North, Winterfell
287 AC
Eddard POV
It had been three years since the war, yet the rebellion still lingered in my dreams. Night after night I woke with the taste of ash upon my tongue, the screams of men echoing in my ears. Time dulled the edges, but it had not cut them away. Still, I told himself that I was home, and my family was with me. That was enough.
The thought had scarcely formed when the door to my solar flew wide, and three small shapes came tumbling in. "Father!" they shouted, voices bright as bells. Cregan leapt onto my lap and clutched at my neck with wild joy, while Robb wrapped both arms around my left leg and Jon fastened himself to the right. I felt the stern mask of lordship slip, a smile breaking through in spite of himself.
Hot on their heels came Maester Luwin, puffing from the chase, his chain clinking as he bowed his head. "My lord, forgive me. The children slipped their lessons. I tried to…."
"You are fine, Luwin," I said, shaking my head
Cregan looked up at me then, so like me in face but with Catelyn's clear eyes, full of mischief. "Father, the lessons are so boring. I want to go play in the snow."
I ruffled the boy's dark hair. "Do you not wish to be the best lord of the North that you can be?"
Cregan's lips pursed, but he nodded all the same.
"Then you must listen to your lessons. That is where a lord begins."
The boy sighed, his shoulders sagging, but he yielded. I turned to the other two. "And the same goes for you. Robb, Jon if you are to be good lords, you must learn as well."
Both boys bobbed their heads, solemn as little men. At last, Cregan slipped from my lap, and Robb and Jon unfastened their grips. The three ran to Maester Luwin, who gathered them with weary patience.
It was then Catelyn entered, her belly round with child. The boys wheeled at once. "Mother!" cried Robb and Cregan as they clutched at her skirts, while Jon pressed against her other side, smiling up and calling her "Aunt Catelyn!"
She bent to them with warmth in her voice. "If you think my coming spares you your lessons, you are mistaken. Off with you, all of you, to Luwin."
Obediently, they went. The room grew quiet, save for the faint crackle of the hearth. I rose, took my lady in his arms, and kissed her. She met myself with equal grace.
I remembered another day, not long after his return from war, when I had found her in the nursery, Jon swaddled in her arms. "I know I cannot be his mother, she had said, but for the sake of the woman he lost, I will be a motherly aunt."
Since that day, she had kept her word. The boy called her "aunt," and in time the sharpness between them had dulled. Affection had followed, slow but steady, until love itself had taken root.
I laid a hand upon her swollen belly. "What do you think of Brandon, for a boy? Or Lyarra, if it is a girl?"
Her hand came to rest atop his own. "Sansa, for a girl."
"A lovely name," I agreed.
She kissed his cheek. "I only came to see how you were. I have my duties yet, as do you."
I nodded and watched her depart. Alone once more, I turned to the window. Outside, in the courtyard, I glimpsed Cregan, Robb, and Jon racing across the yard, Jory in pursuit, dripping wet and shouting after them. The boys laughed, shrill and wild, and the sight drew a chuckle from my lips. For that moment, at least, the past did not trouble him.
Timeskip
North,Castle Black
Benjen POV
I regret my decision to come here. Being in Winterfell hurts too much knowing I will never see Lya, or Bran, or Father ever again. Yet the Night's Watch is full of Targaryen loyalists, and since Ned slew Rhaegar, they take their hatred for him out on me.
This was my third moon at Castle Black, and I was once again in Maester Aemon's chamber, being bandaged from a brawl with another Targaryen sympathizer. I flinched as the maester poured alcohol over a fresh cut along my cheek. The sting made me grit my teeth.
"You know you came to check on the Watch for Lord Stark," Aemon said, his voice soft, "but why stay here, knowing so many hate your brother?"
I looked into his milk-white eyes. Blind, yet I felt kindness there, deeper than the eyes themselves. I told him my troubles, my voice catching. "I'm scared of Winterfell. Every time I go back, all I see are ghosts of Lyanna, Brandon, Father. I know Ned feels the same, but he has Caitlyn, Jon, Cregan, and Robb. I… I don't want him to worry for me. I don't want to be another burden… but…"
I couldn't finish.
Aemon sat heavily in his chair, the folds of his old black robes making soft rustling sounds. "You are young, Benjen Stark," he said slowly, "but already you bear griefs that would break many older men. Ghosts walk with you, whether you sit in Winterfell's halls or ride upon the Wall. There is no fleeing them. Lyanna, Brandon, your father they live in your memory, and memory rides with us wherever we go. To turn your back on Winterfell will not banish them, no more than I can turn my blind eyes and forget the faces I once knew."
