Ages:
Brandon: 13 years
Ned: 12 years
Lyanna: 7 years
Anya: 6 years
Benjen: 2 years
*Note*: Anya is only 11 months younger than Lyanna. They are NOT twins. There is a MONTH in which they are the same age. This is actually possible by the way. I don't know if these are cannon ages but it works for my story, so I'm sticking to it.
Chapter 2: The Death of a Lady
The winter storm soon passed and life in Winterfell moved on. The people celebrated the latest addition to the Stark family. The other Northern Lords praised Rickard Stark for his luck of having two daughters. House of Stark was prestigious and many already began to hope marriages could be agreed to between their heirs. None were subtle in their attempts, especially when speaking compliments. Rickard was not a man who enjoyed politics, but he was well versed in the game of it all.
The men of the North were made of thicker skins than those of the South. It was the cold and blood thirst to live that hardened the northern men. Their reputation as 'savages' by the south held some truth toward certain men. Before, Rickard never considered it a negative feature. But back then, he did not have daughters. He'd allowed himself a week with his family, but now the matters of his House and land demanded his attention.
Winter ended and Rickard found his nights plagued with thoughts of his children's future. Brandon was attending his lessons as heir but his mind often wandered. The boy simply seemed to have no patience to think a problem through. The wolf blood in him sang strongly and it worried Rickard. He held hope that it was only a phase but if not he stressed that it'll turn the boy reckless.
Rickard then contemplated his second son. In contrast, Eddard was embodying the words of his wife. Unlike Brandon, he approached each lesson with resilient focus and attentive effort. It was thanks to Eddard that Brandon even managed to stay focused on their lessons. If not for the subtle promptings, and light japing every few minutes, Rickard was sure Brandon would not learn anything. However grateful he was for Eddard's helping with his brother, Brandon needed independence from his brother.
Rickard had the beginning of plans for Eddard to foster with another house, perhaps a southern house. He was well aware that as Warden of the North, they were well protected. The Northern houses still looked to House Stark instead of the Targaryans who ruled as royalty. After all, 'The North Remembers'. He needed to strengthen their ties with the south or else risk being accused or held under suspicion by those dragon bastards for whatever crazy accusation. Whilst not weak, House Stark was definitely still vulnerable even if the dragon beasts no longer lived.
"You are thinking much too hard again, my love" Lyarra sighed
He startled out of his thoughts but kissed her fingers to apologize. She'd been occupied with their daughters, caring for both on her own. She was stubborn and refused the aid of her handmaidens, and it exhausted her further. The two babes were so close in birth that many could mistaken them as twins. He wanted to force her to accept the help of her handmaidens, but could never find the voice to speak it. Not when she radiated happiness each time she tended to their daughters despite her exhaustion.
"What plagues you so often you do not find rest in our bed?"
"Many things." He grunts
She says nothing but he can feel her piercing gaze on the side of his face. She must be more tired than he thought if her temper is so short. Rickard sighs and pulls her closer, curling round her form and lavishing her neck with soft kisses.
"I worry for many things. Though they do not matter much now"
"Perhaps not now but they will eventually" She finishes with an irritated sigh.
"I do not mean to bring such plagues to our bed."
"No, but you have and so we must deal with it if we are to have a pleasurable rest"
He kisses her then, warmed at how she will not let him stress alone, despite her fatigue. Allowing themselves a short few seconds of kissing, she regrettably pulls away first. Their room is quiet and the fire lights the room in a orange glow. To Rickard, his wife never looks more beautiful than she does in this moment. Where she is only his to admire and please in the privacy of their bedchambers.
"What worries you husband? Have the Bolton's begun another attempt of rebellion against us? Is it news from Kings landing and the madness of the king? Do speak up quickly before I contemplate the worst upon worst possibilities" She muttered impatiently.
Rickard could not help but chuckle at her pout.
"Nothing so outrageous. The boys are my concern. Brandon does well in his studies but it is not by his own merit. If not for Eddard's presence he strays and becomes too short in temper. He sorely lacks discipline and I am hesitant to be firmer in such manner"
She is quiet and he knows that she agrees. He is reluctant to hurry their son in maturity, wanting him to enjoy childhood just a bit longer. Still, Brandon is his heir and can not afford to be so wild with the responsibilities he'd need to uphold. It will be easier for him to learn at this age. Rickard stares off distantly, lost to his thoughts and absently speaking them to his wife.
