Chapter 1
CATELYN TULLY
Catelyn Tully smiled as she saw her daughter slowly make her first stitch as the septa slowly guided her about the art embroidery. A sense of ease filled her as she saw Sansa look up at her with a toothy smile, as she showed her, her first stitch. Her fiery red hair, were a contrast to her brother who had taken after his father's side, with his black hair and grey eyes.
"Look mother, I did it!" she shouted in her sing-song voice, and Catleyn felt her worries leave her as she praised her daughter, despite knowing that she would improve greatly in the future. As Sansa settled down, once more and lost herself in her newfound skill, Catleyn found herself thinking about her life.
Her marriage to Eddard Stark had been one of compromise given that she had been promised to his elder brother, Brandon. Brandon Stark, the confident, outspoken, and brilliant heir of Winterfell was different than his younger brother, Eddard who was much quieter and somber. Though she knew she didn't love Eddard she had come to terms with the match over the years, the presence of her three little children had made it easier.
And so, she found herself calling the Halls of Winterfell her home, a home that was much emptier than usual once more as her husband found himself once more away from his Halls, leaving with the might of the North to put down the shocking rebellion from the Greyjoys.
And so, she found herself praying to the Seven, above to protect him, to bring him back safely not just for herself, but for the child in her belly. She passed her hand slowly over her protruding belly, as she prayed for his safe return once again, cursing Balon Greyjoy for launching his rebellion.
As her mind drifted to her children she looked up at the servant standing near the door, and called out.
"Where are Robb and Cregan, their lesson with the master should have ended by now?" she questioned and the servant bowed his head.
"I will go find them, my lady," said the servant as he left the room. Though knowing her two sons, she had a pretty good idea of where they could be. Both Robb and Cregan were young and excitable young boys. They would probably be in the Godswood playing along with him.—and as she thought of that boy her lips thinned, and yet she pushed herself to smile as her daughter showed him her stitch.
Jon Snow, the blight on her husband's honor. The symbol of his infidelity, the bastard he had brought back from Robert's rebellion, and yet her children remained oblivious to all that and treated the boy as kin, unaware of the treachery of Bastards.
Robb, her firstborn, treated the boy as a brother despite her warnings and much like him Cregan, had taken to treating the bastard as a brother. Moreover, Eddard's insistence that the boy receive the same lessons as his two trueborn sons unsettled him.
She had spoken against it trying to set them right and yet her words had fell on deaf ears, and neither Robb nor Cregan were willing to listen to her warnings, and so she would do what her kind children had no heart to. She would keep them safe and sound from the clutches of that low born blight.
And as she was lost in thoughts, a curling scream rattled the very Halls of Winterfell.
"AGHHHHHHHHH!" dread pooled in his heart as she found the voice all too familiar, and she sprang to her feet as the maids rushed to her side, and she should not have done that. Not with another babe growing in her belly, but that voice.
It was all too familiar. It was her son's voice.
"Cregan," she gasped in worry as her feet moved on their.
"My lady, you need to be careful," the maids said, but she could not sit still and rushed out of the room, as she rushed towards the Godswood, from where she had heard the scream.
As she exited the corner, she saw a dozen servants rushing out of the Godswood, with the person infront held the unconscious form of her second born, Cregan.
"Seven above!" she prayed as she saw this and looked towards the servant, and asked angrily.
"What happened?" she asked, worriedly as she saw her youngest son being carried by the servants as the old master followed after them.
"He fell down my lady, while climbing a tree. A bird hit him, a crow…."
0000
EDDARD STARK
The warden of the north found himself once more in the South, after Balon Greyjoy's stupid rebellion. It was the first time he was talking to his friend and King Robert again as their forces met in the Westerlands to launch a campaign against the Iron Islands.
The bitterness that had plagued their friendship after that fateful day in Kingslanding had lessened, and both of them had decided to move past that ordeal as they sat in a tent drinking and reminiscing about their adventures in the past.
