Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun

Chapter Sixty-Four

The twisting of the babe inside of her womb made Elia frown and let out a breath of air as she rested her hand on the swell of her belly, the babe had not granted her a single moment of peace as of late and there had been many nights when she had woke to the darkness with a dire need for the privy, unable to think of anything else till she had her relase.

Elia rubbed some soothing circles into the stretched flesh of her stomach and after a few moments of that, the babe seemed to settle. Not even born yet and she was kicking her like a cart horse. She could not know the babe's sex yet of course and yet Howland Reed had seemed convinced back at Harrenhal at the babe would be a girl and Elia could not deny that she was more than pleased with that, if he was right.

If the babe was a boy than she would be more than pleased and have no regrets, but she had already given Ned two sons and so a part of her could not deny that this time she hoped the little one growing inside of her would be a girl. She used to dream that her daughter and Ashara's daughter and Cat's daughter and Lyanna's daughter might be friends, close as sisters as Arianne and Tyene were.

That was like a not to happen now and it sent a surge of sadness through her and a small sigh escaped from her mouth before she could supress it and moments later a small hand came to rest on her knee and when Elia looked down, she saw a pair of grey eyes looking back up at her. "Mama sad?" Torrhen asked with a look of concern on his face that was far too serious for a babe and looked so much like his Father that Elia could not help but laugh.

To show her older son that she was not mocking him for the concern that he showed her, Elia reached down to pick the babe up and blanced him on her knee with his back to the swollen bump of her belly and bent her head to press a kiss to his curls. "My darling one, I am here with you and your brother. How in any way could I be sad when I have the both of you with me?"

That seemed to have satsified her oldest boy who started to kick his feet back and forth while his younger brother was making what looked like an entire keep out of wooden blocks that his Father had given him. Perhaps that should have named him Brandon instead of Mors, he seemed to like building things with those blocks well enough.

One a rough wall had been formed out of three rows of blocks stacked on top of one another, her younger son set on buliding the keeps inside his fortress wall. A few blocks were built up here, another few there and Elia had to wonder if her son had given these arrangments of blocks a purpouse in his own mind or if he was just putting the blocks together in a way that seemed right to him.

After a few more blocks were arranged, Mors began to stack the last of his blocks on top of one another. Higher and higher it climbed until all of his blocks had been used up and the babe was left with a very fearsome tower indeed, towering over every other structure he had built. It did not stay standing long as Mors reached out and pushed the tower of wooden blocks over, the collapse talking a section of the wall with it and spreading wooden blocks out across the floor, the boy who had wrought such destruction clapping his hands in delight and his laughter echoing around the nursery.

Elia tried to frown in disapproval, but she could not quite manage it. She held Torrhen close to her as she stood up so that he would not fall as she stood up to carry him before setting him down next to his brother and pressing a kiss to the top of Mors head. "Look at all the destruction you have brought my darling one, and after all of your hard work as well!"

"I can build it up again!" Was all the boy had for her as he set about doing just that, though this time he seemed to be forgoing the wall and just focused on the tower. In the end he came up with a much taller tower than the one he had before, but this time he did not need to push it down himself as it's own weight did that for him. A loud crash echoed through the room as the wooden blocks scattered across the stones.

Both her boys laughed that time and Elia smiled at that, laughter had seemed too rare a thing as of late within the walls of Winterfell. Word had reached Lord Rickard of what had happened at Harrenhal before they had returned and to say he was not best pleased would be understating it, somewhat. Lyanna was not to leave the castle walls without an escort of at least four guards and all her letters were to be read by the maester before they were sent off.

She knew that Lyanna was talking it hard, she had certainly not asked for Prince Rhaegar to crown her but he had done so, in a cruel mockery of what had happened to her at the tourney celebrating Rhaegar's betrohal to Lady Cersei. She didn't know what the Prince had been thinking, if he had done it out of stupidity or mallice towards his wife or whatever reason.

