Chapter Text
He was supposed to leave the boy with the Manderlys. Well, no, if Catelyn is honest with herself, Ned never actually said that he was leaving Jon Snow with the Lord of White Harbour when he took him there along with Robb. But she had thought it implied, that or he'd finally seen sense and realized the boy belonged with his mother's people. He could take a ship for Dragonstone or a Dornish port, Storm's End even from White Harbour, after all.
But no, Ned comes back with Ashara Dayne's son as well as Robb, and that night he finds his wife's chambers closed to him. They have been married long enough that, while Catelyn knows her duty, she also knows that an expression of her displeasure will not result in a breakdown of her marriage. So her door is closed to Ned for a night, and then two, until he approaches her in her solar on the third day after his return.
“Catelyn...”
“I thought you were finally ready to let the boy go.” Ten years ago, Catelyn had confronted Ned about Jon. He had his mother, she'd pointed out, and the Dornish were a queer lot who took bastards in stride even when they were not in proper place. For example, the Sand Snakes, daughters of Oberyn Martell. Everyone knows about them. She hadn't mentioned the Snakes to Ned, had not even spoken of how he dishonored her, threatened Robb's inheritance. In truth, the boy would be happier with his mother as most children were, and she had said as much, thinking it was the most likely to sway him. What was best for his son.
Catelyn takes no pleasure in the fact that she was right, that the two people who most want Jon Snow away from Winterfell are her and Jon Snow himself. All she remembers is Ned snapping, “He is my son, my family. I will not discuss it with you.” It was Benjen, who had overheard it, who told Catelyn in the shy way he'd had then that Ned did it because the Starks had lost so much already. He could not bear to
She had not known what to think of it then. Had told herself it was a reaction to grief, and when some time had passed, he would see sense. But no, the boy was ten and had grown up alongside her Robb. Ned's Stark son alongside her Tully one. Jon Snow was older than Robb. If Ned ever decided... He had been betrothed to Ashara Dayne, it would be even easier to legitimize their child than another bastard, and as the eldest child he would take Robb's place. The boy was too much a threat and Ned would not give him up.
“Catelyn, there has been a raven from King's Landing,” Ned says, and his tone is enough to calm some of her anger. Something about his voice... “Jon wants us to consider matches for Robb, Sansa, and Arya. He suggests...” He pauses, and Catelyn frowns. Part of her is relieved to have something other than Jon Snow to talk about, the one subject they will never agree on.
“And who does he suggest?”
“He thinks we ought to betroth Arya to one of the Martells – the younger, he suggests, as he is negotiating on Robert's behalf to give Princess Myrcella to the elder. He says he would prefer Sansa, but he knows that we've been writing to Highgarden about her.” That had been Catelyn's idea; her Sansa dreamed of going south, and the Tyrells were one of the few Great Houses they had no link to. That the heir to Highgarden was a cripple gave her pause, but there was no suggestion that Willas Tyrell's leg had made him incapable.
“Who does he suggest for Robb?”
Ned looks away. “Allyria Dayne.”
No, is Catelyn's first thought. Not another Dayne woman, the sister of the shadow she can never escape. No, no. But, she can see the sense in it. She's aware that her marriage to Ned insulted the Daynes, as did his taking Ashara's son to Winterfell. And... If Robb were to wed a Dayne, surely they would not want to see him disinherited for the sake of their bastard-born kin?
“He also feels that we should send Arya to Dorne when Princess Myrcella is to go in two years' time, to become wards of Doran Martell until such time as the marriages take place.” Mace Tyrell – or more likely, his mother – wants Sansa in Highgarden within the next few years as well, so that she can learn the ways of the Reach. And Edmure, he's been writing to suggest that Bran could foster with him, or Rickon even.
“And you, Ned? What do you think?”
“I think the plan is a sensible one. I was fostered myself, and this is much the same. And Arya... She will flourish in Dorne, I think.”
“What of this Allyria? Is she going to come to Winterfell early?”
“There's no suggestion of it. I shall have to write to... I do not know who the castellan is, only that the Lord is a boy of about Arya's age. I am sorry, Cat, I know you didn't want us to let our children go before we had to, that you wanted them to grow up together as you and Lysa and Edmure did.”
“I did. But, they have had more time than you did, with your siblings. However, Ned?” She fixes him with a cool stare. “The day Arya leaves, or Sansa, or any of our children? That is the day you send your son to his mother, to his cousin in Dorne, wherever you wish. I will not lose a child of mine and continue to see him here.”
It's something, she supposes, that he agrees.