The Tower of Joy 283 AC.

Howland Reed.

"I looked for you on the Trident," Ned said to the three men facing them.

"We were not there," Ser Gerold answered.

"Woe to the Usurper if we had been," said Ser Oswell.

"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were."

"Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells."

"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."

"Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne.

"Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him."

"Ser Willem is a good man and true," said Ser Oswell.

"But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out. "The Kingsguard does not flee."

"Then or now," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

"We swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold.

Howland and the others moved up beside Ned, their swords in hand. They were seven against three.

"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

"No," Ned said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends."

He'd never truly fought as he did now, so it was no surprise when he was amongst the first to fall. the cut on his side deep and he feared mortal. Try as he might, he couldn't get back to his feet and so instead was a witness with a perfect view of the fight that was taking place in front of him. One thing became clear in moments. Arthur Dayne was born to wield Dawn and in his hands, the milky white blade was death itself.

Howland watched as Ethan Glover and Martyn Cassel fell to Ser Arthur's famed sword. He looked on as the White Bull, Ser Gerold Hightower, met his end to a combination of William Dustin and Theo Wull. Then as the Black Bat, Ser Oswell Whent, fell to Ned and Mark Ryswell. It was four on one and the four were outnumbered. None of them a match for the Sword of the Morning. As he tried with all he had to rise to his feet, he saw William, Theo, and then Mark all fall to Dawn. Then he cried out with all he had as the white blade slashed down across Ned's chest and he too fell to the ground.

"NEDDDDD!" he cried out to no avail.

Laying on the ground he crawled over to where Ser Arthur was kneeling over the prone body of his liege lord. Another Stark lost to the Targaryens or in this case their white knight. Through tear-filled eyes, he watched as the life drained out of a man he'd named a friend. Howland then cursed the gods and himself for not being able to stop his death from coming to pass. Be it that curse, his grief, or that the Old God's work in mysterious ways. Visions were sent and he was then given answers to questions that he had never asked. Howland was then shown things that he wasn't sure were true.

"I had not wished it to end this way, I sought not his death." Ser Arthur said his voice full of regret as he closed Ned's eyes for the final time.

"Lyanna, Lyanna." Howland called out and Arthur turned almost shocked to see him still breathing.

"Is safe and well and…"

The scream that rang out forced their eyes to the tower that it came from. Howland looked forlornly at it and then he was stunned when he found himself lifted from the ground.

"I'll take you to her so you can say your goodbyes, as I would have him." Ser Arthur said as he glanced over to where Ned Stark lay dead.

Howland nodded and fought the urge to take his knife and stab the man who held him. The visions his gods had sent him, the chance to prove them true, and the thoughts of seeing Lyanna Stark once more all staying his hand. They heard more screams as they took the stairs, Howland saw the worry on Ser Arthur's face and it surprised him somewhat. For surely if she was being held against her will then they'd worry little about her. Yet looking at Ser Arthur, he'd name the look on his face to be even more fearful than the one that Ned or he himself had worn.

"Arthur, Arthur." Lyanna called out when they entered the room and then her eyes looked and saw him in Ser Arthur's arms "Howland is it you? Is it truly you?"

"Aye, it's me." he said smiling despite the pain of his wound.

"You're hurt, Wylla, Wylla, see to his wound." Lyanna called out and Howland felt shamed as he looked at her.

She was laying in a bed with bloodstained sheets, her pallor was one that he'd not seen before on any who'd lived. The sweat on her brow showed the exertion she'd just been through and the sound of the babe as it was swaddled, showed the reason for that exertion.

"Ned, Ned, is he here? I must speak to him." Lyanna asked hopefully and he looked to Ser Arthur who placed him on the seat nearest the bed and saw the tears in the famed knight's eyes.

"He fell, my queen, forgive me." Arthur said and the cry was as pained as any he could ever remember hearing and he doubted much he'd ever hear such again in his life, or mayhap he hoped he'd not.

"I…I'll see him soon. My time is close. You must listen, Howland, you must listen."

"I'm here, Lyanna, I'm listening."

The words were hurried and they offered little explanation. Yet the content of those words changed all he'd ever known and proved the visions had truly been from the Old Gods and not from his injuries. A kidnapping that all had believed in was very much not one. A babe he feared born of rape was instead one born out of love. That said babe was the rightful king was the least of the problems that his birth brought up.

"He'll kill him, if Robert finds out, he'll kill him. Promise me, Howland, Promise me as Arthur has."

"I promise, Lyanna, all I can do to see him safe, I promise." he said and the look of relief was one that ensured that he'd die before he broke his promise to her.

"His name is…His name is…Aemon Targaryen." Lyanna said and it was not only his tears that fell as she breathed her last.

All his weapons were taken from him and Wylla proved herself to be an excellent healer. The wound on his side had been stitched, bandaged, and now allowed for him to move about, painful though it was. Outside the tower, graves had been dug and he'd watched as they had been. Arthur had refused to let the babe out of his sight and so Wylla had held Aemon in her arms while the work had been done. Other than Ned and Lyanna, all those who fell had been buried. How Arthur had gotten word to the Silent Sisters to boil the bones of the two Starks, he knew not, but they were now loaded up onto a cart and he was being sent back with their bodies.

"We need to talk, Ser Arthur." he said bidding the knight walk with him to the graves.

