Cersei had never thought of gray and white as colors of joy, but she decorated the Red Keep in the colors anyway. The white banners looked so innocent as they were hung on the wall, though Lyanna pointed out that the white contrasted nicely with the black of the Targaryen hangings.

The Starks had wanted to hold the wedding in the North, but Rhaegar had refused. No Targaryen would get married away from Kings Landing, he said. Eddard had protested, even politely, until Rhaegar spoke to Catelyn. She'd been of the South, once, and though she'd long adjusted to the cold, she recalled its fury. And with the Queen's ill health in even the southron winter, he worried she would scarcely survive the trip. And Daena would not be married without Cersei present. The Starks grudgingly agreed. This meant, however, that the wedding would take place in the Godswood. Cersei had fought it, as had Daena, until Lyanna stepped in and reminded both women that the Starks were of the North and if Daena's children wanted to claim their Northern inheritance, their parents must be wed in the Godswood.

Cersei was still fuming over this as the women sat in her solar embroidering the day before the Starks arrived.

"I don't see why they can't get over their Northern honor," Cersei snapped

"Cersei please," sighed Lyanna.

"What?" The Queen affixed her with her best glare, but the other woman was as ever unmoved.

"The North is the home of the First Men, you are an Andal. There are different customs between the two, and the Northern roots run deep."

Daena sighed, "Then I shall be a useless bride."

Lyanna laughed, "Why would you ever say that?"

Daena shrugged, "I have no knowledge of the North." She'd sat in lessons of course, but didn't share her father's patience for them. The North had seemed a distant, vague thought compared to the lands she knew. And being the Lady of Winterfell and even further out of reach, until recently. She may have been betrothed since she was but three, however, the reality had yet to sink in.

Lyanna laughed, "And I had no knowledge of the Storm Lands when I wed Robert."

Cersei sighed, "Lyanna, the North is the size of the Storm Lands, the Reach, the Crown Lands, the Vale, the Westerlands, and the Riverlands. Combined."

"I know." Lyanna shrugged, "The two of you are missing a rather obvious solution." Daena and Cersei exchanged a glance, both a little confused. Lyanna laughed at their confused expressions, "Just remember ladies, that I was born and raised in Winterfell. I am a true Northern woman and no one will ever break that out of me."

Daena gasped, realizing what Lyanna was offering her. The rest of the afternoon was spent in conversation about the North. By the end Daena felt confidant she had a working understanding of how the Mountain Clans functioned, Skaagos and its relations to Winterfell, and the Hornwood's tension with their neighbors the Bolton's.

At the end Daena had one final question, "Do all the Northern houses keep the old gods?" she asked.

Lyanna shook her head, "All the houses but one worship the old gods. House Manderly, the wardens of the White Knife are an Andal family that was displaced from the Reach and fled North." Lyanna smiled, her eyes far away. She had had that look often in the past few hours, remembering the joys of her childhood. "They are good people, smart, but they'll never let it on."

Daena smiled. She was scared of the North, though she would never reveal that to anybody. She had always thought it was a vast wasteland, untamable and harsh. Lyanna's stories had shed new light on it. Lyanna spoke not of a barren wasteland but of a beautiful kingdom. Of a forest that covered much of the region, called the wolfswood, full of warmth and joy. She had told Daena that although the winds could bite and often it was so cold it hurt to breathe; it was a beautiful place, full of happiness. House Stark was seen as the greatest rulers and their word mattered more than that of the Iron Throne.

Lyanna excused herself from dinner, and Daena suspected it was to go cry in her rooms. She knew her mother's friend missed the North and part of her wondered why she didn't go back. Daena knew that her home would always be the Crown Lands and nothing could take that away from her, she suspected that was how Lyanna thought of the North.

That evening her father announced the Starks would ride into the city around noon the following day.

"You must be present to greet them," he said looking at all his children.

All three nodded and Daena went back to picking her food nervously, wondering what the following day would bring.

The wind rose over the city as the Northern men rode through Kings Landing. Lord Eddard Stark rode at the front of the column with his wife to his left and his son Robb Stark to his right.

