Dragons' Rest 308 AC.
Baelon Targaryen.
He looked down at them as they lay in the bed. His wife and son. His family. Each of them held a large piece of his heart in their hands. A heart that was now finally as full and whole as he had ever wished it to be. With a nod in his direction, Ghost moved to the bed and lay down. Baelon smiled as he watched his most faithful protector do for his family what he had always done for him. Turning from the bed, Baelon readied himself for the day ahead.
Some mornings, Daeron would wake when Baelon did and so it would be in his arms that his son would be held. Baelon would walk around the room speaking softly to his son while allowing Dany to catch up on her sleep. For the first few moons of Daeron's life, neither Baelon nor Dany had truly slept much. Both of them were so awed by the little wonder they'd created together that they felt unable to close their eyes. Unable to deny themselves the pure joy that the sight of him brought them. For Dany especially, their son had become almost her whole world. The loss of her babe in Essos and the fear that the witch's words were true had made his wife believe that she'd never get to hold a child of her own in her arms. Daeron was proof that she would and Dany had reveled in that proof.
Baelon would begrudge her nothing and so he took on more of the duties of running the realm while Dany spent her time with the littlest of their dragons. Simply seeing them together was more than enough to chase away the worst feelings that at times threatened to rob him of his will to go on. Each day since their son had been born had been one day closer to Baelon fixing all that was broken in him. Though not even the birth of their son and the happiness that brought to both Dany and to himself had been enough to fully do so.
That had taken news from Winterfell, bringing justice to the assassins who'd taken far too much from far too many people, as well as another gift from the gods that Baelon now once again walked out of his room to pray to. Nodding to Ser Donnel, he and the knight walked through the corridors of the Dragon's Lair and out through the large set of double doors. Feeling the coolness of the morning air on his face, Baelon allowed the last vestiges of sleep to be washed away and then walked to where the Weirwood stood tall and proud.
"I'll pray for a bit before we break our fast, Ser Donnel."
"Of course, your grace."
Taking a knee, Baelon closed his eyes and did as he did each and every morning, he thanked the gods for all they'd given him. It was a far cry from how he'd felt about them for so very long. The anger and hatred that just thinking about the Old Gods had stirred in his heart was now a thing of the past. Baelon had forgiven them for those they'd taken from him, knowing now that it was not a deliberate act or a way to punish or test him. Many years and conversations with his brother it had taken for him to even consider the words that Rickon spoke to him regarding the truth of the Old Gods. Yet without his son, without the return of his sister, those words may have well been lost in the wind.
How long he knelt and prayed, he knew not. Some mornings it was for quite some time, others for merely a few moments. Rising to his feet, he nodded to Ser Donnel and they made their way back into the keep. The Dragon's Lair, the name still made him chuckle inside. He'd left it to Dany to name their new keep and just as she had with the city they ruled from, it had been with thoughts of dragons that his wife had led with. So the keep had become the Dragon's Lair because that was where dragons made their home. Built around and incorporating some of the old Red Keep, it was still unfinished but was already truly secure.
As for the city itself, Dragons' Rest, his wife had named it, and never had truer words been spoken. They were finally at rest. After a lifetime where both he and his wife had known little of such, they were now truly finally at rest. There were no enemies to fear, no knives in the dark to prepare for, and no overriding threat that wished to take all they had. The realm was at peace and their rule was secure. Baelon had even begun to believe that the days of fighting were far behind him and that he may never swing his sword in anger ever again. Rickon certainly believed so and given the powers that his brother possessed, who was Baelon to question him?
"Baelon." Lady Olenna greeted him as Baelon walked into the room where they mainly broke their fasts in.
"Good morning, Olenna."
"The queen and prince are at rest?" Olenna asked as Baelon took his seat and bid Ser Donnel to do likewise.
"They are, I awoke early once more," he said as Wylla walked into the room, the soft kiss she placed on his cheek was one that he welcomed as much as he always did.
"I live for the day when you lie in, Baelon," Wylla said, only half chidingly.
"It'll never happen, Wylla, my brother is a man of habit," Rickon said as he too entered the room, Baelon glowered at him before offering him a quick wink when his brother grabbed an empty plate and took his seat.
The morning conversation was one of their more light-hearted ones. Not that they ever truly allowed for the breaking of their fasts to be anything different. Wylla had finished eating and Missandei had arrived to grab her own quick bite. Their Mistress of Education would, as always, eat far more truly with Dany when his wife broke her own fast. So with another kiss on his cheek, the woman who was as close as he knew to being a mother to him, now left with Missandei to head to his chambers. Where she would show herself once again to be just as truly a grandmother to Daeron.
"Is there much to be done today?" he asked Lady Olenna, their meal almost at an end and both of them reverting to King and Hand rather than the true family that Baelon considered them to be.
"Not much. A Small Council meeting is to be held later and our Master of Whisperers wishes to speak more about the realm." Olenna said and Baelon looked to Rickon who was barely paying attention.
"Rickon?" he asked and received a shake of his brother's head in response.
At times his brother was a mystery even to him. Baelon understood his powers better than most and he knew his heart even better than Rickon himself did. He knew that the time was drawing ever closer for them to part and while there had been a time when the mere thought of it would send him into a panic, now he almost wished for it. No, that wasn't quite true, he could never wish to be parted from Rickon. Moreso, he wished for his brother to know the same joy and happiness that Baelon knew. The joy and happiness that could only come from one place and with one person. Both Lyanna Mormont and his brother deserved it more than anyone Baelon knew.
"Very well, we'll hold the Small Council meeting after luncheon. I think I'll tour the city before then. See how the works are progressing.
"I'll join you, brother," Rickon said and Baelon smiled at him, wondering if today was to be the day he'd be told or if it would it be yet another where Rickon held his tongue.
As with most tours around the city, Baelon walked with a small escort. Ser Donnel, Ser Sarel, Rickon, and Bear and that was it. With the House of Black and White no longer a threat and the message that had been sent there one that had been heard loudly and clearly, he feared not an assassin's blade. As for fearing that one of the lords who served him and Dany or one of the Small Folk would seek his death. If that was to be so, he'd already failed in some ways. If he couldn't trust that people believed he and his wife to be the right and true rulers and what was best for the realm, then why even bother wearing a crown? Or so he told his Small Council when they brought up matters of his personal safety.
It wasn't that he was casual about it, not truly. He had no wish to be taken from this world again. At least not until he was old and grey and had seen his son and any other children that he and Dany would be blessed with were all grown and happy. Baelon was alert and with his two Dragonguard, he believed that other than a decent-sized force they could hold off any would-be assassins. Not to mention that with his brother beside him, with Bear as it was today, or Ghost as it was on others, then other than atop Rhaegal's back he was as safe as if he was locked up tight in the Dragon's Lair.
"Where are we going, brother?" Rickon asked after they'd been walking for a few moments.
"Nowhere in particular. I just wish to see the city." he replied to a roll of Rickon's eyes that made Baelon chuckle "Through mine own eyes, Rickon." he added before his brother could speak his next words.
Baelon could if he wished, and he did at times, warg into a familiar and see the city through their eyes. Be it a bird, something smaller or larger, or even Ghost when his wolf was on one of his own small adventures. Unlike his brother, however, warging was not how he preferred to experience things. He needed to see them as himself. To feel the wind blowing on his face, and hear the sounds. Smell the smells and even feel the contact of a mother, father, or child's hand in his own. To look them in the eye and ask them if there was anything that they needed from their king and queen, as he had done as Rickon's Regent in the North and as Dany did all the time with her Unsullied and Dothraki.
As they entered Rhaegar's Square, the sound of children playing soon brought a true smile to Baelon's face. It had been something they'd sought to do right from the start of their rebuilding. To create a place where children could play without getting in the way of merchants plying their trade or people going about their daily chores. With the new Dragon Watch looking over them to make sure they were safe and protected, the sight of the boys and girls just having fun was one that always brought Baelon good cheer. As did the sight of him and his brother to them.
"The Dragon King." a little boy called out and before he knew it, Baelon was amongst the children and being asked about Ghost, Rhaegal, Dany, and Daeron. As well as a thousand other things.
Walking back to the Dragon's Lair, a couple of hours later, it was as always with thoughts of days long gone that Baelon's mind turned to. To memories of his time spent playing in the yards of Winterfell with his brother and sister. While he still very much mourned the one, it was soon the other that filled his mind.. The wild little wolf that was Arya Stark and how her return, her true return, had truly healed his heart. Again as he always seemed to know just when it was that Baelon thought about their last journey to Winterfell, Rickon reached out his hand and placed it on Baelon's shoulder.
"They are happy, brother. All of them." Rickon said as Baelon closed his eyes briefly and pictured Arya, Sansa, and his nephew.
Winterfell six moons earlier.
