Chapter 4
Ned felt a warm surge of pride as he looked at his eldest son. Robb had grown up so quickly that it seemed to have happened in the blink of an eye. Now, he was celebrating his 18th nameday. Sansa, too, had blossomed into a lovely young lady, and Ned's heart warmed as he watched her laughing and chatting with the other girls.
Bran and Rickon were clearly excited to be part of the feast, while Arya, as always, was full of spirit, arguing with a boy who had just asked her to dance. The sight made Ned smile; his youngest daughter's fire was a constant source of amusement.
Then there was Daliya. She sat quietly with Jon, her dreamy gaze fixed on him, as though nothing else in the hall existed. Jon had always shared a special bond with her, a connection that none of her other siblings seemed to grasp as well.
Ned's heart ached as he looked at her. The ever-present worry for her future resurfaced. She would need someone to care for her, someone who would understand her. But that someone wouldn't be a husband. The mere thought of arranging a marriage for Daliya felt impossible, almost cruel.
Ned's thoughts lingered on Daliya as he observed her quiet demeanor. The hall around him was full of life, but she seemed content to stay in her own world, only tethered by Jon's steady presence beside her.
Catelyn approached him then, her face softening as she followed his gaze to their daughter.
"She looks well tonight," Catelyn said quietly, though there was a note of hesitation in her voice.
Ned sighed, the weight of his unspoken worries settling between them. "She does," he agreed, though his eyes remained on Daliya. "But I wonder for how long. Jon can't always be by her side."
Catelyn nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I know," she murmured. "But perhaps we're worrying too much. She's always managed in her own way. The gods…" She trailed off, as if she didn't quite believe the reassurance herself.
Ned's jaw tightened. "I fear her future is uncertain, Cat. It's not a matter of if we're worrying too much, it's whether we're preparing her for what's to come. Robb will inherit Winterfell, but what of Daliya?"
Catelyn's expression softened into concern, and she laid a hand on his arm. "She has us, Ned. And Jon, he's always looked after her. There's no reason to believe that will change, even if…"
Ned shook his head. "Jon deserves a life of his own, Catelyn. We can't expect him to keep looking after Daliya."
Catelyn's silence was answer enough. She glanced toward Daliya, who smiled softly at something Jon had said. The sight tugged at her heart, but the truth was undeniable.
"I know, Ned," she admitted. "But for now, she's safe."
Ned nodded, though the unease still gnawed at him. "I hope so."
"And she has Robb," Catelyn added. "He would never abandon her. She'll have a home here after he inherits Winterfell."
Ned nodded at Catelyn's words, but the tension in his face remained. He looked over to Robb, who was laughing with his bannermen, the picture of a future lord. Ned knew his eldest son's heart was good, but the weight of leading Winterfell would be heavy, and Daliya's needs might only add to it.
"Robb has a good heart, but being the Lord of Winterfell requires more than that. He'll have his own family to care for, his own duties," Ned said, his voice quiet but firm. "He'll do his best for her, but what if something happens to him? To us?"
Catelyn frowned at that, her own concerns deepening. "Nothing will happen to Robb. He will protect his family."
Ned sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I pray you're right. But Daliya is not like the others. She will need more than protection, Cat. She needs understanding, patience... someone who can be there when she loses herself in those dreams of hers."
Catelyn's gaze softened further, and she placed her other hand atop his, a silent reassurance. "We'll make sure she's cared for, Ned. She'll always have a place here. As long as we're alive, she won't be alone."
They both sat in a silence that seemed to stretch out, the noise of the feast fading into the background as they each pondered the uncertain future.
"We'll have to make plans," Ned said after a moment, as if thinking aloud. "A ward, perhaps. Someone who could help her, guide her when we're gone."
Catelyn looked uncertain. "Who would take on such a burden, Ned?"
Ned's eyes drifted back to Jon and Daliya, who were still talking softly. The bond between them was undeniable, and it tugged at something deep within him.
"Maybe Jon is the answer," he said quietly. "He loves her as much as any brother could."
Catelyn's eyes narrowed slightly. "You said it yourself, Jon deserves his own life, his own chance at freedom."
Ned sighed again, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on him. "Aye. He does. But if there's anyone who could give Daliya the care she needs... it's Jon. But I won't force that burden on him, the choice has to be his."
