A/N: Thanks for reading, reviewing, and the like. This stories ending is just creeping closer, though.
Disclaimer: George R.R. Martin owns all.
Chapter 32 Tyrion VI and Rickon
Tyrion
"Deepwood Motte and then home," Brandon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North solemnly said. He was sitting at the head of the rounded table that encompassed his lord's tent. On the table was a map of the North. An old and weathered thing, Tyrion Lannister observed as he sat with Bran and his brother's. The corners were creased and on the large map you could see tiny rips and stains. Ale stains, sweat stains, and others covered it. Upon the map were small wooden figures, a direwolf and kraken respectfully. Upon most of the North, Bran put a direwolf but now a kraken still held Deepwood Motte, which needed to be taken if they wanted to go home. They'd just finished a meeting with the Northern lord's about how best to approach taking the stack of twigs on a hill.
A week's past, Gendry had received word from an envoy that Arya had given birth to a boy in Winterfell-the men were happy for him. Arya had decided to name the boy Edric, which Tyrion laughed about. He remembered the squire that James Stark appreciated, only for him to be killed by an arrow through his chest. They had a few tankards of ale to celebrate, but nothing more. All the men needed clear heads for the journey back to Winterfell, and the ale was kept on the side-they only drank during meals and such.
They could write letters to Winterfell - using an envoy of course, no ravens could be used when an army was on the move - and had managed to write the women a few times. James wrote Daenerys as often as he could, inquiring about her pregnancy and children. Each message Dany wrote to her husband she sealed a blue flower. James sew them onto a bracelet and wrapped them around the hilt of his sword when he fought. This earned him the nickname, "the Flower Wolf," from the Northern men-at-arms. James fully embraced it. Jon wrote Sansa, too, and of course she scented hers with a perfume she used. Jon wore that all the time. Bran wrote his woman, Gendry as well, so in an essence they still kept in contact, but not as much as they wanted to.
All the men looked like wildlings now, Tyrion mused. All of them had grown scruffy beards, even Tyrion. They kept their beards neatly trimmed, but their hair was a different story. All of the Stark brother's hair wore down to their shoulders, and even Tyrion's had grown somewhat longer than he was used to. James had a new scar upon his chest, a small one that came from an arrow that grazed him. Gendry had a new scar upon his arm from a spear thrust, and Jon Snow was unscathed up to this point. Tyrion had not been in the fighting yet, but now may be his chance.
"Use the dragon!" Jon Umber had proposed during the meeting. Folly, Tyrion thought at the time, the dragon fire will burn that city to kindling. It will catch so quick that it will do more harm than good. No, we have to take it by starving them out or storming the city. I fear the latter will have to be the option. The dragon had made everything easier when it came to re-taking the North from Asha Greyjoy. Her "kingdom" was growing smaller by the month, and Tyrion knew that it would be a matter of time until she bent like everyone else. It had been six month's since they left Riverrun and the women.
Stannis Baratheon had all but achieved complete and utter victory by now. Already the Seven Kingdoms were observing him as the one-true king and had sworn fealty. Stannis had played his options right, it seemed. He got the Reach on his side by uniting Tommen and Margaery. Tommen now controlled Casterly Rock, so the Westerlands bent the knee as well. The Iron Islands would have no choice but to bend-less Asha wanted to become like her father. He exchanged Arianne Martell and her snakes for Dorne's loyalty, and the Vale - under Baelish - would bend the knee to Stannis easily. The Riverlands were all but his, considering that Edmure Tully had accepted his position on the king's council, and the Stormlands were of course his. Gendry was still the Lord of Storm's End, but Stannis held their fealty as well.
His victory was all but complete.
It was the North that he needed to hear word from, north that he needed fealty sworn to. Stannis had not sought out retribution for the work the Tully men did to his envoys, fortunate for them. Fortunately for him James decided against re-taking the Iron Throne, he would take it within a fortnight with dragons. But James Stark did not want, nor did he feel the need to re-take it. Even his loving wife had been persuaded from taking it again. It took the comforting words of her family to cajole her from the prospect. Tyrion had told her that it brought more harm, than good. "What did it bring but the near death of your whole family?" Tyrion pointed out. "Just leave the cursed thing to Stannis, hopefully one of the barbs will stab him in the back like it did Maegor the Cruel."
"How do we take it?" Gendry Baratheon asked.
Bran motioned to Gendry. "We have to just break through the gate with a ram, and it will be simple."
"The Ironborn have two-hundred men holding that nest of twigs," said James. "It won't be as simple as you think."
"Threaten them with Rhaegal," Gendry proposed. "Burn them out, it's how we took Barrowton."
"Yes, but Barrowton was not a castle," Bran reminded him.
"Torrhen's Square is a castle, and we took that with Rhaegal," Gendry rebuddled, "and they surrendered just by the sight of him. Why can't we do the same here?"
"We already tried that!" Jon yelled, he sounded annoyed. He swayed back and forth against the table. He was next to James on his right and next to James was Bran. Tyrion was to Bran's left and on Gendry's right. "Gendry, we have to actually commit our men to battle."
"They haven't had a good fight since Riverrun," said Bran. "I feel they are itching for it. They want it, and I must oblige them."
"Bran," Gendry said cooly, "we will lose many men if we go about this the way you want it." The Lord of Storm's End crossed his arms. "If you must use men-at least allow Jon to use Rhaegal as a distraction so the men can get up to the gate with a ram."
"The Ironborn captain refuses to surrender," said James. "This fight will be to the last man, I fear. They seem…loyal to this captain."
"All squids die the same," Jon Snow japed. "Just don't let them go back to the sea."
"We have them surrounded," Bran told them, motioning to Deepwood Motte on the map. "The Ironborn only hold the first two levels - the castle itself is unattended. They don't have enough men to hold us off."
"What do you think, Tyrion?" James asked him. "Should we just burn it to the ground?"
Tyrion shook his head. "No. Deepwood Motte is the seat of House Glover and they will take that as a slight. We must commit Bran's men in this fight. It is the only way."
Everyone sighed at that but it had to be done. Tyrion then said, "Do you want to go home?" They all nodded. "So, just take this pile of twigs and we can finally go back to Winterfell."
James stretched out his arms. "Then so be it. Let's take this and go home."
The Stark brother's, the Lord of Storm's End, and the former Lord of Casterly Rock nodded at James's comment.
"Very well," Bran said. "I will have to call another council this evening and then we will end this once and for all within the week. Jon, are the siege engines ready?"
"We have been cutting off their supplies, Bran, yes," Jon answered. "But to answer your question, we have indeed built the siege weapons. We have ladders - if needed. We also have the rams from Moat Caillin, the Karstark shield, and a few trebuchets the men have built. We have been launching some into the city-to keep the archers at bay."
"Good," said Bran. "I want the trebuchets firing a lot the day before we finally attack. I'm thinking that you, James, and Gendry will lead the charge this time. Lord Umber will be unhappy, but so be it. He respects you men."
"What about me, my lord?" Tyrion asked. "What is my role in this?"
Bran looked at him. "Do you wish to fight, Lord Tyrion?"
"Tyrion. And, yes, I wish to fight. I can lead the attack with them."
"We will be sprinting upon open field," said Gendry. "Are you sure you can handle it?"
Tyrion nodded. "I handled it upon the sands of the Blackwater - why not Deepwood Motte?"
"It is your choice, Tyrion," said Bran again. "If you wish to fight, I cannot stop you. Do you have armor?"
Tyrion nodded again, using a free hand to flatten his hair. "Yes, I do. My axe and armor I brought with me from King's Landing."
"My squire can dress you," Bran told him.
Suddenly the flap opened and one of Bran Stark's guards poked his head in. The man was wearing the half-helm of the Northmen, and had a wild brown beard to match. "My Lord," he began, "their was a rider in the night - more messages from your ladies."
