II
The ride back to the Stark’s home was cold- in every sense of the word. The sun was high, but the whistling winds quickly overshadowed its warmth and the glares the other riders were sending Hermione’s way.
After reenervate-ing the guards she’d knocked out and offering them a tight-lipped smile- but not an apology- she’d been forced to admit that she didn’t know how to ride a horse. Lord Stark offered to let Teddy ride with his youngest son and for her to ride with his heir, but Hermione wasn’t planning on letting go of Teddy’s little hand until she was sure they wouldn’t need to apparate away at a moment’s notice.
She found herself on the back of a pony with Teddy clutched tightly to her front that was tied to Lord Stark’s horse. If the whole situation weren’t so ridiculous, she’d be embarrassed by it.
But she had too many questions:
Where the fuck were they? When were they? What spell had Harry hit them with? How slowly would she murder Harry when she found him?
When the Stark’s home came into sight, she had to take several slow deep breaths to calm herself. Their home was a castle, but it wasn’t built in the style of any European castle she’d ever seen. Added to that, the people around her were speaking English- albeit a more old-fashioned and rougher version than her own- so her theory that they’d traveled back in time was starting to lose basis.
Castles in English speaking Europe had never looked like this.
Upon entering the busy courtyard of what Lord Stark had called Winterfell, conversation dimmed down. Whatever they were expecting Lord Stark’s retinue to bring back, it wasn’t a young woman and a child.
Hermione could hear whispers of ‘another bastard’ and ‘such tight trousers.’ She tried to keep her face smooth, but her lips thinned regardless.
Her leggings were comfortable and she’d like to see any of fight in those skirts.
Winterfell’s heir, who’d once again introduced himself as Robb, offered her his hand to help her down from the pony, and she deliberated for a moment before realizing it would be much more embarrassing to try to get herself and Teddy down without some help.
Hermione looked around to gauge their safety while she tried to casually stretch out her sore legs.
“We can speak in my solar, my lady,” Lord Stark spoke before leading her into the castle.
Robb stuck his left arm out to her at a bent angle and she looked at him for a few moments before leaning down to pick Teddy up. She followed Lord Stark into the castle and noted that it was much warmer inside than she had expected for a place with no air conditioning or thermostats.
“There must be some internal heating system,” she mused to herself.
They finally reached a closed wooden door with two guards standing outside of it. The guards nodded respectfully to Lord Stark but looked at her with unabashed curiosity.
Lord Stark moved to enter the room but stopped for a moment in the doorway to consider her. “Perhaps Teddy would like to tour the keep with my son, Bran?” he offered.
She startled at the offer. Surely the man knew she wouldn’t leave Teddy with a stranger’s son in a stranger’s home. But still, she wasn’t called the Brightest Witch of her Age for no reason.
“If you’re worried that he can tell when you lie, maybe you should tell the truth when we speak,” she shrugged her shoulders delicately, but her eyes were steely.
Lord Stark’s jaw clenched tightly before he nodded and walked inside, allowing her to step inside.
XXX
Winterfell was tense from the moment their riding party returned to the keep. The sight of a young woman and her child riding so close to his Lord Father made many of the smallfolk milling in the area whisper to each other, some not too quietly.
Jon felt his ears burn when he heard one woman tut quietly, ‘another bastard?’
Robb obviously found the woman attractive- his brother was not subtle- and Jon had to admit to himself that he agreed. Her cheekbones were high and her hair was long and untamed in a way he rarely saw on other women of the North. Sansa would find the loose hair scandalous. Her eyes were dark, almost black, even in the sun, and sharp. She was carefully taking in every detail of their surroundings, even while responding to whatever questions the little boy in her arms was asking her.
When Lord Stark began to lead the way to his solar, Robb had offered her his arm to lead her inside, but she’d stared at him blank-faced before leaving him behind without a word. Theon had been chuffed as he went in the opposite direction to his room, no doubt thrilled at her lack of interest towards the heir of Winterfell.
Jon found her dismissal of Robb gratifying. But he’d immediately berated himself for the errant thought.
Jon clapped Robb on the back and followed the procession inside, giving his brother a minute to collect himself and remove the sullen look on his face.
When they’d reached Lord Stark’s solar, Jon wondered if their father would send them away, but as the woman settled herself into a plush chair in front of the fire- without waiting for his father to sit first!- Lord Stark had sighed and waved the two boys inside as well.