Robb could hear his sister Sansa whispering with her friend Jeyne Poole in excitement, but Robb could not share the girls' eagerness. He had never met Daena Targaryen; everything he knew of her was from gossip and the letters his aunt Lyanna had sent him over the years. From what he had gathered she was the perfect princess. She had more of the Lannister looks than her brothers, though according to Lyanna she was clearly Targaryen. She always did whatever was her duty, whatever anyone asked of her, which from what Lyanna wrote of her parents was easy to believe. She also had a dragon. It was hardly enough to know if she would make a good lady of Winterfell, a good wife, or a good match for himself. Robb wished he knew her, but in a week's time he was to marry her.

At least they let him wed her in a Godswood. He knew his father's bannermen would never accept the marriage unless it was done before a Heart Tree.

The Red Keep loomed above them on its hill, overlooking the sea. In the sun the towers gleamed, putting the rest of the grimy city to shame.

The Starks rose through the great gate to the sound of trumpets. As they rode into the yard they found an army of servants ready to help unload everything. A small party waited to greet them on the steps and Robb smiled as he recognized his aunt Lyanna.

Ned rushed forward after dismounting to embrace his sister. His father had grieved after the news of Robert Baratheon's death had reached them. Lyanna's letter had seemed sad, but she was clearly not in mourning as father had expected her to be. Catelyn had said that something had gone wrong in that marriage, that it was not a happy one.

Eddard bent greet his nieces and nephews. Robb noticed that Joffrey, Lyanna's eldest, was absent.

Once they had all greeted each other, Lyanna led them into the keep. Robb fell in step next to Gendry as they followed their parents down the hall. Robb could hear Sansa begging Meera for any information about the Princes. He wanted to laugh at that. Meera had been betrothed from birth and he doubted very much that after three years of living in the Red Keep she found anything remarkable in the royal family.

When they came into the throne room they found that many of the high lords and ladies of Westeros were already in attendance. The Baratheon's separated themselves from the Starks and moved to their position at the front of the room, to the right of the throne. Sansa moved to stand to his right and Arya took up her spot at his left as they made their way down the hall behind their parents. Robb wished his younger brothers had come but their father had insisted that their must always be a Stark in Winterfell, and so they had left the boys behind.

As they walked Robb took in the Royal family. King Rhaegar cut an imposing figure from his seat on the Iron Throne, and beside him stood his wife, her gaze fixed on the oncoming family. Robb couldn't read much in her face and he feared that she didn't like him in the least.

Below them stood the princes and princess. Robb had never seen Daena before, but he had to admit that she was truly stunning.

She was tall and slender with long blond hair. It was more golden than the classic Targaryen look, but still not the honeyed blond of her mother. Her green eyes met his, and narrowed. He could tell she had been sizing him up, though as with her mother, he couldn't figure out what judgment she had passed. She simply straightened her shoulders and continued to watch.

When they reached the foot of the dais, they all bowed. Robb felt his skin prickle and knew that most of the eyes of the court were on him and not the rest of his family. The King and Queen formally welcomed them and a servant stepped forward to take them to their rooms. Where Arya was sent off to bathe but their parents held back Robb and Sansa.

Robb examined his parents, both appeared nervous.

Ned sat down facing his children and took a deep breath, "There is something I need to talk with you children about."

"Yes father?" asked Sansa, ever the lady.

Ned sighed, "You both know you're here for Robb's wedding, but there is something else you need to know." Robb nodded, while Sansa neatly folded her hands in her lap, "There is another agreement, and not official yet, that Sansa will marry Prince Aegon." Sansa gasped, sitting up and smoothing her skirt, "But it is not official yet." Sansa visibly deflated, "Which is why you two need to be on your best behavior. Sansa, the King and Queen are watching you."

Sansa smiled, she was looking forward for a chance to prove herself. She knew that she would be a good wife to her husband, and she hoped that husband would be the Prince. Robb wanted to laugh at his sister. She was his favorite sibling, but often her fantasies and dreams amused him. He hoped Sansa wouldn't be delusional about any of this.

The day of the wedding was bright and clear as Daena walked to the Godswood. She had been there occasionally but never for very long. Though her father's family seemed to view religion as a formality and her mother was hardly devout, she had been raised in the faith of the Seven, and she did not want to marry in front if the Old Gods in these strange trees.