"Eddard is opposite to his brother and he does his duty well. He will be good support to Brandon but Brandon must not become too reliant on him. They are just boys but it is best they learn to hold their own now then when it is too late."
"That cannot be all that keeps you up at night? There is more you worry on."
"The South consider us savages and hold us equivalent to wildlings. There are reports that the mad king grows worse each year the queen births no daughter. It is said that Tywin Lannister appears to be responsible for ruling the kingdom more so each day. If true, I would not trust the Lion to lay blame to the North for something orchestrated by his own hand."
"You are growing paranoid my love" Lyarra whispers
Rickard sits up, unable to lay flat for this discussion. His shoulders tense and he can tell his words are stressing his wife as well.
"But I must think as such. The Wall needs more men and my ravens are never truly considered. They ignore my words of warning and mock our people! Brandon is set to inherit and I will not see him struggle as I did when my father died so suddenly. To be wild with wolf-blood in your veins is fine as a boy, but a man must temper such frivolities and hunt carefully through the wilderness lest he become prey himself." He is unaware at how his voice snaps with frustration.
Lyarra hushes him, soothing his temper with soft massaging of his shoulders. She knows that truly it is simply fear that plagues her husband. Though never said, Lyarra knows how deeply afraid her husband is of the dragon House and their madness. House of Stark protects the North, which is filled with ice that spike and freeze. Yet, dragon fire melt ice with it's flames of destruction leaving behind only fire and blood.
"Winter is coming, my love."
He doesn't know why, but the words soothe his worries and ease his fears. They watch the fire that warms them in silence, lost to their own thoughts. It is Lyarra that breaks it first, moving so she may straddle his lap and fill the entirety of his sights. She is beautiful in such light, hair mussed and clothing ruffled. She holds his face with both hands and stares into his eyes intently.
"Your worries are valid, Bran must learn discipline and Ned and he must grow independent of each other. We must strengthen our ties with the south and I know you already have a possible solution on how."
"Fostering, I planned for Eddard to foster with a Southern house." He admits.
Lyarra frowns but nods in agreement. To her, they are still young babes but she knows that Rickard is simply thinking forward as he's prone to do. The idea comes soon after and she begins to see a plan form in her mind.
"Both boys should foster."
Rickard immediately begins to shake his head in disagreement but she silences him with a finger and a glare. He is left breathless but is silent and that is all Lyarra wanted.
"Allow Bran to foster with a Northern house. In doing so you will soothe any arguments the Northern lords would have for fostering Ned with a southern house. Ensure to pick a house that does not hold too strong ties with ours and seal their loyalty. After all fostering the Stark heir is a reward of both trust and an opportunity to spy. The smaller houses do tend to know what secrets and dirty plays the bigger Houses attempt to hide away from your gaze anyway."
Rickard mulls over her suggestion and is already seeing the benefits it provides. A sly smile paints Lyarra's lips and she continues to speak.
"Perhaps you should send a raven to the Vale and speak with the Lord Arryn. Mayhaps it's just a rumour but a sweet little birdie whispered that the Baratheon heir is to be fostered there soon."
He grins at his wife, looking like a laughing wolf. Not many knew about Lyarra's network of spies but he had never thought it extended so far. The Baratheon's were not the worst of the Southern Houses but just as much of a threat. A spy among their ranks allowed them plenty information on both the Targaryens and the Lannisters. Especially since Tywin Lannister, Steffon Baratheon and King Aerys grew up closely together.
"You are sly my beautiful mate. How did a man like I get blessed with the likes of you?"
"My mother of course. It was her who struck the deal with your father for my hand" She bluntly replied.
They lose themselves to a moment of love making. Taking pleasure from one another and simply basking in the love they shared. It's not till they tire and the fire is reduced to embers that they speak once more about their children's future.
"I've seen the attempts of marriage proposals from the Northern lords on your desk."
