Chapter Twenty-One: Wolf Prince

A/N: So I'm estimating this story has around 5 or so chapters left until it's finished. Just a warning, they're going to be an eventful 5 chapters. I get the feeling that you're all going to hate me, especially for this one...

Lyandra had never felt such agony in her life. She lay on her back as Samaria dabbed at her face every now and again with a wet cloth, and tried not to focus on the ripping pain of pushing a baby out. Septa Lemore was nothing but calm as she knelt in front of Lyandra. There was another contraction and Lyandra screamed in pain, clutching Samaria's hand tight in her own as she felt that the agony might just destroy her.

"I can see the top of the babe's head." Lemore looked meaningfully at Lyandra. "Only a few more pushes."

A few more pushes…that sounded to Lyandra like it was going to be too hard. She wept, tears leaking down her cheeks. Everything hurt so much. She had never thought childbirth would be such a difficult thing. Time had become irrelevant – the fighting had long since stopped outside the tent, but there was no telling how many hours had passed since she had first gone into labour. She wanted Aegon. She wanted her husband here with her.

"Aegon…" she whispered.

"Samaria, go and fetch his Grace," Lemore commanded, taking the wet cloth from her. "I'll take care of Lyandra, she needs her husband."

Samaria hurried from the tent as Lemore leaned over Lyandra, dabbing at her face and attempting to sooth her tears. But Lyandra felt as though she was being torn apart by the babe so determined to come out. She heard that childbirth was difficult, but she had thought if her mother could have birthed six children then surely it couldn't have been so bad. She had been horribly wrong.

"Nearly there, your Grace," Lemore assured her, and Aegon hurried into the tent as another pain-filled cry escaped Lyandra. At first, the dragon prince paled at the sight of his young wife giving birth, at the blood and the babe emerging from her. But then he swept over to her side and took a hold of her hand, so tight that she knew he would never let her go. Aegon tenderly stroked her dark hair back from her face as Lyandra's entire face contorted in agony.

"One more push," Lemore said, from what seemed like far away. Lyandra realised that she was slipping, giving in to the sensation of pain that numbed her senses. Gritting her teeth and forcing her tired body into action, she gave one last push, screaming as she finally expelled the babe from her. She slumped back against the pillows, panting and exhausted, her entire body covered in swear from the efforts of the labour.

A few moments later, Lyandra heard it. She heard her baby crying. Septa Lemore cleaned the muck off the tiny thing and cut the cord, swaddling the newborn in blankets. Although tired beyond belief, Lyandra had the automatic response of reaching her weary arms out towards her child. As Septa Lemore carefully shifted the infant into the new mother's arms, Lyandra looked down on the child and then across at the septa.

"What is it?"

Septa Lemore smiled. "It's a boy."

"A boy," Aegon whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. When Lyandra glanced at him, she saw tears of joy welling in his violet eyes. He reached across and very gently touched the soft tuft of dark hair on his tiny son's head. "I have a son."

Lyandra kissed the top of the baby's head, cradling him close. She was so very tired, but she was full of the sort of happiness that could drive her to tears as well. Her perfect little boy. She had given Aegon a son, just as she had wanted to. She glanced at her husband, who seemed overwhelmed with love for the tiny little thing in her arms.

"What shall we call him?" She rocked the baby ever so slightly. "I was thinking…Valerys."

Aegon considered that. It did sound a very fittingly Targaryen name. He wondered what Robb would think of the child when he came to see his nephew for the first time. Would he be unhappy that he would never have what Aegon and Lyandra did? Of course he would. Aegon could not help but feel sorrow for his comrade and good-brother. Stroking his newborn baby's fine hair, Aegon could not imagine something more beautiful.

Then across the tent, Samaria collapsed. Lyandra gasped as she glanced over at her good-sister. Samaria had seemed perfectly fine when she was helping out with the birth, she had never once wavered. Aegon drew away from his wife and newborn and hurried across to Samaria, who was struggling to push herself to her feet and murmuring that she was fine. Lyandra exchanged a troubled look with Septa Lemore.

"No you aren't," Aegon insisted, helping Samaria over to a chair and making her sink into it. "I'll be back with Robb. He should meet his nephew – and should know that you aren't faring so well, Samaria."

Quentyn was recovering well, but it seemed that despite the best efforts of the maesters and Lemore's herbal remedies, Samaria was growing worse instead of better. Robb didn't understand it himself. His wife had been frail for some time, but just when it looked as though she was getting better, this had happened. He stood vigil over his wife's bed as she slept and his heart broke at how pale her skin was.

Lyandra paced over near the fire with baby Valerys in her arms. It had only been a few days since the child's birth but already, Robb saw his sister was restless with the assurances that she would be better off in bed. Lyandra did not like feeling helpless, and being kept in bed rest while her good-sister grew sicker was not something Lyandra would tolerate. Pushing himself to his feet, Robb walked over to his younger sister, who silently offered him Valerys. Robb carefully took his nephew and cradled him close. He would not have children by Samaria, and when he held Valerys had felt a mixture of fierce love and great sadness.