Still she knew that for her children to be seen as legitimate in the eyes of the North she must be wed here.

She was first and foremost a Princess; she was the dragon and the lion. She would be strong.

The Northern and Southron lords stood together in the woods, but to Daena they clashed. The Southron were dressed in silks and bright colors. They wore their colors in the loudest ways possible. Next to them the Northerners looked somber. They wore gray, black, and brown. The only colors were on their right breasts where all proudly showed the sigil of their houses.

The women were the same. Southerners dressed to impress, Northerners dressed for function. The blood red of her mother's dresses would be out of place in the North, and was even out of place now. But she would rather meet Cersei's softened emerald eyes than those of the Northern lords.

Daena took a deep breath and forced herself to raise her eyes and look at the heart tree. On either side stood the families, lined up by age all dressed in their finest. Lord Stark loomed terrifying, all Northern gruffness. She felt her gut clench in fear as her father took her arm. She didn't want to be afraid. She was of the blood of the dragon, she shouldn't be scared. But the north was so far... So vastly different from what she'd known. At least Aerion would marry the daughter of one if her mother's closest friends, and have the choice to stay in the Capital or return with his bride to Dorne. And their mother would visit him every winter. But Winterfell... She knew the maps; it was leagues away, several months journey. And her mother would never make that journey, even if her father did. They were sending her away, off the end of the earth.

Robb was handsome at least, in a boyish way. He was so different from her brothers, dark and red and not the golden she knew. Not as tall either, mercifully. A small part of her wished her father wasn't sending her away, that he'd fall back on old customs and marry her to Aegon, just so she could stay close to home. But she was also grateful that she wouldn't be marrying her brother. Though she loved them, the thought of being with either brother in that way made her ill.

As she walked toward her soon-to-be husband she was luckily that her mother had hammered her manners into her over the years. She did not falter once despite the twist of fear. She couldn't read Robb's expression. It was hard, like the North, but she could tell that he was feeling something and she yearned to know what it was. Maybe in a few years she would.

Regardless, she had nearly collapsed by the time she reached the tree, held aloft only by her father's arm and her corset.

She did her duty. She knelt before the trees and said her vows, pledged to love and serve her husband. Then he draped a white cloak about her shoulders and it was over. She would now be a Stark forever, she would go North and she would be forgotten

Daena was having a harder time remembering that she was a Princess the further and further north they went. As the cold began to descend along the Neck the Northern men seemed to come back to life. Daena watched as Robb and Theon joked more, as Arya grew less hostile, and Sansa relaxed. The North had the opposite effect on Daena. The cold clawed at her and the landscape seemed woefully drab to her. As they came to the end of the Neck she had been hoping for some sort of castle to rest in, she had assumed that Moat Cailin was a great fortress; instead she was met with three leaning towers in a swamp.

She hopped the rest of the North wasn't like this, but she couldn't help but close herself up further in disappointment.

Sansa watched as her good sister drew back inside herself. It was hard to watch, though she hardly knew the girl she pitied her for having to come north after the vibrancy and warmth of the south.

As Daena dismounted, wrapping her thin cloak tighter about herself, Sansa took action. She walked over to Daena, took her by the arm and proceeded to drag her down the baggage train.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed Daena.

"Fixing your problem." Was Sansa's firm reply.

"What problem?" Daena snapped, growing hostile.

"Well," Sansa replied, waiting for a horse to move out of their way, "the fact that you're freezing to death."

Daena bristled, "I am the blood of the Dragon, I don't get cold."

"Right," said Sansa pulling her along, "and I'm a Valyrian warlord. Look I can tell you're cold, everyone is when they first come here. It's not something to be ashamed of."

Sansa stopped them in front of one of the wagons filled with trunks. She spoke to the driver who hurriedly removed a large trunk of burnished oak and set it down before them. Sansa opened it and pulled out a dark robe. When she held it up, Daena gasped.

The fabric of the cloak was a pale simple grey of carefully woven wool. It had four clasps of alternating snowflakes and wolves in silver. Around the cuffs of the sleeves was a soft fur that matched the fabric itself. When Sansa undid the clasps Daena could see that the inside was lined head to toe with more of the grey fur. Daena leaned forward and ran her fingers over the lining and she sighed at the feeling of it. It was softer than any silk she had ever touched, but there was obvious warmth to it.