"Hahaha," Robert laughed joyously as he downed another cup of wine, and Eddard didn't miss how his friend's fondness for wine had risen since the last time he had seen him.
"It is so good to see you again, Ned. You should visit the capital more often, my friend. What are you even doing in that vast North," Robert replied, and Eddard smiled as he sipped his own wine.
"Guarding the North for you, your grace," Ned answered, and Robert huffed and slapped the table, the force from his strike, made the whole table shake.
"Pah! You should listen to your King once in a while," he roared. He stared at him before laughing out loud.
"Come and enjoy the summers with me in the castle. I am telling you about the wines and the fruits they have there. I have never tasted anything sweeter than that," Robert teased. But he had always cared little for these things, and seeing him unimpressed, Rober shook his head.
"Ha! Though seriously, the capital could use some of your wolf blood; ever since my marriage to that Lannister wench, It's getting filled with more and more of those Blonde cunts," and that made him frown.
"She is your Queen, Robert," he consoled, though he didn't miss the implication behind those words. Robert seemed to be concerned about the rising Lannister influence at court.
"She wouldn't have been had it not been for that bastard!" Robert cursed and Eddard didn't need to guess whom he was talking of. There was only one person Robert cursed so vehemently.
Rhaegar Targaryen, the infamous Prince. The one who caused the rebellion by kidnapping, his sister. And Robert's betrothed, Lyanna Stark. Though only he knew of the truth, of the damning truth and its evidence hidden in his castle up North.
"Curse him! That bastard!" Robert mouthed angrily as he sipped and gulped down his cup as Eddard decided to cut in.
"Tell me about the capital. How is are the children?" Eddard questioned hoping that the topic of his children would cheer Robert up, yet much to his surprise, Robert grimaced at the mention of his children, and didn't answer in elation as he had expected.
Robert wasn't the most affectionate person, yet he loved his children, though it seemed as if it was just one more thing that had changed in his friend.
"I can't say much of them. They are young and healthy," and there was sadness in those words as Robert continued after taking another gulp of wine.
"They resemble their mother more, with her hair and eyes, pure Lannister gold, just like Tywin fucking Lannister wanted," Robert scoffed before sighing.
"They resemble her as well. Gods take Tywin for forcing me to marry his daughter!" With that, he drowned his cup once more and placed it back on the table before he turned to face him.
"Tell me about yours. I have heard that Catelyn gave birth to another daughter a year ago. How many does that make it now?" Robert questioned, and he nodded.
"Yes, she did. We decided to name her Arya," he answered with a smile as he thought of his children.
His marriage to Catelyn had begun with tragedy, she was to be his brother's bride. Yet despite the circumstances of their match, both of them had found comfort in their children. Robb his eldest, named after his friend and King, was growing to be a strong lad, and much to Catelyn's consternation was very close with Jon and treated the boy as a brother.
Both of them were young enough that the taint of bastardy meant little to them, and he hoped that this would never come in between them. After Robb, there had been the twins, born seconds after each other, a son and daughter they had chosen to name Sansa and Cregan Stark, with Sansa taking after her mother with red hair and blue eyes and Cregan taking the pure Stark looks, with Black hair and grey eyes.
The boy was born with a pair of lungs on him and had caused several sleepless nights for the nurse maids, and had quickly joined the pair of Jon and Robb and had begun terrorizing the servants of the castle.
"Arya, that's a good name," Robert added from the side with a smile, and Eddard saw his friend quiet down as he began to scratch his chin. And their years of living together told him that Robert was thinking about something.
"Aha, I have decided," Robert began, and Eddard frowned as he saw the grin on his friend's face.
"Why don't you send one of your sons to foster with me in the capital?" Robert spoke, and Eddard stilled at the request, but that was what it was. A request, but could one truly deny the request of a king. Or does a King even make requests.
No. The truth was no. A King did not make requests, even one that was your friend.