The preparations for the journey were extensive. Just the practicalities of it alone required it. Despite wishing to simply fly to Winterfell atop Rhaegal's back, Baelon wanted both his sisters to meet his son too. He, Dany, and a decent enough guard could have flown and been there in two days. The flight, however, was too much for his son to endure, for now at least. So plans had been made and discarded. Eventually, they settled for the one they had.
They'd sailed from Dragons' Rest to White Harbor. A guard of one hundred men with them, though they needed them not. Lord Wyman had welcomed them and their son with true eagerness and much ceremony. Then after staying in the city for but two days, it was to boats and the White Knife, from where they traveled onto Winterfell or close enough to it to allow them to fly the rest of the way. Once they'd disembarked the boats and Ghost and Bear had set off across the lands at pace, Rhaegal, Viserion, and Drogon had landed and it was to the skies they took.
While Dany had only one passenger with her, Daeron, Baelon had flown with Rickon, Ser Sarel, and Ser Jorah, and through the entire hour that they flew he'd never once taken his eyes off his wife and son. He swore he could hear both their laughs from where he sat on Rhaegal's back and after they landed and he moved to his wife and son, the smile on Daeron's face, which so mirrored the one his wife wore, was enough to tell him that it had been true. Taking his son in his arms, kissing his wife on her cheek, and taking her hand in his, together they walked in through the gates and Baelon almost stumbled when he saw her for the first time in more than two years.
"Arya'" he said as the happy tears fell down his cheek.
His little sister looked exactly as she had before the Battle of Winterfell. There were no marks on her or signs of the injuries she'd received. Before he knew it, Baelon was running across the ground and Daeron was laughing, thinking it was all some game. Then moving his son to one side with one arm, Baelon embraced Arya with the other.
"It's really you," he said as he held her so tightly to him that not even Arya could break free from his embrace.
"You're squishing me." Arya said, giggling and Baelon kissed her forehead before letting her go "Is this my nephew, give him here."
"Daeron, my son," Baelon said as Arya took him from his arms and Daeron showed no signs of reluctance or reticence to being held by his aunt.
Baelon stood for a moment and just looked at them both. Then as Arya moved so too did he and a moment later he was embracing his other sister just as warmly. Something that had anyone asked him to do years ago he'd not have been able to. Sansa cooed over his son and bid Arya to hand him to her. Again Daeron showed no signs of not wishing to be held by another of his aunts. If anything, Daeron looked more than pleased to find he'd more family in the world and even seemed a tad annoyed to finally be handed back to his mother.
When it was suggested that they spend the night together in one room, Baelon had welcomed the idea eagerly. It turned out to be one of the very best nights he'd ever known. Yet was someone to ask him what they did to make it so, then he'd have no answer to give them. No, that wasn't quite true, he knew the reason why he'd felt that way. The pack was as close to being all together as it could possibly be. Only Benjen wasn't there and for the first time that he could ever remember, Baelon and the others thought only about those who were living and not those who were not.
The next morning he arranged to speak to Arya alone only to find his brother had beaten him to it. Thinking he'd then spend the day showing Daeron around Winterfell and probably showing his son off to any who'd wish to see him, Baelon was surprised when Sansa asked to speak to him. He was even more surprised to find out where it was she wished to do so and so as he walked to the Crypts with Ser Sarel, he did so with some worries about what it was that his sister wanted to talk about.
"I'll go the rest of the way alone, Ser Sarel," he said to the knight and then entered the crypts to find Sansa standing in front of her father's statue.
Though his feelings for his uncle were still not resolved, Baelon could at least look at him without feeling anything but anger. He'd not begrudge him the love of his daughter either.
"I often wonder what he'd think of me," Sansa said softly.
"He'd be proud. As would your mother and both sides of your family. As am I." he said, and was surprised to see the little shudder that Sansa gave at his words "Sansa?"
"Please don't be angry with me. I cannot bear it if you are, I…."
"Sansa?" he said confused and then he felt her arms wrap around him as she almost held onto him fearing that he'd never hold her again.
Baelon heard her soft crying and so he rubbed his hand in circles on her back. It always seemed to work with Dany and to his relief, it soon had the same effect on his sister.
"I could never be angry with you, Sansa. You know that right?" he said as he moved so he was looking into her bright blue eyes. Eyes that sparkled with the wet tears that had already and were still yet to fall.
Wiping away the ones that had, Baelon waited for Sansa to speak and then stood there open-mouthed by the words she said.
"What do you mean you're with child?" he said once Sansa had stopped talking "How can you be with child?" he asked and despite how worried she clearly was about his reaction and the fact that she'd just been crying a moment earlier, Sansa began to giggle and it seemed she just couldn't stop "Sansa," he said firmly only for the giggle to turn into full laughter now.
Baelon would be worried she'd lost her mind, only for the fact that it was clearly some humor she'd found in his words that had made her laugh. After a moment, he realized what that was. Dany and he had brought their son to meet their aunts, so for him to ask how Sansa got with child was really a stupid question. His little sister had gotten with child the same way that Dany had gotten with child. He'd asked the wrong damn question.
"Who is the father, Sansa?" he asked, finally finding the right one.
That it was enough to stop the laughter should have given him pause, instead, he repeated the question once more. This time Sansa answered.
"Josera Snow."
"Who?"
"Josera Snow, Talia, and Rodrik Forrester's brother."
"You lay with a Snow?" he said, shocked that she'd do such a thing and yet in a way very much not at the same time.
"He's a lord now, and a good man, brother." Sansa declared.
"And when is the wedding?" he asked to a determined shake of Sansa's head.
"There will be no wedding."
"Sansa," he said reproachfully.
"No, I'll not wed any man, Baelon. I've made that much clear, have I not?"
"Think of the babe, Sansa. Of how he or she will…."
"Then my brother and Goodsister better get busy breaking that damn wheel they speak so much of, won't they?"
"Sansa…"
"NO! I'll not wed because someone tells me to. Not even you, Jon," she said, angered and so unable to use his proper name, or so he believed.
Baelon sighed and moved to her, taking her in his arms once again even though she fought him before she allowed him to do so.
"I'd not tell you to, Sansa. No one will make you, you know me better than that."
"I know…" she said shakily.
"You are happy?" he asked and she nodded. "Josera, he makes you happy?"
"I… I think I love him, brother. Yet I wish not for us to be man or wife or even be together more than we are… Does that make me wicked?" she asked worriedly.
He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, noticing how much she moved into the kiss and welcomed it.
"It makes you a damn Wildling." he japed, enjoying her laughter.
"Free Folk," she said a moment later and Baelon kissed her again.
They stood there for a few more moments, Sansa still in his arms and Baelon moving her hair from her face as they just looked at each other. It had taken some time for their relationship to grow into the one it should have always been. Time wasted in some ways and yet mayhap it had been needed too. As much as he just wished to stay that way a little longer, Baelon knew he could not and so he readied himself to speak the words he knew he must.
"They can't be a Snow, Sansa. Your babe can't bear that name, you know this right?"
He saw it, the moment she was about to argue with him and so he moved his finger to her lips to stop her from doing so.
"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, Sansa. A Stark, Sansa, not a Snow, and so any child of yours will bear that name by order of the king," he said and she nodded.
Moving from the embrace they'd been entwined in, Baelon reached out his hand and was glad when she gave him her own. Together they walked out of the crypts and his sister waited until they reached the door to say what she did, showing that she quite enjoyed making him stumble and stutter.
"So you'll write a proclamation legitimizing my babe." Sansa said and Baelon nodded "You may need to write more than one, brother."
"Aye, we don't yet know if it's a girl or a boy, or even if you carry more than one babe."
"Aye, we don't. Though I meant it because I doubt this will be the only babe I have."
"Sansa!" he exclaimed, shocked.
"I doubt it very much, brother mine," she said as she skipped away from him and he heard her laugh loudly when he called out that she belonged with those Beyond the Wall.
Try as he had, he couldn't get Wylla to fly on Rhaegal's back and so she arrived at Winterfell a few days later with their guards and the rest of their accompaniment. As he would have wagered were someone to but ask it of him, it was straight to Daeron that she went and as it always did, it filled his heart to see them together. Those first two days were spent trying to come to terms with what Sansa had told him and sneaking off to spend time alone with Arya. As well as making his way to the crypts to pay his respects to his mother and even to his uncle.
When Rickon told him what he wished to do, Baelon had for the first time doubted his brother's abilities. Not even hearing it from Arya and understanding that if his little sister could be brought back, then there truly was no limit to the Old Gods' magic, had been enough to make him dare to hope it could be true. So he'd been glad when Josera Snow had finally made an appearance at Winterfell. He'd even taken comfort in just how worried Sansa was when she looked at how Baelon was glaring at the father of her unborn babe.
To the man's credit, he didn't wither under the glares that Baelon sent his way and it was he and not Baelon that made the move so they could speak together. That he wished it to be in front of the Heart Tree, bode well for the man's health. As while Baelon had promised both his sisters, his brother, and his wife that he'd not truly harm the man, he hadn't promised he'd not see the man suffer a little pain should he find him wanting. Bidding Ser Donnel to allow them to speak in private and having not brought Ghost to the Godswood with him, Baelon walked the last few feet alone and unarmed. Soon finding the man in question already there kneeling and praying to the gods.
