If it hurt Lord Stark so much, did that mean he loved his mother? She wouldn't be some whore or tavern wench. She had to be someone who mattered to him. But then, why did no one else know her?

"I wish I knew if she was in stasis." He looked through the faces of his world and anyone that seemed to be from Westeros, hoping that he might see his face in her, that he might know her right away. But they were strangers to him. If his mother was there, he had no way of knowing.

It eased his heart to hear that. For a moment, he could imagine it was his mother telling him that. He was a different person than when he was a boy. His parentage had been a sore point for him, enough to push him into anger. Now, it was in the back of his mind. Being labeled a bastard didn't hurt as much as it used to. It was who he was. But he couldn't deny the desire or need to be loved by his mother. Claire made a comforting substitute.

"I'm grateful for the education and upbringing I had. I wouldn't be the man I am without Lord Stark."