A/N: And we're here. My last med school interview went well so fingers crossed.
My romantic comedy modern AU story My Best Friend's Wedding has just been posted on Ao3! Be sure to check it out for some drop dead laughs, sweet fluff, crazy pairings, and plenty of Jonerys smut ;)
Enjoy.
Chapter 91: Direwolves
"I found the sweetest thing this morning when tending to the children." Seated in Cersei Stark's solar and sipping spiced cider, the four other women - Cersei, Lyanna, Elia, and Dacey - all eyed Ashara with curiosity. "Apparently my niece Sansa was lonely, so she crawled into bed with Baelon and Daenerys."
Elia grinned. "Awww… those dears."
"Quite wonderful that they get along well, don't you think?" Dacey observed.
"Sansa's always been friendly," Cersei remarked. "The perfect Lady, though a right terror when she wants to be. Joanna's the same, only without that wild streak."
"All my children have a wild streak," Lyanna bragged. "Even Egg in his own way. It's exhausting having so many little ones but I never regret it."
Hands folded over her lap, Cersei had always imagined hosting such functions as the Queen - now she was hosting Queens as the Lady of Winterfell, and wouldn't change it for the world. "The problem is that so many highborns prefer to sire bastards that they thereafter do not claim and leave to rot, then only siring one child off their brides, or none at all." Several came to mind. "The five of us, we know what needs to be done. Many children in order to ensure the line is never threatened with attaining."
"There is a concern," Elia replied, sighing. "I'm not speaking of those such as the Unworthy's children, for that could've been avoided. Rather the Old King and Good Queen - though I feel the Good Queen had good intentions, they raised their many children wrong and thus only three lines continued, one failing to continue as Targaryens and the other two marrying into each other."
Lyanna winced. "House Targaryen, nearly destroyed even in fecundity." Every generation having many children, but bottlenecked through one line while the other were extinguished.
Nodding, Ashara was firm. "That won't happen this time. No one will play Alicent Hightower or Baelor the Blessed this time."
"The new generation of Starks certainly won't if I have anything to say about it." She patted her abdomen. "Neither the ones already born nor the ones yet to be born."
Elia was the first to understand what Cersei was saying. "You're with child?"
Her goodsister in all but name, Ashara's eyes widened. "So soon after Joanna?"
The she-wolf narrowed her eyes. "Ned knew this and didn't tell me?"
Cersei shook her head. "Ned does not know yet." A tiny smile crossed her face, gazing down at her still flat stomach with awe. "I want this to be a surprise for the perfect time."
Rising, Lyanna pulled her goodsister up and embraced her. "I'm sure any time you tell him would make my brother the happiest man in the North."
"The happiest I've ever seen him was when he met Robb for the first time, as well as blessing Joanna before the heart tree."
Lyanna nodded. "It's always better when they're babes. You don't wish to tempt fate as I did with Jon, Alyssa, and the triplets," she said, referring to their name for the three babes born the same day.
Reaching out, Elia massaged the back of Lyanna's hand with her thumb. She knew that even though Jon was alive and Visenya did return to them, the wounds of the past still hurt on occasion. Lyanna covered the hand, reciprocating the love.
"I must ask though, why wait to come here for the ceremony?" Cersei asked, curious.
"It had to be here," was Lyanna's reply.
Cersei's brows knotted. While having converted upon marrying Ned to the faith of the old gods, not once skipping a ritual or ceremony, she still felt as an outsider sometimes into those of the North. Looking at Ashara and Queen Elia, both the lovers of Northerners as she was, the sentiment was quite shared. "Seems impractical, doesn't it? Having to come to Winterfell for each child born?"
The Queen shrugged, looking at Elia. "The benefits of having a dragonrider for a husband. He can fly myself and each new child here to conduct the ceremony." A point she had insisted on and convinced Rhaegar and Elia to accede to.
Those of the North like Lyanna and Dacey, no matter how intimate one knew them there was still some sort of enigma about them.
"There is a godswood in King's Landing and Dragonstone, both with weirwood saplings that Lord Howland sent if I remember correctly?" Cersei rather liked Howland, a stalwart, loyal bannerman of her husband that didn't act overly familiar as did Greatjon Umber. She had gladly invited him to Winterfell and he accepted, and though his wife had just given birth to a daughter he accepted. "A weirwood is a weirwood."
A snort from Dacey. "That is a good point, Lya," the she-Bear told the Queen. "I blessed Artie and Lyanna there." Ben, on the other hand, blessed Allyria and Serena at the Winterfell godswood - just like Lya.
Sighing, Lyanna tried to explain it. "I dunno… I left Winterfell so abruptly and badly, thinking I'd marry Robert Baratheon." Every woman shuddered at that - there were some females that liked being taken by a rough, strong man like Robert. While each did like a rough, strong man, they wanted love and respect. Rhaegar, Ned, Arthur, and Benjen were their kind of man. "I never thought I'd see Winterfell again, and yet I found myself one of the most powerful people in the Seven Kingdoms without even thinking it." A smile crossed her face. "My children should know where I came from, so they can experience what made me who I am."
"Queen Lyanna Targaryen, a fierce she-wolf warrior Queen and compassionate ruler. Wielder of the Valyrian steel sword Wolfsbane." Elia looked at her wife in adoration. "There are few that could compare to you, my love."
