The next morning, Amice, my new handmaiden, dressed me in a black sleeveless gown. The skirts were simple, and with many layers, but the bodice was sheer with curling designs of black. I wondered when it would be appropriate to stop wearing mourning gowns.

I went to Ned's bedroom, picked him up, and then went to Arya's chambers.

During the night, I hired the fastest seamstress in Winterfell to make Arya a dress she would actually like.

It was a simple gown, with white covering her bosom and arms, a grey leather belt right below her barely existent breasts, and a black skirt. Her uneven haircut was too short to even be plaited.

"I don't want to wear a dress," she complained. "I'm sorry Arya, but you are a princess, and it is expected of you. I'll hire a good seamstress who can make some comfortable dresses for you, okay? And outside of feasts you can go back to wearing trousers." Arya still seemed annoyed, but didn't protest at the moment.

We reached the Great Hall and were seated. We waited until everyone was here, and then I announced, "Princess Arya has been returned to us." Everybody cheered, and Arya smiled.

"I know how to use a sword now," Arya told me. "So I need to practice." She added. "Brienne could help you," I say. "Brienne? That's the woman who took the Hound away, right?" I nodded, wiping Ned's mouth with a napkin.

"Yes, she served your mother well." Arya looked sad, and we didn't talk much after that.

• • •

After breakfast, I went to my solar and started writing my letter to Daenerys Targaryen. I nervously bit my lip and looked to Ned. No, Ned would marry Dimia.

But this babe...

I quickly finished the letter and sealed it with the Stark sigil.

I called for Eva, and she came into my solar wearing a gown with a dark blue bodice and a crinkled light blue skirt. "You look as lovely as ever, Annablyth," she says, sitting down and pouring a glass of wine. She has stopped doing any sort of work, and was merely a resident instead of a lady-in-waiting. Eva was now 'too good' to do even my hair.

"You as well," I say, bouncing Ned on my knee. Eva eyes my stomach, "Name?"

"Hopefully a Princess Catelyn. I offered the babe, if it's a girl, to be married to Daenerys's heir, Rhaego." She nodded, taking a sip. "Is this Dornish?" She asks. I shrug. "Also, if that babe of yours is a boy, there might be a chance you could marry Ned or whatever to Daenerys's babe, if it's a girl."

"I want Ned to marry Lady Lolliston's daughter, Dimia." Eva gives me a 'are you serious' look. "Might as well wait until the babes are born. Will be soon enough, though."

I shrug.

"Oh, and organize an envoy to go to... Wherever Daenerys is." Eva takes the letter and smiles at me. "Anything else?" I nod. "Get rid of all the Greyjoys, except Asha Greyjoy." Eva nods, bows mockingly, and leaves.

I pick up Ned and smile at him. "Want to go play with Rorin?" Ned giggled, so I went to Rorin's small nursery. He was there, with Juliana sitting in a rocking chair. I put Ned down and went to sit my her. "The baby will arrive any day now," she says softly. I nod.

We watch our children interact, with Ned building little towers from wooden blocks, and Rorin knocking them down. Then Rorin would rebuild the tower, and Ned would destroy it again. It was an infinite circle, over and over, yet it kept them entertained.

I was so distracted by our children that I didn't notice Juliana's pain until she mummers, "Oh no," I turn to her, a smile on my face that quickly becomes a look of panic. Juliana is clutching her stomach.

I rush outside the room, and yell at a passing servant woman to go get Maester Luwin and the mid wives. I went back into the room, and put Ned and Rorin into the same crib to make sure they don't run off.

I lead Juliana, screaming and clutching her belly, to her room, and lay her down on her bed. They soon arrive, and usher me out. I go back to the nursery, and only find Rorin in try the crib. I curse.

"Rorin, stay," I say. He doesn't even look up.

