Hey!... So I'm back! Thought hope was lost for this project? Well you'd be wrong... though I wouldn't blame you if you gave up. I almost did myself. I kept checking this story and editing the parts of it I could bare to edit. How any of you managed to make it through some of my mangled writing I will never know, but I am incredibly grateful.
For those of you who are still with me and who didn't give up hope thank you so much! Reading your beautiful comments and seeing that these stories continue to have support is what kept me coming back to edit the chapters I'd written ages ago and pushed me to get going on this.
Now... for my shame (kinda). As soon as I started struggling in the middle of this whole project years and years ago for reasons that are still beyond me... I created another profile. I had inspiration for stories in a couple of different fandoms, but felt guilty about posting chapters for those ones when I couldn't for this one. If I'm even more honest I've actually got a couple of profiles out there for that same reason *hangs head in embarrassment*
So now you know. If you'd like to know what my other profiles are I'll post links in my bio. Hope no one is mad about that one. I'm sorry either way for leading a sort of double life I guess.
In any case I hope you enjoy this. It may take a minute for everyone (you and me) to get back into the swing of things and that being said I'm not making any promises about the rate of posting for future chapters. All I can say is that I hope I have it in me to finish this because I owe to you and myself.
Thank you so much for you encouragement! You are all so amazing! Now here we go!
Chapter Nine – Two Steps Forward...
Rickon Stark was not angry... he was furious.
Who did she think she was?
His blue eyes flashed with irritation as he slashed downwards with his sword at Keyen.
"Well fought my Lord." The easy smiling house guard remarked, bowing his head in defeat.
"Again." Rickon grunted. Robb had bested him only an hour ago... Just barely, but still his elder brother had grinned down at him and said that he had done well. That he would do well to continue to protect the Queen. The Queen. The Queen. The Queen.
Keyen had barely reset himself before Rickon started once more with undiminshed vigour. The guard's smile began to slip as Rickon's hits grew in intensity.
"My Lord?" The guard panted as he dodged the young Stark's swings. "I yield My Lord! I yield!" He yelled though it was for naught as the assault did not stop.
"Rickon!"
The brown haired man paused mid swing, his blade high above his head. His Tully blue eyes shifted up to see Myra standing at one of the banisters above where he'd been practicing next to the barracks that she had built for the poplution at Winterfell.
The break in focus was enough for Rickon to register that his chest was heaving with exertion and his sweat was beginning to freeze to the skin on his face.
As she descended the stone steps Rickon took in the sight of the wide eyed guard on the snow covered ground below him. His nose was bleeding and his arms were pulled up defensively in an attempt to cover his face.
For a moment Rickon felt shame fill him. Soon enough that shame was replaced with anger. Why should he be ashamed? He had proven his strength and ability as a fighter. Where was the fault in that?
Rickon gave his head and body an irritated shake as he watched another guard help Keyen up.
"My Lord." His bloodied partner bowed his head slightly to the young lord before he started to limp away.
This time the shame Rickon felt stuck. "Keyen!" He called out causing the guard to turn. "Thank you for sparring with me."
The guard nodded in response and continued on his way, pausing for a moment to speak when he passed by Myra.
Rickon let a harsh exhale out through his nose at the sight of his approaching sister-in-law. He wanted to hack at something else but he managed to find the composure to his re-sheath his sword. He was restless and he was pissed off. And now she was coming to speak with him.
His blue eyes took her in as she neared in the light snowfall. Her silver hair had been cut short but was long enough once again to be drawn over her shoulder in braid that had been messily made by Abby's fingers. She still wore that old tattered cloak of Robb's from so many years ago. Upon her head sat a wreath of blue and purple flowers from the glass garden that his elder brother had likely woven that very day.
She was beautiful no doubt. Stunning, even blurred by the flurry of white snow. But Rickon had largely grown used to seeing her violet eyes, with the power to either pierce or melt, following him around the castle. He had grown weary of them.
"My Queen." He bowed deeply before her.
