to move East before anyone else had a chance to call a single banner.
If, if, if. That tiny but significant word. He and Luwin had questioned Robb closely, asking about the smallest things. Robb had not known everything, or had sometimes heard something through a person who had heard it from somewhere else. Whispers in the wind – and he knew that such whispers could sometimes stray far from the truth.
Well. This much he knew – he had sent a raven to Castle Black requesting the immediate presence of Benjen. He had a lot to tell his brother. And then there was that other matter. It had been weighing on him over-much of late. In the future that Robb had come from he had never had the chance to tell young Jon the one thing that he had always wanted so desperately – who his mother had been. Yes, he had kept the promise, despite the hurt that it had caused Cat. It had had to be done. He turned and paced about again. This would have to be done… carefully. After much thought. And after a talk with Bran about the fact that he was now banned from climbing the walls of Winterfell.
He frowned. His son would not love him much for this. But it would have to be done. And as for Jon… well that would be a different kind of hurt.
Knuckles rapped on the door to his solar and he turned to it. "Yes?"
The door opened to reveal a messenger. "Your pardon my Lord, but the doorwardens have sent word – a party of horsemen approaches, coming from the East. They bear the banner of the Dreadfort, of House Bolton."
Ned nodded. "They are expected. I will come down now." As the man scurried away he felt his heart lift a little. Hopefully it was Domeric Bolton, who in the future that Robb had come from had died suddenly of an illness. If he still lived then maybe the future could be changed. If. Such a small word. But things could turn on it. He strode out of his solar.