272 AC
Lyarra
The Lady of Winterfell could barely see her feet with the dimmed light she carried, but she didn't need to. She knew by memory the entirety of Winterfell. She often walked the halls at night, grateful for the respite of sounds. Lyarra swore that when the sun, when the movements stopped and the sounds ceased, one could almost feel the castle breathe by itself.
"There" A servant said beside her, and she thanked her with a nod. Lyarra could see her eldest son, hacking relentlessly at a straw man, his jaw clenched and his knuckles white. The mother walked until she stood a few steps away from her son, close enough to see his clouded eyes. Close enough to see his desperation and fear.
"Robb" She called softly, but if her son heard her, he made no response. Clearing her throat, she called for him again, louder but no less gentle. "Robb."
The young heir ceased his movements, his body stiff as he turned to look at his mother. When their eyes met, she could see the tears gathering in his. Without a word she opened her arms, and he came rushing at her, sobbing before he even reached her.
Lyarra held her son, rocking him gently, guiding them towards the floor. She lost track of time, guiding Robb to let everything out. He cried, and cried, and by the time he was done, his body had lost its stiffness.
"Thank you, mother." He said hoarsely, still tucked in her arms. She smiled softly, her cheek resting on his brown curls.
"Which one was it?" She whispered, treading her hands through his hair. She could feel him tensing slightly, before relaxing again.
"The wedding one." He said, continuing after her mother made a sound of interrogation. "I'm on a keep, celebrating a wedding, and…guest's rights are broken. It's supposed to be a celebration, but instead…My men are massacred. We try to defend ourselves, cutlery against swords and arrows. One by one I see northern Lords defeated. I get hit by arrows. Four. I manage to stand up, but it was all lost. The red-haired woman pleaded at me to escape, but I felt so weak. So tired. And then-" Lyarra's heart broke at the same time his voice did, but he kept going on. "And then…a Lord comes, and he whispers me something. And then he stabs me through the heart, and I wake up, sweating and shaking."
She could feel her heart beating wildly with fear, but she forced her face calm. Slowly, she made him look at her in the eye, and placed a kiss in his forehead.
"You have never told us about that nightmare, Robb." She said, thinking about the nightmares he had recounted to his parents over the years. He shook his head.
"All of them are bad, but this one…I was scared." He admitted, earning a small smile from her mother.
"Then you've been really brave tonight, my child." Lyarra said lovingly, placing him another kiss. He frowned, confused.
"How can I be brave when I am scared?" He asked. Lyarra smiled.
"Ask your father." She whispered, before embracing him again. "How old did you look?"
"No older than twenty, I would think. Is this my future, mother? To die young, betrayed and alone?" He asked shakily, shuddering. Lyarra's heart cried for her son. Slowly, almost playfully somber she took a lock of his curls and tugged on it.
"What color is this?" She asked firmly, and Robb looked at her again.
"Brown."
"Good. Now look into my eyes, which are your father's eyes and your eyes. Stark eyes. What color are they?"
"Grey:" He mumbled, but he smiled a little.
"Do you think that someday, it'll change? That your hair will redden, and your eyes will lighten?"
"No?"
"Is that a question?"
"No! No, they won't."
"That's right, they won't. You are not that red-haired woman's son, Robb. You're mine. My son, and I will never let anything happening to you." Lyarra said fiercely, and Robb believed her. He nodded.
"Then, why am I seeing these things? Why do I feel the dreams as if I was living them?"
The Lady of Winterfell sighed, raising, and pulling her son with her.
"The Old Gods." She began reverently. "Their ways are higher than our ways, child. But they are always caring for us northerners, Robb. House Stark has been blessed by them and the Children of the Forest. They talk to us, and they're talking to you, I think. I do not know why they want you to see these things, my son. I know it is painful, and frightening, but the Old Gods will never lead you astray. They are your parent's gods; they have been the gods of House Stark for eight thousand years. This is them talking, and you only need to listen. Can you promise me that, Robb?"
"To listen?" He hesitated, biting his lip. "I can try." He concluded with a nod, and she smiled at him.
"Good. I hope you won't fail behind in your prayers again. Your father and I know you haven't been to the Godswood lately."
