History repeats itself: House Stark
February 25th, year 3019 in the Third Age of Middle-earth and final month of year 296 A.C in Westeros:
Not long after the dawn, Arianne's long work in the birthing bed for the first time was finally over. She had her first child and hopefully successor, a new heir to Dorne.
"A boy, Ari. You have a healthy son to call your own now," Mellario whispered in a tender voice, recalling her own first glimpse of her daughter after the birth and falling in love with this tender little life that she had been carrying inside her for nine months. And when Arianne held this little boy against her bare skin, so he could hear the familiar beating of her heart so he felt less scared about this new strange world he had entered, she realized what Mellario had meant about the sudden wish to protect and care for this child.
"His name...I must name him before the meeting with his future people…"
She was exhausted and sore in a manner she had never felt before, but the ruling Princess of Dorne still wanted to name her newborn heir before Daemon, in his role as the father, was to show their first child for the gathered people of Sunspear outside the Old Palace, waiting to hear how the birth had gone.
"Ramses after the oldest brother of Mara, who would have been the next Farao if he had lived. Ramses Nymeros Martell."
It was a strong name for a future leader, and another attempt to not forget the actual origins of House Martell again. It had happened once thanks to the Doom of Valyria, and now when it was nearly four hundred years since then, Arianne did not want her son to suffer from the same ignorance as they had done until a few years ago.
Of course, all attention was on the balcony when Daemon showed himself, holding the bundle in his arms. As Doran was a more familiar face for the masses thanks to being the previous ruler, his father-in-law helped the young Prince Consort to announce the news:
"People of Dorne! Today at dawn you have been blessed with a new Prince, who shall be known under the name of Ramses Martell! My daughter, the ruling Princess Arianne, has her first heir!"
In response, there was loud cheering and repeatings of the newborn prince's name. As far as the common people understood, Arianne had chosen a name to be found in Norvos, where Mellario hailed from and wanted to honor her maternal family ties by her choice.
"Ramses!"
"Love live Princess Arianne and House Martell!"
"Ramses Nymeros Martell!"
Those were the words that found themselves repeated all over Dorne that day, as news of the successful birth was learned in the castles and keeps with their belonging villages.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
But in King's Landing, a very different scene happened:
"What?"
That was the only thing Sansa Stark could think about, as she, Arya and Robb found themselves summoned to the office of their father instead of being in their usual school lessons with the other noble children in the Red Keep.
"Aunt Lysa...and our cousins….are dead?" Robb said in a disbelieving voice, echoing the exact words that his redheaded sister tried to confirm in her head. In his typical silence when he had difficulty to find the right words at once, Eddard Stark showed them the letter addressed to himself that he had gotten late yesterday evening, when a raven from the Vale arrived.
"All four of them died in the same explosion that made the Eyrie to dust. And now Harrold Hardyng, the new squire to your great-uncle Brynden Tully, is the new Lord Arryn…"
"Was he not supposed to marry Celia in six years, Father?" Arya wondered, recalling that detail from her latest lesson about her blood ties to House Tully and House Arryn, which had been only yesterday and explained why she had not forgotten it yet out of boredom since memorizing the sigils and names of other noble houses was not her favorite subject.
"Well, about Harrold and his future on the marriage market..."
But whatever small glimmer of hope that had awoken in Sansa to escape the newly made betrothal to Samwell Tarly, quickly died when Eddard held up another letter, with the sigil of House Tully:
"He was hastily married seven days ago to one of your other aunt Lyneese's ladies-in-waiting, Tyta Frey, after being caught with her in bed after drinking himself half senseless over the news that Lysa, Celia, Amanda and little Ronnel had died. Your uncle Edmure says that while Tyta did not lose her maidenhood, this event would have made it even harder to find herself a husband at the age of twenty-seven years…"
"How can uncle Edmure and aunt Lyneese force him to say marriage vows to an OLD MAID from a family of toll collectors!?" Sansa suddenly raised her voice to the point of almost yelling. As this outburst was very out of character for the oldest Stark daughter, her father, brother and sister looked at her in shocked surprise which actually was mirrored on their faces.
"Perhaps uncle and aunt did not want any bastards running around in their household alongside our Tully cousins?" Arya suggested, which did not help how Sansa felt right now.
"If they now worried about her possibly getting a bastard, they should still have married that spinster to someone else years ago!" Sansa snapped, revealing just how little she had been told by septa Mordane and Caterlyn in Winterfell why some women, even those of good families and equipped with a proper dowry, had more difficulty finding husbands.
"Well, him being found in bed with a weasel-faced Frey is better than a commoner, I guess," Robb muttered, which only caused Sansa to start crying in outrage over how blind he was to that horrible news. Could not Robb or her Father even realize how people would laugh behind poor Harrold's back about his ill-suited bride being over a decade older than himself?
