"Good morning Rickon," I greeted him as usual. "Morning Anna!" He happily replied, jumping up from his plate of food and hugging me. "Careful, now. You wouldn't want to crush your niece or nephew."

Rickon stood back and kissed my stomach. "I'm sorry," I laughed. "Would you like to visit Shaggydog? I believe that it is time for me to pray." He nodded enthusiastically, and I held his hand as we made our way to the Godswood.

"Shaggydog, home," Rickon shouted when we reached the place of prayer.

The black beast stumbled out of the trees and tackled Rickon. "Forgive me, Rickon, but I need to sit down." I groaned slightly as I lowed myself onto the soft grass in front of the weir wood.

Rickon chased Shaggydog for a while, never tiring, and only sitting when his wolf tackled him. "Be careful Rickon," I warned him, "You don't want to have scars from his claws. What would your future wife say?"

He scooted up next to me. "My future wife?" I nodded, smiling. "She will be a Frey." Rickon scrunched up his face. "I don't want to marry a Frey girl. I want to marry a Northern girl." I smiled and patted his knee. "I'm afraid that you must, Rickon. If we are to win this war, we shall need an army. Arya will have to marry one of the Frey boys as well,"

Rickon nodded.

I suddenly felt a sharp spike of pain in my womb. I felt my face contort in what probably looked like pain. "What's wrong Annablyth?" He asked. "Go get Maester Luwin and Hodor. Tell him the baby is coming!"

Rickon ran off, and I looked up at the grey sky and screamed in pain. "Gods!" I swore. "Sorry," I added after the pain stopped. I waited a few minutes before the next wave hit me. I clutched at the roots and screamed. Shaggydog simply licked at my face.

Hodor eventually came, and swooped me up. "The Maester is waiting in your bedroom with your middle wives," Rickon told me, running to keep up with Hodor.

"Mid wives," I corrected him. "Please put me down, Hodor. I can walk." He let me down. I walked for a few seconds, but soon pain was brought back to my stomach.

"Never mind," I yelled, and Hodor picked me up again. We eventually made it to the bedroom, and the oaf set me down. "Robb needs to be here!" I yell, feeling more pain.

They sent everyone out of the room except Maester Luwin and my midwives. They took off my dress and left me in my shift. They propped my knees.

"Just relax your Grace," Maryanne, my midwife, said. "You can't tell me to relax! I'm the one pushing a babe out of my-" I was cut off by my own scream.

The pain was like nothing else. It felt as though I was being torn in half. The pain came and went for a good while, at least a few hours, until Maryanne told me to push.

"Push!" The midwives screamed at me, and I did. I felt bad for Winterfell. It was dark outside, and I was still screaming.

"I can see it's head!" Lorenna called out. I pushed again, and I nearly passed out from the pain. "Only a little more, your Grace."

I pushed a few more times, and was finally rewarded with a wail. I laughed in relief. "A prince, your Grace."

Lorena cut the life cord between us, and handed me him. "Hello Prince Eddard. I'm your mother." The boy's little face was perfect, so smooth and clear. His eyes were exactly like Robb's, bright blue. His hair was black like mine.

"Your Grace, it would be wise to clean up." I nodded as they drew a bath. They all left except for Lorena. I sank in the warm water, and washed off any blood from me or little Ned.

When I was clean and clothed in a grey nightgown, and Ned was swaddled in a blanket, they brought Bran and Rickon in.

"What's his name?" Rickon asked. "Eddard. Little Ned. He'll be king one day," I told them. "King Eddard?" Bran asks. "It's a very king-like name." I laughed.

Ned had a long stark face, but I could see the Baratheon jawline on his face as well. His nose was like mine, and everything else was his father's. I gasp.

"Get me a quill and some parchment, will you?" Rickon gave me the requested items. I started to write my letter to Robb.

/Robb,

I have just birthed a healthy boy, Prince Eddard. We are both exceptionally healthy, and the midwives say that my birth was one of the easiest ones they've seen in a long time.

Little Ned has your eyes and my hair, and you can see both Stark and Baratheon in him.

I urge you to continue to fight. Come home when the war is over.

With Love,

Annablyth

P.S. I have a feeling that you are going to come anyway./

I rolled it and told a maid to give it to the Maester to send to Robb.

Ned started crying, and Lorena ushered the boys out of the room. I slipped my nightgown down and guided Ned's mouth to my teat. He started sucking, but pulled back and cried.

"What's wrong?" I ask. "Try again," Lorena told me. I did, but Ned just wailed. Lorena sent for a wet nurse, and she fed Ned fine. "Am I not producing any milk?" I ask.

"I believe so, your Grace. Ned will have to be fed from a wet nurse for the first year or so." I felt a major disappointment. "Store her milk in a bottle; I would rather feed him from a bottle than from another woman's breast."

I was surprised at the sudden hatred I felt for this random serving girl. I took Ned from her, and rocked him. I also gave him the bottle when a servant came back with one.

"Your father is a great man, Ned. Do you know that? He's fighting a war for his family. Before, you would be a lord. Now, when your father dies or retires, you will be a king of the North. You'll have to learn a lot to be a king, Little Ned."

He soon stared closing his eyes, and I placed him in his dire wolf crib. Floating above it was a mobile of snowflakes and snow crusted trees.

"I love you, Ned," I said and kissed him on his forehead.