She didn't hate the boy at first. No, it was more Robert she hated for sending Jaime to retrieve him. But then it was clear Robert liked the boy, and Cersei couldn't help but dislike him.
Though he rarely went to interact with the boy, too busy drinking wine and fucking every ignorant whore he could, Robert always found time to ask Jon Arryn how Jon Snow was progressing. It didn't help that while she was set to dislike the northern bastard even Jaime took a liking to him. What had settled it for her was the day she heard Robert tell Jon Arryn, "Gods, I'd be proud if Joff was even half Ned's bastard."
How could he think favorably of a bastard over her son? His words made her seethe for months, each compliment she heard making the bile boil within her until Joffrey's nameday feast where she saw one of the maids dancing with the bastard. She saw the girl kiss his cheek and rush away, and found herself smiling as she thought of what to do.
It wasn't hard. "Are you some worthless whore?" She asked with a scoff. "I won't suffer a staff that associated with baseborn filth. I won't have it their black hearts spread to my children." A few words to key people and suddenly it spread until no one would even serve the boy wine. She could still remember the joy she felt watching him be passed over for supper the first time, having to stop a maid and demand it, only to be served cold food sometime later.
Months later Jaime had come to her and when she tried to kiss him he'd pushed her away. "How could you?"
"How could I what?" She asked with a huff.
Jaime's eyes seemed so cold as he shook his head. "You turned the servants against the boy."
A smile took her lips as she snickered. "The bastard?"
"I know you don't like him, but he's not like Robert," Jaime said sharply. "He doesn't deserve this, Cersei. He's-" He winced as she pressed her lips to his without warning to shut him up. Grabbing her shoulders he pushed her away. "Cersei, you can't-" He gasped when she slipped a hand into his breeches and took hold of his cock, pressing her lips to his again.
She couldn't believe it when he had grabbed her arm, stopping her stroking to pull her head back. "Stop making them stay away from him," he told her.
In that moment she hated Jon Snow, but nodded. She had stopped long ago, now they did it out of habit or fear. The damage had been done and every one brought on after was quickly told to ignore the bastard squire. She never had to say a word to them again.
It wasn't long after Jaime came to her that night that she first heard of the bastard speaking with her daughter. Those who told her of it said that they seemed friendly, but that was all they could say for certain, though each warned of a bastard's lust.
Cersei had even dared to ask Barristan of it while he guarded her and the knight answered, "Jon has taken to helping her in the garden in my place. They tease me about my age, but I believe Jon does it to be useful and as thanks for the princess' kindness while I am able to continue my duties as her guard."
"Her kindness?" Cersei asked with doubt.
"The princess frequently slips and called him Ser Jon," Barristan revealed. "I think it helps boost his confidence some."
She had known the boy played with Tommen while they guarded him. Tommen had mentioned it to Jaim and the other kingsguard, often disappointed they 'aren't as fun as Jon and Barry'. However the idea that her child could be taken by a bastard had left her distraught. At least until the day she saw Myrcella walking through the yard with Ser Meryn Trant where she stopped to go speak with Jon.
From above Cersei watched them speak for a time and saw that Myrcella's affection for the boy was apparent. Cersei could understand it in a sense. He was growing into a decent enough looking boy, and Myrcella interacted with him more than others. However when the conversation ended she saw no hint of the boy sensing or returning her affection. If anything it left her thinking Jon was truly a northern dullard too dense to see Myrcella's beauty. Or perhaps he shared Loras' taste in men.
"Is he truly so dim?" She asked Jaime the next time they met in private.
Her twin laughed, shaking his head. "Jon simply knows his place. He knows it's not worth thinking on since he'll never try anything." She saw her brother's brilliant face lose some of it's luster as he sighed, keeping from blaming her as he said, "He thinks himself too low for even the servants."
Cersei's joy at that faded when Jaime continued with a smirk, "I think I'll speak with Tyrion about getting him to bed a woman. Show the boy he's worth more than most and deserves to have his pick of the ladies in court."
With a scoff Cersei shook her head. "He's a bastard."
"A lord's bastard," Jaime corrected, "and a knight."
"A squire," Cersei corrected in return.
Jaime shook his head. "For now. But I've known the boy long enough to see the kind of man he is. He could be a true knight, one worthy of the respect due, unlike most the fools knighted these days."
When Jaime stepped toward her she brushed his hand away and turned from him. "You speak so highly of this bastard. Let him take you in hand tonight. If even our daughter cannot tempt him then surely his taste match Renly's."
