The realm was in chaos: honorable men laid dead, mothers and brides wept. Ned didn't know if he was on the right side of the history. The Mad King took his father, his brother from him but this wasn't what he wanted to soothe his pained heart. This isn't what he wanted to be responsible for. He looked down at his hands and saw blood coating them.

War changed even the most gentlest of souls, and the man he saw as his best friend was not free from the curse. He didn't recognize Robert anymore: to Ned, his cause was tainted the moment Princess Elia and her children's blood were shed.

That is why he demanded to marry you: to save you from his wrath. The last dragon at the hands of the lions and the stag and he owed it to himself, no, he owed it to his heart to save you. He had been bewitched by you ever since his late brother Brandon asked you to dance with him at the tourney, he remembered those gentle violet eyes and sweet smile and his heart ached at what might have happened to you.

This way, you'd not be a threat to Robert. Your children would be Stark and he'd watch over you and protect you from the whispers of Tywin and the wrath of Robert.

It didn't help the ache in his heart to see you like this, in the North you were so foreign to, your expression crestfallen. The princess she knew were no more, burdened by grief and the legacy of an entire house on her shoulders. His expression softened when he saw you holding Jon in your arms, cradling him gently. You had no idea that was your nephew, no idea that was your brother's son. You knew of him as Ned's bastard and you accepted him regardless. No matter how cruel the world was, your kindness stayed.

"My lady," He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Do you not wish to go inside? I trust you're not used to the Northern cold yet."