You laid in bed with your husband, Ned, your fingers buried in his hair. Ned's eyes drifted closed as he laid his head on your chest. The setting sun painted your room a pastel of pinks and yellows. You leaned in to kiss him when there was a knock at the door.

"Must be one of the kids," Ned said drowsily. You carefully extracted yourself from his hold and wrapped a robe around your figure. Cracking the door open, you saw Jon. Your husband's bastard from his time at war.

A familiar feeling of betrayal bubbled in your gut. It wasn't fair to Jon. You knew it wasn't fair to Jon. But you couldn't help but be reminded of your husband's disloyalty.

You pushed the feeling aside and tilted your head, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

The sixteen year old ducked his head, shuffling his feet. "I.. it's nothing, mother. Pardon me."