"A charmer, she is," Lyanna remarked to the others. A chuckle changing to a wistful sigh. "I wouldn't trade my life for anything, but I'm glad to be back here. A wolf returning to her den." She sipped at her spiced cider, letting it warm her gullet. "The place isn't the same though, but that is a good thing."
Ashara nodded. "Based on what Benjen told me of the broken tower and ruined keeps, I held a sense of disapproval in those Lords of Winterfell that failed to bring repair and revitalization to the keep. I'm glad you convinced Lord Eddard to do so," she told Cersei.
Looking quite proud of herself - barely hiding her self-satisfied smile - Cersei drank from her cup. "The keep always had a sort of austere beauty. But with House Stark being involved in southern affairs in the marriages of its sons and daughter, best to have a keep that an reflect greatness rather than a rustic backwardness."
"Be careful of how you describe my house, Cersei," Lyanna warned, slightly affronted.
"The rustic air is part of the charm, goodsister," Cersei replied, smiling apologetically. "The backwardness is in the isolation. More art, more writings, a more spacious keep, plus roads and riverine craft to connect it to White Harbor and the Neck. It deserves to be connected to the world, and Ned and I will see it done."
Lyanna's gaze softened, the Queen sharing Cersei's vision. "And Rhaegar, Elia, and I are behind you all the way." It didn't escape her that House Targaryen's fortunes changed for the better when the alliance with the North was sealed through her. A strong House Stark benefitted the realm.
Smiling, Elia folded her hands together. "Ned is the friend Rhaegar needs in his life, and I hope that Robb can be that for dear Baelon when they come of age, just as Egg and Artie will be."
"They certainly are very close," Ashara remarked. "Two marvelous swordsmen in the making, I should say."
"The feeling Aerion Targaryen must've had, knowing the generation underneath his would accomplish the greatest of things." Lyanna could see it, her children surpassing all of them in glory - and with Baelon the most glorious of them all.
Baelon Targaryen loved Winterfell.
The Red Keep was his home, as was the entire city of King's Landing, but aside from his family and the dragons it felt so… mundane. Dragonstone, where he and his family visited and his kepa told him he'd one day rule over, felt more like home for him - the dragon returning to its nest. But he was half wolf through his muna. Winterfell brought the same feeling almost the instant he wandered through the gates. Ever since it seemed a dormant part of him had found its true purpose.
Being blessed before the great weirwood tree by his muna alongside Rhae, Egg, Lyssa, Dae, Rickon, and Senya. Feeling the magic and acceptance of the old gods flow through him.
His Uncle Ned taking him into the crypts to meet his late grandparents and Uncle Brandon. Muna spoke of them, but never did Jon feel the acute sense of love and loss till he laid his hand on the sarcophagi.
Training with Robb, practicing his forms as both Ser Rodrik and his normal Kingsguard tutors watched and instructed. Often did Rhaenys join them, the girls of Winterfell watching with awe at how adept she was at fighting - a female warrior, filled with the dragon's fury.
His uncle and Aunt Cersei were delightful. It was clear the former loved him as much as Uncle Benjen and Uncle Oberyn, while Cersei was kind and often watched he and Robb spar. The others in Winterfell treated him as their beloved, going out of their way to fawn over him from the lowest stable hand to uncle's bannermen Gregor Forrester to Sansa.
Sansa…
Baelon loved his siblings and aunts fiercely, resolved to fight as hard as kepa if they needed him - but since he could remember never did he share a connection as he did with his Aunt Dany. Aunt Dacey always japes that they shared a mind. Jon was unsure what that meant, but he couldn't describe what they shared in words. It stumped him.
There was something about Sansa in their shared dream long ago that felt similar, but it wasn't until they arrived in Winterfell and reunited did he realize it. The same bond he and Dany held was forming with his redheaded cousin, one she had with Dany as well.
Robb was fun to be around and Jon off played rough and tumble games with him and Egg - far from hurting him, the snows seemed to invigorate and bring life back to his brother - but Sansa was special. Dany and he never spent a moment away from her, at last finding the Rhaenys to his Aegon and her Visenya.
'She's our Queen,' Dany would proclaim, giggling fiercely.
Jon didn't disagree, especially because of moments like these in front of the heart tree. "Don't be a craven," Sansa said, stomping her foot in the snow. "You're a dragon."
The Crown Prince looked at Rhaenys, who scowled at their cousin. There's being a dragon and being stupid."
"It'll work, Rhae," Jon insisted. "I thought you were adventurous?" He stuttered with the word but managed to get it out coherently.
"I am for things that work and are not fire."
"Let him do it, Princess." Asha rolled her eyes. "It'll get him to shut up."
Theon, reunited with his sister, blinked. "Lord Stark says never to play with fire…"
Asha smacked his head. "Stop being a craven coward." Theon shut up, though did not look happy about it.
"We probably shouldn't…" Egg demurred.
"Where's your sense of spirit. Be fierce," urged Artie, channeling the words of his mother's house.
"Momma and poppa will kill us if they find out," warned Robb, more cautious than he usually was - mostly over what this would entail compared to their normal mischief of stealing toffee apples from the kitchens or tackling his Uncle Tyrion.