All the men almost jumped up in their seats in anticipation, but Bran calmed them down with a motion of his hands. He nodded at the guard. "All right, send the messenger in."
The guard dipped his head again and came back a few moments later with a few messages in hand. He dumped them on the table and the men sorted them out. The messages were neatly rolled into scrolls with the seal of House Stark upon them.
The men each broke a scroll and soon divided them up by who sent what message. "This one is yours, James," Jon had said, handing James the message from Daenerys. Again the same blue flower was flattened inside it, and James smiled. He missed them dearly.
"How fares Winterfell?" Tyrion asked the men.
"All seems well," Jon said, his gaze still upon his message from Sansa.
"Well, you haven't heard from them in a moon's turn," Tyrion pointed out.
James seemed sad, of course. He was always sad when he received a message from Daenerys. He laughed after he finished reading, the paper crinkled a bit when he did. "Dany chastises me in this raven," James said while he held up the message. Tyrion could see the daintily neat handwriting that Daenerys had. His gaze dropped to the message again. "I don't know why she does this - as if I'm not suffering enough without my children."
"What does the message say?" Jon asked.
James lightly tapped the message with the tips of his fingers in contempt and said, "That Rhaella cries for me every night - constantly asks when I'm coming home. That Ned has begun to fight with sword - my son, finally fighting with a sword, and I am there to miss it! She does this to torture me, that woman." He sniggered. "Sometimes she is as mad as her father, I swear."
"Don't let Daenerys hear that," Jon said, still gazing over his message for what looked like the hundredth time by now.
James chuckled. "You think I don't know that? She'd have my head for that sort of 'insolence,' as she puts it."
"Ah, I feel the same," said Gendry. "I have a newborn son and I can't be there. Arya practically calls me stupid in every sentence."
"Arya calls everyone stupid within every sentence," Jon corrected with a laugh.
The men left the tent soon after, still going about their daily activities. James liked to look over the men with Bran, especially Jon Umber's. The Greatjon had some of the strongest men within the army. Tyrion waddled outside and the smells of the camp hit him like a slap in the face. Smoke, whetstones against swords, yells, and horse neighs filled Tyrion's ears and nose. The camps were set up around facing the front of the city, cutting off the Ironborn lines to the sea. He waddled around the camp grounds with Jon Snow, both looking over the siege weapons. As they walked the men dipped their heads at them - some were cooking over small fires. Every second you could hear the creaking of the trebuchets as they launched another rock into Deepwood Motte. Tyrion would watch as the trebuchet would snap like a thunderclap at it's peak and then send a boulder rolling in the air like a flying fish out of water - only to land heavily inside the city. Next to the trebuchets were the siege ladders laying on the grass, and next to that was the Karstark shield which covered the battering ram.
The Ironborn kept most of their men in the first level - their were only three on this twig-city, and the castle encompassed the third. The Ironborn took residence in the castle before the Northern army arrived, but now they kept to the first - all of them. They did not have enough men to mount any defense, but they would try to take as many northmen down with them as they could. Tyrion was reluctant to fight - anxious to get drunk off battle as he had done before. He could still remember how he felt alive fighting beside Gendry on the Blackwater.
Tyrion crossed the camp in the mid-afternoon with James and Jon, heading over to Bran's tent where the lord of the North and Gendry would be waiting. When they arrived the meeting had already been concluded it seemed, and the lords were grumbling in agreement. The men took their seats and were soon filled in by the Greatjon, who had apparently come up with a plan. The men were to lead up the road with the ram, covered by the Karstark shield. Soon the rest were going to follow in pursuit while the trebuchets were going to cover them. The Northmen would bring up ladders and run across the open field - the most dangerous part of the battle, in Tyrion's eyes. Once upon the walls, the ram would break down the doors where the men would flood through - the Greatjon's calvary leading the charge. Deepwood Motte would be taken soon after, it was just a matter of time.
Bran had warned the Ironmen to surrender, he told them to throw down their weapons or they wouldn't be harmed. Jon was astride Rhaegal and forced the dragon to send a plume of fire in the air to show that they were serious. The Ironborn did not buy it, however. They knew - as much as Tyrion knew - that they could not afford to burn down the castle.
The next morning it was time for the battle. Tyrion awoke early and broke his fast with the men before dawning their armor. Bran's squire helped him into his Lannister armor, which still held the scrapes and dents he received in King's Landing. James and Jon dawned their own armor, sword belts strapped on, but no helms for them. James hated helms, said it impaired his vision and the weight was too much. Jon felt the same, he explained that no helm was worn in the Night's Watch, why now? Tyrion and Gendry agreed with that, helms were annoying but they saved you from arrows.
The Northmen were already in formation when Tyrion and the Stark men positioned themselves in front of the army. Tyrion was standing in front with James and Gendry, while Bran was up by the camp - watching the army below as he was prone to. Jon was astride Rhaegal in the back - just in case they needed him. Bran could not fight with his legs, but he could still command. The Greatjon reeled up on the van with his calvary and James gave Tyrion a curt nod before they heard the war horn blast.
Ahhhooooooooooooooo, it sounded within the deep. Now the battle had begun. The great shield marched down the field and as soon as it was in range, crossbow bolts and arrows littered it. Some bounced off, some made their target, but most of the men under it were unharmed. From the wooden ramparts upon Deepwood Motte, Tyrion could see the arrows flying out like black strings into the shield. More arrows continued to rain down - unrelenting like a swarm of bees. Some Northern archers were firing back from the shield, and some made their mark into squids. One northman was hit in the leg and fell with a scream, only to be silenced forever by another in his throat.
As they neared the tower, Tyrion could feel himself become anxious with the men he would have to kill. He'd never felt so excited for something like this, but it was bound to happen again, he figured. Tyrion watched as they finally hit the gate and now the Ironborn began to throw down rocks from the tower, anything to hit them but it did nothing. Not even the oil they spilled upon them would catch a fire.
Suddenly Tyrion heard a sound like a thunderclap and saw a giant boulder rolling in the sky towards the city. It hit the wall with a snap and broke it like twigs, making a hole for the northmen to enter the first level of the city. Soon other boulders began flying into the air and Tyrion knew it was time to move forward.
"Forward!" James Stark shouted and then the great force of men ran towards the opening in the wall and the gate. Tyrion unsheated his axe and began to run down the length of the field with James and Gendry by his side. In the air he could smell the flowers that James wore, and what a sweet smell it was in this moment. When they neared the opening in the wall, Ironborn bursted out - some fifty of them, Tyrion could tell - and clashed with the Northmen. Clanging swords, screams, mud and blood filled the air and Tyrion found himself in a familiar spot: battle.
James, Tyrion, and Gendry leaned against the wall while the men were beginning to catch up. Some were killed upon the field, bodies littering, but some most managed to make it against the walls. Perched against the wall, Tyrion clutched his axe in hand and watched as the men came up with ladders.
"Bring up the ladders!" Gendry Baratheon yelled in a booming voice and the men followed. They brought the ladders to the wall and raised them up - now Karstark soldiers were climbing up the ladders and onto the ramparts, storming the castle.
"We must reinforce them!" Gendry yelled suddenly and Tyrion saw why. The northmen were losing ground by the broken wall, and needed reinforcement. "James, we must!"
"Winterfell!" James yelled and charged with Tyrion towards that section of the wall and the battle. As they passed by the ram they saw that the door was but broken down, and men were pouring into the first level of the city. It was almost over. They came upon the Ironborn flank towards the tower and clashed into them.
A man that smelled of seaweed swung at James, but the former king quickly parried it and sliced open the man's neck with his sword. Tyrion laughed like a madman at that and ran up behind an Ironman to take him behind the knee with his axe. The man dropped to his knees and yelled, "Halfman?" Tyrion only barked out a laugh and drove his axe into the man's head, sending shockwaves to his elbow.
