Ned looked to the child in his arms, Lyanna’s words echoing in his ears despite his sister having fallen silent over an hour ago. The boy was quiet, but his eyes were open and curious, even though the maid had told him the baby was only hours old. Eyes that were dark, though Ned knew babies’ eyes changed after birth. The wispy hair on the top of the child’s head was the same dark brown of Lyanna’s, the Stark brown. It was said that Targaryens had magic in their blood, and that is why they married within the family, to keep the magic strong. Perhaps the magic in the boy understood having silver hair and indigo eyes, like his father, rather than status would be only a death sentence.
He looked up as he heard heavy footsteps. It was Howland, coming down the hallway, limping a bit, though his wounds had been seen to. “Maid told me what happened. I’m sorry, Ned. I know you only wanted to save her.”
Ned nodded. “Nothing we could do, after all. Guess it makes sense now why Rhaegar left his best men behind.”
“To protect a bastard?”
Ned winced. “Lyanna wouldn’t have done that. I… honestly, it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s gone, Rhaegar is gone. By now Stannis will have taken Dragonstone. House Targaryen is over.”
Howland nodded. “What… what are you going to do? You… you saw what happened to Rhaegar’s other children. And he… this baby has a stronger claim than Robert, than anyone else. If people were to find out…”
Ned sighed. “I… I hate to ask this of you, my friend, especially when you have just saved my life. But Lyanna asked me, on her deathbed, to protect her son, and that I will do. For such, no one must know who he really is.” Howland frowned. “I will claim him as my son.”
The other man was shocked. “Ned, but… you… and Lady Stark! How…”
“I will not be the first lord to have a bastard, nor will I be the last.”
“He will be forever tainted by that.”
“But he will be alive. Robert trusts me. He won't think twice about it. No one will.”
Howland nodded. “You have my word. I swear, on my and my family’s honour, for everything I owe your sister, that I shall never speak of this to anyone else.”
The trip from Dorne back to King’s Landing was long and hard, especially the stop at Starfall. The maid that had been with Lyanna was in fact a woman from the village whose child had perished from a fever less than a week before, so she had vowed to keep the secrecy if she could care for the baby. “My babe was taken from me, milord, and the Princess was ever so kind, to send food and aid once she heard my little Rya was sick. Even the Prince, he sent his maester down to my hut before the man died. My payment for their kindness will be to protect their babe.”
And as such the matter of the child’s wet-nurse was handled. Next, Ned needed to prepare his sister’s body for the voyage. The High Septon himself brought three Silent Sisters on the next morning. “I was saddened to hear, I was,” the man said. “They were so young and in love! Of course, I worried when the Prince asked me for his annulment, but then once he told me about… the annulment was correctly given, Lord Stark, and my Septas assured me the next morning that on their wedding night your sister was pure. So it was all done very correctly.”
Ned wasn’t sure if it was as much consolation as the man had hoped. “I’m sure you understand, Your High Holiness…”
“No one will ever hear the truth from my lips, I swear it. No one will know what happened here in this Tower. The Sisters I’ve brought can’t read or write, and they’ve sworn a vow of silence. Even if they wanted to — which they don’t — they couldn’t tell anyone the nature of the Princess’ death.”
Ned thanked the man. “You are, of course, welcome to join my group as we make our way back to the capital, your High Holiness. Now that it’s safe to return to the city.”
The man smiled and accepted the offer, leaving the room Ned had taken as a solar. Sighing, the northerner went back to organising their contingent. They were no longer a handful of men riding hard to save a distressed woman (who had never been in distress in the first place). Now he had to account for Lyanna’s bones, Howland’s wound, the baby, and his wet-nurse. And the High Septon.
The arrival in King’s Landing was not as he had hoped either. He’d told the nurse to stay as quiet and out of the way as possible, hoping the seven months it took him to return to the capital would have made it reasonable to be believed he had stopped somewhere to pick up his bastard son. Or at least that no one would question that in his grief for losing his sister, Lord Eddard Stark had forgotten his vows and allowed a woman to console him.
As it turned out, Robert was too distressed over the box with Lyanna’s remains to care. It was only on the next afternoon, as Ned was watching the nurse take the baby for a walk in the sun, from the balcony of the chambers Robert had given him that the new King approached.
“So, whose is the child?”
“Mine,” Ned said, hoping his friend would take his blushing for shame and not guilt. “I'm not proud of it, but I have claimed the boy.”
“Ha! You! With a bastard!”
“I'm no saint, Robert. We were at war. I'm a man. And my wife is all the way in Riverrun.”
“You could’ve left the boy. Sent some money.”
“This was my misstep and I’ll take responsibility for it. The boy comes home to Winterfell with me.”
“And what’s his name?”
“Jon,” Ned said. His name is Aegon Targaryen. “Jon Snow.”
“But the surname should come…”
“It matters not who his mother is, let alone where she is from. He is my son, and he will be raised in Winterfell. His name is Jon Snow.”
“A whore, then?”
Ned clenched his jaw. He knew Robert would keep asking until he got an answer and then wouldn’t care about it again. “Wylla was her name.”
