Eddard Stark

Winterfell, 299AC

Summer snows in six of the seven Kingdoms that made up Westeros was almost alien. Then again, most of the Kingdoms had never even seen a single snowflake in their lifetime. However, in the North, snow falling in the middle of summer was a common occurrence. Seeing the different shapes snowflakes took and watching them hit the ground only to melt and later turn to ice. Today was one of those days where it was technically summer, but due to location there was still a biting cold. The women trying desperately to stop the falling snow from falling into their eyes, and the men walking around in thick fur cloaks still.

Wintertown was always a pretty quiet town, nothing like White Harbour with its stony beaches, busy streets, and flowing markets. In total, only a few thousand people lived in the small town, but today was different. Today, the town centre was bustling with the upcoming name day of Robb Stark- the heir to Winterfell. The impressive castle standing a little over a mile away. Every year, each Stark child would be paraded around the small town to familiarise the people. It certainly made the dreary markets look worthwhile.

But there was one child that never got this treatment. In fact, not many people outside those who were higher up in ranks knew he even existed. A boy by the name of Jon Snow. The bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark. The product of a single night's stray from his new wife whilst at war. It was a common occurrence to happen, but what made it different was that it was the honourable Ned Stark who had done so. Some people questioned the claim, but there was no definitive proof to say he wasn't- so they took his word as truth. Of course, nobody but Ned knew there was documents to prove otherwise- but he was not going to falter.

The day was coming, the day he was dreading for the past sixteen years almost. With Robb's sixteenth name-day approaching, it meant Jon's was going to be here a mere week afterwards. The day that he had promised Lyanna and she died from complications of childbirth that the boy would know who he really was. He thought he was prepared for it, but as it came nearer- he realised with a start this was not the case at all. He still had a week to decide how he was going to do so. The chest Lyanna had given him kept in a hidden part of the crypts near her statue along with Dark Sister.

It wasn't going to be an easy thing to confess. Jon may despise him, and the poor boy will go through turmoil. From thinking you're a bastard to finding out you're the rightful heir to the throne. Catelyn may not forgive him for making her believe he had an affair for sixteen years. The children may not forgive him for never telling them. But he promised her, and he promised he would do whatever he could to make sure that he was safe. Which meant from Robert. Ned had not seen his friend for many years, and if the words people spoke were true- he had changed drastically. Gone was the muscular Baratheon heir, replaced with an overweight alcoholic. Then again, with the wonderful Cersei Lannister as his wife- it did not surprise him.

Robert had been completely in love with Lyanna, had been since the moment he laid his eyes on her when their fathers agreed to the betrothal between the pair to join their houses. From her fierce nature and no-nonsense statements, he thought she was perfect in every way. Was she picture-perfect-beautiful? No. However, there was no denying there was something about her that made her incredibly attractive. His little sister never once let her gender stop her. If Jon did decide he would act upon his claim, Robert would proclaim war. And the thought terrified him to nothing else.

The Lord sat at the high table in the main hall, watching with a small smile on his face as Catelyn ordered their eldest son to remain still so she could make sure his new winter cloak was a perfect fit. The redhead grumbling in irritation as she did so, but he didn't want to have her feel like he did not appreciate the gift. Robb was tall, nearing Ned in height already at only fifteen name-days of age. His eldest sister following in his footsteps being only a couple of inches shorter but two name-days younger than he. Sansa was without a doubt her mother's daughter. From looks, to manners, to general attitude.

Then there was Arya. Feisty little Arya. Out the eldest three, she took after her father in looks the most. Ned swears sometimes whenever she turned to him that he could see his own sister staring back at him. She certainly had a similar spirit to her. Perhaps a gift from the old gods. Bran looked a little like both, and with Rickon still being a little over one name-day old, they couldn't tell who he looked more like. Jon though, there was no denying looking at him that he had Stark blood in his veins. The characteristic long face, awkward shaped nose, and naturally pessimistic attitude. It was difficult as he grew into his features for Ned to picture he was Rhaegar's son. It wasn't until he turned ten name-days that he first saw signs of the dragon Prince. His eyes were already a giveaway, but in dim lighting they did appear grey. From the age of ten name-days, Ned made sure that all sons trained under Ser Rodrik. Robb was awkward but picked up quickly. Jon though, he took to it like a duck to water.

The Master-at-arms was delighted at this, and within a month he had the boy moved from wooden swords to tourney swords. They were all blunted to avoid injury, but this didn't seem to stop the boy. It was no secret throughout the seven Kingdoms that Rhaegar was an incredibly talented swordsman. After all, he was one of only five people that had managed to disarm Ser Barristan Selmy in combat. He paused in remembrance at that specific tourney in which he earned the accolade. The same one where Lyanna had entered under the name of 'Knight of the Laughing Tree' and had beaten three men who were mocking Howland Reed. From the timeline, he knew this was the day that she first began talking to Rhaegar. Was this when they started to fall in love with one another? It was a question he was never going to get an answer to.