"Enough! All three of you, go now to the Sept of Baelor, the royal court will be there today for the official list of betrothals, weddings and deaths that have happened over this passing year. I am sure that your aunt and Arryn cousin will be mentioned among those who have passed away."
Eddard was not in the mood of seeing his children having an argument right in front of him, and felt that this morning had already been ruined by the news that his sister-in-law and her children had died. Catelyn, who still had remained in Winterfell with Bran and Rickon, must be mad with grief over the loss because Lysa was her only sister and had hoped that their children would have a close bond as cousins.
But as they left their father, Sansa was still upset even as she tried to dry her tears. Nothing here in the royal court was like she had imagined it in her dreams back home in Winterfell. Sure, there were other girls here in her own age who she had found friendship with and enjoyed the company of, but she missed her best friend Jeyne Poole who had not been allowed to come along. She had not even seen Queen Cersei once, only hearing that she was locked up inside one of the seven towers on the Great Sept of Baelor. Her father had chosen to betroth her to a young Lord who was neither handsome nor a future knight. And perhaps the worst in this very moment, was how her only memories of her now deceased Arryn cousins was from the royal visit at the beginning of this year, if anyone asked her how Celia and Amanda had been in personality.
"How could Celia be so unhappy about her betrothal to Harrold Hardyng? I am sure that she would be the one bringing misery in their marriage, with that habit of criticizing him whatever he was mentioned! And Amanda...how could she be even worse than Arya in her behavior?"
Recalling how Amanda had actually started fist fight with Arya in front of Princess Elinor and Myrcella and not even being sorry about it, Sansa came to the very wrong conclusion that aunt Lysa had made a major mistake in letting her three children be fostered in Dorne at the Martell court in Sunspear, with their foreign Essosi customs and traditions.
"Poor princess Elinor, who is betrothed to one of the sons of House Martell! If my late cousins turned out like that after only four years there, how would they treat a royal princess who will marry one of them?"
Was this how Lady Margaery Tyrell, the betrothed of Crown Prince Lyonel, felt about her very ill-suited sister-in-law and knowing that her oldest brother was trapped with that woman for life? The Ironborn Freyja Tyrell née Harlaw, one of the former noble daughters from the Iron Islands, who had tricked Lord Willas into marrying her, from what Sansa had heard from Margaery herself.
"Are all non-Westerosi cultures allowing their daughters to not act like proper ladies? Is that why such women have such a poor reputation long after their lifetime? Then I am glad that I will never leave the Seven Kingdoms!"
By those immature thoughts, partly because of her young age, Sansa was falling into the trap of being narrow-minded about the meaning of culture differences and not realizing that she could be viewed as the one being ill-mannered in other cultures.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
At the same time, Tywin Lannister had arrived at the capital late in the night before, and currently his private audience with both Robert and an envoy from the Iron Bank of Braavos did not go in the direction as he had hoped to.
"What."
The envoy repeated himself in a calm manner:
"Without the gathered wealth of House Lannister and the Westerlands basically turned into a desert wasteland abandoned by its farmers because they no longer can grow grains and other foods without life-giving water to the fields, my good Lord Tywin, the Iron Bank can not see how you would be able to repay the debts that would be following if you were to try rebuilding Casterly Rock."
Robert, who had gotten a list with a rough calculation of how much money his father-in-law requested, used this moment to deliver a verbal slap in the face of Tywin as well:
"No, the Crown shall not lend you the needed money either. And do not come with the old excuse of that Cersei is your daughter as well the Queen and my children are your grandchildren. My Lyonel shall not start his reign with a debt caused by you, his maternal grandfather."
For Tywin, this was yet another proof that he was losing control over Robert as the King of Westeros. Any day now Cersei could be set aside from her position as Queen, possibly locked up in a remote castle or keep belonging to the Crown, because of the idiotic madness that had befallen her since the birth of the youngest Baratheon prince four years earlier, and the royal children refused to obey him like he expected them to do. All his hopes and dreams for his family were falling apart like sand between his fingers, and Tywin was growing desperate for anything that could be some form of control over the current situation.
"Is this how you repay the man who gave you the crown?"
In return, Robert looked Tywin straight in the eyes, and somewhere in the very deep of those blue eyes of the King, an inner fury was burning.
"By the seven hells, Tywin Lannister! You dare to talk about debts, when you repaid your former friendship with Aerys by betraying him! Get out of my sight before I actually strip your cursed House off its noble status for real and let both yourself and Cersei live out the rest of your lifes locked up in some small, miserable keep on the abandoned Iron Islands with none of the comforts you are used to! GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!"
