It had been a strange thing to wake up that morning partially naked and in Robb's arms, but Rhaena had not allowed herself to overthink what had happened. Instead, she roused Robb gentle and bid him dress before they might be discovered, murmuring softly as she stroked his face until he was roused from his pleasant dreams. Robb had watched her as she slipped back into her dress, knowing better than to try and take her back into his arms and kiss her. Perhaps they might repeat this night another time, but for now Rhaena had drawn a silent boundary Robb dared not cross. At least not yet. Dressing, he had walked with Rhaena back to the castle and seen her to her door where she bid him farewell and even kissed his cheek before vanishing behind it. From then on, it was as if nothing had happened at all. No one suspected or might have guessed for Robb and Rhaena acted exactly as they had before. It was only in moments alone that one might reach out to brush against the other, a shared smile passing between them, even a tender press of their brows against one another before they would then retreat once more. If anything Robb's lack of pursuit turned in his favour, for Rhaena allowed herself to feel more comfortable in his presence and accept any intimacy he might have instigated in private, and even offer a little of her own. She was glad he did not demand her affections and love, or even propose marriage to her. Rhaena would always do things her own way, and this was far different than anything she had once shared with Kaydyn. It was more than just physical desire, and that knowledge took time for her to process and accept. In any case, there were other things which took her attention.
Rickon had slept for several days after being carried away from the battlefield, unharmed save for his split lip from Rhaena's shoulder, though when he had awoken, he had started in fear until his brothers, sister and Rhaena had soothed him. Then he had cried. He cried for hours whilst Sansa held him and Robb sat with them, his arm around them both as Rhaena and Jon stood close by. He had lost his beloved Shaggydog, which had struck a deep blow to Rickon, but to have his siblings and his home back was enough to allow him to feel at ease. It was Rhaena he thanked for saving him, to which she had smiled and simply responded that it was his quick feet and bravery which had carried him to safety. She had little to do with it. Sansa took care of her brother as he took a light fever, the strain of events having taken their hold but Rickon was strong, and stronger still for knowing that he was no longer in danger. It was after his fever had reduced he told them all of what had become of Bran, how they had fled Winterfell with Hodor, the sweet simpleton who had once tended to the horses, as well as Osha, a wildling woman Robb had once captured after a group of them had attacked Bran in the woods. Rickon told them of how they had started North after the Ironborn men had abandoned Winterfell, where they were found by Meera and Jojen Reed. "Jojen was strange, he would often take fits and thrash about, but he said he had dreams like Bran did."
"Dreams? What kind of dreams?"
"All sorts of things. Mostly about flying and a three eyed raven. I was younger then, I didn't really understand it all and I'm not sure I do still. All I know is that Bran felt he had to go North beyond the Wall, with Hodor, Meera and Jojen, whilst Osha took me to Last Harth. The Umbers were good to us at first, but when the Boltons took over and called the banners against you, Robb, they made us prisoners and took us to Ramsay. They killed Shaggydog…and Osha too. Ramsay did that. He told me. She's dead…Osha was good to me. She took care of me. She was like…well she was like a mother, almost." Rickon struggled to keep himself from crying, not wanting to cry anymore in front of his older brothers, but Jon told him that it was alright if he needed to cry. Even men needed to every now and then, and so Rickon cried for Osha and for his direwolf, burying his face into his knees as Sansa rubbed at his back.