She stopped before him. "Little Pup?" She asked softly as he straightened. "Are you well?"
"Why would I not be well?" He breathed out, not meeting her eyes instead focussing on scratching the snow out of the thickening scruff on his chin and putting his cloak back on.
"Littl..."
"DO NOT CALL ME THAT!" Rickon suddenly shouted, causing Myra to draw back the hand she had been reaching out to him with. Silver suddenly appeared as if from nowhere at her side to snarl at him. But the she-wolf was not what gave Rickon Stark pause it was the look of hurt shock in his sister's eyes that made him feel horrible.
Taking a few steadying breaths he stepped towards her. "Myra..." He grasped her warm gloved hands in his bare cold ones as he moved in nearer, making note that something hard was clasped in her left one. "Forgive me." His kissed the back of her hands.
"There is nothing to forgive Litt... Rickon."
Scoffing, Rickon stood up to his full height which had been about three quarters of a foot above her head for some time now. "You know you can still call me Little Pup, Myra."
"Are you sure?" She asked incredulous though there was a smile in her voice.
He squeezed her hands gently, an affectionate smile to match hers on his lips. The gesture caused Myra's eyes to drop and a frown to take shape on her face.
"Silly wolf, your hands! Where are your gloves?" She immediately pulled off one of her own gloves to rub his hands warm.
"I must have left them somewhere in the castle again." Rickon shrugged as his shaggy reddish brown fell into his eyes.
"Honestly..." She tsked shaking her head, causing some radiant pieces of her own silver hair to loosen from her braid. "Sometimes I think you may be worse than Bo..." She looked as though she was wanting to take off her other glove but appeared to be struggling with where to place the object she had been holding.
Rickon swiftly plucked it out of her hand. He recognized the item. It was one of the direwolves that Robb had carved for each of his children while he had been away. Each little figure had been unique and had the children's respective names carved into them.
Kai and Tahl had already chewed and slobbered all over their trinkets. Abby had accused everyone of stealing hers until she found it under the mattress in her chambers. Robb had carved her three more since then in case. Gray had placed his at his bedside amongst his other mess of tokens, animal bones and such, that he found around grounds of Winterfell. Bridget held hers tight wherever she went as Kol seemed intent on snitching it whenever she put it down. Bo meanwhile seemed to have taken to leaving his haphazardly in strange places around Winterfell. The boy was lucky that Myra seemed to find it wherever he left it and that it had not been taken by someone else. Then again Rickon wondered if that was his nephew's secret hope, so that he would not have to be seen getting rid of it himself.
"So it would seem..." Rickon muttered, unwilling to share his burdensome thoughts with his already over worked sister.
Myra had tugged both of her gloves off and tucked them in her belt as she proceeded to try to warm his hands as best she could. "Well!" She huffed in amused defeat. "We may as well head back to the keep because this is pointl..." She had started pulling him along but stopped when she had been met with resistance.
Seeing her look back over her shoulder at him, Rickon decided that his sister-in-law should only ever live in the snow. It suited her particular sort of loveliness.
Her lips began to quiver as her violet gaze seemed to anticipate what he wanted to tell her.
"Come, Little Pup." She pulled his arm with a sweet smile though it was drooping.
Rickon eyes skimmed over her saddened face. Slowly he shook his head.
"You don't want to come in just yet?" Myra sniffed, deliberately choosing to be obtuse. She gave him another weak smile and moved back towards him. "That's fine..." She busied herself brushing the gathering snow off of his shoulders. "It is quite nice out here anyway. And..."
Rickon put his hand up to her moving lips to stop her voice. She looked up at him with watering eyes as his fingers left her mouth.
"Please don't go." She whispered brokenly.
Rickon felt his own eyes begin to grow wet at the abandonment in her soft voice. Taking a breath he looked out at the snow covered barracks and whitened land around them. His blue eyes fell back to her pleading expression. He shifted to stand next to her, lifting his palm up to be level with both of their eyes.