“Pretty?”
“I was too drunk — we’d just won a battle.”
“Ha! Didn’t I tell you? Nothing gets the blood flowing better!” Robert laughed, as if it was the funniest joke in the world. “What happened to her?”
Ned was growing each moment more uncomfortable. He was shit at lying. “Don’t know, don’t care. For all I know, she’s still a whore. I offered a pension, but she said no. She wanted to send the boy to an orphanage. No interest in being a mother. So I took him.”
“I could legitimise him, you know,” Robert said, looking at the boy again. “Say the word and I’ll sign the damn paper.”
Ned blushed. On one hand, no child deserved to grow up a bastard. But then again, he had to think about Catelyn and the shame he was already forcing upon her. He knew his nephew was a few months younger than his son, so there would be no question on the line of succession — and bastards, legitimised or not, always ranked behind all trueborns. On the other hand… to legitimise him would spike people’s curiosities. Especially about his mother. And Ned really was shit at lying. The less people who asked, the better. Besides, even legitimised, Jon would never be treated the same as a trueborn.
“No. Catelyn… she doesn’t deserve this. We haven’t had a proper marriage so far, what with the war keeping us apart, but she is my wife and she deserves better. It’s enough that I’m claiming him and bringing him to Winterfell.”
“Your Grace,” called a squire, interrupting a conversation that had gone on too long already. “Your Lord Brother has just returned…”
Ned almost sighed in relief. He knew his friend. Robert very rarely took interest in things to ask twice about them, unless it was a particularly pesky whore, a good wine, or a worthy opponent. The chances of him asking about Jon’s origins again were slim.
“Well, that knucklehead certainly took his time! Where is he?” the King asked.
“In the Small Council Chamber, Your Grace. He wishes to speak with you, Lord Stark, and Lord Arryn as soon as possible.”
Ned followed the King, relieved that Robert had bought the lie without question. Once they entered the right room, Jon was already there, conversing with a clearly distraught Stannis, as a young woman held a baby nearby.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“I’ve taken Dragonstone, Your Grace,” said Stannis. “My men are securing the castle as we speak.”
“And the baby dragon and his infernal mother? Where are the last two of that retched family?”
“Viserys escaped, brother. I know not whether they were tipped off or if they knew we would come eventually, but servants said three loyalists absconded with the boy to Essos. The former Queen died,” at this Robert laughed, but Stannis wasn’t finished. “In childbed.”
The King’s laugh died abruptly, finally realising what the baby in the room meant. “And you bring it here! Your orders were—”
“My orders were to secure Dragonstone and bring the last of the Targaryens to justice. I have fulfilled those orders. I will not, however, murder a babe just for the sake of your revenge.”
“Take care of how you speak!”
“Take care of how you behave!”
“Enough!” Jon interrupted. “You are brothers, behave as such! Lord Stannis is right, Your Grace, you gave him orders and he has fulfilled them. He brought the Targaryen he was able to find so you could dispense justice.”
“Please,” the woman begged, “she is but a babe! Just a babe, barely out of her mother’s womb, innocent of any crimes!”
“No Targaryen is innocent!” Robert yelled.
“Robert, be reasonable,” Ned interfered, understanding why the cold Stannis had asked for his presence, “the girl is days old. You can't blame her for the name she carries.”
In the back of his mind, Ned knew all too well the name the little boy he was protecting carried. His name is Aegon Targaryen. What if anyone else had found Lyanna before Ned himself? What would his nephew’s fate have been? You have to protect him. Promise me, Ned. Had Rhaella had time to beg the same? Would she even have tried with Stannis Baratheon, who was no kin to her?
“Targaryens murdered your father, brother, and sister!” Robert exclaimed. “The woman I loved!”
“The Mad King murdered my father and brother, and he has paid for his crimes. Rhaegar kidnapped my sister,” Ned clenched his jaw at the lie — besmirching the honour of his good-brother was the only way to save his son, so he hoped the man would understand, “and he is also dead. That girl has committed no crime. Do you really want your reign to begin by murdering babies in their cribs?”
Robert clenched his jaw. It had been bad enough when Tywin Lannister had the Prince and Princess murdered along with their mother. “Very well. She won't be killed. But she will not be rewarded either. House Targaryen is finished. She is stripped of all her titles. Send her to an orphanage for all I care,” the new King decreed.
The others in the room paled. An orphanage was no place for a highborn girl, be her stripped of her family titles or not. “Perhaps we should consider…” Jon hesitantly started.
“No considerations! I won't have a child flaunting about and threatening my throne! It’s not as if there aren’t Targaryen loyalists still lurking! I want her poor, honourless, and supportless! And if she shows the smallest hint of madness, I’ll have her killed at once!”
“Robert!” Ned exclaimed. “Kill the girl then, instead of leaving her to die slowly. You know what happens to girls in orphanages! She’ll be raped before she turns ten!”
The maid started to cry, bothering the baby, who also started to whimper in protest.