He blushed at being caught up but nodded. Lyarra couldn't find in herself to punish him. At his age, even as advanced as he was, it was only natural to try and spend as much time in the training yard or playing with his siblings.
"Now, rest." She commanded, leading him to his room. "You have a busy day tomorrow, my Lord, and you promised Lya to take her to the hot springs."
"I did, didn't I?" Robb groaned. The Heir of Winterfell nodded, before stepping into his room.
Lyarra entered her chambers, shaking and cold sweating, no longer able to play strong. Rickard was immediately holding her, gently leading her to their bed.
"How did it go?" He asked softly, and Lyarra just shook her head, crying. She could see the pain and compassion in his eyes, and that gave her the strength to talk.
"Rickard, our little boy…he sees his dead. He feels it! Betrayed, and alone. Our Robb dying young, away from Winterfell." She broke down in front of him, the only person who had ever seen her like that. The only person she would ever allow to see her like that.
"He does not see himself, Lya. He is not that auburn lad in that forsaken war. And even if it were, I won't let that happen, my love." Rickard replied, his own tears on his cheeks. "I promise you. On the Old Gods, that will not be Robb's fate."
Lyarra vowed, too.
276 AC
Rickard
"Lyanna? Where is Robb?" Lord Rickard asked, confused at the sight the youngest of his children jumping on his Heir's bed.
"I don't know." Lyanna said between laughs. "He was supposed to meet me here for a trip to Godswood some time ago. I am waiting for him." She ended with a petulant frown, that didn't last more than two jumps. Rickard sighed, something he found himself doing more and more when subjected to his only daughter's presence.
"Just…don't break the bed. Again." He pleaded, leaving hurriedly. He had asked for Robb, but the servants hadn't found him. He wouldn't be concerned if it had been one of his other children. But Robb was clock tight punctual, and as dutiful as they came. He wouldn't have missed an appointment, nor with him and certainly not with his younger siblings.
Rickard alerted the guards, and they searched quietly for him, his wife joining him. They searched his usual spots, but true enough, he wasn't there. Rickard was on the verge of panic, when a servant told them he was sighted near the solar of Maester Walys.
His reprimand died when they arrived to see Robb pointing his sword towards the Maester, a snarl on his face.
"Robb!" Lyarra said sharply, gathering her wits much faster than him. "What do you think you're doing?"
Maester Walys opened his mouth, but Robb took a step forward, the tip of his sword sinking in the Maester's robes. Walys gulped, and Rickard quietly asked for more guards.
"What I'm doing, mother, is trapping a grey rat." Robb replied angrily. Rickard randomly thought that at barely fourteen years old, his son had become a man. "He has been poisoning Winterfell, mother. The guards, the servants. My siblings. You, and me too."
"Poisoning?" Rickard asked, speaking for the first time. He warily walked inside the room, his hands up, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. His eldest had never shown sights of the Wolfsblood, but the Lord of Winterfell wondered if he had only been skilled at hiding it. "What do you mean, son?"
"I meant it figuratively, and literally. He has been poisoning your ears, manipulating you. Manipulating the education, me and my siblings have had. Manipulating the servants and the guards to his pockets. Slipping poison to my mother, which is just what I caught him doing today. That's why your lunch never arrived, mother. I forced this bastard to eat the poison himself."
Robb was angry and crazed. He looks like a wolf, Rickard thought. Lyarra was less proud. She pressed forward, eyes stern. On the corner of his eye, Rickard could see more guards enter the room, Rickard and Martyn leading them.
"How do you know, Robb?"
"Please!" Walys cut in, his voice pleading and shaking. Robb snarled, and it made the man whimper in fear.
"I've been watching him, mother." Robb said, turning to face them. "I started getting a bad feeling about him. So, I followed him myself, or had him followed every time I could not. Did either of you knew he has a stack of letters father has never seen? I couldn't read who sent them, but the fact that he is communicating with someone and hiding something is trouble enough."
Lyarra's eyes found his, and he nodded. Robb had begun sweating, shaking. His speech was slightly off. His breathing was hard. His raged look had turned into a sick one.