"Your first kill!" James shouted through the madness. He'd just finished shoving his sword down into a squid that was lying on the ground. "How does it feel?"
"Great!" Tyrion exclaimed to him. Another came reeling up on him with a dirty axe and would have cleaved his head off if it weren't for Tyrion being so short. When he missed his swing, Tyrion hacked his leg again and the man gave an ear piercing scream. It felt good to be alive again. James Stark had ran into the city with a squad of men. All Tyrion could do was think about what he promised Daenerys before they left Riverrun. You will make sure no harm comes to James, Tyrion. Promise me. Her voice echoed in his mind.
"James!" Tyrion shouted at him with cupped hands. "If you get hurt Daenerys will kill me!"
James turned back to him with blood on his sword and yelled, "What Dany doesn't know, won't hurt her!"
James wickedly laughed and urged his men forward into the city. The Ironborn who had decided to try and hold the wall were pushed back into the city, and when Tyrion jumped over the twigs to enter it was a magnificent site. The Ironborn and Northmen were fighting in the streets, on rooftops, and and then suddenly he felt a pang on the back of his head and the ground came up to meet him. The last voice he heard was something eerily similar to Rhaegal.
Tyrion awoke later in the day, in the Maester's tent. When he awoke he could smell blood and sweat…blood most of all, but the screams were what he heard the most. Tyrion sat up on his cot and saw a Maester walking around while medics within the army were hacking limbs. He saw a woman, no older than Daenerys holding down a boy that looked to be about seven-and-ten, he had a cloth in his mouth and they were sawing off his foot.
The Maester saw Tyrion and walked over to him saying, "Rest, my lord, you need rest. You took a vicious blow to the back of the head."
Tyrion was so distraught he didn't even feel the blow that he had received. "Where is the Lord of Winterfell?" He croaked. "James Stark, Lord Baratheon, Lord Targaryen?"
"In Lord Stark's tent," the Maester answered while he wrapped a bandage around Tyrion's head. "It seems James Stark received a cut on his sword hand."
Tyrion snickered. "Another scar that his wife can fawn over - Daenerys Targaryen loves his scars."
The Maester didn't say anything to that, but Tyrion just figured he was babbling. "Regardless, Maester, when can I go see them?"
"Once I get this bandage around your head, my lord."
"Answer me this question, Maester."
"What question, my lord?"
"Did we take the city?"
He nodded. "Yes, but at the expense of half of the first level."
"What do you mean?"
"Lord Targaryen brought the dragon into the battle and he sent a plume of fire into the Ironmen. It burned them and forced their defeat, of course, but the dragon fire caught ablaze to one of the houses and well…"
"…It burned more than that one house, I'm sure."
The Maester nodded and finished wrapping Tyrion's head. The former Lord of the Rock hopped off the cot and waddled across the camp towards Bran Stark's tent. Once he arrived he saw the men sitting around Bran's table with the Greatjon enjoying a fresh keg of ale. They look like shit, Tyrion observed. James had a bandage wrapped around his left hand, and his hair was matted against his head from sweat. All the men were not wearing armor and had tunic with breeches on. Jon was sitting next to Bran on his left - James on his right and Gendry next to him. The Greatjon was sitting across from Gendry and James. All the men looked visibly tired.
"Tyrion!" Gendry exclaimed, raising his tankard. "How fares your wound?"
Tyrion felt his head throb. "Like shit. I heard we won?"
Gendry nodded while Tyrion took his seat next to the Greatjon. James poured him a tankard and slid it across to him. Tyrion took it to his lips and drank steadily. This ale should help my head stop throbbing. Tyrion could again smell the flowers James liked to wear upon the tankard, and apparently Jon Umber smelled it, too.
"Stark, must you wear those flowers?" He asked with a booming laugh.
James laughed with him. "They're my good luck charm, Lord Umber."
"How can flowers bring you luck?" Jon asked him.
James shrugged. "I have not been wounded since I began to wear them."
"I think Daenerys has them blessed each time," Bran jested. "It is the only way I can see that working."
"If only that were true."
"Yet I see a bandage on your hand," Tyrion pointed out. "Is that not a wound?"
"Ah, fuck you, Tyrion," James said with a smile. He lifted the hand up. "This does not count."
"If only you didn't act like a madman when we went over the walls," said Gendry. "Perhaps that Ironborn dirk would not have grazed your hand."
"Well I paid him back with my dagger in his head. I think that was payment enough."
Everyone laughed at that and drank more ale. The men traded stories after that about the battle. Tyrion wished he could have partaken but he did not remember much after he was hit in the back of the head. Gendry told them about how he killed six men this day with his hammer - swarming over the wooden wall on the back of ladders with his men. Jon said that he was ordered to bring Rhaegal into the battle by Bran - the Ironborn were not going to surrender, so they just doused them with dragon fire.
"Did any of the Ironborn surrender?" Tyrion asked.
Jon Umber grunted. "None. Those vicious sons of whores don't ever surrender, so we had to put them down. Few managed to escape back onto their boats, but the rest were killed."
"Aye," James said, "the Sisters are collecting the dead and preparing them for burial." He drank some ale. "Now we can go home."
"Aye, we can," said Bran. "But first we have to move are men around the Wolfswood to get to Winterfell."
"Is that the plan?" Gendry asked.
"Aye, it is," said Jon. "We have to disperse the men and then…home."
Home, Tyrion thought. That sounds good to me.
Tyrion Lannister took the tankard to his lips and drank with the men he called family. Laughter and jests filled the night soon after. The war was over, they could go home.
-x-
Rickon
"I need a few stonemasons to repair my house, milord," The man asked of Rickon Stark, the acting Lord of Winterfell. "A fire nearly burnt it down, but it could be fixed in a weeks time. All I ask for is just a few masons."
"And you shall have it!" Rickon announced, sitting upon the Chair of Winterfell. "I can spare you about three stonemasons, for now. Winterfell is still being re-built even to this day. Regardless, I can at least spare you that."
The man dipped his head, he had liver spots on it. "Thank you, milord."
He took a bow and left the Great Hall. Next to Rickon was Maester Willem. The new Maester of Winterfell that took over Maester Luwin's place since he died. I miss that old man. His bones were now resting in Winterfell's crypts, along side Rickon's father and Robb. He knew that only the Lord's of Winterfell and King's of the North deserve to stay down there, but Luwin was much a part of this family as the rest of them. He delivered all of Rickon's siblings into this world - including Rickon himself - and treated them as his own. Everyone missed him with each passing day.
"Is that all?" Rickon asked the Maester.
He dipped his head. "Yes, my lord."
"How is Arya doing? The newborn?" Rickon asked again.
Arya had just given birth, a month back. She did not labor for long, but everyone was beside her. She gave birth to a baby boy who looked a lot like her, but had Gendry's dark hair. They decided to name the boy Edric. After the squire who died at King's Landing.
"Mother and son are doing fine, my lord. Lady Arya just needs to rest, is all."
"Are the midwives on alert for Daenerys? She is due any day now."
He nodded again, making his short brown hair flip. "Yes, my lord, all of Lady Daenerys's needs are taken care of. Just make sure she takes it slow these next few days."
"That is what a good brother-by-law does, Maester. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go look for my sister Sansa."
The Maester smiled. "Of course, my lord. I believe Lady Sansa's out in the courtyard, per usual. She can be heard barking orders, I believe."
Rickon got up from his chair and smiled saying, "Some thing's never change, Maester Willem. Some thing's never changed."
Rickon laughed again and strode out of the Great Hall, never feeling happier in his life. The guards came to follow him, but he waived them away. Rickon would always feel safe within Winterfell, within his own home. Bran and his brother's had always told him a lord should feel safe within his own castle.
