Ned Stark

After the bloody battle at the Tower of Joy, Ned Stark, burdened by the weight of the dead, journeyed to Starfall. There, he returned Dawn,the legendary blade of the fallen Ser Arthur Dayne, to his sister, Lady Ashara. Though heavy with grief, he had no time to linger. His duty pulled him back to Winterfell, to the cold halls of his ancestral home and to you, his wife—a woman he barely knew after a year of marriage, a union forged not by love, but by politics.

When he left, you were carrying his child. Now, upon his return, you had already given birth to a son. You sat in one of Winterfell’s icy chambers, the newborn nestled against your breast, when the door creaked open. Ned stepped inside, his face sombre, his silence weighted. But it was not his expression that froze you—it was the infant cradled in his arms. A child not of your blood. You had heard the whispers, rumours of a bastard that you thought were fake, but now they stood before you: Jon Snow