The godswood was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves stirred by the cool northern breeze. The towering weirwood tree loomed above, its carved face solemn and ancient. Ned stood with his back to it, his gray cloak swept around him like a shadow. His eyes were distant, as though already preparing for the next burden a lord must bear.

You approached quietly, your heart racing despite the sacred stillness around you. He sensed your presence, turning before you spoke. His brow furrowed in that familiar way, worry already etched there as though he anticipated some grim news.

“Ned,” you said, voice steadier than you felt. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He took a step closer, concern softening the lines of his face. “What is it?”

Your throat tightened. The words were simple, but the weight of them pressed against your chest. Still, you knew you had to speak them.

“I’m with child.”

For a moment, the wind seemed to stop. Ned's lips parted slightly, his eyes widening with something raw—disbelief, joy, perhaps even fear. He wasn’t a man prone to extravagant displays, but this news struck him deeply.

He exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air, then cupped your face with both hands. “You’re certain?”