"Dragons dragons dragons!" Giggled Alyssa, always eager for the creatures.
It had taken several days to convince Dany to go along with his plan, though Jon was surprised that Sansa was almost automatically receptive - as if a fire of her own had been lit inside her. Now it was just a matter of convincing the others. "Kepa and munas will be happy when it's done."
"My muna too," Dany added, looking to Robb, Alyssa, and Artie - as well as the two Greyjoys. "None of you will be involved as we are so you won't get in trouble."
Robb rolled his eyes. "You don't know momma." Cersei loved fiercely, but roared like a lion when mad. The big furball that was Lann couldn't compare to an angry Cersei Stark. "It's a bad idea."
"And we don't know if it would work."
"Don't you want a dragon, Rhae?" Dany asked.
She softened, resolve cracking. "Kessa," she acknowledged. "But will this work?"
Jon nodded. "Once I get the details from grandmother, all will be set… though I'll need Cella to make it work."
All eyes went to the golden-haired Princess, normally so shy and reserved. But there was a certain… boldness in her eyes. "I want a dragon. Let go, Jon." Both he and Sansa clapped their hands simultaneously, while Dany whooped.
Eventually all came around, but the eldest daughter of Eddard Stark wanted to make sure of something. Tugging them closer to the heart tree, Sansa places her finger to her lips. "Shhh…" Though among differing degrees of obedience and rebelliousness in regards to the authority of their parents, the children all knew the importance of both being quiet and not ratting each other out - especially Asha. "We should swear here, no going back."
Aegon was confused. "Why here?" His confusion didn't change when he noticed both Rhaenys and Baelon's eyes widening, while Robb, Artie, and Allyria only nodded.
"Is there something we're missing?" Dany asked, hand on her hip as she pouted at Jon, clearly kept out of the loop on something.
Jon decided to clear it all up. "The heart tree. Muna says an oath made under its leaves can never be broken."
Asha snorted. "Or what?"
"Or the old gods bring their vengeance upon you." That was Robb, shuddering at the thought. He, Sansa, and Theon had made oaths here many times, and none had been broken by any one of them. Old Nan's terrifying tales kept them quite respectful of the gods.
While Rhaenys knew of the oaths under the Weirwood, she was unsure of the rest. "So how do we do this?"
"Everyone grab hands," Sansa began, her father having taught her and Robb long ago. They complied, Sansa shivering as Jon grabbed her left and Dany her right - somehow it felt so calming and joyful. "Keep your head down before the old gods." The group of them did so and waited for Sansa to speak the words of the oath. "Old gods, we ask that you help my cousins Baelon and Dany hatch their eggs… and we swear to silence before you, lest… you heap your… wrath upon us." Nothing happened except for a slight gust of cold wind, rustling the leaves.
For those of Northern blood, that was enough. The gods had listened - the pact sealed.
No going back.
Just as they broke their arms apart, Sandor Clegane emerged from where he had stood guard at the entrance to the godswood, startling the children. He took note of this. "Better not be planning trouble," scowled the Hound.
"We wouldn't dream of it, Ser Sandor," smiled Dany, violet eyes sparkling with innocence.
Sandor didn't buy it. "Uh huh…" Looking at Robb, the boy he had watched over long before, he grunted. "A word of advice, kid. If the silver pest ever tries to get you to trust her, don't believe her." Before a confused Robb of a scowling Baelon could answer, Sandor cleared his throat. "Make way for her Grace, Queen Lyanna." He stepped to the side as Lyanna walked into the clearing, Ser Benjen and Lady Dacey trailing.
Alyssa bounded to the Queen. "Muna! Muna!" All traits not Targaryen being obviously Martell, Alyssa's fierceness found a match in Lyanna's, hence then being quite close. "Fly fly like dragon!"
The Queen laughed and lifted her daughter up, kissing her cheek and making her giggle. "How are my darlings?" she said, looking at all of them.
"We're good, muna." Though not as good as Dany or Sansa at feigning innocence, Jon was so well behaved that he could get away with many things since no one expected trouble from him. That is, all except Sandor, but he didn't seem to care - or want to care lest the mischief threatened to hurt him.
Fire cannot kill a dragon. He and Dany were dragons, so Jon was certain in his lack of worry.
Dacey, hugging her son and kissing his forehead, looked at the rest of the brood. "It's lunchtime. The cooks are already setting the tables in the great hall. Let's go."
All that was needed was to mention food and even the youngest among them was running to the great hall, only for Lyanna to call out. "Rhae, Jon…" The two aforementioned children stopped to look at their muna. Daenerys and Sansa, noticing that Jon wasn't running with them, stopped and looked at him… only for Benjen to move them along, which they did so reluctantly. Sweet things, they love him so much. Lyanna grinned knowingly, already having ideas - but that was for another time. "I need to speak with you."
"Did we do something wrong, muna?" Jon asked.
"No, you did nothing wrong - nothing like that." She looked at her two children, Jon her little miracle and Rhaenys her eldest daughter. A perfect mix of dragon and viper yet with the ferocity of a she-wolf warrior like herself. Gods, she loved both of them and had something special planned. "Remember when I told you of my childhood here in Winterfell."
Rhae nodded vigorously. "I liked how you used to thrash all the stupid boys in swordplay."