Catelyn's lips parted in surprise, but she didn't immediately protest. The thought hung between them like a new possibility, something both fragile and promising.
"We'll think on it," she said at last. "But for now, let them have tonight."
Ned nodded, his eyes still lingering on Jon and Daliya. "Aye. For now, let them have tonight."
Jon couldn't help but smile as he watched Daliya dancing, her arms reaching towards the starlit sky.
"They're humming loud tonight," she murmured, tilting her head back.
"What stories are they telling you?" he asked curiously.
"It's a sad story," she hummed, her mind clearly wandering somewhere else.
Jon's smile softened as he watched Daliya twirl beneath the night sky, her eyes half-closed, as if she could hear melodies no one else could. The stars above glittered like scattered diamonds, and the cool northern breeze made her hair dance along with her movements.
"What's the story about?" Jon asked, keeping his voice low, not wanting to break whatever delicate thread she was following in her mind.
Daliya paused in her slow dance, her eyes still fixed on the stars, and her voice grew soft, almost melancholic. "It's about a girl. A princess who lived a long time ago. A dragon princess with silver hair and purple eyes. She was mean because she was unhappy. Too young to ride a dragon. She didn't listen to her mother and stole the dragon of the cruel king. The dragon took her to a dark place. The place of pain and suffering. When she returned, there was nothing left of her. She was burning from the inside out."
Jon's brow furrowed as he listened to Daliya's tale. There was a heaviness to her words, something that made his chest tighten with unease. He could tell that the story, fantastical as it sounded, meant something more to her, something beyond the surface of a simple legend.
"She burned from the inside out?" he repeated quietly, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.
Daliya nodded, her eyes still distant, her fingers brushing lightly against her arms as if she could feel the heat from the fire she spoke of. "Yes," she whispered. "She was a girl of fire and blood. But no one saved her. They didn't know how. So, she kept burning, burning until all that was left was ash."
Jon stepped closer, his instinct to protect her rising. "That doesn't have to happen, Daliya. Not every story ends that way."
She stopped twirling, her gaze finally meeting his. "This one did. The stars saw it a long time ago, just like they see us now."
Jon frowned. "A dragon princess with silver hair and purple eyes? You mean a Targaryen?"
She smiled at him. "The stars don't know names. They only tell me what they saw."
Jon's frown deepened as he watched Daliya, her words unsettling him more than he wanted to admit. The cryptic way she spoke, the distant look in her eyes, it was as if she was tethered to something beyond their world. He stepped closer, trying to ground her, trying to ground himself.
"Daliya," he said softly, "that's just a story. The stars… they don't decide everything."
She tilted her head slightly, her smile gentle but distant, as though she was listening to something he couldn't hear. "But they see everything, Jon. They've been here longer than we have. They watch, they remember, and sometimes they speak to those who listen."
He swallowed, unsure of how to respond. Daliya's words seemed to echo with a truth that unsettled him, a truth he couldn't quite grasp. "What do they say about us?" he asked, hoping to pull her back into the present, away from these eerie stories.
Her smile faded, and she looked up at the stars again, her expression thoughtful. "They're quiet about us. But they see everything. Our choices. Our fates. They saw the dragon princess burn, and they see what's coming for us too."
Jon's heart raced. There was something about the way she said it, something ominous. "What's coming for us?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Daliya didn't answer immediately. She seemed to be searching the sky, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air. After a long pause, she looked back at him, her eyes filled with a sadness that chilled him. "I don't know yet," she murmured. "But the stars say it will be hard. For both of us."
Jon clenched his fists, his protective instinct flaring again. "I don't care what the stars say," he said, more firmly than he intended. "Whatever's coming, we'll face it. Together."
Daliya's smile returned, softer this time, and she reached out, lightly brushing her fingers against his arm. "I know you'll protect me, Jon. You always do."
Jon nodded, though his unease still lingered. The stars above them sparkled indifferently, and for a moment, he wished he could hear what they were whispering to Daliya. But more than that, he wished he could shield her from whatever dark story she feared.
"Come on," Jon said gently. "Let's get back inside. It's cold out here."
Daliya glanced at him, her gaze lingering on the stars for a moment longer before she nodded. "Alright, Jon," she whispered, taking his hand as they walked back toward Winterfell, leaving the cold mysteries of the night behind them.