The Sept of Winterfell. It was a small sanctuary built specifically for her by Ned.
Since Ned had ridden south, Catelyn spent time in the sept every day. She prayed seven times to the seven faces of god, lighting a candle beneath the statue of the Warrior to ask for protection for her husband, praying for his safe return.
After completing her ritual prayers, Catelyn felt physically and mentally drained. The two requests made by Lady Dustin weighed heavily on her.
Every time she closed her eyes, Lady Dustin's sharp, mean-spirited face and look of loathing surfaced in her mind.
Sansa to marry Domeric. Arthur Snow to go to Barrow Hall as a page or foster son.
She had observed Domeric. His manners were impeccable, like a Southron knight. But every time she saw the red flayed man on his tunic, she couldn't help but think of Lord Roose Bolton's pale, ghostly eyes and the leeches he used to bleed himself.
"Absolutely not," Catelyn whispered to the statue of the Mother, her voice so low only she could hear. "She deserves better."
As for the bastard… Catelyn sighed. She desperately wanted him gone from Winterfell, gone from the North even. But not to become Lady Dustin's page, and certainly not her foster son.
She knew Lady Dustin hated the Starks. That woman would surely use Arthur Snow as a weapon to threaten Robb and his children's claim to Winterfell.
"Where is Arthur Snow?" Catelyn decided it was necessary to speak with the boy.
"The guards said he went to the crypts with Lady Dustin. They told me when they came for the key," answered Septon Chayle, who maintained the small sept and library. "They should be out by now. If he isn't in the practice yard, he is likely in the Library Tower."
Septon Chayle was right. Arthur was currently in the Library Tower, a book in his hand.
However, though his eyes were on the page, his mind was elsewhere. Lady Dustin's words in the crypts had shaken him deeply.
When Arthur first arrived in this world and discovered the Three Kingdoms System, he had entertained wild thoughts of sitting on the Iron Throne—that chair Aegon Targaryen forged from a thousand swords.
Or, failing that, he'd thought about going to Essos, across the Narrow Sea, to become a dragonrider or a sellsword king.
But Catelyn's cold blue eyes had eventually forced him to face reality. The prejudice against bastards was a mountain too high to climb.
He was discriminated against and marginalized even here in Winterfell. How could he possibly break through the rigid class hierarchy to win the love or submission of the Seven Kingdoms and sit on the Iron Throne?
Before his conversation with Lady Dustin, he had planned to follow his Uncle Ned's wishes: become a petty lord in the North, shed the name Snow, and establish a cadet branch of House Stark. That would be his ticket into the game of thrones.
The North was vast and sparsely populated. With the System and the backing of the Warden of the North, Arthur was confident he could develop his territory to rival Karhold of the Karstarks, or perhaps match the scale of the extinct Greystarks.
He had even imagined his future house name, sigil, and words. He would be House Stark of the Orchard.
His sigil: A purple peach with a bite taken out of it.
His words: Virtue Prevails.
As for his personal development, Arthur had always aimed to live up to the expectations of his late mother, Ashara Dayne, using his uncle, the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne, as his benchmark.
However, after speaking with Lady Dustin, Arthur realized his identity wouldn't allow him to stay in the North.
Unlike Jon, he was Brandon Stark's son. And he was older than Robb Stark.
He was a natural rallying point—a pawn and a pretext for anyone dissatisfied with Winterfell, anyone who wanted to challenge Eddard Stark's line.
As long as Arthur stayed in the North, there would always be ambitious lords or disgruntled factions trying to use him to oppose Winterfell.
Arthur could see the trap clearly. But he also understood that just as people could whisper in his ear, they could whisper in the ears of those at Winterfell.
Lady Catelyn had never explicitly said she wanted him to leave the North and never return. But her actions and attitude over the years had made her feelings perfectly clear.
Uncle Ned had raised him. He had given Arthur everything he could. Arthur didn't want to put him in a difficult position.
There was an ancient tradition in the North. When winter came, the old, the masterless, and those who could not be supported would announce they were "going out to hunt" when the first snows fell. They would leave home and die in the cold so their kin would have a better chance of seeing the spring.
It was still summer in the North. But for Arthur, winter had arrived.
---
Catelyn found the bastard in the Library Tower.
"Lady Stark? Are you looking for a book?"
Arthur Snow held a volume in his hands, looking surprised by her presence. They rarely met alone, and spoke even less.
"Actually, I have a request to ask of you. I looked for you earlier, but they said you were praying, so I didn't disturb you."
"A request?"
Does he want to go to Barrow Hall? Did that woman seduce him with promises of power? Catelyn thought bitterly. I knew his blood was tainted with treachery and ambition.
She looked the bastard up and down. Dark brown hair, bright violet eyes. He was taller and stronger than Robb. Whenever she saw him spar with her son… she couldn't help but recall the duel between Brandon Stark and Petyr Baelish—Littlefinger—her father's ward.
