The news of Jon’s miraculous fertilizer spread quickly through Winterfell, carried by the awed whispers of farmers and servants. The fields, once struggling to yield enough for the coming winter, now overflowed with abundance. But not everyone celebrated this newfound bounty.
Catelyn Stark stood in the courtyard, her hands clenched into fists as she watched Jon and Mary return from the fields. Her blue eyes burned with a mixture of anger and suspicion. She had heard the rumors—how Jon had created a special fertilizer, how the crops had grown taller and stronger than anyone had ever seen. And now, as she watched Ned praise Jon for his work, her resentment boiled over.
“This is unacceptable,” Catelyn hissed to herself, her voice low but sharp. “A bastard, meddling with the affairs of Winterfell. Does he think this will make him heir? Does he think he can overshadow Robb with his... his tricks?”
She stormed into the great hall, where Ned was discussing the harvest with Maester Luwin. “Ned,” she said, her voice cutting through the conversation like a blade. “We need to talk. Now.”
Ned turned, his expression calm but wary. “Catelyn,” he said, his voice steady. “What is it?”
“This fertilizer,” Catelyn said, her tone icy. “This... thing Jon has created. Do you not see what he’s doing? He’s trying to prove himself, to make himself indispensable. He wants to be heir to Winterfell, Ned. He wants to take Robb’s place.”
Ned’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “Catelyn, you’re overreacting. Jon is not trying to usurp Robb. He’s trying to help. The North needs this.”
“The North needs stability,” Catelyn snapped. “Not the ambitions of a bastard. What will the lords think when they hear that Jon Snow, Ned Stark’s natural son, is the one feeding the North? They’ll question Robb’s ability to lead. They’ll question your judgment.”
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Ned’s expression hardened, and he stepped closer to Catelyn, his voice low but firm. “Jon is my son, Catelyn. He has as much right to contribute to Winterfell as anyone else. And if his work ensures that our people survive the winter, then I will not punish him for it.”
Catelyn’s eyes flashed with anger, but she said nothing. She turned on her heel and strode from the hall, her mind racing. If Ned would not see the danger, then she would deal with it herself.
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Shadow watched the exchange from the shadows, his glowing eyes narrowing. He had known Catelyn would react poorly to Jon’s success, but he hadn’t anticipated the depth of her fury. “She sees threats where there are none,” Shadow murmured to himself, his voice a faint whisper in the wind. “But her anger could undo everything.”
He found Jon and Mary in the forge, where Jon was carefully mixing another batch of fertilizer. Mary sat nearby, her tail flicking behind her as she gnawed on a piece of dried meat.
“Jon,” Shadow said, his voice a low hum in Jon’s mind. “Be careful. Catelyn knows about the fertilizer, and she’s not pleased.”
Jon looked up, his dark eyes filled with concern. “What do you mean?”
“She thinks you’re trying to undermine Robb,” Shadow explained. “She sees your success as a threat to her son’s inheritance.”
Jon’s shoulders slumped, and he set down the mixing bowl. “I’m not trying to take anything from Robb,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to help.”
“I know,” Shadow said, his glowing eyes softening. “But not everyone will see it that way. You must be cautious, Jon. Catelyn’s anger could make things difficult for you—and for Mary.”
Mary growled softly, her blue eyes narrowing as if she understood the danger. She stood and moved closer to Jon, her tail brushing against his leg in a rare gesture of comfort.
Jon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What should I do?”
“Keep working,” Shadow said. “But be discreet. And remember, Jon, your worth is not determined by Catelyn’s approval. You are more than she sees.”
Jon nodded, his expression resolute. “I’ll be careful. For Mary’s sake, if nothing else.”