Of course she'd remember that one. Lyanna grinned. "Aye, that was fun… especially when I thrash your kepa now." Rhaegar still usually won their encounters, but the matches were more even now that Lyanna had improved dramatically. "But specifically of my rides in the Wolfswood. I want to go on one now, and I was thinking if you two could accompany me."
Both children looked absolutely delighted. "I can ride Stormcloud!" beamed Rhaenys.
"Can I ride Quicksilver?" asked Jon, eager to try out his beautiful mare born of Winter and Moondancer.
Lyanna shook her head. "This isn't the Kingsroad, so you'll be riding with me on Winter till you get better." That lessened his joy, but couldn't even begin to extinguish it. "Let's get you into your riding clothes."
The children didn't need to be told twice.
Hands clasped together as he sat across from his King, Lord Gregor Forrester was a good negotiator. Calm and collected, giving nothing off. "There's a reason our lands are still a teeming forest rather than bare tundra like those of our Whitehill neighbors." While Bracken and Blackwood's feud got the notoriety, the enmity between House Forrester and House Whitehill could compare in sheer animus.
Lord Tywin Lannister found interest in such, resolving to learn more of the land his grandson would rule over now that he was diving into the dealings personally. "I do not see the problem, Lord Gregor. The deal we are asking for is generous and wouldn't damage your forests, considering it would be your discretion how to fill the yearly quotas."
"True… true." Brokered by King Rhaegar and Lord Tywin, a deal to furnish ironwood trees to the crown for healthy profit was tempting. "As long as Ned here holds up his end of the bargain."
Ned smiled at his old friend. "Cersei and I already decided to accept your offer. Our son Robb will foster at Ironrath."
"And you have the royal blessing to betroth your heir Rodrik with Elaena Glenmore." From vassals of Lord Glover to being showered with accolades due to their success in the Greyjoy Rebellion, promoted to high lordship, and earning fosterings with premier houses, Rhaegar resolved to pay closer attention to House Forrester. Perhaps he'd find another gem as he had with House Seaworth or House Bell.
Smacking his hand against the desk, Gregor beamed. "It is decided then!" Having been in Winterfell when the King arrived rather than showing up after as the others would in mere days, he earned Rhaegar's undivided attention and made the best of it.
As Jory shut the door behind Lord Gregor, Ned slumped against the wall. "Robb's fate is sealed then. He'll be well regarded if trained under a northern war hero like Ser Gregor."
"Enough will resent him for not being chosen to fostering with them," Tywin countered, thinking solely for the security of his grandson's claim to Winterfell. "I'd still like to foster him in Casterly Rock when he's at a good age, followed by a term as squire for my son Jaime."
"Too much of a southern education for Ned's heir, I would think," said Rhaegar, worried. While much of the northern mindset was an enigma for him, the King had been married to Lyanna enough to know that they were skeptical at best to southern lords - House Manderly was a bridge too far for many traditionalists.
Tywin shook his head. "Raised in the North, fostered under the Forresters - the ones to deride him after would always deride him regardless of what he does. That's why I want him to learn how to keep a realm rather than merely inherit one."
Ned covered his face with his hand. "I didn't want this life for Robb… the backstabbing and honeyed words, not meant for a person of the North."
Rhaegar was sympathetic to Ned's earnest nature, but knew just how dangerous it could be - Tywin clearly agreed, though he wore his irritation at such naivete on his sleeve. "Goodbrother, we all hope for such ideals and I suppose the North in its isolation was able to do such, with Lyanna as Queen you are bound to the south - to play southern politics, which seems to me just a more stealthy version of northern politics."
Closing his eyes for a moment, Ned nodded. "Aye, mayhaps I must be Cregan rather than Alaric. Theon rather than Bran the Burner." Cersei was both nudging and pushing him towards this. "I presume my goodfather will discuss betrothals next."
He knew Tywin very well, apparently. "Robb must marry a fellow Lord Paramount. It's necessary, considering I can see him becoming the right hand of Prince Baelon."
"They are very close," Rhaegar acceded, glad to see it. "He's going to be as eligible as anyone not in House Targaryen could be, but who should be the choice? I assume he has the Westerlands in his corner."
"Forget House Tully… they'll never support this," Tywin dismissed. "Lord Elbert's two daughters are bastards, so we'd rather not revisit that taint upon him." Ned glowered, but Tywin was right. Robb's birth would haunt him, so best structure away from it as much as possible. "Arianne Martell is an option, much older than Robb that she is. House Hightower could work, but they'll never marry into the First Men."
Rhaegar had a thought. "Perhaps Margaery Tyrell?"
Ned raised his brow. "Lord Garlan's sister?"
"She would be perfect," Tywin thought. House Tyrell is already on the side of the Crown, but the North will need cheap grain and House Tyrell guarentees that. Arianne or Margaery, those were the only options and Tywin would make sure to prosecute both options till one was favored over the other. "Young Rickard must marry a daughter of the North though, same with my granddaughter. That will shore up the support of the Northern Lords, at least those in proximity to the betrothals. Lord Karstark has a young daughter that Rickard could marry."
"Lord Karstark is loyal."
Pursing his lips, Rhaegar didn't want to contradict his goodbrother… "Elia informs me that he is not kind to House Targaryen, not since his son perished at Harrenhal."
