Ever since Benjen's panicked, cryptic letter almost a year and a half past, Ned had been desperate to get to Dragonstone and find out what in the world was going on, but the re-emergence of the old Forrester-Whitehill feud had made it impossible for him to leave the North. Robb was still too young for Ned to trust him to deal with runaway brides and Houses seeking alliances and attempting to start civil wars on his own. Still, now, as he was approaching Dragonstone once again, Ned could barely make himself breathe properly.
Apprehension and excitement warred within him. Excitement for his first grandchild - regardless of their actual relation, that was what little Duncan Stark would always be to him - and apprehension because the one clear thing in Benjen's letter had been 'he knows', which also indicated 'I know'. Even now, after the news had had so long to settle into Ned's mind, the thought was still jarring. He had no idea what awaited him on the island. Would he be meeting his son, or a young man embittered against him? His sweet little Jon, or a man who would spurn his presence? For the first time in a decade and a half, Ned thought he might have some small understanding for Robert. Still, that did not soften him. He could not forgive the murder of his son's brother and sister, even if he had wanted to, and certainly not Robert condoning the savagery. As always, thinking of it only made him imagine Jon dead in front of him, even if the boy might be too close to grown for his skull to crack so easily now. Ned pushed the thought away. It was more than he knew how to deal with on top of everything else right now.
He was only half-aware of the ship docking, of the harbour town, which seemed even more colourful and flourishing than it had at Ned's last visit, for his son's wedding. Robb, Sansa and Arya piled out of the boat ahead of him, so eager it was almost humbling. Ned did his best not to remember how Robb had seemed hobbled and diminished for years after Jon's
departure, how Arya was left without anyone to act her mirror among her siblings, how Jon had left a hole in their family even little Rickon had not been able to fill. Gods, Ned could only hope and pray that Jon considered them family still.
Jon was not there to meet them, and Ned could not help the way his heart fell at that realisation. Arthur Dayne was there instead, looking at their party with solemn eyes. His nephew stood half a step behind him, his white blond hair gleaming in the sun. Given the rumours Ned had heard about his grandson's colouring, he could do nothing but commend Arthur for keeping up appearances, whatever other games he might play. Ser Arthur greeted Ned with a tense nod. "Robert Baratheon arrived a few hours past," he said with a grimace on his face that told Ned he wanted to be back in that company, and nothing would get him there fast enough. "He has been keeping Lord and Lady Stark occupied since then. He is very taken by little Lord Duncan."
Ned nodded, swallowing down his dread. "I should like to meet my grandson," he said. With a look, he silenced Robb and Arya's protests at the fact that their favourite brother had not been there to meet them, and Sansa's disappointment that she would have to wait another few moments to meet the goodsister she so admired, for all that they had only known each other for a few days and a handful of letters. "Come," he told his children. "Let us go meet your brother's family."
Ned did not remember much of the trek up to the castle, let alone the journey from the gates to the Great Drum, but he did feel the tensions the moment he stepped into the Great Map Chamber, even if Robert, fool that he was, did not. Robert sat in a high-backed chair in the centre of the room with a tiny, silver-haired infant in his arms that Ned knew, with dread churning in his stomach, had to be none other than his firstborn grandchild. Jon and Margaery were both hovering nearby. Lady Margaery shielded her fear better than Jon did, but it was still there, clear for anyone to see who knew what to look for. Arthur Dayne, when Ned chanced a glance at him, looked just as murderous as Ned remembered he had when Robert had first held Jon.
And Jon, by the Gods, he was a vision from the past and a punch from the future all at once. Ned looked at him and saw Rhaegar's beauty and serenity, Lyanna's wild cleverness, Brandon's deadliness and Rickard's intelligence all wrapped into one person who looked more like a mix of a young Benjen and the long dead queen Rhaella than anything, and for all that it frightened him, it made Ned love the boy all the more. Ned only realised he had hesitated a moment when he watched his children swoop in. Robb caught Jon up in an embrace that looked like to crush either or both of them. Sansa and Margaery kissed each other's cheeks like the long separated goodsisters they were, Sansa looking upon Margaery as if all her hopes and aspirations were all wrapped up in one neat package to emulate. Arya was right on Robb's heels, inserting herself easily into the brothers' embrace before extricating herself just as fast to look Edric Dayne up and down, as if sizing up an opponent. Gods Old and New, that was probably exactly what she was doing. Ned sucked in a deep breath and walked forward himself. Robb stepped back to make room for him, his face tucked into a wide smile that had been all too absent recently as Ned and Luwin had tried to slowly introduce him to the duties of the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. And then Ned was face to face with the child he had held first, loved first, promised his protection to beforehe had even known the weight of any of the others in his arms. For long moments, Ned could only stare at Jon, and Jon seemed no more able to close the gap than he was.