Chapter 15

  EDDARD STARK

  Robert’s arrival in Winterfell had been an auspicious moment for him and his nds. All of the lords from the North had gathered to meet with the King, and it had been decades since a King had set foot in these cold and barren nds.

  Robert had broken a fifty-year drought, and though he had done so out of selfish reasons. It still did not lessen the significance of his visit.

  But just as the celebrations were about to set in, tragedy struck once more, as Eddard found himself gazing at the unconscious body of his son. He had tried to search for a design and deliberation yet had found none as his wife sat beside Bran, and continued to knit away in desperate prayers to her Gods.

  “I warned him! I always warned him,” and the pain slurred her words, and Eddard held as much of the bme as any for this disaster.

  “Yet he wouldn’t stay down, and now look at him! Look at him,” and Bran had always been fond of climbing. He had been inspired by the tale of Ser Barristan rescuing the Mad King from the cells of Duskendale, and had long desired to be a knight of equal renown and power.

  It was a great ambition for a boy his age, and even Eddard held great respect for the Ser Barristan the Bold. The realm had seen few knights better than him, but that very admiration had now robbed him of a future.

  A week had passed since that day, and Bran had yet to wake up still. He had decided to climb the broken tower in hopes of impressing Ser Barristan the Bold, and yet a stray crow had hit him in the head, loosening his grip over the slippery stones as he fell down the tower, plunging the entire castle into chaos.

  The feast was cancelled, and Ser Barristan had come to apologise to him personally, even though the fall was no fault of his. Eddard had long known of Bran’s hobby and had done little to curb it, and perhaps he had been wrong in that.

  “He will be fine,” Luwin had said, and his condition had begun to improve slightly over the st few days, but that all could change easily.

  “How can you say that?” she questioned, and he had no answer for her.

  “He is a kind boy and has never harmed anyone. Why would the Gods punish him like this? Why?” and Catelyn was crying, but he had no answer for her.

  “Still, why have you come here?” and Catelyn had holed herself in the room with Bran fearing that any moment could be his st, leaving him to cater to their guest.

  It was a blessing that Robert was his friend and was far more considerate of their circumstances than a usual King would be. He had even offered to punish Ser Barristan for the ordeal, but Eddard had advised against it.

  Ser Barristan held no bme for this. No one did, except for the Gods who sent that crow to hit him. He had seen him climb for years, and to this day, he had never seen him slip. It was but a mere coincidence that a crow had hit him, just as he had begun climbing to impress the Lord Commander of Robert’s Kingsguard.

  The old knight still held vigil outside these Halls, in guilt and remorse for the pain that he had brought to their family. And now Eddard could only worsen it.

  “It is time for the King to leave,” and her eyes widened in an instant.

  “I can’t leave him like this,” and he did not wish her to.

  “You heard what Luwin said. Any moment could be hi....”

  “No,” he cut in, and he would not let her utter such damning words.

  “Bran is stronger than that. Our son will live,” though he would have the life of a cripple.

  “I have not come here to ask you to join me. I have come to tell you that I am leaving,” and he could deny him no more, and Robert had quickly gotten tired of the feasts and the hunts.

  The Capitol was still empty, and without a King on the throne, treason could fester rather easily in these times.

  Catelyn obviously disapproved of his decision, yet she held her tongue.

  “Go then,” she answered angrily, turning away from him.

  “But the children all stay,” and that would be futile.

  “I cannot leave the children behind. They must come with me,” Eddard insisted, and Catelyn shook her head.

  “Why? Let the girls stay. I will bring them along when I come myself,” and he could not do that, lest she change her mind.

  “Sansa is essentially betrothed to the Prince. Having her stay here now would not reflect well on me, or our House,” and while Robert was his friend, it still would not serve him well to humiliate his King just when he had been made the Hand.

  “Let them come with me, and then you can come ter,” and for all her faults, Catelyn was well versed in courtly politics, an art which Sansa and Arya would need to learn fast if they were to survive in the cesspit that was the capital.

  “Why come to me, if you have already made your mind?” Catelyn compined, and she was not happy with his decision, but in the end, his hands were tied.

  Ned rose and accepted her rage, but his decision was already made. He walked up to the still body of his son, and the warmth of his skin was perhaps the only hope for him in the ever-expanding darkness of despair.

  He ruffled his hair, held his hand, and offered a prayer of his own to any and all Gods who would dare listen to him. He asked for mercy. Begged for it.

  Yet once more, he was met with silence as he turned his back on his wife and son once more.

  “The boy!” Catelyn’s scathing voice cut through the silence as Ned halted his steps.

  “The boy leaves with you!” and she did not need to mention the name, for she could only ever speak of one boy with such vehemence in her tone. Ned thought to argue against it, yet she continued.

  “I have tolerated his presence in my Halls for all these years, but I can do it no more,” Catelyn’s voice was cold and cruel, and once more, he wondered if he should tell her the truth.

  Yet that promise made to her sister in her st moments halted his words.

  “I will not have that bastard’s shadow hanging over my son while he fights for his life,” and Bran was his second son. The so-called spare, and though he had another son in Rickon, the boy was still too young.

  If god forbid, something were to happen to Brandon, then it would effectively make Jon the spare, and though the title was an informal one and carried little weight, Catelyn could not see the rights of her children questioned.

  Even though Eddard knew that Jon would never do that.

  Eddard turned his head to argue, but much like himself, Catelyn’s decision was already made.

  “I have accepted all of your decisions without once raising my voice. Now, you must accept mine as well,” and he would ask the question, what was he even going to do with him?

