At Winterfell…
Accompanied by 20 men under Ser Rodrik Cassel, Lord Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy rode through the courtyard on their horses. Hooves galloping through the mud, they recently came back from searching through most of the North—the most recent stop was from The New Gift, the furthest part of the North they've ever ventured before they were forced to withdraw from the region due to a massive wildling presence there. Dismounting from their steeds, Robb was emotionally exhausted at the continuous search for Bran and Rickon.
"You said the boys mentioned something about going beyond the Wall itself despite the dangers?" Ser Rodrik implored. "With a large wildling army amassing on the other side, it'll be too difficult to send a scouting party."
Theon, the new Lord of the Iron Islands sentenced to live in exile on the mainland, briefly lowered his head. "I know things may seem to be bleak, but you Starks are hard to kill."
"We've dispatched scouting parties to Greywater Watch up to Karhold and still we've seen no sign of either Bran or Rickon," said Lord Harald Karstark. "It's possible they could have chosen to go into hiding elsewhere now that winter's come. There's no way they'd take such a suicidal risk."
"That's not what that Reed lad and his sister told me, Lord Karstark."
"Either way, it's too dangerous to go beyond the Wall. Not so long as Mance Rayder and his wildling barbarians still retain a strong presence there."
Robb shook his head, feeling emotionally drained and exhausted. It was his duty as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North to care for his people, but also more importantly to his family. "I know in my gut that Bran and Rickon are still alive. They're still out there somewhere," he remained adamant. "And we need to bring them home."
As the leading scouting party returned, Robb saw Maester Luwin slowly walking up to him with a rolled up piece of paper in his blue robes.
"Pardon me, my lord. But a raven just flew in from Last Hearth," the old maester informed him.
'House Umber…' thought Theon.
Robb looked serious. "What did Lord Umber say?"
Luwin briefly flashed a small smile before frowning again. "The Greatjon says he's found young Lord Rickon and Osha. They arrived at his castle seeking shelter from the cold and are said to be waiting for you there."
Overhearing the conversation, Lady Catelyn and Arya felt their knees beginning to give way underneath them. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small ray of hope had shined above them. Robb felt a sense of relief wash over him as well.
"Rickon's all right…?" Arya asked, stepping out of the hall.
Luwin nodded. "He is, my lady."
Catelyn breathed a sigh relief, but still yearned for more answers.
"And what's the bad news?" asked Theon.
Luwin shook his head. "I'm afraid that the bad news is… is that young Lord Bran, his direwolf Summer, Hodor, and the Reed children Jojeen and Meera have already gone past the Wall."
The members of the Stark household were left in aghast at the startling revelation that the fourth child and second son of Lord Eddard Stark. Catelyn was beside herself with grief; the thought of her child in danger again in a frozen uninhabitable wasteland was more than Catelyn would bear as she nearly collapsed.
"Oh, Bran…!" Catelyn's voice broke.
"Mother!" Arya and Robb moved to comfort their mother.
Theon felt a bit guilty at letting both Bran and Rickon go, but he knew he had done it for their safety. He had just hoped that they would return to Winterfell once the danger of the Second Greyjoy Rebellion had subsided, but alas it wasn't meant to be after all.
"In three days' time, you will depart with Lady Stark for White Harbor and assist Robb Stark in finding Bran and Rickon and see them returned safely to Winterfell. He'll be expecting you. Do not squander this nor mistake my generosity for weakness. Understood?" Daveth's voice rung through his head.
One chance; just only one chance at redemption was given to him. And Theon had no intention of wasting it. "I'll go to Last Hearth," he announced. "I'll go get Rickon and bring him back. I promise."
Robb, Arya and Catelyn looked at Theon boldly announcing his intentions. Robb nodded his head in understanding, but it was long before Harald Karstark—still mounted on his horse—nudged him slightly.
"You?" he scoffed. "Last promise you made was one that caused your father to attack the North. And we remember what happened all too well. Never again. I will go instead."
Theon flinched. "I'm not a Stark, Lord Karstark, I know that. But Ned Stark raised me to be an honorable man. I want to help."