"See here." He pointed to a line that ran across his calloused skin. " A long life, full of adventure..." He felt Myra's head knock against his shoulder as she reached out, grasping his wrist to bring his hand closer.
Her fingers gently traced over the lines she had read so many years ago.
"Forgive me Rickon." She sniffed again. "It's foolish and unfair of me to try to keep you. Sansa is gone to the Rock. Bran will take up his seat at the Twins soon enough. And Robb will return North in less than a moon's time and I suppose..." She sighed as he used his free hand to wipe the unseen tears falling from her eyes. "I suppose you'll go with him, won't you Little Pup?" Despite her tears, Rickon's spirits lifted at her words. She was letting him go! He would have smiled but she spoke once more. "And I will be here... alone.."
His heart filled with sorrow for the Queen of the North. He attempted as best he could to lessen the sting of her pain. "You will not be alone. You have your children and a castle full of subjects. I am sure that Maester Loel does a far sight better advising you than I ever have. Hell! Even Mal has more sense for running a keep than I do." He lightly butted his head against her crowned one as a show of good humour.
She somehow managed to snort prettily at his statement.
"Myra, you have been as a second mother to me for eight years. Almost exactly half of my entire lifetime, and I'm sure you will continue to be for many years to come. It is not easy for me to leave but I must go and find the strength to do my duty. Just as you must stay and find the strength to do yours." He stepped in front of her to face her properly, once again clasping her hands in his. "At least that is a message I have gleaned from your many lessons over these past years." He gave her a small smirk when she lifted his eyes.
"I knew I should have reconsidered your tutelage." Myra gave his nose a small playful pinch between her finger. "I will ask one thing of you... the one thing I always ask..."
Rickon scowled in false thought. "To not father children I cannot care for?" He offered earning a light smack on the shoulder from Myra. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but you do love to me remind that." He smirked at her rolling eyes, before clasping her hands in his once more, his voice now sincere when he spoke. "Do not worry... I won't." He said without needing to specify what action he would be avoiding in the North. They both knew. She had ordered it of him enough times in jest before his sparring sessions or patrols... do not die Rickon Stark.
Now as she looked up at him there was no joke in her thoughtful violet gaze simply a hue of wonder. "When did you get to be so big?"
This time he was the one to snort though not quite as gracefully as she had. He threw an arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. "While you weren't looking."
Young Wolf.
That was what they had called him. It was what they continued to call him.
Robb reflected on his mirrored image in the pools by the ancient Weirwood tree in the godswood of Winterfell.
He no longer felt young. His face and body had been gristled by war and harsh winds. He knew he was lucky, many a man did not live to see one day let alone twenty-five namedays. And yet he felt that time had passed too quickly. Soon enough he would look like his Lord father. Something he would previously have not thought possible. While, like Jon, he had darker northern features Robb's countenance had mostly favoured his mother.
He wondered how different his own father had looked before Robert's Rebellion. Perhaps he had once worn a face that had been smooth and clear as well. Free of scars. Free of worry.
Robb remembered when he had been a boy he had never really imagined his father had an actual childhood. He had assumed that Lord Eddard Stark had been made as was. To be his father.
Now, more than ever he wished that he had asked his father how he had truly lived.
Of course Robb had heard the famous tales of Lord Stark being smuggled out of the Vale and nearly dying at sea on his way to White Harbour, of him breaking the seige at Storm's End, of him defeating the Sword of the Morning Arthur Dayne in single combat. And sweeter songs to do with the as yet ruined Sept at Winterfell, which stood as testament to Ned Stark's respect and affection for his lady wife.
Robb recalled Sansa being enthralled at the romantic notion of having such a husband.
The bearded king of Winter considered his younger sister for a moment. She was closer to him in age than anyone but Jon and she had for a time believed that their father was the epitome of a noble gentleman and a romantic hero. But that time passed as old Nan and mother filled her head with stories of Southern Knights and flowery courtship.
And just as Sansa had to face the truth that all of her stories were not what they appeared to be. Robb had come to terms with the fact that his father and mother must have lived lives that he had never dreamt of.
