"He is our son, my lord," she answered with a wry smile. "And he is such a sweet child; even tempered and easy to care for. It has been no great burden, I assure you."
"It's true," Benjen said over Ned's shoulder, slightly startling him. "Young Robb has hardly given anyone any trouble. Well, except that he keeps finding things to put in his mouth!"
"He's teething," Catelyn replied with a shrug. "Finding something to chew on helps him relieve the irritation."
"Hmm," Ned hummed noncommittally. He knew little about the rearing of babies and toddlers, so he had little to say on the subject.
"So, Ned," Benjen cut in, an anticipatory grin on his face. "You went to war to rescue our sister, but you haven't sent word about it. Did you find her?"
Ned closed his eyes and let a sigh hiss through his nose. "Aye, I found her."
"Well? Where is she?" Benjen asked. "Is she in the wagon?"
"In a manner of speaking…" Ned dodged the question.
"Well, tell her to come out here and greet her brother, goodsister, and nephew," Benjen teasingly grumped. "I haven't seen her in two years, the least she could do-"
"Benjen."
It was Catelyn's hand on Benjen's arms and her quiet but firm voice that stopped him. The Lady of Winterfell briefly met Ned's eyes before she turned her gaze on the younger man.
"Benjen," she repeated, her voice gentle. She squeezed his forearm and, in a low voice, said, "I… don't think she made the trip home."
"What do you mean, she didn't make the trip home?" Benjen asked, confused and upset. "What, did she decide to stay in the South or something?"
"Benjen…" Ned cut in, his voice wavering. "Lyanna… when I finally found her… she was dead."
The lie tasted like ashes in Ned's mouth, but it was a necessary deception. If anyone, anyone at all, knew about Jon…
"D-dead?" Benjen stammered, his eyes wide. "She… no, she can't be."
"I'm sorry, Benjen." Ned hurriedly handed Robb off to Catelyn and pulled his younger brother into a crushing hug. "I was too late… she died of a fever mere hours before I could get to her. I'm sorry…"
"No, no, it can't be…"
"I'm sorry, Benjen…"
Ned held his younger brother, almost a man grown, as Benjen wept like a child into his chest. Around them, the household staff helped the men who had accompanied him unload the wagon and get situated. Out of respect for the grieving family, none dared to interrupt the brothers as they mourned the loss of their sister.
"You sent for me, my Lord?" Catelyn asked as she stepped into Ned's solar. Her eyes lingered on the other woman who was seated in front of Ned's desk, as well as the babe in her arms.
The room was mostly the same as it had been the last time he had seen it. Most everything, save for the parchment, was in the same places. The largest difference was a separate tray full of parchment that had little to do with Winterfell or House Stark. Before his wife had arrived, he had been perusing the ledgers it held, and had realized that the tray was for things related to his wife's business endeavors.
And Robert had been quite correct; if the numbers on the parchment were in any way accurate, his wife was making him a wealthy man indeed.
However, the parchment and her business were not why he had called her here to his solar. The last few days had been rather hectic, and he hadn't had the opportunity to broach this subject with his wife. There had been his reunion with Benjen, the welcoming feast, and Lyanna's funeral and interment into the Stark family crypt to deal with. Even now, he had to catch up on the condition of Winterfell; reviewing the tax and rent revenue, checking the stores, ensuring that the castle had employed enough servants and guards, and a hundred other little tasks.
'Yet, I can't put this off any longer,' Ned thought with more than a little resignation. 'The Old Gods alone know how she will react…'
"I did," he said out loud. Gesturing at the empty chair across from him, he asked, "If you would sit down, please?"
Catelyn nodded and gracefully sat on the chair, smoothing away wrinkles in her light blue dress as she situated herself. She glanced once more at the slightly older woman sitting next to her before returning her gaze to him.
"I wanted to introduce you to someone," Ned reluctantly continued, unable to meet her eyes. Gesturing at the woman next to his wife, he said, "This is Wylla."