"Father, what do you think?"

He snapped out of his thoughts as he stared at his heir, with his new cloak finally on and adjusted accordingly.

"You look incredible, son. Now, you'd better get changed as Ser Rodrik is expecting you within the hour."

He allowed himself to snort at the unimpressed look Catelyn wore his way. She had gone through all the hassle to get her son into the garment only for her hard work to be undone quicker. Just like that, her newly hand-woven cloak was in a heap on the ground as her eldest son bolted to get changed.

"You had to, didn't you?"

Ned could do nothing but chuckle softly at her reprimanding tone. In the past seventeen years, he had grown to love her deeply, even if they only married because his older brother Brandon was killed by the Mad King. A death which potentially could've been avoided if Lyanna had been honest with what had happened. But the past is the past, it happened.

"Maybe today he'll finally beat the bastard. He can't lose every time surely."

This was one thing they still couldn't agree on, even after all these years. Catelyn absolutely refused to refer to Jon by name. He was not her child, a reminder her husband had been with another woman behind her back. When she was pregnant with Robb as well.

"I'll speak to him and ask him to go easy on him- "

"Don't. I don't want him winning because the other is trying not to. One day he will win of his own accord."

With that, his wife left the room mumbling about searching for Arya as she had a sewing class soon. Knowing his youngest daughter, she was probably hiding in a tiny crevice to watch the boys spar. He had witnessed her going up to her older brothers and asking for pointers, but never in front of Catelyn. His wife would without doubt have a fit at the thought of her youngest daughter fighting. She wanted her to be more like Sansa, a scenario that wouldn't happen until dragons were seen in the sky again. Ned stood up from his seat and made his way to watch his boys. It was always a treat, to see how skilled Jon was getting. It was benefitting Robb as well, because he always had an opponent to challenge him. The easiest way to get better at something is to challenge oneself at all possible intervals.

He was not disappointed to say the least. Just seeing how natural it was for his nephew to pick up a sword and carry it like it were simply an extension of his arm. The boy had yet to beat Ser Rodrik, but that day would probably not be far off. Robb was the first to strike but Jon immediately blocked the attack and in the same motion pivoted to the side to catch his cousin in an awkward angle. The older having a smile on his face as he pulled away just before it would hit him. Ser Rodrik was at the side watching fondly, and he had to stop himself from snorting at spotting his daughters face peeking through a gap in the bricks to watch. Within seconds, what was just simple moves became a flurry of very advanced movements. Robb was clearly startled by the speed, but he refused to let it deter him as he sped up in his own antics. But Jon had anticipated so and slowed down massively to confuse the older boy. It went on for what seemed to be hours when it was only a few minutes before Jon successfully disarmed Robb once again.

"You need to block your lower half, brother. You almost had me that time."

"Nah, I didn't. You're much better than I am."

Jon at least had the grace to blush as Ser Rodrik walked over to give each boy pointers for the next round. Ned stayed to watch one more, not even surprised that his nephew defeated his son with ease again before leaving the training yard. He had finished with all his duties for the day, and as usual he found his feet taking him down into the crypts. Torrhen, Rickard, Brandon. All the Starks were buried here going back hundreds of years. But he always stopped at the statue of his little sister. He opened the small hatch just behind it to remove one of the documents. The certificate of Jaeron Targaryen's birth.

"It's nearly the day Lya. I've kept my promise, and I will keep my promise no matter what. I miss you, little sister."

—-

"Robb! Stay still!"

The redhead rolled his eyes in annoyance as his mother fastened another cloak on him. The summer snows were falling harder today then they usually did, and she did not want her precious boy to go out in the cold with only the traditional armour that came with the presenting. On the opposite side of the room, Sansa sat with perfect poise as her maid braided her long auburn hair in the typical style for Northern nobility.

"Mother- "

He cut off from the stern glare Catelyn gave him.

"None of that. You are now a man grown Robb Stark; you need to make an impression. You are the heir to Winterfell."

At these words, the teenager kept quiet. He knew to his mother appearances were incredibly important, but he's never liked to put himself out there. But unfortunately, with him being the heir, he had no choice. All he wanted to do was run around and spar non-stop with his younger brother. Well, half-brother really, but he never considered him as anything other than brother. His mother hated that he had this mindset and they had gotten into multiple arguments over the years regarding this, but he was just as stubborn as his father which Cat had no choice but to accept eventually. One day, he would beat him in a spar. He's come close on dozens of bouts, but the week younger would always pull out a trick that would confuse him and in turn cause him to lose.