With a grin Jaime had come up behind her whispering, "I don't want your hand." His had suddenly dug between her legs, making her squirm before he took her that night.
Most days Cersei didn't see the bastard. Even when Barristan was assigned to her she'd made her distaste clear enough for the kingsguard to send him away. Perhaps that was why it felt so sudden that he was being unmasked as the Knight of White Crows and made to squire to Jaime.
"Why?" She demanded that night.
"I want someone to match me eventually," Jaime said with a laugh. "Apart form Barristan who else is there? Loras might get there, but I'd prefer it was Snow."
Even her father had been suspicious of the bastard, but he seemed to accept Jaime's assurances enough to let the boy join them. Thankfully Jaime took Barristan's habit of sending him away whenever he was assigned to her, giving them time to sneak away together before their journey. Once it started he also was kept at a distance as the suggestion of Tyrion, though Tommen and Myrcella seemed to speak with him through their deformed uncle, who told them of all Jon was doing while they were in the wheelhouse.
Cersei had always doubted Jaime's stories of Jon's dislike of the Starks, and that doubt grew when they arrived at Winterfell and he seemed to spend the day with them. But then he left without telling anyone but his youngest sister, and Jaime suddenly grew more dismissive of the Starks, especially Catelyn. He almost never referred to her by name, calling her the cold trout and even an undeserving cunt who should have been rotting in a river.
"Is it her alone he dislikes?" She asked quietly when he followed her toward the sept.
"It's more complicated than that," Jaime admitted. "He speaks on it sometimes while we spar."
"He does?" Cersei arched her brow.
Jaime nodded. "When he was young he felt jealous of Robb at times, but again knew his place. He's not very close to Sansa, the girl keeps her distance to appease her mother. He fears her mother will warp her into a vapid lady of little depth. He'd even spoken of his doubts about Ned, who he knows so little about. The man won't even speak of his mother, leaving the boy to suffer his sneering wife. It's almost as if he avoids the thought of being another Daemon Blackfyre simply to spite Catelyn worries that he will."
That amused Cersei, who wondered if she could use that since it was strong enough to drive the boy to the Wall.
When Jaime pushed Bran her concern was not only that others would find out but that Jaime's guilt would grow after Jon returned to the procession. She could sense it bubbling within him, making him withdraw from her, which she wouldn't allow.
"Ignore him," she told her twin. "Keep your distance."
"I can't," Jaime said somberly. Seeing the worry in her eyes he laughed. "It's not as if I'm going to confess to the boy. Even if they suspect it I'm not so stupid as to admit to it."
His decision changed after she took him to bed and spent the night pleasing him until he agreed with her. After that he kept his distance from the bastard squire, abandoning their night spars.
When the boy unhorsed Jaime she felt a flood of anger, but wondered if her twin had let the boy win as some kind of foolish penance. Though he denied it sullenly later that night, she doubted his words, telling herself Jaime was too kind.
Even worse Jon had crowned Myrcella queen of love and beauty. Cersei was displeased a bastard had been the one to crown her, tainting it for her daughter. If anything he should have given it to her, but it seems much as Jaime had helped prop him up by letting him win, Jon had taken Myrcella's affection as support for his becoming a knight and used this chance to thank her. The boy was so blind to her adoration he needed to be tricked into dancing with her by his friends, Ser Meryn telling her he'd been sullen as ever by the time the dance ended.
Sat in the throne room she watched as Jon Snow stood beside Thoros of Myr, Samwell Tarly and Edric Dayne. Each had told their part of the story, of how they rode with Beric, how Jon had been forced to go by his father. How when the ambush happened Jon stayed behind to help them escape, but the squires returned to help him and found Thoros holding him half dead. How they were separated from everyone, Jon even looking somewhat distraught when Samwell mentioned they couldn't find his direwolf.
Nearly all in the room gasped when Jon removed his jerkin and doublet to reveal the scar stretching across his chest. They remarked it was a miracle he hadn't died from the amount of blood that must have escaped him.
Stood off to the side Myrcella wiped her eyes, turning her head and biting her lips to keep quiet. Cersei glanced to her daughter as Joffrey laughed. "That's some scar."
"Few men could have survived such a wound, your grace," Thoros said with a nod to the young king. "I saw men die from lesser wounds when I fought beside your father."
Joffrey nodded. "So you knew nothing of your father's plan to betray the crown? You weren't party to his betrayal?"