The courtyard was busy with people when Rickon walked upon the gravel grounds mixed with dirt and snow. The Northern air was fresh this day, cold and chilly, just how he liked it. Rickon took an intake of breath and surveyed the scene around him. His people were moving back and forth, the sounds in the air was like a sweet music to his ears. Rickon could hear the smith pounding away at the smithy, the hammer striking the iron was like a song only smiths could play. He heard saws cutting at wood, hammers striking down on nails, and the clamoring shouts of orders and laughter.
"Put that in the Great Hall!" Rickon heard a familiar voice order. Sansa was his favorite sister, in truth, even though he loved them all the same.
Sansa was standing in the middle of the courtyard ordering two servant girls to bring fresh wood to the Great Hall. Her back was turned to Rickon and he could see her auburn hair flowing freely down her back, cascading to the half of it in a waterfall of copper. Sansa was in a blue woolen dress and the bodice was a darker blue with grey jewels ordaining the sides of it. Her hems touched the ground ever lightly.
Rickon snuck up behind her ever so quietly, and stood quiet like a mouse behind her as she barked more orders.
"And make sure that my sister's every needs are taken care of!" Sansa ordered again. "I won't have her new child freeze to death!" The servant girls gave stern nods and scurried off to their duties.
Rickon gave a slight chuckle and abruptly lifted her off the ground. His big sister emitted a slight yelp and brought her hands to his, shrugging them off. Sansa landed on the ground, sending grovel and mud everywhere. Rickon remembered her as his big sister in Winterfell, back when he was just a boy. Sansa would give him a sweet or always admonish him if he ate with his mouth open or burped at the table. Rickon remembered those days, clear as day, but after his father went south, those memories just faded away. He hated remembering those days.
She turned to meet him, blue eyes narrow. "Rickon, don't do that!" She admonished. "You know how much I hate that - you and James both!" Rickon knew she loved it when he did that, no matter what she said.
Rickon laughed. "Oh, you love it, Sansa, don't lie!"
Sansa smiled and playfully hit him on the shoulder, Rickon realized they were of a height now, he was maybe a little taller. "No, I don't! I hate it, and it ruins the hems of my dress."
Rickon looked down and saw a splash of mud on them, but he wouldn't dare tell Sansa that. It would earn him a scolding. "How is Arya doing?"
"Sleeping, as usual."
"How is Edric?"
"Sleeping, as befitting a newborn babe. Rickon, why do you ask the most obvious questions?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, sweet sister, why must you always be so chiding?"
She pushed a lock of auburn hair from his eyes. "Because I am your big sister and am supposed to chide you."
"You never chide, Bran."
"Bran is the Lord of Winterfell."
"So am I."
"You're acting Lord."
Rickon sighed. "Yes, I am acting lord. As you, Arya, and Mother like to remind me."
Sansa smiled again. "You know how much I missed you, down at King's Landing."
Rickon smiled, too. "Not as much as I missed you, Sansa. Now where is Mother and Cella?"
"Off doing duties befitting the Ladies of Winterfell."
"And the children?"
Sansa smiled again. "Jaime is napping. Ned and Robert are off practicing at swords. And not the cloth ones mind you."
Rickon boomed with laugher. "It's about time they began! Robert is five and Ned four, both should have been learning a year ago."
Sansa nodded. "Jon said the same, but Arya felt they were a bit too young."
"I began learning at four," said Rickon with a scoff. "Anyway, where are my nieces?"
"Off learning their needlework," Sansa told him. "The new Septa is giving them their lessons."
Rickon laughed. "How do they like it?"
"Why don't you ask them yourselves…"
Rickon turned around and saw them both running into the courtyard, chasing each other. Rhaella was running and laughing while Lyanna chased her, a shiny silver needle in hand. The little dragon was wearing a grey woolen dress, her silver hair braided down her back, and Lyanna was in a light blue dress with her brown hair braided as well. Servant girls were chasing after them, and some of the castlefolk were laughing and getting out of the way for the girls. Everyone in Winterfell loved them, as they did the rest of the children. Rickon heard how the cooks would sneak them treats even after Catelyn had forbade it.
They celebrated their name days over two months ago, Rickon remembered. Lyanna was born merely a couple of weeks before the twins, so they decided to combine her name day with theirs. Ned, Rhaella, and Lyanna celebrated on the same day, and everyone wanted to do something special for them. They were turning four and how the time flew fast. Rickon could remember when they came for Bran's wedding in Winterfell, and that felt like a lifetime ago. It was a bit solemn with their father's not being there, but Sansa planned something special so they could forget all of that. Their was a big feast for the girls with musicians and jesters. Everyone gave them each a gift, from Rickon to even the kennel master. Ned received a direwolf blanket and some new clothing. The girls received jewelry and some dolls, it was nice to see them happy for once. Rickon did not believe that the men's choice of staying with Bran would have impacted their children in such a way. Knowing James he is probably dead inside without them.
"Rhaella! Lyanna!" Sansa yelled in what could have passed for her motherly voice. Rickon saw both little girls stop at the sound of Sansa's yell. They stopped in their tracks and looked down at the ground, clearly abashed. Rhaella put her hands behind her back, while Lyanna was looking off in the distance. "Come over here!"
The girls meekly walked over to them both and Sansa bent forward at an eye level with both of them, her hands on her thighs. She snatched the needle from Lya's hand. "Where did you get this?"
"From needlework," Lya answered, looking at the dirt.
Sansa sighed heavily. "Do you know how dangerous it is to run around with this? Both of you?" She looked to Rhaella.
The Targaryen girl nodded. "Yes, Aunt Sansa." Rhaella's voice was soft and sweet, much like her personality. Except she can be fierce if she wants to. "We were just playing."
"Playing or no, you could have seriously hurt yourselves." She looked at them both. "How am I supposed to explain to your father's if you injured yourselves?"
"James and Gendry would have my head," Rickon cut-in. Sansa looked at him and nodded, while Rhaella looked up at him and smiled. She was very affectionate around him - well, she was very affectionate around everyone - but she liked him best, they both did. Rickon thought James's absence was filled by his presence, Gendry's too.
Rickon squatted down now and the girls turned around to meet his gaze. "Listen to your aunt - the both of you. Sansa is very wise and knows what she is talking about. Listen to her."
Rickon winked at them, and they only laughed. Sansa caught him doing so. "Rickon! Don't encourage them!"
He smiled. "I wouldn't dare!" Now he grew serious. "In truth, girls, I may jest right now but I'm serious in the end. Don't run with needles, but with...flowers."
"Flowers?" Lya asked, giggling. "Why?"
"Because little girls are supposed to love flowers. Like the one's you find in the Godswood."
"I can't go in the Godswood," Rhaella said, embarrassed. "The big tree's face is scary…"
Rickon laughed and looked up to see Sansa's gaze upon him. She was smiling at this moment.
Rickon rubbed Rhaella's shoulder. "My dragon, it is but a tree. Pray to it and hear the gods answer them."
"Answer them?" Rhaella questioned. "How?"
Rickon closed his eyes. "Close your eyes and listen to the wind, it's how the Old Gods speak to you. Hear the leaves rustling on the ground, and the water dripping by the black pond."
He opened them to see them looking confused. Sansa only laughed. "Uncle Rickon is right. Just close your eyes and hear the wind."
Rickon stood up and wiped the mud off his breeches, while he smiled at Sansa, who only laughed. Over his shoulder he saw a figure capture his gaze. Rickon saw a woman upon the ramparts of the East Gate, her gaze was stern and looking forward while her silver hair was flying in the wind. She was heavy with child and furs draped down her back. Rickon knew it was Daenerys. He saw her wearing a grey woolen dress that Catelyn had lent her due to her being big with child. The hems dragged - seeing as Daenerys was shorter than Catelyn - when she walked, so Dany tripped a few times. On her head he saw something that resembled a crown of blue roses, the same ones that grew in the godswood in Winterfell. Daenerys liked to wear them all the time - she would make them herself and sometimes for Rhaella and Lya, too. It made the air smell of sweetness when she did, and so Rickon enjoyed it. He never understood why she felt the need, though.
