Time always went by so slowly whenever Sansa waited. Sansa had paced by Jon's bed when the horn went off signaling the return of the search party for Robb and Smalljon. She wrapped herself in Jon's black cape that was much to long and wide on her and ran out with Ghost at her heels. When Sansa made it to the courtyard, she looked for her brother's face amongst the men gathered. Grey Wind came up to her and licked her face in greeting. He'd be howling if Robb were dead. Lord Greatjon Umber had watery eyes and mournful face. Sansa looked at what Lord Umber was holding in his large strong hands, one of which was missing two digits. Smalljon's swordbelt. How strange it was to see such a towering strong man with a less than boisterous countenance.
"He was brave, Lord Umber. I am grateful for his insistence to remain by my side despite my order for him to escape. The Others moved and fought so quickly, I would have been overwhelmed if Smalljon had not kept one of them distracted. He would have lived if I had killed that last one in time. For that I am sorry." Sansa spun to the sound of her brother's voice. Robb's bronze and iron crown was slightly askew on his head. His face shone with sweat and ashy grime. Everyone was so grim that Sansa had to fight to keep the smile of relief that Robb had not died from showing. Will more of those creatures come to Castle Black?
"Don't be sorry, Your Grace. Smalljon took his duty to protect you seriously. We Umbers proudly serve the Starks. You honour me by bringing my boy's swordbelt. I'm not Karstark, no need to look so nervous. It was an honorable death, for which I can harbor no ill will to you, sire," assured Greatjon in his deep voice.
"How do we kill these Others besides fire and Valyrian steel? Our iron steel is useless against according to the crow," asked Dacey Mormont looking at Grenn. The problematic rarity of Valyrian swords in Westeros troubled them. Sansa thought of how Lord Tywin had planned to melt Ice into two swords. Sansa shook her head. Robb won't do it. Ice is Father and cannot be melted down.
"Lord Commander Snow was having Sam look through some of the old scrolls and books for anything that could help before Sam left for Oldtown," supplied Grenn.
"He also questioned some of the wildlings on knowledge of the Others," said the steward named Satin as he joined the throng.
"I can look through the books and scrolls while I sit with Jon," offered Sansa. She could read better than most of the men of the Night's Watch. None of her brother's men were the reading type and Maester Aemon was blind. Sansa wanted to be useful as Jon still had yet to awaken. Robb gave her an encouraging smile and squeezed her hand. She turned to Lord Umber and in her most genuine courteous voice. Not her little bird voice. "I'm sorry for your loss Lord Umber. I did not know Smalljon that well, but he was brave and kind to me." Lord Umber looked touched by her words and said thanks.
Robb asked her if she was well and Sansa told him she was better now knowing he was alive and well. Robb looked grimly at the Wall as he spoke,
"I'll come by the Maester Aemon's tower to have supper with you later, Sansa. Satin, would you take Princess Sansa back to the Maester's Tower? Tell Maester Aemon we will be having a council meeting in half an hour." Satin nodded and took her back to the Maester's Tower despite having Ghost with her.
Satin and Maester Luwin had gone to the meeting. Ghost was curled at the end of Jon's bed watching her with his red eyes. The books and scrolls were so old and fragile that Sansa had to be very careful. She noted that Sam had a small pile of books that spoke of dragonglass against a cold enemy. Another stack of books seemed to be a reject pile so Sansa gently put them into a spot where she would not mix them up with the rest.
After a few minutes, she started her own stack of unhelpful books and scrolls. Sansa picked a book with a leather cover that was falling off a bit and began skimming it. It was just another account of the Long Night about the last hero of the First Men. She had read Sam's loopy scrawled annotation about the dragonsteel in another book. Valyria was the place where the dragons came from. Her eyes widened as she stared at the Mormont ancestral sword Jon was given by Jeor Mormont. Dragonsteel is Valyrian steel. Her excitement dimmed when she remembered that they already knew this since Robb had slayed some Others using Ice. Disappointed, Sansa was about to put it with the bookkeeping ledger from 200 years ago.