"My sister is most precious to me, Josera. Most precious," he said as Josera rose to his feet, his praying over for now.
"I know, your grace."
"Sansa has suffered at the hands of cruel men. It is not something that will ever happen again. Nor will any man ever use her for her name or position." he said as Josera nodded "Any man who would even dare to think he could do so would face not only mine own fury but that of my brother, sister, and all those we could call upon. You've seen my wolf?"
"I have your grace."
"You know my brother's powers?"
"I do, your grace."
"And no doubt you've seen Rhaegal."
"He's hard to miss, your grace."
"I'd not let it be any of them that sought you out, Josera. Should you cause my sister even a single ounce of pain it won't be them you need to worry about, it'll be me." he said as he moved closer to the man who gulped a little "Yet my sister tells me you cause her none and that she believes you care for her."
"I do, very much, your grace. I'd wed her if she would but have me."
"Yet she'll not."
"No, she'll not, your grace." Josera said sadly "So I'll accept however much of her she's willing to share with me and pray that it'll be enough. I believe it will be, your grace. I hope it will…."
Baelon watched as Josera dropped to a knee.
"I swear to you here in this sacred place that my intentions are true, your grace. You'll not have to seek me out if I cause Sansa any pain, I'll slit mine own throat rather than do so. I give you my oath that Sansa will have no man more Leal to her and none so devoted."
"Then I can ask for no more than that and so I bid you rise and let me embrace you as a Goodbrother, even if my stubborn wolf of a sister won't make it official," he said and Josera did as he'd bid him.
After the man had walked away, Baelon called them out and both Bear and Nymeria came skulking out from behind the trees.
"I told you I'd not harm him lest he gave me a reason." he said with a chuckle as he moved to Bear "I'm ready brother."
Baelon waited alone at the Heart Tree and though he couldn't be certain, he believed he felt the presence long before his brother, wife, Wylla, and his son arrived. The wind in the trees, the sound of the leaves fluttering, all of it felt to him as if he was being watched and was not alone. Once Dany arrived carrying Daeron in her arms, Baelon moved to her and smiled at his son as he took him in his own. Then he moved to Wylla and whispered in her ear that he wished her here for this. Happy to hear her say that she would stay.
Turning and walking back to his wife, Baelon reached out his hand and took Dany's while at the same time speaking to his son.
"Your grandmother would have loved you, my son. She'd have spoiled you as much as Wylla, me or your mother does." Baelon said as Rickon knelt and touched the white bark of the Weirwood.
"It's time, brother."
After placing a soft kiss on Dany's cheek, Baelon moved to the Heart Tree and knelt before it. With Daeron's hand in his, he touched the bark and then found himself walking into the Godswood though it looked very different. Each step he took was one filled with hope and trepidation and looking at his son in his arms, Baelon was relieved to see no distress in Daeron's expression.
When he saw the figure standing by the tree, he almost named her Arya so much like his sister did she look. To his surprise, his mother was of an age with him when he'd left for the Wall, mayhap even younger and it took him a moment to realize why that was. The tears that fell from his eyes upon remembering that she had died far too young were wiped firstly by his son and then by the fingers of the woman who'd brought him into this world.
"Be at peace, my son." his mother said as she wiped his tears away.
"I….is it… are you truly…"
"Oh my sweet little boy." his mother said as she embraced him and Daeron, his son welcoming the feel of her arms around them both just as much as Baelon did.
"I… this is your grandson, mother. This is my son, Daeron," he said as his mother looked at him and begged permission to hold Daeron in her arms.
A nod of his head later and he felt his son being taken from him. The sound of Daeron's laughter resounded around the Godswood as he was spun in the air. Baelon stood and looked on as his mother played some game or other with his son. His mind took note of the image and stored it away for future reference. This, this is how it could have been and just looking at how at ease both Daeron and his mother were with each other, was almost too much for him to bear. Seeing his distress, his mother moved to him and held out her hand and Baelon took it without hesitation.
"Father?" he asked as they walked to take a seat by the dark pool where his uncle would often sit.
"Your father looks on from his own place in the god's embrace, Bael." his mother said, and sad though it made him to know he'd not see him here, hearing her name him how she'd wished to, had made him smile just a little.
"You see each other?" he asked to a nod of his mother's head.
"As we do you and this little treasure here." his mother said, playing once again with Daeron as they spoke.
"Dany, Wylla. Rickon said they'd not be able to come with me because their gods are different, but you've seen them both?"
"She makes you happy, Bael. For that, she has earned her place in my heart. Tell your wife this when you return to her."
"Wylla, mother. I know she's not you…"
"I wish you'd have known her for longer, Bael. I've seen how much having her in your life has meant to you and she knows her place in my heart was earned years ago. I cursed my brother for so long for all he denied you, her love most of all."
"He's not here is he?" he asked, not ready to see him and not wishing this time with his mother to be infringed upon.
"No. He sees you too as does your other uncle, grandfather, and grandmother. But no, I thought it best if you and Ned were kept apart."
"I know not how to feel about him, mother. I love him, I know I do, and yet I hate him at times too."
"Give it time."
How long he stayed there, he knew not. Eventually, though, he had to say his goodbyes and after allowing his mother to hold Daeron tightly, Baelon then moved to her so she and he could embrace. The words she whispered in his ear as she told him how much she loved him and how proud of him she was were the ones he'd wanted to hear all his life. Then with a soft kiss on his cheek, she was gone and Baelon and Daeron were back at the Heart Tree with Rickon, Dany, and Wylla looking on.
"Thank you, brother. Truly. "Baelon said as Rickon helped him back to his feet.
"They'll always watch over you, brother. In time when the sapling we planted has grown, they'll see you through it and hear the words you speak."
"I'll speak to them often. We both will," he said looking at his son and then walking to where Dany stood and doing his best to tell her with his expression that he had seen all he had wished to.
That night he told Wylla what his mother had said. Later as he lay in bed with his wife, he told Dany too. He'd had to hold her in his arms as she decried the fact that the other side of their family followed a different set of gods. Yet she was happy that he'd been given the gift he'd received. As he drifted off to sleep, Baelon promised himself he'd share as much of his words with his Mother and family as he could in the years to come. In time he'd even forgive his uncle, he knew. To know he was loved and being watched over though, was more than he'd known up to now and all he truly needed to know.
Dragons' Rest Now.
The blunted blades crashed together and Baelon shook his head before bringing the spar to a premature stop. Steffon looked at him worriedly as Baelon moved to the young lad and then began to correct his stance and hold on the sword. His young squire's relief was only matched by his eagerness to learn as much as he could. It had been but a moon or so since Steffon had arrived with his father to take his place at Baelon's side and the young lad was still nervous around him at times. He was getting better and more comfortable. While he improved daily with both sword and lance, that nervousness led to errors too.
"Now remember, it's a sword you hold, not a mace or Morningstar. Your grip must be firm but loose too. You seek to swing it as if it's an extension of your arm, not a club to beat a man with." he said as Steffon nodded "As for your feet…"
"Wide apart and on my toes," Steffon said and Baelon mussed his hair and offered him a warm smile.
"Aye, good lad. Now again," he said and soon the two blunted blades were crashing together once more.
After an hour or so, Baelon brought the morning lesson to an end. He watched as Steffon placed the swords back on the rack and then hurried to pour them both a mug of water. Taking a seat on the wall, he waited for his squire to join him and once Steffon had, Baelon began to impart other lessons that he hoped would serve the lad well. As they usually were, these lessons were eaten up as if they were the tastiest of meals. Something they would both now enjoy for true and which was much needed if the sounds of the rumbles from Steffon's stomach were true.
"Come, we'll break our fast, and no doubt my wife will give me yet another earful for denying you your meal," he said, rolling his eyes over extravagantly and enjoying the loud laugh that Steffon let out when he did so.
Dany had taken to young Steffon immediately as had Jorah and the rest of the Dragonguard. Even Edd who at times was still as dour as ever had liked the lad. Much of that was down to who Steffon's father was and yet it was not all because of Davos. For Baelon, just having Steffon by his side almost constantly as was the relationship between a squire and knight, or king in this regard, had helped somewhat with not having his brother here with him. He'd never be a replacement for Rickon and Baelon had not begrudged his brother for leaving. However, he'd be a liar if he said he didn't miss him or that some of the affection he felt towards Steffon was because of that.
They were greeted by his son when they entered the Royal Chambers. Daeron jumped up from his place at his mother's side to run over and throw himself into Baelon's arms. Swinging him around and hearing his excited laughter, while ignoring the chiding look he received from Dany in return, Baelon whispered in his son's ear and felt the nod before seeing it for himself. Taking his seat, he held Daeron in his arms and when his food was brought, he shared it with his son who ate heartily.
