Work Text:
Baby Aegon cried in the wet nurse’s arms. He was hungry again. She tried to keep up with his erratic eating habits, but it was hard.
Ned knew it was hard. He would pay her well when she went home.
Winterfell was less than half a day away. He still hadn’t decided on a name for the baby yet.
The boy was to be called Snow. Ned knew that the only way to keep the baby safe from Robert was to pretend he was a bastard. How Robert would accept that, he wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t as worried about Robert’s reaction as he was Cat’s.
His wife, his friend, the woman who had carried his child while he was away at war.
He debated telling her the truth. He knew it would be less pain for her. But he had also made a vow to Lyanna to keep her secret. He trusted Cat with his life and the life of his children, but who knew who was listening in Winterfell? There could be ears all around.
So the boy was to be his bastard. A Snow of the North. But as to his name- that was the real question.
Ned debated between three. Ren, Gaven, and Tarin. All named of valiant soldiers who’d died noble deaths in his army. Specifically soldiers who’d died defending him .
Ren had been the first to go. After a surprise attack by some Targaryen loyalists in a tavern, the three men who had been with Ned fought off their attackers. But they’d lost Ren in the process.
Gaven and Tarin died in the same attack. It was during a battle; Ned was battling off three men at once, and Gaven, Tarin, and a soldier named Tartret took them off his hands. Tartret lived, but Gaven and Tarin, all soldiers who were specifically assigned to protect Ned, were speared by their foes.
Ned pondered his choices. All three were good names, respectable names (even for a bastard). But he didn’t feel right about any of them.
“Lord Stark,” Neina, the wet nurse, called. The baby was crying in her arms.
“Yes?” Ned winced when he heard his own voice. It was tired and resigned, with no sign of getting back in good spirits. At least, not until he got home.
“You should hold the baby for a minute, my lord. He’s crying for you.”
The baby wanted Ned to hold him?
That’s new.
Ned stopped his horse. All the horses and men who were behind him stopped, too.
He jumped off the horse and walked over to Neina. She gingerly placed the baby in his arms.
Immediately, he stopped crying. He stared up into Ned’s eyes, as if evaluating him.
He was such a beautiful baby. His eyes were dark, and his hair was as well. His nose was tiny . It seemed as though one little flick would send it flying off his face.
But what made Ned so interested in the baby were his eyes. It didn’t matter the color, it didn’t matter the shape. It mattered that they were alive. The baby was just that- a baby. But his eyes were alive as if he were a man going to battle. As if he were a boy shooting his first arrow. As if he were a Maester, knowing of all the things in the universe.
He looked a lot like-
Ned looked up at Neina as it dawned on him that the baby couldn’t be named Ren or Gaven or Tarin. He couldn’t be named after some measly soldier. He couldn’t be named after someone who died in a fight, someone who died in violence.
This babe was a boy of intelligence.
And there was only one name that could fit the bill.
Jon Snow.
Snow was the bastard’s name. Jon was Jon Arryn’s name.
Jon Arryn was the Hand of the King. He served King Robert down in King’s Landing. He was a loyal mastermind, devoted to the crown and ready to serve it. He understood the true meaning behind pretty much everything.
Lyanna’s baby was unique. The last Targaryen. He should have a name that meant something.
He held on to Jon for a little longer. When the babe was calm, Ned handed him back to Neina.
“His name is Jon,” he said quietly to her.
Neina beamed. “Thank you, my lord. I’ve been just calling him ‘baby’. I think Jon suits him.”
“Please don’t tell anyone until I’ve told Catelyn, though,” Ned whispered.
“Of course, Lord Stark.”
Ned nodded to her, then walked back over to his horse and mounted it. He would have to think about what to say to Cat.
The gates to the Great Keep opened. There were cheers from all around him; it seemed as though the whole of Winterfell was there to welcome him back.
He looked ahead, and there was Catelyn, looking beautiful as ever. She held something in her arms; it looked like a blanket.