The women missed their men, all of them did. Arya hid behind a stone face, but Rickon knew that she missed Gendry now more than ever that she delivered their baby boy. Sansa was surprisingly stern as well, but at times Rickon caught her crying in private. Once in the Sept, praying for Jon's safe return and another in her chambers at night. Rickon had to console her. Myrcella never cried, it seemed. She hasn't seen Bran for over a year now and never has Rickon seen her cry. Rickon admired her courage immensely and had grown to respect Cella a lot. Catelyn did not cry either, because she was finally with her grandchildren. Daenerys never cried either, she was just as strong. When asked why she only said, "the blood of the dragon does not weep," and so Rickon never asked again. Dany hid her grief much like Arya did, but Dany's grief was more solemn and grew larger with the child in her belly. As her belly swelled so did her grief and once Rickon saw her crying in the godswood. He never mentioned it to Daenerys, but he watched her from afar. She was kneeling down in prayer, her head hung low, and was praying. At the end of the prayer she began to sob uncontrollably and never had Rickon seen her like this. When he told Catelyn about it, she only said, "She misses James, Rickon. Give her some space." And so he did.
"Is that, Dany?" He asked Sansa while he picked Rhaella off the ground. The little girl was twirling strands of auburn hair in her tiny finger, but Rickon did not mind.
Sansa turned her head with Lyanna in her arms, and saw the same figure he'd just seen. She turned to face him again and said, "Yes, it is. She does that every day." Sansa sighed. "Daenerys has grown very solemn as of late. She hardly likes company anymore. Mother has said she is also spending a lot of time in front of the Heart Tree, praying."
"Why?"
Sansa cocked her head at him, looking visibly annoyed. "Why do you think? The woman is set to deliver any day now and her husband is not with her. She misses James, Rickon."
"I feel bad for her," Rickon admitted. He had spent a lot of time with Daenerys since she arrived at Winterfell with his family - well she was just as much a Stark as Sansa now - and was still enamored with her as he was when he first saw her. But her heart belonged to Rickon's brother and always would. They'd become good friends.
"Mayhaps you should go speak with her," Sansa suggested, Rickon thought it a good idea.
Rhaella did not let him reply. "When is papa coming home?"
Rickon looked at her face, she was on the brink of crying. Each day she asked when James was returning, and each time Rickon had to lie. "Soon," he lied. "Soon, Rhaella, I promise."
"I miss, papa," Rhaella said in a tiny voice. Rickon saw some tears coming down her face. Each day was like this, and each time they had to console the children. The boys did not ask as much as the girls, it was always Rhaella who did. Usually Catelyn would be the one to console her, she'd rub her back and sing before Rhaella would go to sleep. It was the only way she would because James had done that for her every night at King's Landing.
Rickon held her close. "Oh, Rhaella, I'm sure he misses you just as much."
"Your father's will be home soon," said Sansa, Rickon had forgotten that her and Lya were there. Lyanna was also against Sansa's shoulder, but no tears stained her face. Sometimes Rickon forgot they were just girls. "Come. Let's go to the Great Hall and have some sweets."
Lyanna shot her head up and said, "But grandma says we can't before lunch."
Sansa smiled. "What grandma doesn't know, won't hurt her. Come, let's go. Rhaella…"
Rickon set her down and watched as Sansa clutched both their hands. She turned to Rickon one last time. "Speak to Daenerys. She likes you, Rickon."
Sansa walked away from the courtyard with both the girls in hand, and Rickon only smiled as he watched them walk away. I'll get to see them grow before my eyes, until Bran marries me off to some highborn lady. I hope that is not for a while now. Maybe I should visit the miller's daughter tonight, I could go for some wenching right about now. Rickon enjoyed wenching just like his brother's used to; many a time he'd seen James go with Theon in his youth, and sometimes Robb would join them. Now, well, Rickon would usually go alone. All of his brother's were with wives - even Jon had Sansa - and, so, he had nobody to go with. He had a few girls who would warm his bed at night, the miller's daughter was one of them. At times Rickon just preferred the tavern wenches.
Rickon walked across the courtyard and towards the set of stone stairs that lead up to the ramparts above the East Gate. Along the way he flashed smiles to serving girls and the castle folk alike. They respected him, it seemed, much like they did Bran when Robb had gone south. He climbed up the stairs of the East Gate and up towards the ramparts, passed the sentry guards who gave him a curt nod as he walked past. Moments of respect like that made Rickon enjoy being the acting Lord of Winterfell.
He found Daenerys at the middle of the archway of the East Gate that overlooked the Kingsroad. Rickon came up her right side and she seemed not to notice him. He watched the woman before her. Daenerys had one hand on the stone rampart and another on her swelling belly. It was heavy now and she was set to deliver, leaving the Maester and midwives on alert. Her silver hair was flying in the back and the crown of blue roses still made the air smell of sweetness. Sometimes she liked to wear it, it must have reminded her of a time when she was most happy. Dany was wrapped in furs with her grey dress under it. Her face was stoic and stern as she stared out into the horizon. Rickon thought her the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He wished to take her in his arms and tell her it was all right, that he was here with her and she wasn't alone. Is this how James felt when he was with her? Is this how I will feel with my lady wife? Being king would be a small price to pay for a lifetime with her…
Rickon cleared his throat and walked up to her. "Hello, Daenerys," he said in a strong voice.
Dany only looked at him and smiled before returning her gaze back to the horizon. He walked up beside her and watched the horizon with her. The air was cool and fresh. You could see the Kingsroad upon the rolling green hills and Rickon knew she was watching for James, it seemed. Bran's army would come down this part of the road when they finally returned.
Rickon put his hands behind his back and asked, "What are you doing?"
"Thinking," she said, flatly.
Rickon sniggered. He could remember his Lord Father saying that once to Robb, and once Bran told him the same. "I see the north has grown on you, Daenerys."
She laughed, lightly, and finally turned to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm just as much a Stark as you, Rickon."
"Indeed you are," said Rickon. "I sometimes forget you have two Northern children."
"They were born in the south," Dany corrected, "but are both as northern as their father."
"Rhaella misses him so much." Rickon wouldn't dare say his name. It was like a curse to all of them to say any of the men's names.
"I know she does," Dany said, softly, in a voice that sounded not of her own. "Rhaella asks me every night when he is returning. Her and…her father were always close. Rhaella has always loved him more than me."
"She asked me earlier in the courtyard," Rickon told her, "and began to cry because of it."
Rickon could see that pained Daenerys. "I told James as much - I told him that Rhaella would take it hard, and so she has. Ever since she was almost killed, her attachment to him has only grown stronger. My baby is in pain, and well…that means it is also my pain. I share the pain with them, trying to take some away, but it never works. Each time I see Rhaella cry because she misses James, I vow to punch him even harder upon his return."
"I'm sure James misses them just as much. He loves them dearly, Dany. James has always had a heavy heart."
"You think I don't know that?" Dany said with a laugh. "I know him like the back of my hand now, Rickon. Yet, James needs to know what he has done to Rhaella. Ned has cried once, maybe twice since James left, but Rhaella…"
"-At least once a day," Rickon finished for her. "Fortunately, my mother-"
"-Loves her so much, I know," Dany said. "Lady Catelyn is a great mother, and has been a huge help."
"As you are, Daenerys."
Dany smiled at that. "Thank you, Rickon. Yet I hope to be half as good as your mother."
"You will be." Rickon then asked, "Are James and Ned close, or is it more yourself?"