They closed the door behind them and stood in front of their father’s writing-table as their father settled into his seat.
The moment the door closed, the woman spoke up. “What year is it?” she demanded.
His father furrowed his brow and answered, “297 AC. My lady, what are your names?”
The little boy nodded his head after Lord Stark answered, and the woman immediately went pale. She took a deep stuttering breath and leaned forward to tangle her hands with the boy’s outstretched palms. “My name is Hermione Granger. This is my godson, Teddy.”
The boy- Teddy- turned to wave at them, hands still tangled with his ‘godmother’s’?
“Godmother?” Robb blurted out, confused by the term.
Hermione nodded absently. “Yes, like an aunt, I suppose.” She let go of Teddy’s hands and turned to Lord Stark. “Where are we?”
“The North, Lady Hermione,” Lord Stark stated. When no recognition passed through her eyes, he continued, “In Westeros.” Still no recognition. He tried again, “My lady, you seem far from home?”
She nodded, still pale- a sickly look on her tan skin.
“I offer you assistance in returning home, but I have some questions first.”
She nodded again and Lord Stark took that as permission to continue. Robb couldn’t stop himself and interrupted a second time, “Are you from Asshai? Are you a woodswitch?”
Lord Stark cut Robb off with a stern look and a raised hand, but Lady Hermione finally turned her attention to Jon’s brother. She answered with her steely, almost unsettling gaze firmly on him, “I’m not sure what either of those terms means. I have magic,” at this Robb nodded. They’d seen that firsthand. “I’m not sure if your people have the same kind of magic, though,” she finished thoughtfully.
“Lady Hermione,” his father said, drawing her attention back to him. “Your nephew questioned my honesty, and you seemed to agree with him. Not many of my people would doubt my integrity.” Jon’s father was using his Lord Stark voice, the one he used on unruly bannermen.
Hermione drew herself together at his tone and straightened her spine. Her eyes cleared and settled on his father. “If Teddy said you were lying, then you were. Frankly, I don’t care if you lied about some guy,” at this, she pointed to Jon, “being your son. I only want to get us home.”
The temperature in the room rose a few degrees at her tone. The air seemed to crackle.
Jon wondered if it would snap.
XXX
Ned thought of himself as a reasonable man. He wanted simple things in life: to love his wife and children, to serve the North, to protect Jon.
He didn’t want to deal with a woman and child appearing in the middle of a burst of light and immediately disrupting a lie decades in the making. She couldn’t go around telling people that his secret- it would undo 18 years of Jon’s safety.
Ned didn’t like threatening women, but this girl was infuriatingly calm for a situation Ned felt was spiraling quickly out of control.
He stood up and braced his hands on his writing-table. “You must see why I can’t allow you to go around spreading a lie about my family.”
The woman- Hermione, what an odd name- snorted. “It’s not a lie, but I feel like I’ve made it clear that I don’t care. We just want to go home.”
“I’m his bastard, Lady Hermione. That may be what you are sensing as a falsehood,” Jon interrupted.
Ned wanted to slam his head into a wall.
Lady Hermione and Teddy could somehow tell when they were lying. Ned didn’t know if that pertained to unintentional lies or not, but he didn’t want to test it.
Ned looked over at Lady Hermione to see if that had changed the woman’s mind any. They couldn’t overpower her or confine them to a room. She’d taken out eight guards in a moment and he did not doubt that she could leave his solar in seconds.
Her shoulders were tight, held back in a way that he saw in other soldiers. No amount of training could beat that posture into his boys; only a battlefield could. His sons were greenboys who’d never seen war, but this woman’s posture revealed that she had seen war and survived.
Lady Hermione slid her gaze over to Teddy, who shook his head quickly.
Ned wondered if he could slam his head into a wall hard enough that he woke up from this nightmare.
“Listen, Jon, right?” Lady Hermione said, looking over at his nephew. In the seconds it took for Ned to look over from her to Jon, her stick was out, and she’d pointed it at him. She whispered something under her breath and waved her stick in a swirling motion from Ned’s face over to Jon’s. A bright light shot out of the stick and enveloped them before any of them could reach for their swords. They all stared at the light for a few seconds and watched as it faded into pink.
“Okay, see that?” She said, pointing at the light, stick hidden away again, “was a true blood spell. If you were his son, it would have turned red. You share blood, sure, but he isn’t your father.” Lady Hermione looked at each of the three men steadily as if she hadn’t just broken up eighteen years of Ned’s life- as if she hadn’t put their entire family at risk. “Now, do you have a library?”