Sansa smiled, "See, even warmth can be beautiful."

Daena was at a loss for words, "I can't believe how amazing it is."

Sansa handed it to her, "Put it on."

"What?"

"Put it on, you're freezing to death and I have a million others." Sansa said as she held up the robe. Daena gave in, turned around. Sansa slipped it over her shoulders and Daena did the clasps still marveling at the beauty.

"When we get to Winterfell we'll have to update your wardrobe." said Sansa as the two girls headed back up the baggage train to the towers.

Robb was waiting for them. As they reached him Daena separated herself from Sansa and took Robb's arm. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, Daena had been very cold to him and hadn't been willing to even touch him more than was needed. He supported her and guided her away from the towers.

"Are we not staying in the tower?" She asked.

Robb shook his head, "The towers may be fit for the men during times of war, but they are not suited for a Lady, especially a Princess."

Robb lead her up the hill where men were already setting up for the night. At the top stood four tents all in a row. All had the same coloring of grey and white, but one had accents of blue and another hints of red. Daena and Robb's tent was set away from the others. Robb held the flap open for her as she passed under.

A fire was already burning in the braiser set up in the middle of the room. A maid was laying out a meal that had already been prepared. As soon as she was finished Daena dismissed her.

Robb watched as Daena walked to stand beside the fire, watching the colors leap and change. Finally she turned and looked at him, her green eyes seemed to penetrate his soul.

"I feel like we should be honest with each other." She said.

Robb undid his cloak and threw it over a chair before turning to look at her, arms folded across his chest.

"Ok, be honest." was his response.

Daena lifted her chin to meet his eyes. Robb was one of the few people she had met outside of her family who really looked down on her.

"I am not the biggest fan of you," she said.

"The feeling is mutual."

"But," Daena paused, "I want to try and make this work. We hardly know each other, and I'm guessing we both have fairly biased opinions of the other's home and family." Robb's eyebrows arched, "You seem to be a nice man, and as far as I can tell the North is a nice place, apart from the cold. I want to be more than just your wife, I want to be important to you."

Robb nodded, "And I want the same. Don't worry, I will never make you do anything you aren't willing to." Daena smiled and turned away, but Robb spoke again, "And Daena, I've never seen you look more beautiful than in fur and wool."

Daena smiled to herself and sat down by the table beginning her meal.

By the time the entourage reached Winterfell the snow had begun to fall in thick flakes. Daena spent the first day getting settled in her chambers adjoining Robb's but on the second day she asked Lady Catelyn and Lady Sansa to help her with her wardrobe. She had returned Sansa's robe to her and had noticed the bastard Jon Snow glaring at her when he saw her wearing it.

Lady Catelyn surveyed the cloths laid out on her good-daughter's bed with anger. Of all the 20 every day gowns brought by the Princess only 2 would be fit for the cold air of the North. None of the cloaks in her possession were near thick enough to withstand the cold, and there were no furs. Lady Catelyn shook her head.

"I'm afraid Daena that you will have to be cold for a few days, only two of these gowns will be able to withstand the North, and they'll only be good for summer. There are a few we could fix that would make them suitable, but the rest will have to go. We can make you new ones, but half will need to be thrown out." She said as she ran her fingers over the silk. "Didn't you think to pack for the cold."

Daena straightened her shoulders and glared at the older women, "I did, and I just didn't think it would be this cold."

Catelyn shook her head at the girls answer, and then rose to her feet, turning to leave. At the door she turned and spoke to the two girls. "Go into the Wintertown and buy enough wool to make 10 gowns and wool for cloaks. I will send Robb and Jon out to hunt for some suitable furs." Catelyn turned and left leaving the other two alone.

Daena moved to sit by the fire; Sansa took the seat across from her, folding her hands in her lap. The two women stared into the fire for a few minutes in silence.

"Who is Jon Snow?" Daena asked, startling Sansa from her thoughts.

"Jon Snow? He's a bastard." Was all Sansa said.

"Who's bastard?" asked Daena, "Why is he allowed to live here?"

Sansa paused, when she spoke it was a voice filled with resentment. "He's my Uncle Brandon Stark's bastard with Lady Barbrey Ryswell."