"Hm…"
"You can not possibly be thinking of accepting any so early. They were only just birthed!"
Rickard can hear the underlying annoyance and anger in her tone. There is a small urge in him to feel insulted. Affronted that she'd presume him to agree to such proposal's when his daughters have not even begun walking yet. Only, he knows that it is her own worry overcoming her. He kisses her to distract her and think of words that will reassure her.
"I know what your doing…" she mutters between breaths.
He stops and exhales heavily through his nose.
"Neither of our daughters will be betrothed till they are old enough."
"And when will that be?" She immediately prompts.
"When I believe they are ready and the man offering is worthy of their hand."
He knows that she is assured and slowly they both begin to drift into slumber. He is nearly fully under sleeps spell but he just manages to catch Lyarra's whisper. He tightens his hold on her and tries to forget her soft spoken words.
His dreams are haunted that night, by fire, darkness and ice. When he jolts awake, his heart is racing with fear. The fire has long died and the room cools without its warmth. Beside him Lyarra continues to sleep, undisturbed. He hears the soft whimpering and whine of one of the babes and chooses to attend to them himself. Hoping it'd be enough to calm him from the night terror in his mind.
Lyanna still sleeps, her face relaxed pleasantly much like her mother. She grows fast and Rickard knows that soon her first name-day approaches. He finds breathing easier and his heart calms at the sight of his eldest daughter sleeping. The whining sounds again and he looks to the space beside Lyanna. His youngest daughter is awake and staring at him with teary eyes.
Anya does not cry often, unlike her sister. Rickard always likens her to Eddard in those moments. Carefully, he reaches for her and checks her over, confirming that she is in no need of changing or feeding. He wanders to the chair in the corner and settles into it. Allowing a finger for Anya to grip and play with. Rickard knows that she is but a babe, that she does not understand what he says. Still, he finds himself softly whispering to her his fears and thoughts. As expected she does nothing, simply plays with his finger.
"I am craven, Anya. The gods have gifted you to a craven man who wants to protect you but cannot promise safety."
Anya gives nothing but a whimpered cry that he hastily soothes. He does not wish to wake Lyarra or Lyanna. Anya stares up at him and he wonders what she may be thinking of him. Rickard wants plenty for his children, he wants his people to be safe but he cannot guarantee it. The words Lyarra whispered came to mind and he clutches the child in his arms tighter.
"Your mother believes she grows ill."
The babe fusses and he stares down at her solemnly already grieving. His wife always speaks true, and never is she wrong.
"I need her to be wrong. Without her, I am but half a man and cannot protect you and your siblings."
Anya's grip tightens and he finds comfort in the action.
"May the gods be good and prove her wrong. If not then may you children forgive my mistakes."
He holds her long till the sun rises and she sleeps. When he finally moves, he does so when Lyanna proves to be waking soon. Returning Anya beside her sister, he silently settles back into bed and closes his eyes. It does not take long till he hears Lyanna's screaming that awakens his wife. He feels grave, raw from a night of confession.
It haunts him in his deepest thoughts but he shelves it to savor the happiness in his life. He does not mean to make it habit, but it becomes so. Nights in which his dreams are corrupted by horrors and fear, he would seek out Anya. Whether she be sleeping or awake mattered not, for she never cried at him disturbing her rest. Holding her soothed him and he found himself always whispering to her his secret fears. He wondered sometimes, if confessing to the babe was his form of preparation for the potential loss of his wife. Regardless, it became routine.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Years pass and the Stark children grow. Many changes occur in Winterfell, one being the birth of yet another babe. Benjen Stark had been the smallest of all the Stark children and the hardest on Lyarra. Again, she had not been expected to live through the birth and the healers encouraged her to let the child die to ensure her life. It'd been a large argument between herself and Rickard but he loved his wife too much to deny her.
Rickard loved his newest son, just as much as his previous children. Yet he could not deny that he struggled to celebrate his arrival as sincerely. Not when he could see the weakening of his wife and the worsening of her health. The healers claimed that the birthing had ruined her womb and made her prone to sickness easier. They predicted she would leave them within a few months. Neither Rickard or Lyarra acknowledged the possibilty, and they kept the news from the children.