"Have you not been fed, Tresy?" he asked to a shake of Daeron's head and a roll of Dany's eyes "Well we can't have that. Wylla, more sausages," he said to a beaming smile from Daeron who then hugged him even more tightly.
It was a game they played, he, Dany, and Daeron with willing accomplices from whoever ate with them of a morn. Sometimes it would be Missandei who was the Mistress of Sausages, others it would be Olenna, though mainly it was Wylla, Daeron's grandmother by choice. The woman who would have raised Baelon if she'd been given leave to, now showed with his son just how blissful a life that would have been. She was ever present and there were no nursemaids or servants who did as much for Daeron as she. To both Dany and himself, Wylla was a gift from the gods. While to their son, she was mayhap even more than that.
As Baelon ate and fed Daeron from his own plate, around the table conversations were taking place. There was no formality or talk of work or matters of the realm. Mornings and evenings were their times. The times when they weren't the king, queen, and crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Instead, they were simply a family. He, his wife, his son, Missandei, Wylla, Olenna, their Dragonguard. The chosen few that they welcomed to their table and now Steffon Seaworth too. It had been what he and Dany had wished for more than anything else in this world. To know what it felt like to belong. What it felt like to be truly loved.
More than even that, it was what they both wished for their son to know. To grow up in a world that was unlike the one that Dany and he had known. A world where he had a father who loved him unconditionally and a mother for whom he was her true heart. Baelon may have forgiven his uncle somewhat, but he knew now that he'd never been a father to him, not how he was to Robb, Sansa, Arya, Rickon, and even Bran. Neither he nor Dany had known what a mother's love was truly like. They'd instead been forced to imagine it. Picture it in their mind and hope that what they saw was true. Even then, they'd done so with the knowledge that their mothers were not by their side and so always somewhat unknown. Daeron would never know that and if Baelon and Dany had their way, he'd never know war either. Their son would grow up in a far better world than the one he and his wife had. For Baelon and Dany would break every single spoke until the wheel itself was crushed, just to see it so.
"Baelon, don't let him do that." Dany chided "Gods give him to me." she said a moment later as she took Daeron from his arms.
Around the table, people tried and failed to hold back their laughter as Baelon pulled the sausage out from inside his shirt. His son had hidden it for later no doubt. Throwing it to Ghost, Baelon cleaned himself up and then began to make faces at his son. Daeron hiding his own face in Dany's chest before peeking back at him, laughing, and then doing it again. These mornings proved that it was almost a blissful life that Baelon had come to know other than one small dark cloud that was soon to rear its head once more. A cloud that worried his wife more than him. As Baelon believed that when their son was ready and had something to say, then he'd speak the words they both longed to hear from his lips.
There was nothing wrong with their son, that's what he'd tell Dany each time her worries grew too much for her. Baelon, Wylla, Missandei, Marwyn, and even Rickon, before he'd headed back to the North, had all told her so. Yet at times, the lack of even a single word from their son would cause his wife to worry far too much.
" Daeron will talk when the time is right, Dany," his brother had said once. "Your son is perfectly healthy and you know it. Else the prophecy wouldn't have been realized and Baelon wouldn't have come back to you"
"What do you mean?" Baelon frowned, feeling his wife trembling in his arms.
"It was always Baelon. Your true love. The one that should be returned to you once your womb quickened and you bore a living child. It's always been him." Rickon said
"I know. I realized it when I held Daeron in my arms" Dany whispered. "But he -"
"He is alive and well, and will talk when he is supposed to."
Seeing the worry appear on her face once again. Baelon decided to change her mood before it became despondent.
"I think we should fly today, Dany. What say you?" he asked, the bright smile and nod of her head enough to give him an answer.
"Not too far, Baelon," Wylla said and Baelon nodded.
"No, not too far, just over the city and the bay, he loves it so," he said as Dany told Daeron who bounced excitedly on her lap.
After finishing their meal and making sure there was nothing too pressing that needed their attention. They made their way to the Dragonpit. In the years to come, it would be rebuilt and yet it would never serve as a home for their dragons, just a place for them to land without causing too much disruption to the daily workings of the city. Rhaegal, Viserion, and Drogon had found themselves lairs among the caves around Blackwater Bay and often roosted on Dragonstone too. The island had become, as it was for his father and Dany's mother, a second home for them and their family.
Riding atop his horse with Dany on the filly that had been birthed by her silver, they made their way to the Dragonpit and Baelon felt Daeron's excitement rise as they neared it. On some occasions, it would be Dany who rode with Daeron on horseback and then he who'd ride with their son on Rhaegal's back. Today it was to be Dany and Drogon that Daeron would fly with and in truth it mattered little to their son as long as it was with one of them. Handing his son to his mother when they reached the Dragonpit, Baelon bit back his chuckle at the way that Daeron's eyes searched the skies and how they widened when the dragons were sighted.
To his surprise, Daeron almost seemed to wish to break free of his mother's arms when the dragons landed and Dany looked at him worriedly.
"Give him here," he said, softly. Taking his son from Dany's arms much to her relief "Now what's gotten into you, Tresy?"
Daeron was agitated, excited, and yet not angered nor uncomfortable. His son's hand pointed to Viserion and Baelon looked to Dany in confusion. Shaking his head, he moved instead to Rhaegal only for Daeron to become even more agitated.
"Baelon?" Dany asked, her concern clear in her eyes.
"He wishes to be brought to Viserion, mayhap that will calm him," he said to a nod of his wife's head.
It seemed to do the trick and once they'd reached the golden dragon, Daeron's little hand began to stroke Viserion's face. For a moment the sound of Viserion trilling was all that Baelon could hear. Looking at his wife and expecting to see a smile on her face, instead, he saw tears rolling down her cheeks and he knew not why that was. Then he heard the words and he shed his own happy tears as he realized why Dany was crying.
"Soves Sion." his son said as Viserion's molten golden eyes looked into Daeron's and seemed to agree.
The wing when it came down almost shocked both Baelon and his wife. Yet still, he moved to it and climbed up to take a place on the golden dragon's back. No sooner had he done so, than Dany joined them. Closing his eyes, Baelon told Rhaegal what was going on or tried to. It seemed that both he and his larger brother not only knew already but were most keen to see what was about to happen. Feeling Dany wrap her arms around his waist and with Daeron relaxing in his arms, Baelon readied to bid Viserion take to the sky only to find he had no need to do so.
"Soves Sion," Daeron said and at his son's command, Viserion's wings began to beat and in the blink of an eye, they were flying away from the Dragonpit and off toward Blackwater Bay.
Despite telling Wylla that they'd not fly too far or for too long, Baelon now changed their plans. Out over the bay, around the city, and then onto Dragonstone where they finally landed. Baelon handed Daeron to Dany once she'd dismounted and when he joined her, he once again found his wife's tears had begun to fall. It took him a moment to hear the words that his son was saying and how he kept his own tears at bay when Daeron repeated the word and then turned to him and spoke another, only the gods knew.
"Muña." (Mother) Daeron said as his little fingers brushed Dany's tears away.
"Kepa" (Father) he said as Baelon moved to him.
When they spoke to their son he spoke back. Four words were all he used, Mother, Father, Fly, and his attempt at Viserion's name, and yet no song had ever sounded as beautiful as hearing their son's voice for the first time. Later as he flew back to Dragons' Rest atop Rhaegal and with Daeron in his arms, Dany being too emotional to dare risk flying while carrying their son, Baelon felt as happy as he'd ever dared to dream he could be. In front of him, his son looked to where Viserion flew close by and Baelon had no need to know that one day in the future, they would both fly together without a need for either him or Dany to hold Daeron in their arms. Looking at the wide blue sky, at his wife atop Drogon, and at Viserion almost showing off for his future rider, Baelon smiled a true smile.
"This is your playground, Daeron," he said and he swore his son nodded his head at his words.
The North 307/308 AC.
Rickon Stark.
They all huddled in Sansa's room to sleep the first night, even his goodsister and his nephew. The room looked like a Dothraki tent, with pillows and furs on the ground, as well as makeshift beds, and everyone enjoyed camping out there. Some could say that Baelon and Dany's attitude was not becoming of a King and a Queen. But this was the North, the people here only saw family and almost long-lost friends from the moment they arrived and Rickon would not begrudge them. Especially since he wanted so much to be close to all of them.
The Pack was finally reunited and his heart warmed at the feeling of contentment he could sense from his siblings. Rickon smiled as he stared at Arya, who was watching over a sleeping Daeron. So he then began to reminisce about the moment they had landed near Winterfell.
" You've grown, little brother." were the first words Arya whispered to him when he ran into her arms.
The Wolfswood was still sporting some scars from the battle with the dead, but Rickon could feel it heal slowly, as his family did too. Nymeria was there to greet them with her pack as they dismounted the dragons and she wagged her tail happily when she spotted his nephew.