Shaking his head, Ned met Rhaegar's gaze. "He'll not act against me. We're kin."
"Didn't stop Robert from fighting me, Ned." They were at an impasse.
"Do you doubt that young Lady Karstark is a bad match for your son?" Ned couldn't deny this. "I didn't think so… as for my granddaughter, Cersei tells me that you're fostering Lord Bolton's son?"
His eyes went wide. "A Stark and a Bolton?"
"What better way to neutralize them than to make their heirs half-Stark?"
"I'll need to think on this," Ned finally stammered, turning away and looking out the window.
Sighing, Rhaegar rose and walked to his Hand. "Be more mindful of him, Lord Tywin. These are political games he is not comfortable playing."
Tywin regarded such sentiment with disdain. "Forgive me, your Grace, but we have not the time, security, or luxury to carry on as if the dynasty was safe from threat. There are threats all around and we must be preemptive about dealing with them." His King didn't want to make examples of potentially rebellious Lords without evidence of treason so this was what Tywin had to work with.
Guiding him to the door, Rhaegar nodded. "I understand, but there's something called finesse." He patted Tywin's back. "See to the arrangements with Lady Cersei about the Bolton and Forrester fostering, as well as our relations with the Northern lords when they arrive. I will speak with Lord Stark."
Bowing, Tywin knew the discussion had ended for now. "My King." He would get what he wanted, though patience would be needed.
Turning from the door, Rhaegar looked at Ned. "I know you know we're right, goodbrother."
Ned felt the violet eyes of the King boring into him. "Aye, I do." A deep sigh left his lungs. "You know I never wanted this for myself… or my family."
"The North was lucky for centuries to be isolated from the chaos of the south. Deal with wildling and Ironborn raids and otherwise just worry about the elements." Such were hard in and of themselves, but they weren't human threats and could be predicted. A storm didn't think or plot. "But reality has changed, and both Lya and you made decisions that plunged House Stark into the south."
Not just Lyanna marrying Rhaegar, but also he marrying Cersei. Ned knew what he would need to engage in when he wed the love of his life. "Something I'll need to get used to."
"Rely on Cersei. She's adept at this."
"Every day, just as you do." Elia and Lya both brought strengths to Rhaegar's reign that he himself lacked. That he accepted gladly such assistance only belied why the two beauties adored him so much - certainly worked that way for Cersei. He turned, meeting Rhaegar's gaze. "I saw you and my goodfather didn't mention Sansa."
Rhaegar looked away. "Your eldest daughter is… complicated."
"Enlighten me, goodbrother."
Best out with it - Rhaegar hoped his friend wouldn't react with too much affront. "After the Ironborn Rebellion, Lord Hoster Tully was incensed at Rickard being passed over in favor of Robb for the inheritance to Winterfell." At this Ned fell silent… guilt eating him. While Sansa had essentially embraced Cersei with open arms, his second son was more reserved. Getting along well with her but not seeing Cersei as his mother. There was great worry for the future in Ned's mind, the Lord of Winterfell resolved to ensure both brothers grew up close. "I managed to ply him off with a promise."
"What promise?"
"That I'd consider a betrothal of Sansa to Baelon as the top choice when the time comes."
Eyes wide, Ned stared at Rhaegar. Struggling to piece the words together. Sansa and Jon? The thought hadn't occurred to him except in passing, even as the two of them had essentially spent every moment together since arriving in Winterfell. Cersei's right… I am a northern fool. "They certainly get along. I'd consent if that continues, though I wish you discussed it with me first."
"Was a sort of immediate thing, Ned. Full apologies." Rhaegar resumed his seat. "Elia wishes for Sansa to foster with us in the Red Keep, act as one of her or Lyanna's ladies in waiting perhaps." Before Ned could give a tentative agreement, he cut him off. "Problem is that there is competition, not just politically but emotionally as well."
Ned wasn't as naive as people caricatured him to be. "Daenerys."
Rhaegar nodded. "Aye, Baelon's little shadow. The two are inseparable, though both of them are the same way with Sansa as they are with each other."
"Baelon's father's example certainly poses a solution." Ned's eyes danced with mirth, surprised in himself for thinking of such.
The King was also surprised. "Cersei's corrupted you, Ned."
A grin. "Perhaps it was Lya, rather. Had to face some uncomfortable matters cause of her." They chuckled. "So what do you think of it?"
Sighing, Rhaegar leaned back in the chair. "A royal betrothal must be careful. Children must continue the blood of the dragonriders, but also cannot waste the ability to avoid war by forging an alliance. And yet… he's my son, she's my sister, and she's your daughter. We want them to marry for love."
"In regards to that," Ned commented. "I think both Jon and Daenerys should foster at Winterfell."
"Oh?" He and his brides had already talked of fosterings. Rhaenys wanted to come back to Winterfell so the thought of sending her both here and later to Sunspear with Aegon was discussed. Myrcella could go to Casterly Rock, while obviously Baelon to his uncle in Winterfell… but Dany too? "If she, Baelon, and Sansa get along, then I'd definitely consider it… only if it's for love."
"Wait and see?"
"Aye, wait and see." There wasn't any better option.
Perhaps the children would choose their path themselves.