Jon stared up at Joffrey as he put his doublet back on. It hung loose as he looked to the blonde boy. "Your grace. Your father gave me all I have, not Eddard Stark. The only reason I don't serve at Castle Black right now is because when I wanted to leave he thought me too young and your father graciously offered to let me squire for Ser Barristan. If not for King Robert I would be freezing alongside murderers, rapist, thieves and traitors instead of having a chance to prove my worth. He would have damned me to serve the rest of my life at the Wall, but your father gave me a chance at a better life. I would never betray him."
Cersei noticed Myrcella looking from Jon to Joffrey, clutching her skirts and fighting off more tears, surely praying that her brother would be merciful.
"So you admit you have no loyalty to your own father?" The room turned to Cersei as she spoke.
Jon looked to her, nodding solemnly. "I believe loyalty is something that must be earned, and putting his seed in some woman he doesn't even care to tell me of isn't enough to earn loyalty. Nor is giving me a home when it is one where I spent my days reminded of how little I was worth."
"Then who are you loyal to?" asked Varys. "If not your father, House Stark?"
"The house of the woman who cursed my life for being a bastard, which I never asked for?" Jon scoffed. "My brothers and sisters are fine enough, they only do as their parents tell them and have no hand in House Stark. If Lady Catelyn did as you say than why should I follow any who support her, a woman who would claim her own justice? She is just as like to claim me trying to kill Robb if I were to hug him."
Joffrey chuckled and leaned forward. "Would you fight for us?"
Jon frowned. "I would ask to be spared fighting my own siblings who will be made to fight her war, and instead act as a guard for yours, as I have since I began squiring for Ser Barristan."
"You wish to be named to the kingsguard?" Littlefigner scoffed.
Jon shook his head. "No, only a guard. I haven't earned the honor of being named a kingsguard." Looking to Joffrey again he continued, "Your father knighted me because I earned it by besting others. I wouldn't ask to be given this, but I would ask to be allowed the chance to earn it, as well as the honor and trust my father has cast aside."
Joffrey arched his brow. "Would you swear your sword to my family?"
"I would," Jon said with a nod, keeping his eyes on Joffrey, praying he would be made to swear to Myrcella. It would be so easy if he was.
Instead Joffrey sat back and smiled. "Good. When the fighting ends you can swear your sword to my uncle. The Imp."
Cersei glanced at her son, thinking on it quickly. It kept the boy close, but at distance enough that if he turned on them he would likely kill Tyrion first. Once he did they would know his true colors and kill him before he tried anything. If he didn't then he would still be loyal to them since Tyrion at least did what he could to help them when he wasn't whoring. Either way it should work out for them.
"You can help finish building the new stable. The last burned down, so you can work there until my uncle comes to claim you." With that Joffrey rose and made his way down the throne after waving a hand to dismiss Jon.
"Thank you your grace," Jon had called out with a bow before turning to leave with his companions.
When they returned to their rooms Jon found his a mess, the lock of his chest broken open and the cart of gold long gone. He was told later that it had been claimed by the crown to be held until they could be sure of his innocence.
"You also received a letter from your uncle," Pycelle said, Jon thankfully keeping his confusion internal before realizing they only knew of the one.
Taking the letter he thanked the grand maester, watching the man leave as he opened the letter. Sam came to his room and sighed. "They got you as well? They took the gold I'd imagine?"
"They did," Jon nodded. "How much was there?"
"More than I'd like," Sam sighed. "There should still be some stashed around though. If they haven't found it, you should have a few thousand still. The batch from Domeric's room was missing though, so he likely escaped."
"Hopefully with my sisters," Jon said, none of them missing the lack of anyone mentioning Sansa or Arya since their return. Jon also avoided asking to help play into his lack of concern for them.
"What's that?" he asked nodding to the letter.
"From my uncle," he said looking over the letter. "It's coded but I don't understand it."
"Have you forgotten it already?"
"No," Jon shook his head. "It's what it says that's confusing. He says the Others are coming. The dead walk in the north and travel south." Looking to Sam he noted, "He wouldn't just make it up, would he?"
"If he's not then…"
Jon looked to the letter with a frown. "Then the death comes for us all."
Approaching the ancient fortress of the First Men which guarded the Neck, Catelyn Stark felt relief and pride in what her son must be now he was leading a host to war. She made for the Gatehouse Tower flying Stark banners with her uncle Brynden Tully, Wylis and Wendel Manderly, and near fifteen hundred Manderly men.