"Yes, Ned and James share a father-son connection, but Ned will always be a mother's boy. He used to be Sansa's boy." Dany cradled her stomach and smiled, saying, "Ned has always been special, my baby boy. The first born son."
Rickon chuckled. "It's always the son who is close with the father. I remember it being so when I grew up."
Dany turned to him. "James told me that Lord Eddard held no true favorites."
"Is that what he told you? Well, he lied. My father always liked Arya, it seemed." Rickon turned back to the horizon. "She reminded him of our Aunt Lyanna, Jon's mother."
"I didn't know that," Dany admitted, sounding astonished. "Who else did he like, out of the boys?"
Rickon shrugged. "Jon always held a special place in his heart. Of course that was because he was the son of his beloved sister."
"What about-"
"-James?"
She shook her head, releasing some more of the sweet smell. "No, of Bran and Robb. James never likes to talk about Robb."
"Nobody does," Rickon told her. "Everyone loved Robb, especially James. He, Robb, and Jon were all very close to each other. Something myself and Theon clearly envied. I wanted so much to be like my older brother's." Rickon laughed. "I could remember asking my mother to let me spar with James, Jon, and Robb every morning. She would never let me, but sometimes…just sometimes James would pull me aside and teach me. He would hand me a small wooden sword and show me some moves." Rickon turned to Dany and smiled. "Now I am a better swordsman than all of them, James included."
"Did Lord Eddard love him?"
"Of course. We all loved him."
"Did he love my husband?"
Rickon nodded. "Yes, he did. James and my father spent a lot of time together, as befitting the eldest son. But when James took the black…well, they were not as close as they used to be. It was very sad, I remembered. It would tear my mother apart."
"How so?"
"Bran has always been Lady Catelyn's favorite child, that I cannot dispute. He was born in the height of summer, and everyone referred to him as their sweet summer child. But, James was loved by Catelyn for being the eldest, too. When he took the black, it devastated her and my father. She begged James not to go, begged him to stay, but he wouldn't listen. It broke Catelyn in two, and in some ways she hasn't forgiven him."
"But she cares for him," Dany interjected. She placed a hand on her chin. "Well, I think she does. She certainly loves my children."
"My mother has always put family in front of everything."
"She is a Tully. Family, Duty, Honor."
"Family, Duty, Honor," Rickon echoed. "Yes, she lives by those three words. So, it is no surprise that she loves her grandchildren more than her true born children."
"She rocks Rhaella to sleep every night," said Daenerys. "Something that me and…" her voice trailed off and she looked back at the horizon. "…never mind."
Rickon hesitantly wrapped an arm around her shoulder and said, "He will be back soon, Daenerys. I'm sure he misses you just as much."
Dany rested her head on his arm. Rickon could smell her hair and the crown of roses within the blowing wind, and he didn't know if he'd ever smelled something so sweet.
"I miss him so much, Rickon," she whispered, sounding like a child and not the former Queen of Westeros. "I miss his touch, his smell." She sighed. "The way he'd make me laugh, or how we'd talk about our days. I miss the strength in his arms and how he'd hold me at night. How he'd smile when I woke him in the morning." Rickon heard her voice waver. "I try, Rickon, I really do. I am trying to be strong for my children. Each of them ask me whether or not he is coming home before they go to bed each night, and it pains me to keep lying to them. Ned wishes for him to be here so he can watch him spar with Robert, and Rhaella wants him to watch her work at needles and dresses." Dany sighed heavily. "And now I am near giving birth to our third child and he won't' be there this time. He won't clench my hand and tell me to push, or even wipe the sweat off my brow like he did before."
Before Rickon could reply he felt Dany's shoulder's tense and she groaned heavily, she sounded as if she was in pain. Dany doubled over slightly and clenched her belly. "Is something wrong, Daenerys?"
She shook her head and managed half a smile. "No, no. The baby is just kicking is all." Dany smiled. "Would you like to feel?"
Rickon shrugged. "I guess. What do I do?"
"Just feel for her."
Rickon nodded and bent down, placing a hand on her swollen belly. Inside he knew that a new niece or nephew awaited him - well Daenerys kept insisting it was going to be a girl. She told the family that she dreamed of it, a girl with James's hair and her eyes. Rickon thought her crazy, but she told him that she dreamed of her twins since she met James, and knew this was true.
He looked up at Dany. "What do I do to make her kick?"
"Just say something," Dany instructed in a whisper. "James would always talk to the twins when they were in my belly, and it made them kick like they were mad."
Rickon nodded and faced her belly. "Hello there, little one," he whispered. "I cannot wait for you to be born into our family."
And with that Rickon felt a tiny kick, he looked at Dany and smiled. "I felt her kick, Dany." Rickon let out a sigh of joy. "Wow, that was great." I cannot wait to feel my child kick in my wife's belly, wherever she is.
Rickon stood up now and resumed his position upon the rampart with Daenerys. Dany clutched her belly again and looked out at the horizon.
Suddenly she asked, "Do you dream, Rickon?"
"What?"
"Do you dream?"
"Of what, Daenerys?"
"Of anything. Have you ever had the same dream over-and-over again?"
Rickon scruffed his chin. "I don't think so, Daenerys. Why, are you having the same dream?"
She nodded. "I've always had strange dreams - since I was a girl, it seemed. Sometimes, they'd come true; sometimes they wouldn't. I dreamed of my twins, and of the child that grows within me. In the House of the Undying - back in Qarth, across the Narrow Sea - I saw a vision of James. Have you heard of this?"
"No, I haven't."
"I remember seeing a man upon the Wall. Huddled in black furs, a black shall covering his face, black hair down to his shoulders, and a spear in hand. I sensed sadness coming from him - sadness, but love. When I saw the vision, a voice said, and one to love. I was left confused, and dissatisfied. I didn't know who he was, but now I do. It was James I saw upon the Wall. My mount to love, I guess. At least that's how it is now."
"I didn't know that," Rickon admitted. "Does my brother even know?"
"Yes, I've told him. He only laughed, as suspected. But he believed me in some way. So, like the vision, the dream I keep having leaves me feeling oddly bereft."
"What is the dream?"
Dany sighed, a hand again placed on the stone rampart that faced the Kingsroad. Rickon saw her clutch the stone. "I'm upon this rampart - right here, clutching this stone, the wind in my hair, the smell of the blue flowers that James used to put in my hair when we courted permeated throughout the air. I'd look out to those hills, see." Dany pointed to a dip between two hills where the Kingsroad covered it. "And upon those hills I'd see a horse and its rider. The horse would rear and spur itself down the road. As it drew near I could see who the rider was: James. He would be trotting down the Kingsroad and look up at me. 'Dany!' he'd yell through the air. 'I'm home!'" Daenerys sighed. "And so I would always run down to greet him. The gates would fly open for me and James would gallop through the courtyard. He'd dismount his horse and look at me. James has a fierce beard in my dream, with a few grey strands in it. His hair is to his shoulders and his shoulders have groan broader. Suddenly he begins to run to me and I him, but before I can hold him in my arms I always awake. I never get to feel his touch. It's almost like a nightmare."
Rickon slipped an arm around her again. "I'm sorry you have to dream that, Daenerys. It sounds horrible - almost taunting, in a way."
She sighed. "I've been alone most of my life, Rickon. I never knew my mother or family. I only knew my brother, and he was a fool and cruel at that. I was once happy…well, I'm sure James has told you about him."
"Yes, the Dothraki Khal. Everyone has heard about him."
Dany nodded. "Drogo was my sun-and-stars, I loved him fiercely. But, he was taken from me and I had to scrape and bow to live, much like I did before. I ruled in Meereen - gods, how that felt like a lifetime ago. There I fell in love with a fickle sellsword, a man I thought that loved me, but he didn't. He only loved the queen."