"I'll take the king to Dragonstone, Ser Willem and Queen Rhaella are there along with the fleet." Arthur said.

Howland worried how he'd take what he was about to say, and so he took his time to find the right words before he spoke. He hoped they were the right words.

"Did Lyanna tell you much about our gods, Ser Arthur?" he asked and Arthur nodded "My house has always been gifted or cursed by them. We descend from the Warg King himself or so I've been told. As I lay believing I was to die, they showed me things, Ser. A vision of the future, of the past, and the present. Seeing what I saw when Lady Lyanna." Arthur glared at him "Queen Lyanna passed, I believe the rest of what I saw to be true."

"I'm glad for you, now is there a point to this?" Arthur asked impatiently.

"Taking Aemon to Dragonstone is wrong, Ser Arthur, the life you wish for him will be a hard one."

"He is my king." Arthur said firmly.

"Mine too, Arthur, mine too." he said and saw the man's shoulders relax somewhat.

"I take it you have a different suggestion?"

"I do, one I think will work out best both for the now and for the future."

A week later.

They'd argued all the way to Starfall, Arthur's arrival being a boon to his kin's spirits, especially his sister. Howland was sad to hear that she'd birthed a stillborn babe and yet seeing her with her brother, then with Aemon, he soon saw some of the woman that she'd once been. Ned he knew had been infatuated with her at Harrenhal and yet it was not him that she'd ended up laying with. Brandon Stark had charmed her into sharing his bed and the stillborn babe she'd birthed had been his.

It was mayhap this, mayhap that she needed something to cling onto, or mayhap Aemon himself that led to the plan they'd ended up making. Her words had brought her brother around and so three days after arriving at Starfall, it was to King's Landing that he and Ashara made their way to while Arthur sailed on to Dragonstone. They arrived in the middle of festivities that soon turned sour. The king's grief was clear for all to see and which of the two he mourned over the most, not even Howland would be able to say.

Ashara faced suspicion, scorn, and harsh words and bore them well. Aemon, or Jon as he was named to sell the lie, was the one thing that stopped those words from being spoken for long. Howland stood firm when the king wished to bury Ned and Lyanna close by, telling him that the North would wish them to lay with their kin in the crypts. In this, he found an ally in Jon Arryn and that alliance only grew when he then made the suggestion that he did.

"You're sure this was Ned's final wish, Lord Reed?" Jon Arryn asked as he sat in his solar in the Tower of the Hand.

"Aye, I am, Lord Arryn. These were the last words he spoke and even were they not, the law is on the babe's side. But I give you my oath that this is what he wished for." he lied.

"Then I can see no reason to deny Ned's final request, though it pains me that I'll not see my foster son again." Jon Arryn said sadly.

"Take comfort in seeing his son, Lord Arryn, in knowing a piece of the quiet wolf lives on." he said feigning sympathy.

"You have the right of it, Lord Reed. You'll leave on the morrow?" Jon Arryn asked and Howland nodded "I'll say my goodbyes to my namesake before then. For even in death Ned honors me so."

"He was a good man, Lord Arryn."

"The best of them, Lord Reed, the best of them." Jon Arryn said his voice somewhat choked.

He'd sent the ravens himself, bearing news of the losses and of what he was bringing back with him. Looking to Ashara and Wylla as they fussed over the babe, brought a smile to his face. Aemon had lost so much already in this world, it was good to be reminded of what he'd gained. The boy would be loved, protected, he'd be safe and when the time came, he'd see him crowned. He owed her that, he owed her at least that.

Riverrun 283 AC.

Catelyn Stark.

The pain was excruciating, like nothing she could have ever imagined. There was so much blood, too much blood. Surely there shouldn't be so much blood, she thought, as around her the Maesters did their best to stem the flow of it. More than once she'd passed out, her father's words bringing her back from whatever abyss she'd fallen into. At one point she swore she heard the words of the Septon and Septa as they prayed to the Mother to watch over her.

Then there was nothing, no pain, no tears, nothing. Around her she saw faces that were downcast and sad and yet she knew not why that was. She felt weak, tired, unable to concentrate, and yet she knew she must. How long it took her to ask the words, she'd not be able to tell later. What words she spoke, were lost to her in her remembrance. Cat believed she asked for her babe, she hoped she had, she prayed she had. Yet she was not given her son, not allowed to hold him in her arms, and it was days later that she was told the terrible news. Days later that she had found out what pain truly felt like.

Almost a year earlier.

It had not been so terrible, not anything like she'd feared it would be. True there was discomfort, but there was some pleasure too. More than enough to not make her against the idea of laying with her husband again. As for her husband, he may not have been the man she'd yearned for, nor the one she dreamed about, but Ned was a good man she felt. A true and honest one at least. In time she believed she could learn to love him. She hoped she could.

Saying goodbye to him had been hard and the fear that he, as Brandon had, would fall, was even harder for her to bear. Yet as she made her way to speak to Maester Vyman, the thoughts of what could be were more than enough to keep that fear at bay, for now at least. She hadn't dared to dream it could come so quickly, that she'd be lucky enough to fall with child after the night they'd spent together. Was anyone to have asked her, then she'd have thought it impossible for a maiden such as she to be blessed by the gods so quickly. Now as she knocked at the door, she believed she had been.