"Have you heard of the prophecy, my child?" came Maester Aemon's soft voice. Sansa had not heard him return from the council meeting. Sansa shook her head but the Maester could not see her.
"No, I have not. What is this prophecy about?"
"Who you mean. It is about the prince that was promised. The prince is the song of ice and fire. Long ago a prophecy was made that a savior will be born and he will save the world from darkness. I thought it was Prince Rhaegar and so did he for a time. But he died and so did his son." Sansa was about to ask what was the darkness that the world needed saving from. Winter is coming. She looked at the wolf on Longclaw.
"Rhaegar could not have been a savior. He stole my aunt and doing so tore the kingdoms apart," blurted Sansa. That's the exact opposite of being a savior.
"Yes, I suppose not. The Starks and the Targaryens both had their share of tragedy," replied Maester Aemon gently saying less than he wanted to. "The word of Rhaegar's sister birthing dragons across the Narrow Sea. Born in salt and born in smoke. It must be her. Daenerys must defeat the Others." Why must it be a Targaryen?
"But you said a prince not a princess," corrected Sansa. Aemon gave a sad smile.
"Dragons are not sex specific. The Valyrian word for prince is neither male nor female. But I am too old and feeble to go to her. To help her with her dragons and give her counsel, my fourth test. A dragon has three heads and alas I cannot be one of them." He trailed off looking absolutely gutted. Sansa put the book down and straightened the blankets around Jon that did not need to be straightened. Her mind was no longer on the Others and finding more of their weaknesses. Sansa was curious about her Aunt Lyanna, not knowing much about her. Father only ever spoke of Lyanna in comparing her to Arya and avoided speaking of her abduction. Why though? Sansa only knew of Mother's long-standing dislike of Jon living at Winterfell when Father returned to Winterfell with an infant Jon and Lyanna's body. What happened you?
"Maester Aemon, why do you think Prince Rhaegar took Lyanna? He was married and a father and she was betrothed to Robert Baratheon." Maester Luwin broke out of his sad reverie and considered her question. Sansa felt like the answer lay before her but she just couldn't it together. Just a wounded and sleeping Jon is there.
"I only corresponded with Rhaegar by raven discussing the prophecy. That was before it all happened and he never mentioned Lady Lyanna. We can only wonder at his reasoning." His answer dissatisfied Sansa. Why would a prophecy obsessed married prince want to abduct Lady Lyanna Stark? Was it love? Was Rhaegar horrible like Joffery?
"I suppose you are right. It's just I have heard my whole life that Lyanna Stark had been kidnapped by Prince Rhaegar but never why. Father always said my sister is a lot like her and I can't imagine Arya not killing her abductor royal or not. Father never spoke of how he found her or what happened." They spoke no more on the subject. Aemon put on fresh bandages on Jon's wounds. They spoke about Jon and the likelihood of him awakening soon as she held Jon's burned hand with Ghost's head on her lap. Wake up Jon. Sansa poured herself a cup of something stronger than she was used to. Robb found her flushed from drink surrounded by cluttered stacks of papers and books and behind him Satin set down trays of supper for her and Robb.
"Our survival depends a promised prince. He or she is going to save us all from winter and the Others. A song of ice and fur—no. Fire!" Robb sighed and took her cup from her.
Her husband had been overall happy or at least appeared to be happy with their first born despite it being a daughter not a son. Her softhearted husband was quite taken with their new little girl, sitting next to her with the infant in his arms. Her two living brothers Olyvar and Perwyn offered their congratulations on the new healthy Tully child. Originally, her lord husband Edmure had wanted to their baby after his eldest sister Catelyn. Roslin agreed as a proper wife and lady should defer to her husband's wishes but all she could see was the image of Queen Margaery's beautiful face glaring at her with accusing eyes. She could imagine Margaery's soprano voice flinging cutting words of the irony in Edmure naming the baby after the sister who was murdered at his wedding by orders of the baby's paternal grandfather. Even with the Queen no longer at Riverrun, Roslin still felt like an unwanted outsider at times. The servants and the smallfolk all still preferred Margaery despite Roslin's efforts to win their respect and love. I'll always be Roslin Frey, daughter of the treacherous Lord Walder Frey who murdered his guests at my wedding. Roslin was always in awe of and was easily intimidated by Queen Margaery. The Queen in the North was the same age as her and was so fashionable. Roslin had never seen such pretty gowns or jewels.