He lifted his gaze toward me, though I knew he could not see.
"You say you remain here for your brother's sake, to spare him a burden. That speaks of love," he continued, "but do not mistake silence for strength. Eddard Stark carries his own ghosts, heavier than you can know, and still he endures. You two are bound by blood, by loss, by duty. Do not deny him the chance to share the weight with you for that is what brothers are for."
A small, sad smile crept across his face. "Once, I too had brothers. I thought I was sparing them when I chose the chain and the Wall, but choices made from fear leave wounds that never truly heal. Ask yourself, Benjen Stark… are you here because you would serve, or because you would hide? And then ask yourself, after all you have lost… what do you still have left to protect?"
Aemon left me then, and I lay back on the narrow bed of the medical room, staring at the ceiling. Memories rose unbidden:
Brandon's laughter.
Lyanna riding through the woods, her hair streaming in the wind.
Father's kind, stern gaze.
Ned hugging me after the Rebellion.
Tears fell unheeded, and Aemon's words echoed in my mind:
"After all you have lost… what do you still have left to protect?"
I thought of Cregan, mischievous and bright-eyed.
Robb, sitting before me, asking for stories.
Jon, eager for sword lessons, his purple eyes sparkling.
The future. I still had the future of House Stark to protect. The future of the North. And I would.
Timeskip
Dorne,Sunspear
287 AC
Elia POV
Three years had passed since the death of my son, yet the ache remained. Some days it felt as though the wound would never heal. Still, there was Rhaenys, her bright laughter and unbroken spirit enough to chase the shadows from my heart, if only for a while.
I sat in a chair, my gaze fixed on my brother Oberyn as he instructed Rhaenys in the use of the spear. She stumbled under his careful guidance, and he shook his head. "You spread yourself too wide," he said. "A clever opponent could use his feet to trip you and end you. That is enough for today. Rest."
Rhaenys nodded, stowing her practice spear, and left with the lightness of youth. Oberyn approached, placing a kiss on my cheek. "Sweet sister. How are you?"
"I am well," I replied, though well was a fragile thing, measured in small moments.
"That is good," he said, with a nod that carried more weight than the words.
I dared to ask the question that never left my mind. "Have you found them?"
His eyes met mine, searching, and for a moment he said nothing. Then he spoke, low and deliberate: "We have a lead. A potential location for Visenya, Daenerys Targaryen, and William Darry."
"Where?" I whispered, though I already feared the answer.
"Volantis," he said.
I could not keep my gaze from him. "And you remain here, when you could be retrieving them?"
Oberyn's expression darkened. "Why should we? To move now is to draw the eyes of Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister. All the Crownlands, the Westerlands, the Reach, the Stormlands, perhaps even the North, would descend upon us."
I looked away, frustration tightening my chest. "The North would aid us."
He sighed. "Perhaps. Yet Robert and Eddard Stark remain at odds. They nearly came to blows over you and Rhaenys. And still, silence stretches between them."
A blush warmed my cheeks at the memory of Ned Stark's intervention the day he had saved us both, when the world felt poised to swallow us whole.
A voice, soft yet firm, broke my reverie. "Elia, my friend, Oberyn is right."
I turned to see Ashara Dayne, my dearest friend, walking toward me.
She seated herself beside me, her expression grave. "To act now would bring war once more to Westeros. We cannot risk it not yet. But there will come a time, I swear, when they can return."
I nodded, the weight of truth pressing against my chest. Oberyn departed, claiming duties with Ellaria, leaving Ashara and me in the quiet. Her gaze lingered on the horizon, sadness pooling in her violet eyes. I reached for her hand. "I know your thoughts. And Doran has spoken and you have heard. Jon is safe, protected by Ned and Caitlyn. They care for him."
A single tear traced down her cheek.
Ashara had faked her death to shield Ned Stark. She could not allow him to discover her survival, for if he did, he would have insisted she come north with him. She would not have been able to refuse. And yet, to do so would have made her the mistress of Winterfell, a position she could not claim, for it would have ruined Ned's marriage to Caitlyn.
"I miss him, Elia," she whispered, collapsing into my arms. "I miss them both. I held him only for a few hours, and then I had to leave."
I held her as she wept, my own heart heavy. And as my gaze rose to the sky, I could not help but think that the gods were cruel indeed.