Birth was weird.
Very weird.
Now babies don't normally remember birth and I think that's a good thing. It was… well an odd. I could feel the muscles of my new mothers trying to push my new body from her.
It was very warm, very tight, very dark and damp.
I could feel my tiny, stunted limbs being squashed against my body, the sides of my mother's womb and another body that I later learned was my twin. It wasn't painful more uncomfortable than anything. Especially after I'd got over the fact that I couldn't breath and what's more didn't appear to have to: a lifetime of conditioning doesn't go away when you're reborn apparently.
As time passed I felt my twin gradually slide out of our mother's womb as the muscles contracted around us, this was great as there was suddenly a bit more space and I, I don't really know why, suddenly felt the need to flail my arms and legs everywhere, exploring my new found freedom.
Soon enough it was my turn to be squeezed out of my mother, until this point I'd never been more aware of how inefficient the human body was. I mean the human body was made to make more human bodies, but why is the process so dumb? It takes nine months to grow a baby leaving the mother vulnerable and when it comes to the birthing it endangers her life!
Anyway, I was squeezed out and I came into the world.
It was loud.
Much louder than in my mother's womb and much louder than I remember my old world being. I then remembered that babies made a lot of noise when they were born, no one needed to remind me of how much noise James, Albus and Lily made when they each came into the world. So with the great power that is my mind I made a leap of logic that it was myself and my twin making all the noise.
My eyes were closed so I couldn't see my surroundings but I remembered that fairly was normal as well, not that it didn't annoy me. After one hundred and fifty years of seeing it's hard to imagine life without doing so.
So I forced my eyes open, going against what my natural instincts were telling me, only to be blinded by the relative brightness coming from the outside world. I quickly shut my eyes, instincts to avoid pain over riding my curiosity to see where I was.
Over the next however long it was, an hour, a minute, I don't know, I blinked my eyes open to attempt to get used to it.
While I was trying to see, I could feel myself being passed around.
I was held first by a pair of slightly rough hands only to attacked by an even rougher towel, at least I thought it was a towel but I couldn't see so it could have been a sheep's backside for all I new.
The person with the rough hands and the sheep then passed me to a pair of soft but slightly clammy hands, or rather hand. I could feel that I was being held between a hand and a woman's chest. Well a woman or a fat man, but given the circumstances I was going to guess that it was a woman.
The screaming had stopped, though I'd never figured out who was doing the screaming. I had a lack of control over my new body so it could have been me for all I knew. But despite this it was nice to be able to use my new ears properly.
And the opportunity presented itself immediately.
"Oh my beautiful boys, my beautiful twin boys." A voice cooed, close to my ear. The feminine voice felt like silk brushing against my eardrums after the incessant screaming of earlier.
"Our beautiful boys, my love." came another voice, lower in pitch as if the very ground underneath us was answering the woman's call.
"What should we call them, Rickard?" the first voice asked.
"Eddard, for our for-fathers." The second voice declared. I hoped I wasn't Eddard what a boring name. "And Harrold, a Lannister name for those Lannister eyes he keeps fluttering." That was probably me, if Death was pulling the strings in my favor instead of attempting one big prank to ruin my second existence: I definitely couldn't cope if my twin was called Harry and I wasn't, nope that would be horrible.
"Rickard, you know I've never lain with anyone but you!" The first voice said, sounding worried and scared.
The second voice boomed with laughter, howling like a wolf to the moon. "I know, I know my love, it's just uncanny how my son's eyes look so much like those blond lords of Casterly Rock. Maybe he'll have their talent for finding gold as well?" The voice broke into booming laughter once more, the first voice joining in with little more than a nervous giggle.
They continued to talk and I began to doze off. My body was tired, though I don't know why. Maybe it was all the breathing my body had to do now? Who knew.
"I'll leave you to get some rest, you've been through so much and you've done so well, my love." The deep voice said, the following footsteps and door slamming suggested he'd left.
"Get some rest, my sweets, sleep well." The soft voice before I felt her press her lips against my bald head only to hear her do the same to Edd, I'd decided I wasn't going to call him Eddard, Edd would do much better.
We were then passed to the first pair of hands, they were still as rough as earlier, and we were carried out of the room.
My early childhood was boring and embarrassing.
Being completely dependant on other people was horrible. I had to wait for one of my wet nurses, as I learnt they were called, before I would be fed or changed or just generally do something. I couldn't imagine what kind of person would off load the taking care of their child from my own experience with James, Albus, Lily and Teddy it was quite enjoyable. Though I tried not to judge my parents too harshly. From the wet nurse's gossip I learnt that my parents were Lords, or rather Lord and Lady, of Winterfell. So they were probably busy, I'd never been been a lord so I didn't really know.
I had also learnt that Westeros was still recovering from a war. The War of the Ninepenny Kings, they called it. Apparently a rebellion for the throne had dragged the entire continent into war. It seemed rather stupid to me, was the control of a throne really that important. The people were ruled by their lords, like my father, anyway. Was it really worth the loss of life?