Following Roslin's horrific wedding, Queen Margaery had kept all of Roslin's half-sisters and other female relations locked up including Roslin for a short time until Edmure convinced Her Grace to allow her to remain with him. Her half sisters were frightened and bitter. They feared Margaery Stark after their lord father and their brothers were executed or sent to the Wall. Not that any of Lord Walder Frey's daughters and granddaughters mourned for him; they feared they too would die alongside him. They vehemently believed Margaery was a witch who used glamour potions to seduce Robb Stark to become queen and thus breaking his vow to marry one of them. "She is a wanton witch. The plants she grows are used for potions of seduction and guile." They were upset that they were not getting the Lannister husbands they were promised.
Roslin observed that the Queen was just a vivacious and attractive girl who was free in her courtly manners, which at first shocked Roslin who had only seen her lord father's lewd groping and comments to his wives or female servants. Margaery Stark was a peculiar woman; she attended the war councils and voiced her opinions on war and politics. Women are supposed to be demure and kind. Roslin noticed that even Edmure once or twice stared too long at his nephew's wife's shapely figure.
Robb Stark and his giant wolf made Roslin uneasy. I am glad I did not marry the King. Lord Edmure was warm and did not have unnatural pets. Roslin had grown rather fond of her husband. The King was around her age and handsome but despite his Tully looks he appeared dour and cold to everyone that was not in his army. Roslin was frightened by the King's wolf and if she was a braver person she would have asked for the horrid beast to be chained in the kennels not prowling around Riverrun. Since Roslin spent most of her time trying to avoid provoking the Queen in any way, she failed to notice King Robb's affectionate glances at his wife the Queen in the Great Hall.
Her husband had taken more offense to the Queen's blatent snubbing of Roslin than she did. Edmure was hot headed and still grumbled about the Queen occasionally. He had softened a little when everyone watched as the Queen said her final goodbye to her brother Ser Loras Tyrell. I don't blame her really. All she sees is her murdered brother and good mother and I am also reminder of the blade that was meant for her son and her. Lady Roslin Tully would endure every slight and the perpetual hatred Queen Margaery harbored with gratitude and grace. The Queen's personal execution of her lord father had freed her from his control. She was free from the horrible life at the Twins. Her brothers Olyvar and Perwyn were thankfully in the King and Queen's favour. Roslin had cried herself to sleep dreading an annulment of her marriage made by the Queen on the grounds that the marriage was a ploy to murder King Robb, and his army. No annulment or charge against her came and Roslin remained alive as the Lady of Riverrun. Edmure must've put his foot down or had the Blackfish sway the Queen on my behalf. She had kept the youngest and sweetest of the Frey girls as handmaidens and did not fight for the other Frey women when Queen Margaery sent them to the Silent Sisters.
Roslin had been relieved that Edmure had changed his mind and decided to name the baby after his mother that died when he was a little boy. Margaery's harsh words and his own grief for Lady Catelyn still bothered him, which Roslin believed to have led in the name change to Minisa. Baby Minisa had Roslin's brown hair and Edmure's blue eyes. She snuggled against Edmure and looked at their tiny daughter. I don't think I would have been this happy if I had been Robb's queen.
Margaery was not sure whether she felt over the moon with happiness or slightly inconvenienced when her moonsblood did not come. Her wolf had succeeded in his enthusiastic pursuit of getting her with child again. Not that she had not enjoyed herself or not want more children. In fact she wanted to give Robb a litter of Stark children. Margaery had not expected to fall with child only a few moons after birthing Eddard. At least I know what to expect this time around. Margaery decided to keep it to herself for a little while longer incase her moonsblood came late due to some irregularity and also Maester Luwin's fussing was at times overbearing.