Even if he had tried to he would have failed. His dreams of late had been preoccupied by a strange white dullness that ached beyond words. It seemed that almost daily Robb did all that he could to try to avoid thinking on the matter but...
He lifted his grey gaze to his younger brother sitting by the Weirwood tree in the wheeled chair contraption from the Wall. They had remained sitting in silence for some time now and Robb's thoughts were beginning to wander dangerously close to that dreaded dream and its meaning.
"Do you remember when Sansa came in here with mother?" He carefully watched his brother's scruffy face for any sign of acknowledgement. "Eh, Bran?" He pressed, causing Bran's empty expression to turn to look at him. "She was so scared at first but she grew past that..." he smirked at the memory of Sansa attempting to wipe the tears from the Weirwood's face, "...'but it's crying!' She said. Mother-" Robb stopped speaking abruptly when Bran flinched.
A frown came over his face as he moved closer to the younger man. Crouching down on the snow covered ground Robb forced Bran to meet his eye properly. "What happened up there, Bran? You know that Jon told me you ventured beyond the Wall some how. You're a grown man now. I will not reprimand you, but I must ask you to tell me at least why and what happened?"
Bran's dark eyes simply stared blankly at him. It was a common occurrence that Bran would seem to lose his regular senses at various times throughout the day, particularly when he was sitting in the Godswood. It also seemed a common occurrence that Bran would fail to see the purpose in answering his brother's questions.
Robb shook his head and looked to the pond once more at a loss. It appeared as though that was the call of the day. Loss. He was surrounded by family yet his sense of loss had nearly overcome him. All that seemed to help was Abby his lovely small pup. Sweet little Bridget had her charms as well. And of course Myra's warmth as always had returned a sense of feeling to his cold bones. Yet, he found himself slipping into moments of melancholy more often than he would have liked to admit.
He clung to Abby and gratefully she did not seem to mind. Mal had been Myra's shadow from the beginning, but Abby was still his little one.
"I wasn't there..."
"What?" Robb's eyes snapped back to his brother's face.
"I wasn't here yet... when Sansa wiped the tears."
Robb's dark brow furrowed. "Oh... I could have sworn that..."
"But I saw it anyway."
The King's face creased in further confusion. "What do you mean?"
"The dreams..." Bran replied simply. "You have them too. Only I can see them better. It's how I know that Jon and..."
Dreams? His mind briefly wondered if he had somehow seen the diary that Myra had secreted away, but quickly disregarded the notion himself. "And what? Know what?" Robb asked more lost than he had been before.
"Now is not the time." Was his brother's reply, before he returned his hollow stare to the face of the Weirwood tree.
"Bran?" Robb questioned, his anxious eyes skimming his thin brother's long form. "Ar-are you well?" He spoke the same words he had asked his mother in this very spot from what felt like lifetimes ago. "Tell me true."
Bran shrugged his shoulders, his dark eyes fixed on the Weirwood.
Robb puffed out a breath, causing the air in front of his mouth to mist.
Myra. Her favourite reminder of home.
Home.
Myra.
Robb closed his eyes to centred himself in the way that she did.
"I must away to the Twins, within the week." Bran called the King's attention back.
Though he knew it would be fruitless, Robb asked. "Why so soon?"
"I must." A flicker of light came over Bran's gaze, he finally looked to be coming out of his most recent daze. "My path lays there."
Robb took in Bran for a breath. He thought of just a moment ago when Bran had flinched at the mention of their late mother. He was not certain about sanctioning Bran's return to the place where she had been slain before his wolf's very eyes. Robb barely wished to think on the wretched place himself.
"Are you sure Bran? The Dreadfort..."
"I am sure." He interjected allowing a small smile for his elder brother. "I am needed." Bran said cryptically.
"For what?"
"To safeguard the North for you. To await your command."
"Bran..." Robb began with some hesitation. "I understand that Jojen Reed is expecting his first child with the Locke girl and that you two were close during the war but you don't have to..."