"Lord William Dustin's wife?" Daena was surprised.

Sansa nodded, "She told her husband the baby she was carrying was not his, Brandon claimed it as his own. Lord Dustin forgave his wife after Brandon's death, but he didn't want the child around. My father brought him here to be with family."

Daena was surprised that the Stark bastard was allowed to live at Winterfell. She thought that only Dorne was a place where they celebrated bastards.

Sansa rose to her feet, clearly uncomfortable. "I'll go get you a something to wear into Wintertown, you had best change into one of those dresses at the end of the bed." She said before turning and hurrying out of the room.

Sansa hurried down the hall her long red hair bouncing down her back. She heard a pair of boot falls and felt someone walking beside her.

Glancing to her right she saw her cousin Jon.

"Welcome home Sansa." He murmured.

"Jon," she said, "It's good to see you."

"The feeling is mutual." He took her arm and led her down a side hall to stand by a window. "I noticed Daena wearing the robe I gave you."

Sansa met his gaze and blushed, "She was freezing and I wanted to make sure she felt comfortable."

Jon looked at her angrily, "I gave that to you as a gift, it is not for you to give away as you please."

Sansa narrowed her eyes, "I only loaned it to her, and it was within my rights."

"It was not within your rights." Snapped Jon, his anger boiling up.

Sansa took a step back, and then she straightened her shoulders and glared at him as she spoke coolly. "I have every right to do whatever I want with my own possessions. Not only that but you, Jon Snow, are not in a place to question me. I am Sansa of House Stark and I am your superior. You will address me as such."

Jon felt as if she had slapped him in the face, fuming inside he played the part of the good little bastard and lowered his eyes respectfully. "Sorry My Lady, I did not need to offend you."

"No I assume you didn't, "she said her voice brittle as ice. "Now if you'll excuse me I have work to do."

Sansa strode down the hall to her chambers. She opened her wardrobe and took out two robes of thick wool to wear into Wintertown. She slipped one over her shoulders. It was pure white wool with blue embroidery. Inside it was lined with a dark fur that was soft to the touch. Sansa picked up the other robe; it was the one she had loaned to Daena a few days ago. She doubted the Princess would settle for anything but the best.

She headed back down the hall to Daena's room. The Princess had changed into a simple wool dress in a dark red. Sansa had noted that almost all the cloths she had brought were red, gold, and black. She didn't seem very interested in adopting the colors of her new house.

Sansa gave her the robe and Daena slipped it gratefully over her shoulders, allowing its warmth to envelope her. The two girls set off down the hall together, Daena's handmaiden made to follow but Sansa ordered her away. When the reached the gates of the castle there was no large escort waiting for them in the snow, instead Jory Cassel stood beside a young man. Sansa smiled and greeted both pleasantly while Daena watched nervously. In King's Landing they never left the Red Keep unless they were mounted with an armed escort. Sansa appeared prepared to just walk out the gates with an old man and a young boy guarding them.

Daena grabbed her arm, "Are you sure we can leave without an escort?"

Sansa patted her hand, "Don't worry, this isn't King's Landing, nobody will hurt us here." She said before dragging Daena out of the castle.

They walked through the small town looking for different things. In the end they bought more than enough fabric and returned to the keep with cheeks flushed and smiles on their faces.

The six months passed in a blur. Daena settled into life at Winterfell and began to even enjoy her husband's company. Both knew that their relationship would never turn into love the way their parents had, but they had a mutual respect and understanding that made their lives easier.

After six months in Winterfell Daena went to the Heart Tree for the first time. She had walked through the Godswood once or twice with different Starks, but she continued to pray in the sept with Sansa and Lady Catelyn.

A light rain had fallen all morning and by the time Daena entered into the woods the earthy smells were overwhelming. Unlike with the incense in the Sept yesterday she did not feel the urge the throw up.

Daena reached the heart tree and knelt before it, lowering her head. The snow was already thick on the ground but she had chosen a wool gown today, knowing she would be coming out here. She didn't move but stayed kneeling by the pool until she heard a twig snap behind her.

