Chapter Text
There were very few moments in her life that Catelyn Stark was truly ashamed of. Oh, there were plenty of small lapses of which she wasn’t proud; days where she’d lost her temper and shouted or told a lie out of embarrassment. These, however, were sort of mistakes that could be fixed with an earnest apology. As she looked down at Jon Snow, not yet three name days old and sick with the pox, she knew that this was different. This time, she had done something truly, deeply wrong. This was something she may never be able to make right.
She’d asked the gods for this, to take away her husband’s bastard. Now an innocent child, not yet out of the nursery for the gods’ sake, was going to die because of her own selfish insecurity. She knew in that moment that she was the worst woman who had ever lived, bringing a curse like this down upon this boy’s head. She took a steadying breath and found it did nothing besides bring her attention to the tightness in her chest.
Bending her head to her work, Catelyn focused all her energy on weaving the prayer wheel in her hands- an offering to the Seven- and prayed hard to the New Gods, to the Old Gods, to anyone who might listen not to punish this boy for her own jealousy. She worked quickly, the rapid motion of her hands mirroring her wild thoughts. Catelyn barely noticed as Maester Luwin left the room with only the tired explanation that he’d done all he could for the moment. Her eyes only left her work to make sure that Jon’s ragged breathing continued. Her own breaths came fast and short, her eyes stung slightly as she held back tears of frustration and fear.
Don’t let him die. I swear, if he lives, I will love him as one of my own, however difficult it may be for me. Please, if you can hear me, if I have ever done anything to please you, don’t take him from his family. Not yet. Don’t punish him for my sins.
She was so absorbed in her prayers she didn’t hear the door open behind her. So, Catelyn nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt the pressure of a hand on her shoulder. Panicking, she whipped her head up to see her husband standing beside her. Ned Stark stared at her with a mixture of surprise and concern, as if he hadn’t expected her to be at his child’s bedside.
“I thought you wouldn’t be back for nearly another week.” Catelyn croaked, and in a moment of weakness she found throwing her arms around her husband. The two rarely showed such easy affection for each other, having know each other for barely a year if one didn’t count the time they’d spent apart during the war. In that moment though, she couldn’t help herself. The feeling of relief overwhelming her for a brief moment before the rational part of her brain remembered Ned was no more able to save the boy than she was. The only good this might do was give her husband a bit of comfort if his son did not last through the night. That was hardly enough.
“The business at Deepwood Motte was resolved quickly, and I had thought to surprise my wife and children. When I arrived at the gate, one of the guards told me about Jon. I came straight here.” Ned replied heavily, then asked, “What does Luwin say?”
“That if he lives through the night, he’ll recover. But…” She trailed off, unable to find the words to continue. Unsure of how to tell him of his son’s precarious hold on life. He seemed to understand, and his face hard and blank. Perhaps it was this strange emptiness on her husband’s face that caused her to speak, barely able to comprehend what she was saying herself, “This is all my fault Ned.”
“Catelyn, you can’t blame yourself for-” Her husband began kindly, but she cut him off. The words came tumbling out as if dam holding back her guilt was finally fully collapsing under the sheer weight of all her sin and grief.
“No, you don’t understand. I didn’t want him here and, I- I prayed that the gods would take him away, so I wouldn’t have to live with the constant reminder of his mother sitting with us at meals or some nonsense, and now- Seven Hells, what have I done?” She was crying in earnest now. Horrified at her own admission, she waited for Ned to recoil in horror or storm out in anger. Perhaps both. Anything but what he did next. Slowly, he drew her into his arms as she sobbed.
“If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine.” Ned told her firmly, “I’ve done wrong by you. I’ve dishonored you.”
“We barely knew each other back then, Ned. The War was a strange and difficult time for everyone, and many, many men fathered bastards. You’ve been nothing but good and honorable since then. Plenty of women have far more to contend with than one quiet and fairly well-mannered bastard.”
She almost believed herself as she said it, but her husband hesitated. Catelyn wondered if he could hear the flicker of doubt in her words. However hard she might try to love her husband, the dishonor he’d brought on her by siring a bastard, by bringing it back for her to raise, would always sting. The shade of the woman he’d chosen over her at least once would always stand between them.