"James once loved a whore," Rickon told her, "but she never loved him."
Dany gave a slight smiled. "Yes, I know about her. Surely, you know what became of her…"
Rickon remembered, he felt abashed. "Oh, yes, I'm sorry, Dany. I didn't-"
"-Hush now, sweetling, I'm not upset."
Rickon felt a slight swell in his chest when she called him that. I'd do anything for her. "Continue, Daenerys."
Dany cleared her throat, resting her head against his shoulder again. "And I've never known love since Drogo, in truth. I did like Jon once, but - I don't know why I'm telling you that." She cleared her throat again, laughing coyly. "Anyway, Rickon, what I am trying to say is that I am tired of being alone. That's all I have been since James has left me, and well…I don't want to feel it again."
"But you aren't alone, Daenerys," he whispered. "We all love you here, and we know that you miss him. Plus, I know what it means to be alone."
"How?"
He sighed. "I've been alone most of my life, too. My mother and father left me when I was very young, leaving only Bran and the Reeds to take care of me. Maester Luwin and Osha, too, but well…Luwin died when Theon took the castle. And the Reeds died beyond the Wall with Bran. Osha took me to Skagos with Shaggy when I was naught but seven, and from there I was alone. A man called Davos Seaworth brought me back, and then I reunited with my family again some years later."
Rickon clenched his hand on hers. "Before James became king, I enjoyed life. I was castellan of Winterfell and had many…lovely ladies that I enjoyed having company with. Bran, Mother, Arya, and Sansa were with me. Jon and James were at the Wall, but James would visit most of the time. When he accepted the crown, everything went to shite, and they all left one-by-one. James left, Arya left, Jon left, Sansa left, Bran left, everyone just left me with Winterfell and Myrcella, heavy with child. I spent many a time upon this wall, as lone as you are right now. And you know what I did?"
She shook her head.
"I carried on, Daenerys. I carried on because it was my duty and Bran trusted me. I've never taken anything seriously, but this I do. I enjoy being the Lord of Winterfell right now, and still do. Even when my family left me again, I still carried on. It's okay to miss someone, but you're not alone. James will be back one day."
Dany turned and looked up at him, suddenly she stood up to kiss him on the cheek. "You're a very good man, Rickon. Whatever girl Bran has you marry, she'll be lucky to have you."
I hope she is like you, Rickon wished for himself. She is your brother's wife! His mind then screamed at him. She loves James, you dolt, not you!
Why can't she have loved me? Rickon screamed back at his conscious. He'd always been enamored with Daenerys Targaryen, acted like a love sick boy around her. He had to stop that.
"Rickon, you can stop staring," Dany said, quietly.
Rickon shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dany." He looked away, embarrassed that she'd caught him.
Stop being foolish, you silly boy, Dany is probably used to this by now.
Dany said, "If I never married James, you'd have been a great choice for my husband."
That made Rickon rear his head back and laugh. "If only the gods would have granted me that wish." He sighed and smiled. "It does me good to talk to you, Daenerys."
"It does me good too talk to you, too, Rickon."
She took his hand. "Come to the godswood and pray with me, Rickon. Before the bell for lunch rings."
And so they did. Rickon clenched her hand in one of his and helped down the steps to towards the courtyard and godswood. He had to stand in front of Daenerys on the stairs and held her hand while she waddled down each step. It was difficult for her, and by the last one she was short of breath. They strode across the courtyard to bows and dips of head from the castle folk. Some of them considered it a blessing that Daenerys was here with them. "Lady Targaryen," some would call her, but she'd always preferred being called "Lady Stark" by the rest.
The godswood was beautiful and quiet, like it had always been. Rickon lead Daenerys through the acre of trees that made a canopy overhead. At the Heart Tree they found Myrcella, who had just finished praying it seemed. Mayhaps she now follows our gods. Beside her was her son Jaime. The boy was one now and looked like Bran with each day. He even had his brown-auburn hair but had Myrcella's eyes.
They stood up from the Heart Tree and walked over to them, Cella clutching Jaime in her arms while she walked.
She smiled when seeing Dany and Rickon. "Rickon, Daenerys. Come to pray?"
Dany nodded. "Yes, Cella."
Cella tugged on Jaime's hand. "Little Jaime and I have just finished praying for his father."
The boy was too young to form words, so he just looked off over at Dany and smiled.
"Hello there, Jaime," Dany whispered.
Cella smiled. "Have you come to pray for James?"
"And the rest of them," Dany corrected. "But, yes, him most of all."
"I pray for all of them each day," Cella admitted, bobbing Jaime up. "The Sept got a little boring, so I decided to pray to the old gods today."
"We all do," Rickon corrected.
She nodded, her golden hair was in a braid today. Cella always wore it in a braid now, it seemed.
Cella walked by and placed a hand on Dany's shoulder. "Be strong, Daenerys. James will be back before you know it."
Myrcella walked off, leaves crunching behind her. "But will he see the birth of our child?" Dany whispered faintly.
They went and prayed after that. Both of them knelt before the weirwood and prayed silently. Rickon prayed for James, Jon, Bran and Gendry. He prayed for his family and that they'd all survive this. He prayed for Arya's new child and the one that Dany was going to give birth to. During the prayer he saw that Daenerys had been crying silently again. Her head was hung low while she sniffled, and Rickon could see the tears pooling at the tip of her nose. Silently, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she only wept a little more. Her time is close now. She misses him more than ever, the blood of the dragon may not weep, but a human does.
Later that day they were supping together, as a family. Daenerys had left him after the godswood, going back to her chambers to sleep the rest of the day away. "Sleep helps me forget," she told him, walking away. Rickon could not sleep so easily. He spent some of the day watching the boys spar and walking around Winterfell. Robert was bigger and stronger than Ned - well Robert was big and strong for his age to begin with - so he was better than him. Ned would fall back on the ground and pout his frustration. Robert would smile in amusement and proclaim he was the best. Ned was four, but Robert looked as if he was seven and not five. Ned was faster though, like his father, so sometimes - just sometimes he'd strike Robert in the leg with the padded wooden sword. Rickon stood there and watched with the Master-at-arms while they were being taught how to hold, how to grip, what motions, their stance, all beginner's stuff.
Rickon was brought back to supper when Ned cried out loudly, yelling, "Rhaella! Don't throw your food!"
Rhaella only laughed and launched a spoonful of meat at him, while Ned dodged it with a duck of his head, sticking out his tongue. Rhaella's favorite thing to do was to give her twin brother a hard time. Each day she found a way to upset him - from pulling his hair, to taking his sword, always something. Rhaella knew what upset him the most. Well they are twins.
Catelyn admonished them both. "Stop it!" She snapped. "Rhaella, do not play with your food!" She turned to Ned. "And Ned, you stop as well."
"But, grandma, she started it!"
"I don't care who started it, I'm finishing it," said Catelyn, crossing her arms. She flared her blue eyes. "Now, eat, the both of you."
Ned pouted like a boy his age and crossed his tiny arms. Robert was giggling at this and Lyanna was thinking about something - looking off in the distance. Rickon wondered if his actual Aunt Lyanna looked anything like her great-niece who shared the same name as her. Arya had always been compared to their Aunt Lyanna, so she considered it an honor to remember her memory - how little their father spoke of her. Rhaella stuck her tongue out at him again, but this time Daenerys caught her.
"Rhaella, you will stop teasing your brother this instant!" Dany admonished her. "If your father were here, he would have none of it! Now, eat. your. food."
"But, mama-"
"-Rhaella, listen to your mother!" Catelyn said again. Rhaella and Ned always listened to Lady Catelyn - well, everyone listened to Rickon's mother.
Rhaella nodded and continued eating, Lyanna next to her, but the girl was oddly quiet. Lyanna always had something to say. Whether it was the needlework she enjoyed, or the ponies she liked to ride.