Whipping her head around she searched the trees looking for a person. Bran Stark stepped out of the trees and walked to a rock at the edge to the pool. He sat down and gave her a friendly smile, and then he patted a rock next to his. Daena rose and moved to the rock, sitting down next to him. Bran was only nine years old but Daena could tell that he knew things he wasn't sharing, things a boy his age shouldn't know. It had been the same with Aegon when they were children, always deep in thought.

Daena smiled at the younger boy who watched the pool without speaking.

After a pause he spoke, "You're pregnant aren't you." Daena nodded, Bran glanced at her and smiled, "I saw it in a dream."

Robb had told her that his brother sometimes saw the truth in dreams, or the future. Daena knew that it had to do with magic and unlike most she was willing to listen to him. She had more than enough experience with the power of dragons and the effect they had on people.

"What did you see?" she asked quietly.

"Two wolves," said Bran, "One boy and one girl. The boy had dragon's wings but he couldn't fly, they weren't strong enough, he was more wolf than dragon. The girl was different, she had great big wings and she was flying above the boy watching him, only he didn't see her. She also had three eyes and a raven with three eyes flew beside her."

Daena smiled a bit nervously, "Do you know what that means?"

Bran shook his head, "No, but I know that it's good."

Daena rose and hugged the boy. Then without a word she turned and hurried back into the castle. She wanted to find Robb and tell him before anyone else. She was only a month along by Maester Luwin's reckoning, but she was already thinking of baby names. The boy would have to be a Stark, but she could make the girl a Targaryen or a Lannister if she wanted.

Robb was hunting the day the birth began. He was out in the Wolfswood looking for another deer to make a pair of gloves out of, when he heard a thunder of hooves behind them.

He was surprised to see Arya coming through the trees with the wind in her hair, looking rather panicked. He turned to face her but the look in her eyes told him all he needed to know.

He kicked his horse hard in the ribs and began to head back to the keep. Jon and Theon followed with Arya.

It took a two hours hard riding for him to reach the keep. He sprinted up the stairs to Daena's rooms. Inside he found Luwin, his mother, and Sansa clustered around her bed.

Daena was covered in sweat. Robb was convinced that something was wrong, but Maester Luwin didn't look worried. Instead he calmly told Robb that Daena was doing fine and would most likely give birth within the next six hours.

Robb climbed into bed behind Daena, letting her lean against him. He noticed his mother's shocked look and he knew that in the South men often left the birthing room. He, however, was of the north and he would be with his child when it came into the world. Not only that but he could remember his mother's pain when she gave birth to Rickon without his father present, that was not something he wanted Daena to go through.

For the next few hours he listened to the screams. After five hours Maester Luwin announced that the first child was crowning. Daena screamed her worst scream yet and then another wail joined hers.

Robb looked up and was confronted with the image of his son. Gently he wrapped his arms around his wife.

"Daena," he whispered in her ear, "It's done, and we have a son."

Daena shook her head, "No," she whispered, "No there's-" another scream ripped through her body and Maester Luwin quickly handed off the boy to Catelyn. Daena screamed again as the maester knelt before her and examined her.

"Princess," he murmured, "There is another, you are having twins."

Daena screamed again and Robb looked away from his son and back to his wife. For the next hour she continued to scream, worse than before.

Then once more another wail joined them and Daena relaxed back against her husband.

The children were brought to them. Robb took his son in his arms while Daena took the girl.

Maester Luwin herded everyone out, leaving the four alone. For a few minutes all Robb could do was look at his son. He couldn't help but smile as the boy opened his eyes and revealed Stark gray irises.

Daena was the first to speak, "You should give him a Northern name." Robb nodded unable to think of one at the moment, "I remember an Edrick somewhere in the line."

Robb nodded, "Edrick Snowbeard, he was King in the North for one hundred years."

Daena smiled, "A strong name then."

Robb nodded, "And would you prefer Lannister or Targaryen for the girl?"

Daena smiled, "I was hopping to name her for my grandmother, Queen Rhaella."

Robb nodded, "Rhaella Stark, another strong name."

He looked over and Daena who looked up at him right at that moment and smiled. Both could see the love the other bore their children in that moment, and both were happy to see it.

Jon Snow stormed down the hall fuming. For the past month he had been forced to watch all of Winterfell fall in love with two idiotic babies.