Ned realized that she was holding his child.
Fuck.
He sent a sideways glance at Neina. She fell back behind all the men and turned back behind the gates. She would enter later.
Ned dismounted his horse and regally walked over to Cat. She presented him with his child.
“He’s a boy,” she whispered to him as she handed the bundle over.
The baby was so unlike Jon.
Jon had dark brown eyes and barely any dark hair on his head. This baby, his very own son, had piercing blue eyes and curls of black hair already forming at his scalp. The boy had eyes less curious than Jon’s, but they made up for that by being absolutely ecstatic. Why the boy was so happy, the gods only knew.
Ned felt something in his chest. This was his son. His son. Not Lyanna’s child, not one of Robert’s bastards, not just a boy.
This was the future Lord Stark.
Ned almost collapsed with the sheer weight of this thought. He quickly handed the boy back to Cat before he could drop him.
“What’s his name?” Ned’s voice was quiet and cracked, just like his heart.
“Robb,” Cat said with so much love in her voice. “After Robert.”
Robb. Robb Stark.
His son.
Ned almost groaned aloud. How was he supposed to tell Cat about Jon?
He considered telling her the truth. She could keep it. He would tell her in the godswood, where no one would hear.
But no. He made a promise to his sister.
“He’s beautiful,” Ned told Cat, anguish apparent in his voice.
She sensed something wrong. “Ned, is everything alright?” she asked concernedly.
“Everything is fine, Cat. Let’s go eat. It’s been too long since I’ve had any Winterfell meat.”
Cat grinned and led him to the stairs. Before he followed her, though, he called to one of his soldiers. His most trusted soldier, Jory Cassel.
“My lord,” Jory nodded.
“Find a woman named Neina,” he muttered to him in the lowest voice possible. “She came with us. Bring her to an empty chamber in the Keep. Fetch Septa Alisa. She’ll know what to do.”
Jory nodded, not asking questions like the devoted soldier he was.
Ned went back up the stairs to Cat, who was looking at him curiously.
“Nothing urgent, my dear,” he smiled. “Lead the way to the Great Hall.”
“There’s a feast awaiting, Ned,” Cat rambled excitedly. “The women of Winterfell all brought their specialty dishes. Their best food. Everyone’s elated that you’ve returned.”
“And are you?” Ned asked quietly.
Cat paused for a moment. She looked at Ned, who stared back.
“Ned. Eddard Stark. I carried your child in my womb for nine months. I waited on the edge of my seat for a year for news of you. I gave birth to our baby not a month ago. I have never been happier to see you than I am now.”
Ned looked at his wife lovingly. She was truly a diamond in the rough; a rare woman.
How in seven hells was he supposed to tell her about Jon?
He’d push it off until later. For now, he was hungry. And not just for food.
“Give Robb to someone,” Ned whispered under his breath. “The feast can wait.”
Cat swatted him with her arm. “Later,” she hissed, grinning.
“I love you, Cat,” Ned grinned.
“And I love you.”
He’ll push Jon off until tomorrow.
Jon Snow was breathing very hard. “My father,” he said slowly, “was the most honorable man I’ve ever met.” He stared into Sam’s eyes. “You saying he lied to me all my life?”
Sam’s eyes melted. “Your father-“ he stammered- “Ned Stark, he promised your mother he’d always protect you,” he said gingerly. “And he did, Robert would’ve murdered you if he knew!”
Jon gasped.
“You’re the true king,” Sam continued. “Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, Protector of the Realm, all of it.”
Jon stepped back. It hit him hard, what Sam was saying.
It made sense, though.
Why Ned would never talk about his mother.
Because she wasn’t some tavern wench that he’d spent the night with.
She was his sister.
His sister, who’d entered into a forbidden marriage. His sister, who got pregnant and gave birth after her husband died. His sister, who entrusted him with her baby. His sister, who’d asked him to protect her son.
It all made sense now.
Snow is a bastard’s name.
But not Jon’s.