Robb gaped at her. Jon whipped his head to look at Ned so quickly the boy’s head might have spun off. “Father,” he trailed off, confusion written plainly on his face.
Ned sighed and considered slamming his head into the lit hearth instead of a wall. “Lady Hermione, Robb will show you to the library. Please keep this information to yourself.” Robb moved forward slowly to lead her out, clearly noticing that his father wasn’t denying her claims and wanting to stay. Jon moved forward more quickly, grabbing her wrist to stop her from moving towards the door.
“Wait, stay,” he demanded. Then he dropped Lady Hermione’s wrist as if it burned him. “Forgive me, my lady!” he stuttered remembering himself, “Just,” he paused for a moment, “He cannot lie if you stay.”
Something in Ned’s heart shattered. Jon was Lyanna’s son, true. But Ned had raised him as his own. To look into Jon’s eyes, so much like Lyanna’s, and hear Jon imply that he didn’t trust Ned, tugged at a part of his heart he thought he’d left behind at the Tower of Joy.
Lady Hermione looked uncomfortable to be involved in their family’s drama. (Ned found this unfair. She had, after all, been the catalyst to much of this drama.) But something in Jon’s eyes must have convinced her to stay.
She sat back down and pulled Teddy into her lap. The little boy immediately resumed playing with her hair, oblivious to the tension in the room.
“Uncle Brandon?” Robb asked, trying to put the pieces of what they’d heard together.
Ned wished he could say yes. It was an easy out, but he glanced at Lady Hermione. He turned to Jon and straightened his spine. His nephew deserved to hear the answer from him before anything else went wrong.
“Your mother was Lyanna Stark,” he tried not to let his voice falter. “Your father was Rhaegar Targaryen and you are Jon Targaryen, heir to the Seven Kingdoms. I promised your mother that I would protect you-“ at this, his voice stuttered out.
(Promise me, Ned)
Jon and Robb turned their heads to look at Teddy, who, in turn, looked at Lady Hermione as if finally sensing the room’s tension and asking permission to answer. At her nod, Teddy turned back to the boys- raised as brothers, almost twins, but now not- and solemnly nodded his head.
Jon’s body sagged as his knees went out. Robb reached forward to catch him, his face shocked and betrayed as he looked at Ned.
XXX
Catelyn Stark was not having a good day.
She hadn’t wanted Bran to go with his father to see the deserter, but Ned had insisted, and she couldn’t defy him with so many people around. Arya had skipped her lessons with the Septa when she heard that their riding party had come back with direwolves of all things. Those creatures were dangerous beasts, not children’s pets. What was Ned thinking?
She’d been headed to find Ned and ask him that very question when she’d heard the whispers:
Ned’s riding party had come back with eight new additions: six direwolf pups- which was bad enough in her opinion- but also a woman and her child. The washer-women had whispered that the woman was beautiful and that the child had the same pale skin and dark hair that Starks tended too.
“Not your Stark children though,” a voice whispered in her mind- tremulous, traitorous.
Was this another of Ned’s bastards? Did he bring his mistress to her home?
She stalked to his solar to demand answers. She had kept her silence when he brought his first bastard home and shamed her, but she would not stand for this humiliation again.
She was greeted by four guards watching the door- three more than usual. That was an odd sigh; Ned was never so guarded within their keep. But instead of letting that stop her, she raised her chin and reminded herself of her place- she was Lady Catelyn Stark and this was her home.
“Open the door,” she demanded.
The guards shifted uneasily. “Lady Stark,” the youngest of the guards began, before being cut off by the guard next to him.
The oldest guard, Beron, spoke up, “Lord Stark ordered us not to allow anyone inside, Lady Stark.”
Catelyn felt her temper rise. “I am your Lady, and I demand you open that door.”
The guards shifted in place again; one of them looked as if he was sweating through his tunic. “We cannot my Lady.”
If she were younger, she would have stomped her foot.
“I see,” she responded instead of screeching as she wished she could. “I will wait here then.” The guards tried to keep their faces calm, but the idea of her waiting with them- subjecting them to her icy demeanor- made them uncomfortable.
But, if she was going to be locked out of her husband’s meeting with his mistress, she was going to make as many people as possible as miserable as she was.