"And it's not you're duty because the North is not your home, Greyjoy."
Robb felt his lips curl. "That's enough, Lord Karstark!"
Harald defended himself. "With all due respect, Lord Stark, the blood of the First Men flows through my veins just as much as it does yours. Ironborn blood is of salt and iron. We are kin, you and I. Stark and Karstark. The Greyjoys are not one of us. Have you forgotten that my father and both my brothers died for you?"
"You leave Theon alone!" Arya yelled.
"No one here has forgotten," the Young Wolf countered, "but you will not use that sort of tone here, especially not with me. Both of you will go and get Rickon and bring him back here in Winterfell. Ser Rodrik will be accompanying you."
There was still simmering tension between the Northmen and Theon Greyjoy, one that has a rather difficult time dissipating given of his relations with Balon Greyjoy and the ironborn who raided their shores. Lord Harald sneered, but said nothing as he clicked his teeth and nudged his horse and rode out with 10 of his household guards en route to Last Hearth. Following Ser Rodrik, Theon mounted his horse again and joined them in the search. As soon as they were out of sight, Robb massaged his temples as Arya helped their mother Catelyn to her chambers to lie down.
"It never ends… evidently," he groaned.
Maester Luwin appeared sympathetic. "Theon's been having a hard time since the end of the war. He's lucky to have someone like you at his side, my lord."
"My father fostered Theon himself. I now understand that he intended to make him a different man than Lord Balon, someone who would bring honor and duty to his house even if the Iron Islands are gone. Bound in blood if not by blood, we are brothers."
"An admirable trait, my lord, even if the other Northmen don't see it that way."
The Young Wolf was tired. But before he could begin his next move, a distant glass shattered followed by a sound that pierced the northern skies.
*SHATTER!*
"GEAAAAAAHHHH!" a woman screamed shrill and high.
While Maester Luwin was startled by the sudden noise of shattered glass, Robb jerked his head up. He recognized that sound coming from his foreign wife—Lady Talisa Stark, formerly of the noble Maegyr family of Volantis, one of the Free Cities in western Essos. Talisa had been pregnant with Robb's first child and was resting in the main bedchamber until she was ready to give birth. It had now occurred to the Young Wolf that the time had finally arrived, as one of Talisa's handmaidens rushed into the courtyard—her shoes and the lower part of her dress stained with dry mud.
She panted hard. "My lord! Maester! It's Lady Stark, she…!"
"What's wrong with her?!" Robb panicked.
"It's time! The baby's coming!"
The handmaiden rushed to the main bedchamber as Robb Stark dashed to see Talisa as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. Maester Luwin followed not too far behind, struggling to keep pace. As a maester, Luwin would once again be responsible for assisting in childbirth. The old man had delivered every single Stark child during Lord Eddard's rule, and he would deliver House Stark's newest member.
At the Red Keep…
Queen Sansa Stark paced the floor in the bedroom, one hand on her belly and the other placed over her heart. She hadn't seen Daveth or heard from him in quite some time since Lord Tywin Lannister's funeral. Nearing the final stages of her pregnancy, Sansa tried really hard not to worry—believing Daveth needed some time to calm down, but with the sun going down in the distance she worried deeply. With the baby expected to come soon, her emotions.
"Gods have mercy, where is he?" Sansa wondered. "I hope he's okay…"
"Calm down, Your Grace," Shae reassured her. "You can't stress yourself out like this. The King will be just fine; he'll come back soon I'm sure of it."
"But what if something's wrong? What if he…?"
Tyrion sipped his goblet of wine. "I wouldn't worry about Daveth, now. My nephew might have one of his moments now and then, but once he's calmed down everything will be right as rain. He'll be back soon. Don't worry."
Prince Tommen Baratheon sat in a nearby chair, twiddling his fingers as he watched on as his sister-in-law paced the floor. He hadn't seen his eldest brother once the funeral services had ended either; often at times the Young Cub wondered what exactly was going on in his brother's head. But Tommen was confident that all was well… at least, he hoped it was.
Sansa exhaled shakenly, her heartburn slowly subsiding. "Oooh…" she groaned.