"Yes, you and I grew up together in the Eyrie and forged a bond that brought down the Targaryen dynasty. We should try and foster such a bond in the next generation as well," and while the words were true, Eddard himself treasured the time he had spent with Robert and Jon Arryn during his fostering.
Yet that time was also marred with doubts and pain, and loathing for his own father whom he thought had abandoned him. It had taken him years of time, and a deep kinship of Jon and Robert to rid himself of that anger. And yet, he doubted if he had rid himself of it all.
And so, the thought of sending one of his children to the capital didn't settle with him, especially after what he had experienced himself, and yet as he looked at Robert he thought of it, and questioned just 'how bad was it?'
"Send one of my sons to foster with you?" Eddard questioned again, while raising a brow.
"Hahaha, don't look at me like that, Ned," Robert spoke with no care of his own thoughts, much too busy in his own plans and machinations.
"It will be good for a boy of yours to enjoy his life. You may have decided to freeze away in that cold country of yours. Perhaps the South would suit one of your children," and even though the offer was tempting he still was not convinced about sending one of his children away from him.
And he doubted if the South would really suit any of his children, for they were all Starks, and everyone knew that Starks rarely did well beyond the North. Though one of them had, and he had named a son after him—Cregan Stark, the one who had ridden South at the twilight of Dance and had carried out swift justice, which the history now called 'The Hour of the Wolf.'
But fostering with a King was an honor and a privilege, and Eddard had two sons and only one seat to pass on. Perhaps there was some merit to this as Robert continued.
"Yeah, but don't worry, Jon will be there as well to look after your boy. Your second son will do it. Fostering in the Red Keep shall help the lad build a future for himself. And then, hopefully, my boy will finally step out of her mother's skirts," and Eddard knew that Robert had made up his mind, and though he was skeptical of the idea, there was merit to his friend's words. And more than his friend's words, they were the words of a King.
The decision of which child was far easier than he would have thought, for of his four children, only one was suited for this honor. The very child, whose namesake had flourished in the South, where all other Starks had failed.
Cregan was a smart lad, ahead of both Jon and Robb in his letters and numbers, despite being younger. He had the eyes of a master, according to Luwin, and perhaps he would fare better than the rest his ancestors and would take after his own namesake in his success in the South and foster good relations both for his own betterment and for that of the North.
It was the same reason his father had sent him to the Eyrie: to foster relationships and bring the North closer to the other Kingdoms. Fostering with a King was an honor, and it would help his second son, Cregan, make something of himself.
Yet it still didn't feel right to him, and he didn't know whether Catelyn would agree to something like this. And he had to fight for the boy. He had to at least try, and so he spoke up once more.
"Robert, I will thin….." but before he could continue, they were interrupted as a servant entered their tent, his face red as he bowed quickly.
"Your grace, my lord," he bowed to them both, making Robert frown.
"I asked not to be disturbed!" Robert nearly shouted, but the servant was quick to answer.
"Forgive me, your grace. But a message has arrived from Winterfell for Lord Eddard Stark," the servant began, and Eddard frowned as the servant continued.
"Maester Vulcan said that it was urgent," and the servant took out the missive as Eddard motioned for him to hand it to him.
Robert made the servant leave as he opened the missive and read through its contents, dread pooling in his gut with each letter he read.
"What happened, Ned?" Robert questioned, and Eddard sighed as he passed him the message.
"Cregan fell from a tree while playing in the Godswood and injured his leg. They say he hit his head as well," Eddard told him, and Robert read the missive as Ned became worried for his son, and as he read the letter, he could understand why, for it seemed the boy hadn't woken up since the fall.
"Gods!" Robert said as he placed the missive back on the table.
0000
Back in Winterfell, in one of the castle's rooms, a young boy lay in bed covered in thick furs with a splint keeping his broken leg straight as he writhed in bed, sweating profusely despite the chilling temperature of the room before his eyes turned back, becoming eerily white, as he convulsed and grunted in pain, alerting the guard standing outside his room.
"Call the Maester and Lady Catelyn!"
0000
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