"Robb." Bran cut in forcefully, there appeared to be a tinge of sadness to his expression now. "I wish to make this move." His posture grew less tense as he sighed and went on. "You can try to convince me otherwise or you can just acknowledge that Myra will agree with my position and simply give me leave to go now."
Robb's grey eyes widened at his brother's jibe regarding Myra, before a wide grin broke out across his bearded face. He knew that his silver haired wife had been trying to broker some sort of impossible match between the widowed lady of Barrowton, Meera Dustin, and Bran for some time. He wondered if that desire may be why she would allow Bran to venture back so far South this soon. Or then again it could have easily been her deep affinity for Bran himself that would cause her to bend to his wishes.
"You presumptuous little shit." He ruffled Bran's brown hair, causing the young man to chuckle. "You'll miss us."
"Aye. I imagine that I will have to adjust. Though I must admit I have retained quite a fondness for my nieces and nephews. If I am honest, I will especially miss little Bo and Gray."
"Hmm..." Robb hummed in response, as he took the back of Bran's chair to wheel him towards the keep for supper. He was glad to be standing behind Bran's watchful brown eyes, he did not want his little brother to see the discomfort pass over his face.
Gods knew that he had tried with his children but it seemed that the spark that he had with Abby and the one he had found with Mal and somewhat in Bridget was not present in his relations with his other sons. If he was honest he could not truly say that he had tried as much as he could have. And that had been his most shameful secret since his return. His melancholy had him holdfast to Abby. The rest of them made him feel quite unlike himself. He felt scrutinized in a way that he was unfamiliar with.
Myra had done what she could to facilitate some sort of bond for him, but it was not working. It was horrible to think, yet at times he felt that his interest was not present to attend to his children beyond Abby and Mal. Their little one with reddish brown hair... Kaiden, had somehow taken to him. And even with this Robb could not find the urge to hold the babe close as he did Abby.
He was beginning to think that his wife had noticed because her attentiveness towards the children seemed to have increased tenfold since his last visit. He felt that he rarely had a chance to see her... unless it was in the morning, or during a daily briefing, or in the evening at supper, or before bed, or while he was bathing... perhaps he did see her quite often, but it did not seem enough. And she usually seemed occupied with something that the children had done or some going-ons in the fortress. Besides that runt of a Lannister appeared to have a particular talent for getting into trouble and annoying the Seven Hells out of his little Bridget which resulted in more of Myra's attention being pulled away.
"I will take my supper in my rooms." Bran spoke pulling Robb out of his stupour. He had not realized that he had made his way to the end of the path carved out daily in the thick snow between the Godswood and the Stark keep. "Rickon wished to catch up before I left. I imagine he would like to go deep into his cups tonight..."
"So he already knows your plans?"
"You have been busy your grace." The seer gave his elder brother a mocking grin.
"I suppose I have." Robb returned Bran's smile with a nod as one of the guards standing at the entrance of the hall helped Bran up the stairs to his rooms.
The grey-eyed man let himself hold on to a small smile as he journeyed back passed by the household guards, through the corridors of the great halls of his home.
"And then he pulled his forces east and smashed into a wall of shining Southern Knights all in golden armour!" An excited distant voice Robb recognized as Mal's echoed from around the corner at the end of the hall he had been walking up.
"In gold?" Another boy's incredulous voice asked.
"Bo! Don't interrupt!" Abby spoke, clearly irritated at the stoppage. "He's getting to the best part!"
"Thank you, little sister. Well... yes! So he broke through the line as allied troops circled the enemy army from the opposite side. And like that! He caught Jaime Lannister and the tides of the war of the Five Kings changed. Father became King in the North and Jaime..."
"You're meant to call him Nuncle!" Bo's voice piped in.
"Say's who?" Mal snapped back.
"Says mama, because he's Nuncle Tyrion's brother..." Abby spoke up.
"I don't care." Mal replied. "I don't like him." Robb felt pride bloom in his chest at his son's shared sentiment and small twinge of betrayal at Abby's undeniably valid assertion. "In any case of those five Kings, papa is the only left alive."