All she cared about in that moment was Lyanna, Ned had been somwhat distant to her ever since that and she knew that had hurt the younger girl even more than the distrust and the anger her Father had shown in her. Elia knew that Ned held no true anger for his sister nor any distrust, simply he did not no what to do or what to say to her, how to comfort her.

Benjen was the one silver lining that Lyanna had it seemed, not counting Elia, the boy had been as shocked as the rest of them of course and he drunk heavily the night of the incident. But the sore head in the morning was the only thing he held any resentment too. Benjen had been Lyanna's constant companion now more than ever before and every walking moment seemed to be spent on trying to get a smile on her face or for her to laugh, often making a fool out of himself in the process.

It reminded her somewhat of her girlhood days, when she had been confined to the halls of Sunspear or the Water Gardens do to being too sick and thus kept away from the other children and Oberyn would do all in his power to cheer her up, he had often failed to do so but he had often succeeded to as well. He would bring her toys, bringing her blood oranges that he had boasted that he had picked from the tallest trees in the Gardens, would give mocking names to the guards and the servants, some more cruel then they were witty but the ones that were witty had made her smile.

Sadly, Benjen had more a long line of failures to his name that Oberyn had. There had been moments when it seemed that Lyanna might have tried to smile, her lips had certainly twitched once or twice in her view but naught had come of them. Elia did not think she had ever seen the girl so morose even when her Father had nearly been on death's door.

She certainly had been spending more and more time in the godswood as of late, perhaps because it was the only place in Winterfell other than her own bedchamber where she might have some peace and solitude. Ned had said that his sister had never been overly devout but then they said that people turned to the gods when they could turn to no one else.

It saddened her to think that Lyanna might have come to a point where she did not think that she could turn to her or to Ned or to her Father or her younger brother but at the same time she could not blame her for coming to that conclusion. Lord Rickard had taken to not speak more than one or two words to his daughter at a time and most often those words were simple dismissals.

Elia did not need to wonder what Lord Rickard was thinking, it was more than likely what any Father would be thinking if his daughter had been crowned by the heir to the throne who was already married. Some lords might see the opportunity in that, the king taking another woman as a mistress was not something that was unheard of though in some cases it had not ended well, there had been a reason that no king since Aegon the Unworthy had officially taken a mistress after all.

But Lord Rickard was not that sort of lord, or maybe the fact was that he was exactly that sort of a lord but even so he had already had his own plans set out and they had been disrupted enough as it was without his daughter breaking her betrothal to become the paramour of the Prince. Elia had never been more thankful that Robert hadn't been more angry at Lyanna, if he had demanded the end of the betrothal then she did not want to think how Lord Rickard would react or what the news would do to him.

The Lord of Winterfell liked to act as though he was as strong as he had ever been but those that knew him well knew that was not the case, his skin had taken an unhealthy shade of grey as of late and he had been getting more and more tired as well, often times taking his meals in his bedchambers so he could find his bed and his rest as soon as he had eaten.

One of her maids had told her that she had overheard the maester speaking of having a stick carved for the lord to help him with his walking but Lord Rickard had ignored the suggestion and said that he would not hear of it. He was no cripple, he was the Lord of Winterfell and no man would ever help him to walk nor would he ever lean on anything either. He would stand on his own feet or not at all.

Elia wanted to slap the back of the man's head and to tell him to stop being as stubborn as an ox about it but she knew it wouldn't work, Lords would not suffer being told what to do in their own seats and Lord Rickard was not her brother, she doubted that she would be so easily forgiven if she decided to give him a slap. And when it came to Lord Rickard, she might want his forgiveness.

The thought of Doran still filled her with anger, even now. Oberyn had mentioned when they were at Harrenhal that when Doran was not holding court at Sunspear, he was brooding in his own private wing in the Water Gardens and Oberyn only saw him when he was summoned and their conversations were often short and to the point, according to Oberyn they felt more like being summoned by a lord to hear his commands than a brotherly chat.

Doran had sent her no letters, not since their argument. It had always been Oberyn who had sent the lion's share of messages to her but Doran always sent a letter or two now and then. Since their argument, not a word. She would have burned any letters he had sent her of course, but it disturbed her more than words could say that he had not even attempted to send a single one.