"Do you think she will get better?" Robb asked of his sister, although he knew she didn't have all the answers.

"I hope so." Lyandra took the baby back from Robb, looking down at him. Robb could already see that he was going to have the dark hair of the Starks, but although the baby's eyes were light it wasn't yet certain if they were going to be Stark grey, Tully blue or Targaryen violet. Lyandra put a finger into the palm of Valerys's hand, smiling as his tiny hand closed around her finger.

"He really does love you," Robb stated, and they both knew he was talking about Aegon and not Valerys. Of course, Robb loved Samaria – but things had been complicated between them. It seemed as though it had come easily to Aegon and Lyandra, marrying and now with a baby son to care for. Robb had been married far longer than them, and still he remained without a child. It stung like a wound that kept reopening.

"I always scoffed at a match for love," Lyandra admitted quietly, "I thought it was something out of dreams and fairytales. But now I wouldn't give it up for anything. I can only hope that love can equal a happy marriage. It doesn't always."

"I think yours will," Robb said, glancing over at the bed where Samaria slept restlessly. Why was she getting worse? He had thought her better. Surely assisting in Lyandra giving birth wasn't such a draining task that it would take so much out of her. He traced his fingers down the plane of her cheeks, wishing that she would wake up, wishing they could be as perfect as Aegon and Lyandra.

"And yours?" Lyandra asked, looking at her brother and then the squirming babe in her arms. The little wolf prince. "Do you think yours will end happily?"

"To be honest?" Robb raked a hand through his hair. "I don't think I'm destined for a happy ending, Lyandra."

"Lady Catelyn!"

Catelyn turned abruptly at the call of a Stark scout who came running up to her. She had just recently received a letter from Robb's camp alerting her to the fact that Lyandra had given birth to a baby boy. Catelyn was so proud of her daughter, and her heart swelled with joy at knowing that Lyandra would discover the happiness of being a mother. It was also slightly unnerving to think that she was a grandmother now.

Now that a scout was back, she feared hearing bad news. Since losing Ned, her children had always been her main concern. If anything happened to them, she wasn't certain that she would be able to cope. She always braced herself for news about Lyandra and Robb, or even Arya. Now that Lyandra had the babe to care for as well…Catelyn took a deep breath, forcing herself to retain a calm demeanour. Getting worried wouldn't do anything but give her more wrinkles.

"What is it? Has something happened?"

"We've had two youngsters arrive just this morning. One of them claims to be Arya."

Catelyn's heart leapt in her chest, and she consented for the scout to lead down to the gates of Casterly Rock. Meanwhile, her mind was racing. Was it really possible that Arya was alive and well, and that she had managed to find her way to Casterly Rock upon realising they were there? Who was the other youth with her daughter, if it was truly Arya? She attempted to convince herself not to become too excited, but it was in vain.

However when she reached the gates, she stopped completely. For it truly was Arya, jumping off the back of the horse she shared with a dark-haired boy of about Robb's age. Catelyn exclaimed in joy and threw out her arms, catching Arya as the young girl collided with her. It was difficult to believe that this was the daughter she had thought lost so long ago. Arya was fifteen years old now, and looked more like her oldest sister than Catelyn would have thought possible.

"You're alive," Catelyn held her close, trying to restrain tears. The only member of their family who they had still believed lost had come back to them. The Starks could be a whole now, missing only Ned. After a few moments Arya squirmed and drew out of her grasp, seemingly embarrassed. Then she turned and gestured to her friend. There was something familiar about him, although Catelyn could not quite put a finger on it.

"Who is your friend?" Catelyn inquired.

"Gendry, m'lady," the dark-haired young man bowed slightly from the waist, and Arya nudged him in the ribs. He straightened up with a slight flush about his cheeks. "King Robert's bastard, apparently."

Catelyn recognised Robert's features now, and felt foolish for not seeing it herself before Gendry had said something. She thought of Ned's own bastard, up at the Wall. Sometimes she wondered how Jon was faring. She had never truly been able to accept him, but the life of a man of the Watch was not an easy one. Perhaps she had been too harsh on him. Smiling, Catelyn gestured for Arya and Gendry to enter through the gates.

"There's a lot you need to tell me, Arya," Catelyn stated as they walked into the halls of Casterly Rock. Her thoughts dwelled back to Lyandra and her newborn baby. "Of course, there's also much I have to tell you."

It had happened at some point during the night. They couldn't have given an exact time, but during the hours of darkness, Samaria had slipped into the void into which they could not follow. Lyandra had been the first to realise that her sleeping good-sister had passed, and her crying had woken Valerys and started his wailing. The baby's cries had brought Aegon and Robb to the tent, where they had quickly discovered the horrifying truth for themselves. Robb had been devastated, falling to his knees beside his dead wife and howling in anguish.

