Chapter Text
Ice was shining in his hands, black as the night, by the time he heard her footsteps. He knew that she would seek him out eventually in here, he always came to the Godswood after he killed a man, it brought him some sort of peace to be with his gods, under the thousands of crimson leaves of the weirwood that reached out for him like bloodied hands.
“Ned.” Her voice was soft, courtial but warm as he looked up from his houses ancestral blade in his lap. She stood there, as perfect as ever clad in a gown of forest green with her hair in flaming curls down her shoulders like a river of fire, her face was soft and light. Even in the darkness of the godswood, she shined.
“Catelyn,” He nodded towards her, a formal greeting as he tried to focus his thoughts on her but he was elsewhere, he knew she could tell. “Where are the children?” He questioned as Catelyn moved towards him, sat next to him on the bench in front of the weirwood, her eyes focused on the steel in his hands.
“In the kitchens, arguing over what to name their wolf pups,” She shook her head softly, a soft smile coming to her lips, “Arya is already in love, and Sansa is charmed and gracious and Rickon is not quiet sure.”
Ned felt a chuckle rise in his chest, how just like his children to be squabbling over the names of wild wolves. Instead of letting the laugh fall from his lips, he let out a sigh, his hands habitually running over the steel of the blade in his hands.
“Is he afraid?” Ned asked in relation to Rickon.
“A little,” Replied Cat, “He is only five.”
“He must learn to face his fears, he will not be five forever.” He frowned, knowing all too well that his youngest child was only five but, “Winter is coming.” He spoke heavily, his house words sending a chill through his wife. How disheartening that his children needed to grow up so fast, half of him hated that idea, growing up fast is what took away his brother and sister but the other half of him rationalized that they needed to be smart, cunning and older if they were going to survive the winter that was looming so close by.
He had gone back to oiling Ice, the rag running up and down the blade until it shone like onyx or a starless night. He knew Catelyn was watching, her eyes running up and down the ripples in the blade where it had been folded over dozens of times in it’s forging, four hundred years old it was and still as sharp as the day it was brought forth into the world, back before the Doom had slipped into Valyria and the old Freehold, taking the magic with it.
“The man died well, I’ll give him that.” Ned said, a deep melancholy within in him as he worked in slow, fluid movements, “I was glad for Bran’s sake. You would have been proud of Bran.”
“I’m always proud of Bran.” Catelyn said, a soft smile flickering on her mouth. She still stared at the sword in Ned’s hands, four hundred years of blood sat in its veins, trailing all the way back to when the Starks were Kings of the North.
“He was the fourth this year,” Ned said grimly. “The poor man was half-mad. Something had put a fear in him so deep that my words could not reach him.” He sighed. “Ben writes that the strength of the Night’s Watch is down below a thousand. It’s not only desertions. They are losing men on rangings as well.” His brother Benjen had been with the Watch for nearly sixteen years, having taken the black when Robb and Jon were only a few months old.
“Is it the wildlings?” Catelyn asked, an uncertainness in her voice.
“Who else?” Ned lifted Ice, looked down the cool steel length of it. “And it will only grow worse. The day may come when I will have no choice but to call the banners and ride north to deal with this King-beyond-the-Wall for good and all.”
“Beyond the Wall?” Fear had replaced the uncertainness in her voice, Ned saw the dread on her face.
“Mance Rayder is nothing for us to fear.”
“There are darker things beyond the Wall.” He watched her glance at the face of the heart tree in front of them, the pale, snow colored bark and the deep, red eyes staring at the both of them.
“You listen to too many of Old Nan’s stories.” He shook his head, a smile finally finding it’s place on his lips, “The Others are as dead as the children of the forest, gone eight thousand years. Maester Luwin will tell you they never lived at all. No living man has ever seen one.”
“Until this morning, no living man had ever seen a direwolf either,” Catelyn reminded him, a fire in her words as she took her stance on the other worldly things Beyond the Wall.
“I ought to know better than to argue with a Tully,” he chuckled, still smiling as he shook his head once more. He slid Ice back into its sheath. “You did not come here to tell me crib tales. I know how little you like this place. What is it, my love?” He asked, looking her straight on for the first time in their conversation.
Catelyn looked at him with a sad, distressed look in her eyes as she took his hands into hers,“There was grievous news today, my dear. I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself.” Her glance had drifted down to her lap, as she took a deep breath. An anxiety festered in Ned’s chest as he stared upon his lady wife, trying to find a calmness in her beauty like he had done so many times before.
“I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead.” The words struck him hard, right in the chest. The second father to him, by the right of the gods a brother as well, he was gone. The man who had been a mentor, a second parent who had been with him long after his actual father had been buried within the crypts of Winterfell, he had slipped from this world.