"Lady Catelyn." Vyman said surprised to see her.

"Maester, I need you to tell me if it's true." she said nervously.

"If it's true, my lady?"

"I need to know if I'm with child."

She had almost skipped from the room. Her good cheer was soon shared by those who served the keep the longest and so knew her best. A babe, she was having a babe. The future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North was it to be a boy, which she was certain it would be. For surely the gods who'd blessed her so didn't hold back in that blessing. So Cat resolved that she would like many candles to them to thank them for granting her their favor.

Firstly though she needed to send word to her father, to her husband. They needed to share in her good news and so she had taken a seat at her desk and had written out letters to them both. The riders would take them to them with haste and she wished she could see their faces when they read her words. For Cat hoped and believed that they'd feel about her news as she did. Her father she knew would do so without a doubt and while she knew Ned but briefly, she believed he would be just as joyful as she was.

Some moons later.

Being with child was a chore, there were aches, pains, clothing never fit right and you were rarely comfortable. As for the food. Either you ate far too much of it or couldn't stand the sight or smell of it. Her appetite would come and go as if it was a summer breeze and that wasn't even the worst of it. As sometimes when she ate, the food would not settle and she'd end up losing the contents of her stomach almost as soon as she'd filled it.

She bore it well though. Everyone said so, even Lysa, who could be most temperamental at times. Her daily routine had changed little, other than a need to stay close to the privy far more often than not. Cat embroidered, she took lessons with the Septa and then went about the work of running the household. Preparations for the life she'd know when she was the Lady of Winterfell and ones she'd been making since she was but a girl.

No man would find a more prepared wife than she in all of the Seven Kingdoms and though she worried about what the North would be like, she longed to see it for herself too. As she did for her husband's return. She'd prayed to the Seven to see this war ended, and to bring back her father, uncle, and husband safely. Each raven that arrived or rider that turned up at their gates was one she hoped bore happy news and yet very rarely did they. Other than they were all unharmed as of a few days ago, and that Prince Rhaegar had gathered a host, she knew little of the war and it worried her terribly.

At night when she lay in her bed, her fingers would travel over the swelling of her belly and she'd imagine they were Ned's doing so. Her mind would whisper sweet words that she'd pretend were her husband's, yet she knew Ned was quiet and shy and she wondered would he ever dare utter them to her. The few letters she'd gotten from him had filled her heart with such resolve. So much so that found herself falling for him a little more each and every time one arrived. It may be true that the love that should be between a husband and wife wasn't yet there, but the thoughts that it would and could be, grew every day. As did her belly much to her annoyance.

"My lady, My lady." Utherydes called out as he came rushing into the room, Cat ready to scold him for doing so until she saw the letter in his hand "From your father, my lady."

She broke the seal and looked at the words on the parchment, needing to read them twice to be sure of what they said.

My dearest Cat,

We've won a great victory at the Trident, and broken the host that Prince Rhaegar led against us. The prince himself fell to King Robert's hammer and Ser Barristan Selmy has knelt and pledged his sword to the new king. While King Robert took an injury, it's not serious and he will recover and I, your uncle and husband are all hale and hearty. Eddard rides for King's Landing, to take the city and bring Aerys to justice for the deaths of his kin. I have no fear that he'll see it done, my sweet Cat, none and so I bid you have none too. With luck and with the god's favor, both your husband and I shall return in time to see the babe born. Be well, my sweet child. You, Lysa, Edmure, and the babe you carry, be well.

Your loving father,

Hoster Tully,

Lord of Riverrun,

Lord Paramount of the Trident.

She allowed Utherydes to read the letter and shared its content with her brother and sister. They feasted that night and even she found herself able to enjoy the lavish meal she'd insisted was prepared. Without fear of being besieged or dare she say it, of losing this war, it was a far larger feast than any other than her wedding night had been. Cat even danced with Edmure when he asked her to, so happy was she with the letter's contents.

For the next few days, she watched and waited for more news, and with the hope of a letter from Ned. Though to her dismay, one never arrived. The days spread into weeks, then a moon, then two and finally she saw the banners from her window and thanked the gods for bringing them to her. More so since she believed her babe was to be born any day now. However the gods hadn't brought them all back and when she saw that Ned was not with her father, she cried out, only to be told that he hadn't fallen and lived still. Then it was some anger that she listened while her father told her where Ned had gone. Cat very much not liking that it was to break a siege and to seek his sister out rather than the birth of his child that he'd worried about.

Now.

The gods were cruel indeed. They'd taken her babe from the world without her even getting the chance to see him smile or hear his cry. Her sweet and precious Robb who'd not live to be the man he should, to be the lord that he would be. She'd not get to watch him grow, to soothe his hurts, and to hear him say her name or call her, mother. Had it not been for Lysa then those first few days after the birth would have ended her. Her sister had shown her a sympathy she'd not ever before and they'd become closer for it.

When she wasn't wallowing in her sadness, it was anger that was the emotion she led with. Anger at the gods, the world, and at her husband. Ned hadn't been there with her, off on some fool's errand that had, in the end, cost him his life and she hated him for it. He should have been with her, had he then their son would have lived. It was a lie she'd told herself that had soon become the truth. A way of dealing with the loss she'd endured.

