Chapter 14
"Daliya," Jon pleaded, gently touching her face. "Please, say something. Anything."
Her eyes were open, but there was no light in them. She stared into emptiness, as unresponsive as she had been since the royal family left Winterfell a few days ago. Something inside her was just…broken. It tore at Jon's heart to see her like this.
"Daliya?" he tried again, his voice cracking.
A quiet knock on the door pulled Jon from his thoughts. He took a moment to steady himself before murmuring, "Yes?"
A maid named Myra stepped into the room, carrying a tray. "I brought some soup for Lady Daliya," she said softly. "Lady Stark also asked me to check on her…to see how she is today."
Jon's jaw tightened, and he forced his voice to remain calm. "You can tell her there's no change."
It took effort to conceal the anger and bitterness in his tone. Lady Stark had only visited Daliya once since her collapse, and even then, she had barely managed to look at her daughter. Perhaps it was too painful for her, but Jon couldn't shake the thought that Lady Stark seemed more concerned with keeping Daliya hidden than helping her heal.
"Shall I feed her?" Myra asked timidly, her eyes flickering to Daliya's vacant expression.
"No, I'll do it," Jon replied firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
Myra nodded and placed the tray on the bedside table. "I'll return when you're done. Lady Stark also requested that I bathe Lady Daliya today."
Jon didn't respond immediately, his focus returning to Daliya's face. After a moment, he simply nodded, his expression unreadable. Myra lingered for a second, then quietly slipped out of the room, leaving Jon alone with her.
Jon sighed as the door closed behind Myra, the quiet click echoing in the stillness of the room. He turned back to Daliya. For a long moment, he just looked at her, searching for any flicker of recognition, any sign that she was still there behind the empty gaze.
"You're stronger than this," Jon whispered, his voice low and raw. "You've always been stronger than this."
He carefully sat on the edge of the bed, lifting the tray onto his lap. The soup was steaming, its scent faintly herbal, but Jon wasn't sure if Daliya would even notice. He dipped the spoon into the broth, letting it cool slightly before bringing it to her lips.
"Please, Daliya," he murmured. "Just a little."
Her lips remained slack, her body unmoving. Jon set the spoon down with a sharp exhale, his frustration threatening to boil over. He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers.
"I can't do this without you," he admitted softly. "I don't care what they say or what they think. You've always been the one person who understood me. Don't leave me now."
The words hung in the air, unanswered. Ghost, lying near the hearth, lifted his head and whined softly, his crimson eyes fixed on Daliya. Jon's gaze followed the direwolf's, and something tightened in his chest.
"Ghost sees you," Jon said, his voice steadier now. "He knows you're still here. And so do I. Whatever's keeping you locked inside, we'll break through it. I swear it."
As if in response, Daliya's lips twitched ever so slightly. Jon froze, his breath catching. Was it just his imagination? Or had she moved?
"Daliya?" he said, his voice trembling with a flicker of hope.
Her fingers, resting limply on the bed, curled slightly as though trying to grip the blanket. It was barely a movement at all, but to Jon, it was like the first ray of sunlight after a long night.
"You're in there," he breathed. "I knew it."
Determined, Jon took her hand in his, gripping it gently but firmly. "I'm not giving up on you. Whatever you're hearing, whatever you're seeing, don't let it take you away from me."
He dipped the spoon into the soup and gently pressed it past Daliya's lips. Her swallowing was mechanical, and it took a long while before the plate was empty.
"You did well," he praised gently. "You need your strength."
Jon was reluctant to leave her as Myra and another maid arrived to bathe her, but obviously he couldn't stay.
"Ghost, come," Jon said, noticing that the direwolf was making the maids nervous. "I'll be back soon," he assured Daliya before leaving the room. He headed outside, planning to take a walk with Ghost while waiting.
Jon stepped into the brisk air outside, Ghost padding silently at his side. The wind carried the scent of pine, mingling with the faint traces of smoke from the Winterfell kitchens. The cold bit at his cheeks, but he barely noticed. His mind was still in Daliya's chamber, replaying the faint movements, the distant murmur of her voice. It wasn't much, but it was something. And after days of silence, something felt monumental.