Maybe he felt the same way of her, she had written many letters to Dorne but not a single one was for the Prince. Perhaps Doran had too much pride too, and would not deign to try and write to her till she wrote to him first. If so, he would be waiting a long time indeed. She could not see herself letting go of the anger she held for him, not for a long time yet.

She tried to put the thoughts out of her mind as she helped her boys, Torrhen reaching out and trying to fix his brother's wall even though he did not have enough blocks to do so. Mors reached for some of the carved wooden soldiers that his grandfather had given to him and began to station them on the walls that were still somewhat standing.

A peaceful hour must have past at least before the door to the nursery opened, when Elia looked up she saw the nursemaid standing there, she bowed her head in respect and then spoke. "M'lady, you asked to be told when Lady Lyanna was ready to see you?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you Bette." Elia said as she stood up, remembering to bend down to press a kiss to the top of Mors's head before doing the same for Torrhen. "Both of you be good for Bette. Please remember to bundle them both up warm Bette, I swear by all the gods that it has gotten colder and colder with each day that has passed."

Perhaps it was the Old Gods, punishing them for the arrogance of thinking that Winter had passed. Many Northmen had thought it had passed before they had ventured down south for the tourney, men and women who had lived through a dozen winters in their lifetimes. None were more shocked than they as the cold kept back in as fierce snowstorms had hammered them almost day and night while the knights of the south had played at war.

Thankfully, it seemed the worst of the snowstorms has passed by the time they had made their was back past the Neck, though white was still falling steadily from the sky as they made their way back to Winterfell. Much of the snow had melted by now, but there was still a deep and bitter chill holding in the air even now that would not abate. Old Nan had sworn that it would start snowing again any day now, she could feel it in her bones she had sworn.

Perhaps that was partly the reason why Lord Rickard had been so insistent on sending Lyanna south now, bringing up the wedding to Lord Robert. He did not wish for her to be trapped up here by another snowstorm. Or mayhap it was more to do with what had happened at Harrenhal and Lord Rickard wanted to make sure that Lyanna was more secure.

Either way, it did not truly matter. The outcome would always be the same, this was to be Lyanna's last day in Winterfell. In a matter of weeks, she would have arrived at Storm's End and would be wed there. Ned would be the only one of her family attending her, Lord Rickard either did not have the strength or still held on to his anger and he would not allow Benjen to go.

Elia wished to go with her, to give her some support, but the babe had been restless and she had been feeling more drained as of late and the maester had suggested that such a journey would not be for the best, either for her own health or for the health of the babe. Elia could only hope that Lyanna would forgive her for it, but she could not risk the life of her babe for the sake of making her feel better.

As she was walking through the corridors of the Great Keep, a loud cry went up from the courtyard and Elia looked out the nearest window. Most of the men in her goodsister's honour guard were already mounted and ready to ride out but it seemed as though two of them had decided to pass the time with a sparring match.

She knew Jon Umber by a glance, she had met the heir to Last Hearth only once as she could recall, at her wedding feast but the sheer size of him was enough to identify him to her. There was no man larger than him in the North and he even gave that monster of a man who served Lord Tywin, the one who the mere thought of filled her with a dread that she could not understand, a good run for his coin when it came to height.

Howland Reed was already a small man, compared to Jon Umber he looked like a child. Jon wore heavy looking armour that Elia imagined that if she even tried to wear a piece of it would crush all of her bones into dust and carried a large sword that did not look any less lethal for having it's edges dulled. Lord Howland looked practically naked in comparison, wearing only a boiled leather breastplate, greaves and gauntlets. His sword looked more like an oversized dagger.

Not that he seemed overly concerned, the heir to Greywater Watch was like the water. When Jon Umber made to strike, Howland Reed just wasn't there. Ducking and dodging and jumping out of the way of the large sword blade. It reminded her of how Dornishmen fought, favouring lighter armour for being able to move quicker and faster.