The King managed to not lose himself in the anger, but the force of the slammed fist on his desk and the cracking sound from the strong wood still revealed that it was only a careful self-control that prevented Tywin from getting said fist in his face. Realizing that this verbal battle was impossible to win, the Lord Lannister made a minimal bow to his royal son-in-law and then left.
But once Tywin had left, Robert looked tired and leaned back in the chair. The envoy had enough common sense to be quiet until the King himself spoke.
"My father-in-law is too used to having either his inherited family wealth or his own reputation discourage people from trying to stand up to him. But now Casterly Rock and its gold mines are all gone so he can not pay soldiers, servants or any debts, I do not doubt that the remaining smallfolk have left the Westerlands all together now when the seat of House Lannister has turned into nothing and Cersei is not staying as Queen at my side. I can not tell for sure, but somehow I have a strange feeling that Tywin will be remembered as the last Lord Lannister, not the Lord Lannister that everyone would think of when they hear the family name."
Robert could not explain this feeling, but he did not doubt why it had raised in the back of his mind. Tywin Lannister had been a thorn in his side ever since the Sack of King Landing over 13 years ago, and if the Lord Lannister started to put the blame on the missing Elia Martell and her children for his current ill fortune, well, then the King would not protect his father-in-law from whatever results that would come if House Martell learned about it.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
The royal children were out in the castle garden, trying to get some peace and quiet before they would go to the Great Sept of Baelor with the royal court. Brienne was helping Argella refix her long braid, as the ribbon had loosened earlier, while the three youngest was tossing a ball between them.
"Holly, Sandor. What do you think will happen to House Lannister now, with Casterly Rock gone? Uncle Jaime, Uncle Tyrion and their families may not get the news until several months have passed because they are in Essos…"
The sworn sword of the Crown prince kept an eye on Aemon where he was trying to reach for the ball which had fallen under a bush, but left that to the septa as he turned around to answer.
"One thing is clear, no matter what. Your mother will be put aside and the royal marriage ended on the grounds of her madness, proved in how she keeps talking endlessly about the brother of yours that was stillborn ten years ago."
As she looked up to see if the sun had been blocked by a cloud, Elinor noticed something else.
"A storm seems to be coming."
Indeed, the previously blue sky darkened noticeably quickly now when all of them looked upwards. But there was a bad feeling they all shared, of something else possibly being involved.
"Hold on, that sound is not not rain…"
In the next moment, lighting bolts and massive pieces of burning hail fell down from the sky.
"Get under something to avoid getting hit, brats!"
With Brienne grabbing Aemon, Holly dashed towards the nearest gateway with Myrcella and Tommen, leaving Sandor to surprise the Baratheon twins by actually carrying them both over his shoulders despite the fact that they should be far too tall and heavy to do that anymore.
"We are old enough that we can run on our own feet when facing danger, Ser Clegane!" Argella protested loudly, deliberately using the title that Sandor did not want people to address him with. Of course, this did not make her twin brother's sworn sword happy to hear.
"Do not call me ser, brat!"
All across King's Landing, houses and other buildings had been set on fire by the burning hail. Parts of shops had collapsed from being smashed with such force, and on the streets people found out in painful ways that there now also was glass shards to step on among the mud and blood from victims who had been injured from the hail.
"Get buckets of water! The houses are on fire!"
And then strange cries could be heard from the sky, cries that made those who heard it trembling in terror and lose their courage. Those who looked up, could see nine winged beasts come closer.
"DRAGONS!"
Given that folklore about the Targaryens in Westeros were also connected with their dragons, many commoners knew tales of the Field of Fire, and how death by dragonfire had also been used as a very painful method of execution.
"Run for your lives!"
Showing a very clever way to use their fey-breasts, many Gold Cloaks on the city walls found themselves attacked by the Nazgûl, as the breasts grabbed comrades-in-arms in their claws and then flew back up in the air, letting those soldiers fall to their deaths from above.
"Hold your posts! Hold your posts and fight to save the city!" Stannis commanded, where he and Robert had just ridden out together from the Red Keep to lead a new group of defenders against these new, strange attackers.
"Anhur, bless our father and uncle in this fight. Shu, lend them the strength to control the storms! Baset, protect them from this evil who have entered our lands!"
Khamûl heard the spell, the names of some of the gods he once had worshiped as a mortal. And there were several scents he could smell as well…
Scents of magic that he barely recalled because of the long passing of life, but now awakening in his memories of the mortal life as the Farao of Kemet.
"Impossible...!"
And then a possible truth dawned on him, when he recalled the vision of the woman who was near identical in appearance to his oldest daughter, and how Visenya had helped him to lay the curse on Tywin Lannister by her blood ties as a third-cousin to the younger Baratheons.
