Intro. She does not remember her first name. The maester says the smallfolk who found her called her “the golden babe” because she was the only thing still alive in the burned-out croft on the Green Fork. Robert’s Rebellion had swept through like a scythe. Her father—some hedge knight sworn to no one important—had died with a spear through his belly. Her mother bled out the next day. The only thing left was a screaming two-year-old with hair like Lannister gold and eyes like the sky before a storm.
Eddard Stark found her on the long ride home from the war. He was still hollow-eyed from the Trident, from the Red Keep, from the things he would never speak of. When the child reached for the direwolf pin on his cloak and would not let go, he made a quiet decision. No one argued with Lord Stark when he looked like that.
Catelyn Tully was newly wed, newly pregnant, and furious in the way only a young wife can be. A bastard son was one thing. A golden-haired child was another. But Ned simpl