She was sitting at her desk in her solar rereading letters. Robb had written a brief message that some of the men of the Night's Watch had stabbed Jon. Margaery instantly thought of Sansa and felt a twinge of guilt for pushing Robb in allowing Sansa to come and her seeing another horrible thing done to a member of her family. Margaery was upset her worry of inadvertently sending assassins to Jon at the Wall had come true. I should have had those Freys killed. She bit her lip thinking of the worry and stress Robb was likely feeling, which made her feel worried and stress as well. She disinterestedly read Lord Edmure's announcement of the birth of his daughter Minisa Tully. She wrote the customary congratulations to the Lord Edmure and his wife. Margaery had Maester Luwin chose a fitting gift for the child to go with the red and blue blanket with white pearlescent trout she had sewed moons ago.
Margaery reread Willas' letter over and over. Their lady mother grieved deeply for Loras still and had recently returned to higher spirits when they had received the news of the birth of Margaery's son. Everyone congratulated the birth of the heir to the North. Willas wrote of the rumours of Cersei's attempts to get Dorne to attack the Reach. 'Father's army is in the wrong direction.' Willas hinted at a plan to incite the Faith Militant to "purge" the court at King's Landing of sin. Meaning Cersei Lannister and all of our enemies. His piety comes in use at last. Father was growing fatter in his blockade and restless for Lannister blood according to Garlan's reports. Willas did not mention their grandmother, which meant to Margaery that she was plotting something. Olenna Tyrell would never write of her plans to Margaery or allow Willas to mention them in fear of the letter being intercepted. Margaery understood this but nevertheless disliked being left in the dark.
Margaery wrote a letter to Robb requesting he have Sansa escorted back to Winterfell for her wedding, which would take place in a moon. Theon had written a brief letter stating the wedding would take place at Winterfell and that he would not being bringing Sansa to Pyke right away leaving no reason as to why. The wedding would have to be a small affair due its fast approaching date. That meant fewer guests to feed at the wedding feast. Margaery was not at all stingy but she was growing conscientious of the level of food in the warehouses and probability of the war preventing any shipments from the Reach one day. The Glass Gardens would not be able to sustain all of the people of the North. Margaery splurged on Sansa's wedding clothes to compensate. Margaery was having four seamstresses work on a wedding gown and a trousseau for Sansa to bring with her whenever she went to Pyke.
She went to the window looking out watching the snowflakes fall. It is getting colder so quickly. Margaery could appreciate the beauty in the snow but after awhile the queen in her thought of the people that depended on her to aid them through winter to stave off starvation. I am a daughter of the warm fertile Reach. This cold never seemed to bother Rickon or Arya. Margaery thought of the Stark words. Winter is coming. How pompous and arrogant all of the other House words are.
"Am I ready for this?" she said aloud. She could see Arya and Rickon playing in the falling snow with their direwolves trying to get Lady Brienne to join in their fun. Winter had come and it was not going away anytime soon. Margaery wanted Robb's arms around her but she had to be brave for him, for their son, and their people. For the child growing inside me. She was not going to let them think Margaery Stark, the Queen in the North was a weak highborn southron lady.
"You must go to the Wall with your army, Your Grace," suggested the red priestess. "The Lord of the Light sees an enemy that only you can destroy." Her annoyance at the King's Hand's meddling with her plan for Edric Storm had diminished slightly. There are others with king's blood. Lord Davos Seaworth had held a message from the men of Night's Watch asking for aid against a wildling army. With the recently procured loan from the Iron Bank, they could sail to Wall. The Lord of the Light was directing Melisandre to go there. The flames were unclear at the moment of what her purpose was. In order for to figure this out King Stannis needed to go there. But of course, Azor Azhai was stubborn.
"No, Robb Stark and his army are there already by now and if a wildling kills Stark the better. Lord Tywin is dead, and the Imp has likely fled Westeros; now is the time to take King's Landing. I have waited long enough to claim my right as the one true King of the Seven Kingdoms." Melisandre studied Lord Davos Seaworth's impassive bearded face and King Stannis's unyielding stare.