Welcome, brothers, nephew. The Pack is waiting for you. Rickon heard her say in his mind.
The shock of seeing Arya standing next to Sansa was enough to give the latter some respite, as Rickon knew that the news she would share would earn her a stern talk with their brother. Baelon, however, was focused on embracing each of his sisters and introducing his son to them. His brother glowed with pride and happiness as both of them took their turn to hold Daeron in their arms.
"I can't believe you're taller than me," Arya said, making Rickon snort and shake himself from his thoughts.
"I am a man now, sister." he retorted proudly.
"You'll always be my annoying little brother as far as I'm concerned."
"When does she plan on telling him?" Rickon asked as he plopped down next to Arya, looking at their other sister sleeping on her bed.
"How do you… I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Not with your gift. She won't be able to hide it on the morrow. She eats as if she had never eaten before."
"Well, she's eating for two. Dany was the same before she birthed Daeron. Any mood swings?"
"When do they not?" Arya snorted. "Have you seen the future?"
"You don't need to be a greenseer to know that Baelon will lose it." he chuckled.
"And Sansa will stand her ground. Do we have to intervene?"
"Nah, they need to talk. Have you already warned Snow? Shall I visit him myself?"
"The Hound smacked him, and I roughed him up a little. But if you want to talk to him, be my guest." Arya said with a wicked grin on her face.
"Good."
"Don't be too hard on him, though. She loves him."
"Aye, I know. But still, I want to be sure he won't break her heart."
"As much as I dislike the man, you and I both know he won't."
"You're no fun," Rickon whined, his heart warming up when Arya smirked.
"That's not my role, brother. You're the one who gets to have fun."
"Trust me, if it weren't for Baelon, Dany, and Daeron, I would not have fun at all." he sighed loudly.
"Thank you," she said, surprising him by being serious again. "For watching over him and for bringing him back."
"I did nothing. You and Daeron brought him back."
"They wouldn't exist if it weren't for you. If you hadn't stood up to Bran and stopped our brother from taking a dark path. You've been his anchor when he needed something to hold onto."
"As you were with Sansa. Thank you for coming back for her."
"You were the one who made me come back," she said to his surprise.
"But I thought… Sansa said she prayed and then you were there suddenly."
"You were torn between both sides of the family, and the Gods needed you to focus entirely on our brother. Aye, Sansa needed help, but she had Old Nan to watch over her. Why do you think they brought me back?"
"Because it wasn't your time?"
"And they owed it to you for serving them faithfully. Now that the threats they feared are no more, I'm here to protect the Starks of Winterfell and the curse on our family has been lifted, so you're free to do whatever you wish to."
"Dragons' Rest might be at peace now, I on the other hand cannot rest until I'm sure Baelon risks nothing more than he should."
"You can, brother. There is no threat looming on the horizon. Else the Old Gods would have warned you already. You just do not want to let go yet. Why?"
"What about you? You're a skin-changer now, and you're bound to Winterfell." he changed the subject, not wanting to think much about his true reason.
"I finally found my purpose, brother. I chose my fate knowingly and I know that should I wish for more, the Old Gods would not hold it against me. Look at all the things Old Nan had managed to live through during her time as a protector before then going back to her ancestors."
"Does that scare you?" he asked curiously.
"No, because I know that at least one member of my pack will be with me through it," she said, mussing his hair. "Does this scare you?"
"A little," he admitted. "I do not know if I will be able to witness the passage of time and not be resentful to watch all whom I care about die. I -"
"You're not Bran, Rickon."
"Yet everyone fears me as if I was. Even Baelon and Dany look at me sometimes with fear."
"Are you sure they fear you? I think they fear the moment you realize that it is time for you to live for yourself."
"When did you become so sage?" he japed, signaling in his own way that he didn't want to prolong the conversation.
"Probably when you had your growth spurt, you cheeky bastard!" she retorted, mussing his hair before they wrestled a little, Arya's laugh ringing throughout the room until Daeron got awakened by it.
They bid each other good night and Rickon's mind wandered as it did each night ever since he knew he would be traveling back North.
He soon found his little friend in the same room he always was in and he smiled when he saw some stale bread in the corner.
"She's left some for me every day since she noticed me. I and my family thank you for this." the mouse said as it ran over to the bedside.
"I'm glad I've been of help, but you have to thank her. Not me."
She wasn't sleeping and seemed to be waiting for him, which made his heart flutter when their gaze met.
"You arrived well and without issue?" she asked and he nodded. "Good. About time you would visit your sisters. Now that you found your way back to them, I hope you'll stop badgering me about them."
"I will never stop badgering you, stupid!" he tried to yell, but he knew she wouldn't understand.
"Oh, do shut up, will ya? You'll wake someone up and I will not be responsible if a servant takes your familiar's life." she snapped as he came closer.
"Why didn't you come? I thought you would be here when I arrived," he asked without words or answer.
"Now leave this poor beast alone and go to bed."
Part of him felt angry as she blew her candle and settled on her bed, but he was more saddened that he was not able to talk to her properly. He knew Lyanna still resented him for leaving even after all this time. As she did Talia even though she still corresponded with their friend in the Reach. Lyanna had stopped doing so with him and he had resorted to watching her through various familiars around Bear Island to make sure she was well.
Rickon now had a bear cub, a sparrow, a cat, and a family of mice that he could ask to share his mind with in that regard. He had tried to be discreet, yet as years went by, he grew less and less careful and she'd been more able to spot him. Since then, not a day had passed without him coming to listen to one of her famous tongue lashings.
"Good night, Rickon. See you on the morrow." he heard her whisper as he was about to leave the mouse's body, making him smile as he then sought another familiar for the night.
Bear was enjoying a hunt with Nymeria, Ghost, and the rest of their pack, and Rickon could feel the joy the direwolves felt at being reunited. He basked in it, sharing the beast's mind to keep his own at ease, as he'd done since he'd left Winterfell with Baelon and Dany all those years before. He had never needed much sleep since he'd come back from the dead and the magic flowing through his veins made him even less prone to exhaustion. Yet Rickon always craved for a moment out of his body every night.
The horrible truth was that Rickon was struggling to find his place in the new world Baelon and Dany wanted to create. He'd been so used to war, betrayals, and fighting for his survival that he felt almost out of place during peaceful times. Ever since the House of Black and White fell, no one had tried to challenge him or his family. It had meant that while a part of him was happy that nobody dared, he also felt useless now. Useless, alone, and misunderstood.
Still, he would rather be a mystery for everyone as long as it kept his family safe. He got to see Baelon grow and was quite fond of Daeron, though seeing Sansa ready to bring a babe into the world made him wonder what his own babe would be like should he ever know one of his own. Not that he thought he was husband material, as he had nothing to offer a Lady. Nothing but fear and mistrust.
"Your pack isn't scared of you. Intimidated, aye, but not scared. You can find a mate in your pack." Bear retorted.
"My pack is my family."
"The one who you name me for isn't."
"She is, in a way."
"She's not a sister. I would know. I feel the same about your sisters, and I don't feel the same about her."
"And this is why I do not talk with you about feelings. Focus on the prey." Rickon ordered as the other wolves snickered.
The days he spent in Winterfell were the happiest he'd had in who knew how long. Bringing Daeron to visit the keep and watching him play with the pack's cubs had made his heart full. He knew that someday his nephew would have a familiar of his own, mayhap after his bond with Viserion had strengthened, and that he would grow to be a formidable man. His nephew would even continue his parents' legacy by keeping the old gods in his heart. Daeron would watch over his brother and sister, Aemon and Rhaella, whose marriages with Jeyne Hardyng and Oberyn Martell would help consolidate the bonds between the Crown, Dorne, and the Vale. Aemon would become the Lord of Summerhall, perfecting his parents' vision as a safe haven for bastards and people in need of learning trades. Along with the help of the Missandei of Naath, the Mistress of Education, and her adopted daughters.
He also watched Sansa's life carefully, knowing of her future and that of her children. Due to the magic in his parents' veins, Robb Stark would be the next powerful warg of the family. His younger sisters, Elsera and Cat, would not hold a candle to what he would do, though they would be happily bonded with Nymeria and Shadow's cubs. The three of them would, thanks to their parents, change the rules set in the North, adding more of the Old Ways of the Free Folk and helping them settle in the improved realm. Robb by being the next Warden, Cat the Lady of Ironrath, and Elsera would be holding the North Grove behind the Wall as her ancestors once did. In time they would expand the Seven Kingdoms whilst the Free Folk would willingly join the realm later on. Theon and Benjen Stark, their brothers, would happily spread the wolves' influence in the North as lords of Sea Dragon Point and Moat Cailin respectively.
Ha had seen much of his brother and sister's line and never said a thing, knowing he would be content to witness much by himself when the time would come. No matter how many times he'd been questioned, did he say a thing to his siblings, other than assuaging their fears and advising them to trust the Gods. In a way, he felt he had intervened too much already and didn't want to test the Gods' will by saying too much. Although hiding things from his family had sometimes made him feel like the Raven rather than the Wolf, he had wanted them to experience the joys of discovering good news rather than being already in the know.
