"She died," Ned groans, feeling the skin of his body crawling with sadness and loss. "She died in that tower. I had her blood on my hands, I felt it. They placed you in my arms, swaddled and minutes old. I saw the life leave her eyes. I saw her die, Jon. I saw her. How could she know? How could she know what you'd become?" Ned's fingers begin to claw at the collar of his shirt, feeling as though it's tightening like a noose around his neck. He leaves red marks in the wakes of each finger, pulling at the fabric enough to reveal the blistering rash underneath.

He seems to not feel the pain as he agitates the skin, seemingly oblivious to the blood that he conjures.

"I should've told you before. I should've told you before you went to the Wall. I'm sorry, my boy. I'm sorry. Forgive me. Please forgive me for all the things I failed to do."