“Jon…” He said,a sadness filling his words, “Is it certain?”
Catelyn nodded, a sadness in her river blue eyes that probably matched his, she shared his grief, “It was the king’s seal, and the letter is in Robert’s own hand. I saved it for you. He said Lord Arryn was taken quickly. Even Maester Pycelle was helpless, but he brought the milk of the poppy, so Jon did not linger long in pain.”
While his thoughts were a mess of memories and sorrow, the thought of Jon Arryn’s wife, Catelyn’s sister came to the fore front.
“Your sister,” he said. “And Jon’s boy. What word of them?” He worried that if a sickness had taken Jon, that might have lingered to his wife and child, the grief of one death could turn to the loss of three.
“The message said only that they were well, and had returned to the Eyrie,” Catelyn said, shaking her head softly as her eyes lingered back down to her skirts, “I wish they had gone to Riverrun instead. The Eyrie is high and lonely, and it was ever her husband’s place, not hers. Lord Jon’s memory will haunt each stone. I know my sister. She needs the comfort of family and friends around her.”
Lysa Arryn was a lonely woman, even with Jon Arryn as her husband, but with his death, she had no one but her child. Ned squeezed his wife’s hands softly, a comfort he wished to offer her.
“Take the children and go to the Vale. Fill the halls with laughter and fights. Lysa doesn’t need to be alone in her grief.” He looked deep into her eyes but she just shook her head, a melancholy smile on her face.
“Would that I could,” said Catelyn, “The news of Jon Arryn is not all that was in the letter, The King is riding to Winterfell.”
***
Dinner that night was a mess of shouts and dire wolf howls, all of his children had brought their pups with them despite the warning from Catelyn not to. Robb had smuggled his in under his cloak gathered in his arms, Rickon and Bran had stuffed them in their surcoats, attempting to keep them from squirming against their chests. Sansa and Arya had waddled to the table with their pups hidden at the bottom of their skirts.
Jon was the only one who attempted to follow the rules but his snow white pup had been the one to follow him, silent as a shadow as it slipped under the table beneath his feet. Catelyn was annoyed with each of their kin at their disobeying the rules but Ned just laughed, allowing their children some freedom that night as each of their pups sat between their feet, wagging their tails and yipping with each plate shuffled in. Their supper that night was venison, roasted potatoes and carrots, buttered rolls, and half of the drinks were honeyed ale or wine, the other half iced milk.
“Children,” Catelyn had said, all of the Stark kids stopping in their tracks, Arya’s hand halfway pulling out a fat, glistening buttered roll, Robb was pouring a glass of ale while Bran had a wooden spoon filled with roasted potatoes clutched in his hand. Silence swept over the table like a fire had been blown out as all of the children stared at their mother.
“You're father has something he needs to tell you.” Catelyn continued and all of the Stark children shifted their gaze to their father who took in a deep breath, sighing softly as he stared at the sea of faces, frozen in obedience.
“Jon Arryn has died and the King is riding for Winterfell.” said Ned and all of his children spoke in unison
“Really?” A choir of voices spoke back at him to which he nodded and then they all broke their silence, a cacophony of questions rising in the air.
“Is the rest of the court coming?” Questioned Bran
“Yes,love, the Queen, her brothers and children along with dozens of guards are riding North.” Confirmed Catelyn.
“I heard the Queen is beautiful” Sansa gushed, eyes filled with a starry wonder.
“I heard she's a real bitch.” Arya muttered, rolling her eyes to which everyone else screeched her name to which she flinched, eyes drifting down to her plate as she bit off a chunk of her roll.
“They say that Prince Joffrey is handsome and chivalrous.” Sansa spoke up once more, eyes still glazed over with dreams of the royal boy. Robb rolled his eyes just like Arya had
“I hear he's a real brat.” said Robb, shaking his head, “I bet Jon could knock him to the ground in seconds.”
Jon finally piped up, hands wrapped around a tankard filled with honeyed ale the color of golden skies. “I doubt the Queen would let a bastard fight her first son,” he shook his head, a smile dusting over his lips as he took a sip from his mug.
“Bastard or not, you're a better fighter than the golden prince.” Robb retorted before gesturing over to table, “Arya could give Joffrey a run for his money.”
“Of course I would!” Arya piped up, a mischievous grin on her face as all of her siblings laughed.
“Now, my loves, when the King and Queen arrive, you need to be on your best behavior, especially around the Lannisters, do I make myself clear?” Catelyn said, a stern eye glancing over each of her children's faces.
“Yes, mother.” They all responded, a smile grazing over Ned’s features.
“Now,” said Ned, “How goes it with the wolf pups?” With that, another cacophony, shouts and laughs echoing through the dining hall.