Robb rounded the corner a full grin on his face for the first time in week not solely caused by Myra or Abby.
As he approached the ajar door of Mal's chambers, his smile dropped despite the continued tale telling from his son. For, in the bar of torch light that fell out Mal's door Robb could see the face of someone he had absolutely no desire to be anywhere near his children.
He looked to have stars in his watery eyes, his mouth was open in a gentle wistful smile with an expression approaching some sort of pride as he listened in hidden silence to Mal's stories of Robb.
"Theon." The grey eyed king growled, attempting to keep his voice as low as possible so as to not disturb the children.
As though he'd been pitched into cold water, the Greyjoy startled and clung tighter to the tray he'd been holding against his chest.
Robb's eyes remained stuck to his former friend's trembling jaw and gaunt pale face.
"Gray show me what Uncle Rickon..."
"I'm not finished Bo!" Mal's voice seemed to increasing in volume from the room.
"Well... I don't care." Bo replied, repeating the words that Mal had just spoken.
"Bo!" Abby called out.
"You take that back!"
"Take what back?"
"That you don't care." Mal's voice was harsh now.
"I don't. I don't care about that man! He stole mama from us! How can you care about some stupid battle from a million years ago?"
Doing his best to ignore the stab of pain at the words of his son in the room close by, Robb grit out between his teeth, "You will remove yourself from this part of the castle and not return." It was still difficult for him to stomach the sight of the man he'd once considered a brother let alone speak to him.
It was strange to see Theon's once smirking mouth, twitch in fear. For a moment Robb thought that Theon would make the horrible mistake of trying to say something to him but instead he bit his lips, water rimming his eyes and backing away out of the hall.
Though Theon had done as Robb had asked, the King of Winter could not make out if it was relief he was feeling as he watched his former friend walk away on shaking legs. He had once made that man his family by force of will. Once...
"Mama will return soon and she will hear." Gray's voice came through the door breaking through his thoughts.
"Mother is probably with that man." Bo practically spat.
"He is our father." Abby spoke out.
"I. Don't. Care."
"Argh!" The sound of something tumbling to the ground pushed Robb to move. He swung the door to Mal's room open.
"Ge'off!"
Robb's grey eyes took a moment to absorb the sight of his beautiful daughter wrestling her younger brother on carpeted stone floor, as Mal attempted to pull her off and Gray and Bridget watched from Mal's bed nestled against Bridget's already large grey wolf.
"Take it back! Take it back!" Abby cried tugged on the boy's light brown curly hair.
"Get off me!" Bo yelled back louder, starting to push Abby with more force.
"That's enough!" Robb spoke with a enough volume to cause everyone to halt in their motions.
He pried Abby away from her opponent with much more ease than Mal had. Holding his daughter close, he glared at the boy who had caused Abby to throw herself on the floor. Then in a moment hated that he had to remind himself that 'that boy' was his child as well... His son.
"What's going on here?"
"Papa! Bo was telling awful lies!" Abby spat out harshly towards her brother, then whimpered into Robb's chest. Robb's grey eyes skimmed over the faces in the room.
Bo's hazel eyes did not avert from his father's, instead the child stood tall with his chin jutting out, and his hands clenched at his side. His glare unmoving. Robb noticed Grayhm, with his messily shorn black hair, move in to stand closer to Bo's back. He seemed to be coming to his brother's side though his bluish-grey stare was not holding the same animosity as Bo's.
"Is that the way of it boy?" Robb asked unable to stop himself from stroking Abby's soft dark hair with his free hand.
"Father please..." it was Mal's meditating voice that Robb heard answer. "Abby did not need to hit him. But Bo did say somethings he did not mean..."
"I meant what I said Mal." Bo finally spoke. Robb tried to remember if he had ever managed to maintain eye contact with his lord father when he had barely five full namedays.
Silence followed. A strange sense of pride and loneliness filled him. He wished Myra was here to sort all this out. Where was she? He searched the face of the boy with light brown hair before him. The was no sign off relenting.