He could understand liking Edrick, who even at a month old was clearly a Stark in look and color. He was already growing hair that looked to be classic Stark brown.

The girl however was a different story. She had blue Tully eyes and had yet to even begin growing hair. Most of the women around the castle said that it was because the girl was blonde like her mother. There was nothing Stark about the girl.

He headed to the Godswood feeling the need to clear his head. He heard children laughing from the hot springs and made the choice to avoid them. He instead headed toward the Heart Tree. When he got there he was surprised to see someone was already there.

Sansa was kneeling in front of the Heart Tree wearing a cloak of pure blue. Her hair was free and cascading down her back.

Jon paused leaning against the tree watching her. After a few minutes when she still hadn't moved he coughed.

Sansa jumped and turned her head. Her eyes met his and he smiled. Sansa rose to her feet nervously running her hands over her skirt, brushing off the snow.

Jon watched her and felt his desire growing. The snow that surrounded her made her seem like a child of the forest. She was so beautiful and so pure, everything about her made him love her, he needed her, and his desire to posses her grew daily.

Now he watched as she made her way around the pool to him. She took tiny dainty steps, but her dress dragging behind her in the snow obscured them.

His eyes came to focus on her lips. They were so perfect, delicate and feminine, but plump in way that made it almost too hard for him to not kiss her. Her skin was a pale milky white, and her cheeks looked so soft, he could imagine running his fingers delicately across them, with the feel of her cheekbones beneath. Above all else there were her eyes. They were great blue pools of emotion. He could always tell what she was thinking when he looked into her eyes. They were like a tiny pair of sapphires trapped in her face. They glittered as she moved and as she spoke. He felt he could fall into those eyes.

As Sansa reached him she smiled. It only made him want to kiss her more.

"Are you here to pray for Edrick and Rhaella?" She asked.

Jon shook his head, "I was here to pray for something else."

"What?" She asked.

Jon knew he had to stall so he said the first thing that came into his head, "I thought you kept the Seven." he blurted.

Sansa blushed and smiled, "I normally do, but this time, I came to pray for Edrick and Rhaella and for some reason the Godswood felt more fitting for the heir of Winterfell."

Jon felt his chest constrict, at the same time her thoughtfulness made him love her all the more.

Sansa took a step forward, she was so close it hurt, "What about you?" she asked, "Why are you here? What do you have to pray for?"

Jon looked into his eyes and knew that it was now or never, without thinking he took a step towards her and whispered, "This."

Then he grabbed her face in between his hands and kissed her. Her lips were warm and smooth; they tasted faintly of some fruit that he couldn't identify. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue along her tightly closed lips willing them to open. Instead something very different happened.

Sansa pulled back out of his arms and he was so surprised that he didn't hold on. Before he could register anything else she had backhanded him firmly across the face. He bit his cheek and tasted blood. Jon looked up and Sansa who was suddenly ridged, like a statue of ice.

"How dare you!" she hissed.

"Sansa I love you!" he blurted, "Please you have to understand, marry me Sansa." He had lost all control. "I'm going to take Winterfell, find a way to legitimize myself, marry me, become Lady Stark!" The words tumbled out; he was unable to control himself.

Sansa was all ice in those blue, blue eyes. "How dare you!" she hissed, "You are a bastard, you may be the child of a Stark but you are a Snow. Nobody would ever legitimize you! I would never marry you! Why would I sink so low as to marry a bastard like yourself when I could have a prince." Jon couldn't believe he was hearing this, he had always thought she felt the same way towards him. "You will never have anything that is a Stark's by right." Her glare was now filled with daggers, "and if you are still here at week's end I will go to my father and tell him that you attempted to force yourself on me. He will kill you for that Jon, no matter who your father was."

With those words she turned and left, speeding through the snow back toward the keep.

Jon sank onto a log and stared blankly at the snow. He couldn't believe she had rejected him, he was the true Lord of Winterfell, there was more Northern blood in his bones than in any who bore the Stark name. He gritted his teeth in anger. He knew that Sansa would make good on her threat, and he knew that if Lord Stark thought he desired his daughter he would kill him.