Brienne stepped forward a bit. "Are you all right, Your Grace?" she asked, somewhat concerned.
"Auuu!" she groaned again, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head slightly. "No. No, Brienne, I'm really not. My husband's not here, I have no clue where Daveth is at right now, I'm about to have a baby…"
"Why don't I go look for him for you?" Tyrion stood. "I think I have an idea as to where he might be."
Sansa's face began to sweat. 'Gods preserve me…' Letting out slow, steady breaths, she nodded. "Thank you, Lord Tyrion. Please do."
Tyrion took his time to depart from the bedroom, the Imp taking the opportune moment to search for his missing nephew. Tommen, meanwhile, sat up and poured a cup of fermented herbal tea and offered it to Sansa. He wanted to help in any possible way.
"Here, sister. Have some tea," he said politely.
Sansa panted slightly and accepted the cup. "Thank you, Tommen," she sighed, taking small sips. The tea tasted of sweet, herbal mint, somewhat relaxing her.
Shae massaged Sansa's shoulders through her silk dress, listening to her occasional sounds of moaning and groaning. Her breathing was growing increasingly sharper; remembering from her youth at a Lorathi whorehouse, Shae instinctively suspected that it was only a matter of time before the royal delivery would arrive. Even then her massages could only do so much for Sansa's back pains.
"Aargh!"
Upon hearing Sansa's strained yelp, Shae, Ariyana and Brienne reached for the Wolf Queen before she could crouch against the wall and clutching her belly; Ariyana and Brienne equally wrapped their arms around her arms and shoulders, helping her back to her feet. Sansa's eyes were squeezed shut and she was holding her breath.
"Sister?" Tommen asked nervously. "Are you… okay? Wh-what's wrong?"
"I… I think I'm all right," she panted. "By the Gods, I think the baby just kicked."
"Your Grace—" Ariyana spoke.
No response came.
"Your Grace!" Ariyana repeated more firmly, lowering her eyes and pointed to the floor.
Sansa slowly opened her eyes, following Ariyana's gaze and looked down at her feet. Shae, Brienne and Tommen all stared for a moment in disbelief and realized what Ariyana was looking at. Sansa felt a wet, semi-gooey substance sliding down the side of her thighs and staining her dress as it formed a small puddle around her feet. Sansa looked terrified; her lip began to quiver, her body shook, and her face expressed deep concern…
"I-I-I… S-someone… g-get the—" Sansa panicked.
Without warning, before anyone could respond, Sansa leaned forward sharply—both of her hands quickly clutching her swollen belly before letting out a loud, sharp scream.
"AAAAAAHHHH!"
Loud enough to rouse almost everyone in the Red Keep, Shae hurriedly brought Queen Sansa Stark to the bed and scrambled trying to get everything assembled into place.
"It's a contraction! She's going into labor!" she shouted.
Ariyana began barking orders. "Do what you can for her!" she turned to Brienne and Tommen. "Brienne, tell the midwives to fetch us towels and some hot water! Prince Tommen, go find your brother! I'll get Pycelle!"
Everyone was scrambling around like chickens with their heads cut off; as Sansa let out another scream, Brienne pulled aside some handmaidens and midwives to assist in the delivery as Ariyana went to find Grand Maester Pycelle. Tommen, meanwhile, ran out the room looking for Daveth. The Young Cub was running as fast as his legs could carry him, his breathing grew heavy as he searched nearly every room.
"Brother, where are you?" panted Tommen.
Outside in the courtyard…
Daveth laid both his hands across the balcony; not to take in the sights of the capital city below while the sunset in the distance, but rather to find a quiet spot to empty his thoughts and reflect on the past. The clouds above were gradually becoming thinner; the skies emitted the rays of a sun departing in the distance with a golden and crimson radiance, glorious hues to behold. Gold changed into crimson, crimson deepened to purple as if the glory of the heavens had passed away temporarily before rising once more come morning. The Young Stag's eyes examined the reflection of the sunset, watching the waters of Blackwater Bay crash against the rocky shores.