"Robb, why don't you drop that and take a sit? We'll get you some water." Lyarra asked softly, speaking to him in the voice she always used when one of their kids got sick. Robb's eyes dropped slightly, his shoulders sagging. But with a snarl, he raised his sword at the Maester again.
"You don't understand! He is a traitorous bastard! I know this. I've seen this. I'm listening!"
"Robb!" Lyarra said with urgency this time, but Robb wasn't paying attention to her anymore. He had clutched his head, gripping at his locks with one hand, his other hand on his sword, his knuckles tight.
"I'm listening. I'm listening. Please, make it stop!" Robb pleaded. "Make it stop!"
"Stop what?" Lyarra asked, at the time Rickard and Rodrik moved towards Robb, only to be stopped by his son brandishing his sword at them.
"The pounding. The voices. Make it stop!" His son was sobbing now, as well as Lyanna, who had arrived unaware. Lyarra took a step forward, only to be stopped by the sword. "I'm trying!" Robb yelled, and Lyarra clutched his arm.
"Rickard." She sobbed; her grip tight on his forearm. "He is not himself. He is hearing things, he is suffering. We must help him!"
Rickard looked at Martyn, who took out his own sword. Moving carefully towards the Heir of Winterfell, he disarmed him effortlessly, the sword thudding to the ground. Robb used his free hand to clutch the other side of his head, falling to his knees. Rickard and Lyarra ran to him, along Lyanna, but his eyes were clouded, unseeing. He was gasping and crying out in pain, his body so stiff Rickard thought it would break. The Lord of Winterfell looked towards the Maester with a hard gaze.
"Do something!" He demanded, and he could see a horrible expression pass through Walys face for a second, before he adopted his usual, calm façade.
"Yes, of course." The Maester said, moving towards him.
"No." Robb stammered out weakly before a blood curling scream left his mouth. Lyarra fell back, horrified, pulling Lyanna towards her chest. Rickard watched in shock as his son convulsed in the floor, a heartbreaking scream leaving his lips. He felt it went on for hours and hours, until silence came, stifling and heavy. Without wasting a second, he went towards him.
"ROBB!" Lyarra screamed, heartbroken. Rickard gave a look to Rodrik, and he held her back, struggling. Gently, the Lord of Winterfell took his son's head, and placed it on his lap.
"Bring me some water." He commanded to the room, caressing Robb's hair tenderly, the Maester announcing that his pulse was weak, but not life-threatening. Gasping in relief, a calmer Lyarra joined him on the floor.
"What happened?" She asked shakily, and Rickard shook his head, befuddled. They turned towards the Maester, who was looking at his son speculatively.
"I…I must make some tests, my Lord, to know for sure. There are several diseases which could have caused this. May I give him nightshade essence, to aid in his sleep?"
"No." Lyarra answered before he could. "Nightshade is a poison. It is curious to me that you would choose such an aggressive substance, which could easily make my son sleep forever, just after he accused you of what he accused you."
"My Lady!" Walys sputtered, red-faced.
"No! I do not know if Robb was in the right or not. But he felt strongly about this, and we will have an investigation, Walys. In the meanwhile, you will be locked out in a room, with guards on the entrance. Rodrik, pick our two most loyal men to guard him."
"Of course, my Lady."
She turned towards Rickard, a challenging look in her eyes, but he just nodded. A second later, Robb began to stir.
They watched as their son opened his eyes, confused, before raising from his lap. He turned to look at them, but his eyes didn't show any familiarity. When they met Rickard's eyes, Robb frowned slightly.
"Grandfather?" He asked hoarsely, before his eyes went white and he passed out again.
Robb
Leaving the darkness was hard, its grip on him tight, but he knew he had to. Everything was riding on his shoulders.
He closed his eyes almost immediately after he opened them, his mind screaming in pain at the blazing light. He opened them again, slower, gently, taking his time to adjust to the light. He had barely opened them before a gasp was heard on the doorframe, his mother crying at the sight of him.
"Mother?" He asked, his voice rasped. His throat hurt, as if he had gone a long time without using it. His question seemed to take the Lady of Winterfell out of her shock, and she came, barreling at him, sobbing and laughing.