"Good lad." Robb remarked, though he did not move something in Bo's body softened with confusion.
"Papa!" Abby pulled back from him her sweet violet eyes wide in surprise. "You cannot mean it!"
Robb managed a tight smile at his small pup. "But I do."
"But..." Robb quieted her voice with a kiss to her cheek. He moved to place her on the ground but she would not let go of him and he could not make himself let her go when she clung to him so. The King of Winter simply choose to bend a knee next to his daughter, to meet Bo's eye.
"Nothing is ever as simple as it seems, Abby. There are many reasons for everything, no reasons for some things, and whether right or wrong those reasons all worth consideration..." Robb spoke, a smile growing on his lips as his children mouthed the words he spoke. "I suppose your mama says it enough does she not?" He watched little heads bob slowly around him.
"There is always something new to learn even in the familiar..." Bo spoke instead of nodding.
"That's right my brave wolf."
"I am not your wolf. I belong to my mama." Bo spoke with conviction.
Once again that strange sense of pride and loss flooded Robb. What had Myra been teaching them?
"That is true. But it also true that each of you is of me. You are all familiar to me. I spent my nights in the North dreaming of your faces, of your likenesses before my leaving..." He looked at each of his children, his gaze pausing at each of their faces, waiting for acknowledgement before moving to the next. "And yet it seems I must learn and re-learn all that I thought I had known of you. It is my deepest hope that you can give me time to do so."
"You just used mama's words." Gray soft voice broke into the conversation.
The young King had to give a small scoff at that. "Yes. It's hard not to. Especially when your mother uses so many with such great vigour." Robb thought on his next words for a moment. "Your mother has done well to teach you her words. But it would do you well to know mine... to know ours."
"I already do papa!" Abby jumped in his arms. "Winter is coming!" She announced, proudly beaming at him.
Robb chuckled at her enthusiasm. "That's right my small pup." He nuzzled his nose against hers. "But do you know the next?" He asked Abby, causing her to frown.
"The next?" Mal questioned.
The dark-haired King nodded. "When winter comes... the lone wolf dies. The pack survives." Robb swallowed passed the lump in his throat as he thought of his own father. "These are words we must live by as well. We are a pack... a family. If we begin tearing each other apart and pushing each other away how will we weather the storm?"
Silence fell.
"You stole mama." Bo voice broke the quiet this time. There was calmer quality to it now. His hands were no longer fists.
Robb let out a soft exhale as he shook his head. "I- I can understand how it can feel that way to you. It may be difficult but you must understand that there is no 'stealing' her from you. You and your brothers and sisters... this family is her life. She would not abandon you or cause you pain for the world. And so, she can never be stolen, not even by me. She loves you..." He swallowed again, somehow feeling anxious under the weight of the expressions before him. "...As do I. And I know we can make a family between us." He bit the inside of his cheek to keep the water from welling in his eyes. "All I ask is the chance to show you."
Children are meant to love their parents.
Fathers. Mothers. Sons. Daughters.
And yet as her children screamed in the pits below the city, Daenerys Targaryen wondered if they could ever feel love for her again.
Meereen had quickly turned from a victory to a lake of sinking sand that was beginning to drown her.
She was questioned daily by her council as to why she remained in this odd land. In truth she was questioning herself.
There was an entire continent to the west that was meant to be her home. After a long series of deaths and life and blood it had been fated that she was the rightful heir to a far off throne.
Her purple-blue eyes skimmed over the many lamps lit in the city below her. The great pyramid had been her home for the past six moons.
It seemed that visitors had arrived from every corner of the world to pay tribute and offer words of wisdom or to join the men who had already found their way to her side. Ser Barristan was one such man. Of those who had come he had set her least on edge, she would daresay that he was someone who had made her less unsure of herself for the most part. However, at times his presence alone could also cause her to feel more awkward in this Eastern land. Pushing her by his mere existence to feel as though she should want to leave for Westeros as soon as possible. He had been the strongest connection she had to her birthplace since Ser Jora... since that traitor had left her midst.