  The capital was even crueller to bastards than the North, and he did not wish to see him suffer any more than he already had. He had only ever hoped to see Jon rule the North besides Robb, as brothers.

  He had expressed some interest in taking the Bck, but he was too young to take on such vows. But what else could he even offer him?

  “Deal with that on your own,” Catelyn added with some finality.

  “Or I will,” and that was an ultimatum, and Eddard could deny her no more, as he walked out without an answer.

  He understood Catelyn’s fears. They had all grown up hearing tales about bastards and their treachery. The North had a few such tales of its own, and he still remembered the tale about the Greystarks who had once joined hands with the Boltons to bring down the Starks some five hundred years ago.

  But Jon was nothing like those men. His nephew—son was better than them.

  Still, Catelyn had been clear in her words. He needed to make a decision, and so he turned towards the yards, and it was time for the boys to practise, and he hoped to find him there and talk to him about his desire.

  He may have shown interest in taking up the Bck, but did he truly understand the implications of such a decision? And more than he had to talk with his brother, Benjen, and see if he would even survive in that wretched pce.

  Still, as he came up on the yard, he heard whispers and murmurs first, and looked down from the balcony to see the men all gathered in a circle.

  “What is going on here?” he raged, and the two guards turned towards him at once, and began to speak in incoherent words.

  “My lord, it was nothing. A duel gone wrong,” one of them answered somewhat nervously as Eddard felt his worries grow as he spotted the Maesters and the acolytes in the crowd as well.

  “Yes,” but Ned understood that he would get no answers from them, as he walked down the stairs and headed towards the familiar face he had spotted in the crowd.

  “Benjen! Benjen!” and the men all parted ways as they spotted him walking down the yard, and his brother turned around and looked at him.

  “Thank God you are here,” Benjen uttered with relief as he reached the centre of the crowd and saw one of his men lying there on the ground with a broken nose, screaming out of his lungs.

  But it was not the broken nose that was making him scream, and broken noses were a common injury in the yard. No. It was the arm, one that was twisted at an unnatural angle and showing the bone itself, which was making him cry out in pain.

  “Take him to Luwin,” he ordered, and the men nodded as Benjen took him to the side.

  “What happened here?” and he had heard a few whispers and a few names, but now he would have the truth.

  “Who did this to him?” and the injuries seemed deliberate. While accidents were not uncommon in the yard, one had to be deliberate in their actions to cause such harm to a man.

  Benjen’s hesitation was obvious, which all but confirmed his suspicions.

  “It was Jon, wasn’t it?” Ned questioned, and Benjen’s expression was answer enough.

  “Don’t put all the bme on him, though. The guard taunted him first,” Benjen came to Jon’s defence, and he just realised that his choice had become even harder.

  “He called him a bastard,” and Eddard could only close his eyes in frustration.

  “And then taunted him that Jon must be happy at Bran’s fall. They may have done some magic to cause it in the first pce,” Benjen added, and the words directed his rage at the guard as well, but Jon should know better than to rise to such insults.

  “What am I to do with him?” Eddard uttered in sheer frustration.

  “I had Robb take him to his chambers so that he could cool off, but we both knew such a day would come,” and apart from himself, Benjen was the only person who knew the truth of Jon’s identity.

  He saw the men carry away the guard’s body and wondered if he should accept the boy’s decision.

  “Perhaps I should let him go to the Wall as he desires?” Eddard wondered out loud.

  “I might have agreed with you before, but after today, I wouldn’t be so sure,” and Benjen’s words surprised him, as he turned towards his brother.

  “You know what the Wall truly is,” Benjen added quietly.

  “The Night’s Watch is a noble order...” and Benjen clicked his tongue.

  “The Night Watch is made of scum,” Benjen countered in frustration, and Eddard could not argue with that.

  “The Wall attracts only the criminals and the very scum who have no pce else to go. Scum who will say and do things far worse than that guard over there,” Benjen said as he pointed towards the man’s body being carried into the castle.

  “And do you know what will happen to him if he does something like that on the wall?” Eddard knew it as well.

  “They will get together and knife him in the gut when the Sun sets,” and Benjen’s words just made his choice a lot more difficult for him.

  “He would be dead in less than a month,” and Eddard sighed in frustration.

  “Could you not look over him?” he asked, and Benjen shook his head.

  “I am First Ranger. One of the few, trusted by that Old Bear. I could try, but I won’t be able to look after him when I am up in the true North,” and so perhaps the Wall was not the answer.

  “Then what am I to do with him? Catelyn has asked me that she will tolerate him no more in these Halls. I am set to leave in a few days, and now you tell me that he won’t survive on the Wall,” and Benjen did not have much sympathy for him.

  “I believe that is the price you must pay for your lie, then,” and he had never truly endorsed his decision to hide Jon’s real parentage from him. That very quarrel had led to him taking the vows of the Night’s Watch as he exchanged one brother for a thousand Bck brothers.

  “Still, you made a promise to her,” Benjen whispered as he came in closer.

  “Now you must abide by it,” and he would, but how could he protect him from himself?

  “Take him South with you,” suggested Benjen, and Eddard bit his lip in frustration.

  “The South is no kinder to bastards than the Wall,” and Benjen shrugged.

  “But the Capitol is filled with opportunity. Maybe he can build himself a life there, and if he fails in doing that, you can send him to the Wall a few years ter when he has matured a bit,” and what other choice did he truly have?

  “But as he is right now, he wouldn’t survive a month in that wretched pce?”

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