As such, none of the Stark children were prepared for the death of their mother. The timing could not have been worse. The boys were to be sent away for fostering soon and Benjen was still much too young to have no mother. She'd fought to live past predicted, raising Benjen for 2 years before her body could fight no longer.
"I'M NOT LEAVING! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE!" Brandon roared as he fought his father's men.
Rickard had not left his study since Lyarra collapsed. Eddard was much like his father, choosing to isolate himself in his room. The girls were being tended to by the handmaids along with Benjen and shielded from Brandon's rage. It took five men to subdue the angry Stark child, who collapsed into broken sobs in defeat. It was a dark day in Winterfell, one nobody would easily forget. Brandon had not wanted to leave Winterfell, convinced that his mother will get better and live. He clung to that belief until her body was sealed away.
Brandon was only a boy of 3 and 10 years. Young enough that her death broke something within him that would never heal. Old enough to remember and begin to pave his own way in life. Eddard was much the same. At only 2 and 10 years, his reputation as the quiet wolf began. A week after Lyarra died, Eddard had yet to utter a single word. So quiet, guards were assigned to ensure he did not simply disappear without notice.
Benjen was much too young to really understand the loss, but the sadness of those around him let him know something was wrong. Only when Benjen is grown will he have vague memories of Lyarra's goodbyes. He will choose not to remember, only because a crying sickly woman is all that came to mind.
The Stark daughters were not so different form their brothers. Lyanna rivaled Brandon in his outbursts. Instead of screaming in rage, she screamed with desperate cries. None of the servers could forget the heartbreaking cries of 'Mama' that rang through the castle. 'Only seven years, much too young' 'Poor girl, oh how horrible' they whispered. Many a time did they find her sleeping in exhaustion outside the Lord and Lady's bedchambers. The younger children were cautioned to stay away in case the sickness spread.
Anya Stark though young, had chosen not to fight to see her mother like her sister. Instead, the youngest Stark daughter woke early and bundled herself in furs. She'd then grab the nearest guard and venture into the godswood. There she will pray, every day until the guard will decide it too cold to be outside any longer. From the godswood, she will leave a lemon cake outside her father's study and seek Benjen or a book to study. None thought it a bad habit, until they realized the young girl neglected her own meals and became obsessive in her studying.
The worst to suffer Lady Lyarra's situation was no doubt, Lord Rickard. No one saw him leave his study or take meals. The only evidence of him leaving was when the servants would find an empty platter outside the door, missing the lemon cake it held. Healers were sure he'd been to see Lady Lyarra, from the pained smiles she'd sleep with on her lips. Regardless, the Starks were all grieving and there were no more smiles in Winterfell.
Lyarra Stark died in peace, holding strong long enough to ensure she'd said goodbye to each child and finally her love. None of the Stark children shared with each other their mother's final words. The people of Winterfell mourned their Lady, for with her died the voice of Eddard, Lyanna's patience, Brandon's belief of love and Benjen's chance of a mother. The worst her death had stolen was their Lord's heart and Anya's sweet smiles and shy joyful laughter. Much like cold seeping through the cracks of walls, the chill of winter pumped in her veins and caged her heart. Rickard became a ghost of the man he used to be, living as if he only had half a soul.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Barely 2 months pass since his wife's death, yet already Rickard struggled to continue onwards. Nothing, no preparation or praying had saved his love from death. Once again, her words proved true. His worse fears were slowly coming to be real, he was sure it was only a matter of time.
Each day without her, Brandon grew wilder. Rickard received reports of his eldest son frequently visiting the whore houses. Eddard barely speaks, worse then before and his tone is so soft the wind could carry it away. Lyanna runs from her lady lessons in favour of horse riding and stick fighting with the squire boys. Benjen cries so much more now without Lyarra and rarely stops.
And Anya…
"Father?"
The soft knock on his study door, rouses him from his thoughts and he grants his visitor entry. The small figure that opens the door, hurts him to look at for too long. He stopped his nightly confessions when she'd been old enough to understand words. Still, for whatever reason, Anya eased his night terror's and without Lyarra, he selfishly clung to her for bravery.