"What did she look like, Rickon? Can you tell us?" Choking down his sobs, Rickon gave a description of Osha to Rhaena who nodded her head then promised that she would look for her body so that she could be given a proper burial. They had already begun burning the bodies of those who had been slain during the battle, a task that had gone much more swiftly due to Rhaegal who had used his fire breath to torch the bodies so that should the White Walkers get past the Wall, they could not rise again. According to Rhaena's theory, if Ramsay had killed Osha then her body would still be somewhere in Winterfell. She checked the carts and the wagons that were to carry bodies away from the castle, searched for freshly dug graves outside the walls and even looked in the kennels where Ramsay had kept his hounds. Ferocious beasts that had been starved for days and were near enough mad with hunger. Thankfully Osha was not there. Rather she was found cast aside in the woods, stiff and feasted upon by creatures until Rhaena lit a flame upon her hand to frighten them away. Approaching, Rhaena looked down at the woman dressed only in a shift, brown hair cut to her shoulders and blue eyes now pale and yellowed. Sighing softly, Rhaena delicately took off her cloak and wrapped it around the body. "You deserved better than this for what you did for them. Fear not, Osha of the Wild North. You shall not rise from the dead again. Your body and soul shall be put to rest." Strong enough to carry Osha at least as far as the courtyard, Rhaena then set her down and called for Robb and Jon so that they could arrange a funeral pyre just for Osha. They wrapped her in silk so that Rickon did not see her decomposed and flesh eaten appearance, setting her upon a tall pyre where Rhaena made her violet-gold flames dance upon the wood before consuming the body. They watched it burn until there was nothing left, Rickon watching in grief-stricken silence until only ash remained. They were gathered up into a ceramic pot where Rickon then buried it before the weirwood tree, knowing that Osha had kept the old gods and would rather be buried there rather than in a tomb or cemetery.
With the dead now burned, it was now time to see to the living. Sansa had already approached Rhaena to tell her in secret what Lord Baelish had said to her, that he wanted to rule the Seven Kingdoms with her beside him. It made his position all the clearer, Rhaena taking hold of Sansa's hand and drawing her to her side with a word not to trust the man and to keep as much distance between herself and him as possible. Sansa nodded her head in agreement. Lord Baelish had already made her uneasy, but now that he had ridden to her rescue, he seemed to be under the impression that he could bend Sansa to his will and pull her to his side. She was no fool. Sansa would play the game as she had been taught. They still needed the Knights of the Vale, after all, so she would keep Lord Baelish under the impression that her mind was open to persuasion, if only to secure his continued presence with his men, but never would she allow herself to become his trophy. His shadow of Catelyn Stark who had been murdered before he could claim her. Still, it was uncomfortable to feel his eyes upon her so often, even in the great hall with so many other eyes around her. Sansa always knew when Lord Baelish was looking at her. She ignored it as best she could and instead, focused upon what was happening around her. She sat at the high table with Robb, Jon and Rickon, the House of Stark once more restored with the exception of Arya, who was yet to be accounted for.
Before them were the representatives of Northern Houses who had answered the summons of their liege lord and king, the wildlings also gathered in attendance with the Knights of the Vale also present. Rhaena also stood beside the high table. She had been offered a seat, but had declined with a smile, reminding Robb that she was not a Stark, but agreed to stand with them as a position of honour, facing those before her. At present the discussions seemed to centre around the disapproval of the wildlings, one of the knights who had ridden from the Vale verbally voicing his dissent against fighting alongside wildlings. "You can't expect Knights of the Vale to side with wildling invaders."
"We didn't invade. We were invited." Tormund countered rather bluntly and rather truthfully. Rhaena found herself smirking as the knight scoffed.
"Not by me." To this remark Jon stood in order to defend the wildlings he himself had brought south of the Wall for their own safety.
"The free folk, the northerners, and the Knights of the Vale fought bravely, fought together, and we won. My father uses to say we find our true friends on the battlefield." Robb stood also to agree, sternly looking to the men who continued to view the wildlings as pillaging thieves. Perhaps that was what they had been once, but as of right now, they were desperately needed allies, and Robb reminded everyone of the fact in calm, kingly tones.
"Every man and sword we have will be needed to face the threat which comes for us. The wildlings helped win back my ancestral home. For that, they have my eternal gratitude." To prove his point, Robb nodded his head at Tormund who returned the gesture in an exchange of mutual respect. Another man stood, Lord Cerwyn, if Rheana guessed correctly from what she knew of the Northern houses.