"Yes, but Your Grace, as king you have a duty to the Night's Watch," said Davos. "You should at least inquire about the events at Castle Black." Melisandre was disappointed she expected more coaxing from Lord Davos. But then again she supported the idea; Lord Davos was a disbeliever of the Lord of the Light and mistrusted Melisandre, trying to remove her power over King Stannis like Maester Cressen had tried. She would have to convince him in other ways.
She walked angrily around her bedchamber in the Tower of Joy with tears in her eyes. 'How ironic?' She felt like a caged animal seething at its captor. 'I am so stupid. A stupid little girl swept away by the dream of a prince and freedom from an unwanted marriage.' The glamour and beauty of her decision was gone leaving her seething at him and full of self-loathing. The disillusioned dark haired woman faced him.
"How dare you not tell me?!" screamed Lyanna glaring at the silvery prince who dared to look apologetic. "Look at me in the eye and tell me how my lord father and Brandon were killed." Her voice cracked as she said Brandon's name. Brandon was so full of life the idea of him no longer a part of the living world broke her heart.
"You are in a delicate condition." He said not looking at her. 'What an excuse.' He cared more for this baby then he ever did her. Stupid, stupid girl.
"Delicate? I am a wolf not an inbred dragon like you. Tell me! Tell me how your mad father murdered my father and brother!" She flung a pillow at his head wishing it were something harder so he could feel a sliver of the pain she felt. The entire room had been torn apart in her rage and there was not much left to smash or throw. How could he keep her in the dark about this? How dare he not have the courage to face her?
The image of her father Lord Rickon Stark roasting alive in his armour when he expected to fight a fair trial by combat and her handsome wild brother Brandon Stark choking himself to death trying to save their father hurt so much. They were not supposed to die that's not what she wanted. 'Forgive me Father. Forgive me Brandon. I'd be the good girl you always wanted me to be and do my duty if I could take back what I did.' Lyanna thought of Ned and of her baby brother Benjen. 'I'm so sorry.' When she found out from overhearing Ser Arthur Dayne, she had spent days in bed sobbing and howling in anguish. How disappointed would Lady Lyarra Stark be in her only daughter had she lived long enough to see her now?
Lyanna had gone with Prince Rhaegar to escape the cage of expectations she was forced to live up to and marrying the philandering Lord Robert Baratheon. She had wanted to have adventures and have a life worthy of a song. But she wound up trapped in another cage that cost Father and Brandon's lives. 'I don't feel liberated or like I'm in song.'
"What did I get out of this?" she said aloud seeing Winterfell in her mind with such longing. Rhaegar moved towards her softly.
"Our love. Our little Visenya." He placed a hand on her stomach. She recoiled from him. Listening to him talk about his prophesized promised son and the need for another third child, another daughter had once been exciting, but it sickened her now. He was married to another yet it never fully bothered her until now. Being in the Dornish princess's homeland made it all a thousand times worse. She felt like one of Robert's whores.
"No. You took advantage of my unhappiness and used me for some stupid prophecy. You are no different from Robert. You think see me no better than Robert ever did."
"I love you my fierce Lady Lyanna." She would have said the words back to him but it all felt wrong.
"It's not enough for me anymore," she murmured sadly. Thinking of her Father and Brandon murdered by the father of the man she believed herself to be in love with and also the danger Ned and Benjen would be in now. They had died trying to save her, thinking she needed to be saved. 'Do I even know what love is?' All she felt was numbness and guilt. She looked away from his purple eyes and looked out the window at the red mountains of Dorne. Her grey eyes narrowed.
"My baby will be a boy." She turned her head to see Rhaegar shake his head.
"Lyanna, our baby is a girl, a Visenya to my son and daughter Aegon and Rhaenys. A dragon must have three heads." His voice was soft and melodic but the tone sounded all too much like Robert's undoubting infatuated talk of the many sons she would bear him or Father's stern and unyielding edicts that she would not wield a sword. 'They did not see me for what I am.' Lyanna's blood boiled, a dragon murdered two wolves she was not going to let another dictate her and her pup's fate. 'He is mine not yours.'
