He Loves Him. He Raised Him. Thats His Son.

He loves him. He raised him. That’s his son.

"Come, let us see what mischief my sons have rooted out now."

He hates him. A constant reminder of the worst days his of his life. The weight of House Stark on his shoulders with no warning.

“He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood.”

He doesn’t miss him.

“The thought of Winterfell brought a wan smile to his face. He wanted to hear Bran's laughter once more, to go hawking with Robb, to watch Rickon at play.”

He begs, in his dying hour, for one last moment with him.

“The thought of Jon filled Ned with a sense of shame, and a sorrow too deep for words. If only he could see the boy again, sit and talk with him…”

He’s his greatest shame.

“I've never lain with any woman but Cersei. In my own way, I have been truer than your Ned ever was. Poor old dead Ned. So who has shit for honor now, I ask you? What was the name of that bastard he fathered?"

He’s his highest honor.

“The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him "son" for all the north to see.”

He’s his darkest lie.

“Catelyn had asked her husband the truth of it, asked him to his face. That was the only time in all their years that Ned had ever frightened her. “Never ask me about Jon,” he said, cold as ice.”

He’s his kept promise.

“Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes.”