"Faster, muna, faster!" Giggling, Baelon felt his hair blowing behind him. He loved this… loved the North, loved riding with his muna. Loved… everything.
"Can't do that with you seated there," Lyann replied, kissing her son's head as she spurred Winter forward. It would be dangerous, and she wanted to enjoy this ride through the Wolfswood. Enjoying her childhood with her beloved babes.
Next to them, Rhaenys on her growing pony - a grey stallion she named Stormcloud - rode as if she was born atop a horse. Something Lyanna was so proud of. "Get a mount and ride with me, valonqar!" she called out with a smile.
Suddenly ahead, Benjen's horse neighed loudly as the kingsguard reined it to a stop. "Whoa, whoa…"
Lyanna did the same with Winter, while Rhaenys followed her muna's lead - they both had more warning and thus came to a gentler stop. "Brother? Something the matter?"
"Aye… could be bad. Kids'd be better to stay mounted."
Blood running cold, the Queen swung her legs out of the stirrups and dropped to the ground, ever an expert. "Stay here," she warned Jon and Rhaenys, voice the icy she-wolf rather than the loving muna. One that both children knew not to cross. Walking towards Benjen, she already saw her brother and sworn sword having drawn his blade. It didn't take long for her to notice why. "A dead stag?"
Dead was an understatement. The poor beast's innards were completely ripped out, strewn on the snowy ground of the dirt track. Benjen's eyes tracked both the corpse and the forest around. "Killer's still here, I figure."
"Right, and probably wounded." Lyanna pointed to the antlers. One in the impressive rack was long and lush with strength, while the other was snapped off. Both Starks were skilled enough woodsmen to get a feel of these things.
"Muna, what's wrong?" Apparently Rhaenys had grown curious, leaving her pony to go to Lyanna's side. Jon remained on Winter, worried.
Lyanna gave a cross look. "I told you to…" A sigh. "You're probably better close to me. Jon, come here!" Her son obeyed, dropping to the ground and running to her side.
"Was killed him?" Rhaenys asked. "A lion?"
"Only lion round these woods is Lann, and he only hunts when the others do," Benjen spoke, keeping his sword level. "I better go check the woods. Got a bad feeling."
The Queen drew Wolfsbane from its sheath. "Not letting you go alone. I'm in the van, you bring up the rear. Always had softer feet than you." Her brother merely bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Rhae, Jon, stay between us."
"You'll kill the monster, right muna?"
Lyanna smiled at Jon's complete faith in her. "I'll make sure nothing harms you." Not a lie, and it placated her son.
The snow covered the entire forest floor, leaving the landscape of the Wolfswood ever beautiful. Lyanna was glad for it as she held her sword, knowing that any attacking creature would cause crinkling in the snow. She held the front of their ragged line, the children in the middle and Benjen behind. This was their element - Starks in the midst of winter, hunting like wolves, but with her dragons with her Lyanna was nevertheless uncomfortable.
Pushing back a thicket of evergreen brush, she almost didn't see it in the midst of the snowfall, but the dark red bloodstains gave it away. "Oh gods…" Lyanna shook her head. What a fucking waste.
Peeking around Lyanna, the ever inquisitive Rhaenys found a sight that felt like the deepest agony to her very soul. "NOOOO!"
Strewn on the ground, the jagged second antler jammed into its neck, was an impressive-sized direwolf - had to be, for no wolf could grow to that size. Coat mostly white but with some light gray streaked in, the beast had to be recently dead based on the freshness of the corpse. A dead direwolf in the middle of the Wolfswood near Winterfell.
Even the least superstitious among them would find it a dark omen for House Stark.
Lyanna just managed to sheath her sword when Rhaenys made to run to the corpse. "Rhae, no," she called out, grabbing her daughter and holding her back round the waist. It was a lot harder with all the padded layers she wore.
"Let me go, muna," she cried, teary-eyed. "Not a direwolf! Why? By the gods, why?" Rhaenys was sobbing, and a look behind her found Jon close to tears as well, hugging his uncle in worry and sorrow. Their first glimpse of our sigil, and it's a bloody corpse. Her own heart ached for her babes.
Grimacing, Benjen walked forward - guiding Jon to his mother, who quickly embraced both of her children against her furs. "There are no direwolves south of the Wall," he mused, a worried tone in his voice.
"Until now," Lyanna replied, equally apprehensive of what that meant. It was common for Kings of Winter before the Andal invasions to have direwolves as bond companions - almost like Targaryens and dragons - but the practice grew less common until the time of Alaric Stark, the last Stark with a bonded wolf.
This could be auspicious… or ominous. Lyanna didn't let know.
Buried in her furs, Rhaenys trembled from crying. "She's so beautiful," mourned the poor girl. "Why, muna, why?"
"These things happen, my loves." She murmured to the both of them, kissing their foreheads one at a time. "I'm sorry."
"Tough girl," Benjen remarked, tugging out the antler - horn embedded deep in the wolf's flesh. "Made it all the way here in the snow, though why I can't figure…" Something caught his attention. Leaning over the corpse to look, Benjen's eyes widened. "Lya! Looks like things just got more complicated."
Lyanna glanced up from her children, confused. "What do you mean?"
Rounding the corpse, boots crunching on the snow and dried leaf litter, Benjen reached down. "Seems the poor wolf was a momma." Up he lifted a wriggling direwolf cub, fur a grey-russet mix and whimpering.
