"You shouldn't be in here."

Elia whispered as she eyed the man who had somehow snuck into the royal nursery and was holding the newest and youngest member of the royal family.

To say everyone was surprised by the pregnancy would be an understatement. Yet, no longer having Maester Pycelle as the Grand Maester had done wonders for her health and this pregnancy. Elia had her suspicions that the high-risk pregnancies had more to do with the care she and her good mother were receiving than their health.

However, Elia knew that having this pregnancy had been the most reckless thing she had done. The pregnancy could and still might mean her death in more ways than one.

She walked over to the small alcove where her child was in the arms of the man she shouldn't love. They were bathed in the moonlight.

Brandon Stark gave her a coy smile. "I was just showing her the stars, love."

As much as it endeared her to see the apparent care from and by him, he was foolish to be here with Varys still lurking. It was unwise to do this in general in King's Landing, where there were eyes everywhere.

"Brandon…."

Brandon moved carefully from his perch and placed her daughter back in the crib with little to no fuss. Her new babe wasn't a fussy one yet. It had been surprising how easy the pregnancy had been. "She's quiet, like how Ned was as a babe."

"Brandon, you can't say such things." Brandon noticed that she couldn't mask her fear with her words, and he frowned.

He stood in front of her. It had been over a year since they had last seen each other. She noticed a few more crinkles in his eyes. His brown hair was swept into a bun. Unlike Ned, who kept his up in a half updo, Brandon kept his entirely up with a few pieces framing his face. He also never kept his face clean-shaven. Although, she could tell he did trim it before coming down to King's Landing.

His gray eyes, though, were the same, and they seemed to see right through her. His hands went to her hips, and he kissed her forehead.

She felt some of the tension leave her body. Brandon moved his hands and wrapped her in his arms. It was easy to get lost in him. He easily towers over her from his physical nature, and his frame is more stocky than those in the South. And being in his arms, he provided a steady warmth that no fire can achieve. She inhaled his scent of pine greedily. It's been so long that she couldn't risk any letters knowing what they would say or ask.

"How are you feeling?" He whispered against her crown.

"I'm okay," she assured him. But his body became tense, and she looked up at him as the thought dawned on her. "This is why you came then?"

Brandon had always refused any summoning to King's Landing. Ned would always act in his stead, or in rare times, the youngest Stark, Benjen, would venture down.

Since the Rebellion, the North had effectively cut off communication with their King. However, she was surprised that Brandon had returned a raven to King's Landing so that he would attend the Tourney to celebrate the birth of the royal family's newest member. She should have known after her silence that he would take the opportunity to see her for herself. She should have known that he would come down to see her somehow. No assurances from Ashara or even Ned would compare to him seeing her in the flesh.

"Can you blame me?" He asked her softly.

Elia sighed but didn't respond.

Brandon placed a hand under her chin while he leaned down and kissed her lips. She knew it was foolish and reckless even to entertain him and this in King's Landing. Every interaction they had was their dangling fate.

But as his tongue demanded entrance, it was easy to forget duty and the Realm. Brandon made her feel desired and even loved. Something she never got truthfully or organically from her husband.

She felt Brandon's hands drift down to her sides and begin to untie her robe when she broke free. They couldn't be that reckless.

Brandon sighed, seemingly understanding her apprehension. He created some distance between them, and his smile softened as he looked at her daughter peacefully sleeping.

"You know, I was wondering if she would be saddled with one of those ridiculous Targaryen names."

Elia frowned. "Brandon…"

"She looks like you," he interrupted.

She knew he was avoiding wanting to breach this. "Brandon, she could be…his."

Brandon tensed, and his gray eyes went back to her frame. "But you're not certain?"

Elia looked away in shame and wondered what that said about her.

Yet, she and Brandon were painfully aware of the situation they placed themselves in. She was married to the King. She had a duty to the King. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her. A rebellion that sparked in part of Rhaegar taking Lyanna Stark and then erupted with the death of Rickard Stark, the Warden of the North. Rhaegar had wanted a third child after being told she couldn't bear it. He found someone to be the surrogate, which only resulted in a pale, deformed baby who perished upon arrival.

The Realm had almost been in chaos because of broken vows and betrayals, Brandon because of his sister and her because of her husband.

And now, in a way, she and Brandon were guilty of the thing they almost died over because of the actions of others.

She told herself it was just for comfort. The pain they received seemed something only they could understand together. And she didn't know when it changed or how. The first time, she felt she owed herself something after being dutiful and loyal to her husband.

The second time, she blamed the horrendous ale he had brought to Moat Cailin when she was visiting Ned and Ashara.

The third time, she stopped giving excuses. But she had been so careful with the moon tea, and he always made sure to spill his seed on her back and stomach.

Then, after a visit, maybe they had indulged in too much wine and of each other's company. She knew her only saving grace was allowing her husband back in her bed. But it didn't change that the timing of her pregnancy felt even worse to her.

A part of her knew deep down the truth of her daughter's paternity. Their only saving grace was her strong resemblance to her mother. Rhaegar wouldn't question it after everything. In fact, that dreaded melancholy had returned over his ill-fated attempt to fulfill prophecies.

But there was that doubt because she could still be her husband's seed.

"Do you want her to be yours?" She asked him gently.

Brandon moved back to the nook and looked into the night. "It doesn't matter what I want. To want is a privilege we lords don't have."

"Don't say that," she argued weakly as she drew near him. It wasn't like her wolf to be this dour.

He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. Before he tugged her into his body, making space for her between his thighs. Her back to his front forced her to look into the night sky. She relaxed back into his hold. She felt his chin on the crown of her head.

"It seems the only thing I can share with her is the stars."