"The Boltons are defeated. The war is over. Winter has come. If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms."
"The war is not over," Jon reminded them, as if the lords were willingly being ignorant of the fact that White Walkers were marching upon them even at this very moment. Wanting to instead run back to their holdfasts and bar their doors to burrow their heads into the snow and pretend that all was right in the world. "And I promise you, friend, the true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm." A collection of murmurs followed, every man conversing with their opinions over what should be done and whether or not to accept the wildlings. Rhaena was thinking to perhaps offer her own voice to those that had spoken, perhaps to use a little magic to settle the lords, but when a young girl who was by far the smallest person in the room stood, Rhaena turned her eyes to watch her with curious amusement as she commanded the room to silence simply by rising to her feet. Perhaps everyone else was so surprised that the young lady would have something to say, they had forgotten what they themselves were saying. She turned first to the barrel of a man who was Lord Manderly, who had lent Sansa a raven and in turn, brought Lord Baelish and his army to Robb and Jon's aid.
"Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly," young Lady Mormont began bluntly and without mercy, causing more than one jaw to go slightly slack as she stared the aged lord down. "But you refused the call." Now she turned to the next lord who caught her attention, fixing that same fearless gaze upon them until they shifted uncomfortably against it. "You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call. And you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton. Still you refuse the call." Turning her head gradually, Lady Mormont then raised her voice so that all would hear her. "But House Mormont remembers. The North remembers. We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark." Her eyes turned to Robb, and even glanced towards Jon. "Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king from this day until his last day." It was simple, yet that simplicity carried a certainty that remained unmoving and constant. Rhaena smiled. Lady Mormont could put all these men to shame. For her youth, she had more honour and loyalty than most of them combined. It was strange to see her and think of her uncle, Ser Jorah, whom she had met in Meereen.
"Lady Mormont speaks harshly and truly." Lord Manderly finally responded as he presented himself before the Starks sat at the high table. "My son died for you, Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I lost one son to butchery and the other remains captive to the Lannisters. We fought your war for years and it was all for naught. You were beaten and your army vanquished. I didn't commit my men to your cause because I didn't want more Manderlys dying for nothing," he explained though it was not given as an excuse, merely a truth. "But I was wrong. Robb Stark and Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding. His is the Young Wolf. The King in the North." Drawing his blade, Manderly took the knee before Robb who had already stood from his seat, looking upon Lord Manderly as he bowed his head. Next spoke Lord Glover, whom Lady Mormont had also entertainingly chastised.
"I did not fight beside you on the field and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness." To this Robb answered that there was no need for forgiveness, not between old friends, to which Lord Glover gave a pained look of shame before turning in order to address the other lords. "There will be more fights to come. House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousands years." He declared firmly, coming forwards in order to stand beside where Lord Manderly still knelt. "And I will stand behind Robb Stark…the King in the North!" Drawing his blade, Lord Glover also took the knee to swear his fealty. "The King in the North!" Blinking in surprise, Rhaena watched as every lord drew their blades and lifted them upwards, chorusing together as they once more affirmed Robb as the King in the North. With merely a few words from a small girl from a small island, the North was once more united. It was what was needed, and now it seemed all the more likely that they might be able to withstand the coming of the White Walkers. Smiling to herself, Rhaena walked away from the hall. After dark she left her chambers and went to Robb's, waiting after knocking upon his door where he opened it to find Rhaena. Before he could ask her what she was doing, Rhaena kissed him and pushed him inside, kicking the door shut behind her. They lay together in passion and ecstasy, triumphing over their victory in all they had sought. Winterfell, the North, it was Robb's once more, but what meant more to him was the fact that Rhaena had come to share in his joy, smiling and kissing him tenderly until he felt as if his mind had utterly separated from his body, melted away under the sweetness of her touches.
Let the Long Night come. Robb challenged as Rhaena moaned beneath him. Let anyone try and take this away from me ever again.