She found her son in a hall speaking so intently with his father's bannermen it was his direwolf, Grey Wind who noticed her enter. It was the silence of the other lords that made him look up, his face and voice full of emotion as he said, "Mother?"
She kept herself at bay, speaking of his beard and letting the other lords pay their respects before leaving them alone.
Filling a horn with ale she studied her son. "Edmure was sixteen when he grew his first whiskers."
Robb ignored her eased tone as he stood looking to her. "You know of father?"
"Yes. Lord Manderly told me when I landed in White Harbor. Have you heard word of your sisters?"
"No," Robb's jaw shifted as he pressed his palms into the table. "They could be hostages or dead. We can't know." His gaze rose toward her. He looked like he was overcome by a flood of questions, finally settling on, "Why?" She didn't answer, so he stood and revealed, "It was never Tyrion's dagger."
Catelyn's eyes widened, sitting up in her chair. "What?"
"Father wrote to us at Winterfell, where he expected you to be, telling us that he learned the truth. Your friend," Robb said with some bite, "Littlefinger, lied to you. It was Robert Baratheon won it from him. Father also worried he had been cuckolding Lord Arryn by sleeping with aunt Lysa."
Catelyn shook her head in disbelief. "R-Robert?"
"Littlefinger," Robb answered.
Catelyn gaped as she stared at the table. "Littlefinger would never-"
"We know he lied," said Robb. "Once Jon told father he asked Ser Loras and Lord Renly, both of whom shared the same story. He lied to us." Robb's eyes darkened as he said with contained anger to maintain a relatively calm voice, "You've started a war over a lie."
Catelyn shook her head. "You can't know that. Tyrion could have gotten the dagger-"
"Gods!" Robb scoffed. "Should I fear for myself as well? Does madness run in Tully blood as it did Targaryen?"
"Robb," Catelyn warned.
Robb shook his head. "How many have died because you couldn't let him pass? I did. I was barely fifteen but I let him pass through Winterfell while Bran sat beside me. I knew it wasn't worth it. How could you not know better?"
"I couldn't-"
"You're supposed to!" He boomed, making her wince. "Father left you to guide me, but all you've done is force me to war." Robb sighed, reaching down to rub Grey Wind's had as the wolf rubbed his head against Robb's leg. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."
"I know, Robb, but we must endure this."
Robb glanced at her, wanting so desperately to tell her the truth of Jon, but wasn't even sure if he could trust her anymore. How could she doubt father? Was it to make herself feel better and assure herself Tyrion was guilty, or was it to avoid admitting her friend had lied?
Because of her the Lannisters attacked. Because of her they slaughtered the people of Mummer's Ford. Because of her father had sent out a band of men to bring justice to Gregor Clegane. Because of her Jon rode with them.
Catelyn gasped when Robb suddenly turned, throwing his goblet against the wall and yelling. "Robb!" She gasped, rushing to his side as tears fell from his eyes. "What is it?"
Robb stepped back. "Tywin ambushed a party father sent out to bring justice to Gregor Clegane. They almost succeeded, but the band managed to make a fighting retreat thanks to a white wolf. Jon's wolf."
Catelyn's brow furrowed, remembering Ned mentioning Jon had found a white direwolf. "What happened?"
"They say Jon stayed behind to block a pass and hold off the Lannister men. That he was cut down by the Mountain."
Catelyn felt unsteady, turning to hold the table. "He's dead?"
"So they say," Robb said bitterly, looking to her as he added, "we don't know, so don't celebrate just yet."
Catelyn turned and smacked Robb across the cheek.
Robb turned his head and closed his eyes at the strike. After a moment he opened them and looked to her. "I'm sending you back to Winterfell."
Catelyn eyes widened. His eyes left little doubt he didn't want her there, feeling like a knife in her heart. "Robb," she said pleadingly, "your grandfather is dying and my brother is surrounded by enemies. My place is with them at Riverrun."
"And not with your own sons?" Robb nodded, walking past her. "Do you as please."
She watched him leave, tears falling from her eyes as she sank into a chair and wept into her hands. It felt as if everything was slipping through her fingers. Her eldest son thought ill of her, they had no idea what happened to her daughters and her youngest sons were left to rule a keep. Her husband was a prisoner under arrest for treason, and because of the war she'd started his bastard had likely died.
All because of her. All for a lie.