Of all his children, Rickard saw the change in Anya the most. She is a child but no longer does he remember the sound of her laugh or the sight of her smiles. Before, she'd been so shy and often seen joyfully trailing behind whichever sibling. Now, it was rare to find her away from books or lessons. If not there, then she was seen tending to Benjen or seeking Lyanna to drag her back to their shared lessons.
Yet without fail, she would knock on his study door and bring him a slice of lemon cake.
"What is it Anya?" He grumbles, not looking up from the parchment on his table.
Her small hands place the platter on his table with a soft clunk. Rickard only grunts to acknowledge and give his thanks. He steadily keeps his eyes on the words before him and does his best not to look up. He hears Anya sigh and knows that she is trying to keep her expression clear. Another change he despairs over. Since Lyarra's death, Anya has been practicing how to keep her expressions blank. Lyarra would have laughed but Rickard refuses to even glance at the sight.
"The guards are distressed. Lyanna has been challenging the squire boys again. None wish to accept in fear of injuring her and she has resulted to calling them craven"
"Where are your brothers!? Why has Brandon not stopped her!?" He irately snaps
He hears her sigh, so much like Lyarra it hurts, and he knows she too is irritated.
"Brandon is missing and Ned went to find him. Benjen was still feeding when I left"
Rickard is struggling and his children prove it so. His gaze shifts from the words on parchment to the platter with cake. He never eats it, or even touches it when she is present. Sometimes, he would return the slice back to the kitchens. Rickard has no idea why Anya brings him a slice everyday since he had locked himself in his study.
When he is sure, she is turned away from him, he looks at her. She is still so tiny, shorter than Lyanna by a few hairs. Yet, she walks like she is grown. She turns side face and he can see her practiced mask. Rickard sharply inhales at the pain in his chest, for Anya is much like him. It dawns on him that she is suffering worse than his other children but that no one sees. He had been blinded by the looks she shared with Lyarra that he took no notice of her habits.
He must have made a sound because her head turns and he is staring at grey eyes, identical to his own. Rickard sees her practiced mask falter and the child it hides peeks through. When did he last look at her directly- it's been too long, he can't recall. Deliberately, Rickard reaches for the lemon cake and takes a bite. He hears her gasp and watches as her mask shatters. As he chews, he never shifts his gaze and visibly he sees her pain.
"Tell the guards to escort Lyanna to her rooms until evening meal. We will take our meal together tonight."
It hurts, but he knows he is doing something right. He must be, because the soft smile Anya gives and the teary but happy eyes she has, tells him so. Anya does not say anything, only swallows and gives a short nod and hurries out the door. Rickard's study is quiet enough that he can still hear her hovering outside. The ache in his chest tightens when he hears a loud sniffle and hiccup. It's hard to swallow the rest of the lemon cake, but he manages.
~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~
Anya wipes at her face, trying her best to dry the worst of her tears. The sleeves of her dress is wet but it matters little. She never thought her father would eat the cake. It'd been an idea one of the handmaidens had voiced when she refused her meals. 'My lady must at most take a bite. Should the little lady take one bite, I shall know she is well.' Anya knew it was a trick, but the hurt was already too much and with Mama sick, she didn't want to cause more problems.
When she heard Father had not left his study, she thought it might trick him as well. She never knew if he truly ate the cakes, but the empty platter was enough for her. But then Mama died and everyone was different. Anya rarely saw Brandon and Ned rarely spoke to her, she avoided Lyanna so they would not argue much. The only sibling she could still seek and feel welcomed by is Benjen. The longer time passed the worse it became and Anya soon realized that Father refused to look at her.
She cried when she noticed, hidden secretly in the library with a book covering her face. He must hate her like her other siblings. Mama was poor in health she had heard, and after Benjen and herself were born, the sickness became too much. They must blame her because Benjen is only a babe. Anya knew that Lyanna would have blamed Benjen if she hadn't told her she was wrong. It was their first fight and the sisters have often fought since then.
She didn't know how, but she found herself running through the corridors. Pushing past many of the servers and tripping over her feet and dress. She heard many yelling her name or asking for her to slow herself, she didn't listen to any. It was luck, she decided, that had her three older siblings gathered in one place. The courtyard was busy with noise and workers, and they all watched as Anya arrived.