He felt uncleaned; the faces of those he'd known long since passed had come and gone. His childhood friends at Lannisport, the Hand of the King Lord Jon Arryn, his father King Robert, his father-in-law Lord Eddard Stark…
"Hey, Daveth! Look! I'm Aemon the Dragonknight!"
"I'm Ser Arthur Dayne!"
"Come now, it's alright. Even now I can see the pain and the anger towards the burden you've been forced to carry every day. I know you don't wish to give such emotions voice, but I assure you, only the Gods know your heart."
"A wise King knows what he knows and what he doesn't. You're young, and already you've shown such promises. Not bad for a child at your age. Now, a wise young King listens to his councilors and heeds their advice until he comes of age. And the wisest Kings continue to listen to them not long afterwards."
"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."
"Take good care of my daughter Sansa for me. She has a kind, gentle heart and she'll need you now more than ever."
And those who currently stand with him.
"Big brother, come play with me!"
"With a hooked blade, my master sliced me root and stem. Carved me up as an offering. He burned my parts on a brazier; the flames turned blue and I heard a voice answer his call. I still dream of that night. I don't know what it was but the sorcerer called and a voice answered. And ever since that day, I have hated magic and all who practice it."
"In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women."
"Great or small, we must do our duty."
"I love you, Daveth."
Daveth shook his head, his eyes were heavy. Just a week ago he had abruptly left his grandfather Lord Tywin Lannister's funeral and took his time to personally kill Qyburn and Bernadette for their role in his grandfather's assassination without giving them a chance to defend themselves, yet chose not to oversee the hanging of their headless corpses at the city gates nor did he take a moment to stare at the Traitors' Walk. Emotionally worn out, the Young Stag shook his head again.
"Daveth of the House Baratheon, First of Your Name, what in Seven hells have you done…?" he quietly told himself.
"Somehow I knew I'd find you here," someone called out to him.
Daveth turned around and saw Barristan Selmy walking down the stone steps; the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard looked just as tired—considering the old man had been searching nearly every corner in King's Landing for him.
"Did you worry?" he asked.
Barristan placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's not just me who's been worrying about you, my boy. Queen Sansa had no idea where you went. We were concerned."
Daveth lowered his eyes away, somewhat in shame. "It wasn't meant to be intentional. I… just needed to be alone for a while."
"You still should have told us where you were going."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"There's something else, isn't there? Are you feeling better about what happened to her?"
'He means mother,' he realized. Daveth sighed. "Yes… a little better. Time heals all wounds, so the minstrels say. Scars remain, but they're just colors in the tapestry that we call life. I wish things had happened differently between me and mother, Ser Barristan."
"Cersei was special to you once, wasn't she?"
"Mhmm. Feels like a lifetime ago. She was… nurturing; warm, kind. At least in private anyway. There was so much mother knew and was willing to share with me. All I ever wanted back then was to make her proud."
"As would any child wanting their parents' approval. I'm sure that despite what happened, I believe that deep down she truly did love you in her own way."
"That's what hurts the most, Barristan. She loved me, yes; only when it became apparent she merely intended to use me for her own ends. And when she couldn't, she didn't trust me anymore. I knew she was ruthless, but I never imagined she'd go that far. It hurts to realize that I never really knew my own mother at all. Maybe I did but chose not to admit it."
"That's not healthy for you to think about, Your Grace," Barristan added. "Sometimes people just surprise you when you least expect it. It's something Rhaegar told me once."
Daveth looked at his mentor. "You never spoke about him much, Barristan."
"Your father always held a grudge. A deeply violent one. It only took getting mortally wounded by that boar did he really learn to let go. And it wasn't too late for you after what the Greyjoys did to you."
"I know. I understand that now. Took a while, perhaps, but I understand."
A brief moment of silence fell between them as the sun finally went down and the stars began to appear slowly.
"What was he like?" Daveth asked.
Barristan looked at him. "Who?"
"Rhaegar Targaryen."
The old Kingsguard looked puzzled, visibly caught off-guard by the sudden request from the Young Stag himself. There had been long memories buried beneath the surface.