If she hadn't begged for Petyr's life, he would have died beneath Brandon's sword.
Remember your place. You are a bastard, she thought, steeling herself.
"I will not agree to it," she said before he could speak. "You cannot go to Barrow Hall. You will not be Barbrey Dustin's page."
"Page? Lady Dustin did invite me, but I refused."
Arthur was used to the way Catelyn looked at him—a cold gaze that seemed to silently scream Winter is Coming.
"I actually think you will agree with this idea. After my tenth nameday, I want to go to Dorne. To Starfall."
"Not a page… but to Starfall?" Catelyn was stunned, then washed with a wave of surprise and relief.
Thank the Gods, old and new. She suddenly had the urge to hug the boy.
"Are you certain?"
"If you don't agree, I could go to—"
"I agree," Catelyn interrupted eagerly. "Your mother was from Starfall, after all. It is only right that you visit."
"Dornish law and customs are different from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms," Arthur said, looking down at the book in his hand—a geography of Dorne.
"Men and women are equal there, and there is little discrimination against bastards. Perhaps I will find a wife and father children there. I doubt I will have many opportunities to return to the North."
"May the Gods protect you. Be brave, child." Catelyn couldn't hide the joy in her eyes. For the first time in her life, she gave Arthur a genuine blessing.
---
After receiving Catelyn's blessing in the Library Tower, it was as if the gods were truly aiding Arthur.
Arthur's ill-fitting wool tunic and tattered cloak were replaced with new ones. Even Jon benefited from the sudden generosity, receiving a new set of clothes himself.
That evening, the Steward, Vayon Poole, came to see him. Suddenly, all the staffing and funding issues plaguing the Peach Garden estate vanished.
Not only was the beast pen approved, but the plan for the carpentry workshop was also fast-tracked.
Vayon Poole told him that within a week, he would recruit four woodcutters, two carpenters, two farming families, and a team of temporary stonemasons from the winter town to work at the estate.
They weren't just building the workshop; they were expanding the entire estate, increasing the peach planting and the wine production.
Clearly, Vayon Poole had tasted the peach wine and understood the gold mine it represented.
Tools, stone, timber, wagons—everything was provided with full support. He even assigned four permanent guards to the property.
Poole also promised that 50% of the profits from the estate would be sent to Arthur, wherever he might be.
Arthur didn't care much about the profit share. The Peach Garden in the Wolfswood was just a test site. He had only used the [Pact of the Grove] card there once, limiting the magical growth to a small radius.
As long as he had the [Pact of the Grove] and [Peach] cards, he could recreate the orchard anywhere. And next time, it would be bigger.
"Are you really going to Starfall?"
In their bedroom, Jon was fiddling with his new clothes, his face a mix of curiosity and excitement.
"I heard House Dayne has an ancestral sword forged from a fallen star—a greatsword called Dawn. Every knight who wields it is called the Sword of the Morning. Wielding that blade is the dream of every boy in the realm."
"When I get to Starfall… next time I see you, I'll bring Dawn with me just to let you have a look," Arthur boasted with a grin, acting arrogant.
"And when will I get the real sword someone promised me?" Jon rolled his eyes, clearly not believing the boast.
"I'll forge it before I head south," Arthur said, dodging the specific date. "Besides Starfall, I actually want to see Essos."
Arthur lay back on his bed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking of the Lysene captain's travelogue.
"The nine Free Cities, the Titan of Braavos, the Horse Lords on the Dothraki Sea, the shadow lands of Asshai… so many interesting places. The book says there are all sorts of monsters and magic in Asshai."
"Monsters?" Jon rubbed a bruise he'd received during morning practice, wincing.
"Old Nan's stories are full of them. White Walkers riding ice spiders, mammoths, giants, Children of the Forest, greenseers, skinchangers…"
"Old Nan says those things are mostly beyond the Wall," Arthur pointed out. "How did your training go with Domeric today? You look like you took a beating."
"You missed it since you were gone all day. Ser Rodrik praised Domeric to the high heavens. He really is strong. His fundamentals are solid, his technique is textbook, and he's strong as an ox. I couldn't find an opening. I felt like he was holding back against Robb and me."
Jon applied some ointment Maester Luwin had given him to the bruise, sharing his grievances.
"What's worse was Sansa. She looked happy when Robb and I got beaten. She was cheering for Domeric. If they aren't even betrothed and she's like this… if they do get betrothed, I half expect she'll take her sewing needle and jump in the ring to fight us herself."
"I doubt it will come to that," Arthur said, recalling Lady Dustin's words in the crypt. He agreed with the assessment that Catelyn wouldn't approve of the match.
Besides, if Arthur remembered correctly, after Domeric Bolton finished his squiring in the Vale and returned to the Dreadfort, he would be poisoned by the very brother he longed for—Ramsay Snow, the bastard son of the Miller's Wife and the Leech Lord.
Bastard blood is tainted with treachery and desire.
It seemed that in Ramsay's case, the saying wasn't wrong.