“Raped like your sister!” the King bellowed. Ned bit back a response. To offer too much kindness would be suspicious, but the babe was his family now too. “You know, I’ve decided! I want her weak, so let’s weaken her! Some might support the Mad King’s daughter if they think she’s not like her father, but no one would support a bastard line!”
“What do you mean?” Jon asked, apprehensive.
“Rhaegar Targaryen stole a daughter of House Stark and ruined her, leading to her father’s and brother’s deaths. Nothing more fitting that House Stark should be responsible for the fate of the last daughter of House Targaryen.”
Ned felt cold gripping his heart. Robert was always unreasonable when he was blinded by what he felt for Lyanna.
“Ned! You have a bastard son! A son set to inherit no lands and make no good marriage. Very well, I give him a bride. He will marry the Targaryen girl!”
The room was frozen for a beat. “Robert, I can't…”
“Nonsense! Your son is a Snow, you just said so yourself. He’ll marry the girl, have a highborn bride, what is much more than any bastard can expect, and they shall have a castle and lands. I'm sure you can find an empty keep in the North, give them a lesser title. They’ll live up there, a dragon in the ice! This way she is hidden from the world and no one can accuse me of mistreating babies!”
Ned didn’t know what to do. Honestly to wed aunt and nephew! But no one knows he is her nephew, he thought, no one can know. And how to refuse, really? What Robert had just done was an honour. How to refuse without an explanation? You have to protect him, Ned. He nodded his acceptance. They were Targaryens, after all. Targaryens married brother and sister. What were aunt and nephew in that?
“Wonderful!” Robert yelled. “The girl will be raised…”
“In Winterfell,” Ned said. He knew what Robert would say, that he’d have the girl in Court, just so she’d be humiliated and laughed at by everyone. That was going too far.
“But Ned…”
“If she is to wed my son, I’d like to oversee her education.”
“I hardly think it’s proper,” said Stannis, “to have them grow up in the same castle.”
“Are you implying that I can't teach manners to my son? That I would allow dishonour in my own home?”
“Nothing of the sort, Lord Stark.”
“Oh, what does it matter!” said Robert. “She’ll be marrying a bastard. Let them speak.”
So Ned returned to his chambers to arrange for the extra members of their contingent, his headache — an ever-present companion since being shooed away from his dying sister’s side, holding his nephew — growing.
“You bring a bastard home and expect me to foster him!” Catelyn yelled.
Ned recoiled. “I can't express how sorry I am to have broken my vows and shame you in this manner. But the boy is my responsibility and I won't dishonour that.”
“His very presence dishonours your name and your House!”
“Catelyn, please. I have wronged you, and for that I can only say I know I was wrong and hope you can forgive me. But the child is innocent.”
“And to bring a Targaryen! To force you to marry your bastard to the daughter of the man who murdered your father and brother!”
Ned sighed. Honestly that was the least of his concerns. “As I said, I can't blame a babe for the crimes her father committed before she was even born.”
Catelyn huffed and burst out of the room, furious. Ned was certain she was going to make her fury known for the next weeks perhaps months. Of course, the gossip had reached Riverrun that Ned Stark had had a bastard during the war, so Catelyn had been quite cold as she reached Winterfell that morning with their infant son, whom Ned had decided to name after his friend.
He rubbed his forehead as Benjen walked into the room, barred the door, and poured them ale. “So, of whom is the child?”
Ned rolled his eyes. “I've said his mother is…”
Benjen looked seriously at his brother. “Ned. I know my siblings. Who do you think helped Lyanna leave?”
“You cannot…!”
“I do regret the outcome, of course, but I do not regret helping my sister. So, again, of whom is the boy?”
Ned sighed, and nodded. Benjen exhaled, sitting back on his chair. “Now that is a nice kettle of fish we have on our hands. How’d he manage it? Convinced the High Septon?”
Ned nodded. “Don't know on what grounds. But I made my sister a promise on her deathbed. I will honour that. Robert can never know.”
“There's been worse cases in that family,” Benjen agreed with a sigh. “I should've been there with you. Could’ve claimed him as mine. Then you wouldn't have had trouble with the Lady.”
Ned waived dismissively. “It's done, and I don't regret it,” he sighed. “My wife came home with one son and now she has three babies to care for. What kind of a husband am I?”
“An honourable one, who cares about his family. Perhaps you should tell her.”
“No. This secret has already been told to enough people. If she learns the truth she might one day let it slip if someone goads her about her husband’s bastard. I can't take that risk.”
“What will you do about the betrothal?”
“Find an empty keep. Robert said he'll send some funds, but I doubt it'll be enough, so the lands should be able to sustain themselves, and produce quick profit to support the building or maintenance of the castle. Howland had a suggestion, and I was thinking to go see it. The Blessed Island. It’s very defensive, even in ruins. We can make it into a trading spot on the Narrow Sea, and they’ll have taxes. And they could take fish from the sea.”
“This might take more years than we have,” Benjen said worriedly.
“Maybe. But they can live here in the meantime. Can I… I know you spoke of joining the Watch...”
“I won't. At least not now. From Lady Stark’s fury, you'll need all the help you can get.”