This new great knight had reinforced that connection by informing her of the happenings in King's Landing.
It appeared that her homeland was tearing itself apart. The Baratheons of the Stormlands and King's Landing continued to squabble. The Lannisters and the Greyjoys' conflict had spilled over into the Reach. Lord Baelish and his little puppet Lord Robert Arryn kept to their own designs in the Vale. The Martells had broken faith with the Iron Throne following suit with the North where the Starks had declared for themselves, taking the Riverlands with them and burying their heads in the snow. Mixed amongst these reports there were tales of another woman... a Queen as she styled herself in the North, who had violet eyes and silver hair. As yet there had been no official claims to her heritage but that did not stop the hearsay from reaching Essos.
The claims that had been most strongly made had to do with creatures which were apparently invading the North, and for that matter all of Westeros. Stories of Others and Wights and giants breeching the Wall. Ser Barristan had assured her that these were tales that wet nurses told children in order to get them to behave. But as her own children's cries rang through her, Daenerys could not help but wonder if it could be possible... things thought long since dead had come back before.
"My Queen..." Her body maid and friend, Missandei, spoke to draw her away from the balcony of the Great Pyramid and back into her quarters.
Daenerys gave her ebony skinned friend a soft smile in greeting.
"Is something troubling you, Your Grace?"
Daenerys always admired how perceptive Missandei was, it was a valuable trait, especially in times such as these.
"It seems that this separation from my children weighs more heavily on me with passing each day." The light eyed Queen sighed as she approached the table in her chambers that had been spread over with maps of Westeros and Essos. "They are not aided by the fact that I think on the claims coming from this Wolf King and his brother, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, with increasing frequency."
Missandei took a moment to respond gently, "I would think it natural to dwell on the rumours of your home land, My Queen."
"Alas, that is another question that occupies my thoughts..."
Home land? Daenerys let her eyes wander aimlessly across the gulf between the two continents before her.
"Your Grace?"
Pulling her eyes up to her friend once more, Daenerys shook her head. "Never mind my rambling Missandei. It is only that I have choices laid at my door and I do not know if I want to or if I am even ready to make them."
The face of the woman standing in front of her transformed from one of worry to one of determination. "Whatever choice you make, know that those who are loyal to you will follow you."
"Yes, I have no doubt of that my friend." Daenerys gave Missandei an appreciative look. "It is those others that worry me. I do not know if I will be welcome in the strange land that is my home. I am sure that the Greyjoys could be quelled easily enough. But these Dornishmen and Northern Lords were difficult to bring to heel even in the best of times, at least Ser Barristan has told me as much."
"You have brought many a man to their knees, My Queen. Do not doubt yourself."
"It's true that I have. But it is heat that I familiar with... fire. The rising snows in North are a thing apart altogether." She shook her head once again. "I have never even seen snow." She muttered more to herself than anyone else. She had never seen a true winter.
And what were those Stark words again?
Something to do with the seasons...
"May I speak freely Your Grace?"
"Of course." Daenerys gave a nod.
What were the words?
"Can you not see snow if you wish to?" Missandei queried respectfully. "Is that not a circumstance within your power to change, My Queen?"
"Hmmm..." Daenerys' gaze shifted back to the map of Westeros on the table. "Perhaps it is..." she responded as the phrase she had been searching for finally echoed through her churning mind.
Winter is coming.
Phew... Sorry it's such a long one. And it wasn't all that 'oomph-y', I may have indulged my love of filler-y fluffiness a bit much here. Just wanted to make it worth the post especially since it's been quite a break. Hope you're with me on it. I also hope you'll do me a big favour any keep looking past any editing/continuity issues.
Like I said I can't make any promises about future posts :/ but I do promise to look through and edit past chapters to make them slightly more readable.
Thank you for being patient with me. And for sticking with me through the years.
I love you all SO MUCH for it and your continued support! Thank you again!
I'd love to know what you think! So please review or PM me. Let me know!