She'd not wept half as much over Ned as she had their son. The love she felt for one was absolute, while the other had not yet truly begun to grow. Now it never would and not simply because he'd lost his life. He'd been the one with honor, the one who lived up to his vows and oaths, and yet even in death, he'd shamed her greatly. A son, a bastard son, a son who now would sit where her son should. Jon Stark the king may have named him, but Jon Snow he'd be to her. A bastard who the gods had allowed to live while they had taken her trueborn son from her.

Her father had been wroth when he heard it, his anger as righteous as her own had been. First to be denied an heir to the North by the gods and then the chance of another by the death of her husband. Only then to be laughed at and to see a bastard take the birthright that should have gone to his grandson, it had angered him greatly. So much so that he'd sent word to Lord Arryn pleading her rights to Winterfell and the North only to see them denied and had then set off for King's Landing itself. For why she knew or cared not, nor did she for her future, her mind not letting her think of such things. Her thoughts were with the babe buried next to her mother and the life that should have been.

"My sweet boy." she said laying the flowers on the grave, before then making her way back into the keep.

Two days later she heard the horses when they arrived in the courtyard below. Long had she given up looking out the window and waiting for things that never came to pass. It was Utherydes who interrupted her embroidery and bid her make her way to her father's solar, Cat as always doing as her father bid. He looked tired from his journey and her heart went out to him as she knew he'd taken things as badly as she. Pouring him a glass of wine, she welcomed seeing the small smile on his face as she took her seat in front of him.

"I thank you for this, Cat, truly." he said taking a large swallow from the glass "You've been better?" he asked worriedly.

"A little, father."

"I bring you news, Cat, news that was not what I'd rode out for, but news that I hope will help heal the wounds of your heart."

"I know not if they can be healed, father." she said sadly.

"I tried to get them to see sense, to see you given your rightful place, but neither Jon nor the king himself would listen. So Eddard Stark's bastard is to remain Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." her father angrily said and she nodded "I did get them to agree to something though, to give you your due in some other way."

"Father?"

"You're to be wed, Cat, wed to Stannis Baratheon. You're to be the Lady of Storm's End and he the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

She looked at her father, unsure how to take the news.

"I know it's not what should have been yours, Cat, and in no way does this bring my grandson back, but it's all I know how to do, all I know to heal the heart that's broken."

"I am grateful, father, truly I am." she said offering him more comfort than she herself felt.

"I know, Cat, and in truth far better it's the Stormlands than the North, as you'll be wed to the King's own brother Cat. In the future, a child of yours could sit the throne and be queen."

"I'd like that father, I think I'd like that very much." she said and the words felt true and right to her, they felt like what she deserved, what the gods owed her. In this, she'd hold them as true as the Lannisters and they would one day pay her the debt they owed her.

Winterfell 283 AC.

Benjen Stark.

He thought that he'd no tears left to spill. That Brandon and his father's death had taken them all from him. He'd believed the gods robbed him of all they'd wished for and that he'd at least get his brother and sister back. Surely they'd not be cruel enough to take them too, not to take more from him than he had to give? Two lives before their time were enough was it not? Any debts they owed the gods had been paid, hadn't they?

Yet the gods were cruel indeed and they wished for more and more each time. His prayers went unanswered and ravens kept arriving to break his heart even more than it already was. First from Riverrun telling him of the death of a nephew that he'd never met nor now ever would. The boy dying before he'd taken a breath and Benjen finding that he still had more tears to shed. When the next raven came, it almost broke him. How it did not, he couldn't tell. Its words were as cruel as any he had ever heard and the hope he'd held in his heart, was gone in an instant.

His sister, his sweet wild sister was no more. Lost to him and the world and it would be a much poorer place because of it. No more would she make japes at his expense, ride with him through the Wolfswood and over the Barrows. Never again would she slap his head when he was being a fool, or make him smile when he was feeling sad. He'd never see her own smile which would light up the world and he hated the gods for taking her, and for not letting that be all they took.

Ned, Ned too, they'd decided to take into their embrace. Not content with taking his father, brother, sister, and nephew, they wished for yet another Stark to sing and drink in their halls. They'd left him alone. He was the last wolf and he knew not how to be who he now needed to be. Had it not been for the part of his brother that had somehow managed to survive, while around him wolves were falling like flies, then he'd have been truly lost. Benjen somehow finding the strength to do what he must, not for himself, but for Jon.

"They're ready, my lord." Vayon Poole said and Benjen wiped his eyes before rising to his feet.

He was six and ten years old, barely a man grown. While he'd acted as the Stark in Winterfell while the war raged on, he felt he was unsuited for it. The knowledge that Ned would return and take up his place was the only thing that had given him the strength that he needed. Now he needed to be Lord for longer. He was to be the Regent to a new lord, a guide and mentor when it was both that he himself longed for. Entering the Great Hall, he looked around at the Lords of the North, men who had come to feast and to welcome their liege lord back, only to now have to be told that was never to happen.

"My lords, My ladies, I bid you quiet for I've news of great import to share and it pains me enough to do so." Benjen said, his voice firmer than he'd expected it to be.

Around the room, men who were anything but quiet suddenly became so. Their eyes and attention focussed on him and he felt the weight of their stares.

"I've received news from Howland Reed." Benjen said as the room hushed "News from King's Landing. Terrible news that I wish I didn't have to speak on, but I've no choice other than to do so. My sister is passed my lords." he said to silence "And alas she's not the last Stark the Old Gods have called to their table." he looked to the mug of ale and wished to drink it and yet knew he could not "My brother Ned, has fallen too."