"Do you like your sisters dress? It's the first she's completed all herself."

He looked to his younger sister who looked down to her work with a fond smile. There was no denying Sansa looked fantastic, she always did. Look wise, she had nothing about the North in her features. She was without a doubt their mothers mini-me. The only thing she did seem to inherit from their father was her stubbornness. A trait that seemed to run through all the Starks. Even Jon, and he wasn't even a Stark, he was a Snow. He's heard the story half a hundred times by now. His father rode off to fight alongside his friend Robert Baratheon to get back his sister Lyanna who was kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen. After a battle his father strayed from his vow to his mother and came back ten months later with a bastard, explaining the mother had died in childbirth and he couldn't leave him. He already knew his younger brother would not be invited to the festivities, but on these days he always snuck out to challenge him to a duel.

Once Catelyn had finally gotten all the clips in place, she stood back to admire her son. He now stood the same height as her, and she had no doubt that within a year he would be a similar height to his father. Even Sansa stood at eye level with her, and she only had thirteen name days to her. Now, she turned to the corner where Arya was sulking. This caused Robb to snort, as his youngest sister despised wearing dresses and having her hair done pretty. If she got her way, she would happily go out dressed like he was. But Catelyn was a Tully, and she never backed down, therefore Arya never got her own way when it came to clothing. She huffed as their mother pulled the strings tight at the back of the dress. The face she was wearing almost caused Robb to cackle with laughter. Sansa simply rolled her eyes at her little sister before asking if she could be excused to grab something quick to eat beforehand.

It took longer for Catelyn to get Arya ready than it did him, and by the end of it he swears his little sister was throwing daggers at their mother for forcing her into this. The pair left not long after this, Arya ranting and raving every few seconds about how it was not fair she couldn't wear trousers and loose shirts as she was a girl. On the way they met Bran who was too young to take part in the festivities yet. They played with him for a bit before making their way into the training yards. Once again, they were met with Jon sparring with Ser Rodrik. From the side lines, there was no denying how talented the young boy was with a sword. The way he would spin so quickly and use swings with such a powerful force. Ser Rodrik always said there was three ways to tell a swordsman. There's those who are completely inept, those who were awkward but could get better with lots of practise, then those who were naturals.

"Do you think I can be taught one day."

Robb simply scuffed her hair a little, making sure their Lady mother was nowhere near to see as she would chew him out for doing so.

"You can try, but you know mother won't like it."

"But father might, you've heard him speak of aunt Lyanna and how she was called half-centaur."

A soft smile came onto his face at this. Most people in Winterfell who were here when their aunt was alive referred to her as such. How she behind her mother's back convinced her eldest brother Brandon to teach her how to fight. It wouldn't surprise Robb if Arya followed in similar footsteps.

"Well, I'm a man grown now. Meaning I can do so without facing mother's wrath."

At what he was suggesting, a massive smile made its way onto Arya's face. A loud clanging noise broke them from their scheming and Robb was surprised that it was Ser Rodrik who had been disarmed. The older Knight simply staring down at his own sword with shock.

"You finally best me."

"You almost had me, Ser- "

"None of that boy. You won, fair and square."

He jokingly scuffed the boy's black hair before picking his sword up and walking to the armoury. Jon instead attached his sword to his hip as he wanted to get some more practise in whilst his siblings were being paraded through Wintertown.

"Can you imagine mothers face if she saw."

Jon looked up to face his slightly older brother and youngest sister before shaking his head fondly.

"She'd despise me even more than she does already and demand Ser Rodrik not to train with me anymore."

Robb could do nothing but nod, as that is exactly how his mother would react if she knew Jon had bested Ser Rodrik.

"You'll beat me one day, Stark."

"Not any time soon, Snow. You just keep getting better and better as the days go on."

Jon blushed deeply at this before saying he had better get inside before Lady Catelyn pitched a fit for him training on her eldest son's special day. With that, Robb and Arya made their way to the stables where their father was waiting for them with a raised eyebrow. Both hung their heads in shame before mounting their own respective horses and making their way out of the castle. The Lord and Lady rode abreast to signify their union, and the children followed directly behind in order of age. But as Robb was now a man grown, he was also going to be riding between his parents with his sisters behind them. As they left, he chanced a single look towards Jon, and he swears his eyes changed from grey to lilac. He shrugged it off as nothing though, perhaps his deceased mother had that as an eye colour.