"Lya, how was your day?" Rickon asked her. He was sitting across from the two little girls.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Fine, uncle. Rhaella and I went to the godswood."
"You went to the godswood?" Arya asked her, holding the month old Edric in her arms. "When?"
The little girl looked ashamed. "Earlier, mummy."
Arya buried her brow. "Lyanna Baratheon. You know that grandmother and I have forbade you from going in there unattended. The godswood is too big for you to go alone. You could get lost!"
Rhaella came to her defense. "But, Aunt Arya-"
"-Aunt Arya is right!" Dany scolded her daughter now. Rickon tried to stifle back a laugh as he saw his nieces being scolded together. Lyanna was holding Rhaella's hand, looking down at her food. Rhaella was biting down on her lower lip and looking away, too. "Rhaella, look at me!"
Rhaella looked at her, whimpering. "Yes, mama?"
"You are not to go in there without an adult, understand? You may only go if either grandma, Sansa, Rickon, Arya, or myself go with you. Do I make myself clear?"
"The same goes for you, Lyanna," Arya reprimanded sternly.
Lyanna nodded. "Yes, mummy."
Ned and Robert laughed, mocking them about getting in trouble. Daenerys and Arya soon reprimanded them, too, and they stayed quiet after that. Sansa scolded Ned and the boy always listened to her. Afterwards Rickon told the children a story before they had to go to bed. He sat with Sansa in their chambers as they recounted stories that Old Nan used to tell them. Rickon told the story of the Long Night to them - well the first one, in truth - and about Bran the Builder. Sansa told them about the days of old, when House Stark ruled the North as Kings of Winter. The children watched her with intrigued eyes, listening as they clutched to the pillows and each other. Ned and Robert held a pillow in each lap, while Lyanna and Rhaella held hands. And they told her about their father's - about Jon and James as children. Rhaella and Ned were intrigued hearing about their father as a child, and how close he was with Sansa. They loved hearing tales of their grandfather Eddard Stark. But it was Robb they never heard about, and Robb they were intrigued about the most.
"Your Uncle Robb was the last King in the North. He died at a very young age…"
"How did he look like?" Robert asked.
"Like me," Sansa told him. "He was strong like James, smart like Bran, and courageous like Jon. He had my auburn hair and blue eyes. My reflection in a man."
Yet no question stung like Ned's. "Why did he die?"
Rickon asked himself whether the boy was honestly four in that moment, and not ten. He knew Ned was wise beyond his years now.
Rickon looked over and saw moisture pool in Sansa's eyes. She tried to stay strong for the children, but her resolve broke.
"I think the stories are over for tonight," Rickon had said, escorting a crying Sansa out of the chamber.
Rickon sat down in the rocking chair when Sansa left, and saw that they were confused.
"Why did Aunt Sansa cry?" Lya asked.
Rickon tried to explain the best he could to a four-year old. "Because-because, we all loved your Uncle Robb very much. He was taken from us too soon, Lya. It grieves us to speak about him."
"But why did he die?" Ned pressed again.
Rickon sighed. "He died for love and lost because of it. He died for us - for Sansa, for Arya, for James, for Jon, for me. But he was betrayed, children, he was."
And with that Rickon tucked them in at night, and pressed a kiss to each forehead, hoping that they would never have to experience the pain of losing a sibling. Rickon pressed the kiss on Rhaella's head even harder, knowing that she was almost lost to them all. If she had died, James would have thrown himself from the highest tower of the Red Keep. Rickon believed it to be so.
Dany's time came a few days later.
Rickon was listening to pleas again when it happened. A shepherd was telling him about how a pack of wolves were killing his livestock, and Rickon had to promise him some men so they could hunt the wolves down. "Kill a few, but not the whole pack," he instructed, thinking of Shaggy. The direwolves bones were in the crypt along with his brother's and sister's. Well except, Grey Wind. The Freys took care of him and Robb.
The guards lead Rickon to the sickroom, and already he could hear screams coming from there. When he barreled through the door the room smelled of sweat and blood, but the blue flowers remained. Sansa was there, Myrcella too, Catelyn as well, even Arya had managed to be there for Daenerys. They huddled around Dany and bid her to prepare herself while the child was coming out.
Dany extended her hands out when she saw Rickon. "Rickon!"
The boy ran over to her side and kneeled down to clutch her hand. Dany looked at him with wide eyes, Rickon could see the pain in them. Sweat was dripping from her forehead and he grabbed a cloth to dampen it down. I am playing the part James would have. I am doing this for you, big brother, wherever you are.
The midwives were awaiting for the child in the room. The Maester was huddled between Dany's legs, looking down at the child that was preparing to come into this world.
"You must push now, my lady," the Maester instructed. "Push."
And so Daenerys did, like the dragon blood that flowed through her veins she pushed. Rickon could not feel his hand, but he didn't care. He was distracted by the scene before him, by Dany's screams and her sweat, even her face had gone red. On the other side of Daenerys, Lady Catelyn was standing there and clenching her other hand, damping the sweat.
"James is with you now," Rickon whispered to her for encouragement, and it seemed to work. Dany gave a hard push and gasped at the pain. Her breath became ragged. The rest of the women watched with the Maester, while Dany gave birth. Some midwives were off and damping the blood that was staining the birthing bed.
"I can see the head, my lady," Maester Willem announced. "One last big push and it's over."
"Do it for James," Catelyn whispered, damping more sweat with a cloth. "Do it, my daughter, do it!"
And with that Dany cringed her face and gave one last final agonizing push. Her face contorted, her scream was loud, but she did not cry until the end. Finally, they heard the cries of a newborn babe.
"It's a girl!" The Maester announced, cutting the chord from Dany's babe and cleaning the blood off the child. The midwives took the child and wrapped it in a cloth while it cried, and Rickon looked around to see everyone was, too, even Arya. Then Dany birthed the afterbirth and it was over.
Rickon's hand felt life again as Dany sighed in relief and began to weep tears of joy. "Give me my daughter!" She demanded.
The Maester nodded and gave the babe into Dany's arms. Dany was still crying and looked down at the child. "Oh, James, we have a baby gir l- I told you we would!"
Dany pressed the child to her face and cried heavily, while the babe cried with her. Rickon stood up and loomed over her, getting to see his new niece for the first time. Already he could see tiny wisps of brown-black hair, but the eyes - the eyes were truly Targaryen. It has it's mother's eyes. Rhaella's were of a deep lilac, Ned's were silver, but this one's were as violet as Dany's.
Sansa and Arya reeled up beside Rickon and looked down at the babe, too. Sansa was still crying and Rickon held her as she did. Arya wept quietly, her motherly side coming out.
"What's her name?" Catelyn asked quietly, wiping the tears from her face.
Dany looked up at her and smiled, announcing, "Catelyn. We are naming the girl after you, mama."
Catelyn Tully Stark began to cry more when she said that. Sobs made her body shake once or twice and she omitted cries of joy. "You can't be serious?" She said in disbelief. "Daenerys, I am-"
"-Who better than you, mama?" Dany justified. "You're mother to us all."
"Let's call her 'Cat,'" Rickon suggested. "Otherwise it will be terribly confusing."
Everyone laughed at that, laughed through swollen red eyes. Rickon wished James were here to see this - see his child being born. He had just acted as he would, and knew that James would be proud of him.
Rickon whispered, "I'll makes sure to send an envoy at first light to Bran that James has a new daughter."
Dany nodded and began to cry again, thinking of her husband. The women all rushed to her side and Arya crept up against Rickon, leaning against him for comfort. It was all tears of joy from then.
Rickon finally held the babe in his arms, after everyone else had to, and whispered, "Hello, Cat. We love you very much."
And with that Rickon Stark smiled and thought of the family he would have someday.