"By the gods."

"How?"

"Where?"

"We should march and kill the fuckers."

"The Ned."

He let the shouts ring out, saw the looks on some of those in the Great Hall that ranged from shock to sadness. These men had bled with Ned during the war and named him a true friend. Most he knew were happy to name him as their Warden and Lord, and had accepted Benjen to be the Stark in Winterfell, but temporarily. Others had not and would need to be brought around even more now that Ned wouldn't be taken his rightful place. Seeing Barbrey Dustin rise, he closed his eyes and then opened them as she began to speak.

"My husband, William, how fares he?"

"Ethan?"

"Mark?

"Theo?

"Martyn?"

The voices called and drowned each other out and then silenced when he raised his hand.

"All those who rode with my brother, fell as he did. None other than Howland and the babe will return from the South." he said to a cry from Barbrey as her father moved to offer her comfort while around the room those who lost kin did the same.

"A babe, Benjen?"

"What babe?"

"Whose babe?"

"Howland brings with him the heir to Winterfell and the North, my brother left a son behind my lords. Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."

The questions came thick and fast and only some were he able to answer. Naming his nephew's mother seemed to clear up some of the confusion, though Roose Bolton asked how was he named Stark and Benjen replied about the legitimization that was granted by King Robert. He told them that tonight they'd hold a wake for his brother and sister. That those who wished could stay in Winterfell until Howland arrived so they could see them buried. While those who wished it could make their way back to their keeps and their families when they were ready to.

Over the next few days, he held more meetings than he cared to remember. Answered more questions than he'd ever done before, though he had few true answers for those who wished them. He told people all he knew, how Jon was the son Ned had with Ashara Dayne and how it would be what his brother wished for to see him named as his heir. None argued with him on this point, though some suggested that it may be better for him to take charge of the North. Those he gave short shrift to. He'd not usurp his nephew, and truth be told, he wanted it not.

Some left and went back to their keeps, others waited until Howland arrived and soon things became almost a routine to him. He'd wake, break his fast, spar, do his duties, pray and then eat. At night he'd drink with those still in Winterfell, go to his bed and the next morning he'd be back doing the same once more. So dull and boring, so out of it was he, that had Howland, Jon, and Ashara Dayne not arrived, then he'd have lost himself completely. The grief he felt over his losses almost demanded that he do so. Their arrival changed things, changed things drastically.

"By the gods, he's a Stark if ever I saw one." he said looking to the babe.

"You wish to hold him, Lord Stark?" Ashara asked.

"I can?"

"You can, I'm sure your nephew will welcome his uncle's arms, won't you Jon?" Ashara said and Benjen was soon laughing as truly as Jon himself was.

He needed it too. The thoughts of what lay in the cart and what he needed to do with the bodies were not ones he wished to think on. Though he knew he must and so, reluctantly, he handed his nephew back to the babe's mother and moved to Howland.

"You'll tell me all." he said and his words were not a question.

"Aye, not the now, Benjen, but aye, I'll tell you all of it." Howland said and Benjen nodded.

"I must see to their burial, forgive me Lady Ashara."

"There's naught to forgive, my lord."

"Vayon will see you to your rooms, my lady." he said as he moved to the cart and looked at the two boxes inside it, his tears somehow held back for now.

They held a ceremony in the Godswood for them both. The two boxes were placed by the Weirwood and he spoke words that he'd written down and hoped them to be enough. He allowed any who wished to pay their respects, but only he was present when the bodies were entombed in the crypts. In time he'd have statues made for them both. For now, he simply laid winter roses on the disturbed ground and shed tears for his fallen kin before leaving.

He saw to another wake and during it, he slipped away to spend time with his nephew. Jon slept peacefully and just looking over his crib allowed Benjen to share in some of that peace. The next morning he had resolved what to do and he was glad he found the woman alone. Ashara was mayhap the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and yet it wasn't for that reason that he was about to do what he was. Instead, it was because honor demanded it of him.

"May we speak, my lady?" he asked and she nodded allowing her to join her as she sat and embroidered something for Jon no doubt.

"It was a beautiful ceremony, Lord Stark, truly."

"Benjen, my lady, please call me Benjen." he said nervously.

"Only if you do likewise and call me, Ashara." she said and he nodded.

"Ashara, you and my brother…I…" he stumbled over his words and then rose to his feet, his resolve beating his nerves for now "Lady Ashara, I would ask you to be my wife."

She didn't laugh, though she came close to it. The smile she wore was not a mocking one he felt and the shake of her head showed her answer long before her words did.

"It's true what they say about Starks and their honor and I'm flattered Benjen, truly. But I'll not wed out of duty or honor, nor would I see you do so. One day you'll find a woman you love and I'd not deny that to you, I dare not."

"I... My lady...Jon."

"Is named a Stark and needs not us wed to name him true. I thank you, Benjen, for the offer. It warms my heart that you are willing to do so, but I'd see both our hearts true."

"I wish things were different, Ashara, that you'd gotten the man you loved." he said softly and she smiled at him, warmly.

"As do I. As do I." she said wistfully "You need to speak to Howland, Benjen, there are things….there are things we need to discuss." she said a moment later and he nodded.