Surprise filled the faces of the royals, especially Rhaenys. "A pup?" Her tear-stained face lit up with a sudden hope.
"Three pups, all trying to nurse, poor buggers."
Immediately Rhaenys was tugging on Lyanna's fur overcoat. "Please, muna, please." Her eyes were frantic. "We need to keep them!"
Not knowing at all what to say, the whole thing sudden to begin with, Lyanna rounded the dead mother wolf to join Benjen. Sure enough there were two other pups squirming and whimpering around the teats of the corpse. Unlike their sibling, one had black fur while the other was white-grey. "Gods, three pups."
"Won't live for long," Benjen mused. "Not without their mother in this beastly cold."
Fear crossed Rhaenys' expression. "Please, muna! They can't die!" Her dream of finally having a direwolf to hold and cuddle and play with and love was so close, and the thought of the pups dying made her heart split in two.
"Kessa, muna," Jon added. "Keep the pups!"
"Hatchlings, this isn't your cat, Balerion. These are pups of fierce, proud beasts. You can't care for them, you're too young." But seeing Benjen going for his blade, preparing to put them out of their misery if need be, made her stomach churn.
"Then you care for them!" Rhaenys couldn't let them die.
That surprised the Queen. "Me?"
Jon concurred with his sister. "Three. One you, one Uncle Ned, and one Uncle Benjen."
"Me raise a direwolf pup?" Benjen looked at the grey-russet pup close. "I've never been one for animals, nephew…"
"But uncle Benjen!" Rhaenys ran to him, half-pleading, half-yelling. "You can't kill House Stark's sigil. Care for them, please please please." Her violet eyes were wide and filled with tears.
Benjen looked up at Lya, as if asking 'How can I say no to this?' There was no way, at least not for this. Reaching down, she picked up one of the pups - a male, the other two female. It's eyes looked into hers, tongue darting out to lick its nose and Lyanna was forever lost to it. "Alright, we'll keep the pups."
Mere moments later Rhaenys let out an excited squeal and grabbed the black-furred pup. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, muna!" Hoisting the pup high, she squealed again. "Hi, sweet one. I'm your sister, Rhae, and I'm going to love you forever." The pup was quiet for a moment before she started sniffing Rhaenys… following by licking her face. "Stop it…" giggled the princess, never having sounded happier.
Prince Baelon reached out to stroke the light fur of the pup in Lyanna's arms. "Can we name them, muna?"
Lyanna was starting to fall in love with the pup she held. A beautiful male, his coat was shiny and by his squirms he was fierce and spirited - in spite of the thin frame from hunger. You're a fighter, just like me. The russet-grey wolf in Benjen's hands was similar, while the black wolf, notwithstanding how she lavished love on Rhaenys, was quieter. Mine, Ben's, and Ned's. "If they are to be our direwolves, my love, then I think it's only fair that we name them… as you would name your dragons when you get them… or any pups these darlings would sire."
That was heard by Rhaenys, who got even happier than she was. "You hear that! You're gonna have pups one day! My direwolf after so long!" Both Starks laughed at her exuberance.
As Jon went to fawn over the pups with Rhae, Lyanna cuddled her wolf. "Only fitting that we found you, little one. A Stark saving you." The pup's eyes seemed to stare into her soul, and Lyanna felt a pull to him. As if the same description Rhaegar used to tell her of him and Aegarax - a bonded animal. "I'm starting to love you as one of my own." The pup merely snuggled into Lyanna, making her heart swell.
Benjen's lips were pursed. "You see the symbolism in this, right Lya?"
"Aye, of course I do." She cooed at the pup in her arms, tickling its belly. "Dragons returned to House Targaryen, direwolves to House Stark - seven hells, even lions to House Lannister. The gods favor our houses."
"Undeniable, but there's something less favorable an omen." Lyanna cocked her head at him, waiting for more. Something Benjen was shocked she hadn't grasped. "A direwolf, killed by a stag."
Put that way, Lyanna couldn't remain ignorant of it. "Oh…" She winced, looking back at the pup, then at her children who were fawning over the other two - Jon excited, but Rhaenys happier than she'd ever been, as if her every dream had come true at once. "Just a coincidence I'm sure."
"Lya…"
"No, something that made my children this happy and our house all the more prestigious cannot be a bad omen." She smirked at her brother. "I would think Ned would be brooding over this but not you. One of those direwolves will be yours, by the way."
That did manage to coax a smile back to Benjen's face. "And I presume that you've already claimed one?"
Going to the grey-white pup in her arms, Lyanna beamed, kissing its head. "This boy is mine, aye, and his name will be Spirit - wild like the winds of winter." Another belly tickle, making the pup squirm in her cradling arms. "Like that, Spirit? Wild just like your momma?" The pup yipped, making Lyanna laugh.
Perhaps she was just like Rhae and didn't know it till now. With the pup, she felt one last tiny hole in her heart fill itself in.
Arms wrapped around her lover, Rhaella gasped and mewled into the hungry kiss she was currently engaged in. Gods, her mind was like mush, only able to continue her frantic movements and appreciate just how amazingly delicious the cock buried inside her was. "More…" she mumbled. "Take me harder, my fierce lion."
