Queen Elia had died from a spread of Shaking Sickness that swept through the capital some years ago. Rhaenys and Aegon had wept for days. Her own two sons, Jaehaerys and Aelyx, were sad too. Though they knew her as mother, they viewed Elia as another one, or a close aunt. She thanked all the gods that Elia did not extend her hatred to her own children. Besides that of which was required, Elia did not speak to her, ever. She supposed she couldn't blame her.

But she was always pleasant with her two boys. Jaehaerys supposedly took after her, physically, a great deal according to all the courtiers back in the capital, but if they knew of her…well if they knew of Lord Stark, they'd know he looks more like him. Aelyx possessed a blondish coloring, between the dark of hers and the platinum of Rhaegar.

Speaking of the North was difficult for her. Fourteen years ago, when Ned…when Eddard Stark had left King's Landing, the dirty looks that the Northmen would give her, broke her heart.

Eight years ago, she had sent both of her sons to ward with their uncle. Their ravens always spoke of happy activities. And though she was happy for them, their words only reminded her of what she had lost.

Three years ago, they returned to court, and grew up with their half siblings.

She still received ravens from her younger brother, Benjen, now the Lord of Moat Cailin. At first, his letters were short direct, but overtime, they warmed. But, not once had she received word from her older brother. Even the words that her children carried with them coming back south were supposedly on behalf of Benjen.

But now, Rhaegar had wished to travel North, to the Wall. So he organized a royal progress to Winterfell.

All their children stayed. Princess Rhaenys currently resided with her future betrothed, Willas Tyrell, in Highgarden. Her youngest, Aelyx, was sent for a second wardship to Stannis Baratheon, the Lord of Storm's End. Jaehaerys was currently visiting his betrothed at Casterly Rock.

Rhaegar left Aegon in the capital to learn under Ser Richard Lonmouth, Hand of the King, and Prince Viserys, the Lord Regent appointed while they were away.

They had passed through the Neck some time ago. Her childhood friend, Howland, greeted their party. He had been pleasant, but he warned her of her brother.

Eddard Stark was never the same since the Rebellion. He sired three children with Lady Catelyn; Mariah, Rickon, and Barthogan. Lady Catelyn had died in the birthing bed, to a stillborn daughter.

It was said that after the Rebellion, Eddard Stark never smiled again. The word from her sons always mentioned how strict their uncle was. Not cruel nor rude, but stiff as a board, unbending as the Wall. His only daughter, her niece, Mariah, was betrothed to Ser Roger Ryswell, the heir to the Rills. Rickon was betrothed to Alys Karstark.

With this warning from Howland Reed, her and Rhaegar and their party continued north, their next stop was her younger brother.

She feared that he would turn away, sneer at her. But when he saw her, he bowed, then ran at her and hugged her tightly, much to the alarm of the Kingsguard, and her amusement.

She met Benjen's wife, Dacey, formally of House Mormont, and their two children; Sarra and Beron.

In Benjen's study, between just her and her husband, Benjen gave another warning.

Benjen still spoke to Ned. But he said that Ned was never the same, similar to Howland. Benjen noted that once, he brought up the possibility of sending either one of his, or his own sons, to the capital, to ward under me and Rhaegar, but that he had gone quiet, and excused Benjen from his solar without word, but a glance of utter fury.

And then they rode again. The penultimate stop of Castle Cerwyn. Lord Medger had been her father's close friend, and despite their appropriate greeting and ceremony, the family, and household, were distant to her.

Then they reached it.

Winterfell.

The walls reminded her of her childhood.

As they entered, she already felt that the energy within was different. Winterfell used to be full of light, of laughter, of hearth. But it felt now, more like the cold dungeon that foolish southerners thought of it.

Standing in the courtyard was only a single man, and a lowly servant.

Ned.

As she and Rhaegar dismounted, and approached, Ned silently gestured for the servant to extend bread and salt.

Like in a sept, she and Rhaegar wordlessly accepted it and the servant walked away leaving only Ned.

"Your Graces."

"Lord Stark, I must thank you for the hospitality." Of course her Rhaegar had to thank that.

"If I may ask my lord…where is everyone."

"My two boys are currently taking their own progress around the North…I felt as if they need to know their own people." He said pointedly.

Please Ned…don't.

"Ah…I see. Well, perhaps We shall run into them by chance when we travel to the Wall."

"I do not see that happening." Ned responded with the same, quiet, disconcerting, unnerving, calm tone. He was…confident in that belief.

"Of course, of course. What of your daughter?"

"She is with her betrothed. After all, wouldn't want her to fall for a prince."

And the courtyard just got tense, moreso than she thought possible. Rhaegar's eyes flashed with anger for a moment before calming.

Rhaegar gave up the charade as well. "Household?"

"I only need my guards and a handful of servants."

"May we retire to your solar?"

"Of course." Without even the customary honorific, Ned turned to leave. Rhaegar held his hand up when one of the newer Kingsguard stepped forward to chastise Ned for his impropriety. It seemed this was not a fight that was worth battling.

"Ned?" She spoke the name to him, for the first time in fourteen years. He stopped but didn't turn around.

"Lord Stark?" Rhaegar jumped in for her. "My wife has a question?"

Visibly sighing, Ned took a moment before turning once more and approaching them.

"Your Grace?"

"I see those guards posted at the crypts…perhaps you can move them, so that I may enter?"

She never properly said goodbye to her brother or father.

And then…

And then.

Ned looked at her. Where once his grey eyes gave away his every emotion. Mirth or sadness or frustration.

The grey eyes that peered into her soul were lifeless. Before they flashed bright with madness and anger.

In a voice of pure ice, and as painful as ice, he responded.

"Apologies Your Grace. The crypt is only for members of House Stark…of which you are no longer."

And her soul fell.