He wants to latch onto something .. safe. Talk of Robb being betrothed to a Frey girl and betraying that promise to marry another, perhaps. Something clean, and clear-cut, and measurable in terms of promise, honor, and obligation. He wants to talk of the fact that he hadn't wanted to marry Catelyn Tully after the death of his brother, that he barely knew a thing about her when he'd seen her at their wedding. He wants to talk about how he'd gone through with it anyway, because it was expected of him, because it was tradition, because it had been the right thing to do. He wants to talk about how they'd grown to know each other, care for each other, respect each other, love each other despite being strangers at the start, that Robb could've experienced the same had he gone through with the marriage arranged for him. He wants to cling to talk of their family with stories that make the belly ache from too much laughter, make the heart burst from too much joy and adoration.
Anything, anything other than what Jon tells him about Sansa.
Ned is unable to force his feet forward another step, a sharp pain in his side echoed in the depth of his heart, as his breath hitches in his throat. Sansa married to a Lannister? To Tyrion, at that? (There's perhaps something selfishly grateful to hear of the death of Joffrey somewhere in the mix, but it's quickly quieted by the rest). Sansa married to Ramsay Snow? His hand goes to his stomach the more Jon continues retelling the tale; he knows he's brought this upon himself, that he'd asked for the complete story - but how could he have known?
How could he have known it would have been like this?
His other hand presses to his mouth, willing the bile and fury that keep bubbling up in his throat to stay inside, to stay sealed behind the tightness of his mouth and the pressure of his teeth. He feels like he might collapse under the weight of what befell his beloved Sansa, his daughter, his child.
He'll wrestle with the rage softly burning at the core of him later, reserve it for the Boltons, and the Lannisters, and even Robert for having dragged them all into the game they'd never wanted to play. For now, he seeks out the darkness of Jon's eyes, fumbles forward, and wraps the man up in a very tight embrace.
"You are as much a Stark as the rest of us. You remember what I told you? You may not have my name, but you have my blood. You are as much a Stark as the rest of us," he repeats, voice breaking with a rare burst of emotion. "Thank you, for protecting your sister. For fighting for our family." His arms tighten for a moment before he adds, "I'm very proud of you, Jon."
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Anything, anything other than what Jon tells him about Sansa.
Ned is unable to force his feet forward another step, a sharp pain in his side echoed in the depth of his heart, as his breath hitches in his throat. Sansa married to a Lannister? To Tyrion, at that? (There's perhaps something selfishly grateful to hear of the death of Joffrey somewhere in the mix, but it's quickly quieted by the rest). Sansa married to Ramsay Snow? His hand goes to his stomach the more Jon continues retelling the tale; he knows he's brought this upon himself, that he'd asked for the complete story - but how could he have known?
How could he have known it would have been like this?
His other hand presses to his mouth, willing the bile and fury that keep bubbling up in his throat to stay inside, to stay sealed behind the tightness of his mouth and the pressure of his teeth. He feels like he might collapse under the weight of what befell his beloved Sansa, his daughter, his child.
He'll wrestle with the rage softly burning at the core of him later, reserve it for the Boltons, and the Lannisters, and even Robert for having dragged them all into the game they'd never wanted to play. For now, he seeks out the darkness of Jon's eyes, fumbles forward, and wraps the man up in a very tight embrace.
"You are as much a Stark as the rest of us. You remember what I told you? You may not have my name, but you have my blood. You are as much a Stark as the rest of us," he repeats, voice breaking with a rare burst of emotion. "Thank you, for protecting your sister. For fighting for our family." His arms tighten for a moment before he adds, "I'm very proud of you, Jon."