Breast feeding was always a novel experience. I knew I had to do it, and my built in instincts agreed with me, I had to get nutrients from somewhere but that didn't make it any less weird. One of my wet nurses would undo the lacings of her dress, baring her breast and nipple only for me to clamp my toothless gums around it and suck milk from her teat.
Now I'd done this before; with Lily Potter in my first life, though this was assumed the question never came up when I was talking to Sirius or Remus; and with Ginny and our other romantic partners, though for those times I had teeth and was never for sustenance.
But now, in this life, I found it embarrassing. I was solely reliant on this stranger's breast and the milk she produced. And in order to get this miracle life giving substance I had to suck on this stranger's nipple. At least the last times I'd had the option to do so or had the courtesy to not remembering it happening.
Though this wasn't my only grievance. I couldn't move.
My muscles weren't strong enough to support my weight: I couldn't walk, I couldn't stand, I couldn't even sit without assistance. For the sake of the gods I couldn't even hold my head up: the muscles in my neck couldn't support the weight of my head!
I remembered, as a parent, it being quite funny watching my young children flail around as they tried to move. I didn't see the funny side any more.
I was soon growing and growing quickly at that. Within a couple of moon turns, they apparently used a lunar calendar here, I was able to pull myself around on my hands and knees.
Crawling allowed me to explore much of my home. Which turned out to be a castle, not a magical one like Hogwarts; no moving staircases, no talking pictures and no ghosts, but a castle nonetheless.
My voice still wouldn't work. My young mind and vocal chords didn't seem to want to work together. It was very frustrating. It was like I knew every word but with this new body everything had been changed. So instead of the complex sentences I wanted to say to my mother about why I should be allowed outside all I could produce was some scrambled baby talk.
I learnt that I had an older brother, besides Edd that is: Brandon. He was only a year older than Edd and I but he was already toddling about on his short stubby toddler legs. Our mother didn't let him get too close probably because Brandon had a habit of throwing his toys everywhere. He had a miniature stuffed wolf that had been repeated thrown against the walls and a stuffed Dragon that had unfortunately met it's demise in the fireplace.
Brandon looked very different to Edd and I, although he had hair as black as a raven and cold grey eyes that matched Edd's, Brandon was larger, in almost all possible ways. Though, I guess that was to be expected as he was a whole year older than us. However I'd heard Mother say that she was thankful that Edd and I were smaller as Brandon was so big.
Brandon had just started to speak saying odd words like no, yes, shan't, pony, sword and look. Mother had tried teaching him our names. He couldn't say Eddard or Harrold but mother had tried again with Ed and Harry: he couldn't say those either. Instead we were Ned and Rry. When our Father had heard he'd started laughing stating that he liked it and started to call us Ned and Rry as well much to mother's complaint.
Ned, as he shall now be known, was a quiet child but then I suppose so was I. Neither of us cried a lot; I didn't as I'd already lived through what I was going through as well as raising my own children but Ned confused me. As far as I knew Ned wasn't anything like I was, a wizard that had fallen for Death's manipulations, but it appeared that he was just a quiet boy.
We grew up fast, though that may have been my perception of it all. Having been a one hundred and fifty year old man less than a year ago and then suddenly becoming a small baby was disconcerting. All of a sudden I would have so much energy but almost as quickly as the rush had come it would go and I'd want to sleep.
Ned and I slept a lot of the time, maybe that was why it felt like everything was going so fast.
In almost no time, I was up on my feet. And then I was back down on my arse again almost immediately afterwards. This new body was different to my previous one and the balance was all wrong. Repeated falls taught me a deep respect for Tonks: her body was constantly changing, it was a surprise she was on her feet at all.
Eventually I got a hold on the whole walking thing and I began to explore the castle I now called home at a faster pace and from a higher vantage point. Or at least I tried to. My new mother really didn't like me walking through the perilous halls of Winterfell. Of course she wasn't always successful at stopping me.
Brandon had got bigger and was still causing trouble. Instead of throwing his toys around he'd taken to running everywhere, as fast as possible. Now while this was the main source of my mother's distraction allowing me to get out and about, it also provided quite a bit of entertainment. I could sit in our nursery and I could watch as a high speed toddler would race passed the doorway only to be followed by three, sometimes four, ladies dressed up in corsets and dresses.
Now on my feet I managed to get outside.
It was cold.
Like really cold.
Like I'm-going-to-die-it's-so-cold cold and this is coming from someone who spent most of his time in Scotland.
Once I'd managed to get used to the cold, or at least more used to it, I could admire the castle. Winterfell, while not as big or as grand as Hogwarts, was a large castle that was clearly built to withstand attacks from the outside. It's grey stone walls and towers were thick and fortified. I learnt that their were two external walls, topped with battlements, that were separated by a moat. While I didn't know anything about castle warfare I would guess that it was quite good. Though I knew I could just apparate in if I was attacking.
That was another thing I was yet to learn about: magic. The only mention of it I'd heard was in the tales Old Nan spun as she lulled Ned and I to sleep. I had thought that if I came from a family of wizards I would hear or see my parents performing it even if they were trying to hide it from their possibly muggle servants. But I saw and heard nothing of the sort.