He leaned back in his head thinking over the possibilities. He could go south, his friend Joffrey Baratheon would welcome him with open arms, and he knew that. But he knew in his heart that he could never truly leave the North this was his home. He doubted he would receive a friendly reception in any of the other keeps. He knew that many of the bannermen resented him and the favours he had received over the years.

There remained only one option after that. He had long considered it, and he knew that there his birth wouldn't matter. He could always go to the wall. He knew that it was the best option for him. Not only would his birth not matter, but on top of that he could also use his years in castle training at the sword to his benefit. He could rise high, first ranger, most likely Lord Commander, and if he got bored he could run away and crown himself King beyond the Wall. That was and honor he knew he deserved.

Jon hated the idea of leaving home, but he knew it was for the best. Rising to his feet he headed to his room. He could be well on his way by mid-day and at the Wall in two weeks time, beginning his assent to the top.

Robb had never in his life imagined that he would be trudging through Northern winter snows carrying a picnic basket. Nor had imagined that his wife would be following in his wake carrying a pair of two month old children. Nor that after her Arya and Bran would be following, desperate for a day away from their mother.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" He called over his shoulder again.

"Robb we have been over this," came Daena's exasperated reply, "The cold of the air and the warmth of the hot springs should be the perfect balance even for a baby. Not only that but mother wrote me to tell me that babies like water and I would rather have water that didn't cool against the children's' skin."

Robb smiled, this morning when Daena had suggest the field trip to the hot springs he had been skeptical, but Bran and Arya had ganged up against him and he had all but had to accept.

As the reached the edge of the springs he found that the heat had cleared away a few feet from the sides of the pools, leaving a substantial sitting area.

Robb and Bran laid out the great blanket they had brought, placing rocks at the corner to keep it in place. Daena took spot at the edge nearest the water. Robb sat next to her, taking Rhaella from her arms. He found himself constantly doting on his daughter, more than on his son. Daena was the exact opposite, always looking to Edrick first.

Arya and Bran wasted no time in stripping down to their small clothes and jumping into the springs. Robb and Daena watched them, laughing at their antics until Bran turned to look at them.

"Daena, can we take Edrick for a swim?" he asked, his voice full of excitement.

"You have to take them both." She told the young boy.

Bran nodded earnestly, so Daena and Robb both proceeded to strip their children to the bone. When the cold air touched Rhaella's skin she began to wail and continued to do so until Robb passed her to Arya. When the warm water hit her skin she relaxed instantly.

Edrick on the other hand did not cry at all. Robb thought that he actually saw him smile when the cold air hit his skin. He didn't seem to care either when Robb handed him over to Bran who dipped into the hot water.

Robb leaned back, watching his children and siblings. Daena leaned against his shoulder, trying to relax and rest.

"You should try and sleep more at night." Robb murmured in her hair so the others couldn't here.

Daena blushed, "I just want to make sure the children are happy when they go to sleep."

Robb shook his head, "I'm sure they will be fine if you don't stay with them till they fall asleep." Robb knew he would most likely get nowhere; he had already spent two months convincing his wife that she didn't need to sleep with the children in the nursery at night. He had not realized that his wife would be such a doting mother, even more than his own mother had been.

Daena laughed as Edrick figured out how to splash water, he couldn't make it go very far but he was trying as hard as he could. Rhaella was trying to get out of Arya's arms and swim on her own. He could tell already that both children would have a bit of the wolf blood in them, same as Arya and Lyanna had and Uncle Brandon supposedly had. He loved that, his children would be proud, Northern, and kind. He knew it in his heart.

"They're beautiful," he whispered to Daena, "I still can't believe how gorgeous they are."

Daena nodded, "Their so much more amazing than I could ever imagine. My mother always told me how wonderful being a mother was, but I never really believed her until now."

Robb shook his head; "I still can't see Cersei Targaryen as a kind and doting mother."

"That's because you have those stupid Northern prejudice, and think all southerners are wimps" she retorted.

Robb shrugged, "Well, they are. Oh, don't give me that look, you have just as many southern prejudices as I have Northern."

Daena glared at him but gave in, knowing that he was right. She turned back to the spring and watched as Rhaella began to experiment with kicking her legs in Arya's arm. She may have her southron Targaryen and Lannister pride, but she knew that she could never have been happier with her children then the two she had now. Her two perfect winged wolves.