"Ned!" I call out. I checked the toy box, where he liked to hide, and under the crib, and every square inch of the room. I then go to the hallway, and search each of the room. I can feel panic bubbling inside, and I tell myself to calm down. He's probably hiding somewhere.

I then continue to reach everything on the floor. He couldn't have escaped from this floor, since the two guards guarding the royal chambers would have seen.

"Your Grace!" I rush back to the birthing room, where I smell blood and death. Juliana is moaning in pain, and Mel, a midwife, is patting her forehead with a damp cloth. Ned is crawling towards her, looking determined. I scoop him up, and then rush to her side. A servant comes and takes Ned away, and I let Juliana squeeze my hand.

"It'll be okay," I tell her. "You'll birth Dimia, and then her and Ned can get married in a nice big wedding, and she can rule as Queen," A midwife lifts the blanket and looks at Juliana. The midwife catches my eyes and shakes her head once. Tears swell in my eyes. "You can do this, Juliana, don't worry, okay? Just listen to the midwives. They'll take care of you, okay?" Juliana moans again, and squeezes my hand.

"Push!" A midwife screams, and Juliana does so. "It'll be alright, Juliana, okay? Just relax. You can do this," She whimpers.

Another push.

Another.

One more.

"It's a girl!" A midwife declares, and gives her to Juliana. Juliana holds her close, and kisses her on her little head. "Dimia," she whispers. Then she closes her eyes, and starts convulsing. I immediately pick up Dimia, and give her to a nearby midwife to clean up. Maester Luwin pushes me back, and puts a strip of leather between Juliana's teeth. So she doesn't bite her tongue off.

She eventually stops twitching. "She's alive," Maester Luwin whispers. "Lost a lot of blood, and is unconscious, but is alive." He places a hand on my shoulder. "Best start making arrangements or praying,"

I absolutely refused to believe that she is gone, so I sit by her and prayer. "Go get Ned and her son," I say. "Rorin deserves to see his mama,"

They do, and Rorin cuddles against his mother. "Mama?" He asks. "Mama is sleeping to get better," I tell him.

That night, they move Rorin's crib into the her chambers. Rorin refuses to move by his mother, so Dimia is placed into the cot. I fall asleep on the plush love seat next to the bed, Ned at my side.

• • •

A laugh woke me up. I sit up, opening my eyes and looking around wildly. Ned isn't beside me, but on the bed next to Juliana. "Come on Ned," I say, and try to stand, but something keeps me back. Rorin is in the crib with his baby sister.

Ned put his chubby toddler hands on Juliana's chest. For the first time, I notice that it isn't moving. I practically choke on the sob. Ned's face is crinkled into concentration, and his eyes are closed.

Then, something amazing something.

Juliana, who is dead, opens her eyes and takes a deep inhale. Ned removes his hands and claps them. Juliana sits up, and looks around. "Annablyth," she mutter, rubbing her head, "what's going on?" I laugh and hug her on the bed. "You were dead!" I say, pulling back. "Don't be ridiculous," she says, "I was just resting. I mean, I did just have a baby,"

Her eyes change I realization. "Dimia!" She says, "Where is she? Is she okay?"

I laugh and nod, going to the crib and bringing the little bundle to her mother. On the second trip, I bring Rorin.

For the first time, I notice Dimia's evident beauty. She had thick and healthy blonde hair, like her mother, and brilliant blue eyes. She looks exactly like Juliana, except her button nose and plump, pouty lips. I hold Ned to me, and point to Dimia. "That's Dimia," I say. "You are going to marry her one day," Ned reaches out to touch her, but before I can swat his hand away, Juliana takes his hand and guides it to Dimia's heart. "You feel that? Like a fluttering bird's. Dimia's going to be a runner,"

Then, Ned shocked us all by saying his first word. "Birdie?" He cried out. I stared at him, shocked. Juliana nods, a serene smile on her face. "Yes," Ned then started shrieking, "Biride! Birdie! Birdie!"

He didn't stop for an entire week.