"A pleasure to meet you, Wylla," Catelyn courteously greeted her.
"Thank you, milady."
"Wylla is a wetnurse I hired," Ned explained.
Catelyn raised an eyebrow, her eyes briefly fixating on the babe in Wylla's arms before snapping back to him, as if she was saying 'obviously'. She stared expectantly at him for a long moment, prompting Ned to continue.
"I hired her to nurse my… my son."
Catelyn stared at him, then at the babe.
"I take it, my Lord," she said, her voice quiet, "that the babe in her arms is… your son?"
"Aye," Ned answered, looking away.
There was silence for some time, broken only by the mild fussing of the child. Eventually, Catelyn broke it.
"May I hold him, Wylla?" Catelyn asked, her voice soft.
"I… I… milady, that's-"
"Rest assured, I will not harm him," Catelyn reassured the lady.
"Go ahead," Ned reluctantly ordered the woman. Wylla waffled for a moment but hesitantly handed little Jon into Catelyn's arms.
"Shh, shh, shh," she shushed the babe as he protested. Catelyn gently rocked the child side to side, holding him close to her chest. Jon quickly calmed down, his pale gray eyes staring up at her face. Catelyn looked up at him and asked, "What is his name?"
"Jon," Ned answered.
Catelyn looked down at the child and gave him a tentative little smile. "Hello, Jon," she crooned at him. She looked up at Ned and gave him a wry grin. "He has your eyes. And your hair."
"Aye," Ned lied, knowing well that Jon had Lyanna's features, not his. "He does."
"Wylla, if you would take him back, please?" Catelyn softly asked the wetnurse.
"Of course, milady."
Once Wylla had Jon safely in her arms, Catelyn said, "If you would return to your quarters? I need to speak to my husband in private."
"Of course, milady," Wylla deferentially answered. Ned watched with some trepidation as the wetnurse left the room.
Catelyn waited for several heartbeats after the door closed before she spoke.
"I assume that young Jon will be staying in Winterfell?" she asked.
"He will," Ned nodded.
"And… his mother?"
"I will not speak of her," he said, his voice short and his tone sharp.
"Does she live?" Catelyn gently pressed. "Does she have any remaining family that may try to claim him?"
"Jon will be staying in Winterfell," Ned insisted.
"And if you wish him to remain here, I will need to know if his mother or her family will demand that we hand him over," she replied, a tight frown on her face.
"If such a problem arises, I will handle it," Ned dismissed her concerns. "All you need to know is that Jon is my son, and he will be raised here in Winterfell."
"No, Lord husband, I will need to know a lot more than that," she retorted, her voice firm and unyielding. "Who his mother is, if she is highborn or not, what family she belongs to if she is, where and when you met her, how long your affair lasted-"
"I said," Ned ground out, his Wolfsblood rising, "that I will not speak of her."
Catelyn sighed. "Very well. I will begin packing my things tonight, then," she answered as she stood up.
"Packing?" Ned asked, confused at the non-sequitur.
"If you will not answer any questions about Jon's mother, I can only assume you wish to continue your affair in secret," Catelyn explained with a snort. "I'm well aware that our marriage was solely to secure an alliance. If you intend to keep this woman a secret, I will forever be looking over my shoulder, waiting for the day you finally decide to set me aside to marry her. If that's the case, I'll save us both a lot of time and get it over with now."
"Catelyn, wait," Ned stopped her before she could make it to the door. She paused, her face cold as she looked at him over her shoulder. "Sit down, please."
"Why, Lord Stark?" She asked, her voice quite cold. "You've already made your intentions clear; anything more you have to say on the subject will almost certainly be lies."
The accusation struck home. Ned closed his eyes and sighed. "Please… sit down. I'll answer your questions truthfully, just…"
"Very well," she reluctantly answered and returned to her seat. She stared at him for a long moment. "I want you to swear on the Old Gods that you will answer all of my questions, that you will not lie, and that you will not leave anything out."