It was later that day that he got his chance to, Benjen was surprised when not only did Ashara join them but she had Jon in her arms when she did so. That it was the crypts that Howland wished them to meet in was strange and feeling the cold when he got there, made him concerned for Jon. So it was this worry that he led with.

"He's a wolf, Benjen, the cold bothers him not." Howland said and he looked to see that Ashara seemed to agree.

"What happened, Howland, Ned, Lyanna, what truly happened?" he asked once he was reassured about his nephew's welfare.

The tale was unlike any he'd ever heard before. A tale of a secret wedding, a fight amongst men who though they fought for different things, were in truth on the same side. He heard of the deaths of men that he knew in truth and those he knew by name only. Ned's death at the hands of Ashara's brother brought the woman no reproach in his eyes. It was only when the truth of Jon was spoken that he found any words at all.

"You're telling me that he's not Ned's son, he's Lyanna, that he's the bloody heir to the throne? The true king in your words?"

"Aye, I'm telling you that." Howland said.

"Why the lie? Why didn't you just take him to his grandmother or allow for Ser Arthur to do so?" he asked confused.

"Because she made us promise he'd be safe, Benjen, Lyanna begged us to keep him safe. Robert Baratheon would see him dead was he to know of him. Even more so than Prince Viserys or Queen Rhaella, it would be him he'd see beside his sister and brother. Did you hear of the words he spoke when the bodies of Princess Elia and the children were laid out in front of him?" Howland asked and Benjen shook his head.

"I see no babes, only Dragonspawn." Ashara spat, then he watched as she cradled his nephew close to her chest.

"Him more than any, Benjen. For he's her babe and to Robert that is something he'd never be able to accept. She loved him not, nor he, her, for true, yet he named her the love of his life and bedded any who took his fancy while we marched to free her."

"He did that, he shamed my sister and did that." Benjen said angrily.

"Aye, he did. But he loved your brother, Benjen and it's that which will keep Jon safe. For to Robert he'd the last piece of Ned, the last part of him and he'll allow no man to harm or see him slighted." Howland said and Benjen saw the logic in the words the Cranngoman spoke.

"We'll use that love, Benjen, we'll use it to help the North and to ready it for when Aemon is of age." Ashara said with a look of determination on her face.

"Aemon? Help the North?" he asked confused.

They told him things he barely heard, words and plans that were above his comprehension. Other than this was his sister's son and that his birthright was taken from him, Benjen heard little. It was only days later that he really understood half the things that had been said. He sat in his solar listening as Ashara told him things that he should do, things that he must do and though he argued some, he knew she was right.

So he wrote the letter to King Robert and laid out what the North's price was for all they'd done in the war. He allowed Ashara to come up with a list of names that were suitable ladies for him to wed and he had Howland send word to Dragonstone pledging the North to the one true king. The last raven he sent out was to the Wall, a request for a visit from the Maester to help out in some plans that needed to be made. His promise of aid and supplies was enough he hoped to see it done as the Maester would be helpful in planning things out, or so Ashara said. Once done he made his way to the nursery and found Wylla there with his nephew, Benjen dismissing the woman so that he could spend time alone with him.

"It's just us lad, me and you are the last of the Starks. And while you're a dragon, you're a wolf too. Never forget that nor that she loved you, as do I."

Dragonstone 283 AC.

Rhaella Targaryen.

The bad news just kept coming. What had happened on the Trident had almost broken her. Yet she had no time to mourn the loss of her son, not truly. When news came from King's Landing, it had threatened to take all the resolve she had left within her. She spared no thought or shed no tear over Aerys' death and unlike those around her, she cared not that Jaime Lannister had broken his oaths. Other than wishing he'd done them earlier and so saved them from the devastation her husband's actions had wrought upon them.

Elia, Elia she shed tears for. Though it was never a match for love that she and her son had shared, it was a fruitful one and the woman had born her two grandchildren. Rhaenys, her sweet dear, Rhaenys, and Aegon who was but a babe still. The thoughts of what had been done to them had both broken her heart and filled it with a desire for vengeance at the same time. She had cried, shouted out in her anger, then she beseeched the gods to give her the strength and the tools to see all who'd played a part in their deaths fall.

The damnable thing was that she felt the gods had long since abandoned them all. To hear that a son of Steffon and Cassana had looked upon the bodies of a mother and her children and spoken such words, only proved that to her. It made her fear for her own children, the one who walked around Dragonstone, who she knew she'd need to crown soon, and the one she carried inside of her. Rhaella prayed still, she sought the god's aid still. For her children, she had to be strong and had to believe and so she believed still. Yet never did she think they'd answer her in the way that they did.

"You're certain that it's Arthur Dayne?" she asked moving through the halls quickly."

"I've spoken to him myself, your grace." Ser Willem replied.

When she saw him standing there unhurt and baring not a scratch, her first instinct was to demand he was seized and for him to explain himself. It was thankfully one she resisted as when he turned and looked at her, she saw the truth in his eyes. This was not a man who had deserted her son or shirked his duty. His reasoning, whatever it was, would be something far more dutiful and true than what she'd briefly thought of him.

"My Queen." Arthur said taking a knee.

"Rise Ser, rise and explain yourself." she said in as queenly a manner as she still had in her to project.