Without a word, Ned pulled away and went over to the door. Catelyn worried for half a moment that he would leave, that he had seen through her words to her true feelings and would reject her for them. Instead, when he reached the door, he took a moment to look out and make sure the hall was clear, and then closed and locked it firmly. Then he turned back to Catelyn and the sickly little boy in the bed beside her.
“Are you sure he’s asleep?” asked Ned, looking down at Jon, the child’s face cast in shadow by the flickering light of the fireplace. He scanned the room with an expression Catelyn could only describe as restless.
“Yes, Luwin gave him something to help him rest. He was exhausted and delirious.” Catelyn replied, slightly wary of how cagey her husband suddenly seemed.
“Good.” Ned sighed and paused for a moment, apparently unsure. His eyes focused on Catelyn for a moment and his resolved seemed to stiffen, “I need to tell you about Jon’s mother.”
Catelyn pushed down her anger and nodded for him to continue. This was something she had wanted to hear since he’d brought the boy home, but Ned had always refused her. She’d not let her own ire cause any more harm than it already had today. “I should have told you when I returned to Winterfell after the war, but like you said, we barely knew each other. I didn’t know how you’d react… and I couldn’t risk it.”
“Couldn’t risk what, Ned? What’s so important about the boy’s mother?” Catelyn tried, and likely failed, to keep the rage and fear out of her voice. The care he showed this woman grated on her. Ned’s only reaction was to look pained before continuing.
“Jon is not my son, he’s my nephew. His mother was my sister Lyanna.” Ned’s voice was so quietly she almost couldn’t hear it. It took her a beat to process what he’d said. The world seemed to fall out from underneath her.
“So his father….” Catelyn couldn’t quite form the question.
“Was the Prince.” Ned confirmed wearily. “Lyanna made me promise to protect their child with her dying breath. I couldn’t… I couldn’t risk the truth getting out, Cat. So, I kept it secret. Even from you.”
Suddenly the world snapped into place after years of being ever so slightly skewed. The strange incongruity of her faithful and honorable husband, so at odds with the existence of a bastard, had always nagged at her mind. She had brushed it off as something that men did when away from their wives, but never quite believed it. Ned Stark was too honorable for that. In her heart, she’d always know that there must be more to it that simple lust. She’d feared he had some great love out there somewhere who he’d never truly be able to let go of.
It was, perhaps irrational for her to feel so relieved at his announcement. This was nothing short of earthshattering, after all. She breathed out a sigh, pushing aside the impulse to cry again. Instead, she burst out laughing. He hadn’t told her the truth of Jon’s mother because he wanted to keep the child safe. Because he loved his sister and his family above everything else. He was a wolf, and wolves protected their pack, as he always liked to say. Somehow, with this one fact, everything in her life made perfect sense again. She laughed and laughed before she finally managed to speak again,
“I’m sorry, I know your being serious, Ned, it’s just- thank the Seven.” Then she hugged her husband. She knew, of course, that what Ned had done – was still doing- would be seen as treason by any reasonable king, but she remembered the stories that had reached her even in Riverrun. Even those who had no love left for the Targaryens spoke in horrified tones about what had befallen Aegon and Rhaenys. Even those who loved Robert balked at the words the king had spoken. ‘I see no babes, only dragonspawn.’ And what was Jon, if not dragonspawn? What could her honorable husband do, except hide his infant nephew to keep him alive?
“I’m sorry for lying to you, Cat. I know you wouldn’t do anything to place him in danger. Seven hells, you feel guilty for even hoping as much.”
“You didn’t know that. You didn’t know anything about me.” Catelyn insisted.
“You were my wife; I should have trusted you.” Ned answered.
“Wife or not, we were strangers, and my family was loyal to Robert. I could very well have turned you over to Robert or Jon Arryn. You were careful, as you should be. And you’ve told me now.”
“You aren’t angry?” The confusion was evident on Ned’s face, and she resisted the urge to laugh again.
“I should be, shouldn’t I? I think I’m just too relieved to be angry right now. Maybe once the shock has worn off. It never made sense to me, you’re too honorable for a bastard, Ned. This- I can understand why you did it, at least.” Catelyn told him. Ned nodded, looking relieved.
“Gods, I don’t deserve you.” He smiled.
“Says the man risking his own life to protect an innocent child. Forgiving you for that is easy, Ned.” She told him, smiling right back.