"Anya! What's the matter!?" Ned shouted
It was the loudest he'd ever been since Mama's death. Anya was shaking with exhaustion and struggling to catch her breath, unable to answer him. Immediately her siblings crowded her, fighting each other to find out what's wrong.
"You're crying!"
"Who did it!? Tell me Anya and I'll have their heads"
"I'll stab the bastard who hurt my sister! Tell it true, was it Dorrick!?"
She frantically shook her head, catching her breath as quick she could. She could not let Brandon seek out Dorrick due to his assumption, she worried little about Lyanna's threat. Surprisingly, it was Ned who quieted the other two.
"SHUT IT both of you. You are being of no help."
When Ned held her shoulders and searched her face for answers, Anya hiccuped a little again. Unable to stop the tears she shed.
"I-it's Father. H-he said….. He said we'd be dining together for evening meal"
Her news silenced her older siblings and she knew why. They had not had an evening meal together since Mama died. Brandon swallowed and Ned seemed to blanch whilst Lyanna grew teary as well. All of the Stark children had thought that they'd never take a evening meal as a family ever again. When Anya informed Lyanna that she was also to stay in her rooms, her sister did not even fight it. Brandon stormed off elsewhere, wanting to be left alone.
Then it was only Ned and Anya alone, the more reserved siblings, and they walked side by side. They did not speak and neither felt the need to. Anya had to apologize to the concerned handmaidens who had seen her running, and Ned stayed by her side. It was not till they'd found Benjen and dismissed the handmaiden minding him, that Ned spoke.
"He won't be the same, Anya. He is not the same Father before Mama-… before Mama died"
His voice cracked at the end of his sentence. Anya played with Benjen's chubby hands and bounced him lightly.
"I know….. But he ate the cake, Ned."
Only Ned knew her reasons for the lemon cakes, and from the way his eyes widened, he too was surprised. Benjen babbled and tugged at her hair and she helped him pronounce his words properly. Anya did not know of how her eyes softened and her lips curled up in the barest smiles. She did not notice how Ned breathlessly smiled as well at the sight.
For Ned, he'd grown worried for Anya more than any of his siblings. She was most like him and he feared that Mama's death had stolen the warmth in Anya's heart. Though he'd lost his voice, his eyes grew sharper and he noticed everything about his siblings. He knew that Anya hurt worse than all of them other than Father. He failed to bring back her smiles or any warmth in her cold eyes and so he avoided her out of shame.
"He won't be Papa, but he's still here and that's all we need"
Ned hears Benjen call Anya's name and he knows, their littlest brother won't remember. Benjen will not remember Lyarra Stark or know her as his mother. He can see it already, when Benjen thinks of Mother, he will only see Anya. Ned's throat grows dry and now it is his turn to cry.
"I miss her, Anya. She wasn't supposed to leave."
Anya hugs him, and Ned finds himself comforted by his youngest siblings. The three huddle tightly like so until evening meal nears. Ned takes one last look at his younger siblings, and resolves to become stronger for them. When he meets Brandon on his way to his bedchambers, the brothers share a look of understanding. They were no longer boys, but men in the making. It was time to put away childish games and grow up.
For the first time since Lyarra Stark's death, the Stark family take evening meal together. No one speaks and no one dares to look up from their plate, save for Benjen. It's stilted and too silent and not much is eaten. Rickard looks upon his children, the only gifts he has left from his love. One by one, he sees in them aspects of his wife and knows she had left him plenty of love to live without her.
The silence is broken when Benjen spits out his food and slaps his chubby hand in his meal. It splatters Lyanna's dress and across Anya's hand. There is a pause before his giggling rings loudly and he splashes his food once again. Brandon roars out a laugh and soon Lyanna and Ned join him. Anya does not laugh but there is a small smile on her lips as she cleans Benjen's pudgy hands. Rickard watches it all and unbeknownst to each other, the remaining Starks are recalling Lyarra's last words at the same time in the privacy of their minds.
'The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'
Once again, Rickard finds his wife's words speak nothing but truth.