"May we speak in private, your grace. There are things I must say that only those who are truly Leal and who you decide are to be told can know."

"Ser Willem is such a man, so he'll join us." she said walking past the famed knight and into the Chamber of the Painted Table."

Rhaella didn't sit in the raised seat. Not only was it not her place, but it was beyond her ability to climb into such a chair. The swell of her belly prohibited her from moving lithely and instead forced her to take one of the other seats. Neither Ser Arthur nor Ser Willem took their own seats and as she sat, she heard the commotion and bid the guards let Lord Lucerys into the room. The Master of Ships looked at Ser Arthur with unconcealed anger, though he kept his tongue for now and instead took his own seat when she bid him to.

"Your explanation, Ser." she said glaring at the Sword of the Morning.

"My prince, Ser Oswell, and I rode to the Riverlands and intercepted the Lady Lyanna's party. Word had been given to us that the king had found out who the Knight of the Laughing Tree truly was and he sought the knight's head, Varys' work no doubt. Since we were well aware it was the Lady Lyanna and given my prince's own feelings for the lady, we rode with haste and arrived first."

She listened keenly as did Ser Willem and Lord Lucerys. Things she'd not truly known but only suspected, now becoming clearer. Like all she'd believed that Rhaegar had crowned the Lady Lyanna because he was infatuated with her, and Arthur's words confirmed that somewhat. Now though she was beginning to see the root of that infatuation.

"Knowing what would happen should the Lady Lyanna find herself in front of the king, mayhap too with a desire to spend more time with her, it was to Dorne and the Tower of Joy that my prince suggested we ride. As we did so, the feelings they shared for one another only grew, and in the light of the Seven and then later by a Weirwood tree, they were wed."

"What of Elia?"

"He married her?"

She waved her hand at the two men who'd raised their own questions and bid Arthur continue.

"By the time we reached Dorne, it was clear the princess was with child, something we confirmed later on. Over the next few moons I've never seen my prince so happy, so content, and so without the melancholy that was oft his companion. I'd name it as idyllic, your grace, an idyll that remained undisturbed until Ser Gerold arrived and one I know my prince would wish you to know he lived at least part of his life in." Arthur said looking at her.

Those words brought a smile to her face. Fleeting and as brief as those few moons had been, she was happy that her son had known them before he lost his life. That he'd not lived to know what the loss of his life would lead to, only making that even more true.

"We were bid to stay and protect the princess and the babe she bore. Were refused leave to follow our prince to the battles he rode off to and no amount of discussion would change his mind on the task he assigned to us. 'Protect, my wife, protect the son she carries and deem your duty to me served' those were the last words that my prince spoke to me though neither of us knew it then." Ser Arthur said and was she in any doubt of his Leal nature, then the way he spoke would have relieved her of it.

"Did she birth the babe?"

"Was it a son or daughter?"

"Where is our king or queen?"

"Finish your tale, Ser Arthur." she said ignoring the other questions.

"As you command, my queen. We awaited the birth and then the news came, first about the Trident and then what happened in King's Landing. The horrible truth of what had happened to Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys, and Prince Aegon left us with another starkest truth to face. It was no longer a princess and her babe we were to protect, but a Queen Regent and the future king or queen, and it was a duty we would not take lightly. When they came for us, we were ready and whether the gods themselves picked that day or not, only they can answer.

Lord Stark and six Northmen faced off against my brothers and me and only two stood by the end. It was my blade that ended Eddard Stark's life and in turn, sealed the babe's fate. Only I and Lord Howland Reed lived and were present when the babe was born and when his mother breathed his last. So for the next day or two, we argued over what to do about King Aemon as we did when we reached Starfall"

Her breath hitched in her throat, she looked to Lucerys and then to Willem to see both wore looks that were no doubt the equals of her own. Rising to her feet, she placed her hands on the table to steady herself and looked to Ser Arthur.

"My grandson, Ser, where is my grandson." she demanded.

"Winterfell, your grace. Our king is in Winterfell."

The pain she felt in her stomach stopped any further questions for now. Rhaella was helped to her chambers by Ser Arthur and Ser Willem and the Maester sent for. Viserys upon seeing her in distress ran to her and she offered him the brightest smile she could, which seemed to comfort him somewhat. Though she believed that seeing Ser Arthur here did so too. Her son may not be completely aware of the situation they were in, but he knew they were in danger and that having the Sword of the Morning by their sides had relieved that somewhat.

It was sleep that took her, her eyes were heavy and the Maester demanded that she rest. The dreams she found herself in were ones that she enjoyed for once and ones she'd feared she'd not know again. She still mourned the losses and would have given all she had to change them, but she found some reasoning in them, and the knowledge that a part of her son still lived helped to revitalize her faith somewhat. When she woke it was to find Ser Arthur sitting in the chair nearest her bed and Viserys in one beside him. Her son listened as the knight told tales of Rhaegar and promised Viserys that he'd teach him to wield a sword just as well as his brother had.

"My son." she said softly.

"Mama, you are well?"

"I am well, but you should be abed." she chided and he looked at her worriedly "Though I'm most pleased to be able to bid you goodnight before you sleep."

"Night Night, mama."

"Night Night, my sweet prince." she said as she kissed his forehead, and then with a look to Ser Arthur, her son was led to the door and taken to his room.

She waited until the door had closed behind him and then looked to the knight who looked tired and in need of rest.