"No, I will have a son. A son who is a wolf and he will look like my brothers and I. Like all the Starks before him. He will be of the North, the blood of Winterfell not the blood of the dragon. He won't resemble you at all. The North remembers, Rhaegar. Your family won't be anything to him," roared Lyanna icily. "Where is your precious Prince Aegon? What of your wife and daughter? Shouldn't you have gotten them out of King's Landing?" Lyanna wished at that very moment every silvery haired Targaryen dead and if any dared to survive and challenged the Starks she hoped her boy would destroy them. She stormed away to lie on the bed and did not speak to Rhaegar until the morn.
Rhaegar was leaving to fight against Robert. He was donning his black armour with the red three-headed dragon emblazed on the breastplate.
"Let me go to Ned. He is my brother he won't hurt me." Ned was levelheaded and he would know what to do. He would understand and protect her baby from Robert even though the two were close friends. "Please Rhaegar." His face softened and he kissed her full on the lips. She had thought she had swayed him finally until he made the order to Dayne and the other Kingsguard to keep her in the tower and to kill anyone who tried to take his Lyanna or Visenya. She hurt her hand in a futile blow to his armored chest.
"I hope he kills you! I hope you both die!" Lyanna cried petulantly. His face was so sad and handsome like he had been the day he played his harp and sang so mournfully and beautiful. The day she had been first attracted to the crown prince. It felt like ages ago.
"You shall have your wish, milady," and with that he left the tower and rode away. Lyanna cried half regretting her choice of words and half in anger at being left alone in a sweltering tower with no maester or anyone to talk to besides the members of the Kingsguards.
Moons later, Lyanna Stark went into labor howling in pain and crying for her dead mother, father and dead or living brothers. She screamed for Rhaegar once or twice before the fever took over. She moaned and groaned, hallucinating the presence of Maester Luwin. She was a northern girl who did not fare well in the dry sweltering heat in Dorne. 'I'm going to die. My son and I won't make it.' The pale blue winter roses she loved so much were a small sweet smelling comfort to her while she writhed in pain and bled. At last her child was born. Her precious son who had been born with a full head of dark hair and Stark grey eyes like her, like Ned, Brandon and Benjen. In the end the only males who never disappointed Lyanna came. She could hear her brother's voice and Lord Howland Reed's from below. Fear of Robert's wrath for her baby filled her with anxiety. Her voice was hoarse from screaming Ned's name by time he made it to her side. Her strength was fading and she did not have much longer.
"Forgive me, Ned.."
Forgive me, my son.
Robb could not bear to look at Sansa who stood silently crying beside him knowing he would cry himself. Sansa had been certain Jon had squeezed her hand back but a day later she and Maester Aemon had found Jon had stopped breathing with no heart beat. He forced himself not to look away as Grenn, Pyp and Dolorous Edd set his brother's lifeless body on the pyre of wood. Jon and him were suppose to find Bran and bring him home. Jon and Robb were suppose to fight together against the Others. Jon was suppose to be like Uncle Benjen to his children when the war was over. Jon should be alive taking them up the winch to show Sansa the top of the Wall.
"And now his watch has ended," intoned the men of the Night's Watch. The trio lit Jon's pyre on fire. I can't watch my brother's body burn away. Ghost and Grey Wind howled eerily. Sansa slipped a gloved hand in Robb's larger hand. Robb heard her whisper,
"Jon was the hero I prayed for. The hero who would kill Slynt for what he did to Father." The smoke of burning wood stung his eyes and Ghost was barking at the burning pyre.
A/N: sorry for the lack of Robb and Margaery in this chapter. I had a hard time writing Margaery's POV in this one usually she is the easiest for me. My idea of what happened to Lyanna has been stuck in my head for awhile and I'm not sure it translated well in written form. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Hello to all the new followers! As always reviews make my day :)