"Three weeks." She cried, hugging him. "You've been asleep for three weeks." Her hands cupped his face gently, while her eyes roamed his form. Blinking in shock, he opened his mouth to speak, before closing it shut at the sight of his father.
He looked haggard, as if he had aged a decade in the short time. Looking closely at his mother, he could see the same from her. Eyes burning, he hugged her with all his strength, tears falling when he felt his father hug them both from the side.
"What happened, Robb?" His mother asked, and Robb had never heard her so shaken. "We thought…we thought we had lost you." She ended, nothing but a whisper. Gulping, Robb turned to look at his father, watching him dab at his eyes to keep the tears away.
"I understand now, mom. I…listened. Just like you asked me to. Wait!" He said hurriedly when the shadow of self-loathing crossed her face. "It's not your fault. The Old Gods were speaking to me, but I wasn't listening. You were right." He said, vehement. He could see the shadow of doubt on her face, before it was erased by his father caressing her cheek.
"What did they tell you, son?" Rickard asked him gruffly, and Robb nodded.
"The auburn-haired man…that was me. The war, the visions, it was all me. It was…my past life. I… I locked away the memories, apparently, and they were all unlocked at Walys' solar. Hence, the three weeks mom. I was processing it all. Seeing it all." He said softly, looking at his mother apologetically. He could see their shock in their eyes, his parents sharing a look before turning towards him.
"Your…past life? I don't understand." Lyarra said, her eyes downcast.
"I misspoke." Robb replied, taking her hand. "Not my past life. I lived through it, but this…this is my life, mom, dad. You're my parents, not Catelyn Tully or Eddard Stark." He said pleadingly, tears in his eyes, and his mother just looked at him lovingly, kissing her forehead.
"And you are our son, Robb. Never doubt that." Rickard said, placing his hand on Robb's shoulder. "So, little Ned got himself a Tully, aye?" He asked teasingly, and Robb half laughed, half sobbed.
"I have the memories, but I'm so…detached of them. This is my life. The visions…they're just images the Old Gods sent me to prepare."
"Prepare?" His father asked worried.
"Yes." Robb said with conviction, his hand clenching. "There was a…terrible war, father. One which brought Westeros to its knees."
"I'm sure you will tell us all we need to know soon, Robb." Lyarra said, glaring at Rickard. "But you need rest now." Robb just shook his head.
"What happened to Maester Walys?"
"He is detained." Rickard answered, his voice grim. "You were right, about everything. The servants, the letters, your mother…had he kept giving her the poison he was given her, she would have been so weak she would have died in childbirth."
"Childbirth?" Robb asked confused, before cursing himself. "Benjen?" He could see his father nodding proudly, while his mother laughed.
"We were still having trouble with the name." She confessed. "But it seems it is over now." She said teasingly, making her son smile. "I'm three moons pregnant. It should start showing soon."
"Congratulations." Robb said, beaming.
"Thank you." Lyarra said graciously. "But you need to rest, my Lord."
"I can't. I have many ideas to revise…many plans to prepare. First of all, I need to go ranging."
"Ranging?" His mother asked shocked.
"Ranging." Robb confirmed. "I need to go north of the wall."
"Why?"
"The direwolf is more than our sigil, father. It is our soul. And our companion. We need direwolves if we are to overcome this."
He could see his parents have a silent conversation, before they both turned towards him, their faces solemn.
"Robb." His father begun, and Robb could feel the hairs of his neck rise. "You have always been special. You have always been far advanced for your age. Rodrik once described it as if you were remembering how to fight with a sword, instead of learning. Everything, you have always learned faster than anyone could ever predict." He paused; his voice thick. "You are a practically a man grown. A great warrior, and a great man. Someday, you will be a great Lord of Winterfell. I like it not, but the Old Gods have given this task to you. This cloak was placed at your shoulders. We will trust you, in whatever you decide you need to do, and help you any way we can…but this is your duty."
"Just be careful." His mother pleaded. "We can't lose you."
"I will. I love you mother, father."
"And we love you, son." Rickard said, hugging his wife.
"Once you are back to your hundred percent, your journey will begin Robb." Lyarra said, tears in her eyes but a glowing smile on her face. "We are so proud of you."