Lyandra had stayed awake until dawn, cradling her son close, ignoring his tugs at her hair. At least she had her baby. She could comfort herself with that knowledge. Aegon tried to talk to her, but she shut him off. Valerys was all she needed for now. Eventually even the baby settled down into a restless sleep, but still Lyandra would not let him go. She stand vigilant beside her good-sister's bed, shifted close to her older brother as if to assure him that she wasn't going anywhere.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Robb said in a broken voice sometime after morning had shone its first light into the tent. He turned to glare at Aegon, eyes red-rimmed from crying. Even now he clutched his wife's cold, pale hand within his own. "You wanted Samaria to die so that I would be left without a child and heir. You poisoned her."

"What?" Aegon frowned. He knew that Robb was sickened with grief, but the accusation struck him hard. Surely the King in the North trusted him more than that now. "Robb, how can you seriously think that I would want this for Samaria, for you? I have my own son, you are not and have never been a threat to me or my claim. I can't see how I would benefit from Samaria's death."

"You did this!" Robb yelled, pushing himself at his feet and lunging at Aegon. The shouting woke Valerys and he started to cry, causing Lyandra to rock her son and glare across at her husband and brother. Aegon managed to hold Robb off as the devastated Stark tried to land a punch.

"Enough!" Lyandra barked, causing both men to turn and look at her, sitting on the floor and cradling her babe. At first, she had thought the suggestion that her good-sister had been poisoned was utterly ridiculous – but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Samaria had grown sicker and healthier since her fall from the horse more than a year ago. She had been at her strongest just before Lyandra had gone into labour, so it made no sense at all that she had fallen so very ill and then died.

Poison is a woman's weapon.

Lyandra pushed herself to her feet, glaring between Robb and Aegon. She understood that her brother was upset, but that gave him no right to attack her husband. Aegon was looking more subdued, and he reached forward to take Valerys from Lyandra's arms. After a brief pause, she let him, turning her gaze back upon Robb.

"I think…I think I know who killed her."

It had later been confirmed by the maester that Samaria truly had been poisoned. Tears of Lys, he had concluded in private. That had only made Lyandra more certain that her theory was true. There was one who had been supposedly helping Samaria through her sickness, attempting to nurse her back to health with herbal remedies of her own making. Yet Samaria had never gotten any better, not while taking those herbal remedies.

Septa Lemore.

"Did you hear the news?" Lyandra entered Lemore's tent, causing the septa to look up. Her face contorted with sorrow, but when Lyandra looked into her eyes, she saw a flash of panic that was quickly covered up. "Samaria is dead."

"I am so sorry to hear that," Lemore sighed, getting to her feet. She was sitting in front of the fire knitting what appeared to be something for Valerys. It seemed odd to Lyandra, that a murderer could care so much for one child. Yet everyone who had met Valerys had been unable to help but love him. "Was her passing quick?"

"No." Lyandra turned to face the flames, hands balling into fists by her sides. "It was quite slow. Apparently that's what happens when one is administered Tears of Lys, so very little over such a long period of time. Isn't that right?"

"I…I wouldn't know, your Grace," Lemore sounded a little concerned now, and Lyandra whipped around to face her, blue eyes narrowing. She remembered Lemore talking about sweetsleep, which Lyandra should take if the Lannisters ever managed to capture her. The woman already knew about poisons, it seemed.

"Oh, I think you do." Lyandra's voice was full of cold assurance as she advanced upon the shocked septa. "You knew enough about sweetsleep, and I wouldn't doubt that you have a vast knowledge about many poisons."

"Your Grace, I don't…"

"Did you or did you not poison Samaria?!" Lyandra exclaimed, her temper snapping. She was in no mood for games and dancing around the topic. Her good-sister had died and she wanted answers. Septa Lemore would give them to her. She watched impassively as tears started to run down the septa's cheeks.

"I only wanted to stop her having a child at first," Lemore admitted, the words coming out in a rush, "I didn't want her dead. I thought a child might be a threat to Aegon, if Robb changed his mind about only wanting the north…I wanted to make sure Aegon would have his throne, and never be challenged by Robb or any of his children. But she got sicker than I expected, and I worried for you, your Grace. Samaria was so jealous of your own pregnancy, I thought she might try and harm the child…"

"So you started poisoning her again just before I gave birth," Lyandra said coldly. She had no sympathy for Lemore. By making her sick, Lemore had prevented Samaria from becoming with child where there had only been a slim chance before in any case. It was Lemore's own fault that Samaria had become envious. She could not understand how any of Robb's children would be a threat to Aegon, why Lemore thought they would rise up against him. But she didn't care. "You confessed to the murder of Samaria Stark, my brother's wife." Lyandra drew herself up to full height, her eyes boring down on the sobbing septa. "Therefore, you will be sentenced to die."