Catelyn looked down at the little boy as he sweated and twitched in his sleep. She had only seen Lyanna Stark a handful of times, but she could see the resemblance, the dark curls and grey eyes. Like Ned, yes, but also like his sister. She wondered, absently if there was anything of Rhaegar in his looks. Suddenly, a horrible new thought crossed her mind. Well, not a new one precisely, simply a new facet of an old thought.
“Ned, you said… Jon’s father… the Tower of Joy… Jon is…” Catelyn had never been at such a loss for words. She felt a sudden swell of protective urges towards this child who less than an hour ago she’d barely been able to look at.
“Lyanna… she went willingly. They married in secret.” Ned told her.
“So then, Jon is the rightful heir…?” Catelyn breathed in shock.
“Robert is the King by right of conquest. Jon is a child, not yet even three namedays old.”
“The rest of the Seven Kingdoms won’t see it that way.”
“It doesn’t matter how the rest of the Kingdoms see it; I won’t drag the back into another war. We’ve all seen too much of that already.”
“I know, Ned, but someday we will need to tell him the truth of his birth, and he may decide differently.” Catelyn replied softly.
“I pray it will never come to that. Robert is like a brother to me, and I don’t know if I could choose between him and my sister’s son.” He admitted uncomfortably.
You already have. The mere fact that he’s here, alive next to us means that you chose your family over your friend. What you want is to keep your choice from Robert. She didn’t say this aloud, though. He wasn’t ready to hear it yet.
“Hopefully, you won’t need to.” Catelyn soothed. “I just think want to be clear on what exactly your plan is in the long term. This won’t work indefinitely.”
“There are only three people in Westeros who know the truth of this, you, me and Howland Reed. I don’t see why anyone else need ever do what I’ve done.” Ned explained.
“So, you plan on keeping his birthright from him? Letting him spend the rest of his life being looked down on by those who should swear their allegiance to him?” Catelyn asked him.
“It’s what’s best for the Kingdoms! Preventing another war is more important than one child!” Ned exclaimed hotly.
“If you truly believe that, why is he here? Why have you kept it secret? You know full well what will happen if this gets out. All of it could be averted if you’d simply handed the child over to Robert, or sent him to an orphanage in Essos, where you would never to see him again, Ned. Instead, you chose this. All it takes is one person to recognize some trace of his father in him and your clever plan falls apart.” Catelyn replied.
“There are precious few people this far north who ever laid eyes on the man. The risk is small.” Ned rationalized.
“If you say so.” Catelyn deflected. She knew in her heart that he was wrong, eventually someone, somewhere would make the connection and it would all collapse. What happened if and when Jon had children of his own, for instance? But this wouldn’t be resolved tonight though, so she let the matter drop. If he even survives the night. Her treacherous mind whispered to her.
“I’ll stay with him, if you want to get some rest.” Ned told her after a lengthy pause, but Catelyn just crossed her arms.
“He’s as much my nephew at yours, and I’ve neglected him for far too long as it is.” She told him, sitting down firmly next to the boy’s bedside, and resuming her prayer wheel.
~:~:~
In the end, it was a long, long night. Catelyn stayed with Ned by Jon’s bedside as the Luwin bustled in and out periodically to check on the child. Jon himself slept fitfully but was mostly delirious even when he was awake. There was little that could be done to comfort him. Catelyn did the only thing she could, she prayed to the Seven as hard as she ever had to let the boy live. She vowed over and over to every last one of them that if he lived, she would love him like one of her own. She finished her offering. Technically, it was something a mother would make for her child, but Jon’s mother wasn’t there to do it for him, so it was left to her. She hoped the gods would understand. Ned didn’t pray, just watched and worried.
She was nearly asleep in her chair when Luwin pressed his hand against the boy’s forehead to check his temperature for the last time.
“His fever has broken, the worst is behind us.” Luwin sighed in relief. Catelyn suddenly felt wide awake.
“Really?” She asked. Luwin had seemed surprised by her concern when he had first told her, but he didn’t bat an eye now; he simply nodded now.
“Yes, my Lady. He’ll need some time and rest to recuperate, but he’ll live.” Luwin assured her.
“Thank the Gods.” She breathed, and gently brushed the child’s dark curls back from his face. The Gods, it seemed, had accepted her bargain. She would, she vowed, be as good as her word.