Ghost trotted ahead, his crimson eyes scanning the courtyard as if he sensed something amiss. Jon followed absently, his boots crunching against the ground.
"She's fighting," Jon murmured, more to himself than to the direwolf. "I know she is."
Ghost turned his head slightly, as if acknowledging Jon's words. The wolf's silent companionship was a comfort, grounding Jon in the moment as his thoughts churned. He couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration toward Catelyn Stark. How could she keep her distance from Daliya? No matter the pain or difficulty, a mother should be there for her child.
Jon clenched his fists, trying to suppress the anger rising in his chest. Dwelling on it wouldn't help Daliya. What mattered now was her recovery, no matter how long it took.
When Jon finally returned to Daliya's chamber, he found the two maids cleaning it, but there was no trace of Daliya.
"Where is she?" Jon asked, his alarm immediate and sharp.
"Lord Stark took her with him," Myra replied, glancing at him nervously.
Jon's eyes widened, dread coiling in his chest. "Took her where?"
"Forgive me, but I don't know. He didn't say."
Jon's breath hitched, his thoughts spiraling. Why would Robb take her anywhere without telling me?
He stormed out of the chamber, Ghost bounding at his side. His boots struck the stone floor in harsh, hurried echoes as his mind raced. Robb was protective, always, but guilt made him reckless. Jon couldn't shake the thought of Robb trying to fix things alone, potentially putting Daliya at risk.
He checked Robb's chambers and Maester Luwin's quarters, but neither held answers. Panic gnawed at the edges of his resolve as he asked every servant he passed, but none had seen them.
Finally, a stable boy hesitantly said, "I saw Lord Robb carrying her toward the godswood."
Jon bolted, Ghost trotting faithfully beside him. As he reached the clearing, the heart tree came into view. Its crimson leaves rustled faintly in the cold wind, the ancient face carved into its trunk watching over the scene.
Robb sat beneath it, cradling Daliya. His hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her. "You need to wake up!" he demanded, desperation cracking his voice.
"Robb, stop!" Jon's voice rang out sharply as he closed the distance. "You're hurting her!"
Robb froze at Jon's voice, his hands trembling as they hovered over Daliya's shoulders. His face was a mixture of frustration and fear.
"I… I don't know what else to do," Robb said, his voice breaking. "She's slipping away, Jon. She won't wake up. She won't respond."
Jon stepped closer, his chest heaving from the sprint. He knelt beside Daliya, quickly inspecting if she was injured. "You can't force her to come back like this," Jon said firmly but not unkindly. He placed a hand on Daliya's cheek, her skin cool against his palm. "She's fragile. She needs time."
Robb ran a hand through his hair, visibly grappling with his emotions. "Time," he muttered bitterly. "We don't have time. She's been like this for days, Jon. What if she never comes back?"
"She will," Jon said with quiet conviction. "But not if we keep pushing her like this."
Ghost padded forward, settling at Daliya's side. The direwolf rested his massive head on her lap, a low, soothing rumble emanating from his throat. Jon noticed the faintest flicker of reaction in her, the tiniest twitch of her fingers, as if she were trying to reach out to the wolf.
"She feels him," Jon said softly, his hope reigniting. "She's still in there."
Robb's gaze darted between Jon and Daliya. "Then what do we do? Just wait?"
"We stay with her," Jon replied firmly. "We let her know she's not alone."
Robb swallowed hard, then nodded, though he still looked tormented. "I just… I hate seeing her like this. It's like she's already gone."
Jon's jaw tightened, and he placed a steadying hand on Robb's shoulder. "She's not gone. We'll bring her back."
"She didn't want to take the tonic," Robb murmured after a moment of silence, his voice thick with regret. "I should have listened."
"That's what she needs from you," Jon stated, keeping his tone steady. "Listen to her."
Robb nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on Daliya's still form. "I will. If she just comes back, I swear, I'll listen and protect her. No matter how bad her…condition gets."
Jon's brows furrowed as he glanced at his brother. "She's not insane, Robb. She has an ability unlike anything I've ever even heard of."