"You should find your own bed, Ser Arthur."

"I wished you to know my reasoning, my queen. For why I allowed the king to be taken to Winterfell and why I didn't bring him here to his grandmother."

"You wished him protected I imagine. To not be as much at risk as we." she said and he nodded slightly.

"I did, but that was not the only reason. Had it been then I'd not have left his side. Even were I to be the only one who stood there, I'd not have left his side."

"I know you'd not. Tell me then, tell me your reasoning?" she asked curiously.

He offered her a mug of water which she took and drank a little from, then began to speak and that little bit of resolve he'd given her with the news he'd shared and with his own arrival, soon began to grow ever larger.

"It was my sister who in the end cut through the arguments that Lord Reed and I were having. Her words convinced me even more than his. Lord Reed felt a debt to Lyanna, you see, one that in his words was stronger than any other. So I feared not his intent, just the plan he'd come up with. Ashara saw what I did not, the opportunity it presented us bot for the future, and the layer of safety it gave the king that not I, you, or all the men we have left could provide. Eddard Stark was the Stag's brother by choice, my queen. Lyanna was the woman he claimed to love. With both of them having fallen, it would be despair that would take hold. Yet with Aemon, we'd be offering him a spark of hope, a thing to hold onto and that, that is was would keep our king safe." Arthur said.

"I don't understand."

"We named Aemon as what he was not, the son of a lesser man than his true father. The son of a brother by choice and so the heir to the lands and keep of his father. Catelyn Tully delivered a stillborn babe, so such a son no matter his birth.."

"Would be the rightful heir to the North." she said seeing it clearly now.

"And given who the Stag believed his father to be. He'd be untouchable, beyond reproach, and held in his favor. Ashara herself agreed to help sell the lie and she traveled with Lord Reed to King's Landing to speak in front of the court. Before I landed here I heard that the stag wept more over the body of Eddard Stark than he did the so-called love of his life. He then wept over the babe that he believes is the last living part of his beloved friend and named him as true and as Warden and Lord."

"We have the North." she said excitedly before a thought came to mind "Wait there was another Stark was there not, a brother?"

"Benjen, your grace. He was closest of all to Lyanna, the brother she trusted and loved the most, and both Lord Reed and Ashara believe he'll play his part."

"What of Aemon, he'll grow up believing such tales about his father and our house." she said annoyed.

"Not with Ashara there, nor with help from another, your grace. For his namesake is Maester at the Wall and is to be contacted and told the truth. He'll grow up with different tales, truer tales, and in time will be told the truth of himself. He'll be safe, secure, and already in a position to bring men to bear when the time is right."

"The so must we be." she said determinedly.

A few weeks later.

The ravens were like boons to her soul. Words spoken that seemed to be one thing and yet were very much not. Her grandson was safe, healthy as a babe could be and under Ashara's care, he'd be loved and taught true. With Aemon serving as Maester at the Wall, words could be shared between them and him and between Winterfell and wherever they would soon make their home. Their departure from the island was now drawing ever closer each day.

A fleet was being hastily arranged to take the island, the Stag's desire to see them in the ground only growing even more after the death of Eddard Stark. Her plans to beat them here, to face them here, had long since been abandoned. This was not to be a final stand and the justice and vengeance she sought would now take longer to see brought about. Despite the words spoken to her by the Maester and the fears shared by her council, she could not wait until her babe was born before she left. To risk doing so was to risk all her future plans and knowing they had them, was enough to strengthen her resolve.

Today she walked around the keep for the last time, looked at it, and memorized it. One day she'd return here, to this keep, to these lands and when she did it would be to crown a new and truer king. So she could forbear giving them up and leaving them to the Stags, Lions, and Falcon. For her forbearance was to be but a temporary thing and when she returned she'd take all they held fear from them as they had from her. For her son, her gooddaughter, granddaughter, and grandson, and for her other grandson who lived, she'd bring them Fire and Blood.

"Come Viserys, this is no longer our home and your sister will be born far from here."

"Will she be here soon, Mama." her son asked eagerly.

"She will, and one day she, you, and your nephew Aemon will show the world what true dragons look like." she said enjoying the smile that came to her son's face.

With a nod to Ser Arthur and Ser Willem, they made their way to the docks and within an hour the ship and the fleet had set sail. Braavos and then beyond. The coin they had taken from Dragonstone and that held in their accounts would soon be taken from the Stag's greedy grasp and she hoped that he, Tywin Lannister, and Jon Arryn had many sleepless nights to come. For they deserved that and so much more. They deserved all that she'd bring them, they deserved Fire and Blood.

Up Next. A Northern Lord seeks a daughter's due, the King grants the north favors. Rhaella faces a storm at sea and brings another dragon into the world before she lands in Braavos and meets with some bankers and Cat meets her new husband. While Benjen welcomes a different dragon to Winterfell and Jon is introduced to more kin.

I know, I know, finish some of my other fics first. I will, but I've had no time to get to some of them and so I wished for something to post, that and the plot bunnies made me do it. For those who know me well, they'll understand why I had no choice.

The next chapter of this will be in a couple of weeks, for those following my other fics, Winter King will update tomorrow with Aemon the Dragonknight to follow later this week.

Purple Deception should be very soon and Am I my Brother's keeper will be back next Monday.