"Lion Lord...you dare to try killing Mara in her new life, and to share blood with my other reborn children!?"
With a bone-chilling scream of wrath over this realization, Khamûl turned his winged fey-breast towards the gardens of the Red Keep, where he felt the scents of his reborn children being the strongest.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Ned and his three children had been unlucky to be standing in a corner part of the Red Keep that collapsed from being hit repeatedly by the huge pieces of the burning hail, and the wooden staircase had broken in two when one such piece of burning ice landed right in front of Sansa and Arya.
"AAAAAAH!"
Coughing from the cloud of dust from the broken pale red stones of which the Red Keep was built in, where he had fallen, the current Lord Stark felt an overwhelming pain from one of his legs. A broken beam had fallen over him, breaking the leg at the same landing to the ground.
"Ugh….Robb! Sansa! Arya! Are you three alright?!"
By the Old Gods, if they had been badly hurt or even died, he would never forgive himself. He had promised Catelyn that their oldest son and two daughters would be protected from harm while they were in the capital, and he did not want his wife to worry about this.
"Father!"
Looking up, Ned saw Robb clinging for dear life on the upper part of the wooden stairs that had been broken, the lower half now a broken mass laying on the ground where his father was.
"Robb! Find another way to come down here and find help quickly! If your sisters have been hurt..!"
Thankfully, the heir to Winterfell managed to get himself back up on the safer part of the broken stairs and back in the corridor that the four family members had left just before the hail had fallen down over them, the grey Stark wolf on his white tunic vanishing as he tried to find help.
"Sansa! Arya! Can you answer me?! Girls?!"
He could see them lying just over there in front of himself. Both were unconscious from the fall, and despite his own uncomfortable position Ned could see that Arya's left leg was bent in a strange angle, possibly hinting to being broken.
"Sansa! Arya! Please, wake up..."
Like a ghost, a transparent figure dressed in white passed by him. But when the small figure looked over the shoulder, Ned saw a similar long face as Arya, only with white hair and purple eyes. Then the girl figure smiled in a creepy way, as green dragon-like scales appeared on the face around the eyes which also transformed into cat-like yellow with slits for pupils.
"Hello, uncle Ned."
At hearing those two words that revealed their connection by blood, Ned could only stare in growing horror. It was like a scene from his nightmares from the Tower of Joy, where Lyanna's stillborn bastard by Rhaegar Targaryen would actually be alive, and he would be forced to being her along to Winterfell, to see the girl grow older in his own home, terrorizing his children like a living ghost whatever they saw her.
"Dearest brother of my northern mother, shall we play a little game of hide and seek? My mother seemed very skilled in that game, as you did not find her until the very day that she gave birth to me in that tower."
As Visenya did not have a solid body as she was standing there as a spirit thanks to her Master being present not far away, Ned could see how something was forming behind his own daughters.
"No...no, no! Let my daughters be! Sansa and Arya have nothing to do with you!"
But the "ghost" of his half-Targaryen niece had no intention to let this plan not come to fruition. She wanted to punish Eddard for denying her existence for the past 13 years, acting as if Lyanna had died of something else than just childbirth. It was time to stab an invisible dagger into that damned "Honor before reason" mentality of his.
"It is 13 years too late for such regrets and trying to make up for denying my birth, uncle dearest," she said with clear irony on the last word "Let's see how long it will take you to find your own sweet little girls that your Tully wife has given you...in another world altogether!"
Opening a small portal below her cousins, Visenya let Eddard see in horror as Sansa and Arya fell through the portal without him being able to stop it, instead leaving two wreaths of blue winter roses where they had been only moments before. And the smell of the roses, mixed with the fresh blood on the ground, triggered Ned's haunted memories of Lyanna on her deathbed in the Tower of Joy.
"No! No! NO! SANSA! ARYA!"
Vanishing away with a triumphant smile at seeing him break like that, Visenya left Eddard alone as he screamed in helplessness over his own daughters being taken right in front of him like in some of his worst nightmares, Robb never arriving in time to witness what happened to his sisters.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Author note: And here is what I planned for Harrold Hardyng on the Westerosi marriage market without Celia! Finding himself with a bride 12 years his senior and with a massive hoard of relatives that will come flocking at the news of Tyta catching him in marriage
If Sansa came off as bratty about the news that Harrold Hardyng was married to Tyta Frey in the Westerosi version of a "shotgun wedding", it is because Samwell Tarly is not what she imagined about a future husband and does not understand yet that Eddard chose the young Lord Tarly as her betrothed for that Samwell is fond of music and songs like Sansa herself, and that Samwell prefers books over weapons and soft fabrics over armor, meaning that Sansa would have no worry about being widowed after a war or tourney where he could be killed.