" Is that why you haven't looked into your future?" Arya had asked after he tried to explain this to her. "Because you want to witness it yourself?"
" I… Am terrified of the outcome. What if I end up -"
" If you're about to say like Bran, forget it. You're nothing like him." She cut him off and he shook his head.
" I was about to say, alone. What if I end up alone because of what I am? Being a greenseer always leads to solitude."
" Things have changed, brother. Most of those changes are thanks to you. You should look out for your own fate too, for you've been blessed by the Gods, not cursed by them." Arya said, hugging him before they joined the others to say their farewells.
Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to swim in the rivers of time for him, and his frustration grew when he traveled back to Dragons' Rest with Baelon. Being back North, even for a short amount of time had opened something in Rickon that he couldn't shake. The fact that he hadn't been able to see his friends other than by warging had then made it even worse. Only in the moments when he was with his family and, strangely enough, the Grandmaester, was he able to feel something other than deep sadness.
His days were almost all the same. He would break his fast with his extended family, which he was glad soon would include young Steffon Seaworth. Then he would take a moment to scour the Seven Kingdoms and watch over those he and Baelon cared about, as well as the Wardens and Lord Paramounts. He would then take a walk through the streets of Dragons' Rest with his brother to tour the city and watch the progress of its construction. Before then going back to the Dragon's Lair and having a talk with Marwyn, who recorded all he could from the chronicles of the past. When he was finally alone, he would let his mind wander into Bear or his other familiars until dinner. Then he would travel to Bear Island to hear about his dearest friend's day and to wish Lyanna a good night.
The day his routine changed was the one of Robb Stark's birth. He had awakened earlier in the morning, feeling a shift in Winterfell. The pack was restless and worry overtook him as he thought of the North being under attack at first. When Arya told him that they were sharing her own worry because Sansa had gone into labor, he'd felt relieved even worried still.
Rickon had felt it then, the need to be closer to them, to watch over them, so he warged into one of the wolves and stood by Arya's side while informing Baelon of everything that was going on.
As it did for Daeron, hearing Robb's first cry made him sigh in relief. Not that he doubted what the Gods had shown him, but his fear of losing anyone he cared about was always present in his heart and it would take a long time for each of those fears to disappear.
"The babe is healthy. As is Sansa. She named him Robb." he said, smiling as he could see his brother's relief.
"You hear this, son? You have a cousin named Robb Stark!" Baelon beamed, bouncing Daeron in his arms. "I had thought she would call him Eddard, but Robb is a good and true name for a future Warden of the North," Baelon said wistfully, thinking no doubt of the brother they'd both lost.
"She wanted to, but she said something about leaving the name to me." Rickon shrugged when his brother's smile grew.
"So, are you going to name your son Eddard?" Dany teased him.
"I don't even know if I'll ever lay with a woman, let alone have a child," he growled, making Baelon frown.
"You're a greenseer, you should know -"
"I have no time to look or think about this!" Rickon snapped and immediately regretted his reaction when all in the room watched him with alarmed expressions.
Overwhelmed by his shame and feeling his old demons resurfacing, he ran out of the room, heading straight to Daeron's Hall, where Bear was already waiting for him. He sat near the weirwood tree as the direwolf plopped behind him, surrounding him with his warmth and calming him down.
"I knew I would find you here." Baelon's voice rang out at the outskirts of the growing Godswood, prompting Rickon to groan against Bear's fur. "I thought this would happen earlier. You blowing up this way."
"I didn't mean to scare you. Nor Dany. Nor Daeron."
"You didn't. If anything, we're concerned about you." Baelon said, taking a seat beside him.
"You don't need to."
"Of course we do! I can see something is bothering you for quite some time now. You know you can tell me anything, right brother?"
"I know."
"Then what is it?"
"I don't know. I just feel…"
"Trapped?" Baelon said, to his surprise. "You've been through so much from such a young age. So much that you shouldn't have been forced to endure, brother. You've taken on huge responsibilities and sacrificed your well-being for mine, for the realm's."
"I regret nothing!" Rickon protested immediately.
"I know, Brother. But you are not happy here." the king stated and his brother could not deny his words.
"I'm… I'm content with being with you, with Dany and my nephew. You're my pack."
"We are, but your Pack is bigger than just us three, and -" At Baelon's words it all came rushing out of him, Rickon interrupting his brother as it all just flowed.
"I miss them. I miss the North. I miss being able to run with the wolves and do things without being judged or feared. I missed being myself and… You and Sansa having families of your own… It makes me think of things I never knew I would think of."
"Remember what I told you, about Love and Duty?"
"Aye, I know, but I… I can't leave you."
"In an ideal world, I would have all of you near me. You, Sansa, Arya… I would have never thought about leaving Winterfell if it weren't for your words and marrying Dany. And I would have been content with my life, but you loved me too much to just let me be content. Please brother, let me now repay the favor you gave me. Let me do so today."
"Brother?" Rickon frowned, confused.
"You are of the North. Your place is in the North. And there's someone you've made wait long enough for you to take your place by her side."
"I don't…"
"You can fool everyone, but you cannot fool me, Rickon. You've realized how much your feelings have changed and you're terrified by it." Baelon said, moving even closer to where Rickon sat and where he did so in some discomfort. The feelings he'd been hiding and denying had caused him some pain.
"You've talked to Ghost, haven't you?" Rickon mumbled and Baelon chuckled. "She hates me. She's ignoring me because I didn't stay this time. I even went as a bear cub to catch her attention, but she glared at me and just went inside her keep."
"Good."
"How is it good?"
"If she glares at you, it shows that she cares about you. Showing off your tricks may work in the South, but you know it doesn't in the North. That's why you miss being there. That's why you miss her because she sees the real you and not the Warg Lord."
"What shall I do then?" Rickon sighed hopelessly.
"Why, aren't you the one who sees the future?" Baelon laughed and it earned him a forcible shove from Rickon, though not an angered one. "You go to her and you court her."
"If this doesn't work? What if she hates me more than I think she does?"
"Behold, the Great Rickon Stark, terrified by a Northern Lady!" Baelon said with his arms wide, a smile upon his face to show he was japing with him.
"You haven't seen her with her mace, Brother. She's even stronger and more fierce than before."
They japed some more until Ghost came, signaling it was time for Baelon to assume his kingly duties.
"Look. You and I are bonded. Through all we've lived together, our bond will never waiver. I brought you back to life and so did you, me. You've sacrificed much so that I could find happiness."
"I only did what the Gods bade me to."
"The gods didn't fashion you to be their servant, Rickon, they fashioned you for love. Your love for our Pack made you do the impossible. Show them and the world that you can be both a wolf with a thousand eyes and a man who has only an eye for the woman he loves. It's time for you to find your true path and be what you've always meant to be."
"Which is?"
"Alive."
This, more than anything that his brother said before, was the word that strengthened Rickon's resolve. It took him another week to make his decision, and he enjoyed spending as much time with his brother, goodsister, and nephew as he could.
"Know that there will always be a place for you here, anytime." his goodsister said with tears in her eyes, as he said his farewell to the Dragon's Lair.
"I know. Thank you, sister, for everything," he whispered something else to her while hugging her, making her gasp.
"Are you…"
"Not now, but soon," he said, winking at her before turning to the Hand of the King and Queen. "Olenna."
"I'll take good care of them."
"I know you will. I'll always be watching."
"That I can certainly believe!" Olenna replied, chuckling, before leaving her place for Baelon.
"Call for me, whenever you need to talk to me. You have the Heart Tree, Ghost. Just say the words and I'll be there, though not physically, thanks to the Gods I'll always be with you, Your Grace." Rickon said, his last words charged with emotions.
"As will I, my Lord." Baelon smiled, holding his son in his arms before his brother then moved closer to him and whispered in his ear "Be happy, brother, do me that small favor and know that I'll be happy for you."
With a nod to Baelon, to his family, and with his heart heavy, Rickon sat on Unicorn, flanked by his Bear, and rode towards his fate, Rhaegal flying over his head until he reached the Dragon's Gate.
A few weeks later.
Rickon had waited impatiently for his direwolf to be able to move when they docked at the port. The journey had shown that Bear didn't fare well at sea and the wolf had struggled to regain his composure. He blamed himself for leaving Unicorn at Winterfell when he had stopped by to meet his nephew and talk to his sisters. That neither of them discouraged him gave him the courage to do what he wanted, so he bid goodbye to his familiar and had then ridden atop Bear instead. It had suddenly occurred to him that the direwolf was faster and so the journey would take less time. Though why it he had taken so long to ride atop a direwolf again he knew not. Besides Unicorn belonged in Winterfell and in time his sons and daughters would be born and ridden by Rickon and his nieces and nephews.