The men of the Neck were said to poison their weapons as well, many might find that dishonourable but Elia remembered her history well and it could not denied it was an effective tactic. And it was not as though the men of the North had complained how the Crannogmen fought too harshly when they were faced with an enemy host coming up the causeway.

She had been so caught in her thoughts, she didn't notice how Jon Umber had ended up on his back until a string of curses went up in the air. Howland pointed his sword at Lord Umber and asked him if he yielded. Jon stared up at him dumbly, and then he started to laugh like a bellow. His chest heaving before saying that he yielded to him.

Men grumbled and passed coin to others, clearly Lord Umber had been the favourite to win and more were disappointed than happy with the result of the sparring match. As the coin was being passed around Elia caught sight of a young man watching all of this happening in disapproval, a frown so stern on his face that Elia imagined that it might have been chiselled that way.

Stannis Baratheon was a serious young man, and that was putting it lightly. He had been sent North along with his grandfather, Ser Eldon Estermont, to serve as the Baratheon compliment of the honour guard, to bring his brother's wife to him. Elia did not think she had seen him smile or laugh or have a conversation he had enjoy since he had arrived.

She might have thought that he was displeased with the match of his brother to Lyanna if she did not know any better but she had heard stories when she was still in Dorne, about how joyless Lord Stannis had been, how he had never laughed even before his parents had drowned off the coast of Storm's End, when a storm had swept in to Shipbreaker Bay.

It was funny to think that once upon a time, she had been worried that Ned would be joyless, that he would be so cold. She had been lucky, her husband could be cold when he wanted to be and could work to make you get to know him. But once you did, he could be as warm as the sun in Dorne. It was not right to judge, she knew, but she could imagine nothing warm about Stannis Baratheon.

At any rate, she hoped that he found something to make him happy. Or someone. With that last thought, she turned and began to make her way through the corridors until she arrived at the door outside of Lyanna's bedchamber.

The guards let her through, the maids had already been dismissed and Lyanna was awaiting for her within. A standing looking glass stood in the corner of the room and Lyanna was staring at herself in it. She was not wearing her wedding gown, she would only wear that on the day of the wedding itself and it would be close to a month before they arrived at Storm's End, even more if the snows came again.

But the dress she was wearing was similar to the wedding gown, the colours were the same. White and Grey and the sleeves were Myrish Lace, an extravagance in the North to be sure but nothing too unexpected for the first daughter of the Lord of Winterfell. Lyanna's face was serious, a frown on her pale face and her grey eyes looked sad, tired and defeated.

Elia tried to give a smile which she hoped was reassuring, moving to stand next to her and pushed a lock of errant black hair behind her ear. "The Maiden herself could not question such a beauty." It was a normal thing to say to a bride to be, she wasn't sure how much a comfort it would be to Lyanna but her words failed her and it was all the came to mind.

It seemed that it did not prove much comfort, as Lyanna snorted and moved away from the looking glass and from Elia. "I wish she could, Robert would not have me if I was hideous. If she could, Rhaegar would not have crowned me and none of this would be a problem." She slumped down on to the end of the bed, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Stop that, you're going to make yourself bleed." Elia spoke gently as she sat down next to her and took hold of Lyanna's hand. Lyanna did not pull away from her, so she took that as a victory. "My dear, I know what you are feel. Doubts and fears are perfectly normal, I know that I had them. More than I count but now, I have a husband I love, two babes who are soon to be three. If my doubts were made to rule me, I would not be here and not half as happy. Be strong, it takes time. Sometimes less, sometimes more but you can find happiness."

Lyanna looked at her then, her grey eyes were wet and Elia wondered if she had ever truly seen her goodsister cry before. Even at Harrenhal, she had been more angry about how unfair it all was rather than upset, but she saw the tears now. Gods, she was so young. She was half a girl, all Elia wanted to do in that moment was to take her into her arms, stroke her hair and tell her that all would be well.