Robb hesitated, his jaw tightening. His eyes lingered on Daliya. "She knows things she shouldn't know," he finally murmured. "What does that make her?"
"I'm not sure," Jon admitted, his tone quieter. "Some kind of clairvoyant, maybe. But it's not something she can control, not yet, at least. And even when she can…she doesn't always understand what she sees."
"She told you that?" Robb asked, glancing over at Jon.
"Yes," Jon replied.
Robb frowned, moving closer to Daliya. "If she could control it…that would make her an asset unlike any other. If the word spread, every powerful House in Westeros would do anything to possess her."
Jon's expression darkened at Robb's words. "That's exactly why we need to protect her," he said sharply. "She's not a weapon or a tool, Robb. She's your sister."
Robb held up a hand, his features softening. "I know that, Jon. I'm not saying we would let anyone use her. But you're right… If people knew about this, about her, they wouldn't see her as a person. They'd see her as something to control."
Jon's grip on Daliya's hand tightened protectively. "Then no one can know. Not about her dreams, not about what she sees. It stays between us."
Robb nodded slowly, his face grim. "Agreed. We'll keep her safe and hidden until Father returns."
"What about Lady Stark?" Jon asked.
Robb hesitated, a shadow passing over his features. "Mother loves Daliya, but… she's struggling to accept what's happening to her. I think if we tell her now, it might overwhelm her, or make things worse for Daliya. For now, it's better to keep this between you and me."
Robb paused, glancing at Jon. "We also need to be cautious about the servants. Most of them think she's… mentally ill. I think we should keep things like that. For Daliya's safety."
Jon studied Robb carefully, his face unreadable for a moment before he nodded. "You're right," he said. "The fewer people who know the truth, the better. If anyone starts to suspect..."
"We deal with it," Robb finished, his tone resolute. "I'll talk to the servants who care for her. Myra can stay, she's been loyal and doesn't ask questions. But anyone else..." He trailed off, the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders.
Jon glanced down at Daliya, her fragile hand still in his. "She deserves more than this," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Robb sighed heavily. "She does. But until she's stronger, until we know how to protect her properly, we have to keep her safe in any way we can."
Jon's jaw tightened, his emotions warring within him. He hated the secrecy, hated the way Daliya was confined and misunderstood. But he knew Robb was right, they couldn't afford to take risks, not with Daliya's life hanging in the balance.
"I'll stay with her tonight," Jon said quietly. "If anything changes, I'll come to you."
Robb nodded, his expression weary but determined. "Thank you, Jon. For everything."
Jon didn't respond immediately, his attention fixed on Daliya. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his heart aching at her frailty. "We'll bring you back," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "No matter what it takes."
Robb placed a hand on Jon's shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity, before rising to his feet. "I'll handle the servants. We'll do this together."
As Robb left the godswood, Jon remained where he was, Ghost lying protectively beside him. Jon wrapped his arms gently around Daliya, wanting to make sure she wasn't cold.
"Listen to me, Daliya," he whispered in her ear. "You said that you belong to me. You do. You're mine and I promise to take care of you. I love you."
As Jon held Daliya close, his voice softened, his words carrying the weight of his unwavering resolve. "You're not alone, Daliya. Not now, not ever. Whatever you're fighting inside, I'll fight it with you." His arms tightened around her, as if willing his strength to seep into her frail form.
Ghost shifted beside them, resting his head on Daliya's lap, his crimson eyes watchful. The direwolf's steady presence seemed to provide a sense of reassurance, as though he too was pledging his loyalty to her.
Jon pressed his forehead lightly against Daliya's temple, his voice barely audible as he continued. "You said you're mine, but you need to know something. I'm yours too. Completely. I'll never leave you, no matter how dark things get. You don't have to face this alone."
The stillness of the godswood enveloped them, broken only by the soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze. For a moment, Jon thought he felt the faintest twitch of her hand against his chest. His heart leapt with hope, but he forced himself to stay calm. It was a small sign, but it was enough. She would come back to him. She had to.