"Go, Brother. I will be right behind you." Bear assured, feeling his companion's eagerness to meet his friend.
He ran, soon joined by the cub and its mother, who showed him the right way to go to be sure to catch a glimpse of her. It was time for sparring, and it didn't take long for him to see her swing her mace at her guard with all the fierceness he had grown to like. To love.
"Anyone else brave enough to face me today?" Lyanna growled after she'd won and he could tell she was in a foul mood.
Was it because he hadn't come to her the night before as he usually did?
"I would give it a try, if you allow me, my Lady," he said, and the way she whipped her head toward him in shock, her wide eyes, and the surprised expression on her face almost made his heart skip a beat.
"How… You're…"
"Apologies for the delay, my Lady. I've been remiss in my duties towards you."
"Duties? What are you babbling about? The South has turned you into a flowery knight!"
"Far from that, my Lady, and I'll be glad to prove it to you right now in this sparring yard."
"Why would I waste my time sparring with you?"
"Would you prefer I steal you?"
"What nonsense are you speaking? You're not a man of the Free Folk."
"Very well, then courting it is. Let us do it the Old Way. To five points or a yield. If I win, you court me."
"Are you mad? What makes you think I am willing to court you?" she asked, feigning being offended.
"Those are my conditions, and I know how much you truly want to knock me on my arse. After all, I kept you waiting for a long time." he challenged.
"Indeed. What if you lose?"
"Then I will court you," he said with conviction.
Lyanna paused as if she was in thought and Rickon worried that he'd gone too far. Then after a moment, she took up her stance and he almost swooned as he looked at the small upturn of her mouth and the smirk she wore.
"Well, I suppose you leave me with no choice but to knock you on your arse, then." she sighed dramatically, but Rickon could see the truth written on her face and hear her heart beat a little bit faster.
As his Valyrian steel sword clashed with her mace, Rickon finally felt whole. Win or lose it mattered not, they were finally courting, and never had anything felt as right to him as that.
?.
Bran.
As the Three-Eyed Raven, Bran had once been able to sail the rivers of time. He'd almost been able to control it and with a little more effort, he'd certainly have been able to change the past had he but wished to do so. Now, he experienced it from behind a locked door. Unable to do anything but watch the world go about its business without him. So time had in the end lost all meaning for him.
For all that he knew it could have been ten, twenty, or even fifty years that he'd been stuck in this room. Long had he given up shouting for his brother to "Hold the Door" and yet those words that he'd once mocked Willas for uttering were now the only words that anyone heard should they cross his path. Not that many crossed his path. The Maester, whatever his name was, was one of the few. Wolkan had long since passed and been replaced and yet nothing much had really changed for Bran.
Brief moments in the open were all he was given. His physical body just like his mental one was locked behind a door in a room with no windows. The world outside of that room was no longer his own and he'd long forgone the curses he aimed at those who'd left him here to simply fade away. All he'd wished for had gone unrealized and instead the lives he'd tried to deny people had in time come to be lived. Now here he was at the end of his own and he both welcomed it and feared it equally. For he felt he'd know little respite when he was finally taken from this world and into the one beyond. Bran had played not only the Game of Thrones and lost, but he'd played a game with Gods and the Gods were unforgiving.
"Hodor," he said as he breathed his last, and in a small and quiet room in Winterfell, Bran slumped forward in his chair and left that world behind.
Had he the eyes to see himself then he'd not have recognized the body he left behind. Old, grey, and thin as a reed. He'd served more than fifty years as a prisoner in his own mind. If he was still the Three-Eyed Raven then he'd have seen that no service was held for him or words were spoken over his body as it was placed upon the pyre. No one mourned for him and even the raven that bore the news to any who still remembered him was not one sent out in haste.
The thing he had become was no longer a Stark and so he deserved not to be buried amongst those who were. Instead, his ashes were scattered into the wind and not one member of the family he'd once named his own had even watched as it was done. Yet as he had always feared it would be, death was only the beginning of his torment.
Darkness, ever oppressive darkness. It clawed at him and as he lay in a crumpled mess on the floor, Bran felt true fear. His legs were as useless as they had been since he'd fallen from the tower. Yet still, he tried to move them and crawl away from whatever it was that moved toward him. Then the voices began and so he curled up into a ball and begged them to leave him alone.
" My people died for you, and you were worth not a single one of them." Leaf cried, her voice full of anger and disdain.
" My life was worth more than what you did with yours." Jojen Reed called out "Had I but known then I'd have left you to Theon and his Iron Born Scum."
" I named you pack but you were never a wolf." Summer spat.
" You invaded my mind and made me do things I'd never do. I curse the day I met you, Bran Stark." Willas said, his words finally able to be spoken now that Bran had taken his place.
" Hodor," Bran replied tearfully.
" I am shamed to have named you a brother and for the tears that I shed when I thought you dead." Robb snarled, sounding very much like the Young Wolf who'd almost won the War of the Five Kings and who Bran could and did not help.
" I had three sons. You were not one of them." his father's voice called out and Bran truly wept now.
We gave our powers to you and you used them for ill and fell purposes. It's time for you to pay the true price for your betrayal.
The voice had seemed older than time itself and Bran felt himself be lifted on shoulders he knew far too well. It was Willas who bore him to what was to be his final resting place. He took him to the tree that they'd wished him chained to. Willas who with great glee and much pleasure, now chained him to that tree.
Bran was once again Beyond the Wall and once again in the place where Brynden and the Children of the Forest had met their ends. A tree that no longer stood for true and yet its roots now grew anew. He wept at the injustice of it all and would have done so for quite some time, only for first a voice and then a face from the past to invade his thoughts once more.
" It's beautiful beneath the sea, but if you stay too long you'll drown. You never heeded my warning but now can you not feel the waves." Bloodraven said and Bran could hear the mockery in those words as he had when he'd heard them for true.
The face belonged to a man he'd named an uncle once. A man who'd saved him from a death he now wished upon himself. Benjen Stark looked no older than when last he'd seen him at Winterfell. Though given he was dead or as close to it as a man could be and not be named a corpse, that was no true surprise.
"My time is finally over, Bran. One more task the old gods have given me and then I'm done. Unlike you, it's to be a reward and not a punishment I enjoy. So I welcome what I'm about to do. Behold and see the world you sought to destroy. The pack you could have named your own and who all are better for you not doing so."
Hardhome was a thriving city. True houses now stood and the docks welcomed ships that bore flags from all regions of Westeros. Most bore the three-headed dragon and carried supplies and trade to and from the King in the South. Children played and few went hungry. In the square in the center of the town, a statue stood of a figure with a white wolf and an old man sitting beneath it telling tales of the battle for the dawn and the heroes who fought in it. Of Nessa the Brave and Tormund the Unwavering, the Dragonqueen, and the White Wolf. While around him children and adults alike listened with eager ears.
Winterfell welcomed the arrival of its new heir. Cregan Stark, son of the Warden of the North, Robb Stark, and his wife Leona Manderly. The feast was attended by Lord Robb's four brothers and sisters. Catelyn Stark and her husband Asher Forrester who'd been named after his great uncle. Elsera Stark who was still unwed. Benjen Stark the Lord of Moat Cailin and his wife Jyana Reed and Theon Stark who'd soon be the Lord of Sea Dragon Point once he and Dacey Mormont were wed.
Sitting in pride of place was the new heir's grandmother. Her red hair had long turned to grey and yet she was as striking as she'd been as a girl. Beside Sansa Stark was an empty seat where the young boy's grandfather would have sat had he not passed a year or more ago. The smile she wore was beaming as her grandson was finally handed to her and around the Great Hall cheers rang out loudly. While outside, a grey wolf stood at the gates, Arya both howling in celebration with her sister and in grief for her uncle's fate.
The Reach celebrated the gathering of its bounty once again. Its lady overseeing it all with her twin daughters Olenna and Alerie and her son and heir Loras. They raised their glasses and thanked the Seven Who Are One and the Old Gods and toasted King Daeron the Wise and his wife Good Queen Ashara of House Dayne. Yet Desmera found her thoughts were on the granddaughter who wasn't here and how much she looked forward to taking the ship to Dragons' Rest and to seeing her grandmother and Margaery again.
In the Iron Islands the ships bearing the Kraken and other flags set off for their long journey to Meereen and the Bay of Dragons. The trade they helped secure had already brought the life or reaving and raping to an end. Atop the parapets on Pyke, Maron Greyjoy the Lord Reaper of the Iron Islands, and the firstborn son of his late dear departed mother Yara Greyjoy looked on as the promises his mother had given to their people were now proved true once more.
In the Lands of the Storm, Lord Devan Seaworth stood in the crypt of Storm's End and spoke words over his father's statue before then readying to go about his day. He had much to do as soon he'd be traveling to King's Landing with the latest graduates from the Summer School at Summerhall. He looked forward to the journey and to see his brother again. Knowing full well that as Lord Commander of the Dragonguard, Steffon would be there by the king's side.