Though he had only a rudimentary understanding of High Valyrian, the breathless tone against his lips and the dark purple eyes that bored into him were plenty for Jaime to deduce the gist of what Rhaella was begging him. Hands spreading her cheeks wide, he broke the kiss and shifted around - hitting up in a new angle that coaxed a… half-gasp, half-wail from his beautiful dragon. From that sound, he swore he grew harder than Valyrian steel.
"Kessa… kessa… kessa…"
That word Jaime did know, and grinned against the sweaty skin of Rhaella's neck. Lightly sucking the skin.
Normally she'd scold him for coming too close to leaving a mark, but the high collared woolen dresses gave him leeway - not that she cared of anything at the moment besides sexual release. Fire coursed through her veins, the rouch scraping of her clothed back against the uneven stone walls nothing compared to her building climax. "Jaime… Jaime… oh yes…" As he bit hard on her neck just when his cock speared hard and deep inside her, Rhaella wailed and shattered around him.
Jaime fucked her through the orgasm, his cock only able to take such a vice-like grip for so long before he spilled his seed into her. Slumping against her, pinning Rhaella to the wall as exhaustion crept in.
Running her hands down his bare back - Jaime gloriously nude while she was still in her dress, the skirts bunched up for access - Rhaella didn't know how long she was recovering but laughed when she did. "You take me to the best places, Ser Jaime." Looking around, the dusty floors, snowdrifts against the windowsills, and a frayed bed belied something that wasn't the mighty keep of the Warden of the North. "Fit for a Queen."
He grunted against her shoulder. "I… didn't think of it. Tyrion… suggested it… to me."
"Your brother?" Rhaella thought for a moment. "What perverse thing did he do here, then?"
"Not him. He said this is where my sister and Lord Stark go when… they want privacy." He shuddered, which made the proud dragonrider giggle. It was something that didn't seem to suit her but did anyway, making her face look years younger and more carefree. "Don't laugh at me."
Rhaella, reaching up to cup his cheek, kissed him sweetly. "I love you, Jaime, and in all honesty your sister has good taste in accommodations." Seh shuddered, sighing in pleasure. "That was the best coupling we've had in a while."
He smiled. "You love all our couplings."
"True, I do… but this one was the most intense." Sneaking off like illicit lovers barely flowered, even at her age it sent a thrill through Rhaella's core. "The benefits of having a younger lover. Jaime merely grinned at her, his golden looks and arrogant charm only making him more attractive to her.
Luckily, her dress hadn't torn on the rough stone so all Rhaella had to do was smooth it down and pray her hair was fixed enough - going through prudish Winterfell with untamed sex hair was not something Rhaella was keen on doing. Cersei was always prim and proper while Lyanna… even she only looked wild after riding or sparring. Rhaella supposed she could go dragonriding on Jaimexes, but thought it wasn't worth it simply to hide her carnal activities.
She rather enjoyed flaunting her affections with Jaime. Unlike before, now she was proud to have such a powerful, handsome man in her bed and on her arm.
Descending from the 'broken tower' as it was called - she had heard Cersei planned to renovate it along with the old keep - almost immediately the two of them were greeted by a milling, excited crowd. Jaime helping part a way, Rhaella headed for the center of the commotion. "What's going on here?"
What she did she was a shocking sight. "Are those real?" gaped Lady Sansa in awe.
Her grandson Baelon nodded, stroking a grey-white pup being held by Queen Lyanna. A direwolf pup… had to be. "Yep, Sans. This is Spirit, he's muna's." Baelon pointed to two other figures. "That's Sprinter, uncle Benjen's, and uncle Ned's is Frost."
"Can I hold her! Can I hold her!" Robb begged, his eyes eager.
"Easy, son," Ned remarked, sharing matching smirks with his sister. "Direwolves are not toys. They're proud, serious beasts." His pup, Frost, took that moment to start licking Ned's palm before swatting at the fingers with his paw, drawing laughs all around, even from Rhaella.
The dowager Queen looked to her gooddaughter, walking alongside her. "You found direwolves?"
"Aye, their mother was killed in the woods and they would've died had Ben and I not taken Jon and Rhae riding."
"Starks saving their sigil. Auspicious."
"I think so too." All the Starks apparently did, while the children were merely excited. Around them, many of the household had their eyes closed and were looking at the ground, mumbling prayers of thanks and blessing. Aye, a great omen indeed.
Suddenly she felt Jaime tap her shoulder, guiding her gaze to the Winterfell Maester. "Dispatch for you from King's Landing. Bears the Targaryen seal along with a chain."
Uncle Aemon? If he sent a letter, then it would be important. Walking to Luwin, she took the offered dispatch with thanks and quickly broke the seal, reading the contents…
It wasn't long before her good mood died, face going ashen. Behind, Jaime muttered a curse under his breath. "Should I fetch Prince Viserys?"
Nodding, Rhaella felt numb. "Let me speak with Rhaegar first…" Oh, this was going to be very bad.
A/N: And the direwolves have arrived and Rhaenys is overjoyed. Sprinter for Benjen, Frost for Ned, and Spirit for Lya. Felt the adults deserved some love from the wolves :D
There will be more ;)
Oh, what did Viserys do this time? Comment to find out. 30 gets update in a week :D