"He was… everything a kingdom could hope for in a ruler. Prince Rhaegar was strong, but gentle, wise and cautious… and a good friend. No matter the wounds King Aerys dug into the realm, we had faith that his son would sew it back together again when he ascended the throne."
Daveth hummed. "Sounds like quite a man. Quite the opposite to what father kept telling me about him."
Barristan shook his head. "I don't believe Rhaegar would've run off with Lyanna Stark the way he did. He wouldn't do something unless he had his reasons."
"Whatever the reason, it still didn't stop the chaos that soon came after."
"That it didn't, Your Grace. Sometimes I wondered if I had been quicker with my lance or chosen a faster horse during Lord Whent's tourney at Harrenhal, then perhaps things would've ended differently."
"If it did, then we never would have met," Daveth pointed out. "If things had indeed gone differently, I wouldn't have learnt everything I needed to know from Barristan the Bold."
Barristan chuckled. "Ha! My one lapse, I suppose."
Daveth smiled and felt the mood lighten. His thoughts quickly dissipated as the two watched the skies above slowly fade from crimson-orange to shades of blue and purple. Such silence was interrupted when sounds of quick movement reached their ears. Turning around, Daveth and Barristan saw Tommen running down the steps, nearly falling down the marble stone pavement before finally approaching them. He looked out of breath, his golden coat was nearly unbuttoned and his blonde hair stuck to his face.
"*huff!* *huff!* Brother! I… *huff!* *huff!*" Tommen panted heavily.
Daveth rolled his eyes and looked at his youngest brother. "Tommen, how many times must I tell you not to run down the steps like that?" he scolded.
Tommen shook his head. "I know, *huff!* brother, but…! *huff!*"
"Slow down! Take a deep breath and slowly tell me what in Seven hells is going on?"
Obediently, Tommen inhaled through his nose and exhaled before continuing. "It's Sansa! She's…!"
"She's what?!" Daveth asked, now raising his voice.
"She's having the baby! Now!"
The Young Stag blinked twice. "Wha… Now?!"
"Yes now! Come on! She's in the bedroom! Hurry!"
As Tommen began to run back to the Red Keep, Daveth and Barristan stopped what they were doing and immediately chased after. The Queen was in her final stages of her pregnancy and from what Prince Tommen told them, Sansa had just started giving birth. Daveth's mind raced, never minding the servants he nearly knocked over while sprinting back into the Red Keep. All he could think of was Sansa.
'Hang on, Sansa! I'm coming!'
Chapter End
Author's Note: This will be broken into two parts as you've seen me do in previous chapters before, but today's the big day! It's finally happened! So buckle your seatbelts because it's gonna be one bumpy ride as the royals and the Starks are expecting their firstborn children! What are your thoughts on part one so far? Let me know.
Also, some simmering tension is going on in the North coming from the new Lord of Karhold, Harald Karstark. He still holds a grudge against the Greyjoys—especially Theon even if he had nothing to do what happened to them. What'll the other northern houses think? Let me know.
God of war: Make them four children 2 boys and 2 girls when Sansa give birth it will be miracle for the shaven kingdoms
Kat Morgan: Oh my! Two babes coming at once! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! Can't wait for the next chapter! Thank you for sharing!
LunaEvanna Longbottom: I never thought I'd say this, but you update too fast.
ZabuzasGirl: Twins! Let it be twins!
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
―Thanks.
Moshi: BABIES! Please let all be ok. Though you've laid the ground work for more intrigue too. Can't wait for part two.
10868letsgo: YAY! The babies are coming. What's going to be? I hope that the happiness came to them after all children bring new life and hope to the world.
mpowers045: Both newly mothers better survive the childbirth! No doubt that Harald Karstark would do the same thing as old Karstark did in season 3 if you know what I'm talking about
Hear My Fury: Oh boy! Here come the babies! I'm guessing a boy and a girl for Sansa and a boy named Eddard for Talisa. I'd keep a closer eye on Harald Karstark, if Ramsay is around he could try and divide the North by turning them against each other. Robb needs to watch out carefully. Look forward to the next part!