She did not have the chance though as the door opened then and Ned stood in the open doorway, it was so odd how she had found it so much easier to read her lord husband in the subtle motions of his face after all of this time. Back when she had come to Winterfell, she had thought such a face unreadable to any man, a man who held his secrets close.

But no, she could read it now like a favourite book. He wanted to say something to his sister, something to comfort her but his words failed him and so instead, he simply cleared his throat. "Lya, are you ready to go? We all prepared for the journey and there are dark clouds coming from the west, we'd like to get as far ahead of them as we can."

"I'm ready Ned." Lyanna said with a sigh, both guards came in and picked up her traveling trunk and carried it out of the room ahead of them and they followed slowly after them.

It seemed as though all of Winterfell was crammed into the yard at that moment, Lord Rickard stood as tall and as still as a statue, Benjen was shaking slightly and Elia know that it was not because of the cold, her babes were standing nearby clinging to the skirts of Bette, dressed in furs they both looked like a pair of fat little bear cubs.

Lyanna knelt in front of her Father and Rickard helped her up and pressed a kiss to the forehead, it was the most tender gesture that Elia had seen Lord Rickard give his daughter in too long. Lyanna then knelt in front of her younger brother and pulled him close for an embrace, when they pulled apart Benjen was the one who was weeping.

Lyanna held on tight and for a long time to both Mors and Torrhen, but both boys were too young to truly know what was happening, to understand that they were unlikely to see their aunt for a very long time. And then finally it was Elia's turn, Lyanna wrapped her arms around her and pressed a kiss to both her cheeks as she would her sister. Elia wondered if she would be able to taste the salt of her tears.

The she-wolf rested her hand on the swell of her belly and smiled, it was the saddest thing that Elia had ever seen though she could not say why. "Howland says she will be a girl." She spoke so softly that Elia almost didn't hear her. "They know things, the Crannogmen. They wed with the Children of the Forest and they know the old spells, if Howland says she'll be a girl. She'll be a girl."

"Name her for me?" Lyanna laughed then, even as her tears rolled down her cheeks. "There should always be a Lyanna Stark in Winterfell, even if only to cause some trouble."

Elia did not trust herself to speak, so instead she simply nodded. That seemed to please Lyanna well enough and then she turned and was helped up to mount her own horse. She looked almost strange on a palfrey, and stranger still riding side saddle.

Benjen turned and ran once half of the honour guard had ridden through the gate, Elia followed him. She already knew where he was going, each step seemed to take an eternity to climb but soon enough they had made it to the top of the battlements, as the last of the honour guard ride out.

Stormlandmen and Northmen rode together, men of Umber and Cerwyn and Locke, men of Estermont and Baratheon, Men of Reed and Bolton, Forrester and Whitehill, men of Stark and Karstack. The tips of their spears glinted in the cold winter sun even at they began to fade into the distance, becoming an indistinguishable shape.

And in the middle of it all, a grey girl atop a white horse. Riding out to her future.

Elia hoped it was a happy one, with all her heart did she hope.

The pain was so sudden, she almost didn't realise that it was a pain at all. Only when Benjen looked at her, his eyes wide, did she realise that she must have let out a gasp. Elia feel to her knees, her legs could no longer support her weight and she stared at her goodbrother for a long moment from where she knelt. "Fetch the Maester. Now!"

Benjen did not dawdle, he spun on his heels and ran, his voice echoing around them as he called for help. Elia tried to breath, tried to ignore the pains as they kept stabbing. She closed her eyes and prayed to the Mother for mercy as she put her hand between her legs. It was too soon, far too soon, two whole moons too soon for the babe.

When her hand came back red, she screamed.

End of Chapter Sixty-Four.

Welp. Damn.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry for the wait.

I would also like to say that I am currently in the middle of rewriting some of the earlier chapters, at the time I was not in depth of my knowledge of ASOIAF and my writing skills were rough around the edges, to say the very least and I want to make these chapters better. I am not rewritting them to a schedual but please bare with me

Please leave a review, a follow and a favourite. Constructive Criticism is always welcome.

With a lot of love,

DiscordantSymphony