Across the sands, the horse rode fast. The young girl laughed loudly as she beat those with her. The future Princess of Dorne took much after her mother in looks, with her violet eyes and icy white hair waving through the winds. While her mother far preferred riding atop her dragon, Meraxes, Ellaria took after her father more. She'd been raised on tales of her grandmother and great aunt's adventures and mostly their rides in the desert. After winning the race, she stopped by the stream to let the others catch up and wondered if Arthur would sneak her away from the others so he could share kisses with his betrothed. Seeing the look in his eyes as he dismounted his horse, Ellaria Martell knew that she and the Sword of the Morning would soon be locked in a warm embrace.
Lord Brynden Tully walked around his family's keep and did so nervously. His son was to wed today and young Edmure had been raised on tales of what had happened at his grandfather and grandmother's wedding. A part of Brynden worried that his son may try to elope rather than be wed to Lady Minisa Mooton. Yet in the end his fears turned out to be for naught and that night Riverrun played host to a wedding for the ages.
Lord Alyn Waynwood rode to the Eyrie to visit his sister Anya and his Goodbrother Lord Jaspar Hardyng. A journey that had once been fraught with danger was now anything but. Though he still rode with men who though they'd not set foot in the Great Grass Sea, were still as good a group of horsemen as their fathers who'd been born there. The new Knights of the Vale were very different from those that came before them, all but in one aspect that was. For Alyn would dare to say there was not a better cavalry in Westeros than the men he rode with.
Ser Jamie Lannister twisted and turned as he brought the sword to bear against his cousin Stafford. Watched by his father Lord Gerion, the Warden of the West, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. Being named after his great-great uncle and one of the heroes of the dawn, The Kingsaver, Jaime had always felt the pull to be a true warrior. It had been something that had made his father and his grandfather proud and as he beat Stafford, Jaime saw that look on his father's face once more. In time it would fall to him to lead the West and as his father and grandfather before him, he'd do so with the honor that the Kingsaver had been celebrated for having.
The children were grown now. Eddard was wed and was a father, Dacey would soon leave to start a family of her own, and Tormund who though wild and free as his namesake had been, was as dutiful as ever. His familiars had grown in number and he'd lost some to age over the years, though be it the magic he possessed or by the Old God's will, some had lived far longer lives than they should. Rising from his prayers at the Weirwood, Rickon turned to walk back into the keep. Lyanna would tan his arse for him if he didn't make it back for dinner and though both of them were far too old for such, the thought of it still brought a smile to his face.
" Do what you must, Uncle, and be welcome in the Old Gods' warm embrace. Your family awaits, Aunt Lyanna more than the others," he said sadly.
With one last look at the Weirwood and resisting the urge to take a look through his third eye at the rest of the Pack, he climbed atop Shaggy and let Unicorn's last remaining son take him back to the keep.
Dragons' Rest had grown much over the years. The work done by his father and mother had seen to that and Daeron along with Ashara had played their parts too. He'd been told by his father that this city had once smelt more of shit than anything else, even after the Demon Monkey had tried to burn it all down. Now it smelt as much of flowers as anything else. Walking past the open doors, King Daeron resisted the urge to walk through them and to offer his prayers at the giant Heart Tree. There was work to do and he hoped his errant brother and sister were already in the Small Council Chamber and he'd not be forced to wait for Aemon and Rhaella as he usually was.
" My son, Lord Commander," he asked Ser Steffon Seaworth.
" Prince Rhaegar is with his betrothed, your grace."
" Good," Daeron said, happy that his son and Lady Margaery Redwyne were getting along so well. Rhaegar had seemed happy with the match, but his son had always looked to duty before love and as his father was oft heard to say, the gods had fashioned us for love, not duty.
Closing his eyes as he reached the Small Council Chambers, Daeron went looking for the dragons. Balerion and Meraxes he found together as always. His brother and sister's dragons had no truer companions than each other. Caraxes, Rhaegar's dragon, roosted in the caves near Blackwater Bay where almost all the dragons made their home. While Viserion, as always when he was not here near Daeron, was on Dragonstone. As for Drogon and Rhaegal, they at times were blocked from his sight and today they were again. Though Daeron worried about them or their riders not. He had no need to, after all.
Opening his eyes and leaving the dragons behind, Daeron nodded to Ser Steffon and they entered the Small Council Chambers ready to get to the work at hand. As for the lady in question's great-grandmother, the Hand of the King would no doubt be as pleased as his father and mother were with the match. Though Daeron still hoped to change her mind on what she'd do once it took place. He had never truly understood what magic had kept Olenna Tyrell so young and vibrant, but the thoughts of her giving away that power and ruling without her were not ones he much liked.
Grey of hair and yet still fit and able to beat more than one man in a spar. Baelon Targaryen laughed as if he was a young boy and not a man almost at the end of his long and happy life. Rhaegal had splashed them both this time and while Dany had found it as amusing as Baelon did, Drogon had very much not. They flew to the island, their small home from home. A few days, a week, who knew how long they'd stay here before they flew back to Dragonstone. Soon the sight of the small house came into view, its red door almost like a beacon, and turning to look at his wife, Baelon could see that Dany could almost already smell the lemons that grew on the tree they'd planted outside many years earlier.
It had been his gift to her. A memory of something that she'd once told him and when he'd told her that it was time for someone else to rule and for them to just enjoy whatever remained of their lives, Dany had wished for nothing more. 'A house with a red door and a lemon tree, a small dream but our own' Baelon thought to himself as Rhaegal landed close enough for them to walk the short distance to their home away from home.
"These are the lives you tried to stop from being lived. This is the life you tried to deny my nephews and my kin. Enjoy the rest of your own for you have many more years of suffering before you'll ever be allowed to rest." Benjen said as he walked away and Bran shouted at him once more.
"HODOR! HODOR! HODOR!" Bran shouted though other than the wind amongst the red leaves of the tree, not a sound was heard.
Some of the Houses of the Realm.
House Targaryen.
Former King Baelon Targaryen (abdicated in favor of his son Daeron)
Former Queen Daenerys Targaryen (abdicated in favor or her son Daeron)
King Daeron (the Wise)
Queen Ashara Dayne (the Good)
Prince Rhaegar (the Summer Prince) betrothed to Margaery Redwyne.
Prince Aemon Targaryen (the Black Dragon) Lord of Summerhall, wed to Princess Jeyne Hardyng. Unnamed children.
Princess Rhaella Targaryen (the Realms Delight reborn) wed to Prince Oberyn Martell the Prince of Dorne. Mother to Princess Ellaria Martell the heiress of Dorne.
House Stark of Winterfell
Lady Sansa Stark, Former Warden of the North Lady (stepped down in favor of her son Robb, the Young Wolf).
Arya Stark, the She Wolf of the North and Guardian of Winterfell, (her sister)
Lord Robb Stark, Warden of the North, the Young Wolf.
Lady Leona Manderly, the Lady of Winterfell, his wife.
Lord Cregan Stark, his son, and heir.
Lord Benjen Stark the Lord of Moat Cailin (brother to Lord Robb) wed to Lady Jyana Reed. Unnamed children.
Lady Catelyn Stark the Lady of Ironrath (wed to Lord Asher of House Forrester)
Lord Theon Stark, the Lord of Sea Dragon Point (betrothed to Lady Dacey of House Mormont)
Lady Elsera Stark the Lady of the North Grove (unwed)
Josera Snow the Bear in the Woods and Father of Wolves (deceased)
House Mormont of Bear Island (nee Stark)
Lady Lyanna Mormont the Lady of Bear Island
Lord Rickon Stark the Warg Lord.
Lord Eddard Mormont (Ned, named after Eddard Umber the Giant Slayer) the heir to Bear Island. Unnamed wife and children.
Lord Tormund Mormont (his brother)
Lady Dacey Mormont (his sister)
House Martell.
Prince Oberyn Martell Prince of Dorne (wed to Princess Rhaella Targaryen)
Princess Ellaria Martell (his heir) betrothed to Ser Arthur Dayne
Elia Sand. Unnamed sons.
Obella Sand. Unnamed sons.
Loreza Sand. Unnamed Sons
Tyene Darry married to Lord Bronn Darry. Podrick and William, their sons.
Princess Sarella Martell (died peacefully in her sleep, aged 62)
Prince Consort Andrey Dalt (died one moon later)
House Redwyne
Lady Desmera Redwyne, Wardeness of the South and Lady of Highgarden (wed to Lord Humpfrey Redwyne of House Hightower)
Lord Loras Redwyne (her heir) wed to Lady Elinor of House Rowan. Father to Lady Margaery Redwyne.
Lady Olenna Redwyne (his sister) Unnamed husband and children.
Lady Alerie Redwyne, Olenna's twin sister. Unnamed husband and children.
If this tale brought you even a fraction of the joy it brought me to write, I'm grateful. Until the next one...