The streets were filled on both sides. People came from all over the North to witness the parades. Wanting to get an eye on their future Lords and Ladies. The eldest took it in his stride (mostly to please his mother), Sansa looked as though she was born into it, and Arya was desperately trying to hide her scowl as she did not want to be here at all. She'd rather sit in a sewing class with Septa Mordane than do this, which was saying something as she always tried to weasel her way out of said lessons. She'd been getting more creative as she got older in doing so as well. Robb had found her up a tree with Bran to escape one just a few days ago.

As a particularly cold gust of wind came along, Robb was suddenly glad his mother had went to the extent of weaving him a new cloak to go on top of the traditional armour worn for these events. However, it was tied loosely so it hung from his shoulders as opposed to sitting snug, showcasing the wolf emblazoned silver underneath. As they entered the gate into the small town, the smell of sweat and food completely overtook his senses. On both sides of the main street was lines with numerous stalls. Some were food from all over the continent- and the occasional one from Essos. Some were jewellery, some were trinkets, some were pottery, others were blacksmiths trying to make a name for themselves.

Once they were spotted however, everyone instinctively filed along the walls of houses and businesses, leaving a space just large enough for three horses riding abreast. Despite his heart hammering away inside his chest, he sucked up his nerves and stared ahead, very much mimicking his father's characteristic expressions. Robb could feel his mother smile subtly his way. People cheered, whispered, and threw small gifts towards them. All knowing it would be rude to not show gratitude, each caught one flying item and smiling broadly, but neither knowing exactly what they had caught. The streets thinned the further in they went, which meant they couldn't ride abreast anymore. Lord Stark went first, followed by Lady Stark, Robb, Sansa, and lastly Arya.

There were hardly any people here, but it was customary they went through every main street on the day in question. At least they wouldn't need to do so for another few months for Arya's eleventh name day. There was no doubt she would try and wriggle her way out of it like she always did since she became of age to partake in the parades. All attempts were futile though as Catelyn seemed to have an extra sense to know where her daughters were always . The most his feisty little sister had gotten away with was postponing it by two hours. But the Lady had found her alongside Bran high up one of Winterfell's many towers.

She hated it when they did so, but no amount of punishing or yelling stopped the pair from doing so. It wouldn't surprise Robb if the pair have previously made it onto the roof before. Whether they were up one of the many Weirwood trees, towers, walls, if it was high up- the pair went up. Ned found it amusing most often, remarking on a few occasions he had done the same with his siblings when he was their age. It was rare Lord Stark spoke of his family, and nobody could blame him.

Rickard and Brandon summoned by the Mad King and executed on arrival. Benjen up at the wall. Lyanna kidnapped, raped, and murdered. It was hard to think of the Stark line without thinking of the numerous bad events that had occurred. It's difficult to see past the worst scenarios to see the good ones no matter who a person is. Once they finally reached the end, people were waiting to take their horses. This was the part Robb liked, being able to walk around and mingle, and to take in each individual stall. He made sure he had his pouch of gold and silver on him before running off with Arya. Sansa scoffed but she had a small smile to her face before running after her siblings.

They all talked fondly with the people of the North, knowing one day they will take over as Lords and Ladies, they may as well get some experience. Sansa immediately went to the jewellery, her mother joining not long after. Robb and Arya however, headed to one of the blacksmiths. Each eyed the numerous bows, knives, swords, and foreign weapons they had never seen with fascination. When his Lady mother was not looking, Robb silently asked if he could make a knife small enough for Arya. He was startled by the request but seeing the large smile that came on to the youngest female of the clan made him agree to do so.

"You'll have to hide it from mother, otherwise she'll rip my ear off."

Now, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet before dragging him to one of the many food stalls. Both took a few of everything, making sure to grab a couple extra Volantene nut pastries for Jon. Since he was not allowed to partake in the parades due to his bastard status, he never got to experience the festivities like his siblings. He always had a taste for the more exotic cuisines of the free cities of Essos. By the time the pair had gorged on enough they felt like they were about to be sick, they made their way back to the blacksmith to collect the knife. Due to it being done in such little time, there was no fancy lettering on the blade or designs on the hilt, but it was a very sturdy weapon. She quickly stowed it away under her numerous furs.

Once they got to the entrance, their horses awaited them once again. All mounted up and made their journey up to the castle again. However, a troubled look on Ned's face set an uneasy feeling into the children. It was rare he let his regular stoic expression fall, so they knew something was bothering him. There was no use in asking though as all knew from experience he would change the subject immediately. Even Catelyn knew of this, which bothered her massively.

In one week, everything would change within their dynamic. It was a thought that bothered the Lord. But he made a promise, and he has stuck to his promise for almost sixteen years now. He will not fail Lyanna again, even in death.