After a while I found the god's wood and it quickly became my favorite place in the castle. Not only was it a strikingly beautiful forest, the stark white of the weirwoods and the blood like red of the carved faces contrasting with the duller browns and greens of oaks and beeches.
After what felt like an eternity of spouting absolute garbage I could speak. Course some sounds were weird, like differentiating between 'f's and 'th's, so my speech wasn't perfect. Honestly the common tongue was as ridiculous. And then I had to stop myself ranting at my parents or our servants when they spoke of White Walkers and Dragons and how they were extinc. They would never tell me why! I couldn't let them think of me as anything other than a very young and totally normal muggle boy, something I'd had lots of practice at but never quite perfected at the Dursley's. So I based my capabilities on Ned.
When Ned said his first word, 'snow' if you're interested, I said mine the next day. As we, Ned, learnt our, his, vocabulary expanded. Soon we, well Ned could now I'd always been able to, could identify each of parents as 'mama' and 'fa' and Brandon became 'Bradn'. Snow was still a favorite word of Ned's, and I picked out 'ice' as to be slightly different while practically doing the same thing.
And so the agonising process of learning a language began. Eventually Ned began to form basic sentences and I could almost return to as I spoke before death and this whole trip to Westeros. Of course I had to censor some of the things I said, I had to sound uneducated and silly, childish even, though that wasn't all together that difficult given that my voice was now unbearably high pitched, I could sing soprano!
Three years after my rebirth and Ned's birth our mother went into labor again. After almost a whole day and most of the night of pained screams echoing around the halls of Winterfell a new scream joined the chorus. Little Lyanna was born. And while at the time she'd had no hair and hadn't even opened her eyes yet out father declared she was going to be a great beauty who'd be as wild and striking as the North itself.
Lyanna soon began to grow and showed that their father might just of been spot on with his assessment. Se had the classic Stark looks: black hair, pale skin and grey eyes. And she definity was wild, no one questioned that.
According to many of the servants around the castle Lyanna was the loudest child they'd ever encountered. It wasn't uncommon for the small girl to scream into the night like a wolf howling at the moon which was made even more apparent when it was discovered that she calmed down when taken outside. As soon as she was big enough to move around she only became more of a terror. Though despite all the screaming and the trouble she got into she held the hearts of everyone that had ever met her in the palms of her pudgy toddler hands.
Another year after Lyanna was born and mother was at it again. While the labour period was shorter this time round, the birth of Benjen was marred by our mother's death only an hour later. The maester had said that she'd died due to internal bleeding that was caused by Benjen's birth.
The next day father gathered Brandon, Ned and myself and brought us to his study.
"Now boys, what happened yesterday was an accident." He looked us each in the eye in turn. "Your mother gave her life bringing your little brother into this world but you shouldn't blame him. To blame Benjen would be to dishonor what your mother dies for and dishonor your mother as a person. So you must love Benjen as you love one another, as you love Lyanna as between you all you keep your mother alive, not in body but in spirit. Remember boys, nothing is as important as family."
Father left after that. I guess he was also emotional at the loss of his wife.
I'd never really gotten to know my mother so it was hard to grieve and Ned and Brandon were too young to really understand the true meaning of death but I could feel the difference throughout the castle and I'm sure they could as well.
Less than a week later mother was laid to rest in the crypts of Winterfell after a service in the god's wood in front of the weirwood tree, her body resting in the alcove where father would rest when he joined her in death. She didn't get a statue like the old Lords of Winterfell and the older Kings of Winter but a stone direwolf was chiseled out and laid on her tomb. The wolf was lying down, it's muzzle resting on it's front paws as if it were asleep.
The next year passed quickly. Ned and I started lessons learning the basics of writing, they used quills here as well, the other major houses of the realm and military and political strategy. While I thought that Ned and I were too young to about strategy, father apparently disagreed though I suppose I could be thankful that he hadn't started us on actually fighting yet.
Lyanna had calmed slightly after our mother's passing. And while she was only one year old, they said she'd seen one name day here it's very peculiar, she'd had begun to speak. While she still ran around and got into trouble she did so less often. Even if she didn't understand, the absence of her mother was hurting her greatly.
Just after Benjens first name day father called Ned and I to his solar.
"Now boys," He began. "I trust you've been learning about the other great houses in Westeros with Maester Walys, yes?" We nodded. "Good, and I trust that you understand the importance of maintaining good relationships and alliances with the other houses. " We nodded again. "And do you know how to keep our good relations with other houses?"
"Marriage." Ned said simply, he had never been a boy of many words.
"That's absolutely correct, Ned, well done. Can you think of one Harry?" Father said turning to face me.
"Could you foster one of their children, father?"
He nodded as he stroked his beard. "Yes, well I certainly could but you forget, Harry, fostering goes two ways."
"Are you going to foster us, father?" I ask.
He smiled down at me. "You were always a bright child. Yes I am. Ned you're to be fostered with the Arryns at the Eyrie in the Vale and Harry you'll be going to Dorne to be fostered under Lord Dayne at Starfall."